Up high in the night sky, we were gliding against the current. The wind brought a biting chill that crawled up my spine like a serpent's coil and spread its hold to the rest of my bones. I racked the Mauser and detached it from its stock and stored the stock in my bag, and then I loaded my hip with the stockless Mauser and the M1911. The American automatic was without a bullet in its chamber, I had made sure of that, for it would be my summoning pistol, while the German one would be for combat.
Under the stars and the moon was a caterpillar-like mountain, black against the night. Near the foot of it was an oval lake with the night in its depth. To the front of the lake, were the buildings that comprised into the ground known as Ryuudou Temple. We stopped in our flight and wheeled about above the area while observing the happenings below. Saber, in her battle dress and with her invisible sword in hand was climbing in a rush up the stone steps between the tree lines leading to the gate of the Temple, while Archer, arms crossed and in full gold-plated armor was waiting for her march atop that gate with amusement.
Then appeared above and behind the sneering Archer were golden ripples of distortions and out of one of them was a glinting silver missile. Saber stopped in her rush and with a skillful swipe, had deflected it into the trees and it exploded in a flash of orange fire and thundered a tremor that took the leaves from the surrounding trees and made the branches shake like the rattling of bones. The missile appeared clearer through Seth's eyes and his memory of it was that of a flying longsword.
Yet that was not the only armament that was fired upon Saber, as halberds, axes, polearms, poleaxes and spears and other sharp-edged or pointed weaponry were fired at her as well in a seemingly never-ending amount. Though faced with such a barrage of weapons, Saber was quick and agile and dynamic in her movement, the very wind itself seemed to have blessed her with haste for her quick maneuver and dodges made the missiles aim uncertain and whenever it seemed that the weapons' aim might just hold true, she let out a burst of white blue energy like jet propulsions which pushed her away from their course and the missiles could then only glance past her. Combining this with her skillful swordplay then there was no stopping her from reaching Archer and the gate.
Seth snorted out fire from his nostrils, eager to join the battle. But the magical field enveloping the area around the temple would send us crashing down on the flight of stairs leading to it and we were also too far for any of our attack spells to be accurate against Archer. So banked down we did. Seth enclosed the wings about his body and let gravity take hold. When we were above the stone steps by a risky margin, he'd spread his wings wide and reined himself up and let the wind carry him along the curvature of the hill, above the flight of stairs, and with his maws opened wide and fire rushing out of them for that Servant atop the gate.
The trees were pulled by the force of our speed and the leaves were sent scattering around. Archer stood unimpressed at our coming charge, his arms at his sides. When Seth could finally close his iron muscled jaws on him, the Servant held them wide with the powerful press of his hands and feet and so Archer went with us between Seth's maws toward the roof of the main temple. Fire was rushing out of Seth's throat like vicious hell and Archer leaped and glided away in glitters of gold and materialized upon the temple's roof, just above Seth's aim. And before he could readjust for the new position of his target, a small portal suddenly opened and a golden chain pierced his throat sidewise and the rushing fire was vanquished. More of such portals were opened surrounding us and more of such chains shot out sharp and true. They coiled about his wings, his hind legs and body and neck with a vice-like grip that could endure the mightiest of gods.
We were hung in the air and Seth was writhing and bleeding and choking. He made sounds that were like pathetic roars and what was supposed to be hellfire out of his jaws, only sparks dared come out.
Another chain shot out, and I dropped to the ground and rolled as my shoulder made impact on the hard stone ground. That chain then pierced Seth's spinal, a terrible shudder overtook him and all hairs on my body stood on shivering ends. Mighty black dragon Seth reduced to a lizard caught in a snare. Little life was in him, and his writhing made grating sounds of clinking chains. I tried to recall him, but the chains wouldn't let and so there he hung, there he bled. A putrid stench wafted through the air as his black blood made a great puddle.
Saber ran over to us, expression aghast and amazement upon seeing the Egyptian god. She looked at me, trying to discern my true intentions through the plain expression of my face and the gray intensity of my eyes. To give her enough hint, I simply turned away from her and faced Archer's glinting red glare with my cold gray.
"Ha-hah!" Archer laughed derisively. "Strange pet you play with, magus! With traces of divinity in its blood no less! Oh how that makes me hate you, to call in these gods that I cast out! - no, worse than that, you dare to call in a lesser god to contend with me! Have your hubris made a fool of your thinking? This thing here, against I?" he was deeply offended.
Multitudes of golden, rippling portals opened above Seth, weapons of numerous types and makes thrust out of them, gleaming and shivering with deathlust like an executioner's instruments. With a thought command did the blades fell like a deafening volley of rifle shots. Black smoke and orange-red fire swirled restlessly as the missiles made impact, crackling thunderously.
Like cold fingers of phantoms did the pain gripped me, passed through my flesh and sank into my very soul. When Seth's life finally gave, I went light-headed, a pulse in my temples throbbed dizzily with each beat of my heart. The smoke cleared and Seth was torn to pieces, his wings were severed from his body, his tail and hind legs as well, his stomach gashed open and his internal organs were strewn about in a rank welter and his head had burst opened.
