The end of the world was heralded by golden lightning.
When Lancer slammed their hand down on the broken stones that made up the Ryuudouji Temple courtyard, it spread out in a web of light, before fading from sight.
For a moment, that was all that happened.
But Ibaraki's instincts were shrieking at her, and she threw both hands before her and blasted off backwards with a burst of prana.
And so it was that she was already moving when the first blade passed an inch from her nose.
It was an exquisite spear – a work of art by any measure, razor sharp and perfectly balanced, carved with natural-looking embellishments all the way down. Ibaraki was not in the habit of being charitable to her opponents, but there was no other word for it than beautiful.
The way it was trying to take her head off, less so.
The hundred others like it, sprouting from the ground like raindrops in reverse, were downright unpleasant.
From Lancer's hand, spreading out in a wide circle, the earth reshaped itself into a thousand weapons and flung itself at Ibaraki. They shot past her, fast as bullets and with hundreds of times the weight, ripping apart the air with their passage.
If Ibaraki had been airborne, she would have had no way to dodge. They simply came too fast and too thick to stop, and were too powerful to block. But for all their speed, they couldn't come from just anywhere – they had to start at the bottom. Every time Lancer fired a weapon from the ground, she had moved on, and by the time the next masterwork blade shot out she'd moved on again.
Ibaraki kept low to the ground, blazing like a comet, jinking and swerving even as she retreated – and managed to stay just a step ahead of Lancer.
More, and more, and more weapons fired. Not all of them came straight up, but came at odd diagonal angles, and her sword just barely came up in time to meet them. Ibaraki parried and deflected and defended herself as best she could, her bone blade nearly jerked out of her hands by the titanic force behind the projectiles. Her mind narrowed to this next weapon, this next defence, this next dodge.
It hurt. She took many hits that on any other day would have put her down for good. But eventually, the nightmare ceased and it was over.
Ibaraki stood panting at the edge of a crater. The mountain was… well, slightly less of a mountain now. Every speck of dirt that used to make up the summit had been fired upwards. Sooner or later those weapons would start coming down, but that was a problem for Future Ibaraki, and that bitch had probably done something to deserve it. Present Ibaraki had a fight to survive.
Fortunately, she was as powerful as she'd ever been. Ibaraki was connected to a leyline, and had more prana than she knew what to do with pumping through her body.
Well, that wasn't quite true. She had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to do.
Namely, turn every last scrap of it into fire and hit Lancer over the head with it.
She filled her sword with prana, and swung it overhead. It sounded simple, and it was, but a description like that didn't really do justice to what happened.
Ibaraki had gotten used to being pretty indiscriminate with her fire. It was useful, because bathing a wide area in a healthy coating of flame kept the most annoying of the puny humans off her back, or at least distracted by irrelevant things like 'argh, I'm on fire' or 'no, please, my baby's in that building'. Weaklings.
But that didn't mean she couldn't focus when she needed to.
A paper-thin crescent of hyper-compressed fire exploded from the tip of her sword. It was hard to see clearly – partly because it was so compact, partly because it was glowing white-hot, and partly because the sheer heat of it cast a heat haze that extended fully ten feet from the centre.
It fired at Lancer faster than any arrow.
So did the next ten.
What little bedrock Lancer hadn't used to try and take Ibaraki's head off melted under her assault, in a straight line from her to them. Lancer seemed entirely unworried – but rose from their crouch to smoothly step out of the way of each and every one of Ibaraki's attacks. When the flaming bolts impacted the far edge of the crater, they scored deep, deep slices into the earth that bubbled even as they cooled.
As the last fiery crescent shot past them, Lancer extended a hand and waved it experimentally through the heart of the inferno.
"Potent," they said. "But inadequate."
Ibaraki swung again, out of spite more than anything.
This time, Lancer didn't even blink as the flames splashed against their tunic without leaving a mark. "No, I'm afraid that's just not going to be enough. Baking clay only makes it harder, you know?" They smiled. "To shatter a clay statue, what you need is a hammer – every peasant knows that."
"Good to know," Ibaraki snarled. Her sword arm blurred, and the earth in front of her cracked. A section of solid rock the size of a cart flew up from the force – only to disappear with a rush of air as Ibaraki kicked it directly at Lancer.
Lancer smiled, and pulled their arm back.
