Medea watched as the purplish liquid slowly poured through the transparent contractions, flowing unrestrained all around her workshop until finally arriving at the Magical Circle in front of her, filling the carved spaces and revealing complex and asymmetrical patterns, whose rime and reason would seem nonexistent to anybody but its maker. This was one of her more high-level Thraumaturgical Foundations, serving to not only isolate the ritual from outside interference but to also highlight and manipulate any substance down to a molecular level. Nonetheless, the robed witch could only sigh in frustration as once more she conjured only the tiniest bit of mana to run through, and once more the potion's colour composition instantly turned clear.
That little experiment could be considered a microcosm of every one of her attempts to unravel the underlying principles of this World they suddenly found themselves in. It was a frustratingly novel experience, finding herself blocked at every single turn. And not the kind of frustration that would only encourage oneself to delve deeper and constantly improve, it was the familiar headache and fiery rage that popped up every time the smug blond face of her ex-husband weaselled its way into the back of her head. And it all stemmed from the same problem: there seems to be no correlation between Mystery and the Magic native to this land.
It wasn't like Mystery didn't exist at all here, that would be a contradiction to the very foundation of existence: it would be like saying the Root had suddenly stopped existing altogether. No, the problem was that, while present, it did not govern any of the metaphysical aspects of this Texture. Such a thing was not uncommon, after all, she herself came from a time when physics and Magic both were dictated by the Gods' will, except that wasn't the case here. From everything she could gather, this world lacked what she could call a Prime Species that would become a representative of the planet; neither the humans nor the various Phantasmal Species sent to her to experiment on seemed to fulfil that role. So if that was the case, what sort of Higher Power existed here that allowed for the Manipulation of Mana and the existence of those weird skills they call Martial Arts, that makes it so that creatures of fantasy could roam free across the earth and sea while displaying none of their proper Conceptual Weight?
Take this Healing Potion for example. As soon as she interfered with it in any way shape or form, it loses its own proprieties and takes on every characteristic of her own Mana. It was like trying to manipulate true Eather, except it manages to function normally within the confines of his own system. Or to put it in the same way her Master had, the New World was like a blank canvas, able to take on any colour brought by outsiders like them. It was a shame Master was too busy these days to assist her in her research, they would have surely made progress by leaps and bounds by now.
With a sweep of her hand, the ritual in front of her vanished and she prepared to start anew, only for a disturbance in one of her Bounded Fields to make itself known. A sly smile adorned her face as she approached a nearby mirror hanging on the wall. She could very well do with a distraction right now and, to be honest with herself, a little venting. So it was fortunate then that scheming old fox had laid out such a perfect web awaiting their enemies. After all, toying with helpless prey had always been one of her favourite pastimes.
"RULE BREAKER!"
Before the currently rage-blinded Avenger could act, Medea brought down her twisted dagger and stabbed. Of course, such a jagged and brittle blade could never hope to penetrate Medusa's thick hyde, but the act itself was enough for the knife's effect to take hold. As soon as the tip of the dagger touched her skin, the large serpent woman froze in place as jet-black chains started manifesting across her body, before subsequently breaking off into little pieces and vanishing altogether.
Medusa's eyes briefly shined with lucidity, before her giant form started swaying from side to side, exhaustion clear in its movements. Even then, her entire body tensed as she felt a pair of foreign hands touch her head, but started to ease up as those hands began moving in soothing patterns across her hair.
"Ssh! Easy now" Medea whispered in her ear, the notes of gentleness and reassurance in her voice so unlike her usual self. "You don't have to worry about anything right now, it will be alright. When you wake up, we will both return to Nazarick together." As she spoke, The Gorgon's body began to coil itself before slowly descending unto the ground, her eyelids heavier by the minute. "I swear to you, I will not let them control you. You won't have to suffer under anyone's whims ever again. Be they Gods or Men."
After stopping for a moment to take in her sleeping form, the Caster finally turned her attention towards the assailant, who had been content to watch the ongoing scene until now. "I'm surprised you're still here" she called out to her. "In my experience, when skittering cowards lose their advantage, they tend to run away pretty fast."
"That was probably the better option, indeed." The woman seemed completely unfazed by the not unsubtle jab. Most of her figure was covered by her the black robe she wore, totally nondescript and safe from the dark fur adorning the hood's edges. Still, Medea could still make out a patch of white from underneath, as well as the twin pools of yellow staring at her with surprising intensity, very much unlike her aloof tone and posture. "I take responsibility for not realizing that the Bounded Field did not actually belong to Avenger but still, the whole operation was a failure the moment the famed With of Colchis became our opponent."
Medea's lips thinned considerably at that, but the other woman didn't seem to take note. Instead, she sighed heavily as she brought out a large trinket, before dropping it on the ground where it simply dissipated. "Such a waste of a perfectly good Item" she murmured."
"So what do you plan on doing now?" Medea asked. "I hope you're not still thinking of running, that would be a rather boorish end to our little encounter here."
"I'd rather not return to my Lord to tell him I'd utterly failed him. So instead, I can at least inform him that I've ripped apart two troublesome Servants that didn't know their place" she answered, her voice as level as when talking about the weather.
