040 - The Power She Knows Not

Bluebeard

He was expecting guests, of course. His dear friend had cautioned him about taking things for granted and he had prepared accordingly. To be honest, he was expecting some great work of sorcery to overcome his powerful but admittedly basic wards, or maybe a display of sharp wit coming from an angle he hadn't even considered. Definitely not a metal juggernaut capable of physically forcing its way through, but that's a Servant for you, even a Counterfeit one like the shield girl. Always ridiculous in the way one least expects them to be. Just look at himself!

Still, the delivery method doesn't really change anything in the big scheme of things. Nothing like a climactic final battle before drowning the world in flesh!

And maybe then he'll take his time squeezing out every drop of pain and suffering from that Accursed Master that unsettled His Jeanne thus! Yes! Yes, that's how he's going to do it! Surely he'll get His Jeanne back after extracting his pound of flesh from the redhead whore, she'll get over her silly rebellious phase and everything will be alright forever after.

"Wew! That was a woozy! A bit too far from my specialty, this trusty baby." The Accursed Master states in a careless manner, leaning her hands on her knees to address her Counterfeit Servant. "I'll be leaving it up to you while I catch my breath, Mashu."

"Eh? M–Me!?" The Counterfeit Servant stutters, eyes widening in incredulity and worry. "Are you sure, Senpai?"

Wait…

"I told you already, didn't I?" The Accursed Master smiles encouragingly, making a thumbs-up gesture towards the Counterfeit Servant. "There's nobody I'd rather have with me here than Mash!"

"O–Oh!" The Counterfeit Servant stammers again, blushing up a storm. "I–I'll do my best, then."

This… This isn't looking like it'll be much of a climactic final battle, after all. Maybe his dear friend made a mistake?

"How sickeningly sweet. How disappointing." He sneers, his previous mood utterly ruined. "I have no time to waste with a Counterfeit person like you while My Jeanne remains lost and confused. Begone, doll."

With a dismissive hand gesture, he causes a pair of tentacles to spring from the ground to take care of the broken doll so he can focus on what matters. Torturing the Accursed Master to insanity and welcoming His Jeanne back into the fold so–

*Splat* *Splat*

Bluebeard frowns at the twin noises, resignedly turning his attention back towards the Counterfeit Servant to see the two tentacles cleanly bisected and writhing on the ground for a moment before getting reabsorbed. Hmmm… maybe he underestimated the little doll a bit too much. Then, how about…

He uses both hands this time, causing a whole host of tentacles to bloom all around the Counterfeit Servant and easily swallowing it. There, it doesn't matter how skilled the wielder, a shield can only defend from one direction at a time. To try and hold back the onslaught of flesh is like trying to parry the tides, there's no way—

*Splotch*

What?

He barely has the time to make sense of the cocoon of tentacles rupturing like a burst zit before his entire field if vision is covered by a rapidly-approaching shape. Then, a sharp pain and a feeling of vertigo before getting wrapped in a warm embrace. It takes him a moment to realize he's flown all the way to collide against one of the fleshy walls.

*Crack*

Bluebeard blinks in shocked incredulity, mind not quite managing to acknowledge that he was sent flying so fast, he failed to hear the noise of his own face getting bashed until he crashed into the wall. This makes no sense! Everything he has observed so far, from the feats of the Counterfeit to her own disposition, speak of a meek and weak fighter, overspecialized in defense and incapable of any offense worth the name.

And yet…

"You… You are no mere doll." He frowns, already preparing his next move but reluctant to continue dismissing his opponent like before. "Who are you?"

"Mashu Kyrielight, engaging the enemy Servant!"

With these very unhelpful words, the Counterfeit Servant charges at him once more. Now that he's actually giving his all, she's no longer an impossibly fast opponent. Merely a very fast, very dangerous warrior he needs to handle with care. Not that there was any doubt about it from the very beginning, but there's nothing to worry about, he can handle her.

And yet, as they clash all around the fleshy chamber, as he brings out more and more tentacles to crush her, as he summons armies of sea demos to overwhelm her with, as he lays traps and springs ambushes on the Counterfeit Doll… Much to his mounting frustration, he finds himself failing.

He's no longer a knight, nor a warrior, he gave up on such foolish notions a long time ago, disenchanted with what they represented. But he still has the experience to judge others, the eye to acknowledge finesse. And he can tell there's something else at play here, something more, guiding the Counterfeit's motions, adding a spring to her steps and a weight to her blows.

He can't quite see how or what, it's been too long, he's too rusty, but there's no doubt about it. This girl– This shoddily-crafted doll, manufactured without any care for art… How does she dare–!

How does she dare actually push him back!?

"Good job, Mashu!" The voice of the Accursed Master, that he had somehow managed to forget about, echoes through the empty chamber. "I'll get the Grail while he's busy!"

His eyes widen, snapping towards the golden cocoon in the center of the chamber, only to see the Accursed Master already there and with a hand reaching forward. Her lips are stretched in a victorious smile as a small knife appears in her hand, no doubt ready to cut the cocoon open to claim the prize inside.

Bluebeard demented smile returns with full force.

