Fate: Oppression

by Gavius

Alaya is gone. The Counter Force is gone. Without them, the Throne of Heroes released all the Heroes on Earth against the planet's will. When Gaia sensed that the World is on the brink of collapse, she sent its First Hero to fix the mess. Now, Shirou Emiya has to save the day once again. What can a Retired God, a Treacherous Knight and a Boastful King do to save the planet? [AU]

14. Chapter 13 - Arc III

DISCLAIMER: I do not take credit from the Fate universe and its characters. The rights and credits go to the original authors.

Read the notes in the first chapter if you haven't done it already.

This is my very first story. I'm confident in my grammar, but if there are any mistakes, then let me know and I'll try to figure out how to fix them as soon as I have time.

Hope you enjoy.

---

FATE/Oppression
-Arc III-

Chapter 13

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Place Denfert-Rochereau – Catacombs Entrance (Paris - France)

(======)

Shirou mentally cursed with a sigh.

He could literally sense his companions' current worry with crystal clarity. His trained senses were extremely more developed than the other Servants', and always had this effect on him. But at the moment he didn't feel like bragging about such a thing. After all, he couldn't deny that he was quite nervous himself. He hadn't expected a similar turn of events. Not this way, and not so soon. They had just defeated Caster and forced him to flee a few hours ago, and now there were already more troubles coming? He was really starting to hate this War.

'I'm too old for this shit. I want to retire.'

The only ones who were remaining calm in his group were Iskandar and Artoria. The muscular Rider sported a confident and serious smirk as always, not at all afraid of the idea of fighting and testing himself in a challenge of conquest and resolve. The King of Knights, on the other hand, wore an almost perfect poker face. It was impossible to see if she was actually nervous or worried. Her cold, determined gaze was worthy of the best mask ever. Shirou was impressed. That woman could really hide her emotions well, even when she faced a looming battle and unknown threats. He had to give her credit for this.

All of this was the exact opposite of – as he was expecting – Mordred. Unlike her father, the younger girl was a nervous bundle of nerves ready to spring into action. The Knight of Treachery emitted sheer trepidation from her body like a fog, her expression slowly becoming a feral grin of excitement and desire to fight. The God of War had to hold back a sigh. He could admire her courage and willingness to prove herself. It was a trait that he found adorable in her, after all; even in spite of her temper. But at times it was definitely off-putting. Especially when Jeanne was with them.

Actually, Jeanne was the most nervous and worried one at this moment. Shirou couldn't blame her for that. And to be honest, indeed, he could fully understand her. The Maid of Orleans was an incredibly kind woman. A sweet, gentle girl dedicated to the common good. She was a Saint, in the true sense of the word, whose only goal and interest was to protect the innocent and prevent a catastrophe from affecting human lives. So, the idea of having to deal with a second attack from other Servants worried her a lot. Shirou could genuinely understand her concern. That was what he was feeling too, after all. His role was to stop this, and in spite of his strenght and the countless years of experience he had, he was still out-numbered and out-gunned. Feeling helpless in the face of such situation was a feeling he could fully relate to, unfortunately.

But now was not the time for these thoughts. The unknown God exited from the catacombs' entrance in a hurry, closely followed by the other Servants. His mind was already straining on the information that Cu Chulainn and the Knights had relayed to Artoria with that earlier call. And he didn't like the current situation. He didn't like it at all.

"Well? What do we do?"

The red-haired warrior strengthened his resolve at Mordred's question. His eyes narrowed as he gazed up at the sky and expanded his senses to detect any impending signatures of prana.

"What we always do when we face such situations, kid: we split up," he replied seriously. "We have no idea of who or what we're dealing with, nor of the enemy's current numbers. So, let's split up and shed some light on the situation."

Iskandar nodded solemnly as he summoned a small sword. With a vertical slash, the air was cut in two and his Gordius Wheel appeared in an explosion of lightning and electricity. "Very well. We all have our electronic gadgets. If we discover something important or if something happens, we must contact the others immediately," he said with a confident smile and a serious tone.

Shirou, Artoria and Mordred shared a nod. Jeanne and Amakusa watched them in tense silence as they decided their strategy.

The God of War turned to them. "What are you two going to do?" he asked in all seriousness.

Jeanne became solemn and determined at his question. "I will not stand on the sidelines while my people and my land are attacked. Please, let me come with you," she said firmly.

The man smiled. "As you wish, Jeanne. Then go with Mordred. She's the one who needs to be checked every now and then. And please, keep an eye on her for me."

The reaction was immediate. The blonde girl instantly turned to him with an outraged look upon hearing this, much to everyone's amusement. Even Artoria hid a little giggle at the scene. "Hey! I'm not a kid! I don't need others to keep an eye on me!" she yelled.

Shirou merely smiled. "Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time you went to fight alone?" he promptly replied, making her flinch.

"B-But-"

"..."

"…alright, alright. Geez! Just wipe that creepy smile from your face, damn it."

Jeanne gave them small smile after that interaction. "I shall keep an eye on her, Ruler. I promise."

The Ruler gave her a grateful nod and a grin. Then, he turned to Iskandar and Artoria. "Even if the three of us don't need assistance, we'd better not let our guard down once we'll face the threat. If we can handle the situation on our own, that's fine. But as soon as something strange happens, we immediately call the others and wait for help. I don't want other incidents like before. Are we clear?"

"Agreed."

"Very well."

Amakusa's face became solemn when everyone's eyes fell on him. "I shall remain here. I will protect the shelter with my life. I won't allow any Servant to enter. I promise."

The Servants shared one last, silent nod.

"Let's go," they said in chorus.

That being said, the five of them left in different directions without wasting any more time. Artoria sprinted to the nearest district with a mighty leap and a burst of prana, disappearing into a dark, bare alley. Mordred and Jeanne headed west with a sprint, and Iskandar flew into the sky with his mighty chariot and a bellowing laughter that echoed in the air for several seconds. Shirou, on the other hand, headed north with haste, in the direction of the best strategic point where to observe the city and attack the enemies from distance: the Eiffel Tower.

Amakusa Shirou watched them as they departed with a solemn gaze and a silent prayer.

'May the Lord's blessing be with you.'

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: La Défense – Hauts-de-Seine (Paris - France)

(======)

Red and white.

In the heart of the major business district located three kilometers west of the city limits of Paris, two flashes of light flashed across the night sky. Flashes of red and white.

The two bolts of light shot through the sky, fast as lightning and powerful as thunder; flying through the air like missiles that chased each other incessantly. They collided, and clashed, and crashed times and times again; each of their clash generating a deafening roar of thunder and a shock wave in the air that made the skyscrapers tremble and the air itself vibrate. It was an incessant motion. The two bolts of red and white collided, then separated, and then collided again; relentlessly, facing each other incessantly; as if they were trying to get the better of each other.

After two minutes of chase between the buildings and skyscrapers of the metropolis, finally, the two thunderbolts crashed on the ground, landing in the middle of a gigantic empty square and generating a crack in the ground and a small explosion of debris. Next to them, a gigantic monument in the shape of an empty, hollow, picture-like Arch stood imposingly in the square, fronted by a large fountain with gushing sprays of water. Unbeknownst to them, it was called the Grande Arche de la Défense. Yet, for the two opponents who were facing each other, that vision was not relevant in the least. All that mattered in that moment was their battle, and their endless dispute.

Two Servants, a Saber and a Berserker, faced each other with angry, frowning faces. Two young people – kids, to be honest – a boy and a girl. They both had blonde hair, gray eyes, and white clothes. They wore a laurel wreath on their heads, ancient clothes similar to old Greek robes, and golden sandals at their feet. They faced each other menacingly, with deep frowns on their faces and eyes hard and full of silent anger and mute outrage. But their peculiarity, above everything else, was their almost identical resemblance. They looked, in all respects, the same person but with the opposite gender. Almost like twins.

And in fact, they really were.

"I never thought I'd end up facing you like this, sister," the boy spoke through gritted teeth. His gaze was haughty and solemn, a sneer of disdain clearly marring his features. He was obviously the Berserker between the two of them. "Of all the Servants of this War, I never thought that I would have been betrayed by you one day. What a disappointment, truly."

The girl glared at him with an icy gaze. "I should be the one saying that, brother," she spat in turn, looking no less outraged than him. "To think that you were seriously going to decide to go against me and my cause. Weren't we supposed to be one and the same? Always together without ever being a moment apart? The inseparable twins? You betrayed me, brother."

"No, YOU betrayed ME!"

The blonde boy shot forward with a scream of rage, the discus he wielded in his hand made out of invincible adamant. His weapon collided with his sister's sword made of the very same metal, generating a violent clash and wave of air that made everything around them tremble. The twins pushed against each other, staring at each other's eyes with angry looks as they relentlessly tried to force the other into submission.

"You left me. You choose to side with humans and oppose my choice. You should have agreed with me. You should have stayed with me!" he screamed with growing rage, shoving her fiercely.

The girl planted her feet on the ground, managing to resist her opponent's thrust. Despite the difference in height and musculature, their physical and spiritual strength was the same. Neither of them managed to get the better of the other. It was physically impossible, given their connection and their intertwined legend.

Then, with a sudden bend of her knees, she ducked under her brother's fist and kicked her twin straight in the chest, forcing him to jump away with a groan of pain. The girl readied her sword, and a moment later she leapt at him once again, delivering a thrust that the boy barely managed to avoid by throwing her sideways with a push. Her sword cut a lamppost in place of her target, knocking it to the ground with a loud thud.

"I chose to side with a just cause!" she retorted fiercely. Her eyes burned with both pain and outrage as she roared her anger, staring at her twin who positioned himself in the middle of the giant fountain, his feet immersed in the water. Small bolts of prana darted between her and her brother, cracking the ground and making the air thick. The water of the fountain began to tremble as well. "The Queen may be annoying and haughty, but she has a noble and righteous purpose! She wants to protect these people, these humans! She wants to save their lives! And you... you prefer to take the side of that Emperor who pays no attention to anyone. A man who only cares about advancing in his selfish conquest!"

"And what's wrong with that!?" the brother roared.

The twins clashed again in a crash of metal and sparks. Their weapons separated in an explosion of energy, and they both found themselves unable to surpass the other twin. Panting, the two siblings jumped away from each other, staring at the other's eyes like mad dogs.

"Who cares about these useless lives! Who cares about this useless country! All that matters is us, and our will to get the Grail!" he declared again, readying his weapon.

"Are you insane, brother?" she yelled incredulously. "Do you really prefer to cause so much death just because of your selfish ego and vanity? Do you prefer to abandon these humans to their end? We were friends with them once! These people are our family, even more than the Gods! Humans are-"

"Humans... humans, humans, humans, HUMANS!" he roared all of a sudden, startling her. "It's always about humans with you! They're not my family, they are a plague! If only humans didn't exist, I wouldn't have been diminished! Their rotten legends have taken away the divine blood from me! It's their fault that we were reduced to Heroic Spirits after death!"

"It's not their fault!" she tried to defend them.

"Yes it is, sister!" he retorted promptly. "We're Gods. We're superior. Our goal should be to subjugate and conquer everything we want, not to unite and protect those disgusting insects!"

The girl narrowed her eyes to her brother's obstinacy. She tightened her grip on the hilt of the sword. "…Have you forgotten, brother? We were humans once," she then reminded him slowly.

He stiffened, but his face remained cold and contemptuous as ever. "…This doesn't change anything. Like hell I'd protect the human race."

"Don't you see, brother? They are in need of our protection."

"I don't care what happens to those pests!"

"Then I will protect them without you!"

A solemn frown arose on the twin's face. "The past is past, sister. I refuse to be tied to useless beings destined to disappear. And if you really are determined to defend them, if you really prefer side with them rather than with me…" the blond boy raised his discus, pointing it at his sister's unyielding face. "Then I won't hesitate to fight you."

She narrowed her eyes in anger but said nothing, merely raising her sword. A dead silence fell between the two Servants and siblings at that point. Nobody said anything for several seconds. It was clear that words and speeches weren't working between them. It was always like that. It had always been like that, and it would never change. But today, now, perhaps for the first time in their entire existence, the twins were hopelessly divided as never before. On two different sides, on two opposite poles, on two enemy factions that did nothing but wage war on each other. And neither of them was willing to give up or give in. It was impossible for both of them to go against their nature, their decision.

Castor and Pollux, for the first time in their existence, were facing each other on opposing factions.

Even if their legend was intertwined, even if the two of them were deeply connected, even if they loved each other more than anything else... now, there was no time for compromise.

So, there was only one way this feud could end.

With death.

The twins took another stance, preparing themselves to attack again. They spread their legs, bent their knees, raised their arms and-

"Yo."

The siblings startled physically. They'd remained so focused on their confrontation that they hadn't realized the signatures of prana that were approaching them during the battle in the least. They had been careless and foolish, blinded by rage, and for this they had been discovered without their knowledge. Not that it was too unexpected – this was still a War, after all – but they would have preferred to notice any interruptions beforehand. The girl, Pollux, mentally scolded herself for her own foolishness.

The boy, Castor, reacted violently instead. He immediately rounded in direction of the voice, building up a burst of electrical energy in his discus. Then, he fired the electric discharge at the target with a millimeter aim, throwing his weapon like a real javelin. The target managed to dodge the hit with a powerful leap, and the discharge hit the tip of a lamppost which was completely dissolved in a mass of molten metal and sparks. What remained of the lamppost collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

Castor and Pollux glared at the newcomer with solemn, irritated looks. A tall, blue-haired Servant whose primary outfit was a deep ultramarine full body tights covered in Runic protections, grey metalic pauldrons, and a metal plate over his lowest abdominal section. He had red eyes and carried a long spear casually settled on his shoulders. A Lancer, without a doubt. He was frowning at them, his brows furrowed in displeasure and irritation.

"Hey now, that wasn't very nice," he spoke with a sigh, casting a narrowed look at the twins.

The boy snarled, staring at him with obvious disgust. "Who are you, human? How dare you interrupt this moment between me and my sister?" he angrly demanded.

"Hoh? I'm sorry to interrupt your family reunion, but I'm afraid I have no choice." The man grabbed his spear, spinning it in his hand with a casual movement, glaring at both twins. "You see, lads, a few hours ago I've been tasked to protect this city. Your fight here could cause countless casualties and quite a bit of damage. I could see those flashes even from miles away. I can't overlook... whatever this sibling fight is."

"You have no right to interfere!" the boy hissed once again.

The Lancer remained impassive. "Trust me lad, I don't care about your family feud in the slightest. But if you want to fight, then leave the city and settle your dispute elsewhere. I can't allow some annoying kids to destroy an entire district because of a childish whim."

Pollux narrowed her eyes, but she remained silent. Castor, on the other hand, was visibly seething in anger. His body was literally shaking from the fury that coursed through his veins. "How dare you..." he hissed in a low voice. "How dare you lowly human to tell me what to do? Such insolence cannot be tolerated!"

With a ferocious roar, the boy threw his discus at the Lancer, aiming for the head. The weapon darted through the air, covering itself with electrical energy with a mental command from the wielder, and shot towards the target as fast as lightning. However, once again, the man dressed in blue was not caught unprepared. He quickly deflected the attack with his spear, and then ducked down to avoid a kick that the boy mysteriously appeared behind him was delivering from behind. The man smiled, grabbing the opponent boy's leg while he was waving in the air.

Pollux watched the scene with wide eyes full of shock.

A wide grin bared the Lancer's lips. "You're a pesky one, aren't you? Reminds me of a certain someone," he sarcastically said, watching with amusement as the boy stirred under his grip. He was literally holding him by one leg, lifting him upside down. "Maybe it's better if you calm down a little."

He snarled in anger and outrage, wriggling like a child. "How dare you!? You pathetic, disgusting human being! You will pay for this!"

The boy tried to attack again, calling back the discus to his hand, but his struggle was useless. A second later, he found the tip of the opponent's spear pointed at his neck, touching his skin in a menacing and unyielding manner. A trickle of blood came out as the tip of the spear lightly pricked his neck, momentarily putting an end to his every attempt to rebel and fight.

The girl stepped forward at that point, reaching out a hand towards them in fear. "Stop it!" she screamed, addressing the Lancer. "Don't hurt him! This is a matter that doesn't concern you!"

The man didn't even glance at her, his red eyes fixed on Castor's sweating face. "He's the one who attacked me first, lass," he said in a cold, monotone voice. There was something animalistic and ferocious in his tone, something that made Pollux feel a great irritation inside. "Besides, we're Servants. This is a War. You may be kids, but if you refuse to cooperate I will not hesitate to kill you. Is that clear?"

Despite his position, Castor growled fiercely. "As if you could do it!" he hissed.

Then, in less than a second, his whole body was suddenly coated with snappy, hissing energy, similar to an electrical discharge. The Lancer winced and his eyes widened, immediately releasing his grip on the enemy's leg. With a prodigious leap, he barely deflected yet another blow from the discus, managing to avoid being hit by an eletric discharge that would surely have electrocuted him.

Lancer landed next to Pollux, sighing softly with a frown. "Damn. What an annoying brat."