The chains released him and finally he could return to my psyche, where he could rebuild himself.
"Was that the mightiest of your numbers?" Archer shouted. "Where is hero Siegfried and the little fairy? Cast them unto me and I'll show you their true worth!"
I let those words feed into this blazing heat that made my hands quiver for blood, but let not such provocations blind my thought.
"Saber," I turned and said to her. A worried expression was on her face, and a pitying look was scintillant in her green eyes. Though thankful, I needn't such things, so I turned away from her and spoke over my shoulder: "Just for this battle-"
"No further words are needed." She suddenly said and I almost turned to look at her. "You could've just hovered above the temple and watched us fight and finish off the victor, but the fact that you came down, passed me by and went right for Archer... that says enough. I don't know why you would help me, maybe you'll betray me right after, but right now, I will return the favor."
Those words finally made me turn to face her. Though a part of me wanted to smile when seeing her determined looks, my freshly lit fury and the thought of putting Archer to the sword had overridden any other emotions that didn't contribute to such a quest. So I only nodded, and she returned the gesture.
I went for my summoning pistol, before I could get it out, the trees around the temple shook by a violent wind and in the next instant, we found ourselves ringed by a black throng of Assassins. This time, their numbers doubled the last. The Servants were on the temple's walls, behind us atop the gate, crouched and hidden inside overlapping branches. But oddly, the ones on the spine of the blue ceramic tiled roof of the temple seemed to be avoiding Archer by drawing themselves almost behind the slope.
"Assassins!" Saber said through gritted teeth, with no surprise at all in her voice - instead, she sounded like she expected to find them. I suppose they weren't stealthy enough in abducting Irisviel.
"You knaves," Archer said ringingly. "You dare to show yourselves here?" while not even looking at the Assassins. "Be gone with you, followers of Ismaili! Of a mongrel breed your ilk are and you've shown your quality this night. A lone magus you couldn't slay and you have the audacity to be in my presence? Hah!"
"Enough, Archer!" said an Assassin, in the limbs of trees. "You spoke as though you saw the flying black serpent yourself. If it presents itself to you here, you will quake in your armor!"
For that show of bravery, a missile came whistling his way and the leaves were lit and branches splintered after an explosive impact. But that Assassin knew he'd be struck, so he had leaped off to another tree beforehand and continued speaking he did:
"Don't kill the messenger my liege," he emphasized with contempt. "We're only here to warn you of him and his abilities. A strange aura about him he has, that turned our blows treacherous against ourselves, and the black serpent that slain us by the multitudes with bright white lights just by the claps of its hands and its baleful wailing. Don't draw this out, o king, restrain him now and swift, God knows what cards he has up his sleeves and what of our fortune they prophesize. Restrain him now, I implore you!"
Archer chuckled with derisive mirth through wide-grinned and gritted teeth. Then, as though he couldn't contain it anymore, a ringing laughter burst forth. "The Shaykh al Jabal weeps for his fedayeen!" and he continued his ringing laughter. "And what's this about you imploring me!? It is I who decides where the chains shall go, not you dogs! You hemp eaters should keep your thoughts and plans to yourself, for I will not fight with the likes of yours who strike from the darkness with cowardly guile. Where are the slayers of kings and emirs that Salah ad-Din himself must fear? Don't tell me that they are here before my eyes! For I see nothing of such in their souls!" and onward he laughed, taking great pleasure in seeing the - as he might interpret it - dishonored state of the Order of Assassins.
The Servants all around rose with glinting daggers and scimitars and warknives. "Our daggers were well feared across Persia and the Levant. Many emirs, atabegs and kings were slain by us - in Mosul, Damascus, Cairo, and Jerusalem. Our feats you know of clearly, yet you would make a mockery of it!? We outnumber you Archer! Though endless your Noble Phantasms may be through those gates, like the locust of God we shall overrun you and strip you of your flesh and drink your blood! And we know the truth of those chains, against us, they wouldn't-"
-a missile sheared off his head, silencing him forever. He dropped off the branch with a dry thud.
"That is enough," Archer said, without amusement, a seething rage behind his words. Multitudes of rippling portals fanned out behind him and thrust out of the gates were the glinting tips of swords and halberds and spears. The Assassins all around crouched low like the stalking catamounts, preparing for retaliation. "Any other words, ye mongrel? Will you face me here, and afterward, the two below? Can your ilk afford to? How about all three simultaneously? Or, by some miracle, a dagger is put to my throat, would you be able to finish off these two with your remaining numbers? Don't make me laugh any further. You Assassins need me more than I would ever need you!"
A tense silence set over the temple like a black veil. I subtly snaked my hand down to reach the grip of my Colt 1911.
