A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 4

"Psst, buddy, we got a problem."

Kratos was awake in an instant.

His eyes opened to find Cu crouched over him, a look of concern over his face, his finger held up to his lips. While Kratos was not familiar with the gesture, he could guess its meaning.

Quiet.

When the Caster spoke, his voice was a hushed whisper. "While you all were asleep, Berserker was thundering about above ground. Didn't think much of it, was pretty much the same song and dance as all the other times I ducked him like this, but he hasn't gotten bored this time. He's nosing around close to some of the subway entrances, and if he heads below ground, he'll almost certainly cross the line of my Bounded Field." The man's expression turned grim. "Once that happens, he'll sense the lot of us – and he'll come right at us." He gestured at the ceiling. "And I don't think I have to tell you what a bad idea fighting him underground would be. Close quarters with someone as big as him in a narrow space would be hell, even if he doesn't bring the roof down on us."

Kratos made a noise of assent. "We would see causalities. Ritsuka and the Director would be unlikely to survive."

"And even if they did, we'd still have to fight Berserker off, dig them out, and hope Saber didn't decide to take advantage of our frankly piss-poor situation. And even then, what are the odds no one gets seriously hurt, when we've already got one person down?" Cu shook his head. "I wanted to avoid Berserker if at all possible, but it's not looking like that's in the cards."

The man tilted his head to the side, again seeming to look right through Kratos. "So, you think whatever god you are will be able to stand up to a maddened Heracles , at least until I get the girls to a safe enough location to join in?"

Kratos went still, every fiber of his being suddenly on alert.

Cu continued; his voice low. "Piece of advice, friend, you're not going to be able to hide that from most Servants – the Throne of Heroes doesn't just record humans and half-gods like me, there's some fully Divine Spirits there, and for any of us who hail from the time when gods still walked this Earth, what you are stands out like a beacon. Probably why Heracles is still looking for you, divine recognizes divine, and he's either looking for a fight, or someone to put him out of his misery."

"You keep this to yourself. Why?" Not that it was unusual, both Freya and Mimir had known him for what he was, but neither had spoken of it to Atreus – but that could be dismissed as not wanting to come between what was obviously a very dangerous man and his son. This situation was wildly different, and yet, this man was keeping his secrets in the same way that two people who had become some of his closest allies had.

"Not my place to tell 'em." The man's tone was matter of fact. "If you wanted them dead, you could have just let Assassin kill them. You could be running a con or something, but that just doesn't seem like you. No, something inside of me is telling me you're no danger to the girls, and that you're going to be important to fixing this mess." He chuckled, as if sharing in a private joke only he was aware of.

Kratos pushed himself to his feet, still baffled at this man. From what he could recall of Mimir's tale, treachery had played at least some part in Cu Chulainn's death, but the man was trusting him so easily. Not that he was necessarily wrong in his estimation of Kratos, but still.

"I…..thank you for your discretion."

"Be a bit hypocritical for a Heroic Spirit to lecture someone else about keeping secrets, seeing as it's kind of what we do. Just promise me you'll tell that Olga girl when I'm around." He grinned. "After the way she reacted to you being from another universe, hearing you're a living, breathing god might be enough to make her hit the bottle then and there."

Despite himself, Kratos found a small laugh, barely a snicker, escape him. If anything, upon hearing that, Cu's grin only grew wider. "See! Even a grump like you thinks that would be funny."

Kratos gave a derisive sniff. "I am not a 'grump'. I am merely treating a serious situation with the weight it deserves." For a brief moment, it was as though Kratos was exchanging friendly barbs with his allies in Migard, bickering with the head, or Freya, as they went about whatever business had pulled them together this day.

Kratos suppressed the sudden ache with the discipline of several lifetimes. He could miss them later, now, focus was needed. "Wake them and let them know the situation. They may have tactical options we have not considered."

Kratos moved about, stretching out the kinks in his body as Cu woke the two girls, and explained what they were facing, and what they had decided. Naturally, the Director had to question this.

