Ritsuka was blind. It was impossible to tell why.

Was it because of the fire that was splitting the air? Was it because he saw the pentagram on the back of the traitor? Was it because the sky had darkened to the point where night was bright? Or was it because he was thrown back by the hand of Solomon, making him slide until he hit the far wall. All of it was happening at once, and he had no idea where to focus.

He was supposed to be the Master of Chaldea, as Olga said, but he wasn't even able to see what was happening. Not when so much had happened so quickly. Even given a moment, he wasn't confident he'd be able to describe any one incident. It was just… too much.

"Kadoc… KADOC!" The Wise King roared from the center of the room. "What have you DONE!?"

He wasn't given an answer, not one that Ritsuka could hear. Instead, pushing himself up and rapidly scrubbing at his eyes, he saw an answer that made no sense.

"I've done… what was needed! Survival, restoration, all of it! Chaldea could never do what I can NOW!" The man roared from across the hall. It had to be a roar, but Ritsuka couldn't tell exactly how load it was.

Not when he was competing with fires that bloomed and threw themselves around the hall. What was the witch making before was nothing compared to the entropy and chaos that was being filtered through the air now. His ears rang from the crackle, and he thought once Solomon was using his magic again, because his breath was being stolen from him.

But he realized after a moment it was too much like the time he saw to the burning of the palms, and he did not heed the father's warning of distance. Smoke and a lack of air choked him then. It suffocated him now. He fell back, scratching at his throat.

He was saved a moment later, painfully. The Wise King was putting his hand to his throat, glowing with the power of his rings. It allowed the Chaldean Catholic to take in an almost greedy amount of air, but one that fought with the tightening of his chest.

He was a man fearful of God, but now he understood the fear of tight places. It was as if he was being forced in one.

More specifically, like an oven. And he was a course being tossed to the side.

"JEESUS CHRIIIIST!" The cry that rose above the fire was a demon's wail. A wail that out did anything he had witnessed in Fuyuki. No cackling of demons or mockery of the Servants there compared to this! It was a head shaking sound, one that made his already crumbled legs quiver. And worse than that still, he was now able to see what had caused it.

FRWWOOOOMMM! Namely as it directed its fury at the Son of God.

The fires turned into a tunnel of torment, barreling down upon the Son of God. The son of Cu took a look upon the pyre and was gone in a flash, much like his blade, but Jesus looked up and endured. Even from across the once gilded hall, Ritsuka had to shield his eyes. It did nothing to cover him from the height.

Now his head felt as if it were pounding, the awfully familiar sensation of Solomon using his gifted craft again. It was a graceful balm to his skin, keeping the worst of the licking fires from him, but at the cost of a stable head. It was necessary, and a distant part of his self knew that, as rather a sore head than charred flesh, but it did little good, especially as his soul shook from the sight he witnessed.

It was appealed only slightly to see Jesus emerge from the explosion of heat unharmed, for he was now contending with the witch. The woman who had both a flame of fire and pits of hell at her side. She had to, for the fake Jeanne was glowing in a way that no angel or being of God would dare to mimic. It was an expression of fury that belonged only to those who invented their wrongs, and placed blame on those beyond reproach.

"FAILED GOD! FALLEN SON!" She was a demon.

And a fallen man laughed.

"KADOC!" Solomon roared again. "Answer me! What did you do! Who did you contract with!?" Contract?

"It's obvious who! You're the supposed wise king of Israel!" The beaten Master yelled from across the fire. Even with a quivering body, Ritsuka forced himself to stare at the man who was… no longer as beaten as he recognized. Maybe his features were blurring with his vision. Maybe the heat was making him appear more whole than he was. "I know you bear a mark so much like his, and he is so much wiser than you!"

Solomon may have known the answer, but he didn't answer. He didn't even cast more magic on Ritsuka. Instead, he twisted, held up a hand, and grabbed at something.

In the moment that followed, the claw of darkness was there, nearly ripping him in two. A fallen count laughed over the fire.

"AHAHAH! That was close. It would have been a fine moment to steal his life." The man was gone in a crack of lightning, appearing not too far away. The fire bloomed around them. "Care to repeat your reflexes? My teacher once taught that even a Master will fail his grandest tricks if tested enough." He held out his cloak, showing the shower of darkness. It did not dissipate even under the room curling fires around them. "I'm confident I have the time to spare."

"He's right, too." Kadoc continued on. "All the time in the world. That's what this contract has earned me. The rest of history can burn, but so long as I play my part, I'll be keeping my place in it. On top, celebrated, and letting everyone else who dared to look down on me burn." His grin matched the witch's and the count.

Long, sharp, and with fire around him…

Fire… independent of the blooming flames of the witch.

"You'll make yourself a slave! You already have!" Solomon shouted back. "And the Lord may even be too late to save you!"

"It was too late to save me the moment I met a real Master!" Kadoc's shout came with a pillar of fire. It was enough to grab Ritsuka's attention, dragging it back to the witch.

Watching as her dark jeweled blade ripped the air as if it were a log, slow and with a churning heat. The ceiling, or what was left of it, high above, curled and turned to ash. It rained its soot through the fires and smoke, decorating Ritsuka. He saw the walls bend under the same force, and the throne that she doubtlessly once sat on turn to a puddle of useless metal. The sight of it made him sweat, knowing that not for the magic of Solomon, he would have nothing to see. Though he still had little air to breath.

It still was not enough to make him fear the fires, as he saw Jesus enduring them as if they were the mild winds of the desert. A hand raised, pushing against the offensive metal, and staring forth with the surety only God on high could offer. The woman he fought did not enjoy the battle.

A glow of a blade behind him, however, nearly made Ritsuka scream.

TWANG! Until Jesus caught it without a thought.

"You both bare blades to me, and release your deepest regrets before me, but why do you cast blame to me?" Even in the thralls of what could only be seen as hell, he gently questioned. "Do you fear I may offer you no comfort."

"I KNOW YOU'LL OFFER ONLY LIES!" The witch lied in turn. "LIES YOUR FATHER FED ME! LIES TO PUT ME TO THE PYRE LIES THAT YOU WILL BURN FOR! BURN!" Just hours ago, Ritsuka knew he would have started to feel those fires within his mind.

The threat, the sight, and the smell of the burning. That… and the sight of the woman, dressed like glistening smoke, screaming as she produced what only a truly risen demon from hell could manage to topple. Fires that darkened the sky an immutable black, exposing the entirety of the castle to the land around, and muting the war of the men and monsters to a dark whimper beneath the cackling of the flames. It was a sight that made him once catatonic.

Now, he looked to Jesus, and he prayed.

Even as lightning crackled next to him.

"No more of that!" The Count laughed, hand already reeled back. If Solomon made a point of interfering Ritsuka did not see it. He did not have reason to fire.

TWA-BOOM! For a moment later, the shine of a spear impaled the point he once stood on. The ground's charred corpse separated at the display, and a moment later, an armored man retrieved his lance.

"Terrify the boy no longer. He has already sworn himself to God." Longinus commanded. "For one who fled his light, you will not darken his doorstep."

"AHAHAH! DARKEN!? How am I mean to do that now!?" The Count mockingly asked with spread arms. "Here where the fire blooms so long and tall, that no shadows can dare to hide!"

"By forcing others to shut their eyes. It is why Satan suits himself in the pits of hell. Entice with warmth, blind with flame, and scorn with embers." The Lance ripped through the air, severing pillars of the fire that screamed above them. They were cut like wood. "To us who adhere to the will of God, our gaze cannot be turned."

