033 - Behind the Scenes

Bluebeard

He's losing her.

His Jeanne, to these… these pathetic excuses for heroes! With their self-righteous morals that can't see beyond skin-deep, their cheap words of comfort that try to pass for wisdom, their cookie-cutter arguments that anyone can see are just grasping at straws and that accursed Master with her accursed smile that makes His Jeanne's soft and kind heart waver no matter how much she tries to harden it.

And lastly… That damn fake, a mirror image that shouldn't exist, whose mere presence hurts both His Jeanne and even himself. A reflection of times past, of things that could've been, of things that will never be. A blatant last-ditch effort of this godless world that only knows how to ruin and take away.

And now His Jeanne is wavering, she's hesitating. If things keep going on as they are, then it won't matter how powerful His Jeanne is, it won't matter if their armies swarm the skies and their Servants crush all opposition. It won't even matter if France crumbles to ashes between his hands.

Because he will lose His Jeanne anyway.

"It seems to me…" An unexpected voice makes itself heard in the dark and supposedly empty dungeon. "That you need to take matters into your own hands."

"Who's there!?" He demands towards the darkness, [Prelati's Spellbook - Tome of the Spiralling Sunken City]snapping open in front of him with a thought. "Who dares—!?"

A chuckle cuts off his demand as a familiar man walks out of the shadows. A thick and long brown mane frames a hard face that's full of sharp features in spite of the smile on his lips, but it's the clothes that identify him. Not many people would wear dark green suits with matching top hats, in this era or any other.

"Have you forgotten me already, my friend?" The man stops in front of him, spreading his arms in a disarming gesture. "I'm hurt."

"You… I remember you." He frowns in concentration, his mind digging through blurry memories that have little to do with His Jeanne. "You are the one who gave me…"

"Oh, so your maddenned obsession hasn't fully rotten your brain just yet." The man's smile widens, showing teeth are remarkably white and sharp. "How delightfully convenient."

"Yes, yes… How rude of me to forget a friend like that." He nods repeatedly, feeling a bit sheepish about the whole deal. "And I believe you were saying something before I interrupted?"

"Oh, I was just saying that you might need to personally intervene." His friend explains with a chuckle. "That girl of yours might be stronger than anyone else, but that won't matter if she doesn't fight to the fullest, if the Chaldeans trick her into giving up."

"I'd like to protest your harsh words, but… It seems even My Ideal Jeanne would be weak to trickery." He reluctantly agrees. "It's just part of her charm, I'm afraid. Nothing to be done about it."

"Isn't the answer simple then, my friend?" His friend's enthusiasm is contagious, he has yet to hear his proposal but he's already feeling excited! "You haven't been taken by their disgusting lies, you can still fight your best. And you haven't been fighting your best at all, have you?"

"No… No. You're right!" Realization hits like a sac of bricks, how could he have missed something so obvious! "I have been indulging My Jeanne so far, letting her stretch her wings and in this kingdom that's become her playground. But if she's going to be in any actual danger… "

"Then it's time for the adults to step in and take responsibility."

"Indeed! In fact, I believe I have some ideas about what to do!" He agrees enthusiastically, countless ideas and plans already swirling in his mind. "And, oh! How delightfully fitting! The gift of a precious friend will be the solution, fueled by the gift of another precious friend!"

"That sounds… yes." His friend's smile softens a bit as he takes a step back to give him space. How considerate of him! "I'm sure it will be suitably impressive. Whatever it is your crazy mind has come up with now."

"Indeed! Oh, I'll need sacrifices, many sacrifices!" He smacks his fist against his open palm, the pages of Prelati's gift turning wildly right in front of his face. "Well, no. I don't really need them, but what sort of dramatic turn would it be without a lot of people dying?"

"I… I'll leave you to your planning, then. It sounds like you have things to prepare."

"And it is ever so convenient that such sacrifices have already gathered right at the gates of Paris! Ironic, that the sacs of flesh believe themselves our opposition, an army, when they'll be simply making us stronger!"

But he's no longer listening. In fact, he's already forgotten about his 'friend' altogether. Everything has gone wrong and now His Jeanne needs him, so he shall pour all his power and attention into making things right again!

Berserker Archer

It happened as soon as her Master called her back.

A moment of distraction, frustration at her situation and disdain from the one holding her leash piling on each other and culminating with her making the slightest of openings. An opening that was filled with an arrow through the throat before she knew what was going on. Not immediately deadly, especially not for a Servant like her, but she's done for all the same.

This would've never happened if she'd been summoned as a proper Archer. For all the raw power granted by Mad Enhancement, that simply fails to make up for the loss of reason. Humans didn't become the dominant species through the might of their bodies, but through leveraging their minds.

This would've never happened without the mounting pressure of entire days knowing there was a hunter stalking her. Not even the most disciplined of minds can come out unscathed from such an experience. Pressure slowly mounts up and paranoia creeps in, leading one to spend their energy unwisely and leading to needless exhaustion that eventually becomes weakness.

