A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 5

If Olga Marie Animusphere, Lord of the Clock Tower, Head of Chaldea, had been unceremoniously dumped atop of a building like a sack of potatoes, and hurriedly told to 'stay put', and left with the company of a comatose girl, well, 24 hours earlier, the eruption of her temper would have made Vesuvius seem tame in comparison.

24 hours ago, she had been the head of a powerful organization, staffed to the brim with mages of all stripes from the Clock Tower, and their crowning glory, Team A, headed by no less that a prodigy like Kirschtaria Wodime – a generational talent that could have written his ticket to any branch of the Mage Association, but had chosen to come to Chaldea, earning her family no small amount of prestige. 24 hours ago, the coming calamity had been merely a disaster to be averting, an oncoming storm that through her brilliant leadership and her organization's hard work, would be stopped in its tracks. 24 hours ago, she had been safe in the walls of Chaldea, with Lev by her side.

She wasn't in Chaldea anymore. The disaster was here, front and center, no longer some looming threat, but one that had kicked down their doors and proceeded to set everything on fire (Paperwork Nightmare the First). Team A, their shining stars, were frozen in cryostasis (Paperwork Nightmare the Second), along with most of the rest of her Master Candidates (Paperwork Nightmare the Third). Most of Chaldea was dead (Paperwork Nightmare the Fourth), and Doctor Romani was the ranking member still able to perform his duties. And her comrades in this hell were a Mage barely worth the name, a Demi-Servant who, up until yesterday, had been seen as a failure, an annoying Irish Servant, and a dimensional traveler (Paperwork Nightmare the Fifth, Sixth, and FUCKING KILL ME NOW). Some mental realignment had been necessary, in light of just how bad the situation was.

The wait atop the gutted building had done her already frayed nerves no favors. Unable to see the battle, unable to hear the battle, all she could is wait – not even able to properly pace, as the Bounded Field put up by their Caster ally had been, due to the necessity of haste, small, enough to accommodate Fujimaru lying prone, but little bigger than that. All she had been able to do was sit and wait as her ragtag team fought what was apparently once the Greek god of Strength. And she was stuck up here, twiddling her thumbs.

Some leader she was turning out to be. Shuffled off the to the side and told to 'stay put' while everyone else handled the crisis.

Once, her temper would have been like napalm, exploding on anyone in her immediate vicinity to quiet out the insecurities screaming in her head. Once.

Not now. Olga Marie Animusphere's dignity and pride as a Mage had been one of the first casualties of this war – and it WAS a war, the explosion in the control center had been an alpha strike seeking to stop Chaldea's own planned alpha strike – and her priorities had seen some reshuffling since.

Priority one was fixing this Singularity, getting back to Chaldea in one piece, and seeing just how screwed they all were. Her looking good while doing so was somewhere around Priority Ten Billion. If she had to crawl through mud, ride piggyback on a Servant's back, or make deals with a Norse giant who had stumbled across the void between worlds right into their laps, she'd do it, and anything else that gave them a chance at survival.

Chaldea was hurt, bleeding from a score of wounds. But she would be DAMNED if she was going to let it die without fighting tooth and nail first. Pepe had once told her that there was no nobility in fighting, that in the end, it was just one side trying to kill another, and the other doing their level best to return the favor. She had laughed, then, her head too full of fantasies of leading Chaldea in a noble mission, saving the future, and finally getting the praise she had always deserved.

She had been a child, mocking the words of a grown man with shadows in his eyes, shadows she had missed, hidden as they had been by his flamboyant behavior. No more.

So it was, when after a wait that seemed like hours, but was more like minutes, Mash and Cu Chulainn finally appeared to retrieve them, she didn't snap, much as she wanted to. She calmly confirmed that Berserker had been killed, and then once again climbed onto the Servant's back, as he bore them to their next destination.

Which, as it turned out, was, of all things, a bomb shelter.

"Yeah, no idea who built this thing, but I found it early on, but didn't bother to make it into a bolthole, since there's only one way in or out. That bastard Archer always has his eyes out, and if he spotted me going in, he could make it a living hell to try to leave – and that's just by himself. If he put the word out that I was down there, then I'd have to deal with him bombarding me, along with the rest of his buddies. No thank you!" He grinned, and gestured at the back wall of the shelter – or where it had been. "But then, after I'd been ducking through the subway tunnels for a few days, I realized that the back wall of this thing was close enough to the tunnels that I could punch a hole that would allow me to fool that jerk – while he'd be watching the door, I could slip out through the tunnels, and maybe catch him by surprise. It'd only work once, if at all, but what a surprise it'd be!"

He laughed uproariously, and Olga Marie had to give the man credit. This Cu Chulainn was far from the fight-happy brute his legend portrayed him as. She supposed that final Command from his late Master was to blame for that.

"Clever," chimed in her looming trans-dimensional paperwork headache, as he wolfed down some of the food that Caster had cached in the bunker – in the case, American MREs – she didn't want to think about how he had managed to get his hands on those, she chose to believe he had looted a military surplus store at some point in the immediate past.

At least the cuisine somewhat fit the location.

"I assume, then, you've got something in your bag of tricks to keep us hidden while we sneak up him?" asked Olga, picking at her own food.

The man's grin nearly split his face in two. "Naturally, girlie, naturally!" His grin faded a bit. "Though I can't promise how well it'll work. Like I told you a bit ago, that Archer doesn't make any damn sense. Fights like some sort of screwy hybrid between an Archer and a Saber, seems to have Item Creation like a Caster, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had some sort of trick up his sleeve to spot me even through a concealing spell."

