81: The Enemy of my Enemy is-
I can't help but cringe at my own foolishness as I layer [Emergency First Aid] casts onto Mash's burns. Professor Velvet is doing his best to apply healing to Jeanne, but Merry's mana needs to be spent on keeping [Guillotine Breaker] going, so-
"Stop looking at me like that, Master." Mordred says with a forced grin that only accentuates the gruesome burns on her face. "I've got battle continuation, so just focus on getting Shielder up again. We're gonna need her if that guy comes after us."
I shake my head. "He probably won't. He's out for revenge on Mozart, so until he can finish off Amdusias he's going to be kept busy."
"You knew he was Amdusias?" She lets out a rasping laugh. "I was thinking you didn't look that surprised. As expected of Master!"
"Only recently, though." I mumble. "Sorry for not bringing it up, but it seemed he had it under control. He… prevented his possession with the power of love, or something."
"Mentioning it out loud might have caused problems, so you're not wrong to keep quiet." Professor Velvet says. "Still, this leaves us in a bit of a lurch. Merry, how much longer do you think you can keep [Guillotine Breaker] going? With Marie Antoinette gone, do you think you can resummon it?"
"I… a few hours, perhaps? Watcher was siphoning the Leyline, apparently, so he has a large reserve of mana to provide to me." She says. "But once it expires, I won't be able to use it again…"
In other words, it's a dead end again. We're going to run out of gas long before we reach Paris, and then we'll get dogpiled and that will be that.
Should I kill myself? It's my fault, after all. This one was entirely my blunder. As long as I know not to use Cor Leonis, it won't be that hard to save Marie and Mozart. A trembling Unseen Hand brushes against the back of my neck.
But memories of a mist-filled world and the maniacal laughter of Francois Prelati surge forward, and I recoil away from it, my teeth grinding.
My arm itches.
Dying cheaply isn't really an option to begin with. Edmond Dantes is the worst possible foe for me to use [Return by Death] against. With [Oblivion Correction] and [Item Construction], he might even get more value out of each loop than I do.
It's not perfect, of course. He only remembers "grudges" perfectly. Ahab is a grumpy old man who hates everything, so he could recall a large portion of the previous loops, but I don't really think Dantes is quite as petty as him.
But it's scary enough that I can't just die for nothing. This sin will go unanswered, at least until I can get something, anything of value out of this disaster. I'll just have to trust Satella not to softlock me until then.
It pisses me off. I want to scream. I can still see the grail in my mind's eye; feel the pressure of its mana in my magic circuits. I was so close. I was so damn close!
I wince a bit as my fingernails break skin.
Enough. That's enough, Natsuki Subaru. Beatrice would be scolding you now.
What can I do? What is my objective, before my inevitable demise?
Fafnir. Berserk Archer. Napoleon. The living Francois Prelati. Watcher's objective. Those are the missing pieces. If I can discover just one of those… I'll call this whole mess worth it, and reset.
But speaking of mysteries- "Mordred, you mentioned something yesterday. While we were trapped in Prelati's illusion there was some kind of infighting happening. I don't think he'd go out of his way to confuse their awareness at that point, so can you give some more details on what happened?"
"Yeah. There was some Archer with cat ears taking shots at the dragons about just as often as she was shooting us. She disappeared a bit later, chasing something I didn't get a good look at." Mordred answers.
"That's… Berserk Archer. Why the hell was she attacking her allies?" I mutter. "No, why was she there specifically? Where did she go afterwards?"
Did Prelati quietly get her killed and not tell us, last loop? Just to keep me a bit more stressed out? No, that's the kind of thing he'd brag about, if only to make us trust him more. What am I missing here?
Something happened in Prelati's [Grand Illusion]. Something Prelati didn't want me to know about. Speaking of which, there's that mystery, too. How did he know about [Return by Death]? He said it was through the dream cycle when we were in the Paris catacombs, but that was a lie, since he knew before we even formed a contract.
I don't know how long he was watching me. Could he have figured it out just through observation? Is he just that damn smart?
No, that's not it. Da Vinci has been watching me for even longer, and I don't think she's figured it out yet. Someone told him. That has to be it.
But who?
-Mash's breathing finally falls into a steady rhythm. For just a moment, I take the time to savor that small triumph. The smallest feeling of redemption.
Then a sonic boom resounds in the sky above our wagon. Darkness falls upon us. Fully outstretched, intact, the wings of the Evil Dragon Fafnir blot out the sun.
Fire descends, and by its light I can see-
His fingers are still missing. Not a single one of those has regenerated.
What does that mean? Why have only his wings-
(Merry's final Command Spell glows.)