The girl watched with serious eyes and an impassive face as her brother scrambled to his feet, an outraged frown hurting his features.

"There's no stopping him, Lancer. My brother Castor is as stubborn as a rock. I've been trying to calm him down for hours, and so far I have not been successful. Therefore, step aside. I doubt your presence will be of much use in this fight," she spoke in all seriousness.

The man looked at her sideways, mulling something in his mind. Then, his lips parted into a wide, knowing grin. "Hoooh? I see now. Castor and Pollux, the twins of the constellation. The two Dioscuri from Greek mythology. Heh. That's interesting," he said in an amused tone, chuckling slightly.

Pollux gave him a confused look. "What do you me-"

A sudden electric flicker startled both of them. The girl turned back to her twin. Castor was back on his feet, his entire body covered in a thick fog of prana. The energy around him was of a golden-yellow color and it was fluttering furiously, similar to chirping electricity, while the discus began to float in the air, charging itself with ionized energy. The oxygen around the boy began to burn, and a strong smell of ozone began to plague the air.

"How dare you?" Castor hissed, glaring furiously at Lancer. "How dare you? You will pay for the way you treated me, impudent human!"

Pollux sighed, readying her sword and assuming a defensive position. "Great. Now he's pissed again. Stupid brother and his temper…" she hissed in irritation.

Lancer watched the situation for a couple of seconds, mulling something in his head. Then, he glanced at the girl next to him with his cold, red eyes. "Hmm. Hey, lass. How about I give you a hand to stop this stubborn twin of yours?"

The girl jumped in shock after hearing that offer, turning quickly towards him. She stared at the man for a couple of seconds, uncertain and confused, before tightening her grip on the sword and narrowing her eyes. "This is none of your business," she repeated seriously.

"I agree. What happens between you and your brother is none of my business. However, I cannot allow your fight to cause damage to civilians and the city's infrastructure. A lot of people could get involved, and unfortunately that's something I can't allow. I have orders I need to obey, you see," he repeated solemnly.

Pollux looked down at the ground. She glanced at Castor's furious and outraged face. Then, finally, she swallowed with a nervous nod. "I… I can agree with that. I don't want humans involved either," she admitted with a low tone of voice.

Lancer smirked. Then he spun his spear with one hand, preparing himself with a mighty grin. "Then it's settled."

"Wait, are you sure we can do it?" she asked again. "My brother is powerful. He and I are usually on the same level of strength, but his Mad Enhancement his clearly worsening right now. I haven't been able to stop him so far, and now he's getting stronger because of anger. Fighting him head-on would be useless."

The Lancer raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

She looked at him with utmost seriousness. "Are you sure the two of us alone can overwhelm him? Can you stop him while I keep him busy?"

In response, the man grinned widely.

"Who ever said that I'm alone?"

Castor and Pollux widened their eyes.

They had no way of reacting. Not even a second later, in fact, two figures suddenly fell from the sky, landing heavily on the ground in front of the girl and the Lancer, generating an explosion of debris and energy. Pollux covered her eyes with a jolt of surprise and shock, blinking as soon as the fog of smoke and debris cleared completely. Then, she began to observe the two newcomers with a puzzled and amazed look. Castor did the same, but with an irritated frown and a trickle of sweat dripping from his temple instead.

"It seems you can't keep yourself out of trouble, Lancer," one of the newcomers said, a Knight with broad shoulders, blonde hair and a stern look.

"Indeed. It appears that we must assist you in this battle," the other agreed with a sigh, a man with platinum-blonde hair and green eyes.

Lancer didn't answer to their sarcastic entrance, but merely widened his knowing smirk at the sight of Pollux's shocked expression.

"You're late, Knights of the Muscle-bound Table."

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Arc de Triomphe – Place Charles de Gaulle (Paris - France)

(======)

Place Charles de Gaulle, historically known also as the Place de l'Étoile, was a large road junction in Paris, perhaps the largest in the entire city, and the meeting point of twelve straight avenues (hence its historic name, which translates as Square of the Star) including the Champs-Élysées. The city's "historical axis" cut through the Arc de Triomphe, which stood at the centre of the square in all its glory. It was one of the most famous tourist attractions of the city, photographed and depicted on countless occasions.

Yet, at the moment, none of this mattered.

The two Servants clashed, their swords meeting again and again and again, generating waves of sparks and metal. Seeing their endless fight, people started to ran away with screams of panic and terror all over the square, the few cars still driving around stopping forcibly on the roundabout and their passengers running away, abandoning the vehicles. Everyone ran away, even the police, while the two Servants continued to fight each other, regardless of everything. Two men, extremely different in appearance and character.

The first one was a tall man, apparently in either his late 20s or early 30s, possessing brown eyes and long hair of the same color that reached his waist. His knightly armor was of a brozen-orange colour, covering from his neck to his feet. By the looks of his feet armor, his whole armor appeared to be dragon-themed. Portions of his armor, mainly the left side of his torso, were covered by a white garment with a red, vertical stripe on it. He wore a white cape, tied around his shoulders by a brown, leather belt, with a red horizontal stripe drawn on it. He also appeared to possess a second layer of clothing underneath the white garments with the same shape, but coloured red instead.

And more importantly, the sword he wielded in his hands was a double edged-weapon with a white blade and a golden hilt.

The second one, on the other hand, was completely different and much less noble in appearance. A tall, slender man with snow-white hair, green eyes and a pale complexion. He wore a large black jacket with white trim on the sleeves and chest, black trousers and heavy padded leather boots. The trim on his jacket seemed to take the shape of a sword, and an elegant red tie that ended like a bow hung from his neck. Finally, in his hands, the Servant held an executioner's sword bearing the inscription Epée de Justice (Sword of Justice), its color of black and white like his clothes.

And once again, the two Servants collided, their blades clashing again and again.

The man dressed in black gave a small smile as they exchanged blows. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Rider," he noted, his voice low, gentle, and devoid of any kind of emphasis or emotion.

"On the contrary, this battle brings nothing but pain and discomfort to me," the knight retorted seriously. A sad frown morphed his features. "I'm not fond of combat, but I fight when I have to. I didn't expect your faction to attack the city today, right after some demons' attack. A truly cowardly and reckless move, Assassin."

"Emperor's orders, please don't blame me," the other retorted slowly, deflecting the Rider's sword with a brusque movement of his arms.

With a jolt of surprise, the man dressed in black, Assassin, ducked under a blade thrust from the enemy, leaping away from the opponent and starting to run. However, the Rider didn't give up and gave him chase, reaching him a few meters away from the gigantic Arch that stood in the center of the square. Around them, the sound of police sirens could be heard indistinctly, along with the screams of terrified civilians and the surprised exclamations of motorists in the roundabout.

Rider reached the Assassin with a powerful leap, swinging his sword from above. The white-haired man barely managed to parry the attack, his legs trembling in the effort to resist under the oppressing pressure of the physically superior enemy.

"Why? Why are you doing this, Assassin?" the knight questioned him seriously. "Don't you see the fear around you? The destruction we are causing? And still you prefer to fight? Doesn't all of this affect you?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

The enemy stared at him with dull eyes, his vacant gaze concealing emotions too great to be described. "These hands have already severed countless heads and bathed in blood. Why should I be touched by death by now?" he retorted with an emotionless voice.

"You're killing innocent people!"

"I do not kill, I merely release people from their sins."

The Rider gritted his teeth in frustration, releasing a great amount of energy with a mental command. The white-haired man widened his eyes, slipping away from the enemy range with a roll that allowed him to avoid at the last second a slash that would have completely severed his right arm. Panting, the young Assassin stood a few feet away from his opponent, raising his executioner's sword with a shaky stance.

A look of disapproval appeared on the knight's solemn face. "You've betrayed your very own Queen. You should have joined us, our cause, our goal. The Queen wishes to save this country, not to conquer it. She said you two were old friends. But then... why?"

"You're wasting your breath, Rider," the other spoke slowly through shaky breaths. "Marie and I… we are tied to one another, but only in suffering. And I am so very pleased by this."

"But why choose the Emperor? Why fight your former allies?" the knight insisted.

A smile curled the former executioner's lips. A cold, joyless smile. "I was the one who killed her during the Revolution. I executed her. I have no right to stand as one of her allies again," he replied simply with his hollow voice and face.

Sheer silence followed his declaration. Seconds passed, followed by tension.

Finally, the valiant Rider raised his sword and pointed it at the enemy with a solemn gaze. "I see," he said in a quiet, low voice. A flash of resolve flashed in his eyes. "Then if this is what you've decided, I will not hesitate any longer. Even if it hurts me, even if I don't want to, I will follow my duty as a knight and a man of Faith. I shall destroy every enemy with haste, and therefore give you a quick and painless end."

"That's my job. But do as you will."

The two clashed again, fighting to get the better of the other.

After a couple of minutes of relentless struggle, Rider emerged victorious.

With his much greater strength than his opponent, he threw the executioner's blade away from the enemy's hands and then kicked him in the chest. The Servant crashed on the Arc de Triomphe, coughing in pain and panting with fatigue. Then, as soon as Assassin regained the strength to sit back on the ground, the mighty knight aimed his blade at his head, staring down at him with a determined gaze.

"You knew this was the inevitable outcome, Assassin," he said slowly. And it was true. They both knew they were on completely different levels of strength. The result of this clash had been obvious from the start. "And yet, this still pains me. I separate the sin from the sinner. I have sworn myself to this life... but I still fear it. Your eyes see through my worries. So, know that what I'm about to do is not out of anger, but out of duty and honor," he said slowly.

The other remained silent.

Rider raised his sword with a purposeful motion. "May the Lord have mercy upon your soul, Sanson."

Even in front of incoming death, the other remained impassive. "Your blade is one of unclouded justice. I feel nothing but respect for a sacred figure like you," he replied solemnly, continuing to look at him with that dead and solemn gaze from before, even in the face of danger. "But it's still too early to claim victory."

The knight's eyes widened. The executioner smiled sadly.

"Executing the sentence."

"La Mort Espoir."

What happened next, it happened in an instant. The Rider only had the time to widen his eyes before the inevitable happened. Suddenly, without warning, his body completely stiffened, and the world around him darkened as if enveloped in a black mist. When he realized that he had fallen victim to a Mental Interference, it was too already late. This was Sanson's Noble Phantasm. A Noble Phantams that, despite his power, he was unable to take down without outside help.

But he had no way of thinking about how to free himself. A moment later, in fact, the very same embodiment of the true execution tool appeared out of nowhere above him: a guillotine. It was immense, colossal, solemn. So big and disturbing in its glory that even a Saint like him had to suppress a shiver at its sight. And yet, no matter how long he tried, no matter how hard he fought, he found himself unable to move and react in time.

There, the judgment was made.

Then, one second later, the guillotine fell without a single sound.

The sword Ascalon fell helplessly on the ground.

And Sanson stared at the headless body of the Saint as it disappeared into a dust of prana.

He closed his eyes with a sad and cold expression. "This is what you miscalculated, Rider," he said in a soft tone of voice, devoid of emotions and empathy. "You were a Saint. A Hero. An extremely stronger Heroic Spirit compared to me. An immaculate and pure figure, certainly worthy of being spared and surviving the judgment."

His smile widened sadly. "Yet, not even you were able to avoid beheading at the end of your life. Heroes with anecdotes of being executed rather than dying in battle are bound to die under my guillotine. That's why I knew my Noble Phantams would work on you. That's how I won."

Sanson slowly got to his feet, staring at the knight's sword as it dissolved into a white cloud fo dust and whispering one last prayer for his fallen opponent. "Farewell Saint Georgios, Knight of dragon-slaying legends," he said in a whisper. "May the Lord have mercy upon your soul."

Total silence descended back into the square. Not even a sound could be heard in that moment, neither of cars nor people. He was alone. Utterly, completely alone; with pain and remorse as his only traveling companions. As always.

That was why he realized the sudden change.

Blinking slowly, Sanson turned around. And he was quite surprised when he found himself in front of a blonde woman dressed in light blue and silver armor. She had sharp green eyes, like shining emeralds, and a stern, cold gaze like few others. She had no emotion on her face – a trait Sanson found strangely familiar – and she was watching him with unnerving intensity. She didn't seem to have any weapons in her hands, but she was without a doubt a Servant. A very powerful one, on top of that. The young Assassin felt a trickle of sweat dripping from his temple.

Whoever she was, that woman was powerful and dangerous. A single glance was enough for him to tell. Her very presence emitted an aura of royalty and grandeur, an even greater feat than the great luminous presence that Georgios used to emit before. Also, there was something solemn and cold about her. Something that he couldn't quite grasp yet, but that was still alerting his senses in spite of everything.

The white-haired man narrowed his eyes nervously.

The woman was the first one to break the silence. She glanced at the abandoned square, at the abandoned cars on the road and at the surroundings, before taking a step forward and piercing him with a sharp gaze. "Servant," she said, in a calm, collected voice, tinged with a hint of coldness. "Are you a member of the factions fighting for the possession of this nation?"

Sanson slowly clenched his fists. "…How do you know that?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she remained as impassive as before. "Are you responsible for what happened here?" she asked again, slowly moving a hand to indicate the abandonment and destruction around them.

A couple of seconds passed before the Assassin replied. "What if I am?" he tried carefully.

The woman smiled. A cold, emotionless smile that sent a shiver on his back. "Then you must pay for your actions," she replied evenly, as if it was obvious. Her tone was neither angry nor accusatory. No, it was… cold. Icily cold, like a blade. And that made it even more worrying. It reminded him of the voice that used to come out from his own lips every time he opened his mouth to pronounce a sentence before an execution. "You hurt the city and caused panic and destruction among civilians. It goes against the rules of the Holy Grail War to fight among innocents and uninvolved people."

"...rules, you say?" he repeated slowly, grabbing his executioner's blade. He cast a cold gaze at the equally cold face of the woman. "There are no rules in this War. All that matters is the goal, and obtaining the Grail. Am I wrong?"

The woman watched him carefully, without answering. Instead, her hands reached forward, grabbing something he couldn't see. That gesture alone made him sweat profusely for some reason. His eyes narrowed.

'Is her weapon invisible?' he tried to reason inside his mind.

"Then come at me and face your decision," she spoke slowly. There was no anger in her face. There was no outrage or annoyance. Just calm, cold determination; accompanied by a royal and intimidating solemnity. "Let us duel with honor for the right to obtain the Grail."

Sanson visibly hesitated, tightening his grip on the handle of the executioner's blade. He could clearly see that if he attacked right now, he would be at a disadvantage. Just as what happened with Rider before, he could never win in a duel of strength. He was no knight. He was no powerful and skilled fighter. His strength lay in cunning, in deception, in playing his cards right during a strategic battle. He was an Assassin. He had to play smarter, not harder.

Therefore, the most logical choice that didn't involve running away and being followed by that woman, leading him to an eventual death... was to obtain more informations.

"I see how it is," he said then, hinting a little and emotionless smile. "You must be one of those 'moderate' Servants. One of those warriors fixated on 'honor' and respecting the 'rules'. I've met several of them in the past few days. All of them eventually withdrew from the War or fled because of fear."

"But you didn't," she noted, impassive.

He nodded, widening his smile. "I didn't. A superb form of intuition, indeed," he complimented her without emotion. "I have a wish for the Grail. A wish that I must achieve at any cost. Therefore, I simply joined the faction that would give me the best chance of success. Isn't it logical... swordswoman?"

She remained impassive. "What is your desire for the Grail?" she then asked again.

He sighed. The sword in his hand shook slightly. "It's nothing worth mentioning out loud, forgive me." He looked at her carefully after saying that, nodding with narrowed eyes. "My name, however, I can reveal. I am Charles-Henri Sanson, Assassin class Servant. And who, if I may ask, do I have the honor to face in this duel for the right to obtain the Grail?"

The smallest of smiles formed on the woman's lips. "Very well. As you've given me your name, in accordance with the chivalric code, I shall give you my own. I am Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights and former ruler of Britain. Saber class," she declared solemnly, glaring at him with an unwavering gaze.

Sanson stared at her. He swallowed a little. Even though he didn't show it on the outside, on the inside he was incredibly stunned by that revelation. He had already guessed that this woman was powerful, but this… this far exceeded even his wildest imaginations.

'...damn. I wasn't expecting to face King Arthur in the flesh. This is going to be troublesome. I must find a way to escape safely,' he inwardly thought.

"Don't even entertain any notions of escaping me, Assassin."

The young white-haired man flinched, staring at the woman intently. It almost seemed as if she had read his thoughts with that sentence. She was staring at him with that same smile from before, her emerald eyes narrowing in resolve and decision.

"I won't let you escape after what you've caused here. You'll take responsibility for your actions. I'll make sure of that."

"...karma, huh?" he mused in a low voice, sighing slightly. A self-deprecating smile curled his lips. "I see. This must be my punishment. I will not run from it, then."

"An honorable choice," she agreed. The woman readied her invisible weapon, taking another step forward. "Then come at me. I shall give you a painless death."

Sanson smiled wryly.