"No? I bet it can." Kadoc spoke on again. He held up hand, the one that used to have Master Seals on it. He used three, Ritsuka knew he did. Olga and Da Vinci made it very clear that three Command Seals was all that could be used in quick succession. After that, you needed time. "Saber, do you want to distract a son who succeeded his father?!"

Rather than a word, a cry resounded. The partial relief of the fire Ritsuka had was shaken, replaced with another force of pain, as a glowing blade swept over their heads. Solomon was quick to use his magic, and the pain that Ritsuka felt was doubtlessly the toll of it.

"AHAHA! Go on, wise king! Use your magic to slay a betrayed son. Kill your Master with your magic!" The Count mocked. "Or do not, and endure the sight of me taking it from him."

"You will not approach as I stand here!"

"AHA! You cannot stand again me! Not when you are so far from God!" The man vanished in darkness again.

He reappeared to put a hand to the Roman helm of Longinus, slamming him down with a blow that had Ritsuka swinging back again. He almost fell over, pushing against the wall behind him. Only to realize a moment later the walls of the hall were already gone, turned to ash by the torrent of flames.

And the 'wall' had him around the throat.

"RITSUKA!"

"No! Damn you!"

A pair of voice yelled, but he was not able to answer them. He was already pained from the magic of Solomon shielding him. Now he had no guard as a hand, missing digits but strong as a vice, held him from behind.

"Terrifying, isn't it?" A voice whispered in his ear. His eyes swiveled to see who it was. He knew it had to be Kadoc.

But beaten, broken, and lowly as the Master was before, he did not recall glint of red in the man's gaze. Nor the crack of hi skin that looked to be bleeding black. Nor… the sharpness of his teeth. The fires had to be getting to him. They had to be.

Fallen as the Master was, he didn't believe he was this demonic!

"I've been around a lot of people who want to take advantage of me. All of my life." Kadoc began to hiss at him. "Enough for me to develop a good sense of what people are thinking, knowing what they want. You? You want to know why I'm looking like this. You don't care about what I'm thinking, not while your Lord is in danger."

"Get away from him!" Ritsuka felt a churning in his stomach, and the laughter of the Master holding him was deep. He heard the echoes of a blade over his head.

"Stay low king! Or I will take your head as my father took mine!"

"He stabbed you! Don't forget your own death you horse-screwing moron!"

"The wise slander when they are about to fall," the traitor tried to sound wise. "I suppose that is why your Lord speaks. He can't fight, I can see that. It means there only needs to be one well placed weapon to slay him. Just one, and I believe there is one nearby."

His head was turned for him, looking at Longinus. Him, and his lance, wrestling with the corrupted Count.

"You see it now, I know you do." The demonic man whispered to him, even as his hand burned Ritsuka's.

"You'll… not…" He tried to talk, but fire, smoke, and pain muted him. The long thin gaze of the red-eyed Kadoc stopped him.

"Don't worry, you get to watch as those who swore their life to you die. Watch as you let them die because you were took weak, and the God who promised you strength leaves you with nothing." He was laughing. He could hear it. "So go on, watch, weep, so I can enjoy myself."

He would not weep. Ritsuka knew he would not. He would watch, because he knew he had to. But there was another act he was determined to do.

Ritsuka prayed. Even as Kadoc, the wicked and fallen Master had him by the throat, holding him up to watch the torment, he prayed. If the true Jeanne could pray in the final moments of her life, so could he.

There were those who needed his prayers.

Monsters. All of them. Monsters of men, just as the Romans had said.

It was a phrase used for the Gauls before, and then for the many rebels that stuck out at the edges of the Empire. Those that would commit the worst of atrocities for little more reason than mockery. No gain of loyalty nor assurance of land, but the pillaging of farms to enjoy the women, and the burning of bunkered villages merely to watch embers rise.

They were those whose goal was destruction through violence, not growth through conquering. At the worst of the Roman Empire he had seen, they had lost sight of what they wished to be, but they did not kill for joyful means. Prisoners were judged before death. Even the Lord Jesus Christ, unjust and twisted as it was, had Pilate give rights to his sentence.

He faced no such men now.

Now, he faced monsters.

TWANG! TWANG! His lance was bowed under the blows of the Count, striking with a fury he thought belonging only to monsoon winds. Each blow he deflected still scratched at his cloth and armor, marring it worse than the Count Vlad had before. He was barely escaping death blows with the twist of his head and bending of knee, trained through his time in the Empire.

But it was not enough to vanquish the man who was surrounded by unholy fire. Not while Longinus had to see his Lord keep at bay a Saber and corrupted Saint. It was knowledge to the Avenger as well, watching him laugh above the cackle of demons.

"THIS! This is it!" He howled. "One who loves GOD! But who must bare witness to the strength of those who grow in themselves!" Longinus did not understand the rant. He did not care to.

He leaned back as the man's claw reached over him again, then gasped as pillars of darkness bloomed from the clenched fist. His back hit the ground, narrowly avoiding what would have been a deathly blow. It saved him little, as the foot of the Monte Cristo Count connected with him, sending him flying so much like a shepherd's slingshot. The wall broke under him, but he recovered quickly.

"AHAHA! That samurai of the foreign lands was faster, and he had the light in his blade." Sasaki did? Longinus had to grin at it. "Where is your strength, Christ Killer? Does it now show unless you take the blood of your savior?"

"I would not know." He responded simply. "I did not make use of it in life. But I do find myself needing to thank you." The man's laughter caught. "To hear of a curious man accepting God, truly that is worth a second life."

"AHAHA! You think he accepted god? NO! He accepted power!" The Count struck a pose like a man challenging a mountain. "Just as I have! Power you stole!" Lightning bloomed from his arms, mixing with the darkened flames of the witch. Longinus furrowed his brow.

His lance stuck the ground, in time before the roaring might of the Count came at him. His muscles spasmed as if he'd worked without water, and the pained cry that came from him was everlasting. Such was the laughter that the Count released. Pleasure from his pain, monstrous. Longinus survived the blow, only because of the accursed lance.

"I stole… nothing."

"Is that what you tell yourself? AHA! I know of what I've stolen, and I use it to the fullest it is capable of!" He vanished into shadows. Longinus prepared himself again. He stuck a foot back pouncing forward. It got him out of range of a dark pillar rising from the ground.

It drove him directly into the fist of the swift man. His sharp grin and burning eyes looked at him, Longinus feeling his mind rattle from the blow.

"The power of a demon, buried in the pit of a cavern by the Abbe. I used it to reek vengeance on all who wronged me!" He was gone again. Longinus raised his lance, taking the blow that came from his side. He lifted his arm, shielding him from the claw that came. It protected his neck, but it dug into his arm, drawing blood. The Count's face drew just as close. "You did the same for Jesus, taking his blood for that Lance."

"Through ignorance!" Longinus shouted. He extended his arms, throwing the man off, but it only had the former Edmond Dantes cackling again. As soon as he regained is footing, Longinus threw out his lance, ready to pierce him.

It passed through shadows, and lightning crackled down its form. He grit his teeth at the weaker, but still painful, sensation.

"Children learn in ignorance, but they know what they have at the end. Do you say you are lesser than a child!? I thought you a child of God!" The man continued to mock him. It had the Saint gritting his teeth in defiance of the words. It only made the cackling grow in volume like the crackle of the flames. "Be it true that you are one of his flock, admit you are his killer! Admit you stole the life of Jesus!"

"I already know my sin!" The Roman roared out. "I killed him! For an empire that was wasting away, I slew the Son of God! But I swore to no demon!" He held his ground. "My sin is ignorance!"

"Your sin is desperation!" The Count argued back. "Mine is vengeance! That akin to God!" The words stuck Longinus. "Just as the abbe Friar has said, Jesus christ is an Avenging Spirit, he who will make the wicked fear the Lord above! AHAHAHA! And I put such fear in my betrayers!" The words gave the Roman Soldier pause.