"Hmm?" Archer suddenly turned to me and I unconsciously returned the look. "Now, now," he grinned widely, "don't falter in your summoning. Show me more, ye curious mixed blood. You mutt, you," he ended playfully.
I'd say he got on my nerves, but he'd already done that a moment ago. I turned to Saber, and we shared a look. Though she was eager to get the battle going, there was hesitancy in her eyes as well. With these many Assassins surrounding us, it would prove to be a hard-fighting battle. I couldn't risk Satan or Helel to those chains. But I was fine with risking Thor; he'd even encouraged it, that bullheaded god. This was to find out the exact requirements for those chains to work their magic.
Though Seth wasn't the most powerful of my hosts of Personas, breaking apart metal chains should be no more than snapping twigs to him, yet he met his temporary end in a snare of such makes. So the chains had to have magical properties of some sort, and by that Assassin's slip, it only activates on certain conditions.
I grasped my Colt pistol and took a proper grip at it to engage the grip-safety. Then, in a snap, I drew it out of my waistband and -
-a black shadow rushed over like a sweeping gust. A heavy weight on my body, two arms beneath my armpits held me up by locking my shoulders. Another one came over and captured my gun-hand. Then another Assassin rushed forward to disarm me of my Mauser, but just as he reached for it, a sudden red spurt shot out of his back and his upper body dropped at my feet - Saber had come to my aid, most swift. With little life left the Assassin clawed at my shin in futility and I wheeled my leg up and crushed his skull beneath my heel with a dry crunch.
The rest of the Assassins dashed off of the roof and the ledges and tree branches to clash with Saber. Thus began a tumult of clash and clangor of steel - of scimitars, warknives and daggers on longsword. Saber, skillful and swift as she was managed to keep half a dozen of the singing blades in play at once and evermore. But even the King of Knights couldn't face the Assassins unscathed. For lacking protective plates on her shoulders, upper arms and elbows, those became the frequent targets of the Assassins' flashing scimitars.
There were gashes across her arms and shoulders, but by her still ferocious fighting spirit, they were never deep enough to demoralize her in any way. Instead, her fighting soul grew hot and her singing swordplay went ablaze. Four dead Assassins at her feet, disappeared into the ether like the previous ones and more were being numbered. Like a cornered lion she hacked away powerfully with ripping motions, keeping the Assassins from getting near enough where the length of her sword would be a hindrance.
Saber's windsword came singing down; an Assassin shot his scimitar out where the crescent tip pointed downward to parry the blow. As the longsword lit sparks and the scimitar shivered, the Assassin wheeled his weapon in a short arc and lashed down in a powerful blow for Saber's head. Saber shot her sword up flat to the eye and leaned back, a jet of blue spark was lit as the scimitar clashed on flat or edge of the longsword and Saber's riposte came lightning quick and the Assassin was split to the teeth.
It was a most outstanding display of her swordsmanship, but spending time watching it while struggling against the Assassins for my pistols wouldn't do. So I assumed Thor's strength, and the three Assassins' weight was as light as pebbles. I whirled on my feet and slammed the one on my left into the ground, and I felt my shoulder caved in his sternum. With a hand free, I got up; the Assassin on my back had wrapped one arm around my throat, locked with his opposite shoulder, while the other hand was pushing my head forward with the heel against the base of my skull. It was a futile effort, as - by Thor - my throat muscles were like knotted iron and were as pliant as steel, I didn't budge even a little. I drew my Colt pistol at last, and one Assassin jumped on that hand with his entire body to keep it down. I drew my other auto-loader, and as I lifted that Assassin up by just one arm, I thrust the barrel of the Mauser into his eye socket and fired. The pistol made a muffled crackle and the Assassin let go of my arm and stumbled back, gurgling as the blood in his brain made its way down his airways. He was still alive despite that, I had given him no more than brain damage, but by how much he was hemorrhaging, his death would come swiftly.
The Colt pistol's muzzle found my temple at last and the Assassin on my back could only push it away limply. Others too came to stop me, but the trigger was pulled. My head whipped out to the side and the Assassin was thrown off my back. The power of Thor and Take-Mikazuchi came out as swirling, scintillant orbs that joined together in my heart and burst out in a flash of white light.
Above the temple's ground, up high over all the trees and mountains was a golden swirl of clouds that spread out into six of its likes and from them came the jets of flashing blue lightning. Faster than the eye can perceive did they strike, so numerous and simultaneous they were that the temple ground was lit bright as daylight and the crackling of the lightning bolts were like a thousand heavy artillery shots.
Purple after-visions clouded my eyes; I rubbed them to clear my sight. My ears were ringing incessantly, and only when I tapped hard on them twice did it begin to subside.
The Assassins all around, save for about two dozen remaining quick few, were either standing or stretched on the ground, as still as ashen black statues while black blood was leaking out of their noses and ears for their brain had melted. Purple death rose off their corpses like smoke, and the wind carried them to the world beyond.
