A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 15

It was a dark and stormy night.

Yes, it actually was - the weather was perfectly setting the scene as they looked down upon a castle, that, by all rights, should NOT have been here - it should have been leagues and leagues to the east. But there it was, having displaced much of the village of Thiers, looking as though it had erupted in the center of the hamlet.

Castle Dracula.

Those homes and buildings that had occupied the space it now dominated had been destroyed, rubble littering the area around the castle. Those on the outskirts of the town had been spared outright destruction, but they showed signs of fighting - shattered windows, burnt roofs, and doors hanging ajar.

Of the inhabitants of Thiers, there was no sign.

"Huh…." mused Romani. "No clocktower. I guess the game lied to me. But that means you won't have to deal with the Medusa Heads and their horrible sine-wave patterns."

If it wasn't for the rain, and thunder, you possibly could have heard a pin drop in the wake of the Doctor's statement.

"MY head is right HERE, Doctor. Nor shall it be doing any patterns…sine or otherwise." Medusa was giving Romani a look that said she might be wondering, just a bit, how he'd look as statuary.

Romani flushed. "No, no! It's a game…a video game! Magi*Mari was streaming it. It's one where you fight Dracula….one of the enemies are Medusa Heads that….."

"Roman, your mouth is moving." Da Vinci's smile was dry as a bone in a desert. "You might want to see to that."

Romani sighed. "Right, shutting up now before I dig myself any deeper."

EARLIER

THE JALTER CAVE

"Castle Dracula? Here?" Romani groaned. "That's just GREAT….depending on how far what he can consider 'his territory' extends, he's going to get a massive boost to his stats while he's in it. Vlad the Impaler might be the face of the vampire legends everywhere else, but in Romania, he's quite possibly their greatest national hero. They do everything but officially worship him there."

"You're spittin' facts, nerd." The Avenger ignored Romani's squawk of indignation, again adding to the map. "And he's not the only one who got a gift - the bastard gave Carmilla her home too, Castle Csejte is about here, just a bit to the southwest of Castle Dracula. Close enough to Lyon and Marseilles so she had a place to raid for blood for her baths, far enough away from Vlad so he didn't have to see her reveling in being a vampire." She chuckled. "SHE, at least, we won't have to worry about on account of yours truly spitroasting the bitch."

Jeanne, for the first time in hours, lost the look of having bitten into something incredibly sour. "Lyon and Marseilles haven't been destroyed yet?"

The Avenger shook her head. "They were far enough away that they mostly got ignored - not like I was planning any of this shit. Just raging about and letting my Servants rampage where they wanted to, and letting the wyverns fly around willy-nilly. It wasn't until Rogue Servants started showing up that I had to use something resembling tactics."

Lyon and Marseilles were quickly added to the map. She tapped Lyon with her stick. "Lyon's where I THINK Siegfried was operating out of. First time I ran into him was when he was guarding a refugee caravan that was trying to make it to Vaucouleurs. I wasn't even looking for someone to burn, was just flying around taking a look at the lay of the land, when I spotted that ragged group, and thought I had some easy fun. Man quickly beat that idea out of my head."

She frowned. "Though I swear, at times, it seemed like there were two of him. I'd hear one of my Servants report that a flight of wyverns got slaughtered by someone claiming to be a Dragonslayer, and then the same day, another one would get picked off miles away. Possible he was hitching a ride with the two in the carriage to move as quick as that."

Jeanne's lips thinned. "The carriage…..was it possibly incredibly ornate, pulled by a horse made of crystal?"

Avenger blinked. "Yeah, that's the one. Why?"

"There was one breaking apart when we stumbled on Vlad and Carmilla - the sound of music is what drew us to them." Jeanne bowed her head. "I assume the carriage's owner was already dead by the time we arrived - and Vlad tossed another body aside shortly after we arrived, one that it looked like he'd drained it of blood."

"Well shit. Cross off those two as possible allies, whoever they might have been. Fuck!" Angrily, she drove her fist into the ground. "Worst case, Siegfried was riding with those two, and we're out a good way to take out Fafnir. Happy thoughts, Jeanne, happy thoughts. Vlad, staked to the ground, right as the sun's coming up. That Lev guy screaming as he's being lowered into acid. Me burning the bastard who took my arm until he's nice and flakey."

"Leaving aside that disturbing bit of stream of consciousness, are there any other Rogue Servants you're aware of?" Da Vinci looked around the room. "Our list of allies are currently residing inside this cave, and with the leylines being as twisted as they are, we'd need to be practically in the throne room of Orleans in order to summon more help - or to bring our Caster in. It'd strain the reactors, but we could probably manage both him and Rider in the field for a short time before one of them would have to return. Too long, though, and we'd risk blowing one or more - and if we lose power completely, we'll have no way to verify your existences."

"I got nothing concrete, only rumors," admitted the Avenger. "Didn't really have an Office of Secret Intelligence or nothin', and we were mostly concerned with finding survivors. Once I knew they were a thing, the Rogue Servants I figured would turn up trying to stop me before long, so I didn't put much effort into finding them. Siegfried was the exception, since he could possibly take Fafnir out, so I wanted to wipe him off the map before he could do that."

Her brow furrowed, as she racked her brain. "There were some stories of some dragon-girl or something wandering the countryside, but those never came with any sort of consistent location or description. Sometimes she had pink hair and a spear, and a voice that could curdle milk, and other times, green hair and breathed fire and was looking for someone. For all I know, some peasant who saw one too many of my wyverns had his brain break and they made up something similar to the mermaid myths, and the story spread, and took on a life of its own." She shrugged. "You know how superstitious peons are."

There was little to say in response to that.

"So, what's next?" asked Medusa. "Is the plan still to head straight to Orleans? Even with the meat we harvested from the wyverns at Vaucouleurs, we still will need to resupply sooner rather than later - and establish a leyline connection."

Kratos peered down at the map, weighing options. "Do you believe Vlad would aid he who took your position, should we breach Orleans' defenses?"

The Avenger blew out a long breath. "Honestly…..I dunno. On the one hand, Old Drac fled with his tail between his legs, and might be happy minding his own business while we take care of things in Orleans. But, Vlad certainly seemed happier with him in charge instead of me, so he might do it out of gratitude for getting rid of me, and giving him his castle. At the same time, if that asshat found himself in enough trouble, he might not have to ask Vlad for help - as much as those bloodsuckers were crowing about being 'free', someone's holding their leash - or Command Seals, in this case. All he'd have to do is use one of those and MAKE Vlad come to his aid. And depending on what he did to the population of Theirs, he could bring plenty of Dead to throw at us."