The room got quiet, as they mulled over that. She was the first to break the silence. "Should we split up, then? Approach him from multiple angles? I don't care how good his eyes are, he's only got two. Give him two, or even three moving targets, and he's bound to make a mistake. We only need one of you to get close enough to him to stop him from shooting at the other two, and let them catch up. Between the three of you, you took out Heracles. I can't imagine some nameless Archer would be harder to put down."

Cu held up a finger. "Great idea, except for one thing. The mountain that temple is seated on is filthy with that sludge that corrupted Saber. About the only safe approach, or the approach that wouldn't have you dodging both Archer's shots and puddles of that goop is the temple stairs themselves. I could probably manage it, my Protection from Arrows should keep anything less than a Noble Phantasm off my back, and I'm used to ducking through woods while taking fire." He pointed at their two other combat-effectives. "The two of you I'm less sure about. I don't think the girl could manage the forest by herself, and if the mud gets her, we've just added another enemy to our tally. And sending her straight up the stairs all by her lonesome would look off – hell, that guy sees any of us doing a solo run up the stairs and he'll know something's up."

He shook his head. "No, I think a massed charge up the stairs, all three of us, is the better plan. Never had any real hope of getting the jump on Archer, the stealth aspect of the plan is just so we're not ducking shots from here to the base of the mountain – all he needs is to get lucky once, and there's a lot of ground between here and there."

"Then we go hard, and fast, when we leave the underground." Kratos finished draining another bottle of water. "We seek to close with Archer as fast as possible once we reach the mountain and the element of surprise, if we ever had it, is lost to us."

"And what about senpai and the Director?" asked Mash, from where she was hovering over their sleeping comrade.

Olga frowned, as her abject uselessness was pointed out, if indirectly, again. That Mash was speaking out of honest concern, rather than trying to rub her face in it, made leashing her temper easier. "I don't think you're going to be able to just tuck us away in a building somewhere and come back for us later. Archer's a different problem than Assassin or Berserker. Yes, he'll probably have his hands full with the three of you, but if he figures out where we are, all he needs is one moment, one shot to kill both of us. I might be able to get out of the way, but I'd be leaving Fujimaru to die…..and I'm not doing that." Her hands clenched. "We've lost enough people today. No more." Fujjimaru also might be the last proper Master they had to their names, too. The big, bearded question mark had a less suitable attitude for a Master than even Fujimaru. Chaldea had enough power right now to summon at least one Servant in the field. If things had been different, she'd have had Fujimaru reinforce their party with that Servant.

But she was hesitant to bring it up with Kratos. The man had spoken of being enslaved before, had been reluctant to even be a glorified mana battery to Caster. Even his agreement of a temporary pact had been grudging, and she wasn't about to strain their fragile alliance by poking at a very, very large bear. Particularly a bear that could fight a Servant, and win.

No, whatever he was – and she had some suspicions – he wasn't human. Not fully at least. And while she would have been fine with berating one of the Mages under her command until they followed her orders, she wasn't stupid enough to try that tack with their temporary ally. No, best to leave that well enough alone.

He fought on the same level as a Servant, so in a sense, it was like they had summoned another Servant – just one with no Command Seal leash, an axe that thrummed with power to rival some of the strongest Mystic Codes she had ever seen, and more than a few secrets.

Yeah. Things were going GREAT! How was your day?

She hoped that the base's alcohol stash had survived the explosion.

She sighed. "We're going to have to do something monumentally stupid. Caster, how much would it slow you down if we were to tie Fujimaru to your back?"

The man in question blinked. "Not much – girl's pretty light. As long as my arms are free, it wouldn't keep me from casting spells, or fighting." He gave her a look. "Tell me you aren't thinking of…."

"Yes, yes I am." Her mouth set itself in a hard line. "We can't split the party. If he chose to, Archer could just snipe the two of us at his leisure, whether out of spite if he started losing the fight, or if he decided to abandon his defense during your approach, and just decided to take us out. So, we tie Fujimaru to your back Caster…and I run with the rest of you."

As expected, no one took that well.

"SHUT UP!" she bellowed, truly losing her temper for the first time in what felt like ages. "Yes, it's a SHIT plan. Yes, we're in just as much, if not MORE danger up close than we would be hidden away in a building somewhere. And yes….I'm well aware I could easily fall behind and end up shot dead all the same." She dropped her head. "I'm the weak link here. Since we got our feet under us, all we've been doing is making plans that have to take that into account, that have to make up for the fact that I'm worse than useless. Fujimaru's at least providing Mash with mana, letting her maintain her Servant status? Me? I've done exposition and hid. That's it."

She gave a bitter laugh. "No more. If I'm the weak link, then we cut me loose, let me sink or swim. I can die." She looked at each of them in turn. "I don't WANT to die, but if it has to come to it, I'm the most expendable of the lot of us. So, we stop coddling me, and if I die, I die – so long as humanity lives, I'd say we'll have come out ahead."

Mash looked like she was about to start crying. "Director…."

"Again, I don't WANT to die. I want to fix this Singularity, save the world, go back to Chaldea, and then sleep for a week." She laughed again, a note of hysteria starting to creep in. "And as bad as the math is, this gives me the best chances to do that. Tucked away in a building halfway across town, there's nothing to save me if Archer figures out where we are. Tucked in the middle of the three of you, I've got a chance. You're going to be taking focused fire from him in any event, me being there, or not being there isn't going to change that." She shrugged. "Hell, if I fall behind, and he decides to take a moment to kill me, that's one moment he isn't shooting at you."

Ah, gallows humor. A wonderful combination of her usual biting sarcasm and copious amounts of fatalism. Where have you been all my life?