"You're going to face Berserker ALONE? Are you INSANE?" Somehow, the girl managed to yell while still keeping her voice in a whisper, frankly, an impressive feat. "Assassin was one thing, but they're among the weakest of the classes in a straight fight, but this is Berserker, and it's fucking HERACLES." Her eyes were glaring hard enough to bore holes in him. "He's going to rip you to bloody shreds!"

"This would not be the first time I have fought Heracles ."

The Director's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming from her throat, so taken aback was she at that statement. Cu Chulainn was stifling laughter, and looking at Kratos as if he was his new favorite person in the world. Mash…..

"Will…..will you be alright, sir? It's Berserker, and I could feel how strong he was….you saved us, and I don't want to lose anyone else….." Honest distress twisted the girl's face, and genuine concern colored her voice.

Kratos softened his tone a touch. "I am only seeking to delay him until the Director and your friend are safe, and then I can be aided in the fight by Caster and yourself. I will be as careful as I can be. But you cannot remain here while we fight, and you will need two people to carry them to safety. As I said, I have fought Heracles before. This may not be the Heracles I knew, but I have the best odds of surviving until they are safe."

"Damn you, you're right. I hate it, but you're right." The Director's finger sprang forth, pointing directly between Kratos' eyes. "But don't think I've forgotten that whole 'I've fought Heracles ' thing, mister! We are going to revisit that at a future date!"

Kratos watched as the comparatively tiny girl puffed herself up and tried to make herself seem fractionally more intimidating than she was, as Cu Chulainn seemed to be biting his tongue now to keep himself from laughing out loud, his sides heaving with suppressed laughter. Truthfully, it was almost adorable. Was this how his son felt about all the many, many animals he fawned over?

With a grunt, he turned and moved to the door. Focus.

"Once I have his attention, move quickly. I will delay him as long as I can." He reached back and pulled his axe from its holder, slowly pushing the door open.

Nothing nearby. So far, so good.

"Be careful," said Mash, as he slipped through the opening, and was gone.

Once in the tunnels, Kratos moved quickly. He had a general idea of where the edge of the protection stave was, and if Cu was right in that he was the reason Heracles was still hunting them, he wouldn't have much time before his half-brother noticed him, once he crossed the stave's boundary. He needed to get as far away from the entrance to the underground as possible before Heracles found him.

Kratos hit the stairs at a dead run, feeling the wash of magics as he stepped across the boundary of the stave, and sprinted for what looked like one of the more open areas he could see.

From behind him, there was a roar that did not sound like it could possibly have come from a human throat, then giant, thudding footfalls. Quick, giant footfalls.

Heracles had noticed him, as Cu had expected.

Kratos lowered his head and increased his speed, the city passing him in a blur. He focused on breathing, eyes steadily forward as he ran deeper into the city, the sounds behind him getting ever closer.

And then they stopped, something that made Kratos slow his pace for a moment, and glance backwards, confused. Had Heracles ceased pursuit?

So it was that he was partially turned when a massive form descended from the sky, the shockwave of his landing blowing Kratos partially back. Kratos' arm raised to protect his face from the air and debris that had been displaced from the Servant's landing, and through the disturbance, got his first look at his enemy.

THIS was Heracles ?

As expected, he was massive, at least of the same height as the Heracles Kratos had known, who had towered over him. His skin was slate-gray, apparent even through the haze of black mist that emanated from his body – just as it had poured off the other Servant's body – and bulged with muscle, swollen almost to an obscene level. Spurs of…..bone? Stone? Of some substance jutted from his elbows. Wild hair framed a face which curled in rage upon sighting Kratos, lips pulling back to bare massive, sharp teeth at the God of War. In one hand he clutched a gargantuan slab of stone, crudely fashioned into the seeming of a sword, if only because one of the edges had been sharpened into a jagged edge.

And he stank of the same wrongness, the same corruption the skull-faced Servant had.

Kratos barely had time to set his feet before the massive Servant was upon him, stone blade screaming through the air as it attempted to cleave him in two. The corrupted Servant's speed was such that he only barely managed to duck to the side, the air buffeting him as the blade passed him by the narrowest of margins.

Fast. This version of Heracles had speed that the other had lacked, was impossibly quick for his size.

