A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 7

It was quiet in the wake of Saber's disappearance. Olga Marie was still chewing her bottom lip, Saber's words having severely unsettled the woman. Mash was watching the Director, her expression confused. Cu's brow was furrowed – the Caster was clearly thinking very hard about something.

Kratos wasn't sure what he was feeling. He had accomplished the goal the Director had set for him, had defeated Saber, the cause of this distortion in history…so now what was next? Was he to remain here, while they returned to the future to secure the aid of this Wizard Marshall to return him to his world, or was he to journey with them? Questions that hadn't occurred to him at the time were now pressing on Kratos' mind.

The sharp smack of flesh on flesh broke the Spartan from his ruminations, as Olga Marie smacked her palms against her face.

"Questions for later, we focus on the now." She glanced over to the crude dais where the Holy Grail rested. "Caster, I assume that's the Holy Grail that started this whole mess?"

The Irish Servant nodded. "The one and only. Looks like whatever was fouling it checked out when we sent Saber back to the Throne – she was probably the linchpin that let whatever it was get its filthy little fingers into the Grail." He grimaced. "After the hell it put me through, got to say, I'm a little sad we didn't get to tear a few strips out of it too."

Olga shook her head. "Let's not buy more trouble when we're within sight of the finish line. Mash, secure the Grail in your shield, and I'll contact Roman about Rayshifting us back before the Singularity closes."

"Actually, you won't be needing that."

Kratos whirled. Standing above them, on the raised section of the cavern where they had, mere minutes ago, stood as they had beheld Saber, was a man, dressed simply but finely in some sort of green coat, a similarly green hat perched on his head. His expression was one of fond amusement, though his eyes were closed – was the man blind? As Kratos watched, the golden cup rose from the altar, and shot through the air to land in his outstretched hand.

"Lev…."

The Director's voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. Kratos took her eyes off the newcomer for a second to glance her way, and saw the woman was near tears. Whomever this man was, he was clearly of significance to her.

"Lev…how are you here? How are you alive? You were right there when the explosions went off? How….."

The man shook his head, tutting softly. "Oh, dear Olga. You ask these questions, failing to realize everything you ask about myself can also be asked about yourself. Who was standing right beside me, after all?"

She let out a sigh of relief, an invisible weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. "Oh Lev….I thought we had lost you…..you can't know the HELL we've been through in this place…..but we did it! We stopped Saber. We saved the world!"

The man chuckled at the Director's almost worshipful tone. "Yes, that you did, dear Olga. Somehow you fought your way through fire, death, and Servants, and managed to take out Saber herself. Truly, you surpassed every expectation I had for you." He smiled, almost paternally at the girl, who was failing to hold back tears at the praise from a man who she clearly revered. "Now, there's just one thing left for you to all do, and then we can wrap this whole mess up."

Lev rolled his head back, sighing. "All that's left is for all of you to die." His eyes snapped open, revealing two pupils of hellish red, inhumanity writhing within them.

The Director gagged, choking, as some invisible force seized her by the throat and lifted her into the air. Like the Grail before her, she shot through the air, coming to rest in front of Lev.

Kratos' axe was in his hand, halfway into a throwing motion when the man's free hand shot up, pointing at the Director, energy gathering in his palm. "Now, now, my large friend – make so much as a twitch forward and dear sweet little Olga here will be so much ash on the wind. You, the failed experiment, and the Servant will hold RIGHT THERE while I have a nice little chat with our Director here." He sneered down at them. "Am I understood?"

Kratos snarled, but lowered his axe. Cu similarly lowered his staff, eyes narrowed, body tense. Mash….the blood had drained from her face. Clearly this person was known to her as well, and this betrayal had been unexpected.

But none were taking it like the Director was. Suspended in the air, she was struggling viciously, futilely, tears running down her face. The device on her wrist activated, and an angry voice cut through the air. "LEV LAINUR, what in the HELL do you think you are doing?"

"Oh, Romani. Why must you be the eternal thorn in my side? A perfectly planned treachery, a masterstroke meant to deprive Chaldea of all its best talent and leave only the drudges to pick up the pieces, and you just HAVE to decide to pick today, of all days, to slack off." He shook his head. "Minds greater than the collective whole of Humanity spent years planning this down to the finest detail, only to have one man's laziness derail the whole thing."