The two men in her immediate life were looking at her like they couldn't decide if she was crazy or not – and maybe with a hint of respect. "It's not the worst plan I've ever heard, but most of those involved Medb in some way, so you can imagine how bad those were." That grin again. "Still, it's better than any plan I've been able to come with up."

Kratos made a low noise in his throat. "She is not wrong. Between the three of us, we may be able to protect her while we ascend the mountain. It will allow us to bring our full might against Archer, while maximizing our defense."

"Just keep me safe, as long as I keep up. And once we reach the temple, I'll be counting on you to kill him before he can get any bright ideas about using me for target practice." She put steel into her voice. "And if I fall behind, I get left behind."

In his life, the man who had once been called Shirou Emiya had been known for his patience, though a certain twin-tailed magus would have called it 'bullheaded stubbornness'. If anything, as a Servant, that quality was only magnified. No need to eat, no need to breathe, none of those annoying biological functions to distract. Sometimes, Alaya had dropped him into a burgeoning hot spot days, or weeks ahead of time, and he'd had to wait, and wait, until the precise moment arrived where he could set things to right.

So, when he found himself wondering exactly why humanity's last hope was still holed up in that bunker, he knew something was wrong.

Caster knew him well enough to know he was watching them, the Irish Servant had gotten a good enough read on him in their skirmish for that. And yet, he hadn't taken them back into the subway tunnels – despite there being more than a few that would take them within spitting distance of Ryudoji Temple. No, he had taken them somewhere with only one exit, only one way in or out.

Dammit. Fooled by Cu Chulainn. He'd never live this down.

He cast his eyes over the city, working backwards from the temple itself, and paying close attention to the area around the subway entrances. If he was right…

There.

A shimmer in the air, a distortion that, when faced with his Hawkeye skill, fell apart in an instant.

He blinked, for the briefest of moments, unable to believe his eyes.

They were grouped up, all five of them, and moving with speed. The bearer of the Round Table was on point, her massive shield held before her, clearly the first line of defense, the batter just looking for the straight pitch right in the strike zone. The god was behind her, slightly to the left, that shield of his (a wife's gift, shattered against Thor, rebuilt by the Huldra brothers, The Guardian Shield, whispered his Reality Marble, as a copy of the shield fell into the sand of his inner world) deployed and held up, the defender of their left flank.

Cu Chulainn held the same position, save to the right, and EMIYA could only guess at whatever protections the druid had prepared, above and beyond the Protection From Arrows skill that made him nearly impossible to strike at range. That selfsame skill was likely why they had chosen to tie the Master that Assassin had wounded to his back – close as she was to him, she would benefit from that almost as well as Cu himself would.

Clever. He had been anticipating them leaving their vulnerable allies behind, as they had done while fighting Berserker, and had planned on punishing them for that. They had neatly denied him that opportunity, and were gambling on being able to close to melee before he could capitalize on the Irish Servant making a mistake caused by carrying a burden up the stairs.

Bringing up the rear was their other dead weight, the girl who at the start of this had been a typical mage, prideful, arrogant, utterly dismissive of both her allies. And yet, even at this distance, he could see in her eyes that something had changed.

She was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down her brow as she forced more mana into her legs, reinforcing them, pushing herself to her limits and beyond as she struggled to keep up with her companions. Already, the lines of reinforcement glowing on her legs were beginning to turn red, showing she was getting close to overtaxing them.

And yet, none of her companions were slowing their pace for her.

As he said, clever. Be willing to sacrifice the weakest link in order ensure the success of the mission. He could respect that kind of cold-bloodedness. Hell, it could have been one of his plans.

Best he show the proper respect to the mystery god's ruthlessness.

His bow materialized in his hands, and he unleashed a salvo of arrows on the small group as they reached the base of the mountain. As he expected, none made it past their rather formidable defenses. He didn't really have any expectation of tagging Lugh's son with anything short of one of the stronger Noble Phantasms in his arsenal, this first barrage was about gauging their reactions. Seeing how much, if at all, Caster was weighed down by the additional weight he was carrying and seeing how well the two others handled themselves under fire.

The answer was, in order, not much at all (if he had lost even a step while carrying another whole human being, Archer would eat his non-existent hat), more capably than he had expected (whatever Servant the girl was channeling was good, but it could only make up so much for her lack of experience, but she had potential), and like a damn machine (he narrowed the list of domains for this god further – he still favored War and/or Strength).

Bastard apparently had a HELL of an arm, too, as he managed to hurl his axe all the way up the stairs (the Leviathan Axe, forged from the echoing screams of twenty Frost Trolls – more or less, wait, 'more or less'? –forged by the Huldra brothers for Laufey the Just, then bequeathed to Kratos after her death, and carried since then, spoke his Reality Marble, as a copy of the axe fell blade-first into dead soil of his inner world, and froze a patch of that ground solid), only just missing low, the axe biting into the wood of the Torii gate he was perched on. A moment later, the axe tore itself loose, and flew back to the god's hand.

So, it could do that trick, too? He supposed he should be glad that the Child of Light hadn't been summoned as a Lancer for this war, else he'd be dealing with two people with weapons that knew how to play 'catch and return'. That could have made things difficult.

Yes, he could summon copies of his paired swords until he ran out of mana. No, that didn't make him a hypocrite, and shut up.

He continued raining down fire on the approaching group, twisting his arrows so that even if they were blocked, the ricochet would tear through the surrounding woods, and litter the path with fallen trees. The god at least caught on quick, and began knocking the shots upwards and back, forcing Archer to time his shots at the god so that several arrived at once, preventing him from using that swatting motion he seemed so fond of, which then forced him to adapt to that counter-measure being taken from him.