This would've never happened if her Master had even remotely attempted to earn a modicum of her respect. No matter how tight the leash, there's only so much it can achieve against someone struggling with every fiber of her being. There's only so long one can survive when she's not even trying to.

Or maybe… Maybe that's all wishful thinking on her part. The skill displayed by taking her down like this is nothing to scoff at, after all. It's not everyday that an arrow manages to strike an archer by surprise, even her at her prime would've been hard-pressed to pull off something like that herself.

Her ears twitch as steps make themselves known behind her. Two sets, no doubt belonging to a Master and a Servant. They are either here to mock her or willing to show her the courtesy of properly finishing her off. That's a relief, even the mockery would still be better than simply getting abandoned here to bleed out on her own, forgotten and alone.

"Let's get this over with." Is what she would've liked to say, but the arrow stuck on her throat keeps her from forming coherent words. The most she manages is a gurgling grunt as she turns around to face her killers.

Only to freeze when she identifies her killer as… herself!?

Her hair has gone ashen, her eyes shine with a foreign-yet-familiar yellow glow, her skin is paler and her features are rougher. Even her normal clothes have been swapped by a black and cyan variant she doesn't remember wearing in her entire life, but there's still no doubt in Archer's mind. The person standing in front of her, bow in hand and tails idly swaying behind her is no one other than herself.

"Good hunt, myself." Her other self congratulates, stepping forwards as she raises an unfamiliar pendant with her free hand. "[Circle of Usurpation]"

The pendant glows red and the symbol engraved within is projecting outwards as crimson light. A circle edged with swords containing an ominous-looking serpent-like creature. Berserker Archer's instincts flare up in warning, prompting her to take a step back. Not that it achieves anything when the creature seemingly comes alive, escaping the projection to pounce on her and swallow her whole.

The motion isn't so quick that her senses can't keep up with it, but her body is in no state to follow through. Enormous, overly simplistic jaws made out more of symbolism than anything physical snap around her. For a moment, she feels something tugging at energy, her sense of self and her very soul, as if the very concept of Berserker Archer is being digested, without anything she could do to resist it. At least, the process is mercifully swift.

Berserker Archer closes her eyes for the last time… And Atalanta opens hers.

"And that takes care of that." A cheerful, childish voice comes from behind her. "Good work as always."

There's a moment of disorientation as her Master walks into her field of view, but it passes quickly.

"How do you feel?" Master asks, leaning forward to examine her with a worried frown on her face. "I know she always does good work, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"Everything worked out as predicted." Atalanta reassures her, a hint of a smile on her lips as she places a comforting hand on top of Master's head. "The process was a success."

Her Master goes to say something else, a hint of mischief dancing within her enchanting ruby-red eyes, but it's at that moment that a roar echoes through the land and a huge dark figure takes flight in the distance.

"And…that's our cue to leave. Let's drop the Memory Crystal somewhere safe and get back home." Master pouts, dancing away from Atalanta to gaze wistfully into the distance. "The rest will be up to Onee-chan."

Mashu Kyrielight

Things aren't going well.

The looming threat that Fafnir represents on its own has been joined by the Dragon Witch and what remains of her Berserker Servants. Sure, another Rogue Servant has joined their side but, even when his timely intervention just saved Senpai's life, the balance of power remains against them.

While the Dragon Witch grandstands and gives out her speech, Mashu's mind whirls frantically. She barely gets to pay attention to anything around her, because Senpai lies unconscious in her arms, wounded and vulnerable. The battle lines shift around, the newcomer joining Siegfried in facing Fafnir while everyone else turns towards the Dragon Witch and her group.

Everyone else… but Mashu.

The prospects are dire, communications with Chaldea have cut off completely and everyone else has their hands full. There's nobody to tell Mashu what to do now. She's alone in this, she needs to make her own plans and follow through her own choices.

But how is she supposed to–

A groan and a squirm on her lap draws her attention downwards, to the (precious person) precious person she's carrying in her arms. Even unconscious, battered and bruised like this, Haku-senpai still looks beautiful. It's along that thought that a simple realization hits her.

She's making things way more complicated than they need to be.

The others are fighting, it doesn't matter what their chances are. It's not up to her to judge their abilities or write them down. They'll pull through or they don't, but she can't do anything about it. She can only put their trust on them while she does her part. Because Mashu's role now isn't to fight, it's to protect.

Even if she's not blessed with any talent, even if she's stupid, misguided and useless–!

No… no. That sounds too close to these cursed words that nearly doomed senpai. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tries again. It doesn't matter how weak or inexperienced she is. There's this one thing Mashu Kyrielight can do. Something nobody else can. There's this one thing she will do. This (priceless treasure) (beloved person) senpai in her arms…

Purple eyes snap open, shining bright and full of determination!

She'll protect with her life!

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