The boulder hit Lancer with a force Ibaraki would have otherwise called unstoppable – and Lancer hit it right back, an open palm strike surrounded by golden lightning.
The boulder shattered. Anything would have. But as well as shattering, the rock reshaped itself around Lancer's hand – and came back twice as fast. Ibaraki dove to one side as a cluster of masterwork weapons exploded through the space she had been, disappearing over the horizon in the blink of an eye.
Noted, thought Ibaraki. Lancer is the world champion at throwing rocks. Do not give them ammunition.
Well. That left really only one option then, didn't it?
Ibaraki hefted her sword, and blasted forward to do battle directly. Her sword impacted Lancer's upraised arm before her foot even touched the ground, already breaking from the impact in a spiderweb of cracks. Lancer took the blow with an unconcerned smile, and answered with a bone-rattling punch – and Ibaraki's bones were really quite hard to rattle.
She went flying back, but as soon as her foot made contact with the ruined, scorched earth she was off again, relying on her prana burst for propulsion just as much as her legs. As fast as she'd been sent back, she came back faster, bringing her sword down upon Lancer's head.
They dove backwards, rolled and slid back in a feral crouch, trailing their hand through the earth. Ibaraki had only a moment to react, before more weapons speared upwards. She pushed herself aside, changing direction on a pinpoint-
-but not fast enough to avoid an axe fit for a king goring her side and tearing a chunk out of her body.
Ibaraki screamed, about a fifty-fifty split between fury and agony. Her wound bled flames, her spiritual body repairing itself out of the impossible power pouring into her every second, and she ignored the pain in favour of landing on all fours and lunging horn-first at Lancer.
They caught her, one rough hand closing around her horn, and planted her in the solid rock headfirst.
Ibaraki's head filled with static. Dimly, she was aware of her skull healing, white-hot fire filling in the cracks, so recently healed by Ryuunoske's Command Spell. Her core hadn't quite been shattered, and it was busy repairing her physical form. In less than a minute, she'd be good as new.
'Less than a minute' may as well have been an eternity in a Servant battle. Which meant this was still really, really bad. And when things got really, really bad, Ibaraki did one thing, by instinct – she exploded.
However, usually when she did this, she wasn't plugged into a leyline.
A new sun rose over Fuyuki, blowing clouds before it to reveal a deep blue evening sky. For a moment, it was visible over the entire city, then it faded into a sullen orange.
Lancer had left a crater after using their Noble Phantasm – now that crater was a little bit larger, and glowing cherry-red. The entire area looked like a vision of hell, broken and melting rock forming strange shapes. Heat haze lent a surreal, deamlike quality to the stage for Ibaraki's last battle.
Ibaraki herself floated high above it all, wreathed in flames that billowed in the insane updrafts from the crater, and occasionally took on the appearance of enormous wings. Ibaraki had sometimes seen it happen, when she really pushed herself, but thought nothing of it.
After all, she usually didn't intend to hold on to a lot of her fire for very long.
Baking clay might only make it harder, but Ibaraki was pretty sure there was a limit. She intended to find it.
"Alright, Lancer!" she yelled, voice barely audible over the wind and roaring flame. "This is everything I have left! Stand there and take it for me, would you?"
She didn't hear a reply, but Lancer spread their hands down below.
Fine.
She gathered her power into her claws, condensing it into a point no larger than her fist. It blazed white, every bit as hot as any massive fire blast she'd ever made, a mass of prana only barely contained by her will. The fireball hovered over her palm, promising destruction if it were ever set free. Ibaraki smiled, showing her tusks in pride at the little ball of devastation she'd made.
Then, she made another. And another.
The bleed-off from her excess power had suffused the air around her, raising it far, far above boiling. Now, she drew it all in to a hundred points, each of them shining just as bright as the first.
Then she pitched the one in her hands like a fastball straight at Lancer. Every single other one followed.
The explosion was hard to look at even for her, and the updrafts ruffled her hair. She gave a mad grin.
A second later, she did it all over again.
She rained down fireballs with gleeful abandon, producing an effect similar to a focused, sustained firebombing. Lancer vanished from sight, but Ibaraki just redoubled her efforts.
In her heart, she knew this was futile. She'd already given the best she had trying to beat Lancer, and this amounted to no more than a final tantrum. She felt she was allowed this. For the Servant of Madness, she really hadn't had a chance to cut loose and just enjoy a fight. Too busy trying to survive, figuring out a way to compensate for her weak Master, or else dealing with the consequences of her actions.
