Ghost in a Strange Land

by ScarletElenti

Summary:

Thrown from his world in the days after Ragnarök, Kratos must find his way home, in a conflict greater than any he has known.

(My summaries stink.)

Chapter 1: Fuyuki 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 1​

The Spartan's world was fire.

Not the fires of Tartarus – assuming the Underworld was still taking in the dead all these many years after the downfall of Olympus (or, that there were any Grecian dead to take in). Kratos was very much alive, having passed through the afterlife several times, both as one slain fighting his way back out, and as one who had either been cast down there, or one who journeyed there for one reason or another and now sought to leave, he knew what it felt like to be in the realms beyond life.

And in any event, whatever punishment there may have been, or still was waiting for him in Tartarus would be more personal than this indifferent bonfire.

He was surrounded by fire. Crackling flames clung to everything, buildings, streets, trees, hungrily consuming the city he had found himself in – the conflagration having initially distracted him from the manner of his surroundings, before the discipline that had seen him though many human lifetimes had asserted itself, and he had fully taken in just where he was. And he was not in the Eight Realms – he could feel it in his very bones.

Kratos was surrounded by more metal than he had ever seen in his life – even amidst his fellow Spartans amongst the legions besieging Troy – easily the largest mustering of men he had seen in his lives, both before and after godhood. The buildings were made of metal – and towered high enough to reach the clouds, it seemed. And unlike the titanic structures of both his homelands, they were numerous, not unique creations that defined their cityscapes like the statue that stood over Rhodes, or fantastical creations such as Tyr's Temple. No, they sprouted from the ground like grass, towers of metal and shattered glass looming high over him, the fires raging throughout the city flickering in the windows, the light reflecting down to the streets. The strange vehicles that littered the streets were made of metal – though most were wrecked and twisted such that he could not guess their manner of operation. Metal poles of varying sizes had been erected at every street, some holding what he could only assume were sources of light, others with thick cables strung between them, yet others at cross-streets with strange metal devices hanging between them.

No, wherever he was, this was not Midgard – nor any of the other Eight Realms. This place was far too alien, too other to be the place Kratos had come to know since departing Greece.
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It had started with a letter, borne by a former God of War.

Tyr had been an infrequent sight since he and Freya had liberated the man from Odin's prison in Niflheim. Once released from his bondage, the former War God had expressed his desire to be left alone, and to travel the realms, and Kratos had been more than willing to let the man go his way, as had most of the others that had kept the Spartan's company.

Kratos suspected that for at least a few of them, the memories of Odin-as-Tyr were still too near to the surface, and while the real Tyr bore no blame for Odin's actions while wearing his face…..

……Brok's blood still stained the floor of the Treehouse. Kratos had seen it on the infrequent occasions when he stopped by the refuge, hoping that Sindri might have returned there, that some form of reconciliation might be reached.

He was…..worried for the dwarf. He knew well what paths a single-minded obsession with revenge could lead a person down, and he did not wish it for Brok's brother.

But Sindri was never there when he stepped from the gateway. Whether the dwarf knew he was coming, and stepped between realms to avoid speaking with Kratos, or the house had been well and truly abandoned, he did not know. Once, the mere existence of dust or clutter would have shown the house to be uninhabited, given Sindri's fastidious nature (Brok would have said 'fussiness'), but that Sindri scarce seemed to exist anymore. Seeing the messy, disheveled dwarf that had turned up for Ragnarök had been a shock – and the few times anyone had seen Sindri since then gave a picture of a Sindri that had not changed much from that. Thus, the shambles that the Treehouse remained in gave no clues to its state of habitation – it was equally likely that Sindri was living there, with no care to the state of his once pristine home, or that he had outright abandoned it, unwilling to live in a place where his brother had been cruelly taken from him.

So, it had been frankly shocking, when Tyr had appeared on his doorstep this morning, bearing a note from Sindri. The letter itself had been short, and to the point. "Come to the treehouse, alone. We need to talk.", signed with Sindri's half of the Huldra brother's rune.

Kratos had not hesitated. Mimir hadn't even protested being left with Tyr, the head busy filling Tyr in on what had happened to him in Tyr's absence – his imprisonment by Odin, how Kratos gained him his freedom – such as it was – and what he had experienced in the three years he had traveled and lived with Kratos and Atreus. Most would have never realized the head was talking just a bit too loudly, just a bit quicker than normal – he was worried and trying to cover it up by being even more talkative and garrulous than normal, but Kratos had experienced much of Mimir's 'personality' over the years.

And, as it turns out, Mimir had been right to be worried.

Kratos had barely left the gateway when they had set upon him, their bellowed cries for the All-Father making it clear that it was revenge for Odin's death that was driving them. A mixed group of Einherjar, lesser Aesir, and, sadly enough, a small handful of humans – clearly survivors of Ragnarök, people who had lived in the village at the base of Asgard's walls, and people who Odin had used as living shields against the armies arrayed against him on that final day. Possible they were here against their will, pressed into service and used in the same fashion as Odin had used them on that day, thought it was equally possible they were just fanatics – bound and determined to kill Kratos for taking their god away from them, as were the others in this motley band. It truly made no difference, for they were trying to kill him with the same fervor as the others.

And yet, something made Kratos stay his hand, just a touch, passing by lethal blows for incapacitating ones. Maybe the months of peace and the regard he had gained in the wake of Ragnarök had made him soft, maybe the god he was becoming recoiled at meeting revenge with his usual means – but something held him back from slaughtering them all as had been his way mere months ago – even the Einherjar, already dead and with nothing to live for with their great fated battle over did not feel like they warranted his rage. Perhaps he had some hope of being able to talk them down once they were beaten, perhaps he feared that tearing through this group would only embolden the next……in the end, it was moot.

He was to regret his mercy that day.

Most of the humans were down, nursing broken bones where they weren't completely unconscious – as the first, sacrificial wave thrown against them, they had accomplished little. Now the more formidable combatants were testing him, the Einherjar leashing their battle-rage as they harried at him, looking for him to overextend so they could rush him – the narrow paths of the World Tree were more Kratos' ally in this fight than theirs, preventing them from surrounding him and threatening his flank. Bellowing in rage, one of the larger ones that Mimir had dubbed a 'Brute' finally seemed to give into his fury, and had charged Kratos, heedless of the consequences. Kratos met him, shield to fist, the strength of the monstrous warrior pushing him back a step, but his shield held, and he made to throw the man back with a vicious swipe of his shield……but the Brute had seized the ends of Kratos' shield in his meaty hands, and was holding it in place, his formidable strength able to match the war god's, if only temporarily. Had he time, Kratos would have eventually ripped the shield from his opponent's grasp, but time was a commodity he did not have.

The rest of the Einherjar had plunged into the fight, clearly anticipating their larger comrade's stratagem, and Kratos was now sorely pressed. He twisted and weaved as best he could while still matching his strength against the Brute's, but his mobility was compromised, and the narrow paths of Yggdrasil now worked against him. A false step would see him plummeting off the path – and worse yet, one of his enemies might well be willing to make that sacrifice to see him ended – the Einherjar were dead, after all, what else did they have to lose? His axe slashed through the air to his right, its keen edge keeping the attackers back for the moment, but this was a stalemate that could not endure. Worse yet, through the crush of flesh trying to get to him, Kratos could see the lesser Aesir had huddled up, and were doing something – spell-work if he had to guess. Lesser gods they may be, but Kratos had learned from hard experience never to underestimate the powers of even the meanest god. He had to break from this situation – and fast.

The red energy of his last resort had just begun to flicker across his skin when his doom came, not from the undead warriors pressing him, nor from the minor gods weaving some spell that would seal his doom. No, his doom came from a pair of arms wrapping around his left leg, and a rasped voice.

"Face oblivion, false god." Forced through a mouthful of bloody froth, eyes consumed by fanaticism, a man, a human, one of those that Kratos had stuck down, but not killed, had drug himself on two broken legs to grasp Kratos' leg. His grip was that of string, it would be less than a moment's effort to kick him away, but it was a moment Kratos did not have. For in his hand, this human held a Yggdrasil Seed, the only means of accessing the World Tree's branches, but one cracked, and leaking energy in an alarming fashion.

His attention already pulled in so many directions, this newest distraction proved to be the tipping point, for a split second, Kratos' focus wavered, and his opponents took vicious advantage. With a guttural yell, the giant's arms surged as he overpowered Kratos, first breaking the god's stance, and then hurling him to the side.

Off the path.

As he fell, he could hear the man clinging to his legs laughing, a wild, mad thing that still rang with a note of triumph. For a long moment, the two of them hurtled through the empty space in the Realm between Realms, then whatever stresses had been placed on the seed reached the breaking point, and it detonated, tearing the two enemies apart, sending them spiraling through the void in opposite directions. The last thing Kratos saw was a tear in the air, a rip something like what Nidhogg had appeared from.

And then blackness.

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When Kratos came to, it was in the depths of a crater of his own making, one he had driven into the streets of this strange, burning city.

He hurt – he had no idea the distance he had fallen, but comparing his aches to previous instances of him plummeting from great heights, he had to have fallen a considerable distance, possibly equivalent to the height had tumbled from Baldur's slain drake. At least that time he had been able to absorb some of the shock of the impacts with his shield, though his pain had been the farthest thing from his mind at the time. Baldur had had his son, and mere pain was not going to stop him from tearing the god apart, 'invulnerable to all threats, physical or magical' be damned.

Gingerly, he picked himself up from the ground, and took stock of his injuries. Nothing broken, as far as he could tell – he was battered and sore, and would be sore for a time, but he could move, and he could fight, if need be. He had enough in his reserves to rapidly mend his flesh once, maybe twice – but not knowing what, if anything, may be lurking in this pyre of a city, better to husband that for a more dire situation that what he currently faced. He was not in peak form, not remotely, but he was still a god – which meant he would be more than a match for just about anything he could encounter, short of another god.

His injuries seen to, Kratos then quickly took inventory. While it had not been in his hand when he woke, his axe had been nearby, as it came quickly to his call when he summoned it. He had left the Blades at home – he was carrying them less and less these days, as the need for them diminished daily. Hel-walkers were becoming less and less common, with Sigrun working tirelessly to fix the massive overcrowding that the Desolation had caused in Hel. Draupnir, however, remained on his finger, hidden in its passive form as an innocuous looking ring, so he had another option beyond his fists should he somehow be prevented from using his axe. His knife was secured on his belt, unlikely to be useful in combat, but still useful to have for sheer utility. The light source remained on his waist, and it seemed to only have suffered superficial damage in the fall. That was good – there was likely no way he could replace it if it was lost or broken, Brok was dead, and Sindri….

Later.

The small pouch where he kept his keepsakes was intact – the cloth that had held his wife's ashes remained inside the pouch, undamaged, wrapped around a small object. While none of the objects inside that pouch held any intrinsic value, he would have been loath to lose them. His other pouch held a few small handfuls of hacksilver – with Fimbulwinter receding, money was once again being accepted as barter in parts of the Eight Realms that had previously had no use for it – as one could not eat money, nor could it keep you warm. Kratos had, in the previous months, had the novel experience of using hacksilver for something beyond paying for a dwarf to mend or maintain his equipment. The other odds and ends in that pouch did not seem to have taken any damage from the fall. His Yggdrasil Seed, however, was cracked.

His Yggdrasil Seed was cracked.

For a moment, that Rage, the deep, surging well of anger that he kept so tightly leashed inside of himself HOWLED, and Kratos saw red – before the discipline he had learned as a Spartan slammed down, and he mastered himself, again. Taking deep, slow breaths, he forced calm through his veins as he turned the Seed over in his hands.

The crack was minor – much less than the more serious damage that had been done to his attackers' Seed. He could still feel power in it, whatever magic the Huldra brothers had worked on it to create the realm travel key still remained within – but Kratos had no idea if, that should he find a gateway to Yggdrasil's branches, the Seed would function – properly, or at all. That would, of course, require finding said gateway, first. And that would mean exploring this city, or leaving it entirely and hoping to find a gateway in another, more intact city.

The decision was simple, in Kratos' mind. This city was a ruin – the odds of finding what he sought in it was not equal to the risks of exploring it in the hopes of finding a gateway that had survived whatever cataclysm had befallen this land. Escape was the best option – and for that he would need to get his bearings.

Find some sort of vantage point, then make his way from the city, then.

Kratos set off into the ruined city, head flicking back and forth as he picked his way through the rubble. Fortunately, the streets were clear enough that he was making decent time, no major obstructions blocking his chosen path, for now. Atreus, he knew, would have been gawking at the strange sights in this place, and their pace would have been slower, but Kratos put the unfamiliar surroundings from his mind and concentrated on his goal. He had little enough to fear from the fires at the moment, but that could change in an instant. More concerning to him was the utter lack of bodies he was seeing. No stranger to seeing a destroyed city, Kratos knew there should have been some sign of those who had made their homes in this place – and there was none – no corpses, no bones, not even parts of bodies. Either the fire had consumed them – and the buildings were durable enough to withstand fire that could turn flesh and bone into ash – or, more likely, something had collected the bodies.

An uneasy feeling began to settle in the Spartan's gut. Something was wrong with this place – beyond the once massive city having been transformed into a raging inferno.

His pace slowed somewhat, his hackles up, as he began to look more carefully at his surroundings. He'd not yet gotten the sense of eyes upon himself, but he was wary now – the city odd to him for more reasons than just its unfamiliarity. If whatever had caused this calamity was still within the borders, and it proved hostile, he would not be caught unaware.

For another ten minutes or so, he carefully crept through the city, and still he saw nothing, no people, no animals, no monsters, no life at all. He was beginning to wonder if his caution had been misplaced, when the wind shifted, and for the briefest of moments, he heard something over the crackle of the flames around him.

Metal on metal, the clash of arms – a familiar refrain that had been the background noise of much of his life. And a voice, crying out – a young girl, possibly, though it was hard to be certain.

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Everything had gone wrong so quickly. The big day, Chaldea's first foray into the past, the maiden voyage to stop the looming catastrophe that SHEBA had detected, had come. Mash had been on her way to the Director's meeting, when she had stumbled across one of the Master candidates unconscious on the floor. The girl, Gudako ("Just Gudako, please," she had insisted) had been pleasant enough, but that had not kept her new senpai from being unceremoniously tossed from the meeting by an irate Director Animusphere. Mash, well used to the Director's temper, felt bad for her new co-worker, but put it from her mind – best not to have the Director's anger focused on her too.

Then the explosion, the fire, the pain. A hand grasping hers, her vision dimming to the point where she couldn't even tell who it was that was with her in what were to be her final moments. A voice, dead of inflection, toneless, saying something.

Then a jerk, and movement, and then the pain was gone, and Mash felt stronger than she had ever felt in her life.

It had taken a few moments for her to process once she fully came back to herself – she had closed her eyes to a raging inferno, and opened her eyes up to the same, so she had initially thought herself in the same place, but a quick look around showed her that this wasn't the depths of Chaldea, but somewhere else entirely. For the first time in her life, Mash Kyrielight was outside the walls of Chaldea.

That she had Rayshifted was the only possibility. And somehow, against all odds, she had bonded with the Servant inside of her – her new armor and weapon were clear proof of that, even without the new strength and vigor she felt literally thrumming through her veins. And finally, there was a......pull, for a lack of better words. She could feel where someone was, and could feel that that person was important to her. That could only mean she had, somehow, Contracted with a Master.

Events had proceeded a pace from there. Finding Gudako, the girl having somehow breached the ruined control room and, in attempting to comfort Mash in her death throes, having formed a Contract with her. The first battles, smashing aside rattling skeletons with power she had been told would be someday hers, but still managed to defy her expectations, standing between them and her Master, the urge to protect swelling so strong in her chest she almost felt like she would burst from it.

Were these her feelings? The Servant's? Some combination of both? Mash didn't know, Mash didn't have time to know. The city was on fire, her Master needed her, and danger was all around them.

Finding Director Animusphere, seeing off another band of skeletons that had the young Director cornered. Quick, spotty contact with Chaldea, elation at finding that Dr. Roman had survived, terror at wondering about others – Pepe, Ophelia, the rest of Team A. Were they alive?

No way of knowing, no time to wonder.

Barking orders, the Director had marched them to a leyline near the Fuyuki bridge, reasoning that a connection with it would stabilize their communications and allow their Master (a title she gave Gudako grudgingly, but with acceptance that they had the army they had, not the army they wanted) to summon another Servant to bolster their forces. The skeletons between them and their goal had fallen easily, no match for the power of a Servant, even a confused failure of a Demi-Servant like her. She had begun to feel a spark of hope as they reached the shadows of the bridge. Another Servant would help cover for her many deficiencies, and maybe the Doctor would be able to send more help from Chaldea, so that so much of the burden wouldn't be on her questionable shoulders.

Then, IT had descended from the spires of the bridge, fluttering black robes like the tattered wings of some horrible, winged predator, and things had gone, as Pepe would have said, 'completely tits up'.

That it was a Servant was without question – all three of them could feel the power radiating off of it, and they had been prepared to fight one or more Servants in this ruined Fuyuki where a Grail War had apparently gone horribly, horribly wrong. But none of them were prepared with the hazy fog that leaked from the Servant, nor the palpable sense of pure Evil that had oozed from its pores. Something had twisted this Servant into a corrupted shell of its former self.

It had landed almost soundlessly, touching down on the cracked street with barely a whisper of sound, despite falling several stories. Almost deliberately, it had taken in each of them, then the rictus skull mask it wore had seemed to twist and crack a grin.

Then it was on her, and Mash's only thoughts were of survival.

It was fast, impossibly fast. A dagger in its left hand jabbed and slashed at her, trying to find a way around her massive shield, while its right arm, wrapped in cloth save where pointed claws had ripped through the bindings, freakishly large and swollen to inhuman proportions, swiped at her, tried to use its length to simply reach around her shield and rip at her flesh. All while it weaved around her clumsy counterattacks with a nimbleness that ill-suited its form.

Mash was stronger than it, that had been clear from the first few clashes of their weapons, even its unnatural right arm couldn't overpower her in a straight contest of force – and it had realized that. After she had pushed it back the first time it had tried to lock her shield in place with its right hand, it hadn't attempted that again, constantly using its speed to keep her moving, forcing her to defend herself at odd angles, always trying to trip her up or catch her wrongfooted so it could around the massive wall of steel that kept its daggers from her flesh. She, meanwhile, was certain that one good blow from her could, if not end the battle outright, certainly either drive the thing off, or give her just enough of an advantage to put it on the defensive, where she felt it would do far worse than she. Servants were durable, yes, but a solid blow from her shield would comprise, if not outright shatter one of its three human limbs, and while those could be healed, it would take time the thing didn't have. It was all a question of which of them would make the first mistake, and like the disparity in speed and strength, both of them also realized this.

When that mistake came, it came in a flash.

The Servant had huffed a noise through its mask, almost a disdainful sniff, and had flowed around Mash's shield as she had cut at its head, then it sprang back, putting distance between them. Daggers had suddenly filled the spaces between the fingers on its left hand, and then it had filled the air with steel.

But not at Mash. Instead, it sent half of its arsenal at the Director, and half at her Master.

Olga Marie Animusphere had grown up as a Mage. She had weathered assassination attempts – Lev's patronage had protected her somewhat, but he couldn't be everywhere at once, and some had tried, but she had been raised in the Clock Tower, and paranoia was an old friend of hers. When the thing had jumped back from the fight, she had already been moving to put the Shielder between herself and the enemy Servant. It saved her life.

Mash Kyrielight was a novice to combat – even with the Servant she had bonded with lending its assistance, she was horribly inexperienced, having gotten by the previous fights with the mindless undead through sheer brute force, the power of a Servant allowing her to smash through enemies that were well below her level. She had seen what the Servant was doing, saw it was targeting both of her charges, and for a moment, a sheer split second, she had frozen up. Who to protect? The Director, who had been an authority figure in her life for years now – the terrible head of Chaldea that she had always leaped to obey? Or her Master, someone she had only known for hours, but still….her Master. It was a sadistic choice that Mash's mind had not been prepared to make, and for a split second – a veritable eternity in a fight between Servants, she had locked up, unable to make a choice. As none of the blades were targeting her, her life was spared, as her life had never been the goal of the attack.

Fujimaru was a mage of little talent, barely better than an average girl. She had never been in a fight in her life. Today was the first time she had heard of any of this – Chaldea, Rayshifting, Servants, etc. She had only barely been able to follow the combat in front of her – the skeletons had been frightening enough, if less so once Mash had bulldozed through them, but this…..to say she was terrified was to sell her feelings short. So, when the Servant had fired half a fistful of daggers at her, she had locked up, a small part of her sure that Mash would interpose herself between them, would protect her, but most of her simply unable to process everything, her legs turning to jelly as she heard the blades scream through the air. It cost her dearly.

Four daggers buried themselves into her flesh, none fatal on their own, all merely incapacitating wounds: gut, arms, legs. Whether it was though sheer sadism, or simply the difficulty of precisely aiming several daggers at two separate targets with a single hand, none of the hits were immediately lethal. Not that either Mash or Olga Marie knew this – all they saw was their sole Master falling like a puppet with their strings cut, a low whimper of pain escaping them as they crumpled to the ground.

"Senpai, SENPAI!" Mash's scream tore from her throat, as she felt the stream of mana from her Master, thready to begin with, noticeably weaken. Her Servant garb flickered; the energy necessary to maintain her Demi-Servant status having been drastically throttled. Desperately, blinking back tears of frustration, Mash marshalled what remained of her mana, and struggled to make her body move fast enough to end this fight. But she felt so slow, so weak again.

With a howl far too inhuman to come from something that held the shape of a man, the Servant charged her, moving even faster than it had been during their brief skirmish. Mash could see it, as if in slow-motion. The right arm would get around her guard this time – she wasn't fast enough to stop it anyone, and it would rip her to shreds. Maybe it would be over in a single blow. Maybe it would take its time, toy with her a bit before letting her bleed out. Either way, it no longer mattered. She had failed her Master, she was about to fail the Director, she had been granted a brief reprieve from death, had been allowed to be out of Chaldea for a heartbeat, but death was not to be denied.

Then, a roaring body collided full-on with the Servant, a lowered shoulder blasting the thing across the broken ground.

Chapter 2: Fuyuki 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 2​

For a long second that somehow felt like a lifetime, Mash Kyrielight could only stare. Somehow, impossibly, she had been spared for the second time in as many hours.

Her savior was simply massive – easily the tallest person she had ever seen in her life, and it wasn't just his height, which was considerable. No, he was frankly covered in muscle, and not the pretty muscles of a bodybuilder. This was the hard muscle that came from continual use in a life that called for near-daily physical labor, and it was on display given the somewhat minimal covering he had for his upper body, the only piece of armor he was wearing was a leather shoulder guard, edged with a trim of fur, on his right side, the strap that wrapped around his body providing the only other coverage on his chest. He wasn't otherwise unarmored, leather bracers protected his arms, and a wrap that put her somewhat in the mind of a kilt girded his waist, and leggings, also leather, and thick boots contained his lower half. Overall, it seemed like flimsy armor, but Mash was in no position to comment given the armor she had been gifted with was similarly questionable in the gaps it left exposed.

As she was still facing his back, she could make no guess as to his features, all that she could see for the moment was that he was bald, but thickly bearded. A red tattoo climbed its way up his back, wending across his pale skin to the top of his head, where she assumed it continued down to his face. A pouch, and a device she didn't recognize dangled from his waist, and some other metal device was attached to his left arm.

He clutched at a massive axe with both hands, and Mash could feel the power in the weapon – it was similar to her shield, a clearly magical object, something obvious to anyone with the capacity to detect such things, and as a Demi-Servant, she qualified.

His axe wasn't the only thing that she could feel power from – the man himself seemed to practically radiate power, and not that of a Servant, nor was it the same feeling Mash got from a powerful Mage like the members of Team A, or the Director's confidante Lev Lainur. Whatever her savior was, he wasn't anything Mash had experience with.

Gravel and rubble shifted as the Servant pushed itself up from the ground, its form moving almost unnaturally as it bent itself up to its feet. For a long moment, there was only the crackle of the flames in the background, and then, it spoke.

"Now…..where was something like you hiding?" The voice that came from it was a guttural croak, as if the throat making the words was only just remembering how. The skull mask tilted, in an almost quizzical manner as took in the man standing between itself and its prey. "Can't have been here all along, no, no. We'd have felt a trove of power like yours, and none of us would have wanted to pass that up. Maybe even the King would have come for you herself, let you die by her sword. Maybe if she was in a good mood, let some of us have a bite at that wonderful power that makes up your soul……Shaytan says that it's been a long, long time since such as you has walked this world……..and that he's never tasted the soul of your ilk before…." The long fingers on the grotesque right arm of the servant began to twitch spasmodically, rending the air in anticipation.

The bulky form in front of Mash stiffened, and she could hear his grip tighten on his axe, as the Servant's words hit him. "I know not what you are, Spirit, but you will not be tasting my soul today." The voice that answered the Servant was deep, cavernous even, but his words were spoken with an almost unnerving calm. "I would tell you that I have no quarrel with you and yours, would say that you do not want this fight, but my words would mean nothing to such as you. I know this. There is only one thing you will understand from me." The man's head flicked back, for a second. "Girl!" he barked. "Your comrade yet lives, bind her wounds, maybe she can be saved."

When neither she nor the Director moved, the man looked back again, for a longer moment this time, his gaze firmly fixed on Olga. In that brief second, Mash got the impression of a weathered face and a dark expression, and a tattoo that curled around an eye, before he returned his attention to the enemy before him.

"Wait….are you talking to ME?" shrieked the Director, and from the tone of her voice, Mash could tell she was winding herself up into one of her characteristic rants. If the man who was now the focus of her ire noticed, then he didn't seem to care.

"Shield-Maiden!" he barked, voice drowning out the Director's complaints, silencing her momentarily.

It took Mash longer than she cared to admit to realize the man was addressing her. "Y….yes?" she squeaked, face flushing.

"Keep the girl safe while she attends to your wounded. I will handle this." With that dismissal, his focus appeared to return fully to the blackened Servant. Mash pulled back to Gudako's still form, and now that she wasn't in direct combat, was able to stabilize her Servant Origin somewhat. The Director was doing what she could with her limited knowledge of the healing mysteries (though still muttering under her breath about their mysterious savior), but it seemed to at least have eased the girl's shock – the mana supply from her Master was still thready, but it had stabilized enough that Mash was able to keep her armor manifested with only a slight bit of effort. Combat would still be dicey, but she had enough to at least defend herself for a bit, if it came to that.

If the enemy Servant had even noticed anything she or the Director had done since the giant of a man had appeared, it had made no sign of it. All it had eyes for now was the 'meal' that was standing between itself and them. It gave an almost childish giggle, as the dagger in its left hand danced between its fingers. "Oh yes……this WILL be fun, we think…." Mid-sentence, that same left arm flashed up, and the dagger that had been spinning between its fingers flew towards the man, screaming through the air.

His feet planted, the man swayed out of the dagger's path, moving just enough to let it pass by his head. He held still for a moment, as if considering something, then gave a low grunt. "On your head, then, Spirit," he muttered, then sprang forward, axe cutting through the air, and battle was joined.

Unlike with Mash, the Servant didn't even consider attempting to match its strength against the man's, every cut and chop of the axe was dodged, the Servant weaving around the man's attacks as it had with Mash's, taking the measure of the man as it had with her at first – even a novice to combat such as she could tell neither was fully serious yet, both were testing the other, learning an unknown opponent's capabilities. Just like so many of the stories the Doctor had read to her.

The huge man was making effective use of the length of his axe, and the strength of his blows, forcing the Servant onto the defensive, making it dance to his tune for the time being. Once or twice, when the opportunity would present itself, the Servant would attempt a poke or a slice with the dagger, but the man deftly slid out of the way each time. For the moment, it was a stalemate – the big man couldn't hit the Servant, and the Servant was largely being prevented from counter-attacking, and what counters he had tried were easily avoided.

The first change of pace came as the Servant slid back from an attempt to bury the axe into its ribs. Where before, it had merely allowed the axe to pass, this time it moved like a striking snake, leaping forward, left arm surging ahead with greater speed than it had been displaying, point of the dagger jabbing into the head of the axe, pushing it down. Against a two-handed grip, the Servant probably wouldn't have been able to move the man, but this swing had been delivered one-handed, and using the greater whole of its body weight, was able to force the axe down at an angle, the blade digging into the pavement. Not deeply – the man would easily be able to rip the axe free in an instant, but in that instant, he was off-balance, stumbling forward as his momentum was redirected, and the Servant had created the opening it had been biding its time for. Using the point of the dagger as a vaulting point, it threw itself forward, right arm uncoiling, and reaching for the man's face.

Mash's heart leapt into her throat. He'd never be able to get the axe up in time, not with the Servant effectively trapping it with his full weight, and he'd never be able to fall back quickly enough to escape that arm, not as freakishly long as it was. Desperately, she watched as the man threw his left arm up, in what appeared to be a futile attempt to guard his face from those claws.

Then, suddenly, the metal device on his bracer clicked, and unfurled, metal springing forth from nothing, forming a round shield that stopped those claws in their tracks.

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Once, Kratos would have left the women to their fates.

Not three years ago, when his son had first seen the conflict between the two factions of elves in Alfheim, Kratos had advised his son to take no part in their squabble – they did not know the reasons for this war, and they were not a part of it. Words that had proven correct, the more they had learned about the forever war for the Light that the elves had been fighting for generations – but words that Kratos could not find it in himself to apply here.

When he had first seen the Spirit, he had been struck by a wrongness, a stench unlike anything he had seen in his long years. Spirits, in his experience, wanted things done for them by the living, complained endlessly about their lives, and were difficult at the best of times, but were, in the end, people. Some were deceitful, some were honest, some were merely sad – but labels like 'good' or 'evil' didn't apply to them at first glance. One needed to see their actions before one could make a judgment. Odin and…..Zeus had been tyrants, power mad and cruel in their own unique ways. Ares had been a petty monster who had exploited a younger Kratos' reckless desire for victory, and then had gleefully enslaved the Spartan, and used him as his tool for years. Baldur had been warped by his mother's well-intentioned but fatally flawed attempts to spare him his destined fate, and then had been twisted by Odin into a loyal dog – something that could also be applied to Thor, who Odin had made into his monster, letting Thor off his chains to slaughter the Giants, and anyone else who threatened the All-Father's reign. All of them were monsters – as was Kratos himself – but to call any of them fully, unredeemably evil………Thor had turned from his path, at the end. The final mural Faye had left behind had shown a future where Kratos was beloved. In the months since Ragnarök, Kratos had thought long and hard on 'monsters', and 'evil'. He had come to no conclusions yet, but they had been on his mind in recent days.

This spirit, whatever it was, practically oozed pure evil. Kratos could feel it in his bones, and thus, felt somewhat certain in his belief that the three women – girls practically - were not the aggressors in this fight – nor had they anything to do with the ruin that had come to this strange city. Nor were they warriors – two of them made no attempt to battle the spirit, instead relying on the girl carrying the massive shield to be their defense, and while she seemed to at least have some experience, she was clearly no soldier. Her movements were stiff and sloppy, almost out of sync with her body, though to her credit, from what he had seen, she had quickly grasped the disparity in strength between herself and the spirit, and was trying to leverage that advantage as much as she could, at least until the spirit broke off and forced her into an impossible choice.

The white-haired girl might not have been a fighter, but her instincts had been honed by something, and she had taken refuge behind her champion. The other girl had not been so fortunate and had been struck down – and this had had some sort of effect on the girl with the shield, for her armor and weapon had begun flickering, as if unstable.

Once, Kratos would have left them to their fates. But in the bitter cold of Helheim, he and his son had made a promise. His son's voice in his head was telling him that whatever this thing was, it was wrong, that these girls shouldn't die.

These girls, of an age with Calliope – one with red hair that reminded him of his son. One who was crying out in pain as the spirit's daggers dug into her flesh.

No, if Kratos left these girls to die, he would never be able to face his son on the day Atreus returned from his journey.

So, he intervened.

And he fought.

Whatever the thing was, it was fast. Not Hermes-fast, even the Nine Realms hadn't had anything that had rivaled the speed of the Messenger of the Gods, but the spirit was at least as fast and as agile as the elves of Alfheim, if not faster. It was dodging his attacks with contemptuous ease, for all that Kratos was merely taking the thing's measure, he was fairly certain the speed it had shown was not its maximum. Nor did he like the look of that right arm – he had the advantage of reach for the moment, but that advantage would be lost once the spirit began taking the fight seriously and began using both dagger and warped arm together to press his defenses.

So it was that the spirit managed to get him off his guard with the trick with the dagger that forced his axe into the ground, and Kratos was forced to block that arm with his shield, revealing the first of his hidden tricks. The shield his wife had gifted him blended in well enough to his bracers that many foes had been completely taken off their guard when he had produced a full shield from a thin strip of metal, and so it was the case here. With its body suspended in the air, the position that had allowed the spirit to trap Kratos' axe was suddenly reversed, as he was now able to bring the full brunt of his strength to bear for the first time in this fight.

It was stronger than its thin frame appeared to be, certainly stronger than any mortal, but Kratos was no mortal. And furthermore, the spirit had no base to dig its heels in and set its strength against his. Trapped in the air like it was, Kratos was easily able to surge forward, axe ripping from the ground, shield pushing the twisted arm back until the metal contacted the spirit's shoulder.

And Kratos lowered his head and surged forward.

The building he rammed the spirit into held, but just barely, as he crushed the thing between his massive frame and the structure, he could feel something crunch in the body of the creature. The dagger in its hand went spinning away as the shock of the impact caused it to lose its grip on the weapon, and Kratos brought his axe to bear, the cut awkward at such close quarters, but aiming to take the thing's head off.

Impossibly, it bent its head at an angle no living thing should have been able to duplicate, and his axe bit deeply into the side of the building, narrowly missing the spirit's blackened flesh. Desperately, it raked at him with the talons of its right arm, and Kratos was forced to duck in order to preserve his eyes. A freshly produced dagger in the left hand then came in low, and Kratos was then forced to fully disengage, leaving the axe stuck in the building.

First blood to him, but he had been disarmed, at least as far as the spirit knew. And last blood counted for more.

The thing wheezed as it regained its footing, the noises coming from its throat alien enough without the telltale signs of broken ribs added on top. Kratos had hurt it, but it was far from finished, and moreover, it was mad. "Hurts……," it rasped. "HURTS."

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The husk of the man who had once held the title of Hassan was furious. This man, this godling had tricked him, HIM, he of the class of dirty tricks and underhanded tactics, and had cracked – or broken – several of his ribs. The constant channel of mana from the Grail would see him mended in time, but it wouldn't be soon enough to affect this fight. Whoever this was, they were more than a match to him in a straight up fight, and while he could draw this out, it meant possibly sharing the bounty of a god's soul with the others.

He had given of himself for his people in his life, had given his name away to be a title, had bartered his very soul for the power to carry that title. He was done with giving and would not be sharing the feast in front of him with any of the others he had been forced to fight alongside. Once-Hassan would defeat him and share nothing.

How unfortunate for the man that his axe was stuck in this building, and all the once-Hassan would need is a touch to drink his soul.

With a hiss of effort, once-Hassan tapped deeper into the well of energy the tainted Grail was feeding him. His arm bulged as he channeled the energy into it, loosing the bindings on the demon bound into his flesh, and the cloth bindings fell away from the arm that had given him his title, revealing it in all its horrible glory.

The pavement beneath his feet cracked as he dug his heels in, preparing to spring. The godling took a step back, angling himself away from the man, wary, but not afraid. He still thought he could win this.

How foolish of him. The former Hassan would enjoy devouring his heart, then his soul.

The Servant crouched low, feeling his mana peak, his arm tensing as Shaytan prepared to fully slip its leash. "Noble Phantasm….." hissed the man, hearing his demon keening its joy in his mind. He rocketed forward at his true speed, knowing that even if the godling managed to react in time, he'd still only need a touch for his Noble Phantasm to do its work, to win. To FEED. To his credit, the massive man's instincts were good, already pulling the shield to intercept his arm, but too slowly, far too slowly. "ZABIN……"

The impact took him in the back, ripping through him, combining with his momentum to throw him to the ground. His mana went haywire, then leaked from him like a sieve, his Noble Phantasm guttering out, as he found himself unable to speak the True Name, to complete its release, through the blood that was suddenly filling his mouth.

A roaring shadow loomed over him.

Once-Hassan forced his head up, uncomprehending.

The man's axe was in his hands, and it was wet with the Servant's polluted blood. Then it came down, and there was only blackness.

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Kratos watched as the spirit broke apart into a shower of lights, the vile miasma that had radiated from the thing vanishing as it did. Reasonably certain the spirit had been banished to wherever such as it would go, Kratos turned to check on the women he had battled this creature for.

The one with the white hair was still bent over the wounded one, working some kind of healing magics on her – at least by his best guess. That she was doing magic of some ilk was obvious, and there were enough similarities to the times he had seen Freya using her healing spells to lead him to believe that that is what she was doing, though the bright light that had sprouted from her wrist was wholly new to him, as was the small, tinny voice that was coming from it. A familiar or sprite, maybe. The one with the shield was watching him carefully, still wary.

Wise of her. A sudden ally was not necessarily an ally once the battle was over. And Kratos was, as he had been told by his son on more than one occasion, kind of 'scary looking', particularly after a fight.

It hadn't helped that the head had taken Atreus' side.

The Spartan made a small noise in the back of his throat. Introductions like this were always easier when his son was around. The boy was just so impossibly bright and open, people couldn't help but want to trust the child. He hoped that quality was aiding Atreus, wherever he was.

Carefully, Kratos set his axe into the catch on his back, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, before holding his hands up before him. "I mean you no harm," he stated, reaching for the least threatening tone he could manage. "Does your companion yet live?"

"For now," snapped the one with the white hair. "But she's fading fast, and what little healing I can do isn't much more than a stopgap." Her eyes glanced up to the Spartan. "I'm guessing that's not something you can help with?"

There was steel in her voice, brittle steel, but it was still holding back the panic that Kratos could see in her sharp, tense movements. This one was likely the leader of the little group, then. "No, I am no healer," he responded. "But I can tie bandages and keep pressure, if you would not turn away another pair of hands."

The huff the girl gave him was the sound of a person choosing between what they saw as two equally bad choices, but she chose quickly. "Get over here and don't make me regret this. Mash, keep an eye out, let us know if you sense another Servant coming."

"Yes, Director," said the girl – 'Mash', noted Kratos – as she watched Kratos approach, keeping one eye on him, wary for treachery from him still. The 'Director' had returned her focus entirely to her charge by the time Kratos knelt by her side, quickly running an eye over the injured girl.

It was worse than he had feared when he had seen the girl fall. None of the wounds were, on their own, fatal, but in combination……..

In one volley of knives, the spirit had managed to gut the girl, cut the tendon in her left leg, essentially crippling her, and worst of all, sever the artery high in the thigh that bled like a tide. To do such with one attack showed remarkable skill…..and impossible sadism. With that kind of accuracy, the thing could have easily killed the girl outright, but had instead chosen to incapacitate her, to make her a burden that had to be cared for, likely to prevent the Director from aiding in the fight. The wound in the right arm was almost forgettable, in the wake of the other injuries that had been done to the girl.

Kratos placed his hands on a wad of cloth that had been placed over the girl's stomach, applying pressure as Freya had shown him all those days past when they had first met her in her grove, when, like today, he had been an extra pair of hands while a witch attempted to save the life of a friend. "She is dying,"

"You think I don't KNOW that?!" raged the Director, her face almost as pale as her hair. "I can't do anything about the damage to her femoral artery, Assassin cut it too deeply for my healing magecraft to do anything about! Roman!" she yelled, directing her eyes to the familiar on her wrist. "Can't you send us ANYTHING?"

"No, and I AM trying, Director!" said the sprite, its voice equal parts frustration and sheer panic. Now that he was closer, Kratos could see that its form was that of a man, long hair tied into a ponytail, and wearing some sort of coat over what appeared to be an official uniform – likely whatever organization this 'Director' oversaw. "Everything's still too damaged from the explosion to Rayshift any supplies to you - we're barely managing to validate your existences as it is, and that's holding on by the skin of our teeth!" The injured girl whimpered, the keening of an animal in pain, and the sprite threaded his hands in his hair, face twisting in pain. "Da Vinci and the surviving crew are doing all we can but there's……..nothing we can do……"

"Doctor……there's got to be SOMETHING we can do….," pled Mash, barely holding back tears. "Senpai…..we can't lose senpai……"

"Mash…..," The voice, when it spoke, was almost pitifully weak, but the shieldmaiden heard it, and was by her comrade's side in an instant, her watch abandoned. Almost blindly, the girl's hand grasped at the air until Mash seized it with both of hers, holding it tight.

"Gudako……," sniffled Mash, the tears she had been holding back now starting in earnest. "It's going to be ok, the Director will figure something out, just…"

"S'ok, Mash…," murmured the girl, her eyes beginning to lose focus in a fashion Kratos was all too familiar with. "Screw up of a Master like me……was bound to happen. Least I was able to save you before I checked out……just live, Mash……don't let the one good thing I managed in all this be for nothing….."

And with that, her eyes slipped shut.

Chapter 3: Fuyuki 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 3​

The girl wailed as though her heart was breaking, as she sobbed over the still form of her friend. The Director continued to work her magics over the girl's body – she wasn't dead yet, but she was moments away from meeting whatever being would take her onto the next life – and the Director was still fighting, still berating her spirit to do something, send some form of aid to them, trying to keep this girl alive a moment longer, in the hopes a miracle would occur. Kratos had seen this sight thousands of times across countless battlefields, had seen this drama play out again and again – most recently in the home of one of his friends. Miracles did not happen, in his experience.

"Hey? Mind if I lend a hand here?"

Kratos whirled, gaining his feet in a split second, axe out, instinctively placing his body between the girls and the voice, the man who had snuck up on all of them.

Blue. That was Kratos' first impression of the man, blue hair, blue and white robes, trimmed with gold in some spots, and a hood covering his face. Wiry, but likely powerful, from what Kratos could see of his build through the thin, tight black shirt that covered his upper body. His posture was relaxed, almost leaning back, as he held a wooden staff across his shoulders, by all appearances trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Whoa there, big guy. Not looking for a fight here." His voice was casual, almost completely unconcerned with the axe Kratos was pointing at him. "You folk are the first living humans I've seen in weeks, ever since Saber turned this place into a pyre."

"Servant……" whispered Mash.

That word again. Some part of Kratos was beginning to think there was more meaning to it that the simple definition of 'one in service to another'.

The man's face split in a cocky grin. "Yep, that's me! Servant," he sighed here, his grin deflating. "Caster, and the only remaining Servant from this messed up Grail War. You saw what Saber did to the rest of them, given that I felt Assassin here a few moments ago, and now I don't." He tilted his head, a gesture that put Kratos in the mind of the wolves that pulled his sled; and regarded the Spartan. "Guessing that was your doing?"

"If you mean the spirit with the skull mask, then yes, his defeat was, as you put it 'my doing'," responded Kratos. The man did not seem hostile, and yet…..something about him…..

Cackling, the man clapped his hands together, his grin back. "Best news I've had in weeks! I've been trying to take that guy out since everything went to hell, but what with him being as slippery as he was, and me being a Caster, I never managed to get him before his buddies showed up. Why, oh why couldn't I have been summoned as a Lancer?"

Kratos was getting more confused the more this man talked. He spoke of summoning….was this how Kratos had come to be in this strange city?

"But you, big fella, you took him out, and more so, you did it quickly." The man regarded him for a long moment, and Kratos felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

He KNEW this man. He had never seen this man before in his life, not in Greece, not in the Nine Realms – the blue hair alone was unique enough that Kratos would have remembered meeting him - but the way this man was looking at him…….it was familiar. He had been looked at like this before, by someone who had been attempting to see through the Spartan as though he was a puzzle to be figured out, some new wrinkle to be examined down to his very bones.

If possible, the man, 'Caster', grinned even wider, showing canines that were a bit too sharp to be fully human. "Freakin' GREAT! If things were different, I'd be asking you for a friendly fight – wouldn't be as good as if I was a Lancer, but I'd still never forgive myself if I passed up a chance like that, but we've got no time for that now. Girlie!" he barked, gaze passing over Kratos' shoulder. "You want my help with making sure that girl – and from what I'm feeling, she's the Master here – to see another sunrise?"

Kratos didn't take his eyes off the strange man, but he could hear the Director muttering to her sprite in hushed voices. Just as with Kratos, her decision came quickly. "Fine, what's one more helpful stranger? Get over here, Caster!"

The man glanced at Kratos, and despite his face still being hidden by the hood, Kratos could feel the man's eyebrow raising in question at the Spartan. With a resigned sign, Kratos lowered his axe, allowing the man to stride past him, still largely unconcerned with the former God of War entirely. Upon reaching the girl, he made a noise of disappointment. "Sheesh, she's messed up even worse than I thought." He pulled his hood back from his face, scrutinizing the girl closely. His fingers drummed a beat on his staff as he considered. "Old witch didn't teach me much in the way of healing magics, so we're going to have to get creative here." He rummaged in his pouches for a moment, then pulled out a handful of stones, upon which were carved runes.

Runes Kratos could read.

Those were runes of the Nine Realms – runes Kratos had learned to read over Fimbulwinter, one of the few times the son had been the teacher, and the father, the student.

Who WAS this man?

Unaware of, or unbothered by Kratos' scrutiny, Caster selected a handful of runes, putting the rest back into his pouches, and began laying them around the girl's body. "Ok, this is what we're going to have to do. I can't heal this – I always was crap with the healing magics, no matter how much the old hag tried to beat them into my head,"

"Then what use are you, Caster?" asked the Director, her tone cutting. "You weren't wrong about this girl being our only Master. Frankly, we can't lose her."

"Getting to it, getting to it, keep your shirt on…..or don't" said the man, with a wink. Ignoring the Director's indignant squawk, he continued. "I can't heal her, but I CAN put her into stasis – she won't get any better, but she won't get any worse. It'll let her keep until you CAN get her to someone who can put her back together. The magic should hold even if I get killed, so you'd be good on that front, but you'll need to choose a trigger to bring her out, so I can work it into the spell." He set the last stone into the pattern around the girl's body, and Kratos saw the carved runes within the stones flash, and begin to glow with power. "Best I can do on short notice. So, what'll it be?"

There was no hesitation on the Director's part. "Do it. Not like we've got other options here." She considered for a moment. "Can you make the trigger for the spell for when she returns to the Chaldea medical lab?"

"The girl will awake from her sleep when she returns to the Chaldea medical lab," whispered Caster, his voice low, his eyes closed. The runes pulsed, and his eyes snapped open. "Yep! Looks like I can manage that. So, unless there are any objections?"

"Please, Caster…..save her…" begged Mash.

The smile the man gave the girl was a far cry from his previous cocky grins, this one was soft, even gentle. "Well now, I can't let a pretty girl like you down, can I? So, I have to make this work!" With a flourish, he spun his staff around his head, before slamming the butt into the ground, the runes, both around the body of Gudako, and on his staff, flaring with power. He concentrated, sparks flying between the carved runes around the girl, power building as Caster muttered under his breath. Still holding his staff, he knelt before the girl, drawing a long, wickedly sharp thorn from his belt. Carefully, never losing his hold on his staff, he pricked the girl's fingertip. "Sleep, child, sleep until you are again under the roof of Chaldea, in their house of healing……."

The power that had been building flared up, spiking, then vanished.

Mash was the first to break the silence. "Did…did it work?" she asked.

The cocky grin was back. "Like a freakin' charm!" crowed Caster. "And now I've got a story to tell Teacher the next time I see her. She might even be proud enough of me to only beat me half to death!"

The more Kratos heard of this man's teacher, the more he began to wonder if perhaps there was a training method that made the Spartan methods look gentle in comparison.

The man quickly gathered up his spent runestones, placing them into the girl's pockets. "And on that subject, we need to be somewhere else. I'm not the only one who realized you lot were here, just one of the closest. Particularly with a giant bonfire like that one, there," he said, indicating Kratos.

"He's right," yelped the sprite. "We've got a Servant incoming, and at the speed he's moving, he'll be there in minutes!"

"Yeah, that'd be Berserker," he sighed, the Director giving a squeak of fear that was in odds with the controlled demeanor she had been projecting. "He was enough of a pain to fight before he got blackened, but he was mostly keeping to his territory, but something," and at this, he again looked right at Kratos in that odd, familiar way. "Got him stirred up enough to come hunting, and we don't want to be here when he gets here, not with me without a Master, and the girl down for the foreseeable future." He rose to his feet, dusting off his robes. "I've got a safe house not too far from here where we can hole up in, plan our next move. Big guy, can you carry the girl?"

Wordlessly, Kratos nodded, and looked to the Director for permission – temporary ally or not, the girl was still one of her people. Somewhat unsurprisingly, she gave her assent, her face showing that she was quickly growing exhausted from the pace at which events were moving. Kratos knelt and lifted the girl in his arms, cradling her carefully. She was cold, unnaturally so – like as not a result of Caster's spell. As he stood, Caster walked over, and peered down at the Director. "So, lass, piggyback, or bridal?"

Kratos wasn't sure if the Director's face flushed as red as it did from embarrassment, or anger. "EXCUSE ME?"

Caster cackled again, something that was becoming a common event. "What, you think you're going to keep up with us with those twig legs of yours?" He shook his head. "Not happening. I may not be as fast as when I'm a Lancer, but I'm still plenty fast – we're going to have to cover a lot of ground pretty damn quick, and while I know those two won't fall behind, even if you reinforced your legs like that Tohsaka girl, you'd burn yourself out trying to keep up with me at the pace I'm going to set. Big guy can't carry you; he's already got one person to worry about. And the eggplant wouldn't be able keep the pace carrying you, she's too green. Running at full tilt while carrying someone and ducking obstacles is a learned skill, believe me. So? How am I carrying you?"

With a sigh of utter defeat, the Director deflated. "Kneel down, and keep your hands to yourself, or I WILL choke you."

Snickering, Caster dropped to one knee, allowing the Director to climb on his back. "I'll be a veritable angel, girlie. Just be glad I'm not my uncle Fergus." He glanced back at the two of them. "Now, keep up. I'm not slowing down for anything, skeletons, Servants, angels, devils, or anything in between."

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The man had not been boasting, he set a brutal pace, practically flying through the ruined city. Kratos had to push himself to keep up, the man's speed just on the edge of what Kratos considered to be his maximum. And while the other girl, Mash, had lagged behind, it hadn't been by enough for her to lose sight of them, so she was only seconds behind when Caster's pace began to slow, as he darted down a set of stairs, taking them beneath the city streets. As they descended the stairs, Kratos felt a familiar sensation wash across his skin.

A protection stave – or magics of a similar bent, given how the Director was muttering something about a 'Bounded Field'. Hopefully it would ward them as well as the one around his home in the Wildwoods had protected his family for all those years.

There was little light in the tunnels, but the object on Kratos' belt brightened as it always did in dim light, and with a muttered word, Caster caused the tip of his staff to light up, as he continued to lead them on.

"Should be right, yep, right here." Caster pushed a door open, and led them into a small room. Kratos could not guess what its function might have once been, but it had clearly been repurposed into a living space, if a crude one. A few chairs, a simple cot, what could only be some provisions on one of the two surviving tables – water held in flasks made of some strange, clear material, and metal cylinders with images of food on them. Thankfully, there was light, Caster had set a few of his runes into the walls, and they sprang to life as he entered the room.

Their destination reached, Caster set the Director down, the girl staggering to a chair – it appeared that the rapid pace of their flight had not fully agreed with her. "Go ahead and set her on the cot, big man. Most comfortable place for her for the moment. The rest of you sit; and help yourself to something to eat or drink. Not the best fare, but it's what we've got."

Kratos gingerly laid the girl down on the cot. He wasn't sure if she could even feel anything in her current state, but still tried to make her repose as comfortable as possible. As he stood, a voice called out to him.

"Excuse me, sir?" Kratos turned, to see the violet-haired girl holding out one of the clear flasks to him. "Did….did you want some water?"

Wordlessly, Kratos took the flask from the girl, feeling the curious texture of the flask in his hands. It was oddly soft and pliable; unlike anything he had ever seen before – like so much of this place. Thankfully, it was simple to open, a simple twist of the seal on the top separated it into two parts, and Kratos quickly drained the flask.

The city had been hot, and the man's pace had been quick. The water was a welcome thing, even if it had an odd, metallic taste to it. "Thank you," he said, crumpling the empty flask in his hands, and tossing it aside. "The water is appreciated."

"Do you want another?" asked Mash, half-turning to pick up another flask from the table.

Kratos held up a hand. "No girl…." Names, not titles or nicknames. It was something he had worked to change over Fimbulwinter, and it would not do to fall back into old patterns now. Discipline – no matter how strange his current situation was, he could not slide back into old habits. "Mash. See to your own thirst first. Should I require more water, I will get it."

Mash flushed for a moment, then smiled, a bright, happy smile that, for a brief moment, chased away the shadows that had been clinging to her. "Ok. And…..thank you. For saving me, the Director, and senpai. Both of you….," she said, turning her attention to the blue-haired mystery, who was learning against the wall by the door, watching them.

That familiar, cocky grin again. "Wouldn't be much of a hero if I couldn't save three fine ladies like you three. First time I've gotten to act like a proper hero since this whole mess of a war started." He turned his gaze to each of them in turn, and for the first time, Kratos noticed his eyes. Red, and oddly slitted – they reminded him of the Wulvar – but it was just one more odd thing about their new ally. Mash had taken a seat next to the Director and was sipping at her flask of water. The Director was starting to get her color back, holding one of the flasks in her hand, but making no movements to open it just yet – possibly waiting for her stomach to settle. Kratos, unsure if the seats would hold his weight, chose to copy Caster and leaned against the wall by the cot, staying near the wounded girl.

"So, if we're all fed and watered, how about a round of introductions? It'll probably take Berserker an hour or two to get bored and wander off, and if we're going to be working together to fix this fucked-up Grail War, I'd like something to call you guys other than 'girlie' or 'big fella'." He glanced from one of them to another. "Hell, I'll even go first. Servant, Caster, you already know that much. My True Name is Cu Chulainn, and like I said, I'm the last surviving uncorrupted Servant from this Holy Grail War."

The name clearly meant something to the two girls, Kratos could see the recognition on their faces, something that obviously pleased the man. "Heard of me, have you? Good to know my legend hasn't dimmed in the present day – take that Goldie!"

The Director nodded, her face back in its serious mien. "Ireland's Child of Light, the Hound of Chulainn – Chaldea is familiar with your titles and legend, Caster. Given you're practically the Heracles of Ireland, that would explain why you've survived so long…."

Ireland? Ireland….where had he………OH.

"I see even the big guy's caught on, guess my name's travelled to wherever you hail from, huh?"

Kratos grunted. "One of my comrades was originally from shores near to your own. At times, he would tell us tales to pass the time. One of them was your legend – how you fought off an army singlehandedly and died on your feet." Another grunt, an approving one. "A worthy death – a warrior's death. I enjoyed the story."

The story had also mentioned how Cu Chulainn was the son of Lugh, the God of Light of those lands, making this 'Servant' a demigod, much like Kratos himself, before he had usurped Ares. The comparison to his half-brother, Heracles, was even more apt. That he was a god was…….less troubling than it had once been. If nothing else, the events of the past four years had proven to him that not all gods were evil, but still…..he would watch this man carefully.

Not all gods were evil, but enough were. Caution was warranted, always.

Caster's grin only grew in intensity. "Probably my finest moment, if only because I got to spite that absolute bitch Medb." He cackled. "So, that's who I am. Ladies, you want to introduce yourselves?"

A gaze passed between the two women in the room, before the Director began speaking. "Director Olga Marie Animusphere, head of the Chaldea Security Organization. And this is Mash Kyrielight," she said, gesturing at the other girl. "A Demi-Servant of Chaldea, Shielder Class. And Ritsuka Fujjimaru – the only Master we have available to us at immediate, over there on the cot." Blue light flickered at her wrist, and she held up her sprite. "And this is Doctor Romani Archaman, Chadlea's Chief Medical Officer – and the highest-ranking officer we have left at the moment."

"Hello!" waved the doctor, his cheer in contrast to his haggard appearance.

Four pairs of eyes turned to Kratos.

"Kratos….." he began, debating how much to reveal. Best to get it over with. "Of late of what was once the Nine Realms, now Eight. Once of Greece."

To his surprise, the first reaction from them wasn't the horrified recognition he had been bracing for, but, oddly enough, confusion, from the sprite. "Wait…….what language is that?"

All parties turned a baffled gaze on the Doctor's flickering image. "He's speaking English, Roman. At least, that's what I'm hearing." Olga glanced to Mash and Cu, both of whom nodded. "Are you hearing something else?"

"Sounded like something Scandinavian, but nothing I'm familiar with." The Doctor's image shrugged. "I'm running it by Da Vinci now to see if she can get a translation program running – but you three are hearing English?"

"I believe I may have the answer for this." Kratos slipped his right bracer off, revealing a thin band of metal around his wrist, runes carved into its surface. "Since Ragnarök I have become something of an arbiter to the surviving realms. It is now common knowledge that I am an outsider, and those with disputes have begun seeking me out as a neutral party to quarrels," Kratos could feel Caster's eyes on him, something in his story having greatly piqued the man's interest. "While I speak the common tongue of the lands, not all who come to my doorstep do, and my comrades who can translate have duties and responsibilities of their own; and cannot always be there." Freya was busy trying to rebuild Vanaheim after years of war, and then Asgardian occupation. And Mimir's reputation was also beginning to rebuild itself, he was starting to be requested for his knowledge – Smartest Head Alive indeed. Sigrun, too, occasionally spirited Mimir away for a time, two of them happy to just spend time with each other. It was glaringly obvious to any who observed them for any amount of time that they still loved each other deeply. "So, Freya crafted this for me – she said it would let me hear their words in the common tongue of Midgard and change my words so they could understand me." He slipped his bracer back on, covering the bracelet again. "The magics Freya wove into it must not function with whatever magics you are using to speak with your Doctor Romani, that, or the distance is just too great."

Caster's eyes were as sharp as the point of a spear. "So, just to check, you said Freya. You mean the goddess, Freya, right? Wife of Odin, brother of Freyr, Queen of the Aesir, and all that?"

"Former wife of Odin, yes, but otherwise correct." Kratos stated. The Director looked as if she had been stabbed, her already pale face having drained of what little color It had. "She is a friend, though she was not always." Which was as much as he was going to say about his still complicated relationship with the woman.

"And…..Ragnarök," continued the Caster, no sign of the cocky and almost playful personality he had been displaying until now. "You're talking as if that was a recent thing for you – would I be correct in that assumption?"

Slowly, Kratos nodded, confused, but waiting to see where the man was going with this.

Cu Chulainn grinned like a madman, turning his head to look straight at the Director. Who…….honestly, Kratos had seen corpses that had looked better. She was ashen, her eyes wide. Cu opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off.

"No." Olga Marie's tone was flat, brooking no argument. Cu Chulainn apparently didn't care.

"It's the only explanation that makes sense, lass. You know, it, I know it, and your Doctor there knows it. Hell, the cute little Shielder would know if it if she knew what we know." He crossed his arms over his chest, the mirth and amusement once again gone. "Denying it isn't going to do any of us any good here."

"I know, I KNOW!" shrieked the woman, her hands fisting in her hair, as her head sank into her lap. "The headache, the paperwork – how the HELL are we going to explain this? It's already going to be hell trying to tell the Clock Tower 'oh yes, on our first excursion, something went horribly wrong, most of Chaldea was killed in an explosion, multiple Heirs are dead or in cryostasis, a bloody DOCTOR is the highest-ranking member of Chaldea left, while the Director has found herself out in the damn field!" She shuddered. "That's already a nightmare – but now I have to deal with the goddamn MULTIVERSE bullshit on top of that?" She moaned out loud. "And he's either here by sheer bloody accident, or WORSE, the KALEIDOSCOPE himself is involved, either because he thinks we need the aid, or because he's just bored. Which is worse, I don't know." She began rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around her body. "Mash, as Director, I'm ordering you to kill me, right now. Let Roman deal with this headache."

Both Mash and the Doctor squawked, one in shock, missing the sarcasm, the other in indignation. Kratos might have found it amusing if he wasn't so completely lost. "Explain," he snapped, his temper beginning to show in his voice. "What is it about my presence here that has you so unsettled?"