That pause gave the wicked man an opening.

An opening that let claw and boots pummel him so much like the first days of his time in the army. He was sent back and right, then thrown left against the ground. It cracked under the weight of his helmet, and the sure metal dented. His lither armor was shattering under the blows, leaving him exposed to the fires and crisp air.

By the moment he found his footing, his vision was spinning. When it corrected, I was in time to see the Count hanging below him. Upside down like a monstrous bat, grinning like the demon the traitorous Master had become, and swinging up with a vicious claw. He leaned back just to avoid it.

It still left room for the claws to grab his helm, and then rip it from his head.

He didn't gasp as he it was taken from him, but he grunted as the foot of the man connected with his skull.

Longinus slammed into the ground once more, vision shaken and body near broken by the blow. Without a helm to hold against, his skull felt like the floor. Cracked and broken. He was able to think, however, and that meant he was not dead. Only pained. Pained and awake enough to hear the man cackling over him, holding the former vestige of his Roman life.

"AHAHAH! And for proof! You hold still the helm of your corrupted kingdom." He showed the bronze helm. "Who wares what they swear to turn against? Why hold dear what you say is wrong?" It was not a question he had the breath to answer. "It is an answer the Abbe taught to me. Do you know it, dear Saint?"

Darkness swirled as the Count hung over him, grinning with the fires of hell.

"Because you hold it more dear than the words you speak. Because you desire to hold close what cannot be taken." A claw danced over his chest. "Better to hold onto your solid past, and speak of a fluid future. Such is the truth of weak men." Longinus bite his tongue.

"GRAGH!" Then threw his arm up. The man vanished to escape the blow, laughing with joy at the display.

"Yes! Let loose your anger! Show me the fury that God has bestowed!" He let on. "Let me see the JUST RAGE of a SAINT! AHAHAHHAHAH!" Embers followed in his wake. Longinus stood as fast as he could. He reached for his blade, ready to cut down the enemy of the empire!

…

…

Then he stopped.

Across the flames, he saw his Lord. Behind the mad Count, holding back a sword of glowing fire, and a mockery of a Saint with a burning blade, he saw his God. Jesus Christ. He stood without pain or fear, among a pit that would have any other either desperate for aid or professing their strength.

But he stood without complaint or boast. Even in the thralls of hell's fury, he did not show more than what was necessary. He was a patient and pious man, one belonging to his Father, and whom brought peace with vision alone. This… this was the man that he had killed, with the very lance he held now.

Longinus met the eyes of his Lord. In it he saw truth.

The Count was not speaking the truth. He was riling him for weakness.

The slow calming breath he released was lost among the fire.

"Giving up? So quickly? AHAHAH! How-"

"You're wrong, Edmond." The name made the Count stop. "For all that I did, I stole nothing. If it was asked of me, I would return this lance to Jesus and offer my blood in compensation. But he has never asked of me for my life, even as I have offered it."

He smiled upon the shadow cloaked man. The Count stared back miserably.

"I did what the Lord required, and I was burdened by his command. But it is a burden that shows my worth." He stood tall in hell. "For what would the Lord burden but one who is capable of strength?"

The man vanished again. He reappeared in a bolt of lightning, arm reeled back and ready to deliver a fatal blow. Longinus knew it, and he saw it. It was why he was glad he loosened the hold on his lance. It took the position back as the polearm slid down his open palm.

SHINK!

It made it easier to stab upwards, more like a lithe dagger than a long weapon.

It was not what the Count expected. The bloody cry he loosed was proof of it.

"I suspect you are like the monsters of the demon below, as you were keen to admit your power came from a demon." His voice was low as he spoke. "But know that I need to make no crests or cries to the Lord to denounce the evil of your powers. Not while I hold the blood of Christ. The blood and purity, that takes you now."

The Count snarled at him, hands gripping the head of the lance with the clear intent to pull it out. He tried before hissing in further pain. The steam could have been missed in the smoke of the fire, but Longinus did not miss it. The man could not touch it.

"You served a Lord who promised you power and abandoned the abbe that declared your path of vengeance wrong." His lance adjusted, twisting the head of the spear against the heart of the Count. "Your prayers were answered with what you needed, but you chose to use them for what you wanted."

"It… was… just!" The man hissed at him, darkness crawling along his hands, scurrying up the pole of Longinus. "Just for… the life taken, lost… RUINED!" It was a death cry, one filled with blood. Tainted with fury.

"I did not and will not deny the lack of justice your had," the Roman went on. "But in taking the whip from the hand of God, you took yourself from his sight. You worked in darkness, and became one with it." The lance dug deeper. "And though I took the life of Christ, I never have done less than praise his name." Longinus had peace as he spoke.

SHINK! SHINK! Even as the Count abandoned his weapon and went for his own chest.

Claws sunk into him, and he felt his lungs quiver at the sensation. The desire to gasp, then cough, and loose his stomach in protest. It was all there, but he held through it. Longinus only stared at the burning eyes of the Count, of Edmond Dantes, and watched as they fell from raging to embers. He smiled, content to see some fire dim through his actions.

"Fool… fool… you'll… perish…"

"Did you not hear my Master?" Longinus asked. "I am a Saint. Therefore, I already have." Painful as it was, he raised and put a hand to the Count's shoulder. In a room fit for hell, it was cold and tingling. "I ask God to show you mercy. May the Abbe find you in the next life." The Count looked up, and prepared to howl.

Longinus ripped his lance up. The man was speared through, hat rising over his strangely hair. The fire in his eyes were snuffed out, and his form limped in the hands of the Saint. He was held there for a moment, just one, before his body began to flake away. Darkness was what he vanished into, now those same shadows were claiming him again.

The lance did not fall from his hands as he let the man turn to a form finer than dust, and vanish in the roar of the flames. Longinus realized he could not hear them. He could barely see. The pain was too great and the loss of blood too much.

But he was still able to hold the sight of God. He did not look away.

"Oh my Lord," Longinus spoke simply, peacefully, as he looked to Jesus Christ. The man held off a mad Son and ruined Saint, with the patience he knew him to have in life.

Surrounded by the fury of those who loathed him, and he had not a snarl nor comment of disdain. Nothing but tears of sorrow in his eyes, not even the taint of a single furrowed brow. Only patience and wanting, wanting for the souls lost.

"Truly you are the Son of God." He listed easily. "And truly I have been blessed… to see you again."

Somewhere, beyond his vision, he could hear his Master screaming. Perhaps out of concern or need, but he did not turn to the boy. He watched only Jesus Christ. Watching as the man turned to regard him, the benevolent ruler gazing at him as hell rose around them. In his life, Longinus was not blessed to see the Lord smile. He was tortured before his presence and then laid to rest when it was done.

Now, he was given the immortal pleasure of the Lord God smiling upon him.

"My many blessings are possible because of you, Longinus." He was easily heard through the roars of battle. "Rest well, and I will see you again in my father's kingdom."

No balm of earth nor peace of mind could compare to such a simple phrase, spoken by the Son of God.

Longinus smiled as the darkness of the Count began to claim him. He had no fear.

For he saw the tunnel of light.

They vanished like the others. Like Marie and Mozart, Longinus was taken in a flitter of magic. Like Marie he saw, there was a smile on his face, even as destruction reigned the lands about him. It had to be like Mozart, for it could not be imagined the musician would wear any expression other than humorous joy.

Yet Ritsuka had no joy at the sight of the famed Saint vanishing, only peace in knowing he was returning home. If not else, he had forced the Count to go with him. A man who swore upon a demon to take lives, and he was undone by the weapon that had slain the Son of God. Or at least confirmed his death.

