There was a new kind of fury in the air.
George was not sure how else to describe it. The pillar of fire that rained from the demonic beast above him was one that took his soul to resist, since the moment he drew Ascalon against it. But in the last few moments, the fires had grown in intensity, despite there being nothing new to burn.
No foliage, no tinder, no ruins, only the same near decrepit battle field as before. And yet, he could tell that the fires that were raining on him were of a ferocity that was unlike what had been raining on him before. It was night and day.
And the flames of hell were so demanding, it turned the bright day into the ominous night.
"Hold mount, hold and run on!" He commanded his steed with a whip of the reigns. "We cannot falter now. We must endure!" He had to, for he was a Guardian Knight to the French Men who raged against the monsters around them. He had to endure the dragon above him.
The light of Ascalon carried on with the beast, but he could feel his soul being weighed by the sin that tried to torment him. The nature of a dragon, trying to swallow his soul to feed its greed. Any lesser man would have been overcome by the horrors of wait loomed over him. All the more as that horror let loose with pillars of fire and brimstone that had the sky dark with envy.
Even when the fires dissipated above him, it was not from a victory in endurance. A battle George knew he could win with his Lord's light, but not one the demon Fafnir aimed to make. Instead, when its jaw shut, it was so that its wings could beat at the air with the strength of his fires.
The mount George rode had to take knees under the pressure of the air, the screams that the beast let loose coupling with it. He turned to see the many men of the army enduring it far worse than he. He was meant to stand against the horrors of hell. They were meant to endure enemies of their nation.
It meant that their horses were raised from the ground and their bodies were tossed like dolls through the air. Cries of pain and terror were met with the screeching of wyverns as they swooped in to take them. He saw many more than he wished being taken in their jaws, raised up with beating wings and then torn with talons. Blood rained where fire once did, and neither were meant to lay between heaven and earth. It made George growl.
"I… will not… bend!"
The weight of Asacalon turned to that of light, and his steed took legs up to match him.
"Lay your most horrendous of curses upon me, dragon! Face me with all the fury you can conjure! I will not let it stop me! I will not allow you to dare to harm the Lord's Kingdom!" His steed roared to join him.
"KRAAAAAGHH!" And George would be remiss to admit he stumbled at the cry that followed.
It was not Fafnir that let loose the screech that tore at the air, like a banshee's shout.
It was the monstrous man on the demonic mount. The one with tentacles as numerous has hairs on his head, and thrashing with the ferocity of a dying man. Raised up now, charging with his own war cry, he could feel the monster beating the ground as the man atop it shouted. A man who was throwing around the book in his hand like dragon's fire, and shouting to match.
"ALL you FOOLS!" His warped voice shouted. "To DEATH to you ALL! Damnation as you damned damned damned the beloved JEAAAANE!" His voice made as much sense as ever. None.
George prayed that he would inflict as much influence on the field of battle. It was not a prayer God would allow to pass.
Not when the monster's tentacles began to whip across the field, slamming against the beasts of men with the force of a dragon's tail, and with the speed of the wind itself. He saw more than a dozen men fly through the air, bodies broken and no cries of pain, before they were snatched from the air by the monstrous wyverns. His teeth grit in anger of it all.
Yes, the field of battle had changed. The ferocity of these monsters had grown.
Be it out of fear for their end or a stronger desire for spreading eternal damnation, he did not know. As true for his conversation with the dragon before, he did not care.
"HYAG!" he whipped his horses handles again, charging at the pair of dragons.
There were a pair, for both were demons.
And before him, those dragons, he would let no man suffer.
Ritsuka was trying to catch up. He was failing.
BOOM! THWACK! He watched as the Saber, blue haired and holding a blade that looked fit for divinity, threw his weight against the Lord Jesus. Much like the Lancer from Fuyuki, he was sprinting across the ground with such speed he could not follow. The floor cracked with his steps and blew with his jumps, but each time, he was stopped by Jesus.
Holding up hands and stern stares, meeting the blade's every swing. But at no moment moving to disarm or harm the man behind it. Ritsuka had taken a singular breath in the time he witnessed the Lord stave off half a dozen blows. And that was not counting the ones he was incapable of seeing. His legs trembled at the sight, even as his Lord stood strong. He was aware as to why.
It wasn't a pair of Servants they were faced with, but the Servants and the Master they were supposed to save.
"Kadoc!" Solomon roared beside him. "What is possessing you to act like this!? Did they warp your mind already!? Are you acting under duress!?"
"Is that what you think?" The boy laughed, even as the witch stood before him. "That I'm just… doing this just cause?"
"I'm praying for it, because otherwise I'm gonna have to tell Olga that one of the top seven Masters in all of Chaldea is a traitor to humanity! Do you have any idea how bad that is?" Traitor sounded bad enough to Ritsuka?
"No worse than death… right?"
"Far worse than death!" The Wise King roared back. Ritsuka felt his body tremble, the king clicking his rings together. The fake Jeanne stood before the Master. "You'll have your name scratched from honors, your family under threat, and everything you've ever worked on tossed away for others to claim. And that is what will be done by us! God be honest with you what will happen to your soul!"
"My soul?" The boy laughed through broken teeth and blood. "That thing… what a weight that was. Giving it up… felt like shucking off the coils…" A tittering gaze looked back at Ritsuka. "Who needs the dead weight."
"You're not making any sense." Solomon continued. "Kadoc I know you. You were the hardest working Master in Chaldea. More than Wodime even. You didn't do just what was necessary, you put your all into doing more. You made ten times the number of crests to ensure you were prepared, you memorized the histories of other countries so you could speak to any Servant you summoned, you knew so much that the others asked you for how to approach problems."
"So glad you remember the old me, doc." The boy continued to laugh. Jesus continued to hold the Saber at bay.
"I never forgot about you. We are here to save you!" The king held out his hand again. "If something is possessing you, say it is so that we can help you! You can be saved!" It took Ritsuka an unfortunate moment to realize he was right.
If the other Master was under the possession of a demon, a force much like these Servants that tore against the grounds of God, then he could be saved. Jesus gave his life for those who did not know him. Kadoc… he could be the same.
"I was already saved… and it wasn't… any thanks to you." He grinned with a broken smile on the ground. "And I'm all too happy… to see you waste your time." That didn't sound promising.
"Kadoc!" Solomon shouted like a disappointed father. Ritsuka had heard many of them during his time in the church. He was about to comment on it. But was stopped as pain took him again. Another tick in the tightness of his chest, another thread pulled on the bindings to his lungs, but another necessity.
For the fires of the dragon witch took over a moment later, washing over the pair of them.
"Careful," the cruel mockery of a Saint uttered. "You're stepping towards the coals of hell. I can promise you, the closer you come, the warmer the invitation will be. Won't you approach?" She held up the point of her blade in invitation. The banner waved in the air, careless of the heat, behind her.
"Doubt it… if they were other magus, they'd wait… for more assurance. Him?" Kadoc pointed at him with a hand missing digits. "He'll need his God to direct him." He laughed, and the woman joined him.
