The sound of pouring rain and the thunderous echoes of lightning played on in a vision Apollo could never forget. The bits and pieces of the vision were one thing, but the vividness of what would transpire atop the mountain of Epidaurus cast deep shadows over Apollo's psyche.

How, where, why?

As a God inherently tied with the nature of Prophecy and divination, he, more than any ordinary God understood the fickleness of fate, and the tragedy of going against it.

Right here. Right now, in this accursed Dungeon, his son was going to die.

It was almost intuitive, a trick of the Fates and their ill humour to play with his son's life over a strand of string.

But most of all, what Apollo could not bear was his own weakness, as he stared upon the vast sky that obscured the sun's light followed by a crash of lightning.

White light dyed the entire mountain in its radiance, rendering all colour meaningless. Even the contours that defined shape and form faded away in the blank nothingness. And then, the scent of charred flesh and wafting ash while the body of a man sailed over head.

Directly crashing into the walls of his own temple, the man's body depressed into the stones, blood escaping through every pore in his body.

Soaked from rain, the damaged body spasmed and unnaturally contorted in agony as lingering bolts of electricity discharged into the ground. It spoke volumes of the man's defence that he wasn't instantly vaporized into ashes. Rather, his upper garments were all blown off, and the metal snake that had coiled around him was scattered to pieces and broken across the mountain's expanse.

Shallow breaths denoted life, and that was all Apollo needed to see as rage consumed him.

"ZEEEEUSSSS!" A thunderous bellow escaped Apollo's lips as his expression twisted with rage and grief. His eyes went bloodshot, hairs standing on end. "YOU BASTARD!"

The God of the Sun's cries were met with deaf ears, and nary a pause as lightning and overpowering divine aura began to converge in the heavens once more.

The pressure that befell the area was unrelenting. Veins popped just from the exertion of standing, let alone to move and act.

It was the unleashed might of a God who stood at the very top of power in the Upper World's Olympus.

Mighty Zeus, King of the Olympians.

The lightning up high rumbled while all stared in abject silence.

Nearest to the man struck by divine lightning, Alfia watched as Caster took shallow breaths, his eyes closed shut and his mouth set in a thin line. The blood that seeped from out of him smoked and evaporated from lingering bolts of electricity, but even then, proof of Caster's Divine Blood worked tirelessly to heal him. The warmth of the sun persistently enshrouded him, reacting to the presence of Apollo nearby.

Alfia's mouth opened then closed, a hand reaching out to Caster before an errant arc of discharged lightning from Caster nearly zapped her.

'What…was she doing?'

Alfia stared up at the dark clouds above, and the roiling waves of divine lightning writhing within them.

Zeus's Divinity was one that Alfia knew well as a former member of the Hera Familia. She'd cooperated with Zeus and his Familia many times, but the power she was feeling now was beyond any comparison to what a Zeus Familia member could ever output. Even Heracles, Zeus's own progeny did not possess such an overwhelming presence.

'And they were supposed to face that?'

Moreover, Caster knowing that he would face such a foe barred them from participating?

Alfia had thought to respect his wishes, but only now understood that it was likelier that he didn't wish for any of them to die with him.

'Screw that.'

The sight of the One-Eyed Black Dragon obliterating Alfia's confidence to shreds, and slaughtering every party member with her had disillusioned her. However, to face Zeus in an unrestricted form was far worse. Death was certain, no; it was imminent should she choose resistance.

Yet Caster faced it alone. He faced it even now, downed and struggling to live.

'So, move, God Dammit!'

Alfia had seen as heroes took down insurmountable odds. She'd seen them combat even the Black Dragon.

And for Caster-

For Caster whom she owed far too much and even caused her to-

"God fucking dammit!" Alfia screamed, letting her emotions spur her onward. "You think I'm going to let you die?!"

Alfia raised her hands, channeling her magic energy and directing it to take form.

Formerly a top powerhouse of Orario, her current condition was a far cry from her peak since Caster had no access to Hera's Divine Blood, but so what?

"The sky should accept all," Alfia whispered, gathering the lingering Divinity of Hera within her as a former Captain. "Isn't that what you said, Zeus?"

/-/

Spectating through Iris's Divine mist, an old man's shoulders already hunched, fell further with inexplicable emotion. "W-What am I…?" The old man rambled off, unable to deny what was transpiring as his own Divinity resonated.

/-/

In contrast, the rise of Hera's Divinity momentarily disrupted the lightning forming in the sky above Epidaouraus. It was more out of confusion than anything else, as if fearing a tantrum from Hera.

