Seven Campione were said to exist in the current time period with Godou Kusonagi being the most recent seventh.
Sasha Dejanstahl Voban, Luo Hao, Madame Aisha, Black Prince Alec, John Pluto Smith, and Lord Salvatore Doni were the remaining six. Of them all, every single one had distinct personalities that no one would consider to be normal.
Despite word of a coalition of Gods appearing over the country of Japan, not all Campione had risen up in challenge.
For example, Madame Aisha's whereabouts were still unknown while Luo Hao spoke of it as weakness to be unable to handle a problem in one's own country. More importantly, she was offended at the notion of being forcibly summoned, and stated that she'd come when she'd come.
Of the Campione that decided to make the trip over to Japan, Black Prince Alec tailed the mages of London's Witenagemot, while John Pluto Smith and Salvatore Doni took flights from their respective countries.
There had been no need for coordination as Fort Andromeda was blatant for all of them to see. Moreover, on the promised day, its gates were bared open, allowing access to an inner roman colosseum. This building was an aspect of Minerva's Authority acting on Fort Andromeda.
Stands for spectators lined the arena like a center in a circle. On said stand, Arturia, Kaoru, and the other members of the committee were already seated to spectate. Meanwhile, Athena was seated on a large throne overlooking the entire colosseum, legs crossed, and her chin leaning over her palm.
One look, and it was clear to all that had arrived that Athena was likely the owner of the Authority 'Divine Fort Andromeda.' None were more interested in this development than the Campione who eyed her one by one. However, none of them attacked, already knowing the specifications of this particular set up, and not wishing to risk irking Voban.
Voban had been the first to arrive. All too eager, he was already standing at the colosseum's center. In the end, Voban had bided his time and waited for this promised day, and he wouldn't tolerate anyone butting in.
It was Voban's right to challenge first, and then keep challenging after each subsequent victory from then on.
As if there was an unwritten rule, the Campione stuck closer together in a group at a part of the spectator stands while the mage communities filled in the gaps. Various questioning faces were directed at Japan's committee members, but all were stone faced…or risk actually getting turned into stone. Ally or not, Athena was watching after all.
"Well, as promised by the idi- my compatriot, let's begin this farce," Athena said with a sigh, waving her hand as a prompt.
Across from Voban on the challenger side of the colosseum, the defender side's gates revealed signs of movement.
The gates opened as footsteps began to echo in the ensuing silence.
The air was a mix of anticipation, doubt, and concerns, none more apprehensive than Athena.
Upon learning of Shirou's intentions, Athena could no longer simply rely on the Cap of Invisibility's passive effects, but was forced to utilize its active effect as a precautionary measure. The deterrent known as a coalition would fail if it was discovered that Shirou was just a single God. As such, for the entire duration of the matches, Athena would be exerting divinity to fully power the Authority now in Shirou's hands. This explained Athena's grouchy demeanor. She felt utterly lethargic maintaining both Fort Andromeda, and now the Cap of Invisibility at the same time.
The Cap of Invisibility. (Historic record name: Helm of the Under King/Helm of the Dark One)
At its base, its origin stems from the wider known myth of the Helm of Hades used in the Greek myth of the Titanomachy. It possessed an unparalleled Authority of obscurity. From here in-lies its most crucial aspect, concealment.
What was concealment, not in literal terms, but in story and legend? It was the ability to mask truth and present a lie, a fabrication of reality if you will. One could even go as far as to consider it a type of trickery belonging to Gods of Mischief and strife.
What's there, is not there.
What isn't there, is there.
To be invisible or hidden, it isn't just to be in a state where no one can see you, but also in a state where everyone can see you, yet not know that you're there.
The basis of all this stems down to concealment's simplest form in the ancient world of Gods and magic…disguise.
Under the Authority of the helm, features bent and twisted. Bones lengthened or shortened, and flesh was made more rigid or more supple, in an art known as polymorphing.
Shirou's image no longer even resembled his original self.
A figure walked past the dimness of the shadows looming in the hall, and into the light of the stadium where Arturia clasped her hands in a final bid to wish good luck.