"Where do I even fucking begin?" asked the Director, pulling her head up from her lap. For a long moment, she stared at Kratos, and he could see her mind turning over and over itself as she re-evaluated the Spartan. "Mash, myself, and Fujimaru are from the Year 2015 AD," she held her hand up, forestalling anything Kratos might have said. "I know the date won't really mean anything to you, I'm including it for context – it'll be relevant in a bit." She sighed. "My father created the Chaldea Security Organization to monitor for threats that could wipe out humanity – all of it, all across the world, and to prevent them from coming to pass. A short while ago, we started detecting something that would destroy humanity at the end of 2016 – something here, in the past. This is Fuyuki City in Japan – it's an island nation far, far to the east of Greece, in the year 2004."

Kratos blinked. "So, you believe that I have been pulled forward in time, where you have moved backwards?"

Olga Marie grin was the grin of ashes and rubble. "Oh, if ONLY it was that simple." She laughed for a moment, borderline hysterical, before she sighed again and continued. "We don't have that many records, but from what little we can tell, Ragnarök happened about three thousand years ago – so in that respect, you're not wrong in that you've travelled forward in time." She frowned. "The problem is what you're telling us about Ragnarök differs from what we know happened. Freya dies, as do most of the other gods, and almost all of humanity, save for two humans - Líf and Lífþrasir – go on to repopulate Midgard."

She met his eyes, her gaze hard. "You've spoken of Freya, even said she made that translation bracelet for you, and you've spoken of survivors, multiple, coming to you to act as an arbitrator for disputes – there's only one conclusion that fits this, your Ragnarök is not OUR Ragnarök."

Kratos felt as if he was in a fog. His Ragnarök was not theirs? "Explain."

"For the longest time, there's been this concept of something called a multiverse, or parallel dimensions. An infinite number of worlds all exist side by side, all subtly different from each other. The differences between them can be something minor, such as apples being colored blue, instead of red, or something major, like humans not being the dominant species, entire nations having been destroyed in natural disasters, or, say, Ragnarök playing out in a different fashion." The fog was beginning to lift. "The thing is this concept isn't a theory. Fujimaru, myself, and most of those in Chaldea are mages, we belong to an organization called the Clock Tower. One of the most powerful members of our order is a man named Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Wizard Marshall of the Clock Tower, alternately called the Kaleidoscope. He alone can use the Second Magic, which is the ability to observe, and interact with parallel worlds – so we know they exist, and why I was cursing his name a moment ago. If he's involved with this, things are much, MUCH worse than I ever believed they could be." She again found his gaze and gone was the brittle mask of arrogance and confidence she had been wearing. Now, she just looked so tired, the bags under her eyes, the lines of stress on her face much, much more evident. "I don't suppose you met a bearded old man before you found yourself here?"

Kratos' mind whirled, as he took the information in. If what she was saying was true, should he even find one of the Gateways to Yggdrasil, there was no guarantee that his Seed would work – or that it would lead him home. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, I did not meet this Kaleidoscope of yours. I was on the branches of the World Tree when I was attacked. During the battle, I was thrown from the branches into the void by my enemies. One of them was clinging to me as I was thrown; and fell with me. While we flew through the air, his Yggdrasil Seed exploded, and I was flung away from him, and lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was here."

"Yggdrasil Seed? Can't say I've heard that term before," interjected Caster. "At least, not in the exploding way."

Kratos reached into his pouch and pulled the item in question out, holding it up. "It was the means by which we were able to travel to different realms during Ragnarök – Odin had sealed the previous means for many winters, and we have not yet been able to break the enchantments on the Temple as of yet." He rotated the object in his hand. "Mine was damaged – either in the fight, or the fall, I do not know." He made a sound of deep frustration. "And now you tell me this world is not even my own, that my Seed may not even be able to get me back to my home, should it even work." Kratos felt trapped and did not like it.

Atreus. Would he ever see his son again?

"Maybe….we could help you?"

The violet-haired girl's words were a thrown rope to Kratos, who was drowning in his spiraling thoughts. "How?" he asked, his voice soft.

Mash glanced at the Director, who gazed back, the two sharing some silent communication of some sort, before the Director spoke. "You heard why the three of us are here – something in this city distorted history, and caused Humanity's extinction, and that we were planning an operation to stop it. It wasn't supposed to be just myself, Mash, and Fujimaru over there." She sighed. "There was sabotage – someone set off an explosion that killed most of our Master candidates, and most of the support staff at Chaldea. The Doctor is holding down the fort there by virtue of being the highest-ranking survivor – Fujimaru was recruited mere days ago merely to fill out a slot. In ideal conditions she'd have never even seen deployment, much less myself – both of us aren't supposed to be here."

Treachery. A familiar enough coin, to be sure, but…. "You say your goal was to prevent humanity itself from being completely wiped out. Who then would seek to hinder that goal?"

Olga shrugged. "We don't know - we barely know anything. Best guess is that whoever, or whatever caused this altered history got a traitor – or traitors – into Chaldea, or they somehow got an infiltrator past our security. It's only by what appears to be sheer bloody luck that we managed to get anyone at all into the past, and we're already down one person. And moreover, if it wasn't for you, all three of us would be dead right now." She locked eyes with Kratos, and continued, her words blunt, and frank. "But you can fight – you singlehandedly killed a Servant, and that's something we could desperately use right now. So, this is what I'm proposing, you help us fix this Singularity, and I'll do everything in my power to get you back to your home. If it comes to it, my family has enough standing in the Clock Tower to get you an audience with the Wizard Marshall – it would cost me every single favor we're owed, but compared to humanity's continued existence, those would be a small price to pay."

She pushed herself to her feet, and marched over to the Spartan, extending her hand. "I swear on my family's name, help us save the world, and I will get you back to your world, or I will die trying."

More fighting – that is what she was offering him. Fight and kill for me, and I will reward you, a cynical part of himself jeered, before he stuffed that back into the deep recesses of his mind. True, her words could be lies – he knew nothing beyond what they had told him as to this conflict he found himself in the middle of – but the spirit, this 'Servant' he had killed. The foulness that had seemed to emanate from the thing's very being made him feel that this fight was not the muddled mess that was the forever war over the light of Alfheim. Things well might be black and white, for once.

And in the end, what choice did he have? If they could get him back to his son, his world, no choice at all.

Kratos reached out and grasped her wrist firmly. "I accept." He tightened his grip fractionally, taking care to not use too much strength – this was meant to be a warning, not to do harm, and pulled the smaller woman a step closer. "Should I find you have spoken falsely to me, you will not like the outcome – so I hope for both of our sakes you have been true with me." His warning delivered, he released her from his grasp, allowing her to snatch her arm back to her body,

Gingerly, she rubbed where his fingers had dug into her flesh, but the expected outburst didn't come. Instead, her words, when they came, were measured, despite the sparks of temper he could see flaring in her eyes. "Cautious enough to be a mage, it seems. Good to know there seems to be a brain behind all that muscle." She took her seat again, shaking out her arm before allowing it to settle in her lap. "Now that we've an accord, Caster, what can you tell us about what happened here?"

"All this, the city in flames, the corrupted Servants, all the death and destruction, Saber's fault. I wasn't around when it happened, but something got to her early on in the War and corrupted her. And not like that Assassin the big fellow put down, that bunch is just what's left of them after she killed them and brought them back, Servants for a Servant, if you like." He leaned back against the wall, staring off into the distance. "Whatever happened to her, when it happened, things went bad really damn quick. There's a crater in the west half of the town where she wiped out at least three of the War's Masters, and their Servants in one blow, and carved a trench into the city that extends all the way out to the sea."

Kratos saw the blood drain from both the girl's faces at this. Again, he felt there was context, information he was missing. The Caster continued. "She brought the Servants back quick, corrupted like the one you saw earlier, then set about hunting down the remaining Masters and Servants, and killing every single person they laid their eyes on in the meantime."

"You speak of Masters and Servants," interrupted Kratos. "Yet you put more weight upon these words than I have heard for them in the past. If I am to aid you, I must know what I am to fight. Explain."

"A Servant is a Heroic Spirit – a person who made a powerful mark on history and ascended to the Throne of Heroes – if you think of it as sort of like Valhalla, to use an example you should be familiar with, you won't be far off. The city we're in was the site of a magical ritual called the Holy Grail War – in essence, 7 mages summon seven Servants, and fight each other. The last one standing wins the Grail – which is a powerful artifact, powerful enough to grant the wishes of the Master and Servant who claim it." The Director's voice had taken on the cadence of rote, clearly this was far from her first time explaining this. "There's a number of complexities to the whole thing, but to keep it simple, the Master provides the Servant with the necessary mana to remain manifested and commands the Servant in battle. If you kill the Master, the Servant will eventually run of out mana and return to the Throne."

Something twisted in Kratos' gut. "So I am certain……are Servants slaves?"

"Whoa, big guy, it's not like that," Cu grimaced. "Well, not completely. Servants choose to answer a Master's call and make a contract with them. We usually answer the call because we have a wish we want granted by the Grail – you won't find many of us at the Throne who don't have a regret or two from our lives that we want to fix, or some unfinished business left behind." He shrugged, grinning. "Not me, though. I came for the fights – I'd be the laughingstock of the all the other Irish Servants if I let a scrap like this pass me by, not to mention what my teacher would do to me." The Caster rolled his shoulders, staring at the ceiling. "Sometimes we get bad Masters – I originally contracted with a fine Irish lass for this War, she had just enough time to realize who she'd summoned before the War's moderator cut off her arm, stole her Command Seals, and by doing that, stole me. HE was a bastard, no question, but he's not the rule, either. Mages are arrogant sorts, and more than a few of them see Servants as little more than tools, but there's good ones there, too. The Tohsaka Master seemed like she had a good rapport with her Servant, as did that boy she was working with. Even the Einzbern Master seemed to care about her Berserker, and Berserkers are little more than feral animals on a leash most of the time."

"And Chaldea's summoning system works a bit different than the one used for the Grail War," interjected Olga Marie. "Our Masters simply put out a call to the Throne, and who answers, answers. We can't even use a catalyst to try to summon a certain Servant, it's really the luck of the draw as to who hears you, and who chooses to respond."

"Senpai never treated me as a slave, Mr. Kratos," Mash's voice was soft, but firm. "I haven't known her long, but I don't believe she would ever do that to me."

Kratos grunted. "Very well. In my life I have had the experience of having a yoke about my neck, of having my freedom stripped from me. It is not something I would wish upon another." Another grunt. "I….apologize for my suspicions."

Cu shook his head. "No, it's a reasonable enough concern to have. The jackass who stole me from the girl who should have been my Master was the worst. Put me under a Command Seal that forbade me from going all out, and then forced me to merely test the other Servants and Masters, and to just be a scout. I sign up for some good fights, and the bastard wouldn't even let me get those." He pointed at the girl on the cot. "And to answer the question I know you're going to ask, look at the back of her right hand."

Carefully, Kratos knelt down, turning the girls arm over. There, on the back of her right hand, right where the Caster said, was a bright red tattoo. "Those are the Command Seals every Master gets – three of them. They're both the Contract between a Master and a Servant, and three, well, commands a Master can give their Servant. A Master can burn one of them to give an order to a Servant that the Servant can't disobey – I told you how the guy who stole me ordered me to not go all out while he had me scouting the other Servants, well, that's how. But you can also use them to give your Servant a massive temporary boost, heal their injuries, call them immediately to your side, things like that. Once they're gone, the contract between Master and Servant is severed – which is why most Masters always try to keep one Seal intact. Servants, even well-treated ones, have turned on their Masters before, and as long as you have one Seal remaining, you can make your Servant kill themselves if they try to stab you in the back."

"About that….," began Olga Marie. "How is it you're still around, Caster? From the way you're speaking, the Moderator of this war is dead, so you should have run out of mana by now, but you've said you've been playing cat and mouse with the corrupted Servants for a while now."

"That would be because of my bastard of a former Master. As the Moderator of the war, he had all the unused Command Seals from the previous Wars – and since he was the last Master to die in this one, he also got all the leftover Command Seals from this war." Cu's fingers began to tap a beat on his staff. "I think he knew whatever scheme he had for this War went up in flames from the moment Saber carved a trench into the city. He kept his head down, but Saber came for him specifically, almost like she knew him or something – I don't even think she knew he was a Master when she did. When she finally found him, he just smiled that weird smile of his, and used every single Command Seal he had to give me one order. 'Survive'. Bastard didn't do it out of any altruism or anything, either, or fondness for me. It was just pure spite at Saber." The blue-haired man sighed. "I can at least respect that somewhat, even if I still hate him. But I've been running off the power of those seals ever since; and sleeping and eating to regain what power I can – one of the first things I did after he was killed was to hit up every store I could in the area and make as many of these hidey-holes as possible. Even without that Command, I knew I'd have to do this fight hit and run. Saber had an army of Servants, and if I was going to win this, or hold out until I could find some allies, I'd have to fight this War careful, and smart." He grimaced. "Problem is, I'm almost out of gas. I'm going to need a new Master if you want me to stick around for longer than another few hours." He turned his eyes to Olga Marie and grinned a knowing grin. "So, wanna partner up, girlie?"

From her rapid flush, the Director had not missed the man's double meaning. It took her a moment before she could get words past her sputtering. "You insufferable Irish……." She made a noise of deep frustration, and visibly got herself under control. "Unfortunately for you, that's not possible. I don't have any Master capability, it's why I wouldn't have been in the field, if this operation had gone according to plan. We've got only the one Master, and she's in no condition to agree to a Contract right now. Unless…."

Four pairs of eyes turned to Kratos.

"I do not wish for that kind of power over another," he began, barely able to hide the unease in his voice. "I was a general once, and then again, very recently, but this…….this is more than simply commanding soldiers in battle."

"I once read that those who want power least are just the sort of people who should have it," said Mash, a glimmer of respect in her eyes. The girl's naïve faith in Kratos, who she had only known a few hours – it was similar to his son, in a way. The difference was, she had no idea of the blood that still clung to him. "You said you'd had your freedom taken away from you before…..I don't think you'd mistreat someone if you had that kind of power over them."

"And, it could just be a temporary contract, if you'd prefer," said Cu. "Just long enough to take out Saber and set things to right here. And you couldn't be worse than my last Master, either."

These people, they made light of what they were asking him, but still……..he had led men in battle mere months ago, had fought a God and had given him every chance to walk from the fight, only slaying Heimdall, in the end, when the man had spit on every chance Kratos had given him.

Had threatened his son.

Kratos had had every chance to become a monster again over the course of Ragnarök, but he hadn't. He had even found a better way in the heat of battle, when he had seen Odin using innocent Midgardians as shields in front of the walls of Asgard. Maybe here, in this strange place, even without his son, without his friends, he could carry this burden without becoming the Ghost of Sparta again.

He sighed. "Very well. But I would have an ally, not a Servant, if you would see this 'Saber' defeated'."

Cu's grin threatened to split his face in two. "Couldn't ask for better, my temporary Master!" He moved to stand in front of Kratos, extending his hand.

Kratos hid a wince. "Do NOT call me that," his request was made through gritted teeth, as his temper howled to the forefront, the Spartan keeping a hold on it through the narrowest of margins. He mollified his tone, once he had control of himself again. "Just Kratos will do." He likewise held out his hand.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Cu actually sounded contrite. "Should have known better, and if you couldn't tell, sometimes my mouth gets the better of me." Mouth twisted into something hallway between a grin and a frown, he grasped Kratos' wrist. "Let's raise some hell together, Kratos."

A foreign energy burned through Kratos, as though a poison was flowing through his veins, though a painless one. The sensations centered on the back of his right hand, and as Cu released his hand, Kratos turned his hand about to see a red tattoo burn itself into existence on his skin.

Three lines. A curved almost-circle, and two smaller horizontal lines at the two ends of it.

Of course. Truly, he should have expected nothing else but that mark – his mark.

He settled himself back against the wall, as Cu returned to his original position. "What then can you tell us of our enemies? You said this Saber had several of these Servants under her command."

"And more to the point, have you figured out who any of them are?" asked the Director. "True Names, Noble Phantasms, any information you can give us we can at least run through Chaldea's database."

Kratos had only just furrowed his brow, but Olga Marie noticed, and made to explain. "I'll try to make this the last time I lecture at you for the day, or night, or whatever time of day it is in this hellscape of a city. You heard Cu Chulainn there refer to himself as a 'Caster', yes? Servants are usually referred to by their Class, because knowing who they are gives away their strengths and weaknesses. You said you'd spent time in Greece, correct?" At his nod, she continued. "Then if you knew an enemy Servant was Achilles, you'd know exactly what his weak point was."

"His heel, of course." Kratos had, after all, been at Troy, had seen Achilles' death firsthand.

"Right. So that's why Masters and Servants hide behind their class names – Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster, and Berserker. It hides their weaknesses and lets them keep their trump cards close to their chests. Usually, that's a Servant's Noble Phantasm. The quick and dirty explanation of that is a Noble Phantasm is the crystallization of a Servant's legend – most of the time, it's an ultimate attack of some variety." She indicated the man leaning against the wall across the room. "Cu Chulainn, for instance, if he was summoned as a Lancer would have his spear, Gae Bolg, as his Noble Phantasm, since that weapon is so strongly associated with his legend. And they're also usually a dead giveaway as to a Servant's true identity, so they aren't unleashed casually."

Cu rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, you just HAVE to remind me of all the things I'm missing from being summoned as a Caster, don't you?"

The Director ignored him. "There's probably about a dozen or more things I'm leaving out about Servants, but none of them are important at this point. The class names are fairly self-explanatory, and there are some Extra classes beyond those seven, but they're rare and we shouldn't have to deal with any of them. If we do run into them, I'll give you the details then, but I think we can spend our time more effectively now hearing what Caster has to say about the remaining Servants in this War."

Kratos made a general noise of agreement, which Cu took as a signal to begin. "Well, you took out Assassin, and again, thank you for that. Slippery bastard had been giving me the slip for far too long. Lancer and Rider are out of the game too, that's my doing. Managed to ambush Lancer in the early days when things were a lot more chaotic than they are now. It gave me enough of a smokescreen to take him out before the rest of Saber's pets realized what I was up to. Rider wasn't as easy, she was almost as fast as me when I'm a Lancer, but by then I'd been able to set up some kill zones where I'd laid down enough runes to seriously injure any Servant that was caught in the radius." He grinned, all teeth. "Managed to get her dead center when I set them off. Wasn't enough left of her to feed the birds after that."

He rolled his neck, continuing with his tale. "You heard Berserker thundering around up there. I don't think Saber can really control him much, if at all. He largely kept to himself until our new friend showed up. With any luck, he'll get bored in a couple of hours and wander back to the ruins of that castle in the forest. Thankfully, if we do end up having to fight him, the Einzbern girl wasn't shy about telling anyone who would listen who he is. That's Heracles."

There were times, few and far between, when Kratos knew his pale complexion – despite its cause – was an asset. This was one of those times, as he knew his body would have reacted to the name, even if his face had not.

Heracles – his half-brother. Or at least, this world's version of his half-brother. And, from what was said, reduced to little more than a mad dog in the thrall of another – even if she did not seem to hold his leash tight.

Part of Kratos wanted to storm out there, right now, and free his not-brother from the chains that were binding him, even if that meant killing him – and it likely did, if he was as far gone as Caster's words made it sound. The other part of him hoped not to have to kill his brother again. Not that either of them had made much effort in avoiding the conflict. Heracles, egged on by Hera, her willing attack dog. Kratos, unwilling to have anything stand in the way of his revenge. Both of them, ruined by Zeus' manipulations.

Caster, heedless of Kratos' inner turmoil, continued. "Saber herself is holed up in a cave deep in the mountain, right on top of one of the major leylines, guarding the Grail itself. Either she doesn't want to leave the Grail unattended, or she's confident enough that she doesn't care if she loses her pawns – and she's certainly got reason to be confident." He grimaced. "Here's another favor from my bastard of a former master, Saber's King Arthur herself, he knew it from the moment I described her after that boy summoned her. Didn't tell me how he knew it, the man really got off on knowing things other people didn't, but he sounded absolutely certain of the fact."

"King Arthur?" whispered Mash. "But I thought….."

"She was a he?" Cu shrugged. "Get used to it, girlie. History as it's written sometimes only has a passing resemblance to what actually happened." He licked his lips thoughtfully. "I only fought her the once, right after she was summoned, and she was fast, strong, and skilled – everything the Saber class is supposed to be. She also used to hide her sword in a sheath of wind, but the one time I saw her after she was corrupted, she wasn't bothering with that anymore, so you won't have to guess at its length like I was. Otherwise, well, I told you about how she carved a trench from the back half of the city to the sea? If that isn't her Noble Phantasm, then I'll eat my staff."

He held up a finger. "But! In order to get to her, we're going to have to go through Archer. Man's been perched on the stairs to the temple that was built above the leyline she's squatting on and is pretty much her last line of defense." Cu's face twisted in a sneer. "No idea who the guy is – despite being an Archer, he mostly fights with two short swords, though he's capable of busting out a bow when he needs to. And that's not the end of his tricks, he's somehow able to make and fire copies of swords – both normal ones, and more famous ones. Jerk's fired my Uncle Fergus' Caladbolg at me no less than three times, as well as at least a dozen other swords I didn't have to time to recognize, but they felt like they were a cut above the rest of the trash he was flinging at me." A derisive sniff. "He can even trigger them to explode on contact. If I wasn't so damn good at dodging, he'd have gotten me the first time he played that card. I really, really HATE that guy."

"So then, what do you recommend?" asked Kratos.

"For now? We sit and rest, maybe the three of you get some sleep." He pointed upwards. "Berserker is still stomping around up there, and we're stuck here until he loses interest. As for Archer? We're going to have to take him head on. I could have beaten him the first time we fought if Kirei hadn't ordered me not to go all out, and that's me as a damn Caster! With the three of us, we'll tear him to shreds, so long as we can get to him." From the man's grin, it seemed he was very much looking forward to that. "As for Saber, we're just going to be making it up as we go along."

From the looks on everyone's faces, no one was particularly happy with that idea. "I know, I know, not ideal, but it's the best we've got with what we know."

"What about Senpai?" asked Mash. "Can we leave her here?"

Cu pondered the question for a moment. "She should be safe enough here – the field's strong enough to keep the skeletons and other chaff out. The only real danger would be if Berserker stumbled over the boundary – it's not powerful enough to keep a Servant out, just to hide anything inside of it from their senses. It would also depend on you lot, how close do you have to be in order to do whatever you do to return to your time?"

Olga Marie frowned. "Normally, it wouldn't be an issue. Given this was an emergency Rayshift, and how badly everything at Chaldea is damaged…..," She gave a frustrated sigh. "We're going to have to bring her with us, we can't risk having something go wrong and leaving her, or us behind, or worse, Chaldea not being able to verify one or more of our existences because we're too spread out."

"That will complicate things," muttered Kratos. "If this Saber is as powerful as you say she is, she will be too great a threat for us to divide our attention….or our forces."

For a long moment, the room was quiet, as each within it digested the words. Cu was the first to break the silence. "Let me think on it for a bit – I can rack my brains for what the old hag taught me, see if I can come up with something while the rest of you sleep. Freebie for you, Kratos, Servants don't need to eat or sleep so long as they have a good supply of mana from their contract, and you're not disappointing in that regard,"

There was something in Caster's grin that Kratos did not like. Again, he felt that odd sense of familiarity towards the man.

"So, while the three of you get some rest, I'll keep watch, and see if I can't come up with something to at least hide our two vulnerable ladies." He shrugged. "Worst case, I can give you some runes that'll make you less likely to be noticed, but that's unlikely to stand up to hard scrutiny, and who knows how a simple spell like that will be affected by her Magic Resistance. Saber Class Servants always have that in spades, and she was no exception, at least before she was corrupted."

There was little more discussion after that. Much as she might have wanted to continue planning for the next day, the Director was visibly exhausted, and soon was curled up on a bed of chairs, sleeping deeply. Mash soon followed her, choosing to curl up on the ground next to Gudako's cot, Cu having loaned his cloak to the girl as a makeshift pillow.

Kratos himself took longer to find sleep, for all that he was tired. For a time, he watched the girls sleep, finding a measure of calm in their steady breathing, his mind clearing of thoughts – and it was still spinning from everything that had happened in the past day. But any soldier worth their salt learned to take their sleep where they could find it, and eventually, he too drifted off.

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTE:
Exposition chapter. Unavoidable, but I wanted to let the personalities develop and bounce off each other.

Chapter 4: Fuyuki 4

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 4​

"Psst, buddy, we got a problem."

Kratos was awake in an instant.

His eyes opened to find Cu crouched over him, a look of concern over his face, his finger held up to his lips. While Kratos was not familiar with the gesture, he could guess its meaning.

Quiet.

When the Caster spoke, his voice was a hushed whisper. "While you all were asleep, Berserker was thundering about above ground. Didn't think much of it, was pretty much the same song and dance as all the other times I ducked him like this, but he hasn't gotten bored this time. He's nosing around close to some of the subway entrances, and if he heads below ground, he'll almost certainly cross the line of my Bounded Field." The man's expression turned grim. "Once that happens, he'll sense the lot of us – and he'll come right at us." He gestured at the ceiling. "And I don't think I have to tell you what a bad idea fighting him underground would be. Close quarters with someone as big as him in a narrow space would be hell, even if he doesn't bring the roof down on us."

Kratos made a noise of assent. "We would see causalities. Ritsuka and the Director would be unlikely to survive."

"And even if they did, we'd still have to fight Berserker off, dig them out, and hope Saber didn't decide to take advantage of our frankly piss-poor situation. And even then, what are the odds no one gets seriously hurt, when we've already got one person down?" Cu shook his head. "I wanted to avoid Berserker if at all possible, but it's not looking like that's in the cards."

The man tilted his head to the side, again seeming to look right through Kratos. "So, you think whatever god you are will be able to stand up to a maddened Heracles , at least until I get the girls to a safe enough location to join in?"

Kratos went still, every fiber of his being suddenly on alert.

Cu continued; his voice low. "Piece of advice, friend, you're not going to be able to hide that from most Servants – the Throne of Heroes doesn't just record humans and half-gods like me, there's some fully Divine Spirits there, and for any of us who hail from the time when gods still walked this Earth, what you are stands out like a beacon. Probably why Heracles is still looking for you, divine recognizes divine, and he's either looking for a fight, or someone to put him out of his misery."

"You keep this to yourself. Why?" Not that it was unusual, both Freya and Mimir had known him for what he was, but neither had spoken of it to Atreus – but that could be dismissed as not wanting to come between what was obviously a very dangerous man and his son. This situation was wildly different, and yet, this man was keeping his secrets in the same way that two people who had become some of his closest allies had.

"Not my place to tell 'em." The man's tone was matter of fact. "If you wanted them dead, you could have just let Assassin kill them. You could be running a con or something, but that just doesn't seem like you. No, something inside of me is telling me you're no danger to the girls, and that you're going to be important to fixing this mess." He chuckled, as if sharing in a private joke only he was aware of.

Kratos pushed himself to his feet, still baffled at this man. From what he could recall of Mimir's tale, treachery had played at least some part in Cu Chulainn's death, but the man was trusting him so easily. Not that he was necessarily wrong in his estimation of Kratos, but still.

"I…..thank you for your discretion."

"Be a bit hypocritical for a Heroic Spirit to lecture someone else about keeping secrets, seeing as it's kind of what we do. Just promise me you'll tell that Olga girl when I'm around." He grinned. "After the way she reacted to you being from another universe, hearing you're a living, breathing god might be enough to make her hit the bottle then and there."

Despite himself, Kratos found a small laugh, barely a snicker, escape him. If anything, upon hearing that, Cu's grin only grew wider. "See! Even a grump like you thinks that would be funny."

Kratos gave a derisive sniff. "I am not a 'grump'. I am merely treating a serious situation with the weight it deserves." For a brief moment, it was as though Kratos was exchanging friendly barbs with his allies in Migard, bickering with the head, or Freya, as they went about whatever business had pulled them together this day.

Kratos suppressed the sudden ache with the discipline of several lifetimes. He could miss them later, now, focus was needed. "Wake them and let them know the situation. They may have tactical options we have not considered."

Kratos moved about, stretching out the kinks in his body as Cu woke the two girls, and explained what they were facing, and what they had decided. Naturally, the Director had to question this.

"You're going to face Berserker ALONE? Are you INSANE?" Somehow, the girl managed to yell while still keeping her voice in a whisper, frankly, an impressive feat. "Assassin was one thing, but they're among the weakest of the classes in a straight fight, but this is Berserker, and it's fucking HERACLES." Her eyes were glaring hard enough to bore holes in him. "He's going to rip you to bloody shreds!"

"This would not be the first time I have fought Heracles ."

The Director's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming from her throat, so taken aback was she at that statement. Cu Chulainn was stifling laughter, and looking at Kratos as if he was his new favorite person in the world. Mash…..

"Will…..will you be alright, sir? It's Berserker, and I could feel how strong he was…….you saved us, and I don't want to lose anyone else…….." Honest distress twisted the girl's face, and genuine concern colored her voice.

Kratos softened his tone a touch. "I am only seeking to delay him until the Director and your friend are safe, and then I can be aided in the fight by Caster and yourself. I will be as careful as I can be. But you cannot remain here while we fight, and you will need two people to carry them to safety. As I said, I have fought Heracles before. This may not be the Heracles I knew, but I have the best odds of surviving until they are safe."

"Damn you, you're right. I hate it, but you're right." The Director's finger sprang forth, pointing directly between Kratos' eyes. "But don't think I've forgotten that whole 'I've fought Heracles ' thing, mister! We are going to revisit that at a future date!"

Kratos watched as the comparatively tiny girl puffed herself up and tried to make herself seem fractionally more intimidating than she was, as Cu Chulainn seemed to be biting his tongue now to keep himself from laughing out loud, his sides heaving with suppressed laughter. Truthfully, it was almost adorable. Was this how his son felt about all the many, many animals he fawned over?

With a grunt, he turned and moved to the door. Focus.

"Once I have his attention, move quickly. I will delay him as long as I can." He reached back and pulled his axe from its holder, slowly pushing the door open.

Nothing nearby. So far, so good.

"Be careful," said Mash, as he slipped through the opening, and was gone.

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Once in the tunnels, Kratos moved quickly. He had a general idea of where the edge of the protection stave was, and if Cu was right in that he was the reason Heracles was still hunting them, he wouldn't have much time before his half-brother noticed him, once he crossed the stave's boundary. He needed to get as far away from the entrance to the underground as possible before Heracles found him.

Kratos hit the stairs at a dead run, feeling the wash of magics as he stepped across the boundary of the stave, and sprinted for what looked like one of the more open areas he could see.

From behind him, there was a roar that did not sound like it could possibly have come from a human throat, then giant, thudding footfalls. Quick, giant footfalls.

Heracles had noticed him, as Cu had expected.

Kratos lowered his head and increased his speed, the city passing him in a blur. He focused on breathing, eyes steadily forward as he ran deeper into the city, the sounds behind him getting ever closer.

And then they stopped, something that made Kratos slow his pace for a moment, and glance backwards, confused. Had Heracles ceased pursuit?

So it was that he was partially turned when a massive form descended from the sky, the shockwave of his landing blowing Kratos partially back. Kratos' arm raised to protect his face from the air and debris that had been displaced from the Servant's landing, and through the disturbance, got his first look at his enemy.

THIS was Heracles ?

As expected, he was massive, at least of the same height as the Heracles Kratos had known, who had towered over him. His skin was slate-gray, apparent even through the haze of black mist that emanated from his body – just as it had poured off the other Servant's body – and bulged with muscle, swollen almost to an obscene level. Spurs of…..bone? Stone? Of some substance jutted from his elbows. Wild hair framed a face which curled in rage upon sighting Kratos, lips pulling back to bare massive, sharp teeth at the God of War. In one hand he clutched a gargantuan slab of stone, crudely fashioned into the seeming of a sword, if only because one of the edges had been sharpened into a jagged edge.

And he stank of the same wrongness, the same corruption the skull-faced Servant had.

Kratos barely had time to set his feet before the massive Servant was upon him, stone blade screaming through the air as it attempted to cleave him in two. The corrupted Servant's speed was such that he only barely managed to duck to the side, the air buffeting him as the blade passed him by the narrowest of margins.

Fast. This version of Heracles had speed that the other had lacked, was impossibly quick for his size.

Kratos' attempt at a counterattack was swatted aside, the giant managing to redirect the cumbersome weapon to block Kratos' axe, and easily push it aside. Kratos ducked low and moved to get inside the Servant's guard, only to run headfirst into Heracles' fist.

His head rocked back, and he twisted his body, turning the would-be stumble into a backwards roll, putting distance between himself and the massive blade, which again seemed to defy momentum as it again reversed course and split the air where the Spartan had been standing.

Kratos spat a thin trail of blood and shook off the disorientation of the blow to the head he had taken.

Strong as Thor, at LEAST, and worse, this was no crazed animal he was fighting. He had anticipated Kratos' move, had expected him to try to get in close, where the massive blade would be harder pressed to fend off Kratos' axe, and had rocked Kratos with a counterattack. Whatever madness had been inflicted upon Heracles; his battle instincts remained intact.

And he was already bearing down on Kratos again, howling out a battle cry.

This would be about the time where Mimir would lament their group being in deep, deep trouble.

Gritting his teeth, Kratos snapped his arm out, flinging his axe at the Servant's head. He had no expectations of the axe connecting, and indeed, Heracles easily flicked his blade up, the axe battering off it and spinning off the side, but Kratos had wasted no time in following the axe in. Not enough time for him to call his axe back, the opening that had been given to him when Heracles had been forced to block would have closed by then. Fortunately, he had other weapons.

Draupnir uncoiled from the ring on his finger, filling his hands, and with a short leap, Kratos threw all his weight behind the spear, as he plunged it into the Servant's gut.

It was like trying to impale pure steel.

Before the spear could sink more than its head into Heracles ' flesh, Kratos sprang back, abandoning the spear, a new one already forming in his hands, as the infinite magic of the ring sprang into action, leaving a sparking remnant of Draupnir still plunged into his enemy's flesh.

He swatted at the blade with the butt of Draupnir, managing to push it just enough to the side to foil the Berserker's attack, spinning the spear in his hands and managing a downstroke that carved a thin line into the giant's chest. A sweeping kick forced Kratos to fall to the ground, lest his chest be caved in, then he was rolling to the side as Heracles attempted to simply fall on the prone Spartan, either to overbear him and force this into a grappling contest, or to merely crush him with his weight.

Both men sprang back to their feet, Kratos attempting a jab of the spear, testing defenses, but like a striking snake, Heracles' hand flew up and caught the spear behind the head.

Quickly, Kratos abandoned the weapon, not about to test his strength against the Servant's. Another spear quickly formed in his hands, but before the spear left in the giant's hand could dissipate, he slammed the butt of Draupnir against the ground, causing both the duplicate spears to violently detonate, the bright flash of the spear in Heracles' hand blinding him.

Heracles howled in pain and disorientation, and Kratos seized the initiative. He leapt into the air, vaulting up with Draupnir aimed to skewer his enemy's skull. But Heracles recovered fast, not quick enough to fully avoid the strike, but quick enough to turn his body and take the strike in his right shoulder. Kratos was already disengaging when Heracles swung his forearm up, his forearm catching Kratos right in the ribs, sending him flying.

The Spartan skipped off the streets repeatedly, the air blasting from his lungs as he finally hit one of the metal vehicles that lined the streets face-first, his body caving into the side of the thing.

Dimly aware he had but moments, he dug his fingers into the metal of the vehicle, lifting it, and spinning. If his timing was off, he was dead.

His timing was not off. As he swung it, the machine caught Heracles flush across the jaw as the Berserker had rushed in, seeking to end the fight. The force of the blow knocked Heracles back a few steps, and the battered body of the machine knocked him back further, as Kratos wasted no time in hurling it straight at him.

Heracles roared as he shrugged the hit off, then bawled in pain as a flurry of spears, hidden in the blind spot created by the machine's flight through the air, plunged into his body. The butt of Draupnir rang against the ground, and Kratos used that impact to push himself forward, even as the many phantasmal spears detonated in Heracles' flesh. At the last second, he drew himself up short, watching as the stone blade passed before him, knowing that Heracles would have recovered in time, and having baited him into the swing, baiting him into overextending.

Kratos' right arm snapped out, his axe whirling into his grasp. He swung with both hands, putting all of his considerable might into the blow, aiming for center of mass, knowing the opening he had created would close in mere moments. The axe bit into the Servant's flesh, deep, but not as deeply as it should have.

Kratos had fought Travelers whose armor had been less resolute than this Heracles' flesh.

He ripped the axe free, then was forced to desperately parry as the massive blade was brought to bear against him. His shield had only just managed to deploy when the weapon tested it, but it held, though the metal groaned alarmingly. Snarling, Kratos hurled his axe point-blank into the Servant's face. At this distance, not even the thing's unearthly reflexes would let it react in time, and the axe's head dug itself into Heracles' forehead. What would have been a fatal blow to just about anything else only seemed to make the man madder.

Kratos was beginning to wonder just what it would take to kill this monster.

Howling, the Servant's head again moved with that unnatural speed, darting forward and sinking his maw of teeth into Kratos' right shoulder, then, impossibly, ripping Kratos from the ground, shaking him in the air like a dog would, then hurling him away.

Kratos landed badly. Worse yet, he was almost certain he had felt bones crack, if they had not broken entirely when Heracles had bitten down and shaken his body in the air. Fighting the pain, he struggled to his feet, knowing he had but moments before the Servant would be upon him again. With no time to call his axe back, he called another spear from the ring on his finger.

He couldn't lift his arm.

Broken bones, then, and not cracked. Not enough time to heal it, the maddened Servant wouldn't give him that much time. He unfolded his shield, and locked his eyes upon the massive form bearing down him, weapon raised above its head.

A weapon, and a form, that was beginning to leak power from their skin. This must be the 'Noble Phantasm' his Chaldean allies had described.

His shield had shattered under the assault of a god who oversaw strength, he had misgivings that the rebuilt shield would stand up to the assault of another one. Gritting his teeth, he set his feet, and prepared to meet Heracles' ultimate attack head-on.

Then, there was a form standing between him and the monster, and then, a shimmering wall of light.

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Mash Kyrielight didn't know much about being a human. The Doctor had tried, bless his heart, but Roman was an odd person at the best of times, and there was only so much time he could devote to the girl. The team that had been in charge of raising the Demi-Servant had done so with clinical dispassion, treating her as little better than a tool. When the Servant bound to her had failed to manifest, their marginal interest had waned – possibly that was why Roman had been allowed so much freedom with Mash, reading her books, showing her movies – things largely deemed wastes of time, for what did a tool need to know of Sherlock Holmes? But if he wanted to devote his attentions to a failed experiment, then it was his free time to squander.

And as for Team A, the only other people Mash had had real contact with well…….even a poorly-learned student of humanity like her could tell that Team A wasn't the most normal of people. Cold, standoffish Akuta, larger than life Wodime, flamboyant Pepe – none of them were good examples of humanity, they were all too……unique. They were the best and brightest of Chaldea, supernovas, where Mash was an asteroid falling to earth, guttering, dying, flaring out as she burned up. She had nothing in common with them.

(She resolutely tried not to think of Beryl Gut. She failed, but quickly stuffed all thoughts of that man back into the hole where she kept them – along with the ugly, dark part of her that hoped he hadn't survived the explosion).

Senpai – Gudako had seemed like just a regular, normal person. She had reacted with surprise at seeing Fou, but then had been petting the animal a few moments later. (Unlike Beryl, she was worried for Fou, and hoped the little creature hadn't been hurt, or pulled into the Rayshift with them.) She had flushed with embarrassment when she had fallen asleep during the Director's lecture, and then hung her head in shame when she'd been banished from the room.

She'd held her hand as she thought she was dying, crushed beneath the rubble of the ceiling.

Then, Mash, failure that she was, had failed to protect her senpai, had failed at her one job, to protect her Master. It had taken two people to fix her mistakes, one to defeat the Servant that she had been unable to even land a blow on, and another to prevent her senpai from dying.

("She still might die," whispered that same part of Mash's mind. "There's no promise the Doctor will be able to save her.")

Events had moved too fast since then to allow her to wallow too much in her self-doubt and recriminations. Revelations had come one after another – Cu Chulainn, just as his myth had described him, charismatic, confident, cocky even, saving her senpai's life. The Saber of this war, falling to corruption, enslaving the other Servants – almost certainly the distortion in this past time that they needed to correct. Their massive savior, taciturn and gruff (he had thanked her for the water), was from another universe entirely – either by some happenstance of events, or because the Wizard Marshall was meddling.

When there had finally been a moment of calm, as she lay down on the cold ground and tried to sleep (Cu's robe smelled nice, earthy), her head had been spinning so fast that she'd thought she never be able to quiet it down enough to fall asleep, but before she knew it, she was out like a light.

Then Berserker was coming, and she had to run again, while Kratos was going to stand against Berserker alone.

Fear had given her legs wings, as she followed Cu through the burning city, carrying her unconscious senpai. She felt the seconds flying by as they hid the Director and Gudako atop what once had been an apartment complex, the druid swiftly (not fast enough, screamed Mash's brain) set up a Bounded Field around them, then the two of them were flying back to where they could hear fighting.

They arrived just in time to see Berserker bite Kratos like an animal and fling him what seemed like a mile. When the man made it back to his feet, Mash could see that his arm wasn't working right. She could see that Berserker was preparing to unleash his Noble Phantasm, the corrupt, sludgy mana that made up his form spiking. She could see that Kratos was going to try to block it with his shield, but something inside of her (the voice was male, but she didn't notice it at the time, nor did it ever cross her mind later) could see in the way he was holding himself – he didn't expect his shield to hold.

Cu was saying something, yelling to her as they ran, but she didn't hear it. Her blood was hammering in her ears, seeing in her mind's-eye, Kratos, broken and shattered at the feet of Berserker, her senpai falling, choking on her own blood as daggers riddled her flesh, the Director defiance in her eyes as Saber incinerated her, Fou, blackened and burned from the explosion, whimpering as he died.

(NO MORE.)

Speed she didn't know she had had Mash suddenly in front of Kratos, standing before the titan bearing down on the man who had saved her, had saved senpai. Her shield was in her hands, lines of energy beginning to branch out from within it. A voice was whispering in her ear, though she didn't realize it, and she was repeating the words, yelling the words.

"NOBLE PHANTASM DEPLOY! LORD………CHALDEAS!"

Light, a wall of light. Translucent, beautiful. And as hard as diamond, as it met the feral Servant's rage head-on, and did not give.

She was a failed experiment (was she?) with a dwindling lifespan, had failed her senpai, but no more. This was her line in the sand. She would not allow this burning city to take anything more from her. She had been protected all her life, protected from the outside, protected from the Clock Tower (protected from Beryl), even as a Demi-Servant, she had had to be protected.

No more. As she stood there, her shield held high, Berserker's continued attacks failing to mar the wall of light that extended from her shield, she knew, at least this once, she was the one doing the protecting.

At last, Berserker's fury faded, and he howled in frustration, his face inches from hers, yet still as though miles away, her Noble Phantasm a shield proof against his rage. A blast of fire then forced him back, as Cu entered the fray, and finally, she let the wall dissipate, the wall dissipating in a flurry of snowflakes.

The expected weariness did not come, if anything, Mash felt lighter than ever.

"Mash."

She turned her head, and saw the battered form of Kratos, looking at her with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher (awe? Appreciation?). His shield snapped back into the device on his wrist, as he lowered his arm. "I do not know if I could have stopped that, as you did. …..thank you."

Inside of herself, Mash beamed, but her concern for her ally kept it from showing on her face. "You're hurt…." she began, vaguely gesturing at his mangled shoulder, blood oozing from the bite marks Berserker had left in his flesh.

A grunt, somewhat of agreement, but laced with pain, as he rolled his shoulder, probing the damage done. "Broken bones," he said, with an almost flat indifference to his injuries. His eyes flicked over to the battle, where the Irish Caster was dancing around Heracles, blasting him with fire, calling up branches of trees from the asphalt, and a variety of other tricks to harry Heracles, though none of them seemed to be doing any meaningful damage.

"Watch Heracles, stop him should he try to interrupt me."

Mash blinked, confused by the request (order), but forestalled any of her questions. She had heard that tone of command in voices all her life and knew better than to question it. She planted herself between Kratos and the continuing fight in front of them, shield held tightly in her hands. One eye was on Cu and Heracles, as the smaller man continued to dart around the streets, throwing spell after spell at the ravening Berserker. Her other eye watched as Kratos stilled his breathing, his eyes slipping shut.

His hands tightened into fists, and with a deep exhale, his body shimmered, and began to heal.

The blood from his cuts faded and vanished as if it had never been there. The gouges from Heracles' teeth shrank until they were a fraction of the size they had been. And most importantly, the odd bulges in his shoulder receded into his skin, until they were gone. His eyes snapped open.

His formerly crippled arm raised up, and there was the sound of tearing flesh, and a bellow of pain. A second later, his axe whirled through the air, returning to his hand with a meaty thunk.

A part of Mash wondered if she could do that with her shield.

Kratos' eyes narrowed as he stared down the Berserker. "Work with him to harry at Heracles' flanks. I will take point."

"Yes sir," said Mash, nodding. She made to begin circling around, expecting Kratos to go directly at the Servant, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, blinking up at the man. "Mash, be wary. He recovers from blows impossibly fast. Do not expect him to be affected for more than a second, if that, should one of your attacks land." His brow furrowed into a determined scowl. "He has a limit to his durability, and we will find it."

She nodded, and he released her shoulder, giving her a little push, not a shove, but…….sort of in an encouraging way?

[He's almost as bad at being human as you are.]

Mash slid around to Heracles' back, watching as Kratos charged in, his head lowered. Heracles was forced to break off his chase of Cu, allowing the Caster to disengage and put distance between himself and the inevitable melee. Growling, Heracles began to raise his sword, only to have tree branches spring up from the ground and entangle his weapon. They lasted only a second, as the Greek demigod's strength tore them to shreds, but it was enough time for Kratos to leap into the air, and bring his axe down on the Servant. With little other choice, Heracles was forced to parry with his arm.

Mash's eyes widened as the axe bit into that arm, but not deeply. Kratos had cleaved Assassin nearly in two with that same axe……suddenly, she began to understand why Kratos had warned her about this Servant's toughness.

His back was wide open, though, and he was distracted.

Her feet pounded on the broken street as she charged into the fight, shield held before her, putting her shoulder behind it as she collided with his back with a metallic thud. She had no idea if she had hurt him at all, or if she could even hurt him, but so long as she distracted him, it would be enough (it would HAVE to be enough). She used her shield to push off, not wanting to stay within reach of the massive Servant longer than she had to.

Roaring, Heracles threw Kratos aside, swiping his arm, and thus, the man still connected to it by the axe piercing his flesh, into the space where Mash had been. Kratos tumbled, deliberately letting go of the handle of his weapon, lest he be dashed against the ground. He came to his feet in a crouch, quickly calling for his axe, which again tore free from the Servants' flesh. A moment later, a tendril of branches, twisted into a wicked point, slammed into Heracles' now exposed back, but failing to penetrate.

Cu Chulainn laughed wickedly, even as Heracles' blade shredded through the plants. "Three on one isn't how I like my fights, but it's working, kids!" He twisted his fingers into a pattern, and a rune sprouted between the Servant's feet, engulfing him in a massive gout of fire, the crackle of the flames momentarily drowning out his roars.

Kratos hurled his axe into the conflagration, apparently unafraid of his weapon taking any damage from the bonfire. "We chip away, but the fight still favors him! He needs but one blow to do what we have yet to do with many!"

Cu narrowed his eyes as the flames died out, revealing that Heracles was only lightly singed by the inferno. "Well then, guess I'll have to up the ante." His staff spun over his head; runes carved into the wood beginning to light up. "Keep him busy, and I'll see about calling up some of my big stuff!"

Any noise of agreement Kratos might have given was drowned as Heracles roared loud enough to shatter the few remaining intact windows on the nearby buildings. Kratos snatched his axe from the air as the giant charged straight for him, and then was forced to give ground as the Servant's massive weapon sliced through the air.

Mash again moved to make the most of the opportunity given her, her shield once again clanging off the Servant's back, but she was growing more and more certain that she wasn't doing any appreciable damage to him. Yes, she was forcing him to account for her, and Kratos was taking vicious advantage of the openings that was giving her, but those openings were coming fewer and fewer as Heracles seemed to have her measure, and was according her less and less respect as a threat. His attempts to swat her away were being done almost indifferently – his focus was clearly on Kratos as the most dangerous. Mash was increasingly being treated as an afterthought in this battle, and she didn't like that.

(Afterthought is kind of like 'failure', isn't it?)

Furiously, her mind worked over ideas, trying to find a way to contribute. Heracles didn't think she was a threat, didn't think she could hurt him, so she had the chance to take him by surprise. But what…..

Unbidden, a memory of Pepe came to mind. He'd been debating the merits of various Chinese martial arts styles with Akuta – Mash didn't know how he'd gotten the quiet woman's attention, but somehow, he'd managed to wrangle a whole conversation from her. Most of the finer details had gone over her head, but one thing both of them had been firm on was that footwork was key.

Footwork.

Trip him.

Just how in the name of sanity was she supposed to trip THAT? It's not like he would obligingly hold still while she found some steel cable to wrap around his legs.

Steel.

A weight in her arms.

………

Well, she had wanted to try something similar, hadn't she?

With a roar that didn't sound anything like a squeak, thank you very much, Mash charged back into the fight. She battered away at the massive Servant, her shield making quite a bit of noise as it impacted his back, but little else. That was fine. Let him think that was all she could do. Let him overlook her. She just needed one chance.

That chance came as Kratos and Heracles' weapons met in a clash of metal and stone, both straining against the other's might. Kratos was managing to equal the Berserker's strength for the moment, but Mash knew that was unlikely to last.

[He's going to lean forward, switch his balance and try to bring more of his power to bear on your ally, girl, WATCH FOR IT!]

There! Mash saw as Heracles adjusted, leaning his body weight forward, beginning to push Kratos' weapon down, and saw her opening manifest. With a twist of her body, she hurled her shield through the air, low enough to almost skip off the ground, the points of the cross on her shield's face tangling in the Servant's feet.

Kratos immediately sprang back, dropping his axe, and the sudden absence of the force that had been pushing against Heracles caused him to overbalance. Normally, that would have been nothing more than a stumble, but Mash's timing had been perfect. The spinning shield tangled Heracles just enough to turn a stumble into a fall, and his face met the pavement.

Kratos took immediate advantage, leaping into the air, and driving a spear (wait, where had that spear come from?) THROUGH the Servant's hand, and into the ground beneath it, pinning the limb. As Mash watched, he released the spear, and another seemed to spring forth from nothingness to resupply him with a fresh weapon, and he repeated his action on Berserker's other hand.

"CASTER! He is stopped, but it will not hold long!" Indeed, Mash could hear the ground cracking as Heracles pitted his might against whatever magic was imbued into the spears, and the ground itself. By the way the sounds were increasing, they likely had mere seconds before Heracles solved his predicament by pulling the very pavement itself up.

A ring of fire surrounded the downed Berserker, and Mash leapt back instinctively, as a dangerous heat washed over her skin. Kratos too fell back, if only a step, as four wooden fingers erupted from the ground, seizing the Servant in their grasp, and raising him into the air, as an arm rose from the earth.

"Partial Release……WICKER HAND!"

At Cu's Cry, the arm erupted into flame – if the spell he had used before had been a bonfire, this was devastation, pure and simple. Heracles howled within his wooden cage, as the fires hungrily consumed both him and his prison, burning with a duration and intensity no natural fire could manage.

Never taking her eyes off the spectacle, Mash retrieved her shield from where it had been knocked when the massive hand had grabbed Heracles, and, alongside Kratos, waited as Cu's attack went on, and on, and on.

Heracles was still roaring and struggling in the heart of the conflagration, long after any other Servant would have been ash. Was this going to be enough, or would he somehow survive even this, would he stride out of the fire charred black, but still alive, still ready to continue?

After what seemed like an eternity, the fires finally consumed the wooden arm, themselves going out a moment later. No longer suspended in the air, Berserker fell through the air, cracking the pavement as he landed.

Mash raised her shield, her body tensing.

He was alive, but just barely. Whatever hair and clothes had been on his body had been burnt away. His weapon had suffered the same fate, the fires having burnt enough to melt the stone of his blade – Heracles was likely laying in the molten remains of his weapon. He was still roaring, weakly, each bellow coming out just a bit softer than the last one – as the smoke cleared, Mash could see that he was done. His Spirit Core was shattered, and that he was managing to hang on, to try to fight despite that all, well. He was Heracles – it was to be expected.

Kratos moved, approaching the fallen Servant. She expected he was going to finish him off – they'd not really gotten to explain much about Servants, and she doubted that he could feel their cores as she could. Moreover, her impression of him, beyond 'gruff' and 'quiet' had been one of overwhelming pragmatism. She doubted he was going to risk the Servant getting up again.

Which was why she was surprised when he sheathed his axe, and knelt down, grasping the Servant's wrist as it weakly reached for him.

Heracles' body was beginning to break up into particles as Kratos said something, voice too soft for her to hear, and then the Servant was gone.

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Across the city, the shattered remains of what had once been a Hero of Justice stood watch over the broken remains of a temple he had once known, guarding a set of stairs in a similar manner to another he had known, who had guarded these same stairs. Both sworn to the service of a powerful woman, though at least one of those women would not have cared for that comparison – or at least who they were being compared to.

Though he wasn't limited as the samurai had been – he could leave this place if he wanted, could wander beyond the borders of the ruined temple. He just chose not to.

He didn't need to, for one. The eyesight of the Archer class, combined with the height of the temple grounds gave him the ideal vantage point to see as the city, his city, slowly died. It let him watch as the Child of Light had fought his futile guerilla war against the other Servants like him. It had let him observe as places he had known, people he had cared for had been reduced to nothing more than ash and memories.

He saw it all.

And throughout it all, he'd remained here. The last line of defense – not that what she had become needed him, or any of his other colleagues to defend her, not after one swing of her sword had taken out two Servants, and one of them very, very powerful indeed, in one blow, and had reduced them to this. That same swing of his sword had also killed four people he'd loved, once.

That it had also taken out his annoying younger self was something he'd have once overjoyed about. Now? If there were emotions left within the tarnished man, they were little more substantial than dust on the winds.

He stayed because she was all he had left, now. Corrupted, twisted, stained with the blood of his life, she was the only connection to what he once had been left, so he stayed, and guarded her, watching as the sand slowly ran out on this city, and the world itself. People wanted to be with their loved ones in the end, and she was it for him, even if she hadn't the faintest idea of who he was to her. Just another tool.

He'd been trying to locate Caster – the man was displaying cunning and deviousness far beyond his legend in how well he was using the underground to slip in and out of Archer's view – expecting the man would try to link up with their visitors from the future, when he'd seen the bright tear in reality appear. Even if he had somehow missed that, he'd have felt what it deposited on the streets of Fuyuki. Every Servant still alive – or whatever he was these days – felt it, even Saber. Something that, honestly and frankly, should NOT be.

Their kind left long ago.

But there he was, tall, pale, and radiating power this side of the World hadn't felt in centuries, if not longer.

If Archer had any doubt as to what the man was, they would have been silenced when he fought a Servant – Assassin, yes, but a Servant nonetheless – in single combat, and won. Won easily, too. Then, he had stood toe-to-toe with Berserker, and managed to not become a stain on the sidewalk, had even held his own, for a time. And then, between the three of them, Caster, the girl carrying the Round Table, and the anomaly, they had killed Berserker.

That left only him, and Saber. And they'd be coming this way sooner rather than later, if what the Animusphere girl had been saying about 'fixing this Singularity' was true. The grail, the mud, the corrupted king – it all came back to that. Which means he was going to get to play bodyguard, one last time.

Well. He'd always wanted to fight a god.

Chapter 5: Fuyuki 5

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 5​

If Olga Marie Animusphere, Lord of the Clock Tower, Head of Chaldea, had been unceremoniously dumped atop of a building like a sack of potatoes, and hurriedly told to 'stay put', and left with the company of a comatose girl, well, 24 hours earlier, the eruption of her temper would have made Vesuvius seem tame in comparison.

24 hours ago, she had been the head of a powerful organization, staffed to the brim with mages of all stripes from the Clock Tower, and their crowning glory, Team A, headed by no less that a prodigy like Kirschtaria Wodime – a generational talent that could have written his ticket to any branch of the Mage Association, but had chosen to come to Chaldea, earning her family no small amount of prestige. 24 hours ago, the coming calamity had been merely a disaster to be averting, an oncoming storm that through her brilliant leadership and her organization's hard work, would be stopped in its tracks. 24 hours ago, she had been safe in the walls of Chaldea, with Lev by her side.

She wasn't in Chaldea anymore. The disaster was here, front and center, no longer some looming threat, but one that had kicked down their doors and proceeded to set everything on fire (Paperwork Nightmare the First). Team A, their shining stars, were frozen in cryostasis (Paperwork Nightmare the Second), along with most of the rest of her Master Candidates (Paperwork Nightmare the Third). Most of Chaldea was dead (Paperwork Nightmare the Fourth), and Doctor Romani was the ranking member still able to perform his duties. And her comrades in this hell were a Mage barely worth the name, a Demi-Servant who, up until yesterday, had been seen as a failure, an annoying Irish Servant, and a dimensional traveler (Paperwork Nightmare the Fifth, Sixth, and FUCKING KILL ME NOW). Some mental realignment had been necessary, in light of just how bad the situation was.

The wait atop the gutted building had done her already frayed nerves no favors. Unable to see the battle, unable to hear the battle, all she could is wait – not even able to properly pace, as the Bounded Field put up by their Caster ally had been, due to the necessity of haste, small, enough to accommodate Fujimaru lying prone, but little bigger than that. All she had been able to do was sit and wait as her ragtag team fought what was apparently once the Greek god of Strength. And she was stuck up here, twiddling her thumbs.

Some leader she was turning out to be. Shuffled off the to the side and told to 'stay put' while everyone else handled the crisis.

Once, her temper would have been like napalm, exploding on anyone in her immediate vicinity to quiet out the insecurities screaming in her head. Once.

Not now. Olga Marie Animusphere's dignity and pride as a Mage had been one of the first casualties of this war – and it WAS a war, the explosion in the control center had been an alpha strike seeking to stop Chaldea's own planned alpha strike – and her priorities had seen some reshuffling since.

Priority one was fixing this Singularity, getting back to Chaldea in one piece, and seeing just how screwed they all were. Her looking good while doing so was somewhere around Priority Ten Billion. If she had to crawl through mud, ride piggyback on a Servant's back, or make deals with a Norse giant who had stumbled across the void between worlds right into their laps, she'd do it, and anything else that gave them a chance at survival.

Chaldea was hurt, bleeding from a score of wounds. But she would be DAMNED if she was going to let it die without fighting tooth and nail first. Pepe had once told her that there was no nobility in fighting, that in the end, it was just one side trying to kill another, and the other doing their level best to return the favor. She had laughed, then, her head too full of fantasies of leading Chaldea in a noble mission, saving the future, and finally getting the praise she had always deserved.

She had been a child, mocking the words of a grown man with shadows in his eyes, shadows she had missed, hidden as they had been by his flamboyant behavior. No more.

So it was, when after a wait that seemed like hours, but was more like minutes, Mash and Cu Chulainn finally appeared to retrieve them, she didn't snap, much as she wanted to. She calmly confirmed that Berserker had been killed, and then once again climbed onto the Servant's back, as he bore them to their next destination.

Which, as it turned out, was, of all things, a bomb shelter.

"Yeah, no idea who built this thing, but I found it early on, but didn't bother to make it into a bolthole, since there's only one way in or out. That bastard Archer always has his eyes out, and if he spotted me going in, he could make it a living hell to try to leave – and that's just by himself. If he put the word out that I was down there, then I'd have to deal with him bombarding me, along with the rest of his buddies. No thank you!" He grinned, and gestured at the back wall of the shelter – or where it had been. "But then, after I'd been ducking through the subway tunnels for a few days, I realized that the back wall of this thing was close enough to the tunnels that I could punch a hole that would allow me to fool that jerk – while he'd be watching the door, I could slip out through the tunnels, and maybe catch him by surprise. It'd only work once, if at all, but what a surprise it'd be!"

He laughed uproariously, and Olga Marie had to give the man credit. This Cu Chulainn was far from the fight-happy brute his legend portrayed him as. She supposed that final Command from his late Master was to blame for that.

"Clever," chimed in her looming trans-dimensional paperwork headache, as he wolfed down some of the food that Caster had cached in the bunker – in the case, American MREs – she didn't want to think about how he had managed to get his hands on those, she chose to believe he had looted a military surplus store at some point in the immediate past.