"The ones we fought weren't really that strong…..," began Mash. "But….."

Kratos nodded. "Yes. Numbers can be an advantage that can make up for a lack of individual strength. And Vlad himself was formidable. And he would not be the only Servant we would have to contend with."

In the end, there had been only one viable choice. To leave an enemy the caliber of Vlad Tepes at their backs would have been foolish. To leave an enemy who could bring an army with them, as well as their own considerable power would have been the height of stupidity.

"I still don't know why we're doing this at night," grumbled the Avenger. "High noon - that's when you should fight one of those leeches, not such a cursed, horrible night like this. Wet as everything is, it's going to play merry hell with my fires."

Kratos wanted to sigh, but bit it back. Further exposure to the Avenger's personality had not made her any easier to deal with. Their march here had been a constant stream of irreverent remarks and barbed comments. While Jeanne and Mash had taken it in stride, Medusa was barely civil to the Avenger, when she deigned to respond to her at all. Da Vinci, of course, could give as good as she got from the Avenger - to the point Romani was dealing with her through Da Vinci.

(Fou, he was told, by Mash, wanted to bite the Avenger. On the nose. HARD.)

The most infuriating thing of it all was, Kratos did not truly sense any malice in the Avenger - at least not directed to their group. It was just how she was. Which made dealing with her all the more difficult.

Thankfully, Jeanne had patience in a deeper well than even Faye had - how his future wife had managed to calm the broken man Kratos had been when they had first met was something he only vaguely could recall, his mind being little better than an animal's in those days.

Jeanne could have given Faye lessons in patience - for all that Faye had been the reasonable parent to Atreus, and the balm that had soothed the Ghost of Sparta's soul, she had also been the one to fight Thor to a standstill, ruining the landscape around them in a brawl in Vanaheim, long before she met Kratos. Stories from the spirits haunting that land showed that within Faye had simmered a rage very similar to Kratos' - once upon a time.

(They would have liked each other, he believed, his wife and the Saint. And she would have adopted Mash on the spot - or attempted to share custody of the girl with Da Vinci. Romani would have little say in the manner, likely going along with whatever the two formidable women would decide, if he knew what was good for him. As, likely, also would Kratos.)

It was Jeanne, or occasionally Mash, who provided the buffer between the Avenger and the rest of them, when her abrasive personality began to grate to a level that had one or more of them seeing tinges of red. And sometimes, for a short, brief period, the two of them would actually manage to talk civilly for a bit.

The Avenger remembered nothing of her life as Jeanne d'Arc - having been made from Gilles' desire for a 'perfect Jeanne', he could not provide her with the memories of the real thing. She was in many ways almost like a newborn child - albeit a powerful, dangerous child, being driven to near insanity by a rage that was inherent to her very being. The few times Jeanne was able to calm the Avenger were times when she told the other woman about the friends and family she had forgotten - or truly never known, for all that she shared Jeanne's face.

She might have worn a mask of contempt as Jeanne had talked of her mother and father, her brothers, or the simple life on the farm in her younger days, but the Avenger had listened raptly, her snide remarks noticeably absent.

The reprieve from the Avenger's voice had been a blessing. If this was what a Saint was, the world could use more of them.

"The ground around the castle is largely barren of cover. Moving during the night masks our approach - we seek to fight Vlad, and only him." The Avenger was actually listening to him, Kratos noted. "A single wyvern spotting us, and then drawing the rest of our foes to us would be a problem." While he had little to fear from an executioner, the legendary huntress of his home was formidable, if by repute, as Kratos had never crossed paths with Atalanta. And Fafnir, if he was in any way as powerful as Hræzlyr had been, they would be in for a fight.

And that was not even considering the two unknowns. The Black Knight's ability to turn even mundane objects into powerful weapons was a potent threat - Kratos well remembered how the Archer he had faced had turned Draupnir against him.

But the Servant the Avenger had summoned, who supposedly was drawn from those who had opposed the Spartan in the past - this was where his concern lay. Facing them, whomever they were, was not something to be done while also facing down another dangerous enemy in the heart of their power.

So, this approach.

Avenger nodded. "Ok, THAT I get, but the second we set foot on whatever ground he's turned into Transylvania, he's going to know we're here. That means a ticking clock if he puts in a call to his Sugar Daddy for help. Even if he doesn't, I assume he's going to throw a ton of rotting bodies in our way."

"Then we go in, hard and fast." Kratos grunted. "Remove him before aid can arrive, if aid is coming."

"I just hope the castle doesn't fall apart like when he dies in the games," muttered Romani. "Bad enough if you have to worry about getting out of there before reinforcements show up, but ducking falling masonry is only going to make it worse."

"Ignoring Roman's idol-fuelled nonsense, I assume the cave will be the fallback point in case things go badly? Avenger and Medusa can just astralize if you all get separated, and Mash and Kratos have communicators so we can keep them connected, and steer them towards each other." Da Vinci frowned. "This does leave Jeanne out in the cold, however."

"I will be fine. The Lord led me to you once, he will do so again." Utter, unwavering faith in her deity. The gods of Olympus would have killed for a believer as devout as this woman.

(He hoped this 'God' never gave Jeanne a reason to doubt her faith. Once, Kratos had trusted the gods of his land. Once.)

"No." Kratos felt as if ants were crawling over his skin. "We go into a conflict with enough unknown variables…..it would be foolish to do so at less than our full strength."

He sighed - preventing it from becoming a growl by a pure force of will. "I did not contract with you out of suspicion of you being the Dragon Witch, in some guise. That concern has now been addressed." At least she would be a more pleasant burden to bear than her clone. Kratos held out his hand.

The Avenger smirked. "Going for twins, are you, big guy? OW!"

Medusa looked completely unruffled, for all that she had just smacked the annoyance across the back of her head, and the glare that was being directed at her from said annoyance. "Quiet, you."

Jeanne paid no attention to the two of them. "Of course, Kratos. You have conducted yourself with dignity since I first met you. I'm honored you would trust me like this." She grasped his hand. "To the salvation of France."

Jeanne's thread was the complete opposite of her clone's. It….sang, for lack of a better word. A song with words unfamiliar to Kratos, but surging with light and joy. It was soothing, in its own way, for all that this song was likely one of praise to her strange sky-god.