Kaoru, Yuri, and Ena who were near Arturia noticed her behavior, but mistakenly attributed it to Arturia strengthening her Authority. After all, one of the three Command Seals on her right hand was flickering a violent crimson in her earnest wish for the one she cared for not to come to harm.
Gradually, a seal faded, and the figure who'd just emerged stilled as the aura and pressure around the figure magnified several folds.
From here on, nothing would ever be able to remain the same.
Time seemed to have stopped for all those present, even for Shirou's own allies as his figure stepped into the spotlight of the colosseum's arena.
Footsteps echoed, clacking from heeled combat boots proceeding at a steady rhythm.
Gradually, the noise and whispered discussions of the procession of humans Athena had allowed into Fort Andromeda began to quiet down until only silence remained.
Voban who remained waiting at the center of the arena felt his expectations rising when the gates of the defending side opened and the sound of linked chains clinking echoed throughout.
A figure emerged unhindered, unaffected by the level of attention that immediately focused on it.
It was a woman leaking with a distinct kind of radiating red energy.
Long purple hair that draped past slender shoulders gave way to a sleek form-fitting combat suit accentuated by metal bands over her thighs, hips, and the plates over her shoulders. A purple hair veil was worn over her head, but fell backwards instead of over her face.
High cheekbones, red lips, and disinterested red eyes gave off an elegant, if not detached sense of beauty. It was more akin to describing it as otherworldly, or a rose that one could only look upon, yet never touch in fear of its thorns.
In the woman's hands, a red spear was held aloft. Its tip was barbed, vein-like motifs over the shaft denoting the beast it was crafted from in legend.
This woman was a warrior-type through and through. Everything about her screamed 'battle.' To her demeanor, to the way her eyes had immediately sized up Voban as she walked to the central area of the arena, it spoke volumes to all.
-A God of Steel surely.
Under the guise of the Cap of Invisibility, an unfeeling and aloof Goddess that even Japan's Committee had yet to see had appeared to face off against Voban, the challenger. Many who were aware of the 'truth' of this debacle had even turned to glance at Arturia.
In fact, many were doubtful that so many Gods could have banded together so quickly. This was especially so, since the committee had been of the assumption that Arturia would still need time to grow her Authority. How many Gods did her Authority already hold dominion over? If so, why would someone like Arturia even need their help?
Even if Arturia was physically weak in exchange for an Authority that could combat the Curse of Madness in Heretic Gods, would it matter if she had enough Gods protecting her?
The shrewder folk in the Committee were quick to speculate on what they deemed was most likely true.
An unknown limitation on Arturia's Authority had to exist. Therefore, she still needed them in her weaker phase, and could still be influenced in the right direction.
If this were true, then it couldn't have come at a better time. Before Arturia's values and senses were skewed by the common sense of the Gods around her, the committee could endeavour to impart her with a normal human's mentality.
None of the world's Campione were normal, and maybe, just maybe, they'd caught young Arturia in the phase before an abnormality could form in her personality!
Arturia was entirely oblivious to the faces that others were making towards her, but not Athena.
Off to the side, Athena smiled at the expressions that the heads of Japan's magic committee were making.
Good.
This was the intended line of thought Athena needed to foster.
With Shirou taking things into his own hands, she could only do the same and mitigate the repercussions to a manageable level, and this meant networking and follower relations. Nothing was worse than operating a company whose workers had no sense of purpose or a direction. So long as they felt that they were 'needed,' there was room for Athena to maneuver. This was why she enjoyed dealing with competent people.
In any case, things were starting off well as far as Athena could see.
None, including Godou and Erica, had noticed that the Goddess facing Voban in the first match was Shirou himself.
Shirou's appearance now was just the hammer digging the nail in. He was just too different based on mannerism, stance, and overall impression.
Even Athena appeared dumbfounded let alone Arturia who was still gawking.
In the end, Athena knew her own Authority best, and this level of imitation was beyond even her own understanding. It was to the point that doubts appeared in the Goddess of Wisdom's mind, but she would have never known the truest aspect of Shirou's Tracing.