Momentarily, the dark skies lightened to reveal a far younger version of Zeus. His beard was less of a grey, and firm muscles lined his arms and legs. Held in one hand was the distinct outline of a Holy Grail Fragment that was giving the God of Lighting Form and power. The white toga he wore cast a certain regalness to his person, but the confusion was momentary. Irritation surged at the sight of defiance, and Hades's continued insistence to get the matter over with.

The brief moment was enough to dispel much of the weight pressing over everyone's shoulders, but not without consequence.

Tongues of lightning gathered even quicker to form a single Divine Bolt still aimed at Caster. It would have no mercy for those that barred its path.

Alfia's teeth chattered as she continued to channel her magic. Most of her spells were oriented towards attack, and this would be the first time in many years that she sought to defend someone other than herself.

"Goddess of the scales, grant your judgement of the just."

Alfia began to chant, molding her magic to take shape using the principle of reason. Above her, her magic formed a bulwark against the forming lightning despite knowing the futility. The difference in power was far too vast.

Yet still…

"We who tread on the earth. We who hold the principle of order and steadfastness."

Alfia felt her vision swim, as she still wasn't in the best of conditions. However, she was suddenly steadied as the warmth of the sun funneled through her. She glanced back, only to see that Apollo, riding on Clio's head had readily offered his energy to stabilize her. Behind him, the people of the Apollo Familia stood united against the heavens.

"Let power be to the weak, and weakness to the abuser."

An ephemeral layer of order and reason, spurred by Hera's divinity began to actualize a magic spell of defense.

"Impudence."

A droning voice answered and shattered the spell before it could complete, causing blood to spurt out of Alfia's mouth, and her vision to blacken. Lightning struck down, but still she forced out the words.

"Nemesis, Arbitrator of the Scales- My name is Alfia."

Immediately, ephemeral scales took shape to stand against the vast sky, but what could it do alone? The bolt of lightning came quick and fierce, shattering the scale in the blink of an eye.

It was almost surreal in a sense as they all watched the spell shatter and break. It was flimsier than paper trying to halt a sharpened blade.

Overall, the resistance was meaningless, and yet-

What appeared before their eyes and Caster's downed form was a staff engraved with twined snakes. It absorbed the entirely of the lightning bolt before disintegrating into ash.

"W-What?" Daphne got the words out as she felt her life flash before her eyes.

Yet no sooner did someone speak; did more identical copies of the very same staff appear floating before Alfia and the others.

If there was one Demi-God whose abilities enabled such an outcome, there could only be one.

"…The Son of Hephaestus," Apollo muttered in gratitude, realizing that the copies of the staffs could be used to draw away the lightning. "Clio, Daphne, Lissos!"

Understanding Apollo's intentions, Clio and the others immediately moved to grab the copies of Caster's staff, throwing several out as more and lighting struck.

Alfia pursed her lips and clenched her jaw despite managing to survive. Apollo who was left on Alfia's head was no better.

"This isn't a solution," Alfia said, Apollo growing quiet. "We found a way to stave off Zeus's lightning, but we're still sitting ducks. We need a way to strike, and enough power to do it."

"There is a way," Apollo said solemnly, staring from himself then to the wounded Caster with a hardening voice. "But you'll need a bow capable enough to handle True Divinity."

"I've never used a bow," Alfia frowned.

Apollo did not beat around the bush.

"I will guide you," he said as Clio through another one of the twined staffs to ward away the lightning.

Zeus was getting angry. Instead of a single powerful bolt, numerous strikes were now falling from the heavens. Yet, pride still made Zeus refrain from personal action as he stared down from up high.

"That is Zeus," Alfia reminded Apollo. "How do you plan to overpower him?"

Vaguely, Apollo did not answer, Alfia clicking her tongue.

"Doesn't matter because we'd still need a bow." Alfia said before opening and closer her mouth.

It was likely that the Son of Hephaestus was listening to their conversation, much like everyone else was because a black bow taller than Alfia was high appeared floating in front of her.

"T-This," Apollo scrutinized the black bow before nodding heavily. "It will do."

Alfia furrowed her brows, feeling a sudden surge in Apollo's Divinity. It was no secret to her that Apollo had lost his lower world body when he activated his Arcanum, so what more could he do in his current state? It was already a miracle that he was still here in sheep form, so then what?

Shaking her head, Alfia got to what mattered most. There was no time to delay as Clio and the others were running low on twined staffs.

"I need you to relinquish control of your body for a moment in order to shoot this bow," Apollo said evenly, causing Alfia's pupils to dilate.

To give up control to a God was to fully trust that God. It carried a level of intimacy and importance since the controlling God would have access to the controlled reserves of magic. More than that, since Gods were restricted in the lower world, the only time they could control others was if the subject in question willingly gave control away.

