Mere moments passed from the initial attack, and many beasts had made landfall during the interim. Crowding and surrounding the Master of Chaldea and the Archer Class Servant, they darted apart but the mass had already come
Wyverns were akin to shoaling piranhas once they came down. Snapping for flesh and moving in and out of the mass in a turbulent rhythm only they truly understood.
But unlike a small predacious fish from the Amazon, these beasts were quite clearly of larger bone structure and span. This resulted in the beasts accidentally snapping at each other in their frenzy or just knocking themselves to and thro. This could grant their quarry, if of fleet foot, a chance to slip out.
Spider-sense and simple sight kept Peter from being chow. Leaping from beast to beast, and webbing to each other as he moved. His attire became less stable as it got caught, torn and ripped from the ravaging beats horns, a stay brush with bared fangs or just his own aberrant movements.
Between wyverns' growls he heard them cry, blades slicing and blood splattering. Unnerving to say the least, but he had bigger worries at the moment as he quickly swapped out his cartridges. Please let Mash and Jeanne be okay–please let Mash and Jeanne be okay–
EMIYA had a heated focus, blades manifested, drakeblood spewed from hard jabbings, succinct slicings, and the blades chipped.
Rinse and repeat, keeping himself moving in the brief moments of ingress he snatched as the beasts ravaged about.
"HRK!" His locomotion halted on a dime and he fell back nearly into the jaws of a wyvern that had snagged his red coat around his waist and was prompt in using it to chew him up. "Damn you!" a vein popping on his forehead as he loosened the holy shroud to free himself towards the goal of headway. Sorry, Ciel…
Almost in synch, the archer and master threw themselves from frenzies' outer limits and onto the brick ground of the desolated half of Lyon.
Skidding upon their landing, they were expedient to face towards the mass of wyverns that had previously landed on them. The wyverns writhe in rage as they attempt to pull themselves away from each other in near vain while telltale vespers of smoke broke down in the mass of webbing, which would assuredly allow the beasts to gather their bearings as space became available.
And not to mention those of the drake subspecies that still hung in their air and were quick to do what their brethren had failed to do.
They look at each other, irritation crossing their eyes for but a moment–Peter's eyes quickly turn fiercely tactile along with Nameless's. "I drag them, stick them down and around, you stab them. Sound good?"
The Archer nods without snark and so they go to work, Peter launching a webline at the closest diving wyvern and pulling it down to the ground hard. It slams down without breaking a sweat, the Master of Chaldea webs its wings and face to ground before using the aviary reptile as a springboard as Nameless penetrates the beast's skull with a hefty blade and ends it.
Airborne, Peter webs himself to the next wyvern, webs its eyes, strikes it in the skull to discombobulate it before shooting webline to another wyvern and sticking it to the former.
The second is dragged down by the first to be slayed by the archer. The first being easy to finish, but the second giving fight as it snapped at Nameless while its kin blasted and back into the mana that composed it.
He nearly met a face full of flame but sidestepped, the outermost of his left side meeting flame, "..." he inhales sharply, readying a claymore and promptly slicing off the drake's upper maw completely.
The beast went limp before a batch of three more that had been glued together fell to the ground. Gray eyes snap to skies to briefly witness his master pulling himself in midair to another wyvern, spinning web around its maw, going to its wing and dragging it downwards and around with webs and encasing the beast in a cocoon almost with a kicked of another closeby wyvern stuck to it via webline.
But fell by gravity and the Archer was prompt to end their time in this era. That said, they were still outnumbered, barely making a dent in the mass of wyvern.
A stray thought came to him. I mean, that would work… his mind reflects on his firing of Caladbolg, where his body disconnected more or less. But that stunt took a lot out of me, I don't even know if I'd be even able to pull that many of them into my Reality Marble with the reservoir of mana I have left–
Peter was thirty feet in the air, and was quite glad he didn't have a fear of heights. And if he did, it would surely be overwhelmed the rows of teeth and spewing flame that were coming at him
He is more thankful for the attributes granted to him by that radioactive spider than he had ever been before as heels jab into the skull of a wyvern midflight, disorienting it and acting as a makeshift springboard as Peter bounces off it to avoid an incoming wyvern, one that rams into the one he had just used as a makeshift trampoline.
The beasts snap at each other as they hurdle to the ground.
Peter, now in free flight, waits for his spider sense to flare and his eyes runabout searching for the next of the draconic kin to send crashing down.
He did not have to wait long as he free fell with one of the beasts coming upon him from above.
Readying his fingers on the triggers of the web shooters. He attaches a webline to the closest beast and zips to it–
*spider-sense* flares
Only to have webline burned a second wyvern that was soaring swiftly towards him from the side,
*spider-sense* flares yet again.
Another beast flying at him from his side.
His spider sense screams as if in tandem, the beasts were coming at him from all sides as he fell to earth.
Attempting to web and zip to any of them, they are burned. Again and again as seconds pass in what both simultaneously feels like forever but all too brief as Peter realizes he is very close to hitting the ground with these ganging up on him.
Crap!
Luckily for him, he had back up.
Metal projectiles go through the skulls of a few of the wyvern, killing them and getting the other's attention away from the wallcrawler. Thus, it granted him free reign to pound and send them down.
Clinging to the back of the wyvern, he dented its skull as the ones beside it were shot down. He rode it back to the ground, the beast's hefty body slamming through a building just Peter webzips off it and on to the ground.
Keeping on his feet as wyverns chased him by land and air, he parkours his over to Nameless; he was slicing and dicing wyverns with the skill of craftsman in his element.
His gray eyes snap to his master, summoning his bow, he lets loose arrows that fly past and at Peter.
The brunette dodges and the projectile go into the open gullet of a wyvern that was right behind him. "ABITTOOCLOSEFORCOMFORTDON'TYOUTHINK!" he yelped.
The archer says nothing as he continues to fight any and all encroaching wyvern,
"..." Peter grimaces, "actually–" all while the Master of Chaldea leaps, bobs and weaves about from wyvern to wyvern, liberally letting loose webbing to keep the flying terrors on the ground to be easily slaughtered by the (half-) red clad servant.
Said servant was also liberal with projectiles and traced blades as the spider leaped here and there, when the brunette was mere inches away from the down beast while moving on to the next one.
Too close for comfort but succinct all the same in its efficiency as a cavalcade of blades, roars, blood and webbing became a savage rhythm.
If Peter were to take the riskiest of peaks between the proverbial blender, he would have seen the archer he so loathed, have a haughty smile with the briefest glimpse of the eyes of a wistful child. But he did not.
Houses collapsed via felled wyvern, and any of the remaining undead unlucky enough to be in the torrent were crushed under the weight of the winged beast or ruined structures.
That said, the draconic kin kept coming and coming, their ferocity was unending they would be overwhelmed eventually and assuredly.
From atop the back of a wyvern and in the air, the Dragon Witch, a frown strewn across her face, watched the archer and master struggle and fight.
She had commanded that all wyvern that had come with her, seek out and kill the master for his vile transgression.
It took a minute number of the draconic subspecies to lay waste to a settlement, and she had manifested (via the grail) and brought three times the usual amount. It was a show of force, a show of certainty, absolution and an expedient method to incinerate the refuse.