At least the cuisine somewhat fit the location.

"I assume, then, you've got something in your bag of tricks to keep us hidden while we sneak up him?" asked Olga, picking at her own food.

The man's grin nearly split his face in two. "Naturally, girlie, naturally!" His grin faded a bit. "Though I can't promise how well it'll work. Like I told you a bit ago, that Archer doesn't make any damn sense. Fights like some sort of screwy hybrid between an Archer and a Saber, seems to have Item Creation like a Caster, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had some sort of trick up his sleeve to spot me even through a concealing spell."

The room got quiet, as they mulled over that. She was the first to break the silence. "Should we split up, then? Approach him from multiple angles? I don't care how good his eyes are, he's only got two. Give him two, or even three moving targets, and he's bound to make a mistake. We only need one of you to get close enough to him to stop him from shooting at the other two, and let them catch up. Between the three of you, you took out Heracles. I can't imagine some nameless Archer would be harder to put down."

Cu held up a finger. "Great idea, except for one thing. The mountain that temple is seated on is filthy with that sludge that corrupted Saber. About the only safe approach, or the approach that wouldn't have you dodging both Archer's shots and puddles of that goop is the temple stairs themselves. I could probably manage it, my Protection from Arrows should keep anything less than a Noble Phantasm off my back, and I'm used to ducking through woods while taking fire." He pointed at their two other combat-effectives. "The two of you I'm less sure about. I don't think the girl could manage the forest by herself, and if the mud gets her, we've just added another enemy to our tally. And sending her straight up the stairs all by her lonesome would look off – hell, that guy sees any of us doing a solo run up the stairs and he'll know something's up."

He shook his head. "No, I think a massed charge up the stairs, all three of us, is the better plan. Never had any real hope of getting the jump on Archer, the stealth aspect of the plan is just so we're not ducking shots from here to the base of the mountain – all he needs is to get lucky once, and there's a lot of ground between here and there."

"Then we go hard, and fast, when we leave the underground." Kratos finished draining another bottle of water. "We seek to close with Archer as fast as possible once we reach the mountain and the element of surprise, if we ever had it, is lost to us."

"And what about senpai and the Director?" asked Mash, from where she was hovering over their sleeping comrade.

Olga frowned, as her abject uselessness was pointed out, if indirectly, again. That Mash was speaking out of honest concern, rather than trying to rub her face in it, made leashing her temper easier. "I don't think you're going to be able to just tuck us away in a building somewhere and come back for us later. Archer's a different problem than Assassin or Berserker. Yes, he'll probably have his hands full with the three of you, but if he figures out where we are, all he needs is one moment, one shot to kill both of us. I might be able to get out of the way, but I'd be leaving Fujimaru to die……..and I'm not doing that." Her hands clenched. "We've lost enough people today. No more." Fujjimaru also might be the last proper Master they had to their names, too. The big, bearded question mark had a less suitable attitude for a Master than even Fujimaru. Chaldea had enough power right now to summon at least one Servant in the field. If things had been different, she'd have had Fujimaru reinforce their party with that Servant.

But she was hesitant to bring it up with Kratos. The man had spoken of being enslaved before, had been reluctant to even be a glorified mana battery to Caster. Even his agreement of a temporary pact had been grudging, and she wasn't about to strain their fragile alliance by poking at a very, very large bear. Particularly a bear that could fight a Servant, and win.

No, whatever he was – and she had some suspicions – he wasn't human. Not fully at least. And while she would have been fine with berating one of the Mages under her command until they followed her orders, she wasn't stupid enough to try that tack with their temporary ally. No, best to leave that well enough alone.

He fought on the same level as a Servant, so in a sense, it was like they had summoned another Servant – just one with no Command Seal leash, an axe that thrummed with power to rival some of the strongest Mystic Codes she had ever seen, and more than a few secrets.

Yeah. Things were going GREAT! How was your day?

She hoped that the base's alcohol stash had survived the explosion.

She sighed. "We're going to have to do something monumentally stupid. Caster, how much would it slow you down if we were to tie Fujimaru to your back?"

The man in question blinked. "Not much – girl's pretty light. As long as my arms are free, it wouldn't keep me from casting spells, or fighting." He gave her a look. "Tell me you aren't thinking of…."

"Yes, yes I am." Her mouth set itself in a hard line. "We can't split the party. If he chose to, Archer could just snipe the two of us at his leisure, whether out of spite if he started losing the fight, or if he decided to abandon his defense during your approach, and just decided to take us out. So, we tie Fujimaru to your back Caster……and I run with the rest of you."

As expected, no one took that well.

"SHUT UP!" she bellowed, truly losing her temper for the first time in what felt like ages. "Yes, it's a SHIT plan. Yes, we're in just as much, if not MORE danger up close than we would be hidden away in a building somewhere. And yes…….I'm well aware I could easily fall behind and end up shot dead all the same." She dropped her head. "I'm the weak link here. Since we got our feet under us, all we've been doing is making plans that have to take that into account, that have to make up for the fact that I'm worse than useless. Fujimaru's at least providing Mash with mana, letting her maintain her Servant status? Me? I've done exposition and hid. That's it."

She gave a bitter laugh. "No more. If I'm the weak link, then we cut me loose, let me sink or swim. I can die." She looked at each of them in turn. "I don't WANT to die, but if it has to come to it, I'm the most expendable of the lot of us. So, we stop coddling me, and if I die, I die – so long as humanity lives, I'd say we'll have come out ahead."

Mash looked like she was about to start crying. "Director…."

"Again, I don't WANT to die. I want to fix this Singularity, save the world, go back to Chaldea, and then sleep for a week." She laughed again, a note of hysteria starting to creep in. "And as bad as the math is, this gives me the best chances to do that. Tucked away in a building halfway across town, there's nothing to save me if Archer figures out where we are. Tucked in the middle of the three of you, I've got a chance. You're going to be taking focused fire from him in any event, me being there, or not being there isn't going to change that." She shrugged. "Hell, if I fall behind, and he decides to take a moment to kill me, that's one moment he isn't shooting at you."

Ah, gallows humor. A wonderful combination of her usual biting sarcasm and copious amounts of fatalism. Where have you been all my life?

The two men in her immediate life were looking at her like they couldn't decide if she was crazy or not – and maybe with a hint of respect. "It's not the worst plan I've ever heard, but most of those involved Medb in some way, so you can imagine how bad those were." That grin again. "Still, it's better than any plan I've been able to come with up."

Kratos made a low noise in his throat. "She is not wrong. Between the three of us, we may be able to protect her while we ascend the mountain. It will allow us to bring our full might against Archer, while maximizing our defense."

"Just keep me safe, as long as I keep up. And once we reach the temple, I'll be counting on you to kill him before he can get any bright ideas about using me for target practice." She put steel into her voice. "And if I fall behind, I get left behind."

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In his life, the man who had once been called Shirou Emiya had been known for his patience, though a certain twin-tailed magus would have called it 'bullheaded stubbornness'. If anything, as a Servant, that quality was only magnified. No need to eat, no need to breathe, none of those annoying biological functions to distract. Sometimes, Alaya had dropped him into a burgeoning hot spot days, or weeks ahead of time, and he'd had to wait, and wait, until the precise moment arrived where he could set things to right.

So, when he found himself wondering exactly why humanity's last hope was still holed up in that bunker, he knew something was wrong.

Caster knew him well enough to know he was watching them, the Irish Servant had gotten a good enough read on him in their skirmish for that. And yet, he hadn't taken them back into the subway tunnels – despite there being more than a few that would take them within spitting distance of Ryudoji Temple. No, he had taken them somewhere with only one exit, only one way in or out.

Dammit. Fooled by Cu Chulainn. He'd never live this down.

He cast his eyes over the city, working backwards from the temple itself, and paying close attention to the area around the subway entrances. If he was right……

There.

A shimmer in the air, a distortion that, when faced with his Hawkeye skill, fell apart in an instant.

He blinked, for the briefest of moments, unable to believe his eyes.

They were grouped up, all five of them, and moving with speed. The bearer of the Round Table was on point, her massive shield held before her, clearly the first line of defense, the batter just looking for the straight pitch right in the strike zone. The god was behind her, slightly to the left, that shield of his (a wife's gift, shattered against Thor, rebuilt by the Huldra brothers, The Guardian Shield, whispered his Reality Marble, as a copy of the shield fell into the sand of his inner world) deployed and held up, the defender of their left flank.

Cu Chulainn held the same position, save to the right, and EMIYA could only guess at whatever protections the druid had prepared, above and beyond the Protection From Arrows skill that made him nearly impossible to strike at range. That selfsame skill was likely why they had chosen to tie the Master that Assassin had wounded to his back – close as she was to him, she would benefit from that almost as well as Cu himself would.

Clever. He had been anticipating them leaving their vulnerable allies behind, as they had done while fighting Berserker, and had planned on punishing them for that. They had neatly denied him that opportunity, and were gambling on being able to close to melee before he could capitalize on the Irish Servant making a mistake caused by carrying a burden up the stairs.

Bringing up the rear was their other dead weight, the girl who at the start of this had been a typical mage, prideful, arrogant, utterly dismissive of both her allies. And yet, even at this distance, he could see in her eyes that something had changed.

She was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down her brow as she forced more mana into her legs, reinforcing them, pushing herself to her limits and beyond as she struggled to keep up with her companions. Already, the lines of reinforcement glowing on her legs were beginning to turn red, showing she was getting close to overtaxing them.

And yet, none of her companions were slowing their pace for her.

As he said, clever. Be willing to sacrifice the weakest link in order ensure the success of the mission. He could respect that kind of cold-bloodedness. Hell, it could have been one of his plans.

Best he show the proper respect to the mystery god's ruthlessness.

His bow materialized in his hands, and he unleashed a salvo of arrows on the small group as they reached the base of the mountain. As he expected, none made it past their rather formidable defenses. He didn't really have any expectation of tagging Lugh's son with anything short of one of the stronger Noble Phantasms in his arsenal, this first barrage was about gauging their reactions. Seeing how much, if at all, Caster was weighed down by the additional weight he was carrying and seeing how well the two others handled themselves under fire.

The answer was, in order, not much at all (if he had lost even a step while carrying another whole human being, Archer would eat his non-existent hat), more capably than he had expected (whatever Servant the girl was channeling was good, but it could only make up so much for her lack of experience, but she had potential), and like a damn machine (he narrowed the list of domains for this god further – he still favored War and/or Strength).

Bastard apparently had a HELL of an arm, too, as he managed to hurl his axe all the way up the stairs (the Leviathan Axe, forged from the echoing screams of twenty Frost Trolls – more or less, wait, 'more or less'? –forged by the Huldra brothers for Laufey the Just, then bequeathed to Kratos after her death, and carried since then, spoke his Reality Marble, as a copy of the axe fell blade-first into dead soil of his inner world, and froze a patch of that ground solid), only just missing low, the axe biting into the wood of the Torii gate he was perched on. A moment later, the axe tore itself loose, and flew back to the god's hand.

So, it could do that trick, too? He supposed he should be glad that the Child of Light hadn't been summoned as a Lancer for this war, else he'd be dealing with two people with weapons that knew how to play 'catch and return'. That could have made things difficult.

Yes, he could summon copies of his paired swords until he ran out of mana. No, that didn't make him a hypocrite, and shut up.

He continued raining down fire on the approaching group, twisting his arrows so that even if they were blocked, the ricochet would tear through the surrounding woods, and litter the path with fallen trees. The god at least caught on quick, and began knocking the shots upwards and back, forcing Archer to time his shots at the god so that several arrived at once, preventing him from using that swatting motion he seemed so fond of, which then forced him to adapt to that counter-measure being taken from him.

Ah, the game within the game. He did appreciate a competent opponent – if only that competent opponent wasn't a full-blown deity, and wasn't rolling up on him with some very dangerous friends.

At least the Shielder was still falling for his most basic tricks. She wasn't letting anything through, but she was so hyper-focused on that that she was blocking on reflex, and giving him plenty of chances for ricochets. On the one hand, the continual deforestation of Mt. Enzou was slowing them down, forcing them to pause to avoid falling trees, or to leap over them – which was giving him more chances to take pot shots at them. On the other hand, the slowed pace was allowing their dead weight to keep up, which…..he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He still wasn't sure if he'd take the shot, should she fall behind enough to be outside of the defensive radius of the group. The morale hit – and if nothing else, the Demi-Servant would be devastated should the girl fall, he'd seen how she had fallen apart when she'd thought she'd lost her Master – was counterbalanced by the fact that giving this group even a moment's respite from his attacks was possibly a very, very bad idea.

If she'd been the enemy Master, that would have been a whole different kettle of fish. But a Mage, no matter how powerful, was about as dangerous to a Servant as an angry purse dog.

Time to step things up, before the purse dog's entourage of feral animals kicked his door down.

He fired a wide spread of broken blades, putting some of the shots into the stairs themselves, the explosions buying him the moment he needed to project Hrunting, and send it screaming down the path.

Let's see how they deal with a sword that keeps seeking until it hits its target. If nothing else, its powerful enough to make that Irish annoyance have to take notice, his bullshit skill wouldn't do much of anything against a proper Noble Phantasm, even one with a degraded rank like his copies.

Speaking of things the Irishman wouldn't like…….

Archer sent a baker's dozen arrows directly at the Shielder, wanting her defenses too occupied to handle Hrunting – he didn't like his copies' chances against the actual Round Table – and then yanked Caladbolg out of his Reality Marble, and sent it straight at Cu Chulainn.

Have fun with that one, you continual pain in my ass.

They were close enough that he could see the Caster's eyes widen as he recognized the sword slicing through the air, and the spiteful part of him reveled in that moment of dawning comprehension.

He never got tired of doing that to Cu Chulainn, no matter what class he was wearing. Fringe benefits.

In a move that was almost graceful enough to look like they had practiced it, the Servant and the god switched positions, Cu leaping through the air, and the larger man ducking under the leaping Servant, his arm already up and hurling his axe.

Dwarf-forged metal met the Hard Blade of the Ulster cycle, and the Huldra Brothers' other masterpiece prevailed, shattering Archer's copy, before being yanked back into its wielder's hands.

"BASTARD!"

The insult echoed up the mountain, as Cu Chulainn used a spray of fire to momentarily deter Hrunting from taking off his head.

Yes, he was good and mad now. Hopefully that would impair some of his higher brain functions (and wasn't that a thing, him being willing to consider Cu Chulainn as having higher brain functions?), as this version of the Child of Light was proving to be far more cunning than he had any right to be. He'd been able to use previous versions of Cu's battle lust against them – but there was every possibility this one might be too smart to fall for that. Better to get him too enraged to think straight before this fight got up close and personal.

On that subject, that axe was flying through the air, eager to make his acquaintance.

Archer dropped from his perch, body inverted. At the last second, he hooked the toe of his boot in one of the supporting struts, halting his fall, and, dangling, projected two more copies of Hrunting, and added them to the worries the approaching group had to deal with.

One for each of you. Have fun!

With agility that would have made Olympic gymnasts weep with envy, the man launched himself back up to the top of the Torii gate, firing arrows as his body flew through the air. Once his feet found solid purchase again, he aimed his bow upwards, and arced a volley that would rain onto their heads just shortly after they became acquainted with his next shots, which he sent screaming into their faces.

Their approach was slowing, the weight of fire, and three different Noble Phantasms grinding their speed to a halt. No serious hits, or any hits, for that matter, yet, but it was only a matter of time. Good as their defenses were, there was a limit to the amount they could handle at once. And that breaking point was approaching.

Now, let's annoy Cu some more.

He aimed carefully down his bow, again summoning Caladbolg and sighting it right on the man, fired.

Somehow, the god managed a throw of his axe while simultaneously blocking one of the Hruntings that were buzzing about the group, but despite seeking to go two-for-two in breaking Archer's projected Caladbolgs, this time his throw sailed low, and the god was too pressed to immediately call it back to his hand. His mistake.

Archer was quick to fire a Black Key to where the axe landed, pinning its shadow, and therefore, it, down for the immediate future, though he didn't expect it to hold a weapon of that potency for long. Still, it limited their options.

And it looked like their options had gotten limited enough to force the shield girl to use her Noble Phantasm.

Her shield slammed into the ground, a web of light unfolding from within the Round Table's heart, and a pure, white wall sprang forth, Archer's fire, both the common and less common shots all pattering off it like rain.

All within expectations.

That would see to the four Noble Phantasm he'd had in the air, and would stop his barrage for the moment, but it was little more than a stalemate. He couldn't hurt them while it was up, true, but they couldn't hurt him, either, and she couldn't move while it was up, to boot. And it gave him a moment to prepare his next trick. He began projecting a handful of Hruntings, twisting them into arrows and plunging them point first into the wood of the gate, deciding that the homing-swords had been doing good work so far. They would serve as a good first barrage once the wall came down.

And once it came down, she wouldn't be able to manifest it again for a little bit.

His Eye of the Mind screamed at him.

Archer abandoned his perch with indecent haste, as a line of spears (Draupnir, created by the Lady of the Forge from the ring Draupnir, the sound of the wind, and the blood of a god, and blessed by Brok of the Huldra brothers, spoke his Reality Marble, as a copy of the spear settled into its new home) thudded into the wood where he had been standing, and promptly detonated, shredding the gate, and denying him his perch.

So that was the trick of the spear – made from an infinitely replicating ring. A neat trick.

Let's see how he likes it.

Archer projected Draupnir into his hands, set it into his bow, and fired it – then kept firing, as only copies of the base projection left his bow, the original remaining set, and almost eliminating the need for him to draw a new arrow each time he fired.

It was like he was his old man with his Calico, save with more range, more power, and no worries about running out of ammo.

Oh, and the bullets stuck where they hit, instead of ricocheting.

Draupnir arrows go BRRRRRRRRRR!, said a voice in his head that sounded entirely too much like a certain degenerate pirate captain.

They were moving again, at least two of them starting to do a passable impression of porcupines with the number of phantom spears sticking out of their shields. For his part, Cu was being forced to dodge or knock the spears from the air – it looked like he wasn't chancing if the spear could pierce his Protection from Arrows. Archer didn't think it could, not with a rank of power loss from being a copy, but it was enough of an unknown variable, and the man was piggybacking the little team's only Master, so he was likely playing it safe.

Just another reminder how odd this version of Cu Chulainn was acting – which made him much more dangerous than usual.

Archer set down on the stones of the temple floor. He'd lost his perch, which vexed him more than a little, and needed to buy a moment to leap to another one. He'd landed far enough into the temple grounds that he didn't have eyes on the group, and he couldn't risk giving them the moment it would take him to reposition atop one of the buildings. Thankfully this spear had another trick that his Structural Analysis had informed him of.

Snatching the spear from his bow, he couldn't help a small, self-satisfied smirk from breaking out on his face as he slammed the butt onto the ground. Between the deflected spears, and the number that were embedded into their shields, this should give him the second he needed.

It was only at the last second, as the spear impacted the ground, that the massive shield flew up into his line of sight, tumbling end over end.

Oh, this was going to HURT.

The spears driven into the shield detonated in a chain, somehow doing nothing to arrest the momentum of the hunk of metal as it clumsily flew through the air, and crashed into him, the combined impact and the explosions blasting him back, sending him through one of the fragile walls of the main temple.

Ow.

Gingerly, Archer picked himself up off the floor, impressed despite himself. The girl, who he'd taken as the least dangerous of the actual threats in the group, had gotten him good. They'd managed to get that brief respite he hadn't wanted to give them, and likely would have crested the hill by now. Against one of them, that wouldn't have been so bad. Against all three?

He didn't like his chances. Cu alone was a handful, nearly too fast for him to handle, at least as a Lancer. With an inexperienced, but apparently unpredictable girl, and an actual god backing him up?

Frankly, he'd rather fight Heracles again.

Nothing to it but to get to it.

Projecting the twin swords that were practically extensions of his arm, he leapt back into the fight.

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Kratos felt a sense of relief as they finally put the endless stairs behind them and entered the temple grounds proper (though this place didn't look much like a temple to him – the delicate wooden buildings and oddly shaped gates were as strange to him as the city below). Amazingly, they had only taken minor wounds on the approach, some cuts and scratches from Archer's exploding shots, but nothing crippling. It had been a near thing, though. Archer's ability to copy Draupnir had been near to overwhelming them - had it not been for Mash throwing her shield up the stairs and knocking Archer away, things might have gone much, much, worse.

Kratos moved to the fore, as Cu Chulainn set his comatose burden down by the gate at the top of the stairs. Next to him, the Director was bent near double, her hands on her knees, as she gasped air into her lungs.

Kratos had to admit, the girl had impressed him. Despite being obviously terrified, not once had she begged them to slow down, or in any way hindered them on the climb. She had kept her head down, and largely used Kratos' bulk and Mash's massive shield to protect her from the endless barrage. Her instincts, at least, were good, despite her having (in Kratos' estimation) all of zero combat experience.

Truth be told, Kratos was favorably inclined to all his companions after the marathon they had run. Cu Chulainn was living up to the tales Mimir had told of him, he'd effortlessly handled the lion's share of the projectiles that Archer had sent at him – that 'Protection from Arrows' skill, Kratos supposed – and had still handily dealt with most of the more powerful attacks that had been sent their way. He'd quickly identified both the homing swords that had been the most dangerous threat they'd faced on the climb, as well as calling out when his uncle's sword had been deployed against them, trusting Kratos to try to knock it from the sky.

He was still mildly annoyed that he had failed to take the second one out.

Thankfully, his missed throw hadn't had any serious consequences, assuming there was no drawback or hard limitation on this 'Noble Phantasm' that Mash had used to temporarily halt Archer's barrage. It had given them a moment to catch their breath, and had let him turn the tables on Archer by returning fire – something that had again, only not backfired horribly due to Mash's quick thinking in hurling her spear-laden shield up the stairs.

Again, like the Director, little to no combat experience, but good instincts.

She was holding back now, having retrieved her shield, she now stood guard over their vulnerable companions, letting Kratos and Cu take point, as they had planned earlier. Cu was insistent that Archer didn't have an honorable bone in his body, and thus, she was to be ready for anything from him.

Now where in the Hades was the man?

"ARCHER!" bellowed Cu Chulainn, no hint of his usual playful, mocking tone in his voice. "Get your ass out here and get killed already! You've been a pain in my ass all war, and I've had enough of you! This is going to end, right here, right now!"

"Three on one? Not your usual style, is it, dog?" The Servant's voice echoed around them, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. "Were you really that so afraid of me that you had to find a Master – though one that should be in a coma ward, her shrinking violet of a Servant, that failure of a Clock Tower Family heir, and a reject from a bad Viking story all so it'd be a fair fight?" Kratos could hear the sneer in the man's voice. "I'm flattered."

Cu visibly rolled his eyes. "And he can throw his voice. Is there ANYTHING you can't do? Or anything that won't piss me the hell off?" Quieter, he whispered to them. "Bastard loves to talk, his wit is sharper than those two swords of his. Any of you see him?"

Shaking heads all around. "Course not, why is it always hard with this guy?" His eyes swept the tops of the various wooden buildings around them. "Loathe as I am to suggest we let him make the first move, that might be what we have to do. Too much cover here and not much I can do about it that doesn't involve setting the whole place ablaze, and I think we've all had quite enough of that particular song."

A dry, amused chuckle from the shadows. "Planning? Have to say, it's odd to see you using your head for something other than a battering ram, dog. Guess more of that fake priest rubbed off on you than I thought – but that's to be expected from being on his leash for as long as you were."

Cu narrowed his eyes. "Yet another thing about this guy that rubs me the wrong way, he's been talking like he knows me all War long. And I'd definitely remember meeting someone this damn annoying!"

In a louder voice, he answered Archer's taunt. "We can still do this, just the two of us. The girl and the big guy can just sit back, take a breather, and watch me take you apart, Archer! Maybe you can even manage to die on your feet, like a man, like I did, instead of being Saber's little puppet to the end!"

"Tempting as that offer is, I'll have to decline. Killing you will be even easier when you're summoned as a Caster and don't have that demonic spear of yours, but where's the incentive for me? I kill you, and then they tear me apart when I'm worn out from beating you down." More grim laughter. "No, every second I'm here is a good second. It's one more second I'm not doing my usual job."

"Counter-Guardian….," whispered Olga Marie, dread coloring her voice.

Kratos glanced over his shoulder; again aware he was missing context in these terms the others were familiar with. Olga Marie waved his attention back to the front. "Not important now, I'll explain it later. Just focus on killing this Servant."

Cu's mouth was a hard line. "If Saber managed to corrupt a Counter-Guardian, this situation is worse than I could have imagined. Keep your guards up, all of you. This bastard's a lot more dangerous than he's been letting on."

"And STERLING detective work from the Animusphere heir!" The sarcasm in the man's voice was thick enough to be cut with a blade. "When you wash out of being the head of your family, maybe there'll be an assistant's spot for you in Modern Magecraft to help the Lord there with his investigative work! You could be two failures of mages together!"

The Director colored an ugly purple, and moved as though she was about to storm out from behind Mash's shield, then ducked back behind the wall of metal, as an arrow buried itself into the ground where she would have stood.

"THERE!" yelled Cu, sending a burst of fire at one of the rooftops, forcing a shadowy form to abandon his perch and tumble to the ground. The Irish Servant was quick to pursue.

"Smart enough to figure you were TRYING to bait me, you arrogant son of a bitch!" shouted Olga Marie. She turned her gaze on Kratos. When she spoke, her voice was much more measured. "Kratos, if you would please, kill that infuriating Servant."

Only a touch of the anger – and it seemed as if the Director was holding back an incandescent fury – colored her voice. Kratos didn't understand the context of Archer's words to her, but it seemed they had struck home. He gave a noise of assent that the Norns would have probably classified as yet another 'grunt', and stomped off to where he could hear the clash of weapons. As he circled around to where the two Servants were battling, he got his first look at Archer.

The man was fairly tall, probably only slightly shorter than Kratos himself was these days. He could tell little of the man's features through the blistering combat and the haze of corruption that surrounded him, as it had surrounded the other two corrupted Servants that Kratos had seen, but a few details were obvious.

Short, silvery hair, a tight suit of what appeared to be at least mildly armored clothing, a pair of short, curved swords, and lines of energy – similar to the lines that ran up and down the Director's body when she used her magics – though these pulsed a sickly red, rather than the bright green of the Director's.

And, oddly enough, he didn't stink as badly as the other two Servants had. The corruption still oozed from him, true, but it seemed almost milder on this Servant than the previous ones. Possibly it had something to do with him being a 'Counter-Guardian', or whatever powers or abilities that title granted.

Questions for later, focus on the fight in front of him.

As Kratos' feet thudded against the ground as he closed the distance, Archer slid under a swing of Cu's staff, forcing the weapon up with his blades, then twisting and planting a spinning kick into the Caster's chest, blasting him back and sending him crashing through one of the temple buildings. Never stopping his motion, he rotated his body to catch Kratos' descending axe moments before it would have carved into his back, blades sliding under the head of the axe and locking there, trapping it momentarily.

The man grinned, though whatever warmth the expression might have held was mere ashes and embers. "Can't say I've ever fought one of your ilk in all the time Alaya's had me cleaning up humanity's messes. People manage to screw up this world enough without needing an actual god to make things worse……" His tone turned inquisitive. "So, what happened? Did you get bored on the other side of the World and decide to see why the various afterlifes were suddenly flooded with the newly dead? Or did something make a deal to bring you here to clean up the mess?"

Kratos growled and pushed against the blades trapping his weapon. Archer was quick to break off and disengage – his arms had been trembling with the strain of merely holding the stalemate – he could clearly feel the difference in their strength and wasn't about to try to win a contest in that quarter.

Kratos lashed out with his axe, but Archer again parried, striking the axe just behind the head, forcing it down, and at the same time, planting his back foot and aiming a thrust at Kratos' head, forcing the Spartan to duck, lest he lose an eye. His axe, forced low, cut through the dirt as he slashed upwards at the Servant, robbing it of enough momentum to easily let the man vault over the retaliatory strike, and bring both blades screaming down.

Quickly grasping the axe with both hands, Kratos caught the blow, meeting the weight of the strike head-on, and then shoving upwards, blasting the Servant into the air.

Archer twirled his body, controlling his flight, and avoiding the burst of fire that shot through the space where his body would have been.

Cu Chulainn spat, some of the debris from his trip through the wooden building still clinging to him. "Slippery bastard."

Still descending through the air, Archer formed a bow from the air and loosed a handful of arrows, alternating between the pair of them. Cu disdainfully swatted them from the air, barely seeming to look at them, while Kratos rolled under the arc of the first handful, then allowed the remainder to glance off his shield. But it had given Archer the moment he needed to land safely.

Side by side, the two of them charged after Archer. Cu reached the Servant first, spinning his staff around to make a series of jabs that Archer weaved around, fluid as water, though any counter he might have been preparing was aborted when he was forced to again parry Kratos' descending axe. He kicked back, turning a backflip that took him over and around Cu's staff, as the Caster swung it like a club, then dropped into a crouch as he landed, sweeping the Servant's feet out from under him.

He stabbed down, swords plunging for Cu's heart, but the attack failed twofold, the Caster having begun rolling the moment his back hit the ground, and Kratos' axe flew in, deflecting the attack and knocking Archer back.

Unphased, Archer rode the momentum back, hurling his paired swords at Kratos, immediately calling forth a second pair almost as soon as the first had left his hands, then sending them to follow the first.

Kratos slid under the first pair, barely having to duck his head, as the blades flew high. It was only as he called forth his shield to block the second pair that he heard it, almost at the last second.

The sound of the first set of blades, which should have been growing fainter, was in fact growing louder.

Kratos moved, leaping to the side, but was not quick enough, as the twin swords cut grooves into his back.

The things were circling about him like a flock of birds, flying away, then dipping back in to cut at him. The uncharacteristic miss of the first pair – from an opponent who had been deadly accurate so far – was merely to set the blades on their path so that they would curve back around to take him in the back. He was fortunate that the blades hadn't sliced his flesh deeper.

With a snap of his wrist, Kratos sent his axe into the air, catching one pair of flying swords as they crossed paths before him and shattering them. He spun, axe smacking back into his hands, as he caught the second pair with a well-timed swing, also reducing them to ruin.

A short distance away, Archer and Cu were still locked in combat, neither yet having gained any advantage over the other. As Kratos turned to locate them, Cu jabbed a thrust of his staff at Archer, the end of his weapon flashing white-hot for a second, but Archer seemed to have anticipated the attack. He crossed his blades, forcing the weapon high, then yanked, throwing his weight back, and pulling the Caster off-balance. Cu stumbled forward, and Archer fell to his back, kicking up with his legs, catching Cu in his midsection, throwing him into the air.

The blades vanished, dismissed, as Archer called forth his bow, a drill-like sword settling into the string for a moment, before it was twisted into an arrow's shape, then loosed, point-blank, at Cu.

"Oh not AGAIN!" Cu managed to get his staff in the way, but only just, the weapon boring into the wood of his staff. Cursing, he was blasted off into the distance as the arrow carried him out of Kratos' sight.

Archer arched his back, then leapt to his feet, chuckling grimly. "Guess even a smarter dog still falls for that." He regarded Kratos, noting the blood dribbling down the Spartan's back. "We should have a few moments until he gets back up the mountain……assuming he doesn't land in one of the pools of mud. Not much chance of that, but it'd be nice to have the odds on my side for a change."

Kratos said nothing, watching the Servant closely, mind debating between pressing the attack now, or waiting for his ally to rejoin the fight – if he would still be his ally when he returned.

Kratos elevated Archer's threat a few notches in his mind – whoever this man had been in life, he was clever, devious, willing to fight dirty, and seemed to have no end to his bag of tricks. No mindless brute or skulking shadow this one, Archer was at least something of a proper warrior.

Archer took Kratos' silence as a cue to continue talking. "Waiting for your backup to get back here? Got to say I'm surprised. Didn't think an honest to goodness god would need help to take out little old me." He shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong when I pegged you as a war god. Most of the ones I read about growing up would already be trying to cut my head off by now, not waiting for a mangy cur to snap at my heels while they fought me."

Kratos added 'dangerously observant' to his mental tally of the threats represented by this Servant, as he obliged the taunts, and charged in, axe sweeping for the Servant's neck.

Archer slid under the strike, stepping into Kratos' guard, and came up low, blades aiming to gut him. Kratos fought his own forward momentum as he planted his feet and leaned back, his stomach retreating from Archer's still-advancing blade. Quickly, he snapped his shield open and slashed down with it, the edge of the shield cracking into the weapons and halting the attack in its tracks. With the attack halted, Kratos then swept his shield upwards in a brutal slap that caught Archer a glancing blow across his chin, snapping his head back.

Kratos followed with a vicious overhand chop as Archer staggered backwards, dazed. His blades rushed up to intercept the axe, and cracked in his grasp, the dwarf-forged steel of the Leviathan Axe proving the better of the twinned blades. Without a hint of hesitation, Archer abandoned the blades, a new pair forming in his hands even as bright red lines flared on the damaged weapons.

Hells! The man could cause not only his arrows to explode, but his blades as well?

Kratos shielded as much of his upper body as he could, the explosion pattering off his shield, fragments of the blades scratching at the unprotected parts of his body.

On instinct, Kratos dropped his shield low, catching the anticipated attack as Archer used the cover of the explosion to again come in low, under the Spartan's shield. As the blades scored against his shield, Kratos pushed back, forcing the man's arms aside, then lowering his shoulder and ramming into the Servant.

A wheeze of breath left Archer's mouth as Kratos collided with his chest, and the Spartan could feel the Servant's bones creak as Kratos collided full force with him. Desperately, Archer rode the force back, turning a handspring as he pushed away, and somehow managing to fling his blades at Kratos amidst that. Kratos smashed them from the air, not about to allow them to continue harassing him whilst in melee with this dangerous enemy, but it had given Archer the moment he'd needed to regain his feet, but little else.

Kratos seized the advantage, axe cutting left, right, center, forcing Archer into increasingly desperate parries as to avoid losing a limb, or his head. At times, the man's weapons only managed to interpose themselves at the last second before his skin felt the caress of Kratos' axe. Kratos had his enemy on the run.

And yet, despite the fight turning his way, something felt off to Kratos.

Archer was hurt – though he was more stunned than injured – Kratos had the momentum, and Archer was avoiding his attacks by the skin of his teeth, and yet something felt wrong with the situation. His instincts screamed at him to press the attack, to push harder, to exploit the openings in the Servant's defense before he fully recovered, but something else inside him screamed louder that he was missing something, something that should be obvious to him.

His building frustration wasn't making this any easier, Archer overextended on an attack meant to force Kratos back, leaving his head open, and Kratos' axe rushed in – only to be blocked, yet again at the last possible moment, by Archer's swords. Time and time again he had seen opportunities to end this fight, and every single time, Archer was able to stave him off. It was almost as if……

Kratos felt his blood run cold. Impossible. No one would be crazy enough to…..

Eyes narrowed, Kratos kept up his offense, this time watching Archer's movements carefully. Opening after opening presented itself, only for the resulting attack to be stopped, Archer moving almost before Kratos began swinging – like he knew the attack was coming.

He was right. The madman knew he couldn't keep up with Kratos' speed and power – not at least until he got his wind back and his breathing under control, so he was deliberately leaving openings in his guard, ones he knew would be exploited, then moving to stop them once the bait was taken.

It was, frankly, insane. The margin of error alone………Kratos' respect for the man climbed several notches, despite a strategy that seemed flatly, suicidal.

And one that could be turned right on its head once it was seen through.

Again, Kratos pressed forward, axe cutting towards the opening Archer left by his stomach, knowing that as soon as he committed, Archer would be moving to intercept, blades crossing into to block and absorb the strike. The second he saw the Servant move to block, Kratos switched his axe's momentum, twisting the strike from a low cut to the gut, into a cut screaming for his head – one he wouldn't be able to block in time, with his arms already committed to guarding his belly.

Somehow, impossibly, Archer managed to lean his head back and avoid having his skull caved in. Kratos' axe still cut a deep line into the Servant's forehead as he dodged the blow, but he escaped with his life. Desperately, his blades flew up, ramming into the handle of the Leviathan Axe, forcing it up, as he aimed the heel of one of his boots at Kratos' instep.

Kratos was forced into such an odd angle that his footing was momentarily disrupted, which gave Archer the second of respite he needed to disengage, leaping back, dropping his blades as he fell back.

Of course, he had done whatever trick that caused them to explode, preventing Kratos from immediate pursuit, and giving him the moment he needed to tear a strip from his coat and use it as a makeshift bandage for his head. When the dust from the explosion cleared, the man was already facing him, blades once again drawn.

Strangely, the man bled red, not the thick, corrupted sludge that had passed for blood for the other corrupted Servants. Just one more oddity from a man who seemed to have a litany of them.

"Figured it out, huh?" A ghost of a smile crossed the man's face. "Thought I had you there for a bit, but no, you've been around the block far too many times for that trick to work forever. Someone like the Hound I could probably lead on like that all night, but not you." His grin turned ugly. "Which means I've got to pull out the big guns for you, then."

Lightning began to play up and down his form, as a wind, centered on the Servant, picked up. "Let me do some of the filling in the Animusphere heir was going to do for you. Counter-Guardians are summoned by the World itself to protect humanity from catastrophes, from things that threaten to wipe out all of humanity. That means what we do is win. No matter the cost, no matter the mud we have to crawl through, no matter the blood on our hands, we win. Because the cost of losing is impossible."

His smile turned almost sad. "And even twisted like this, winning is what I have to do. Because she told me to hold the gates. So, I'll win."

"I AM THE BONE OF MY……."

Whatever incantation or spell the man was beginning was cut off, as a spear of light burst from the trees, curving through the air and piercing straight through Archer's chest. The man's eyes widened in shock, as the strength left his legs, and he fell to his knees.

"Call yourself a Counter-Guardian, yet here you are, playing bodyguard for one of the selfsame threats you're supposed to fight." Cu Chulainn strode from the tree line, a sneer of disgust on his face. As he drew near, the luminous spear ripped itself from Archer's chest and returned to the Caster's hand, where its form shifted, returning to that of his familiar staff. "It's so pitiful I don't know whether I should laugh, or cry in disappointment."

Archer was looking at Cu Chulainn as if he was seeing the Servant for the first time. "That….wasn't Gae Bolg, that wasn't anything from your legend, dog." His eyes were boring holes through the Caster. "Where in the HELL did you get that weapon? And who the HELL are you?"

Cu Chulainn smiled, and rapped Archer on his head with his staff. "You just gave a real pretty speech about how you Counter-Guardians couldn't lose, because the stakes were so high. Well, I'm Cu Chulainn, and I'm the man who just beat you. Because that's what I'm here to do."

Cu waved, as Archer's body dissolved into motes of light. "Give my regards to Alaya, you bastard."

Chapter 6: Fuyuki 6

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 6​

Kratos had been raised a Spartan. Had grown up in the agoge, where you excelled, or you died. His existence had been a harsh one from the moment he could walk.

Which was why his current experience of being…..'fussed over' was strange to him.

"No, I DON'T care if the wound isn't deep. You are going to hold still for a minute while I patch you up!" yelled the Director. "We're about to go into some cave who knows how far beneath the Earth to fight a corrupted King Arthur to try to save all of humanity! You are going to let me heal you so we're in the best condition we can be before we fight what should be our last, and hardest fight in this gods-forsaken place!"

Kratos looked to his allies. Cu was grinning ear-to-ear, clearly enjoying the show. Mash's eyes were wide and worried.

No, he'd get no help from that quarter.

Able to recognize a losing battle when he could see it, Kratos sat himself down on the temple grounds and grudgingly submitted himself to the Director's ministrations, waiting impatiently as his skin knitted back together under her hands.

Mash had handed out bottles of water that she had somehow stored in her shield – having seen Sindri pull an entire spear out of his bag before, Kratos wasn't even phased by this latest oddity, even ignoring that shields weren't meant to be something one stored things in – and was now hovering over the Director's shoulder, distractedly keeping watch. Cu Chulainn had seated himself on the stairs to one of the buildings and had spread his runes out in front of himself, and was sorting through them, likely taking stock of what he had left. Kratos himself had his axe sitting across his lap, checking his weapon over for any damage it might have taken in the most recent fight.

All of them were preparing for the final confrontation in their own ways.

"Saber," spoke Kratos. "Is there anything else we should know, before we enter battle with her?"

Cu licked his lips, never taking his eyes off the scattered runestones before him. "Not much more that I can tell you that I haven't already. She's strong, fast, skilled, and resists magic. How much any of her parameters might have changed since she started wearing black and killing everyone I can't say, I've kept out of her sight since she fell."

He tilted his head back, eyes closed, thinking. "Given that she took out Archer and Berserker in one swing of her sword, I don't think we're going to be able to have Mash hold back and be a bodyguard this time. We're going to need to throw everything we have at her to win this time." He glanced over to where they had laid Fujimaru, the girl peacefully sleeping. "Best we're going to be able to do for her and the little lady there is have them hang back in the tunnel – assuming Saber's nice enough to fight us in an open area. The cave walls should provide them with some cover, and if she busts out her Noble Phantasm, our Shielder should have enough time to intercept, and block it like she blocked Heracles."

Mash pulled herself up straight, her expression painfully earnest. "I'll do my best, Mr. Chulainn!"

"Just Cu, girlie," said the man, his hand waving at the girl. "'Mister' makes me feel like my hag of a teacher."

Olga Marie patted Kratos on the back. "That's as healed as I can get you for now. Anything more would take time we don't have, and patience I don't think you'd grant me." Kratos pushed himself to his feet. "The blood loss is stopped, so you won't be losing blood while fighting, and the repaired skin shouldn't tear in combat, not unless you make the acquaintance of Saber's blade."

Kratos rolled his shoulders, feeling his skin stretch where it had been repaired, but without any feeling of tightness. "Yes, it should hold. Thank you." The moment of rest, opposed as he had been to it, had given him time to assess his reserves. While he wasn't tired – a Spartan could march for weeks on less rest and food than he had gotten in the past few days, combat with Servants was….taxing. Fighting this world's version of his half-brother had been grueling, and Archer, while not the physical threat that Heracles had been, had been dangerous in his own way. It was fortunate that Cu had ended the fight when he had, for it allowed Kratos to conserve his remaining strength for the final battle.

"This cave where Saber is hiding. Is it near?"

Cu nodded, scooping his runestones up and dumping them into a pouch. "There's a few different entrances to the network of caves that run through this mountain, but the closest one isn't far – and it should take us past most of that sludge. In theory, we could have maybe snuck in there without Archer noticing, but I really, really didn't want to leave that guy free to come and help Saber out while we're fighting her. She's going to be enough of a handful without him adding to our troubles."

"No, I agree. If she's willing to sit back and let us take her pieces off the board, exploiting that is what we should be doing." Olga Marie frowned. "Though it does beg the question of whether she's letting us kill her men because she either doesn't care about them, or she's so confident in her power that she doesn't see losing them as something that would tip the scales."

"Either way, it speaks of an arrogance in our enemy. It may be something we can exploit. Those who are overconfident in their power do not expect their lessers to be able to stand against them…….and frequently fall apart when they are truly challenged." Heimdall, so confident in his ability of foresight, had broken into a raving maniac when Kratos had finally hit him – then begged for his life when Kratos pinned him to the wall with Draupnir.

He could only hope this Saber was possessed of similar arrogance.

"We can hope, if nothing else. The woman I fought at the start of this War didn't seem that brittle, but I also couldn't see her killing her Master in cold blood either, so who knows what else has changed with her since then." Cu looked over the group. "We ready to finish this?"

Nods all around. "Kratos, you mind carrying the girl? I'm going to need both my hands for spellcasting, just in case any of that sludge has spread enough to block the path, and I think we'll all feel better if Mash can be ready to throw up her Noble Phantasm at a moment's notice."

A noise of assent from Kratos, and he had slung the unconscious girl across his shoulders, then, they were off.


Thankfully, the path to the caves had been clear, and they had made quick time crossing the temple grounds. Once in the caves proper, Cu had continued to lead, the end of his staff glowing bright.

"Mind, I'm mostly guessing as to the path here, for all the recon Kirei had me doing, he never had me explore these caves, even before we had a full complement of Servants summoned for the war. But I can feel it, just like you all can…..we're getting closer."

Indeed, they all could feel it. The deeper they delved into the earth, the more it thrummed in the air.

Power. Cold, sickly – like what they had felt from the corrupted Servants, but more concentrated, more…….pure, as contradictory as that was. The air was thick with it, and it was only growing thicker.

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, and Kratos was certain he wasn't the only one. Cu's ever-present smile was gone, and his eyes were hard as he led them into the darkness. Mash looked almost queasy at the sickness in the air, but was fighting through it, determinedly putting one foot in front of the other, shield clutched in her hands. Olga Marie was biting her lip so hard that Kratos was shocked she hadn't bitten through it yet.

They could all feel it. This was not a good place.

And something bad was waiting on them at the end.

Finally, the tunnel began to open up a bit, the ceiling growing, and Cu held his hand out behind him, eyes still forward. "I think this is it………Kratos, go back a bit to the last curve in the path and set the girl down. Director, you stay with her, just in case there's anything wandering these tunnels. There shouldn't be, but I don't want to lose someone by overlooking something like that. Mage like you should be able to handle the skeletons just fine, but anything worse than that, you grab the girl and run to us, and we'll figure out things from there."

The Director nodded, beginning to follow Kratos as he backtracked down the way they had come. "I'm not naïve enough to say something like 'I order you all to survive this!' when you're about to fight King Arthur herself, but I want ALL of us to go home in one piece after this, wherever home might be." She looked at them, each in turn. "Be careful, and be smart. That's about all I can ask of you at this point." Her eyes narrowed. "And WIN."

Mash nodded, her face pale. Cu gave her a grin and a cheeky salute as they walked back into caves, the darkness now being illuminated by the source of light tied to Kratos' belt.

Before long, they had reached the bend in the path, and Kratos bent down, carefully settling the sleeping girl against the cave wall. As he rose to leave, Olga Marie spoke.

"Kratos……..thank you." She stared up at him, eyes resolute. "I can tell you don't really want to be doing this……fighting our battles for us, or maybe fighting at all, much less being a Master of a Servant, however temporarily. That you are, that you're helping us save the world like this….I appreciate it."

Kratos bent his head in acknowledgement of her words, at a loss for words. He was still unused to praise for his deeds, even with his growing reputation in the wake of Ragnarök. He turned to go.

"I meant what I said. Even if it takes everything my family has, and puts us in debt to every one of the Noble Families, I WILL get you home."

"I know." All the response he could muster, as he strode back into the darkness. Behind him, he could hear Olge Marie calling up the Doctor as he departed, perhaps for company as she waited, or, more likely, to see if the man could monitor the upcoming battle.

Within moments, he had rejoined his two allies, and together, they strode into the chamber before them.

It was large, the ceiling towering above them, a welcome relief after the close confines of some of the tunnels they had passed through. Where they had exited into the chamber was actually some distance up from the floor, a slope descending to the bottom of the chamber, where waited Saber, her eyes closed.

Kratos had, truthfully, been expecting someone bigger, from the way that his allies had been speaking of this King Arthur. The girl waiting for them below was comparatively tiny – of a height or smaller than Mash, also clad in armor like the Shielder. But that was where the comparisons stopped.

Saber's armor was pitch black, broken up only by angry, pulsing red lines that glowed as if in time with the woman's breathing. Hair so blonde it was nearly white, tied into a bun. Her sword, which radiated power almost like a heat-haze, was held before her, the tip resting upon the ground.

And behind her, a golden cup that had to be the 'Holy Grail' his allies had spoken of, sitting upon a slab of rock that was doing a fair approximation of an altar.

The cup, like its defender, was underwhelming in appearances – Kratos would have found it forgettable if not for the sheer power he could feel emanating from it. The small vessel had a weight and intensity that dwarfed all but the most potent artifacts that Kratos had ever beheld – maybe Pandora's Box, or the Blade of the Gods held similar power, but the passage of centuries had dulled his memories of those items. Certainly, nothing he had seen in his recent years held a candle to it.

Within the vessel, just below the lip, bubbled a black, toxic soup.

"Finally."

The voice, when it spoke, was regal in tone. It held authority, unquestioned in its possession, the kind of voice that could lead nations – Leonidas had sounded such, when he had spoken to his people.

The voice also held less warmth than the coldest nights of Fimbulvinter.

Saber's eyes had opened, they looked over the three people standing before her as a man might look upon an insect.

Or, whispered a part of Kratos, as a god might look upon a mortal – as his mind found similarities in Saber's disinterested gaze as she appraised them, and how the Gods of Olympus had looked upon the people of Greece.

"Truly, I expected you sooner," she continued, her tone flat. "Humanity's last defenders, come to slay the dragon in her lair and save the world." She laughed, one of the most mirthless things Kratos had ever heard in his long life. "How truly disappointing you are all, as you stand before me."

She tilted her head up, her eyes first landing on Cu Chulainn. "Caster. I had hopes for you. The famed Child of Light. Though I didn't know it at the time, I was freeing you by killing Kirei Kotomine. And yet, you spat on the freedom I offered you. And here you stand, weeks later, still happily wearing his leash." She shook her head. "I would call it a joke, if it held any measure of humor."

Cu sneered. "Don't get me wrong, the bastard was a bastard. I'd have danced on his ashes if things had been different – and I don't really know what he was planning in the end. But lady, you aren't any better." He spat to the side. "My teacher would cut me into little pieces and wait for me to put myself back together if I ever let a THING like you put a collar around my neck. I'm a damn Heroic Spirit, and we kill things like you!"

Saber sniffed derisively. "Such bravado. And yet, all I hear is the yapping of a dog accustomed to its master's lap." Ignoring Cu's angered shout, she dismissed him, turning to Mash – and pausing.

"Hmmm." She stared at Mash, eyes boring into the girl hard enough that she was almost visibly shrinking, the longer that imperious gaze rested upon her. "Coincidence, or fate?" she asked, before dismissing Mash as she had dismissed Cu before her.

Her eyes then fell on Kratos. "And our third, and most unexpected guest. Like the girl, I can only ask, coincidence, or fate? Are you Alaya's doing, here to tip the scales in Humanity's favor, or are you just a happy accident?" Her head tilted, a mocking smirk cracking her lips. "It cannot be benevolence on your part. Your kind never cared much for people beyond the amusements they could provide. In that, the golden one was more like those he was meant to connect Humanity with than he thought." Her grin turned cruel. "And yet, he died on my blade like all the rest who have dared to stand before me. You will be no different, for all that you are more……..concentrated than he was."

She laughed, mocking, as mirthless as before. "This is the last, desperate alliance here to stop me. How disappointing. How……pitiful."

Red lightning flashed along her body, and then she was in front of them, sword cutting toward Mash's head.

Kratos found speed he didn't know he'd possessed, only just managing to get his axe in the way to prevent Mash's skull from being pulverized. And even then, he needed every ounce of his strength to halt the blade in its tracks, to prevent the corrupted king from merely using his weapon to murder Mash, rather than her own.

Kratos eyes widened at the king's sheer strength. He was able to stalemate her, but only just – and worse, he wasn't certain she was using her full power.

A blast of fire from Cu, and a rushed shield-first charge from Mash forced Saber to break the lock and sidestep Mash's clumsy attack. The fire she merely allowed to wash over her, the flames not even managing to damage either her armor or her flesh.

"Freaking Saber class and their freaking Magic Resistance," complained Cu, spinning his staff around into a reversed grip, the end warping into a sharpened approximation of a spear. "Guess we're doing this up close and personal, then." With a cry, he darted into the melee, Kratos hot on his heels.

Cu slowed his steps enough to allow them to reach her simultaneously. Saber turned her body to the side, Cu's thrust breezing by her, as her blade, held horizontally by her head, caught Kratos' axe, and then forced it up, as she snapped her blade 90 degrees, then cut down.

Mash interposed her shield at the last second, a reversal of the fight's open, the black blade crashing down and biting at the girl's shield, scoring at the metal, but unable to penetrate. With an almost knowing sigh, Saber shoved against Mash, pushing her back into Kratos, tangling them for a moment. She spun on a planted foot, red lighting again crackling about her form, as her blade screamed through the air at Cu, who was forced to abort his attack and block, the wood of his staff groaning as it absorbed the blow of the king's sword.

The force of the strike knocked Cu back, the Caster tumbling in the air and landing on his feet, catlike. "She's definitely stronger, and faster than when I fought her!" The head of his staff lit up, and he fired two quick blasts of fire at Saber, both as ineffective as the first blast – but the wash of flames robbed her sight for the second that Kratos and Mash needed to right themselves.

Mash bulled in again, leading with her shield, as Kratos held just behind her, firing his over her shoulder in the moment before she reached Saber, axe aimed at the woman's head.

Like quicksilver, the sword flashed up, knocking his axe away, but it opened her torso up, and Mash's shield crashed in, her entire body weight behind the blow, metal ringing on metal.

Saber may have moved back a single step.

Kratos forewent calling his axe back to his hand, instead forming Draupnir in his hand and vaulting over Mash's head, spear plunging down towards Saber's body.

The sword flashed before him, pushing his spear off-target just enough to allow the woman to move back fractionally, and allow the spear to plunge into the space between them, and bury itself in the ground.

Kratos threw his body forward, using the momentum of his leap to vault over Saber's head, avoiding her vicious counterstroke, and abandoning the spear, leaving the phantom weapon embedded in the ground. As he flew through the air, he formed another copy of Draupnir in his hands, and slammed the butt into the ground as he landed, detonating the copy.

Mash, behind her shield, was protected from the explosion. Saber was not so fortunate.

The woman snarled in anger as the explosion peppered her with shards, and the light and noise of the explosion again clouding her vision.

Kratos snatched his axe from the air as he moved. Mash, seizing the opening, hauled back and brained Saber across the face with her massive shield, rocking the woman's head back. Kratos' axe roared in, the Spartan putting all his strength into the blow.

Saber caught the blow in her hand.

Kratos felt some of the metal plates in the gauntlet give under his blow. A thin stream of black blood began to pool on the head of the Leviathan axe, where it hissed and sizzled.

But she had still caught his blow one-handed.

"Impressive. You've taken some of my blood." Saber's arm was shaking as she held the Spartan's axe back, red lightning sparking up and down her body. "I see you may be more formidable than the Wedge." Snarling, her body was bathed in sparks as she hurled Kratos across the room, sending him crashing into the cave wall.

The woman's strength was incredible.

Kratos pushed himself out of the rubble of the wall, only slightly bruised from the collision with the stone. Cu had rejoined the fight, his staff jabbing at ever increasing speeds and unorthodox angles as he attempted to press Saber, Mash moving defensively, using the bulk of her weapon as both area denial and defense at once.

Saber slid low, ducking under a haymaker swing by Mash, and then, in a burst of light, she was across the room, blade aimed to impale Kratos, who only just managed to unfold his shield in time to block the blow. The shield, already stressed by the fight with Heracles, as well as the barrages from Archer, creaked alarmingly.

Pushing Saber's sword up, keeping it trapped on his shield, Kratos swung his axe – somewhat awkwardly given the close quarters (for a very, very brief moment, part of him lamented the lack of the Blades – they were much better at short distances like this. It was a very small part of him.). Saber's parry was equally awkward, raising her foot and stomping Kratos' axe into the ground, not wanting to disengage with her sword out of position as it was.

Kratos made the expedient decision to drop the axe and slam his head directly into hers.

As Saber reeled back, Kratos snatched his axe up from the ground, but before he could bring it to bear, Saber vanished, dying sparks marking where she had been.

"She's using a Mana Burst to supercharge her physical abilities! When you see the red lightning, expect her to get a lot faster and stronger!"

Kratos cast his eyes about, trying to locate the Servant. Where in the hells was she? "Is there a limit to this?"

Cu yelped as Saber appeared behind him, sword already in motion, seeking to decapitate him. He ducked, the keen edge of the sword claiming a few hairs off his head, then Saber was gone again. "It should only last a second or two, but that's not the real problem!"

He fired several jets of fire almost at random, hoping to at least blind Saber for a heartbeat, and break her momentum. "She shouldn't be able to pull that trick that often – it'd burn through a regular Servant's mana way too fast……THERE!" he shouted, as Mash turned at his voice and imposed her shield between the Caster and Saber's blade. Cu's fire flashed in, but by the time it arrived, Saber was somewhere else.

"She's probably hooked up to the damn Grail itself – it's providing her with essentially bottomless reserves!" Cu grabbed Mash by the shoulder and yanked her back, the two of them falling back to where Kratos was.

"Clever, Hound. Much smarter than I had expected of you." Saber's voice echoed around them, interspersed with the crackling of her Mana Bursts. "All of you are just full of surprises. I expected to have at least killed one of you by now."

Mash and Cu were huddled together with Kratos in a loose triangle, Kratos and Mash crouched behind their shields, expecting an attack at any moment.

"Can we destroy the Grail? Deprive her of her source of power, then?"

Cu shook his head minutely. "We'd need something on the level of a Noble Phantasm to do the trick, and the girl's is purely defensive. Mine might be able to do it, but I need time to build it up, and that's time she won't give us. And as nasty as the two weapons you're carrying are, I don't think they're quite enough." He grimaced. "And it's just me, but I don't think letting that mixture that's cooking in it out to play would improve our situation in the slightest. I've met Fomorians that smelled nicer than that brew."

"The hard way, then."

Saber sparked into existence above them, blade screaming down for their heads, only to be caught by the combined shields of Mash and Kratos. Together, they heaved, tossing the king higher into the air. Like a flash, Cu was in the air beside her, staff striking out again and again.

"THROW!" bellowed Cu, as he and Saber exchanged blows, seemingly immune to the pull of gravity. "This is our chance! She can't flash away without her feet on the ground! You won't hit me through my Protection from Arrows!"

Kratos planted his axe in the ground, Draupnir solidifying in his hand. "If an opening presents itself, take it – but balance it against the possibility of depriving yourself of both weapon and defense." Mash nodded, as Kratos sent a hail of spears at the two battling figures.

Cu was as good as his word. The man twisted his body, weaving around any errant spears that came near him, even planting his foot on one and using it to gain additional height in the air, never slowing his offense against Saber. It was an effortless, incredible display of agility.

Saber did not fare as well.

She moved well, having been holding her own in the weightless fight with Cu so far, but the incoming barrage broke her rhythm, and broke it badly. She dodged, almost copying Cu in her mannerisms, deflecting a spear or two by letting them glance off the places where her armor was thickest – but she wasn't armored head to toe.

A quick movement of her head spared her life, but a spear cut a line into her forehead as it sailed by. Another managed to find a chink and dug into her left arm. Worse for her, the blood now fouling her vision, and the damage to her arm presented the opening Kratos had spoken of, and Mash's massive shield flew in, colliding with Saber hard, sending her into an uncontrolled tumble.

Cu, aping her attack from early, swung down hard with his staff, catching the woman across the head and blasting her down to the cave floor, her body skidding across the ground before impacting the wall, leaving a crater. A second later, Cu landed by his allies.

"Keep your guards up – that won't be enough to kill her. If we're lucky, we hurt her with that little exchange."

Mash peered at the cloud of dust where Saber had hit the cave wall, having retrieved her shield. "And if we're unlucky?"

Black mana poured from the cloud, blasting it away, and revealing Saber, her sword now wreathed in an aura of blazing power.

Cu groaned. "If we're unlucky, we've just made her mad. I HATE being right."

Saber strode out of the smoke, no sign of the damage she had taken showing in her movements, her face a crimson mask. As she moved, she clapped her hands together, her sword held loosely in her grasp. "Congratulations, you all pass." She snapped her sword up, blade pointed at the ceiling, the wave of energy wreathing her blade almost scraping the stalactites that covered it. "Now die." The blackened Saber's mana surged, filling the chamber with her sickening power. "EXCALIBUR…."

"Oh HELL! That's her Noble Phantasm! Mash, BLOCK!"

The violet-haired girl was in front of Kratos, her shield planted into the ground, that web of light beginning to branch outward from it. "NOBLE PHANTASM DEPLOY! LORD….."

Kratos darted his head around the chamber, trying to locate where they had entered. He couldn't – no time, no visibility. He could only hope that their absent comrades would survive this – assuming they themselves survived this.

"CHALDEAS!"

The web solidified into a wall of brilliant light.

"MORGAN!"

Power to end the world crashed into the wall of light. Hungry, evil energy licked at the barrier, seeking for a weakness, seeking to devour it, to tear it down piece by piece, and then to fall upon the three souls huddled behind it, and reduce their existences into nothing. On and on it went, the howling of death itself at their gates.