Kratos' attempt at a counterattack was swatted aside, the giant managing to redirect the cumbersome weapon to block Kratos' axe, and easily push it aside. Kratos ducked low and moved to get inside the Servant's guard, only to run headfirst into Heracles' fist.

His head rocked back, and he twisted his body, turning the would-be stumble into a backwards roll, putting distance between himself and the massive blade, which again seemed to defy momentum as it again reversed course and split the air where the Spartan had been standing.

Kratos spat a thin trail of blood and shook off the disorientation of the blow to the head he had taken.

Strong as Thor, at LEAST, and worse, this was no crazed animal he was fighting. He had anticipated Kratos' move, had expected him to try to get in close, where the massive blade would be harder pressed to fend off Kratos' axe, and had rocked Kratos with a counterattack. Whatever madness had been inflicted upon Heracles; his battle instincts remained intact.

And he was already bearing down on Kratos again, howling out a battle cry.

This would be about the time where Mimir would lament their group being in deep, deep trouble.

Gritting his teeth, Kratos snapped his arm out, flinging his axe at the Servant's head. He had no expectations of the axe connecting, and indeed, Heracles easily flicked his blade up, the axe battering off it and spinning off the side, but Kratos had wasted no time in following the axe in. Not enough time for him to call his axe back, the opening that had been given to him when Heracles had been forced to block would have closed by then. Fortunately, he had other weapons.

Draupnir uncoiled from the ring on his finger, filling his hands, and with a short leap, Kratos threw all his weight behind the spear, as he plunged it into the Servant's gut.

It was like trying to impale pure steel.

Before the spear could sink more than its head into Heracles ' flesh, Kratos sprang back, abandoning the spear, a new one already forming in his hands, as the infinite magic of the ring sprang into action, leaving a sparking remnant of Draupnir still plunged into his enemy's flesh.

He swatted at the blade with the butt of Draupnir, managing to push it just enough to the side to foil the Berserker's attack, spinning the spear in his hands and managing a downstroke that carved a thin line into the giant's chest. A sweeping kick forced Kratos to fall to the ground, lest his chest be caved in, then he was rolling to the side as Heracles attempted to simply fall on the prone Spartan, either to overbear him and force this into a grappling contest, or to merely crush him with his weight.

Both men sprang back to their feet, Kratos attempting a jab of the spear, testing defenses, but like a striking snake, Heracles' hand flew up and caught the spear behind the head.

Quickly, Kratos abandoned the weapon, not about to test his strength against the Servant's. Another spear quickly formed in his hands, but before the spear left in the giant's hand could dissipate, he slammed the butt of Draupnir against the ground, causing both the duplicate spears to violently detonate, the bright flash of the spear in Heracles' hand blinding him.

Heracles howled in pain and disorientation, and Kratos seized the initiative. He leapt into the air, vaulting up with Draupnir aimed to skewer his enemy's skull. But Heracles recovered fast, not quick enough to fully avoid the strike, but quick enough to turn his body and take the strike in his right shoulder. Kratos was already disengaging when Heracles swung his forearm up, his forearm catching Kratos right in the ribs, sending him flying.

The Spartan skipped off the streets repeatedly, the air blasting from his lungs as he finally hit one of the metal vehicles that lined the streets face-first, his body caving into the side of the thing.

Dimly aware he had but moments, he dug his fingers into the metal of the vehicle, lifting it, and spinning. If his timing was off, he was dead.

His timing was not off. As he swung it, the machine caught Heracles flush across the jaw as the Berserker had rushed in, seeking to end the fight. The force of the blow knocked Heracles back a few steps, and the battered body of the machine knocked him back further, as Kratos wasted no time in hurling it straight at him.

Heracles roared as he shrugged the hit off, then bawled in pain as a flurry of spears, hidden in the blind spot created by the machine's flight through the air, plunged into his body. The butt of Draupnir rang against the ground, and Kratos used that impact to push himself forward, even as the many phantasmal spears detonated in Heracles' flesh. At the last second, he drew himself up short, watching as the stone blade passed before him, knowing that Heracles would have recovered in time, and having baited him into the swing, baiting him into overextending.

