Archer/Lancer vs Berserker
Archer stares at the wounded Berserker with cold eyes, his gaze sensing each point of weakness. "Eyes... Left elbow, apendix and burn on top of each other...", he fires a single shot, piercing Berserker's leg before whiffing past him.
Berserker tries to take a step, until his eyes is blown to smithereens from behind as the same bullet is fired from behind him. "Releasing Noble Phantasm... Let maddness take hold." A carripis of steel-like bones covers Berserker, shielding him from all other possible attacks. Mana begins seeping from bellow the armor, almost melting the rock and rubble around him.
Archer watches as Lancer grabs Saber and jumps away, giving Archer a thumbs-up. Archer only watches plainly at his "comrade."
Gun shots.
Gun shots everywhere.
My head hurts.
My mouth... I can't feel it.
Oh... Svenson sir...
I can't see anything... Everything's so cold...
My mouth, it burns...
I can't breathe...
Archer shakes his head. He aims again, blasting apart the armor, revealing a half-armored Berserker. Exchanging a brief glance, the two begin to battle as Archer fires again. Berserker dodges, so Archer fires again. Shot after shot, a distinct ring is rung as Archer backs away. Berserker takes after him, lunging with a spear in hand, clearly very fragile. Archer's riffle is surrounded by a gale of wind as bullets form from mana and are loaded by Archer.
"Cheap tricks...", Berserker groans as he closes in, only to lose sight of the Archer in a snowstorm. "Damnit!" A burning gust melts an area around Berserker, forming a flood in the middle of the scarred country-side. Berserker roars again, maddened by his Noble Phantasm. He grows, melting more and more snow, forming more water and rain and growing again. He soon rises beyond the scale of even ancient structures in the scorching desserts. "Curruid, Coinhenn!" He crashes his claws into the ground, forming a forest of steel as he shrinks back down and grabs shrapnel off the "trees." The snowstorm continues.
Archer fires a shot, out of sight from Berserker. He continues, each shot hitting the warrior beast. He fires again and again, each shot piercing the monster and leaving him wounded for only a moment. But each of those moments were precious, even a single hit from Berserker would destroy Archer's body and they both knew it. Each shot replenished is worth more than a servant of his caliber, his body is like a fading dream. A lie.
Are those drums?
Drums playing so violently.
Who is that man...
He looks hurt.
Oh... He does not have more time..,
Hold on, your life is precious... even now.
Berserker charges again, taking advantage of Archer's focus slipping. At just before the moment of contact, he misses as Archer is pushed away like a gust of wind. Berserker feels piercing shots shoot through himself, each one hitting with the power of a Noble Phantasm. Each shot would be enough bring down a lesser heroic spirit. "Do you mistake me for some third-rate servant? I am the king of the billowing waves! I am the one Cu Chulainn had to fight to the bitter end with! I am the Gae Bolg!" His eyes sway wildly as he locks onto Archer who is trying to move away, charging after him.
Archer barely dodges the first strike, a simple jab with a spear, but then is hit by the spear being swung at him from the side. Like a concrete bar swung by a heavy-duty machine, it shatters Archer in two. He still fires a shot, blasting apart Berserker's face as he flinches from the sight. Even as he lays down with half his body ripped away, Archer leans on a rock and aims his riffle. He takes breath, firing more rounds into Berserker.
Berserker feels as each shot slowly begins to weaken, the servant is losing more mana than he is able to push into his attacks. His body is like a bag of water ripped apart, letting out all of its contents. Berserker begins crawling towards the servant, even as his face is blasted to pieces by precise shots that then return from a different angle. He can't see his opponent anymore, but he can still taste the death in the air, it is as if the servant is always dying. As he slowly crawls forward, his vision returns before he sees a man fly down to the ground.
"If you could, would you kindly not act like an oafish barbarian, Berserker?" The man standing before him was dressed well, with a long head of hair. He simply snapped his fingers and the warrior was forced to the ground. "Plus, you're far too top-heavy..."
Berserker braced his jaw, braking it in the process and spewing out steaming hot water at the servant. Before he could react, he felt an invisible force to puncture his skull. It was imbued by mana, but completely void of it. It was like being hit with the mass of the universe itself.
"I advise you to figure out my Noble Phantasm before you die", Lancer speaks confidently, his young face taking the shape of an old man. "It would be such a shame for me to not teach someone like you. I can already imagine myself like those men of old inspiring heroes in their youth."
Berserker charged forward, ignoring the pain, finding that his head had not actually been damaged. Throwing a spear, he found it shot by Archer at a much faster speed. The mana in it had been enhanced by Lancer, the traces of mana returned back to him. "Not so fast, bastard", Archer exclaims as he falls back down from the support of his hands. Berserker, after getting back up, begins to charge once more, only to be hit by a rock flying at the speed of lightning, blasting him away. He adjusts his position in the air, firing out spines as fast as he can, covering the entire area.
Lancer moves quickly, trying to dodge. Each spine is traveling faster than he could react, his only saving grace being an invisible force pulling him along. A protection from the world itself, granted not by grace but by merit. He saw the mystery being erased as he spread his knowledge and became the master of the laws as a servant. Despite this, the spines were perfectly in line with the laws, the Berserker had figured out Lancer from just a brief moment of battle. And even the world bent to mystics, Lancer was soon pierced by a barrage of spines taking the shape of hooked spears. He lifted his hand, the world was sundered. The space above him was bent to his fingertips and launched a spear of mass at the wild warrior.
Berserker grips the ground, his armor forming into a bunker and his mouth became a howitzer, charging with mana. He had to match whatever Lancer was creating, it was something that would eradicate even an ancient being from an age in which gods roamed. A roar slammed across the land; windows were shattered; the earth quaked; the sky split above the battle as the mana in the air condenced itself into a spear like one from myth of heroes. The crimson light split across the mist, a single drop of blood in the grey armor. It grew, denying causality through myths and history not recorded. It glowed, piercing the frail idea of logic that held it back. It charged, forced into existence by the being it would call 'brother' and 'enemy'. It fired out, blasting away all mist, clearing out the sky for moon to arrive.
He had long since let go of ideas of being greater than what he was. He did what he did in life, now they only had one wish and nothing more. They wondered, "when will that destiny I seek await me in the end?" Their Noble Phantasms clashed with the madman's, for what else could such a man be called when they so brazenly face something so antithetical to them. Gae Bolg/Newton, the spear of piercing death/the spear of truth. The two clashed, their logic colliding together.
In the end, they simply ignored each-other, piercing each servant.
Berserker groaned in pain, like a heavy piece of machinery.
Lancer fell to the ground like a rock.
He was pierced and obliterated from the inside.
Only one of them stood standing.
The light of Lancer faded from the world and their battlefield flooded with cold water.
Result of battle:
-1 Lancer
The loss of 87.5% of the land of Scotland.
1 death of a civilian. 67 injured civilians. 23 armed force members killed and 10 injured.
Author's Notes:
Berserker's Gae Bolg:
-Anti-Unit~Fortress D/A-
-Anti-Humanity/Phantasmal concept
-Weak to those who have trained in the ways of a land of shadows
-Phantasmal/Mystic
Lancer's Newton:
-Anti-World EX
-Anti-Mystics/Phantasmal concept
-Weak to alterations to natural laws
*Due to an NP possessed by Lancer, this noble phantasm gains an additional effect of correcting alterations to natural laws.