With all eyes on the master, mere human, the boy should have been minced meat, training/enhancement with magecraft or not. Yet–
Why isn't he dead yet? She asked, a flaxen eye twitching as she bit her lip in consternation. Even with the sole servant fighting beside him, the boy should have been dead, burned, torn apart and chewed up in any particular order. "But he's still fucking going!" she gritted teeth and growled in irritation.
Master and servant in-step with each other as if they were dance partners. Each jump and punch timed at the exact specific moment when/before a projectile was fired or a slashing blade came.
Surely the numbers would overtake them, surely, there was no possible way they couldn't. The master would tire, grow delirious with exertion and slip up. "But can it be any fucking faster?!" she snarled, "HELL–I'd least enjoy some blood spill or a limb chewed off? SUFFER GOD DAMN IT!" she pinched her temples.
She eschews her view to the rest of the city, hoping the destruction she and her ilk had caused would assuage her stress and remind her of the worth of her work.
Buildings in rubble, plumes of smoke, scattered limbs of the fallen and the tell-tale cries of the surviving sinful witnessing her justice.
A firm smile formed across her heavenly features as a wistful sigh escaped her. Vengeance is sweet–she reminded herself. It was all she needed to reach the foregone conclusion of her crusade. That is my endgame, you wretch! No tolerance for the ungrateful and a land scorched in my name…what more could a saint want? "Yes, I, who was burned and berated while being so–tell me, God, if you're actually there…what other choice do I have for such a fate cast upon me? This was my inevitable recompense for all those wasted days calling for your wisdom and defending my countrymen–with not a spec of gratitude! Nothing! FROM ANY–"
A foreigner from an enemy nation,
A paltry gift,
The englishman cried for me–
"GAAH!" she clutched her skull in agony "ENOUGH!" she howled. I don't care who that man was or why he whimpered–"He did nothing for me! I still died in agony! I won't be like her–I won't lose my resolve like she did…" her eyes queried, where is she…?
She recalled that her counterfeit had been waylaid by Fafnir, that boy having carried her like deadweight along with his other servant.
One could think that perhaps they both had expired, the master abandoning them and her wyverns scarfing them down like easy prey.
That would be a blessing, wouldn't it? That notwithstanding, she would have known if one of her wyvern had finally ended that false saint of the flag. As she could communicate with her servants, she could commune with her beasts and when she had learned about the copycat, she made it paramount that if that alter of her was overtaken–I would see her final moments from its eyes!
But that hadn't happened, and unless the faker had simply dispersed into mana from her wounds, then most likely reality was that– "she's cowering in a corner somewhere…" Jeanne sneered and focused, wielding her rite as a Ruler to probe the land below.
The most actively flowing mana pools were from wyverns as they fought the master and archer, with scant weak auras wandering listlessly through the ruined desolate half of Lyon.
Those, assuredly, were the corpses reanimated by the curse Gille and her had planted here via that mentally polluted assassin, there should be more though… she vexingly wrinkled her nose.
Minor annoyances aside, her lips curled into a peckish smile as she spied what she was looking for–Two very faint mana receptacles (one of them actually fading), huddled in a small building that had two rather large holes in it.
She laughs to herself, "let's kill some time…"
Her body felt heavy, her nerves stung as if thousands of pins and needles jabbed into her. Her breathing had a steady rhythm (though escalating pitch) as she slowly clenched and released her hands and wriggled her toes to lessen the feeling.
Minutes had passed since her senpai had been thrown out by the wyvern, the beasts having drawn away from them, presumably, to kill her master.
Gauging the fact that she was still manifested, Peter was still alive, and adding on the fact that she could hear the draconic nearby, he was not out of danger. I have to move!
She breathed in sharply, applying pressure upon herself to get up and go. Sweat trailed down her forehead as she struggled.
"FOU FOU!" the small white creature egged her on.
Come on! She bit her lip and tried to roll forward using her upper torso, no progress was made and she found herself still against the wall next to Jeanne d'Arc, whose wounds were quite obvious, along with the tired consternation of her features–her amethyst eyes watching the shielder struggle with pity.
The lavender-haired girl saw the pity out of the corner of her eye. A weary nostalgia overtook her, that of glass windows with people on the other side and walking the halls of Chaldea,
Looks with eyes, that if they even regarded her, held ruth, like she could never manage to be like them even if she tried.
Hollowness etched its way into her psyche as she let out a haggard breath of anger. Don't fall into that cycle again! Not now! Not Here!
So, she kept clenching, releasing and testing her limits.
"I'm…so…sorry…" Jeanne whispered.
Nonchalantly "You have nothing to apologize for." Determined, Mash didn't look away from her goal at this moment. Fou even attempted to pull her up by biting and tugging her hand.
"...I wish…that were true…" her debilitated features twisted in anguish. "You should…shouldn't have had to–"
"It was my choice," she said steadily, "even if Peter wasn't there–" her arm slowly and shakily raising, her body screaming in agony as she did so. A pained smile formed on her lips, lilac irises sparking excitedly.
"Yes!" she clenched her fist as pain overwhelmed her and her arm fell to the ground. She cringed, clenching her eyes tight as she reeled in frustration–she then opened them and looked to the Ruler beside her "...even if my master wasn't in the line of fire, I-I don't think I would have felt right letting someone I know die," Fou crawled onto her lap and nuzzled against her chest, "especially someone who would prove more useful our mission than I am" she admitted, a knot twisting her chest.
Jeanne queried her tired eyes at her, "why…would you say…something like that…?"
Mash was blunt "From an objective standpoint, you know the landscape better, while I have only reference via what I've read. You're a heroic spirit with acclaim around the world and years over. You, in all likely, have accumulated more strength due to that–meanwhile I don't know what spirit I'm even bonded with…which means I'm not at full capacity. And that's not even taking into account what you've learned from being on actual battlefields when you were alive. With me, I'm reacting and relying on muscle memory from an unknown source and what I can recall when I was being readied to be…" she trailed off, she pursed her lips and then admitted "Servants are tools, and I'm a lackluster one at best–"
"Peter…doesn't seem to think so"
Mash nodded, "yes" she admitted sullenly, "and…" her features reddened and quivered "and I'm grateful for that more than you could ever imagine–" teared welled "but it's hard to let go of the fact that I know I'm not living up to my full potential–I'm on the sidelines as my master throws himself into danger for my sake! And I–"
Jeanne haphazardly wraps an arm around Mash and brings her close, the saint letting out a pained grunt while doing so. "You're frustrated–I-I-get it! More than you realized…" the saint consoled. "But you've done more than I have…you say I have knowledge of my homeland and tactics? How has that helped us? When our enemies are not men…and my countrymen flee from seeing my face or hearing my name? What use is acclaim when I find myself doubting every decision that I make…meanwhile you're able to keep pushing yourself to fight even in this state while I ponder my mistakes" she sighs sharply "–you manifested your noble phantasm twice in succession…that's a feat in itself, meanwhile…I found myself in the clutches of our adversary and it left me as deadweight…I no more useful than Peter and Nameless's grudge–"
Fou's ears straighten up and he turns to the hole Peter was blasted out of–
"-and I pray that I could moor myself to the goal ahead instead of treading with despair when I think about the crimes committed in my name"
The white fluff balls leaps off Mash and puts himself between the threshold and the girls–
The Saint of the Flag features twist in agony "…you feel that you don't truly know yourself? You know that you're Mash Kyrielight, the Shielder of Peter Parker and I don't know if I'm even the real Jeanne d'Arc–"
Fou growls as his posture becomes guarded like an attack dog–
"You are not" her voice so-alike-yet adversely different, sliced through the air.