Kratos' right arm snapped out, his axe whirling into his grasp. He swung with both hands, putting all of his considerable might into the blow, aiming for center of mass, knowing the opening he had created would close in mere moments. The axe bit into the Servant's flesh, deep, but not as deeply as it should have.

Kratos had fought Travelers whose armor had been less resolute than this Heracles' flesh.

He ripped the axe free, then was forced to desperately parry as the massive blade was brought to bear against him. His shield had only just managed to deploy when the weapon tested it, but it held, though the metal groaned alarmingly. Snarling, Kratos hurled his axe point-blank into the Servant's face. At this distance, not even the thing's unearthly reflexes would let it react in time, and the axe's head dug itself into Heracles' forehead. What would have been a fatal blow to just about anything else only seemed to make the man madder.

Kratos was beginning to wonder just what it would take to kill this monster.

Howling, the Servant's head again moved with that unnatural speed, darting forward and sinking his maw of teeth into Kratos' right shoulder, then, impossibly, ripping Kratos from the ground, shaking him in the air like a dog would, then hurling him away.

Kratos landed badly. Worse yet, he was almost certain he had felt bones crack, if they had not broken entirely when Heracles had bitten down and shaken his body in the air. Fighting the pain, he struggled to his feet, knowing he had but moments before the Servant would be upon him again. With no time to call his axe back, he called another spear from the ring on his finger.

He couldn't lift his arm.

Broken bones, then, and not cracked. Not enough time to heal it, the maddened Servant wouldn't give him that much time. He unfolded his shield, and locked his eyes upon the massive form bearing down him, weapon raised above its head.

A weapon, and a form, that was beginning to leak power from their skin. This must be the 'Noble Phantasm' his Chaldean allies had described.

His shield had shattered under the assault of a god who oversaw strength, he had misgivings that the rebuilt shield would stand up to the assault of another one. Gritting his teeth, he set his feet, and prepared to meet Heracles' ultimate attack head-on.

Then, there was a form standing between him and the monster, and then, a shimmering wall of light.

Mash Kyrielight didn't know much about being a human. The Doctor had tried, bless his heart, but Roman was an odd person at the best of times, and there was only so much time he could devote to the girl. The team that had been in charge of raising the Demi-Servant had done so with clinical dispassion, treating her as little better than a tool. When the Servant bound to her had failed to manifest, their marginal interest had waned – possibly that was why Roman had been allowed so much freedom with Mash, reading her books, showing her movies – things largely deemed wastes of time, for what did a tool need to know of Sherlock Holmes? But if he wanted to devote his attentions to a failed experiment, then it was his free time to squander.

And as for Team A, the only other people Mash had had real contact with well….even a poorly-learned student of humanity like her could tell that Team A wasn't the most normal of people. Cold, standoffish Akuta, larger than life Wodime, flamboyant Pepe – none of them were good examples of humanity, they were all too…unique. They were the best and brightest of Chaldea, supernovas, where Mash was an asteroid falling to earth, guttering, dying, flaring out as she burned up. She had nothing in common with them.

(She resolutely tried not to think of Beryl Gut. She failed, but quickly stuffed all thoughts of that man back into the hole where she kept them – along with the ugly, dark part of her that hoped he hadn't survived the explosion).

Senpai – Gudako had seemed like just a regular, normal person. She had reacted with surprise at seeing Fou, but then had been petting the animal a few moments later. (Unlike Beryl, she was worried for Fou, and hoped the little creature hadn't been hurt, or pulled into the Rayshift with them.) She had flushed with embarrassment when she had fallen asleep during the Director's lecture, and then hung her head in shame when she'd been banished from the room.

She'd held her hand as she thought she was dying, crushed beneath the rubble of the ceiling.

Then, Mash, failure that she was, had failed to protect her senpai, had failed at her one job, to protect her Master. It had taken two people to fix her mistakes, one to defeat the Servant that she had been unable to even land a blow on, and another to prevent her senpai from dying.

("She still might die," whispered that same part of Mash's mind. "There's no promise the Doctor will be able to save her.")