"You? YOU WERE THE TRAITOR?"

Lev laughed, a deep, amused laugh. "Oh, Romani, for me to have been a traitor, I would have had to have loyalty to your silly little organization in the first place. I didn't, I never did. From day one, we've been maneuvering towards today, watching as you scrambled about, so desperate to 'save humanity', knowing all along that we'd cut you off at the knees before you could even start."

Lev returned his gaze to the group below him. "And yet, the best laid plans of mice and men…..you play hooky, and managed to dodge the explosion, leaving Chaldea with something resembling leadership. Then, somehow a joke of a Mage manages to avoid getting blown up, and moreover, manages to turn Chaldea's failed experiment into a success, reversing a decade plus of wasted time, money, and effort in a single day." He snickered. "And yet, she couldn't find the wits to hide behind that ludicrously large shield of yours when an Assassin was trying to kill her. I thought that was it, then. Despite circumstances beyond our control, the end result was going to be the same – just a bit delayed. All the Masters dead, the Director dead, and Humanity doomed."

His gaze fell upon Kratos, and the man's face twisted in an expression of pure hate. "And then you had to show up, our mysterious visitor from afar."

Kratos met the man's gaze, unflinching. For his part, Lev snarled, baring teeth far too sharp to be human. "You saved our little Director from Assassin. You made an alliance with Caster. You slew Berserker, then Archer, then, impossibly, Saber. Everything was unravelling. So, I had to get involved to put the plan back on track."

"You're all going to die here. Starting with…." He stopped, almost puzzled, staring at the Director as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then he began laughing, crazed, insane laughter. "Oh, it seems you're a bit premature, little Olga. You've already gotten ahead of my schedule."

Olga, who had been desperately tearing at the invisible hand holding her by the throat, froze. Whatever force was restraining her relaxed, allowing her to gulp in a gasp of air. "What….what the hell are you talking about Lev?"

The man grinned sardonically. "You, my dear joke of a Director, are already dead. You were dying when the emergency Rayshift started…..all that's left of you is the miserable tatters of your soul, converted to Spiritron Particles. Even if I WAS to let you return to Chaldea, there's nothing left for you there. You'd just fade away, painlessly." He shook his head. "But we can't have that. A decade plus of having to deal with your neurotic fits, having to soothe your ego, to play bodyguard to a little slip of a girl, just so no one actually competent would take over. No, for that indignity, you don't GET a clean death, dear Olga."

"No…no….please…..I can't be dead…"

"You are, and nothing you or I can do can change that. But thankfully for me, there are fates WORSE than Death. Why don't I show you, and our audience below, one of them." A gesture, and space tore, granting them a vision of a wrecked room, dominated by a large, burning sphere in the center. "You've been talking endlessly about making it back to Chaldea, all of you. Well, I'll help you with that…you can burn forever in the heart of Chaldea, every atom of you being incinerated one by one over an eternity. Far more generous than any of you filth deserve, but I'm in a giving mood. After all, today is our day of triumph."

Lev swept his arm out, and Olga began to float over toward the rip in space, her legs kicking frantically, seeking purchase that she would not find, trying anything, everything to halt the fate that her betrayer had in store for her. "No….no….NO! Please Lev, stop this! I just wanted to be useful…to have someone praise me…..PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!"

Beneath his skin, something simmered in Kratos.

Truth be told, he had disliked the Director initially. Abrasive, a bit rude, keeping up a front of strength that was merely that, a front – she was brittle steel, so said his initial estimations of the girl. But as the hours passed, so she continued to surprise him.

She had sworn to get him home, even if it required putting herself, and her family into a lifetime of debt to people who Caster described as 'real pieces of work'. She had proposed a plan to close with Archer that had put her in the most danger, should she fall behind. She'd not asked for special protections in that desperate run up the stairs, had identified herself as the weak link, and demanded to be treated as such, rather than have the plan fail. Slowly, little by little, she had gained a small measure of the Spartan's respect.

And now, she dangled from the fingers of some being that was toying with her, before it snuffed her life out completely.