Still. If she was going to go out, it was going to be spectacular, and she'd at least admire the funeral pyre she made.
…although that pyre was looking a little closer than it had a couple of seconds ago…
Ibaraki stared into the heart of the flame, and gasped.
While fireballs rained down, Lancer's clay weapons rained up. Matching Ibaraki's output blow for blow, each and every ball of condensed power was met with a perfect spear, which neatly bisected the fireball and forced it to detonate early.
And, Ibaraki couldn't help but notice, the spears launched by Enkidu of Uruk very much didn't explode. At most, they were knocked off-course – but less and less so every moment. Worse, Ibaraki's fireballs were getting further and further from the ground before being intercepted. Little by little, Lancer was winning, and their spears were getting closer and closer to spitting her.
Ibaraki gritted her teeth and focused almost everything she had into blasting Lancer – while her right hand took the rest.
Fire filled her vision, filled her lungs, and she knew she had only seconds before Lancer's spears made it to her. This was it then. Everything she had.
"Great Grudge of Rashomon!" she screamed, and her right hand pounded Lancer to dirt, flashing to earth so fast she could only follow it by the flaming contrails it left behind.
She laughed madly. "Hahaha! Enough of a hammer for you, Chain of Heaven?"
"Not nearly."
Ibaraki felt a pain in her right palm, and gasped more in surprise than pain. She hadn't known anything even could injure her right hand when it was fully freed. She looked down – and froze, heart sinking.
Her right hand twitched, bound in loops and knots of golden chain and fixed to the earth, with two spears the size of small trees impaled straight through it. Lancer stood next to it, looking no worse for wear.
Her focus lost, Ibaraki lost her grip on the fireballs she'd been about to fire, and they exploded around her. That didn't hurt so much – she was all but immune to heat.
The spears they'd been about to intercept, however, hurt much more when they lodged themselves in her gut.
Ibaraki shrieked, and scrambled to pull them out. In her haste, she was unable to dodge when another golden chain wrapped itself around her ankle.
And then…
Then it was over.
Ibaraki lay face-up in the dirt, Lancer's foot on her neck and chains around every one of her limbs. She struggled, gathering power to rage and scream and break free…
…and Lancer reached out, plucked one of the first falling weapons to make it back to earth out of the air, and casually shoved it through her heart.
Ibaraki stilled, feeling power leak out of her broken core – and with that feeling, knew that she was dead.
Lancer seemed to read Ibaraki's feelings of despair and defeat in her face, because they nodded in satisfaction.
"It is finished, Ibaraki-douji of Mt Ooe," they said. "You fought well."
Ibaraki wanted to spit words of venom for his condescension, but couldn't muster up the strength. Lancer seemed to notice her distress, and held up a hand in acknowledgement.
"Oh, please don't misunderstand," Lancer said. "It wasn't close. But it was beautiful. Yes, this has served as a wonderful introduction to the War. Thank you, Servant Berserker."
Lancer raised their voice – and Ibaraki felt it, humming and singing through the very earth she lay on. Not loud, just everywhere at once. It was like Lancer was using the land itself to speak.
"There you have it, spectators. I believe myself to be the strongest Servant in this Grail War, and while I hardly have a use for such an item, I also have no intention of submitting to death, so Servants, please do consider this your notice of execution – all five of you listening." They turned their head, but Ibaraki couldn't see what they were looking at.
"If you wish to determine the hour of your death, I invite you all to come and find me in the forest behind the Kotomine Church. If you wish me to decide it for you, simply wait and I will find you."
Lancer stilled, a contemplative look on their face, and the earth stilled with them. After a moment, they spoke up again.
"For now, I think we have done more than enough damage to the people of this city, so let's say… three days of armistice. If any Servants fight for the next seventy-two hours, I will be very disappointed to hear about it – and I will hear about it. Let the people rebuild, let them heal. When that is done, we will resume our battle.
"That is all."
Ibaraki's vision began fading, and out the corner of her eye she could see herself slowly dissolving into orange motes of light.
Ah. This is how I die, then. Against the Chain of Heaven, I suppose there was no chance…
She thought of her Master. Goodbye, Ryuunosuke. Carry work of my deeds into the future.
She grit her teeth against the pain, as her torso began disappearing.