Someone is screaming in the distance. The light is blinding, now-
"As if I'd be unprepared for this." Professor Velvet says calmly, and with a snap of his fingers, a gust of wind splits the flames.
The wagon shudders, and Siegfried is above the dragon, sword blazing with green light.
Fafnir's wings move upwards, launching him downwards in the same moment that they are once more stripped away from him.
("aaaAAARR-!" the distant scream grows.)
The ground ripples as he hits it, displaced earth erupting beneath our wagon and launching it airborne.
Siegfried's sword glows, but he holds back. I can tell, from the strained look on his face - it happened again. He let instinct take over. If he had access to his Noble Phantasm. If he could use his full might, it would be over at this moment. [Balmung] would slay its destined foe and all would be well.
But circumstances are not so kind to us. Fafnir's jaws open, and blue-white light sparkles within-
"-RRRTHUUUUUR!" A black blur rockets through the airborne carriage, propelled by a cannon blast.
Covered in black and red mana, clutched in Lancelot's hand, Galahad's shield deflects Fafnir's fire breath.
"Why-?" I barely have time to think as the two immediately begin lethal combat.
Fafnir's left claw is beaten back by Lancelot's shield. His bite from the opposite side is driven back by an elbow to his lower jaw.
Our wagon falls in ruins in the dust of the road, Guillotine Breaker charges off alone, and I'm left gasping for breath and trying to see the fight through the cloud of dust.
A tail whips towards Lancelot, only to be pruned away by Siegfried as he plunges to earth.
A jet of fire explodes towards the Saber, but a thrown shield intercepts the attack, and a belt of loaded muskets is discharged into the dragon's flank.
Fafnir's claw once more lashes towards Lancelot, but the shield is returned with a kick from Siegfried, and the Dragon's wrist snaps back at an unnatural angle as the Berserker repels the blow.
For a moment, just a moment, I feel a spark of hope. No, even a spark of camaraderie. For just an instant, I find myself rooting for Lancelot.
Then there's a blur of motion. The shield disappears from his grasp. And I hear a wet crunch next to me.
"Aaarthuur.." He groans as his glowing red visor turns toward me for just a moment.
Mordred, who had been just barely rising to her feet, who had been on her last legs, who had only been able to move due to battle continuation, crumples back to the ground. Her head- her head-!
"Lancelooooot!" I barely hear myself scream.
There are different types of hate, I think. I hate Prelati. But something about my hate for him is less visceral than this. Is it because he's killed more of my friends? Is it because I know he was their comrade once? Is it just because I know that he can be better than this? When was the last time I hated someone this much?
"[ARRR-" Lancelot screams, his helmet dematerializing as a sword materializes in his hands.
Siegfried sees his mistake. He had mistaken Lancelot for anything other than an ally of convenience (but why was he fighting Fafnir in the first place?), and Mordred paid the price. His sword, too, blazes with light, with him somehow enduring the fountain of blood from his mouth as he aggravates his injuries. "[Bal-!"
"[Unreturning-" Professor Velvet shouts.
Fafnir leaps into the air and flickers out of existence.
"-OOONDIIIGHT]!" Lancelot howls, a wave of black mana emerging from his sword.
"-mung!]" Siegfried concludes, his own blast meeting Lancelot's.
"-Formation]! Shit!" The Professor concludes, redirecting his Noble Phantasm last minute to land upon Lancelot instead of the now absent Fafnir.
(Something sparkles in the sky above.)
Both blasts end, and the two combatants stand, staring at each other. Siegfried's breathing is heavy, blood leaking from every orifice. Lancelot is healthier, but each step towards his fellow dragonslayer is heavy, dragged down by the constant damage applied by Kongming's Noble Phantasm.
"[Frankreich Über Alles - Fleur de Lys!]" Merry shouts with a flourish of Berserk Saber's sword, and a pure white lily blooms once more. Lancelot shudders, and stops moving, his madness-clouded eyes locked in rapt attention on the beautiful image manifested behind her. His movement is completely restrained, and inwardly I scream for someone, anyone to end this bastard.
Dazzling light catches my sight from above.
"[Luminosite Eternelle]!" Jeanne shouts, her barrier forming just in time as gold and green arrows fall like rain.
That same pulse, like the tolling of a bell, rings out once, twice, and Merry shudders uncontrollably, her eyes shrinking to pinpricks - as both Siegfried and Lancelot die under the assault of what can only be Berserk Archer's Noble Phantasm.
A/N:
Lancelot finally gets to show off his Dragonslaying cred. And then immediately pivots back to his Arthurslaying usual, but such is life.
No promises that this update speed means we're returning to one a week, but I will be trying to keep this kind of pace going forward. Feels good to have this one out so fast.