Lilac and Amethyst met yellow as the Dragon Witch stood at the threshold of the twos hiding place with a predator's razor sharp smile.
"So much for the bravado you showed earlier–but it's nice to know it was all fake!"
"KYUU!" Fou leaps, fangs bared at the Dragon Witch, only to be met with a wave of flames that blasted him against the wall and knocked him out.
"If I may confess, I'm tired of your charade!"
Mash strains herself to move, gritting her teeth.
"And it may be a sin–but I don't give a shit and I'm going to enjoy this!"
Artoria's expression was cold and refined like tempered steel, her blade clashed with her former and currently unhinged knight, Sir Lancelot Du Lac.
Said knight (with one hand) wielded a blackened blade, Arondight, a once holy sword gifted that was kin to Excalibur. When Lancelot was in his prime, before the decline of Camelot, Arondight shined heavenly like Excalibur did–but it was no mystery why it was now darkened much like the Sword of Everlasting Victory itself.
For all his strengths, my dear knight never had the heart to stand firm against the innate cruelties of our post she thought with pitying glare.
"ARTHUR!" He threw Arondight down upon and she diverted it with Excalibur inturn, sparks flying as the respective metals connected and blazed past each other.
"Don't you have anything else to say to your king?" she asked coldly, thrusting her sword forward, dark power burst from the blade–
Lancelot (animalistically) dodging to the side to attempt to strike her backside, only to be caught by the Sparrow emblazoned shield of not a shadow servant but the Black Knight–Percival Av Scandia in full
And he spoke "If there's anything left of your psyche, Sir Lancelot, I prithee that you stand down, for sake the world your King has sworn to fight for!"
"GRAAH!" The Knight of Lake unsummons his sword, clutches the Black Knight's shield and attempts to wreak the latter to the side to get to Artoria.
"So be it!" But Black Knight lets go of the shield and the Berserk Servant hails it away in doing so, giving the former opportunity to jab the Ebony Blade into his foe.
Foolish and odd. Percy was never one to give a foe the chance of surrender. The King of Knights pondered
Said foe, manifests a large shadow-encumbered pole and uses it to launch him in the air to avoid the attack before somersaulting and throwing the pole down upon the Black Knight–
*BAMM*
Percival's form shapes itself into the ground from the impact, Lancelot lands and immediately manifests a shadowborn modern day gatling gun and hails mana-made bullets at Artoria.
The Tyrant King takes evasive maneuvers, Lancelot following her trail, the bullet ripping the ground and air on impact but nary hitting an inch of their intended target.
Sloppy, she chides her knights.
Excalibur hums with power and radiates it as Artoria readies herself to strike at the right moment while she evades attack.
"Arthur…" Lancelot growls, his form begins to radiate with mana–"ARTHUR!" The tell tale warning of a noble phantasm makes itself known.
"Damn you, Sir Lancelot…" she cursed in a vexed manner, deciding to get serious herself. She knew she couldn't very well manifest her noble phantasm–but she could do a blast wave close enough. Though, she admitted she didn't have the time to do so. How inglorious!
A black gauntlet clutches Lancelot's heel and trips him to the ground. The Berserk Knight lands on all fours to catch himself, "Grr!" his neck snaps, turning his body in sequence, to the cause of his fall–only to meet with the Ebony Blade impaling his chest and then twisting. "WRAAGGHH!"
"Cease!" The Black Knight commands, halfway up from the chasm his body had made–he pulls out his blade rapidly and goes for another stab.
In response, Lancelot rolls to the side, leaps to his feet and starts unloading a torrent of bullets into the Black Knight.
Percival's armor is filled with holes, but keeps moving forward and toward Lancelot–a black and red miasma flowing from his form.
And in turn, the Berserk Knight embeds more power into his shots–
*Schlick* went a burning Excalibur, slicing through the Knight of the Lake chest.
The bullet's then stop "Art–" his armor rattles and bursts with dark power, Excalibur's might flow through the seams and turning the knight into umbral pyre–
Still alive and spurred on by rage, Lancelot summoned his pole swings wildly back at Artoria,
Excalibur was hastily extracted, drawing blood as Artoria ducked to avoid the wild swing, this distraction allowed for the Ebony Blade to meet his former ally's blindside.
And The Black Knight supplied his own volley of power into the erratic Knight of the Lake, as dark crimson mixed with shadowed engulfed Lancelot.
Arondight was manifested and swung in Sir Percy's direction,
The Black Knight pulled out his sword and backed away.
And so Artoria delivered another slash, and Lancelot retaliated–
The Black Knight sliced, Lancelot haphazardly countered–
Artoria stabbed.
Lancelot–
The Black Knight delivered his Ebony Blade through his lower back.
And Lancelot fired–
Artoria unleashed a volley of power from Excalibur which overcame Lancelot,
The Berserk Knight tumbled, he got up–
Sliced by the Black Knight–
He roared in rage–
Artoria stabbed.
The Knight of the Lake reached for–
The Black Knight cuts.
Lancel–
And without giving the Knight of the Lake time to react–both the King of Knights and the Hound of Merlin ran and swung.
They both slice through his armor and flesh cleanly–blood spurting out of him.
His body now frigid, the noblest of Artoria's knights fell down to his knees, his flesh and armor breaking down into mana.
The Knight of Lake does not release a death cry or one last attempt at retaliation–instead, "Forgive me, my king…" His body disperses in shimmering gold.
"Rest my dear Lancelot," and may we meet again on better terms she forlorns beneath a chilled calmness.
Armor clicks and clacks with a hefty thud.
She looks to the Black Knight, the fellow pupil of Merlin, having collapsed to the ground, but still clutching his accursed sword.
Blood leaked from his person and Percival or Percy as he was called in her court, didn't move or utter a sound.
Dead? She queried her eyes at this passively, Why isn't his body dispersing like– and raised her brows when her cousin's body was engulfed in a dark red aura.
The holes began to rapidly mended, both flesh and armor. The Black Knight's body spasmed to and thro as his body was raised into the air–the light was blinding, Artoria herself having to cover her eyes with her elbow.
The light was snuffed, and a quiet clack of armor was heard.
Artoria unobscured her view to see the Black Knight rise and steady his footing.
Percy studied the Ebony Blade briefly before sheathing it in its scabbard.
"So, the gift of deathlessness still applies for you as a spirit I see" she commented.
"I am glad you see it as a gift, my King…" tone somewhat bitter as the Black Knight nods. "Though it is finite…twelve deaths in all…one for every time I was revived in life." he shakes his head to himself. "A dark gift for whom must serve utopia, though it was better for me than the roundtable, for none had to sink to my savagery…that damned witch will pay for making Sir Lancelot become like that"
Perhaps Merlin did you a kindness when he sent you away. The Blackened King pondered, your faith was unwavering like Sir Bedivere's, but you would have broken at the sight of it all… "-Do not sully yourself with melancholy, Sir Percy–" her tone almost empathetic, "-A needless state like that was my court's downfall and I command you not to let the cycle continue"
"Oh I am aware, that Abomination's envy and self-pity as well as its whore of a mother was our downfall." he clenches his gauntlets "I truly wished your faith in that thing would have come through, unfortunately…it thought it was your better!" The Black Knight responded loathingly, he then looks to her and sighs "...Nonetheless, wise words as always,"
Artoria mentally chided him, always so shortsighted–
The Black Knight then laughs to himself "I suppose even with this corrupted state of yours, you can't truly erase what made you, you"
She cuts him with a cold glare "Watch your tongue, Sir Black Knight" her tone like ice.