But both were gone, and he could not say if it was for the better.

"Gone again, dead without… another thought." The boy laughed as if it were a joke to share. "It would be a shame, but… the Count was always meant to die. At least another… tricked Saint fell with him."

"Tricked?" Ritsuka managed to ask.

"Tricked." The echo came from Conlaoch. "Tricked, deceived, lied to. The same as everyone who follows a God who… who esposses peace and love but then twists it for when it suits him best. Like any father that tries to make his Son a part of his legend, without care for what his Son will become." The glow of the man's blade flared again.

TWANG! BANG! It was deflected as easily and deftly by Jesus as before, and in combination with the mad witch throwing herself at him as well. Ritsuka sucked on nothing at the display, the heat of the flames still playing with him. He pushed it away.

"Now there are two kings… and one can't act." Kadoc began again. Red eyes turned at Ritsuka. "A shame.. really… it is." He held up his hand. "Conlaoch, distract him." Ritsuka whipped his head to see what was happening.

Before having to grit his teeth as pain took him once more. Again, the Saber was trying to take his life, and again Solomon had to act to save him. The Wise King may have said something, but the ring in his ears was dulling the noise around him. Sarcastic or not, he knew it was nothing short of an insult intended for the Son of Cu.

The colors and flames blurred in that moment, with the power of the Wise King, used as minorly as he believed Solomon would allow, kept the glowing blade from him. Jesus continued to push back the fake Jeanne, and though Ritsuka had no fear for the life of his lord, he remembered through delirium what Kadoc said, and meant.

Just as he was standing over him.

"Servants face servants… Masters battle. And we, matter more." His grin was toothy, twisted, and framed too well in fire. Even a broken fist reeling back next to him. "Then I more than you." Ritsuka had been in fights before.

WHAM! It didn't keep him from suffering the blow to his head. He leaned back to lessen it, just as he was taught before, but it was still a fist smashing into him, while his lungs felt tight and bones like they were being scratched. He fell back without breath to grunt, and had Kadoc looming over him as he did.

"As soon as you die… they go. As soon as I die… others go." He grinned again. "Something tells me… you won't kill me. Too much faith in a big guy above you. Not enough… for what you can do." Ritsuka focused on his breath for a moment, the pain of the fist honestly dulling the force of Solomon's draw.

"I don't need more faith." He managed to push out. "Faith in God, is all I need."

"It's all the cowardly need. Have faith in yourself." The boy bent and put a knee to his chest. It wasn't much with the already constricting force of the magic's efforts. "I did… and I survived. Others die, all the time… too often."

"I survived with God. I'll survive this." He dared to stare at the red eyes of a fallen Master. A traitor. He had not seen such a red gaze before. The Lancer of Fuyuki did not compare. Cu had the eyes of blood, the smile of a wolf, but he had promise and devotion to him and Mash.

Kadoc's gaze… it was that of blood and fire, with only the desire to see both spread.

"Repent, or you will not survive." They were words that Ritsuka remembered from a church's teachings to the wicked. One that the priest would later tell him he regretted saying without ceremony to those near, as people are quicker to turn when threatened then ask how to be saved.

The traitor above him was just the same. The calm fleeing him quickly.

"REPENT!? What do you think you can do to ME!?" The possessed man rose. "I've been given the power to act! You have nothing but a God that answers whims before prayers! I have the abilities to burn all! You!? You can't even make me flinch!" He reared his hand back as if to show. Be it the senses Olga had increased in him before or watching the fights for the past few days, he saw it coming.

Ritsuka twisted his head and let the curled fist slam into the ground behind him. It shattered it, ringing his ears and having stone beat at him. It felt like a gun was shot next to his head, and once more he was reminded of his desire to stay in the halls of the church.

But those walls were meant to stave off the allure of sin. The embodiment of that was hovering above him.

With fangs that dripped and a grin that cracked his face.

"Hiding behind the coat of a king that abandoned his throne, and letting your Lord simply hold off a pair of Servants… you think you can challenge me!? I worked my entire life for a moment like this. To be able to hold power beyond anything else!" Kadoc lowered himself until slit eyes stared at Ritsuka. "Where have you been while I toiled my life away?"

"In a church, praying." It was nothing to hide. "If not there… surviving in the streets, by the grace of God."

The answer made the boys eyes roll. Not in a sarcastic manner, the same way Ritsuka had seen the many masses do when he attempted to speak to them about the Lord on high, no matter the season. But as only a possessed figure could. The eyeballs twitching as they diverted around his skull, looking in unequal directions, and showing the veins in the back of his head. It was as sickening as the hellfire around them.

"Prayers… faith… you put your hope in things that will never help you!" The clawed hand grabbed his neck. Ritsuka gasped on nothing. "You think faith will save you!? You think HE will help you!? Call to him if you can! DO IT!"

"I… don't…" Ritsuka tried to speak, but a lack of air made speech difficult.

"Don't what? Don't care!?" Kadoc let loose with a vicious growl. "No, you just don't know what it's worth!" What did that mean? "You… like all the others… just act. You don't think! You do, and then presume. Me… I think. I know. I…" He stopped and trailed off again. It was suddenly clear why.

Jesus had moved, effortlessly as he staved off the witch attacking him, and was beside Conlaoch and Solomon. The Chaldean Master could hardly follow what was happening, but he could see what was unfolding. He stared on.

"You will not pursue this king, Conlaoch," Jesus spoke, holding the blade. "I will bear your rage. Just as I will take your sins."

"I have no sins! I'VE DONE NO WRONG!" By the will of God or wrath of the Devil, the Son of Cu ripped his glowing blade from the flexed fingers of Jesus. The Lord did not look perturbed, even turning from the man, and waving his hand, brushing aside a new gout of fire razed at him. "How dare you claim I should have no anger!"

"I will console your anger. I will hold your rage. My yoke has held the burdens of the world, and those have yet to be relieved." Blue eyes, serene as the covered blue sky, looked to Ritsuka. "No peace is found in rage. Some furies are meant to be unleashed. I will be here to swallow your worst." Ritsuka stared at his Lord, unable to ask a needed question.

"GRAAAAGH!"

"HYAAAAAAGH!"

The pair of lost souls threw themselves at Jesus, a blade of magnificent light and demonic fire slashing at him. Neither lay claimed to his flesh or robe. One hand pushed a flaming blade back, while the other swayed in the air. The motion was simple, so much so that Ritsuka thought of Mozart for a moment as he moved his baton.

But the force of the simple gesture had the flames spinning away, and the witch Jeanne falling away with it. Pillars of fire that would turn any structure in Tokyo into an inferno of little hope to survive, and he pushed them away with what the wind couldn't hope to match.

"Your anger is mine to bear, but you mustn't nurture it. Such a thing is poison to the soul, for you were made to love, not hate."

"You don't know WHAT I was MADE FOR!" The blue-haired man shouted back. He ripped the blade back, making it appear more than swing through the air, each time trying to take the head of Jesus. Each time, the Lord's hand was there to keep it away. He never grunted nor gave motion of discomfort. To him, it had to be like consoling a lost soul.

No one was better at that than the Lord Christ.

"I know what you are made for. I know as I know what all of my Father's design were made for." His came up, and like worrying about a lost child, Jesus Christ ran his hand over the man's face. "Your soul has been sown with doubts. Ideas made aside my Father's wishes."

"Then its all the more reason to KEEP THEM!" He made to bit the fingers of the Lord. He pulled his hand back, letting him chomp on nothing. "Because they are MINE! Unlike the LIFE stolen from ME!"

"Your life was stolen from you, as many others have been. Even a child that I saw to heaven not long ago." Ritsuka stared at the man. Jesus looked towards him.