The wall stood, pure, pristine, inviolate. Its owner never faltered, and so, neither did it.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the attack ebbed, and faltered. Only once the last of the putrid energy had receded, did Mash's Noble Phantasm finally vanish.

Kratos realized that at some point, he had placed his hand on Mash's shoulder as she had stood against Saber's attack, without even realizing it. Awkwardly, he withdrew it, hoping the girl had been too focused on maintaining her shield to notice.

As the dust cleared, Saber was revealed, her sword still thrumming with mana, though weaker than before. "Defiance," she stated, almost sounding bored. "Or treachery. I became accustomed to it from my knights – to see it continue hundreds of years later."

"If you can pin her for a second, I might be able to end this," whispered Cu, his voice barely audible.

"Still, how many times can you block my Noble…..," Saber's blade flew up, swatting aside the Leviathan Axe as it flew through the air, a roaring Spartan following it close behind, Mash hot on his heels.

"INSOLENCE!" Dwarf-forged steel met Fae blade wreathed in toxic mana, and neither gave an inch. "You interrupt a king!"

"You are not my king, nor any king I would bow to!" snarled Kratos. Energy sparked around Saber, signaling another Mana Burst, and Kratos shifted his balance, ceasing to push in the lock he and Saber were tied in, and she overbalanced, suddenly too strong for a deadlock that no longer existed.

The opening was there, and Kratos swung, both hands on his axe, and finally, for the first time in this fight, connected cleanly.

The Leviathan Axe dug into the armor around Saber's torso, crumpling it from the force of the blow, and after a moment's resistance, Kratos felt his axe dig into flesh.

Saber screeched in pain, and swung a clumsy, off-balance counter, her sword being used more as a club than a blade. Empowered by her Mana Burst, it was still fast enough to catch Kratos in the ribs before he could free his axe and dodge. For the second time this fight, he was blasted across the room and into one of the cavern walls.

Once upon a time, Kratos had left Greece, fleeing the dead land that he had killed. After innumerable years, he had found a place to settle – to call home, and for decades – centuries even, he had lived a life of peace (aside from the fight he'd had with his future wife upon meeting her). Then, on the day of his wife's pyre, a skinny, tattooed, bearded man had shown up on his doorstep, and demanded answers that Kratos didn't have. When Kratos had demanded he leave, threats had escalated to violence, until Kratos' patience had been exhausted, and he had struck back. He had been ready to throw the annoying little man off his property when, an exhausted 'Finally' still echoing, the little man had hit Kratos harder than he had ever been hit before.

Three years later, that man's brother, also bearded, also tattooed, but not slight, not slight in the least, had shown up on Kratos' doorstep, and after negotiations had broken down, he had effortlessly shattered the record that Baldur had set. Worse yet, he had been holding back, wanting to see the god-killer buried within Kratos. It wasn't until Ragnarök itself that Kratos had seen Thor's true, terrifying power.

If Saber hadn't just hit him nearly that hard, it wasn't for lack of trying on her part.

Kratos' side was screaming as he picked himself out of the ruins of the cavern wall. It was only due to the impromptu nature of Saber's attack that he had mostly caught the flat of the blade, rather than the edge. That meant his ribs were broken, rather than carved straight out of his body, and his flesh was seared from the caress of Saber's mana, rather than being awash in his own blood.

The pain was irrelevant. He had fought hurt before. He would fight hurt again.

Across the room, Mash was fighting a desperate losing effort against Saber. Even hurt, Saber was many times the warrior that Mash was, the pale woman moved with the experience of lifetimes, while Mash was a raw novice. Her desperation, and unorthodox weapon was keeping her alive, but it was only a matter of time.

Kratos returned to the fight in the nick of time. Alone, Saber would have eventually overcome Mash – odds the woman would happily have taken, given any chance to kill one of their small band. Facing two on one, she re-evaluated. Red lighting again outlined her form.

"Not this time, you pale bitch…."

Roots erupted from the ground, twining around Saber's legs, holding her in place. She snarled, and moved to slice through them, but Kratos was suddenly in her face, knocking her blade aside. She twisted her blade, and knocked his axe from his hands, then bellowed in rage as she realized he had sacrificed his axe to break her two-handed grip on her sword, and had seized her right arm in his grasp.

"Mash! Her other arm!"

Mash didn't even bother trying to pit the strength of her arms against the might of Saber's. The woman was close enough to a wall, Mash charged in, using her massive shield to crush Saber's arm against the cavern wall, trapping it there.

Fingers of agony were racing up and down Kratos' side as he fought against the strength of Saber. She was bathed in red, as she was firing her Mana Burst again and again as she attempted to free herself. "CASTER! We cannot hold her long!" Even with only a single arm, Saber was near to overpowering him – his wound was beginning to take its toll on him. Mash was faring better, but only because Saber was focusing her true efforts on freeing the arm that held her sword. If he failed to hold her, Mash would soon follow.

"Giant, transform into a cage of flames!"

The wooden hand that Caster had called forth in the fight with Heracles rose from the ground, but this time, it was not just the hand. A massive, towering form of wood and fire began to rise up to a massive height, the three of them cradled in its paw. Kratos and Mash released their hold on Saber and quickly dove from the hand before it got too far off the ground.

Saber hacked away at the roots holding her legs, but as fast as she cleaved through the wood, new shoots grew to replace the ones cut away, roots growing from the wooden giant's hand at an increasingly frenetic pace. The burning effigy held the small woman up to its chest, where a cage like door sat open, beyond which lay the raging inferno within the being's chest.

For a moment, the giant was still, almost as if it was considering the wildly flailing woman it held in its grasp. Then it tossed her into its chest, and slammed the door.

"WICKER MAN!"

The fires that had been running through the wooden giant surged to an incredible level, heat and light rolling off its form to an almost blinding degree.

And yet, it was not enough.

Saber's blade stabbed through the chest of Cu's wooden giant, sawing back and forth frantically, breaking down the door that kept her caged within. Incredibly, she managed to survive the hellscape within long enough to carve through the door, and leapt free from the fiery prison she had been trapped in. With a shout of triumph, she sprang forth, skin cracked and blackened from the fire, but still alive.

Her momentum was brought to an abrupt halt, as a massive hand seized her head, and dragged her out of the air.

Kratos. Kratos had used Mash's shield as a springboard, had vaulted into the air, had snatched her from the air, and was even now landing on one of the giant's hands. Saber flailed wildly, trying to find some purchase, to escape the Spartan's grasp, but her limitless strength and endurance was overtaxed. A moment to catch her breath, a foothold to speed away, neither were things she would be allowed.

Still holding her aloft by her head, Kratos caught one of Saber's frantically kicking legs and brought her down savagely across his knee. Something cracked – whether it was her armor, or her back, none could tell. But there was no fight left in her body when Kratos tossed her limp form back into the conflagration, the ruined door mending itself behind her.

Then the giant, having stoked its fires as high as it could, exploded.


When sight came back to their eyes, the first thing they noticed was the blackened crater that had been burnt into the cavern floor.

The second thing they noticed was Saber at the dead center of that crater, still alive.

"All that…..and she yet lives?"

Cu shook his head. "No, look at her." Saber went to stand, and failed, barely able to manage kneeling by leaning on her sword. Her armor was ruined, melted slag where it wasn't simply gone. Even her formidable sword no longer glowed with the dark miasma of power that it once had. "Her Spirit Origin's in tatters. She's got a minute or two at best before she's heading back to the Throne. We did it!"

"Indeed. You have slain your dragon." Despite being moments from what would constitute death to a Servant, Saber's voice had lost none of its authority. "Bring me your leader, Chaldea, the girl who you hid down the cavern. I would have words with her before I depart. And be quick about it."

"I'll go," said Cu, before Kratos could raise objections about possible treachery. "We can keep the girl out of her range easy enough – and something's telling me we're going to want to hear this." Then the Servant was off like a shot. A few tense moments later, and he returned, Fujimaru in his arms, and the Director draped across his back.

She quickly dropped from the man's back, staring down at the ruined Servant on the cave floor. "Caster tells me you wanted to say something to me, Saber. Speak your piece."

For a moment, Saber simply gazed up at Olga Marie. "So young. Almost as young as I was. And look how it ruined me." She laughed, bitterly. "And yet, you won. With a half-dead Master, a jumbled mess of a Servant barely worth the name, a lap dog.."

"HEY!"

"…….and our mysterious visitor, you still prevailed." She shook her head. "You have surpassed all my expectations for you." Her head shot up, her eyes blazing. "Do NOT grow complacent. This is just the first step in your Grand Order……"

The blood drained from Olga Marie's face. "Grand…….Order……how do you know about that!?"

Saber smiled, almost wistfully. Her mouth moved, but she had no more strength for words. Her body faded into the dark of the cave, breaking apart into fragments of light, and then, she was gone.

Chapter 7: Fuyuki 7

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 7​

It was quiet in the wake of Saber's disappearance. Olga Marie was still chewing her bottom lip, Saber's words having severely unsettled the woman. Mash was watching the Director, her expression confused. Cu's brow was furrowed – the Caster was clearly thinking very hard about something.

Kratos wasn't sure what he was feeling. He had accomplished the goal the Director had set for him, had defeated Saber, the cause of this distortion in history………so now what was next? Was he to remain here, while they returned to the future to secure the aid of this Wizard Marshall to return him to his world, or was he to journey with them? Questions that hadn't occurred to him at the time were now pressing on Kratos' mind.

The sharp smack of flesh on flesh broke the Spartan from his ruminations, as Olga Marie smacked her palms against her face.

"Questions for later, we focus on the now." She glanced over to the crude dais where the Holy Grail rested. "Caster, I assume that's the Holy Grail that started this whole mess?"

The Irish Servant nodded. "The one and only. Looks like whatever was fouling it checked out when we sent Saber back to the Throne – she was probably the linchpin that let whatever it was get its filthy little fingers into the Grail." He grimaced. "After the hell it put me through, got to say, I'm a little sad we didn't get to tear a few strips out of it too."

Olga shook her head. "Let's not buy more trouble when we're within sight of the finish line. Mash, secure the Grail in your shield, and I'll contact Roman about Rayshifting us back before the Singularity closes."

"Actually, you won't be needing that."

Kratos whirled. Standing above them, on the raised section of the cavern where they had, mere minutes ago, stood as they had beheld Saber, was a man, dressed simply but finely in some sort of green coat, a similarly green hat perched on his head. His expression was one of fond amusement, though his eyes were closed – was the man blind? As Kratos watched, the golden cup rose from the altar, and shot through the air to land in his outstretched hand.

"Lev……."

The Director's voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. Kratos took her eyes off the newcomer for a second to glance her way, and saw the woman was near tears. Whomever this man was, he was clearly of significance to her.

"Lev……how are you here? How are you alive? You were right there when the explosions went off? How….."

The man shook his head, tutting softly. "Oh, dear Olga. You ask these questions, failing to realize everything you ask about myself can also be asked about yourself. Who was standing right beside me, after all?"

She let out a sigh of relief, an invisible weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. "Oh Lev…….I thought we had lost you……..you can't know the HELL we've been through in this place…..but we did it! We stopped Saber. We saved the world!"

The man chuckled at the Director's almost worshipful tone. "Yes, that you did, dear Olga. Somehow you fought your way through fire, death, and Servants, and managed to take out Saber herself. Truly, you surpassed every expectation I had for you." He smiled, almost paternally at the girl, who was failing to hold back tears at the praise from a man who she clearly revered. "Now, there's just one thing left for you to all do, and then we can wrap this whole mess up."

Lev rolled his head back, sighing. "All that's left is for all of you to die." His eyes snapped open, revealing two pupils of hellish red, inhumanity writhing within them.

The Director gagged, choking, as some invisible force seized her by the throat and lifted her into the air. Like the Grail before her, she shot through the air, coming to rest in front of Lev.

Kratos' axe was in his hand, halfway into a throwing motion when the man's free hand shot up, pointing at the Director, energy gathering in his palm. "Now, now, my large friend – make so much as a twitch forward and dear sweet little Olga here will be so much ash on the wind. You, the failed experiment, and the Servant will hold RIGHT THERE while I have a nice little chat with our Director here." He sneered down at them. "Am I understood?"

Kratos snarled, but lowered his axe. Cu similarly lowered his staff, eyes narrowed, body tense. Mash…….the blood had drained from her face. Clearly this person was known to her as well, and this betrayal had been unexpected.

But none were taking it like the Director was. Suspended in the air, she was struggling viciously, futilely, tears running down her face. The device on her wrist activated, and an angry voice cut through the air. "LEV LAINUR, what in the HELL do you think you are doing?"

"Oh, Romani. Why must you be the eternal thorn in my side? A perfectly planned treachery, a masterstroke meant to deprive Chaldea of all its best talent and leave only the drudges to pick up the pieces, and you just HAVE to decide to pick today, of all days, to slack off." He shook his head. "Minds greater than the collective whole of Humanity spent years planning this down to the finest detail, only to have one man's laziness derail the whole thing."

"You? YOU WERE THE TRAITOR?"

Lev laughed, a deep, amused laugh. "Oh, Romani, for me to have been a traitor, I would have had to have loyalty to your silly little organization in the first place. I didn't, I never did. From day one, we've been maneuvering towards today, watching as you scrambled about, so desperate to 'save humanity', knowing all along that we'd cut you off at the knees before you could even start."

Lev returned his gaze to the group below him. "And yet, the best laid plans of mice and men…..you play hooky, and managed to dodge the explosion, leaving Chaldea with something resembling leadership. Then, somehow a joke of a Mage manages to avoid getting blown up, and moreover, manages to turn Chaldea's failed experiment into a success, reversing a decade plus of wasted time, money, and effort in a single day." He snickered. "And yet, she couldn't find the wits to hide behind that ludicrously large shield of yours when an Assassin was trying to kill her. I thought that was it, then. Despite circumstances beyond our control, the end result was going to be the same – just a bit delayed. All the Masters dead, the Director dead, and Humanity doomed."

His gaze fell upon Kratos, and the man's face twisted in an expression of pure hate. "And then you had to show up, our mysterious visitor from afar."

Kratos met the man's gaze, unflinching. For his part, Lev snarled, baring teeth far too sharp to be human. "You saved our little Director from Assassin. You made an alliance with Caster. You slew Berserker, then Archer, then, impossibly, Saber. Everything was unravelling. So, I had to get involved to put the plan back on track."

"You're all going to die here. Starting with…." He stopped, almost puzzled, staring at the Director as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then he began laughing, crazed, insane laughter. "Oh, it seems you're a bit premature, little Olga. You've already gotten ahead of my schedule."

Olga, who had been desperately tearing at the invisible hand holding her by the throat, froze. Whatever force was restraining her relaxed, allowing her to gulp in a gasp of air. "What…….what the hell are you talking about Lev?"

The man grinned sardonically. "You, my dear joke of a Director, are already dead. You were dying when the emergency Rayshift started……..all that's left of you is the miserable tatters of your soul, converted to Spiritron Particles. Even if I WAS to let you return to Chaldea, there's nothing left for you there. You'd just fade away, painlessly." He shook his head. "But we can't have that. A decade plus of having to deal with your neurotic fits, having to soothe your ego, to play bodyguard to a little slip of a girl, just so no one actually competent would take over. No, for that indignity, you don't GET a clean death, dear Olga."

"No……no…….please……..I can't be dead……"

"You are, and nothing you or I can do can change that. But thankfully for me, there are fates WORSE than Death. Why don't I show you, and our audience below, one of them." A gesture, and space tore, granting them a vision of a wrecked room, dominated by a large, burning sphere in the center. "You've been talking endlessly about making it back to Chaldea, all of you. Well, I'll help you with that……you can burn forever in the heart of Chaldea, every atom of you being incinerated one by one over an eternity. Far more generous than any of you filth deserve, but I'm in a giving mood. After all, today is our day of triumph."

Lev swept his arm out, and Olga began to float over toward the rip in space, her legs kicking frantically, seeking purchase that she would not find, trying anything, everything to halt the fate that her betrayer had in store for her. "No….no….NO! Please Lev, stop this! I just wanted to be useful………to have someone praise me…..PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!"

Beneath his skin, something simmered in Kratos.

Truth be told, he had disliked the Director initially. Abrasive, a bit rude, keeping up a front of strength that was merely that, a front – she was brittle steel, so said his initial estimations of the girl. But as the hours passed, so she continued to surprise him.

She had sworn to get him home, even if it required putting herself, and her family into a lifetime of debt to people who Caster described as 'real pieces of work'. She had proposed a plan to close with Archer that had put her in the most danger, should she fall behind. She'd not asked for special protections in that desperate run up the stairs, had identified herself as the weak link, and demanded to be treated as such, rather than have the plan fail. Slowly, little by little, she had gained a small measure of the Spartan's respect.

And now, she dangled from the fingers of some being that was toying with her, before it snuffed her life out completely.

Kratos had little memory of the raid that had taken the lives of his wife and daughter. The unthinking rage that Ares had bestowed upon him had left little room for rational thought in his slave. But in his nightmares, Kratos heard Calliope, heard her begging her father, to recognize her, to stop, to come back to them. To spare her life.

Begging like the Director was begging now.

THIS. WOULD. NOT. STAND.

Red washed over Kratos' form, as the primal roar that exploded from his lungs filled the cavern. Pain, exhaustion, doubts – all of them were washed away in the screaming eruption of Spartan Rage.

Lev's eyes widened, and the look of sadistic glee was wiped from his face. "What in…"

By the time the words were out of his mouth, Kratos had already crossed the distance separating them, and his fist had cracked into Lev's jaw.

Lev gagged as the impact snapped his head back, but by the time his mind had registered the pain, a left hook was already buried into his ribs. While he was still processing that, yes, he had been hit in the face, a straight right rammed into his breastbone and sent his body flying back into the wall. He bounced back from the impact, only to run right into an extended foot that crushed him into the wall, the brute force of the impact finally snapping him back to the present, as alarms began screaming in his mind. Distantly, he heard the clatter as the Holy Grail dropped from fingers rendered nerveless from the pain of the sudden attack, pain he was only just beginning to register.

A short distance away, the magics that had been holding Olga Marie aloft shattered, Lev unable to maintain them while under the assault of an angry god. She fell but a millimeter before Cu Chulainn caught her, gently cradling her form as he snatched her from the air. The rift in the air closed too, as Lev desperately marshalled his powers to defend himself.

Frantically, he slid along the wall, narrowly avoiding a double-handed strike that would have reduced his head to so much fine mist – instead, the wall where he had been driven into became powder. Pushing himself off the wall, desperate to put space between him and the monster that had suddenly appeared in this man, Lev extended a hand and fired tight, powerful beams of energy from each finger – each one calculated to precision accuracy, all five hit home on the charging Spartan, and detonated.

Kratos stormed through the barrage as if he hadn't felt it.

Lev howled in rage, and fear, as a vicelike grip seized his outstretched hand and SQUEEZED, his wrist deforming under the pressure. Then he was yanked forward into a brutal strike that reduced his nose, and the better part of his face to so much ruin. Two opposing forces warred for a split second, the force that was pulling him forward, keeping him trapped as control of his wrist was maintained, and the force of the blow that was grinding against his face. Two warring forces, and something had to give.

The thing to give was the flesh and bone of Lev's right arm, as it was ripped clean from his shoulder, as his body was sent flying backward from the blow, bouncing off the ground and walls, splashes of blood marking where he had impacted.

Disdainfully, Kratos tossed the severed arm aside. The man's flesh felt….off. Too rubbery, too slick. The impacts felt wrong, as well – where he should have felt bone crushing under his fists, he only felt yielding flesh, like a training dummy filled with sand.

No mere human should still be alive after the blows Kratos had delivered. Mages, he had been told, could reinforce their bodies to a degree, but far below the level of a Servant – whatever this Lev was, he wasn't human – not that Kratos had expected anything less after seeing the man's eyes and teeth.

Across the room, Lev staggered to his feet, blood gushing from the stump of his arm, his nose pulverized. When he spoke, it was through a mouthful of blood and shattered teeth. "What in the Morningstar's name ARE you?"

Spartan Rage, unlike the unthinking madness that had been Ares's 'gift' to his champion, did not rob Kratos of the ability to think, or reason. He could have replied, had he desired.

He just saw no point in wasting words on a dead man.

With a roar of effort, Kratos was beside his enemy, a fist screaming into his gut. Kratos put enough force into the blow to split Lev in two, but impossibly, the man remained intact, though he was lifted into the air from the sheer impact. Foot planted, Kratos spun on the spot, blasting Lev's flailing form with a savage backhand, then took to the air, driving both feet into the spinning form of the traitor. Lev rocketed to the depression's floor, Kratos descending behind him like a falling star.

"DANGER…….Damage Threshold Reaching Critical Levels….Anomaly Represents Imminent Threat……Must Warn The Union……..Warn The Union……Extraction Protocols Initiated….."

As his body spun helplessly through the air, a second voice began to speak with Lev's mouth. A portal of fire burnt itself into existence in Lev's plummeting path, poised to catch his body before it hit the ground.

"Oh no you DON'T!" Caster's staff shot through the air, a spear of pure light aimed directly at Lev's heart. Weakly, the broken man lifted his remaining arm and gestured, and the spear bounced off a shimmering barrier, spinning off-course.

Then, a moment later, his body passed through the portal, which sealed itself behind him.

Kratos' fist impacted the ground a second later, shattering the floor beneath him.

Growling, Kratos grasped at the reigns of the power still screaming at him to rip, to tear, to KILL, and restrained it, the blood-haze clouding his vision receding.

Lev had escaped – and while it grated at him, he had been prevented from claiming the Grail, and the Director was safe….but if Lev's words were true, Kratos had only delivered her from a horrible death, to a painless one.

A fact that did not seem to be lost on the woman herself, who was sobbing uncontrollably, still clinging to Caster, as Kratos rejoined the group. "All this time…….I was dead the whole time……..the last bad joke in a life that was nothing but….." She wailed, a heartbreaking sound.

Kratos was at a loss for words in the face of such grief. He had responded to Freya's grief over her son by walking away – the only course of action that had been available to them at the time. His son's grief at the passing of her mother……..he could admit that he had not handled that the best. With no idea what to say in the face of another's impending death, he chose to sidestep it. "The Grail?"

Cu looked up from where he was gently stroking the Director's back, vainly trying to soothe her. "Grabbed it the second it hit the ground, then caught the Director right after. Girl's already secured it in her shield. Traitorous bastard might have gotten away, but at least he didn't get to take the Grail with him."

Silent tears were failing down Mash's face. "Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked, her voice breaking. "We can't let the Director……" She couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say the word.

Olga took a shuddering breath, more a sob than anything, and seemed to gain a measure of control over herself. "No, Mash. There's nothing more to be done." Her face was still buried in Cu's shoulder, her voice muffled, but audible. "There's no time left…..now that you've retrieved the Grail, this Singularity should be destabilizing……..right, Doctor?"

There was a pause. When he spoke, Romani's voice was thick. "…..she's correct, we've detected that the Singularity's starting to break down, Proper Human History is reasserting itself. We've already begun the process to Rayshift you back." His mouth moved, struggling to form words, before he found his voice again. "Director….no, Olga. Damn Lev and everything he said to you. It's been an honor to serve under you."

She pulled her face from Cu's shoulder, to look Romani in the eye one last time. "Thank you, Doctor. Even if you might just be saying it to say it, the words…..they help make this just a little less terrifying." She turned her gaze to Mash. "So, you see, Mash, there's just no time. Any ritual would take time we don't have……..even if we had that Aozaki woman who earned herself a Sealing Designation – she'd need a vessel to hold….me……until she could put me into one of her puppets. And I don't recall hearing that you learned anything of the Soul in your training, Caster."

"Soul magics?" Cu shook his head. "If my Teacher knew them – and given the number of ghosts that always swirled around her, I wouldn't be shocked if she did – she never taught me. But she was pretty blunt about me having no real head for the more advanced stuff." He frowned, considering. "As a Caster, I could probably fake it well enough if you gave me a how-to manual, but……."

Olga's smile was a thing of broken glass. "So that's it then. No time, no receptacle, and no ritual." She choked back another sob. "My time's up……."

Standing there, a part of the group, yet apart from them, Kratos' mind was racing. The pouch on his waist, or, more specifically, a certain item within it suddenly felt as though it had suddenly gained the weight of the sky Atlas himself held up. Barely aware of his movements, he reached into that pouch and withdrew the item, unravelling it from the cloth that held it, presenting it to the group. The item that his son had given him before he had departed, a promise that he would return one day to reclaim it.

A small little marble, engraved with a single word – a name - in the Runes of Midgard.

'Laufey'.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him, not comprehending. "This……can hold a soul."

Cu's eyes were as wide as plates. "Fucking HELLS……that little trinket is swimming in Jotnar magics…….it could work! Does that mean you….."

"No." Kratos felt his stomach twist as the sudden hope on Olga's face shattered. "My….son, he knew how to store a soul in these objects…….I saw him perform the spell, once……..but it is not something I am capable of."

Around them, the cavern trembled.

"Wait…….you saw him do this?" For a brief moment, it was as if an expression not his own flashed over the face of Cu Chulainn, and again, there was that nagging sense of familiarity. Ignorant of all this, the Servant placed his hand on Kratos' shoulder. "Kratos, do you trust me?"

Wordlessly, the man nodded. Cu grinned. "Then we might have a shot at pulling this off. Roman? How much time can you give us?"

"You've got maybe a couple of minutes before we HAVE to pull you out. Whatever you're going to do, do it FAST!"

"Cutting it fine, huh? Not like that's anything new." He grimaced. "Ok……..what I'm going to need you to do is remember……think back to when you saw your son put a soul into one of those marbles. We skipped this when we were going over Master-Servant relations, but when a Servant is contracted to a Master, sometimes, they get glimpses of each other's past, usually as dreams. It'll be crude, but maybe, just maybe I can use your memories as that manual I was talking about……if you'll trust me in your head, that is."

Let someone in his head……no, Kratos didn't like it, not one bit. But to save the Director? "Yes."

The trembling of the cavern around them was growing more powerful, more violent.

"Great! Then let's not waste any more time. Just close your eyes, and think back as hard as you can to that day. I'll do the rest."

A low growl in his throat, Kratos swallowed his misgivings, and closed his eyes, thinking back to that day. Ragnarök.

An old man, a King among gods, beaten and bloody on the ground. Ranting, raving, still unable to accept that he had lost everything – the fight itself, his chance for answers, his home, his family……..everything.

His son, so shocked from all the deaths of Ragnarök, still desperate to find a way, another way other than killing Odin, begging him to stop, to be better. And his too-compassionate son's realization that Odin would never stop, would HAVE to be stopped by them.

And the words that followed that realization, and his son's last words to the All-Father.

"Sofna."

Kratos could feel the brush of another mind against his…..or was it two? Watching as his son held one of the Jotnar marbles up, and began to bind Odin's soul to it. From what felt like a great distance, he heard another voice repeating the words.

"Sofna."

….upp frá þessu, sofna heðan, sofna, sofna, sofna…."

Two voices speaking as one, repeating his son's words. In his mind's eye, he watched as the Lord of the Hanged's soul flowed from his body into the orb. Distantly, he felt the same power around his body, as Caster gently guided Olga Marie's soul to the same destination.

Kratos opened his eyes.

The marble in his hand glowed, its surface bright with lines of magic.

Olga Marie was gone.

"Did……did it work?" asked Mash.

"I think so……" There was something in Cu's voice, a note of uncertainty – of caution – the man almost seemed rattled. Then it was gone, and a self-satisfied grin near split his face in two. "You'll have to have someone check my work, but I'm pretty damn sure I pulled it off!" The Servant let out a pleased whoop of joy.

"Great! Beginning Rayshift NOW!"

There was a yank, as if something massively powerful had seized Kratos about the waist, and then he was moving, falling, the cavern gone, and he was flying through an infinite tunnel of swirling lights.


When Kratos came back to himself, he was once again in a different place.

The room he found himself in was massive. Cold metal surrounded him, the floors, the walls, the ceiling all made of it, and all of it showing recent damage from a fire. Rubble still littered the floor from whatever catastrophe had occurred – if this was Chaldea, likely the explosion the Director had spoken of.

Cu Chulainn and Mash were huddled with him, both of them seemingly out of breath. From a raised platform, a number of unfamiliar people stared down at them – with one familiar face, even if this was the first time Kratos was seeing him in proper color, rather than shaded in tints of blue.

"They're back!" A cheer went up from the assembled group above them, some tearfully embracing, while others were exchanging palm slaps, or bashing their fists together.

As for Doctor Romani himself, the man looked haggard enough to have run a marathon, though his relief in seeing the three of them huddled on the floor like this had made the exhaustion fall from his face. "Just let me verify that nothing went wrong in the translation back to the present…."

The man's brow furrowed, then a look of sheer disbelief overtook his face. "That…….that's impossible…….I'm reading…….a Divine Spirit?"

Notes:

AUTHOR NOTES:
This one's short, but Chapter 6 was too long to bolt it on.

Chapter 8: Post-Fuyuki 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 8​

It was amazing how much sheer pandemonium a single word could unleash.

"Divine". The survivors of Chaldea heard that word and went crazy. Panic, thankfully, was restrained where it was showing its ugly head. This small handful of people who had been lucky enough to survive the explosion had been through the wringer in the past few days – and were likely sleep-deprived from double and triple-shifts enough that they were more than a little bit numb at this point. That this bombshell had dropped right when they thought their work was, for the moment, done, probably helped a bit. The panic response was, to use a modern term – bluescreening.

Poor Roman was TRYING to restore order, bless his heart, but he'd never been taken the most seriously by, well, anyone in Chaldea. Even the tale of how he had put the fear of God into Beryl after the stunt the man had pulled with Mash was believed to be embellished in the telling.

(It wasn't. If anything, the tales didn't do it justice, she knew, she'd sat in on that meeting to make it very clear that Roman wasn't the only 'parent' Mash had, and who would take strips of flesh out of Beryl if he EVER pulled something like that again.)

But most saw Roman as the friendly doctor – something of a slacker, addicted to his virtual idol, but not someone to take too seriously. Which meant that Da Vinci had to break out one of her noisier inventions to get everyone to quiet down for a second.

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNGGGGGGGG!

"CLEAR THE ROOM, PEOPLE! If you aren't a Servant, the Acting Director, or nearly seven feet tall and sculpted like a statue one of my Renaissance counterparts would have created, OUT OF THE ROOM!" There. Hopefully enough people had stopped covering their ears by the time she started yelling. And if not, well, she'd float them out of the room.

"Jay, don't EVEN START! If you're still in this room by the time I raise my head, I'm giving you to Da Vinci for two months, with a blank check to do whatever she wants with you. Guinea Pig, Crash Test Dummy – she could tell me she used you for spare parts and I'd still sign off on it." The tall New Zealander sheepishly lowered his hand. Roman groaned, his hands buried in his head, which was currently lying on his desk. "In fact, I'm not even risking it. You and two of your gym buddies go pick up Fujimaru, I'll escort the lot of you to the infirmary. Anyone else who isn't out of the room by the time I stand up gets a month with Da Vinci, same terms I just promised Jay."

Really, it was almost a stampede how quickly they cleared out. She'd be offended, if she hadn't gone to pains to play up the 'mad' in her scientist persona. It kept people on their toes.

Roman gave her a nod of thanks as he passed her by, then paused. "Can I trust you to take care of this, Da Vinci? The Acting Director should be the one to handle things like this, but this Acting Director is also the only real doctor we have, and……."

She patted him on his shoulder. "You go do what you do best, Roman. Save the girl……any lives you can save today are a net win for us. Let your consigliere handle this."

The look he gave her was dryer than the Sahara. "You're just going to keep calling yourself that until I give in and accept it, aren't you?" He sighed, long having grown numb to her antics. "I miss the days when whatever headaches you were causing for me were my biggest concern. Just don't make any agreements that I wouldn't sign off on, and let there be a Chaldea for me to come back to." With a weary wave, he joined the trio of gymbros as they carefully stretchered Fujimaru up the stairs. Da Vinci gave them a wide berth as they hurried the girl out of the room, before slowly descending the stairs to the trio of people who had survived a Singularity.

Mash, at least, was happy to see her, but that was to be expected – she'd had at least a hand in raising the girl, after most of the rest of the scientists had declared her a failure. Cu Chulainn was checking her out – and she couldn't blame him, she WAS the epitome of beauty, after all. At least that was familiar for the Irish Servant – but seeing him as a Caster was……unexpected, but would be useful in the long run. Another Caster class was just the thing to help get Chaldea back on its feet – Territory Creation and Item Creation were ideally suited for repairs, and Chaldea needed repairs and reinforcement in the worst possible way.

And then there was the god in the room.

Tall, and showing that there was apparently some truth in the saying 'built like a Greek God' – (eat your hearts out, Donatello and Michelangelo, Da Vinci has an actual Greek God to sculpt!), and clearly so far out of his element he'd need a telescope to see it. The glower that he was directing at her was proof enough of that. The patience he'd shown in the Singularity was clearly running out – and that hadn't seemed like it had been the most abundant of resources to start with.

Best to be as direct as possible.

She gave a delicate, formal curtsey, her skirt flaring up enough so that she didn't have to bend over too far to take it in hand. "Best we see to the formalities, first. Kratos, was it?" A grunt of assent. "My name is Leonardo Da Vinci, Caster Class Servant of Chaldea. I have a laundry list of titles and responsibilities, but for our purposes, the only one that concerns us is that I'm essentially Assistant Director in extremis, at least until things calm down and we can see if anyone else is more suited for the position." The eyes watching her were wary, but the axe was still on his shoulders. So far, so good. "As such, I've been empowered to treat with you on behalf of the organization. I would like to offer you the benefits of our hospitality, for as long as you choose to remain under our roof."

Delicately, she extended her hand, and waited.

She wasn't waiting long. A massive hand, easily dwarfing hers, wrapped itself around her wrist, and squeezed – gentler than she had expected, honestly, but she supposed he might be more conscious of 'pretty little girl' over 'Servant', or he was just being careful. "I accept."

"Meraviglioso!" Good old Sacred Hospitality, JUST enough of the supernatural world took it very seriously, and she had thought a literal Greek God would as well, given the tales of King Lycaon and his fate for violating it. "Just one more small piece of business, Cu Chulainn, is there any reason you should be with our patient when that spell of yours breaks?"

The Irish Servant scratched his head, considering. "Shouldn't be, spell SHOULD break on its own without needing any input from me. If it doesn't, or if things go bad, I can pop over there in Spirit Form, but whatever medical mages you have will be more useful than me, unless you just need more hands."

She smiled sunnily. "Then, if you'll all follow me, we can have a seat somewhere much more well-appointed than, well, here," she gestured about herself, indicating the ruined command room. "And have ourselves a bit of a discussion." She cocked her head to the side, just a touch. "If there are no objections?"

None were forthcoming, so she set out, Mash falling into step beside her, which let her steal a couple of glances at the girl's new set of armor. She made a mental note to run a battery of tests on both Mash herself, and the new toys the girl had gotten since awakening as a Servant. While she found the Demi-Servant experiments that Lord Animusphere had conducted repulsive, she had been summoned far too late to do anything about it except pick up the pieces – and that meant 'Take Care of Mash'.

In other circumstances, she might have wanted to give them a bit more of a tour of Chaldea, but her workshop was located only a few minutes' walk from the Control Room – something she had been very insistent upon after her summoning, so they didn't have much time to take in the sights.

But her workshop took their breaths away, she could tell. Even the big one managed to drop his stoic front when he took in the breadth of it all, and she checked off 'impress an actual god' off her bucket list. Not an item on the list she'd ever expected to actually cross off, but she'd also not expected to hear that her name had been used for the leader of a team of mutant superheroes – so really, anything was possible.

The world was, and continued to be, truly, a wonderful place.

Speaking of said god, it seemed like something had caught his attention. "A forge…" he rumbled, indicating the somewhat old-fashioned forge she had installed in one of the corners of the room. "You are a smith?"

"Among other things, yes. But please, sit, sit! I don't get to play hostess as often as I'd like, always too busy. Can I get you something to drink? I can make a fantastic cup of coffee, Roman swears by it, but my tea is JUST as impeccable."

"I wouldn't say no to something stronger, if you have some to offer," said Cu, a hopeful expression on his face, slouched in his chair.

"Tea, please," said Mash, the girl seated primly in her chair, the picture of formality.

Kratos, for his part, was nearly overflowing the chair he had chosen – it would hold his weight and many times greater, but she would likely need to build a larger chair for the man to use in the future. "I do not know of the drinks you have named. What are they?"

Oh, silly Da Vinci, getting so excited to have guests that you got ahead of yourself. Not a Servant, so he didn't get that ever-useful information package from the Throne. Note to self, get started on a program to bring time-displaced Greek Gods up to speed on the 21st Century. "While the base does have a supply of spirits and other alcohol, I'm afraid they're going to be rationed for the immediate future – so I can't offer you anything of that nature today, Cu."

"Tea's fine then."

"Good, good." She turned to Kratos. "And my apologies, I should have taken your situation more into account – unless you travelled much further afield than you said, you wouldn't have ever run across either of those drinks before. Coffee is a bitter roasted drink, mainly prized for the caffeine – that's a stimulant – in it that helps fight off sleep and fatigue. A good number of the people in this base practically run off it. But somehow, I don't think that drink would be quite what you're looking for. If you would indulge me, I can make you a simple chamomile tea. It's a calming brew, and I think we'd all like calm heads for today, after so much excitement."

Kratos nodded his head in acquiescence, and Da Vinci glided over the part of her workshop where her culinary experiments were conducted. "Then, it'll be just a moment to get the water boiling, if I can impress upon your patience just a bit longer."

Thankfully, like everything in her workshop, her tea kettle was a work of art, both functional and physical, and it was singing its tune in the blink of an eye. It was only seconds later that she was filling four masterworks of cups with boiling water, letting the leaves steep, and then serving her guests like a proper Florence lady.

Larger cups may need to be an item for the future, she thought, as she watched Kratos handle her delicate creations gingerly, the cup dwarfed in his massive hands. Just another item on an ever-growing to-do list.

Tentatively, he sipped at his tea, Da Vinci watching him over the lip of her own cup. A small noise, then he took a larger sip. "The taste is……soothing." He considered the liquid in his cup. "It is unlike anything I have ever tasted."

Da Vinci gave him one of her sunniest smiles. "I'm glad you seem to like it. All three of you are welcome to call on me anytime, if you get the yearning for some more tea brewed by a genius." She took a sip of her own Earl Gray, pinkie extended just so. "And as much as I would love to make small talk with an actual Greek God, as well as Ireland's Child of Light, I believe we have business we need to discuss, so I'll just shelve the small talk for another day."

She set her cup down, and steepled her fingers before her. "Now, Kratos, you were promised things in return for your help resolving the Fuyuki singularity by Olga Marie – specifically, that Chaldea would do everything in its power to get you back to your home." She frowned. "Unfortunately, that's impossible for us right now."

Something dangerous flashed in the man's eyes, and she held up a hand (conveniently, the one wearing her clockwork gauntlet – just in case) to forestall any forthcoming outbursts. "Please, let me explain." At his short, curt nod, she lowered her hand (and letting the energies she had been subtly gathering in the gauntlet dissipate). "This isn't because we're looking to renege on the deal we made with you, but due to circumstances beyond our control. You heard the Director speak of a looming catastrophe, one that would wipe out all of humanity – she thought that calamity originated from the Singularity you all just came from, and that fixing that would stop it."

For a moment, she hemmed and hawed in a very un-Da Vinci-like fashion, struggling over the words, to describe just how monumentally bad things were. In the end, she chose directness. "We were so, so wrong. The calamity's already happened."

Enter, stage left, the moment when you could hear a pin drop. Cu was, unsurprisingly, the first to find his voice. "Bull! Your little director said that this would wipe out all of humanity – A-L-L. I've taken my share of blows to my head in my time, but I'm pretty sure those were regular old humans I saw back there."

She smiled, sadly. "It's the truth. The base, and the handful of living humans inside only survived because of the protections Olga's father put together when he was building this place. Everyone outside, billions and billions – yes Kratos, humanity's grown like a weed in the centuries since your time – was reduced to ash, incinerated in a moment."

Mash could have posed for a picture to go by the definition of 'bloodless' in the dictionary. Cu had been in the middle of a retort, and was now struck speechless, his mouth hanging open. And Kratos…..

"Then, we have lost."

Oh, that 'we'. Not 'you', but 'we'. It seems she was right, and this wasn't as terrible a longshot as it appeared. "Not quite. Things are bad – about as bleak a situation as you could ask for, but there's a chance. It's a slim one, the smallest, most infinitesimal of a chance, but there IS a way we can set things right."

She took another sip of tea, both to whet her throat – though Servants didn't really need such things – and because a dramatic pause was called for here. "Olga – and by extension, all of us, we were working from an incomplete picture. There wasn't the one Singularity, one instance in time where our enemies had changed the path of history. There were eight."

She could almost literally hear the gears in Cu's head spinning. "Do you have any idea the kind of power you'd need to pull that off? Changing one instance in history is the kind of once in a lifetime feat that gets you a direct ticket to the Throne when you die. Doing it seven more times – and not getting ripped apart by Paradox, or stopped by the Counter Force, or any of a dozen other things that SHOULD stop that kind of thing from happening…." The look he gave her was three parts disbelieving, two parts terrified, and one part excited. "Lady, what kind of enemy are you fighting?"

Da Vinci threw her hands in the air. "I wish I knew! Whoever, or WHATEVER it is, it managed to turn Lev Lainur against us, and do so without raising the slightest suspicion in anyone. They've enough power to alter history in eight separate instances across the past, do so almost simultaneously – though that's something of an odd term to be using when we're talking about time travel, but it works for our purposes – and then somehow turn all of that into some spell or ritual that wiped out humanity in one fell swoop."

For a moment, words failed her. "The scale of it all…….I'm not used to feeling small, not by anyone or anything. But this – it makes me feel tiny." She looked up from her hands, her eyes smoldering. "But for all their power, they made one mistake. They tried to take us out before we could try to stop them. And do you know what that tells me?"

They got it, she could see. Mash was just the first one to say it. "That……they're afraid we can stop them?"

Da Vinci nodded. "Got it in one, Mash. Good girl." A metal tin materialized in her hands. "Here, have a cookie."

Hesitantly, the girl reached into the tin and withdrew a cookie – chocolate chip, of course. "The boys can have one too, if they'd like." Cu wasted no time in grabbing himself a handful. Kratos was more tentative, oh, he took a cookie, but he took his time looking it over, turning it over in his hands. "It's a sweet – a baked good usually with some sort of ingredient added in – like raisins, nuts, or chocolate chips, like these. Just a little treat, or reward for the three of you, since I could see the light come on for all of you."

Kratos, as with his tea, took a small first taste of the cookie, then his eyes widened fractionally – which Da Vinci, if she was any judge of the man, took as quite the reaction. 'Introduce a Greek God to chocolate' – another bucket list item created and crossed off.

Ok, Da Vinci, enough woolgathering, there's still business to conduct, and Roman's counting on you for this. "If our foe was as all-powerful and omnipotent as they seem, the actions of a bunch of puny mages wouldn't bother them in the slightest. But it did – and that means we have a chance to stop them. Lev even let that slip when he was taunting you all, there at the end. 'The plan was unravelling' he said, so he had to intervene to set things right." She grinned, not her usual playful or whimsical smile, but a hard one. There were teeth.

She had lost friends today, and someone was going to pay, pay with interest for that.

"And if we can unravel one of their meticulously crafted plans, then by God, we can do it seven more times! And if we can do that, we can set things right, restore humanity."

"How sure are you of this?" The cookie, Da Vinci noticed, had vanished.

She shrugged. "It's a whole lot of conjecture and speculation based on what Lev said and how he reacted to you lot trying to stop him – but in this case, the simplest explanation seems to fit. They'd only defend the Singularities if restoring them could cause them some harm in some way – to the point where they sacrificed a very valuable spy to try to stop you from restoring the Fuyuki Singularity. Maybe they have others – and that's going to be a continuing worry for us all – but none could have done the damage that Lev did to us, and they burned that resource without a second thought to try to kill you all off."

Kratos nodded. "No, you are correct. The logic fits."

She took a breath. Now for the sell. "And that's where you fine people come in. I don't know what's going on with Romani and Fujimaru – I have to assume that if something had gone horribly wrong, he'd have called for me, or you, Cu. That, or he'd be rushing to put her in cryostasis like Team A and most of our other critically injured Master candidates – and he'd need me for that. So, for now, no news, as the saying goes, is good news."

Another sip of tea. "If we're going to do this, plunge headfirst into seven more Singularities, and set history back onto its proper course, fighting tooth and nail every inch – because I don't think Lev and whoever he's working for are just going to let us have our way, an honest to goodness Greek God would be quite the thumb on the scales for us."

Gods, the man had a hell of a poker face, his expression hadn't changed in the slightest at her request. Note to self, teach him poker and watch him clean out the weekly poker game. Putting a pin in that thought, she looked the deity straight in his eyes. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, hell, it's a lot to ask of anyone, much less someone for whom this isn't even their world they're fighting for. And I won't try to play the 'oh, well, it's the only way you'll get home' card to try to force you into helping us – you made a deal with our Director, and we intend to honor it. Should we manage to resolve this issue without you, you'll still get your audience with the Wizard Marshall. You upheld your side of the bargain, and we intend to uphold ours."

For a long moment, Kratos said nothing, clearly mulling over his words. When he did speak, it was not what she expected.

"I have a son."

Da Vinci blinked, taken aback for one of the few times in her current summoning. Ok, and? For a brief moment, a vision of a mini-Kratos, bearded and grumpy, trailing behind the man in some Scandinavian wilderness played across her mind's eye, before she stuffed that back into a box. For later.

"After Ragnarök, he left on a journey, one that will take him far from Midgard. Suppose that when he returns from his journey, I am there, and when he asks me of our time apart, I tell him that humanity itself was threatened, but I refused to fight, merely sat and watched as others fought to save their world." He huffed a short breath, almost a laugh, or his version of one. "I started Ragnarök to protect him, though by then, Odin's tyranny over the Realms had grown beyond tolerance, and I had reasons to oppose him beyond my son's safety."

It was subtle, but there was a hint of true venom when he spoke Odin's name. The All-Father had to have done something to make things personal between them, and it looked like Cu had also picked up on that. Mash, the sweetheart, had her heart in her eyes as Kratos told his tale.

His thumb was unconsciously rubbing over the back of his right hand, where his Command Seals rested. "What kind of a father would face their son and tell them that, when faced with an atrocity on the scale you have described, that they refused to fight?" For a moment, the briefest of milliseconds, his stoic mask cracked, and he looked just so TIRED to her. "I do not WISH to fight. After Greece……..I lived in peace for many years, until….the day of my wife's funeral."

He sighed, the soft sound carrying an entire lifetime's worth of emotions. "But I will fight, will aid you in this battle. My son, when he returns to me, will carry a journey's worth of tales that I know will speak well of him. I wish to be able to say the same for myself."

"As well……your Director. She was brave, in her own way. She was worthy of respect. I would do this for her sake, as well."

Well now, Olga, you've got an actual god, in the flesh, willing to fight for you. You must have done some real growing up in that hell you were thrown into. Da Vinci's heart felt almost full to burst, she was so proud of the girl.

"Thank you for that, Kratos. For all the bravado I've been putting on, our situation is really about as desperate as it can get. Your help is appreciated – and I'd be saying that even if you were a boring, regular human being we pulled out of Fuyuki, and not the towering slab of chiseled, divine beefsteak you are." She grinned. "Not that I'm complaining at all."

For a moment, his brow furrowed, and she wondered if she'd overstepped some bounds (given everything that had been written of the Greek Gods, she hadn't expected one to find a little harmless flirting to be off-putting), before one corner of his mouth turned up in the barest hint of an expression that might someday grow up into a smile. "You remind me of another smith I know. She too is……..friendly."

Oh, she could NOT let a setup line like that pass her by. "Oh, my dear Kratos, I am no mere smith. In my lifetime, I was an artist, a sculptor, an engineer, an architect, and so much more. The term 'Renaissance Man' was created to describe me, and me alone! And since I've gone beyond the bounds of mortality, I've branched out into even more fields than before. Computers, nanotechnology, Magecraft, robotics – I am the Uomo Universale, and the world is my playground!"

She was just about to launch into some proper maniacal laughter, when a voice cut off her speech (She WASN'T monologuing – megalomaniacs monologued, megalomaniacs had delusions of grandeur. Universal Geniuses had grandeur, thank you very much.). "Please, don't encourage her. If you wind her up like that, we'll still be here, this time tomorrow, listening to her list all the ways she's great."

Da Vinci aimed a huff at Romani, if only for show. She'd known he was coming – Da Vinci was at least generally aware of where EVERYONE in Chaldea was at all times (and the number of names that had gone dark in her mental tally was something she would deal with LATER – right now Aunt Da Vinci had appearances to keep up), and whatever ire she would have directed his way was blunted by the fact that the poor man looked like ALL the miles of bad road.

"Doctor Roman!" squeaked Mash. "Senpai? Is she?"

The man in question collapsed into a chair, then blinked owlishly at the steaming mug of coffee that appeared in front of him, almost like magic. (It was – she HAD known he was coming, after all.) He took a long sip, then wrapped his hands around the mug, savoring the warmth. "She's stable, for now. The stasis spell broke just like you said it would – thank you again for that, Caster – and we managed to get her stitched up without any complications on that front. We were giving her a blood transfusion and were about to get her on an IV when everything went to hell."

He took a deep breath, his eyes unfocused, staring right through his coffee cup. "That Assassin, whomever it was, smeared some kind of poison on his daggers, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. The second we introduced foreign blood into her system, it went haywire, attacking the transfusion blood and ripping her arteries apart – we had to halt the transfusion and exhaust some of our emergency Mystic Codes just to keep her alive."

Mash paled, perhaps remembering just how close some of those daggers had come to her in that fight with Assassin.

"So, a poison means there's an antidote, right?" asked Cu. "Either one you have, or one you can make with all this fancy gear this place has, yeah?"

Romani drained his mug, then started as he noticed another full cup already waiting for him by the time he swallowed. Much as she'd like him to cut back on the caffeine, they needed him functional for at least a bit longer, before she frog-marched him to his bed and made him sleep for at least 8 hours – she'd take him staying in his bed for the majority of tomorrow, but she didn't think that even a genius like her would be able to accomplish that miracle.

There was just too much to do, and Romani had always carried a burden far too heavy for his shoulders.

"That's the working plan. The hell of it is, the poison doesn't seem to be actively attacking her system, as soon as we got her stable, it calmed down and stopped ripping her apart. All we can do is let her heal on her own for now, while we work on a cure." He didn't sound very happy to be saying that, but then, he wouldn't be much of a doctor if he did.

"Will she wake?"

Romani turned to Kratos, almost surprised that the man was here – it showed how mentally drained he really was, only just now registering that he was sharing a table with a god. "No idea. We're in truly uncharted waters here. If you made me guess, not until we get that poison out of her system, but comas don't run by anything resembling logic. She could wake up tomorrow, she could never wake up." He shrugged. "I just don't know."

Hoooo. She didn't like that tone of, not exactly defeat in his voice, but it was bordering on it. Time to be a good consigliere for her Don. "Roman, no doctor on Earth could have done better than you did today. You saved lives today – all while taking on a leadership role you were suddenly thrust into, and just now, you saved another life." She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. "Once we get done here, send me everything you have on that poison, and it'll go to the top of my list. We'll have Fujimaru up and about in no time."

The weary smile he gave her, and the beaming, hopeful smile that blossomed on Mash's face made her heart feel full to bursting again. She just hoped she'd be as good as her words. She'd hate to disappoint the wonderful little family she had made for herself at Chaldea.

Romani pushed himself back up from his slump, and pulled another measure of fortitude from the bottomless well he seemed to possess. "So, please tell me you have some good news for me, I could do with some after the day we've had."

Da Vinci grinned like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Doctor Romani Archaman, please say hello to Kratos, who has agreed to help us resolve the Singularities, and reverse the Incineration of Humanity."

If Da Vinci's heart hadn't already swelled to many times its normal size, seeing the hope rekindle in Romani's eyes would have done it. She loved these silly little humans, she really did.

"Thank you, truly. You're probably getting sick of hearing it, but this means the world to us. Our list of allies are in short supply, and to get an ally like you – it's a miracle." He extended his hand. "I'd have said a 'godsend', but, well……"

Kratos gave a snort as he took Romani's wrist. "Be true to your word, and treat me fairly, and we shall have no quarrel, Doctor."

Romani gave the god's wrist an awkward shake, clearly having expected a handshake. "Deal."

"Then your enemies are now mine."

No wince from Romani when they broke the clasp, so Kratos must not have been taking it easy on her, constantly moderating his strength. Honestly, it fit – the man was wound tight, both with the solid discipline of a lifetime soldier, and a host of other emotions she had only the faintest of clues on.

The tales this man probably had to tell. She'd never been much of a writer, or novelist, to be more correct, but she'd love to record his memoirs.

Idly, she noticed the door to her workshop slide open briefly, then close again.

"So then, Romani. If Fujimaru's down for the count for the foreseeable future, what does that mean for our cute little Shielder?" she asked, going for the most pressing of the many questions before them.

"There's no way she could Rayshift and still receive enough prana to maintain her Servant Origin, not without Fujimaru Rayshifting with her, and there's no way in hell I'm letting that girl out of Medical while she's got anything but the cleanest bill of health a person's ever had." He frowned. "We're probably going to have to forcibly break the Master-Servant contract."

Cu blinked. "Wait, that's a thing you can do?"

"It was a precaution Olga Marie had built into our summoning system. It was mainly there in the event one of our Master Candidates summoned an uncontrollable, or outright hostile Servant, and either couldn't – or wouldn't use a Command Seal to force them to kill themselves." Da Vinci grinned wryly. "But it was also there as a safeguard against any Mage who started getting ideas about the pecking order and decided that maybe they should be the ones calling the shots, or were otherwise being a detriment to the operation of Chaldea in general. Take away their superhuman magical familiar, and suddenly they're a lot easier to throw in jail." Or bury in a shallow grave on the mountainside, but Da Vinci kept that thought to herself.

Cu snorted a laugh. "Yeah, if you got any scheming sorts like my last Master, I can see why you'd want something like that. Girl had a pretty good head on her shoulders."

"And on that subject. Kratos, could we see Olga Marie?"

He reached back into one of the pouches on his waist and withdrew the little sphere, handling it with all the care of a robin's egg. Carefully, he set it down in the center of the table, letting it rest on the cloth it had been wrapped in.

Da Vinci had to restrain herself from climbing up on the table and going over the little marble with her (modified) microscope. Sure, she'd seen it though the visual, but this was an artifact from the Age of the Gods – and one from a completely different universe at that. The THINGS she could learn from it!

But she had to conduct herself with at least a modicum of decorum, so she contented herself with staring REALLY hard at it through her (also modified) glasses.

Romani was also getting a good eyeful of the glowing marble. "You said this was of Jotnar make? What more can you tell us about it?" He glanced to the side. "And would it be alright if Da Vinci took a closer look at it, before she vibrates out of her seat?"

Huh. And here she thought she'd managed to hide her twitchy fingers under the table.

"She may, so long as she is careful." The words had scarcely left his mouth before the little sphere was in her hot little hands, being turned this way and that. Paying her maniac examination little mind, he continued. "I know little of the object itself. I was told by one of the last giants that these were created to give them a place to hide from Odin's war against their people. They would give up their bodies, leave a field of corpses in Jotunheim for Asgard to find, and sleep within the stones," He frowned. "Until the prophesized Champion of the Jotnar appeared, and they would become his responsibility." A pause, as he struggled with his words. "My son."

So that meant his son was what? Half god, half giant? Maybe with something else thrown in as well? The mini-Kratos in her mind's eye suddenly gained several feet of height, and blue skin.

Kratos continued. "The keeper of the stones told me that my son passed them back to her shortly after she passed them to him. At Ragnarök, when it became clear that Odin would not stop, could not stop…..my son bound his soul into one of these objects, rather than kill him."

A grunt. "That is as much as I know of them. Though, the stone's keeper did say that my son managed to bind one of the sleeping souls into the body of a snake that had had its soul stolen – a snake that she claims grew into the World Serpent. So, it should be possible to save the Director."

"Fou!"

Da Vinci watched as Kratos' thought processes ground to an abrupt halt. Mash, too, reacted in surprise, but it was an overjoyed surprise.

"Oh, Fou, there you are! I was so worried about you!" Beaming, the girl scooped up the small animal and cuddled it to her face, as the fluffy cat-dog batted at her face and smothered her with licks.

Kratos watched for a moment, puzzlement furrowing his brow. "The animal. What is it?"

Mash turned her beaming face on the god. "Oh, this is Fou, Mr. Kratos. He's kind of like Chaldea's mascot!" She held the small animal out to Kratos, who simply stared at the squirming creature. Fou, for his part, sniffed at Kratos, almost disdainfully, then gave a full-body shudder, and took another, longer sniff of the man, its squirming having ceased. For Kratos' part, he looked over to Da Vinci (clearly showing that he knew who the biggest brain in the room was) for answers.

"Not really much more that I can add to it other than that. Fou's been here even before I was summoned. He's got the run of the place and seems to like Mash." She shrugged. "He's never been a bother, unless you count trying to beg for some scraps off your plate at meals."

"Fou fou. Kyu!" chimed in the beast, looking up at Kratos with wide eyes. The little animal was hiding it well, but it was just a touch wary of Kratos. Just another mark on the mental tally she had been keeping for her belief that Fou was a touch more than a simple animal, magical or not.

"I see." Whatever Kratos thought of the little beast, his expression was decidedly neutral. If nothing else, she didn't think his bacon would be in any danger from Fou.

Romani was halfway through his third cup of coffee – she was probably going to have to cut him off, soon. "Getting back on subject, Kratos, would you be willing to serve as a temporary Master for Mash, until Fujimaru's back up on her feet?" Seeing the man grimace, Romani made a placating gesture. "I know, I know, not something you feel particularly comfortable with, but I promise you, this would be a temporary measure only."

The frown did not leave Kratos' face. "I still dislike this power you ask me to have over another. But it would be foolish to lessen our forces when we are so few." He sighed. "If she will have me, then I will serve in this fashion, for a time."

Mash looked up from where she had been feeding bits of cookies to Fou, and nodded, a simple, warm, smile on her face. "I'll do my best, Mr. Kratos."

Romani drained his cup, looking a little confused that another one didn't materialize in his saucer. Da Vinci gave him a LOOK.

He rolled her eyes at her, but turned off the puppy dog eyes – he knew those didn't work on her once she had made up her mind. "Ok. With that settled, Mash, could I ask you to give Kratos and Cu a tour of the facilities? I'll see what I can do about scrounging up quarters for the both of them, and we can work out any lingering details tomorrow." He sighed. "There's still a lot we need to go over, and we can transfer the Contract with Mash then, as well."

Mash nodded, and quickly corralled the two men into following her, Fou cradled in her arms. As the door hissed shut behind them, Da Vinci and Romani shared a look.

They still had work to do.

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CHALDEA CAFETERIA

10 MINUTES LATER​

Once, the cafeteria would have been hard-pressed to hold the full contingent of Chaldea's staff. Different departments had to eat in shifts, to keep the room from filling to overflowing – and to keep from overwhelming the chefs.

Now, they could have doubled the number of people in the room, and still had room left to fill.

Romani bit back a tidal wave of despair and rage, both at their unknown enemy, and at himself, for failing to prevent this. Later, in his room, he could break down, vent out all the ugly emotions that were screaming to get out. Right now, he had a job to do as the acting director of Chaldea.

He'd sent out a quick notification to every surviving member of Chaldea – there was to be a all-hands meeting regarding their current situation, the path forward, and a handful of other things, and attendance was mandatory. No joking language, like when he'd threatened to hand Jay over to Da Vinci's tender mercies earlier on – he'd invoked the non-compliance clause in their contracts for anyone who didn't attend without a VERY good reason.

His medical staff, for obvious reasons, were being excused for the time being. He'd give them the same speech at a later time.

He glanced over to Da Vinci, who gave him a little nod. Everyone was here – that meant he wouldn't need to track anyone down later and put the fear of God into them. That was something, at least.

He clapped his hands, silencing the small handful of whispers that had been circulating while they waited for everyone to trickle in. "OK everyone, before I get started here, there's one piece of business we need to attend to."

He held up a rolled piece of paper, causing a ripple of tension to flow through the room. Every single person there, even the non-Mages, recognized a geass scroll when they saw one. "Before I can say anything, I'm going to need every single person in here to sign this. What I'm about to discuss with you all covers things with a level of confidentiality beyond even the NDAs you signed when you signed on with Chaldea. This is a situation that is so far beyond top-secret that I don't think the words to describe it have been created in any of the human languages."