Not only did Shirou replicate the weapon and its make, but the entire history of its wielder. Translated into the new world's mechanics, and coupled with Athena's concealment Authority, he essentially usurped the legend of his Tracing.
Right now, Shirou was posing as the Immortal Witch of legend, Scathach.
Already, he could feel the bolstering strength of his Master's prior Command Seal at work, creating a visible aura around him. Just from perspective alone, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he was a Heretic God, and a strong one at that.
Many grew worried, knowing the collateral damage would have been astronomic if this battle wasn't fought within another God's Authority- and wasn't that another chilling thought?
Gods. Gods. The supposed coalition was proving itself more and more real.
Perhaps the one most excited at the prospect was no one else but Voban.
"Good, good! I can feel it! This presence, this power!"
The oldest Campione had never appeared so lively in years. He directly threw off the over coat around his shoulders, straightened his back, and cricked his neck. His hands opened, palms facing the sky as his outstretched fingers began to darken. Clouds rumbled from up high, intermittent flashes of lightning, and pockets of rain, heralding the coming of a storm.
In the face of it all, a spear was flourished, a lithe body built for battle assuming a ready stance that hardly paid homage to the moment. Fingers of the left hand were splayed rather than gripped over the front shaft of a red spear, while the fingers of the right languidly held the spear pointed down at an angle.
"Come," a voice, soothing yet firm beckoned. "I won't get serious. That's for sure."
The edges of Voban's lips tugged upward before he hunched, knees bending and hands planting stable over the ground. Silver fur grew from his skin, his jaw rapidly elongating into the maw of a wolf. "Like the star shining in the daytime…"
The storms thundered from up high, flashes of light illuminating the dull yellow glow of Voban's irises. His entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the appearance of a man, and its place was a werewolf howling in the direction of a distant moon.
"The light of Lykos reaches even the heavens!"
Beside Voban, a pack of growling hounds began to gather with him at the center.
Wolves that stalk their prey; wolves that prowl in the cover of the night; the symbol of a legend of Greek Origin.
It was the Legion of Hungry Wolves, an Authority usurped from the Heretic God Apollo Lyceus, and utilized with the intent for battle.
In a duel between equals, no words need be spoken in honor of the adversary and yet, this wasn't the case.
In the form of Schathach, Shirou could feel a foreign type of excitement, his emotions provoked by a resonance in the furthest isles of Ireland.
Heretic Gods are figures of legend that step down and break away from their myth, inevitably succumbing to the Curse of Madness. However, what if before they descended, a suitable medium for their legend already existed?
This was a consideration Shirou would have never had to consider in his prior world, but it was different in this one. Magic here wasn't tied to the machinations of individuals or a magic community, but through the Authority of the legend itself.
There were three aspects to be considered in this moment:
History, a weapon, and a body that incorporates the likeness of a figure's fable which gives rise to the notion of compatibility.
For as much as Shirou felt as if he was in control under the guise of Athena's Authority, subtle nuances were showing that were out of character. No, it was more accurate to question whether his current actions and thoughts were but an act, or a fragment of the real thing in this world.
What mattered, was that what everyone else could see was a true reflection of the Heretic God he was posing as.
An Immortal Witch that knew not of defeat in battle, seeking the end through noble arms.
"Very well." A flicker of expectation passed over the Goddess's expression, magic energy swelling around her while beckoning Voban on. "Show me what you've got, warrior. Fail and your life is mine."
If anything, the words instigated Voban's pride, taking it as a matter of challenge.
Serrated teeth were bared in a growl of approval, retractable claws that could tear through steel like paper digging grooves into the ground at Voban's sudden charge.
The surrounding wolves followed in tandem, running circles around the Goddess who remained utterly impassive in the eyes of all.
"Any luck, Princess Alice?" Someone asked in the distance, a member of the Witenagemot centered in London which Alice was at the head of. "Do you know the Heretic God facing Duke Voban?"
Alice shook her head, revealing a green eyed and platinum haired beauty of European descent. Like many others watching with rapt attention in the colosseum, she was waiting to see what Authority the Goddess before them would use to counter Voban.