Next time, for sure, Shuten. We'll be together… I promise…
Ryuunosuke shed no tears as he felt Ibaraki's presence vanish from his mind.
He'd known this was coming. At the start of the War, he'd thought Ibaraki invincible, unstoppable. Watching her throw the temple gate through the temple everything, so long ago, he was sure nothing in the world could challenge her. How could it? The strength of armies, the ferocity of hell itself, and a pure lack of care as to what others called morality – she was his perfect predator, everything he aspired to.
How wrong he'd been. Ibaraki had been matched, and outmatched, at every turn. Despite everything either of them had tried, they'd only ever dug the hole they were in ever deeper, and brought more and more heat down onto themselves. Though Ibaraki managed to escape and survive, and though neither of them would admit it, they were fighting a losing battle.
But, more importantly, Ryuunosuke had come to understand that his Servant was forcing herself. His Servant Berserker threw herself forward with desperate abandon, focused on survival and victory and not having any fun whatsoever. Compared to the gleeful demon he'd seen in his dream, Ibaraki-douji with her full clan behind her and her beloved Shuten at her side, his Servant was a wreck.
If she hadn't been so focused on winning against the other six Servants, so sure they would all turn on her, perhaps she wouldn't have brought herself to their attention quite so readily.
And now, Ibaraki had met a foe so far beyond her that she couldn't deny her fate any more. From the moment Lancer had recovered from having their head chopped off, Ryuunosuke knew it was all over for Ibaraki.
Was it his fault?
Ryuunosuke shrugged. Well, maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. He'd never been one for feeling guilty, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. Instead, there was an entirely new feeling spreading in his tiny little cold dead heart.
Curiosity.
Death was his passion. His one real interest, the best thing ever. But… well, he'd just watched his Servant kill a city, and be ended in return by a monster that hadn't walked the earth in over six thousand years in a fight that levelled the mountain they were standing on. There just wasn't any real way to top that. He'd never get anywhere just killing things and watching them die.
But that was okay. Ibaraki had shown him how much he was missing.
A vision of violet eyes, and a smell of fruit, crawled across the front of his brain, and he smiled.
He knew, now, that there was more out there than just matter and energy – that the world wasn't so simple as it was described on the freaking Discovery Channel. There were monsters. There was magic. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted to learn more about death.
What actually happened when someone died? Where did the soul go? Where was the line? Could you bring someone back over it?
These thoughts filled Ryuunosuke's mind. He didn't know if there were answers… but becoming a wizard – a proper wizard, like Caster, not just a half-assed wannabe like he was now – seemed like a pretty good way to get them.
As he stared at the last fading orange motes that had been the demon that opened his eyes to the world of magic, he thought, Thank you, Ibaraki-douji. You were pretty kickass. I'll be fine.
First, though, he needed to live through the rest of the War.
He tore his gaze away, and looked over at Caster, frowning down at the scene of devastation beow them. "Hey, Caster."
"Hm?" The Servant of the Spell seemed distracted. "Oh. I'm so sorry for your loss, dear. These things happen, you know."
Ryuunosuke waved a hand. "Eh, don't worry about it. Berserker wouldn't have wanted me to grieve. Just, she also probably wouldn't have wanted me dead, so, um, if you could pretty please see about getting me to the Moderator…"
Caster blinked. "Ah, yes, of course. Do excuse me, I'm all out of sorts. I'll have to replan everything – none of my strategies were intended for use against the Chain of Heaven, you know… oh, what I am I saying, that's not for you to worry about. Here you are." She tapped her staff against the plane of force acting as a floor, and a blue-edged portal opened up in mid-air. "You stay safe now!"
"I intend to," said Ryuunosuke with a wink. "Toodles!"
He stepped through the portal.
He landed on soft earth, and the portal closed behind him. He looked around. He was in a forest, through a very sorry looking one. Most of the leaves had been shaken from the trees, and most of the rest had been set on fire from the heat, even this far away from the fight. From the looks of things, he'd gone from hovering over the top of the mountain to standing at the foot of it, in a single step.
So cool.
Up ahead, through the woods, he saw the Moderator, his back turned to him, as well as… a stripper in a nun costume? Well, if the old man needed some relaxation at the end of a long-ass day, Ryuunosuke couldn't blame him.