"Of course! Ignoble and cowardice as I once was, and without the truth to see how to escape it. I'd pity him, if he didn't wish for me to burn as well." The words came with the licks of the flames around her scratching the ground and walls, like demons crawling from the pits. It was close to the truth of it, Ritsuka almost believed for a moment that she was summoning them.
TWACK! THWACK-THWACK! His attention was pulled again by the blows emanating hear him, seeing the Saber dance around Jesus with a sword that glowed with a light only deserved for heaven. How he came to have such a weapon, and how he was using it against the Lord of Hosts, was something that his mind couldn't fully process. It was akin to being asked how he would pain the sky?
How could one raise a holy blade against Jesus?
"Foul pretender! Monster!" The Saber's screamed appeared to answer the question. By pretending he was not the true King. "You and your ways force me to this! Force me to be a footnote killed by my father! YOU!"
"You lay blame upon me, and anger as well, but have said little as to why." Jesus spoke simply as he held the glowing blade. His eyes stared calmly into the red lens of the Saber. "Why do you strike at me?"
"For you are the same as I¸ but celebrated!" He tore his blade back. The ground and air cracked with it. The flames around them suffered for the blow, and once more Ritsuka felt his body slide under the force of the deliverance the Saber tried to lay. "Faith in a father that slayed you. Faith in a false God!"
"My father is not false. He is truth."
The words only appeared to make the clearly mad man roar. His glowing blade turned into a brilliant light, striking out and around the hall of fire with such fury, Ritsuka could not tell where it began and ended. It was like trying to track a light being turned on. His Lord had little difficulty.
"Truth?" The witch laughed. "Do you care for the truth that your followers are about to die now? The truth that they will suffer as I did for following you? No reward but a scornful death?" She laughed harder, and the flames crackled with her.
"What are you talking about?" Solomon raged. "Wait, no… You mean the other Servants. You're going to have them tear through the others outside." That's what Kadoc was doing?! "But you didn't just strengthen them. A command seal to fight harder would accomplish that. You wished for them to do something. You gave them hate."
"Yeah, of course the Wise King would… get it, right?" Kadoc let out. "Just forced them to act like they… want to. Make a monster of Bluebeard, make a demon of Vlad, and… hee hee, you see how Saber is doing." The echoes of a blade being pushed aside, and the boom of the air that followed, was a resounding answer.
"My faith is in those who follow me. For those who swear by my teachings and hold dear the Word of my father." Jesus stepped back, holding the sword of Concloach. "One such soul calls to me now."
"Everyone calls to you, because they're all FOOLS!" the Saber decried. "Entertaining them shows your falsehood, for only a fool follows a God!"
"Only the fools deny him." Jesus responded, voice unchanged. "For they look to their limits and see the edge of his existence. They do not understand the infinity of his power."
"My Lord?" Ritsuka looked at Jesus. The Son of God turned to him, still holding the glowing blade of Conlaoch, and smiled.
He smiled at Ritsuka as he held back the blade of one who tried to kill him. Many may call it arrogance if described by another, but that was a statement born of ignorance in itself. For Jesus Christ who had saved the world had nothing to fear of it. He had no reason to fear those born from it. He had no reason to fear, and so, he smiled and lectured as he pushed back the blades and arrows.
That was what Ritsuka believed was happening. It was a belief reinforced as Jesus Christ threw his hand aside. The Sabe fell with it. His feet moved towards the witch.
"Vermin!" The fake saint seemed only too happy to meet him. "I thank you for coming to me! March into hell as you bade me to do in my first life!" Her banner struck the ground as her blade tried to cleave the air. Instead, it cleave, tore, and disintegrated the roof above them. "Come to me as those who follow you instead-GAGH!" Her tirade was undone quickly.
Just as Jesus reached for her polearm, and tore it from her. The force of it had the woman stumbling, an expression of mute shock over her golden eyes, transformed in fire to fury as he looked back at him. Her blade swung out for him.
"Do not harm this banner." The Lord spoke simply, with a point of his hand, and the pyres of the woman fell. The flames around them dipped.
"W-What? HOW!?" She screeched at him, wearing an expression mirrored by the Son of Cu. "What do you intend to do with my banner? Lecture me on its use?" Her furious expression twisted to malice. "It led me to my death in life, and I'll gladly offer to you for your own."
"If you wish for me to speak of death and guidance, there are those who wear the object of my death. They do so proudly, turning an act of torture to one of grace." Ritsuka felt the necklace at his own throat, and the cross that hung from it, just against his skin. "This, however, is neither a symbol of death, nor that which leads to your end. It is a mockery of the Fleur De Lis that a Saint bore."
"Me! That was ME!"
"It was not, for you are not her." Jesus turned away from her, facing the great chunk of missing wall. "But one in those fields still loves the Saint you mock. He knows of the worth of this item." Jesus lifted the banner.
In so many other ways, Ritsuka thought it would be mocking. The Lord taking hold of anything, even objects made by Saints, and offering them praise. What was anything they made but to him who came from Heaven? He even entertained the thought that he was admiring the work of one who tried to emulate him.
But when the glow began to come off of the banner, he knew what Jesus was truly intending to do. For he had seen it before, beneath a burning city, and in another object made in mockery to him.
Watching as dark threads and ominous glow of the banner shifted. Watching as light sprung forth from it, turning something that looked malicious to an object of worship. Moving from a mockery of sainthood, to the invitation of one. Ritsuka watched as Jesus Christ purified the banner of the Dragon Witch.
Purified it, let the glow hang, and show the banner of the true Jeanne D'Arc.
"He will use it well." With little more ceremony, and heedless of the witch, Jesus threw the banner past the pyres and to the air.
It was lost to smoke and distance in a moment.
The man was a monster. He was a monster riding a monster, and he screamed as if being a monstrosity alone was not enough.
"KYAAAAAGH!" The high voice of the robed man roared as he threw his book around like a staff. The tendrils of darkness from it coated him like fire, even as the beast beneath him roared like a proper mount. A mount born of the tendrils of the deep, and making sounds akin to the ocean's cold pits. It was fearsome by sound. It was deadly by action.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The mass of limbs beat the ground like a war's drum, cracking the earth with a speed no kingdom's worth of horses could do in minutes matching their number. The men who were nearby from the blows suffered for it.
He took the reins of his own steed and whipped them until the horse was wicked with pain. He did not care for the comfort, as this was a battle of death and destruction. Such was evident as the monster was able to clobber the few unfortunate men beneath its mass, and lifted up to show crunched steel dripping with the blood of the strong.
"Bleed! Bleed and seed the ground! Let the devil below TAKE YOUR LIFE!" And the monster above continued to roar and rampage. "Your spirit be gone! Your life be mine! Your existence a FOLLY! Mock the love of Jeanne, be spitted by that of GOD!" And the darkness around him grew, for he was a monster.
And he was the future his love of Jeanne, and spit for heaven, would take him.
For Jeanne, Gilles knew he would allow the devil to take him. But no power beneath could ever reunite him with the beloved Saint. He knew this, he was aware of this, and yet, the monster above did not know. Did not know or did not care. Rather to make a monster in her image than to be pious for the God who spoke to her.
He was a monster, and Gilles could only stare at the monster he would become.