No, he looked over him. He knew who he was gazing at. The only one to spend so long mourning the girl who had saved his life, and had adored Christ as he had, before she was taken.

"A life that was kept near completely from love. An experiment, a footnote in a story for another who the world will cherish more. That is all she will be remembered as. It is Truth." He smiled, and the blooming fires and pits were cooled by him. "And yet she smiles from Heaven, praying for the safety of those to follow her."

Ritsuka dared to look away. He dared to see what was going through the mind of the Wise King.

Even if the roars of hell around him were unfitting, the look of placid peace on the face of the founder of Israel was something to see. Solomon, the man who joked in some moments and spoke as a sage the next, looked more like a dotting father now than Ritsuka dared to think he'd ever seen him.

"You were meant to walk such a path. Though you wished to war against others, your desire was not to kill for joy, but to be near your father, whom you loved." Jesus returned his gaze to Conlaoch. "What would be created through you desiring to kill against him?"

"I… I…" Conlaoch raged for a moment. Ritsuka saw it, he was trying to think of something to say.

"Son of Cu, you need not-"

"This is going… too far," Kadoc finally spoke above Ritsuka. He was almost ashamed to admit he'd forgotten about him as he listened to the Lord. The boy had not forgotten those around him in comparison. "Conlaoch, if you're having trouble killing the Son of God, focusing on the King again!"

He must have used magic. He must have. There was no other reason the Master of Chaldea had to explain the speed at which Conlaoch turned away from the gaze and sympathy of the Lord and showed pure hate towards the Wise King.

TWANG! Nor the speed he reacted with again. Speed that, once more, necessitated the pain in Ritsuka has Solomon defended himself. Minimal as he could, but still more than he could physically bare.

"And before you… call him back over, Jeanne D'Arc," The woman roused herself from where she was brushed away from. "You… have all my Prana! Face the false… fake… God!" He laughed. It was a sound the Master of Chaldea heard little of.

"RAAAGH!" Because in the next, the Dragon Witch was forward again. The pyres around her swarming like storms of the sky under her command. Jesus looked at them all with impassive and unimpressed eyes.

FWWWOOOOOOMMM! Shielded by the Wise King, Ritsuka still felt the heat coming from it. His Lord would be well, but he may not.

"Your God loves… to talk. Figures… since he followed the other king… that spoke too much." Kadoc continued to maliciously whisper to him. "I wonder how he will be able to save those around him now? Do you… know?" Ritsuka put fingers to those encroaching on his throat. It earned another laugh. "Can't speak? Don't worry. Can't breath… that's a bigger concern." The hand tightened. "I wonder if the Lord would save you know, with me holding you down. He doesn't… save when asked, does he? It's how so many… come to hate him. A good reason… renigging on promises."

God never promised to save your life. Only your soul. Ritsuka wanted to shout it, but Kadoc was right. It was difficult to just breathe. The effort alone was all the more harrowing with the fires and smoke. The dragon witch with her blooming heat, made it a monolithic effort, even aided by Solomon's magic.

For lack of a better scenario, Ritsuka knew he was back in Fuyuki, but now Jesus wasn't at his side. He was before him, staving off a furious soul, one that mocked the beauty of the true Saint. One that wouldn't hear him.

He grit in teeth in the anger of it all. They could listen, Conlaoch was listening before he was ordered to face Solomon. Now the witch was using such magic that Ritsuka could only hear her as she echoed with the flames. They couldn't hear God, so how could they be saved?

They couldn't. It was an answer that hit him, hard.

That was Kadoc's plan. It was… he wasn't sure if it was smart or not, but it was keeping his Lord from speaking. And if he couldn't speak the Truth or share the Word, then he couldn't be heard. He would just be a grand symbol, but one that was killed before. Kadoc had to know that.

He had to, and it was why he knew what he had to do as well. Even if his body was burning and his chest pained. Even if it still felt as if his soul was being pulled and manipulated by forces given to the Wise King. It didn't matter what he felt, because others before him were tortured before and after their action. Discomfort was not a reason for being indecisive.

It was not an excuse to let evil roam. He had learned the sin of accepting excuses before.

So Ritsuka grabbed the hand at his throat, and rose.

"What?" Kadoc spoke. Then laughed. "Ah ha, what? You think you're going to-GRAGH!" He interrupted himself with a scream. Ritsuka had put his fingers between his teeth, and chomped. It was nothing he was sure would be written with great honors, but it worked. "You stupid, little-" The Master of Chaldea did not stop.

He twisted on his heel, lungs screaming, and dove into Kadoc. The traitor with stained eyes fell back with an off, Ritsuka on top of him. On top of the boy in the burning hall, he rapidly began to think back to the few lessons he'd received for handling violence in the streets of Tokyo. It rapidly came up short, as it was about disarming and running, finding help. Here, he had to contain. Even that required help.

Thankfully, he had to advantages to his side. One was the already beaten, limb-lost body of the soul-selling Master beneath him. Even if it was for show, he was still injured, and that meant he still wasn't able to be at his strongest. Ritsuka's issue was that he was studying how to be a Master with Olga, sensing Servants, commanding them, and learning what he needed to help Chaldea.

It was going to come in handy now.

As he had what felt like weeks ago now, he reached into his mind, and felt for the lone Servant nearby contracted to him. Even if he was dealing with the mad son of Cu, Ritsuka knew he was there.

Like a prayer in his mind, he called out to the Wise King.

"SOLOMON!" Ritsuka yelled at the top of his burning lungs. "SHIELD ME!"

"WHAT?!" It was hard to tell if that was out of shock for Ritsuka's command or the fact that he was able to speak like this at all. He hadn't so far. "No! That could kill you!"

"I will survive!" He knew he would, because he was trained for this… something like this, and Jesus knew it. If he hadn't he wouldn't have acted in the ways that he did. If he was meant to suffer, then suffer he would. If he was meant to die, then die he would. But it would be serving the Lord, as they saved Humanity. "God has made me… for time's such as these!" The fury on Kadoc grew to proportions Ritsuka hadn't dared to imagine.

"You're planning something… stupid, aren't you?" The demonic man beneath him snarled. Ritsuka had no chance to respond to it. He put his hand to Ritsuka's neck, trying to push him off. He legs kicked out harder than most acts of violence the Japanese boy had endured before. "You think it'll be worth it? Being stupid now? You'll end up… just like me!"

No, he wouldn't. Because Ritsuka had faith in God on high, and the man Jesus had returned to gift with the wisdom of heaven. Together, it would be enough. The pain that would follow would be his to bare.

He didn't care enough to ask sympathy for Kadoc. He'd thrown in with the traitor of heaven.

He was the one being in all of God's creation that was barren of mercy.

"You'll die for your sins! Your ignorance and lies! You'll die and BURN AND SUFFER!" There was no reason to be soft, light, or cautious with her words. Now was a time for her to rage.

Near all of her companions were gone or dead. All those who were wronged by the machinations of the world's cruelty were either killed or distracted by another's orders. The people she wished to punish in this land were already suffered by her actions, and she was now staring upon the man who was responsible for it all. The one who spread the faith of his father to her homeland, and had made it possible for her to hear a voice in the sky.

Him… and then she had a Master who knew his deceit, and who worked with her to expose it. To terrify and punish those with the demons below, to make use of the fire that would blight out the lights of heaven. To make all realize the falsehood of God's fake Word.

To do that, she was given the Prana of a man who's soul was no longer his own. She would use it to rage against the one who deserved her ire the most. None were more qualified than he.

The Son of a false and deceitful GOD!