He looked over the room. "If you find that you cannot, for whatever reason, swear yourself to absolute and utter secrecy about the things I'm about to discuss, you'll have two options. One – you will be confined to your quarters for the duration of this crisis. You will be allowed no contact with any of the staff who have signed this scroll, nor will you be allowed to know about any of the happenings or state of Chaldea. Those four walls WILL be your world for the foreseeable future."

He took a breath. "Your second option will be that you will be allowed to continue your duties as normal. But, when we finally resolve this crisis, I will be turning you over to Da Vinci – or someone else, should we find a specialist in this field during the operation – and they will strip EVERY single memory you have of Chaldea from your mind – with no care to what condition it might leave you in. Don't misunderstand, we won't be trying to turn you into a drooling vegetable, but if we HAVE to, we will." Da Vinci's little cackle here was a nice touch, if unneeded. It seemed he was getting his point across fine without her little embellishments.

He gave the room a pleading look. "Please, understand, I'm not trying to be draconian here. We went back and forth on this, but neither of us could come up with a better solution. The Clock Tower CANNOT find out the secrets I'm about to reveal to you. The consequences for that could be as disastrous as the crisis we find ourselves facing now."

"Please, I am BEGGING you. Sign the scroll. For ALL our sakes."

There was some muttered discussion as the scroll made its way across the room, heads huddled together as various groups read over the exact wording of the contract. But in the end, when the scroll made its way back to him, every single person in the room had signed.

Romani took a shuddering breath. He really did have a good bunch of people here.

"Thank you, all, for being willing to put your trust in me, especially after all that's happened the past few days." He passed the scroll off to Da Vinci, and reached down to activate the holographic display on the podium he had had moved into the cafeteria for this meeting. "Those of you who were in the command center when we retrieved our team from the Singularity may have noticed that two new faces came back with Fujimaru and Mash – and that the Director did not return with them. And given how fast news spreads here, those who weren't in the command center have undoubtedly heard about it from a variety of different sources. First things first, Olga Marie Animusphere is alive, in a fashion. The blast that killed so many of us also killed her, but her soul managed to get caught in the emergency Rayshift with Mash and Fujimaru. Normally, this would have meant her soul would have broken apart upon return to the present, but we were able to find an object that could hold her soul in the middle of the Singularity, and, as near as we can tell, it worked."

Amazingly, it seemed like the news of Olga's survival was going over well, despite how little love most of the staff had for her – mostly due to her frankly poor leadership since taking over from her father. He supposed after so many losses in such a short time, the news of any survivors was something to take to heart.

"Da Vinci's currently exploring ways to craft some sort of body for her so we can have our Director back, but, in the worst case, we'll have to wait until the current crisis is resolved, and we can leverage some greater resources that aren't currently available to us."

Like tracking down the Red and, in Da Vinci's words, 'making her an offer she can't refuse'. And curse whomever thought to show Da Vinci the Godfather movies.

He pressed a button, and a still of a blue-haired man flickered into existence. "This is one of the two new additions to Chaldea – Servant Caster, Cu Chulainn. He was one of the Servants summoned for the Holy Grail War that had taken place in that Singularity, and has contracted with Chaldea for the foreseeable future. There's nothing else I need to say about him that wasn't covered in the packet you all had to read about Servants when you signed on with Chaldea. He likely won't be the first, or the last Servant you see walking Chaldea's halls. Neither he, nor what happened to Olga Marie, is why I had you sign that scroll."

Another button press, and the image of the Irish Servant was replaced by that of a tall, tattooed man. "This is. Meet the other stray we brought back from that Singularity. I'm sure everyone's already heard, but upon their arrival, I may have said something about getting a Divine Spirit reading. I was both right, and wrong in that regard."

Romani paused for the moment as he increased the image's size. "Everyone, meet Kratos, an actual Greek God."

Boy, if that didn't kick the hornet's nest. He almost wished for a gavel he could bang to try to restore order – but at least he had Da Vinci and her noisemaker. When the cacophony of that had stopped echoing in the room, he resumed his speech. "Understand that when I say a Greek God, I mean an actual, physical god – not a Servant, not an avatar, but a real-life deity, in the flesh."

"But……I mean….HOW?" That would be Meunière, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

He held up a hand to cut off any forthcoming questions, and chose to believe it was their respect for him as the Acting Director that got their attention, and not that Da Vinci was still holding her contraption, and had her finger hovering over the activation switch. "For all the mages in the crowd asking the same question Meunière is, and wondering about the end of the Age of the Gods, the Other Side of the World, and the rest of that, the answer is because Kratos isn't from our universe."

"We have no idea if the Kaleidoscope is responsible for this!" He had to yell, but managed to cut off any of the forthcoming chatter before it could begin. "From what Kratos told the Director, we don't think he is. From what she heard, it sounds like he's here because of something that happened in his universe, something that landed him here."

He gave them a moment to digest that, then continued on. "Now, for the good news. While in the Singularity, the Director managed to strike a deal with Kratos – help her resolve the Singularity, and she'd see about getting him back home. As all of you know, resolving the Singularity was only the first step – we have seven other Singularities to set right before this crisis is over, though she didn't know that at the time. So, while I was trying to save our only remaining Master Candidate, Da Vinci managed to pick up where the Director left off, and enlisted Kratos' help in resolving this crisis."

He grinned, seeing the hope that had blossomed inside of him when he'd heard the news from Da Vinci blossom on all their faces. After the hits they had taken, this was a sorely needed morale boost. "That's right, everyone. We've got an actual god in our corner."

He let them have their moment, the cheers, the hugs, the high-fives, and the gamut of other celebrations that burst forth at his announcement. He almost hated that he had to dump cold water on them so soon. "And that's why the Clock Tower can never, EVER know about this."

The room got real quiet, real fast. The mages were nodding, even those who had been somewhat hesitant to sign the geass looked like they were on board. The normal humans, on the other hand…..

"So, why all the secrecy, then? I mean, would it really be so bad if this Clock Tower found out about him? I mean, what the hells are they going to do to a GOD?" Of course it would be Jay. The man would argue with his own reflection.

Thankfully, he was spared from having to answer the question by a third party piping up. "Jay, you're not a mage, so you've never had to deal with them before Chaldea. The Clock Tower are BASTARDS. Absolute bastards, almost to a man." And there was Tanya, second child of a minor mage family, and well and truly embittered by her years at the Clock Tower. He still wondered how Lord Animusphere managed to lure her here, given her open loathing of the greater whole of mage society. Probably the paycheck – there weren't a ton of options for someone as low on the totem pole as her.

And, it looked like she was winding up into a good rant. "Those prats will slap a Sealing Designation on anything that catches their interest that they can't figure out how to copy – and a living, breathing god? They'd trip over themselves in their hurry to be the first ones to get a piece of that. Fuck me, they might even be able to play nice with each other long enough to actually get him sealed before they all resumed stabbing each other in the back."

"And that is why we can't let a whisper of this escape these walls. Kratos has twice warned us what will happen if we end up playing him false." Da Vinci looked around the room. "I'm a Servant, and I don't particularly want to fight a god. Do any of you?"

From the number of shaking heads he could see in the audience, it would appear that none of them did. "And that's why Da Vinci and I decided on this course of action. Please, don't take it as any sort of slight in the amount of trust we have in you. For something of this nature, we just cannot take any chances."

Whoooo. It looked it was going over decently well. He'd argued against Da Vinci on this, worried that demanding something like this, with morale as low as it was, was akin to lighting a powder keg, but she'd been adamant that once they heard his reasons, they'd come around. She'd been right, yet again, and he was likely to hear about it for the next week or two, until she was right about something else, or managed to build something breathtaking and had something new to crow about.

"So, do we have to, like, worship him or anything?"

Oh, thank you Jack, that was an excellent question to break the tension. "No clue. In the short time I've spoken with the man, he's never once even said the word 'worship'. All he said to me when we shook on the agreement was to keep our word and treat him fairly. Nothing about temples, services, or fattened calves."

That got a laugh out of the room. For Romani, it felt like the first time he'd laughed in an age. God, he was tired. Just a little more, then he could curl up in his bed. "I'm not going to forbid any of you from going near him or trying to talk with him. Just please, he seems like a very private person. If he tells you to go away, or you think you might be overstepping his boundaries, leave him be." His face hardened. "And, if he should start making unreasonable demands of any of you, let me, or Da Vinci know right away. From what little I've seen of him, it doesn't seem likely, but, just in case."

Romani wanted to believe in their savior, he truly did. But Kratos was a Greek God, a pantheon that could have posed for the picture to go by the dictionary definition of 'dysfunctional' or 'degenerate'. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst – though what he'd do if Kratos turned into a tyrant was beyond him.

Problems for another day. Take the win for now.

"All right, that's all I wanted to say. If there's any other questions, I'll hang around for about fifteen minutes – that's probably how long Da Vinci's coffee will last before I start nodding off on my feet. Everyone else – we've got an incredible task ahead of us, but you all know what you need to be doing."

"Dismissed."

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Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: No Kratos POV this time – had to let the Da Vinci and Romani in my heads out to play to get a handle on their personalities, as well as introduce a couple of the minor side characters that fill out Chaldea's survivors (and Meunière, who being an actual canon character will pop up from time to time).

Next chapter will be almost entirely Kratos POV, as we see how the big lug reacts to the 21st century.

Chapter 9: Post-Fuyuki 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 9​

Kratos placed his hand on the panel, then watched as the door to the room he had been assigned slid open. Wearily, he strode through the portal, barely noticing as it hissed closed behind him.

He could not remember the last time he had been this drained.

It wasn't that he was tired, though he was weary. If pressed, he could march through the night still, or fight, if he was called on to with only minor difficulty. No, it was more that his head felt full to bursting.

It had been an eventful week.

The lights to his room sprang to life as the Spartan entered, and again, Kratos flicked his eyes across his quarters, some part of him still filled with disbelief. The room he had been granted wasn't overly large - the home he had shared with his family in Midgard could have likely held three of this room, with space left over.

And yet, the luxuries contained within the room almost defied imagination.

Water available at a moment's thought, for drinking, cleaning, or bathing. The ability to raise or lower the heat in the room to one's own preferences. Devices as small as a thin book, that held uncountable amounts of information - and though he had not seen such yet, some of this information was whole plays, recorded and able to be rewatched at a whim.

And so much more - so much that to Kratos, who had lived simply for so much of his life, it almost felt like decadence.

And yet, all these things were considered common for this age, amenities that the most common citizen had access to.

It was honestly a bit overwhelming. So much these people took for granted was comparable to some of the grandest things Kratos had seen in his life, and each day brought new revelations.

To Kratos, Greece, and Sparta in particular, had been the pinnacle of civilization - especially compared to what he had seen pass for civilization in Midgard (though some of the other realms, once he saw them, were much more impressive sights, though even they did not hold a candle to his homeland). But his current surroundings made Sparta seem as primitive as the raiders that had plagued his home in the Wildwoods.

When they had asked him if there was anything they could get for him to add to his room, he'd been caught flat-footed - this room would have been fit for the greatest kings of Sparta, and they asked him if there was more he desired?

In the end, all he'd requested was something to hang his axe from, and Da Vinci had provided him with an ornate hook before the day's end, rather than the simple nail he'd been expecting. He'd not been surprised that the item in question had been artistically detailed to match the patterns that Brok and Sindri had worked into the Leviathan Axe. Master smiths, for all that she had protested that she was more than 'just' a smith, seemed to be filled with unique personalities whether they were dwarves, or Servants.

Truthfully, it was a drop of familiarity in an ocean of strange new experiences.

To their credit, they'd never once been condescending or mocking in explaining things to him - their patience seemed to be bottomless. That it was frequently either Da Vinci or Mash who was tasked with explaining things to him likely helped. Da Vinci seemed to love boasting about the wonders of the current civilization nearly as much as she loved boasting about herself. And Mash…….the girl was easily one of the kindest people Kratos had ever met in his life.

His son would have liked her, if he ever had the chance to meet the violet-haired girl.

Kratos hung his axe on the wall and considered. The hot water of the shower called to him after his time spent in training in the incredible room they possessed that could create any environment, any place, but he just felt…..spent.

He could wash himself off in the morning. What he wanted right now was time to rest, and to process everything.

Quickly shedding his armor, he climbed into the room's bed (Soft, impossibly soft.), and laid his head down (the pillow was akin to a cloud), mind full to bursting with everything that had occurred in the past week.

He recalled being led about the building, Mash pointing out different areas, explaining their function to the two men trailing in her wake. Through the windows that lined the hallways, Kratos had taken note of the bleak, frozen terrain that seemed to surround Chaldea - it put him in mind of Fimbulwinter. At the conclusion of the journey, she had led them to a pair of rooms she said had been allocated for their use.

Cu had been quick to retire for the evening, saying after the day he'd had he needed some rest, but the man had seemed oddly pensive, as if something had been on his mind. Mash had led Kratos through the features of his quarters, patiently explaining the functions of the various devices contained within the room, then pointed out her own quarters, placed just a few doors down from his, and offered to answer any questions or handle any issues he should encounter during the evening. Then she had departed, wishing him pleasant dreams.

Kratos may or may not have spent more time than necessary under the pounding, hot water of the shower that evening, letting the hot water wash away the hardship of the past few days, and postpone the looming uncertainty that hovered over the Spartan.

That night, at least, the nightmares that often plagued him had not put in an appearance.

The chime of his door's alert had woken him the next morning, Mash having arrived to escort him to the day's business.

The start of a very busy day for him had started in the medical area, where, Doctor Romani had quickly, efficiently broken the Contract between Mash and the sleeping Fujimaru, and, with a quick clasping of wrists, Kratos had taken up the burden of the command of another person.

He didn't like it, his skin still crawled at the level of power he had over the two who had chosen to bind themselves to him, but it would be far from the first time he had been forced to swallow his disgust for the sake of victory in war.

At least the responsibility of using this power resided with him and him alone. He was no longer the same person he had been, even a mere three years ago. Always, there was the memory of Atreus and their promise to Be Better, to be the gods they chose to be.

He had to believe that he could be better.

While he had been in medical, he had been subjected to a barrage of tests Romani had insisted were necessary for him to travel into the past. Something about needing to know what his biological data was in order to confirm his existence.

That is where the first issue had reared its head.

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"Wait, this reading…….is that a curse?" Romani blinked his eyes owlishly at the screen of the device that was displaying whatever information he had obtained from his latest inspection of the scowling man, whose patience with the whole ordeal was starting to run out.

Kratos had, flatly, refused to wear the flimsy blue cloth that Romani had said was standard garb for a patient in these times. For the sake of the onlookers (mainly Mash, who had turned a bright red as the Spartan had started to disrobe, and had hurriedly turned to cover Fujimaru's eyes - Kratos was uncertain of the practicality of the action, as the girl was still deeply asleep, but it was…..endearing, in a way), the cloth was draped over his waist, preserving his modesty, not that Spartans had much in the way of such - not after the Agoge, but was otherwise devoid of any of his armor or clothes.

A fact that the medical staff, at least the female contingent, but at least one of the men, was very appreciative of, not that Kratos took any notice of this fact.

"Did you pick this up in Fuyuki somewhere and we just didn't notice?" Romani gave a frustrated noise. "As if we didn't have enough on our plates as is. We'll have to get one of our curse breakers to take a look at…."

"NO."

The single word carried enough force to shake the room. The blood drained from Romani's face, while the medical staff who had been not so subtly ogling Kratos took an involuntary step back. Even Mash, who had been holding Fujimaru's hand and chattering to her friend, looked frightened.

With visible effort, Kratos reigned in his temper. "I have borne this curse for most of my lifetime. It does not hinder my efforts in battle, and does not cause me any physical harm. You will NOT break it." He heaved a breath, getting his breathing under control. When he continued, his voice was softer. "I MUST bear this curse. It is my……..penance."

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Though he could tell they had been curious, Romani hadn't pressed, and the rest of his time in medical had passed quickly. Kratos had barely noticed, part of him wondering about a life without the curse he had carried since that horrible day so long ago.

Not that it mattered, in the end. He had meant what he had said. He would carry this curse until his days came to an end.

Once he had been given a 'clean bill of health' from Romani, and the doctor had all the information he needed to ensure Kratos could travel back in time, the next stop had a room Kratos had been intending on visiting on his own at some point in the future, the room Mash had said was used for training one's body.

Romani had had to shoo the lone occupant from the room, a dark-haired, muscular man with a beard almost as impressive as Kratos' own - Kratos believed it to be the 'Jay' who Romani had singled out upon his initial arrival in Chaldea.

The man had seemed ready to quarrel with Romani, until he took in who was looming behind the doctor - at which point he had quickly departed, muttering something about 'doubling my workout to max those gains, got to match that specimen'.

Whatever in Tartarus that meant.

Once the room was theirs, it had been another series of tests, but ones more geared to his nature - tests of his fitness and strength. Those he had enjoyed more than being poked and prodded by the Doctor, necessary as that had been. Some of the machines they had crafted for the purposes of training the body were ingenious in their design. The only disappointment was that none of the machines could truly test him, something that had vexed Romani as well.

That was when Kratos had been properly introduced to the Simulator.

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"What do you mean that's the maximum we can do?" asked Romani

The small, blonde haired woman gave a frustrated sigh from her seat at the controls of the Simulator. "I mean that you know perfectly well how precarious the power situation is for the base with all the damage we STILL haven't repaired yet. The Simulator was always non-essential systems, so there's only so much of the grid we can tap right now, particularly with all the coffins getting priority, given that they're set to cryostasis mode."

The hologram of Tanya gestured at Kratos, who was effortlessly holding up a massive block of stone. "And just look at him! That block is currently set at 10 tons, and he clean and jerked it like it was nothing, and isn't even breaking a sweat holding it up for…" she checked a timer. "10 minutes now. I think you're just going to have to write down a 'YES' for his strength and go with that for now."

Romani groaned.

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Needless to say, he had passed the physical exam with ease, not that there had ever been any question of such. Romani had finished their time together with a barrage of questions.

Do you need to sleep? How much sleep do you need? Do you need to eat?

And other questions of that ilk, all of which had their roots in the fact that humanity had not seen a living god in centuries, and what little they knew was shrouded in myth, so any information Kratos could give Romani could make sure they didn't somehow harm Kratos with their assumptions as to his needs, and could make sure he was in as peak condition as they could manage.

In that, Kratos was little different from a man. He ate, he slept, he did all the other things a man could do. He could just go without for much, much longer than a mortal. Treat him like a man, and he would be fine, was what Romani eventually grasped.

When the conversation had turned to Banes - anything he might be conceptually weak against, to levels from annoying to lethal (Baldur, mistletoe, whispered his mind), Kratos had grown, not wary, but cautious.

On the one hand, desiring that knowledge could have the obvious answer of them not wanting to accidentally kill their powerful new ally through something avoidable. On the other, it could easily be seen as them gathering ways to keep Kratos in check.

He supposed he couldn't blame them too much - both Olga Marie and Cu had ranted at length about the paranoia of Mages. But it still rankled, if that was truly their aim in the interrogation Kratos had been put through.

He had given his word to aid them, after all.

In the end, it was moot. Kratos had no such weaknesses as had Baldur or Achilles. If Romani had been displeased by that fact, it had not shown on his face.

It was at that point, as they were wrapping up, that Da Vinci barged her way into the Simulator and began berating Romani about skipping meals, and had ended up dragging the doctor off by his ear, explaining that he was going to sit down, eat a meal, and not think about work for 30 minutes, or ELSE. The sheer menace she had put into that threat had quickly silenced Romani's protests, and he meekly allowed himself to be herded off to the cafeteria.

Then, as she was leaving, Da Vinci had turned to Kratos and cheerfully asked him if he would care to join them, the ire she had been directing at the doctor having vanished in the blink of an eye.

In his bed, his mind starting to become fuzzy as sleep crept up on him, Kratos allowed himself a small half-smile.

If this far future was awash in things so alien to him to, at times, be almost incomprehensible, the food, at least, was a revelation.

He had tagged along in Da Vinci's wake, Mash bringing up the rear, because he WAS hungry - though he would admit, to himself, at a small spark of curiosity at what food looked like in this distant age. Mash had been pleased when she had seen what the dining area had been offering that evening - some kind of bread, thinner than a loaf and circular, and covered with cheese, meats, and vegetables.

It was apparently a comfort food for many in these times, and with the losses Chaldea had taken, it was being served for that function, to help ease the pain that many were feeling with a taste of something beloved.

It was cut into triangular pieces, fit to be eaten with hands, though some in the dining area had been using knife and fork to cut into theirs. Kratos had simply seized a greasy 'slice' (as Mash had explained the terminology for one of the pieces), and taken a bite.

It was delicious.

And better yet, some varieties of this 'pizza' had olives.

He had missed olives.

Da Vinci had happily spent the evening's meal babbling away at Kratos, as she explained the origin of the dish - which was from a land near to Greece, of all things, as well as some of the ingredients - the sauce was apparently made from a vegetable called a 'tomato', which had its origins in a landmass across a great ocean from the two lands he had made his homes in - while simultaneously shooting glares at Romani that Kratos found oddly familiar.

He had seen a similar look when Faye had been trying to get a much younger Atreus to finish his meals. Romani's somewhat reddish hair only added to the similarity, for all that Da Vinci looked nothing like Kratos' departed wife.

It seemed that some things were universal no matter the age, and no matter the age of the 'children' in question.

Kratos indulged in anything rarely - it flew in the face of the discipline that had been beaten into him from the moment he could walk (discipline that he had abandoned for many years after his family's death, and only regained when he looked around at Greece and saw nothing but a blasted wasteland, and realized how far from a Spartan warrior he had fallen), but that night, he had eaten well, and had felt pleasantly full for the first time in ages.

After making sure that Romani had eaten to her satisfaction, she had let the man scurry off to continue overworking himself (her words, not his), and had let Kratos know he had the rest of the evening free to do with as he pleased, something that left him wrong-footed.

How long had it been since he'd had any time to himself? His time in the Wildwoods had been heavily consumed with hunting for food to provide for his family, or upkeep of the fences and buildings that defined the boundaries of their lands. Baldur's arrival on his doorstep, and the frigid winter that had followed had required even more time spent to acquire food, as the increasing cold had made game harder and harder to find. What time was left over had been spent training Atreus for a war he hoped to avoid, but felt in his bones was coming.

Even the few months post-Ragnarök had seen little respite for Kratos, as his reputation as an outsider had seen all manner of folk arriving at his door, asking him to arbitrate this dispute or that quarrel.

Truly, he did not know what to do with himself at Da Vinci's announcement.

The woman had clearly learned to read Kratos' limited body language better than he had guessed in the short time they had spent together, as she had suggested that if he wanted, there was still a great deal of repairs that Chaldea needed, and another pair of hands, divine or not, would certainly be appreciated.

So it was that Kratos spent the remainder of his evening clearing rubble from the damaged command room of Chaldea. Some of the workers had been surprised to see him there, and more than a few had been uneasy with his presence (Romani had, earlier in the day, informed Kratos that he had disclosed his divine status to Chaldea's staff - and the measures he had taken to ensure that this never made it's way beyond the walls of Chaldea), but that unease had quickly lessened when Kratos' strength had made the rubble vanish as if time itself had been sped up.

The man Jay had been among those who had been hauling rubble - and had been consistently baffled by the sheer amount of weight Kratos could handle at a time. More than once, he had been reprimanded by those in charge of the repair and cleanup efforts for attempting to lift chunks of stone well beyond his capabilities, as Kratos had strode by, easily handling a shard several times the Spartan's size.

When Kratos had retired for the evening, it had been with a full belly, and the welcome feeling of having accomplished something notable during the day's passage - something that didn't involve fighting or killing, for once.

The next day, his education had begun.

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Kratos stared at the shimmering globe before him, silent as it slowly spun on its axis. "This……..this is our world?"

"Yep!" chirped Da Vinci. "Good old Earth, still spinning on through the void after all these years." She reached out and touched the globe, halting its spin,and expanded the size of the image, halting the rotation on an area slightly to the east of a strip of land that was shaped like a boot, of all things. "And this area, right here, is Greece, or at least, Greece with the borders it claims today."

For a long moment, Kratos said nothing, just stared at the flickering map, a myriad of emotions, she was sure, running through his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was the softest she had ever heard it. "Greece still lives?"

And wasn't THAT a lot to unpack - sure, numerous cities and empires had fallen over the ages, with not a trace of them left in the current day and age - try finding someone who recognized Uruk's sovereignty, for instance - but somehow, she got the feeling that he didn't mean 'lives' in the sense that Greece still existed as a nation, but something a heck of a lot more final.

Something, she supposed, had to have driven him from his homelands and forced him to settle in whatever part of the Nordic countries made up his Midgard.

"Yes, it's still around," she replied, trying to keep the….whatever the heck that had been in the man's voice from dragging the mood down too much. "It's been having its problems lately, their economy is in utter shambles, and has been for a bit, but there's some hope of recovery these days."

She smiled. "Interestingly enough, that peninsula shaped like a boot next to Greece? That's Italy, my stomping grounds when I was alive. That makes us neighbors, of a sort, or Mediterranean Sea buddies."

She couldn't help it. The completely befuddled look he had turned on her had made her laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

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From that point on, his mornings had been spent learning. Learning about the various 'technologies' that were an everyday part of life in these times - and of a more relevant bent, would be used when they discovered the next Singularity. Learning of the society of Mages he found himself entangled within. And learning of history. So much history.

Two wars so massive, so all-encompassing that they had been called 'World Wars' for the sheer scale of the conflict, and the number of nations involved. He recalled how some had thought the Persian invasion of his lifetime to be the greatest conflict the world would ever see, when King Leonidas and his chosen had marched off to Thermopylae.

It now seemed like a mere skirmish compared to some of the mere battles from those wars, much less the entire conflicts themselves. One such invasion, he had been told, had yet to be surpassed in sheer logistics or number of soldiers involved - even Da Vinci had spoken with a bit of awe when she had told him of D-Day.

Was it any wonder his head felt full to bursting by the time his day drew to a close?

Mimir would have loved every moment of it. And would have loved Da Vinci as well - though some part of Kratos feared what he would be unleashing upon the world should the self-proclaimed 'Smartest Man Alive' ever met the also self-proclaimed 'Universal Genius'.

Another period of his day was spent, of his own volition, attempting to learn the common tongue of these lands. While Freya's enchanted bracelet allowed him to communicate with the members of Chaldea, it did nothing for the written language they used. And it was not impervious to harm - a powerful foe, or a simple bad turn of luck could see it destroyed, and Kratos unable to communicate with his allies.

The bracelet, in the end, was a tool, the same as his weapons. It could be stolen or destroyed. His ability to speak the language in use at Chaldea, earned through time and effort, could not. It was the same reason he had taken pains to learn how to read the Midgardian language over Fimbulwinter - he could not continue to depend on his son and Mimir to read the runes for him.

Learning the language would also eliminate the need for all of the signs in Chaldea to be decorated with the little yellow squares of paper that could be stuck to surfaces, with the runic script of Midgard written on them. Cu Chulainn had apparently been responsible for that, spending a portion of the previous day running about Chaldea and affixing the yellow translations to every sign in the building. A task he had apparently enjoyed greatly, having Da Vinci record his time for each section, then attempting to do the next section even faster.

As Da Vinci was too busy to devote a full portion of her day to Kratos, Mash was his teacher for the language, spending time after the mid-day meal they called 'lunch' instructing Kratos in the tongue. It was slow going, as of yet, for Kratos had never had a head for languages. It had taken some time before Faye's instructions of the Midgardian language had borne fruit, and while his son had had an easier time in teaching Kratos the runes, he had already been fluent in the tongue when he had started. He had no such base to build from this time.

Still, he was making progress, slowly but steadily.

After the evening meal, his time was his own, or would have been, if not for a request made of him at the end of his first language lesson.

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"Mr. Kratos?"

Kratos glanced back at his teacher, who had spoken up just as he had been rising from his seat at the conclusion of his lesson. Mash fidgeted for a moment, before finding her nerve. "Could I….ask you something?"

Kratos nodded, wondering what question the girl had for him, and why it made her so nervous. He had been expecting some inquiry about his past - both Mimir and his son were fond of those. Mash, however, had something else in mind.

"Would…..would you teach me how to fight?"

Kratos blinked. Taking his lack of outright rejection as grounds to continue, she barreled forward. "I know HOW to fight, sort of. Whatever Servant was bonded to me gives me the reflexes and instincts to let me know what to do…..but they're not me. Not….not MINE." She huffed out a breath, her cheeks extended out. "At times I almost feel like I'm tripping over myself, my body feels like it knows what to do, but my mind can't catch up, or can't make sense of the signals it's getting."

Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "It's why I froze up and got Senpai hurt……..I just didn't know what to DO, and…." She began to sniffle, as tears gathered in her eyes.

A massive hand laid itself on her shoulder, and Mash looked up through watery eyes at Kratos. "One's first time in combat is seldom easy. My own son fared little better than you, the first time he was forced to fight for his life." So badly, in fact, that Kratos had been willing to postpone his wife's final request until Atreus was more prepared for the journey. If not for Baldur showing up on their doorstep, they might yet still be in that cabin, Faye's request still unfulfilled.

"I will not teach you as I was. The way I learned was……unforgiving. Unforgiving, and cruel. I would not teach my own son that way, and neither would I do to you what was done to me. But if you would learn, I can teach you what I know of combat."

He raised a finger. "But be warned, even if I am not teaching you in the manner I was taught, it will not be easy. I WILL push you to your limits, and beyond. Do not ask this of me if you are not willing to commit to it."

Mash beamed up at him, her tears forgotten. "I promise, I won't let you down!"

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And so, now his evenings were spent training Mash.

From the first spar it had been clear the girl hadn't been exaggerating, there was something of a style in how she fought with her enormous shield, but her instincts and reactions were a jumbled mess. And while a shield as a primary weapon was not strictly speaking something he was familiar with, the first tools of war he had learned had been spear and shield together - and the shields of a Spartan warrior were of comparable size to Mash's, though obviously, smaller.

So there was enough overlap in his training to at least impart some knowledge to Mash.

The first evening had been spent mainly taking stock of what he had to work with. Much as he had done with Atreus in their first hunt together, he had tested the girl's knowledge and abilities, and used his observations to build a plan to correct the flaws he noticed. And, as with his son, the flaws were many.

(He had been planning on training Atreus, when the boy proved he was not yet ready for the journey to the highest peak in the Realms, but, as with many things in Kratos' life, his hand had been forced.)

The second evening, they had begun to draw a crowd of onlookers. Given the men and women of Chaldea had been told of his divinity, he assumed most were simply curious to see him in action, as it were. Tanya had mentioned during the evening meal that rumors of the physical test Romani had put him through had already circulated through the base, and were growing ever more outlandish by the hour.

So long as they kept to themselves, and didn't disturb the lesson, he cared not about their presence.

His taking of Mash as a student had two outcomes, neither of which, had he given them the time to consider, were all that unexpected.

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"Kratos?" Da Vinci looked up from her tea (something called 'English Breakfast' today, a darker blend that put him slightly in the mind of the Black Broth of his homeland, even if the taste was in no way similar). "A word?"

At his grunt, she continued. "I've no objections to you training Mash, per se. I've reviewed the footage of the Fuyuki Singularity, and the girl desperately needs it. She's not a legendary hero from the past who lived a life of blood and death like Cu Chulainn, just a girl who's never had a cross word to say about anyone in her life, with a Servant bonded to her, and thrown into a battle beyond anything humanity's ever seen. Anything you can do to help her stay alive is appreciated."

The woman steepled her fingers. "Just, be careful with Mash. I came along well after the Demi-Servant experiments had been abandoned as a failure, and most everyone had lost interest in Mash. Romani and I practically raised the girl, between the two of us - God knows the researchers, magical or not, couldn't be bothered to see her as anything other than a tool, or an experiment."

Da Vinci's eyes hardened, as she stared across the table at Kratos. "She's a very special girl - so if your training turns her into something she's not, I will be VERY displeased with you."

She held up her hand, forestalling his response. "She told me what you said about your son, how you wouldn't train him in the fashion you were trained, and the same held for her. And from what you've said about your boy, he sounds like a kid you should be very, very proud of. So I don't think you're looking to turn Mash into some sort of emotionless killing machine."

She sighed. "I'm just very, VERY protective of the girl, so I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. You've been nothing but trustworthy so far, and I know, much as I wish otherwise, Mash is going to change a lot over the course of this fight. And some of it isn't going to be for the better. She's going to get hurt, she's going to see horrible things, she's going to lose even more people than she already has. And while I wish I could shield her from that, there's nothing I can do about it."

She smiled sunnily at Kratos. "So, if you do anything to deliberately damage that girl's innocence, I will do everything in my power to make your life a LIVING HELL." She tilted her head slightly, still wearing that bright smile. "Capiche?"

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For a moment, it had been like standing across Freya over the still body of her son. Kratos had nodded, understanding the warning for what it was.

And truthfully, had he been forced to entrust his son to another, he would have delivered one of his own, though less…..verbose.

At least Da Vinci was wiser, in her own way, than Freya. Both women wanted to protect their children from the harms of the world, but where Freya had driven her son away with her overprotectiveness, Da Vinci at least realized she couldn't shield Mash from the world forever, and accepted the sad reality of their situation, even if she didn't like it.

It had nearly torn Kratos in two to let his son leave after Ragnarök, but he knew, deep down, that he had to let the boy go, for now.

While Da Vinci's reaction to Kratos training Mash should not have, in hindsight, surprised him at all, he shouldn't have even needed a mind to realize that once he heard Kratos was training, Cu Chulainn would show up, demanding a spar.

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Cu took gasping breaths as he lay on the simulated dirt floor of the Simulator. "You are something else, you know that? Gods, WHY wasn't I summoned as a Lancer?" He kicked his arms and legs in the air, looking for all the world like a child throwing a tantrum. "Best fight I've had since my teacher, and I can't even cut loose properly, because I'm a stupid Caster. No justice in this world, I tell you, no justice at all!"

Frankly, Kratos wasn't sure why the Irish Servant was being so hard on himself. The contest had been closer than it had appeared. For all that Kratos had appeared to hold an advantage most of the fight, Cu was devastatingly quick, and had no compunctions against fighting dirty. It had taken Kratos much, much longer than he had anticipated to win the contest, even with the Caster only using a few of his magical tricks, so as to not damage the Simulator.

It was only a single fight, but Kratos could see why the man was considered his land's equivalent of Heracles - he was quite a warrior.

Their little contest had gotten quite a reaction from the handful of onlookers, to the point that their applause was only just dying down. Even Mash, who had been running through the forms he had instructed her on had paused to watch. Kratos looked over to the girl, and narrowed his eyes slightly. With a flush and an 'eep', Mash resumed her training, shield again cutting through the air.

Still lying prone, Cu began laughing, hearty belly laughs. Arching his back, he sprang up from the ground, agilely landing on his feet. "I can't tell you how much I needed that. After weeks in that city playing hide and seek with Saber and her twisted little minions, taking care to pick my fights and always being careful - thanks Kirei, you rat bastard - it feels so fucking good to just be able to cut loose like that." He stretched, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders. "Anytime you want to do that again, I am MORE than game. Man needs to fight like that to keep the rust off, and get the blood moving."

Kratos gave a grunt and a half-nod, himself not opposed to the idea. Sparring with Cu Chulainn was certainly more enjoyable than some of the other contests he had found himself in over his lifetime. Worlds better than dealing with History's Greatest Musician again, at any rate.

For a bit, there was silence, as they both watched Mash run through her exercises. It was, of course, Cu who broke the silence.

"Girl's not half bad." His hand had reached up to cup his chin as he observed. "Raw as hell, but given she's been fighting for less than a week, that's to be expected. She's got potential - though some of that's obviously whatever Servant they managed to bond to her." He glanced over to Kratos. "Still no clue on who that Servant is, I take it?"

Kratos huffed a noise of displeasure. "No. She says it feels as if the Servant within her handed her its powers, then vanished. And it seems to have no desire to communicate with her."

Cu's face pulled into a frown. "Well that's damnably vexing. Knowing who she was bonded with would make training her a heck of a lot easier. And you'd think with a weapon as distinctive as that shield of hers, the list of of who it could be would be pretty damn short, but I can't recall running into anyone on the Throne with a shield like that." He shrugged. "Throne's a big place, though, so it's possible I missed them, but even then, I never heard anyone even mention a weapon like that in passing."

"And I'll tell you what else, that Servant in her has to know the situation we're in. Incineration of Humanity, dire threat, blah blah blah. Our backs are against the wall like that, and it still chooses to clam up and make our lives even harder." He spat to the side. "Doesn't reflect very well on them, in my opinion. Even that jerk of an Archer would be more of a team player - and doesn't it gall me to have to say that."

Kratos couldn't help but agree. "So long as it does not hinder her, we shall have to make do. One marches with the army they have, not the army they want." Frankly, if he was wishing, he would happily take an enōmotiai of Spartan soldiers, but wishing was a largely fruitless exercise. He had what he had, and would make do with that.

"On a lighter subject, think I could take that spear of yours for a spin?"

Kratos blinked. He supposed he saw no harm in it, though the request had been unexpected, to say the least. Silently, he withdrew the ring from his finger, and handed it over to the Servant.

Eagerly, Cu slipped the ring on his finger, and within moments, was running through a routine with Draupnir that was almost like a dance - much more athletic and showy than the Spartan spear drills - but there was an underlying savagery in the movements that belied the almost graceful movements of the weapon.

Mash had once again paused her exercises to stare in awe at the Caster, and Kratos couldn't blame her too much. The man was very, very good. As the spectators watched, Cu left his feet, and somehow delivered five strikes in the blink of an eye, and then brought the spear crashing into the ground, using it to vault himself forward, Draupnir stabbing forward at approximately torso-level.

Honestly, if the man was as fast as he boasted as a Lancer, he would be a truly terrifying foe. He wielded a spear like he had been born with it in his hands.

Cu put Draupnir through a few more routines before he stopped, idly spinning the spear through the air in one hand, before rolling it across his neck and continuing to spin the spear with his other hand, giving a low whistle. "That is one heck of a spear you've got here, Kratos. My compliments to whoever forged it, they certainly knew what they were doing. Doesn't hold a candle to my Gáe Bolg, but nothing compares to that spear - at least not for me."

He caught the spear, halting its spin, then hurled it across the room into a tree, then grinned like a child as Draupnir reformed in his hand. "And I've got to say I LOVE this little trick. My Gáe Bolg will come back to my hands like your axe does, but this is a bunch quicker. Also makes it real hard to disarm you without taking your whole hand off. I mean, you could take just the finger off, but we both know how hard that would be to do in the middle of a good scrap."

He slammed the spear down, watching as the replica embedded in the tree detonated, shredding the bark. "Yep. This is easily the second-best…" He paused, head tilted back, almost as if he was listening to something only he could hear. "Maaaaaybe third-best spear I've ever handled."

He shook his head, as he handed the ring back to Kratos. "Nah, second-best. But there's no way I'd ever say another spear was better than my baby."

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Cu was now a regular feature at the nightly training sessions, even at times giving Mash a bit of advice, though he admitted to having done very little with a shield in his lifetime. He and Kratos sparred regularly, and from what he had heard, there were even wagers being placed on their contests.

On the one hand, he wasn't sure he liked being a spectacle for Chaldea's workers. On the other, he was well aware of how tenuous morale was around the building. If watching two men fight helped keep it up, it would be far from the most objectionable thing he had ever done in the course of a war. And he did agree with Cu, it was enjoyable to have a competent partner to spar with. He even loaned Draupnir out to the man from time to time, to fight him in a state closer to what he claimed was his ideal class.

He was certainly much more difficult to defeat when he had a proper spear in his hands - he took brutal advantage of having a greater reach than Kratos' axe, even if his speed at times couldn't keep up with the maneuvers he wanted to pull with the spear.

A blushing Mash had even asked if she could take a turn with the spear, which he had allowed, if only to see if she would be better served using a more traditional weapon alongside her shield. She had not been, the prenatural skill she displayed seemed to be limited to her shield alone - she had said the spear had felt 'wrong' in her hands, like she was actively fighting herself when she tried to wield it.

It hadn't prevented the girl from having a bit of fun with the weapon, yelling something about 'dining in hell tonight!' as she had awkwardly thrust the spear at imaginary foes.

It was with those thoughts that Kratos drifted off to sleep.

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It was a loud, shrill noise that woke him, sometime later.

Kratos did not recognize the sound, but as a soldier who had seen his share of wars, he knew an alarm when he heard it. He was up, axe in his hand before he was fully awake. He was out the door a moment later.

The cool, white lighting of Chaldea was an angry red, the lights flashing as the alarm blared. Almost as soon as Kratos stepped into the hallway, Cu materialized at his side.

"Shit! We under attack?" His head darted about, looking for enemies.

Kratos was spared having to yell his ignorance over the alarm by another voice cutting through the cacophony. "Mr. Kratos!" shouted Mash as she rushed from her room, her Servant armor forming around her. On her wrist, he could see the projected image of Da Vinci. "It's the summoning chamber! We need to get there right now!"

Kratos, still not completely familiar with the layout of the building, let her take the lead, thundering in her wake as she rushed deeper into the facility.

The summoning room. Aside from the command room, it had been the second most heavily damaged area of Chaldea, or so Da Vinci had told him. Lev had apparently planted a great number of explosives there, not to kill, as with his sabotage of the command area, but to prevent Chaldea from summoning any Servants as reinforcements, in the event the decapitating strike failed to completely cripple them. It had only just been restored to functionality a few hours ago, or so Da Vinci had told him when he had dismissed Mash from that evening's training.

Not a room Kratos ever planned on visiting, either, given his distaste on commanding Servants, much less summoning one.

Mash led them true, and they arrived at the room within minutes, the door hissing open at their approach. Inside, a worried looking Da Vinci was frantically typing away on the controls of what Kratos assumed was the device that controlled the operations of the summoning chamber. A disheveled Romani, dressed only a pair of pants that were likely what he had been sleeping in, was staring into the chamber itself, his face bloodless.

"Romani!" bellowed Kratos, his voice cutting through the whine of the alarm. "What is happening?"

Romani started, so fixated on the summoning chamber that he hadn't noticed the trio barging into the room. "It just activated on its own! There was no one in here, the power wasn't even hooked up, but then…." He gestured aimlessly. "...suddenly, full power, and the summoning system is powered up and online. Da Vinci's been trying to shut it down, but…."

"I'm locked out! HOW AM I LOCKED OUT?" shrieked Da Vinci. "None of my backdoors are working, either? This shouldn't be POSSIBLE!"

Her eyes locked onto something on the monitor, and a touch of fear cracked her normally unflappable visage. "Something's coming through!"

The words sent a chill of fear down the spines of everyone in the room. "The three of you get in there!" barked Romani. "If we're about to have guests, I want you three to make sure they're friendly. Da Vinci, you keep trying to shut this thing down! If you can't, then back them up if it looks like we're about to repel invaders!"

The three of them were in the chamber itself a second later, Mash in the middle, Cu and Kratos flanking her, all of them whipcord tense.

The chamber shook violently, lightning (electricity, the word was electricity, for this lightning tamed by humans and used to power these buildings) sparking from the ceiling to the floor. As they watched, 10 white orbs formed in a circle around the center of the chamber. They hovered there for a moment, innocuously, before each turned blood red, and burst into crackling flames. They began to spin in a circle, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until they were a blur.

It was faint, at first, impossible to notice over the blaring alarm, the rumbling of the chamber, and the hissing flames, but it became louder, more noticeable as the circle of flame leapt higher and higher.

It was the sound of tearing, of something sharp piercing through, and shredding.

Five pairs of eyes watched as, in the ring of fire, something tore a rip in reality itself, and a blue, shimmering void appeared. The tear remained open but a second, before something fell through, hitting the ground with a metallic clunk, and the sound of rattling chains.

Two blades, about the size of a short sword, wickedly jagged, with a long length of chain attached to each.

Kratos felt his heart fall into his stomach.

And then he heard laughter. Ghostly, unearthly, laughter.

He turned, blood turning to ice, but there she was. Standing behind Da Vinci, a look of utter contempt on her face. Ghostly blue, gold motes of light dancing about her ethereal form.

Athena.

"There is NOWHERE you can hide, monster. Run as far as you can, even to a place such as this. You will NEVER be free of us…..of your sins."

Kratos blinked, and then she was gone.

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Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: The impeccable MadCrona had a bit in his wonderful Timeless Academia where Roman remembers showing a younger Mash 300, and her playing pretend at being Leonidas after that - the scene lives in my head rent free, so the bit with her playing with Draupnir is a bit of homage to that. Absolute respect, MadCrona, you are a hell of a writer.

For all those who were wondering about if Kratos would get his blades, here's your answer. He tried dropping them into the sea, and the things sank the boat he was on, then were waiting next to him on the beach when he woke up. They aren't ABOUT to let a measly thing like being in another universe entirely keep them apart from the one they're bound to.

No idea how long I can keep this writing pace up - I've got the bug BAD, to the point where I dragged my laptop out and was working on this story in between downs of the NFL on Sunday. Less likely to happen this week with a FGO event (and a lotto, to boot) to work on. Just saying, weekly updates - don't get used to them.

You're never going to get Kratos' opinion on pineapple on pizza. Shipping, powerscaling, I'll dip my toe into those arguments. Pineapple on pizza? Not touching that one with a ten foot pole, particularly as my better half and I come down on opposite sides on that, and she knows where I sleep.

Next chapter will likely be the last one before we start Orleans. There might be a short prologue for Orleans to set the table, but we're drawing close, if nothing else, to the first Singularity.

Chapter 10: Post-Fuyuki 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 10​

The five of them were seated around the conference table, no one speaking. Romani turned his gaze from person to person.

Da Vinci was still rattled - and he wasn't sure what was more unsettling about that, that she still hadn't regained her composure, or that she had gotten rattled at all. Da Vinci was NEVER rattled.

But something hijacking the Chaldea summoning system to force itself into existence - that was the sort of boogeyman story technicians might have told themselves in the dark hours of the night shift. To have it happen, and, moreover, to bypass every single precaution she'd built into the system….

No, Da Vinci had to feel like she'd been playing chess and been checkmated out of the blue. The problem with thinking you have a plan for every contingency meant when you got unexpectedly punched in the face, it tended to shake your foundations pretty badly, and Romani guessed that was what Da Vinci was feeling right now.

There was no sign of the affable, devil-may-care Cu Chulainn. The man was sitting straight up in his chair, his posture unusually perfect - possibly the first time Romani had ever seen him seated and not slouching. He was watching everyone carefully, every inch the predator of his namesake.

Mash was worried. The poor girl had been chewing her bottom lip so much that Romani was surprised she hadn't bitten through it yet. They'd just been settling down to something that sort of resembled normalcy - much as they could have that, given their situation, and then something like this.

And then there was Kratos.

Their resident deity was stiff as a board, his eyes focused straight ahead, on the center of the table.

Where rested the twin blades that had fallen through the tear in reality that had manifested itself in the middle of the summoning chamber.

Somehow, Romani found his voice, though he wasn't sure from where. "Respectfully…….Kratos, what the HELL just happened?" His voice didn't quaver, which, honestly, shocked him. "I think it's pretty clear from your reaction that you know those daggers, given you looked like you'd seen a ghost when they fell out of that rift."

And whatever he had been looking at, immediately after the weapons had fallen to the floor, and he'd whirled his head about, looking just past Da Vinci at….something. Something none of the rest of them had seen. If the god they had made an alliance with was seeing things, was mentally unstable……it was a nightmare he didn't even WANT to consider.

But it was one he had to consider, because he was Chaldea's acting director. He had to shoulder this burden, because no one else could.

With an effort of will, he pushed down all the fear, all the frustration, all the stress, all the sleepless nights, the 20 hour work days and missed meals, and softened his tone. "Please, just…..explain what just happened. If we're about to have more visitors from your neck of the woods, I'd like to be forewarned. There's a lot of questions you've got hanging around you, and we've not pushed - you deserve your privacy in that regard as much as anyone, but after this…." He gestured at the center of the table, where those two weapons laid. "I'm going to have to insist on some answers."

For a long moment, Kratos said nothing, barely moved. Then, he gave a sigh, and began speaking. "Once, I was a captain. The youngest captain Sparta had ever seen. I was heralded as a prodigy - it was believed I would bring great glory to our city, and lead our men to many victories."

He closed his eyes. "Under my command, my men did see many victories. But I was foolish, short sighted, and hungry for glory. I believed myself invincible, and led my men into a battle with a horde of barbarians many times our number, led by a mighty king of their kind. We were routed."

"In my lust for power, my hubris, I called out to Ares. I swore that I would serve him if he would only grant us victory." His face twisted into an expression of such…..hate, that Romani was floored. To see such on the face of a man who was normally so tightly controlled was deeply unsettling, to say the least.

"To my eternal misfortune, he heard." Kratos reached out to the blades, hand ghosting over them. As his hand hovered over them, close, but never touching, the blades flickered red for a moment, as if reacting to his proximity. "He gifted me these blades, with which I killed the barbarian king, and won my battle."

"It was only after the battle that Ares revealed his other gifts. Bondage - eternal service to him, and an unthinking rage for his new champion. These Blades too, he bonded them to me. The scars on my arms…….they are from the Blades."

That……explained so much. Romani hadn't shared it with anyone, but the scars of chains on Kratos' arms, they were more than skin deep. The bones of his arms were riddled with the same scars. At the time, Romani had thought them a result of the time Kratos referred to as having a yoke around his neck - that they were, but in such a different fashion than he had envisioned.

"I cannot be rid of them. After I left Greece, I tried many times to be rid of them. I sold them, buried them deep, threw them away. Each time, they returned to me. Once, I even dropped them from a boat, deep into the ocean. A storm wrecked the boat, and I was knocked unconscious. When I woke on the beach, the Blades were there, right beside me, when they should have been at the bottom of the ocean."

His hands gripped each other, clenching hard. "After that, I gave up trying to be parted from them. For many years, they lay hidden beneath the boards of my home in Midgard. It was only the most dire of circumstances that forced me to dig them up." A pause. "My son….he grew ill. The only cure that could be found lay in Helheim, a realm of eternal cold, where no fires could burn, and no magic in the Nine Realms could create a flame. My axe would not work there, and so….." He placed his hand on the handle of one of the Blades, and the metal flared red, and the scent of embers and ash flickered across their senses.

"So you turned to a weapon not from the Nine Realms," chimed in Cu. "Ignoring that easy leap of logic, let me get this straight. You WILLINGLY walked into Helheim, and managed to walk out in one piece?"

"It is not the first time I have had to fight my way free of a Realm of the Dead. Helheim was easier to leave than Tartarus." He released the weapon from his grasp, and pushed it away, heedless of the looks his statement was getting. "And to save my son, I would have stormed the very gates of Asgard itself, had the cure been there."

The room was silent for a moment, before Da Vinci found her voice. "We'll put a pin in that whole 'I've punched my way out of the afterlife multiple times' - because there's a story there that I'd LOVE to hear if you're willing to tell it. But I think any parent would move heaven and earth to save their child. At least any parent worth a damn."

Romani knew she wasn't looking at him directly, but he could feel her eyes on him all the same. She'd been the one to pull him off Beryl Gut, and her sitting in on the meeting between the two of them afterwards had been as much for Beryl's safety as it had been his. When he'd walked in to see what the man had been doing to Mash……..he just saw red, and then, the next thing he knew Da Vinci was restraining him, screaming words at him that he just didn't comprehend at the time.

"Mr. Kratos?" Mash was staring down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting as she struggled for her words. "Couldn't you have……gone to another god to get free of Ares? They weren't all bad, were they?"

"No…..no, they were not. The gods of my land were petty and cruel. Ares was unique only in the depths of his depravities, and the atrocities he had me commit in his name." He swallowed. "For a time, I served others of the Pantheon, chasing a promise that I would one day be free of their service, dangled in front of me like the meanest pack animal. It made no difference, I merely exchanged one yoke for another. That their orders were less than the butchery Ares commanded of me was little comfort to a slave."

The silence stretched until it became painful. At last, Kratos pushed himself from the table.

"I would speak no more of this."

Kratos strode from the room, and no one dared to stop him.

---

It was around 9 am - much later than when Kratos usually rose - when Da Vinci pushed her cart up to the door of his room. He hadn't been seen at breakfast in the cafeteria yet, and Mash was still in bed, sleeping in after the eventful night they had all had. Honestly, she would bet good money that the girl had tossed and turned for hours after returning to her room, the story she had heard haunting her and robbing her ability to fall back asleep.

Da Vinci was choosing to let her rest. They could afford a less productive day once in a while, end of the world or no end of the world.

Humming softly to herself, she pressed the doorbell to the room, and waited.

"Enter," came a rough voice from within the room.

She triggered the door to open - not that she needed anyone in the base's permission to enter their room, but it was a boundary she tried to respect save in the most dire of straits, which this clearly wasn't - and strode in, pushing her cart before her.

The lights were off, which wasn't surprising at all. The occupant himself was sitting on the bed, hands clasped before him, head resting on his hands. If his voice had been rough, the man looked even rougher. There were deep shadows under his eyes - he'd probably been sitting there since he stalked out of the conference room, stewing in his own thoughts, or she was a lizard.

"Good morning!" she chirped, giving him a pleasant smile. "I figured you probably weren't in the mood to deal with people too much today, so I took it upon myself to bring you some breakfast." She pushed her cart over to the small table, and set the covered plate in the center. "If you're amenable and don't really want to walk over there, we can have our class in here, too. Mash is still sleeping, but…"

"Why?"

The question was a single word, but there was a galaxy's worth of emotions in it. She sighed. "You could be asking why I'm bringing you breakfast when you know I know you haven't eaten yet today - and you've seen me nagging Romani about skipping meals. And just because you're a god doesn't mean you're immune to getting the same." Her smile dipped a little, becoming a trifle sad. "But I'm pretty sure that isn't what you're asking, it is?"

"Maybe it's 'Why are you not afraid of me?', or perhaps 'Why are you not treating me like a monster?'" She continued moving things from her cart, setting a hot plate down, then plugging it in and setting a kettle down on top of it. "To the first, I am afraid of you, Kratos. I have been since the moment we realized what you are. A fully incarnated god? You could probably kill everyone in Chaldea in less time than it would take me to heat up this kettle. Oh, Cu would probably give you a hell of a fight, but he's really hindered by being stuck as a Caster instead of a Lancer - much as he's exaggerating for drama, it really is his best class. Mash is already getting attached to you - she'd fight you if she had to, but her heart wouldn't be in it, the poor thing would be torn in two, and you'd be able to exploit that ruthlessly if you so desired. She's got a big heart, that one. She wasn't even close to Lev, and she's still taking his betrayal hard."

"And me, well. I could make things very, very difficult for you. But I was no fighter when I was alive. You've heard me list my titles before - general, soldier, brawler, warrior - none of those appear on that list. I'm still a Servant, with all the superhumanity that entails, but against a god? I'd have to get very, VERY lucky. So yes, I am afraid of you, in the sense that I'm afraid of anything that could kill me. DO I think you will?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. You've been a perfect guest so far, and I think we'd have to severely betray your trust to get you to turn against us. Something none of us want - and I'd be saying that even if you weren't a living deity."

She set the kettle to heating. "As to the last question? Well….." She turned to look at the man. "Did you know I robbed graves when I was alive?"

She waved (she wasn't flailing, and she'd deny that vehemently) her hand at his widening eyes. "Not me, really. People I hired to do it. And I wasn't grave robbing in the sense that I was looking to loot corpses for their jewelry or the fine clothes they might have been buried in. I was after the bodies themselves." She tilted her head back, remembering. "Back when I was alive, the dominant religion of the area had made dissecting corpses illegal unless you were a doctor. And most of the so-called 'doctors' of my time weren't particularly interested in expanding their knowledge - but you've heard me rant about how even in the Renaissance so many people were still stuck in the mindset of the Dark Ages, uninterested in learning anything new, content with the way things had been, living small, blunted, BORING lives."

She met Kratos' eyes. "So I paid people to steal bodies for me, so I could cut the bodies up, and learn how humans worked. So I could create greater works of art - 'It is necessary for a painter to be a good anatomist, so that he may be able to design the naked parts of the human frame and know the anatomy of the sinews, nerves, bones, and muscles.' My own words, left behind in some of the many notes I made in life. And probably at least somewhat, because I was told I couldn't. Sure, the things I learned helped me create the masterpieces I did - and probably could have advanced medical knowledge and science hundreds of years, if I'd been able to publish them."

She sighed. "But what comfort would that be to that person's friends and family to know that I ripped their loved one from their place of rest and cut them apart like they were so much meat? All because I wanted to learn, and couldn't stand to be told 'no'. That I wasn't looking for monetary gain like some common thief doesn't really make it any better, noble intentions or no."

"That does not compare…."​

She interrupted him. "No, it doesn't. And if you think I'm trying to downplay what you told us, you're dead wrong on that. You made, frankly, an incredibly stupid choice, and it cost not just you, but probably hundreds of innocent people in the long run." She gave him a wan smile. "But I'm also guessing that's something you've told yourself hundreds, if not thousands of times since then, so hearing it from little old me is just an echo of your own thoughts."

He nodded. "And that's one reason why I'm not treating you like some sort of monster. You clearly regret that decision, and have been punishing yourself for it ever since that horrible day." The kettle began to sing, and she pulled it off the heat and began to pour the boiling water into a cup. "But you're also not the first person to make a stupid choice in the heat of the moment."

Index finger. "Lancelot was probably the greatest knight in the greatest collection of knights in history, the Round Table. And he carried on an affair with the king's wife that tore that group apart, and utterly destroyed the kingdom that they defended, and plunged England into those selfsafe Dark Ages that you've heard me ranting against."

She ticked off a second finger on her hand. "Arjuna, the hero of the epic Hindu poem the Mahabharata was so consumed with the need to defeat the forces arrayed against his side, and specifically, his rival Karna, that he sank to incredible lows to win. He even shot Karna in the back, while Karna was unarmed, and weighed down by three curses that were pretty much crippling him. It was only after the fact that he learned he and Karna were half-brothers."

Another finger. "The Shinsengumi, for all that they are beloved today, were essentially a secret police force propping up a government that was increasingly incapable of defending the nation from foreign interests, though I'm sure the revolutionaries would have said 'threats', or serving the people. And they suppressed any dissent in Kyoto, the capital city, brutally. Less a case of someone making a stupid choice, and more a group that was drenched in blood, yet still revered as heroes."

Pinky finger. "Gilgamesh, widely considered to be the first hero in human history, and probably the greatest Heroic Spirit on the Throne was, in his younger days, little better than a tyrant. Whatever he wanted from his kingdom, be it labor, treasure, women, he took, heedless of the consequences. It took him losing the only person in the world he saw as his equal to make him grow up and actually start acting like the king he was supposed to be."

She held up her hand, and waggled her thumb exaggeratedly. "I could go on. Hell, that Irishman you've been fighting with on a regular basis was serially unfaithful to his wife, Emer. And it's not like this was an arranged political marriage - the man was enough of a menace to the wives and daughters of Ulster that the crowned heads were TRYING to marry him off, but he wouldn't have anyone but Emer. But her father wouldn't have it, and tried to get Cu killed by telling him to go train under Scáthach - and yes, that's the teacher he's always complaining about - hoping he'd die in the process. It didn't take."

She shrugged. "The man goes through all that for a woman, and still can't keep it in his pants." A furrowed brow was her only response. "The point I'm slowly making my way to is that if you're going to talk about checkered pasts, you're among good company with Heroic Spirits. Yes, we changed history in our lifetimes, but we got dirty doing it, and made our fair share of mistakes. Even King Arthur, the supposedly perfect king, well, you saw her in that Singularity. A corrupted version of her, certainly, but whatever got to her got to her by preying upon, or magnifying the worst aspects of her personality. She was no half-formed, brainwashed wraith like those shadows she had bound to her, she was the catalyst for everything that went wrong there and chose to burn that city to the ground with her own two hands."

She paused for a moment, then continued, her voice soft. "And I'm sure you haven't told us everything - like, for instance, how you became a god."

She gave him a wry grin in response to his widening eyes. "It wasn't hard to piece together. There's a Kratos mentioned in our version of Greek myth, but his story bears no resemblance to yours. And I don't think a god would have struggled to vanquish a barbarian king, no matter how great his horde."

She pulled the cover off the plate, hoping the smell of food would lure the man over. "So, I'm assuming you got out from under Ares' thumb by putting him down, and that opened up his seat for you."