Reality would not meet their expectations.
"There's nothing that can kill me," the Goddess spoke dispassionately before vanishing in a blur of kicks, thrusts, and thrown spears formed over her palms.
The level of combat prowess was utterly surreal without a single use of an Authority. Through the strength of power, skill, and capability of the body alone, the wolves that lunged in for the kill were swiftly decimated. Anguished whines, gasps, and pain filled growls reverberated across the spectator stands.
Twisting the red spear over dexterous hands, the blade cut across one wolf's chest while following through into another's before a backflip put enough distance for a second, third, and forth blow.
Voban's advances against the Goddess before him were met with similar results. Even the robust body of his lycaon form did little to defend him from the red spear. Whatever the red spear was, the anti-demonic effects associated with it, made defending against it a real hassle. Rather than defend, it was more accurate to say that Voban was forced to dodge.
"Magnificent!" A cut formed along the side of Voban's cheek, trickling down over his face towards his chin before dripping to the ground. "Enough gauging each other. It's clear that I am not your better in close quarters, and that spear, it's cursed isn't it?"
The cuts, primarily shallow over Voban's body, revealed no signs of steady healing. Regardless, it had been so long since his last battle that he was savoring it all.
"HHhehehehaaaaha, truly you are a worthy foe. My name is Sasha Dejanstahl Voban, the oldest Campione of the era," Voban introduced himself, his tone belying his exuberance. "State your name Heretic. It's only right to know the God of the next Authority to be added to my arsenal."
"..." Shirou wasn't stupid.
At the very least, he understood as a Servant that it was a weakness to convey one's true name, but it would seem that most Heretic Gods in this world were too prideful and readily gave their identities away. Athena was one such example. She'd not wasted even a second to stress the nature of her station over Arturia and Japan's committee members upon regaining her divinity.
In Shirou's case, even if Voban had asked, silence was his natural answer despite an odd insistence within him that he give a name.
In the end, it wasn't worth dwelling over at present.
He focused, and once more immersed himself in the history and experiences of his present persona.
"Won't talk? That's fine. I'll know it eventually when I usurp your Authorities," Voban declared unperturbed. In his hands, lightning began to emit and crackle, wind and rain picking up into a hurricane.
Voban knew he was outmatched at close range, so he switched his Authorities to those more focused on distance. The crackling lightning in his palms combined with torrents of water spinning around a tornado of wind. Behind Voban's shoulders were the silhouettes of three colored generals spoken of in Chinese myth whose Authority controls the elements.
Backing away, a flurry of wind blades, water curtains, and lightning bolts streaked forward.
In the face of all this, the Heretic God before everyone's eyes simply shook her head, forlorn.
"The power I've been suppressing...Why do you try to awaken it from its slumber?"
Shirou focused inward, and momentarily grew stunned in the midst of his immersion. The feeling that had been calling to him since the start had taken root within him. Originally, his Tracing should have only granted him access to the history, experience, and expertise of the Traced weapon but would bar him from anything else. For example, if he Traced a magic staff, it didn't mean he could use the caster's magic…only in this world, he could.
"Wisdom of the Abyss, Dún Scáith."
The words flashed through Shirou's mind and escaped his lips.
He knew the actions, the sequence through the experience of the spear in his arms. He need only follow the steps.
"O' rune, manifest thy power here."
Twirling the red spear in hand, he firmly planted the butt end of the spear on the ground, and a storm of red magic energy engulfed him much to Voban's approval.
"This much power, splendid!"
Shirou had no time to care about Voban's remarks. He watched in earnest as a rune was etched into the very air around him overflowing with turbulent energy waiting to be tapped into.
A Primordial Rune, ancient runes known only by the Gods and few mortals.
Shirou could never have created this on his own, even through imitation. Gradually, he was beginning to realize that there was something more at play here, but he had no room to reconsider his actions by this point.
He could only focus on the battle ahead of him.
As if spurred by the appearance of the rune, the attacks of wind, water, and lightning that Voban had sent intensified, only to be sucked up into the Primordial Rune and nullfied at once. However, the rune remained, staying firm both to empower and defend.