Ah, the game within the game. He did appreciate a competent opponent – if only that competent opponent wasn't a full-blown deity, and wasn't rolling up on him with some very dangerous friends.

At least the Shielder was still falling for his most basic tricks. She wasn't letting anything through, but she was so hyper-focused on that that she was blocking on reflex, and giving him plenty of chances for ricochets. On the one hand, the continual deforestation of Mt. Enzou was slowing them down, forcing them to pause to avoid falling trees, or to leap over them – which was giving him more chances to take pot shots at them. On the other hand, the slowed pace was allowing their dead weight to keep up, which…..he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He still wasn't sure if he'd take the shot, should she fall behind enough to be outside of the defensive radius of the group. The morale hit – and if nothing else, the Demi-Servant would be devastated should the girl fall, he'd seen how she had fallen apart when she'd thought she'd lost her Master – was counterbalanced by the fact that giving this group even a moment's respite from his attacks was possibly a very, very bad idea.

If she'd been the enemy Master, that would have been a whole different kettle of fish. But a Mage, no matter how powerful, was about as dangerous to a Servant as an angry purse dog.

Time to step things up, before the purse dog's entourage of feral animals kicked his door down.

He fired a wide spread of broken blades, putting some of the shots into the stairs themselves, the explosions buying him the moment he needed to project Hrunting, and send it screaming down the path.

Let's see how they deal with a sword that keeps seeking until it hits its target. If nothing else, its powerful enough to make that Irish annoyance have to take notice, his bullshit skill wouldn't do much of anything against a proper Noble Phantasm, even one with a degraded rank like his copies.

Speaking of things the Irishman wouldn't like….

Archer sent a baker's dozen arrows directly at the Shielder, wanting her defenses too occupied to handle Hrunting – he didn't like his copies' chances against the actual Round Table – and then yanked Caladbolg out of his Reality Marble, and sent it straight at Cu Chulainn.

Have fun with that one, you continual pain in my ass.

They were close enough that he could see the Caster's eyes widen as he recognized the sword slicing through the air, and the spiteful part of him reveled in that moment of dawning comprehension.

He never got tired of doing that to Cu Chulainn, no matter what class he was wearing. Fringe benefits.

In a move that was almost graceful enough to look like they had practiced it, the Servant and the god switched positions, Cu leaping through the air, and the larger man ducking under the leaping Servant, his arm already up and hurling his axe.

Dwarf-forged metal met the Hard Blade of the Ulster cycle, and the Huldra Brothers' other masterpiece prevailed, shattering Archer's copy, before being yanked back into its wielder's hands.

"BASTARD!"

The insult echoed up the mountain, as Cu Chulainn used a spray of fire to momentarily deter Hrunting from taking off his head.

Yes, he was good and mad now. Hopefully that would impair some of his higher brain functions (and wasn't that a thing, him being willing to consider Cu Chulainn as having higher brain functions?), as this version of the Child of Light was proving to be far more cunning than he had any right to be. He'd been able to use previous versions of Cu's battle lust against them – but there was every possibility this one might be too smart to fall for that. Better to get him too enraged to think straight before this fight got up close and personal.

On that subject, that axe was flying through the air, eager to make his acquaintance.

Archer dropped from his perch, body inverted. At the last second, he hooked the toe of his boot in one of the supporting struts, halting his fall, and, dangling, projected two more copies of Hrunting, and added them to the worries the approaching group had to deal with.

One for each of you. Have fun!

With agility that would have made Olympic gymnasts weep with envy, the man launched himself back up to the top of the Torii gate, firing arrows as his body flew through the air. Once his feet found solid purchase again, he aimed his bow upwards, and arced a volley that would rain onto their heads just shortly after they became acquainted with his next shots, which he sent screaming into their faces.

Their approach was slowing, the weight of fire, and three different Noble Phantasms grinding their speed to a halt. No serious hits, or any hits, for that matter, yet, but it was only a matter of time. Good as their defenses were, there was a limit to the amount they could handle at once. And that breaking point was approaching.

Now, let's annoy Cu some more.

He aimed carefully down his bow, again summoning Caladbolg and sighting it right on the man, fired.

Somehow, the god managed a throw of his axe while simultaneously blocking one of the Hruntings that were buzzing about the group, but despite seeking to go two-for-two in breaking Archer's projected Caladbolgs, this time his throw sailed low, and the god was too pressed to immediately call it back to his hand. His mistake.

Archer was quick to fire a Black Key to where the axe landed, pinning its shadow, and therefore, it, down for the immediate future, though he didn't expect it to hold a weapon of that potency for long. Still, it limited their options.

And it looked like their options had gotten limited enough to force the shield girl to use her Noble Phantasm.

Her shield slammed into the ground, a web of light unfolding from within the Round Table's heart, and a pure, white wall sprang forth, Archer's fire, both the common and less common shots all pattering off it like rain.

All within expectations.

That would see to the four Noble Phantasm he'd had in the air, and would stop his barrage for the moment, but it was little more than a stalemate. He couldn't hurt them while it was up, true, but they couldn't hurt him, either, and she couldn't move while it was up, to boot. And it gave him a moment to prepare his next trick. He began projecting a handful of Hruntings, twisting them into arrows and plunging them point first into the wood of the gate, deciding that the homing-swords had been doing good work so far. They would serve as a good first barrage once the wall came down.

And once it came down, she wouldn't be able to manifest it again for a little bit.

His Eye of the Mind screamed at him.