Kratos had little memory of the raid that had taken the lives of his wife and daughter. The unthinking rage that Ares had bestowed upon him had left little room for rational thought in his slave. But in his nightmares, Kratos heard Calliope, heard her begging her father, to recognize her, to stop, to come back to them. To spare her life.

Begging like the Director was begging now.

THIS. WOULD. NOT. STAND.

Red washed over Kratos' form, as the primal roar that exploded from his lungs filled the cavern. Pain, exhaustion, doubts – all of them were washed away in the screaming eruption of Spartan Rage.

Lev's eyes widened, and the look of sadistic glee was wiped from his face. "What in…"

By the time the words were out of his mouth, Kratos had already crossed the distance separating them, and his fist had cracked into Lev's jaw.

Lev gagged as the impact snapped his head back, but by the time his mind had registered the pain, a left hook was already buried into his ribs. While he was still processing that, yes, he had been hit in the face, a straight right rammed into his breastbone and sent his body flying back into the wall. He bounced back from the impact, only to run right into an extended foot that crushed him into the wall, the brute force of the impact finally snapping him back to the present, as alarms began screaming in his mind. Distantly, he heard the clatter as the Holy Grail dropped from fingers rendered nerveless from the pain of the sudden attack, pain he was only just beginning to register.

A short distance away, the magics that had been holding Olga Marie aloft shattered, Lev unable to maintain them while under the assault of an angry god. She fell but a millimeter before Cu Chulainn caught her, gently cradling her form as he snatched her from the air. The rift in the air closed too, as Lev desperately marshalled his powers to defend himself.

Frantically, he slid along the wall, narrowly avoiding a double-handed strike that would have reduced his head to so much fine mist – instead, the wall where he had been driven into became powder. Pushing himself off the wall, desperate to put space between him and the monster that had suddenly appeared in this man, Lev extended a hand and fired tight, powerful beams of energy from each finger – each one calculated to precision accuracy, all five hit home on the charging Spartan, and detonated.

Kratos stormed through the barrage as if he hadn't felt it.

Lev howled in rage, and fear, as a vicelike grip seized his outstretched hand and SQUEEZED, his wrist deforming under the pressure. Then he was yanked forward into a brutal strike that reduced his nose, and the better part of his face to so much ruin. Two opposing forces warred for a split second, the force that was pulling him forward, keeping him trapped as control of his wrist was maintained, and the force of the blow that was grinding against his face. Two warring forces, and something had to give.

The thing to give was the flesh and bone of Lev's right arm, as it was ripped clean from his shoulder, as his body was sent flying backward from the blow, bouncing off the ground and walls, splashes of blood marking where he had impacted.

Disdainfully, Kratos tossed the severed arm aside. The man's flesh felt….off. Too rubbery, too slick. The impacts felt wrong, as well – where he should have felt bone crushing under his fists, he only felt yielding flesh, like a training dummy filled with sand.

No mere human should still be alive after the blows Kratos had delivered. Mages, he had been told, could reinforce their bodies to a degree, but far below the level of a Servant – whatever this Lev was, he wasn't human – not that Kratos had expected anything less after seeing the man's eyes and teeth.

Across the room, Lev staggered to his feet, blood gushing from the stump of his arm, his nose pulverized. When he spoke, it was through a mouthful of blood and shattered teeth. "What in the Morningstar's name ARE you?"

Spartan Rage, unlike the unthinking madness that had been Ares's 'gift' to his champion, did not rob Kratos of the ability to think, or reason. He could have replied, had he desired.

He just saw no point in wasting words on a dead man.

With a roar of effort, Kratos was beside his enemy, a fist screaming into his gut. Kratos put enough force into the blow to split Lev in two, but impossibly, the man remained intact, though he was lifted into the air from the sheer impact. Foot planted, Kratos spun on the spot, blasting Lev's flailing form with a savage backhand, then took to the air, driving both feet into the spinning form of the traitor. Lev rocketed to the depression's floor, Kratos descending behind him like a falling star.

"DANGER….Damage Threshold Reaching Critical Levels….Anomaly Represents Imminent Threat…Must Warn The Union…..Warn The Union…Extraction Protocols Initiated….."