He does not retaliate "Aye, my king!" he says almost contently
Excalibur is unsummoned and Artoria crosses her arms. "If I had known you be so disrespectful when you gained your full form, I would never had brought you along"
"One of the many gifts from our teacher, though I curbed it more often than not to keep the facade–that said, if I may speak out of turn again...our paths would have crossed either way"
"I needn't you to tell me what your original goal was, as it matters little" The King of Knight glances at her cousin with a side eye before turning to Lyon and allowing herself to assess her current situation–
Her spirit origin and thus her connection to the Master of Chaldea sparked erratically more or less with a dire warning.
Time pull that dog from the fire again "We best make haste," with that she broke into a sprint and towards the city
The waves were still coming, and Peter was sweating, eyes blurring and his aim getting shoddier and shoddier as the wyverns kept ravaging. His attire was nearly gone now, what could be called shorts, and the black t-shirt were all that left–having been torn by the beasts
EMIYA himself was in a similar state, having lost the entirety of Ciel's gift to as well as also feeling the weight of weariness as he spent his mana reserves with each blade traced. This is fucking endless! He jabbed a blade into webbed wyvern's skull before nearly getting his arm chomped off by another on top of it,
His shoulder was pulled by his master and the wyvern's jaw was webbed shut allowing EMIYA to take it out–
*click* *click*
"Crap! I'm running low!" he heard the brunette's voice seeped with terror.
"And they're not!" He sliced, the blades growing weaker and weaker.
"You think I don't know that!" He dodged the tails and claws of two wyvern.
The Archer let loose a few arrows, "Sorry, I thought we were pointing out–" before ducking to the attack of an overhead wyvern. "-the plain fucking obvious!"
Slapping two of his last four cartridges, "I talk when I'm nervous–sue me!" He narrowly avoided a hurdling forth wyvern, shoes skidding before he came to a halt and bumped back-to-back with Nameless.
His heart pounded, breath heaving ever so slightly, both he and the servant he so loathed as the world grew eerily silent for the briefest of the seconds. The wyverns reoriented themselves–their prey were worse for wear and finally tiring after slaying many of their number. They seemingly salivated with a satisfied pride that only a predator could have.
We are so screwed! Peter side-eyed the archer over his shoulder "If you got any arrows with a slab of meat the size of a humpback whale–now would be the time to use it!"
The beasts readied themselves–
Rolling his gray eyes, Nameless responded rather curtly "maybe, but I doubt the amount of mana needed to manifest it! Saving Mash, Jeanne and your ass from Fafnir took a lot out of me!"
Peter blinked "...that was you!?" A shiver of dread and regret washed over him, his breath audible and deafening in the brief silence as he shook, all those people that could have been caught in the blast, he did it, but the reason he did is on me–
–and attacked once more
Arrows flew at a quick but stuttered pace with a frustrated growl aside it "for fuck's sake–Spider-Man, focus up!" He snapped with disdain, grabbing the brunette by the back of his collar to pull him down and around to the ground just before a wyvern could snatch him–said wyvern was met with a sword in the face.
Flames were spewed all at once, from all sides–
He bent down to his knees and raised an open palm upwards "RHO AIAS!" he shouted almost in pain as a luminess flower-like violet construct.
Peter felt frigid, briefly shimmering under a yellow hue, though that was only quickly subsided as his palms sparked crimson. |Blighted Corpse…| the other voice whispered, barely registerable, bubbling under his consciousness like lava beneath miles upon miles of rock.
Firestill reign came and multiplied with each second, along with the draconic kin ramming themselves and clawing the proverbial door.
Slowly the shield began to break–"fuck me!" Nameless swore, I don't have the mana to keep this going– as sharp breaths made themself known behind him. He risked a look, knowing quite well what he would see, and he met Peter's hateful irises. Bet he looked at me the same way at Fisk Tower, but all EMIYA had seen then was his own loathsome eyes reflected back at him from white lenses.
{Still wallowing in its own self-importance and inadequacies…fear and rage is all a thief can use, how pathetic. Let it and its host fall!} The archer strained, something etching him to let go.
Why not? Let's just get it over with. Though, a better part still kept the construct mended. Do you want to continue the cycle? The man once known as Shirou Emiya asked himself.
The brunette's arms were encumbered by red sparks, his teeth grinding together as uneven, quick and hefty breaths exited through the space between each tooth. "..."
Cracks and seams multiplied and multiplied with each passing moment as the beasts attacked and the archer's mana and focus waned.
Though they paid no mind to the outside offensive, as their eyes were locked. Peter had all the cards at the moment, he could attack Nameless then and there. But he would surely die after |to kill a guardian, it would be worth it!|
{concede to your base instincts, you're nothing more than that!} EMIYA readied to trace a dagger, though it would be pointless once he let the shield fall.
The shield began to shake, telling both (if they cared) that time was almost out–
Peter breathed in,
swallowed,
his body shaking still,
"So, you did know…"
the sparks of red did not relent.
"Yeah" the archer answered bluntly with an open palm ready to strike the teen.
Their hazel and gray eyes were the same in that moment,
both wanted to end each other then and there.
"..." The brunette's arms returned to normal "we're talking if we survive this, okay, Archie?"
"let's, master" he quickly and succinctly placed the open palm on the flower-like violet construct. Strengthening it for a few more moments.
Peter's eyes quickly traced their surroundings. "So, what's that trump card you mentioned?"
The archer gave a haggard response as the weight built "Ugh…my noble phantasm is a reality marble, and I could possibly take out most (if not all) of these winged bastards with it–problem is…ngh–I don't have enough mana!"
Peter cringed for a moment before remembering the ichor option, "alright can you make a knife! I'll cut my palm–I can drip it into your mouth!" he suggested with a slight twitch in his eye.
The archer shook his head "that won't work with the time we have–at best it'll keep Rho Aias stable, but we'd be sitting ducks!"
Peter palmed his forehead in frustration "thenwhatdoyousuggest?!"
The red bowman gave him a bewildered look, sputtering for a moment before he could find the words "-your fucking command seals, moron–use one!"
Peter stared at the back of his right hand, then back at the archer "...they don't work…"
All the red bowman could do was stare, well, actually–
"The hell did you just say to me?!"
"They don't work!"
"WHATTHEFUCKDOYOUMEAN–'THEY DON'T WORK'!"
Peter raised his hands in defense, "Hey, chill out!"
"Chill out!? You just told me the thaumaturgical binding that makes me your servant–DOESN'T FUCKING WORK!"
"Looklooklook–" he sputtered "when the palette swapped Jeannie brought her entourage from dnd–
"Stop with the fucking quips, webhead! Get to the point!"
Peter glared at him, biting his tongue as he did in fact get to the point "I tried to summon Arthur to me to help out with Fafnir, when I tried, the seal glowed but also sent feedback through my body that made me just feel pain. When it cleared, Arthur wasn't by me and the seal was still there–okay?"