"GRAAAAGH!" Her fires came out as her sword skewered the air, each blow attempting to take the hair from the man's head, and then his head from his flesh. Each one felt like pulling an oar against a stream, and each time, the fires bade her command.

And each time, Jesus Christ would wave his hand, and her pyres were snuffed out. Her snarl grew with each attempt of hers, alabaster hair splintering and collecting against her pale skin. Golden eyes glowed with power and hate, and the blue stare, calm as a cloudless sky, looked back upon her. She hated that stare.

"Fight me! Damn you! Fuck you! Fight me!" She cursed and baited the man. "Are you incapable of being true to your word! Can you not face me and defend your followers!"

"Those who worship me are safe. Those who follow me are guarded. Your words mean little to me, compared to the Word of my father." Her eyes were afire.

"My words are made from truth! They are made from what I experienced!" She brought back her jeweled blade and let the flames of hell take it again. If there was anything left of the castle they raged in, it would be lost when the wind next passed. "You have nothing but emptiness!" She brought down her blade again.

He did not raise his hands, and the fire crashed around him. Jeanne grinned madly at the display, watching intently for a mangled and charred corpse to fall down.

Instead the sandals of a patient man stepped forth, and the immaculate robes of the Son of God carried on through fires so hot, they glowed white like light.

"There is emptiness in my Father's plan, where men find themselves and are tested." He spoke on, as if that mattered anymore! "In those moments are where men find themselves. It is where you were made."

Her teeth grated, and likely cracked.

"Shut up! You want me to be nothing, so you can throw me away! Like before, like all the times before!" She would incinerate him with her fury! "you abandoned me when the people turnd, you used me when my body was convenient! You used me like a whore! A WHORE! Just as the people proclaimed!"

"I have never used you, though I wonder if I can speak to you." He stepped closer, and her fires did nothing. Damn him! DAMN HIM!

"You didn't want to speak before! AHAHA Finally changed your mind!?" She remembered it now. "Now you want to speak!?"

"I said before you are not who you claim to be, and I will not call you Jeanne D'Arc, the Saint of Orleans residing in Heaven. You are not her. You are fashioned by another." He stood tall before. The fires bowed to him, against her demands. "You were born of hate, while she was nurtured in love."

"You said I was not in your plans! You said I was not for your father!" The woman hissed. "So kill me as your father did! Destroy another saint!"

"You are not the Maid of Orleans." The man of heaven's light spoke to her. She hissed as his palms rubbed her cheeks, holding her. He was about to kill her. She knew it. She knew it! "You are a young child, born of hate and misery, kept from my father's love. Taught a lie, and scornful of the truth."

"THERE IS NO TRUTH!" She made to raise her sword, to pierce him again! He could see her raising it. He had to… he knew!

He answered with a stare. Not a raise of hand in judgement or stopping of her fury with words. But with a gaze that eclipsed her fire and flames. A look, a stare, a motion of his eyes, and it was all the fallen Saint could do but stare back, breathless. The flames of hell couldn't choke her, but the sight of the Son of God, his sight, made her seize.

"I spoke to a man before my death, who asked of me what Truth was." He spoke, still giving not even glance or worry to her searing blade. "He spoke of judgement born of truth, but his words meant it was malleable thing. You go further than he. You say that the Truth, the Way, the Light, it not only for one's mind to bend, but to create."

He stepped forward, and she, Jeanne D'Arc, the Dragon Witch, found herself stepping back. No! NO! She wouldn't have that! She'd come to close to be out done by… by someone's presence!

"GRAGH!" She let out an infernal cry as she razed her blade up, trying to skewer Jesus. The flames roared in cheer, trying to encourage her to rip and tear on, to take the flesh from his bones. She knew for any other man or Servant, it would do just that, and leave behind a crying corpse. But this was one who had the Saints and Angels of Heaven looking to him.

Her blade pushed against his cloak, and found not an hair's width further to move.

"What… what…" She hissed out twice, a higher cry than the flames over her blade. "How…" A snarl now at the man.

"I have bared the fires of hell before. I was tempted by the Devil's words. In both times, I was given much pain, and much to take. And in both times, I rose above, and denied the ambitions of a lower being." He walked on, and Jeanne had to watch as her blade scratched at him, doing nothing.

Her eyes swung to the Saber, seeing him giving up against the Wise King, instead staring in equal shock. Eyes looking at his glowing blade and her flaming one. The damnable Solomon looked on as well, smug and cruel as she was being made a fool.

Made… made into mockery. Again. Again!

"You mock me! You LOATHE ME!" She released her blade, letting the fires crawl up her arm. Just as they had before her death. Just as they would again. "Nothing I do matters. It's all a PETTY GAME FOR YOU TO ENJOY!" She reached for his neck.

CLAP! His hands grasped her shoulders, holding her arms down. She wished, so dearly, that she could at least hear the bubbling and hiss of his flesh as he touched her. She knew the flames of the Pit coated her, she knew it would turn anyone else to a horrifying mess. But he just continued to stare. And talk.

"You've suffered on this Earth, but it was not for the enjoyment of my Father. The woman to whom you are modeled from, suffered greatly after enduring much, so that the Word of my father could spread beyond the borders of this country, and seed the minds of those to follow her. She was carried to heaven for what she did, and is sung highly by the angels who surround her."

"I'm here now! NO ONE but the MAD praise ME!" She hollered back. Like a child, she tried to reach for him again. But if she was a child, he was the mountain to whom she arrogantly tried to fight. She could not make him so much as quiver with her strength.

She'd ripped steel with her hands, but she could not make the Son of God shake.

"You are not her. She was born of love and suffered to see it spread. You were fashioned of hate, and made machinations to see others cry."

"NO! I'm freeing them! Some die, they'll all die, but they know that your FATHER isn't there for them! He's not there! He's a cruel being who asks for all and gives nothing! NOTHING!"

"What have you been given that would wish my Father to offer you?" She stared. "Is it the attention of the powerful? The fear of your name? The flames from the realm below? What do you desire that my Father is incapable of?"

"A REWARD!" She screamed, hoping to at least spit in his face! "To have my deeds be celebrated! Not mocked! Like all those who follow me!"

"No deed of yours is worthy of praise." Once more, she was reminded of his strength, as being unable to claw at his eyes. The flames continued to spin around him, like gnats by a still river. "Do you mean to take the labors of Jeanne D'Arc for yourself?"

"She is ME!" She stomped her foot, and brought forth a new torrent of flame. The little that was left of the hall was cinders now. Nothing but ash and dried stoned beneath them. It would take little more than a shout to topple them. She'd drag him down into the pit if she had to! "Don't pretend like I didn't suffer!"

"You have suffered, but not as Jeanne." Jesus commanded. "Jeanne suffered a cruel man, who even before your misdeeds, was kept was my father's light." The honesty of the words shocked her.

"What?"

"And the Saint you claim to be rests in Heaven. The rewards for all who follow my Father. Eternal peace, beyond this sempiternity of Earth. That which no other can give." He leaned towards her. "What have you been promised that is grander than that?"

"J… Justice…" She hissed. "Not just for me. For all! The Count who was robbed by his friends, a man slain by his father, and then celebrated! An archer acting for God and Country, forgiven, and then slain out of revenge!"

"You hate the acts of man, you despise their weakness born in fear." His calmly responded. "These things done are done so without my Father's word. My proof to you is the recompense all require. For none who have committed these sins that tortured you so were welcomed openly into my father's kingdom."

Jeanne shook her head. A slow curling like paper near a flame, until it whipped like the ashes rising in the air.

"That's… That's not enough." Her words were quite, but quickly grew. "No! Not enough! It's not! So what about heaven! What about everyone on Earth!? They get to celebrate!? To ENJOY THEMSELVES!?"