Archer abandoned his perch with indecent haste, as a line of spears (Draupnir, created by the Lady of the Forge from the ring Draupnir, the sound of the wind, and the blood of a god, and blessed by Brok of the Huldra brothers, spoke his Reality Marble, as a copy of the spear settled into its new home) thudded into the wood where he had been standing, and promptly detonated, shredding the gate, and denying him his perch.

So that was the trick of the spear – made from an infinitely replicating ring. A neat trick.

Let's see how he likes it.

Archer projected Draupnir into his hands, set it into his bow, and fired it – then kept firing, as only copies of the base projection left his bow, the original remaining set, and almost eliminating the need for him to draw a new arrow each time he fired.

It was like he was his old man with his Calico, save with more range, more power, and no worries about running out of ammo.

Oh, and the bullets stuck where they hit, instead of ricocheting.

Draupnir arrows go BRRRRRRRRRR!, said a voice in his head that sounded entirely too much like a certain degenerate pirate captain.

They were moving again, at least two of them starting to do a passable impression of porcupines with the number of phantom spears sticking out of their shields. For his part, Cu was being forced to dodge or knock the spears from the air – it looked like he wasn't chancing if the spear could pierce his Protection from Arrows. Archer didn't think it could, not with a rank of power loss from being a copy, but it was enough of an unknown variable, and the man was piggybacking the little team's only Master, so he was likely playing it safe.

Just another reminder how odd this version of Cu Chulainn was acting – which made him much more dangerous than usual.

Archer set down on the stones of the temple floor. He'd lost his perch, which vexed him more than a little, and needed to buy a moment to leap to another one. He'd landed far enough into the temple grounds that he didn't have eyes on the group, and he couldn't risk giving them the moment it would take him to reposition atop one of the buildings. Thankfully this spear had another trick that his Structural Analysis had informed him of.

Snatching the spear from his bow, he couldn't help a small, self-satisfied smirk from breaking out on his face as he slammed the butt onto the ground. Between the deflected spears, and the number that were embedded into their shields, this should give him the second he needed.

It was only at the last second, as the spear impacted the ground, that the massive shield flew up into his line of sight, tumbling end over end.

Oh, this was going to HURT.

The spears driven into the shield detonated in a chain, somehow doing nothing to arrest the momentum of the hunk of metal as it clumsily flew through the air, and crashed into him, the combined impact and the explosions blasting him back, sending him through one of the fragile walls of the main temple.

Ow.

Gingerly, Archer picked himself up off the floor, impressed despite himself. The girl, who he'd taken as the least dangerous of the actual threats in the group, had gotten him good. They'd managed to get that brief respite he hadn't wanted to give them, and likely would have crested the hill by now. Against one of them, that wouldn't have been so bad. Against all three?

He didn't like his chances. Cu alone was a handful, nearly too fast for him to handle, at least as a Lancer. With an inexperienced, but apparently unpredictable girl, and an actual god backing him up?

Frankly, he'd rather fight Heracles again.

Nothing to it but to get to it.

Projecting the twin swords that were practically extensions of his arm, he leapt back into the fight.

Kratos felt a sense of relief as they finally put the endless stairs behind them and entered the temple grounds proper (though this place didn't look much like a temple to him – the delicate wooden buildings and oddly shaped gates were as strange to him as the city below). Amazingly, they had only taken minor wounds on the approach, some cuts and scratches from Archer's exploding shots, but nothing crippling. It had been a near thing, though. Archer's ability to copy Draupnir had been near to overwhelming them - had it not been for Mash throwing her shield up the stairs and knocking Archer away, things might have gone much, much, worse.

Kratos moved to the fore, as Cu Chulainn set his comatose burden down by the gate at the top of the stairs. Next to him, the Director was bent near double, her hands on her knees, as she gasped air into her lungs.

Kratos had to admit, the girl had impressed him. Despite being obviously terrified, not once had she begged them to slow down, or in any way hindered them on the climb. She had kept her head down, and largely used Kratos' bulk and Mash's massive shield to protect her from the endless barrage. Her instincts, at least, were good, despite her having (in Kratos' estimation) all of zero combat experience.

Truth be told, Kratos was favorably inclined to all his companions after the marathon they had run. Cu Chulainn was living up to the tales Mimir had told of him, he'd effortlessly handled the lion's share of the projectiles that Archer had sent at him – that 'Protection from Arrows' skill, Kratos supposed – and had still handily dealt with most of the more powerful attacks that had been sent their way. He'd quickly identified both the homing swords that had been the most dangerous threat they'd faced on the climb, as well as calling out when his uncle's sword had been deployed against them, trusting Kratos to try to knock it from the sky.

He was still mildly annoyed that he had failed to take the second one out.

Thankfully, his missed throw hadn't had any serious consequences, assuming there was no drawback or hard limitation on this 'Noble Phantasm' that Mash had used to temporarily halt Archer's barrage. It had given them a moment to catch their breath, and had let him turn the tables on Archer by returning fire – something that had again, only not backfired horribly due to Mash's quick thinking in hurling her spear-laden shield up the stairs.

Again, like the Director, little to no combat experience, but good instincts.

She was holding back now, having retrieved her shield, she now stood guard over their vulnerable companions, letting Kratos and Cu take point, as they had planned earlier. Cu was insistent that Archer didn't have an honorable bone in his body, and thus, she was to be ready for anything from him.

Now where in the Hades was the man?

"ARCHER!" bellowed Cu Chulainn, no hint of his usual playful, mocking tone in his voice. "Get your ass out here and get killed already! You've been a pain in my ass all war, and I've had enough of you! This is going to end, right here, right now!"