Nameless was dumbfounded. "We're going to fucking die! We're going to be torn limb from limb, and I'll hit my head against the proverbial wall when I get back to the Throne for how stupid this is!"
Peter cringed, "howabout I just put my palm on your mouth, and you just suck my blood straight out–maybe that will do something!" he suggested desperately.
"We'd just be delaying the inevitable–we're fucked!" The archer shook his head as sweat poured from his scalp. The shield was seams and cracks now.
Peter felt the weight of his right hand and looked back to the arachnid-esque segmented symbol. "Well, if that's the case…it wouldn't hurt to give it another try." he shook his head, a lump in his stomach as the faces of those he had known flashed before his eyes. Ending on Jeanne and Mash, the last people he could not save…I am so sorry…
"Go ahead, I'll at least get a chuckle seeing you spasm on the ground before I return to the Throne"
Peter nods " raised his right palm and focused, "By the power of my command seal–Nameless, USE YOUR NOBLE PHANTASM!"
Pain shot through his body, and he howled. The first portion, the abdomen of the spider glowed red. It stung endlessly, nearly blind with agony–nevertheless he caught a glimpse.
The archer's body was encircled by the luminescence of mana. It was overwhelming and blinding.
The archer was stunned for reasons Peter didn't understand "this is more than I was expecting…" Nameless commented in shock. His eyes sharpened, a devil may care grin slipped onto his tanned face–"see you on the other side, Spidey!" He let Rho Aias breakdown,
Peter spider-sense blared at all points. He braced himself, ready to give one last fight–
"BY THE BONE OF MY SWORD–"
Silence.
The wyverns were all gone, leaving Peter in a ghost town devoid of life.
He squinted his eyes and promptly looked at the back of his hand–and to his surprise, The Abdomen of his command seal was gone. It worked…He was stunned to say the least, "heh" the corners of his lips curved into a shy smile. A wave of relief overwhelmed him and nearly let himself fall. "IT WORKED!" raised his fist into the air in sweet victory.
And then reality set in, shaking his head and focusing "Mash and Jeanne–they need me!" He then heard laughter, familiar laughter, a sinister laughter–followed by a cream. Like now, Parker!
He slung his way to the laughter–
*click* *click*
He landed on the ground, annoyed, "Great!" he groaned through clenched teeth, he then cringed and turned away as a sheen of caught sunlight blinded.
Obscuring his eyes ever so slightly, he spied the reflector…that will come in handy!
Mash gritted her teeth in agony, her body still refusing to move "STOP IT" she screamed and begged the dark clad woman before her, the Dragon Witch, who was holding her double by the throat, closing her wind piper ever so simultaneously burning it with the same hand.
Jeanne, tears streamed from her eyes, but she did not dare look away from her copy–who looked back at her with nothing but hate.
The Saint of the Flag, though clearly in pain, didn't utter as much as a yelp when confronted. Though there was a pitiful sorrow in her eyes, it wasn't for her own fate though.
"..." the Dragon Witch sneered, squeezing harder. The smell of cooking flesh was nauseating.
Jeanne cringed, though she still did not cry in pain.
The Dragon Witch popped a vein "WHY WON'T YOU GIVE ME THE FUCKING SATISFACTION!" she slammed her twin into the wooden floor with a fiery boom that sent the downed Mash Kyrielight flying away from the impact.
She flew into a corner, hitting it and landing on her chest. Yet again she attempted to move. Please! Not like this! Let me save her! She didn't know who she was even asking, she didn't put much stock in a higher power, she realized they existed, but she wasn't natural, I'm not from anywhere–and that fact mattered little in the moment.
The Dragon Witch stood over Jeanne as the fire spread through the building from the impact zone.
Jeanne, her body failing her, her cloth attire in burned tatters, kept her amethyst eyes on the Dragon Witch's dire flaxen ones. She weakly mouthed out "There's nothing for you…at the end of this damnation–"
Her chest was stomped on by the Dragon Witch to shut her up–she summoned her flagstaff, turning the pointed end to her copy. "There will be peace from the ashes of devastation! What you–no-what I've wanted from the beginning!" clasping both hands to the pole and raising it up.
"And then what after?"
The Dragon Witch howled in frustration "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" She brought the flagstaff down–
The Dragon Witch finds herself flying into, through a wall and landing in an alley outside of the now burning building. She raises her head in confusion and screams in rage when she sees the boy picking up her copy, the other servant and the white fluffball she back thrashed earlier, getting out of the dodge of the fire and into the streets.
The maneuver was swift as expected of her master, Mash relieved to see that had survived the assault of wyverns.
And with quick few turns, sidesteps and weaves they were now in an alley. He laid both of them against opposing walls, setting Fou on the shielder's lap.
He backed off and stood between them "I'm so sorry–I'm so sorry–" he profusely apologized, raising his palm and looking at Jeanne. He cringed at the state of her. He then proceeded to slice his palm "ngh" his nostrils flared, and–
*Spider-sense yelled at him* warned him, it heeded him of her
|Bleed you dry…|
–cringing consternly, he placed the open wound close to the Saint's mouth "alright, uh–just take it in slow and easy…" he relayed with a stutter tone, gently guiding and supporting the back her of head
Jeanne gave a knowing look.
Her lips felt soft like heaven against his palm, and his spine went frigid as soon her tongue trace itself over the cut, the combination of both her lips and tongue intimately sup up the blood feverishly like ambrosia.
A relieved moan came from her as she did so, and enraptured determination on her features, eyes closed tightly as she solely focused on the mana transfer, a process that was working in all actuality–
The Saint of the Flag's wounds slowly but assuredly began to heal, the cuts mending themselves and the burn on her neck losing a level of degrees with each passing moment.
"..." Peter, bereft of his wit, looked to Mash as Jeanne continued to drink his blood. His first servant, his shield, was in a much better state than Jeanne, but she looked dog tired–that said she was a transfixed gaze and blush on her face.
Hopefully she won't need as much blood–
Without warning, Jeanne's hands clasped Peter's wrist hungrily and he felt the intensity of the suckling kick up a notch. Going on her knees for a more comfortable position.
He wrenched his hand away from her and landed his back against the wall in pure shock. He looked, pupil shrunk, face red and his body shimmering cold with flaxen fear.
Her peerless skin was before him, it was as if was untouched, the transfer having done its job was before him, on her knees with a look of euphoria, palms open towards him, red on her lips, panting hard–
It felt wrong, cursed, ugly and Peter wanted to run. He felt like |Prey|
Jeanne blinked and instantly crumpled her angelic features in shame and disgust. She clutched her shoulders "I don't know what–"
"It'sfine!" he cut her off, as Peter quickly turned to Mash, "Alright–" he bit his lip to fight off the terror, clenching his bleeding handing, letting the sting of it sharpen his focus "-you're next, partner"
Mash nodded slowly as she seemingly processed the previous few moments.
Peter crouched down to her and guided his hand to her mouth.
Lilac met hazel, with reluctance, understanding and yearning…
Then her lips, delicate as a feather–touched his palm,
It feels amazing he thought guiltily. disgusted the concept of that thought even existing in his psyche.
Peter felt the tip of her tongue sample the wound and then the blood–
Amethyst eyes rolled back into the back of her skull, and Jeanne's body fell forward onto the ground. Limbs spasmed and her body jerked which way and that–and she screamed, dear lord, did the saint of the flag scream.