"They do. At the expense of their eternal peace. Do you heave peace, twisted reflection of Jeanne D'Arc? Do you rest well knowing what you have done?"

"I… I will!"

"Do you now?" He asked again. "Do you believe the one you've sworn to will give you peace upon your death?" She bit her tongue. "Speak. Speak the Truth you proclaim to make."

"He… He'll give me justice, and THAT will be peace!" She tried again. This time, by putting hands to his chest, just able to reach, and pushing. He moved not a wind's breath of a distance. She was held in place, pushing on the stone side of a large mountain, again. "Heaven? That's a lie of your father! That's YOUR LIE!"

"You listen to the Prince of Lies, and proclaim his word just. How am I to speak to you the Truth, if you believe anyone over me?"

She had no answer. Jeanne only snarled. Golden eyes focused on him, wishing now that she could burn him as she had been! A chance to… to put him to the spike that Vlad had endured, and then suffered as she had! To make him undergo all the horrors of being abandoned, and then being mocked upon her death!

"She was not mocked in death. Jeanne has been celebrated."

"W-What…"

"You think of the death of Jeanne D'Arc as your own, and you think she was mocked and riddled with despair. I try now to show you the falsehood of this, in that she was a Saint for dying with love." His eyes were calm, and words a sword through flames. "Fire consumed her body, but love enveloped her soul."

"She died! I… I died!" The words had her hissing, thrashing, looking around her. There was only fire, only the product of her magic and craft. "I did! It was me! ME! Fire and death and… AND…"

"And that is what the fallen man, Gilles De Rais thought would be your final words."

The simple admission had her staring at him. Not a confession, as she needed. Not a proclamation of guilt, as she was due. A simple observation of the mad Caster that had held the Grail, and had stood before her. He who had done nothing but sing her the sweetest of songs and profuse her innocence and just desire for revenge.

The same man who made monsters from a vile tome to kill those who regarded him harshly, and then spoek of her in the same breath. The one who saw the devil higher than God, and he who was corrupted by the cruelty of the world.

She was born of his wish.

"It… It doesn't matter!" She shrieked. "If that's all I am! Then suffer for it! Suffer and burn knowing that you left a man to be CONSUMED BY HATE!"

"He was consumed by greed." The Lord continued to speak. "Like so many others who fall, placing blame for his cruelty on the ires of another. How many followed the banner of Jeanne D'Arc? How many fell as Gilles?"

She didn't know.

"How many instead turned to my father, and denounced the man who slew her?"

She didn't know.

"How many of them, did you kill? How many in the name of a Saint that you wish to be, did you slay?"

She didn't know.

"I… I don't-" She felt her blade slip. She gripped it gather. "I-I don't-"

Jesus released her shoulders. Clap. He held her face. The sword finally slipped from her fingers.

"Child born of misery, you were never made in my Father's image." The hands at her cheeks were hard, but the gaze she saw between them blinding. "I cannot offer you more than a cleansing of this hate. For this, you must accept the Truth. Will you deny me knowing this?"

"I… won't." She bite her tongue, bile rising in her throat. "I won't deny my hate! It's… It's all I have!"

"I say again to you, do you wish to be low? Or do you wish to witness my father?"

She didn't say anything. She wasn't aware fully if there were words that could be said. Everything… everything was pittering out. Her fight, her resolve, her flames, her anger… all of it. None of it mattered. She had rages and let loose all that she had, but it had done nothing.

The Son of God had taken all that she had, and offered to rid her of what was left. She had nothing beyond it. She had just as much reason to deny him now.

Now that he'd proven with the Word what she was. Just what she was made to be.

A figure of hate.

"Take it." She muttered. "Take it all away."

"It shall be done." His hands held her face still. Jeanne closed her eyes.

Neither darkness nor light. That was all she saw.

The flames were gone.

That was what Kadoc realized first. Not that the pathetic excuse of a Master was trying to mount him in some vain attempt to take his life, not that he could. Not that Solomon was holding off Saber, though that was bad. It was that the fires were gone. The fires that had consumed a castle in the seconds matching the minutes one could walk a building's height. They were gone.

Now they stood on nothing but charred stone, looking up at a sky that bloomed with fresh light. Light that shined upon the man who stood in the midst of it all, as if he had fallen from the skies above.

Jesus Christ had no mare to his figure, and it made him rage.

"W-What? How! HOW!?" Kadoc screamed it. He howled it. Through broken teeth, ruined bones, and fire, he let it loose. "How did you kill her! She denied you! She did!" He pointed and raged at the Son of God, pushing at the pitiful Master above him. "You were supposed to give in and die, accept her sins like you did before!"

Jesus didn't answer him. He only turned, slowly, and watched the Master with a stern gaze. To Ritsuka, it was the gaze that only a father could give his children, and one that was never wished to be subject to. Kadoc did not react well.

"You won't feel bad about that… fine. I'm not surprised… too hopeful, even for you." Ritsuka felt the arm of the traitorous Master surround his neck, pulling him into another lock. It was just as tight as before, but then… worse. "Then I guess I'll have to put someone else… in her place.

Worse because he felt something burn at his back, and the soft laughter of the mad man above him made it clear it was an act of intent. Jesus Christ, still across from him, did not move or make motion of distress.

"You don't feel guilt for her… fine… you're a wicked man anways. Cruel as your father. So… you'll just have to prove it." The heat pushed against his back again. Ritsuka sucked in his breath. "Go on, make an action to remove me from your Servant. I know… you want to. That… or maybe you'll let him die. Just like you have everyone else. All those… who worship you."

Ritsuka did not care for the lies of the Master. He knew it was just another long pathetic ploy. More mockery where ignorance was bred. Instead, he turned to see Solomon, the Servant looking at him. Conlaoch's glowing blade a was still at his side. The Wise King met his gaze, and spoke little more. He waved his hand, and Ritsuka felt a pain at his stomach, pinning him with the fire at his back.

"Act, Lord God. ACT… and prove your're-" He got no further.

The magic of Solomon shielded Ritsuka, as he commanded. It let him twist free of the man's grip, the pain he felt more like pressure squeezing at his skin than a piercing of his soul. He grabbed, twisted, and wrenched himself free, letting him stare at the shocked expression of the boy who had let go of him. Ritsuka knew better than to let it last.

With a quick action, he kicked forward, burying his foot in the stomach of the tarnished Master. It sent the boy tumbling over his already broken body. He stood above him, panting.

TWANG! He twisted his head at the sound, almost falling himself when he saw the glowing blade of Conlaoch hovering over him. He would have, if not for the sight of who held the blade back, with the same effortlessness as before.

"Now or forever, you will do no harm to him." Jesus spoke, the words loud in the ruined hall, scorched castle, and remains of the land. "No more harm than you have already attempted to lay upon me."

"I haven't begun to do my worst to you yet!" The Saber shouted back. "Same as my father did to me! WORSE! I'll… I'll make sure I cut you to bloody ribbons!" Ritsuka shook his head.

"Why would you want to?" His question earned an ire-filled red gaze. He asked on regardless. "Why, when your father was in mourning for you."

"My father benefitted from my death." He hissed as he pushed into Jesus. He gained no ground. "He was called a greater hero, he was written into stone as a the Child of Light, for killing ME!"

"And he hated it!" Ritsuka yelled. The man's eyes blinked. "We met him, we saw him, and… and there were other heroes who were tortured like you, forced to have their Children killed by them." He dug through what he could remember in Fuyuki, trying all that he could to remember stories not from the Holy Bible or its teachings.

They were mythologies, but if that was who was here, then to save his Lord and protect his Word, he would recount what he could.

"What… what do you mean?"