"GREAAAAGHGH!" The man whipped the book again, bulging eyes upon Gilles. "Cursed past, be smashed!" Gilled lifted his blade and swung it with the fury the Lord had given him to fight with.
It did not sever the tentacle coming at him. It only resisted it.
The horse whined as it fought the blow, and their path had to be changed. He pushed for all his blade could hold, letting the monster's tentacle smash and writhe about the ground. It was quick to curl, looking to take him, but he was wise enough to command his steed to pounce.
A shame the deep monster had many limbs, and the writhing mass of one took him from the air as if a fly near a corpse.
He cried out in pain as he tumbled, the cackling of his mad future a blight to him sense, tumbled as they were. The steed did not break him nor did he fall under it, but he rose with difficulty, feeling a tightness in his chest he knew. Shattered ribs, broken bones, weakness. But weakness was not a matter for defeat.
He rose with the blessed blade, staring up at a monster that made to eclipse the sun and hide the castle. No fewer than half a dozen of the massive tentacles made to fall upon him. He grit his teeth, hair falling over his vision, as he screamed and swung his blade. A pair of them were beaten away, but far more tumbled after him. He shut his eyes in preparation.
"Ascalon!" The cry of a saint saved him, just as the blinding light of the blade pierced the limbs. The follow through had one severed, but the others writhed free of the holy dragon-slaying blade. Gilles watched as George drove past with the fury of an angel. His eyes were as sharp as their weapons.
"GRAAAGHGHGH! YOU! YoU!" The madman yelled. "You will have a shattered body, too! Return you to the God above a failure as I speak to the demons of my immutable STRENGTH!" The limbs took after the Saint of the Crimson Cross, and Gilles watched. For only a moment. The creature lumbered away, and he turned his own attention to his stallion.
He lifted it up, brushing the bruised side caused by the monster, and made to adjust its legs. No damage, no shattered bones, and enough for him to mount again. It fought him for a moment, terrified.
"Hold, please," he commanded, despite the weakness in his own voice. "For our beloved above, hold." He begged the Lord for strength, even as eyes beheld the battle field.
The monsters they were faring well not over taking them, the great Caster that was his namesake's inevitable future chasing the courageous Saint, and the dragon from another's lands nightmares burning through the sky.
Gilles had to watch as the fires of that demon made to turn the land and mounts to crisps, scowling as no fewer than a dozen were taken by the flames of hell. If ash remained, it was taken under the wind of the beast's wings.
"Hold… for the strength of the Lord." Gilles took to the horse's reins and whipped them. The ground was tattered rock beneath them, but he begged it to hold him as well. "HOLD! HOLD!" He cried the words like a prayer, and lifted his sword as the banner. "HOLD FOR THE WORD OF THE LORD!"
He pulled the blade down, eyes set on the monster above. Fafnir's demonic gaze turned to him, a challenge. But Gilles did not bend. He would not! Never again!
The blade met the fires, and they danced together. His words and blade were of noble mind now, but they were not the christened words that George held. His was a blessing given by Jesus, to face himself. Fafnir was a dragon, a beast of the deep, and it was made to take all. Including his love.
For that, he charged on. For that, the beast faltered. For that, Gilles came through.
Through to a trotting stop with short breath and burning armor. He shook his silver, hoping to let the embers fall, succeeding only in making his stallion buck in fury and fear. He held on, but knew it was not a mount that would last. George himself was retreating from Gilles's vile future, and the beast took to land next to him.
It was a terrifying sight. The madness of one and the sure death of the other. Gilles grit his teeth in anger of it all.
"Lord above, God on high, is this what is meant for us?" He asked. "Are we to perish under the monstrous gaze of a false idol?" He saw the broken castle between the monsters. "Is evil to reign? Please, as you did with Jeanne, I beg you to answer me."
The wind howled with the laughter of Blue Beard, and trembled with the beat of Fafnir's wings. No words of God came.
"My Lord…" He trembled. "MY LORD!" The fires continued on.
BOOM!
Until the ground before him split.
Gilles was not sure if he was finally skewered for his future sins, not for a moment. Not until he witnessed what jutted from the ground. He knew it well. He knew it as he had followed it for many of years and for many of battles. He had looked to it as the Cross, and followed it through his dreams.
He would never forget the banner of Jeanne D'Arc. Especially not as it stood before the might of hell.
The silver armored man was not sure of it for a moment, blade slipping from his grasp as he hesitantly took it. It felt warm in his hand, and he felt his breath be taken by it. A trembling gasp left him, as if seeing her again. Her radiant smile framed by the locks of blonde. Her, looking down at him, with a banner that would never rest.
Gilles took it with a stronger grip, tearing it from the earth and raising it above his head. It felt heavy, it felt light, it felt burdensome, it felt uplifting. It felt like her.
And he was alive again.
"HERE!" He cried, like a man who saw the renewal of spirit. "Here is the work of the Lord! Here is the love he promised, sent by the lone child of Orleans, to show us the way to his kingdom!"
The men behind him were silent, the beasts above calmed, and the monsters before him quelled. Only George, carrying a silver blade of his own, charged on. His eyes were upon him.
"Her flag is meant to defend our brethren. All those who challenges the machinations of hell are our kin!" The flag thrummed in his hand.
It nearly made him drop it.
For he felt not a thrum like a smith's furnace, but the fire that it contained. He felt the coals from the inner workings of the deepest forge pulled and sintered to his skin. It drove deep beneath his palm and began to claim him like the waters of new life. New life that burned him.
It did not wash away his sins. It burned them. For he was not worthy to hold her banner, he knew this. Gilles had never entertained himself to be on par with the beloved and blessed Jeanne. He was not the madman atop the monstrosity. He was the past before the dark future took over.
His other hand took the banner's staff, and let his soul burn away the taint that was to come.
For her!
"Luminosité Eternelle!"
The sky roared above him, and the heavens opened. Tears fell from his gaze as he saw the light of heaven begin to fall like heavy rain, and then curtain around him. It glittered with the sight of gold and silver, yet shone brighter than the newest rays of morning. It filled the men behind him with new life, with cheer, with a war cry that had the beasts above muted.
Little reason to wonder why. If not the miracle of God, then the beauty of watching the fires of a dragon spray across the shield as if it were water, and doing naught to what lay beneath! The fury of the monster that his vile self-rode beating at it, making the drum beats sound like a but skittering on tile. He was holding back a force akin to hell, by the miracle of God.
But it was tearing Gilles into cinders. Enough so that he was sure he would die. Die as he asked for God's miracle to continue.
It was reason enough to not relent.
"You do well to use the might of God." The Saint spoke next to him, before Gilles was aware that he was there. "But the Lord's light is a heavy burden. You need not carry it alone."
"It is a burden my blessed carried, and she would not allow me to suffer it!" He spoke through grit teeth. The skin of his palms felt gone. "For her who held this as she did, I will not forsake its might."
"Do not forsake, but do not walk alone. We all join God's kingdom together, for we are to spread his word." The saint moved to hold the banner. "Let us carry his banner together."