Peter pulled away from Mash snapped over to Jeanne, "nonononono–" he panicked.
Mash laid against the base of the wall she was left at. A sly blush ran over her face as her tongue traced the rim of mouth, attempting to taste what was taken away from her.
I've…I've never tasted something so delicious…what? What am I even saying? Mash panted, wanting more–her heart clenched, her nerves burned, lilac eyes shrunk to the nth degree and all she could do was scream.
Peter jolted in surprise, looking to his shielder who's body writhed in pain.
He head snapped back to Jeanne, her lungs tearing themselves to tatters as she howled. The master of chaldea looked to his wound, the crimson ichor seeping out slowly. "..." dots connected "...the radiation...oh god!" he fell to his knees in despair. What do I do? How do I hel–
Like a dull buzz, it was too late as the wall next to him exploded and he slammed into the next one across from it. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, landing on his hands and knees, eyes bereft of direction–
"Thanks for making this very fucking easy for me!" the blurry form of The Dragon Witch mocked. Unleashing a torrent of fire at Peter and, seemingly, blasted him through the wall.
She turned to her counterpart who was still deep in the thralls of unrelenting pain. Her cheeks stretched themselves into a sadist's smile. "That's more like it!" and without further prep, she unsheathed her sword and brought thrusted it downward to the Saint of the Flag.
*clang* went la pucelle as it met la pucelle for a brief second, sliding past it and jabbing into the shoulder of the Master of Chaldea crouched on leg with his back hanging over Jeanne d'Arc.
His clothes burned partly, first and second degree burns on his skin and fresh blood seeping from newly added scratches.
No words were exchanged–
Dark Jeanne attempted to stab further through his skin, but the boy dropped to his buttocks and snapped his leg out and around, knocking the Dragon Witch over her balance and losing grip of her hilt.
Peter rolled to his feet, directed both ends of the pucelles at the downed Dragon Witch. "Stay down!" he ordered.
It was obvious the ruler, as she reviewed the rugged boy before her. Body shaking and his stance a stranger to that of a blade, though moments held familiarity as he became nearly firm–but it was fleeting, like a hazy memory, gone before you could catch it.
"Your stance is that of an amateur" The Dragon Witch smiled and then chuckled "and I know you don't have it in you!"
His eyes twitched "Wanna bet." His tone was hard, inching the tips closer.
"Fucking do it!" she haughtily demanded.
Peter's nostrils flared,
Jeanne screamed to the high heavens.
his hands shook ever so slightly as they clutched the hilts of the thin blades.
Mash cried for release, but none had come.
Sweat dropped from his scalp,
He bit his lip vexingly.
Hazel eyes locked with yellow ones.
The Dragon Witch smiled in victory as the briefest of moments passed.
Peter's features strained and relented, but he kept the blades on her.
"No spine behind your words–like everyone in this damned country!" she noted. She looks at her agonized double, her screaming had stopped but her body was ever so seized, as was the shielder. "No clue how and why, but hearing this falsity of me finally crying and your stupid face in utter loss…this might be something I'll be nostalgic for when I'm done with this land!"
"I have you dead to rights, and even though I can't kill you–that's never the only option!" toss the Dragon Witch's blade away, he thrusts his hand to the Dark Jeanne's chest.
He expected to see the glimmer of the grail, all he got was a blast of flame.
Spider-sense doing its job, he leapt himself backwards at the last possible moment and to the left and then to the right as the Dragon Witch attempted to torch him.
It wasn't just flame, but spears also flew. Skewering Peter's trail as bobbed and weaved, left, right, up and down.
She was in peak condition, and Peter was running on fumes. He couldn't zero in on her even if he tried. And he wouldn't dare run, Mash, Fou and Jeanne would be fish in a barrel to her. It was game on until his death, but he would not say die!
But what the hell can I do? He mentally smacked himself. What do you always do? "Yeah…" he smirked wildly, as his body bent better than any olympic acrobat, as he evaded. I'll just make space–
"Starting to feel a bit deja vu here!" he backflipped and crouched. "I mean come on! You're doing the exact thing as your iguanas did, and at least they had the excuse of being animals–"
"Talk all you want! You were going to die anyway until–" her eyes widened "wait, why didn't they kill you!?" The consecutive intensity of her attacks increased. "WHERE THE HELL ARE MY WYVERNS?!"
Dashing upward the side of a wall. "You ever have one of those guys at work you really hate, but have to admit they're pretty useful? Especially in a clutch?" He answered like that explained everything.
"You utter piece of shit!" more spears manifested and flew forth.
"Hey, I know I'm not Mr. congeniality–especially right now, but I do well for myself!" he fronts over, though the edges of his tatters of his uniform are sliced "ngh" some blood is drawn from a lucky hit. "Maybe because I don't think everyone is an asshole (most of the time)–and that there is good in people! Maybe you should do that!" he maneuvers
"HOW ABOUT YOU JUST DIE!" she runs towards him with her flagstaff and onto the streets.
Once there, they danced a dance of near death. Peter not being able to land a single hit on her as she expertly and fervently swung her flagstaff, the pole engulfed in flame. She was akin to a sphere of pyrrhic death.
Peter tried to make space, but she was having none of it. Close the gap making sure he didn't have time to leap away.
"Cool it, Darth Maul!" he yelped, doing his best to keep moving but finding he couldn't get away.
"NOT UNTIL ALL YOU WORTHLESS SINNERS ARE SCORCHED ALIVE!"
"And then what after, Nega Jeanne–"
"Will you moronic dregs stop asking that same fucking question!" the flagstaff goes every which way, moving
"No! Because you don't have an answer! Your plan has holes the size of pangea, Dark Jeanne!" bobbing and weaving. "You know that doesn't really roll off the tongue–and I'm not calling you 'The Dragon Witch'" he mocks.
"Dumbfuck!" She thrusts the burning flagstaff forward, pulls it back and summons spears down on the boy.
He rolls to avoid them and back to his feet "Nah–too coarse, and I've done enough cussing since I've joined Chaldea!" he wrinkles his nose in thought. "Well let's see–you're a palate swap Jeanne d'Arc–"
"I AM JEANNE D'ARC!" she vehemently yells.
"Jury's still out on that–though I'm leaning on my team's JD being true (mainly to drive you up a tree) and because I actually like her" he limbos away from a strike before clutching the ground pull away suddenly as the Dragon Witch to follow up with another swing of the bottom end of the flaming flagstaff.
"I don't need your seal of fucking approval!"
"Then what's with you acting out unless it's to get somebody to pay attention to you–"
"To prove there is nothing above and nothing to save them!"
Peter laughs "and yet JD's here with us as back up!"
"Insignificant nats playing fantasy!"
"Says the girl who calls herself Jeanne d'Arc–you're like a rejected alternate in a school play–'We have no need for a Jeanne d'Arc Alter for our play, our original is too good!" he clicks his teeth, letting his chest snap forward and look down to avoid a hit to his upper torso. "That's still too long for a nickname" he then snaps his fingers. "Wait–what about Jalter?"
The Dragon Witch stops her assault for a moment as the words that left the brunette's words sink in.
Peter takes drastics steps back, feet and limbs ready to start maneuvering again.
"..." The Dragon Witch growled, grinding teeth as her body was engulfed in her own flames. Blinded by pure rage.