The last of the Assassins faltered in their step as they took in what had happened. Their nerves had frozen and that blazing deathlust in their souls had been snuffed. Each one of them was sharing a look at each other, no words were spoken, as one, they understood the situation they were in and any killing instinct was overridden by fear.
I jumped back suddenly; a halberd burrowed itself to the shaft into the ground where I was standing a moment ago. Archer, with volcanic red hate he glared at me. Behind him, I could see the crackling fires caused by the lightning bolts' misses. That glare then softened, not to anything pleasant, rather, it was softened to befit his wide growing grin - to complete a mask of utmost arrogant fed hate.
Archer didn't look like he was going kill me at that moment - he would bleed me first.
The Assassins had taken on the form of a scraggly wolf pack against the mighty lion, baring their gleaming silver steel in front of them like claws while dragging and stepping back and away from Saber and I.
Then, as though seized by an invisible thing, the Assassins stopped with intensity. Their blades shivered as their arms struggled with strain, their legs were forced forward and they couldn't lift them up to step back. Eventually, they relented and followed the red guiding strings that showed them the killing arc of their sword.
Once more, the fight started. This time, red hate blazed in the Assassins' souls, and with reckless abandon did they swing their gleaming blades. Forgoing their skin and striking with full commitment, even when it was their own that was in the line, they didn't hesitate to go all in. Mindless they were, with deathlust born from their impending death, they clashed steel with Saber desperately and hungrily for the kill and not once did they show any sign of wavering even when Saber's swirling wind pillar threatened to swat off their heads.
Saber handled them as well as she could. With the Assassins' new form of rabid aggression that knew no love for any living things even their own, she was hardly keeping up. They dashed as though blurs of shadows, darting left and right, up and down, exchanging swift sword blows against sword blows. Edge against edge. Lighting showers of sparks of orange and beams of blue with each clangor of naked steel. The blue fabrics of Saber's dress around her shoulders and biceps were cut to ribbons, caked with blood.
I cocked my pistol and dry-fired beneath my chin. Mighty Thor was invoked, and a swirling blue wind accompanied his manifestation, he was about four meters in height, a golden scale mail adorned his body, and his face was hidden by a golden helmet with its horns down and forward like a fighting bull, down the helmet was two wavy black manes of hair that reached past his chests. Behind the helmet, his eyes were blazing blue, his shoulders were adorned with a billowing white cape and his first word to greet the battle was, "Die!" as he smashed and flattened an Assassin. Then, he released a guttural roar to the heavens as he summoned bolts of lightning to strike down the Assassins. Those who were struck were left either paralyzed momentarily or dead where they stood. For the ones swift enough to avoid the lightning, came Thor's kicking boots and crushing heels. With his kicks, he sent flying a clump of Assassins, paralyzed or otherwise; with his stomps, he made them tremble and falter in their steps and crushed them flat red. And bear-like, with his paws, he swiped them away, scattering them all over the temple's ground, some worse off than others. They thudded dryly against the hard stone as they landed arms and legs bent unnaturally, head looking up, stomach against the ground.
With a grin, Saber roared and raised her sword high to the stars. Though cut up and bloodied, her fighting spirit raged on and with new vigor she joined the slaughter.
Archer watched on like a bored emperor, even in the face of Thunder God Thor, his eyes were unimpressed, and behind them was a smoldering hate. As Thor backhanded a hammer swipe for Archer, his hammer-wielding hand was suddenly suspended in the air as golden chains came out striking like vipers and had pierced and coiled about his arm. Struggle as he might, the chains were unyielding. Some Assassins took the opportunity to start for Thor's legs, but the Norse god's kicks sent the wind like tornados, so Assassins opted to climb on his billowing cape to reach Thor's head, but that too was difficult, for Thor was whipping his cape around, making the Assassins climb a losing effort.
Archer sneered; he looked down upon me from the corner of his eyes with great arrogance. But I worried not, for I then knew the limitation of his chains: it'd only work its iron binding against gods. So if gods wouldn't do, then devils it shall be. I cocked and dry-fired my Colt pistol against my temple. Then out of a swirling blue wind, came a leopard man, naked safe for a collared green cape buttoned between his collar bones and a loin cloth, and in his hands were two warknives with their flats hollowed out. Ose, 57th demon of the Ars Goteia. The first instant he was manifested, Ose roared mightily and true to his form, leaped with great height and agility to the edge of the roof and kept on dashing.
Archer was un-wavered by the rushing demon; nonchalantly, he unleashed a torrent of weapons out of the summoned golden rippling portals and launched them in a blinding volley, so swift were they, that to the human eyes, they were like white tracer rounds spat out of a machinegun barrel. But with deft and swiftness, Ose came upon the singing missiles with the edges of his warknives. Left and right, sparks and blue beams of light were lit with each clash and clangor of steel. The redirected Noble Phantasms were littered and exploded haphazardly all around, and Ose was getting closer still.