"Were this a field marching against the plights of men, to free them from the tyranny of the cruel, I would offer this to you." Steam fell from his mouth. "But this is not against the mistakes of man, but the greed of hell. Against the darkness of the future yet to COME!"
The beasts beyond the wall began to lay down a new force. He watched the twisting eyes of the monster started to rip at the ground as if to unearth it, and talons of Fafnir did the same. The weight of a beast akin to a castle, and he held it up with the miracle of heaven, at the cost of his soul.
"No man… no man will be burdened by me!" Gilles declared for all that he had. "Let God judge my mistakes, so none will suffer them! I will keep away this monstrosity, so that this land the beloved Jeanne saved remains his!" He screamed the truth of his soul.
The Saint pulled his hand back, and watched for a moment.
Watched as fire danced down the shield, and then as the silver knight holding the Luminosité banner of a fellow Saint kept away the blows of two monsters.
Monsters… beasts… and yet that was a lowly manner of description. George knew it well, for he had fought many before. Many men, clothed as he, who were beasts who preyed on their fellow men. They were monsters, but these creatures were worse.
Because they were not a thing made of God, and had no ability to grasp his light. Such was the proof of their useless endeavor against the banner of Jeanne D'Arc. Cries of rage, ignorant fury, and all the whimpers that only the hellspawn could make. It was enough to make the saintly man scowl.
"You defy the wills of these things," George spoke quietly. "For you are not enticed by the promise."
"The will of Jeanne as that of God! I will do as he commands!" The man grunted as the horse beneath him whined in protest. "Till… my… END!"
"Your end." His end, George repeated. "Or theirs." He let his blade hang at his side. "Hold the barrier, sir knight. I will carry the sword." Gilles had no room to argue with the Saber.
The man was in a gallop by the time he turned his head.
"Dragons be ye who make man suffer the whims of the devil." The knight of the Crimson Cross uttered. The words rolled across the air as Gilles knew his did. His words were carried under the promise of Jeanne and love of Heaven.
George had his carrying the same. But not with banner of defense, but blade of slaying.
"The cowardice of men falls to the greed of ye dragons, loath to suffer under your claws and better to let others carry their weight." The man's horse carried him forward, past the wall of light that was the Luminosité Eternelle. He did not care to follow it, light already curtaining him. "They are those who turn to their betters, as dragons mock that to them none carry greater."
"Foolish man of the false God! Spout your lies for the hatred idol no LONGER!" The cursed future commanded the writhing beast. A pair of dangling limbs rose, carrying the weight of a castle's wall with it. It fell with the intent to crush, perhaps slaughter.
BOOM! BOOM! Gilles of the Silver Armor did not allow it. He focused forth the light of the holy banner. It burned his soul all the harder, and his teeth grit as blood fell from beyond him, but he would not relent. The wall bent and fell, shielding George in a tunnel. A tunnel directed at the pair of monsters.
He was not a pious man as his beloved Jeanne, but for her, his soul could be turn under God!
"The greed of dragons tames castles, land, and gold. The fear of man will throw them away." His stallion rose as if injury had never taken it before. The men cheered beyond Gilles as the Crimson Cross knight barreled through. "Those of God's light know not a one carries meaning in the Kingdom beyond!"
His blade rose higher than it did before. The silver sword that curtained the sky with light, the blade that dispelled the demonic fire of the Fafnir dragon, stabbed the clouds above and ripped through the blue horizon. It shook the air and clapped like thunder. Gilles smiled on, even as he felt his fingers crisp under the hold of the banner.
George would not relent. He would not relent.
"Nothing of this land carries to heaven. Nothing but the lives we swear to the Lord! Dragons of the pits, monsters of these lands, you will claim grasp to no soul!" The horse was a blur forward.
"Die! Pitiable pietable LOATHSOME KNIGHT!" The bulging eyes of Blue Beard were near aflame with darkness. The same darkness that quivered and spilled forth from the mouth of the dragon aside him. "Be smashed burned, ruined, killed, MAIMED, CRUSHED, DEFEATED, DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD!"
The dreaded dragon roared beside him, and with a beat of large wings raised itself up. Even after the hour of fighting the monster, it still appeared akin to the tales of dread he read in the oldest of testaments. Seeing it would give Samson a tremble. Yet Saint George did not falter. The beasts above him did.
Even as the fires filled the air, and the writhing mass of the monster's tentacles took over the land. Gilles held the Luminosité Eternelle with all his might.
It strained him until he felt his arms beginning to fail. Fail as he felt the muscles turn to charred bones, his eyes begin to shake and sweat, his hair turn gray and fall apart, and the steed beneath him give way to the Lord and fall to his knees. He held on, and the men of France behind him cheered. The fires beat at the shield as his soul held, and the clamoring desperate beating of the walls with writhing masses attempted all that they could to make him falter.
His body was giving way, but for the Lord, for Jeanne above, and not the spiteful fake in a castle of charred glass, he held.
Held long enough to see the blade of George fall.
Fall as a water thrown from a bucket, blowing the fires out with the swiftness of a candle, and making the maddened man atop the monster cry like a newborn babe. They both tumbled under the crashing sword's might, and it had yet to fall.
"Before the blade that slays you sufferers of God's wrath, fall! Ye dragons, SUFFER ASCALON!"
Now, it fell.
It was not the first, twice, or thrice time he had seen it. Even now, Gilles was witnessing the blade crashing down like a forest giant's fall through eyes that were dripping, and his sockets unable to hold them. His body was giving way to the fury of God, and he let his soul be the fuel for the mercy of his men.
Still, as his body gave, as God's might crashed down, Gilles of the Silver Armor could admit only one truth.
"Jeanne… this light of heaven… so beautiful."
He did not fall into darkness. He ascended into light.
It was the explosion of light that gave the Saber pause. It was the first time the glow of his blade stilled, aimed still at the Lord Jesus Christ, but with his head turned towards the gap in the hall. He was not alone. Far from it.
All saw the power of a blade blessed by heaven, and the banner that was purified by the Lord's touch, handled by a saint, and soon to be infamous sinner. Alone they would have been crushed by the Lords of the deep.
But before the might of God, that dragon and monstered were rendered to nothing.
"About as well as I thought it would go," Solomon lightly commented. "It wasn't as if Saint George the literal dragon slayer would have difficulty against another dragon."
"No, but it was Fafnir, the demonic dragon that possessed wisdom and fury! It had the flames of hell at his maw! It should have burnt them to ashes!" The witch roared, and so did the Wise King. But with laughter.
"And yet, there they go!" He held out his hand as if he were in front of a crowd. "Gone in the blink of an eye and flash of Light!"
"Banished from the land of my father's making." Jesus agreed with him. "At the cost of a soul seeking redemption." That turned heads.
"What?" Kadoc, the traitor, asked. "Oh, I get it. One of your Servants had to bite it too… huh?" He laughed, a broken and chipped sound. "That makes sense… it does… Saints always die for the Lord, huh?"
"They do." The affirmation of Jesus clearly was not what Kadoc was expecting. Him or other twisted Servants. It lasted for only a moment before their lips quirked with pleasure.