(For all that it was a hymn of praise to a god, Kratos still felt it less offensive than the constant chorus of hate that seeped from Avenger's thread. He may have no use for gods - with a few notable Freya-shaped exceptions - but he could tolerate Jeanne's piety more easily than her clone's mindless wrath - though he would be happy to be rid of both.)

Jeanne, for her part, looked flushed, if only slightly. "My." She blinked, then came back to herself. "That is quite a lot of mana…I believe I can understand a little of what my other self meant when she called you an 'all you can eat buffet'."

Kratos grunted. "We move. We have much to do, and the night will not last forever."

For another fifteen minutes, they pushed on through the cold and wet, before Medusa, trailing slightly ahead of the group, held up a hand. "We're getting close." She pointed. "Look."

Kratos squinted through the pitch black of the evening, trying to spot whatever she had seen, but to no avail.

"Here, Mr. Kratos," Mash reached into her shield and handed him a device that resembled an elongated pair of glasses. "Just peer in this end - Da Vinci made these binoculars, so they should automatically adjust depending on the conditions."

Somewhat gingerly, he held the object up to his eyes, and looked.

And was again amazed at the creations of this strange world.

The object completely banished the darkness - peering through them, he could see as if the sun was high in the sky. It also extended his vision, so he could clearly see what Medusa had sighted.

Bodies, impaled on massive wooden stakes, and left to rot.

"His favorite means of execution when he was alive," commented Medusa. "They say that a Turkish army found an entire forest of impaled people when they invaded Wallachia, trying to depose Vlad. And that the sultan was so unsettled by this that he stated that he had come to fight a man, not a monster. I see he's keeping to his legend as a man, as well as a vampire."

Kratos frowned. "This is a message, but not the one you think." He handed her the device. "These bodies are mere dolls."

For a long moment, she stared through the binoculars, then lowered them. "No, you're right. They're cunningly made, but they're just dolls. And…..ones with our faces."

"He knows we're coming." Avenger spat to the side. "Or expects that we are. He knows I wouldn't let him skate on stabbing me in the back, so he either believes I talked you into helping me, or thinks I'm crazy enough to try a solo run at him now that Carmilla and their backup dancers are gone. This is him telling us to bring it." She blinked, as if something had just occurred to her. "And, probably, him making sure he's got every cold body he can get his claws on to throw at us. Why waste a corpse as a 'keep out' sign when you can get it back on its feet and have it shamble at us, moaning for brains."

Romani was squinting at something on his screen. "You're in sight of the castle now. We're not picking up any activity from it, not yet."

"For what little we CAN scan in there - we're getting jammed pretty badly when we try to do anything with that castle." Da Vinci's finger was tapping on her cheek. "I guess he takes defending his territory seriously on all fronts, whether it's from an invading army or attempts to spy on him. Annoying."

"This is probably the last chance to abort and fall back, if any of you are getting bad vibes from this - beyond the sort you'd get from taking on the most famous vampire ever in his home." Romani paused for a moment, then nodded, when no one spoke up. "Didn't think so. Good luck, then, and be careful."

They moved quickly, making no more pretense at stealth. As they drew closer, they all felt it - it was like crossing a Bounded Field, but it wasn't a barrier, per se. Just a divider that separated one area from another, a border, of sorts.

Dividing France from the slice of Wallachia that had invaded it.

Within the town, there came the sound of many, many voices, moaning in a hungry chorus.

"We're rumbled!" yelled the Avenger, her spear grasped in her hand, her absurd banner strapped to her back, billowing in the wind and rain. "Every motherless one of them just heard us ring the dinner bell!"

"We make for the castle!" Kratos could see them now, hundreds of shambling forms beginning to spill from the still-intact buildings that surrounded the castle. "Guard your flanks, and do not let yourselves become overwhelmed!"

Within moments, they had reached the town.

And hit the horde awaiting them like a runaway boulder.

Mash, the heavily armored tip of their spear, plowed into the zombies, scattering them before her. Bones shattered as her shield and momentum brushed the Dead aside, driving a wedge into the horde. Eventually, on her own, she would get bogged down.

But Mash was not on her own.

To each of her sides, a Jeanne struck out, flag and spear slashing, whirling, stabbing into moaning forms, using their length to keep Mash's flanks clear, letting her drive their party deeper into the village. Amazingly, the two women were operating in sync, both possessing just enough familiarity of the other to allow them to operate as a cohesive whole.

Jeanne swept her flag before her, the tip only making shallow cuts on the zombies on the left flank, but their corrupted flesh burst into flames at the mere touch of her weapon. Howling, they pressed on, too mindless to know fear in the face of a Saint. Within moments, the holy fire had consumed them, leaving not even ash behind.

On the right flank, the Avenger's fire held none of the holy power of Jeanne's, but for lacking that, it burned all the hotter. Cackling, Avenger impaled a corpse on her spear, and with a thought, set it aflame. Lifting the blazing cadaver, she slammed it into a knot of the Dead that were attempting to press into Mash's flank, knocking them off their feet. She then planted her feet, and pivoted, using her temporary torch to beat back the wall of undead that continued to advance, hands outstretched, hungry for flesh.

They were slowing.

"DOWN!"

Mash and the Jeannes dropped to their knees, and a second later, the Blades of Chaos cut through the air, not even slowing as they cleaved through the horde. Arms, legs, and heads fell by the dozens, and torsos were sent flying through the air, still howling their mindless moans as they were sundered in two.

Where Kratos was a single, overwhelming strike, Medusa was precision. Her stakes flew out, spearing through the heads of those zombies that had somehow weathered the Blades of Chaos and remained standing. Both of her hands worked independently of each other, as she whittled the survivors down.

But for each one they killed, there were many to take its place.

Mash and the Jeannes sprang back to their feet - their momentum had stalled, now their plan hinged on being able to fight their way to the castle gates. They raised their weapons.

"Got a big signal, incoming, looks like straight from the castle!" cried Romani.

"Vlad?" Kratos swept his axe through a wall of the dead that were advancing on their rear - with his allies clustered as they were, the Blades were too risky.

"No, not big enough, but…oh." The ground began to shake with a set of massive footfalls. "That is a BIG skeleton."

It thundered through the horde of moaning Dead, scattering them with its sheer size - where it didn't outright trample them underfoot. A massive bone was clutched in its hand, serving as a crude club.