Archer raised his hand over his shoulder; a portal opened in ripples, and out of it was a hilt. As Ose lashed down the first cut, Archer drew the sword out of the portal and parried the blow. Ose came back in with the other warknife, a horizontal cut for the brows. From the hip, Archer drew another sword, and his parry came hooking upward, lighting a shower of sparks. Ose jumped back and thrust his knife point at Archer. Persona and Servant, Demon and Hero, stood armed with two blades in each of their hand. Archer grinned widely in arrogant triumph, while Ose glared at him past the point of his warknife.
Both fighters launched themselves off the roof, naked steel barring hungrily. As Archer was eager for the kill, Ose had another objective in mind. Archer's right came from overhead, Ose parried it with his left's edge and pressed on, not letting it rebound. To Archer's surprise, Ose had gotten so close that the length of their weapons had become a hindrance, so Archer dropped the sword in his left and opened a portal to draw a more appropriate weapon for such a close quarter. But Ose never had such a combat in mind, for he was not a wrestler, preferring to keep his opponents at bay by the length of his warknives than anything, instead, Ose pushed Archer away from himself with the edge of his left and jumped and launched himself off and toward Thor's hammer by Archer's breastplate.
Archer was knocked back and tripped over the spine of the roof, but recovered in just an instant. He stopped and looked ahead, eyes wide, jaws gritted tightly, couldn't believe that anybody would have the audacity to do that to him. The vein in his temples throbbed madly. He also couldn't believe that Ose was currently ignoring him to go for the chains that'd bound Thor's arm in place. Steel edge against chain links. With sparks, ear-puncturing clinks and the rattling of chains did Ose put his blades to work. Smooth and easy, Ose cut through the chains as though they were Earthly things. Once done, the chain links clinked on the temple ground like pachinko coins, Thor's arm was freed, and he could finally return to the Sea of Souls within me.
Ose dropped in the middle of the Assassins' clash with Saber, providing her with swift aid. Together, they fought against the remaining gaunt wolves, smoothly and fluidly as though the art of the sword transcends above all and any practitioner can work together in full harmony. An Assassin slid her head off of Saber's sword and lay completely still. Another Assassin was moaning and gurgling at Ose's feet, spurting blood from cut arteries. The two fighters jumped to the center of the carnage, assessing the situation around. Saber and Ose were back to back, blades at point – a strange tableau of a hellish battle.
Ose's fatigue was my fatigue, my muscles ached all around, and my heart beat frantically and coldly. It wasn't the first that I had a battle such as this, but it was exhaustive all the same.
The sound of steel plates clanking against one another, Archer stood on the edge of the roof, sword in right, war axe in left. He had a look at the fate of the Assassins below before they all disappeared. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes. A blade came whistling through the air, I drew a sword and parried it, as swiftly as Ose would do so. The hilt I was holding felt light, a piece of metal clattered against the stone. My sword was broken.
Glitters of golden portals rippled in the air by the dozens, out of them were a volley of melee weapons of numerous types and makes. I stepped a foot to the rear, made myself a flat target, and also covered my bag and my automatics. Abaddon gave me his power, and I took the barrage head-on. As the volley ended, and the air cleared, I was left with singed hair, burnt skin, tattered clothing, stingy eyes, ringing ears and a lungful of black smoke. Though shaky and seared like the yellow leaf, I still had strength left to fight.
At the sight of me, Archer glared, scowled and snarled venomously, "I will not acknowledge you, you low-born magus. Though you may have powers of lesser gods and demons and" - at this he spat - "Heroes, you are but a cretin. Using powers undeserving and beyond you, while living a small and insignificant life, serving a greedy gambler without so much a thought to his own ambitions and dreams. Husks like you, those powers you deserve not! Perish!"
Archer unleashed another battery of glittering missiles, I rushed to meet them with the swiftness of a mass of green sludge, a majority of them found the target they sought, and gave my lungs whiffs of black smoke, further puncturing my eardrums, and burnt me a little. But I didn't falter in my dash, not even a little. At the same time, Ose had roared powerfully and leaped high with great might to meet with Archer. But Archer had the same idea, and he had done so first. While Ose was in the air flying up, Archer was coming down with his weapons overhead. The King in Gold lashed his sword and axe down powerfully upon Ose's shoulders, and the blows carried with them the force of a mighty Heroic Spirit and the Earth's gravity, which sent Ose crashing down hard on the temple ground with Archer's weapons hooked in shoulders. And they cratered with Ose on his back and Archer standing on his chests.
Saber rushed in, sword above the shoulder, roaring viciously. Archer didn't bother plucking his weapons out of Ose's shoulders, instead, he pulled out a longsword from a portal and blocked Saber's blow with the flat of the blade and went along with the windsword's arc by the leap of the ball of his feet. They were a good distance away from each other, enough for Archer to launch his exploding missiles without a trouble to himself. Saber stood with one foot forward and the other back, her sword rested on her shoulder; Ose stood up, flicked the axe and sword off of his shoulders by the edges of his warknives and stood with his weapons at his sides. I shoved my Colt automatic in my waistband and drew and attached my Mauser pistol with its stock again. I started forward and stopped when I'd entered the pistol's effective range (I could as well adjust the sights for shooting from a further distance, but I'd rather not lose my zero).