He snaps both his and points at her "Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! Congrats, Jalt–" spider-sense screams in his skull–
Arms raised and he slams them down, sharp and swift anger rising over him to defy the dying of his own light, crimson sparks are just barely glimpsed as chunk of ground rises before him and is thusly overtaken by flame
Feet upon feet flying, a sphere of fire is sent into a building and the structure blasts apart in hellish flame.
The Dragon Witch's form radiated heat, the air warping around her as it burned. Variations of I hate him, and He better be fucking dead hurricane in her skull.
It was only the clinking of armor that warned her–
A dark wave rushed at her and she met it with fire.
The opposing vortices clashed and went upwards, dispersing in the air. Jeanne d'Arc Alter was met by the corrupted King of Knights and another knight.
She quickly registered who it was.
Sir Percival Av Scandia, The Black Knight, Merlin's Hound, The Butcher of Camelot and the wielder of the Ebony Blade, an accursed sword that could fell gods with the right wielder with Pendragon blood. That's the shadow servant–Doesn't matter! She concluded They will all burn!
The King decrees "check on my master, see that he does not expire!"
"Aye, my liege!" he was about to break into a sprint before a wall flame stopped any possible path and headway.
"He's going to die–he will die! And you'll be next!"
The saber servant tilts her head, amused. "Plenty have tried"
"And your inbred son did! And I know damn well I'm a step above that sort of blight!"
"Blight that thing may be…" the Black Knight concurred "...nevertheless my king wields the holy sword Excalibur and I've yet to see it be overtaken by the french, and I knew the best your country had to offer!" he unsheathed the Ebony Blade and readied it "And you'll pay for making him your slave!"
"Oh really–" A sheen warns her, and The Dragon Witch side steps and arrow–she keeps her forward towards the Knight of Knights and the Butcher of Camelot, but side eyes the nearby rooftops. There she spots the counter guardian, his attire picturesque in its completeness, and himself standing strong with ready bow and arrow.
"Took me a bit, but I handled the pest problem!" the archer mocked.
The Dark Jeanne's eye twitched, and she became irate enough to be engulfed in flame as two others came into the picture.
The shielder and her sickening double.
Their armaments beard and ready.
Wounds gone completely and determination in their eyes.
A millisecond passed and from the skies and to the earth landed a glass horse with two riders. The beast of burden collapsing a second after landfall.
The determined and almost sorrowful Queen of Lilies, Marie Antoinette (without her large red cap) and a still living Dragon-Blooded Knight, Siegfried (who stood up hunched and weakly) with his holy sword ready.
The Dragon Witch was surrounded, she was vexed, enraged, wrathful and indignant. Her chest glowed and la pucelle was now clutched in her hand. "I'LL TAKE ALL YOU WRETCHES ON!"
Her released an explosion of fire from her form like bomb and ran straight at her double, summoning spears to shoot outward in all directions–
A mass of shadows, tendrils unbound, they overtook her form–
"GILLES YOU WORTHLESS–" her cries were cut short.
And she was gone without a trace.
Silence.
"SENPAI!" Mash Kyrielight demanifested her shield as she sprinted to her master, with Jeanne and King Arthur in tow in quick succession.
"Peter!" The Girl from Chaldea found the Boy from Queen under a large chunk of what looked to be rock/brick, in the burning building.
He was unconscious with his mystic code in utter tatters, basically gone, burned and torn away, as well as having suffered second-degree burns and beginnings of third-degree burns.
The saber and ruler grabbed the boy by the arms and quickly moved him from the flaming structure with Mash raising the escutcheon high above them to defend from falling debris.
Out the street, they had laid the Master of Chaldea's form, covering and wrapping his body with Jeanne's cloak. He cringed while the process occurred.
Mash held him close in her arms. Her bonny features were overtaken by worry and regret.
"He won't last without a healer–" Nameless pointed out "-where the hell is Amakusa?!" evident worry in his voice. I did not just kill waves upon waves of wyverns so this idiot could die on me!
Roman fizzled into view -/he's in the impact site of that explosion, not moving and his signal is fading/-
"Fuck me..." he groaned "I'll go get him, make sure this idiot keeps breathing until then!" like that he left.
King Arthur looked to the rider, "the caster that accompanies her? Does he have spells of a healing sort?"
Jeanne noted Marie's expression, her eyes were downtrodden.
"..." The Queen was silent, she began to frown, then cringe and finally, cry…
"Why Marie?! Why would you say such a horrid, putrid thing–this country, this land, IT'S PEOPLE…it killed you…" they were at a loss. A laugh induced by stress barreled out of their mouth, they reclaimed and consoled themself "...have you gone mad, my dearest friend?"
Chevalier d'Eon in life, had been a consummate professional of their craft, despite what one could believe due to their fanciful nature. Much blood was shed, secrets born and lies revealed from their undertakings. But they had done all for the crown and for their much loved friend.
Now, his rapier was pointed at Marie.
And Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, he could barely hold back the anger at such an atrocity before him. An affront to what little beauty there is in this cesspit we call the world!
Marie, meanwhile, smiled at her old friend, "I'm happy to see even as you are now, that our Lien merveilleux is still intact, my lovely friend!"
"Compliments will get you nowhere, sweet, delicate, Marie…" Charles-Henri Sanson pointed out. "Judgment is nigh, and punishment alongside it–that. is. just!" clenching his free hand for emphasis.
"And here was I, hoping that you're becoming berserk would make you less rigid. Bully to that hope, I suppose" Mozart snarks, maintaining the gap between the assassin and Marie/Siegfried Siegfried, who meanwhile was deadlocked with the mad saber.
Their respective blades pressed on each other steadily, the petite saber had a calmed mania as they pressed encroaching–while Siegfried's arm shook and his scalp slowly dripped with sweat, mighty strength obviously there at one point, yet slowly deserting him
Sanson's eyes twitch at the musician comment "an executioner, better yet, a regulator of truth and justice mold always hold firm even with my master's strengthening of my core–I am as I have always been, musician!" he wore with clear disdain, spittle flying from his mouth like a mad dog.
"A prick? If so, I would concur wholeheartedly, murderer…" tone heavy handed with crystal loathing.
Marie shakes her head at this, "Must you always be so détestable, Amadeus?" slipping away from Siegfried with blade still locked with d'Eon's. She approaches the Knight of the White Lily.
"Queen…Antoinette!" Siegfried warned through a strained voice and gritted teeth.
"Worry not…" she looks over the spy with fondness "...I know my friend!" she smiles
d'Eon's smile wavered into a snarl "how presumptuous–"
She places a finger on their lips "You did call me your chère amie, was that a lie?" she asked innocently.
The composer side eyed his unrequited love She's playing with fire–Mozart's thought was thrown aside as Sanson tried to bound his way to her. A quick wave of his baton let forth a blast of violet.
It shot a hole through one of the remaining walls of the outpost a few inches away from where Sanson stopped himself. "Surprising aim, musician!" he cackles "but you missed!"
Amadeus snorts, "Quite" he conceited.
Chevalier's breathing became noticeable as their eyes were locked with Marie's. Face twitching erratically.
"You're in pain, my beautiful knight…" she palms their cheeks in sympathy. "Désolé, I know you have in your spirit to fight the ugliness weighed down upon you…you've always had my faith" her voice soothing.
d'Eon's features, they went from stretched into happiness, then crumpled into sorrow and-"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!" They let go of their rapier and–
Siegfried fell to his knees in weakness, Balmung clinking on the floor–
"Ngh!" Marie croaks.