"Three on one? Not your usual style, is it, dog?" The Servant's voice echoed around them, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. "Were you really that so afraid of me that you had to find a Master – though one that should be in a coma ward, her shrinking violet of a Servant, that failure of a Clock Tower Family heir, and a reject from a bad Viking story all so it'd be a fair fight?" Kratos could hear the sneer in the man's voice. "I'm flattered."

Cu visibly rolled his eyes. "And he can throw his voice. Is there ANYTHING you can't do? Or anything that won't piss me the hell off?" Quieter, he whispered to them. "Bastard loves to talk, his wit is sharper than those two swords of his. Any of you see him?"

Shaking heads all around. "Course not, why is it always hard with this guy?" His eyes swept the tops of the various wooden buildings around them. "Loathe as I am to suggest we let him make the first move, that might be what we have to do. Too much cover here and not much I can do about it that doesn't involve setting the whole place ablaze, and I think we've all had quite enough of that particular song."

A dry, amused chuckle from the shadows. "Planning? Have to say, it's odd to see you using your head for something other than a battering ram, dog. Guess more of that fake priest rubbed off on you than I thought – but that's to be expected from being on his leash for as long as you were."

Cu narrowed his eyes. "Yet another thing about this guy that rubs me the wrong way, he's been talking like he knows me all War long. And I'd definitely remember meeting someone this damn annoying!"

In a louder voice, he answered Archer's taunt. "We can still do this, just the two of us. The girl and the big guy can just sit back, take a breather, and watch me take you apart, Archer! Maybe you can even manage to die on your feet, like a man, like I did, instead of being Saber's little puppet to the end!"

"Tempting as that offer is, I'll have to decline. Killing you will be even easier when you're summoned as a Caster and don't have that demonic spear of yours, but where's the incentive for me? I kill you, and then they tear me apart when I'm worn out from beating you down." More grim laughter. "No, every second I'm here is a good second. It's one more second I'm not doing my usual job."

"Counter-Guardian….," whispered Olga Marie, dread coloring her voice.

Kratos glanced over his shoulder; again aware he was missing context in these terms the others were familiar with. Olga Marie waved his attention back to the front. "Not important now, I'll explain it later. Just focus on killing this Servant."

Cu's mouth was a hard line. "If Saber managed to corrupt a Counter-Guardian, this situation is worse than I could have imagined. Keep your guards up, all of you. This bastard's a lot more dangerous than he's been letting on."

"And STERLING detective work from the Animusphere heir!" The sarcasm in the man's voice was thick enough to be cut with a blade. "When you wash out of being the head of your family, maybe there'll be an assistant's spot for you in Modern Magecraft to help the Lord there with his investigative work! You could be two failures of mages together!"

The Director colored an ugly purple, and moved as though she was about to storm out from behind Mash's shield, then ducked back behind the wall of metal, as an arrow buried itself into the ground where she would have stood.

"THERE!" yelled Cu, sending a burst of fire at one of the rooftops, forcing a shadowy form to abandon his perch and tumble to the ground. The Irish Servant was quick to pursue.

"Smart enough to figure you were TRYING to bait me, you arrogant son of a bitch!" shouted Olga Marie. She turned her gaze on Kratos. When she spoke, her voice was much more measured. "Kratos, if you would please, kill that infuriating Servant."

Only a touch of the anger – and it seemed as if the Director was holding back an incandescent fury – colored her voice. Kratos didn't understand the context of Archer's words to her, but it seemed they had struck home. He gave a noise of assent that the Norns would have probably classified as yet another 'grunt', and stomped off to where he could hear the clash of weapons. As he circled around to where the two Servants were battling, he got his first look at Archer.

The man was fairly tall, probably only slightly shorter than Kratos himself was these days. He could tell little of the man's features through the blistering combat and the haze of corruption that surrounded him, as it had surrounded the other two corrupted Servants that Kratos had seen, but a few details were obvious.

Short, silvery hair, a tight suit of what appeared to be at least mildly armored clothing, a pair of short, curved swords, and lines of energy – similar to the lines that ran up and down the Director's body when she used her magics – though these pulsed a sickly red, rather than the bright green of the Director's.

And, oddly enough, he didn't stink as badly as the other two Servants had. The corruption still oozed from him, true, but it seemed almost milder on this Servant than the previous ones. Possibly it had something to do with him being a 'Counter-Guardian', or whatever powers or abilities that title granted.

Questions for later, focus on the fight in front of him.

As Kratos' feet thudded against the ground as he closed the distance, Archer slid under a swing of Cu's staff, forcing the weapon up with his blades, then twisting and planting a spinning kick into the Caster's chest, blasting him back and sending him crashing through one of the temple buildings. Never stopping his motion, he rotated his body to catch Kratos' descending axe moments before it would have carved into his back, blades sliding under the head of the axe and locking there, trapping it momentarily.

The man grinned, though whatever warmth the expression might have held was mere ashes and embers. "Can't say I've ever fought one of your ilk in all the time Alaya's had me cleaning up humanity's messes. People manage to screw up this world enough without needing an actual god to make things worse…" His tone turned inquisitive. "So, what happened? Did you get bored on the other side of the World and decide to see why the various afterlifes were suddenly flooded with the newly dead? Or did something make a deal to bring you here to clean up the mess?"

Kratos growled and pushed against the blades trapping his weapon. Archer was quick to break off and disengage – his arms had been trembling with the strain of merely holding the stalemate – he could clearly feel the difference in their strength and wasn't about to try to win a contest in that quarter.

Kratos lashed out with his axe, but Archer again parried, striking the axe just behind the head, forcing it down, and at the same time, planting his back foot and aiming a thrust at Kratos' head, forcing the Spartan to duck, lest he lose an eye. His axe, forced low, cut through the dirt as he slashed upwards at the Servant, robbing it of enough momentum to easily let the man vault over the retaliatory strike, and bring both blades screaming down.