With a weary breath, Kratos rose from the bed, and walked over to sit at the table. "You are correct."

She handed over a set of silverware. "That fits the guesses I had. With you having said you'd fought Hercules before, and given everything about you…" She gave a general gesture at his musculature, weapons, and general self. "I was betting that you were a war god. Being that good at fighting didn't preclude you from being something else, but it was the simplest answer, and good old Occam wins again."

Judging that the leaves had steeped enough, she pushed a cup across the table to him. "Chamomile again. I figured after a talk like that, soothing was the order of the day. Though I did bring coffee if you feel like you need it to chase the cobwebs away. Just, if you do, let me know if you start getting jittery or feel weird. No clue how strong caffeine might affect a god, and I think we'd all rather you not have a bad reaction or anything."

A grunt. "Da Vinci." His head was still bowed, staring down at the plate in front of him. He'd made no move to begin eating. "Your words are….appreciated."

Feeling especially daring today, she reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Kratos wasn't very tactile with anyone at Chaldea - he kept his distance, largely only making any sort of physical contact with Mash when he was correcting her stances during training, and maintaining a firm personal bubble otherwise. But today, she was wagering he could use it.

Human contact had a special medicine all its own.

"I know it's early days yet, but you're one of us now, Kratos. What you did in your past, yes, it was horrible. But that person wouldn't have saved our people in that Singularity, wouldn't have fought so hard to help them get home safe, and wouldn't be helping us now. When you're ready to tell the rest of your story, we'll be ready to listen with an open mind."

"And on that somewhat related topic…." she reached over to the cart and pulled at a drawer on the side, sliding it open.

There, resting innocuously on the metal of the drawer, were his blades. "I'm going to need to know what you want me to do with these. I haven't so much as touched them, even had a robot pick them up and put them in the cart - you said they were bound to you, so I didn't want to risk getting hit by some sort of countermeasure if I picked them up and they decided they didn't like me."

She gestured to the hook on the wall where his axe was hanging. "I can easily work up another one of those, if that's all you want. Alternatively, I can have a safe - a really fancy lockbox - made for them if you'd prefer. I could even keep them locked up in my workshop, though I'd be worried if they'd consider that being apart from you and would pull another stunt like last night."

"A means to hang them is all I would ask." He picked up his fork, and was staring down at the food on his plate, clearly not even seeing it. "They are a useful tool, and our advantages are few enough as is, whatever my feelings for them may be."

"Simplicity itself. I'll have something for you by tonight." Another brief pat on his shoulders - purely for comfort's sake, she wasn't taking the chance to get a good feel of those muscles, nosiree. "Chin up, Kratos. It was a rough night for us all, and I can't imagine it was enjoyable having to relive one of your worst days like that. But no one here is judging you for your past - or at least, I'm not. Romani won't, and Mash won't." She considered. "And Cu better not, or I'll chew his ear off."

A thought occurred to her. "Though, I WILL warn you that you might be getting some amount of hero worship from Mash now. She's been obsessed with the Spartans since Romani showed her 300 as a little girl. To have a real-life Spartan here, and training her, no less? Oh, she'll think you'll hang the moon."

A blink. "What is 300?"

---

A few hours later, and Kratos found himself in the Simulator.

Their lessons that day had been, to put it kindly, a disaster. Kratos had tried, but his mind simply wasn't in it today - going in far too many directions after the events of the evening, and the lack of sleep wasn't helping. He'd made a game effort, but Da Vinci had seen through him quickly enough, and had shooed him away.

"Go on, there's no point teaching a student when they're distracted like you are. I halfway had a feeling this would be the case, and I went ahead and reserved the Simulator for you for the entire day. Go on, get it out of your system, and we'll pick this up tomorrow."

And then Kratos had been unceremoniously herded out of his room (kicked out of HIS ROOM - he was still trying to figure out how that had happened) with assurances that he could take today as a 'mental health day' and just relax - or chop the heads off of virtual enemies, which she assumed that was how Spartans would relax in the 21st century.

So he lost himself in the familiar routines of training, and slowly burnt the stress of the previous night away, and bit by bit, began to find his center again.

He wasn't sure how long he had been at it (he was reasonably certain he had missed the mid-day meal) when a voice echoed across the simulated planes.

"What, no Blades?"

Kratos paused his drill, shoulders heaving with exertion as he came back to himself, and his body reminded him how long he had been at this without pause, and turned to frown at Cu Chulainn.

The Servant was standing, as ever, lazily nonchalant, staff slung across his shoulders. "That's a shame, I really wanted to see those things in action, and not just as a spectator, either."

It took a moment for Kratos to find his voice. "I am unsure that would be wise."

"Oh c'mon. That axe and spear of yours are powerful toys, but those blades that showed up last night? The magic was so thick around them I could practically CHEW on it. I've been driving myself up the walls today waiting for our spar tonight." True, the man was practically vibrating in his own skin.

Also, tonight? Was it truly so late?

"Hell, if you showed up on the Throne with those things, the line would be halfway around the damn thing with folks wanting to take their shot at fighting you. And that's to say nothing about how outraged Goldie would be to lay eyes on a treasure he didn't have in his vault." Cu cackled, bouncing his staff on his shoulders. "It would make my day to see that, and it would be even better to see you mop the floor with the arrogant bastard when he tries to take them."

He idly twirled his staff in his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "But in lieu of that, I just get to cut in line and get first crack at those fancy blades of yours. So c'mon!"

Kratos blinked. If Cu was treating him one iota differently, it was impossible for the Spartan to tell.

"Did your friend mention I killed my kid?" Gone was the playful demeanor, for the first time since meeting him, Cu actually looked…..mournful?

"One of them, anyway…..it was complicated - which sums up a lot of what happened in Ireland those days." He made a frustrated sound, and flopped to the ground, sitting cross-legged. "So, back when I was training with the old witch, one day Aífe shows up - that woman hated Teacher - and demands a fight. Well, Scáthach knew I'd stick my nose into it, and so she drugs me with something that's supposed to knock me out for the day, and goes off to fight. Me being me, I was down for an hour, and then immediately went off after her, because of COURSE I did."

He wiggled a finger, and the end of his staff sharpened into a point, and he began scratching images into the dirt. "So, I end up fighting as Scáthach's champion, and manage to win - though not without playing dirty myself. One thing leads to another from there, but somehow I managed to broker a peace between those two - scuttlebutt always said that Aífe was teacher's sister, but she was always mum on if that was true or not, and I learned to stop asking after the first time she kicked me off a cliff for doing so - but it required me getting Aífe with child."

The man's frown was growing in intensity as the picture he was drawing gained form - a young boy, one who had an obvious resemblance to Cu himself. "I give her a ring, and tell her to send my kid to me when he's seen seven winters." He looks up at Kratos. "So, wind the clock forward those seven winters, and Aífe sends my kid to me, but binds him to not back down from a challenge, and to not identify himself. By the time he reaches my doorstep, he's already terrified most of the land with how good of a warrior he is, and given how no one knows who this demon child is who's just beat the pants off most of the best fighters in the land, well, panic was the order of the day."

"Me being the big dumb idiot I am, we fight, and I win, because that's what I do. It's only as the kid is dying in my arms that I see the ring, and realize I've just killed my son." Slowly, painstakingly, he carved a handful of runes below the portrait. 'Connla'.

Cu heaved a sigh, his shoulders tight with tension. "I've got a lot of regrets about my life, Kratos. The way I treated my wife Emer - she's one of four women I couldn't keep my promises to in life. Ferdiad and I trained under the hag together, he was a brother to me in everything but blood, and we ended up on opposite sides of the war that ended up killing me - but not before I ended up killing HIM. And my kid - that one might burn me the most."

He lolled his head back, blowing out a long breath. "Tuesday nights on the Throne is the support group for people who have regrets about their lives. There's booze. STRONG booze, and lots of it, too."

He cocked his head, staring straight at Kratos. "So I'm the last person who's going to throw stones over your story last night. Way I see it, you're in good company with a world-class fuck up like me."

Cu shook himself like a dog, almost throwing off the melancholy clinging to him, and pushed himself to his feet. "One thing I will say is that I saw the end of Ragnarök from your point of view, when we pulled that trick to save the Director. You had Odin dead to rights - and while I don't know what he did to you, I've only heard that level of venom in your voice one other time, and that was last night when you were talking about Ares." His eyes flickered over his shoulder, almost as if he was looking for something. "You could have killed him. Maybe you SHOULD have killed him. But you didn't, you let your son choose another option."

He shrugged. "Showing mercy to someone as powerful as that? That's the mark of a better man than the one you told us about last night." He grimaced. "Of course, it was moot, after your little dwarf friend went and smashed his marble, but I expect that had something to do with how pissed you are at old One-Eye. But hey, good intentions, right?"

Kratos…..didn't know what to think. He'd expected condemnation, recriminations, or even some frightened distance. Not this matter-of-fact acceptance of his past, for all that he had shared only a fraction of it.

But then, Mimir hadn't been repulsed to find he'd been accompanying the Ghost of Sparta, merely amazed, once he put the pieces together. And Freya, for all that she'd still likely been plotting his death as they'd journeyed through Vanaheim, she had never once thrown an accusation his way when he had told her of Calliope and Lysandra - just horror at the story itself. And at that time she'd hardly been the friend she had become, frequently throwing all manner of vicious barbs his way as they had navigated the humid jungles of Vanaheim.

Maybe, just maybe, his expectations regarding the reactions to his past being revealed were a touch off. At least for those who had, and could, become true allies to the Spartan.

Ignorant, either willfully or otherwise, of Kratos' swirling thoughts, Cu continued. "Anyways, in my experience, the best cure for when you find yourself turning into a big mopey bear is a good round of fighting. So go grab those blades of yours and let me see what you can really do!"

Kratos couldn't help it. The man looked so hopeful, like a child begging for a sweet. He gave a small, very small snort of a laugh, and went to fetch his blades.

---

The Blades of Chaos screamed through the air, only to be batted aside by Draupnir. With a jerk on the chains, Kratos halted their motion and flicked them back at Cu, this time from opposite directions, to which the man merely ducked under them and burst forward, seeking to close the distance.

Like magic, Kratos tugged the Blades back to his hands and met the spear's thrust head on, using his greater strength to push the spear aside and move within its range, one Blade already moving to intercept the spinning butt of the spear, its twin slashing at Cu's eyes.

Cu twisted his body, using his blocked spear as a pivot point to spin himself out of the way of Kratos' attack, and launching his body into the air to throw a vicious spinning kick at Kratos' head, one that passed by Kratos by the thinnest of margins, as the Spartan threw his weight backwards and leaned out of the way of Cu's sandaled feet.

He sent the Blades on short, quick flights as the Caster flew through the air, but, as with the all the other times, Cu twisted and dodged, the Blades coming close enough to nick his robes, but always missing by a hair's breadth, when the Caster didn't simply slap them aside.

"Good gods, man, you are a MENACE with those things!" Despite his words, Cu's grin was wide enough to crack his face in two.

"And yet I have not managed to hit you once, Caster. You fight as though familiar with these Blades." Kratos spun one of the Blades idly as he considered how to approach the slippery Irishman, the fire within the Blades beginning to leak through the metal as it whirled through the air.

Cu slid into what Kratos was beginning to recognize as the most basic stance of Cu's style, spear held low to the ground, weapon angled diagonally down, body hunched just enough to make him capable of a terrifyingly quick burst forward. "Would you believe this is the second time in a week I'm fighting a chain-user?" At Kratos' somewhat incredulous look, he laughed. "No, hang me for a liar if this isn't the truth! The Rider of that mess of a war you lot bailed me out of used chains too. Though her weapons were more akin to stakes……or really big nails. But it gave me some practice against that style, for all that you're ENTIRELY another kettle of fish than she was."

He slid forward, eyes flicking between the Blade Kratos had spinning in the air, and the other one held in his left hand. "And like her nails, your Blades are JUST close enough to projectiles that they register with my Protection from Arrows, meaning I can stop them most of the time." He glanced at his tattered robes. "Though your Blades take a lot more effort on my part to stop than her nails did, even with your spear as a loaner." Another minute inch forward. "Thanks for that, by the way. I'd hate to think what those wicked little toys of yours would have done to my poor staff."

Cu's body was tensing, and Kratos prepared for the Irishman's charge - so he was taken aback when Cu sprang, not forward, but backwards, and up, high into the air, drawing Draupnir back to….

Oh.

Quickly, Kratos let the gathered energies dissipate from the Blades, and sent them spinning in a wall of metal in front of him, as what seemed like an endless rain of spears flew down from above. Focusing hard, he tracked each spear copy as it cut through the air, and sent a Blade to knock it from its path, each arm working independently. As one arm intercepted a screaming spear, the other was sending a Blade into an arc where he could block the next spear he spotted.

Blocking with his shield would have been a fool's game, handing Cu the means to detonate who knows how many spears at a terminal distance to Kratos. So, he sent the Blades flying.

It was a stalemate, and one that Kratos would eventually lose, was Cu capable of staying in the air forever. But Servants were beholden to gravity, for all that it at times only held a loose grasp on them, and Kratos whipped his Blades back, then sent them screaming at the Servant, as he landed.

Cu gave a frustrated noise as he parried. "The Soaring Spear that Strikes with Death just ain't the same without my Gáe Bolg, but STILL! I thought I'd at least nick you once with that!" His grin was all teeth. "Close quarters it is, then."

And the Servant rocketed forward again.

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: Cue the Rocky 3 ending, with Kratos and Cu as Rocky and Apollo.

This chapter got to the point that I decided to split it into two - there's two main things I was planning to hit with it, but tonally, they're kind of different, and I feel they need some space between them. So next chapter will be the second half of this chapter, and might include the prologue to Orleans in it as well.

As a Shinsengumi mark, it hurt my soul (or souls, since I'm a horrible soul-stealing Ginger) to write that, even if it was true.

Chapter has been reworked as of 12/18/23, after feedback, and consideration made me realize it was FAR too early to have Kratos revealing about the fate of his first wife and daughter. So the scene in the conference room post Mash's question has been reworked, as well as some bits in the conversations with Da Vinci and Cu.

Chapter 11: Post-Fuyuki 4/Orleans Prologue

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 11

 

FRANCE
1431​

Jeanne d'Arc was not having a good week.

Oh sure, it had started well enough. She had finally tracked down that annoying dragonslayer, and was tearing through the air with enough wyverns to drown the man in them, when Gilles had started shrieking in her head.

Now, usually that just meant it was a day ending in 'y'. Gilles was very…..excitable these days. He'd clearly taken her death badly, and was a far cry from the reserved man who had fought at her side in previous days. Which was fine, she was far from the pious little milksop she had been before the pyre - they'd both changed since that terrible day.

But there was something different about Gilles' outburst today - it wasn't him getting worked up about some new atrocity he'd thought up for them to inflict on the traitorous population of France, no. This was fear - something had happened that had Gilles running scared. So, being the fearless leader, and good friend she was, she turned her wyvern caravan around and flew back to her castle at Orleans, double time.

All the while, she'd been trying to get Gilles to stop gibbering and make sense, but all she'd been able to get from him was that they had a visitor.

The fuck? Who was stupid enough to visit THEM? Were the piles of charred corpses not a good enough 'keep the fuck out' sign?

She'd managed to work herself up into a more irritable mood than usual by the time her wyverns landed in the courtyard of her castle, and she'd been ready to turn their unwanted guest into so much charcoal, when she'd seen Gilles' weird little pets.

Or, more correctly, what was left of them.

Something had torn through them, littering the courtyard with their parts. And while they weren't the most threatening things to a top-tier Servant like her, Gilles had A LOT of them roaming the grounds, and could easily summon more with his book.

It didn't look like it had mattered. Whomever had come calling had torn through them effortlessly - to the point, as she stalked to the throne room, she caught glimpses of some still-living monstrosities cowering in the corners.

COWERING.

By the time she got to her throne room, she was equal parts angry, concerned, and spoiling for a fight. She'd kicked the door open to set the proper theme for her entrance, and, then, laid eyes on their mysterious guest.

Frankly, he didn't look like much. Just a smiling man in a green suit. Harmless looking, if not for the ichor of Gilles' pets staining his arms, and the fact that Gilles was trembling in the corner.

She'd barely begun to draw breath to demand just who in the hells he was, and what he was doing in HER castle and to HER friend, when the man had interrupted her, apologizing for his abrupt, and rude intrusion.

He'd not let her get a word in edgewise, as he'd claimed to be an ally, someone very interested in her work here, and, as such, he was loath to see such a promising endeavor come to an end.

Because there were people coming, you see, who were determined to put a stop to her holding France accountable for its many crimes against her.

She'd laughed, of course. People coming to stop her? Let them try - they'd be more fuel for the pyre that would be France.

He'd smiled at her bravado, and said he was certain she was truly fearsome, but her enemies also had a mighty warrior at their side, and wouldn't she like some insurance against that? He'd had a gift for her, something that had been retrieved at great risk, something that would certainly be an excellent catalyst if used to summon a Servant.

The 'gift' in question had been little more than a stone, spotted with some blood.

Their guest had just smiled his weird little smile at her disdainful look, stating that the blood on that rock was the very blood of the warrior that was aiding their enemies. And if she used it as a catalyst, called out for the Throne to send her one of this man's enemies - of which he was sure there were many - her victory would be assured.

Then he'd bowed, and taken his leave, and Jeanne hadn't had it in her to stop him.

That morning, she might have laughed if someone had told her of someone coming to stop her. But that man - if he'd been a man at all - had had power, real power. And the only time his pleasant demeanor had slipped had been when he had been talking about this supposedly 'mighty warrior'. That man, for all the power she could feel boiling under his skin, had been concerned about that individual.

So she chose to use his gift as intended.

Problem the first - she had too many Heroic Spirits summoned as is. In order to summon another, she'd need to discard and draw. If she'd still been the weak little bleeding-heart she'd been before That Day, she might have agonized over it, fretted about losing one of her companions, sobbed into the night about making a hard choice.

For the new and improved Jeanne d'Arc, it was easy. Berserk Rider had fought her control from the moment she'd been summoned. She was constantly seeking any sort of loophole in her orders, constantly undermining her authority - she was halfway convinced she had been so badly beaten by that dragonslayer because she was trying to get herself killed, and escape Jeanne's service.

If she wanted to die so badly, Jeanne would give it to her.

So she and her running crew had jumped Berserk Rider, and beaten her badly - almost to the point of death, but not quite there. Killing her like that would be wasteful - this could do double duty as both freeing up a slot in her roster, and as an object lesson to some of her other less than dutiful Servants - Berserk Archer, for one.

So she'd dragged Saint Martha to the selfsame spot where Jeanne herself had been burnt at the stake, and did a re-enactment. Burning an actual saint in the spot where she herself had burnt - then using the ashes to draw the magical circle they'd use to summon her replacement.

She'd thought Gilles was going to cream his pants at the sheer blasphemy of it - and he might well have.

She'd set the bloodstained stone at the center of the circle, and then done the chant, modified to call out for an enemy of he whose blood marked this catalyst.

And that's when things had started to go wrong.

It was now a week later, and it was just her and Gilles, storming through the castle.

"Gilles, you want to tell me exactly WHY the Madness Enhancement isn't taking on this one?" There was a vein throbbing in Jeanne's forehead, one that had been growing more and more pronounced as the week went on. "I did the spell just like you showed me - just like I did it for ALL the rest, and nothing! You want to explain this?"

Gilles giggled. To someone unfamiliar with the man, it would have sounded like his usual, unhinged laughter, but Jeanne could hear the undercurrent of unease in it. And this was Gilles - something that unsettled him was……what fresh hell had she summoned last week?

"Oh Jeanne, Jeanne…….." his voice dropped an octave, as suddenly, he sounded almost like the soldier she had known before her death, and not the Gilles of the current day. "Truly, I don't know. The spell slips off him like the skin off a flayed baby's back. It should work - there's no reason why it wouldn't. But it just doesn't seem to want to take to this Servant."

Jeanne growled, frustrated. "He doesn't LISTEN. Not to you, not to me, not to anyone! He's spent more time fighting with the other Servants, drinking, and screwing than actually following orders."

She stopped, turning to face Gilles as he trailed along behind her. "He tamed Fafnir. FAFNIR! The calamity of a dragon who BARELY listens to me, and then only because I summoned him and I've promised him Siegfried's heart. But he spends a day getting thrown around by that dragon, getting mauled by it and laughing, and suddenly Fafnir's willing to be his personal fucking MOUNT! I swear they're five minutes away from making some blood oath and calling each other 'brother'."

She ran a hand through her hair, feeling how ragged and unkempt it felt. Things felt like they were slipping away from her at a rapid pace. When she spoke, her voice was notably lacking her usual vigor. "Gilles, what do I do?"

The feeling of a hand patting her on her shoulder brought her out of her spiraling thoughts. Gilles was smiling up at her (and that was another strange thing about this new Gilles, he had shrunk in on himself in the time that had passed since she had died and come back - and that wasn't even mentioning those eyes of his). "Dear Jeanne, you shouldn't doubt yourself like that. It's unbecoming of the perfect Jeanne you have become. You know what to do, in your heart. You're thinking it, the same thing I'm thinking."

Duh. It was so simple when he put it like that. "Same thing I've done to everyone who's dared to defy me, right?"

Gilles nodded, and Jeanne straightened up, finally feeling like things were starting to make sense again. "You're damn right! Come on, Gilles. Let's find that dick and teach him about the pecking order around here."

---

A few days had passed since the Blades had followed Kratos to this world, and he once again found himself standing in a room that he'd hoped to never cross the threshold of again.

The summoning chamber.

It was only obligation, and the continual, persuasive efforts of a certain Universal Genius that had him standing here.

---

He had been packing up his notes, his daily lessons with Da Vinci having finished, when she had bid him stay seated for a moment. "Before you go for the day, there's a bit of Chaldea business I'd like to discuss with you."

He'd settled back into his chair, and nodded at her to continue.

"So……..when your Blades showed up the other night, it did a number on the summoning chamber. Whatever trick they pulled to force their way into our reality blew out circuits, played merry hell with the various wards and other mysteries we had set up there, and generally trashed the place - in a different way than Lev's bombs did. The damage he caused was mainly physical, while the damage this time was more metaphysical."

"Now, no one's blaming you for what happened the other night - from what you told us, you have no control on what those things do when they're separated from you, and you certainly didn't intend to get kicked to another universe while your blades were hanging on your wall back home, and thus making them go into a possessive snit like they did."

She frowned, considering. "Honestly, in some ways it's almost a good thing - now that we know that our system CAN be hacked, we can try to defend against it with the data we collected. It might amount to nothing in the end - anything powerful enough to kick down the walls between dimensions like that might not even notice our protections, but it'll at least help Roman sleep a bit better at night."

She grimaced. "WHEN he's sleeping."

Kratos wisely said nothing. He understood Doctor Romani's drive all too well - from the moment Baldur had shown up on their doorstep until the moment they returned home from spreading Faye's ashes, he'd not slept, had pushed his stamina as far as it would go, seeking to finish their journey while he still had strength.

But Romani was only human,and had human limits. And a determined Universal Genius who had jokingly been threatening to drug Romani to make sure he got adequate rest.

At least, he thought she was joking.

"ANYWAYS!" she chirped, coming back from whatever dire fate she had been devising for Romani. "The long and the short of it is, we've got the summoning chamber repaired - again - and this brings up something we would have asked you a few days ago, if your Blades hadn't shown up the way they did."

Kratos frowned, already having guessed what she was going to say. "Now that it is repaired, it must be tested."

"Got in it one."

Kratos' frown was beginning to resemble a full on grimace. "You know my feelings on holding the power I already hold over Mash and Cu Chulainn. And yet, you would ask me to bind another's will to mine?"

"Yes, I would." she said, bluntly. "For the dual reasons that we need to make sure the chamber works, for when Fujimaru wakes up, and because we need as many allies as we can summon. And like it or not, you're the only person left with any sort of Master potential."

"Now, do I expect you to do so just because I told you to? Of course not. We can't MAKE you do anything." Her fingers began drumming on the tabletop, as she considered him. "And honestly, I'd much prefer you as a willing participant, rather than doing this out of obligation or because you feel you have to. If you're truly, completely set against this, then we'll make do until Fujimaru wakes up. Given what you told us about how the gods treated you when you were in their service, I can't blame you for your reservations in holding that kind of absolute power over another. But!"

She gave him a look, one that put him in mind of Freya, when she had asked him to be the general of the armies of Ragnarök. "First, there's every possibility that Fujimaru might not ever wake up, or, if she does, she might not live to the end of this. If the latter happens, then you'd be right back to where you are now, having to take on those contracts lest we lose whatever Servants Fujimaru's managed to summon. And in that scenario, you won't have a choice like you do now, and I worry how that might make you feel. No one likes feeling like they're being forced into doing something, much less something they have ample distaste for."

"Secondly, we are just wasting resources by not summoning another Servant. With the Grail from the Fuyuki Singularity, we can easily support another Servant, and the possibilities for who we could summon is, quite literally, endless. A legendary medic to help get Fujimaru back on her feet, or another warrior the caliber of Cu Chulainn to help us fight. A powerful Mage who can help us shore up our defenses, or create objects that would make exploring the Singularities safer and easier. Another pair of hands, no matter the hands, would be a godsend right now - pun not intended."

She raised a finger. "And, given we can only send a single Servant with you to the next Singularity - well, one and Mash - it would be nice to have someone else besides yours truly to be the last line of defense in case our enemy decides to attempt an attack while you're in the field. I'd defend this place with EVERY fiber of my being, but I'm still no more of a fighter than I was a few days ago."

Every point she was raising was a valid one. And yet, his blood still curdled at the thought of summoning yet another spirit to his side. It was easy to forget, at times, between the sparring, the teaching, the being taught, that he held an absolute power - of life and death, if so he chose - over two other people.

For all that he was an incomplete ghost, only a portion of the entire person he had been while alive, Cu Chulainn WAS a person to Kratos. They had fought side by side, spilled blood, both theirs and others, together. He was easily the most agreeable spirit Kratos had ever met in his lifetimes - not that that was a high bar to clear.

And Mash…….Mash was a gentle, naive girl, nearly as ill-suited to a path of violence and combat as his son had been. Circumstances had forced both onto the paths they now walked, but had things been different, he could have seen his son walking the path of a scholar - or something involving animals. Lots of animals. And Mash…..

Da Vinci had made it clear the girl had barely been treated as human for a large portion of her life. To override her will, to give her an absolute command like that made Kratos feel ill. Even having the potential to do such sat poorly with him.

"If it helps, we don't need a decision right now. Roman is getting closer to narrowing down the exact time period for three different Singularities, but it doesn't feel like we're on the cusp of a breakthrough there - assuming he doesn't stay up three nights in a row pouring over a decade's worth of history again," she grumbled. "Think on it, and I mean REALLY think on it. Talk it over with Mash and Cu if you believe that would help - they'd certainly have thoughts on the subject. Lots of thoughts, for that matter."

"Just…..whatever being a Master means to you - and yes, I know you don't like that title, don't glare at me like that - you're who defines what it is, not anyone else. It doesn't have to be the servitude to the gods you suffered under - if you don't like what it represents, then make it something else, something entirely yours."

She gave him a smile. "Just my two cents."

---

"I think you should do it."

Kratos sent a weak glare at the Irish Servant. "Are you so eager for a new opponent to fight?"

Cu's eyes widened in affront - Kratos was certain at least half, if not more of it was a show. "HEY! That's not my reason at all!" At Kratos' withering look, he had the dignity to look at least a bit sheepish. "Well, it's not ALL of my reason."

He bounced on the balls of his feet, just outside the range of Kratos' arms. No weapons for their spar tonight, the Caster had suggested a round of unarmed combat, something that he was possibly regretting, as Kratos' raw brute strength had easily allowed him to take the first few falls. Now, he was fighting much more carefully, waiting for Kratos to make the first move.

Across the field from them, Mash was running through a set of more advanced drills that Kratos had come up with for the girl. Only a week, and she was already showing marked signs of improvement.

With a huff, Kratos snapped a jab at Cu's face, breaking the stalemate. Cu weaved under the punch, feinted a cross counter, and then quick as lightning, snapped a low kick at Kratos' leg - one he only just managed to blunt by turning to the blow and taking it on his meaty thigh.

"You HAVE to agree, though, only having each other to spar with is a bit boring - not that you're not an endless bag of tricks that I'm still figuring out, but being able to fight other people would help keep us sharper. You're enough of a warrior to not need me to tell you that." Cu slid back from a vicious uppercut, then stepped inside Kratos' guard and fired a quick pair of rabbit punches at the Spartan's midsection, blows that landed, but did little damage. Before Kratos could retaliate, he sprang back, again just outside of his range.

"And the girl could use it too. Everything I said about needing to fight a variety of people goes double for a newbie like her. But again, not telling you anything you don't know." Cu bobbed and weaved as Kratos went on the offensive, peppering Cu with a variety of quick punches, keeping his guard tight, for the man needed only a split second to counter.

And he must have seen a window, however brief, for he snapped out a straight right - that was caught by Kratos' hand, and then was pulled in close, and lifted. "Oh shiiiiiiiiit!" Cu's cry echoed through the room as Kratos tossed him across the plain, the man landing with a thud.

For a long moment, the Servant just laid there. Then, he sighed. "I know I'm one to complain about this, but it really isn't FAIR how fast you are - especially for how BIG you are. I could dance circles around Heracles - not that I could do much damage to him by my lonesome as a Caster, but you. YOU look like you should be much slower than you actually are. I'm glad you're on our side."

He pushed himself back to his feet. "Let me catch my breath, then we'll go again." He began patting down his robes, beating the dust from them, as he began to get his breathing under control. "But back to what I was saying, I don't JUST want another person around to fight with. I also think it'd do you some good."

Kratos blinked. "Explain."

Cu paused in working the kinks out of his back. "Kratos, you're not nearly as bad as you think you are. And the crazy inventor lady is right, you might well have to carry the load as far as Servants go if worst comes to worst and we lose the girl somewhere along the way. The Morrigan takes who she takes and doesn't give a toss what mere mortals might have to say about that. Trust me, I've met her in all her terrifying glory."

He rolled his shoulders. "So I think you need to face this thing head on, and realize you're not going to turn into 'him' anytime soon. And I don't think hearing it from the two of us is going to be enough - you know I just came from a shit situation as far as Masters go, so it's easy to write my opinion off, even if I've been having a ball working with you." He grinned. "Fights everyday, and good ones to boot! It's like training with the hag, but with so many less broken bones and lost teeth, too."

"And the lass doesn't seem like she has it in her to dislike someone, even if you weren't doing right by her, and you absolutely are. I've heard enough about how Spartans were made - that you aren't putting her through that hell is a credit to you."

His grin turned wicked. "Even if she's been worshiping the ground you walk on since you told her where you were from. She's been psyching herself up to ask you for a story or two, I just know it."

Kratos grunted. Da Vinci had not been exaggerating when she'd said Mash had a fascination with Sparta. She'd been treating Kratos with awe since that evening. Blushes and sputtered squeaks had been the order of the day for their first training session after he'd told the bits of his tale - though that was beginning to taper off.

"But, I think what will really get it through your thick head that, as far as Masters go - and you give me another term to use and I'll use it, but until then, Master Master Master - you're a good one is building a relationship from scratch with a Servant." He shrugged. "And in the event it goes to shit, you can always send them back to the Throne, and I'll concede that you're right and eat my helping of crow - but I honestly don't think that'll be the case."

Cu pressed his knuckles to his neck, popping them, then raised his fists, ready for another round. "Just, if you DO go ahead and summon someone, do me a favor? Don't summon that Red Archer. I HATE that guy."

---

"Mash. A word, before you go."

Mash was, as usual for the end of her nightly training sessions with Kratos (a Spartan, a Spartan, a SPARTAN! Did he know Leonidas? Was he at Thermopylae?), a tired, sweaty mess. She'd been looking forward to the grunt of dismissal so she could shower, then collapse in her bed, but….

….Kratos wanted a word.

She hoped she wasn't blushing too badly - Roman had been teasing her about it so much that she was desperately trying to act more normal around Kratos, for all that he was a SPARTAN.

She drew herself up straight, despite how tired she was, and faced her teacher. "Sir?"

Kratos looked at her for a long moment. "Da Vinci has requested that I summon another Servant, both to test the repairs of the chamber, and to bolster our forces." He rumbled a noise, deep in his throat. "You know my hesitation to assume such a role - and you heard my tale the previous evening. I dislike this power to strip the will from another, to bind another so completely to myself."

[Still hung up on this? For all that he's been badmouthing me for not telling you who I am, he's certainly quite the hypocrite in his own way. You need all the help you can get, and he's holding back - worse than I am. At least I gave you my powers. He's actively denying you reinforcements.]

"Da Vinci and Cu Chulainn have both said their piece. I would hear yours, if you have words to share."

For a moment, Mash almost forgot how to breathe. Then, she remembered how to, and had to stop herself from babbling out the first thing that came to mind.

[Calm down, you silly girl. He's a man like any other. For goodness sakes, you've watched him fumble over the basic English alphabet like some sort of kindergartener for a week now.]

Mash ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, before finding her voice. "Mr. Kratos - I know how uncomfortable all this makes you - having that kind of power over others. After hearing your story the other night, I can understand why - where you're coming from. After going through what you went through, anyone would be scared that they'd turn into Ar…..him, I mean."

Romani and Da Vinci had been clear on this - Kratos chose to share what he had of his past only with the four of them. Until they heard otherwise, it was to STAY with the four of them.

She continued. "But…….what I said back in that singularity hasn't changed. You're so cautious with that power, because of what you went through. You treat Cu….you treat ME like a person, and you're so careful with both of us when you spar with us, even though we're Servants."

She had to restrain herself from clasping her hands together and fidgeting with her fingers, a nervous habit she was still trying to break. "I think…..I think you should give yourself a chance. A chance to believe in yourself…..and to prove that you're better than him. Because, I think you're a good person, Mr. Kratos."

---

So, he had thought about it.

He had thought about it as he had tried to sleep, tossing and turning in his overly soft bed, in his room where he could control the temperature to his liking, until he disabled that ability, and curled up on the floor. Only then did his mind settle enough for sleep.

He had thought about it at meals, as conversation washed around him, as he absently fended off attempts from a white-furred scavenger to steal morsels off his plate.

It had been at least partially on his mind as he had lessons with Da Vinci and Mash, though the greater whole of his focus had been on what he had been learning. Mash likely would not have noticed if he was distracted, but it was an insult to a teacher to not give one's whole effort in learning. And both his teachers deserved that respect.

He had thought about it, extensively, as he had sparred with Cu. Those had been the times when he had made the most progress on his conflicted thoughts. There had always been a clarity in the heart of combat for Kratos, be that combat a life or death struggle, or a simple friendly spar with a garrulous Irishman.

He had thought of it as he had stood in his shower, the hot water drumming into his skull as he had lost himself in the haze of heat and tried to find his answer.

And it had been at the forefront of his mind when Doctor Romani had burst into one of his lessons with Da Vinci to announce they were within a day or two of narrowing down the exact time period of what they were calling the French Singularity.

The first campaign of this war loomed - and they were approaching it at less than the full strength they could bring to bear, due to him and his misgivings.

In the end, he had taken his Blades back up to save his son, then had borne them, USED them from that moment onwards, carrying them through Ragnarök and beyond. Was summoning a Servant truly that different?

Yes, it came with the power to enslave a being more completely than he had even been bound by Olympus. But these Command Spells could be used for other things than slavery - they had the power to create magical boons that could be the tipping point in a close battle.

(Even hateful tools have their uses.)

And the battle looming before them was greater than Ragnarök had ever been. Nine Realms had been jeopardized by the threat of Asgard, but Odin had merely sought complete dominance over those realms - not to wipe them out to a man.

He still struggled to sleep, as the answer continued to elude him.

---

In the end, it wasn't his endless internal deliberations that made him step foot in the summoning chamber again, this time to, of his own free will, call out to this Throne and attempt to summon a Heroic Spirit. It was the faith shown in him by his small circle of…..not friends, it was too soon to label those four that yet - but allies, possibly on the way to being trusted allies - that made him willing to take this step, despite his unease.

They believed in him - for all that they knew so little about him - and believed he would not abuse this power. So, for them, for the alliance they had, and to give their small band the best chances to succeed, he would try.

(He had thrown himself on the Blade of Olympus to release hope back to the world. Was it wrong, a small part of him wondered, to wish for a small part of that hope for himself, to maybe believe he COULD be better than his horrific past?)

At worst, the attempt would fail, and he could never hear of this again.

The air in the chamber was cool, much cooler than the air in the rest of the building, and tasted even staler (Da Vinci had explained how the air in the building was endlessly recycled, when he had commented on its odd aroma. It was one thing he disliked about this future time.) - or possibly it was merely his unease coloring his senses.

It was possibly also his imagination that he thought he had seen a small dent, lightly scorched, in the floor, where his blades had impacted the last time he had stood in this room, before Mash had covered it with her massive shield.

"All readings are showing green - so everything looks promising on our end. We're ready whenever you are, Kratos." Romani's voice echoed through the room, projected from his secure seat in the outer chamber of the summoning room.

This was it, the line in the sand. He would either back out, citing his discomforts and unease, or would take a leap, and hope that the belief they were showing in him was well-founded.

(He would KILL himself should he find that he had become a slaver like Ares. He WOULD be better, he SWORE.)

He took a breath.

And spoke.

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

"Let stone and the Archduke of Contracts be the foundation."

"Let Red be the color I pay tribute to."

The choice of color had been left up to him. Red was as good as any. And it was the color of his son's hair. Bright, full of life, like the boy himself.

(He missed his son, it was like a constant ache that wouldn't subside, made all the worse by the fact that there was an entire universe between them now.)

"Let my father be the ancestor."

He may regret his actions against his father, but he would be damned to the lowest reaches of Tartarus before he would refer to Zeus as 'his great Master'. Thankfully, there was some leeway on the incantation.

"Let rise a wind against the wind that shall fall."

"Let the four cardinal gates close."

"Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

"My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny."

The Norns had been clear, there WAS no fate, no destiny. Only choices, and the consequences of them.

"If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me."

(If you spirits are listening, I do not seek a slave, I seek an ally, a comrade, in this war we undertake. I would not treat you as I was. Obey only so long as my commands are just.)

"I hereby swear that I shall be all that is good in the World."

If Kratos had ever doubted that the gods of the world had long since retreated from humanity, the fact that he was not immediately struck down for proclaiming that he would be all the good in the world would have proved it to him, then and there.

"That I shall defeat all that is evil in the world."

A vow he could more easily make. But would he himself count as one of the evils of the world? He remained a monster, he stood by the words he had spoken to Athena in his home on that storm-wracked day.

"Seventh heaven, clad in the great words of power."

"Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales."

Kratos finished the incantation, part of him feeling foolish having recited such a grandiose chant, and waited. What did any Heroic Spirit who might hear his voice even know of him? Did they see the man he was, or the man he is? (Was there any difference?) Or did they merely hear a voice, and chose to answer for their own reasons?

A moment stretched into a minute, with no signs of any reaction.

Did he fail? Was he rejected? Kratos was not sure if he was relieved, or should be dejected that he had possibly been judged, and found wanting.

His mouth had begun to open to ask for confirmation that it had failed, when the chamber began to hum.

"We've got a reaction!" Romani's voice cut over the noises of the chamber whirring to life. "Everything's still green, so this isn't like the other night. Looks like we're about to have a new guest!"

Just like the previous evening, 10 white orbs formed, and began spinning. Energy, magic - pure magic, even a warrior like Kratos could feel the power building in the circle - coalesced and formed, before exploding across the room in a blinding burst of light.

For a second, Kratos smelled the sea.

When his vision came back, he saw that his call had been answered.

It was a woman. She would have been of average height for a Spartan woman, so perhaps tall for her time, and certainly somewhat taller than the women he saw around Chaldea on a daily basis. Long, incredibly long purple hair cascaded down to the backs of her feet - an impractical length to Kratos' eyes, far too easy to grab in a fight. She was dressed simply, a black dress edged with pink, and high black boots and long gloves, also highlighted in pink, covered her limbs.

The most unusual part of her appearance was the red tattoo inscribed on her forehead, the band around her throat, and the thick, black blindfold that covered her eyes.

Despite the blindfold, Kratos felt certain that the woman had no trouble seeing.

Some part of Kratos noticed that she was incredibly beautiful, but that part noticed it as he would notice a work of art, or the natural beauty of his home in the Wildwoods. His heart still belonged to Faye, would belong to her for many decades to come - but neither was he blind. He could notice a woman's beauty, even if he had no interest in it beyond acknowledging it.

One's appearance could be as much a weapon as any blade.

"Curious choice." The Servant's voice was deep, with a huskiness to it. "Servant Rider. Which of you is to be….." She had been looking about the room, first glancing at Mash, then her hidden eyes had alighted on Kratos.

The previous day, Tanya had shown him a recording of a cat being surprised by a cucumber - a green vegetable. The cat had sprung into the air, hissing, clearly startled - it had been explained that it was likely the cat mistaking the object for a snake, and it had triggered an instinctual response to seeing what they thought was a predator. This was apparently a frequent sort of comedy on a connected repository of recordings.

(Kratos hadn't liked it. He could, on some level, understand the absurdity of the moment, but it seemed cruel to him to tease an animal like that - though he could also understand the desire to see such arrogant animals humbled a bit. Kratos had never been fond of cats.)

(He hoped Angrboða was feeding the wolves in his absence. Da Vinci had explained that there was no way to know if time was passing at the same rate in this world as it was in his, or at a greater or slower rate in either. This only added to his concerns.)

The woman, upon seeing Kratos, reacted much the same. One moment she was in the center of the circle, the next, she had sprang back to the far corner of the room, weapons materializing in her hands. Her hair had even sprang up, waving sinuously around her head like it was alive.

"HOW?" she spat, the huskiness of her voice now replaced by an almost hissing quality. "How is a GOD here? Were those words of yours lies? Am I to be your plaything, like I was to Poseidon?"

Kratos found his voice stolen by the mention of the sea god. Whoever this woman was, she was from Greece - not his Greece, but Greece all the same. That she was one of Poseidon's conquests did not narrow down her identity in any meaningful way - Poseidon had been almost as promiscuous as his younger brother.

While he had been momentarily stunned, the Servant had been growing ever more tense, her knuckles white as she clutched at her two weapons (and some part of Kratos' mind was screaming at him that he should recognize those weapons, but it was drowned out as he tried to find the words to calm the situation).

Thankfully, he was spared from having to test his limited skills at diplomacy by the arrival of Cu Chulainn in a shower of golden sparks. "WHOA! Rider, calm your tits!" Cu's hands were held upwards, palms out, his movements deliberate and careful. "He's not one of your gods, or any god from these parts." He grimaced. "It's complicated."

He took a cautious half-step forward. "Put the nails down and hear us out - I'd prefer to not have to fight you for a second time, not when we can maybe resolve this without everything blowing up." He glanced over his shoulder. "I'd really, REALLY like this to not go badly, for a variety of reasons."

The weapons remained in her hands, and if anything, she grew tenser. "Fight me again? Is this not your first time trying to summon me for your amusements?"

"NO!" squawked Cu. "I fought you in a Grail War gone bad a few weeks ago - someone mind helping me reassure the scary lady? Diplomacy was never my strong suit!"

"I am not a god of this universe."

Kratos' announcement, if nothing else, took the woman by surprise. For a second, the tension in her body vanished, as she turned a baffled gaze (at least, going by her body language and what he could see of her face) onto Kratos. "What?"

---

 

SUMMONING CHAMBER CONFERENCE ROOM

A FEW MINUTES LATER​

From there, they had managed to talk the Servant down from wary hostility into wary curiosity, and after coaxing her into the nearby conference room, had been able to explain the situation in abbreviated fashion.

"A god, from another universe, falls through a rift, and just happens to end up in exactly the right place and time to help the last hope of humanity itself?" The woman scoffed. "It strains belief, were I not able to see you sitting right in front of me." She leaned closer to him, and, of all things, sniffed. "And you are no god of the Greek Pantheon I knew - and I can smell it on you, faint as it is, and buried by the smell of ice and cold - you're Greek, or were, once."

"I was, yes. No longer. Not in many years." Kratos could tell the woman was still on edge, his voice, soft as he had kept it, still caused her to start minutely. It was subtle, she was controlling her reactions well, but it was there.

He supposed he couldn't blame her - the gods of the Greece of this universe, while they had been better than the pantheon he had known, his lessons had shown that they had still possessed many of the same flaws and failings as the ones of his world. They at least had not managed to craft their own destruction in the form of Kratos, or another like him, to their credit.

She considered him for a long moment. "Indeed. I suppose I owe you all an apology for my reaction. Seeing a living god here, so long after they retreated from this side of the World….it was a shock. And I have few fond memories of the gods."

She stood, and bowed her head. "Let us begin anew. Rider Class Servant. My True Name is Medusa."

The resulting silence was deafening. One of her eyebrows quirked up, above her blindfold. "I see you know me, foreign god. Having second thoughts about your words, now that you know the name of the monster you have summoned?"

For his part, Kratos was as shocked as the woman was when she had beheld him. Medusa HAD been a monster - twisted and hideous of form, and more akin to snakes than humans, much like the lesser Gorgons that he had battled, but larger, more vicious, and more powerful. This woman could have passed through Sparta and not a man would have thought her to be the feared Queen of the Gorgons. She would have gained more attention for her obvious beauty, and the odd color of her hair, than any suspicion of being a mythical beast, said to have claimed innumerable lives.

"No. I meant the words I said. I was merely remembering the Queen of the Gorgons I knew in my lifetime - and how you appear nothing like her."

If anything, the eyebrow raised higher. "Queen of the Gorgons?" Her head tilted. "There were only three of us, my sisters and I. Not enough of us for anyone to be the 'Queen' of them." Her voice dropped. "Not that I would have ever been allowed to rule over my sisters….."

Kratos grunted. "There were many in my world. They were a dangerous scourge upon the land, preying upon men for their flesh, or turning them into stone. But they were hardly unique in the dangers that infested Greece."

"While the comparisons of the differences in your worlds is interesting - and if you continue this conversation later, PLEASE make sure to include Da Vinci - she's about to vibrate right through her chair," Romani ducked as Da Vinci made to swat him on the back of his head. "I need to ask - Medusa, now that you've heard our story, do you think you can work with us here? Kratos wasn't exactly crazy about summoning a Servant in the first place, and if you'd rather not be here, we can send you back. I don't know what he said to you when he put in the call to the Throne, but I can guess that he'd rather have you aiding us of your own free will, rather than simply because he's your Master."

Kratos gave a small half-growl - while it was no secret of Kratos' feelings towards summoning a Servant, and it would have come out before long in the event Medusa chose to stay, it still rankled a bit to have Romani reveal his feelings, instead of Kratos himself. Still, it was a minor thing. "The Doctor speaks true, as did I. I wish for allies, not slaves, in this fight. The stakes are too high for anything else - we fight for all of humanity, against a foe powerful enough to wipe them all out, in an instant."

Medusa peered at him long enough that he began to wonder if she was not trying to petrify him, and failing. Likely not, the blindfold was probably there to prevent her from turning people to stone with a casual glance - another difference between the Gorgons of the two worlds. Those he had fought had had little care to the harm their eyes might cause.

"May I have some time to consider - and to observe this foreign god?" she asked. "Should we be threatened, I swear I will obey any commands given in the heat of combat - and feel free to use a Command Seal to force me to kill myself should I prove treacherous. But, if I am to serve a god, I would know the god I am to call Master."

Kratos could feel himself bristling, but held onto his temper with only a small bit of effort. Through gritted teeth, he looked to the four others gathered in the room with him. "Is this acceptable, Doctor Romani?" A nod. "Then, yes, Medusa, you may have your time."

He raised a finger. "Only one thing. Do NOT call me 'Master'. I dislike the term. Kratos will suffice, as it suffices for Caster to address me."

Medusa stared down at him, never having returned to her seat. "Very curious."

---

The Simulator again rang with the sound of combat. Axe vs spear, today, Leviathan Axe vs Draupnir, Kratos having handed the ring to Cu almost as soon as they had entered the room.

Mash was showing Medusa around the facility, as Kratos still at times got turned around trying to find his way in the sprawling building, and wasn't fully familiar with the various functions of Chaldea, though his ignorance was shrinking day by day. Da Vinci had almost immediately waved Kratos off when he began to ask her about today's lessons.

"Oh, I can tell, you need to hit something after all that, and there's a perfectly durable Irishman right here JUST for that purpose. Go on, get it out of your system - it was a BIG step for you to do this, and we all appreciate you stepping out of your comfort zone like that for us. So go take some time for yourself, go roll around with Cu in the mud and let Auntie go over this summoning data."

As he had left the conference room, a snickering Cu hot on his heels, Da Vinci had caught his eye.

"And Kratos, really, thank you. For both doing this, and for being willing to trust yourself, even a little bit more than you might have yesterday. I know you won't let yourself down."

The woman believed in him almost as much as Mimir did. He would have once thought her naive, if he wasn't certain that there was a core of molten steel hidden behind her smiles and unorthodox behavior.

It was……nice. At times, he truly did not know how he had lived his life without the Smartest Man Alive by his side, as a true friend. Maybe, at some day, Da Vinci would hold a similar place in his life - for all that she would be only a temporary companion in his journey.

He still dreaded the day the two of them might meet. For all that he valued Mimir, the head was at times insufferable, and Da Vinci shared that trait in abundance.

Kratos caught Cu's thrust on his shield, careful to angle his block so that the spear tip came nowhere near to penetrating the shield itself - Cu was far, FAR too fond of Draupnir's ability to duplicate itself - shoving the spear aside, and pushed inward, seeking to body-check Cu with his full weight.

Cu simply allowed the spear to retreat back into the ring and just leapt, straight up, easily clearing Kratos in a bound. As he jumped, he span about, so that he landed with Kratos' back to his fore, and, lighting fast, extended the spear to tap on Kratos' shoulder.

Kratos huffed. "Dead, or crippled. Round to you, Caster."

Cu belted out a laugh. "So that's what, 33 to 9, in favor of you? I'm closing the gap!"

Kratos grunted. "I regret being unable to fight you as a Lancer. The speed you claim to possess would be an interesting challenge." He settled back into his stance, axe held at the ready.

Cu slid Draupnir's point low to the ground, eyes watching Kratos carefully. "If I'm not the fastest Servant on the Throne as a Lancer, I'm easily top 4. Not counting Riders and their mounts - which is just cheating if you ask me." He frowned. "Though that Rider you summoned today at least does it the honest way. She's fast on her feet without having to use wheels or sails like some of the other Riders I've met."

Kratos made a noise of vague assent, then sprang forward, axe darting for the man's chest. Cu slapped it aside with his spear, then ducked as Kratos jabbed his shield straight at his head, then somehow twisted himself into a backwards roll as Kratos' foot attempted to sweep him off his feet.

Cu came back to his feet with a flourish of his spear and began poking at Kratos, thrusts screaming through the air, attempting to keep the Spartan at range.

Kratos met the thrusts with his axe, parrying patiently, waiting for his chance. "What more can you tell me of the Medusa of your war?"

"Not a ton. Her Master was some weedy little runt of a mage - but something always felt off about that. He didn't feel like he had enough mana to light a candle, much less summon a Servant. And she didn't seem to like him much, either." Cu overextended, just a fraction, on one thrust, and Kratos let the spearhead slide through the gap in his axe's head, then twisted it, trapping the spear there.

He knew Cu would, and did, immediately dismiss the spear - with any other weapon, he would have had it trapped, and could have brought his strength to bear - but Draupnir was not any other weapon. But by dismissing it, Cu was unarmed for a split second - it was not a good option, but Cu knew better than to pit his strength against the Spartan's, and chose the better of two bad options.

Kratos used the second he had the spear trapped to pull, not Cu to him, but to pull himself forward, into Cu's zone. Before the Servant could reform the spear, Kratos' shield was colliding with Cu's chest, and then Kratos was heaving with the shield, lifting the man bodily, and hurling him across the room.

Cu landed on his feet, Kratos hadn't put enough force into the blow to truly harm the Servant, and throwing someone with his shield was an inexact science at best - and Cu was far too comfortable in the air for a weakened blow like that to truly rob him of his inhuman grace.

But it did take Cu a microsecond to get his feet under him, and in that time, Kratos was all over him. His axe flashed, targeting the Servant's head, limbs, gut, chest, and, to Cu's credit, his defense with Draupnir was masterful. The spear's head was everywhere, intercepting strike after strike, valiantly delaying what was like to be a doomed effort - for Kratos had managed to get far enough into Cu's zone that the spear's length was an active disadvantage. The question was if Cu could survive the barrage long enough to find a window to disengage.

Not this time.

Cu was a split second late, the spear having been knocked far enough out of alignment that he was unable to reposition it in time, and Kratos turned the axe so that he merely slapped Cu across his head with the flat of the blade. "Dead," he proclaimed.

Cu groaned, as he took a step back. "And there goes my win streak." Shaking his head, the Servant walked to the edge of their area, and snatched a bottle of water from the ground, and took a long drink. "Back to the topic, when the Rider of my war got brought back wrong by Saber, she started petrifying certain people and keeping them in some kind of messed up stone garden or something in the shell of the house that had been her base during the War. And the centerpiece of that little display was the brat who had been her Master."

He shrugged, tossing Kratos a bottle of water. "Not sure what went on between them, but that at least proves that she can still do that turn people to stone trick. She didn't try anything like that on me when I fought her the first time, but she still had her eyes covered then. And she'd have pretty much announced to everyone what her True Name was if she uncorked that. After she got turned, the blindfold was always off, which would have made fighting her a pain if she hadn't tipped her hand with her little collection like that."

"Otherwise, mostly what I've already told you. She was wicked fast, and those nails you saw her holding - she could do something with them to where she could make the chains attached to them invisible. Never really got to see her go all out, the second time we fought, I made sure to hit her hard and fast in one of my prepared killboxes. I'd have loved to have a good fight with her, but Saber's merry band of cutthroats wouldn't stand by and let me have a proper duel."

"Anything else, skills, Noble Phantasm, yada yada, you'll have to do something revolutionary like asking her yourself."

Kratos gave a noise of assent. "When next I cross paths with her."

---

'When' turned out to be the next day, as he entered the library for his latest battle with the English language.

Mash, of course, was already there and waiting on him, as ever. Elron, the woman who had been introduced to him as the keeper of Chaldea's records, looked up from her work and gave him the same brief nod she seemed to give everyone that entered into her domain. It was only after he had nodded in kind that he noticed, seated at one of the far tables, was the Heroic Spirit he had summoned yesterday, one of the devices Chaldea used to store information in her hands.

If she was surprised to see him, he couldn't tell. Her expression was carefully neutral. "M….Kratos. Do you require me for something?"

He shook his head. "No. Though I would speak with you once I am finished here."

She nodded, then returned her eyes to what she had been reading.

He sat, and attempted to put her out of his mind as Mash began the lesson. But as the minutes passed, he could feel her eyes on him. It was distracting, in an area where he needed his full focus. (Atreus had to have gotten his gift for languages from his mother.)

He slipped Freya's band back onto his arm. "Ask your question, Rider."

She stared back, unperturbed at having been caught. "Can….you not read, Kratos?"

"Not English, nor can I speak it. The band around my arm allows me to hear all languages in a manner I can understand, and does the same for my words. But I can read Greek, and the common tongue of Midgard - I am told it does not have an equivalent in this day and age, but forms the basis for a handful of other languages." He gestured at his teacher. "So I am learning at Mash's capable hands, as my son taught me to read the language of Midgard, and my wife taught me to speak it." He pointedly ignored the flush of red that colored Mash's face.

"That explains all the Post-It Notes around the base with those runes on them." She considered "I understand learning to read English, as this is a Clock Tower facility, nearly everything here is written in English….but why learn to speak it, when you have no need to learn it?" She gestured at his arm. "You have the means to speak it as is."

"The band can be broken, or taken from me. Nor does it work over the communicators Chaldea uses during a campaign - though Da Vinci claims she has added the Midgardian language into her translating spell." He could have also just spoken Greek with no difficulty, as the current dialect still resembled the language of his time, but he was far more used to the Midgardian tongue these days.

"Should the band be destroyed in a battle, I would be unable to give or receive orders, or understand warnings. It is a weakness that can be exploited, so I seek to eliminate that weakness." He made a considering noise. "It is also possible that, when I return to my land, someday, I will need to know this language, should the history of my world unfold in a manner that makes English a dominant language across the planet, as it is here."

Add to that the idea that, in that scenario, he would be the one translating for the Smartest Man Alive, and he felt the irony - and yes, amusement - of that day would be well worth the effort in learning this incomprehensible language.

(It had NO coherent rules! Pure chaos would be more logical than English, he swore.)

"How practical of you. Consider my curiosity assuaged, I will leave you to your lesson with my apologies for disturbing it." She returned her attention to the tablet in her hand.

"Only…..to see a god acknowledging a mortal as their better in an area, and deining to learn from them." She shook her head, her eyes still on the words on her screen. "As deities go, you are an unusual one, Kratos. More tolerant than Athena ever was with Arachnae."

Kratos tensed, half-expecting the mention of Athena to summon his tormenter in a flurry of barbed words and mocking laughter, but if the goddess heard, she did not feel like putting in an appearance today - if she even could, and her appearance with the Blades was more than a singular thing, in an extraordinary circumstance.

He was about to slide the band back off his arm, and resume the lesson, when the door to the archives hissed open, and Romani entered, Da Vinci following in his wake.

Romani, if anything, looked more tired that usual today, but beneath all that, seemed to be glowing with accomplishment. "Sorry to interrupt, but it couldn't wait. As of a few minutes ago, managed to get the location and time period for the first Singularity nailed down."

"Then…?" began Mash.

He nodded. "It's time."

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: As if it could have been anyone else. Lets see, both Greek, both divine. Both killed their families. Both turned into monsters after that act. Both are filled with TONS of self-loathing. Both use chain weapons. Both have some level of enmity for the Greek gods (it's debatable how willing she was with Poseidon - sometimes I see it written as she was, others, not so much, and the Greek Gods weren't really good at being told 'no', and then Athena cursed her with snek hair). Oh, and one killed the other in their universe, then used her head as a weapon for the remainder of that game.

Medusa was always the character I saw Kratos summoning when he did. It also helps that she's not super story-relevant (at least, not RIDER Medusa), so we don't run into minor oddities by having say, Odysseus long before he's your #1 foe in Atlantis, or Mo before her two major story appearances in London and Camelot, or summoning Archer Gil so we can have the double-Gil-bow in Babylon. Though it will mean trauma for Medusa as she meets her two sisters in Septem and Okeanos respectively, as well as the absolute HELL it's going to be for the girl in Babylon. Beyond the absolute hell that Babylon already is, I mean.

Generally, any summons that happen I largely want to be Servants that have already appeared - and/or aren't story relevant to future chapters, to a degree. Mo could be on the table AFTER London, or Beowulf or Atlantae after their debut chapters (though Atlantae is complicated as she's an antagonist in Orleans then an ally in Okeanos, and then is also in Lostbelt 1 in her Berserker form - girl gets work), etc etc. But I'm probably going to try to avoid having duplicate Servants if at all possible - and yes, Medusa does violate this in Babylon - I am aware of my hypocrisy here.

Snakes smell by flicking their tongues out. Medusa has a nose, so she'll use that, rather than any flicking her tongue out. She's already enough of a sexpot as is.

Medusa's also usually 'oh, Master, whatever, use me as a tool as you see fit'. Kratos being a god changes things for her, at least to me. Hence her wanting some time to see if he's better than the gods that did her wrong in her time. At least, that's the reasoning for why I did that with her.

OOC Kratos: 'Fou can have my bacon when he EARNS it.'

There's a ton of different translations on the summoning chant. Some fic authors I see only doing from the 'My will', others do a longer one, some omit it completely. If there's any BIG bungles on it, let me know and I'll go back and correct it - I originally wrote it when I didn't have immediate youtube access and was going off a Type-Moon wiki. Later I got the dub of Rin summoning Archer to compare as well as the big Fate/Zero mass summoning - or at least, that was the plan that I may or may not have followed through on.

Cucumbers apparently were introduced to Europe by either the Greeks or the Romans - given that one of the first real records is a Roman Emperor (Tiberius) having them on his plate regularly, I'm going with the Romans having introduced them, so, past the time of Kratos' Greece.

