076 - But in the End, It has to be This Way

Fusehime

Gently caressing Yatsufusa's neck, the princess lets out a rueful chuckle. Her husband is still grumpy that they didn't join in on the fight against the Evil Mountain God, but they have a different role to play today. Before their eyes, a craft of wonder and steel rides towards the other grand enemy, the Father of Rome. It devours distance at a pace that would make a Servant take heed, swiftly carrying a single mortal soul to battle.

Fusehime doesn't know why Joutei-sama trusts the Chaldeans and this young woman in particular so much, but it's not her place to question it, just to ensure things happen as they should.

An indication that her direct intervention will be required doesn't take long to make itself known. It surges from the Blackened God Emperor and expands in all directions, blasting away clouds of dust and small loose objects from miles away, but finding particular purchase on the Chaldean's craft. A form of spiritual pressure that's akin to an ominous wind, ruthlessly eroding magecraft away.

The craft is a rugged thing, built stubborn and sturdy, with the intention of lasting for millenia. And yet, it suffers under this assault all the same, a mighty beast of steel eroding at a visible pace right before Fusehime's eyes. First the paint peels, then the metal rusts, and it's not long before the supernatural wind is chipping away at the base frame and entire pieces start getting blown away.

Even as the machine slowly collapses, as its valiant ride slows down and stutters, it stubbornly refuses to break down completely. Mighty engines roar in defiance, pushing along what's slowly becoming less a machine and more a pile of rusty metal. Blazing barrels scream in rage, spitting an endless barrage of burning metal arrows against an enemy who fails to even acknowledge the effort.

Had the machine been a real thing, had it even been a regular Projection, Fusehime suspects it would've managed to accomplish this last duty before giving up the ghost. It's a shame, then, what she sees when piercing through appearances to peer into its true nature.

There was never a princess named Fuse who married a heroic dog. There was no hidden grain of historical truth in the Nansō Satomi Hakkenden. At least, where they are concerned. There's no Heroic Spirit by the name Fusehime. There's no Heroic Spirit by the name Yatsufusa. Mere wraiths playing a role, made into something greater by the power of human belief.

Kin knows kin, and dream knows dream. The Chaldean's machine is naught but a dream brought into reality.

And the Blackened Lord's aura is an oppressive blanket made up from the ugliest parts of truth. Defeatism and hopelessness masquerading as realism, a ruthless enforcement of what is that refuses to acknowledge what could be. The natural enemy of hopes and dreams.

The twisted and broken remains of the artifice gently fade away at the feet of the very last hill, finally defeated after pushing further than anyone could have reasonably demanded. So close to the Blackened Lord's presence, the tyrannical pressure will forbid any new Dreams from being brought into the world, but the young woman holding Joutei-sama's favor refuses to give up.

With a determined glint in her eyes and a sense of grim finality on her every step, the young woman starts walking up the hill head on. The Blackened Lord remains still, standing on top of the hill with arms crossed to look down on the approaching challenger. A circle of flames sputters at her feet, trying and failing to draw a boundary upon the world around her, struggling to protect her from the power of the Blackened Lord and close but not quite managing it.

The grit of this young woman is something that Fusehime has no choice but to acknowledge, an awe-inspiring display of resolve that wouldn't be out of place in a book of legends. And yet, in front of this fallen God-Emperor… every step is slower than the last. Her knees grow wobblier, her breath more laborious. She won't make it on her own.

…

…

It's fortunate, then, that the Chaldean is not alone. Patting her husband's neck one last time, Fusehime rises to her feet.

"Let's go, Yatsufusa."

"Arooooo!"

A white-clad dog goddess rides on the back of her black-clad dog husband. A hand gripping tightly around her beaded necklace. Eight beads, eight children, eight virtues. As they grow closer to the faltering young woman, the beads start glowing brighter and brighter.

After taking a deep breath, Fusehime breaks the necklace with a sharp tug, releasing the glowing beads.

"Three thousand worlds seek Buddha's Enlightenment.
Eight spiritual lights rise up to the sky to carry out our promise.
The fated ones shall assemble here!"

"[Nansō Satomi Hakkenden - Eight Dog Chronicles]"

The beads fly away, gathering protectively around the young woman to reinforce the sputtering boundary trying to ward off the ominous wind.

"Aroooo!"

With a battle howl, her husband defies the tyrannical pressure to charge at the enemy, who still hasn't moved an inch. Yatsufusa's fangs and Fusehime's blade strike as one, finally forcing the Blackened Lord to uncross his arms to defend himself, the attacks find purchase on his wrist and shoulder, making the blackened armor groan and bend under the punishment, but failing to draw blood.