He started towards the pair, opening his mouth to shout. All he had to do was claim sanctuary, and he'd be set. He'd keep his head down throughout the rest of the War, then find out how you got to be a wizard. He'd learn everything he could about death.
Despite being the first person to be knocked out of the War, Ryuunosuke couldn't keep a grin off his face.
He couldn't wait to get started with his new life.
Risei leaned against a tree, panting. His body ached, his heart pounded in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He was thirty years too old for this. Or, possibly, considering just what was causing him his current headache, about six thousand years too young.
He'd run as soon as Berserker and Lancer had started fighting – and been blown off his feet within ten paces from the shockwaves. He'd rolled down the mountain for what had felt like a thousand years, avoiding hitting his head on a rock by what he could only assume was a miracle. When he'd come to a halt, he hadn't bothered trying to stand up, just crawled the rest of the way. Every time his shadow was cast in a sullen orange glow from behind, every time he felt the mountain shudder under impossible force, every time he heard the roar of a beast in agony, he'd steeled himself and pressed on.
Now, the silence settled with an awful pressure, and only the sound of his gasps told Risei he hadn't gone deaf. The mountain itself seemed to have died, still and unresponsive beneath his feet where before it had been twitching as if in pain.
He risked a glance behind him, up to the peak of Mount Enzo half hidden through the trees. It was dark, the shadows long and steady in the evening sun, no longer dancing crazily in the light of a hundred blasts of flame.
It was over, then, just as Lancer had said. Berserker was dead.
Risei heaved himself upright, and made his way down to the bottom of the hill, feeling every single one of his years. In front of him, Fuyuki came into view, hazy through the smoke. It was still on fire, Risei realised with a shock – the fire service had been one of the first things Berserker had hit, and the roads were simply too crammed with panicking people to organise any kind of response.
He rubbed his cheek, the burn scar from Berserker's red-hot caress still raw. The oni was dead, but the damage from her rampage remained.
And in the end, she'd died all the same. All that pain, all that suffering and chaos, for nothing.
His fault.
Risei knew it was madness to think this way. Berserker's sins were her own to bear. But by that token, Risei's sins were his own to bear as well, and he could not deny he'd had a part in it. His politicking with Tokiomi had wrought this, had created the conditions for Berserker to decide she had nothing more to lose – and even if he wasn't to bear the weight of all the lives lost that day, he couldn't simply wash his hands of the whole things and pass responsibility.
If nothing else, this would never happen again. Not on his watch.
And, up ahead, looking fretfully up at the mountain, was just the person he needed to speak to.
Rider gasped when she saw Risei limping down towards her, and rushed forward to support him. "Father Kotomine! My God, what has happened to you?"
He waved her off. "I'm fine, Rider. My old bones are bruised, that's all. I may be the Moderator, but I have no business being near a Servant battle…"
"I should think not!" Rider huffed indignantly. "Oh, that Berserker… I will pray for her passing, that she might be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord. But I won't be praying very hard!" She faltered, and looked around guiltily. "…oh dear, that's very unworthy of me, isn't it, Father? I just can't seem to muster up any mercy for that… that animal, even though I know the Saviour's mercy extends to all things. I suppose I have a long way to go to follow in His footsteps…"
Risei smiled, despite himself. Rider was refreshing to be around, and not just because she was a lovely young woman. She was a good person – the real deal, the kind that reaffirmed his faith in humanity in a world that all too often fell short of his ideals. While Rider lived, there was at least one righteous soul in the Grail War.
God knew, her Master wasn't one of them. Risei sighed heavily. The events of this day… it was too much. Tokiomi wasn't truly to blame, any more than Risei was, but that didn't change a thing – it was by his word and deed that the War was in the state it was. Risei had no desire to stand in his friend's way… but looking out over the city he'd helped to destroy, he knew he couldn't be part of Tokiomi's schemes any more.
But that was only half of it.
The Grail was too dangerous to pass into the hands of an unvetted, unknown magus. The Church had decided they could work with the Tohsaka family, who desired nothing more or less than the Third Magic created by the Einzberns all those years ago, and were unlikely to harm the world with their ambitions. In their hands, the Grail would do far less harm than if it were granted to the El-Mellois of the world, much less the Uryuu Ryuunosukes.
Now, however, there was another option. A way for the Grail to stay safe, with the people who truly respected its power.