"See now? See?!" the witch hollered, pointing past the Wise King and towards Ritsuka. "The Son of your God has said it! All must die to be worthy for him, and it is a death that strips you of the worth you were promised on Earth! All saints must die for him. It is as he said!"
"But he's right." Ritsuka had no surprise for the words of his Lord. "For you cannot be a saint until you enter the Gates of Heaven."
"What?" the beaten Master expressed confusion.
"It is why we pray for the unnamed Saints. You do not become a saint by the will of man, but the embrace of God." He looked to his Lord, who had his hand towards the glowing blade of the Son of Cu, and still looked beyond at the fading light of George's sword. "We name saints for those who spread the Word of God, as he has asked us to do. We recognize that they must have entered the Gates of Heaven. But there are thousands more who spread the word and do not have a legend to them. Those that carry on the Word and teach it through action and piety. They too are saints, but become one only as they die."
"Even if that death is sacrifice?"
"What do you believe may be held in this world without sacrifice?" Jesus asked the traitor. "I ask of you, tell me what you have that you have not worked for. Then show to me it is yours and not taken from another."
The boy still crouched aside the ruined wall, had his lips twist. He turned and spat a wad of blood from his lips. Ritsuka believed he may have heard the clatter of a tooth as well.
"I've lost all that I have. You can't ask me to show you more than nothing."
"I asked for you to show me the fruits of your labors. The work that all men toil for. Be it the food for the families, land to rest upon, or love to share. All is gained through sacrifice. Be it the time my father has bestowed upon you, or the sweat of brow you were gifted to use." He turned back towards the Saber, blade glowing brightly in his hands. "Do you, Conlaoch, dare to say you have not sacrificed?"
"Sacrifice? I've been sacrificed!" The man yelled, pushing forward in the hopes of making the Lord bend. All it did was make the stone beneath them shiver and shatter. "I was the bloody calf that my father skewered for his name! Trained in the Dark Lands by the woman he toyed and threw away! No different than you and your father!"
The man stepped back, in another blinding speed so much like the Lancer of Fuyuki. Knowing their relationship now, it was impossible not to recognize it. Even more so as the man howled as Cu did against the Lancer and Berserker.
He was jumping across the walls, feet beating against already broken walls and tearing the charred decor upon them, each time coming back to swing at the Lord. Each time, he succeeded as much as the first. With little effort and endless patience, Jesus held up his hand and pushed the brilliant blade away. No deflection or turning of the weapon gave the Saber pause. Only fury.
"I toiled for my father, sacrificing all that I was promised for a safe return so I could be as he wished for me! I knew my father, Child of Light of Ireland! I, his son, had to return a great warrior! And I DID!" The air boomed as he aimed to cleave the Lord in two. Jesus, with the placidity of a still lake, held the blade above him. "Enough for all his men to fear me, and I was prepared to be beside him. But rather than me be a warrior in his charge, I was a symbol of his strength! Not by action of my own, but HIS!"
He twisted on his heel, trailing light as he pulled his sword back and made to arc it under Jesus's arm. The walls around and ceiling above him cracked under the force of the blow itself. Ritsuka had to shield himself next to Solomon, as Kadoc quelled in the corner of the room.
"My father killed me!" the blue haired man roared. The idea made Ritsuka step back in shock. "Killed me upon his infamous lance and made a show of my body to all!"
The blow brought a cracking sound through the air. Jesus caught it all the same.
"Your father wept for you, Conlaoch." Jesus returned to the rage. "And you were a memory to him of his failures." The words made Ritsuka pause.
"He's right. The Lord speaks the truth." The words only made red eyes burn at him.
"Do not speak as though you know of my father!"
"I do!" Ritsuka yelled back. "He was with me before! He saved us! And… And Olga spoke of how he was tormented by your death!" The Saber stared at him. "All the Servants after us, each one of them guilty of killing their children, Cu included. But… But he was furious to be reminded, of what he knew was a mistake. He never celebrated what he did. He hated it!"
"LIES!" Conlaoch detached from Jesus and jumped towards them.
BOOM! Solomon held up a shield, and Ritsuka felt his chest burn. The blade hovered above them, but the man holding it was all the more intense of a stare.
"He took joy and grew fame for killing me."
"Your father would rather have carried you through adulthood then see you on the end of his blade. As all fathers would. Even my father." Jesus spoke again. "For why else would he have it be that I would raise from the dead, so I could join him?"
"Because he still wanted you DEAD!" The Saber's words were venomous. "All your god and father wants is your life!"
"It's all he… ever wants. Sacrifice and death." Kadoc agreed from the ground. "Don't you agree… Saint Jeanne." The title made him growl.
"She's not Jeanne." Ritsuka argued. "The real Jeanne never lost faith."
"I lost my faith with my voice." The dark woman returned. "And you will lose far more." She raised her blade. "For I lost all who believed in God when I died, all abandoning me. But I have those who have seen the treachery of God, and then flock to the court where that man will be sentenced to death!" The blade began to bloom once more.
Ritsuka didn't know what to think of it, monstrous as the display was.
Not until it crackled with lightning, and darkness flittered at the edges of the walls.
Solomon must have seen it, too. For he twisted his hand, clinked his rings, and put up another wall of glimmering light. Ritsuka felt his breath be pulled from his body, no amount of external force allowing it back in. Hands went for his throat…as dark claws were pulled down the wall. Lightning didn't just crackle, it boomed within the halls.
Wet eyes looked up to see The Count of Monte Cristo standing before him, before the fake Jeanne, and with Kadoc laughing in the back.
"Surprise…" the traitor mocked with a twist of his hands. "But the Count was betrayed by the faith in God… him too… and the man who raised him."
That wasn't good… Not him, the laughter, or the circumstance. Ritsuka was barely able to focus on it. The power of Solomon was deadly to him, and they knew it. And yet… he didn't know they were supposed to face Kadoc, rather than save him. If there was something else to change…
What could change? What… what would the Lord do?
"M-My… my Lord?" He looked up to Jesus. His lord, stepping casually and easily to the front of Solomon, hands folded at his front.
"Patience and peace, Ritsuka. All will be well." He believed him, even through the pain. The other servants, from their howling laughter, did not.
"AHAHA! This is the God I knew! The one who demanded piety in suffering as he casually walks and gloats. The mockery of man! Yes! This is he!" The Count raised on.
"Yes, the same cruelty my father had. And he dares to have his own children bear the burden." The glowing blade of Conlaoch shivered.
But none of them were louder than the dragon witch, who howled as she bent back and let her throat grow hoarse with the joy of what she was witnessing. What it was her deranged mind made up, Ritsuka did not know, but it had her chest heaving, eyes shedding tears, and the flaming sword of hers trembling to remain straight.
"Good! Good God and fine! Finally proof for others to witness." Her sharp grin returned. "Witness the useless humility of the false son, before those who made for ourselves something more than what was promised."
"You will never be more than what my father intended. Such is true for all men. You may only be less by turning from me." His hand extended out once more. "Do you wish for this still, Kadoc? Or would you not wish to embrace me and return to your home?"
Ritsuka looked to the Master, curled in the corner. Only to see him chuckle.