… They are then swatted away like one would swat a fly, and it's all Yatsufusa can do to land on his feet, legs trembling with the effort required to simply remain standing. Incredible… They can't even move under his gaze.

But that doesn't matter, because they were never supposed to take down the Blackened Lord themselves, they have already fulfilled their role.

"Thanks for the save." The Chaldean says, a grin of renewed confidence on her sweaty and dust-caked face. "I'll take it up from here."

"Joutei-sama puts a lot of trust in you." Fusehime warns. "Make sure it's not misplaced."

"Ah! Leave it to me!"

As the young woman resumes her steps. Fusehime and Yatsufusa quickly leave her mind, relegated as they are to the role of spectators in what's about to happen. All her attention is focused on the God-Emperor.

"Oh? You're approaching me?" The Blackened Lord questions, an eyebrow arched in inquiry and arms crossed again. "Instead of running away, you're approaching me?"

"Of course!" The Chaldean answers defiantly, the grin on her face growing fiercer. "I can't kick your ass without getting closer!"

"Oh, really?" The Blackened Lord chuckles and uncrosses his arms, extending one of them forward to make an inviting gesture. "Then, get as close as you need to!"

It's then that it happens, that Fusehime's eight beads fully escape her control and start spinning faster and faster around the young woman, their golden light slowly turning blue, channeling someone else's magical energy until they fade away, consumed to fuel another's ritual.

~*~BGM: RE Aoharu (Nor)~*~

"There was once a clockwork girl,
Sleeping deep underground.
With no other parent than science,
A princess born to be doll."

A wind that's not the ominous tyranny of the Blackened Lord buffets her hair, making it dance as it grows longer and longer.

"Roused before the stars were right,
And led outside by friendly hands.
Shown a world where the sun shone bright
And where people carried light in their hearts."

The white and black uniform of the Chaldean gets suffused with the same blue light from earlier and starts to transform into something else.

"The princess was born knowing nothing
Not to smile, not to laugh, not to dream.
But, with eyes full of wonder, she learned.
How the world was, and how it could be."

Even before the clothes are done changing, the light spreads through the young woman's entire body.

"She smiled, laughed, dreamed… Lived.
And took upon herself the name of 'Hero'.
The one who inspires. The one who bonds.
The one who protects everyone's smiles."

There's something more than color to that light. There's warmth and confidence, there's reassurance and hope. Or maybe, that's just to be expected of the hero's color.

"But there was a dark fate ordained by old gods.
And there were those who remained aware.
A Black Queen who feared a future of darkness
A White Bishop who hoped a future of light."

A bulky frame slowly manifests on her hands, a cannon that's not a cannon, a sword that's not a sword, a weapon of legend that's made of hopes and dreams and can only be wielded by the hands of a true hero.

"And thus, the clockwork girl faced many trials.
She met friends and faced rivals.
She learned hope and knew despair.
She saved and was saved."

Tiny, flickering cyan lights start manifesting behind the girl's head, growing more and more apparent as they gather into an arrangement of geometric squares and rectangles hovering into the air like an angel's halo.

"And thus, in the blackest night, in the darkest hour.
When the color of despair washed upon the world.
She was there amongst those who stood in challenge.
Against the black star and its promises of doom."

"That's… Impossible!?"

"What is it now?"

"It's Fujimaru, Lady Director, she's… She's Projecting a Spirit Origin!"

"She's doing what!?"

"Hers was the rallying salvo,
A scream into the cold, uncaring darkness.
That friendship mattered and bonds mattered,
With an all-cleansing light that pierced the heavens."

The blue is blown away from inside by a burst of amber light, revealing the results of the transformation. Where the Chaldean once stood as a young adult, there's now a much younger girl that cannot be called anything other than a child, with long tresses of black hair that reach all the way to the ground and clad in a white jacket almost too big for her.

Supernova, the Sword of Light, is aimed at the Blackened Lord once again. But, this time, the hero doesn't stand alone. Her heart carries the hopes and dreams of every bond forged along the way, and her sword thrums with the power of a thousand exploding stars.

Words that are not her own are spoken. Words that belong to a different time, to a different place. Words that mean nothing now, but once meant so much. They speak of a path already trodden, of a legend already fulfilled. Even if the hero is the only one who understands them anymore, they matter. What they represent matters. One amongst over a thousand tales, from the world ██████-███ only knows.

That is to say. The first, last and most important of all her bonds.