Events had moved too fast since then to allow her to wallow too much in her self-doubt and recriminations. Revelations had come one after another – Cu Chulainn, just as his myth had described him, charismatic, confident, cocky even, saving her senpai's life. The Saber of this war, falling to corruption, enslaving the other Servants – almost certainly the distortion in this past time that they needed to correct. Their massive savior, taciturn and gruff (he had thanked her for the water), was from another universe entirely – either by some happenstance of events, or because the Wizard Marshall was meddling.

When there had finally been a moment of calm, as she lay down on the cold ground and tried to sleep (Cu's robe smelled nice, earthy), her head had been spinning so fast that she'd thought she never be able to quiet it down enough to fall asleep, but before she knew it, she was out like a light.

Then Berserker was coming, and she had to run again, while Kratos was going to stand against Berserker alone.

Fear had given her legs wings, as she followed Cu through the burning city, carrying her unconscious senpai. She felt the seconds flying by as they hid the Director and Gudako atop what once had been an apartment complex, the druid swiftly (not fast enough, screamed Mash's brain) set up a Bounded Field around them, then the two of them were flying back to where they could hear fighting.

They arrived just in time to see Berserker bite Kratos like an animal and fling him what seemed like a mile. When the man made it back to his feet, Mash could see that his arm wasn't working right. She could see that Berserker was preparing to unleash his Noble Phantasm, the corrupt, sludgy mana that made up his form spiking. She could see that Kratos was going to try to block it with his shield, but something inside of her (the voice was male, but she didn't notice it at the time, nor did it ever cross her mind later) could see in the way he was holding himself – he didn't expect his shield to hold.

Cu was saying something, yelling to her as they ran, but she didn't hear it. Her blood was hammering in her ears, seeing in her mind's-eye, Kratos, broken and shattered at the feet of Berserker, her senpai falling, choking on her own blood as daggers riddled her flesh, the Director defiance in her eyes as Saber incinerated her, Fou, blackened and burned from the explosion, whimpering as he died.

(NO MORE.)

Speed she didn't know she had had Mash suddenly in front of Kratos, standing before the titan bearing down on the man who had saved her, had saved senpai. Her shield was in her hands, lines of energy beginning to branch out from within it. A voice was whispering in her ear, though she didn't realize it, and she was repeating the words, yelling the words.

"NOBLE PHANTASM DEPLOY! LORD…CHALDEAS!"

Light, a wall of light. Translucent, beautiful. And as hard as diamond, as it met the feral Servant's rage head-on, and did not give.

She was a failed experiment (was she?) with a dwindling lifespan, had failed her senpai, but no more. This was her line in the sand. She would not allow this burning city to take anything more from her. She had been protected all her life, protected from the outside, protected from the Clock Tower (protected from Beryl), even as a Demi-Servant, she had had to be protected.

No more. As she stood there, her shield held high, Berserker's continued attacks failing to mar the wall of light that extended from her shield, she knew, at least this once, she was the one doing the protecting.

At last, Berserker's fury faded, and he howled in frustration, his face inches from hers, yet still as though miles away, her Noble Phantasm a shield proof against his rage. A blast of fire then forced him back, as Cu entered the fray, and finally, she let the wall dissipate, the wall dissipating in a flurry of snowflakes.

The expected weariness did not come, if anything, Mash felt lighter than ever.

"Mash."

She turned her head, and saw the battered form of Kratos, looking at her with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher (awe? Appreciation?). His shield snapped back into the device on his wrist, as he lowered his arm. "I do not know if I could have stopped that, as you did. …..thank you."

Inside of herself, Mash beamed, but her concern for her ally kept it from showing on her face. "You're hurt…." she began, vaguely gesturing at his mangled shoulder, blood oozing from the bite marks Berserker had left in his flesh.

A grunt, somewhat of agreement, but laced with pain, as he rolled his shoulder, probing the damage done. "Broken bones," he said, with an almost flat indifference to his injuries. His eyes flicked over to the battle, where the Irish Caster was dancing around Heracles, blasting him with fire, calling up branches of trees from the asphalt, and a variety of other tricks to harry Heracles, though none of them seemed to be doing any meaningful damage.