"That's not-"

"More than anyone else," Apollo interrupted Alfia before she could even speak, the area dyed in relentless lightning. "I do not wish to see my son die. I failed him time and time again. Even the sin of taking away his mother is not lost on me. So just once, I want to do it right."

Alfia closed her mouth, her expression hardening as she took back the words she was about to say. If it was only for a moment, then it was possible.

"Very well."

"Thank you." Apollo said before staring sharply up at the figure of Zeus in the sky. "Take the bow into your hands."

Alfia did as directed. Picking up the black bow, she felt Apollo's Divinity course through her body. It guided her arms, pulling them back and drawing the bowstring taut. However, there was no arrow.

For what arrow could hope to wound Zeus?

"-I will become the sun that rebels against the heavens."

What was there left to give, to use when Apollo had already broken the limitations of the lower world with his Arcanum?

"-I am the sun that heralds the coming of a new day."

The answer was abundantly clear.

The essence of his Divine Spark, the lifeblood of the Gods. A portion of the body containing Apollo himself began to burn into a brilliant golden light that condensed into a flaming arrow. It radiated with divine heat, its essence matching that of the brightest star.

Apollo would use himself as the arrow.

"-Velos Apollona!"

This wasn't as simple as returning to the Upper World, this was self mutilation to extract Divinity in its purest form. It was true death, not a return. What he was giving up was not his entertainment in the lower world, but his very life. Not even Zeus would dare to tread lightly.

That foppish God that many in Orario had looked down on would make such a decision was unheard of, and yet, he did so not for himself or out of pettiness.

He did so because what father could bare to watch as their child died right in front of them?

Beyond Iris's mist, the whispered murmurs and discussions pertaining to the events in the Dungeon came to an abrupt halt as the Gods themselves bore witness.

Complex emotion surged in Alfia as she felt the weight of Apollo's choice, but the heavens would not wait.

Apollo took aim, boasting an Archery proficiency that rivaled or even surpassed that of Artemis.

There was no time. All of the twined staffs had now been spent.

Only offense remained as the final form of defense.

Fingers bleeding from the strain of pulling the bow string, Alfia watched as Apollo let out a breath, and fired his very essence at Zeus for Caster's sake.

The arrow blazed, brighter than any spark in the sky, and yet the immovable heavens, forsaking pride, did the unthinkable.

Everyone's pupils dilated as Zeus dodged the arrow.

Blood seeped from Apollo's body, his breaths staggered, but almost immediately, Zeus's counterattack followed.

Exhaustion creeped into Alfia's body from that single shot. Her bones fractured, her muscles screaming at her. Yet all that she could see was Zeus's counterstrike bearing down over her.

"!"

Within a split second, Alfia found herself weightless, her gaze staring at Clio who'd shoved her aside.

"Clio!" Apollo's wretched scream came soon after as Clio was vaporized, not a trace of him left.

Unlike Caster, Clio was not blessed with Divine Blood or the ability to mount any form of defense.

All it took was the blink of an eye.

Daphne staggered back, falling onto her butt in shock before another bolt came towards her and reduced her to ashes.

Tears of blood fell from Apollo's face as only Lissos remained, frozen in terror.

"Lissos-"

In a blink, he too was gone, washed away in the storm of lightning.

"ZEUUUSSSSSSSSS!" The anguish was blatant, but more than that was the growing hatred and despair.

Apollo couldn't protect anyone, not his Familia nor his own son.

Panting for breath, Alfia could only listen to Apollo's distress even as an overwhelming feeling of oppression overcame her.

"Lord Apollo," Alfia directly changed the way she addressed the God of the Sun. "How many times can you fire?"

"…Once more," Apollo said through choked breath.

Alfia's expression grew grim. It had to hit. It was their only chance, but would Zeus let them? Would he just stand still?

Obviously not. So then how?

Amid the storm of lightning and thunder, a foreign Divinity suddenly swelled.

Glancing over, Alfia's eyes widened.

BREAK

"That's enough- I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!" Hephaestus yelled uncharacteristically.

Spectating the events within the Dungeon, a heated commotion was occurring from near Iris and the other spectating Gods and Familia members.

Blood splattered over the ground, dripping from another open wound as a sword punctured through flesh from the inside out.

Iris was rooted frozen as Shirou kept a firm grip on her shoulder, his eyes set on the events transpiring within the Dungeon. He'd had a feeling that things were going to go down hill quickly from the moment Caster was knocked out by Zeus's first overpowered strike. That first attack had been meant to kill, breaking through all of Caster's defenses.

If it were the usual Caster, perhaps he would have died, but after stepping forth into this world, he'd been blessed further with Apollo's Divinity. That was the only reason he'd survived.