Kratos had seen, and killed bigger - this was barely bigger than the trolls that inhabited Midgard.

"Here it comes!" Avenger sent a blast of fire at the giant bones, one that failed to slow it down in the slightest. The bones glinted strangely in the light of the flickering flames, then runes lit up across its form.

"Steel? He coated that thing in fucking enchanted STEEL?" Avenger groaned. "My spear's not going to be good for SHIT against that, neither is 'mes' flag, even with her Saint bullshit."

"Keep the Dead back, I will handle it!" Kratos yelled. "Mash!"

"Yes sir!" The girl swung her shield in a wide arc, blasting zombies from their feet, clearing an area for them.

And just in time, as the giant had arrived.

The bone-club in its hands beat a pattern on the ground as it drew itself up to its full height, towering over the Spartan and the Demi-Servant. Its jaws opened in a silent roar, as it brought the club down on them.

Kratos and Mash split, each leaping to one side of the massive weapon. Still, the force of its impact shook the ground under their feet. Mash stumbled, having been unprepared for the shock of the blow, for all that it failed to connect with them. The same could not be said for Kratos.

The Leviathan Axe wept frost as it crashed into the leg of the skeleton. For a moment, the metal coating the bones resisted, but the strength of the Spartan told, and the metal gave, and bone splintered. With a thought, Kratos released the cold the axe had built up into the leg, ice crackling up its limb.

He tore the axe free, then was forced to quickly duck, as the massive hand of the giant attempted to swat Kratos away. One of the skeleton's hands was still wrapped around its weapon, trying to free it from the ground, a job hindered by the ice trapping its leg - ice that was melting faster than it should have been, as the enchanted steel fought against the frost magic of the Leviathan Axe.

Mash was hammering her shield into its fingers, trying to dislodge its grip, but not having much effect. The cobblestone street cracked further as the club was finally torn free, forcing Mash back. It raised the weapon again, mindlessly focused, even as the Leviathan Axe twirled through the night, glancing off its skull.

The club swept through the air, wide enough that it even forced those battling the zombies to evade, lest they be blasted from their feet - inadvertently aiding them, as the Dead lacked the wit, or the agility to avoid the weapon.

'On my cue, follow.'

Kratos hurled his axe at the creature's leg, ice once again spreading across its limb as the Leviathan Axe sank into the metal and bone - though, as before, the runes flared bright, and the Leviathan Axe vibrated in its perch, the protective enchantments in the steel coating seeking to dislodge it.

But it held, and held the monster, for a moment. And a moment was all that was needed.

Kratos' shield snapped into place as he lowered his head and, roaring, charged. Mash was but an instant behind him, her voice roaring in unison with him, his fervor having caught the girl up in its wake. Almost as one, they crashed into the frozen joint of the leg.

Immovable object met a pair of irresistible forces, and for the briefest of moments, all was even - neither side could prove the better. Then that moment shattered, and with a surge of effort, Kratos and Mash blasted the huge skeleton from its feet.

"The head! Quickly!" The Leviathan Axe returned to Kratos' hand with a solid smack against the flesh of his palm, and he sent it crashing down into the monster's skull. The axe dug into the metal, but did not fully penetrate - Vlad had apparently seen fit to reinforce the skull more heavily than the rest of the monster.

Mash raised her shield and sent its full weight crashing into the crown of the skull, then repeated the motion, battering at one spot, hoping to weaken, and then break through before the thing could regain its feet. Kratos hacked away, knowing that, without the Leviathan Axe embedded in the wound, their window of opportunity would be a narrow one.

Metal groaned on metal as the giant pushed against the ground, seeking to regain its base. Then, suddenly, a clenched fist drove at Kratos, faster than expected, forcing him to snap his shield into place.

His shield groaned as it absorbed the blow, but the force of it knocked him back, away from its head, allowing it the second it needed to return to a vertical base. Growling, Kratos grasped the Leviathan Axe, preparing another charge.

Wait…where was Mash?

A dull clang, almost like a massive bell being rung, echoed across the battlefield, and Kratos' head tilted up.

When the giant had risen to its feet, Mash had clung to its back - somehow keeping hold of her massive shield all the while. Even now, she was swinging it one-handed, having climbed to grasp the thing by its neck - not that it needed to breathe - and was slamming her shield into its head. And while the blows may not have been the most powerful, the thing was distracted by the girl clinging to its back, and raining down stinging blows on its most vulnerable area.

"You didn't teach her that. TELL me you didn't teach her that!" Kratos couldn't be certain if it was Romani's voice, Da Vinci's voice, or some combination of the two, merged into a chorus of disbelief.

Not that he had time to respond.

The Blades of Chaos appeared in his hand as though summoned, and Kratos flung them wide. As they reached the edge of the chain's limits, he snapped them to the side, causing them to begin wrapping around the skeleton's legs. As the chains looped around, entangling the legs, Kratos seized them in one hand, and pulled them tight. With his other hand, he ripped the Leviathan Axe from its harness, and, with barely a second to aim, flung it through the air.

It was an almost impossible shot - a narrow window in a chaotic battlefield - but Kratos was among the most skilled warriors his world had ever seen. The Axe once more buried itself into the giant's leg, right where it had already struck twice. And, as before, ice leaked from its metal, once more warring against the protective magics burnt into the steel coating the bones.

The giant's balance, already questionable due to the chains binding its legs, teetered on the edge of total collapse, with one of its legs immobilized, however temporarily. It was stretched to the breaking point as Mash somehow managed to find a footing on its shoulders, and, with a cry, drove the long edge of her shield into its eye socket, and yanked to the side, twisting its head around.

With all that, Kratos taking the chains in both hands and pulling was almost overkill.

The massive skeleton toppled, arms wheeling as its legs were quite literally yanked out from underneath it.

Mash yelped, as she was flung into the air, dislodged from her perch by the skeleton's sudden fall. For a moment, she hovered in the air, the momentum of her body's upward trajectory and gravity's pull equal. Then, gravity asserted itself, as it always does, and she began to fall to the ground.

Amazingly, she didn't panic. She straightened her body, as if in a dive, and extended her shield out in front of her.

Because she had seen where her fall was likely to terminate.

One hundred pounds of girl, augmented by her armor, and shield, fell from the sky like a meteor, hitting the skull of the giant with a metallic noise that echoed across the battlefield. For a moment, it was as if all was still, that the only thing that existed was these two opposing forces, vying against each other.