"Starting now, protocol ATRAHASIS will be activated."
"Initiating codename 'Ark of Atrahasis'."
"The princess obtained the Key."
"And the Ark is ready."
"The Princess of the Nameless Gods Approves."

"If this is how this world can be saved, that is the duty of a hero."
"A new Sanctum will arrive here!"
"A world where friend won't have to hate friend."
"And those who failed won't have to hate themselves."

"Synchronization "Complete!"

"Target Confirmed. Breaking through the output threshold."
"MP Charge: 99999%. Let's go."
"The strike of justice that crushes evil…!"

"[Sword of Light: Atrahasis Super Nova - Romance of Friendship, Courage and Light]"

The world seems to darken and the sun itself fails to match the infinite radiance of the Sword of Light. Common sense dictates anything in the path of such overwhelming power would be erased at the speed of thought. And yet, the Blackened Lord is too mighty to simply vanish without resistance.

His once-golden, now pitch-black armor takes the initial blow, crumbling into dust in but an instant, but buying time for the fallen God-Emperor to act. Even swallowed by the blinding wave of searing light, there's more than enough time for him to leisurely make his move. And what he does is…

To smile, and to nod in approval.

An instant later, the Blackened Lord follows the same fate as his armor, erased out of existence by the might of the Sword of Light.

The Hero of legend falls to her knees in exhaustion, jostling the improbable miracle that brought her here in the first place and making it shatter into a thousand pieces. Only the young woman from Chaldea remains behind, pale and clearly exhausted, panting and gasping in an attempt to catch her breath.

As the uneven breathing slowly steadies, the young woman finally ventures a look around herself and a small, hopeful smile blooms on her lips.

"I… Did it?" She mutters incredulously, watching the golden motes of light gently floating all around her. "Holy shit, I did it!"

At that outburst, Fusehime closes her eyes and allows herself a small chuckle of her own. The act is almost over. Almost… but not quite.

[Imperial privilege: Performance Continuation]

"Hand of the Despoiler…" The voice of the Blackened Lord echoes around the hill, making the young woman tense warily. "...Magnificent."

"... Eh?" Is the Chaldean's eloquent response.

Fusehime allows her own smile to grow a bit wider.

"Go on and restore the Human Order.
Let this Blackened Rome…
Bless your endeavors."

"[Roma Watches Over You - A Legacy of Ten Thousand Years]"

Instead of drifting away freely like they usually do when a Servant is banished from the mortal coil, the golden motes of light gather around the Chaldean's head. They take the shape of a laurel wreath that hovers in place for but a moment before finally fading away.

"Walk proud, Hand of the Despoiler." Are the last, distant words of a fallen God-Emperor as he returns to the throne. "For even interlopers are children of Rome."

"This is…" The young woman mutters in astonishment. "You could've done this from the start? Why go through all this mess?"

An amused chuckle coming out of nowhere shocks the Chaldean, Fusehime and even Yatsufusa alike. It seems that a God-Emperor doesn't fade away so easily, no matter what one's senses may believe.

"Would you have shown Rome your best otherwise? Was Rome supposed to judge your worth on a mere hunch?" The fallen emperor questions. "Think of this as a mere… logical ruse. To pull out your best performance."

"Oh, you magnificent bastard…"

Having the blessing of Romulus-Quirinus, in the shape of a laurel wreath no less, equals a legitimate claim to the throne. No longer does the Roman Empire stand divided, for neither Crimson nor Purple can contest this. The war is over…

"Just in time, dear husband." She muses, reaching out with a hand to scratch Yatsufusa behind his ears. "I don't believe we could've held on for a minute longer. To think a mere backhanded slap left us in this state…"

Her husband chuffs, pride stung, but soon calms down under her ministrations. It takes them exactly forty-seven seconds to fade away from the mortal coil. The Blackened Lord truly was a frightening opponent.

Status Window Updated:

Sword of Light: Atrahasis Super Nova - Romance of Courage, Friendship and Light (Blue Archive): A miraculous Noble Phantasm Aris brought about by fully stepping into her self-imposed role as the Hero who saves the day and protects everyone's smiles. Inspired and bolstered by the bonds of friendship the9y built through their adventures, Key and Aris work as one for the first time, putting their lives on the line to exert the Authority of the Nameless Princess and force a one-in-a-trillion chance to become reality.

By connecting Supernova, the Sword of Light, with the Arc of Atrahasis, they are capable of bringing to bear 99999% of its normal firepower. A burst of light that overpowers common sense to open a path towards a bright future, shattering possibilities and breaking through the very fabric of reality.

Because heroes always find a way

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