"Watch Heracles, stop him should he try to interrupt me."

Mash blinked, confused by the request (order), but forestalled any of her questions. She had heard that tone of command in voices all her life and knew better than to question it. She planted herself between Kratos and the continuing fight in front of them, shield held tightly in her hands. One eye was on Cu and Heracles, as the smaller man continued to dart around the streets, throwing spell after spell at the ravening Berserker. Her other eye watched as Kratos stilled his breathing, his eyes slipping shut.

His hands tightened into fists, and with a deep exhale, his body shimmered, and began to heal.

The blood from his cuts faded and vanished as if it had never been there. The gouges from Heracles' teeth shrank until they were a fraction of the size they had been. And most importantly, the odd bulges in his shoulder receded into his skin, until they were gone. His eyes snapped open.

His formerly crippled arm raised up, and there was the sound of tearing flesh, and a bellow of pain. A second later, his axe whirled through the air, returning to his hand with a meaty thunk.

A part of Mash wondered if she could do that with her shield.

Kratos' eyes narrowed as he stared down the Berserker. "Work with him to harry at Heracles' flanks. I will take point."

"Yes sir," said Mash, nodding. She made to begin circling around, expecting Kratos to go directly at the Servant, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, blinking up at the man. "Mash, be wary. He recovers from blows impossibly fast. Do not expect him to be affected for more than a second, if that, should one of your attacks land." His brow furrowed into a determined scowl. "He has a limit to his durability, and we will find it."

She nodded, and he released her shoulder, giving her a little push, not a shove, but….sort of in an encouraging way?

[He's almost as bad at being human as you are.]

Mash slid around to Heracles' back, watching as Kratos charged in, his head lowered. Heracles was forced to break off his chase of Cu, allowing the Caster to disengage and put distance between himself and the inevitable melee. Growling, Heracles began to raise his sword, only to have tree branches spring up from the ground and entangle his weapon. They lasted only a second, as the Greek demigod's strength tore them to shreds, but it was enough time for Kratos to leap into the air, and bring his axe down on the Servant. With little other choice, Heracles was forced to parry with his arm.

Mash's eyes widened as the axe bit into that arm, but not deeply. Kratos had cleaved Assassin nearly in two with that same axe…suddenly, she began to understand why Kratos had warned her about this Servant's toughness.

His back was wide open, though, and he was distracted.

Her feet pounded on the broken street as she charged into the fight, shield held before her, putting her shoulder behind it as she collided with his back with a metallic thud. She had no idea if she had hurt him at all, or if she could even hurt him, but so long as she distracted him, it would be enough (it would HAVE to be enough). She used her shield to push off, not wanting to stay within reach of the massive Servant longer than she had to.

Roaring, Heracles threw Kratos aside, swiping his arm, and thus, the man still connected to it by the axe piercing his flesh, into the space where Mash had been. Kratos tumbled, deliberately letting go of the handle of his weapon, lest he be dashed against the ground. He came to his feet in a crouch, quickly calling for his axe, which again tore free from the Servants' flesh. A moment later, a tendril of branches, twisted into a wicked point, slammed into Heracles' now exposed back, but failing to penetrate.

Cu Chulainn laughed wickedly, even as Heracles' blade shredded through the plants. "Three on one isn't how I like my fights, but it's working, kids!" He twisted his fingers into a pattern, and a rune sprouted between the Servant's feet, engulfing him in a massive gout of fire, the crackle of the flames momentarily drowning out his roars.

Kratos hurled his axe into the conflagration, apparently unafraid of his weapon taking any damage from the bonfire. "We chip away, but the fight still favors him! He needs but one blow to do what we have yet to do with many!"

Cu narrowed his eyes as the flames died out, revealing that Heracles was only lightly singed by the inferno. "Well then, guess I'll have to up the ante." His staff spun over his head; runes carved into the wood beginning to light up. "Keep him busy, and I'll see about calling up some of my big stuff!"

Any noise of agreement Kratos might have given was drowned as Heracles roared loud enough to shatter the few remaining intact windows on the nearby buildings. Kratos snatched his axe from the air as the giant charged straight for him, and then was forced to give ground as the Servant's massive weapon sliced through the air.