The tally between Kratos and Cu is something I'm still fiddling with. As a Caster, Cu should NOT be beating Kratos often, if at all. It'd be a much closer tally if he was a Lancer - Cu's an absolute BEAST as a Lancer, but not as a Caster - particularly as Cu isn't using much of his runes or spells in the Simulator to avoid damage - same reason Kratos wouldn't be using Runic Attacks if they weren't on perma cooldown - or being saved for big moments, since I'm starting to come around to him maybe uncorking them from time to time. Also, you don't use Ivaldi's Anvil in a friendly spar. If you think it should be more even, I'll entertain arguments, however.

Re: Kratos summoning a Servant despite his misgivings. I really, REALLY tried to justify his mindset going ahead with summoning a Servant. In GoW: Ragnarok, he accepted being the general of the armies of the realms despite wanting to avoid war for almost all of the game - when he finally saw the need to topple Odin, and because his allies had had faith in him to be that general - mostly Freya, but the rest aided and abetted in their own ways. I tried to show his new allies, for all that they're new to him, are similarly trying to support him and believe in him like his family back in Midgard did for him. If anything I'm much happier with this chapter than I was the last one.

My JAlter is much more like the foulmouthed chunni JAlter she turned into rather than the Orleans JAlter we got at the beginning.

Next time - we start Orleans, and the fun really begins.

Chapter 12: Orleans 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 12​

Kratos was in and out of his room in an instant. There was little enough he needed to retrieve - he wore his armor as a matter of course, and neither his axe nor his spear left his side. It was only the Blades of Chaos that were left in his room most days - only brought out for sparring sessions with Cu Chulainn, and only Cu Chulainn. Mash was still far too green to face the Ghost of Sparta, even with him holding back.

Because that is who he was, who he BECAME when he held them in his hands with the intention to take a life, for all that he tried to leave that title behind.

But now, as with Ragnarök shifting from being a looming threat to an immediate one, the Blades would be needed. Whatever threats lay in wait for them in the past, he would face them fully-armed.

Cu, Medusa, and Mash were all waiting for him in the hallway outside his room, Mash having deposited her teaching materials in her room, as they had come here straight from the archives. Cu was saying something to Medusa, something that she ceased paying any attention to as Kratos exited his room, and she took an involuntary step back, her eyes widening behind her blindfold.

"What……what ARE those?" She slid around to Kratos' back, peering intently at the Blades. "Your axe fairly hums with cold foreign power, but those………." She sniffed. "They smell of…..home. And…..fire…….and…." Her brow furrowed.

Cu cackled. "I TOLD you! Man's got a HELL of a nasty trump card in those blades."

Medusa was beginning to form another question when Kratos cut her off. "Later. Our focus now is the Singularity. Their tale can wait for another time."

He spared no more time with conversation, following Mash to the command chamber, Cu and Medusa trailing in his wake.

The room was bustling with activity when they arrived, technicians darting about, most either hunched over their work areas, or huddled around the large metal 'coffins' that would hold their bodies while their spirits would be sent into the past.

Da Vinci waved as they entered, motioning them over to where she stood by Romani, who was seated at what Kratos assumed was the command station - he had vague memories of Romani being in that same seat when he first arrived in Chaldea.

He wondered, idly, if that was where Olga Marie would have been, had the girl survived the fiery city.

If Da Vinci was normally filled with energy, today, it seemed as if her skin could barely contain it. "Wonderfully prompt, as always Kratos. Ready to get this show on the road?"

Kratos grunted. While he had appreciated the time he had been given to acclimate himself to this strange world he had found himself in, the days of inactivity had begun to chafe - his temper only mitigated by the fact that no true move could be made until a Singularity had been properly located.

But now, one had been, and he could begin the first step in the long journey that would, at the end, see him reunited with his world.

(He missed Atreus. He only hoped the boy had not returned to find his father missing, and no one with any idea what had become of the former god of war. Kratos was concerned what measures his son might take to find his father in that situation. Atreus had grown in many ways, but the boy was still capable of very rash actions at times.)

"So, where we headed?" asked Cu.

Romani looked up from his screen, his desk littered with paper cups, some still half filled with liquids long grown cold. "France, 1431 AD - sadly, one of the active periods of the Hundred Years War. But if you're looking to destabilize the course of human history, you're not going to do it in a lull." He sighed. "This is probably going to be emblematic of the kind of hot zones you're going to be dropping into in the other six Singularities."

Kratos wracked his brain, going over the history he had absorbed in the past week. "This was a war fought over a claim to the throne, between the nations of France and England?"

Da Vinci beamed at him. "Bravo, Kratos. Always nice to see one's student was listening. You get a gold star!"

Kratos blinked, fairly certain that the strange woman was not proposing to give him an actual star from the heavens - but from his short acquaintance with the self-proclaimed Universal Genius, he also could not completely put it past her.

Probably wisely, he chose to stay silent.

"Awww, no fun at all!" She huffed at him. "But yes, while that's a simple explanation for what something as complicated a war spanning a century becomes, you've got the essence of it - which is all we really touched on in our lessons."

She frowned. "Going by the date, both Roman and I figure it's a good bet that whatever Lev has done to distort history likely has something to do with Jeanne d'arc. The point where we'll be dropping you into the timeline is only a short period of time after she was burnt at the stake for being a witch."

"Though, don't take that assumption as fact," chimed in Romani. "While Jeanne's undoubtedly the most famous figure from that year in that area, there's all sorts of havoc Lev could have caused in that time period - particularly with a Holy Grail, which he almost HAS to have to have caused a distortion this powerful."

Romani steepled his hands. "So, your marching orders are as follows. First - investigate the time period, and determine what has been changed to cause the distortion, and correct it. Mash at least knows the broad strokes of the war, Kratos, so she'll be able to cover for your unfamiliarity with the history of our world - there really was only so much we could teach you in the time we had."

"Secondly, locate and secure the Holy Grail that was used to cause human history to veer off course. If you can get your hands on it, that should cause the Singularity to collapse, like it did with the Fuyuki Singularity." He sighed. "Though, that's probably going to involve taking it from whomever Lev's chosen to entrust it to…….probably no one good, given what he was planning to do to Olga."

Romani's eyes narrowed, growing hard. "And that dovetails nicely into your third objective. Locate Lev Lainur, and bring him back. Alive if possible - a hostage to interrogate would give us much needed intelligence about who's pulling his strings - Lev was boasting about how he was part of a group - 'minds greater than the whole of humanity planned this', he said. So that means we need to know about his allies - if possible."

Da Vinci chimed in. "But that doesn't mean we're expecting you to take Lev alive at all costs - and certainly not if it jeopardizes the mission, or your lives. Use your best judgment - IF you run across Lev, and IF you can manage to restrain him, we've got a cell with his name on it. But if you can't….."

Da Vinci met his gaze, no sign of her usually whimsical nature present. "I don't think anyone in this building will shed a tear if Lev Lainur ends up in an unmarked grave somewhere in France. He chose to throw in his lot with the enemies of Humanity itself, and his hands are dripping with the blood of the people he murdered a week ago. So, if you cross paths with him, take him out of the game if you can. Alive's a bonus, but we'll celebrate just as hard if it's dead. Just balance it against the primary objective of fixing the Singularity. I expect we'll get more than one shot at Lev across the Singularities."

Kratos gave a noise of assent, hardly surprised by the orders. For all that they were putting on a brave face, Kratos had seen more than a few haunted eyes in Chaldea over the past week. Lev's treachery, and the lives he had taken, were a specter hanging over the survivors of Chaldea. They wanted vengeance for their dead in the worst way, but at least had not lost sight of the greater goal.

Romani took over from Da Vinci. "First thing you'll want to do once you arrive is locate a leyline - we didn't bother with it in the Fuyuki Singularity, but securing one will allow us to transport supplies to you - Mash will hopefully be carrying enough for the operation in her shield, but in the event this drags out beyond our expectations, or you run into something unexpected, we'll be able to ship you additional supplies or gear. It'll also stabilize our communications, and allow for you to summon additional Servants if that becomes necessary." He glanced between Medusa and Cu. "It'll also allow you to swap Servants in the field with ones at Chaldea - with our current power reserves, you're going to have to leave someone behind."

"Yeah, on that subject, you should probably take Medusa over me." interjected Cu.

Kratos blinked, honestly surprised. As eager to fight as the man had seemed, Kratos had expected him to push to be the one to accompany them over Medusa. "Explain."

Cu shrugged. "Girl said she wanted to observe you before making a decision about sticking around - well, nothing better to take the measure of a man than fighting side by side with him." He sighed. "And, as much as this pains me to admit it, she's probably a better option for scouting the surrounding area than I am as a Caster. As a Lancer, I could zip from one side of the country to the other before you could say 'Medb's a crazy bitch', but as a Caster - not so much. She's probably faster than I am right now, at least not without me pulling any crazy tricks, and scouting's all about speed. And we're going in pretty blind as is - this would let you get the lay of the land pretty quick."

Honestly, a fairly reasonable argument from the Caster. He glanced at the other Servant.

"I have no objections, M…Kratos," she said, her voice as carefully neutral as ever. "His arguments have merit."

"We decided, then?" asked Da Vinci. At Kratos' grunt, she clapped her hands. "Meravigliosa! Let's get this show on the road then."

Almost gliding across the floor, she led them down into the area where Kratos had first arrived in this time, where the three metal containers that would hold their bodies awaited, their lids raised.

To Kratos' surprise, the coffin was not as confining a fit as he had expected - though he did have to hold his axe, and the Blades, across his chest, to avoid damaging the coffin itself. Da Vinci glanced down at him, going over some final checks before sealing him in. "Ready, Kratos?"

He nodded. "Alright. Good luck out there!" She pressed a button, and with a hiss, the lid of the coffin slid into place, before clicking shut. There was a moment of pitch black, before the light source on his belt flickered into life, bathing the interior of the coffin in a pale, white light.

Kratos concentrated on his breathing, pushing aside the unpleasant feelings of confinement as a metallic voice spoke words of 'unsummoning' and other terms that held little meaning to the Spartan, then began a countdown.

Then, a tunnel of swirling blue, and a feeling of being pulled.

---

 

OUTSIDE OF TIME AND SPACE

?????​

A million, million eyes opened, focused on one point in history. They had been waiting, patiently, for this moment to come.

"OBSERVE. LEARN. ADAPT."

---

The smell was the first thing that hit Kratos, when he came back to himself.

Decay.

Rot.

As his sight returned to him, the reason for the stench became readily apparent.

The land around him was dying - grass was brown and wilting, and trees were bare of leaves despite the season being early summer, bark sloughing off the trunks in chunks, the wood itself an unhealthy color. As far as Kratos could see, plants were dead or dying, filling the air with the stench of rotting vegetation.

Mash looked to be gagging, as the smell hit her. "What…..what happened here?"

"Was there a blight upon these lands at this time during the war?" he asked.

Mash was breathing carefully, "No……there was the usual sort of damage to the French countryside you'd see with so many people marching, and fighting across it, but…….nothing like this." She shook her head. "Not in the history I read."

"Could it have something to do with that?" Medusa's head was tilted upwards, and she gestured, pointing at whatever had caught her interest. Kratos and Mash looked upwards, following the angle of her pointing finger……and found their breaths taken away.

A band of light, the purest white, and massive beyond words was cutting the sky in two.

It was like nothing Kratos had ever seen.

"What….what is that?" Mash's voice was very, very soft.

"I do not know." Not taking his eyes off the unearthly sight, Kratos pulled back his bracer and pressed the button on the communicator Romani had insisted he wear - Kratos had little hope the delicate looking thing would survive the excursion, despite Da Vinci's insistence she had built it to be durable, but he had been unable to fault their argument that he should carry one of the devices in the event he become separated from Mash. "Romani."

The device flickered to life, creating a small projection of the Doctor above his wrist. "Kratos! That was quick! We're reading all three of you in the green, so were there any issues with the Rayshift that we're not picking up?"

He shook his head. "No, we have arrived intact." He glanced as his two allies, both of whom nodded, confirming his words. "But the land we have arrived in does not match the records. There is a blight upon this land that Mash says did not occur. And then there is the sky." As did Medusa a few moments ago, he pointed at the ring of light high above them.

Romani's eyes widened. "What in the world? ACK!"

Romani's head was unceremoniously shoved out of the way, as Da Vinci's head crowded into the image, her eyes narrowed. "Nothing natural, and nothing good, that's for certain." She glanced at something off to her side. "And nothing we can get a solid reading on, if it's as high up as it looks. Is it doing anything?"

"No," said Mash, her own communicator now active. "It's just sort of floating there. Is this something Lev did?"

"He's as good a guess as any," came Romani's voice from outside the image. "And Da Vinci, you have your own screen that's just as good as this one."

"But this way is more fun." She spared Romani a grin. "But Roman's right, if you're looking for a scapegoat for whatever split the sky, Lev's probably the favorite of Occam. If he's got his hands on another Holy Grail - and diamonds to doughnuts he does - anything's possible." Her brow furrowed in thought. "If it's not actively dangerous, we'll just have to table figuring out whatever Magecraft it is for later. Now, you said something about a blight?"

Kratos slowly trailed his arm through the air, letting those observing get a good look at the dying vegetation surrounding them. Honestly, it wasn't all that dissimilar from letting Mimir get an observation of the surroundings that wasn't from the height of Kratos' waist.

Da Vinci sucked in a breath. "No, Mash is right, nothing like that happened during the Hundred Years War." She vanished from the image, allowing Romani's head to reassert itself back to center. From nearby, Kratos could hear the clicking sounds that their 'keyboards' made as they were used to manipulate their computing devices.

"Just like that, you two. Just keep slowly panning the communicators around." For about a minute, Mash and Kratos slowly waved their arms through the air, as Da Vinci and Romani analyzed whatever information was passing to them through the devices. "Roman, I'm sending you some data on a window. Check it for me, would you please?"

Romani's eyes widened. "This data……it can't be right. Look at the leylines - they're all twisted up - where they aren't….shriveled, for lack of a better word." His eyes flicked between the window of information Da Vinci had sent him, and his own data. "I'm not even sure if they'd be viable to connect to, either for summoning or for us to send you supplies. The mana in them doesn't look healthy at all."

Da Vinci's voice came from somewhere to Romani's right. "Twisted leylines with bad mana, and dying plant life. Who wants to bet they're connected?"

Kratos grunted. "We are on our own, then, until the Singularity has been resolved?"

Romani held up a finger, his eyes still darting all across his screen. "Hold a second, I'm tracing back along the paths of the leylines, trying to see if there's a viable one anywhere nearby. I mean, you could probably find one if you went far enough out of France, but that's going in the opposite direction of the problem…."

"And it costs us time we may not have," said Kratos.

"Yeah." Romani cupped his chin. "You've got about a week's worth of supplies - and you said you could go without food for a good long while if need be, so they can be stretched if it comes to that, and Medusa doesn't need to eat, but Mash does, and you'd eat through at least a portion of that in the time it'd take you to get far enough out of France to find a viable leyline. We'd hoped you'd be able to supplement the rations with anything you could hunt up, since you said you were a skilled hunter, but….."

"I would not trust the flesh of any animal that could survive in this. And the animals that could not would be starved to the point where they would have little meat." Kratos considered. "And even then, their flesh may be fouled and toxic."

A blue head of hair ducked into the frame. "Probably for the best. You can cook and eat just about anything, long as it's got muscle and you cook it enough. Even rotten meat might just give you the liquid shits after, but that….." He gave a low whistle. "Yeah. Do not like the looks of that at all, Kratos. As a fellow hunter, I'm going to second the man here."

"Duly noted, now back up and let me work!" Romani's hand shoved Cu's head aside, the Caster laughing all the way. "So, the good news, there looks to be a viable leyline still left in France. The bad news is that it's centered right underneath Orleans itself. That's going to be a hike of several days, at best, and that's assuming nothing delays you."

"Little chance of that," said Medusa, quietly.

"Rider is correct. We have enemies here, even if they are not aware of us yet." Kratos shook his head. "It would be foolish to assume our path would be unhindered."

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Romani. "I'm going to leave the decision up to you, Kratos, but my suggestion would be to try to find a nearby town, and hope there's still some living people in it. If there are, you might be able to get some idea of what's happened to make the land this way, and that could give you an idea of where to head next." He shrugged. "I know, a fair number of ifs there, but it's the best I've got to go on."

"No, your suggestion has merit." Kratos turned to Medusa. "Rider."

"Shall I find you a town, Kratos?"

"We shall head for Orleans, as it is our only way to establish a reliable connection with Chaldea, and then resupply. Range ahead of us, but do not be seen, if possible. We have an advantage in stealth, if our enemies have not been alerted to our presence yet. I would see us maintain that advantage as long as possible." He frowned, considering. "But I will trust your judgment should you discover a situation that would offer us greater benefits to us to intervene in."

She bowed her head. "As you wish." Then, with a flash, and a scattering of brown grass, she was off, darting ahead of them.

"Fou……."

A forlorn cry made Kratos turn to find Mash's white-furred pet curled in the girl's arms, looking displeased. If the smell was enough to turn Mash's stomach, Kratos could only imagine how much worse it was for the animal. "The creature….Fou. Why is it here?"

Mash flushed, cradling the animal close. "I think he stowed away in my coffin - I didn't intend to bring him along, Mr. Kratos, I promise! He does things like this, but if I had known how bad things would be here, I'd have been more careful." She dipped her head, her voice shrinking. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. Be better." The response was almost automatic at this point, after three years of training his son. What was not automatic was the realization that had come partways through their journey to the highest peak in the land - those words, on their own, weren't enough. "This journey will be dangerous for us, and we are warriors - some of us more trained than others, but we are capable of defending ourselves. Fou is small, and vulnerable." The creature gave a chirping little bark at that, almost as if he understood Kratos' words, and was offended by them - and for all the Spartan knew, he did, and was.

(Kratos wasn't entirely certain Fou wasn't somehow distantly related to a certain talkative squirrel who lived amongst the branches of the World Tree.)

"And beyond the dangers, you have heard that our food situation may become dire. You value Fou. I would not see you have to bury him." He looked down at the girl, choosing his words carefully. "During Ragnarök, we kept wolves to pull our sled, wolves my son rescued from raiders. One of them, Fenrir, sickened and died. My son…..he took it poorly."

So poorly that he had lost control of his emotions, and shifted into a bear, and attacked his father in an unthinking rage. And, like his son, the reach and breadth of Mash's powers were similarly unknown.

The girl stared up at him, through her hair. "I'll keep him safe, Mr. Kratos, I promise. Here Fou, I know you don't like it, but you're probably going to have to ride in my shield." Fou made a noise of displeasure. "Yes, I know, but it probably doesn't smell as bad in there as it does out here." Patiently, she cajoled the creature into her shield, then hefted the large weapon. "Ready to go, Mr. Kratos."

WIth a grunt, Kratos set off, Mash trailing slightly behind him. They had gone but a small distance, when she broke the silence.

"Mr. Kratos, you said Fenrir was one of your wolves? Do….you mean the Fenrir that bit off Týr's hand, and was foretold to kill Odin?"

Kratos considered for a moment, before answering. He did not see the harm in it. Stories were for the boat - or the road, in this case. "No. Fenrir was merely a wolf, at first…."

---

"So wait," went Romani's voice. "You're telling me your son put Fenrir's soul - which he didn't know that he had bound into his knife when he did so, into Garm, both stopping this unkillable, realm-tearing giant wolf, and bringing his pet back as well?"

"Yes," said Kratos. They had been walking for maybe an hour, their pace brisk, but slightly off from a full march. So far, Medusa had been quiet - like as not she had not seen anything of note just yet. "It was a clever solution, when I had no answers to a seemingly immortal foe." Kratos smiled, a small, private smile. "I was….am, proud of him."

Da Vinci shook her head (she had quickly figured out some way to project her face onto the communicators, freeing her up from having to jostle Romani aside - though she still got up to do just that occasionally, likely for her own amusement). "The differences in events between your Midgard and ours…….I swear, Kratos, I am going to sit you down and have you dictate your version of Ragnarök someday, if only so I can somehow take this story back to the Throne and watch all the Norse Servants there try to make heads or tails of it."

Whatever response Kratos had been about to make was cut off by a voice cutting through his thoughts. 'Kratos - I've found something. You're going to want to see this.'

Kratos held up a hand. "Hold. Rider has found something." He concentrated, feeling the three strings that connected him to the Servants he had allied with, then grasped the one that belonged to Medusa. 'Where, and how far, and are there enemies?'

'No, nothing dangerous, at least, nothing obvious. I'm about 5 minutes north of you at your present pace. I can remain here, or return and lead you here.'

'No, remain and observe, and await our arrival.' Kratos loosed the string, and felt the connection fade. "Follow, but be on your guard. Rider states there is no danger that she can see, but that does not mean there is none."

"Yes sir!" chirped Mash, who fell in behind Kratos as they hastened their pace to where Medusa was waiting.

Despite the pervasive odor of the blighted landscape around them, Kratos noticed the smell just before they broke from the woods and came upon Medusa's location. Sickly sweet, it was a charnel smell, and one that had been familiar to Kratos for a long, long time. Battlefields, massacres, sacked towns and villages - they all reeked with it.

The smell of dead men.

Both of them saw it as they emerged from the dying woods, a crossroads - the path little more than a well-worn trail, but apparently traveled well enough to warrant a signpost.

Piled at the bottom of the signpost were soldiers, all of them long dead, their skin ashen white. Flies buzzed around the pile of corpses, the noise of their flight the only sound in the air.

For the second time in the day, Mash had to choke back her gorge, though to her credit, she kept the contents of her stomach from spilling out. Kratos barely batted an eye at the sight - he had seen so, so much worse in his time.

In a shower of golden light, Medusa appeared by their sides. "I believe this qualifies as something worth investigating - or seeing at least. A massacre like this in war isn't uncommon, but then, I noticed that." She pointed upwards to the signpost itself.


Kratos looked up. Arrows with script he could not read - nothing unusual there, as far as signposts went. But hanging from the center pole itself was a crude, wooden sign - clearly a more recent addition. And though Kratos could also not read the writing there, he could tell it was a different script than the writing on the signpost itself.

"The sign….what does it say?" This felt familiar, in lands that were alien to him, asking a companion to read words he could not.

"It's not a language that the Throne saw fit to grant me," said Medusa. "It isn't English or Greek…..nor is it the Midgarian script of your world, Kratos - which the Throne apparently threw in when we contracted."

Mash peered up at the sign. "I think…..that's Romanian, and old Romanian, too." Her eyes narrowed. "At least, that's what the translation spells Da Vinci made are telling me. It says 'Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.'"

"The Divine Comedy? Points for choosing a fellow Italian's work, but I don't like the metaphor being drawn here." Da Vinci's brows were furrowed. "Oh, and for any displaced deities, The Divine Comedy is a work detailing a man's journey through the afterlife - Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. That little ditty is inscribed before the gates to Hell."

Kratos blinked. "I fail to see the comedic form in that." He grunted. "I do not believe Plato or Aristophanes would, either."

"Gods, your reactions are GOLDMINES, Kratos. I swear…."

A deep, guttural moan cut her off.

There was a moment of dead silence, then Romani's voice cut through. "Please, PLEASE. Tell me that was one of you three."

Kratos snatched his axe from his back. Mash snapped to alert, her shield raised. Medusa's stakes appeared in her hands. The pile of bodies was shifting, dead flesh beginning to jerk unsteadily, as a writhing mass of undead struggled to rise.

Romani sighed tiredly. "Of course it wasn't. Well, after the skeletons in Fuyuki, I guess I should have been expecting zombies before too long. Shutting up now and letting you lot focus on this." The communicator winked out, Romani's image vanishing.

Kratos grasped his axe with both hands, watching as the corpses lurched to their feet, and began shuffling towards them. "Rider. Harry their flanks, prevent them from overwhelming us. Mash and I shall meet them head on." They were many, but seemed slower than the Draugr or Hel-Walkers of Midgard. Still, better to be cautious with an unknown foe.

"Understood." Her legs tensed, then she sprang through the air, flying over the heads of the walking corpses to plant against one of the rotten trees. Her chains flickered into existence, and one of the undead was yanked from the group, hoisted into the air and slammed into a tree, the snapping of bones echoing throughout the clearing.

The greater whole of the horde was almost upon them. "Remain calm, and remember your training. And beware their numbers. Even the greatest warrior can be overcome by a mob."

"Yes sir. Mash Kyrielight, engaging!" With a yell, the girl hefted her massive shield, and struck one of the moaning corpses square across the jaw. The thing's head snapped to the side, and it was pushed back, but it moaned through a broken jaw, and continued coming.

Kratos hefted the Leviathan Axe in his hands, and stepped forward, planting his feet, and struck out at the leading corpse…….

…..which was cloven in two with little more effort than he would have needed to cut through a twig.

Kratos blinked, momentarily taken aback. That…..seemed far too easy. Allowing himself a second, he checked, but no, the two halves of the dead man had ceased their movement - it seemed the creature was truly dead, permanently this time. With almost casual ease, he drew up his axe and slapped the next zombie across the head with the flat, easily reducing its head to shattered chunks of skull, the headless corpse dropping like a puppet with cut strings.

And he hadn't even put his full strength into the blow.

These enemies were no threat to him.

Mash was acquitting herself well. The first zombie that had attacked her was down, its body broken and shattered, and she was fending off the next one, though others were beginning to crowd her flanks. Medusa was flashing by above them, springing from tree to tree and either snatching the moaning dead from the horde and shredding them in the air, or simply slamming one of her stakes into their heads as she flew by, effectively thinning the herd.

Best he make sure that Mash was not overwhelmed.

Wading in, much less cautiously, Kratos dug his axe into the side of a zombie that had lurched around to possibly be in Mash's blind side. He pulled his blow just enough to not cleave the corpse fully in two, instead lifting the lifeless, yet animate body and hurling it with full force into the oncoming horde, blasting more than a few off their feet, and nearly exploding the hurled zombie from the sheer force of the collision. The next zombie was met with a simple overhead blow that almost split the thing in two, and suddenly, Mash's flank was far more secure than it had been.

He heard the telltale crackle of ice from his axe that signaled that it had built up its unique power. He raised the axe high, frost weeping from its blade, and snapped off a throw that took a zombie towards the back right in its forehead. It immediately froze solid, chill rushing from the axe into its dead flesh. "RIDER!" barked Kratos.

Medusa was flying through the air, dipping low, aiming to snipe another one of the horde. At Kratos' yell, she somehow changed directions mid-flight, her leg snapping out to kick the frozen corpse as she sped by.

It shattered into so many pieces.

The Leviathan Axe returned to Kratos' hand with a solid thump, and he strode forward, raising one boot to shatter the skull of a zombie that had not yet regained its feet from being knocked over with one of its rotten comrades. One that was almost ambulatory was relieved of its head in short order by a sweep of his axe, then his foot kicked the falling body aside, tangling the few remaining dead as they moaned in hunger.

Descending like a bolt from the heavens, Medusa drove a stake into the heads of two of the prone bodies, their motion ceasing. The last moaning creature was quickly silenced as Mash raised her shield above her head, then drove it into the zombie's skull, putting it to rest.

The entire fight had taken but moments.

"Enemies silent. Standing down." Mash's face was flushed in the way a new soldier's often was after combat - still unused to the rush of blood in one's ears that a life or death struggle brought.

"Acceptable, though you are too focused on the enemy in front of you. Guard your flanks better." For all these shambling corpses offered little danger to them, caution was always warranted in battle.

Medusa was slowly looking around the battlefield, her expression one of confusion. "Rider? What troubles you?"

She blinked, then turned to look at him. "Kratos. Do you notice?" She held up her weapons. "There's no blood."

Kratos' eyes widened as he looked about the battlefield, and the bodies strewn about it. The Servant was right. He had cleaved once-men in two, struck heads from bodies, and even shattered skulls outright, and none of these things had bled, not a drop. Nor were any of their weapons touched with even a streak of crimson.

"I can't smell any blood at all, not from any of these things. The only blood I can smell is faint….and dried……and it's coming from that warning, hung about the signpost."

Mash paled. "They wrote that in someone's blood?"

Kratos gave a low growl. "So it appears." He nudged one of the more intact bodies with his boot, and when it did not move again, he knelt to pick up something that had fallen from its hands. Most of the dead had attacked them with little more than their bare hands, but a handful had held weapons, for all the good it had done them to be armed. Some others had staggered forward holding more mundane items, helmets, pouches, and the like - likely whatever they had been holding when they had died.

Like this one, who had been holding a small bit of papers, bound together.

Two heads of purple hair peered at the object. "Do you think those might be orders?" asked Mash.

"Or a journal. Soldiers in my time often kept one." That so many Spartans could read and write was proof that Sparta was the most enlightened of the Greek city-states. "I kept one, during my travels with my son, both before and during Ragnarök."

He handed it to Mash. "Can you read it? This may shed light on the state of these lands."

She flipped through the pages, and nodded. "Yes. It's in French, which isn't surprising because……well, France. It looks like you were right about soldiers keeping journals."

"Skip to the end," said Medusa, who was peering over Mash's shoulder. "Whatever happened had to be recent, otherwise the plants would be much more dead and rotten than they are." Her face twisted in a grimace. "Not that you could tell from the stench."

Mash's tongue peeked out from between her lips as she flipped through the journal. "Let's see……'30, May, the year of our Lord 1431 - It is over. Jeanne was burnt as a witch today. All hope for France is lost.'"

Her finger traced under the words as she read. "The next entry is about five days later. 'Ruin has come to our lands. Jeanne did not stay dead, she did not go to Heaven. Three days after she burnt, she returned, but as one touched by God no longer. Men say her hair is bleached white, her armor blackened by the fire. And she did not come back alone. She brought with her armies of wyrms, and monsters in human flesh that answer her beck and call. The Dauphin, who she raised to the throne. Bishop Pierre Cauchon, who condemned her to the stake. And thousands of men, women, and children, English and French alike. All have been slain at her hands, or at the hands of the beasts of hell she commands. She is the Maid of Orleans no longer, but a witch, a dragon witch.'"

She flipped a page. "This one's from a couple of days ago. 'The land dies. Is this a curse from God on the land for what we did to Jeanne? Or is this her curse, as a witch, for failing to save her from the stake? We cannot stay at the fort any longer. Food dwindles. Our water is bad. Our leaders wait for what? A salvation that is not coming to this doomed land. I have spoken with those I trust, and we will attempt to flee, to leave France. It is a hard thing, to choose to desert, but our families, if they live. We must save them, taking them from this dying land.'"

Mash looked up from the pages. "There's nothing after that."

"Well, this Dragon Witch certainly sounds like the distortion in history we were looking for," chimed in Romani.

Kratos made a noise of assent. "Yes. From what I have been told, the Abrahamic God was as stingy with resurrections as the gods I have known - reserving it for his son, and those his son found worthy, and not his chosen. These 'Saints'."

Heracles had wrestled Death himself to return a friend's wife to the lands of the living. Orpheus had descended to the Underworld and reduced Hades and Persephone to tears to bring his love back to him, only to lose her at the last moment, by looking back when he had been commanded not to. And Kratos himself had fought his way out of Tartarus more than once. To hear that a god, or, more correctly, that god's son had just…..brought people back to life with a touch had been almost incomprehensible to Kratos, given how the gods of his land had made such a blessing be earned through a trial that only the most worthy could manage.

"So, I'm guessing that means we're still headed straight to Orleans, then?" asked Romani.

Kratos thought for a moment. "This fort the soldier spoke of. Do we know where it might be?"

"Best guess would probably be…..Vaucouleurs, though to call that a fort would be very, very generous." Da Vinci projected a map onto the screen. "If you're where we think you are, and the Singularity isn't screwing with our instruments, you should be only an hour or two away from it. You wouldn't have to detour too much from your path to give it a looksee, if you're still planning on a straight march to Orleans."

"I am considering it. There is no guarantee that the words written here are true. Information from a living source is always better, when it can be obtained, and that source can be trusted." He began walking, Mash and Medusa falling in behind him. "And if it would not take us too far from our chosen path, then it may be worth the lost time, if we stand to gain in knowledge of our foes."

"Then shall I?"

Kratos nodded at Medusa. "Go."

---

Da Vinci's estimation of their position was correct, it was only an hour before Medusa reported seeing what appeared to be a man-made structure on the horizon. As he drew up on it, he could see why Da Vinci had been hesitant to call it a fort.

It was little more than a town, or a village. True, there was what appeared to be a strong wall encircling the commune, albeit one that appeared to have weathered some damage, but the most impressive structure within those walls was not a fort, but a stone building whose peak was topped by a cross - likely this was a temple to the Abrahamic God.

Kratos could see movement atop the walls, though it was too far for him to make out details.

"Those are men - not the walking dead we just dealt with," said Medusa, having noticed both Kratos and Mash squinting at the walls. "While I was waiting on you two to catch up, I went into Spirit Form and took a closer look - I didn't feel any Servants within the walls, so there shouldn't have been anyone who could see me while I was in Spirit Form."

Kratos grunted, indicating she should continue.

"Little else to see. Going by their armor, they seem to be of a sort with the pile of corpses we found earlier." She frowned. "Truthfully, they seem to be in only slightly better shape than the zombies. They seem to be dead on their feet - listless and scared. And probably hungry, as well, if what that journal said was true." She glanced at Kratos. "Do we still approach?"

"Yes. Remain hidden. Should they prove hostile, or allied with our enemies, we will have a chance to catch them off balance."

Medusa nodded, then vanished in a shower of golden light. A moment later, Kratos and Mash left the cover of the trees, heading towards the gates of the wall that surrounded the town.

'Scared' seemed to be more prevalent in the men patrolling the walls than 'listless', their approach was quickly noticed, kicking up a flurry of activity along the walls. Within moments, they could hear the temple bell ringing, and the number of soldiers along the walls doubled. In particular, the activity centered around the gatehouse, and the black powder devices Da Vinci had called 'cannons' - every one that could be brought to bear was being leveled at them.

Still, they were allowed much closer to the gate than Kratos would have permitted, were he in charge of the defenses, before they were challenged. "Halt where you stand! Who…..who goes there?" The voice that called down to them was trying to project a measure of authority, but it was undermined by the quaver in the man's voice.

"Travelers, new to these lands," bellowed Kratos.

"L…lies!" came a different voice. "You're more of the Dragon Witch's monsters! Just look at how they're dressed! Who carries a shield that big, or wears skins like some savage, but one of her demons! They're here to kill us all!"

'Confirmation of this Dragon Witch talk, at least.' came Medusa's voice in his head. 'I'm up on the walls. They're nervous, but not reaching for their weapons just yet. Well, except for the one who just called into question your manner of dress.'

"Rene…….." it was the first voice now, the one that had challenged them as they drew near the walls. "Use that head of yours for something other than a place to set your helmet. Every man on these walls has seen her demons tear through our comrades. At what point did ANY of them bother to heed any of us when we begged them to stop? If those two really WERE her demons, would they really have listened when I ordered them to halt, or would they already be on the ramparts, tearing us apart?"

".......it could be a trick. Get us to let our guards down before they slaughter us. Feast on our despair when they betray us. They say demons like the taste of a soul in despair better than any other soul….." The voice was speaking faster and faster. "Turn the cannons on them, now, before it's too late!"

The first voice gave a long-suffering sigh. "Rene, I think you've been manning the walls long enough for today. Marceau, can you take Rene and see that he gets some food and some rest."

As Rene was escorted off, still loudly exhorting them to blast Kratos and Mash into oblivion, the first voice resumed speaking with them. "Travelers, you say? What in God's name possessed you to wander this far into France? Why didn't you turn back the second you saw what was happening to the trees?"

It was Mash who answered him. "We're from an organization called Chaldea. We heard that something had happened to France, and we came to help."

"Help?" Harsh, bitter laughter echoed down on them the ramparts - and not just the man they were speaking with, but it sounded like the whole contingent guarding the walls was joining in. "Little girl, there's no helping France. This land is doomed. All we can do is choose where our bodies will rot."

Kratos frowned. "You would give up, and just wait for Death to take you, while you still draw breath?"

"Yes, yes we would. Because it's what we all deserve." A head peeked out from the walls, peering down on them. Kratos took him for an officer of some kind, for his helmet was moderately more ornate than those that had been worn by the dead who had once been his comrades. "We let those English bastards burn the Maid. Didn't even try to rescue her, and by doing that, we betrayed God. And so he punishes us, by bringing Jeanne back as a witch, by blighting the land, to show the nations of the world how France has sinned, and will be destroyed for it."

The temple bell began ringing again, more frantically this time.

The man looked to the skies, a look of almost….acceptance coming over his face. "And there it is. Our judgment comes on leathery wings."

Kratos and Mash spun, craning their necks to see what had caught the man's eye. At first, they both thought it was a stormcloud, black, and massive - but it was moving, far too quickly, and against the wind.

It was no cloud, but a mass of winged, scaly bodies, approaching them at great speed.

"Are those…..wyverns?" asked Mash.

The communicator on her wrist chimed to life, Romani's pale face appearing. "Scanning….and confirmed." He swallowed. "Guys…..that's A LOT of wyverns. Twenty…..no, twenty-five, at least. Maybe more, if there's stragglers from the main group."

Kratos gave a low growl. "I have fought Wyverns before, though not in these numbers." The wyverns the Aesir and Einherjar used as mounts were dangerous beasts, not his match on their own, but with so many…. "And these appear more kin to dragons than the ones I am familiar with."

"They are! They're lesser dragons - not as big, and not as smart - they're little more than animals, for all they're Phantasmals. But to see so many….." He glanced at the Spartan. "Kratos, please tell me you have a plan."

Kratos thought quickly - they had but moments before the swarm would be upon them. "Mash, can you leap to the walls?"

"I….I think so? I've never jumped that high, but…..I think I can…"

Not the most confident of answers, but he would have to hope her belief was not misplaced. "Go. Aid the soldiers in holding off the beasts. Any creature that is attacking them is one that is not attacking us. Rider."

Medusa materialized next to him. "Yes?"

"If given the height, can you bring some of them down to the earth?" She nodded, and at that, he snapped his shield open. "Then on my mark. I shall draw as much of their attention as I can, while you tear them from the sky."

Mash was already running to the walls, her legs rapidly chewing up the distance between. Kratos tensed, the beasts were almost upon them.

"NOW!" he yelled, and Medusa sprang into the air, planting both feet onto his shield. With a grunt of effort, he threw her forward, the woman's body streaking through the sky like a bow shot from an arrow. A bellow of pain told him that she had at least drawn blood, and faintly, he heard the clatter of her chains as she entered combat.

Booming explosions began to sound from the walls as the soldiers manning it opened up with their cannons.

With a deep breath, Kratos reached behind him, and felt the metal of the Blades of Chaos warm at his touch, as the primordial fires within stirred to life.

Then the swarm descended.

The first wyvern that came at him saw only a man, prey - ground bound and slow, and it shrieked as it raised its claws in preparation for a dive that would leave the meat bleeding on the ground in ragged chunks. Then suddenly, pain, pain in its wings, and it was being pulled from the sky by strength it could not fight, and then it was crashing to the ground, bones shattering at the impact.

Dazed, bleeding, broken, it looked up in time to see that man that it had thought easy prey raise a blade, and strike its head from its neck.

Kratos yanked the Blades back into his hands as a number of the beasts detached from the greater swarm and headed straight for him. He lashed the Blades from his hands, sweeping before him, but the beasts were quick, and the Blades only gashed them. Continuing his spin, he pulled the Blades above him, and then snapped them down, cleaving into a wyvern that had thought to take him in the back. The beast howled in pain as it tumbled from the sky, one of its wings shredded and useless.

He tugged the Blades back to him, then was forced to fall to the ground, as two wyverns soared through the space where his body had been, their claws shrieking as they sliced through the air - then rolled to the side, as a third wyvern fell from the sky, attempting to pin him to the ground.

Kratos flicked the Blades out as he dodged, gouging a shallow cut into the wyvern's leg, unable to get much power into the throw as he rolled, and pushed himself to his feet. Quick as lightning, he closed the distance before the beast was able to regain the skies, shoulder lowered as he crashed into it.

He was prevented from finishing the downed wyvern off as two more descended upon him, this time from opposite directions. He sent the Blades at the closer, hoping to pull it from the sky as he had the first, but the creature dove as soon as he moved, and Kratos rolled forward, the claws of the second narrowly missing his flesh.

They were hunting as would wolves, harrying at him, drawing his attacks. These things were a bit smarter than the mere beasts Romani had described them as.

In the sky, Medusa drove her stakes into the thin membranes of a scaled monster, tore them upwards, then planted her feet and leapt into the air before the beast began tumbling to the earth. Her leap took her straight at another wyvern, who raised its claws and shrieked a challenge. She collided with it head-on, stabbing her stakes into the raised claws, keeping them from her body. Without losing an ounce of momentum, she used the stakes planted into the wyvern's claws to flip forward, her legs encircling its neck. With a spin, and a twist, she snapped its neck, then sprang away again, before it realized it was dead.

On the walls, Mash desperately pushed back against a pair of claws, as a snapping maw of teeth tried to snake around her shield. Yelling in exertion, she heaved, her Servant's strength winning out against the wyvern's weight, and she took a step forward, then another, then was running, smashing the creature's body against one of the watchtowers before it could escape. It crumpled to the ground as she pulled back, and before she could think to finish it off, soldiers were rushing in, plunging spears and pikes into its body. It roared weakly, then went still.

A cheer went up around her, as the soldiers celebrated, but Mash's eyes were already searching for the next place she needed to be. ('Until a battle is over, you must remain focused. Do not celebrate at minor victories - raise your voice only when the battle is won.') Kratos' words from one of her training sessions echoed in her head, and she took off - she could see where a wyvern had downed a soldier, the man desperately attempting to avoid the creature's jagged teeth.

Kratos trailed the Blades along the ground, then flicked his wrists, cracking a wave into the chains, the Blades leaping upwards, slashing into a wyvern's belly. This beast, as had many others, had reacted in time to avoid a mortal wound, but the Blades ignited and set the wyvern on fire as Kratos jerked the Blades free of its gut. The beast howled in pain, but Kratos paid it no mind, he sent each Blade out separately, sweeping them though the air at the two winged monsters that were trying to take him in the sides.

One was too close for the Blades to catch, but was tangled in the chains, the attached Blade whirling around its body, wrapping around its body, and improbably - if one was unaware of the bloodthirst imbued into the Blades of Chaos - allowing the daggerlike point to pierce into the wyvern's neck. It fell from the sky.

The other was at the perfect range to meet a Blade head-on, but with a sudden burst of speed, it gained height, the Blade streaking underneath its body. Kratos dodged, but was a hair too slow, as vicious talons carved lines into his right shoulder. Growling, Kratos pulled with his left arm, and used the body of the dead wyvern to knock the other from the sky. Kratos grasped the chains, and pulled, yanking himself forward, his body leaving the space just as another wyvern attempted to bite him, its jaws snapping shut on air, instead of flesh.

Kratos collided with the two tangled wyverns, one dead, one living, though that one quickly joined its fellow in death as Kratos rammed the Blade in his right hand into its skull. Seizing the other Blade, he ripped it free, the chains around the dead wyvern's body loosening. With only seconds before the mass of bodies would hit the ground, he tossed the Blades skyward, sinking them into the body of a wyvern above him.

Legs tensing, he leapt, swinging through the air, using the wyvern's body as an anchor point, until he crashed into yet another beast. With a savage jerk, he pulled the wyvern he had been using as an anchor for his Blades from the sky, and then, as the Blades returned to his hands, decapitated the wyvern he was tangled with, then leapt from its dying body.

He crashed to the ground, rolling to absorb the shock from the fall. He looked to the sky, searching for where the next attack would come from. It would not be from the sky.

A pained hiss, and a wash of fire rolled over him. One of the wyverns he had injured, but not finished had managed to crawl close enough to belch fire on the Spartan.

Roaring, Kratos charged the wyvern, his shield snapping open and blocking the stream of flames, the wave of fire parting before him. His shield, and charging body, plowed into the scaled monster, but stubbornly, it stayed up. It gulped, and Kratos could tell it was preparing to engulf him in flames again.

Like a striking snake, Kratos' hands flew out, seizing the wyvern's jaws as its mouth began to open. Hissing, the beast wrenched its head, fighting him. A jet of flame shot out from its throat, licking across Kratos' flesh. With a snarl of effort, Kratos clenched his fists, feeling the bones of the wyvern's jaw shattering under his hands. The beast gave a shriek of pain, then a gurgling whine as Kratos forced the jaws open beyond what they were meant to by nature.

There was a loud snap, and the fight went out of the wyvern.

'Kratos, Roman says……wait, you're on FIRE!' Mash's panicked voice sounded in his head.

'It will pass! Speak!'

'Sir! Roman says they've picked up another group of wyverns heading towards us! A bigger one!'

Another group? They had whittled the current flock down, but reinforcements now - and a swarm larger than the group they had been fighting could threaten to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. Grimly, he raised the Blades as another handful of the beasts descended from the sky.

Medusa jammed a stake into a wyvern's throat, then twisted it, hearing the beast gurgle as its neck filled with blood. She flicked her head around, seeking her next target, then frowned. The creatures were wising up - they had pulled away, and were either flocking to the walls, or preparing to swarm Kratos. She had no victims in range to spring to.

She braced herself, as the wyvern she was clinging to plummeted to earth.

On the walls, Mash heaved a breath into her lungs. She had run herself ragged, dashing from skirmish to skirmish as she had tried to fend off as many wyverns as she could, but she couldn't be everywhere. Men had died as the creatures had picked them from the walls, or had been ripped into by diving beasts. She heaved a breath, and hoisted her shield back up - then froze, as she saw the man who had parlayed with them walk out of the gatehouse, slowly, arms spread.

He had a look of near-tranquility on his face as he crossed the walls. He didn't struggle, didn't scream as a scaled monstrosity dove from the sky and seized him in its claws and bore him aloft, where a swarm descended and tore him to shreds.

Kratos sent the Blades sweeping through the sky, but the creatures were keeping their distance. Somehow, they knew more of their kind was coming, and were content to wait until their numbers were replenished. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wyvern rocketing to the ground. As it neared the earth, a blob of purple and black detached from it.

'Kratos! Catch me!'

Running as fast as he could, feet nearly leaving craters in the ground, Kratos raced to where Medusa's body would impact the ground.

He made it in time. Medusa crashed into him, and he awkwardly caught her, his body cushioning her fall. They tumbled together as the momentum of Medusa's flying form knocked Kratos from his feet. After a moment, their bodies skidded to a halt.

Medusa sprang to her feet as Kratos picked himself up off the ground. She glanced at him, then took a longer look at him. "You appear to be singed, Kratos."

"Minor discomfort," he huffed. "Are you injured?"

"Nicks and scratches. I was moving too fast for them to do more than that." She grimaced. "Until they pulled back, and stopped giving me targets to stay in the air."

"Romani has spotted another group, larger than this one, moving in this direction. They hold back, awaiting reinforcements." He growled. "I will be speaking to Romani about these creatures being little more than beasts."

"I think I can see them." She swept her hidden eyes across the sky. "We've probably killed a little more than half of the first group - another, larger group….." Her gaze fell on Kratos. "What are your orders?"

"Fall back to the walls. With them at our backs, we can limit the directions they can attack, and we will gain options for mobility." He began moving, keeping one eye on the massed wyverns, hesitant to fully turn his back on the bloodthirsty creatures. "Should any of the soldiers live, we will also be within the curtain of their fire - it will offer us limited protection, but against these numbers, we will grasp what advantages we can."

Quickly, they retreated to the walls, then turned to face the oncoming wave.

The sky seemed filled with scales and leather.

'So many…….' Mash's voice quavered.

A cannon roared, but the shot was premature, and it crashed to the dirt long before reaching the swarm.

"Here they come…." muttered Medusa. Kratos' hands tightened around the Blades of Chaos, fire flickering over the metal. He braced himself.

'Servant signature detected!'

Amidst the cloud of monsters blackening the sky, it was as if the sun, hidden behind the clouds, suddenly burst forth.

Fearlessly, she strode up to the fort, flag held high. Hair like spun gold caught the sunlight, almost glowing as the rays touched it.

"Load grapeshot!"

She didn't yell, but somehow, her voice easily sounded across the battlefield.

The few survivors still manning the walls, already holding on by a thread, were not reassured by this woman's sudden appearance. "It's the Witch! She's here to watch us die!"

If the woman - and the soldiers seemed to be convinced she was the Dragon Witch who was ravaging this land - heard their cries, she gave no sign. "Load. Grapeshot!" she cried, a note of undeniable authority entering her voice. "Cannonballs are too slow! As many as they are, grapeshot can swat them from the skies!" She raised her flag high, the banner fluttering wildly in the wind being kicked up by the wyvern's wings. "This land will NOT die so long as I have breath left in my body to fight for it! Stand with me. Fight for this land, for your families, for your lives! The Lord has NOT abandoned France!"

She drove the flag into the ground, and bowed her head. "Luminosité Eternelle!"

Light burst forth from the flag, washing over the battlefield. The monsters in the sky shrieked as the light touched them, the purity of it blinding them.

Kratos had been wary of this new arrival, his body whipcord tense as the light washed over them. But when the light dimmed, he felt no ill effects on his body. After a moment, he felt his flesh begin to knit - the gashes on his shoulder mending, and his scorched flesh losing its blackened and charred tone.

Medusa also appeared to be on the mend, her numerous nicks and cuts having vanished. "She is an ally, then?"

"So it appears." Kratos scowled. "Be wary. Her appearance differs from the account we recovered, but the soldiers believe her to be the Dragon Witch." He gave a low growl. "It is a problem for after these creatures are scattered."

Above them, a cannon boomed - this time, instead of a large, singular ball, a cloud of heated shrapnel tore through the air, and ripped into the still blinded wyverns, sending several of them crashing to the dirt. As the echoes of the cannon's cry died out, a voice could be heard from the walls.

"Pick up your weapons and fight! Fight for your lives!" Mash's voice boomed down from the walls. "We can win this! Man the cannons, I'll keep the wyverns off you!"

The corners of Medusa's mouth turned up in a smirk. "The little mouse is acting like a lion. Is this your doing, I wonder?"

Kratos did not dignify that with a response. "Climb the walls and assist in the defense of the cannons."

"As you wish." Her laughter trailed after her as she flew up the walls.

The wyverns had nearly recovered from the blinding light. Before they could fully rally, Kratos formed Draupnir in his hands and sent a volley of spectral spears into the sky. The range was such that some fell short, and some of his targets had recovered enough to dart out of the way, but some hit their mark, further reducing the number of their enemies.

Across the battlefield, their would-be ally was stalking across the grounds, approaching those wyverns who had fallen from the sky, but still lived. As she reached each one, she would bow her head briefly, then, heedless of their snapping jaws, quickly and mercifully end their suffering with a single stab of her flag.

More cannons were adding their voices to the first, and while the wyverns were smart enough to spread out, they were still taking a toll.

The first wyvern to reach Kratos was a maddened, feral thing, bleeding from a handful of wounds, easily dispatched with a sweep of the Blades. The next fell just as easily, as Kratos sent the Blades out to meet it in mid-dive, driving them into its body and ripping it from the sky, whipping its body into the walls.

The tide was turning.

It was in trickles at first, as fear overcame their bloodlust, wyverns began turning tail and fleeing, those still whole enough to fly away. Before long, it was a rout, and the only wyverns left on the battlefield were those too crippled to flee - and they did not last long past the battle's end.

In the middle of the battlefield, the corpses of wyverns surrounding them, Kratos got his first good look at the Servant who had appeared suddenly to grant them her aid.

She wore plated armor of silver, with blue accents. A cape of the same blue, decorated with the same silver crosses that had capped the peak of the temple in the town wrapped around her shoulders, hanging down to her legs. A thin sword was sheathed at her side, and an odd silver headpiece, more akin to a tiara or a crown than any sort of helmet rested on her head. Her flag was held loosely in her hands, as she calmly beheld Kratos.

To Kratos' eyes, she glowed with a similar light as those chosen by the gods of Greece - such as the Oracle of Athens, though the light seemed almost dimmer, more subdued when compared to those he had known in his first lifetime.

She performed a formal, courtly bow. "Hello, mysterious god. I believe we should talk."

---

 

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: And we're off.

Periodic reminder that Kratos is a theater nerd - or at least enough of one to quibble with Mimir about the proper form of theater when Mimir complains about the 'Tragedy of the Theben King' consisting entirely of people receiving bad news and reacting to such. Kratos defends that as more clear, and the proper form of theater as determined by the Greeks.

Orleans starter-level zombies vs the God of War? Yeah, they were going to get shredded. Midgard has much higher quality dead to fight. And while the Nasuverse wyverns don't match up to the Migard ones mano a mano (since a Migardian Wyvern is a boss fight, or a powerful regular enemy at least, while FGO wyverns are mooks you smack around on the way to the last wave), they make up for their lack of quality with QUANTITY, which, as Josef Stalin said, is a quality all its own. And they're rather tougher than the walking dead. But when I said Kratos would be challenged, it wasn't going to be by basic-ass zombies.

Largely something of a setup chapter for Orleans, getting boots on the ground and establishing the framework of the Singularity - and in some ways still very much chained to the dread Stations of the Canon, at least for the beginning. The fireworks begin next chapter.

I am something of a lapsed Christian, so I don't recall God doing much of the resurrecting, mostly that was Jesus. Feel free to correct me.

Madre de dios, it's frakkin' COLD in my neck of the woods. Had an absolutely shit day yesterday, so decided to distract myself with writing. That the Buffalo/Pittsburgh game was postponed due to Bills Stadium looking like it's going through Fimbulwinter didn't hurt, as well. So banged this out a day earlier than I planned. Original plans were to have this chapter out on Friday, but didn't come to pass.

Seriously, anyone in the cold wave that's hitting the States, stay warm.

Chapter 13: Orleans 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 13​

Their departure from the battlefield was delayed, on advice from an Irish Servant.

"Look, they might be pissed-off flying lizards, but they're edible! They don't seem to show any sores, pustules, or anything else that would make me think they've caught the blight that's affecting the countryside. And since they're not native to this Side of the World by this point in history, the Dragon Witch must be bringing them in from somewhere. This flock might not even have been around more than a couple of hours." He grinned. "So get to carving, and bring me back some of the teeth and claws - and I suppose bring some for Da Vinci too. Phantasmal parts make good reagents."

"You SUPPOSE?" There was a sound of a metallic thud.

"OW! Dammit woman, why did you have to use the metal hand to hit me?"

"Because I'd have probably hurt my hand otherwise! Be thankful I didn't use my staff!"

Kratos pointedly ignored the bickering coming from the communicator, focused on butchering the wyvern he was knelt over. When he made mention of his abilities as a hunter, Da Vinci had forged for him an entire set of skinning and carving knives. He had to give the woman credit, they were beautifully made.

He still used the knife he had forged for his wife for the majority of the work. Like the Leviathan Axe, and his son, the knife was one of the few things he had that still connected him to Faye.

However, other things that had been provided for him saw use. Magically treated paper that would soak up any amount of blood that leaked from the 'steaks' he was carving from the wyverns. Containers that would preserve the meat indefinitely and prevent decay from setting in. These were things that would have made their lives in the Wildwoods much easier.

Medusa leaned over his shoulder, watching as he set to his bloody work. She had extracted some claws and teeth from a handful of beasts, and stored them away in a container that had been provided for them specifically for that purpose. Now done with that task, she was observing him.

"You do this well, for all that this beast is new to you. It's not a skill I ever picked up." For a moment, she looked wistful. "There wasn't much game on the Shapeless Isle. It was mainly fish for us…..at least for a time."

Unspoken was what she had eaten as time had passed, and more and more heroes came to her island to slay the monster and spirit her two sisters away. A week had not been enough time to fully educate Kratos in everything, but they had spent a day on the differences between the Greek tales of Kratos' land, and the ones of the land he found himself in.

"My wife did the fishing in our lands. I am merely competent at it, she was far better." He reached down and smacked a questing paw away from the container where the carved meat was resting. "No. You may have the meat once it is cooked. Not before."

"Fou! Fou fou fou. Foungry. Fou KYU!" barked the creature. With the battlefield relatively secure, Mash had let Fou out to wander about some, arguing that he was probably unhappy being confined all the time. He had then proceeded to hover around Kratos as he had harvested meat from a fallen wyvern, making periodic attempts to snatch a bite or two.

None of which had been successful, to the animal's increasing ire.

Smirking, Medusa scooped up the white-furred scavenger, who kicked his legs helplessly in her grasp. "Come now, Fou. Let's not bother the god while he's holding that knife. You don't want to end up on the menu alongside those wyvern steaks, do you?"

"Fou………" The animal deflated, almost seeming to pout, but no longer fought to be freed from Medusa's grasp.

That she had begun to idly scratch behind his ears may have had something to do with that.

Mash was standing guard, carefully watching the Servant who had appeared to aid them on the battlefield (and also averting her eyes from the carving Kratos was doing - Mash understood on some level what needed to be done to get meat from the fields to her table, but seeing it was….something else entirely). Jeanne d'Arc, as she introduced herself, had told them to take as much time as they needed, and then had retreated some distance away, obviously aware that they were wary of her.

And it was not merely their group who was unsure of what to make of her. The survivors of the town had been ready to turn their cannons on her before she had pulled back, out of their range. Though from the animated discussions that had filtered down from the walls, it had not been a unanimous decision. A portion of the soldiers had argued against firing on her if she came closer to the walls, based on her actions on the battlefield, but they had been shouted down, an argument the woman had defused by the simple measure of withdrawing from their effective range, where she now waited patiently.

Kratos placed a wrapped hunk of meat into a container, then placed the lid on top, watching as it hissed as it sealed itself closed.

"Done?" asked Medusa, who by now had managed to flip Fou upside down, and was vigorously rubbing the animal's belly.

Kratos stood. "Yes. Assuming the meat is wholesome, this should supplement our rations for a time. Mash!"

The girl started. "Oh, are you done? Coming!" Mash quickly crossed the distance, kneeling down to load the containers into her shield, carefully keeping her eyes away from the wyvern's bloody carcass.

While Mash was occupied with that, Kratos crossed the grounds until he stood before the Servant, who placidly watched him approach. "Finished, then?"

Kratos gave a grunt of assent. "You said we should speak. Speak."

"If it would not trouble you overmuch, I believe we should withdraw out of the sight of Vaucouleurs. I would not frighten these men and women with my appearance more than I must." A flicker of sadness crossed her face, before it vanished, and calm serenity reasserted itself.

Kratos spared a glance at the sky - the sun was getting low. "We will need to find a place to shelter for the evening, before we speak, if we withdraw from this site now. Marching through the evening in unfamiliar territory is…..unwise."

"There was a roadside inn not too far from here, when I was alive. It's probably abandoned by now - at least going by the state of the villages and inns I've passed on my way into France so far, but if the structure still stands, it would serve our purposes." She frowned. "Once, I would have suggested the forests, but……"

Kratos nodded. "The branches are too bare of leaves to give us cover from either the weather or wyverns, and to sleep amid that much rot and corruption would be to invite disease." Nevermind that Servants, in theory, could not get sick, and Kratos could not remember the last time he had fallen ill - whatever was killing the plants in this land was not natural, and it would not do to assume it could not infect them all. "Lead us to this inn. Unless it has been completely sacked, it should provide us with some measure of shelter."

"Then, please. Follow me."

---

Jeanne was as good as her word, the building was little more than an hour's walk away from the walls of the town. And better yet, it was still somewhat intact.

"I still don't understand," said Mash, poking about the common room of the inn, as Kratos was tending a fire in the kitchen, over which some of the wyvern steaks were cooking. "Why have an inn barely an hour's walk away from town? Wouldn't it be more secure inside the walls?"

"Ah…." Jeanne's cheeks pinked. "While I cannot confirm this, some of my men spoke of visiting this place while they were stationed near Vaucouleurs. Supposedly, this was less of an inn, and more of a…..house of ill repute. It was allowed to operate by virtue of being outside of the town limits - and outside of the sight of the clergy."

Mash squeaked, but the greater reaction came from Doctor Romani. "Wait……you mean you guys are bedding down in a BROTHEL?"

Medusa nodded, a look of understanding on her face. "That would explain some of the lingering smells, then."

Kratos huffed, turning a skewer of meat over to let the fire lick at its other side. "If there were women of that ilk here, they are long gone. Though I doubt any of them served Aphrodite, as did the ones in Corinth. The building serves our needs. Whatever it was in the past is irrelevant." He drew a skewer of meat off the fire, and took a sniff.

It smelled like cooked meat did. He couldn't detect any odd aromas that might indicate poisoned or otherwise unwholesome flesh. He held it out to Medusa, who also took a whiff of the haunch.

"It smells fine to me, Kratos. As Caster said, I think the worst that it could do to us would be to our bowels."

Kratos gave a grunt, then tore a strip of meat from the skewer, chewed, and swallowed.