Seconds passed, folllowed by minutes.

Then, without warning, the Assassin dashed forward with a feint, pretending to attack from the front but instead preparing to aim for the flank at the last second. He knew that if he wanted to win this duel he had to play smart. Fighting directly was suicide. Even without counting that woman's true identity, she was a Saber. And the Saber Class was the most powerful one among the Heroic Spirits. He had no hope of winning a fight face-to-face. So, if he wanted to survive, he had to let the enemy drop her guard, get close enough, and activate his Noble Phantasm when she wasn't expecting it. It was his only chance of victory against a physically superior opponent like King Arthur.

Therefore, with the same resolve and firmness that had characterized him in life, he didn't hesitate.

Sanson moved according to his plan. He reached the target in two seconds. Right after that, he avoided a horizontal slash purely thanks to instinct, ducking under an invisible sword. Then, with a speed enviable for any human being, he pointed his sword forward for a direct thrust into the woman's side.

But his plan failed.

Artoria saw through his feint with disarming ease. She stepped to the side, casual and agile as the best of knights, and then she grabbed him by the shoulder as he walked past her. Then, before Sanson could even speak or do anything to react; with one swift movement she yanked him around and thrust her invisible sword into the enemy's chest.

The white-haired Assassin gasped, eyes widening in pain and shock.

...

It was over. Just like that. In less than five seconds. It was over. He had been overwhelmed. He had been defeated like a kid, overpowered by an overwhelming and flawless display of strenght and skills. He hadn't even had time to activate his Noble Phantasm.

It was over.

Thick, crimson blood dripped from his lips and chest. But despite the pain, Sanson smiled.

"...I see," he whispered in a hoarse voice, more from the pain than emotion. He even chuckled mirthlessly with a shake of the head. "Heh… as it should be. This is karma itself."

The woman said nothing. She merely listened to him with an impassive gaze, slowly drawing the sword from the enemy's chest.

Sanson collapsed on his knees as she released him from her grip, blood pouring from the wound relentlessly. His self-deprecating smile was still present on his bloodstained lips.

"…You fought bravely," Artoria said with a solemn tone of voice. "You did not flee from the fight. A noble gesture for an Assassin. I will remember your name, Charles-Henri Sanson."

He chuckled softly. "…I told you. This is karma form me. It was inevitable that sooner or later I would end up paying for my sins. Now, it's time for me to make another journey to the grave..."

His body began to disappear in a dust of prana under Artoria's emerald eyes.

Sanson gave her one last smile.

"...please, tell Marie that I'm sorry for everything."

Then, he disappeared, leaving the King of Knights alone and immersed in silence in front of the gigantic Arc de Triomphe.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Notre-Dame Cathedral – Île de la Cité (Paris - France)

(======)

"S-Sir Mordred! Can't we go just a little slower?"

"What are you saying, Lancer? We need to get a move on if we want to reach the enemy!"

In the heart of the city, Mordred and Jeanne ran in direction of a distinct signature of prana. The Knight of Treachery was running furiously, powered by the occasional burst of prana, while the Maid of Olreans followed behind, struggling to keep up with her. The two of them advanced at full speed, leaping from roof to roof, running relentlessly in search of the enemies who were causing panic in the capital. Eventually, their trained senses were able to detect a large source of energy that was moving to a precise location: the center of the city. So, with haste and without wasting time, the two Servants gave chase.

They reached the proximity of their goal: Île de la Cité, the most famous island in the center of the capital. They crossed a bridge built over the River Seine, ignored the few fleeing civilians, and moved through the increasingly less crowded streets. As they advanced on the island beyond the majestic buildings that characterized it, the two Servants realized something: there was no one in sight. Most of the civilians had completely fled from that place, for some reason.

After a couple of minutes, they reached the position from which they could perceive the source of prana: the gigantic square of Notre-Dame. The cathedral stood majestically before them, with all its gothic splendor and magnificence, making Mordred raise and brow in surprise and plunging Jeanne into memories. The blonde Maiden couldn't help it, after all. Notre-Dame Cathedral was a famous church even during her time, back in 1412. It had been built a little less than a century before her birth, and modified several times throughout history. It was definitely a sight that always excited her, despite all the times she had seen it already.

But the Holy Maiden had no way to get carried away by her memories of times past. This was not the time. In fact, as beautiful and majestic as the great cathedral might be, what had truly caught her attention was the mighty Servant who remained motionless in front of the small staircase leading to the central entrance.

Jeanne gaped in shock while Mordred narrowed her eyes.

The Servant could be described as "pure muscle". That's the only description that could truly do him justice. Those who looked upon him were drawn to his extraordinary mass and found a sense of hopelessness as they looked up to try to gauge the height of the giant man who stood over two meters tall. He had pale skin covered in innumerable scars to show the immense amount of training and battle it had weathered, and he was covered in leather straps tightly coiling around his body and face. His whole presence gave off a feeling of someone out of the ordinary. He had an eerie smile on his face, eyes wide and full of madness and anger, wielding a black gladius sword in his hand.

Moreover, all around the giant Servant, a dozen policemen stood in position, with pistols and rifles aimed at him. They were shivering in terror at his mighty figure, firing bullets at him. Bullets that the Servant was completely – and incredibly – ignoring. Jeanne gasped as she saw the scene. The projectiles pierced his body and filled him with holes, but his wounds healed within seconds. He was completely ignoring the cops and their attacks, even though they kept shooting at him.

"T-T-That's impossible!"

"He's a monster!"

"This thing is not human!"

Jeanne ran towards them with frenzied speed. She grabbed a policeman by the arm, drawing his attention. "What are you doing!?" she exclaimed with bewilderment. "Get away from here! That man is dangerous!"

Once again, the faces of the police officers flashed with recognition as they saw her. "F-Fair Maiden!" one of them exclaimed, his gun still pointed at the giant man in front of the cathedral. "T-This thing is dangerous! We can't let him-"

She interrupted them impatiently. "Get away from here! At this rate you'll end up getting killed!"

"Hahahah! Bwahahahah!"

A mad laugh suddenly echoed in the air.

Jeanne and the cops stiffened. Slowly, they all turned in its direction.

The Servant had roused to life all of a sudden, bursting out in laughter like a madman. There was something unhealthy and crazy – almost hysterical – in the way he laughed. His eyes were wide, and his whole body was trembling as if shaken by convulsions. His arms began to tremble visibly, as if they wanted to stay still but completely failed in their attempts. It was a disturbing sight, especially for mere humans.

Then, after a couple of seconds of wild, crazed laughter, the mighty man took a single, menacing step forward.

"Hahah…? A rebellion. A rebellion!" he screamed, brandishing his gladius sword and widening his already wide, crazed smile. He stared at Jeanne with eyes full of madness and murderous lust, his face a disturbing mask of frenzied madness. "An oppressor has appeared at last!"

The blonde Lancer started to speak, but she didn't make it in time. With a portentous leap and a mad roar of war similar to a laugh, the giant man leapt forward, attacking her furiously. The girl reacted instinctively, throwing away the nearest policemen and summoning her battle flag to block the opponent's sword at the last second. Their clash generated a shock wave that knocked all the police officers around her to the ground, their expressions shocked and incredulous.

Jeanne gritted her teeth under the oppressive pressure of the enemy. "G-Get away from here!" she hissed at the cops. She gave them a frantic look. "Go away! Now!"

This time, unlike before, they listened to her command. As the cops escaped, Jeanne did her best to resist the pressure of the giant Servant, glaring at him as he continued to pressure her with his sword. The ground beneath her cracked a little due to the overwhelming strength of the muscular man.

"Y-You… who are you? Why are you doing this?" she asked through gritted teeth, watching him with an angry frown.

In response, the man let out another mad laughter and increased the pressure on her. "Bwahahah! Spartacus! My name is Spartacus! And my love shall destroy all oppressors!"

The girl's eyes widened. She was about to give in to the physically superior strength of the enemy when suddenly something happened.

Mordred appeared next to her in the blink of an eye, surprising both her and the giant Servant. Then, with monstrous speed, she punched the giant man square in the face with a hiss of irritation, her punch loaded with prana and energy. The attack was so precise and powerful that Spartacus was forcefully thrown to the side, crashing into an empty spot in the middle of the square with a small explosion, freeing Jeanne from the oppressive and relentless pressure.

Mordred glared at him, her body clad in her menacing armor. "The heck is wrong with this man? He clearly has some screw loose. Must be a Berserker," she said in an annoyed tone, summoning Clarent with a blast of red energy as she glared at the mighty figure that was slowly getting up from the ground.

Jeanne swallowed a little, catching her breath with a deep breath. "He seems dangerous. Don't let your guard down, sir Mordred."

"Tch. As if some insane warrior could possibly be a threat to me."

Yet another laugh echoed in the air. The two girls narrowed their eyes when they saw that the gigantic muscular man was back on his feet, his face always splitted by that same crazy and disturbing smile from before. His eyes were so wide they seemed completely white as he watched them with a look filled with madness. His entire body was shaking with laughter. "Hahaha! Are you the oppressors? You shall now face my wrath!" he roared with a bellowing laughter, brandishing his sword with a determined motion.

The female Knight raised Clarent on her shoulder with a careless motion. "The heck you're talking about? What's with you and oppression?" she spat.

The only response she received was the man's gladius sword aimed at her and a cry of glee. "Behold, oppressor! My might will wreak havoc upon your arrogance! Hahahah!"

That being said, with a prodigious leap that would have been impossible to do with such a muscular body, the insane Berserker sprang into action once again. Mordred met his charge head on, deflecting a sword strike with swift and precise movement. The man didn't give up in the slightest, continuing to attack furiously like a madman and slashing with his blade madly, trying to hit the opponent relentlessly. He didn't seem willing to give her even a moment of rest.

Mordred narrowed her eyes, enclosing her head in her menacing helmet. As expected of the Berserker class, the man's blows were powerful and destructive, and each time their swords met the girl felt her arms tremble with fatigue. That Servant might be crazy, but he had monstrous strenght. His muscles weren't just for show, it seemed. But that certainly didn't mean she would allow herself to be overwhelmed by a physically superior opponent. Not a chance.

After all, Spartacus could be as powerful as he wanted, but he was still a madman. Therefore, he lacked technique.

With a sudden twist of the wrist, Mordred slipped under the enemy's guard and deflected his sword. The gladius crashed to the ground with an explosion of concrete and debris, and she took the opportunity to kick the muscular man in the face, her leg wrapped in energy and bolts of red lightning. The gigantic man emitted a kind of chuckle similar to a moan, before being forcefully knocked to the ground by the power of the kick. He fell face down on the ground, breaking through the concrete with an explosion.

A second later, Jeanne made her move. With a high jump, she took aim with precision and rained down from the sky towards the target with a cry of war. She thrust the tip of her battle flag right into the Berserker's chest, stabbing his heart with disarming precision. The Servant trashed and laughed beneath her, but she dug her weapon even deeper as copious jets of blood poured out of the grotesque wound.

She expected it to be over… but it wasn't.

Soon after being stabbed in the heart, in fact, the Servant roused himself with a mad laughter, and shook Jeanne off with one arm as if she was nothing more than an annoying fly. The blonde Lancer leapt away from him, watching in sheer shock along with Mordred while the giant mass of muscle and madness scrambled to his feet as if nothing had happened, the wound on his chest throbbing horribly. A heap of repulsive red flesh gushed out of the hole on his heart, coating the wound and plugging it completely. In less than two seconds, the body had regenerated and the damage disappeared, as if it had never been dealt in the first place.

The Maid of Orleans narrowed her eyes. "So it's as I thought," she said seriously, assuming a defensive stance and grabbing her flag again. "He really is able to regenerate his wounds. A straight blow to the heart wasn't enough to kill him."

Mordred grinned ferally. "Heh. Let's see if this works, then!"

With a sudden Mana Burst, she shot forward at full speed, like a bolt of red light, and stepped in front of the enemy. Spartacus attempted to attack her, but she slipped under his legs and avoided a vertical lunge with ease. Then, she quickly got back to her feet and threw a powerful slash that landed without any resistance.

The Berserker's right leg was completely severed, and the giant man stumbled forward, falling to his knees with a surprised moan that sounded like a mad chuckle. His sword fell from his hand, and he turned his head towards the grinning Knight who watched him with superiority and satisfaction. "How do you like that?" she spat.

To her astonishment, however, he openly laughed at her face. "Hahahah! You think something like this is going to stop me?!"

With a movement fast and precise enough to surprise even her, Spartacus threw himself forward on one leg and grabbed Mordred by her own leg. The female Knight only had time to gape in shock and upheaval before being abruptly lifted by the giant man, and a moment later he slammed her to the ground like a whip, cracking the concrete and generating a crazy explosion that shook everything. Mordred's world went black and blurry for a couple of seconds.

"Sir Mordred!"

Jeanne charged in, determined to save her ally from the enemy's clutches, but she failed. Spartacus rounded on her like a madman, his leg now completely healed as if it had never been severed, and he blocked her battle flag with his free hand, ignoring the pain and blood the action had caused him. The girl gaped at the scene, distraught.

"Not yet!" he yelled madly, his smile creepy and full of madness. "NOT YET!"

Then, he gave the blonde Lancer a powerful kick, hitting her in full. Jeanne groaned in pain with gritted teeth, and then screamed as she was abruptly thrown away from there, soaring in the air like a missile and crashing into a building made of brick and stone. The force of the impact was so great that she completely broke through the wall, crashed the entire building, and came out from the other side, piercing the building on both sides. The girl collapsed in the middle of a street with a stifled groan, struggling to get back on her feet.

Spartacus laughed, focusing again on the Knight he was holding up in the air with one arm. Mordred was wriggling furiously, turning pale under his mad face and creepy smile. "I will crush you, oppressor!"

She glared with a bellowing roar. "Screw you, you bastard!"

Without wasting a single second, Mordred swung Clarent once again, the blade enveloped in red, flaming energy. He severed the Berserker's arm with a clean cut, freeing herself from his grip and punching him again in the chest. The gigantic man did not utter any sounds of pain, but rather laughed all the time, even when he found the female Knight in front of him once again, intent on delivering a horizontal slash that severed his chest with a deep cut. The Berserker shed blood like a fountain, furiously wagging its remaining arm and punching the Saber to drive her away. The girl blocked the hit with her broadsword, but the power of the blow still sent her flying away from him.

Mordred gritted her teeth in rage, infusing energy into her sword. Small bolts of red lightning began to flicker around Clarent's blade. Her eyes glared at Spartacus as he scrambled to his feet, his wounds healing once more, as if they had never been inflicted. Even his arm grew back again from yet another mass of throbbing flesh generated by his severed limb. His smile never faded, growing more and more insane and unhealthy as the seconds passed.

He was smiling through all of it, as if enjoying the act and asking: "Is this all that constricts me? All you can do?" Even Mordred had to suppres a shiver at that sight. That man could be considered very frightening given the way his scar-riddled face remained composed and smiling regardless of whether he was being struck or striking his opponent. This Servant was not normal. He was extremely creepy even for the Berserker class.

"I will bring death to all the oppressors!" he declared with another fit of laughter, grabbing his gladius sword again with an unhealthy smile.

She snarled under her helmet. "You're the one oppressing this city, you revolting fool!" she roared with rage.

"I must rebel! Rebellion is my life! Slavery is UNFORGIVABLE!"

The Berserkers sprinted forward, starting to run towards his target like a madman. Mordred gritted her teeth and leapt away from him, avoiding his charge. Like a bull running mad, Spartacus didn't stop even when he missed the target, crashing heavily against the wall of a building next to the cathedral. A large explosion was generated by the impact, and part of the wall collapsed into a pile of debris and bricks. Some debris even fell on his head and shoulders, but he completely ignored it, as if not feeling the pain.

Mordred narrowed her eyes as soon as she noticed the madman starting to chase after her again. Then, she leaped away from the square and started to run across the rooftops, moving away from the square and the cathedral. As she ran to the highest point of a medieval building, she spun around and promptly deflected an enemy lunge. Spartacus had managed to reach her with a single portentous leap, attacking her relentlessly with a bellowing laught that echoed in the air for dozens of meters.

Then, suddenly, a familiar battle flag suddenly stuck in the Berserker's neck. Spartacus widened his eyes and choked a laugh, collapsing heavily on the roof of the building as Jeanne's weapon hit him, piercing his neck from behind. The Maid of Orleans appeared a moment later, grabbing the flag from behind the muscular man and using her body weight to yank it free with a heavy tug. The mad Servant's neck was severed almost completely, remaining attached to the body only by a pulsating flap of flesh. But much to their growing horror, his head, instead of severing, re-attached itself completely to the body a moment later.

Mordred, however, took advantage of the moment of distraction. Raising her sword engulfed in roaring red flames, she delivered a vertical slash that hit her target as soon as it finished regenerating the wound. A gigantic gash was caused by the blow, and Spartacus' body was severed in half, from the right shoulder to the left side. With a gushing spurt of blood, the mutilated Berserker fell to his knees, his arms limping helplessly at his sides and his face frozen with his mouth still open in laughter.