Not a flicker appeared in the expression on the Goddess's face.
Silence descended.
From the beginning of the fight till now, it didn't seem as if she'd exerted too much effort at all. Many were already trying to determine the identity of the Heretic God before them with a few assumptions already coming to light. To begin with, there weren't many renowned Gods of Steel that were women in myth and legend. This certainly narrowed down the list, but at this point, it was still speculation.
The match went on.
Firing a few more elemental blasts, the Primordial Rune stopped each and every one, causing Voban's tension to rise. Even ranged strikes didn't seem to be working.
Withdrawing his Authority over the elements, Voban resorted to another power.
From the sky to the earth, undead began to rise still clothed in ancient battle garbs and robes. Bony hands pierced through dirt, fingers grasping for leverage before the entire bodies revealed themselves. What was worse than anything was the overwhelming sensation of grudges and resentment.
Better than the wolves, the summoned spirits of the dead retained their prowess in life, making them a formidable army under Voban's command.
However, not all the spirits of the deceased summoned appeared willing, all barred from a natural death through the means of an Authority of Osiris, a God of the Dead, in Voban's control.
Feeling the resentment of the departed, the feeling Shirou had been trying to put off within him, could no longer be put off.
It exploded all at once.
Abruptly, a shift occurred in the Goddess's expression, her entire demeanor gradually changing into a frigid iciness born from a responsibility born under the moniker of Rune Witch.
Voban clearly noted the change.
"Oh, does it bother you? The defeated are meant to obey the victor even in death."
Shirou didn't want to answer, didn't even want to continue the notion of conversing in favor of trying to end this bout as quickly as possible, and yet, the matter was temporarily out of his hands.
The foreign feeling within him was finally too much to ignore.
The laws of the present world took place. Presented with a suitable vessel, and angered at a transgression towards her domain…A Heretic God of the distant isles would descend not in body or soul, but in thought and sentiment.
"Noble souls of the dead are not meant for damnation."
A voice escaped Shirou's lips at the twisted sight of the deceased that Voban had conjured. Different from before, there was a notable change from when Shirou spoke then and now. The voice was sharper, warning laced in the tone.
The legend of Scathach was rooted in her duty as the guardian of the Land of Shadows. Her domain encompassed the rightful passage of the departed, and to also ensure that no specter may pass through the gates unpunished. Of course, this also pertained to the souls of the departed.
Those that were meant for death, should remain dead and undisturbed.
Those that have perished, deserve their due right either as warriors or peasants.
None could avoid this law.
The Immortal Witch herself knew this better than anyone. She'd even buried the bodies of her students who failed in their oaths to her in the soil of the Land of Shadows, waiting for the day a warrior strong enough to kill her would emerge.
Regardless, the dead had their rights, and she, their devoted arbitrator.
Let alone the duty placed upon the shoulders of the lady of the Land of Shadows, even in Norse myth, those who perish in honorable battle deserve their place in the vaunted halls of Valhalla.
"Will you not terminate this Authority?"
"If you can, then overcome it," was Voban's simple response, not registering that the change in the opponent before him wasn't merely a slip in expression, but the difference between imitation and the genuine article.
"Very well."
Power associated with a name was the root of Authority.
Looking back at the Primordial Rune, it dates to the era of the Gods where they were known as Primeval Runes that were used as the basis of an entire Norse magic system. In history, the invasion of the anglo-saxons to the British isles blurred the line between legends and stories brought from Scandinavia, early Germany, and even Austria. The end result in this world was compounding Authorities.
Scathach the Immortal Rune Witch had a basis of origin deriving back to the precolonial times of story and folklore where translation and reinterpretations drew their source from the same figures.
Scathach was a mirror person with another synonymous, one and the same.
Scathach-Skadi of Winter.
The air chilled, the temperature freezing the rain from up high and conjuring thick snow that bound the undead in place by hardening into ice.
"Careful! She's activating an Authority!" A member of a spectating magic community called out in warning while Doni and the other Campione perked up in interest.