That prompted a laugh out of Medea. "So you intend to fight a Caster after you've found out you're in the middle of her Territory. My my, aren't you a confident little mouse?" With a wave of her staff, two magic circles appeared hovering in the air by her side, brimming with untapped energy. "And if you think you were being subtle with preparing those spells as we talked, you're sorely misleading."
At that, the woman's posture finally shifted. Medea could practically taste the bloodlust in the air as her opponent's own Spell materialised, twin serpents of fire sprouting from her arms, Beneath her feet appeared a crimson Magical Circle, more than double the size of one of Medea's. "I would have been very disappointed if you haven't noticed, actually. After all, you were doing the same, weren't you?"
Medea's only answer was to smile as the two spells became ten. Behind her, space twisted and shifted in it of itself to create more distance between Medusa's sleeping form and the ensuing conflict. Both women spared but a moment to size each other up, and then the hill lit up in the ensuing explosions.
'A fellow Caster from the Age of Gods, is it?" Medea pondered as she floated into the air, just outside of the range of her opponent's attacks. To her trained eye, it was all too easy to distinguish the quality of the opponent's Mysteries, and she was mildly impressed. There was certainly no mage in the current era who could bring forth such potent spells with so little effort. Were she in a better mood, she might have complimented her prowess, maybe even share some advice for better combining between the Five Elements; she did seem to be a bit slower when it came to Earth-aligned Thaumaturgy. As it was right now though, she simply resolved to crush her under her foot.
With a flicker, rose-coloured stardust trickled down from her robe, gently floating in the wind and scattering above the battlefield. Too caught up in repelling the assault of beams weathering down on her, her opponent failed to notice it a smidgeon too late. The dust flared up, and soon enough a large portion of the battlefield was erupted in deafening explosions. Still hovering above, the witch politely waited for the ensuing cloud of dirt and grime to clear out, even though she already knew the result. Indeed, when it did clear it revealed the image of a large, incandescent snake, looping protectively around its master. Its great maw opened up, lightning coming alive in its mouth and hungrily chasing to strike her. In response, she simply brought out a lazy hand forward, the lightning fizzling out just before touching her. Medea did not fight the smug grin plastered on her face as she subsequently brought up her hand with unnecessary flourish, before bringing it down like a guillotine executing its victim. At the same moment, the darkened-clad woman was enveloped in a flash of light as a bolt from the heavens crashed down on her with unbridled fury.
The woman staggered from the attack but remained on her feet. Her movements seemed a bit sluggish, and her cloak was barely more than a badly patched-up rag at that point, but there were no signs of her collapsing any time soon. For the first time in this battle, Medea's forehead scrunched up a bit. Caster Servants mainly relied on planning and subterfuge and were widely considered unsuited for direct combat. One of the reasons for that was that they lacked both the monstrous endurance of the Berserkers and the Magic Resistance the Knight Classes benefited from. Simply put, they were glass canons, in no way capable of taking an A-ranked blast head-on. 'Is this woman even a Caster, no, even a Servant?' Now that she got more acclimated to her presence, the being in front of her felt... peculiar. The magecraft she was employing was clearly that of her own world, yet to her senses she appeared closer to one of the native spellcasters her Master had provided her for 'examination'. Was this a Servant who had tried to replicate her own experiments regarding the Magic of this World, with marginally more success? Or something else entirely?
Whatever the case was, she doubted the mystery woman was willing to share her insight. Her entire body was rigid, slightly shaking with barely restrained rage. Medea barely got a flash of an expensive-looking dress and what looked almost like small, ivory tusks sprouting from the back of her head, before a thin veil of darkness spewed from her person, clinging itself to the ripped parts of her outfit.
"YOU BITCH!" she gnashed between teeth clenched so hard it was a wonder they weren't being grounded to dust. "HOW DARE YOU RUIN THE PRECIOUS GIFT MY LORD ENTRUSTED ME WITH!" Fire seemed to come alive in her hands as she blasted a genuine wall of purple-tinged flames towards the object of her ire. The witch managed to counter it, but in doing so she lost sight of her opponent. Medea started preparing for the incoming barrage of spells that could have sprouted from any direction, only for her eyes to widen in shock as the enraged woman appeared behind her in a burst of speed, a jet-black halberd suddenly in her hands. Space twisted once more, but at such close range, there was no escaping the attack as the weapon greedily embedded itself into her shoulder, splitting her left arm right off.
Medea let out an agonized cry as she rapidly plummeted towards the ground, her world a spinning mesh of colours and pain. It spoke volumes of her quality as a mage that her mind remained clear enough for her to erect a barrier in front of her, even one as haphazardly thrown as that one. And it was a good thing she did, for in the next moment a blurring form crushed into it with a rallying cry. Caster realized that the shield was beginning to crack under the brute force of that muscle-headed woman, but she endured, pouring more and more of the surrounding Mana into augmenting her spell. And it held, managing to push the assailant back for a short distance.