–d'Eon's delicate hands around their neck and squeezing.
"Don't you understand!?" their face on Marie's, pushing her hat on to the floor and her knees to the ground. "If I help her–the injustice will never take place! Your worthless people will have never known suffering! Your sorrowful children won't end with a dire fate…and I won't have to see you die!" tears streamed through their eyes and onto Marie's face as she struggled.
"Che…valier–"
"Let this be! Let there be peace through devastation! LET IT ALL BURN!" they begged.
Sanson snickers at his compatriots' prithee. "Peace through devastation–that is a way to find justice. And I for one am glad my master has truly revealed this to me!"
Amadeus, disregarding the assassin, pointed his baton at Chevalier d'Eon and…hesitated. "Let her go, d'Eon!" he warned, biting his lip in worry I might hit Marie–
A blade through the back quells the worry as Sanson pushes the composer without care to the side and stalks him rapidly to the Queen and Knight.
Lurking to the side of them, Sanson's features were disturbed and hungry. "Let her go, Sir d'Eon–she is a criminal to the country and common good!" he salivated "Who better than her own executioner to let the queen embrace death again!"
They turned to him with a critical brow "I'd rather crawl in the fowlest of feces then let you get your vile hands on her again!" they scowled, letting go of the queen to get in the executioner's face.
"HA! Of course they are vile, to uphold what is just–you must deepen your hands into the excrement of society to even think of purging it!" he pokes at d'Eon's chest for emphasis. "I thought a spy, the most two-faced of peacekeepers, would understand such sacrifice!"
d'Eon huffs "Oh I am deeply aware of the grime a spy must undertake! But I am a refined surgical tool, who will give her a humane death–while you…ARE A BRASH AND VISCERAL HAMMER!"
A vein forms on Sanon's face "I KNOW SURGERY BETTER THAN YOU CAN COMPRE–"
Both are blown away by a violet blast from the Queen of Lilies below them–slamming through bed frames and weapons racks.
Marie picks herself up, a reluctant sorrow on her lovely face. She composes herself and runs to Amadeus, who lay on the floor, his chest spewed blood readily
She's about to help him up before he stops her–"I may be a trashy servant…but it takes more than a blade to kill me…his isn't even a holy sword!" he coughs slowly standing up.
"JUSTICE MUST BE DONE/SUFFERING MUST END!" d'Eon and Sanon cry out as they crashed up from the debris with unabated rage.
Amadeus saw them on a deeper level, their mana flow nearly unbound via the madness enhancement. They won't stop, though I shouldn't have expected less considering who they were in life…he laments, but that boost means they won't be overcome by just us!
Marie clasps her hands together, violet mana swirling as she readies herself for a fight. "I wish this wasn't so, but I can't deny reality as sombre as it currently is–just know there's no hard feelings, my friends" crystal blue eyes as firm and sharp as steel.
"''AND THAT IS WHY YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD!''" they said in unison, and Amadeus couldn't help but agree.
A horrid thought came through to Amadeus and it became voiced softly. "They'll focus on me…take Siegfried and make for Peter or Jeanne" she whispers.
Amadeus's persian green eyes widen shock and objection. "I…I…"
"Listen to royalty, but more importantly, your friend!" her upper lip stern with a clear frown.
"Heh, I'm refuse" Amadeus nods, with a prompt–"so I can't do that, Queen Marie!" he throws himself towards the mad assassin and saber as free launch themselves.
He blasts them back to where they were, but they keep coming and he begins to chant. "Time for a performance…"
Marie reaches out in surprise, only to be stopped by a hobbled Siegfried "..." he's too weak to even speak, but his looks convey's it all.
Marie features shrink in on themselves as she despairs, "I shall continue to bloom, okay?"
"Listen to this bewitching sound!"
"Here we go!"
"REQUIEM FOR DEATH!"
"GUILLOTINE BREAKER!
The angelic players came, and Symphony 29 began as Sanson's and d'Eon's reaction slowed, their bodies falling to lethargy, but their movement was unrelenting and more dire as they encroached him.
A glass horse appeared by Marie, she helped Siegfried aboard (best she could) and looked back to Amadeus–"..." she held back the tears and gave a curt bow.
"It's an old composition, but one that made me, me" Amadeus blew her a kiss as a goodbye before a rapier and an executioner's sword pierced his body and slowly and savagely went to work on him even with the blight placed upon them.
"Ça sonne merveilleux…" a low tone revealing her distraught, before sitting on the horse, steeling herself, nerves relaxing for a moment as her friend's lovely symphony-
Eyes fierce, she crashes through both the mad assassin and saber,
let this grant him more time She prays from the bottom of her heart,
And finally, she is out into the air away from the destroyed outpost.
Amadeus could only laugh at the audacity of what he had done and what she had done despite his actions, she could never help herself…
And he returned to a realization he had made–
The first cut came from d'Eon.
One never truly knows the moment of their end. They can see what might be the cause, that it might be soon and the possible severity of what it does.
Or it can hit them like a bolt from the blue, a random chance of happenstance, an act of god as they blindly, wistfully or encumbered by the miasma of the mind, whether it be grief or worse as they move through the world.
The second cut from Sanson.
Even so, sometimes it is false, call it destiny, fate or luck– life was spared.
I was not spared. Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, being a heroic spirit,(and an admitted) piss poor one was no stranger to death. I was one of the ones to see my death coming. Who did it? It did not matter, conspiracy and wonder could say otherwise.
In my final moments–
His body broke apart bit by bit with each slash and stab. The essence of mana broke his blood and flesh down as he felt his connection to the world cease.
He smiled as Charles-Henri Sanson and Chevalier d'Eon tired themselves and fell to the ground from his noble phantasm and having expended the mana to fight it. They would be down for a while, just enough time for Marie to be safe.
–-I still hold that as the most important thing, I could not do anything in life. But here, this time, I did. I am trash that approximates beauty and it would be wasteful if I didn't let true beauty strive. I never truly believed in such a thing as sacrifice that came with so-called heroism. I hoped I faked it well, for her…
His life flashed before his eyes. The faces of a friend Salieri. His sons, Karl and Franz. Those of the children that he knew briefly but loved all the same, and finally his dearest wife Konstanze and his first love, Marie Antoinette
And he couldn't help but think, through all he claimed of depravity and suffering he did live through.
He remembered the glimmers of joy and though–
Even for refuse, I did live a charmed life, didn't I?
Author's Note:
Long time no see! Hoped you all enjoyed this chapter, if not, then I hope weren't too vexed by it. Special thanks to Evowizard25 and Woohoopizzaman78 for their feedback for the rough draft version of this chapter. I appreciate your guys' feedback as always; it really does help put my ideas for this story into a more concrete form (especially with our respective back and forths) and really helped me when it came to me being shakey with the initial conclusion to the second Spidey/Jalter fight. Once again, thanks, sincerely!
Also, shout outs to the folks who made the tv tropes page for Spin A Fate. I genuinely appreciate it!
If you haven't yet-please make sure to read EMIYA Prequel comic Last Bit Of Red which I post on reddit/spacebattles. Story for that is still ongoing, but like with the main fic, the process of its next chapter is in motion.
With all that said, please have a good morning, afternoon, and evening-PEACE OUT!