Campione and Heretic Gods may not concern themselves with it, but collateral damage was a very real danger to members of organizations spectating.
"Protective shields!" Mages of the Copper Black and Bronze cross organizations began casting their spells in preparation to avoid the snow. There was no telling if a single touch could completely freeze an ordinarily human.
Arturia who was near Athena was instantly covered in a warm light at the flick of Athena's finger. Pondering to herself, that same light extended towards Ena, Yuri, Kaoru, and the other members of Japan's committee.
The snow continued raining down, thick as a blizzard and accompanied by howling winds. At the center of the storm, the Goddess carrying a spear in hand began to chant, her eyes focusing on the restrained spirits of the undead.
"O power that is tied to my name."
The words began to flow into a runic script, glowing in the air.
"The castle of shadows that I do not know."
Silent vibrations in the air began to ring within everyone's ears. From up high, ripples were forming like droplets of water striking a lake.
"Answer me and open the gate."
It was cold, frost forming all over the arena grounds before a looming shadow darkened the entire area. The peak of an inverted structure could be seen reflected within the ripple with a scale and magnitude no lesser than Athena's Fort Andromeda.
"My castle of shadows."
It was lonely, imposing, yet regal all at once, towering spires with billowed flags.
"Come from the sky... Come to me."
From the ripples, the reflection of the grand spires began to cross over.
"Gate of Skye…"
The area darkened into a wintery storm at the castle's descent, but more than that, it disappeared as soon as it came, breaking down and reforming into something else. The image began to twist and bend, manifesting its intended form beyond a fortress of ice and snow.
The Land of Shadows, the world of Skye, both were twin aspects of the other tied to the basis of their conception.
Deep within the earthen hollows of the leafless trees in the darkest forests of Ireland lies a gate standing within the shadows. Crows and ravens lay perched upon the arches, and the bones of animals and humans alike adorn the area beneath.
The gates open, creaking with the shattering of spectral ice and groaning metal.
"Open: Gate of Dún Scáith." (Fortress of Shadows/Gate of Death)
The gate was a boundary that separated the living from the deceased, watched after and overseen by the Immortal Rune Witch.
As soon as the castle transformed into the gate, a dreadful suction force was placed upon those that broke the boundaries. The dead should never be among the living. All at once, the summoned spirits Voban had called for had their connections severed, and were swallowed into the gate.
Silence amidst the falling snow.
Voban had challenged, and in response, it ended in an instant much to Voban's approval.
"Well done! To have stopped even that, you are worthy beyond comparison!" The feral nature of Voban's current form belied only a beast driven by a thirst for battle.
It was far from the picture of a noble warrior that the Immortal Witch had always yearned for. Instead, what stood before her was just another demonic beast to be hunted.
Who said that the Goddess would just stand there and allow herself to continue getting bombarded by attacks?
It was Voban's mistake to indulge himself in the thrill of combat.
Did he not know? A moment's carelessness was all it took to end a battle.
Before everyone's eyes, the Goddess finally took the initiative, and everyone would know that unlike Voban who was seeking the thrill of battle, a Warrior would never hesitate to fell a monster.
All felt it when a crimson wave enveloped the spear in the Goddess's hand.
However, by then, she'd already moved.
Appearing instantly in front of Voban, a Primeval Rune of restraint flared over her fingertips and buried into Voban's flesh. Kicking her legs beneath her, she hurled him up high, and watched as the engraved rune nailed him to the sky in a web of turbulent magic energy.
By this point, Voban didn't comprehend the danger and was intent to overcome the Goddess's Authority just as the Goddess had done his, but this thinking was wrong.
Crimson light continued to exude from the spear in the Goddess's hand, the vein-like motifs pulsating with the strength of a great rune.
'Godslayer B.'
"T-That spear. All along-"
"A crimson spear of barbed death, that woman, it could only be one…"
Voban stilled, his senses screaming at him to avoid this blow as the threat of death finally dawned on him beyond his complacency.
In the stands protecting Arturia and Japan's committee members, Athena pursed her lips.