"What do I… intend? No. That's… that's the wrong question. What do you intend… to do?" Kadoc grinned through broken teeth. "Solomon, the foolish king, already pushed that weakling by… attacking Carmilla. Try and put up another shield… and you'll just kill him." The bruised body of the other Master pushed himself up the wall. "You, Jesus, may be beyond any Servant killing, but he's not going to be able to defend you while holding off the Son of Cu. And you… Solomon…" He coughed into his fist. "You're too strong for him," eyes fell to Ritsuka's bent and trembling form. "Same in life as in death. Losing to middle men… Heh, how funny is that?"
"If I was only for the defense of my Master, you'd be correct. But do you forget that we came here only with the intent to save you." The Wise King stood before Ritsuka, his arms extended and the ringed hand clinging his digits together. Without her banner, the witch was careful with only her ember encrusted sword. The scowl was deep as she stared into his golden eyes. "And we did not so alone."
"And where are your allies now? Glimmering specks wasting their life on dragons that will be reborn?" Reborn? What did that witch mean? "No others are swift enough to make it here, and the awakened vampire will be too much for the rest of your men."
"Is that what you think?" The Wise King laughed. "I'll admit I wasn't fully aware of the Lord's plan coming here, seeing as I'm a rung down on omnipotence compared to him, but I'm pretty sure I got the picture now."
"Picture?"
"Yes, the big picture. As in, putting the pieces right where they needed to be, just before the enemy makes their moves. I will admit it works best when you know what the foe is planning, but hey, that's why we trust in the Lord." Golden eyes turned and winked at Ritsuka, even as he cried through his own.
"What are you babbling about?"
"Nothing, honestly just waiting for an appropriate entrance." Saber appeared none-too-thrilled with the declaration. His face twisted as raised his glowing blade and swung for him again. Ritsuka shut his eyes in preparation.
TWANG! The blow was deflected, but he felt no pain.
"You hold a blade that is fit for angles. How dare you raise it against the Lord." He took a deep breath as he heard the voice. He smiled as he looked up at the back of the warrior.
"Longinus." The back of the Roman helm gleamed, even as the staff of his lance pushed back against the glowing blade.
"Him!? HOW?!" The Witch screamed. "That devil of a count should have taken you! How could a mere soldier defend against one who sold himself for power!"
"With ease," Longinus replied. "And you speak as though selling your soul for power ensures it, rather than condemns it." The roman pushed his lanced with one hand, before swinging it back. The Saber retreated from the tip of the spear before it could take his eyes. "He still lives, but now, he faces one who became strong without wishful damnation of his soul."
"George took over?" Ritsuka guessed.
"No," Solomon returned. "The other warrior. He didn't damn his soul, he just didn't give it to God yet."
"You are quite a beast. Moreso than many creatures I've seen in my life. Here or prior."
It was a calm observation Sasaki gave as he regarded the monster before him. Looming taller than the count had before, and garbed in shadows that clung rather than writhed against him. Its eyes did not burn with fire, but glowered like the embers from a sword's forge. Talons more fit for the mighty Dragon George faced were fit to his hands, and they were held out like wings. All of it was a scorn to the form of man.
But it was the jaw that truly gave the samurai pause. The jaw that seemed to hang as if broken, yet chomped with a force he was confident could snap a blade, and then continue through. Slobber and blood sifted between the fangs of teeth, as the monster regarded him across the ruined and speared land. The low growl it made was evidence alone that it knew him to be a threat.
Sasaki never took the point of his blade from the monster's neck, just to show he thought the same.
"I did not imagine my foe would flee from me, but such is the nature of one who sees battle as a form of torment, and not excitement." His sandals crunched the ground beneath him. It was hardly heard between the roars of battle around them. "I feel from you… you are not one who seeks battle for another's torment… but you certainly gain pleasure from it."
"KRRAAAAAAaaaagh," the long drawl of noise was like a vipers hiss, but it bled like a poison against the ground. Sasaki's grin was like his blade.
"I miss that the musician is no longer among us. I would enjoy a nice jest from him, as to smooth the tension before we meet." He moved his feet again. "A pity, but not enough for remorse."
He jumped at the monster. SHING! And took its hand with a single swing.
Sandals slid on dried dirt paces away, the samurai spinning to face the monster again, blade up in defense. It let him see the trail of blood fall down his blood. Enough to stare at it. Not the red blood of man, but a darkened black that could only belong to pitiful creatures.
"GRAASHSHSHAAAAAGH!" The same creature that lifted itself up and roared into the darkened sky, birthing itself from a nightmare. Sasaki grinned up at it.
WHAM! Before he side-stepped one of its talons coming down for him, swiftly jumping to avoid it looking to take his ankles. His feet tapped on the dirt before he threw himself back, twisting his blade to push off the back hand of the mosnter's hand. It let him slide through the sharp fingers of the beast, and tumble out unharmed.
Memory taught him to lessen fear for parts of the enemy that were lost. Remaining in the blind spot of a samurai with one eye, or keeping distance from one who had injured his legs. It was why he was trying to keep himself to the left of the monster, to necessitate it to swing with an undominated hand.
"GRAAAGH!" But a moment of terror took him before he realized that the hand he had severed was back again.
TWANG! It bounced off of his blade, but too quick for him to maintain balance. A pity he was faster against the man of lightning and mockery, but he did not expect the monster to regrow itself.
"Ha ha, truly a beast." Sasaki levied his blade, feeling a trickle of blood down his cheek. "But slower than a swallow. If only you didn't have the strength of an oni." The monster took it as a challenge.
The beast formerly know as Vlad Tepes let out another screeched as it tore towards Sasaki Kojiro. Teeth gnashed at the ground as if to swallow him, and he was swift to jump up and over it. Despite the power of the monster, it showed to have the flexibility of a snake, befitting its unnatural temperament. It let it bend back to try and take the samurai's foot, but the man was wary now.
His blade slashed at the teeth, pushing him away as it slipped through two of the foot long fangs. The cry of pain was muted as the man pushed himself away, and quickly took his footing again. This time, he did not wait. He reacted quickly. The hunched figure of the vampire came to stab at him gain, but Sasaki stepped into its reach, under the slash of the monster. The ground was ripped, but Sasaki was unharmed.
SHINK! The same was not to be said for the beast, that howled as the samurai's sword took through its legs. The massive form of the monster wobbled as it lost its literal feet, and the samurai made to take its head.
He stopped and retreated when he was a tongue protruding from the beast, close to taking his head. The twist of his neck let it slid past him, in time to see the talon coming down like a flurry of spears. It forced another retreat, sandals sliding across dirt with the speed he moved. The land he stood on as crumbs by the time he settled, and the air as split as his breath was choppy.
"A beast you are…" Sasaki admitted, watching the monster. "For only a monster can fight so relentlessly, and need so little time to breath." He was no monster, however. His breathing was critical.
As such, it forced him to watch as the legs he had taken spilled forth from the truncated legs. Black blood like that decorating his blade spilling forth, coagulating into a solid limb. Mass and clothing followed, summoned forth like an oni's sake. He watched with slight interest, more memorizing what he needed to.