From a portal at Archer's hip, a hilt thrust out. The quillon block was a quadrangle and its stretched thin sides made the quillons. The handle was fit for one hand only, and the pommel took the shape of an eagle's head. He grasped the hilt and drew it out of the portal in a flashing crescent, revealing the curved gleaming blade. It was a sabre of the Cossacks. Odd, this Archer was, in the diverse makes of his weapons, and the way he proved himself to be an archer, and odd that he was that he'd stood on our level and would engage with us in a melee bout. But I wasn't the type to correct my enemy's mistake.
Ose roared blasphemously with an oath to kill, his warknives were like pincers at his sides as he sprang for Archer. Saber joined in on the fight with less fire in her yell but her blazing sword strokes belied her concealed battlelust. Archer simply grinned; he was still prideful enough to think himself capable of taking on two opponents at once. He kept Ose's warknives and Saber's longsword in play by a most peculiar sword art born from his Noble Phantasm, his grip on his weapons was relaxed and fluid, and therefore easy to drop, but because he could summon new weapons with ease, such a thing was never a problem. He would come into a bind, let go, raise his hand high and come down with a bludgeoning blow of a new armament or any variant of such a trick.
The three fighters traded blows and riposte with dynamic fluidity that could only born from a superhuman instinct, their rapid clashing of their steel was sharp and ear-piercing. Archer was dropping swords and axes like they were junk, littered all over, making slippery sharp obstacles for the few seconds they were around. Surprisingly, he held his own for a longer period of time than I thought possible for an Archer class Servant, and had more endurance too for a Servant his Class to be facing Saber and Ose. Though, I suppose, it could just be because he hadn't done much fighting for the lot of the battle.
I shouldered the Mauser pistol, bracing the stock against my chest and looked past the sights and focused on the target - Archer. Sukukaja heightened my visions and made my fatigued and rigid and shaky arms more pliant and easier to control. Tarukaja would bless the bullet with increased speed and Power Charge would double that. With a thought, Ose roared and jumped back as commanded and Saber, as though our fighting souls were one, maneuvered away for me to get a clear shot.
The moment my sight line was cleared and hitting Archer was just a bullet away, I didn't hesitate. I squeezed in the trigger smoothly and the pistol's barrel buckled and the stock kicked against my chest with such a powerful force that belied its small caliber. A cloud of orange fire and gun smoke was spat out of the barrel, and the report was like a rifle shot.
The moment Archer realized what had happened it'd already been finished the moment it started. Out of his mouth was crimson blood, and the red welt in his cheek was where the bullet had pierced through. Archer spat out tooth, blood, pink matters and bullet. His eyes were wide in disbelief, a great blazing red hate flamed behind his crimson eyes, more so than when Ose had dirtied his breastplate to leap off of him.
With tension, the golden plates clanked against each other as Archer wheeled a sword above his shoulder and pitched it an overhand throw. The blade came whistling, I let it fly its course. As the sword whined past me a hair's breadth away and sharply imbedded itself into the stone wall far out behind me, Archer curled his open hand into a fist.
Multitudes of golden rippling portals were opened and fanned out behind Archer like the great tail of a giant peacock. It was about time to take on Alilat's power, with those many projectiles shot at me, it was a guaranteed death for Archer. But just as I had done so, Archer's eyes narrowed dully into a suspicious glare and he let the shivering weapons hang peeking out of the portal. In one instant, about and around and above me, the golden chains came striking out like pythons. They coiled about my arms and legs and body and throat and their iron grip was especially enhanced for I had taken on the power of a god. Ose sprang forth on a giant leap with the twin warknives like scorpion pincers. I switched back to Abaddon and the chains' iron hold lightened. Saber started, and I called out to her to stop, she halted with her heel tearing through the ground and came rushing to me instead. A battery of whistling swords and other vast armaments began.
Ose was pierced through the arm and had returned to the Sea of Souls, while Saber took cover behind me and I dropped the Mauser pistol. The first missile to make contact with me sent my ears ringing and muffled the rest of the sounds of this Earth. My bag slid down to my feet as its strap was severed, my clothing was blackened and sticky hot against my skin, my hair was smoldered and my eyes were stingy and my lungs choked with fire. A stinging burn was all over me and especially at my hip for the bullets in the 1911 had exploded and burnt my skin pinkish-red.
When the smokes cleared, and Archer got a clear view of his handiwork, he didn't make much reaction. He was much displeased that that hadn't killed me.
"Yuki..." said Saber, her voice laced with pity. But I wasn't going to give just yet, so in a sharp whisper I said:
"Cut the chains... on my go."
I heard her swallow in anticipation and hummed in acknowledgment of my word.