"Fool. Do you plan to kill him?" Athena muttered, a shudder traveling down her back. They'd discussed this prior. Shirou was getting carried away.
Rather than getting carried away, it was more accurate to say that Shirou was getting heavily influenced. His understanding of the mechanics of this present world were severely lacking despite the explanations Athena had already stressed to him. Just because it was explained beforehand didn't mean an explanation would easily replace his preconceived notions.
"Endure and prove your worth!"
This was it.
Shirou could feel a huge drain in his magic reserves channeling into the spear in his hands.
Voban thrashed and attempted to call upon another Authority only to falter in the face of the etched rune. Campiones had innately high magic resistance, but this Rune wasn't directly affecting Voban, but the space around him and all magic released into it. Even Authorities require magic power to activate.
Voban was distinctly aware of what this was.
A petrification effect- no, an auto restraint.
There would be no avoiding this blow.
The winds picked up, a vortex of conical twirling red energy converging over the weapon cocked back over the Goddess's arm like a throwing javelin.
An Authority began to activate, a property ingrained in the weapon and its wielder unable to be ignored.
"Lord Doni- Someone, hurry he's going to die!"
"Crimson Spear of the Yew tree, bones of the Beast of the Sea!"
The pressure skyrocketed, dark clouds to gather.
"My spear that strikes with certainty!"
No matter the defense.
"My cursed spear that pierces with barbed death!"
No matter the divinity of mind, body, and soul.
"Stab and penetrate!"
The legend will surely reach.
"Thrust and impale!"
A God Killing Spear.
"Gae Bolg Alterna-!"
"STTOOP!"
A single girl abruptly yelled while her body leaned dangerously close to falling from the railing of the colosseum arena.
It was Arturia; desperation in her features.
The Master was drawing attention to herself.
How utterly foolish, inconceivable even.
To begin with, no one would have thought that a Heretic God would ever listen to the words of a mere spectating mortal, but in the end, everything was contrary to expectation.
A shock seemed to work through the Goddess's body, but even then, the girl continued.
Arturia just couldn't accept what she was seeing. She couldn't accept this outcome even if it was done for her sake. No, it was because it was done for her sake that she couldn't accept it.
…Because more than anything, she knew that her Servant was a man who's only real wish was not to see anyone else cry. The way he was acting now, it just wasn't in his character. She was there during the discussion of the plan. To see Shirou just ignore it meant that there had to be something wrong.
"Please," the girl implored. "Remember what you were fighting for."
The wind stopped, the snow fading.
Gradually, the crimson energy around the spear began to recede, clarity returning to the Goddess's eyes.
Everyone was watching the outcome in stunned regard.
"Hmph."
In the end, the Goddess eased her stance before flourishing her spear and dismissing it. "Is there anyone who can kill me? hehe, I doubt it…"
In the eyes of all, the Goddess stayed her hand and wordlessly vanished into motes of golden light there and then. To Athena it almost looked like Shirou was running away embarrassed, but she maintained her poker face.
With Shirou's departure, Voban's restraints quickly faded; the beads of cold sweat formed over his brows, evident of the peril he'd felt. His indulgences had bit him in the back, and a moment of carelessness had cost him his pride.
Grudgingly, he stepped off the arena stage. This…This was his loss. His pride wouldn't allow him to contend the result when his adversary had been the one to show restraint.
This humiliation…no one who could kill her?
As if!
Voban walked off.
The first match was over, but more than anything, Black Prince Alec and many other shrewd individuals spectating, narrowed their eyes on Arturia who'd managed to sway a God.
Who was she?
.
.
.
A vein popped over Athena's temple, a hand planting over her face at the unexpected situation.
"Remember Athena, 2 +2 = C"
******* idiots.
That's not how it works! How do you account for this bullshit?!
What was the point if the Master stands out for the Servant?!
Thanks for reading!
Next update: Huntsman V2
P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious
Book links:
Fatedlegacydark. ca
The Lonely Peak
New Book: Out on Amazon (Remove dash on link)
Survivor's Log Reflection: Amazon.c-om/dp/B08VDDGN7Z?