"Die, you disgusting freak!" Mordred snarled, hitting him once again with Clarent, this time on the semi-severed abdomen.

The Berserker was thrown into the air due to the force of the blow. He shot into the air for hundreds of meters, until he crashed heavily in the western part of the river that surrounded the island in the center of the capital. He disappeared into the waters of the Seine, without being seen again for several seconds. Once he disappeared, sheer silence fell between Mordred and Jeanne. The two girls panted slightly, watching the spot of the river where Spartacus had fallen with careful attention.

Then, the seconds became minutes, and the minutes passed in absolute silence.

"...is it over?" Mordred mused in a low voice, glaring at the river from the roof of the tall building.

Jeanne swallowed. "I doubt it."

In fact, after just five seconds, a revolting mass of meat shot out of the water and landed on the opposite bank of the river. Mordred and Jeanne gaped in shock at the scene.

Spartacus was still alive, but his body was becoming more and more hideous. Now, a shapeless mass of flesh had formed on his chest and arms, making him appear misshapen and disfigured. Big puddles of red meat were throbbing under his pale skin, making his body even bigger and more repulsive than before. His smile, however, had not disappeared, but had become even more unhealthy and insane, with drool dripping from his lips and his eyes almost completely white with madness.

"Haha... Hahahahahahahah!" the Berskerker laughed loudly, his insane laughter echoing in the distance. "You will not stop my rebellion! For even at the end of despair there's hope to overthrow the oppressors!"

Jeanne stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes. "...how is this possible?" she whispered, out of breath.

"Tch. That revolting freak just got even more disgusting," Mordred spat in irritation. Her helmet suddenly snapped open, revealing her frowing face to the world. A trickle of sweat was dripping from her chin. "If this continues, he could cause a lot of damage to the city. At this rate I'll have to activate my Noble Phantasm, but I doubt it would be enough to destroy him."

At that moment, a voice spoke in her ear.

S- Do so if you wish, kid, but step to the right first.

"W-Wha-?" Mordred startled, stepping unconsciously to the right and turning back with her mouth agape.

An arrow wrapped in blue energy hissed past her.

Jeanne and Mordred stared as the arrow hit Spartacus in the head, generating a black and red blast. The air vibrated, the world stilled, and time paused for a second. Then, the water of the Seine literally imploded all of a sudden, generating a column of water that rose into the sky and immense thundering waves that collided with the river banks, cracking the concrete and making much of the island and the city tremble. The surroundings shook voilently, the air hissed and vibrated for several seconds full of tension. And when the explosion finally ended, an impressive column of smoke and energy was rising towards the sky, obscuring the world for hundreds and hundreds of meters.

Mordred turned, narrowing her eyes in direction of a certain tower in the distance behind her.

"Damn you, Ruler! That was my kill!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Eiffel Tower – Champ de Mars (Paris - France)

(======)

Shirou studied the situation from the top of the Eiffel Tower with narrowed eyes while the wind moved his hair and cloak.

The city was currently under attack from four different fronts. Well, not exactly under attack. It wasn't the exact way to describe what was happening. The reality was that Paris had simply become a gigantic battleground, a war camp to host large-scale confrontations and battles. The God of War sighed at that view. Honestly, how could these so-called 'factions' be so reckless? Fighting and starting a war in the middle of a capital? Really? No, seriously, really? Could one be more idiotic than that?

He shook his head in order not to think about it. His golden-brown eyes scanned the immense city and the various battlefronts with a gaze enhanced by his Divine abilities.

The first front to the southeast consisted of a battle between two twins and the Blue Team. The damage was currently contained in the city's business district, and he doubted there was any need to intervene. King Arthur's Knights and Lancer could handle the situation on their own. They outnumbered the enemy, and one of the twins seemed to have allied herself with them for some reason. Also, Cu Chulainn seemed to be enjoying himself during the battle. He would leave the situation in his hands.

The second front consisted of Iskandar and two mysterious Servants currently facing each other in heated discussion. They were on the opposite side of the city, north of the tower, on top of the city's highest hill. As usual, Iskandar was handling the situation in a great way. Despite his exuberant character, Shirou trusted his conduct in battle and his strategies. There was no need to intervene. He already had an idea of who the two Servants the King of Conquerors was facing were, but at the moment he had other priorities. He would take care of this matter later.

The third front was located to the west, where Artoria had already disposed of an enemy Servant and was currently headed towards Mordred's and Jeanne's location. As expected from the King of Knights. Her strength and skills were truly considerable. There were very few enemies who could hope to best her in a fight. It was almost impossible, given her legend that was extremely famous and known in every corner of the globe. She had cleared one obstacle with disarming ease, and now she was ready to face another. Truly, a warrior who keeps going through and through.

The last front, on the other hand, was the most problematic one: Mordred and Jeanne. The Servant they were facing seemed to be a rather tricky opponent to defeat. A literal walking disaster: Spartacus. A Berserker capable of regenerating any wound. Shirou had to suppress a shiver as he watched him from afar. To think such a repulsive Noble Phantasm could exist… it was very reprehensible, even if understandable, in his opinion. After all, thanks to the informations he had received from Gaia, he knew what they were dealing with.

Crying Warmonger. A Noble Phantasm that transformed damage into magical energy, stealing power from the enemy's attacks. A decidedly fitting skill for a warrior like Spartacus. A Thracian gladiator captured by Romans who became a symbol of rebellion. A gladiator Hero who stood up for the oppressed, fighting against everything and everyone in spite of the damage and pain his body suffered in battle. And because of this, that very same way of life sublimated into a Noble Phantasm when he became a Servant. Truly, a fitting situation for a Hero like him.

Crying Warmonger was a continuously activated type Noble Phantasm that converted all the damage inflicted by the opponent into Magical Energy. Said energy was then accumulated in his body to boost or heal himself. As such, the longer a battle was prolonged, the more advantageous it was for Spartacus. The only way to beat him was to strike him down with a mighty Noble Phantasm in a short and decisive battle. Shirou didn't know about Jeanne's abilities, but he knew Mordred's power was not enough to kill the mad Berserker right now.

However, Shirou was sure of one thing. Like all weapons and Noble Phantasms, there had to be a weakness. In this case, there had to be a limit to transforming those wounds into power. If he'd accumulated too much energy, Spartacus would surely implode at a certain point. And that was what he needed to do in order to kill him. The only way they had to stop him permanently.

It was risky, sure, and it would surely put the entire city in danger... but it was their only option at the moment.

Hopefully though, his intervention wouldn't be necessary. But that hotheaded Knight was surely going to make it difficult, he knew.

Gently, he began to build up his magic energy, ready to spring to action in any moment.

The distance was 6 miles, well within his bow's range. If he Traced an arrow, emphasizing an extreme low-drag setup, the attack would arrive so fast they wouldn't even feel or hear it coming, passing the sound barrier with ease. This distance was also ideal for defense, since Spartacus couldn't detect him from this far, and that would render any chasing idea useless, especially with Mordred and Jeanne keeping him at bay.

Besides, he'd confirmed there were no Magi in the city right now, so it would be fine. He could give it a try.

With his enhanced sight, Shirou watched as Mordred cut the mighty Berserker in two with her sword, hurling him into the water of the Seine and rejoining Jeanne to catch her breath. After that, for some time, the situation seemed to be under control.

But then, Spartacus appeared again, looking more ugly than ever.

Right... that's enough.

His patience had its limits, after all.

The red-head smiled at little, turning on his earphone. 'That was magnificent,' he mused. 'But not enough.'

He whispered two simple words.

"Trace On."

Reaching out with his hands, he summoned a large black bow and opened a palm. In his right hand, a large weapon appeared with an electric hiss and a flash of red energy: a sword. A long spiral-shaped sword, extremely similar to a weapon he had forged long, long ago. It was a copy, of course. A mere Projection compared to the original. But now, since he had lost the original and most of his weapons were no longer stored in his Reality Marble, one copy was the best he could afford. It had to be enough.

Suddenly, the sword lengthened, becoming thinner and assuming the shape of an arrow. He notched it on his bow, taking aim carefully. The blade coiled into a spiral that could penetrate any target by creating a twisting distortion in space when fired, and the God of War watched the target closely, aiming with extreme care and precision.

Energy coursed through his body. It swirled around him like a gust, moving his white cloak around his shoulders.

His eyes could see Mordred's lips parting furiously, hissing something about activating her Noble Phantasm.

He narrowed his eyes. "Do so if you wish, kid, but step to the right first."

M- W-Wha-?

Shirou loosed the arrow with a hushed whisper.

"Caladbolg."

The arrow shot across the sky, enveloped in blue energy. Then, in less than a blink of an eye, it hit the target and generated a gigantic explosion. After a couple of seconds, a column of energy and smoke rose skyward, obscuring central Paris and a part of the river for several miles. Unfortunately, he realized soon enough that this hadn't been enough to kill Berserker, but still... now he could start to form a plan.

And Mordred's voice echoing with irritation in his earphone was a very satisfying thing to hear.

M- Damn you, Ruler! That was my kill!

Shirou smirked in satisfaction.

"This is the end. Surrender."

And his smirk disappeared.

A cold and decisive voice stated the obvious to him.

The red-haired God held back a sigh, casting a sidelong glance at the figure that had silently appeared behind him. His lips twitched in attempt to hold back an amused smile as he felt the tip of a thin sword touch his back lightly. The newcomer had put him in checkmate. He could say he was surprised by the sudden appearance... but it would have been a lie. He had sensed that looming presence since fifteen seconds ago, to be honest.

The newcomer had approached quietly from behind, concealing their presence to the best of their abilities and using a magical camouflage to conceal the noise. However, without the intervention of a magical artifact or a skill that could completely hide the presence of mana in the air, it was impossible for a Servant to hide from Shirou's range of perception. There were exceptions, of course, but it was almost impossible.

Too bad their disguise meant nothing in front of the God of War.

He glanced at the enemy. The Servant behind him was a young girl – or was it a man? He couldn't tell. In the end, he settled for girl after a few seconds of internal musing – dressed in a brightly colored military uniform, typical of 18-19th century France. She had long blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and wore a large hat on her head. Said hat was a dark blue color with a long pink feather embedded in its lace. Yes, the Servant definitely looked like an 18th century knight, and she wielded a thin and elegantly decorated sword, typical of that period.

Shirou was silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about what to do. What was he supposed to do with her? Kill her? Fight her? Try to compromise? If he wanted to remain undercover, killing her was the best choice, undoubtedly. He could Trace her weapon, discover her history and identity with a single glance, and use any possible advantage to eliminate her quickly and silently... but Shirou didn't want to have an innocent death on his conscience (although no Servant was truly innocent). Moreover, the idea of fighting didn't intrigue him that much right now. He had another problem to deal with, after all.

Knocking her out non-lethally was also an option. He could use a moment of distraction to strike in secret and knock her unconscious. But this choice would have been disadvantageous. He needed informations, he needed to find out more about the current situation and what was happening in this battered city. An unconscious body was useless for that purpose. In conclusion, the most favorable option was to negotiate.

Therefore, it was time to show off his exemplary – yeah, right – diplomatic skills.

Shirou smiled, turning to the woman who kept her sword pointed at him in a threatening way.

He silently hoped his smile wasn't as creepy as Mordred always said. He didn't want to appear hostile. It couldn't be that bad… could it?

"I'm afraid I can't comply, Servant. Perhaps we can resolve this with a mere warning?"

The girl had no reaction, but her blue eyes narrowed slightly. Her face was a mask of cold and solid decision, and there was no trace of hesitation in her gaze. She raised her head slightly to look at him in the eyes, challenging him with a steel gaze.

"You have your warning already. Surrender, and maybe I will refrain from killing you in the next five seconds," she said, in a surprisingly soft voice despite her firmness. "Throw that bow away, and I sha-"

"Ah, I don't mean your earlier command," he cut her speech abruptly. "I mean... my warning to you."

The girl had a shiver of uncertainty. Shirou saw it in her eyes. They wavered for a split second, unsure of how to react. But then she steeled her resolve and her stern voice ringed again.

"I think you have misunderstood the situation. I am the one holding you hostage, not the other way around, so you better answer my questions. State your name, Archer."

Again, a command, not a request. Shirou wondered why Servants were all so eager to fight and antagonize each other. Couldn't they settle an issue peacefully? Without drawing swords, uttering threats or brandishing weapons? He was really starting to admire Iskandar more and more at this point. That man was the only exception to the rule he had encountered so far. At least he went into battle and always offered a chance to talk. Guys, a minimum of humanity, come on.

He sighed, deciding to comply to prevent the situation from escalating. "I'm not an Archer. I'm a Ruler. The name is Shirou Emiya. Are you happy now?"

The strange knight's eyes widened. A flash of understanding flashed in her features. Then, the blonde girl blinked and returned serious like before. "I see… a Ruler class Servant. And what is your goal then? Which faction do you belong to?"

Shirou smiled. "I'm afraid I can't say... yet. My situation and that of my companions isn't that simple, you see," he replied superficially. "But if you lower that sword we can talk in a more civil way. What do you say?"

"I'm afraid not. Speak, and then we'll discuss your release."

"Hmm... no can do. If you don't release me right now, I'll refuse to give you information about me and I shall leave you with nothing."

"And what makes you think you can escape?" she retorted sternly.

Before the other Servant could react, Shirou pressed a knife on the knight's dainty neck, his body already behind her in an instant. He made sure not to touch her needlessly, since he assumed girls could be very sensitive to that, but the cold steel kissed her pale skin all the same, ready to sever her head at a twitch of his hand.

"This."

The girl trembled slightly in surprise, although he couldn't judge her expression from behind her. An enchanting floral scent wafted from her hair and body, the scent of a lily, and a normal man would surely be brought to his knees with just a whiff... but Shirou was not 'normal'. He was completely indifferent to this kind of things. Especially in the midst of a battle and a world-wide conflict. He had a duty to uphold.

Ten seconds of absolute silence passed. Finally, slowly, the strange knight lowered her sword and sheathed it back to her side with a trembling arm. Her body was rigid and tense, but when she turned her expression was serious despite the obvious terror in her eyes. Her legs were still shaking right now, and the red-haired Ruler made sure to glare at her with an impassive face, his dagger still pointed at her neck.

"...it seems I underestimated you," she admitted through gritted teeth, clenching her fists helplessly. "Very well, then. I promise not to attack you as long as you agree to discuss peacefully."

His smiled returned. Then, slowly and playfully, he lifted the short knife from her neck. "Well, that was just a demonstration. No need to be so alarmed," he chuckled as he backed away a little, his knife dissolving in a dust of white prana.

The Servant stared at him, swallowed, and then regained her demeanor. It was now painfully evident that the Ruler was far more powerful than she was. There was no point in pretending to be confident and avoiding questions. Therefore, her face became as serious as before. "My name is Chevalier d'Eon, and my Servant class is Saber. I am the knight that will protect the royalty of France until the end of days, formerly known as the Knight of the White Lily," she introduced herself with a little bow, tipping her hat in a slightly theatrical way.

Shirou blinked a little before nodding slowly. "I see. Forgive my tactlessness, but I have a question. You... are a girl, right? Why are you dressed as a man?" he asked, scratching his cheek in obvious confusion.

To his amazement and confusion, the Servant blushed fiercely. Her cheeks turned a deep red as she glared at him. "W-What a disrespectful question to ask!" she exclaimed, clenching her fists in great embarrassment and pouting a little. She seemed immensely ashamed to answer, but she braced herself all the same. "I… I've been through so much for the French Royal Family. As both a male and a female, I have visited too many places to count. My gender... it varies according to those who observe me."

A profound silence fell on the top of the tower after that statement, as Shirou watched the Servant with a solemn gaze and his mind racing with informations.

A Servant that changed gender according to its interlocutors… that was new. He wasn't expecting this. As far a he knew, Chevalier d'Eon was said to be a woman who was a man, or a man who was a woman. A figure of legend from 18-19th century, both a soldier and a writer. D'Eon had a prolific career as a spy working for a secret agency that was hunted by great world powers, and was also a minister pluripotentiary and a dragoon captain. The truth about their gender was something that remained a mystery even today.

Actually, it has been said that, regardless of dressing formally as a man, of behaving as a man, they were endowed with such a good looks that they could pass up for a lovely young girl. In fact, before coming to age, they were introduced to the high society while wearing a dress and earned themselves a reputation as a "beautiful woman". And now that he looked at her better, that Knight was quite cute, in his opinion…

And perhaps it was precisely for this reason that she had become such a… peculiar Servant.

But he didn't care. He had more pressing matters to think about.

"…Sorry, that was a stupid question. By the way, you said you're part of a faction, right? Which one are you referring to?" he asked again, turning serious in a instant.

D'Eon assumed a solemn expression as well. "Both here and in life, I swore loyalty to the Royal Family's Lily. I am a Knight, and as such my absolute loyalty goes to the Royal family of France and the Queen," she – he? Let's settle for she – replied with absolute decision and firmness. There was no longer any trace of hesitation in her tone, replaced by a cold solemnity worthy of the most determined warrior.