Kirei would win the Grail. His son, his little boy, possibly the only other righteous soul in the War alongside Rider, who was humble and devout and had lived his days in service to the Lord. Yes. Risei could live with a man like that getting a wish.
And all he had to do to make it happen was let the War continue along its natural path. Let the most powerful Servant win. Having now seen Lancer's power, Risei couldn't imagine him losing to anyone. No-one could threaten Kirei's shot at the Grail.
No-one, except Tohsaka Tokiomi, who still commanded Kirei's loyalty.
Therefore, Tohsaka Tokiomi must be removed as a threat.
Risei breathed a deep sigh, and wished this burden had passed to another – then shook his head, annoyed with himself. The only other one it could have passed to was Kirei, and Risei would not wish that on him. Kirei was where he was meant to be, and Risei was too. The Lord never laid a heavier burden than it was possible to bear.
He cleared his throat, and began to sabotage his oldest friend.
"You're a good woman, Rider," he said. "I have truly enjoyed my time working with you."
Rider startled, and looked at him in concern. "Father? What are you saying? I thought you said you were alright! You're not going to die, Father, I swear it…"
Risei chuckled tiredly. "Indeed I am not. But I fear our time together has come to an end nevertheless. It has been… a very long day. A very trying day. Rider, could you please pass on a message to Tokomi for me?"
"I… yes, of course. What is it?"
"Please let him know that due to the circumstances of the day, the Church has decided to break off the unofficial alliance with the Tohsaka family. I'll not work against him… but I'll not work with him behind everyone's back either."
Rider looked anguished. "Father…"
"I know, child. But look at what we've achieved, with all our games and all our plotting." Risei gestured at… well, at everything. "I'm just a simple priest. I'm no good at this, and I need to stick to what I know. I'll moderate the War. I'll do my best to keep the people safe from now on. If Tokiomi wants to help with that, I'm willing to accept it. But I can't be part of his faction any more. You understand, don't you?"
Rider wrung her hands. "Is there no way I can convince you to stay? I know my Master seems cold, but I also know he is a good man! How could I be summoned if it were not the case? Please, Father…"
"I am truly sorry." Risei patted Rider's hand. "Tokiomi will always be my friend. But it is precisely because of that friendship that I cannot stay by his side and enable him. That much, today has made very clear. Instead, it is my duty to stand fast, as an example." He paused, and sprang his trap. "As a man of God, I can do no less."
He saw and felt Rider tense up, and Risei mourned the loss of his innocent, straightforward nature. Once, he had been like Kirei, not an ounce of guile in him. Now look at him. Perhaps it was only fitting to use Tokiomi's influence to sabotage his Servant's morale.
But it still didn't feel great.
"And… and me, Father? What shall I do?"
Risei sighed, and twisted the knife, hating himself all the while. "I would never ask you to put your duty to your Master above your duty to God. You shall do as your conscience demands, Rider."
The Servant was quiet. Risei could see the warring emotions play out across her face – Rider possessed many wonderful qualities, but a poker face was not one of them. Well, not in front of him, anyway. While she was every bit the perfect holy maiden in public, to her friends she was the same village girl that had met Christ and followed him into a new life.
Her duty to God was the highest priority in the world to her. Risei could hardly call himself her friend and not know that.
Of course, a friend wouldn't have used it as a weapon against her.
I am so sorry, Rider. Please forgive me. For the sake of the world, the Grail must go to Kirei. I cannot let Tokiomi demand it from his pupil, or let you convince Kirei he would be right to do so.
"Of course…" Rider said. "My duty to my Master…"
Risei decided not to push. The seed of doubt was planted.
There was a very small noise behind them. Risei turned to look into the dark woods, but saw nothing. He shivered. It was time to go home.
"Think nothing of it, Rider. Just pass on the message. And, if I could trouble you for a lift back to the church? I would call for a taxi, but I fear the roads are completely impassable still."
"Oh! Yes, of course, Father," Rider said, visibly brightening. "It would be my pleasure."
Yes, Risei reflected. Home, his bed, about a thousand painkillers for the beating that Berserker had put him through. That sounded wonderful.
It might even take his mind off the guilt gnawing at his heart.
Up in a tree, Serenity watched the Moderator and Rider go.
Things were happening, and very quickly. Until a few minutes ago, the urgent priority was to stop Berserker's rampage. The longer she spent torturing the city, the longer Kiritsugu spent torturing himself for choosing to let it continue rather than nip it in the bud – no matter how wrong he was to do so.