Panting heavily from exhaustion, Medea could see that her enemy didn't intend to give her any openings. Even before her feet had touched the floor again, the halberd in her hands was already glowing in dazzling silver, magical energy pouring out of it for even the naked eye to see. She took a step forward, winding the weapon back for what would no doubt be her most devasting attack yet, and began to swing... only for an arrow from the side to soar right towards her neck. The shot rang true, but it didn't manage to even scratch the surface of her skin. What it did manage however was to distract the woman for a moment, as her gaze turned reflexively towards the source of the arrow. And one moment was all that Medea needed.
Caster's visage flickered out of existence, only to appear on the other side of the battlefield, appearing virtually unharmed as even the wrinkles of her robes appeared to have vanished as if they never happened in the first place. Blinking in surprise, her foe began adjusting her swing accounting for the teleportation, only for her muscle to lock themselves in place as her weapon fell from her grasp and cluttered uselessly unto the ground. It was only then that she noticed the giant sigil that shone subtly under her feet, but it was too late. A great pressure bore down on her, as if gravity had increased a thousandfold and it was set on transforming her into a smear on the ground.
On her part, Medea smiled triumphantly as she once more assumed control over the flow of the battle. Her first reaction was to begin celebrating her victory and thinking of ways to torment the loser, but she could make out the tell-tale signs of magical energy gathering in an effort to break her sigil. 'If nothing else, the woman sure is persistent' she hummed to herself as she began her counter. The entire Bounded Field began glowing in her signature deep purple, hundreds upon hundreds of crystalline threads sprouting from the ground and binding every nook and cranny of her adversary. A faint memory of what appeared to be a young-haired homunculus using a similar tactic flashed into her mind for some reason, but the thought faded before she could properly process it. Shrugging, she began to leisurely make her way towards her captured prey.
"Now now love, if one sets out to conquer and control then they should be ready to end up on their knees themselves." She purred. The sheer loathing and outrage in the woman's eyes were enough to make her pleasantly shiver for a bit. "If I remember correctly, the Hindu called that comeuppance 'karma'. It does have a nice ring to it."
"I WILL WIPE THAT DISGUSTED SMILE OF YOUR FACE, YOU WHORE!" the woman roared back, which only served to incite Caster forward.
"I think you might have me mistaken for a certain colleague of mine. I am in no way a perverse woman, I assure you." Now hovering directly above her, Medea's hand slowly began reaching down towards the cloak's hood. "But I suppose if you'd prefer it like that, I could have her assist me as we fry off every nerve in your body for information. I could make Master allow it as a joint project, would that be acceptable?"
Medea's fingers touched the hood, only to quickly let go as she felt her skin being scorched alive. A dark liquid began flowing outwards, a disgusting oily clump that was encasing the woman's body like a protective shield. Wherever it touched the threads, they fizzled out and melted, leaving behind only a nauseating toxin. As soon as the scent reached her nose, Caster teleported a good couple of yards away. 'Hydra venom? How?' All of her previous confidence and assuredness flickered out; she had already used up a large quantity of mana, and the reservoir set in place along with the Bounded Field was almost dried up. Maybe it was time to stage her retreat, but she couldn't just up and leave while Medusa was still up.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a bellowing scream behind her put her worries to rest. Like a living natural disaster, the earth shook as the Gorgon rose from her slumber. Faster than even Medea could see, her tail sprung and slammed into the enemy with the force of a freight train. With over half her body still trapped by the diamond threads, there was nothing the woman could do but take the full might of the hit head-on and get blasted into the sky, so far away she faded from the two Servants' view. Still out for blood, the giant Avenger moved to track her down but got halted by Caster's raised hand.
"Don't bother," she told her "Just now I felt her fade away from my perception. She either teleported or something to a similar effect. Anyway, she's gone."
Medusa grunted in clear displeasure, but didn't try to contest her judgement. Instead, her upper body shifted slightly, her tone taking an almost frugal quality as she asked:
"Then, can we leave? Can I...go home?"
"Of course, I did promise you, after all. Though next time you should probably tell Master if you're not satisfied with the task at hand. I doubt he would force it on you if there is any other way."
"I have no complaints. This is who I am, after all." She said her stare overlooking the field of corpses and statues. Medea couldn't make out her expression, but she felt it mirrored her own when she saw herself in the mirror. When she was reminded of salted air, turbulent waves and the wet, moving floor below her. Every time her gaze fell upon her Noble Phantasm, the Dagger of Betrayal.
"But it doesn't have to be. Not here, not anymore." her words came out barely more than a whisper, and Medusa gave no sign of having heard them. But when she turned around her shoulders didn't seem quite as heavy.
"Well, I guess it's time to contact Master and ask for a portal back to Nazarick. Oh, wait, I almost forgot something." The small smile Cater didn't know she sported took on a more dangerous edge. With a wave of a hand, one of the statues further back crumpled, revealing the terrified form of a small blonde, her knuckles turned white from clutching the bow in her hands too hard. "After all," she said in a sing-song voice as she approached, "no good deed goes unpunished."
AN: Life sure does sneak up on you. You get busy for a week or two, don't feel like writing anything on a particular day, and before you know it... BOOM, three months pass and all you did was get addicted to Elden Ring again. Anyways, new chapter, yey.