Shirou nodded. "Then you belong to the Queen's faction," he realized, crossing his arms. He glanced to a certain part of the city. "Then tell me: why are you guys fighting in the middle of the capital? Such an action goes against the rules of the Holy Grail War. My job is to make sure the War runs smoothly and civilians don't get involved. A task that has been made much more difficult due to your 'factions' and your current battles here."

His gaze became literal steel in that moment. D'Eon swallowed in fear as soon as she felt the aura of oppression and irritation that hovered around Shirou. The red-haired Ruler eyed her with an icy cold stare, his voice sharper than a blade.

"So tell me, Knight of the Royal Family. Why are you guys causing such chaos in the city?"

The Saber swallowed nervously, but remained steadfast despite everything. "We didn't attack the city. It was the other faction that suddenly attacked us. We just defended ourselves. We never intended to involve civilians in the War. I swear on my honor as a knight," she retorted in all seriousness.

"Quite the accusation. Then why did you attack me?"

She clenched her fists. "I-I was searching for the other opponents when I noticed the presence of a new Servant on the Tower. I never saw you among the enemy's ranks, and approached you in order to clarify the situation. I... thought you were here to cause problems."

A long silence fell between the two of them. Shirou stared long and hard at the Saber, before tilting his head towards the central area of Paris, towards the island on the Seine. "What about Spartacus, then?" he asked again. "Is he one of your allies?"

The Knight shook her head, but an irritated frown marred the features on her face. It was evident that she knew about him. "That Berserker... he has been a nuisance for some time now. He often attacked us, and our enemies too. He doesn't belong to any faction. All he wants is to fight in the name of his rebellion. Last time I saw him, he was supposed to be in a small town far from here. He must have followed us when we moved to the capital," she slowly explained with a strained expression.

"Well, this friend of yours followed you here and now is causing damage in the central area of the city. It's my responsibility to stop him," Shirou declared solemnly. "And he came here because of your factions and your useless War. Will you guys take responsibility for this?"

D'Eon glared at his stern face. "I cannot answer in the name of others. I only answer to the Queen and the Royal Family of France."

"I don't care about your Queen, nor the Emperor. I am a Ruler. In order to ensure mankind's safety, I rule the Battlefield, I rule over any War, and I rule over every other Servant; despite their origin, their status, and their alignment. Therefore, report this to your Queen: if she or one of her friends like you dares to harm this city further and kill innocent lives..."

Shirou leaned towards D'Eon with his torso, his face a threatening mask of cold fury. "I will personally destroy you one by one. Is that clear?"

Despite the impudence, the Saber nodded with a shaking body.

The Ruler relaxed slightly. He was about to speak, when Mordred's voice rang through the earphone hidden in his ear again.

M- Hey, Ruler! Your attack didn't kill this monster, it made him even bigger and more horrifying! The heck I'm supposed to do now?

He reacted instantly. Shirou turned serious all of a sudden, turning towards the direction in which Mordred and Jeanne were located. His eyes narrowed as they watched the scene thanks to his enhanced sight, much to the other Servant's confusion and shock. A plan began to make its way into his mind as he studied the city and its incalculable buildings.

"Kid, I have an idea," he finally said, talking to her from a distance through the earphone. "There is another island next to the one you are on now. You and Jeanne have to lure Berserker there. There is a large hotel in the central area of the island, in Baroque style. It's the only empty building in your vicinity. Lure Berserker there and trap him inside. I will reach you as soon as possible."

M- And then what?

"We'll blow both the building and the Servant up."

M- What!? Are you planning to make him explode inside the palace? ARE YOU CRAZY?

He winced a little, ignoring her audible disbelief and the way his ear began to ring. "It's the only option we have at the moment, Mordred. The building should be large enough to contain the blast. With this we can limit the damage without endangering the entire district."

M- It's crazy, listen to me! There isn't― wait… What? Are you sure?

Shirou blinked. He ignored the lost gaze D'Eon was giving him. "Kid?"

M- …Lancer says it might work. She says she knows a way to contain the explosion inside the building without damaging the rest of the city.

A great sense of relief flooded him from head to toe. Jeanne, bless her soul. He smiled in anticipation. "Great. Then get a move on. I will reach you as soon as possible."

M- Roger that.

Having said that, Shirou turned off his earphone and rounded back to D'Eon. The Saber was looking at him with obvious confusion, completely lost on the current situation or what was happening on the other side of the city. "What happened?" she asked him in a serious tone.

The red-haired God shrugged. Even if he wanted to tell her the truth, now there was no time left. "Sorry, but I have to go. My comrades and I will put an end to that Berserker and the threat he poses. You are free to join us, if you want. But be warned, Chevalier d'Eon: if you try anything against me, my comrades or the civilians of this city, I will destroy you. There will be no ally, place or weapon capable of keeping you away from me. Do you understand?"

"A-Ah, yes... I think... Yes, I'll make sure to do that." she stammered, stunned and worried like never before. His menancing aura was really overwhelming. Then, the blonde Saber continued again. "Can I at least hope for you not to take action against my allies as well?"

Shirou merely glanced at the city with cold eyes.

"We'll see about that."

With that mysterious answer, he left, Prana Burst propelling him out of the tower and away from the stunned Saber 's vision.

"W-Wait!" D'Eon stammered, before jumping off the tower as well and following the Ruler in direction of the blast.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Sacré-Cœur – Montmartre (Paris - France)

(======)

Iskandar guided his chariot across the sky, quick as lightning and determined as the most unyielding thunder.

The bulls bellowed angrily as they galloped into the air, obeying his will. From his position high in the night sky, the mighty Rider could clearly see the state of panic and terror the city had plunged into. People running towards the police, cars abandoned in the streets, ambulances full of injured people, sirens echoing everywhere… it wasn't a pretty sight. There was nothing beautiful in the chaos of war and in the air filled with fear and uncertainty. It was one of the few things he couldn't stand seeing, even now that he had become a Servant, a Heroic Spirit.

Paris, one of the most famous cities in the world... the city of love... the city of lights... had become a battlefield. Its majesty and beauty had been clouded by a veil of panic; the wonders it offered paling in the face of threat and danger and death; an air of inevitability covering it completely during this Holy Grail War. And for some reason, for a reason that even he didn't fully understand yet, Iskandar didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

His red eyes darted in all directions, watching the panic and fear hovering everywhere in the city below him. Usually, he would have been thrilled to see all the sights and wonders this place had to offer. It was in his nature to experience and fully enjoy all things. But now, if he had to be honest, none of that mattered. It wasn't relevant. Gone were all traces of beauty, intrigue and wonder in this immense capital, replaced only by terror and war. There was only death, destruction and fear as far as the eye could see.

It was terrifying to see how death and terror could take the colors away from the most beautiful things of life.

Iskandar narrowed his eyes slightly. This was a concept he was painfully familiar with. He had lived a stormy, adventurous life; a life made up of travels, conquests and endless war campaigns. He had traveled far and wide: from Macedonia to Greece, from Persia to Egypt, from India to Asia... and wherever he went, wherever he saw war and destruction, the view had always been the same. The result was always, trivially, pathetically the same; regardless of the different people or the vastness of the lands: chaos.

And this was unacceptable. For him, it was unacceptable. Iskandar was a King. He was a Conqueror. He was a man who had fought, led and waged countless wars in order to pursuit his ideal of conquering and possessing. But not even he, in his entire life, had enjoyed to see – or sometimes, as much as he hated to admit it – to cause and generate destruction and raids. Killing, subjugating, destroying… they were not his way of Conquest. Death, terror, panic… they were not his way of Conquest.

He had conquered, yes. He had subdued, yes. He had raided, yes. But he had never, EVER, done it with enjoyment and relentless desire for murder. He had never oppressed peoples and lands for a mere temporary gain. He had never caused death and suffering just to satisfy his endless greed.

He had done it for a dream. A selfish dream, true, a foolish dream. An impossible dream to realize… but for which it was still worth giving all of oneself.

To reach the end of the world. To reach the last ocean. To unify the hearts of men, and create an endless Kingdom without borders and differences. To create a vast Nation across the entire world. A place where everyone was his subject, where everyone was his brother, his sister, his retainer. A place where he could share his joys with the whole world, without borders; and enjoy all the wonders the planet had to offer. A place where everyone could share the hope of a better life under his rule.

He'd never wished to destroy everything and bend the world to his whims. He'd never wished to possess everything just because he wanted power and spoils. The proof of this, for him, was that unlike others who lived before and after him, Iskandar conquered not with humiliation, but by conquering the people's hearts. A King who conquered the hearts of men. A King who was never alone. A King who embodied the best of humanity, and sometimes, when it was absolutely necessary, even the worst. A King who conquered everything, sharing his joy and efforts with his ever growing people. That was what true Conquest meant for him. That was why his path of kingship would never be alone. Because the King's wishes were his people's wishes. That's how he had built his magnificent kingdom.

That was Iskandar. That's who he was.

He was the "King of Conquerors". And he held that title not because he strived to conquer all the lands and material wealths; but because his goal was to win the hearts of people. The toughest form of Conquest that could be undertaken by anyone.

Therefore, this sight was a reprehensible sight for him. To cause death and destruction with no purpose, no vision, no underlying hope... it was wrong. It wasn't acceptable. The world could be conquered, it could be subdued; but the conquest had to be done in a noble way, in a just way. It had to be an undertaking that offered hope and dreams, not death and devastation. It had to have a purpose that would benefit the King and all of his subjects, because the King's joys were his people's joys.

But this around him was not joy. It was just death, panic and destruction.

And it wasn't acceptable.

It was as he watched the pain and terror of the people below that he noticed something.

Iskandar narrowed his eyes, watching carefully as two Servants fought in the distance.

Or rather, was it more accurate to say that they were... playing catch? One was chasing relentlessly, and the other was just running away.

He blinked, observing the scene in confusion and suspicion.

The first Servant that stood out in his eyes was the one who was giving chase. A tall and muscular man, with brown hair, sharp and narrowed eyes, long sideburns and an elegant goatee on his chin. He wore some kind of black and white military uniform, very neat and elegant, with white trousers and black boots. The King of Conquerors immediately noticed that there was something off about him, but the most notable detail was that he was carrying a large black metal cannon; from which he fired an endless series of ray-like cannonballs made of light, aiming at his fleeing opponent.

The second Servant, on the other hand, immediately caught Iskandar's attention because it was completely different. A woman, a young and beautiful woman with a regal and elegant appearance. She had long, pearly white hair that hung back in two long tails. Two bangs framed her face that held crystal blue eyes. She wore a beautiful red dress which exposed much of her porcelain-skinned arms, and her entire figure emitted an almost indescribable aura of royalty and purity, almost similar to Artoria's royal aura. The woman rode a beautiful horse made of glass and imprinted with lilies that ran quickly through the streets of the city, dashing with grace and agility and avoiding all the blasts and rays of light that the other Servant was shooting at her.

They were chasing each other relentlessly, running through the streets and roofs of a hilly area of the city, the highest part of Paris, actually.

'Hmm... I must admit, this was not what I was expecting to see here,' the Rider thought, scratching his beard with an intrigued expression.

Then, his lips parted into a wide, confident grin. 'But that's the beauty of battles, isn't it? You never know what you might expect!'

With a tug on the reins, Iskandar commanded the bulls to head in the direction of the fight, his cape flapping majestically in the wind. The animals bellowed their fury, immediately descending and galloping towards their rider's desired destination. Gordius Wheel descended at maximum speed, wrapped in lightning, reaching the goal in less than ten seconds. It was like seeing a bolt of lightning falling from the sky, unstoppable in its descent and dazzling in its majesty.

The two Servants immediately stopped their 'game' as soon as they saw him, widening their eyes with amazed and shocked expressions. Iskandar gave a bellowing laugh, commanding the bulls to land on the butt Montmartre, a short distance from their position. Under a silent agreement, both Servants temporarily put an end to their 'dispute' and moved to catch up with the chariot, determined to find out what was happening.

The chariot landed in a large green space elegantly built in front of the largest church that stood on the great hill: the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris. Iskandar looked around with satisfaction as he stepped on the ground again. He had chosen this place at random as the location to make his glorious entrance, but judging by the elegant surroundings he had to admit that it was definitely impressive. The butt Montmartre was the highest point in the city, an extremely popular landmark, and the second-most visited monument in Paris. Indeed, definitely a place worthy of his presence.

A big grin appeared on the muscular Rider's lips as soon as he saw the two Servants from before approaching him with caution. He closed his eyes and let out a guttural chuckle, his red cloak stirring in the breeze blowing over the top of the hill.

"I see that you've noticed me," he finally said to the two unknown warriors, keeping his eyes closed and nodding to himself. "Good, as it should be. My presence could not possibly go unnoticed."

The woman got off her steed, which disappeared in an explosion of glass and crystal, creating a show of breathtaking lights and colors. She tilted the head to the side, looking more curious than cautious compared to the other man, who was staring at the Rider with a narrowed and intrigued gaze.

"That regal bearing... that bold and imposing aura," she mused with a soft voice, studying him from head to toe with obvious intrigue and interest. "Oh my. You… you must be one of us, right? A King."

His grin widened at that. "Indeed!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms suddenly, as if he wanted to enclose the whole world between them. "Well spoken, my fellow Servant. I am the King of Conquerors, Iskandar! I was summoned to this war as a Rider class Servant! And I'm here to stop this sensless conflct once and for all! Rejoice!"

His bold statement was greeted by pure silence and stunned looks. The two Servants made shocked faces when they realized who the man standing in front of them was. It was obvious that they were aware of that name.

After all, there were very few people in the world who didn't know the legend of the first Emperor in history.

The man, especially, assumed a mixed expression of elation, disbelief and excitement on his face. "I-Iskandar?" he repeated, his eyes literally sparkling with emotion. "A-Are you serious? Seriously? I-It's Iskandar... King Alexander the Great!?" he stuttered, completely lost in wonder.

The gigantic Rider grinned at his reaction, pleased to be recognized with so much emphasis. "Indeed. You seem to know about me, fellow Servant. I haven't seen such a reaction to my name in a long time."

The Servant dissolved his big cannon in a dust of prana, whispering in disbelief. "Sacrebleu... At last, at long last, not with a phantom or an afterimage. I am having an audience with the real deal! I'm finally meeting King Iskandar in the flesh!" he exclaimed in trepidation, his lips forming a gigantic grin, large enough to rival that of the Rider himself.

Iskandar arched an eyebrow. "Hoh? You desired to meet me?" he questioned, intrigued.

"Oui! Oui! I have often dreamed of you during my life, and I've always wished to meet a fellow Emperor like me!" he exclaimed, drawing himself closer and opening his arms in a cordial welcome. "And now, finally, the day has come. To be able to meet the man I admired so much... please, allow me to introduce myself: I'm Archer, Napoleon Bonaparte. The man of possibilities, the man who releases the rainbow. A Hero of humanity who has come to bring victory and conquest to all who follows him!"

Napoleon stepped before him, making a royal bow full of theatrical emphasis. "It's such a great honor to meet you in the flesh, King of Conquerors, Iskandar! This day is finally bringing a great victory to me," he said with extreme emotion, almost on the verge of reverence.

The Rider nodded with a mighty grin. "Very good, very good!" he said with a nod, crossing his arms in a solid gesture of power. "We are well met, Emperor. What a pleasant surprise to discover to be in front of a figure similar to me... Hehe, I almost wish the boy and Saber were here to see this."

The gigantic man then turned his head towards the woman who was approaching him with a curious look. "And what about you?" he asked again. "Judging by your bearing and elegance, I assume that you must be a fellow monarch like us. Am I right?"

The woman smiled. A sweet, perfect smile, full of joy and will to live. "C'est exact! It's such a pleasure to meet you, King of Conquerors. I am the greatest Queen of France, and a shining idol that shines on this Nation like a star, and a Rider class Servant just like you. You may call me Marie Antoinette," she introduced herself, making a deep bow as well. "Je suis très enchanté."

'Hmm. So they really are the ones Assassin told us about,' Iskandar inwardly mused, trying to put aside his suspicion. After all, despite the tense situation the city found itself in, it was truly rare and unexpected to encounter not one but two royal figures at the same time. And to think that he, Iskandar, was the first of the group to catch up to them... this must have been Fate. Indeed, indeed. It could only be so.

Iskandar laughed at that thought. "To find myself surrounded by other monarchs so suddenly… this is indeed one of the most amusing things that have happened to me recently," he admitted with great amusement, letting out a loud laugh.

"My, that's true. It must have been the magic of my Country that allowed us to meet," Marie agreed with an angelic smile. She then jumped on her legs and did a pirouette out of nowhere, much to Iskandar's confusion and Napoleon's exasperation. "Come on! Let's say it together: Vive La France~!"

The King of Conquerors blinked, before letting out a grunt of confusion. He glanced at Napoleon, but he was merely shaking his head. However, as tempted as he was to get carried away by his emotional ego and go with the flow – and trust me, he was extremely tempted by the idea – he knew this was not the time to get too distracted. After all, fellow monarchs or not, he had a mission now. One that went far beyond personal pleasure and his responsibilities as a King and Emperor.