And then, the moment shattered, as lines ran up the skull, and, with a boom that managed to eclipse the moment of impact, the skull fractured into hundreds of pieces, shrapnel that was blasted about the battlefield.

Whatever animating force had been propelling the giant forward vanished, and its limbs flopped to the ground, still.

For a moment, all was quiet. Then, there was a low whistle.

"That the same meek little girl I met in that burning city?" Cu was shaking his head. "Hot damn! Kratos, your son must be a holy terror on the battlefield, if you've had that kind of an influence on the lass in just a week." He glanced to the side, and grinned. "Also, you might have just broken the Doctor and the Genius."

"This was not my doing - Mash's actions are her own." He walked up to the girl, who was still struggling to her feet. He offered her a hand, and helped her up.

She looked up at him, face flushed. (Some part of Kratos wondered if he had looked the same the first time he had slain something that large - and in such a fashion.) "Reckless…..," her face fell. "...for your level of training. But necessary. For your first time scaling a giant's back, you did well."

"First…time?" Romani looked as if he was questioning the reality of what was seeing and hearing. "Back up. First time? Implying future times?"

Mash beamed, her face breaking out into a smile - one that quickly twisted into a look of horror, as a spear exploded through Kratos.

"Letting your guard down after killing a mere trifle such as that?" Vlad's voice was dripping with contempt. "Disappointing, heathen. Truly disappointing."

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off, there was a shriek of rage, then a lance of fire, so hot it was glowing white, split the night where Vlad had been - the vampire having vanished into mist. "VLAD YOU FUCKER! GET BACK HERE AND DIE…..AGAIN!"

Growling, Kratos seized the spear in his stomach, and tore it free. Mash, pale as a ghost, could only watch. "Mr. Kratos! Are you alright?"

Kratos grimaced, testing the wound. "I will be fine. The wound is not too deep - it will not hinder me. See to yourself."

Wincing slightly, he looked over the battlefield, seeking Vlad. Jeanne and Medusa were still working side by side, keeping the horde of zombies back, though their battle line now sported a hole - as the Avenger had abandoned them when Vlad had ambushed Kratos. Said Avenger was now standing amid the fallen bones of the giant, spewing fire at the shadows, as she raged and demanded Vlad show himself. Of the Vampire Count, there was no immediate sign.

"Go, assist Rider and Jeanne." His eyes narrowed. "I will reign the Avenger in, before she loses all control."

Mash frowned, but nodded. "Be careful…." She quickly jogged over two the two beleaguered Servants, her massive shield quickly reinforcing their flank, sending the moaning corpses flying.

Kratos' wound throbbed as he stormed over to the Avenger. "AVENGER!" he roared, seizing her by the shoulder, and turning her to face him. "Control yourself!"

The other Jeanne's face was twisted in a snarl, her teeth bared. For a brief moment, Kratos thought she might attack him, lost in battle-rage. But then, she blinked, and seemed to come back to herself. "The hell….." She shook herself. "Fuck…..sorry." Her body smoldered hot enough under Kratos' grip that he was nearly burnt. "I FELT it when he stabbed you - that, and fighting for this long, and seeing Vlad….I lost my fucking head."

Any moment now. "Do NOT let it happen again!" He glared down at the woman - then shoved her down as a spear once again tried to impale him. As the Avenger tumbled to the dirt, the Blades of Chaos flew from his hands, carving into Vlad.

Amazingly, the Servant was fast enough to escape with only shallow cuts, though he did hiss in pain as the Primordial Fire within the Blades seared his dead flesh. Before he could vanish into mist, Kratos was upon him, leaping into the air and slashing down with the Blades, not wanting to give the vampire a moment's respite.

For the second time in as many hours, the strength of a Vampire vied against that of a god, and this time, on this ground, the difference was not as great as it had been. "Hubris." Vlad bowed his head, fractionally, at Kratos, over their locked weapons. "I chastise you for dropping your guard, yet I believe you would fall for the same trick twice. Foolish of me."

Fingers of agony were traveling up from the wound in his stomach, but Kratos put it out of mind, and poured his strength into the deadlock. For a moment, they were evenly matched, then Vlad was forced back a step. With a hiss, the vampire was forced to disengage, as a circle of dark spears materialized above him, and came screaming down. His spear was a blur as he swatted aside the weapons, feet constantly in motion, drawing away from Kratos.

"Quick bastard." The Avenger drew up to Kratos' side, eyes narrowed. "Damned annoying power-up he's getting from home field advantage." She glanced at his wound. "Want me to sear that shut?"

Kratos grunted. "It will heal." He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. As the winds shifted, he could hear something…..distantly, but growing.

…..laughter?

"The hell is that?" Avenger gripped her spear tight, trying to both keep one eye on Vlad, and scan the battlefield.

Kratos saw it, or them first. Three forms, approaching from the sky. Coming directly for them.

Three women.

"Oh no…." Romani groaned. "Of course, if Dracula has his castle, then he has to have his three vampire brides…..this just keeps getting worse." He gritted his teeth, as his eyes bored into the screen of his device. "They're probably not as powerful as a Servant - since they're just manifestations of his Legend, they're probably on the level of a mid to high-end Phantasmal - though I can't get a reading to confirm that."

"Three on one? Sounds like it'll be a fair fight." Avenger slammed her spear into the ground. "You go see to the main leech, I'll deal with his wenches. Much as it galls me to say it, I can't take Vlad on my own, not with the boost he's getting now." She glared at Kratos. "Go. I'll get their attention. Just don't get killed before I put them back into the ground."

It was as good a plan as any - the Avenger was careless enough with her attacks that fighting back-to-back with her was a dangerous proposition. And on his own, he would have the space to use the Blades - vampires he recalled, did not care for fire, and the Blades had the speed to keep up with Vlad's increased agility.

Without a word, he charged, heading straight for Vlad, legs churning up the earth as he ran. There was a triple shriek of outrage, and the forms in the sky dove directly for him, but were cut off as a curtain of fire swept above him, forcing them to abort their dive or be seared.

By the time they were able to control their flight again, Kratos was upon Vlad.

Hissing, their features cruel and feral, three women descended upon the Avenger.

"Look sisters…." said the blonde, with a smirk. "It's the trollop who thought she was worthy to command our Lord."