"Don't listen-" Ritsuka swept around with his leg and kicked. He wasn't a fighter, and he hardly dealt anything decisive. He only ended up kicking the back of the traitorous Master's legs. But given his already broken state, it had him spinning and letting out a sound of pain.

"I mean… I mean before we came here, we met him in Fuyuki. There, we had to fight and Archer who killed his children, and a Berserker who sent her own to war. Both of them had their legends built on those deaths!" He was sure they were, at least. Enough for Olga to say so. "And because of that, the Saber of that conflict, was able to corrupt them."

"What does that matter to me!?" He roared, and light bloomed once more from his blade. "You think I care about… about some other conflict?!"

"Your father was there. He fought for us, against them!" He thought the words would shock Conlaoch. They only made him smile.

"Of course, because he didn't regret killing me."

"No, that's not it. He fought against them because he hated it." He recalled what Olga said. "He fought and ran, he cursed Saber who made use of it, and he hated that you died by his hand. Conlaoch, he did not hate you!"

"Then why did he not fight with the others?" Red eyes turned to Jesus. "If he was so against my death, why not join those who fought against their own legends?!"

"Because to change your death would be to change your fate." Jesus answered. "Not a boy who died to show his father the Light and anguish of war, but one who would slaughter for joy."

Wait… what was his Lord saying?

"What?" Conlaoch was just as confused. "What are you lying about n-"

"The path set by my father is known to me, and the actions that lead to those who attempt to alter it. Should you have lived, though admiration for your father would be kept, disdain for others would be born. You would kill joyously, you would rape relentlessly, you would take the lands of Ireland beyond, and turn a land that would one day be known as a haven for my father's word, into one of torment and despair."

"Now I know you're lying! You very obviously are!" The man glowed like his blade. "How could that ever happen. Why would I ever turn like that!?"

"Are you not doing the same now?" The question cut more effectively than the blade he held. "A blade of light, being raised at the Son of the Almighty?" The glow quivered. "How can you proclaim justice to follow your actions, when you will strike down those who espouse truth?"

The Saber did not have an answer. Instead, he had action, one that spoke of his clear shock. Taking a step back, staring away from all present, and instead to his blade. Ritsuka wasn't sure if he had participated in the slaughter of the villages, but he could imagine blood running on that blade. Blood of those who weren't prepared for war, who lived peacefully, and instead died because of him.

Died because he tried to convince them all like the witch, and they were suffering for it. A trembling lip and shaking eyes showed the horror he was witnessing, through memories and imagination.

"No this… this isn't… I-I'… I…" He looked up, shocked. "This isn't what I wanted."

"You demanded the plan of my father to change. Did you believe you would create a superior path for man than he who knows all?" The words of his father were harsh, but clear.

Clear as the dimming of the man's blade, and the step backwards he took. Like the witch before him, coming to realize the Truth. Faced with it, by a man garbed in white, and carrying the Word of his father. Ritsuka watched on, proud, joy-filled, and resolute. This was he who he swore his life to, and once again he was being proven just.

"I didn't… that's not…" Conlaoch looked around himself. "This isn't what I was promised."

"You were promised much from a being who has nothing. You were deceived by he." Jesus stepped towards the retreating Saber. "But now I will return what you have lost, and sentence you back to whence you came. Do you fear such Word from me?"

"I…" The Lord's hand fell on his face before he could speak further. "I don't know."

"That is good, for knowing would mean presuming the deeds of my Father. You do not know. So instead, I ask another question." His other hand rested on the Saber's cheek. "Do you trust me?"

"Don't!" Kadoc screamed. "You have… no reason-" Ritsuka kicked him again. It was as efficient as the first kick. Weak, but doing the job.

"I ask again, Conlaoch, son of Cu. Do you trust in me?" The words hung higher and heavier than any flames that had roasted and burned the land around them.

Just as loud was the glowing blade slipping from the Saber's hands, and falling with a clatter to the floor.

"Yes. I do." The man's knees joined him. Jesus never took his hands away. "I resign myself to my sins. I accept your judgement." For the first time since the two had lain eyes on one another, the Saber of Ireland smiled up at the Lord Jesus.

And the father smiled back down onto him.

Just as he pushed ahead, and light overtook the Saber. A flash like the one that had purified the banner of the dragon Witch, and one that banished the Dead Rider. Now, it left nothing of the Saber behind. It left only the four of them now.

And only one was furious about what he had witnessed.

"What… what was that?" He spoke breathlessly. "Again. What… was THAT!?" There was only one answer.

"That was the judgement of the Lord. Judgement passed from the knowledge of his father, given to him to see the world." He smiled at Kadoc. "Because he is the Way, the Truth, and the Light." The Master he had just insulted spoke easily above him.

Coated in Solomon's Magical curtain, and reaching for him.

"And when he stands with us, who can stand against us?"

Kadoc had one answer to that.

"The one… who denied him first. The one…" he pushed away from Ritsuka and reached into himself.

The boy pushed back, doubtlessly horrified at watching him reach into his decrepit chest as if it were storage. He hadn't seen him bleed. He hadn't heard anything move. It was like… he wasn't full.

That was doubly so horrifying when he produced a golden chalice in his hand.

"Who can create true… miracles." A golden chalice that began to glow.

Memories of Fuyuki flashed at Ritsuka in that moment. The traitorous Master holding something that clearly mocked God. Speaking of demons and those who betrayed God as grand. Looking at the Lord with the malice in his eyes. He thought it would be impossible to harm his Lord, but he had been to Fuyuki, the city where the pits of hell had found home.

There he had seen a girl like himself, twisted by the promise of a demon, put a knife to the hand of his Lord.

Now he watched as twisted Master, perhaps even more than the girl Olga and Mash recognized, held another corrupted relic before him. A mockery of God, and with the clear intent to do harm against his word. Ritsuka knew who he was referring to.

He knew, but he couldn't understand how.

"By the power of this Grail, by the creation of the greatest of Heaven!" Kadoc roared with malice. "Use me. TAKE me. Render the will of God… incomplete." Solomon shouted something behind him. Ritsuka couldn't hear it. HE couldn't hear it after such blasphemous words were spoken.

He was left staring, dumbfounded as the relic in the boy's hands fell and clattered to the charred ground, rolling what little it could before it stilled. It glowed like before, but the traitorous Master didn't care for it, his eyes were only on Jesus. And Jesus Christ, from a small glance, had eyes on the Master as well. The boy, broken and boisterous, laughed. Jesus was quiet.

"Are you prepared… Lord God!?" The boy roared. "Are you ready to face the one above YOU!?"

"None are above me, Kadoc," Jesus spoke with emotion to his voice. It took Ritsuka a moment to recognize what it was. Sorrow. "And you are soon to find that the one you've placed faith in has no love for you. When you call to a Master who cares not for you, you suffer a whip without reason."

"You think you can convince me of your lies now?" He mocked. "Don't bother… I-" He stopped, for a third, maybe fourth time. From what stopped him, Ritsuka knew it would be the last.

Because before the boy, the ground caved away, a hole opening before him. It glowed of embers and produced a heat Ritsuka was not sure he would survive if weren't for the shield Solomon had given him. Regardless, it had him falling back, shocked. More than the hole itself appearing, but what came from it.

A hand. A hand that was nothing of God's good creation. Something… demonic.

Demonic, evil, and greedy enough to grasp at Kadoc as he lay on the ground. Around the throat, holding him still, and dragged back. Fear overtook the boy's eyes, and Ritsuka almost yelled himself. But before he could, the boy had been dragged into the hole, and fell without a cry into a pit that was molten. There weren't words to speak to equate the horror he felt.

"Called for aid from one who hates. No grace is given when such is done." Jesus spoke simply. "And now, it is finished."