"A fine trick I wish to replicate, but I fear I wouldn't be given the time to practice." He adjusted his stance. "Though I do at least know that a killing blow is necessary. I suppose, in honor of that friend… I should call it a crescendo."
"GRAAAAAAAGHAGH!" The roar that came forth was one that followed limbs, talons, jaw, tongue and gaze focused on Sasaki. The samurai did not see terror. He saw a chance to show the mettle of his blade.
He ducked beneath the first claw to come over him, watching as the head of the monster turned as it made to swallow him. It forced Sasaki to jump to the side, above where the head of the monster was. He halted the plan to take its neck, seeing the regrown talon reaching for him, dark and sharp. He slipped beneath it, letting it jut into the ground and rip through it. It put Sasaki in a low crouch, behind the writhing monster. For a second, less than that, for the beast of a sparrow's wings.
It was enough for him.
Sasaki rose with his blade, and let his blade rip through the monster's neck.
He held his position as the body of the beast and its head slumped and rolled across the ground, separate from one another. Blood fell from his blade to stain the ground, even as the dust rose and settled around the body of the monstrosity. Sasaki watched it. Sasaki watched it, curious, careful.
The caution was well for him. For the beast began to rise again. He watched its head slip into the ground, like water from rain, and a new form rise from the severed neck of the beast.
"GRAAAAAAAAGHGHGHAAAA!" Fast as it had fallen, the beast rose again, and with another war cry, one that rivaled the great dragon and the monstrosity of the ocean's deep. Sasaki could only watch with a vicious grin.
"Incredible," he noted. "Eyes, fangs, ears, tongue, cry… you are like a bat that was mixed with the blood of an oni. Too many legends in my land tell of the horrors that are born from such a union." The emberic eyes of the monster turned to him, but Sasaki did not yield. "To you I have to admit, you are more than any average beast or man could dare to offer me. I'm more fulfilled facing you than the cowardice of that Count."
Blood fell from the hunched monster as it adjusted itself. The snapping of bones resounded as it moved its arms. The samurai could not help the thought that it was growing new limbs, as if to make itself more of a beast than before.
"Perhaps I was meant to face you after that Count, so that I could better understand the Lord that he is against, and I have traveled with." The title alone made the beast rage.
Rather than slice, the talons drove at Sasaki. So much like arrows fired, he had to bend and retreat rather than side-step and allow them to pass. His blade pushed against them, but not enough to force them to move. Even with so much leverage to his advantage, the samurai was forced to follow the motions of the monster. It was alright.
It was a creature closer to a thing, and he was mean to follow the flow of the world to survive. It was how battles were won and life lived. To not cleave the mountain, but ride a river.
He held that view as he moved about the attacks of the beast, letting it rip through the ground around them, and doubtlessly putting new fears of God into the men that witnessed it. A passing glance at the sky showed that even the wyverns that had given tehm such annoyances before would rather be away from him. It also concerned the samurai that the sky was so dark.
But the flames of the dragon in the distance were harrowing to any nearby. Just as the cries of this vampire were a plague for those who could hear it.
Doubtless, just as it was relentless.
"I wonder why I should try to slice next," Sasaki hummed as he stepped through another slash, distance kept so his limbs were not severed or grabbed. "You remake your arms, legs, and head, but would just a torso suffice for you?" It was an idea, but he doubted he could cleave the limbs fast enough before they regrew. "Truly an annoying abomination, but at least your thirst is one that does not depend on suffering."
"GRAAAHGAHGAHGHAAA!" The cry tore at the air again, and Sasaki winced at it.
"Though I wouldn't mind a bit of talk. It may be asking too much." The monster struck at him again, and Sasaki stepped back, slicing swiftly through one of the fingers of the beast. Curiosity took him again.
It fell to the ground as the creature retreated, and he was able to observe it. See its dark blood and caustic muscles, looking more like a decrepit piece of flesh than a terrifying talon of a monstrosity. Were it found in the mountains of Japan, it would be tossed into the pits of a cave, for fear it would poison any waters or land.
But this beast moved unlike anything else nature had. It was unnatural.
"This is a predicament for me," Sasaki spoke slowly. "But as I said, this is why I was fortuned to meet the Lord." Once more the creature focused on him, a new fire conjuring itself within those dark embers it called eyes. "For he has shown the strength that is behind patience."
Vlad Tepes, or what was left of him, came at Sasaki again. The samurai stepped back, and let his previous footing become a fillet more fit for sushi than a man. The samurai kept his eyes only on the beast. It let him twist his head to avoid the tongue that speared forward, and then hunch forward to let the other set of hands slip under him.
Here, is where it changed. Here he pushed his legs out and pushed against the of the man's hand. Here he lifted his blade forward like a strike from a lance. Here, he thought of his battle with the Count. There… he remembered the peace the Lord made, for him to enjoy.
His blade cut into the heart of the vampire.
Light poured forward.
"A vampire… so much like a bat." Sasaki spoke as the beast writhed above him. "Compared to a swallow, its neither faster nor larger. You best at least prove your stronger." He pushed forward more, and saw the trickles of the luminescent bloom from the maw of the monster. "But I proved I am better."
The creature did not let out a cry, but whimper. A whimper of a dying monster as it was swallowed by the light its darkness fled from. Sasaki felt the resistance of his blade fall, and the back of the hand he was on fade to nothing. His sandals clapped as he settled on the ground again, watching still as the darkness of the monster was overcome with light.
In little time, in a less than impressive show, the beast returned to wherever it crawled from, and Sasaki was left isolated in those ruins of the battle. He surveyed the destruction he and the beast had wrought, measuring the waste that was created. Crevices fit for hiding within, the upturned land fit for children to climb, and the ruin of any farm lands for a generation to come.
"Unfortunate, but suitable." Sasaki drawled, lifting his blade up to measure in the sky. "And not a drop of blood left." His blind shined in the little light the darkened sky allowed.
"I pray that the Lord that gave me that light, overcomes the monsters that are left."
"It shouldn't be long for him." Solomon dared to laugh at the expression of the quartet across from him. Ritsuka would admit, given how they thought they were superior to the Lord, it was a sardonic sort of joy, seeing their spirits crushed. "I'm sure he's saying something right now just along the lines of… 'Vampires in this land's lore is but a bat. Compared to a swallow, its neither faster nor larger. You best at least prove your stronger.' Yes, that sounds right."
"Are you mocking us?" The witch dared to say. "You dare… to belittle what we have gone through and endured! You foolish arrogant naïve fools!"
"Fools twice? That's hardly a becoming insult." The… wise king went on. "The Director of Chaldea has more scornful insults, though she has had a burdensome life."
"I have had a BURDENSOME LIFE!" The Saber roared and cut through the air again. Longinus took his footing with the butt of his lance. It didn't open him up for a quick defeat, no matte how Ritsuka prayed for it.
The man pushed his sword into the ground and deflected the Lancer's blow with his scabbard, before twisting away on the ground. It was a twist that ended with the ornate tiling being tilled by the speed he took off at, as fast as the spearman could turn his head. Turned enough for the blade to scratch up the helm, and then retreat before his polearm could impale the son of Cu. He took stance a distance away no worse for wear, though frothing mad.