The brunette's face was twisted in disgust. "Such filthy blood I smell from her, Marishka. Almost not worth drinking - what if we catch whatever it is that makes her a commoner?"

"Our Love says her heart was ripped out, yet here she stands." The redhead pursed her lips. "Perhaps we can see what is pumping her commoner's blood through her veins, before we send her to the potter's field."

Avenger sneered. "Yeah, yeah. Heard it all from the Bloody Countess already. I stink of hay and the fields, I routinely fuck goats like all my dirt-encrusted kind, my blood's not good enough for you to drink. Blah, blah, blah." She tightened her grip on her spear. "If you three bargain-bin Carmillas think you can take my blood, then go ahead. But it'll BURN all the way down."

A cloud of fangs and claws descended upon her.

The Blades of Chaos flickered with fire in Kratos' hands as he smashed through a wall of stakes, then was forced to jerk his head to the side, as Vlad's spear screamed forward.

"No more stalling, heathen." There was little of the noble ruler in Vlad's visage, now - his fangs were extended, his eyes pools of red. Kratos was facing the monster, not the man. "No more games, no more retreats, no more allies like Carmilla - fools only concerned with their hedonism. Just you, and me. You, the brutal heathen invader, and me, the defender of my land. Just as it ever was - even if you are not the accursed Turk. I will throw you back as I did them."

He jabbed low, aiming for Kratos' wound, but his spear rang off Kratos' shield. "Pointless." Pain flared as a stake erupted from Kratos' wound. "Within my territory, my Noble Phantasm is the very concept of being impaled by stakes….were you not a living god, you would be skewered a dozen times over by now….." Stakes erupted from underneath Kratos' feet, forcing him to fall back - which Vlad took advantage of by aiming a vicious cut at Kratos' head.

The Spartan was forced to parry as he stumbled backwards, swatting the spear aside. With his other hand, he sent one of the Blades screaming through the night at the vampire king, but stakes again erupted from the ground, tangling the chains.

Whatever advantage Vlad thought he might have gained from that was quickly proven to be for naught, as Kratos pulled on the chains, launching himself forward, smashing through the stakes, and not stopping, flying straight towards Vlad himself, Blades drawn back, and ready to strike.

Vlad desperately tried to get his spear up, but the sheer speed of the Spartan's momentum was overwhelming. He DID manage to divert the Blades enough to avoid a fatal blow, but his flesh burned as Kratos cut into his side, the jagged edges of the Blades raking across his ribs. Snarling, the vampire lashed out with his foot, seeking to push the god back, but Kratos merely turned, and took the blow on the meat of his thigh.

It was like being kicked by a horse. But Kratos bore it, and stepped in, pushing harder against the Count's spear, trying to dig his blades deeper into the Servant's side. Smoke began to waft up from the Blades, as the fire within the metal ate away at the dead flesh of the vampire.

Roaring, Vlad risked taking one hand off his spear - a risk he paid for as he was unable to match the god's strength with only a single hand on his weapon, and the Blades sank deeper into his body, ribs cracking - but he was finally able to force Kratos back, as he swiped a clawed hand at Kratos' eyes, and the Spartan reflexively flinched away, allowing Vlad the moment he needed to rip himself free of the Blades.

Fangs bared at the one who had wounded him, Vlad gestured, and two waves of stakes erupted from the ground, flowing straight at Kratos. Kratos rolled to the side, but it gained him no respite, as the wave continued rippling across the ground, still seeking its target.

And Vlad was not done.

Another wave tore itself into existence, this one airborne, and, like a flight of birds, descended upon Kratos, who was now beset on two sides - and it was unlikely Vlad would remain idle long - just long enough for his flesh to knit, and then he would press the Spartan again.

Across the field, Avenger yowled as clawed hands dug across her back. Her armor held, but only just. Snarling, she kicked backwards, having learned from previous exchanges that to take her eyes off the two in front of her for the one who had just hit her in the back was to invite an even worse attack. It didn't connect, but it at least forced the redhead to back off - the blonde was still nursing a burn from the one, and only time they had tried to block one of her strikes.

Good old fire. Nothing beats fire - at least not when dealing with some bloodsucking parasites.

Still, this wasn't going well. "You bitches want to stop dancing around and actually fight?" For all her bravado, Avenger was at least smart enough to know that if things kept up this way, she was in a word of trouble. One on one, she would paint the walls with any of Vlad's little harem - but there were three of them, and they were used to working as a unit.

The brunette sneered at her. "Sisters, the peasant thinks this is some sort of bar fight. So classless. So eager to roll around in the mud - she must miss her filthy childhood."

The blonde laughed, circling around to the Avenger's left - they were taking ruthless advantage of her missing arm. "Fear not, churl. Before long, you will be back in the embrace of the dirt you came from." Cackling, she darted in, the brunette hot on her heels.

Avenger sent a jet of flame at the blonde - she had already been burnt once, and seemed to have not cared for the experience, so the merest appearance of the flames of an Avenger made her skittish enough that she was just full of openings. Problem with those openings is you can't TAKE them when you're busy using the pointy end of your spear to see off another fanged leech - the brunette was easily the most dangerous of the lot, so she got the lion's share of the attention.

This, of course, meant her back was still wide open, which would be a bigger problem if the redhead didn't like to announce her attack by hissing like a snake - Avenger was just able to sway out of the way of her claws this time - luckily for her, that one had more tits than sense, because if she had a brain she'd be dangerous. There was a reason the Servant was letting her have her back - as bad options went, she was the best to be there.

Still, that didn't mean she was harmless - a second strike sliced through Avenger's hair, shaving a handful of strands away, which distracted her enough for the brunette to snap a nasty kick into the side of her head. Not the strongest of blows - she'd eaten a few punches from the bastard who took her arm, and those had fucking HURT - but she felt it, all the same. Igniting the tip of her spear, she twirled it above her head, then spun in a circle, forcing them back, buying a moment for her to catch her breath and uncross her eyes.

Yeah, really not going well.

And the cackling was really, REALLY starting to get on her nerves.

The redhead flicked Avenger's hair off of her claws, almost as if she was afraid of 'commoner germs' sticking to it. "She's on her last legs, sisters. Shall we finish this?"

The brunette pursed her lips. "Much as I would like to toy with her further…our Lord needs us. Any last words, slattern?"

Avenger smiled. "Yeah. Let there be fucking LIGHT."

There was the sound of a heavy object being driven into the ground, then a shout. "LORD CHALDEAS!"