Quickly grasping the axe with both hands, Kratos caught the blow, meeting the weight of the strike head-on, and then shoving upwards, blasting the Servant into the air.

Archer twirled his body, controlling his flight, and avoiding the burst of fire that shot through the space where his body would have been.

Cu Chulainn spat, some of the debris from his trip through the wooden building still clinging to him. "Slippery bastard."

Still descending through the air, Archer formed a bow from the air and loosed a handful of arrows, alternating between the pair of them. Cu disdainfully swatted them from the air, barely seeming to look at them, while Kratos rolled under the arc of the first handful, then allowed the remainder to glance off his shield. But it had given Archer the moment he needed to land safely.

Side by side, the two of them charged after Archer. Cu reached the Servant first, spinning his staff around to make a series of jabs that Archer weaved around, fluid as water, though any counter he might have been preparing was aborted when he was forced to again parry Kratos' descending axe. He kicked back, turning a backflip that took him over and around Cu's staff, as the Caster swung it like a club, then dropped into a crouch as he landed, sweeping the Servant's feet out from under him.

He stabbed down, swords plunging for Cu's heart, but the attack failed twofold, the Caster having begun rolling the moment his back hit the ground, and Kratos' axe flew in, deflecting the attack and knocking Archer back.

Unphased, Archer rode the momentum back, hurling his paired swords at Kratos, immediately calling forth a second pair almost as soon as the first had left his hands, then sending them to follow the first.

Kratos slid under the first pair, barely having to duck his head, as the blades flew high. It was only as he called forth his shield to block the second pair that he heard it, almost at the last second.

The sound of the first set of blades, which should have been growing fainter, was in fact growing louder.

Kratos moved, leaping to the side, but was not quick enough, as the twin swords cut grooves into his back.

The things were circling about him like a flock of birds, flying away, then dipping back in to cut at him. The uncharacteristic miss of the first pair – from an opponent who had been deadly accurate so far – was merely to set the blades on their path so that they would curve back around to take him in the back. He was fortunate that the blades hadn't sliced his flesh deeper.

With a snap of his wrist, Kratos sent his axe into the air, catching one pair of flying swords as they crossed paths before him and shattering them. He spun, axe smacking back into his hands, as he caught the second pair with a well-timed swing, also reducing them to ruin.

A short distance away, Archer and Cu were still locked in combat, neither yet having gained any advantage over the other. As Kratos turned to locate them, Cu jabbed a thrust of his staff at Archer, the end of his weapon flashing white-hot for a second, but Archer seemed to have anticipated the attack. He crossed his blades, forcing the weapon high, then yanked, throwing his weight back, and pulling the Caster off-balance. Cu stumbled forward, and Archer fell to his back, kicking up with his legs, catching Cu in his midsection, throwing him into the air.

The blades vanished, dismissed, as Archer called forth his bow, a drill-like sword settling into the string for a moment, before it was twisted into an arrow's shape, then loosed, point-blank, at Cu.

"Oh not AGAIN!" Cu managed to get his staff in the way, but only just, the weapon boring into the wood of his staff. Cursing, he was blasted off into the distance as the arrow carried him out of Kratos' sight.

Archer arched his back, then leapt to his feet, chuckling grimly. "Guess even a smarter dog still falls for that." He regarded Kratos, noting the blood dribbling down the Spartan's back. "We should have a few moments until he gets back up the mountain…assuming he doesn't land in one of the pools of mud. Not much chance of that, but it'd be nice to have the odds on my side for a change."

Kratos said nothing, watching the Servant closely, mind debating between pressing the attack now, or waiting for his ally to rejoin the fight – if he would still be his ally when he returned.

Kratos elevated Archer's threat a few notches in his mind – whoever this man had been in life, he was clever, devious, willing to fight dirty, and seemed to have no end to his bag of tricks. No mindless brute or skulking shadow this one, Archer was at least something of a proper warrior.

Archer took Kratos' silence as a cue to continue talking. "Waiting for your backup to get back here? Got to say I'm surprised. Didn't think an honest to goodness god would need help to take out little old me." He shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong when I pegged you as a war god. Most of the ones I read about growing up would already be trying to cut my head off by now, not waiting for a mangy cur to snap at my heels while they fought me."

Kratos added 'dangerously observant' to his mental tally of the threats represented by this Servant, as he obliged the taunts, and charged in, axe sweeping for the Servant's neck.

Archer slid under the strike, stepping into Kratos' guard, and came up low, blades aiming to gut him. Kratos fought his own forward momentum as he planted his feet and leaned back, his stomach retreating from Archer's still-advancing blade. Quickly, he snapped his shield open and slashed down with it, the edge of the shield cracking into the weapons and halting the attack in its tracks. With the attack halted, Kratos then swept his shield upwards in a brutal slap that caught Archer a glancing blow across his chin, snapping his head back.

Kratos followed with a vicious overhand chop as Archer staggered backwards, dazed. His blades rushed up to intercept the axe, and cracked in his grasp, the dwarf-forged steel of the Leviathan Axe proving the better of the twinned blades. Without a hint of hesitation, Archer abandoned the blades, a new pair forming in his hands even as bright red lines flared on the damaged weapons.

Hells! The man could cause not only his arrows to explode, but his blades as well?

Kratos shielded as much of his upper body as he could, the explosion pattering off his shield, fragments of the blades scratching at the unprotected parts of his body.

On instinct, Kratos dropped his shield low, catching the anticipated attack as Archer used the cover of the explosion to again come in low, under the Spartan's shield. As the blades scored against his shield, Kratos pushed back, forcing the man's arms aside, then lowering his shoulder and ramming into the Servant.