His ideals and soft heart would have him save the city, but his head and pragmatism had led him to allow it to suffer in order to draw out the other Masters. It had worked, but the cost had grown too great. To spare him the suffering – and, more pragmatically, because of her suspicions about Caster, Serenity had wanted to end it as soon as possible.
After that, the plan had been to work their way through the rest of the War at their leisure, having gathered more than enough intelligence. Serenity would have had to discuss it with Kiritsugu, but her own preference would have been to remove Caster first, as the Servant that got more dangerous the longer you left them.
And then Lancer had appeared.
The most powerful Servant possible, under the control of the most dangerous Master possible. Worse, Lancer had been able to detect her. During his speech at the end, challenging every Servant to come and die, they had been looking directly at her. The entire time.
Looking at her – the head of the Order, one of the best in history at not being seen, when she very, very much wanted not to be seen. She didn't know how that was possible, but there was no use denying it.
It was the nightmare scenario, and Serenity could already imagine her Master tearing his hair out in frantic worry – especially for his wife and his associate, working to attempt to kill Kotomine Kirei with no idea of the power he commanded.
The worst of it was, he would still let them do it. Having been convinced of his own compromised decision making where Kirei was concerned, he would grit his teeth and let Iri and Maiya go up against him, even knowing about Lancer. He would call it the move with the greatest chance of success, he would say they were both willing to sacrifice themselves for his cause, and all of that would be true.
But if they died because he let them go up against Kirei, he would never forgive himself for it. Even if he won the War, he wouldn't survive.
Serenity had to kill Kotomine Kirei. Or at least make sure Iri and Maiya survived doing so.
It… shouldn't be impossible. Kirei was still just a man. No matter how powerful his Servant was, he was still vulnerable. The problem was that Serenity couldn't even get close without Lancer knowing, and, having detected her, she would have no chance of survival.
However, Serenity was not one of the greatest killers in history for nothing. She would not fall to despair. When Allah sent adversity to test his faithful, you had to get creative.
Admittedly, nothing came to mind at the moment.
Serenity sighed, and dropped, light as a shadow, to the ground. For now, all she could really do was return to the Einzbern castle, to give her report of the battle to Kiritsugu and regroup with Iri and Maiya – and to plan their future steps.
First, though, she would have to clean up her tracks.
Starting with the first kill she'd made in the War, moments ago.
She pulled her knife from where it had buried itself in the former Master of Berserker's brainstem, and picked the corpse up by the scruff of the neck. Even in death, he was youthful and handsome, a cheerful grin on his face as if excited to go to meet whatever fate awaited him.
It was rather like locking the stable door after the horses had not only bolted but also laid waste to a city and massacred thousands, but better late than never. There was no use letting a potential Master run around as a loose end. While he had the Command Spells, even depleted as they were, he could still form a contract with a Servant. Somehow, Serenity didn't think anyone would miss Uryuu Ryuunosuke.
After a short prayer for his passing, she got to work. The river should do as a hiding place.
Ibaraki came to.
She was quite surprised by this, naturally.
It was pitch black, here in… wherever she was. Oni had excellent night vision, but this was as if even the possibility of light had been snuffed out.
Fortunately, she was in a position to do something about that.
With a flick of her wrist, a small flame, no more than a candle, hovered above her palm.
It didn't help at all. Wherever this was, there was nothing to illuminate.
"Ugh," came a voice from directly behind her. "No, you won't do at all."
Ibaraki whirled, but saw nothing. "Who goes there? I am Ibaraki-douji, and you will regret angering the scourge of Kyoto!"
"Oh, wow, the first Servant to be knocked out is threatening me. I'm shaking," came the voice in a mocking sneer. "You couldn't even kill that dragon, so you're no use to me whatsoever. Go on, get out of here."
Ibaraki felt herself fading once more. In a panic, she shed as much light as possible, trying to at least see the face of her attacker.
They were all swallowed up… but just before they were, she could just about make out a figure in black.
"Don't worry, O weak-ass Servant Berserker," they said. "Don't feel too bad about how you died like a chump. If it's any consolation, those other 'heroes' aren't going to last too much longer. After all…"
They leaned in close, and before she lost consciousness for good, Ibaraki saw a pale face full of malevolence.
"I'm gonna avenge you."