Mash again moved to make the most of the opportunity given her, her shield once again clanging off the Servant's back, but she was growing more and more certain that she wasn't doing any appreciable damage to him. Yes, she was forcing him to account for her, and Kratos was taking vicious advantage of the openings that was giving her, but those openings were coming fewer and fewer as Heracles seemed to have her measure, and was according her less and less respect as a threat. His attempts to swat her away were being done almost indifferently – his focus was clearly on Kratos as the most dangerous. Mash was increasingly being treated as an afterthought in this battle, and she didn't like that.

(Afterthought is kind of like 'failure', isn't it?)

Furiously, her mind worked over ideas, trying to find a way to contribute. Heracles didn't think she was a threat, didn't think she could hurt him, so she had the chance to take him by surprise. But what…..

Unbidden, a memory of Pepe came to mind. He'd been debating the merits of various Chinese martial arts styles with Akuta – Mash didn't know how he'd gotten the quiet woman's attention, but somehow, he'd managed to wrangle a whole conversation from her. Most of the finer details had gone over her head, but one thing both of them had been firm on was that footwork was key.

Footwork.

Trip him.

Just how in the name of sanity was she supposed to trip THAT? It's not like he would obligingly hold still while she found some steel cable to wrap around his legs.

Steel.

A weight in her arms.

…

Well, she had wanted to try something similar, hadn't she?

With a roar that didn't sound anything like a squeak, thank you very much, Mash charged back into the fight. She battered away at the massive Servant, her shield making quite a bit of noise as it impacted his back, but little else. That was fine. Let him think that was all she could do. Let him overlook her. She just needed one chance.

That chance came as Kratos and Heracles' weapons met in a clash of metal and stone, both straining against the other's might. Kratos was managing to equal the Berserker's strength for the moment, but Mash knew that was unlikely to last.

[He's going to lean forward, switch his balance and try to bring more of his power to bear on your ally, girl, WATCH FOR IT!]

There! Mash saw as Heracles adjusted, leaning his body weight forward, beginning to push Kratos' weapon down, and saw her opening manifest. With a twist of her body, she hurled her shield through the air, low enough to almost skip off the ground, the points of the cross on her shield's face tangling in the Servant's feet.

Kratos immediately sprang back, dropping his axe, and the sudden absence of the force that had been pushing against Heracles caused him to overbalance. Normally, that would have been nothing more than a stumble, but Mash's timing had been perfect. The spinning shield tangled Heracles just enough to turn a stumble into a fall, and his face met the pavement.

Kratos took immediate advantage, leaping into the air, and driving a spear (wait, where had that spear come from?) THROUGH the Servant's hand, and into the ground beneath it, pinning the limb. As Mash watched, he released the spear, and another seemed to spring forth from nothingness to resupply him with a fresh weapon, and he repeated his action on Berserker's other hand.

"CASTER! He is stopped, but it will not hold long!" Indeed, Mash could hear the ground cracking as Heracles pitted his might against whatever magic was imbued into the spears, and the ground itself. By the way the sounds were increasing, they likely had mere seconds before Heracles solved his predicament by pulling the very pavement itself up.

A ring of fire surrounded the downed Berserker, and Mash leapt back instinctively, as a dangerous heat washed over her skin. Kratos too fell back, if only a step, as four wooden fingers erupted from the ground, seizing the Servant in their grasp, and raising him into the air, as an arm rose from the earth.

"Partial Release…WICKER HAND!"

At Cu's Cry, the arm erupted into flame – if the spell he had used before had been a bonfire, this was devastation, pure and simple. Heracles howled within his wooden cage, as the fires hungrily consumed both him and his prison, burning with a duration and intensity no natural fire could manage.

Never taking her eyes off the spectacle, Mash retrieved her shield from where it had been knocked when the massive hand had grabbed Heracles, and, alongside Kratos, waited as Cu's attack went on, and on, and on.

Heracles was still roaring and struggling in the heart of the conflagration, long after any other Servant would have been ash. Was this going to be enough, or would he somehow survive even this, would he stride out of the fire charred black, but still alive, still ready to continue?