"Go."
A swift gust of wind cut sharply past, my right arms and legs were freed, another, and so did my lefts, and the final stroke of the sword lightened my throat and back. Another volley seemed about to start, I touched Saber just briefly on the shoulder, and by Mara, had blessed her with Tetrakarn. I stooped and scooped up the Mauser pistol and the sword out of my fallen bag.
Saber and I each went for Archer. She was rushing from the left, and I was dashing in from the right. Again came the battery of missiles, with the burning and ear-splitting explosions. I gritted my teeth and continued onward with the Mauser at my chests, shielded behind one arm, while holding my sword's blade pointing diagonally down from shoulder to heel.
Saber, though having less protection, carried herself against the onslaught of the missiles with much more grace. She swatted each missile coming her way with deft sword strokes combined with fluid footwork and torque of the hip. Though bloodied and winded and worn, she still held an air of regalness and holiness about her. Her noble image was unmarred by the blood and grime, and her martial skills continued to impress. Then, as luck would have it, a single halberd got through the whirlwind of her sword art and bounced off the Tetrakarn shield that was her aura - around her breastplate.
Archer clutched his chest where a slit was cut into his breastplate by an invisible force. Leaking from his cuisses, past the poleyns and into the greaves were fresh red blood. His eyes were bulging red with wrath, the battery of missiles was stopped for the moment the spell worked its magic, and that was all Saber needed before she rapidly closed the distance and clashed steel with Archer.
I ejected the magazine and a bullet from the Mauser pistol and re-summoned Ose to join in the bout.
Archer rose to meet the occasion as though he was unwounded with a longsword in one hand and a sabre in the other. But by way of his sluggish parries and counters, and the dying fire behind each of his short breaths as he attacked, the wound definitely affected him. They traded swift sword stroke for swift sword stroke, before the first can vibrate the end of its clangor, the next had overtaken piercingly. A dome of orange sparks scattered about them from their swift blows and blue beams of steel shot out blindingly.
Then Saber's grip on her sword had changed, it was as though she was holding the haft of a warhammer. Archer lashed out a diagonally downward blow; Saber's counter came clattering against his gauntlet. Then, as she yanked her sword down, Archer's arm came following the motion. Then the invisible sword leaped off the gauntlet right for the temple.
But instead of shearing off Archer's head, a dry thud sounded and his head was knocked to the side as though impacted by a hooking punch and blood spurt out of the slot in his temple in a red spring stream. Saber had brained him in the temple with the quillon of her sword - a most swift murderstroke.
Archer dropped the swords in his hands with a clattering defeat and turned to Saber. His eyelids were skittering, struggling to open, and his form shivered spasmodically. His expression softened and was more somber. A sardonic smile blossomed in his strained, blue lips.
"At the very least... it's by your hand..."
Glittering gold dust rose off of him and the wintry wind carried him off as he disappeared.
Saber's shoulders were bleeding in rivulets of red threads, her upper arms were caked in blood, and her blonde hair was tousled, peppered with red spots of darkened crimson. Though she had exalted against him as the last Hero of the Grail War, Saber had only looked very tired. But she then closed her eyes and shook her head of any of her current thoughts and her eyes were once again scintillant with determination.
Ose gaped his maws in a wide congratulatory grin: "Hail, lone king! For so thou art."
PIXIE AND WAVER
The night's breeze blew past him coolly as he squinted at the vague figure overhead, and watched as it started away for the mountains. The fairy Makoto'd left to escort him came by his side and said:
"C'mon, let's go! Don't you feel freezing out here?"
Waver raised an eyebrow, "You feel cold?"
"Uh, of course! What kind of question is that?"
"I just thought that..." he trailed off to find the appropriate words to finish his sentence.
Pixie hadn't the patience for such things; she grabbed his ears by both hands and yanked. "Let's go!"
"Ah! Hey!"
The Mackenzie household was quiet, warm, and peaceful. Waver couldn't believe that his fight was over. When he thought back to that moment, when Hero Siegfried had buried his blade hilt deep into Iskandar's abdomen, his heart beat strangely and deeply, and the vein in his temples throbbed dizzily. With shaky steps, he went up the stairs, and with a shaky hand, he opened the door to his room, stepped in, let Pixie in as well and closed the door.
Waver collapsed on the chair by his desk like a sack. Pixie stood by the window sill, eyes scanning the darkness around before she'd then sat on top of his stack of books on the desk. Waver breathed out shakily and heavily, he moved out the strands of hair that was getting to his eyes and propped his elbows on the desk and rested his temples in his hands, eyes downcast.
"What's the matter?" Pixie said.
Waver looked up to find her translucent form looking down with her chin in the palm of her hands and her elbows on her knees.
"Nothing," said Waver, wanting her to ignore him.
"Doesn't seem like nothing."
"It really is nothing. It's just my childish notion of things."
"Why don't you want to talk about it? Talking helps."