Napoleon Bonaparte approached him with a smile. "Great King of Conquerors, you talked about coming here to end the conflict. Does that mean-"

"Indeed, Archer," he interrupted him seriously. His previous smile disappeared, and the tall Rider took on a serious and stern expression all of a sudden. "I've been tasked to stop the mess that's happening in this vast city. I have companions, you see. Along with them, we are traveling around the world to put an end to the escalating conflicts and stop the carnage that is taking place on this vast, round planet called Earth. That's why I'm here... and also why I know of you and yout little 'factions' of Servants."

Both Marie Antoinette and Napoleon stiffened immediately upon hearing this.

The Macedonian King's gaze was solemn and inflexible while he observed them with all the attention in the world. "I was also told of your private 'war' a little while ago. My companions and I discovered what happened in this country because of it. And let's be honest here... we didn't really like what we heard."

Napoleon hesitated before enforcing his resolve. A big, bold grin appeared in his face. "Why, are you telling us that you disagree with the unfolding of this War, King Iskandar?" he questioned him knowingly.

He shook his head solemnly. "That's not correct, Archer. It is not the war that I disagree with. It's about the way you two are fighting it," he retorted in all seriousness.

Marie looked down, her expression crumbling a little with shame and sadness.

"Look at this city. Look at the panic around you," Iskandar continued, gesturing towards the capital below, over the hill. "People overwhelmed by fear. Terror in every corner of the streets. Some have barely survived an onslaught of demons that my companions and I thwarted a few hours ago. And in the meantime, you two are taking advantage of all this chaos to continue your fight? I expected more from people of your caliber. This behaviour is something I cannot agree with."

"...and what is wrong with that?" Marie asked quitely. In her mind, she knew the answer to that question. She knew it very well, with an almost frightening clarity. But unlike her opponent, unlike Archer, she was still hesitating.

And for this very same reason she needed to hear it.

The Macedonian Emperor crossed his arms again. "You already know the answer, don't you? Involving civilians and innocents in the conflict is wrong. It is immoral. A cowardly and cruel act, which is not befitting the conduct of a true King or Queen. I know a certain someone who will certainly not tolerate such an affront."

Marie swallowed, but her fists clenched firmly. "Me and those who joined my cause have never involved civilians in the War. Not intentionally, at least," she declared with absolute certainty and determination. She cast a cold glance at the Archer to the right after those words, glaring at him. Her solemn, cold gaze was a clear contrast to the peaceful and cheerful aura she had emitted earlier. "We weren't even supposed to fight tonight. It was Napoleon to one who invaded our current base near Rue de Rivoli, forcing us to separate and fight! It was the only way to limit the damage and prevent a large-scale destruction for the entire district!"

Iskandar slowly rounded on the muscular Archer, his expression solemn and inquisitive. "Is this true, Archer?"

Napoleon didn't answer the question immediately. He waited a couple of seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he let out a resigned sigh, and his lips curled into a careless smile. "Oui... it's true, indeed," he admitted without batting an eye.

Marie literally began to fume in rage, but the taller Rider just narrowed his gaze.

"Why? What reason did you have for making such a decision?" he asked again with his deep, powerful voice.

"Don't you get it? You are an Emperor like me, King of Conquerors, so you should be able to understand," Napoleon retorted casually. He shook his head at the silence of the other, bursting into an ironic chuckle.

"It's simple, really. I seized the chance, the best time to get rid of an obstacle. Sweet, dear Marie here has been a thorn in my side for weeks, you know? Ever since we met, she has always refused to join my cause, and she wants to reclaim the people of France under her protection. Also, as selfish as it is to admit it, she's still a contender for the Grail. She's an enemy that I will eventually have to face if I want to get that Artifact. I simply preferred to try my luck first, when she wasn't expecting it."

He laughed, putting his hands on the hips before continuing. "And besides, two monarchs vying for the same Nation? As a former supreme Emperor, I cannot tolerate such a thing. There can only be one monarch in France. That's how it was in the past, and that's how it will always be. It is the simplest of laws, King of Conquerors. We're Servants, and fighting is the only way we can determine who is more worthy of this title."

Iskandar closed his eyes in realization. He sighed with a tired expression. "I see. You're fighting for the right to rule again."

"Yes, but that's not it. Not exactly," the other Emperor added promptly, drawing his attention once again.

The two Rider class Servants watched him as Archer started to walk in front of them, stopping to gaze upon the great and majestic scenery of the illuminated city that could clearly be seen from the top of the butt. He spread his arms, staring at the capital of France with a broad, longing smile.

"Look at it, Marie. Look at our city. Look how beautiful it is, how shining it is! Try to imagine how much more beautiful, more majestic it could be... if only you join me and let me lead the people towards a new future. A new legend!"

"By conquering and trampling everything like you did in life?" she sarcastically retorted with a scoff, a rather unqueenly gesture from her, definitely. "Désolé, mon ami, but I cannot allow it. Your words are not worthy of an Emperor renowned as just and impartial."

The Archer smiled a little. "You're saying I'm not Emperor-like? Well, you are right about that, the current me is the current me. Emperor Napoleon is a person of the past. I'm nothing but an idol called Napoleon Bonaparte. I don't want to become an apparition fixated on the bygone days. I don't know about my past self, but I will not give up like he did. Even my height happens to be different, you see," he admitted with a shrug. "...Incidentally, although there might be quite a number of Emperors and Kings in this war, like the two of us or the King of Conquerors, it is not like that is the only thing that defines us. Don't you agree?"

Iskandar raised an eyebrow. "And this is the path you chose in order to get the Grail?" he questioned.

Napoleon glanced at him with a unwavering smile. "I'm trying to conquer my Country again-"

"No, Archer. You're not trying to conquer the country, you're destroying it," he retorted seriously, shaking his head in disappointment. "This is not how true Conquest should be."

"...how can you say that?" he asked, suddenly becoming serious. His eyes narrowed visibly in irritation. Even Marie Antoinette shot an inquisitive glance at the giant Rider, curious and interested in how he would respond to that question.

The King of Conquerors stared at him with an unreadable expression, sighing yet again. "I understand your desire for Conquest. I understand your urge to get the Grail in order to change things. But your methods and your actions are wrong, Archer. This is your country, is it not? These are your people, are they not? And despite that, you have trampled over the land and endangered your own people in the name of Conquest. You involved innocents in the conflict – the same people you're supposed to rule and care for – in pursuit of your wish and your dream. That's something unbefitting of a King, and an Emperor."

The Archer rounded on him with a glare. "I just-"

"I too wish to obtain the Grail. I too have a dream of Conquest that I want to achieve. But I would never trample my people and those I want to protect in its name. I would never abandon those who follow me to pursue my ideal," he declared solemnly. His voice grew stronger and stronger as he spoke, making the other Emperor stiffen and the Queen's eyes widen.

"A Conquest that benefits the King but not his subjects is not a true Conquest," Iskandar solemnly declared, glaring at Napoleon with his red eyes full of determination. "Your actions, whether you wanted it or not, caused the death and suffering of your own subjects. They are causing destruction and panic in your Nation. This is not how a King shoud be. This is not how a King should act. This is nothing but a disappointing quest for power!" he declared out loud, almost roaring in disappointment.

"Then what? What should I do? Abandon my strive for conquest and settle down in spite of my ambitions? Abandon my Nation to its fate, when I've finally been given a second chance to make it glorious again?" Napoleon retorted fiercely, his face cold and his expression unyielding. A little sneer of disappointment veiled his features. "I expected more from you, Iskandar. You are the first, true conqueror of history. I thought that you, of all people, would understand me, but it seems that I was wrong."

He sighed, shaking his head under the other Emperor's stern gaze. "What a shame."

Iskandar remained completely impassive, ignoring the tense and uncertain expression of Marie Antoinette next to him. "I can understand your ambition, Archer. But your methods are out of the question. Your actions will eventually bring the demise of this nation and its people," he said seriously. "I aim to win the people's hearts, not to destroy and steal everything by force like you. What you seek is not Conquest, but destruction. And trust me when I say this: it's useless to conquer what has already been destroyed."

The Archer smiled sadly. "It's too late, already. There's no turning back now."

The gigantic Rider nodded solemnly. "Very well. It seems my choice was right. If the world is in danger of being destroyed by your actions and those of other Servants like you... I will save it. Then, and only then, I will conquer it in my own way," he decided with utmost seriousness, drawing his blade, the Sword of the Kupriotes, with a decisive movement. "Conquest or not, it is the King's responsibility to take care of his subjects. It appears you've forgotten that, Archer."

A few seconds of silence passed after his words.

"…Responsibility, huh…" Napoleon mused softly.

Marie widened her eyes when she saw him chuckle after those words, while Iskandar remained impassive and resoluted as before.

"Certainly, there must be that. Responsibility," the Archer agreed after a few seconds, turning his back on them and staring at the city below once again. He put his hands behind his back, exactly as he used to do very often in life, when he observed an important or breathtaking landscape. "But you see, King of Conquerors... I've alway been a man who trampled upon others in order to gain what I wanted. And those who do this, those who trample upon others in order to proceed all have something they bear. It's something they have to bear."

His smile widened with cold resolve.

"You guys call it responsibility, huh? I see. I understand. It's just... I have another name for it. Another way to see it. And that way, that name, is duty."

Iskandar scoffed. "A King does not devote himself, Archer."

"Indeed. It's the people who devote themself to him," he agreed with a cruel smile. "That's why it is permissible to step on them if necessary. Sometimes, a ruler has to sacrifice others for the greater good, for a greater cause. To achieve a noble goal, it is permissible to make sacrifices. It is necessary. It is inevitable."

The King of Conquerors shook his head with a frown.

"That's not true! These are the words of a tyrant! No, worse! The words of a madman!" Marie exclaimed emphatically at that point, her face now a full-fledged glare aimed at the other monarch.

Napoleon laughed, glaring at her with a cold look. "Oh-là là! That's rich, coming from you. Didn't you do the same, Marie? Haven't you and your husband condemned many subjects to hunger and poverty in order to maintain your lifestyle? How can you say that I'm wrong, even knowing that you've committed the very same sins?" he retorted sarcastically.

The woman bristled, clenching her fists, but her expression remained firm and unyielding. "Despite the way in which my reign ended, along with my life, I've never done any of those things. History remembers me differently, but I have always loved my people. I have always thought of the people. As long as I had power, I always went out of my way to help my Country," she said firmly. There was not even a trace of hesitation or lie in her eyes.

"And yet, you still failed in the end," Napoleon mocked her, looking up to the moon and laughing openly. "You did the opposite, and got the same result. As you can see, nothing changes. This is why drastic measures are needed. At least I'm honest with my intentions. I am willing to shoulder the hopes and expectations of the masses. That means that I'm prepared to shoulder all the evils as well. In response to those feelings, I'm prepared to carry out what must be done. You, on the other hand, just pretend to feel good and smile, knowing that your entire rule has been a failure."

"You're wrong, Archer," Marie replied, lowerig her gaze and placing a hand above her heart. A little smile formed on her lips. "I loved my people. I did everything for my people. Even now, I'll do anything for them. But just as they loved me before, I will always love them back, even now. That's why I can't agree with you. That's why I can't trample over them. No matter how hurt and hated I got, I will always smile through it. That is my role as Queen," she declared solemnly.

The Archer sneered, fixing her with the coldest stare ever. "Then you're a fool, my dear Queen."

Iskandar mentally sighed at the scene, glancing between them as Queen and Emperor glared at each other. 'How tiresome. Truly, this fellow is even worse than the King of Knights...' he mused with a frown.

Napoleon sighed. Then, with a snap of his fingers, his mighty cannon came to life again. Both Marie and Iskandar visibly tensed at its sight, preparing to fight.

"D'accord. If it's come to this, then we have no choice but to fight," the French Emperor finally said, aiming his cannon at the two Servants with a confident smile. His eyes narrowed in both decision and trepidation. "How about it? Shall we resume our dance?"

Iskandar smirked. "I must warn you, Archer. If you're not going to give up and stop this futile battle, then I won't hold back from fighting you." He slowly climbed back into his chariot, taking up the bulls' reins and staring at him with a narrowed gaze. "If you insist on continuing this bloodshed further, then I shall join forces with the Queen right here and now. Together, the two of us will annihilate you."

Marie smiled as she summoned her cristal horse again, positioning herself next to the other Rider with an angelic and innocent smile.

Iskandar smirked at the Emperor's frowning face. "What will it be?"

Napoleon narrowed his eyes, but a small grin parted his lips. "Do you think this is enough to make me give up?" he replied confidently.

"You have no chance of winning against two Riders," Marie pointed out casually, grinning at him with an angelical face. Her expression, although innocent, was anything but reassuring. "It's impossible."

The Archer widened his grin. "The word impossible is not in my dictionary! I wi-"

At that moment, something happened.

The rumble of a large explosion rang out in the air. Before any of them could do anything or say something else, a deafening noise shook the air and the ground for several seconds. Iskandar, Marie, and Napoleon startled all of a sudden, turning quickly in direction of the thunderous blast. Their eyes immediately noticed the cause of this commotion: a gigantic column of black smoke and energy that was rising towards the sky, coming from the central area of the city: Île de la Cité.

"What's happening down there?" Marie asked with a shaky breath, worried beyond words.

Iskandar watched the column of smoke with a narrowed gaze. It didn't take him long to figure out the situation. "I assume one of my companions is the cause of all that. They must have encountered a rather problematic obstacle to cause such an explosion," he said, putting a hand to his chin with a thoughtful face.

Napoleon stiffened. Then, after a couple of seconds, he sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face.

"Sacrebleu… don't tell me it's that Berserker again…" he whispered with a weary tone.

Marie physically winced at that, as if those words brought back terrible memories that she would rather forget forever.

"Huh? Berserker?" the King of Conquerors repeated, completely lost on what to think.

Napoleon shook his head, waving a hand to dismiss the subject. His cannon disappeared in a cloud of prana. "There's no time to explain," he said with exasperation. "Let's stop this battle for now, King of Conquerors, Queen Marie. More importantly, we'd better head over there right now. At this rate, another catastrophe could happen if we don't do something."

For once, incredibly, the two Riders agreed with him.

---

Planet: Earth
Date: May 25 2020
Location: Hotel Lambert – Île Saint-Louis (Paris - France)

(======)

This was fucked up.

Truly, the situation couldn't be worse than this. Mordred was ready to bet on it. After all, it certainly didn't happen every day to be forced to face an opponent capable of regenerating every wound and, above all, of turning into a FUCKING GIANT MONSTER. Really, no seriously, what the fuck? What kind of sick joke was this? Was Destiny messing with her? Was this a Divine punishment? Why did she always end up in the most problematic situations?

Mordred cursed under her breath as she jumped to the side to avoid a giant fist at least three feet in size that suddenly rained down from above, ready to crush her like an insect. The attack hit the ground, creating a large crater of at least two meters in the middle of the street.

"HAHAHAH! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Her green eyes narrowed in anger. Behind her, Spartacus was chasing her madly, his body now reduced to a gigantic, ever-growing and formless mass of disgusting flesh. It looked like a balloon of flesh, literally, ready to explode at any moment. He was moving on four legs, like an animal, and despite his imposing size – he was more than four meters tall now – he was still decidedly fast and more than willing to kill her. It was a sight disgusting to behold, and impossible to imagine. Mordred was surely going to have nightmares from that day on, she was sure of it.

A couple of meters behind her, Jeanne was running as well, much more frightened than the Knight and definitely less focused. The Knight of Treachery heard her squeak in surprise as she dodged a horrible punch that threatened to crush her, stumbling forward with a tense expression.

"Hyah! S-Sir Mordred! He's getting faster!"

The female Knight cursed more atrocities inside her head. Just a little more, it was close. Really close.

Ever since Ruler had hit Spartacus with that explosive arrow, that damned Berserker had become even more hideous and problematic than before. They had to lure him into the empty Hotel as soon as possible if they wanted to kill him quickly. She just hoped that Ruler and Lancer had a plan.

Her instincts screamed suddenly. Mordred whirled around as she sensed the imminent danger. Her eyes saw Spartacus stretch a long misshapen arm towards Jeanne, attempting to grab her and squeeze her to death. The blonde girl's eyes widened, managing to avoid the deadly grip and slipping around a corner, running away from the chasing Servant. The monstrous Berserker missed her completely, crashing into a building with a thud, making it tremble violently. A series of bricks and debris collapsed on him, and he screamed in glee as the rubble wounded him, causing blood to gush out from cuts and wounds on his body.

And still, he came back again in less than two seconds, still advancing in order to reach them.

"BWAHAHAH! Oppressors! Perish by my love!"

Mordred gritted her teeth in frustration. "Damn it, Lancer! Don't let him take damage! He gets bigger and bigger every time he gets hit!" she shouted to her ally.

"I'm trying!"