"Fool! This whole city is under my control!" He shrieks gleefully, his dear friend's gift heating up within his veins. "[Grasp of the Sunken City]"

As a new host of tentacles bloom out of the ground, not around the Counterfeit Doll but around the Accursed Master, Bluebeard knows the fight has just been decided. The Master is, by her own admission, too weak to fight effectively. And the Counterfeit Servant is painfully out of position to intervene. Yes, it doesn't matter that they managed to catch him unawares and push him back a bit, this is still his win—!

"[Wall of Chalk Obscured In Time]"

A cloud of pure-white dust raises around the Master right as the tentacles pounce on her. It parts without resistance in front of the assault but, when the hungering strike reaches the delicate flesh of the Master, it also parts without resistance. The tentacles thrash and squirm as they try to capture the Master's form again and again to no avail. It simply parts and distorts before reforming again, as nothing but smoke in front of the attack and only the attack.

The Master's hand reaches the golden cocoon unimpeded. The knife is swung and the golden cup is extracted. Bluebeard is too busy feeling frustrated and indignant to pay attention to anything else. At least, until the Doll's shield crashes onto him with the weight of a collapsing mountain.

Napoleon Bonaparte

The Dragon Witch, he muses as he continues to rain artillery shells all over Paris -and isn't that a bizarre state of affairs all on its own- makes for a surprisingly amusing companion, when she's not trying to burn your beloved country to ashes and roast your countrymen in the stake.

There's just something in her attitude that makes him want to tease her. Over the way she tries so very hard to pretend she's not listening with bated breath to the updates that come through the communication network. Over the way she makes a big deal of every little creature that manages to find its way to their position, as if keeping them away from him was a monumental task that steals all her attention instead of a trivial thing she easily handles before going back to hanging onto every word from the front. Over the way she seemingly forgets everything about her 'task' to gasp in shock every time the strike team encounters a spot of danger or to cheer happily whenever they clear a hurdle.

He's smart enough not to actually speak his thoughts, but something must've been showing in his face anyway, because the longer they remain here, the more the looks the Dragon Witch sends his way have become flustered glares.

It's not his fault that he caught the girl staring wistfully at the Queen's glass horses riding over the rainbow. Nor did he say anything when she cheered at Mashu's shield-diving into the infected city. Good heavens, he didn't even ask what 'fucking metal as hell' is supposed to mean, and he's rather curious about that one.

"You know, I always thought the tone-deaf newt was just a useless pretty face." The Dragon Witch commented at some point, the dragon girl's Noble Phantasm visible all the way from their position as it covers the rest of the strike team's incursion. "But she's pulling her weight pretty well."

"Indeed, I have learned that there's no such thing as a useless person. It's just a matter of finding the right role for them." He agreed, before he couldn't help himself anymore and said something he probably should've kept to himself. "Still, a pretty face you say? Something I should know there, Mademoiselle?"

"Sh— Shut up and focus on these shots!" The Dragon Witch snapped, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears and making him chuckle in amusement. "I swear, if you end up hitting our allies because you were ogling at me…!"

And back to shelling the city and listening to the reports they went. It certainly made something interesting out of an otherwise monotonous duty.

Ah, to be young and naive again! Waiting on tenterhooks for every spot of news about the person who caught their interest for the first time in their life! Trying to play it cool while the storm rages inside and nearly jumping out of her own skin the moment something unexpected threatens that special person! The Dragon Witch sure knows how to make a man still in the spring of his life like him feel like an old coot!

And, finally…

"This is Haku, I've secured the Grail!" The victorious voice of their Master comes out from the comms. "And Mashu just turned Gilles into a particularly unappetizing pommes-purée side-dish!"

"Fuck yeah! Good job, you two!" The Dragon Witch pumps both fists and cheers, before realizing what she's doing and quickly -and clumsily- trying to act as if it had never happened. "I– I mean, tsk. I wanted to do that myself."

Napoleon shakes his head in amusement, putting away his cannon now that his barrage doesn't serve a purpose anymore. Bombing Paris, the very capital of his empire out of all places, had left a bad taste on his mouth. Thankfully, now that the eldritch entity has lost its power source, things will return to its natural course.

Anytime now, the alien flesh infesting the city will start peeling away, rotting or burning away, maybe flaking out or turning to stone and then dust.

Anytime now…

The smile vanishes from his face.

"Something's wrong."

As soon as he says that, a screeching, heavily distorted voice echoes through the battlefield to confirm his suspicion.

"Useless! UselessUselessUseless!" The mass of flesh writhes and distorts as, twisted into a hateful rictus, the gigantic face of Bluebeard, manifests out of it. "I will get her back! MY JEANNEEEEE!"

"Servant Caster has been assimilated by the eldritch entity! And its growth hasn't stopped at all!" The usually amusing Chaldean Doctor yells panickedly over the noise of various devices furiously beeping. "Critical mass will be reached in twenty seconds!"

"But that doesn't make sense!" Their Master complains in frustration. "We have the Grail, it can't do that!"

"Unless it broke free of the need for an external energy source and became self-sustaining." The Chaldean Caster pipes in, sounding more serious than Napoleon has ever heard her before. "Looks like we'll need to destroy it ourselves, and fast."

"So I was right." The Dragon Witch muses, glaring venomously at the monstrous face upon the mountain of flesh. "If you want something done right, you need to do it yourself."

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