As his body spun helplessly through the air, a second voice began to speak with Lev's mouth. A portal of fire burnt itself into existence in Lev's plummeting path, poised to catch his body before it hit the ground.

"Oh no you DON'T!" Caster's staff shot through the air, a spear of pure light aimed directly at Lev's heart. Weakly, the broken man lifted his remaining arm and gestured, and the spear bounced off a shimmering barrier, spinning off-course.

Then, a moment later, his body passed through the portal, which sealed itself behind him.

Kratos' fist impacted the ground a second later, shattering the floor beneath him.

Growling, Kratos grasped at the reigns of the power still screaming at him to rip, to tear, to KILL, and restrained it, the blood-haze clouding his vision receding.

Lev had escaped – and while it grated at him, he had been prevented from claiming the Grail, and the Director was safe….but if Lev's words were true, Kratos had only delivered her from a horrible death, to a painless one.

A fact that did not seem to be lost on the woman herself, who was sobbing uncontrollably, still clinging to Caster, as Kratos rejoined the group. "All this time….I was dead the whole time…..the last bad joke in a life that was nothing but….." She wailed, a heartbreaking sound.

Kratos was at a loss for words in the face of such grief. He had responded to Freya's grief over her son by walking away – the only course of action that had been available to them at the time. His son's grief at the passing of her mother…..he could admit that he had not handled that the best. With no idea what to say in the face of another's impending death, he chose to sidestep it. "The Grail?"

Cu looked up from where he was gently stroking the Director's back, vainly trying to soothe her. "Grabbed it the second it hit the ground, then caught the Director right after. Girl's already secured it in her shield. Traitorous bastard might have gotten away, but at least he didn't get to take the Grail with him."

Silent tears were failing down Mash's face. "Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked, her voice breaking. "We can't let the Director…" She couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say the word.

Olga took a shuddering breath, more a sob than anything, and seemed to gain a measure of control over herself. "No, Mash. There's nothing more to be done." Her face was still buried in Cu's shoulder, her voice muffled, but audible. "There's no time left…..now that you've retrieved the Grail, this Singularity should be destabilizing…..right, Doctor?"

There was a pause. When he spoke, Romani's voice was thick. "…..she's correct, we've detected that the Singularity's starting to break down, Proper Human History is reasserting itself. We've already begun the process to Rayshift you back." His mouth moved, struggling to form words, before he found his voice again. "Director….no, Olga. Damn Lev and everything he said to you. It's been an honor to serve under you."

She pulled her face from Cu's shoulder, to look Romani in the eye one last time. "Thank you, Doctor. Even if you might just be saying it to say it, the words…..they help make this just a little less terrifying." She turned her gaze to Mash. "So, you see, Mash, there's just no time. Any ritual would take time we don't have…..even if we had that Aozaki woman who earned herself a Sealing Designation – she'd need a vessel to hold….me…until she could put me into one of her puppets. And I don't recall hearing that you learned anything of the Soul in your training, Caster."

"Soul magics?" Cu shook his head. "If my Teacher knew them – and given the number of ghosts that always swirled around her, I wouldn't be shocked if she did – she never taught me. But she was pretty blunt about me having no real head for the more advanced stuff." He frowned, considering. "As a Caster, I could probably fake it well enough if you gave me a how-to manual, but…."

Olga's smile was a thing of broken glass. "So that's it then. No time, no receptacle, and no ritual." She choked back another sob. "My time's up…."

Standing there, a part of the group, yet apart from them, Kratos' mind was racing. The pouch on his waist, or, more specifically, a certain item within it suddenly felt as though it had suddenly gained the weight of the sky Atlas himself held up. Barely aware of his movements, he reached into that pouch and withdrew the item, unravelling it from the cloth that held it, presenting it to the group. The item that his son had given him before he had departed, a promise that he would return one day to reclaim it.

A small little marble, engraved with a single word – a name - in the Runes of Midgard.

'Laufey'.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him, not comprehending. "This…can hold a soul."

Cu's eyes were as wide as plates. "Fucking HELLS…that little trinket is swimming in Jotnar magics….it could work! Does that mean you….."

"No." Kratos felt his stomach twist as the sudden hope on Olga's face shattered. "My….son, he knew how to store a soul in these objects….I saw him perform the spell, once…..but it is not something I am capable of."