In Jeanne's defense, forcing that brainless beast to chase after them had been extremely easy... but preventing him from bumping into the buildings was honestly difficult. Almost impossible, actually. At every bend, every junction and every failed attempt Spartacus made to catch them; his deformed and throbbing body rolled pathetically in all directions, crashing into buildings on the roadsides or even crashing into abandoned cars and buses. He was constantly hurting himself in his mad chase, and as a result, he was getting bigger and bigger and filled of energy.

At this rate, if he continued to suffer damage, he would become too big to be able to fit inside the Hotel.

Mordred snarled, avoiding another giant punch. "You disgusting meat-balloon bastard! Stop hurting yourself already!"

He merely cried out in glee as his body throbbed horribly, huge masses of flesh throbbing and closing his wounds over and over again.

"Hoh… Hooooh! What a pleasant pain!" he laughed with his crazed voice. A small eye appeared on his right shoulder, frantically gazing in all directions as the ever growing Berserker continued to chase after the two girls. "More… Give me more pain! Hahahah! Pain is good! Pain is Rebellion! MY PURPOSE IS REBELLION!"

To be the Knight of Rebellion and hear a phrase like that… Mordred was growing more and more enraged by the second.

"Zip it, you big bastard! I'm the one who symbolizes Rebellion!"

Jeanne yelled in an attempt to calm her down. "Don't listen to him, sir Mordred! Just keep go-hyah!"

Mordred growled when she saw a mighty punch hit the Maid of Orleans from behind, fast enough to be almost invisible. With a hiss of irritation, the female Knight dashed to the side and grabbed Jeanne in her arms as she shot through the air, saving her before she could crash somewhere in the city. Holding her in her arms, she used a Prana Burst on her legs and leapt away from the incoming Berserker, landing on the roof of a building.

The Saint hissed in pain, but she gave her a grateful smile. "T-Thank you..."

She scoffed, summoning Clarent and placing it on her shoulder as she glared at the enemy below. "Stop fooling around," was all she said.

"Bwhahahahah! My fist is love! Accept my love!"

The whole building shook violently. Jeanne and Mordred's eyes widened when they saw Spartacus starting to throw a series of mighty punches on the palace walls, determined and desperate to bring it down in order to reach them. The two of them were both disgusted and at the same time impressed by that sight. This Berserker might be crazy and insane, but his determination was admirable. When he had a target in mind, there was no way to make him stop or give up. They had to give him credit for this.

"Damn, what a disgusting sight. Are we there yet?" Mordred asked with a furious frown.

"There!" Jeanne pointed a finger to the north, the direction ahead of them. In the distance, a large building stood a few hundred meters from their position, much higher than all the others around. It was tall and imposing, built in an elegant and refined style. Baroque. "That's Hotel Lambert! That must be the building Ruler was referring to! I don't detect any human presence inside it! It's completely empty!"

Mordred clenched her fists. About damn time. "We're almost there. Let's go!"

With a mighty leap, the Saber and the Lancer resumed running across the rooftops, heading at maximum speed in direction of the Hotel. Down below, on the streets and the abandoned alleys, the mighty Berserker continued to attack and run furiously after them, his mad laughter echoing in the air like a sound that was both terrifying and gruesome.

"There you are, Oppressors! You won't get away!"

They reached the hotel after a three-minute chase. Mordred and Jeanne stopped just in front of it, observing it with solemn gazes. The elegant building was located on the right side of an old square fifteen meters wide, built with an imposing height and majesty. It was enormous, much larger than all the other buildings on this small island of Paris, and large enough to contain Spartacus and his growing body even in his present condition. It had to be at least twenty meters tall in total, and perhaps even bigger in extent. It was perfect. The ideal place to hold the release of his Noble Phantasm.

Now, all they needed was-

"Mordred? Jeanne?"

The two girls turned abruptly.

Artoria appeared out of an alley on the left, landing with a mighty jump in the middle of the square, staring at them with wide eyes filled with confusion and tension. She held her invisible sword in her hand, her face a mask of tension.

Despite the bad blood between the two of them, Mordred visibly relaxed as soon as he saw her. "Tch. You're here too, Father," she merely said with a frown.

The King of the Knights stepped forward, fixing her 'son' with an inquisitive look. "Mordred, what's going on here?" her emerald eyes glanced to the right, observing the cloud of dust and the incessant roar coming from that direction. Spartacus was making an immense commotion as he ran towards them. "What in the-"

"No time to talk. We need to trap Berserker inside this building," she cut her off without a care, pointing a finger at the Hotel in front of them. "Ruler's orders. Don't get in the way."

The woman's eyes narrowed to the grumpy tone of the girl.

Jeanne intervened before they could start arguing. "I-It's true, King of Knights! It's the only option we have to defeat Spartacus! He has chased us this far, and he's an extremely dangerous Servant! Please!" she frantically said, pointing a finger towards the immense mass of flesh that was running in their direction. Despite the destruction he was generating and a couple of wild crashes on several buildings, the Servant showed no sign of slowing down.

Artoria stared at Spartacus's hideous body with wide eyes for two seconds. Then, her face hardened as she nodded in resolve. "I understand. Then allow me to help."

Mordred grinned ferally.

Then, she picked up Clarent and clothed it in red energy, like a bright beacon.

"Hey, you disgusting meat-balloon bastard!" she yelled aloud, glaring with a mocking grin at the running Berserker. "We're here! Come and get us if you dare!"

The effect was immediate. The horribly shaped man didn't make her repeat it twice. With a mad chase, his large and deformed body darted at full speed towards them, all the while laughing and screaming in glee and madness. He reached the plaza with a ferocious roar of madness and fury, charging at his targets like a bowling ball rolling undaunted towards some miserable waiting pins. The only difference? Said bowling ball was a living heap of flesh in constant expansion and the pins were Servants ready to react. For this reason, things were going to turn out differently than a mere game.

Just a second before they could be swept away by Spartacus's insane charge, Mordred, Jeanne and Artoria leapt in the air, passing his imposing figure with a mighty jump. The Berserker threw a punch to the point where the three Servants had stood just a moment before, cracking the ground and generating a small explosion, stopping his chase with a halt. But it was too late now. His Mad Enhancement had made him unable to realize the enemies' intention.

In fact, less than a second later, the three Servants landed behind the deformed beast, their weapons unsheathed and ready to strike.

With a ferocious roar, Mordred, Artoria and Jeanne slammed their weapons on Spartacus' misshapen back, hitting at the same time. Mordred and Artoria's swords cut and shred the Berserker, their attacks enhanced by a powerful Mana Burst, and Jeanne used her battle flag as a club, slamming it over that throbbing lump of flesh with a battle cry. The result was immediate, and exactly what they hoped for, much to their satisfaction.

Spartacus's torn and deformed body was thrown by force on the front side of the large Hotel, completely breaking through it and ending up inside the palace. The entire building shook violently, but thanks to its larger size it was able to resist and not collapse. All the while, however, the insane warrior laughed and let out a chuckle similar to a bellow, but even he was helpless in the face of the combined power of three Servants attacking him at the same time. He collapsed in the immense main hall of the building, landing on the marble floor and cracking it heavily from the force of the landing combined with his growing body weight.

Meanwhile, Mordred and the others observed the result of their combined efforts with a solemn gaze.

"Tch. How disgusting," the Knight of Treachery spat, observing with disdain the destruction caused by the insane warrior. Then she turned to the others with a raised eyebrow. "…Well, we did the first step. Now what?"

Artoria rounded on her, incredulous. "What!? Didn't you two have a plan?" she asked, almost frantic in her tone.

"W-We just need to wait for Ruler, that's all!" Jeanne laughed nervously, raising her hands towards the woman in a placating gesture. "He was the one who told us to lure Berserker in there. I'm sure he's-"

"Right here."

Not even a moment later, something happened.

Shirou Emiya rained down from the sky and landed in the middle of the square, without any warning and without making a single noise. The three Servants turned to him wide-eyed, shocked and stunned by his sudden appearance. They weren't expecting to see him appear like that, out of the blue. They hadn't even sensed his presence. What the hell? How was such a thing possible? It didn't make sense!

He stepped towards them, completely ignoring their shocked expressions. He was holding a bow in his right hand while he stretched his left one forward, generating a flicker of prana. Then, a thin rod manifested in his open palm, similar to a black arrow. A pitch-black weapon with a few small edges coiling around the thin core, spiraling around it and somewhat curving outward. The same arrow he had used the first time he met Artoria, back in Scotland.

"R-Ruler! You're here," Jeanne exclaimed, her expression torn between shock and relief.

He smiled a little. "Sorry I'm late."

"How the hell do you always appear so suddenly? It's a trick, isn't it? You have to teach me that sooner or later," Mordred questioned him with narrowed eyes.

Artoria blinked in mild stupor. "It is quite intriguing…" she admitted as well.

"Ladies, please, not now," he retorted with a twitch of his eyebrow, making them shut their lips instantly.

That being said, without wasting any more time, Shirou notched the arrow on his bow. He angled it in the best position. Took aim towards the large hole in the building. And then, he waited.

Spartacus' mad and hysterical laughter echoed from inside the Hotel.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! DO YOU THINK THIS IS ENOUGH TO STOP ME? YOU WILL PAY THE PRICE OF YOUR ARROGANCE, OPPRESSORS!"

Shirou merely smiled with a mental whisper.

'Hrunting.'

He loosed the arrow.

With a subtle hiss and unprecedented speed, the arrow shot into the air like an invisible missile. Then, as soon as it reached the destroyed entrance of the building and approached the target, it broke apart. It splinterted into dozens upon dozens, hundreds upon hundreds, and thousands upon thousands, raining down on the mad Servant like a rain of mana and metal, flooding him with an incessant and continuous attack.

Spartacus screamed the whole time, yelling with a mixture of laughter, groans and incoherent words filled with insanity.

Then, after a couple of seconds, the rain of arrows stopped and silence returned to the square again.

Seconds passed, slowly, inexorably, relentlessly.

"Is... Is he dead?"

Everyone turned to the voice that had spoken. To everyone's amazement – except for Shirou, of course – a new Servant had just appeared behind them, intent on observing the smoking building inside which Spartacus still remained motionless and apparently defeated. Said Servant seemed to be a pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed in knightly clothing from the 18th century and with a large feathered hat on her head.

Mordred and the others gaped as Shirou smirked at the newcomer in greeting. "You're late, Saber," he casually said.

The new Servant (a Saber, apparently) narrowed her eyes in irritation, staring at him with a frowning expression strangely similar to a pout. "It's you who are monstrously fast, Ruler," she retorted with a sigh.

Mordred's eyes glanced frantically between the two, her mind completely lost like Jeanne's. Even Artoria wore a confused and lost expression on her face, despite her usual calm and collected attitude. The girl merely sighed with a shake of the head after a couple of seconds. Fuck it. This made no sense. Typical Ruler. Whatever.

"Who's the pretty boy?" she finally managed to ask.

The Saber blushed fiercely at the question. She/he was about to retort, but Shirou cut them off abruptly.

"Not now," he said seriously. His eyes returned to stare at the semi-destroyed Hotel. "It's starting."

In fact, in that exact, same moment, everyone noticed an important detail.

Spartacus was not dead. On the contrary, his body was growing and growing yet again. The entire building around him was visibly shaking now, even cracking in several parts as the seconds passed. Now, the Berserker had completely become a gigantic mass of deformed flesh, his body no longer resembling even a vaguely human form. His head emerged like a pustule in that deformed mass of skin, pulsating flesh and red, coagulating viscera. It was a gruesome sight, really.

Mordred swallowed, holding back the urge to vomit. She felt a trickle of sweat dripping from her temple. That Servant… he was clearly something else. He had taken a considerable amount of damage, and still wasn't dead. Even worse, he had built up so much energy that he was now on the verge of imploding violently. She knew it. She felt it inside. Her instincts were screaming at her to run away and take cover. Even her father and the new Servant were staring at that horror with wide, incredulous eyes.

But Jeanne... Jeanne had a solemn and determined expression on her face.

Shirou glanced at her with an impassive look. "This is it. Are you ready, Jeanne?" he asked her seriously.

She gave him a determined smile. "I am."

He nodded, his bow disappearing in a cloud of mana. "Do what you must."

The blonde Lancer nodded, taking two steps forward and turning her back to the others.

"Everyone, please stay in this place and don't move."

Mordred and Artoria blinked in confusion. Even the new Saber complied in silence. "G-Got it..." father and son said at the same time.

Jeanne smiled, before moving forward without any hesitation and tightening her grip on the battle flag in front of everyone's solemn stare.

The Maid of Orleans glared at the pulsating mass of flesh and energy that was Berserker. "Spartacus. I won't let a Hero like you to harm innocent people," she said in a voice dripping with determination.

The only response she received was a bellowing laughter.

Spartacus's body grew and grew and grew, becoming so large that it started to be impossible to see it completely even through the gigantic hole he had caused in the Hotel. Entire parts of his deformed body began to widen and grow more and more, cracking the entire building and threatening to make it collapse at any moment. He was being confined within the walls of the Hotel, unable to move. Rays of purple mana began to emerge from his pulsating skin, ready to explode and release his energy at any moment.

"The time has come," the Berserker said solemnly. For the first time, his voice sounded serious and solemn, a huge contrast to his previous madness. "I must slay those who greedily gathered seeking for the Holy Grail! This blow will destroy the oppressors, it will annihilate those in power!"

His laugh echoed in the air for one, last time.

"For this... THIS IS SPARTACUS!"

Jeanne raised her weapon, accumulating a great amount of energy as the flag flailed furiously in the wind.

"Oh banner, oh flag of mine... defend my brethren!" she chanted. Her flag pulsed with energy, generating a golden glow that was growing stronger and more blinding by the second.

Spartacus screamed, releasing all of the damage he had stored in a beam of energy.

Jeanne slammed the flag on the ground, activating her Noble Phantasm.

"Luminosité Eternelle!"

Then, the whole world was blinded by a warm, golden light.

Mordred covered her face with her arms, narrowing her eyes and shielding herself from the light with a hiss as she stuggled to remain still and keep her balance against the wave of wind that suddenly hit her. She couldn't see what happened in that moment, but she still managed to guess thanks to her skills as a Servant.

The mighty beam of purple energy launched by Berserker collided violently against Jeanne's Noble Phantasm, generating an overwhelming and deafening explosion. However, thanks to the Saint's divine defensive properties, the beam was unable to continue its trajectory, trapped and confined within the strong walls of the building and the opponent's Noble Phantasm, reducing its range and trajectory. Therefore, blocked from all sides and unable to continue forward, Spartacus's attack went in the only free direction...

Upwards.

The beam of purple energy shot into the sky like an imposing column of light, reaching two hundred meters in height and making the air vibrate, the ground shake and the entire city gasp in shock and awe for quite a number of seconds.

Gritting her teeth and trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the midst of that incessant dazzling light, Mordred felt Jeanne scream in effort to resist with all her strength.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, the energy beam exploded loudly in the sky with a deafening bang, shaking the world with its explosion but without doing damage to the city below. The world shook, the air boomed, and time slowed down. And then, it all stopped.

Finally, the light faded and silence returned once again.

Mordred blinked as the light disappeared. She watched as Jeanne dropped to her knees, panting slightly from fatigue. She saw Shirou run to her side in an instant, kneeling beside her and holding her steady with his arms as she caught her breath, her body shaking with tremors of fatigue and weariness. Mordred visibly relaxed at that vision, letting out a relieved sigh. She seemed to be fine despite her exhaustion, and that was good. Jeanne had just saved her life, after all.

The Holy Maiden panted a little, glancing at them with a little smile as they approached her again. "Everyone… are you ok?" she asked slowly.

Artoria smiled, helping her to get back on her feet along with the red-haired Ruler. "Yes. Thanks to you," she answered with gratitude.

Jeanne's smile widened. "I'm glad."

Mordred let out a sigh, taking a look at the Hotel. The entire building was completely blown up now, and a large crater five meters deep was located on the point where it stood until recently. Much of the palace was completely gone, in fact, and what little remained was just a smoldering, charred pile of rubble. But despite its complete destruction, its surroundings, the square and the rest of the city were left completely unscathed thanks to Jeanne's Noble Phantasm.

And, more importantly, there was no trace of the insane Berserker. Even his presence and his signature of prana were completely gone. At long last, he had been defeated. It was over.

A heavy sigh escaped Mordred's lips. "Haah... it's over, finally," she exhaled, sitting down on the ground.

Shirou patted her head, his expression as serious and determined as before.

"No, kid. It's not over," he spoke slowly. His eyes darted towards a specific direction. "Not yet."

Mordred startled, along with Jeanne who gasped softly. The new Servant – Saber – turned to the left with wide, stunned eyes. Artoria and Shirou remained calm and composed instead. It was at that moment that the female Knight realized something. A small, insignificant detail that she had failed to notice before due to the tension and relief that had washed over her like a wave. That is to say:

The Servants who had appeared around them.