"Or make it worse."
"Only if you'll let it."
"Hmm..." Waver rested his temple on the knuckles of his fist. "Well... I don't know..."
"Come on, you can tell me. It's not good to bottle up your feelings and let it unresolved you know?"
"Yeah, I..." Waver sighed heavily, he massaged his temples with his forefinger and thumb. "All right, I just... I'm just... feeling very worthless right now." it came out as self-reproach.
"Why?" Pixie tilted her head.
"Why wouldn't I? The one fight I went with Rider and it ended in his death. I couldn't do anything to help. Much less than when the Assassins ambushed us. Now... my fight is done, and I've yet to even show my quality. These past four days flew by too quickly. I didn't get anything done at all. I wouldn't dare to show myself back in the Clock Tower. After having stolen Professor Kayneth's relic to summon Rider, and failing to even get any victory out of it... I'll be made their laughingstock! That is, if I hadn't already been!"
Pixie looked up from the corner of her eyes in thought. Waver sighed and leaned back against his chair tiredly.
"Is there really nothing you can do at all?"
"Nothing, nothing at all."
"Iskandar wouldn't like that attitude of yours would he?"
"Who cares? He's-" Waver cut himself off. He gritted his teeth and looked away from Pixie.
"That sounds like you still care for him. And wherever he is now, I'm sure he still cares for you as well."
"You don't know that," his voice cracked.
"Iskandar is a noble warrior who cares for his retainers, and his greatest power, as we've all seen, is his loyal fighting men coming to aid. That says a lot about him, doesn't it? Cheer up, Waver, his warriors are numbered in the tens of thousands, I'm sure he wouldn't mind having you in his rank and file."
Despite himself, he smiled - hesitantly. "I'm not worthy to be anywhere near a great man such as him."
"Now you're just lying to yourself. You are worthy. You went with him to battle, even though you needn't to, leading his army with him charging forward to slay my Master, he-he-e~."
Waver chuckled, tired but amused, Pixie's cheerfulness had affected him, although by just a little. "Well... I don't know, whether I have any worthy at all as a magus or a warrior by Iskandar's side. But... yeah, I should strive to reach that height. So high of a height it is, I don't know if I will ever reach it. But I should still go for it shouldn't I?"
"Mmm!" Pixie nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, though this war hadn't allowed me to show much of my potential, but... you're right, Iskandar wouldn't want to see me like this, moping and weak and stagnating. I'm not sure how the El-melloi's going to treat me but... never mind, I should go about this thing in my own time."
"What is it?"
Waver waved her away, "It's nothing, just... an idea I have. I just think that maybe I should do something as an apology to Professor Kayneth. And maybe now that he is without his magic circuits maybe... Agh! It's nothing! It's really nothing! I really should just think about this more in my own time, so just forget what I just said, all right?"
"Oh, okay," Pixie said. Then, she started suddenly, standing upright and her head snapped over to look in the direction of Mount Enzo.
"What is it?" Waver asked, a little panicked. "Has he..." Waver swallowed. "Did the fight start?"
"Yes... but... I didn't think that... I must go. Sorry that I couldn't stay, but... you should be safe by yourself now. Guess we were a little paranoid to think that Assassin would be here in the first place."
"Well, I mean, nothing would stop me from making a contract with a new Servant except for certain death. But, I doubt there's any left."
"Ha-hah," though she laughed weakly, the cheerful pitch in it was far from snuffed. "Either way, now that your safety is certain, I must go."
Pixie got up and off of the book stacks to hover at his eye level with her hand outstretched and palm opened.
Waver accepted the offered handshake with his forefinger and thumb.
"See you around!"
"Uh, yeah. Goodbye."
Author's note: Didn't get drafted, did get sick, for about half of November and December. Don't know if that played any part in me not getting drafted, they also didn't return my I.D. until just a week ago to tell me that I don't have to serve. It's a little weird. Well, there's always next year though. But that shouldn't matter anymore.
Anyway, this one was pretty tough to write. What with having to account for more than two fighters in the battle. I only got myself to blame for that. But I've written four drafts already and I was three thousand words into this one. I didn't want to start another draft, so here we are. Any criticisms and suggestions are welcomed, especially towards my characterization of Archer in his way of talk and fight. I'm not sure if he should pull out Ea or not during the fight, as that would be admitting that Makoto was worthy to be using it on, but then again he did pull it out last minute against Shirou when he was about to die - a person he definitely doesn't want to acknowledge as worthy of anything. But then, during the fifth Grail War, he was corrupted by the Grail's Mud and he was also younger than his Fate Zero incarnation, so I'm not really sure what I should go for. Maybe I should've just had him pull out Ea either way to be safe, I don't know.
Finally, the segment with Pixie and Waver was originally only supposed to be a private message to Mr. Haziq explaining what Waver is going to do after the events of the last chapter, but then I decided to write the above segment instead. It doesn't show nor answer much, yes. But I think that should be enough.