"All you arrogant kind have endured relate to only emotions of guilt and despair. I have trained for my life to show greatness, and had it sacrificed for another! By my father!" His blade aimed at Jesus. "The same as him!"
"If you were the same as the Lord, then you would throw down your blade and beg for the mercy of God." Longinus returned. "Do this, and I will forgive your slights, as Jesus has forgiven me."
"You dare to think I'd fall for such obvious folly!"
"I would forgive you," Jesus spoke instead. It did not settle the rage of them.
"Be SILENT!" The Saber made to move again. Longinus did not follow.
WHAM! The Lord caught the blade once more. But this time, he did not force the Saber to retreat. No, even as Conlaoch tried to jump away, the Lord held onto the glowing saber, forcing the swordsman to hold.
"Release me! Release me cur! You foul spawn!"
"I will not release you, for you will only swim back into the embrace of the wicked." Jesus pulled on the blade, and it made Conlaoch rage. He thrashed his arms to pull back, feet taking no positions and attempting to rip the blade out of the Lord's hands, but it did no good. For no wicked forces, not even the devil, could make Jesus waver. "You were not given what you were promised, for you were promised much by a wicked soul."
"Shut up! Be silent! Be… Cease!" He gripped the blade with all that he had, and Ritsuka knew the term from Olga's rant. The term for having the Servant's strength fill the weapon, and it glowing as if a flare ready to explode. He knew it… but not confidently enough to say it. "Do not speak of my mother and her sister, you know them not!"
"I know all that my father has created. He has shared as much with me. I know your past as well as your future." Jesus reached forward to grasp the man's arm. Conlaoch screamed as if he were burned. "Do you wonder why I am here and have not harmed you? Do you not question why I ask you to come to me, yet carry no weapons?"
"Because you are a deceitful cur!"
"It is because I love you, and you are lost." Jesus did not relent. "And as I wish for all those who are lost to me, I desire for you to return. Will you not return to me, Conlaoch?"
"I never was with you! Never among the Shadowlands or in my father's camp! Not during my birth or my death! You were NEVER and… AND NEVER BE WITH ME!" He wasn't making any sense. Ritsuka stared at the near frothing Irishman.
TWANG! BANG! And because of it, he fell over as the sound of steel and claws impaled against one another. He turned to see Longinus holding up his lance, the shadow of the Count looming over him. The Master recalled what happened before, in the ruined town where Marie and Mozart died. Longinus did not endure well against him.
He thought the worst when the Lancer dropped his weapon.
But hope proved its worth when the Count followed the dropped weapon, to land in the fist of the Roman.
It had the Avenger flipping back, a bolt of lightning dressed in darkness, appearing beside the dragon witch. The woman scowled at them all, none more so than his Lord, holding down the Saber without effort. It was as it should be.
For in Jesus, all things were possible.
"How the hell… can't you hit him?" Kadoc mused dejectedly. "You're faster… than thought."
"Ahaaa… I am," the Count relented. "But I faced a man who was wielding a blade of light, and now I am before a Saint in the shadow of his King." His grin was broad, but his lips trembled. "I would never face any of my adversaries in their homes, not unless I was sure it was asunder." His eyes burned like the fires he wished to see.
"Then let me burn them," the fake Jeanne moved to comply. "I will tear them with what I have and make them rue standing before us! False hope and fake morals. I'll burn it all!" She raised her sword high.
"No." It was beaten like a lever. A moment of shock appeared over her face, Longinus drawing back his lance. Ritsuka didn't even see him swing it. "You will bring no fires of hell before the Lord. I've seen him fall to them once. I will not allow you to remake that horror."
He didn't literally. I had… witnessed the death of Christ, but he didn't witness his decent into Hell… unless he did. Ritsuka knew that, unlike other saints, the lamentations of Longinus were near lost to time, or never recorded. He was the one to profess Jesus was the Son of God, and then left the army to be a follower of his Word.
But being a follower… before God, it meant something.
"He's right though," Solomon spoke. "A count must be well educated, and he is versed enough in crafts and arts to know that before Jesus, Longinus stands by those who know his name. Know him best, bless him, and give him the advantages that he otherwise could not have." He did? "It is the same reason the World brought us Mozart and Marie, the French in these lands, where their legends are tied the greatest. There… power is far greater."
Was that how it worked? It sounded right, as if Olga had taught it to him before. If she had, he'd be scolded for not remembering it, but it did sound right. If nothing else, he could believe that a Saint was stronger when the Lord Christ was beside them.
"You may be native to these lands, but the people here do not worship your legend." The Wise King continued. "And for it, your story will end here." He raised his hand and let the rings click together. "I'd offer you time for prayers, but I'll accept your curses instead."
BANG! It was such a sudden sound, it was a wonder nothing was set off. It still managed to grab the attention. Enough to look over at the traitor, grasping at stone and pulling himself up.
"NO! This… isn't it!" Kadoc yelled out. It was difficult for Ritsuka to yell how he had the energy to scream. It was even harder to tell what was happening or more specifically, what he was doing. A hand with missing digits scratched at his ruined shirt, grabbing a rip in the useless garment, and flexing at it. He pulled, an arm already broken and abused, and tore his shirt from his body. "It WON'T end with… dumb LUCK!"
"Be it good or ill, it is a lousy man who sees luck as the source of his predicament." The lecture came from the Wise King. "You would best-"
"Shut up, ROMANI!" Using his old name… middle name, silence the king. "You don't know… you… none… none of you know… not even her…" His eyes turned towards the witch. "You don't know… how I got here."
"Actually, we do," Ritsuka offered. "We know all about it. Even-" He stopped as well, Kadoc interrupting him. Not with words though.
With laughter.
Dark, rumbling, laughter. Filled with blood and crushed bones. It was a sickening sound as much as the sight of the man was alone.
"No… you know how I left Chaldea… not… how I was forced… here." Forced? "Here… by the gift of… the Lord." The malice with which he spoke made Ritsuka shudder.
"The Lord gave you no command to be here. You have turned and worked against his will." Longinus spoke resolutely.
"Against the will of God… on high… I have." He bent over with the words. And rose with a new darkness in his gaze. "But for the one below… I have much left to show!" Like a door, he swung.
And showed the pentagram etched into his back. Bitter, red, and glowing with a heat that made the hottest of days a breeze, yet chilled him worse than any winter wind. Ritsuka knew Solomon used no magic, but the sight had him gasping.
"With the Supreme Gift of Magic's Origin…" Kadoc commanded. "By the Power of the Lord BELOW! Alter of Jeanne D'arc, FULFILL YOUR HATEFUL VOWS!"
The blemished ruin on his back burst into flames.
Ritsuka could only hear Kadoc laugh as it surrounded him.
Author's Note: Thank you again to those who review, for praise or concern. I am more than happy to answer questions or thoughts on where this is going.
I CAN say that I am trying to write this with as much detail as possible, sticking to characters, but I feel my weakness in characterization is showing. Hopefully for some it is more obvious, though if I am making it easy to lose track of Servants, I do apologize for that.