Her eyes widened as she jumped back to her feet. Iskandar was there, his chariot just landed on the big square with a loud bellow of the bulls and an electric roar of thunder. He was followed by a white-haired woman upon a fiery steed made of crystal and glass, and also by a man dressed in military uniform with long sideburns and a captivating goatee. They were staring at them, glancing at the King of Conquerors with eyes full of confusion, intrigue, and questions. They didn't look hostile, but they were clearly on guard. A wise move, without a doubt. Even Mordred and the others turned cautious as soon as they saw them.

But that wasn't the end of it. Apart from the three of them, Gawain and Bedivere also showed up from the opposite side of the square, leaping in the air and landing on the ground with a soft thud. They appeared to be battered and tired, with their armor full of cuts and blows obviously gained in a previous battle. They were followed closely by Cu Chulainn and a young, blonde-haired girl dressed in white and gold Greek clothing. The blue Lancer also carried on his shoulders the unconscious body of a boy extremely similar to the girl, almost like a twin.

And when all these Servants found themselves facing each other, the most absolute silence ever fell among them.

The moon shined brightly in the middle of the night sky.

Shirou curved his lips in a wry smile. "So... who wants to start?" he asked, trying to break the ice.

The answer that followed was very different from what he expected.

"My King!"

"My liege!"

…of course.

Bedivere and Gawain rushed to Artoria like puppies reunited with their mother, assaulting her with an overwhelming flood of questions about her status, her physical condition and eventual wounds… much to her embarrassment and Mordred's growing irritation. The others stared at the scene in silent amusement.

"…Right," Iskandar spoke after a moment of hesitation. He scratched his head in confusion before smiling broadly in his usual boisterous manner. "It seems that the situation is now under control here. You guys must have dealt with a few problems, right?"

Mordred scoffed. "That's the understatement of the century, Rider," she replied with a deadpan, pointing to the missing building and the crater behind her.

As Mordred joined the King of Conquerors, she saw Artoria trying – and failing – to calm her Knights down, but she ignored it. Her eyes glanced elsewhere, immediately noticing the way Shirou was staring at Cu Chulainn as he approached them along with the blonde girl in Greek robes.

"Lancer... you've been busy," the God said with a raised brow.

The blue-haired man snorted with an eye closed and a smirk. "No more busy than you, Ruler. That blast of energy lit up the city for miles." Then, he glanced at the short girl next to him, weighing the unconscious boy on his shoulder with a careless shrug. "But as you can see, me and the boys made new friends. Kids these days are really reckless, you know."

"…Please, stop moving my brother like a sack of potatoes, Lancer," the little girl hissed with a twitch of her eyebrow.

Shirou blinked in confusion at the scene, but he decided he could take care of this matter later. There were far more pressing issues he had to deal with right now.

In fact, just like Mordred, his attention had been caught by a couple of other Servants: the ones who had followed Iskandar. Judging by the way the new Saber, D'Eon, was bowing respectfully in front of the elegant white-haired woman and – above all – by the stern and solemn look Jeanne was giving to her and the other man; it didn't take long for the female Knight and Shirou to figure out their identities. Jeanne and Amakusa had been explicitly clear in describing the so-called 'leaders' of the two factions waging war in this country.

Therefore, Mordred joined Shirou as Iskandar moved to stand next to them as well, staring straight at the two Servants without the slightest fear or hesitation.

"You must be the ones in charge, I presume," the red-haired Ruler spoke in a blank tone after a while. "Emperor Napoleon and Queen Marie Antoinette, right? Jeanne and Amakusa have told us a lot about you."

Immediately, the attention of all those present fell on them. A sheer silence fell on the half-destroyed square.

Finally, the Queen nodded with a small smile. "Exactement," she said, speaking with a purely French accent. The woman stepped in front of Shirou, offering him a small royal bow of courtesy, typical of the noble courts of her time. "I see that there is no need for introductions. The King of Conquerors has explained your situation to us. You may call me Marie, or Rider if you prefer. It is a real pleasure to make your acquaintance... Ruler."

She then turned her head to the right. "And it's also good to see you again, Jeanne," Marie added soon after that, waving a hand to the blonde Lancer. "I didn't expect to see you here after all this time."

Jeanne gave her a small smile, but she remained still. "It's... good to see you too, Queen Marie."

Mordred narrowed her eyes in suspicion throughout that interaction, but she remained silent nontheless. Shirou instead nodded with an expression devoid of emotion, glancing at the other Servant who had remained silent until now. The man just shrugged with a weary face.

"Indeed. I must admit that this situation was not part of my plans... but I suppose this is life," he put his hands behind his back, lifting his torso with pride and confidence. "The unexpected always happens, am I right? As the great Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, I should always welcome surprises. Servant Archer, by the way," he finally said, looking at them with a smirk and a little chuckle.

But Shirou didn't chuckle at his words. He didn't even smile at all.

"You two," he spoke soon after their introduction. His voice was hard as steel and cold as ice. "Are you the ones responsible for this chaos?"

Both Marie and Napoleon stiffened under his cold, menacing gaze. That question brought a chill down among all the present. Mordred's fingers twitched, ready to summon Clarent and attack at the slightest signal from Ruler.

But it wasn't necessary.

"It's Archer the one responsible for all of this, boy," Iskandar suddenly spoke amidst the absolute silence.

Everyone turned to watch the King of Conquerors as he folded his arms and fixed Napoleon with a disapproving glare. "He and his faction attacked first. The others simply defended themselves. His intent was to take over the city, regardless of the civilians and the lives that could have been lost because of this," he explained without missing a beat, serious and concise as whenever he said something important.

A cold, uneasy shiver run on the Archer's back when the unknown God turned to stare at him again.

"...is it true?"

It was amazing how three simple words could be filled with ferocity, coldness and solemnity all at the same time.

Napoleon began to sweat slightly. "My, my. Quite the unfavorable situation for me," he began to say with a nervous chuckle. "Sanson is nowhere to be seen, Castor has been captured, and my other allies have probably fled or died… a real shame, indeed," he said under everyone's inquisitive gaze.

Artoria stepped forward, joining the red-haired Ruler. "Answer the question," she ordered coldly. "Are you responsible for this attack?"

"…I suppose I am," he finally admitted in the end, seeing that lying wasn't going to help him at this point. He was out-numbered and out-gunned. Better to admit the truth rather than infuriating them further with a lie.

Seconds passed, followed by silence.

Shirou clenched his fists, summoning a long katana.

"I see."

Napoleon gave him a nervous grin. He began to sweat profusely under the menacing gaze of everyone around him. Even the Knights and the blue Lancer were glaring at his face. "T-Très bien… I can see that I'm at a disadvantage today. I'd say it's time for me to make an honorable escape, what do you say?" he chuckled nervously, backing away a little from the others who moved to surround him. His hands started to shake in anticipation, but it wasn't easy to say if he was really scared or not.

Mordred lifted Clarent on her shoulder, glaring at him with a narrowed gaze. "Do you really think you can escape from all of us?" she sarcastically asked. "Don't make me laugh, Archer. What a horrible joke."

For once, everyone seemed to agree with her.

"...I suppose it's best if you surrender yourself, Emperor," Pollux suggested from the sidelines.

"Your demise has finally been decided," Chevalier d'Eon chimed with a solemn face, drawing her sword.

Even Marie smiled at him… angelically? "You cannot escape, mon ami. It's impossible."

...

"...Impossible, you say?"

Everyone stiffened when he began to laugh all of a sudden.

The Emperor put a hand on his face, outright laughing in amusement. "Did you say that? Ahh, you did say that, didn't you. Oh-la la, that is the word that flares me up, you know!" he declared amidst the persistent laughter, grinning in confidence and refusing to give in even in front of the numerical superiority of his opponents. Then, he met Shirou's gaze, glancing at Iskandar and Mordred as well. "But did you know, Ruler? And King of Conquerors? And the little mademoiselle? When people talk about the impossible... there's a modest wish inserted in there."

A large, powerful grin curved his lips.

"And I, Napoleon Bonaparte, am the answer to that wish! A Heroic Spirit who answer expectations, craved by the human mind! That is me! A man who responds the wishes!"

He summoned his cannon in the blink of an eye, suddenly aiming the gigantic weapon at the three of them and startling everyone elss who jumped away in fear and tension.

Shirou, Mordred and Iskandar didn't move, though.

"But now, in this land, in this time, mankind has fallen into despair. No one whises for the impossible. No one holds any dreams anymore. They do not dream about the tomorrow. They do not wish anything for the future. They don't feel anything. And I! Can't! Stand! That!" Archer declared loudly, charging more and more energy into his great cannon. "I will change this rotten world. I will bring my dear Country to its former glory! I will defy the impossible once again! For I am the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte!"

A mad, angry grin marred his features.

"Even if I'm forced to retreat today, I will never yield! I will crawl and crawl back, and some day rise again! After that, I'll just march forward and aim for victory!" he roared. "That is a promise!"

He smiled at everyone's shocked expressions. A beam of colored energy began to form inside the cannon, ready to fire.

Napoleon winked with a loud laugh.

"Until then... au revoir!"

He fired his mighty cannon without any hesitation.

...

But nothing happened.

"Are you done?"

Napoleon blinked, flinching as if slapped by those cold, emotionless words. His eyes darted down, confused, looking for what had gone wrong with his attack. And that's when he realized a tiny, little, minute detail.

His gaze fell on the red-haired Ruler placed in front of his weapon. He kept his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face, his katana stuck right in the center of his cannon, dissolving the beam of energy ready to fire as if it was nothing more than a trivial thing.

The Archer gasped and widened his eyes. H-How? Why? When? How had he managed to dissolve his attack with a mere sword? He hadn't even seen him move!

A hand suddenly grabbed his cannon, tossing it into the air as if it was a light, harmless pebble. Napoleon gaped and stepped back as he watched his favorite weapon spin in the air like a freesbee for several seconds, only to crash on the ground behind him and finally dissolve in a dust of prana. All the while, the Ruler continued to slowly advance towards him, staring at him with the coldest stare ever.

"You've endangered the safety of countless people, and now you want to leave just like that?" Shirou spoke in a cold voice. "I think not, Emperor."

Napoleon swallowed, grinning a little in tension and nervousness. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple.

Then, seeing that he had been cornered, he reacted.

Mordred gasped when the Archer jumped in the air without a warning, attempting to disappear in his Spiritual Form and escape from the looming opponent. But, just like his previous attempt, his struggle was useless.

In the blink of an eye, Shirou appeared behind him in the air, spinning with his whole body and kicking him on the head. The retreating Servant had no way of reacting. He had no way of defending himself. He didn't even have time to turn around or turn into Spirit Form. All he could do was widen his eyes and gape in shock for a mere fraction of a second, before being hit square on the head, and then he shot back down like a missile. He crashed to the ground with an explosion and a low groan of pain, cracking the concrete due to the force of the blow. Then, as the dust cleared, Mordred and the others found his unconscious body pathetically thrown to the ground in the middle of a small crater, completely unmoving.

Just like that, in less than five seconds, it was over. He had been defeated with unprecedented speed, and with one single move.

Shirou landed next to the unconscious body with a blank expression. The others watched him with obvious amazement, especially those who didn't know him and had no idea of his monstrous abilities yet. Even Jeanne and Marie Antoinette were visibly speechless.

Iskandar scratched his neck with a sigh. "That was pathetic," he said with a soft chuckle. "But at least it ended quickly. Good job, boy," he complimented with a thumbs up.

Mordred stepped forward, touching Napoleon's shoulder with the tip of her boot. Her armor disappeared in a dust of silver. "Tch. How annoying. This son of a bitch isn't gonna be happy when he wakes up," she spat, kicking the unconscious Servant in the head.

Shirou whistled with a raised eyebrow. "You kiss your father with that mouth, kid?"

The female Knight rounded on him with wide eyes and a blush, trying in vain to ignore the exasperated gaze of the other Knights behind her. Furthemore, to her growing embarrassment, even Artoria was sighing with one hand on her face, shaking her head slightly. Her ears and cheeks flared a deep crimson.

"W-Why, you-!" Mordred stuttered in embarrassment as Iskandar openly laughed at her along with Cu Chulainn.

But the God of War ignored them. His gaze glanced back to a certain Queen who moved to approach him slowly.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," Marie said with a sigh. She raised her head to look at the taller Ruler in the eyes, her lips curled in a small smile. "This night has been definitely more lively and tiring than I hoped, but luckily you and your group handled the situation well. I have to thank you for protecting my people and my Country, Ruler. Oui, you guys have my sincerest gratitude," she said in a soft and pleasant voice, almost musical. Her smile was dazzling and regal as few others, and she even bowed to him to show her gratitude.

He merely nodded, glancing at the woman with seriousness and solemnity as Jeanne and Artoria walked silently towards them. D'Eon joined the female Rider in turn, faithful and silent as the most resolute knight of the Royal Family, standing on guard as always.

Shirou stared at the french Queen with a blank face. "Queen Marie… we do have a great many things to discuss," he finally said in all seriousness.

The woman nodded, glancing at everyone around her with a broad, amused smile.

"We sure do, Ruler. We sure do."

---

CODEX PLANETAE

[COUNTER FORCE] Database

Taken from the notes of Alaya

Subject: Tyr [-Shirou Emiya-], #1 among the Ancestral Heroes

Alias: God of War, Humanity's Liberator, Grand Hero, God-Slayer, First Hero of Humanity

Description:

Speaking of Gods, a clarification needs to be made. Shirou has long hated and resented the Gods during his life. Given what they did to him, the way they treated humanity, and the fact that they killed his adoptive mother and family, it was an inevitable development. Because of this, for many years he has advanced in his quest for vengeance and has fought, exterminated and banished countless Deities from the Real Side of the World. All of this is undeniable, and it was certainly a show that both me and the [COUNTER FORCE] deeply enjoyed back then. However, it is incorrect to state that Shirou hated all Gods indiscriminately.

He didn't hate all of them. On the contrary, he even befriended some of them – very few of them, to be precise – and with those he bonded, he formed a sincere form of friendship that still lasts even to this day, despite their separation.

After all, Gods are a complex race. Misunderstandings, dislikes and internal conflicts were far from rare occurences among them. On the contrary, they were extremely common. For this reason, quite a number of Gods and Divine beings were not very fond of their race and their own family members. Some of them even supported Shirou's cause, in some extremely rare case. The most striking example of this was the friendly relationship between Shirou and Hades, the God of Death from Greek mythology.

Shirou and the King of the Underworld shared a relationship of trust and mutual benefit for years, until the very end of the conflict; going as far as helping each other on several occasions in order to aid the human race. But Hades wasn't the only God who befriended Shirou. There were several Divine beings that approached him over the years, although not all of them managed to maintain a lasting friendship with him. Goddesses, especially, were a lost case. All those who tried to approach him always ended up unleashing his fury, especially because most of them had interests beyond mere friendship for him. And among them, only a single Goddess managed to sincerely win his affection back then, but unfortunately for Shirou, that story only lasted for a short time.

Instead, it's still impossible for me to forget the case of a certain whimsical and cruel Goddess who was famous for rendering men useless and who took a peculiar interest in dear, sweet Shirou...

...I should probably stop here. I'm digressing again.

---

If this chapter had a title, it would be 'Oppressor'. There's no need to explain why, I hope.

I have to be honest: writing this last chapter was... hard. Putting together so many different characters, with such different personalities, different stories, and different ideologies in a single context is not as easy as it may seem. Especially if you want to stay 'in-character' as I – pathetically – try to do. It's even more difficult for me because I want to give all of them a minimum of depth. Writing a character from scratch (as I did with Shirou) is much easier compared to this. Without a base to start from, you can imagine everything about a character and have total freedom. But trying to make characters like Mordred, Iskandar, Artoria and everyone else as similar as possible to their original characters is really difficult.

I'll say this: I will always try to stay as faithful as possible to the original characters, even if I'll eventually change a few things about them. I don't want to create too many OCs (keep in mind that, in order to write this chapter and even the previous ones, I spent countless hours reading and took direct references to dialogues from FGO, various anime and also from some manga about Fate. This also applies to Napoleon, Marie, D'Eon, Sanson and the Dioscuri's dialogues, as well as the other characters we've met in the past. Even for Spartacus XD). I want to stay as faithful as possible to their original characters. I do this with Shirou too, from a certain point of view. His story here is different, sure, but the basic character is almost the same. At least, that's how I see it.

I'm sincerely sad for Sanson and Saint Georgios. They both were interesting figures to write, even if they had little space in my story. Remember: this is a War. People and Servants die in War. It's inevitable. I wanted to create a scene that demonstrated just that. Not all characters can survive a conflict - especially a Holy Grail War - and we'll see more of that in the future. Even though they had a brief role, I hope I managed to give them a tiny bit of depth and justice.

For those wondering if the fighting is over for this Arc… nope. Try again. Another mess is gonna happen soon. Next chapter will be shorter, though. More character development coming for Artoria, Mordred and the others.

Given the length of the chapter (I need to stop making them too long), the revision was arduous and I may have missed some misspellings and grammar mistakes. Bear with me: English is not my first language and I suck at writing. In case, forgive me.

See you next time.