A wheeze of breath left Archer's mouth as Kratos collided with his chest, and the Spartan could feel the Servant's bones creak as Kratos collided full force with him. Desperately, Archer rode the force back, turning a handspring as he pushed away, and somehow managing to fling his blades at Kratos amidst that. Kratos smashed them from the air, not about to allow them to continue harassing him whilst in melee with this dangerous enemy, but it had given Archer the moment he'd needed to regain his feet, but little else.

Kratos seized the advantage, axe cutting left, right, center, forcing Archer into increasingly desperate parries as to avoid losing a limb, or his head. At times, the man's weapons only managed to interpose themselves at the last second before his skin felt the caress of Kratos' axe. Kratos had his enemy on the run.

And yet, despite the fight turning his way, something felt off to Kratos.

Archer was hurt – though he was more stunned than injured – Kratos had the momentum, and Archer was avoiding his attacks by the skin of his teeth, and yet something felt wrong with the situation. His instincts screamed at him to press the attack, to push harder, to exploit the openings in the Servant's defense before he fully recovered, but something else inside him screamed louder that he was missing something, something that should be obvious to him.

His building frustration wasn't making this any easier, Archer overextended on an attack meant to force Kratos back, leaving his head open, and Kratos' axe rushed in – only to be blocked, yet again at the last possible moment, by Archer's swords. Time and time again he had seen opportunities to end this fight, and every single time, Archer was able to stave him off. It was almost as if…

Kratos felt his blood run cold. Impossible. No one would be crazy enough to…..

Eyes narrowed, Kratos kept up his offense, this time watching Archer's movements carefully. Opening after opening presented itself, only for the resulting attack to be stopped, Archer moving almost before Kratos began swinging – like he knew the attack was coming.

He was right. The madman knew he couldn't keep up with Kratos' speed and power – not at least until he got his wind back and his breathing under control, so he was deliberately leaving openings in his guard, ones he knew would be exploited, then moving to stop them once the bait was taken.

It was, frankly, insane. The margin of error alone…Kratos' respect for the man climbed several notches, despite a strategy that seemed flatly, suicidal.

And one that could be turned right on its head once it was seen through.

Again, Kratos pressed forward, axe cutting towards the opening Archer left by his stomach, knowing that as soon as he committed, Archer would be moving to intercept, blades crossing into to block and absorb the strike. The second he saw the Servant move to block, Kratos switched his axe's momentum, twisting the strike from a low cut to the gut, into a cut screaming for his head – one he wouldn't be able to block in time, with his arms already committed to guarding his belly.

Somehow, impossibly, Archer managed to lean his head back and avoid having his skull caved in. Kratos' axe still cut a deep line into the Servant's forehead as he dodged the blow, but he escaped with his life. Desperately, his blades flew up, ramming into the handle of the Leviathan Axe, forcing it up, as he aimed the heel of one of his boots at Kratos' instep.

Kratos was forced into such an odd angle that his footing was momentarily disrupted, which gave Archer the second of respite he needed to disengage, leaping back, dropping his blades as he fell back.

Of course, he had done whatever trick that caused them to explode, preventing Kratos from immediate pursuit, and giving him the moment he needed to tear a strip from his coat and use it as a makeshift bandage for his head. When the dust from the explosion cleared, the man was already facing him, blades once again drawn.

Strangely, the man bled red, not the thick, corrupted sludge that had passed for blood for the other corrupted Servants. Just one more oddity from a man who seemed to have a litany of them.

"Figured it out, huh?" A ghost of a smile crossed the man's face. "Thought I had you there for a bit, but no, you've been around the block far too many times for that trick to work forever. Someone like the Hound I could probably lead on like that all night, but not you." His grin turned ugly. "Which means I've got to pull out the big guns for you, then."

Lightning began to play up and down his form, as a wind, centered on the Servant, picked up. "Let me do some of the filling in the Animusphere heir was going to do for you. Counter-Guardians are summoned by the World itself to protect humanity from catastrophes, from things that threaten to wipe out all of humanity. That means what we do is win. No matter the cost, no matter the mud we have to crawl through, no matter the blood on our hands, we win. Because the cost of losing is impossible."

His smile turned almost sad. "And even twisted like this, winning is what I have to do. Because she told me to hold the gates. So, I'll win."

"I AM THE BONE OF MY…."

Whatever incantation or spell the man was beginning was cut off, as a spear of light burst from the trees, curving through the air and piercing straight through Archer's chest. The man's eyes widened in shock, as the strength left his legs, and he fell to his knees.

"Call yourself a Counter-Guardian, yet here you are, playing bodyguard for one of the selfsame threats you're supposed to fight." Cu Chulainn strode from the tree line, a sneer of disgust on his face. As he drew near, the luminous spear ripped itself from Archer's chest and returned to the Caster's hand, where its form shifted, returning to that of his familiar staff. "It's so pitiful I don't know whether I should laugh, or cry in disappointment."

Archer was looking at Cu Chulainn as if he was seeing the Servant for the first time. "That….wasn't Gae Bolg, that wasn't anything from your legend, dog." His eyes were boring holes through the Caster. "Where in the HELL did you get that weapon? And who the HELL are you?"

Cu Chulainn smiled, and rapped Archer on his head with his staff. "You just gave a real pretty speech about how you Counter-Guardians couldn't lose, because the stakes were so high. Well, I'm Cu Chulainn, and I'm the man who just beat you. Because that's what I'm here to do."

Cu waved, as Archer's body dissolved into motes of light. "Give my regards to Alaya, you bastard."