The darkness of the ruined town was split by a wall of light that burst into being, causing the vampire brides to hiss as their eyes, sensitive, and adjusted to the night, were overwhelmed by the purity of the unveiled Noble Phantasm. At its epicenter stood a slight girl, her shield held before her, the fortress of her will forcing the moaning dead back, separating them from their prey. They beat on the wall, clawed at it, pressed against it, but they could not break it. It would NOT break, for Mash Kyrielight stood firm, even as before her, mere inches away, the dead snapped their jaws at her.

Her will was resolute - these things would NOT pass, not while she had breath in her body.

"What the…," the redhead never managed to finish her sentence, with a crack like a sonic boom, a pair of boots rammed into her jaw.

One second, Medusa had been standing by Mash's side. The next, she had crossed the space between herself and Aleera, and was driving her feet into the young vampire's face. One second more, and they were gone, shot away into the night.

"ALEERA! NO!" The brunette shrieked, trying to spot where her sister had been blasted away to, but her second of distraction - on top of the moment she had lost when the light had blinded her, proved to be her undoing.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, and twisted her around. She was only just beginning to shout her displeasure when a smiling face crashed into hers. Dazed, she only dimly felt the grip on her shoulder tighten. "Hey 'me'! Catch!" Avenger seized the dazed vampiress, and hurled her across the battlefield.

Then she was flying through the air. Were she a seasoned warrior, she would have had the presence of mind to arrest her flight, to stop her body from tumbling uncontrolled through the air. But she was no warrior - none of Dracula's brides were. They were predators, yes, but predators of the weak and helpless.

And their foes this night were neither weak nor helpless.

Verona fell from the sky, where a spear was awaiting her arrival. The point erupted from her back, but missed her heart. For a split second, she was relieved, even began marshaling her strength to pull herself off the spear impaling her.

Then the pain hit.

Not the normal pain of a weapon, no - this was the bane of all those who had spat in the Lord's eye, and embraced the damnation that was vampirism. Faith - True Faith, wielded by no less than a Saint.

Verona's form erupted in white fire, as the mere touch of Jeanne's flag consumed her flesh like it had been soaked in oil.

Jeanne watched as the vampire melted away in the cleansing flames, her head bowed. "You poor woman. I only hope undeath was forced on you - and that it wasn't your choice to turn from God's Grace. Maybe then, you can find some kind of salvation in the next life." Verona's answer was to be forever unknown, as by this time, there wasn't even embers left of Vlad's first bride.

"And then there was ONE!" Avenger laughed, cruelly, as she clubbed the blonde across the head, sending her sprawling. "Not so fun anymore, is it, when you can't gang up on me anymore, huh?" She stabbed down, the woman only just able to roll out of the way and avoid being pinned to the ground by the Avenger's spear. She made it to her knees, almost able to regain her footing, when fire leapt from beneath her, scorching her form, causing her to scream.

Avenger's spear cut through the night, severing the bride's left arm. "Go ahead, call me a peasant again, if you still have a tongue left!" A savage kick sent the vampire tumbling through the dirt again. "Tell me how you're going make me take a dirtnap, you cocky wench!" A vicious kick almost launched the woman into the air, but she never touched the ground. Avenger's hand shot out, seizing the blonde's head in her hand. Weakly, she dangled in the Avenger's grasp. "Well, bitch? Anything left to say?"

"...p…plll…please…."

Avenger snarled, pulling the vampire until they were nearly face to face. "Begging? You're BEGGING? How many men, women, and children have begged you, you damn parasite? How many pled for their lives, only for you to laugh in their faces while you filled your gut with their stolen blood?" Her hand tightened, digging into the vampire's skull. "No, you don't GET mercy. Not from an Avenger. BURN!"

Fire erupted from the Avenger's palm, boiling the vampire's skull until there was nothing left but blackened bone.

Avenger looked at the skull in her hand for a long moment, then scoffed, and tossed it aside.

Kratos rolled, ducking under a clattering swarm of stakes, then was forced to leap to the side, as a wave of stakes nearly erupted under his feet. His shield sprang into form as a second wave of flying death battered off it, pattering against the metal like wooden rain. His feet never stopping, he sent the Blades on a flight to where Vlad was standing, but, as before, an imperious gesture from the nobleman caused a wall of stakes to erupt, knocking the Blades aside - he wasn't giving Kratos any further opportunities to anchor his weapons in the stakes, and cross the distance that separated them.

Kratos snatched the Blades from the air, and ducked, as a wave of stakes passed so close he could hear the wind of their flight.

He was getting hemmed in - slowly but surely, Vlad was corralling Kratos to a position where he would have no escape.

Or so he thought.

From his left, a swarm of pointed death descended. From his right, a mirror of his left. Before him, two waves of sharpened wood ruptured the ground, as it chewed up the soil on its relentless path towards the Spartan.

And behind, just out of the range of the Blades, stood Vlad, watching, waiting for his moment.

Unfortunately for him, Kratos' moment had arrived first.

Kratos let the Blades trail out to the full length of the chains, concentrating, feeling the Primordial Fires bank to their maximum. For a moment frozen in time, he stood, his arms reared back, the Blades dangling in the air, metal beginning to glow red-hot. Across the field, he could see Vlad beginning to raise another wall before him.

In his hands, the chains grew hot enough to burn the palms of his hands.

With a roar of effort, Kratos jerked his arms forward, the Blades following. The air shimmered as the Blades cut through the air, steaming, as the rain evaporated before even touching the metal, so hot were the twin daggers.

They cut through the two waves of stakes closing on Kratos like they weren't even there, the wood burning from mere proximity to the Blades. Vlad's wall too, proved no impediment to the burning daggers, as they sliced through, and, mere feet away from the Servant's face, collided.

And exploded.

The shockwave was massive. What stakes weren't turned instantly into charcoal from the detonation were blasted from the air, broken, like the magic that had been animating them. The wave of stakes in the ground fared little better, being immolated down to root and stem. And worst of all, the wave of heat and fire washed over Vlad, almost blinding him to the mortars that followed the explosion.

Almost - for Vlad was still the King of the Vampires. Even in the face of a conflagration that would send a lesser vampire screeching for the hills, despite the pain he felt from the wave of fire that had scorched him, he stood his ground - even got his spear up to slice the globs of liquid fire from the air, before they could impact his body. This was HIS land, and he would die before he took one step back in the face of an invader, no matter who that invader might be.