After what seemed like an eternity, the fires finally consumed the wooden arm, themselves going out a moment later. No longer suspended in the air, Berserker fell through the air, cracking the pavement as he landed.

Mash raised her shield, her body tensing.

He was alive, but just barely. Whatever hair and clothes had been on his body had been burnt away. His weapon had suffered the same fate, the fires having burnt enough to melt the stone of his blade – Heracles was likely laying in the molten remains of his weapon. He was still roaring, weakly, each bellow coming out just a bit softer than the last one – as the smoke cleared, Mash could see that he was done. His Spirit Core was shattered, and that he was managing to hang on, to try to fight despite that all, well. He was Heracles – it was to be expected.

Kratos moved, approaching the fallen Servant. She expected he was going to finish him off – they'd not really gotten to explain much about Servants, and she doubted that he could feel their cores as she could. Moreover, her impression of him, beyond 'gruff' and 'quiet' had been one of overwhelming pragmatism. She doubted he was going to risk the Servant getting up again.

Which was why she was surprised when he sheathed his axe, and knelt down, grasping the Servant's wrist as it weakly reached for him.

Heracles' body was beginning to break up into particles as Kratos said something, voice too soft for her to hear, and then the Servant was gone.

Across the city, the shattered remains of what had once been a Hero of Justice stood watch over the broken remains of a temple he had once known, guarding a set of stairs in a similar manner to another he had known, who had guarded these same stairs. Both sworn to the service of a powerful woman, though at least one of those women would not have cared for that comparison – or at least who they were being compared to.

Though he wasn't limited as the samurai had been – he could leave this place if he wanted, could wander beyond the borders of the ruined temple. He just chose not to.

He didn't need to, for one. The eyesight of the Archer class, combined with the height of the temple grounds gave him the ideal vantage point to see as the city, his city, slowly died. It let him watch as the Child of Light had fought his futile guerilla war against the other Servants like him. It had let him observe as places he had known, people he had cared for had been reduced to nothing more than ash and memories.

He saw it all.

And throughout it all, he'd remained here. The last line of defense – not that what she had become needed him, or any of his other colleagues to defend her, not after one swing of her sword had taken out two Servants, and one of them very, very powerful indeed, in one blow, and had reduced them to this. That same swing of his sword had also killed four people he'd loved, once.

That it had also taken out his annoying younger self was something he'd have once overjoyed about. Now? If there were emotions left within the tarnished man, they were little more substantial than dust on the winds.

He stayed because she was all he had left, now. Corrupted, twisted, stained with the blood of his life, she was the only connection to what he once had been left, so he stayed, and guarded her, watching as the sand slowly ran out on this city, and the world itself. People wanted to be with their loved ones in the end, and she was it for him, even if she hadn't the faintest idea of who he was to her. Just another tool.

He'd been trying to locate Caster – the man was displaying cunning and deviousness far beyond his legend in how well he was using the underground to slip in and out of Archer's view – expecting the man would try to link up with their visitors from the future, when he'd seen the bright tear in reality appear. Even if he had somehow missed that, he'd have felt what it deposited on the streets of Fuyuki. Every Servant still alive – or whatever he was these days – felt it, even Saber. Something that, honestly and frankly, should NOT be.

Their kind left long ago.

But there he was, tall, pale, and radiating power this side of the World hadn't felt in centuries, if not longer.

If Archer had any doubt as to what the man was, they would have been silenced when he fought a Servant – Assassin, yes, but a Servant nonetheless – in single combat, and won. Won easily, too. Then, he had stood toe-to-toe with Berserker, and managed to not become a stain on the sidewalk, had even held his own, for a time. And then, between the three of them, Caster, the girl carrying the Round Table, and the anomaly, they had killed Berserker.

That left only him, and Saber. And they'd be coming this way sooner rather than later, if what the Animusphere girl had been saying about 'fixing this Singularity' was true. The grail, the mud, the corrupted king – it all came back to that. Which means he was going to get to play bodyguard, one last time.

Well. He'd always wanted to fight a god.