Around them, the cavern trembled.

"Wait….you saw him do this?" For a brief moment, it was as if an expression not his own flashed over the face of Cu Chulainn, and again, there was that nagging sense of familiarity. Ignorant of all this, the Servant placed his hand on Kratos' shoulder. "Kratos, do you trust me?"

Wordlessly, the man nodded. Cu grinned. "Then we might have a shot at pulling this off. Roman? How much time can you give us?"

"You've got maybe a couple of minutes before we HAVE to pull you out. Whatever you're going to do, do it FAST!"

"Cutting it fine, huh? Not like that's anything new." He grimaced. "Ok…..what I'm going to need you to do is remember…think back to when you saw your son put a soul into one of those marbles. We skipped this when we were going over Master-Servant relations, but when a Servant is contracted to a Master, sometimes, they get glimpses of each other's past, usually as dreams. It'll be crude, but maybe, just maybe I can use your memories as that manual I was talking about…if you'll trust me in your head, that is."

Let someone in his head…no, Kratos didn't like it, not one bit. But to save the Director? "Yes."

The trembling of the cavern around them was growing more powerful, more violent.

"Great! Then let's not waste any more time. Just close your eyes, and think back as hard as you can to that day. I'll do the rest."

A low growl in his throat, Kratos swallowed his misgivings, and closed his eyes, thinking back to that day. Ragnarök.

An old man, a King among gods, beaten and bloody on the ground. Ranting, raving, still unable to accept that he had lost everything – the fight itself, his chance for answers, his home, his family…..everything.

His son, so shocked from all the deaths of Ragnarök, still desperate to find a way, another way other than killing Odin, begging him to stop, to be better. And his too-compassionate son's realization that Odin would never stop, would HAVE to be stopped by them.

And the words that followed that realization, and his son's last words to the All-Father.

"Sofna."

Kratos could feel the brush of another mind against his…..or was it two? Watching as his son held one of the Jotnar marbles up, and began to bind Odin's soul to it. From what felt like a great distance, he heard another voice repeating the words.

"Sofna."

….upp frá þessu, sofna heðan, sofna, sofna, sofna…."

Two voices speaking as one, repeating his son's words. In his mind's eye, he watched as the Lord of the Hanged's soul flowed from his body into the orb. Distantly, he felt the same power around his body, as Caster gently guided Olga Marie's soul to the same destination.

Kratos opened his eyes.

The marble in his hand glowed, its surface bright with lines of magic.

Olga Marie was gone.

"Did…did it work?" asked Mash.

"I think so…" There was something in Cu's voice, a note of uncertainty – of caution – the man almost seemed rattled. Then it was gone, and a self-satisfied grin near split his face in two. "You'll have to have someone check my work, but I'm pretty damn sure I pulled it off!" The Servant let out a pleased whoop of joy.

"Great! Beginning Rayshift NOW!"

There was a yank, as if something massively powerful had seized Kratos about the waist, and then he was moving, falling, the cavern gone, and he was flying through an infinite tunnel of swirling lights.

When Kratos came back to himself, he was once again in a different place.

The room he found himself in was massive. Cold metal surrounded him, the floors, the walls, the ceiling all made of it, and all of it showing recent damage from a fire. Rubble still littered the floor from whatever catastrophe had occurred – if this was Chaldea, likely the explosion the Director had spoken of.

Cu Chulainn and Mash were huddled with him, both of them seemingly out of breath. From a raised platform, a number of unfamiliar people stared down at them – with one familiar face, even if this was the first time Kratos was seeing him in proper color, rather than shaded in tints of blue.

"They're back!" A cheer went up from the assembled group above them, some tearfully embracing, while others were exchanging palm slaps, or bashing their fists together.

As for Doctor Romani himself, the man looked haggard enough to have run a marathon, though his relief in seeing the three of them huddled on the floor like this had made the exhaustion fall from his face. "Just let me verify that nothing went wrong in the translation back to the present…."

The man's brow furrowed, then a look of sheer disbelief overtook his face. "That….that's impossible….I'm reading….a Divine Spirit?"

AUTHOR NOTES:
This one's short, but Chapter 6 was too long to bolt it on.