Which meant he would die where he stood.

Vlad bellowed in pain as two stakes, expertly thrown, stabbed straight through his palms. Before his mind could catch up with the suddenness of the assault, his arms were jerked back.

Behind him, chains held by the purple-haired woman. How?

The red haze of frenzy tinged his vision as he pulled against the stakes impaling his hands, feeling the woman's strength beginning to fail. Pitted against the strength of Vlad Dracula Tepes, his feet upon the soil of his homeland, even the Monstrous Strength of the Medusa was not enough to hold him.

Fortunately, she did not have to hold him - alone.

A second pair of chains rattled through the air, wrapping around his wrists. They had cooled in the moments since they had unleashed their power, but they were still hot enough to turn metal molten. Vlad roared, as suddenly, he was being overpowered, restrained, held in place.

They couldn't hold him - even without his stakes, his accursed Legend held an easy means of escape. Vlad looked into himself, touching that part of him that was the vampire, and began to will himself into mist.

"NOW!" roared Kratos.

The sound of two pairs of feet gave Vlad a moment's pause, and in that moment, he was undone.

From his right, fire, burning even hotter, if possible, than the flames that had erupted from the pagan god's blades. The copy of Jeanne d'Arc charged at him, the tip of her spear white with heat.

From his left, light. Light that had been once familiar to him, before his detestable Legend had been borne. For the Grace of God was no stranger to Vlad Tepes - all he had wanted, in the end, had been to protect his people from the foreign invaders and their heathen beliefs. But, as a vampire, God's Light was nothing to him but blinding.

Avenger and Ruler charged, weapons held before them, fire and light in their wake. They met at the Vampire Count in a flash of brimstone and a burst of purity, their weapons crossing.

When the dark of the night reasserted itself, they were beyond Vlad, their charges having carried them past his form.

Vlad laughed…..a laugh that quickly turned into a choking gasp, as his strength left him, and he fell to his knees, his head bowed. "Well struck, Maids of Orleans. You have slain the Dracul."

He looked up, a cruel grin splitting his face. "Shame you will not have time to savor your triumph. He comes!"

Dracula's laughter echoed long after his form had vanished into motes of light.

"No no no no no!" Romani sounded as if he was on the verge of panic. "We've got a MASSIVE signal incoming - we were too focused on what was going on INSIDE of the Wallachia bubble - Vlad's weird jamming kept us from seeing outside as well as we should have while you were inside!" He looked up, his brow streaked with sweat. "We dropped the ball. I'm sorry."

Kratos slid the Blades back into their harness, as he grasped the Leviathan Axe. Whatever response he was about to make was drowned out as the air was split by the sound of a gigantic form flying overhead, at a speed that was almost beyond belief.

A dragon - beyond any dragon Kratos had ever seen in the Nine Realms.

It was easily half again the size, if not twice the size of Hræzlyr. Scales black as midnight covered its body, across which writhed sigils and runes that, even at this distance, felt unwholesome to look at for too long. The body was oddly more akin to that of a serpent's than that of a lizard - unlike the dragons Kratos had met in Midgard - though it still sported four legs, and as many wings.

It circled the castle once, then bellowed a roar, a challenge, and began to descend, the wind displaced by its wings enough to shatter some of the less intact buildings. When its feet touched the ground, the earth shook.

The thing reared up before them, fangs bared, a toxic fluid oozing from its jaws - then it settled down onto all fours, hissing quietly.

Then came the voice.

"Well, well, well. Looks as if my new friend wasn't lying after all. He said you would be here, and, here you are."

A form leapt from the dragon's back, plummeting to the earth and landing, shattering the ground with its impact. "It's been awhile, old man."

He wasn't terribly tall - maybe a head shorter than Kratos. His clothes seemed of fine make - something nobility would wear. Fine blonde hair, almost white, danced around his head, stirring with the slightest motion. Like Jeanne, he seemed to glow, but where the light seemed to follow her, with him, it seemed almost to emanate from within him. But where her features were kind and soft, this man's face was twisted in a mocking, knowing, sneer.

Kratos had never seen this man before in his life.

Before he could raise his voice, Jeanne took a faltering step forward, her face as white as a sheet. "...Jean?"

AUTHORS NOTES: Going to have to wait one more chapter for the full reveal of who the Servant is.

I originally planned to have the confrontation with Vlad be the second half of the last chapter - after seeing how long this got, that would have made the last chapter a monster. Glad I split them up.

I do not recall any instance of Kratos coming across anyone using a spyglass in either the Greek or Norse God of Wars. Correct me if I'm wrong on that score. They weren't invented until the 1600s, so they should, in theory, have not shown up, but it's a lot of games to go through to check for something as small as that. And it's not like the God of War games have been terribly historically accurate.

Uncle Vlad puts his knitting skills to good use.

Since we never get a name for Dracula's brides in the novel itself, I'm using the three names from Van Helsing - Aleera, Verona, and Marishka, for lack of a better source.

Unsure if it qualifies as a PROPER God of War finishing move for the Mashmallow, but she gets to climb a giant like her teacher. *sniffle* They grow up so fast…

Avengers feeling it when their Master gets injured, and it making them pissed is kind of a headcanon I came up with - Protag doesn't really fight in FGO, but it's something that's been chewing on my brain of late - what with JAlter having contracted with Kratos, who DOES fight. It may come up again, I might abandon it/rewrite it out, depending.

If you were mashing the Square button (I remapped my controls so light attack was Square, and heavy Triangle, instead of having them on the right shoulder buttons) in your heads during any of the weapon locks between Vlad and Kratos, you're in good company.

Constantly having to remind myself that the pop culture references are NEETbeard's thing, not JAlters. I almost had her bust out a 'Solar Flare' in the chapter, instead of the 'Let There Be Light' I settled on.

When I was planning out how I wanted the fight between Kratos and Vlad to go, I couldn't get that Runic Attack out of my head. I said I wanted to save them for big moments, and fighting the First Vampire on his home ground, in the thunder and the rain qualifies, to me, Castlevania fanboy that I am. Helps that it was my go-to for the Heavy Runics of the Blades, like Ivaldi's Anvil for the Axe.

Fafnir uses the generic 'Big Dragon' model in FGO, so I'm going with something closer to his more serpentine description in some of the Norse Mythology, mixed with some of the eldritch of Faf-kun's dragon form in Dragon Maid.