Was Shirou supposed to just watch and do nothing?

While the other Servants may have been barred access to the floor to prevent them from aiding Caster, but Shirou found a loophole through Iris. By utilizing her Mist Authority, Shirou could perceive the space within the dungeon that Caster and the others were in. That was all he needed in order to Trace numerous copies of Caster's Twined staff to act as Lightning Rods.

With the surplus of magic energy that the Wizard Marshal supplied Shirou with, there was no issue with supply, but rather, the output.

Noble Phantasm after Noble Phantasm was Traced, and Shirou's body was starting to break down, unable to bear the burden. However, he stubbornly persisted even as swords and weapons began piercing through his skin from the inside out.

Where once there had been awe as Shirou managed to save Caster and the others from immediate death, that soon turned into horror. More so from Hephaestus herself as blood pooled heavily under Shirou's feet, the man too stubborn to release Iris.

Shirou's vision was already bleary, and he had trouble standing on his own feet. However, things were developing too quickly in the Dungeon.

Considering the Zeus that Shirou had known, he never would have predicated that that arrogant God would dodge a direct attack.

"Let go! I said let go!"

Blankly, Shirou stared at Hephaestus as she tried to pry Shirou's arm away from Iris.

"Do you not see? A-All this blood…" Hephaestus stammered. "Anymore and you'll die! Listen to me- why won't you just listen?!"

It was undeniable. Shirou himself could feel that he was approaching his limit, and he could see that this was getting nowhere. He had to try to something else.

In the dungeon, it wasn't a matter of fire power any longer, but an issue with Zeus remaining still.

Shirou had to find a way to restrain the God of Thunder and Lightning- Wait.

Thunder and Lightning.

Shirou's eyes widened as an idea came to mind.

This wasn't the first world that the Wizard Marshal had tossed Shirou into, and slow as it was, he'd learned and picked up other skills. Complex crafts were still out of his field, but there were others that he'd learned more through his Tracing than anything else.

Concepts were powerful.

Symbols even more so.

Yet beyond all that, what was required was a catalyst.

Shirou began to act before it was too late. Drawing further into his inner world, Shirou Traced numerous swords in the Dungeon near where Alfia and Apollo stood protecting Caster.

"Sorry," Shirou said to Hephaestus before disregarding her words. Instead, he called out to someone else spectating in the crowd. "Loki, I need your help!"

Shirou's sudden shout was met with confusion, but not for long considering the direness of the situation Caster and the others faced.

Loki was standing next to Shirou in seconds while being silently glared at by Hephaestus.

Urgency broke through any mounting awkwardness. "What do you need?"

Loki could respect Shirou's choice above all else.

There was no time for Shirou to explain. Rather, he gestured for her to place a hand on the small of his back as he began to concentrate.

The Swords Shirou had Traced near Aflia and Apollo didn't move to strike Zeus as many spectators had assumed, rather, they did something peculiar. They were Traced in a particular way that outlined script.

Closer inspection made it all especially clear to Loki and Freya.

Norse Runes.

The first verse formed from Traced swords flashed with magic energy, creating ephemeral letters glowing in the air.

Illumination.

The second verse came quickly as the situation was rapidly deteriorating with Alfia and Apollo.

Knowledge.

Then the final verse.

Kinship.

The Rune, Kenaz burned brightly, representing not only the meaning of its archaic use, but directly attributed as one of Loki's symbols itself.

Shrouded in lightning, the rune only grew more radiant, as if enacting destined battle.

A hushed silence descended as Loki's mind drew a blank, but that's when it happened. She felt it.

Something was calling out to her, to her very divinity.

This feeling, it was almost reminiscent to longing.

Before Loki could read much into it, the Runes shifted to a final verse that drew in an absurd amount of her restrained Divinity.

The verse, roughly translated, spelled into a single phonetic Norse word.

'Jorm'

From birth it was outcast, knowing not of a parent's love. A child in all but name, yet it bore the weight of a fate that never let it know rest.

In lightning, the prophecy spoke of its curse and death.

In cowardice, it was sealed to wander within a frigid sea, its body coiled with its tail in its mouth.

And what it yearned in the darkness and bitter cold, was nothing else than warmth.

Blankly staring, no; feeling the divinity that called out to it, it answered and took on a humanoid form, trying to seek out that elusive light.

In the end, it arrived in a space charged with relentless Divine Lightning and stared at the God of Thunder above.

Its manifestation would not hold for long.

Not even a minute may pass, but regardless of it all, the sigil of Loki was emblazoned on its back, marking him for what he was:

A child of Loki.

Thanks for reading! And Thanks to my newest patron: Paul S!

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