Truthfully, not too dissimilar to chicken.

After a moment, when he wasn't struck down by wracking pain, or a sudden urge to purge his gut, he judged the meat likely fit for consumption. "It appears to be safe to eat." He pulled a chunk of meat from the skewer, and tossed it to a certain white-furred creature, who had been salivating from the moment the meat had gone on the fire. Fou agilely snatched it from mid-air, and set into it with a vigor.

Mash was rummaging in her shield. "We'll probably want to supplement that with some of our rations, Mr. Kratos. Just eating meat could lead to scurvy."

"I will leave that to you. As you control our supplies, you are the acting Quartermaster while we are in the field." Mash might have stood just a bit straighter with that announcement, and if there was a flush to her cheeks, her back was to Kratos, so he couldn't tell.

Medusa had already helped herself to a skewer, and was sedately chewing on it. Kratos took another one from the fire, and offered it to their guest, who took it with a bowed head.

"That you would share your food and fire with me is appreciated. If now would be an acceptable time to begin our discussions?" At Kratos' nod, she took a small, dainty bite from her meal, then began speaking. "I've already introduced myself, and you'd have guessed my identity by now if I hadn't, from what the soldiers were saying, but to make it formal, I am Jeanne d'Arc, Ruler-class Servant."

Ruler was not one of the Servants that he and Da Vinci had covered. He had vague memories of Olga Marie mentioning 'Extra Class Servants' that were outside the bounds of the basic 7, way back in Fuyuki, but he also recalled that she said those such classes were rare, and unlikely to be encountered.

So much for that.

Nor was he the only one surprised by this revelation. "An Extra Class Servant on the first Singularity?" Romani groaned, head in his hands. "Why don't I like the precedent this is setting?"

Da Vinci patted Romani on his shoulder. "There there, Roman. Maybe this will be the exception that proves the rule." From the tone of the woman's voice, it was clear she didn't believe that any more than Romani appeared to. "And now I look the fool for not covering Extra Classes when we went over Servants. My apologies for that, Kratos, I'll amend our curriculum, and make sure to have some extra-special cookies for the next lesson. The short and dirty of it is that a Ruler Class is summoned in a Grail War when the War in question is judged to be too dangerous for a human moderator."

Kratos considered the woman seated across the table from him. "Then, you are here as a neutral party?"

Jeanne shook her head. "No. While I have vague recollections of having done so in the past, that isn't why I'm here in France." She frowned. "I think."

Mash, who had been handing out small cans containing a medley of fruits (and another small can with olives, for Kratos), paused in her actions. "You think? Did…..did something go wrong with your summoning, like mine did?"

Jeanne sighed. "Yes. Normally, when a Ruler Class Servant is summoned, they are given a host of abilities to help moderate a Holy Grail War, and enforce the mandates and rules of the war. But those are abilities I find myself without - I don't have the Command Seals a Ruler would be given to control unruly Servants. Nor do I have the True Name Discernment skill, so I could tell at a glance what a Servant's True Name is." She glanced at Mash and Medusa in turn. "So, while I can tell the two of you are Servants, I am unable to tell who you are specifically."

Medusa set her skewer aside, the meat having been cleanly stripped from the metal. "So, then you believe because you haven't been given the typical tools of a Ruler, that means you aren't here as a moderator, but for some other reason."

Jeanne bowed her head. "It isn't just that. My parameters have been weakened as well - I'm operating at only about half of my full power. And I didn't receive any information from the Grail as I was summoned - I've been making my way solely on the fact that I'm native to the France of this time period. If I was just missing the skills a Ruler should have as a moderator, I could believe those had been denied me as I was not summoned to mediate. But this weakening leads me to believe I was summoned by the land itself…….and something went wrong."

"So then, you're essentially a Rogue Servant?" asked Romani.

"Yes. That seems to be the best way to describe me." She laid her meal down, having barely touched the meat. "Before we go any further, could I possibly inquire as to your names and purposes here? I have heard some of them in passing as you spoke to one another, but I believe proper introductions should be made."

Mash flushed. "Oh, yes! I mean, if that's ok, Mr. Kratos."

Kratos nodded. He did not see the harm in it. If this Servant was truly the 'Dragon Witch', she was far less hostile, and more polite than such a title would lend one to expect.

Mash stood up from her seat, and formally bowed to the Servant. "My name is Mash Kyrielight, Demi-Servant of Chaldea, Shielder Class. I apologize for my poor manners."

Jeanne blinked. "Demi-Servant? And this is the first time I've heard of a Shielder Class…."

"A longer explanation for another time." And one that would be done by someone other than Kratos, as he only somewhat understood the details behind how a Servant had come to be housed within Mash. He gestured at the image being displayed by the communication device. "This is Doctor Romani and Da Vinci, also of Chaldea, though they support us from afar."

"A pleasure," said Da Vinci, her image bowing in a curtsey, as Romani waved his hand.

Jeanne peered at the image. "This is Magecraft of some variety, then, to allow communications from a distance?"

"Sort of…….." Mash considered for a moment, biting her lip, then continued. "You see, we're not actually from this time period. We're from the future…….something's happened here to push history off its course, turning France into a Singularity. We're here to fix it."

"Singularity…..then that means, all this death, all this suffering……it was never meant to happen?"

"Not as history was written, no," chimed in Romani. "Chaldea was formed to protect humanity - all of it - from disasters that could wipe it out in its entirety. About a week ago in our time, someone attacked us, nearly destroyed us, to keep us from doing exactly what we're doing now, trying to fix the areas in the past where they've caused history to veer off course."

Jeanne considered for a moment. "Is that then how you have a living god on your side? That these Singularities have been judged enough of a catastrophe that the Other Side of the World has chosen to intervene?"

Kratos shook his head. "No. I am……not of this world. I was thrown from my world to this one by no choice of my own. I have, however, chosen to aid Chaldea in their struggle, until such time that they can return me to my home." He met the Servant's eyes. "Kratos, of Midgard."

Medusa bowed her head. "Just Rider, for the moment. I'm sure another Servant cannot begrudge me caution in hiding my True Name from someone we've only just met."

"And this is Fou!" said Mash, holding up a squirming Fou, who was valiantly trying to escape Mash's grasp and make his way back to his dinner - or to make a play for Jeanne's food, which she had left unguarded.

"I am pleased to meet you all." said Jeanne. "You may ask the question I can see on all your faces."

There was a moment's silence. Unsurprisingly, it was Romani who chose to break it. "So, ARE you this 'Dragon Witch'?"

"No. I have committed none of the acts that I have heard attributed to this Dragon Witch who supposedly shares my face." She frowned. "I realize I have nothing but my word for you to judge me on this, but I speak the truth. I awoke on the borders of France about a week after my death. I've been slowly heading inward ever since."

Her hand reached up, clenching over her heart. "Since I was summoned, I've felt a…….pull, for a lack of any better word for it. It was always in the direction of Orleans, right up until three days ago, when it felt like it vanished completely." She clasped her hands. "The shock of it left me feeling adrift - following it had felt right, in a similar fashion to how it felt when I was following God's commands to me while I was alive. So, without any other options, I kept heading to Orleans."

"Three days ago……that's about when the blight first appeared." Mash was hand-feeding Fou morsels, likely to keep him from making a play for Jeanne's food. "At least going by the journal of that soldier we found."

Jeanne nodded. "It was that day that I noticed the plants starting to wilt and die. I was so distracted by that, and whatever that it could mean that I didn't notice until the evening that the pull was still there - it was just very faint." She sighed. "Since then, it's moved south and east of Orleans. If I had to guess, I'd say it feels like it's somewhere between La Charite and Lyon……maybe."

"And you have been following this feeling since, which led you to here," stated Kratos.

"Yes. After the terror my face inspired in the first people I met, I had been avoiding settlements, and had been planning to just pass Vaucouleurs by. Then I saw it was under attack." Her eyes hardened. "I couldn't just let the people of France…..who I had fought for, die like that. As I drew closer, I could feel two other Servants…..and something else, already there. I had expected to have to fight you, as I assumed you were Servants of the Dragon Witch, there to destroy Vaucouleurs at her command."

She smiled. "Imagine my surprise to arrive, and see you fighting to protect the people of France." She bowed her head. "Thank you, for protecting my fellow countrymen."

Kratos grunted. "The wyverns were as much of a threat to us as they were to the people within those walls. It was in our interests to see them slain." He paused. "But they did not choose to be hunted by beasts such as those, creatures that should not be here in this time. It cost us nothing to defend them."

"And again, thank you for that." She considered for a moment. "If it isn't too forward of me, would you be willing to consider a temporary alliance? We seem to have similar goals."

Kratos found himself the target of six pairs of eyes - even Fou had stopped eating to stare at the Spartan. "There is merit in another ally. I have no objections."

"Wonderful." She frowned, as if something had just occurred to her. "I do hope you're not expecting me to worship you, though."

Kratos growled. "I neither desire, nor wish for worship. I have lived as a man far longer than I lived as a god."

Jeanne had paled a bit, but she kept her composure in the face of Kratos' irritation. "My apologies, then. Even for a Servant, meeting a living god is a rare thing. I wanted there to be no misunderstandings between us. Not even to save France would I forsake God."

"And I would not ask you to. Who you worship is your own affair. I do not care who, or what it is. Simply remain true to your word, and we shall have no issue."

Jeanne smiled. "Then here's to an alliance that will hopefully save France."

---

It was much later in the evening when Medusa slipped out of the building. Kratos and Mash had turned in a short time ago, Kratos curled up by the fire in the common room, while Mash had retired to one of the upstairs beds - despite being flustered about what might have been done in said beds.

The girl had apparently been tired enough that it hadn't kept her from sleeping, when Medusa had checked on her a moment ago, Mash had been fast asleep, Fou curled up on top of her. At first, she had thought the animal was also asleep, but then the light had caught Fou's violet eyes, and she realized he had stirred the moment the door had creaked open, and was carefully watching her.

She had chuckled, quietly, and left them to their rest. Mash was clearly safe with such a fierce guardian by her side.

Outside, it didn't take her long to find their new addition. Jeanne had retreated to the beaten path that led by the inn, and was keeping watch, eyes alternating between the road and the sky.

She looked away from her vigil as Medusa approached. "Rider. Are you here to keep an eye on me?"

She smirked. "Is it that obvious?"

Jeanne gave her a wry smile. "From the short time I have spent around him, I can say that the god you have contracted with is many things, but subtle is not one of them." She shook her head. "He doesn't fully trust me yet, for all that I could have easily left you to the wyverns at Vaucouleurs." She tilted her head. "Is he always this suspicious of others?"

Medusa shrugged. "I couldn't say for certain, I only contracted with him two days ago." And that had nearly gone right off the rails when she had sensed what he was. "Things were a bit tense when he first summoned me, but he was willing to agree to let me observe him before I agreed to work with him on a more permanent basis."

Jeanne tilted her head quizzically, and Medusa continued. "I suppose there's little point hiding it if we're going to be working together, if you watch me long enough, a Ruler will likely figure it out. Rider-Class Servant. My True Name is Medusa."

Jeanne's mouth made a little 'o' of surprise, and understanding. "That would explain your hesitance, then."

"More or less." She sighed. "To see an actual god standing there, and realize that was what had summoned me……..you could generously say I took it badly. What Athena did to me was bad enough, but Poseidon………"

Medusa angled her head back, looking sightlessly up at the stars. "I went to him willingly, you know. He said all the right things, showered me with gifts, treated me like I was beautiful……..after so long on that island with my sisters, constantly comparing myself to them and their ideal beauty……..I'd say I played hard to get, but I'd be lying." She shook her head, sadly. "Then, Athena laid her spiteful little curse on me, and what did the god who had said all those sweet nothings to me do? Nothing, just let the woman he supposedly cared for be cursed, and didn't even lift a finger. It was then I realized I was just a toy to him. A momentary dalliance that he'd eventually grow bored of."

She spat to the side. "Gods. After that day, I wanted nothing to do with any of them. Honestly, if it wasn't for the Caster Kratos contracted with on the first Singularity, I might have tried to kill him right then and there, and damn the consequences. Better to be sent back to the Throne than be a plaything for a deity again."

"What convinced you, then?" asked Jeanne.

"Part of it was him declaring he wasn't a god of this universe - hearing something so outlandish killed my anger dead long enough for me to be talked down from immediate violence. As Servants, our expectations for 'normal' are fairly skewed, but meeting a god from another universe entirely is strange, even for us, as you yourself noted this very evening." Though everything about this Grand Order Chaldea was undertaking was strange - it made a simple Holy Grail War seem almost mundane in comparison. "Part of it was what little he let slip about the Medusa of his world - apparently, there, I was the Queen of the Gorgons. Can you imagine that? Me, a Queen of anything, much less my sisters?"

She gave a throaty little laugh at the thought. (That some part of her wondered what tales he might have of her sisters was deeply, deeply repressed.) Jeanne did not join her in her amusement, just watching her with the patience of, well, a Saint. "But what really made me consider it was two things. One, the next day, I was in what passes for the library at Chaldea, with some light reading, when in stomps Kratos. At first, I thought he was there for me, but in fact, he didn't even know I was there. He was there for Mash, who's apparently been teaching him to speak, and read English."

Medusa noticed Jeanne's brow furrowing in confusion. "He's got some magical item from his universe that lets him understand pretty much any language, and to be understood in turn. It's how come we're hearing him in English for me, and I assume French for you." Jeanne nodded. "Without it, we'd be hearing him speaking some form of primitive Scandinavian. But it doesn't give him the same ability to read languages, so, every day, he spends a few hours trying to learn how to read English - and to speak it, as well, just in case something happens to his trinket."

"Suspicious," said Jeanne, echoing her earlier words.

"Paranoid might be a better term, or simply unwilling to leave things to chance." She shook her head. "But back to my point, there I was, watching as a god willingly submitted to being taught by an ordinary girl. It isn't anything I could imagine anyone from Olympus ever doing, and that cemented it for me, that this strange, foreign god at least deserved a chance from me."

"But the thing that really made me consider it was when I finally had a moment to stop and think, and really remember, after I was summoned." She glanced over to Jeanne. "You know how it is, on the Throne, when someone puts out a call. We've both been talking with someone, and seen their eyes kind of glaze over as they hear some would-be Master, somewhere, making a plea that they can hear and we can't - or had the reverse happen to us, where we'd black out and come back to a conversation minutes later, after rejecting a call, or being too slow to answer it. Or just being grabbed right in the middle of something and dropped into a summoning, when they have a catalyst, or we hear a plea that interests us."

Jeanne nodded, and Medusa continued. "So, once they'd shown me around the facility, and they left me to my own devices, I remembered. So there I was, two days ago, hiding in one of the libraries from my sisters, who had been after me about something or other, when I heard that deep, gruff voice putting in a call. Asking for help - and saying that he didn't want a slave, but an ally. And he sounded sincere enough that I decided to answer, if only because I was curious."

She shrugged. "It's only been a short time, but he's given me no reason to doubt those words, so far. He gets on famously with the Caster he contracted with, and seems to have a healthy level of respect for Da Vinci as well. And they both seem to be fond of him as well - and you've seen how Mash acts around him. The girl thinks he hangs the moon, I swear."

"For someone so otherwise strict, he's remarkably tolerant of the girl." Jeanne frowned. "Or, I should say, for how green she is. She doesn't move like a seasoned warrior, or carry herself like one. She's a little like how I was, before my first battle. All the titles people gave me after my death, but in the end, I was always just a simple farm girl at my core - and I had no idea what I was walking into with the relief of Orleans." She sighed. "Seeing battles as a civilian was one thing, but being on the battlefield - even though I never drew my sword…….I didn't avert my eyes from the fields of the dead, though I wanted to."

"He's mentioned a wife - deceased, and a son back in his world." She smiled at Jeanne's raised eyebrows. "Yes, I can only imagine what a son of his would be like, though he did share an amusing story about his son with us."

"You see, his son apparently 'accidentally' let loose Garm, the Hound of Hel…."

---

 

THE NEXT MORNING​

Mash would have dearly liked to sleep more after the long day she had had, but Kratos roused her at first light, and she knew he wouldn't accept a plea for 'just five more minutes'. So she stumbled out of bed, shook off the cobwebs, and, after a quick breakfast, they were back on the road, heading southwest. It had been decided, after some debate, to divert slightly from their planned course taking them straight to Orleans, and follow whatever it was that was exerting a pull on Jeanne.

"So, then, do you think this Dragon Witch is another version of yourself?" asked Romani.

Jeanne shook her head. "Truly, I don't know. Beyond the issue of what other classes I could qualify for - and truly, it should only be Lancer, and even then, it's a stretch. I never killed anyone, for all that my hands are stained with blood all the same. But I can't see how any version of myself could become so…….twisted with hate that I would do this to my own country."

Her shoulders slumped. "I never hated them, the English who captured me, who imprisoned me, and tried me on baseless charges. The priest who presided over my trial, or the people who cried for my blood, who threw rocks, produce, or…..other things, at me, as I was led to the stake - I never wanted vengeance on them. To hear that someone with my face, and calling themselves by my name has done all this horror……."

Her eyes turned resolute. "It's why I have to find this Dragon Witch, meet her face to face, and ask her, why……..particularly if it IS a version of myself that's doing this."

"It might not be." Da Vinci's head poked into the image. "It very well could be an imposter - a Servant with some sort of disguise skill, for one possibility. Or just one who is very, very good at putting together a mundane disguise. It's not like any of these people are seeing this Dragon Witch up close and personal, or that they have a way to make a recording so they can examine her in detail, and look for flaws or inconsistencies." She shrugged. "I could probably put together a convincing enough disguise to pull it off, and I'm no spymaster or deep cover agent."

"But an honest to goodness master of disguise - all they'd have to do is let a few people see them from a distance, and let them survive to tell the tale, and boom, we have a full blown panic like we do now. And with every new atrocity or massacre, you'd blacken Jeanne d'Arc's name that much more."

Kratos grunted. "Assuming that is their goal, and not just mindless slaughter."

"Why not both?" asked Da Vinci, with a shrug. "Mind, we don't have the best view of what's been happening to France, but from the scraps we've put together, it just seems like whoever's in charge is just mindlessly lashing out. The entries in that journal that Mash skipped over between Jeanne's death and the start of the blight described towns being attacked almost at random, there wasn't even the appearance of an effort to herd survivors to one area to more efficiently cull them. Grain of salt on anything we took from it, but this all feels…..sloppy. More like a child throwing a tantrum than a dedicated effort to destroy France."

Mash suppressed a shiver. To hear Da Vinci off-handedly evaluate the wholesale genocide of the people of France, and find it lacking in efficiency, or effectiveness……it just reminded her that underneath the flighty persona of 'Aunt Da Vinci' was a genius, and geniuses were a breed apart from normal people.

[I've looked at your memories girl. For all that that 'Doctor Roman' of yours would have killed Beryl if he'd been allowed to, I think Beryl would have taken that fate any day over what Da Vinci would have done to him. The look in her eyes when she heard what he did to you…..someone that smart would have been very, very careful to keep Beryl alive long after he should have moved on.]

"It could lend credence to the theory that this Dragon Witch is merely a fake wearing my face. While I'm no military genius, I at least learned enough about how to conduct a campaign in my time with the French army." She frowned. "Information any version of myself should have. But it would explain this discrepancy, if it is in fact a spy pretending to be me, who never learned anything of soldiering."

Whatever reply anyone was preparing to make to that was cut off by Medusa appearing at Kratos' side in a shower of light.

"Rider?" Kratos seemed confused at her sudden appearance, leading Mash to believe she hadn't warned him of it in advance.

"Apologies for rushing back, but……do you hear that?"

They all paused. Their march so far had been eerily quiet - no sounds of animals, only the wind rustling dead branches. It was why they had been talking - to chase away the silence. (Well, everyone but Kratos had been talking. Mash didn't see him as someone to be rattled by silence, unnatural or not.) But now that it had been mentioned, Mash COULD hear something, faintly, on the winds.

She closed her eyes, straining her ears to hear better. "Is that………music?" Her eyes slid open, to see the rest of the group tilting their heads this way and that, trying to catch the faint sounds over the distance.

"Yes….." muttered Kratos, his expression stormy.

"Good, then it isn't just me." Medusa had crossed her arms over her chest. "Again, apologies for the lack of warning, but something that out of place…….I didn't want to remain close to it in case there was a harmful component to the sound."

Da Vinci pursed her lips. "Wait…..is that The Magic Flute?"

---

It had all gone wrong so fast.

Mozart had thought himself especially blessed - beyond all the chatter during his life about being a man 'beloved by God'. Certainly, being summoned as a Rogue Servant wasn't his idea of a good day. Mozart was many things, but a fighter was not one of them. He could charitably say he was about as far from one as it was possible to be. And when the land itself summoned you to correct whatever had gone wrong with France, it was clear that it expected you to fight to fix things.

He'd been in the process of lamenting his lot in life (or the afterlife, to be precise about it), when SHE had ridden up.

Beautiful, wonderful Marie. Every bit as luminous as he remembered her being.

Things had immediately started looking up.

For a time, he could ignore the plight of France, and just pretend the two of them were traveling across the nation, seeing the sights. Mind, he couldn't pretend for long - a day that didn't have them stumbling across yet another sacked village, or forced them to take cover and hide from a large swarm of wyverns was a rarity. But for a time, he could lose himself in a world where it was just him and Marie.

That they largely had no idea what they were doing didn't hurt. What little information they had managed to gather seemed to indicate the root of the issue affecting France originated at Orleans, but even impetuous Marie wasn't about to suggest they ride straight there and attempt a full-frontal assault (certainly not the kind of full frontal he would desire when mentioning Marie in the same sentence). For all that they were getting a big boost from being summoned in France, they both were modern Servants, and thus, weaker for it, and while Marie was at least a credible threat in a fight between Servants, he, to put it lightly, was little better than useless.

That's what he kept claiming, at least, and he was sticking to his story.

So, since their summoning, they had been kind of riding around aimlessly, criss-crossing across France in Marie's carriage. Their thinking had been, the land had summoned them to deal with this crisis, so it must have summoned others. All they had to do was find them.

Then France had started dying around them, and it was much harder for him to play pretend.

Worse, it had had a visible effect on Marie. Oh, certainly, she was keeping up a brave face, but he KNEW her. He could see how much it was wearing on her, to see her beloved France rotting before her very eyes.

So, their travels from that day onward had taken on a more hurried (some might say desperate) pace. Rumors that they might have dismissed out of hand were now looked into, and there were no more leisurely picnics in tranquil glens (not that there were tranquil glens anymore), no more evening concerts with an audience of one, no more wasted time.

And, the thing that would come to cost them, there was no more caution.

They had been riding south from Paris, following rumors that a man in armor had saved a column of refugees from Lyon (or was it Theirs? Or La Charite?) from a flock of wyverns, only to be set upon by the Dragon Witch - a clash that had ended in a draw. The poor, haggard man that had told them this swore on his life that he had seen it with his own eyes - what he could follow of the clash between the two.

Honestly, it was the most promising lead they'd had since they were summoned. If this knight was real, and was opposed to the Dragon Witch, as the story seemed to suggest, and better yet, could fight her to a standstill, then they might have a real chance at fixing things in this France gone mad.

So they had rushed to Lyon, hoping that this knight was still there, or, if he had moved on, that his trail was still warm.

Their haste, in the end, had made them careless, and Death had come for them on black wings.

Literally, on black wings. As in, a bat had dived at them, shifting into a man as it fell from the sky, and cleaved right through Marie's carriage, forcing them to bail out to avoid worse injury in the crash.

By the time they had gotten back to their feet, their attacker had been joined by another, a woman, who was eying Marie like a particularly fine entree.

If he didn't already think they were in trouble at that point, his ears confirmed it. He couldn't hear a heartbeat, or breathing, from either of their assailants. And while Servants didn't NEED to breathe, it was a rare one who didn't do it reflexively, memories of a lifetime of doing so.

They were in a lot of trouble.

There had been no attempt at parley, no witty repartee, just two monsters of claws, fangs, and blades descending on them, and a fight for their lives.

Mozart had tried his best, he really had. He might be the worst person under the sun - just ask him and he'd cop to it - but he wasn't going to half-ass it where Marie's safety was concerned. This wasn't some brawl with some tavern-goers that he'd stiffed, or a gambling debt he was avoiding having to pay, this was life or death, for both of them, and he threw every trick in his book at the pale, noble looking man who was doing his level best to gut him.

It didn't amount to much, in the end. The man - if that Servant was truly a man, and not a monster in the guise of one - was too fast, too powerful. The lance moved in his hands like it was a living thing, Mozart only JUST keeping ahead of it by virtue of summoning his singing angels and using them to block it - a trick that the enemy Servant quickly adapted to.

In no time flat, Mozart was bleeding from a score of wounds, and laying face down on the ground, his legs no longer working right.

Marie, bless her heart, had put up a better showing than he did. Some of the woman's dress was scorched away - as well as some of her dominatrix-like gear, but Marie hadn't managed a telling blow. While her enemy seemed almost DESIGNED for this, stalking and killing women. Waves of blood slashed at Marie, forcing her to dodge into the woman's elongated talons, or worse, to take bone-breaking strikes from the cruel staff the woman inexpertly wielded. But despite it all, Marie fought, unwilling to take one step back in the face of Death itself, still convinced that they would see this through, and would save France.

It was beautifully heartbreaking.

"Look at you," sneered the cruel voice of the woman, as she tapped the head of her staff in her hand, looking over Marie. "You can barely stand. Your dress is in tatters, and your body is in little better shape. You've almost bled enough to make this barely worth my time for the amount of blood I'll get from this. And yet, you REFUSE to fall. What do you think you're going to do, you stupid girl?"

"Fight." said Marie, wiping blood out of her eyes. The woman had torn a ragged chunk of hair - and some of Marie's scalp - away in a previous exchange, and the blood was yet to clot. "Die, maybe. It wouldn't be the first time I died for France, and it may not be the last. But if you're expecting me to beg, or to despair, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you, Mademoiselle. I didn't beg for my life to Henri, though I saw how it tore him up to have to do his duty. So I won't be begging to a petty little monster like you." Somehow, despite looking like she was on her last legs, Marie managed the same pert little sniff of dismissal that had left many a socialite in the court of France with an inflated sense of their own importance in shambles.

He had never loved her more than he did in that moment.

"Boring." The woman shook her head in disappointment. "Just boring. Well, if you won't provide me with the amusement that I want, then you'll provide me with something else that I require."

The Servant's mana spiked, and her eyes seemed to fill with red. "Everything is an illusion. Maidens shall enter here…………"

Mozart screamed at his body to move, begged it to get up, to muster enough energy to blast the woman, to interrupt the chant of what could only be a Noble Phantasm.

It was futile. In the end, all he could do is watch through eyes brimming with tears as an iron maiden shuddered into being, and descended upon his Marie.

Too beaten and broken to move quickly, Marie didn't even have the time to scream as the doors slammed shut on her, and from within the torture device, he heard the most hideous sound he had ever heard.

And all Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could do was sob into the dirt, and try to close his ears to the jubilant laughter of the Servant who had just killed Marie Antoinette.

(Some part of him, deeply buried within his blackest depths, regretted selling his soul to music at that moment. Had things gone differently, there was someone - someTHING else that would have had dibs on his soul - and in his black despair, he would have willingly paid that price to have the power to wreak vengeance upon these two Servants. But, alas, that isn't how the story of Mozart went, and the plans of demons went awry.)

He noticed footsteps drawing close, but they failed to break him from his despair.

"You fought well, for all that it was a foregone conclusion. If you can take comfort in it, musician, you will die as a man." The cultured, noble voice paused, then gave a weary sigh. "Would that I could give you a better death than this. But my legend commands me, and I must consign you to this end. For I hunger, though it damns me."

An iron grip seized him about the neck, and Mozart's shattered body was lifted up, and his head tilted back.

The last thing he saw was a pair of vicious fangs, descending upon him.

---

"It's gotten quiet."

Medusa's voice broke the sound of their running feet.

When Da Vinci had identified the music being played, she had quickly theorized the identity of the person potentially playing it - Mozart, apparently a famous musician. A famous, Austrian musician from some three hundred years in the future of this Singularity.

Almost certainly a Servant. And possibly a Rogue Servant like the Ruler that now accompanied them. And that meant a possible ally at best. At worst, if he was aligned with the Dragon Witch, it meant a chance to remove an enemy from the board.

So they had set off at a cautious march, following the sound of the music. Kratos had, after considering, chosen to have Medusa not scout ahead, and to remain with the group, in case this was a trap. Better to present a solid core than to risk having their group separated and torn apart piecemeal. It deprived them of advance information on whatever they were walking into, but their forces were limited, and they could ill afford to lose anyone.

Better caution in this instance. Unless whatever awaited them outnumbered them greatly, Kratos did not fear for their ability to, at worst, be able to fight free of an ambush, if they could not win outright.

But then, as they drew closer, he heard it, over the sound of the ever-more frantic music.

The sound of combat.

That had put an entirely different face on the whole thing.

It still could have been a trap - allies faking conflict to draw them in, but it felt too cunning, too well-planned for this haphazard campaign of extermination that was being waged against France. And it also required their enemies to know they were in this location, and, as of yet, there had been no signs that their arrival in France had even been noticed.

(The wyvern attack on Vaucouleurs, they had decided, was not a response to their arrival, but a simple attack against one of the remaining population centers in France, though they were prepared to be wrong on that assumption.)

So, they had abandoned the march for a run. Combat, again, assuming this wasn't a trick far more clever than their enemy had any right to be capable of, meant opposing sides. And Kratos couldn't see a musician lasting long against whatever forces were arrayed against them, even as a Servant, super-human as they were.

(Orpheus, by all accounts, couldn't even throw a good punch.)

As they had grown closer, the music had died out, save a few sputtering notes, and then, even the combat sounds seemed to cease.

Then, there had been the sound of something heavy, and metallic, and then a scream of anguish so tortured it barely sounded human, followed by laughter cruel enough to make Hera herself sit up and take notice.

Then silence.

Three pairs of eyes glanced at Kratos, as they continued on their run forward.

"We continue, though with caution. If the battle has ended, whichever side has won may be injured - in need of aid, if they oppose the Dragon Witch. Or easier to defeat, if they serve her." He reached back, mid-stride, and freed his axe from its harness, as they drew near to the edge of the forest they were in. "Be ready."

As they left the dubious cover of the forest, they came upon a battlefield. The wreckage of a carriage littered the ground, though it was breaking apart into motes of light as they arrived. The ground was blasted and scorched in places, in others, great furrows had been dug into the ground, sometimes singly, sometimes in rows of five.

Standing in the center of it all was a woman.

She was dressed……oddly, to Kratos' eyes. Her outfit was half what Da Vinci had described to him as a 'noblewoman's dress', when she had described her own garb to him. The other half was revealing almost to the point of foolishness, at least for the battlefield. A simple mask veiled her face, which turned to take in the new arrivals. In her hand, she clutched a staff, one that seemed more a badge of office than a proper weapon, as ornate as it seemed.

She REEKED of blood. Fresh blood. Kratos' hand tightened on the grip of his axe.

A smile that almost seemed unnaturally hungry graced her face as she laid eyes upon them. "Well, well. The little Queen was barely enough to sate me, and what do we have here? Three beauties, each more….delectable than the next…….and then…."

Her eyes widened, and her already pale complexion grew even paler.

"Berserker!" she snapped, any hint of her previous mirth gone.

As her body shifted, it revealed a man, kneeling behind her, a body cradled in his arms. He did not move as the woman called out to him, his head still bowed over the still form he was holding.

"BERSERKER!" she hissed, louder this time, carefully backing up, putting distance between herself and the group from Chaldea.

If the man noticed, he gave no indication, still bent over the body in his arms.

A vein was throbbing in her forehead as the man continued to ignore her pleas. "VLAD DRACULA TEPES! STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR FOOD AND TURN AROUND!"

All three of the women accompanying Kratos gave a reaction at the name, either a hissed breath through teeth, or, in Mash's case, a gulp of what could only be fear.

At the sound of his name, the man rocketed to his feet, tossing the body aside. He had strong, noble features - or would have, if they hadn't been twisted into something inhuman, and monstrous. "YOU DARE CALL ME BY THAT NAME, COUNTESS!" Teeth that were too sharp to be human were bared, and in an instant, he was towering over the female Servant, seemingly moments from tearing her to shreds.

'The name is familiar to you both. Explain.'

Medusa was quick to answer. 'If she isn't lying, the Servant is Vlad Tepes, or Dracula as he came to be known. A Wallacian warlord who gained such a bloodthirsty and feared reputation that a writer used him as the basis for a novel about a vampire. To the point that his legend has been inextricably entwined with the fictional account. As a Servant, he likely has the abilities of a vampire, despite never having been one in life………as that dead Servant he threw aside can probably attest.'

Vampires. Blood-drinking corpses, as he was given to understand, and all the more dangerous for that they retained their personalities and intelligence. Again, something Da Vinci had only touched on in the week they had had, but he had at least been given a basic understanding of the beasts.

And yes, the oddly-dressed body that was staring sightlessly into the sky as it slowly broke apart into particles did look like its throat had been savaged by an animal.

Mash's voice picked up where Medusa's had stopped. 'He called that woman 'Countess'. She….smells so strongly of blood she might be Elizabeth Bathory - someone else who wasn't a vampire in life, but came to be associated with them after her death. She…..she liked to bathe in the blood of young maidens, thinking it would keep her young and beautiful…..the way she looked at me…..'

Kratos growled. Monsters, then.

The two Servants still had their eyes locked on each other, staring one another down. "It was the only way to get you to PAY ATTENTION! Look, you idiot, LOOK!" The woman's arm waved to the side, indicating the group from Chaldea, but pointing directly at Kratos.

WIth an effort of will, the man seemed to leash his anger, his features smoothing back into a veil of humanity. He turned, and followed her pointing finger.

His eyes widened, but only slightly. "So, the great warrior we were warned was coming was a pagan god. So interesting that our benefactor chose to leave this information out." He looked Kratos up and down, then cast his eyes over the rest of the group, stopping on Jeanne. "And the Maid of Orleans accompanies him. A Saint of God standing side by side with a pagan deity. The irony of it all is delicious…."

Jeanne's eyes hardened, and she took a step forward. "I take it by your words, then, Voivoide, that you two serve the Dragon Witch?"

There was a pause, then the woman began laughing uproariously. "The Dragon Witch? That joke?" Her laughter trailed off, though she still smirked cruelly. "She's dead."

Four pairs of eyes widened. The Dragon Witch, dead?

Vlad did not fail to miss their reactions. "The Countess speaks truly. No longer are we bound to the will of an incompetent leader. We stand here as ourselves, under orders from no one." He held out his hand, and a strange sort of spear, with a circular guard for the hand around the midpoint of the weapon, formed in his hands. "He who now leads us set us free, to do as we will with this land. And so we have been."

Medusa's stakes had appeared in her hands. "The Dead we encountered, their bodies drained of blood. That was your doing."

Vlad gave an imperious sniff. "Indeed. While it pains me to act in such a fashion, I cannot avoid it, as I am once again given flesh as a Berserker, by a hand not my own. My legend howls in my head, pressing down upon me. So I will be a monster, and drain this land dry." His eyes fell on Kratos. "I have sometimes wondered what the blood of a god would taste like."

Kratos snarled, raising his axe. "You may try to claim it, if you dare."

"In time." He glanced back at the woman. "Countess, I believe we will require the use of our soldiers. Pagan though he may be, a god is a god, and the numbers do not favor us."

"Yes, yes," she huffed. With a sound like a bone splintering, she snapped her fingers. "ATTEND ME!"

In an instant, two forms materialized before her, both on their knees, bowing to her.

"Christine….." The first was a man garbed in black, his face hidden behind a porcelain half-mask. His hands seemed almost skeletal, like they had been stripped of all flesh. Clawlike talons protruded from his fingers, stained with blood.

"Mistress. Your orders?" The second was a person so thin and androgynous that their gender was impossible to tell. Even their voice gave no hint. They were garbed in fancy, almost ostentatious clothing, topped by a wide, floppy hat from which a pink plume sprouted. Sheathed at their side was a thin, almost needle-like sword.

If these were the soldiers of these two, Carmilla looked on them with little more than contempt. "Ah, Berserk Saber. So servile. So eager to please. It is the only thing that keeps me from figuring out just which you are, and if your blood might serve me better than your sword."

"Christine……." gibbered the other one, claws digging furrows in the ground.

"Yes, yes, I am your Christine…." she sighed, barely even playing along with the clearly-mad Servant's delusions. But it appeared to be enough, as the man seemed to settle. "Rise, and hear me. Berserk Saber, gut the Saint for me, would you? Maim her, but don't kill her. Her blood is mine, for the blood of a Saint may preserve my beauty for decades. Berserk Assassin, the one with the blindfold wishes to take me away from you. What have you to say to that?"

The black-garbed Servant keened a howl of rage, then hurled himself at Medusa, claws extended.

Kratos snarled, axe already moving to chop the Servant from the air, but he found his strike fouled as spears sprouted from the ground and both blocked his strike, and forced him to jump back to avoid being skewered.

"Oh no, heathen. You fight me." Mist gathered, then solidified before Kratos in the form of Vlad, his spear raised and pointed directly at the Spartan.

Beside him, Medusa leapt out of the way of the Assassin's strike, his claws slashing where her body had been. She descended from the sky, her leg snapping down in a vicious axe kick, but the Servant merely skipped back, avoiding the blow, then leapt again at Medusa, attempting to rend her face from her body.

Before a moment had passed, their combat had taken them across the battlefield, as they exchanged rapid fire strikes and counter attacks, neither able to land a blow.

Jeanne drew herself up straight as the Saber approached her, rapier unsheathed. "Will you not stand down? You have the air of honest chivalry about you. Why serve such as these?"

The Servant smiled a sad little smile. "I cannot. I once abandoned my Mistress, and the Crown itself, only to see them destroyed in my absence. It is a poor knight that outlives their liege. So, I shall serve my new Mistress with all my heart. To the death." They raised their rapier, and saluted Jeanne. "En garde, Maid of Orleans. By my Mistress' command, I must defeat you."

Then they struck.

Mash fought back a shudder as the sounds of combat echoed around her, and the Servant she was convinced was Elizabeth Bathory slowly stalked up to her. ('In moments of crisis, Mash, panic does nothing. You must harness it, and let it serve you, rather than letting it drive you.') Remembering everything she had learned in the short week under Kratos, she hefted her shield, and willed her hands to stop shaking.

The Servant licked her lips, slowly, as she dragged her eyes up and down Mash's body. "Such a delicious looking little rabbit. Trying so hard to be brave, to hide her trembling. So young, so nubile, so….FRESH." She sniffed the air. "Yes…..I can smell your fear. Oh yes, this shall be fun……..do try not to die too quickly, little bunny." She moved, and Mash only just got her shield up to block, the woman's nails screaming as they seared into the metal of her shield.

Kratos rolled, as stakes erupted from the ground where he had been standing, then brought his axe up to intercept the spear thrust from the Servant. The strength of a vampire waged against that of a god, and the god's strength was the greater. Kratos forced the spear down, then lashed his axe out in a savage chop that only just missed separating Vlad's head from his neck.

"Strong." Mused the Servant, whirling his spear into a guard position. "Stronger than myself. Whatever you were a god of, it certainly wasn't pacifism, or weakness." Red lightning crackled across his arms. "Thankfully, I don't need to beat you……just keep you here until your comrades are dead. God you may be, but even you cannot possibly stand against four Servants."

He snapped his arm out, a tide of stakes flying towards Kratos. Gritting his teeth, Kratos swung his axe, shattering the stakes, parting the wave before him, then continued the motion, planting his foot as he hurled the axe at the vampire.

"Shield." With a hissed word, and a gesture, a wall of stakes sprang forth, trapping the axe within their bounds - though only momentarily, as Kratos willed the Leviathan Axe back to his hands. In the moment between the shattering of the wall, and the axe's return, Kratos was on Vlad, axe screaming down in an overhead stroke. Vlad got his spear up in time to parry the stroke, but was again forced to give ground before Kratos' strength, using both ends of his spear in quick, skilled parries, as each end was forced out of place by the Spartan's might.

Again, as Kratos was beginning to turn the fight to his advantage, stakes once again erupted from the ground, disrupting his footing, and forcing him to break off just long enough to allow the vampire to regain his center. He was stronger, and more skilled than this Servant - this Vlad was dangerous, certainly, and he may not win unscathed, but he could beat him, he was positive of it. But it would take time, time he may not have.

Jeanne swept her flag before her, then cried out as the tip of the rapier pierced through the cloth of her flag, attempting to hamstring her. Jerking the flag up, she hoped to entangle their weapon, and force it from their hands, but the Saber was too quick, withdrawing their blade like lighting at the first hint of movement by Jeanne's flag. (So fast………but in truth, I'm too slow. I knew I was missing most of my strength, but this……) Leveling her flag before her, she struck at the Servant, hoping to use the length of her weapon to her advantage.

The Saber drew up straight, allowing Jeanne's strike to slide just past their back. As the flag ceased moving, they reached out, grasping it with their left hand, and rolled their body up the length of the flag. Incredibly, they managed to juggle their rapier in the air, as they continually switched hands as they crossed the distance between themselves and Jeanne, constantly keeping one hand on the flag, locking it in place. In the span of an eyeblink, they were face-to-face with the Saint, and Jeanne only barely avoided a thrust that would have torn her eye from its socket, but instead carved a deep groove into her cheek.

Ignoring the pain, knowing to let herself be distracted was to die, especially with an opponent of this caliber so close, Jeanne dropped her flag, and seized the Servant's outstretched arm.

Impossibly, the arm refused to move, even with both of Jeanne's arms putting their full strength to bear. She had been meaning to attempt a shoulder throw that Gilles had taught her, in an attempt to ground the Servant, and deny them the agility and speed that was giving her so much trouble, but the surprising strength the Servant was demonstrating put a quick end to that.

As did the knee that crashed into Jeanne's stomach, blasting the air from her lungs.

Gasping for breath, Jeanne lashed out with a clumsy, ugly haymaker as she stumbled back, one that somehow managed to clip the Servant and knock them back just long enough for Jeanne to snatch her flag from the ground and ready herself again.

Medusa flew through the air, her leg flying out in a roundhouse kick that the Assassin barely managed to duck.

Torquing her body, continuing her spin, she grasped both stakes in an underhanded grip, and drove them straight at the disturbed man's body.

He was off-balance from his dodge, and wide open.

At the last second, the man got his hands up, the stakes driving into his palms, but saving his body from greater damage. With an insane trill of laughter, he closed his hands around the stakes, pushing them deeper into his hands, to allow his claws to dig lines into Medusa's hands, fingers twitching like some sort of obscene spider, as he attempted to flay the skin from her bones.

Medusa gave a yelp of pain, then leapt into the air, using her trapped hands as anchors, as she kicked out, her feet cracking into the Assassin's face in a brutal dropkick.

She heard the sound of porcelain cracking, and dismissed her stakes, as the Servant was blasted away from her, no longer able to maintain his grip on her hands - though the blades took strips of flesh from her as he was knocked away.

Quickly, resummoned her stakes, as the Servant regained his feet with almost indecent haste, showing no sign of feeling his injuries. "Christine……CHRISTINE…." he howled, thin lines of blood leaking from where his broken mask had cut into his face. "YOU SHALL NOT TAKE CHRISTINE FROM ME!"

(He's beyond pain. Whatever his level of Madness Enhancement, it's clearly enough to block out his injuries. Troublesome. And worse, he's willing to take injuries if they give him a chance to hurt me. Very troublesome.)

Howling in madness, the Assassin charged, hands wildly slicing the air before him.

Medusa met his charge with one of her own, feinting high with her stakes, then, as they were nearly upon each other, making a small almost half-jump, feet extended as her body slid through the air, low to the ground.

The sliding kick caught the madman in his knee, knocking him off his feet, and sending him head over heels, ending with his body crashing to the ground, back first. Medusa planted her foot in the dirt, halting her slide, then leapt, turning her body in a picture-perfect backflip, stakes gouging down at the prone Servant, her knees drawn in, seeking to crash into his stomach.

Desperately, the Servant rolled to the side, swiping up with his arm as he rolled, slicing thin lines into Medusa's arm, as the force of her landing drove a crater into the ground. The explosion blasted the Assassin away, though, again, he was on his feet in a flash, and was closing the distance, ranting and raving as he ran.

Kratos growled as he shattered yet another wave of stakes. The Servant had given up trying to match Kratos' strength, and was fighting purely defensively. If Kratos managed to close the distance, he would lock weapons, and disrupt the ground underneath their feet, knowing he had nothing to fear from his own stakes, and that it would force Kratos to disengage. If Kratos attempted to draw near any of the other fights, a thick wall of stakes would spring up, and the vampire would descend on him, seeking to drive him away from his engaged allies. He had yet to injure Kratos, but he was stalling, and doing so effectively.

Medusa, he could see, was holding her own - the Servant she was fighting was clearly insane, with all the dangers that implied, but she was slowly winning the fight.

Just not quickly enough.

Jeanne was sporting a handful of minor wounds - she was just too slow, and too weak to keep up with the Saber she was fighting. It was a minor blessing that her opponent had been instructed to cripple her, rather than kill her.

But the true danger was with Mash.

Mash planted her feet into the ground, shield held before her, as yet another wave of jagged blood washed towards her. The wave parted around her, but she knew this was only a distraction - she had cuts on her shoulders and arms to attest to that.

(Where? Where is the attack coming from?)

Mash's body tensed, then ducked her head, as a clawed hand pierced through the wave to her left, skimming just above her head and parting a few hairs from her head. She pivoted her body, bringing her shield up in a chest-level sweep, one that was blocked as an iron maiden flew across the ground, knocking her shield back. Off-balance, she was wide open to be clocked across the head by the Servant's staff, though she managed to turn with the blow and rob it of some of its strength.

[At least you've learned something from that Spartan's training, but you're getting slowly bled to death, girl! Do BETTER!]

Shaking off the hit, Mash kicked out at the woman, aiming for her knee, only just missing as the Countess retreated, again looking to keep Mash at a distance. Instead, she caught her in the shin, and Mash felt a surge of exultation as her boot cracked into the Servant's leg, and she gave a hiss of pain.

"Brawling like some commoner, as though this was a filthy bar fight. You begin to make me think your blood is too dirty for……AH!" Mash cut off the woman's monologue by charging straight at her, feinting with her shield, then driving a straight left directly at her face.

(Once you have resolved to kill a foe, do not waste breath on words in a fight. Air that you use to speak can be used to fill your lungs.)

The woman awkwardly slid out of the way of the punch, stumbling right into Mash's charge, which let her catch the Servant and drag her straight to the ground. While they were still rolling around, the Servant trying to break free, and Mash holding on for dear life, she snapped a short punch straight into her cheek.

It felt satisfying.

"My teacher would say you talk too much. And I think I'd agree." The Countess was thrashing like a wild animal, but Mash clung to her tenaciously as they tumbled, finally managing to end up on top of her. Another punch to the Servant's face to stun her, then she raised her shield, seeking to end the fight.

Then she was flying through the air, as that iron maiden once again interceded, smashing Mash off of the Servant. She rolled as she hit the ground, the breath blasted from her lungs by both the unexpected impact of the massive metal object, and her subsequent high-speed introduction to the ground. But despite it all, her training held, and she managed to use her shield to blunt the worst of the impact with the ground.

[That SHOULDN'T work! You shouldn't be able to use a shield to lessen the impact from a fall! Why does that WORK?]

She was quickly back to her feet, a significant part of her taking some pride in the fact that the woman's once pristine outfit was now much less so, soil and dead grass clinging to her, and she was beginning to sport a rather impressive bruise beneath her left eye.

And she was furious. "You…..dirty…….little……..TROLLOP!" One of her hands was gently probing the bruise, wincing as she tracked the extent of the damage with her fingers. "I'm going to FLAY the skin from your bones, and bleed you dry, slowly. You're going to BEG for death before I'm done with you!"

From across the battlefield, all involved parties felt the woman's mana spike.

Vlad leapt back, narrowly avoiding a two-handed strike from Kratos, and sighed. "I see the Countess has finally gotten annoyed enough to take her fight seriously." A web of stakes shot out in front of him, forcing Kratos to smash through them to get to the Servant - who had conjured another spire underneath his feet, which he used to vault over Kratos' head, raining a barrage of spear thrusts on the Spartan's head as he flew overhead. None of which connected, but it forced Kratos to stop and parry long enough for Vlad to land, again at distance.

"And cutting it fine, to boot. Our Assassin is moments away from losing, and I'm unsure how much longer I will be able to stall you." He held his spear up in a salute. "You're quite the warrior, for whatever heathen pantheon you're from."

Kratos' patience, rarely an infinite commodity, was depleted. That spike of magical energy could be nothing else but the Servant's Noble Phantasm - something that Mash was not ready to face. If this walking corpse believed he would just let himself be held here, he was sorely mistaken.

Within the former God of War, a well of surging anger peaked, as Kratos' fists clenched. Red began to tinge his vision, and the world began to slow down.

A roar was building in his throat, but it remained unvoiced, for in an instant, the battlefield reshaped itself.

Across the field, where Jeanne was parrying slower and slower, a wall of fire erupted between her and her opponent, both crying out as they were seared by the sudden inferno.

Closer to the center, the Countess was forced to hastily abort her Noble Phantasm's release, as a ring of spears rocketed down from the skies, aimed directly at her heart. She dodged back, then kept moving, as the spears chased her to the edge of the field, near the edge of the withered treeline.

Where one more spear was waiting for her.

The Servant made a gurgling noise of pain, as a form leapt from the trees, and drove their weapon right into the woman's back.

Her head turned, the tendons on her neck standing out, raised in pain, her eyes wide. "You……"

The 'you' in question smiled, hate dripping from the expression. "Hey, you traitorous bitch. Miss me?"

It was Jeanne…….but it was not. Dark where the Jeanne they had met was bright, pale, where she was gold. Jagged, and harsh, where the Jeanne they had gotten to know over the past day was soft, and rounded. Where a soft light had seemed to follow Jeanne around, this Jeanne seemed to carry with her a flicker of ashes, constantly around her. And where her left arm should be, was only a stump, raggedly bandaged. More bandages were loosely wrapped around the woman's head, not binding any apparent injuries, but almost as if they were being worn for the sake of fashion.

It seemed reports of the Dragon Witch's demise had been a bit premature.

Sneering, this dark Jeanne kicked the Countess from her spear, sparing her not a glance. Instead, her eyes found the Maid of Orleans. "Hey 'me'. You look like shit."

Jeanne, for her part, looked like she had seen a ghost. "You hardly look better, Dragon Witch."

Ignoring her other self's response, the Dragon Witch then cast her gaze to Kratos. "Hey there, pagan. Once I put this back-stabbing parasite in the ground, let's talk."

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: Hello JAlter. I'm sorry the Fate Samurai/Remnant collab event saw just a lazy weapon-swap for you, and not an animation update. Let me give you an appearance in this chapter to make up for it. It'll just cost you an arm.

The Fou/Kratos food war rages on. Watch your bed for presents from the critter, Spartan.

Two chapters in a row we end on a Jeanne appearance. I'll have to dig up JArcher to keep this up. Or Summer JAlter. Or Lancer Jeanne from Samurai Remnant. Or Santa Alter Lily.

Medusa and Jeanne get a bit of girl talk. Or as much of that as a Saint and a Gorgon can have.

And Mozart and Marie are the next victims on the 'cull Orleans down some so the cast is less bloated' tour. I was slightly writer's blocked with the stuff preceding that, but that section flowed out easy. Probably doesn't help with my better half's accusations that I don't write happy stuff. There was a sort of Inktober Challenge of write a paragraph every day a number of years back, and I did that for a while, but I kept sending her some bleak ass stuff, hence the accusation. Probably also doesn't help that I keep saying 'oh yeah, I summoned Scathach/Medb/Bazette to make my Cus SUFFER' - to which she replies 'yeah, you're definitely a writer'.

OOC Kratos: Carmilla is barely dressed, what kind of fool does that on the battlefield?

OOC Chaldea: Bro……….

Yes, staredowns to establish dominance are more a Werewolf the Apocalypse thing than Vampire the Masquerade, but I couldn't see Uncle Vlad NOT getting right in Carmilla's face when she used the Forbidden Name.

Good grief, I didn't even think about what a HEADACHE writing d'Eon would be until I started writing things, and realized do I use 'he' or 'she' or 'they'. If things constantly flip flop between the three, that's why. Enkidu might be a similar headache, since the Man of Clay both gives and receives Valentines, and I think there's at least a few others like that beyond Enkidu and d'Eon.

Also d'Eon - A Rank Strength, somehow, which is the same as Uncle Vlad. WTF. Sorry Jeanne, no Judo throw for you, as you've lost at least a rank of stats all from your summoning being borked in Orleans.

Medusa with the Kota Ibushi kneedrop moonsault. At least when he used to do that regularly.

Carmilla's about the WORST kind of matchup for Mash at this stage - Mash is still inexperienced, and Carmilla eats weak fighters for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, since those are the kind of people she killed in life.

And yes, Carmilla used some of the healing from her Noble Phantasm to repair the damage Marie did to her outfit. Because vanity, thy name is Carmilla.

EDIT: Good GRIEF, this thing's almost 3x the word count of my first chapter, and nearly 2k bigger than the last chapter. Madre di dios.

Chapter 14: Orleans 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 14​

Kratos found himself momentarily lost for words. A status that was not shared by all upon the battlefield.

"Countess….." hissed Vlad, through clenched teeth, as he slowly backed away from Kratos, his spear held in a guard position. "We should withdraw. The odds no longer favor us - and they were balanced on the edge of a knife before this surprising resurrection."

"To Hell with you and to HELL with your withdrawals, Vlad!" The woman seemed livid beyond even what she had been when Mash had struck her. "SHE DIES!"

Vlad shook his head sadly. "One cannot help those who will not help themselves. I leave you to your fate, Countess. I would tell you to die well - but I fear that all that awaits you is an ugly end." His form trembled, then broke apart into mists, which was quickly picked up by the wind and carried off.

The Dark Jeanne seemed to find this hilarious. "Oh the motherfucking IRONY!" She cackled. "The traitor finds herself abandoned by her supposed allies?" She stepped forward, and viciously kicked the Servant in her stomach, sending her tumbling across the battlefield. "Hurts, doesn't it, bitch?"

Then, lightning quick, the spear in her hands flew out, pointing directly between Mash's eyes. "Don't you move an inch, Shield Girl. The leech is MINE! I've had dibs on her since she helped that bastard take my arm, among the litany of sins she has to answer for. Do what you want with the other two, but get between me and my revenge and I'll do you like I'll do her. Extra-EXTRA crispy."

Kratos growled, and Dark Jeanne spared him a glance. "Oh roar roar, I get it, I won't hurt the armored eggplant. Just keep your little friends from getting in my way for a minute, and we can all sit down after this and braid each other's hair or whatever……those of us who have hair, at least. And there's still plenty of fighting here to go around. You can help 'me' make up for her fucking EMBARRASSING performance against that Saber, or go help the other one put the Phantom away, if you really didn't get your fill from Drac."

She then stalked across the field, moving straight towards where the Countess was lying.

"Kratos?" He could feel the unspoken question in Mash's voice, with their opponents having either quit the battlefield, or having been outright taken from them, both of them were at bit at loose ends.

"Assist Rider in her fight. I will see to the Saber."

"Yes sir!"

By this time, the other Jeanne had made her way to where the Servant who commanded the majority of her ire had landed. "Come on, Carmilla. Stand up. You can at least die on your feet, and look me in the eye when I turn you into ash."

Weakly, the Servant staggered to her feet. Her mask had been lost in the tumble, and her face was twisted into a rictus of pure hate. "How? HOW are you still alive? He ripped a hole in you, tore everything that made you what you are out of you. You should have died a peasant's death within minutes!"

"Life's just full of mysteries, isn't it? This is just one you're going to have to wonder about as you go screaming back to the Throne. Give me just a second, and then we'll get to your public execution." Contemptuously, Dark Jeanne drove her spear into the ground, summoning a flag to take its place. "This was a hell of a lot easier with two hands. Just one more thing I have to take out of your hide." She shook the flag out, unfurling it, then drove it into the ground, where the cloth weakly fluttered in the ragged wind. Satisfied with this, Dark Jeanne snatched up her spear. "Alright, now that I've got my Banner of Vengeance raised, let's dance, bitch."

Everyone, even the completely mad, could only stare. The flag was…….decorated was a strong word…….with a picture that could only be hand-drawn. Crudely. A figure that could loosely be identified as Dark Jeanne stood atop a pile of bodies, her finger pointed skyward in victory. Few of the figures under her feet were identifiable, though Kratos thought the one under her right foot was the Servant she was preparing to fight. Maybe. It possibly could have been Vlad, as the only truly distinct features he could make out were a pair of highly exaggerated fangs.

There was a moment of silence across the battlefield, then Carmilla gave a bone-deep sigh. "By the gods old and new…….you're even more disgraceful than you ever were as our leader."

Dark Jeanne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This 'disgrace' is about to kill you, Countess of Blood. So you going to make the first move, or do I have to?"

As the two parties continued to exchange barbs, Kratos drew up beside their Jeanne. "Stand down and tend your injuries. I will handle this."

For a moment, Jeanne almost looked like she would protest, but then, with a weary sigh, she nodded. "I am sorry. I truly did not think I had lost so much of my power." Moving gingerly, she withdrew to a safe distance behind Kratos.

The Saber let her go, their eyes having never left Kratos. "This does not need to end in your death, Saber," said Kratos. "Stand down."

Saber smiled, a sad, wan smile. "I will tell you the same thing I told her, Monsieur god. For a Knight to outlive their charge is like wounds on a swordsman's back, the height of shame. No, if my Mistress is to die here, then I shall die with her." Their rapier was raised in a salute, one that turned into a quicksilver thrust.

A thrust that was foiled by the sudden appearance of Kratos' shield, the metal unfolding in the split second before the point would have met his flesh. With a heave, his shield pushed up, smacking the weapon aside - though not without more resistance than he had expected, the Saber being stronger than their appearance let on. Still, they were open, and Kratos' axe cut through the air, forcing the the Saber to give ground, as they hurriedly worked to interpose their blade between themselves and the axe seeking their flesh.

The first parry nearly brought them to their knees, as they proved Kratos' inferior in both strength and leverage, Kratos having more than a foot of height on the Saber. Their thin blade, too, was ill-suited to parrying such a heavy weapon as the Leviathan Axe. As the fight continued, they were forced to try to divert the axe, rather than stopping it altogether, a challenge with such a light weapon. It was only due to their prodigious skill that they managed for as long as they did.

Daringly stepping into Kratos' zone, the Saber used the knuckle guard of their rapier to punch the Leviathan Axe aside, just managing to divert it by using every ounce of their strength. Knowing that, for a moment, the god would be off balance, they raised their rapier, preparing a lunging thrust that would put every ounce of their speed and strength into the attack - a gamble, to be sure, but a necessary one, as they were outmatched as they had rarely been in life.

It was not to be. Even as they were drawing their blade up, Kratos had stepped forward, left foot planted, as he punched out, leading with his shield. The sheer brute force of it blasted through Saber's hasty attempt at a parry, and rammed into their chest and collarbone with the speed of a runaway truck.

In the moment before they were blasted into the air, the Saber felt, rather than heard, several things in their body shatter.

They crashed to the earth a moment later. They tried to rise, but their body just wouldn't cooperate. With a sad little sigh, they ceased their struggle, as a looming form stood over them.

No point being petty in defeat. "Bested then. My regards, nameless god, on your victory."

There was a small grunt from above them, and then a second set of footfalls. "Your loyalty does you credit, Chevalier d'Eon - you gave me enough hints that I couldn't help but figure it out. Would that you could have found a better master to serve."

Ah, the Maid of Orleans. "We Servants don't get to choose who we serve - I was summoned to be the thrall of a Dragon Witch, after all. And of the Masters I had once the Dragon Witch had been deposed……well, you shall see." They closed their eyes. "I am ready to see the Throne again. I hope you will be successful in saving France."

There was the whistling of metal as it cut through the air, then an impact, then the long, long, swirling tunnel that led to the Throne.

Mash drew up beside Medusa, the tall woman idly twirling her twin stakes in her hands. The Phantom - as he had been named by the other Jeanne, was on shaky legs - bleeding from his hands, from where his shattered mask had dug into his face, and clearly favoring the leg that Medusa had kicked out from underneath him. He was on his last legs, but still dangerous, his madness and being cornered making for a dangerous combination.

Medusa didn't spare Mash a glance, unwilling to take her eyes from the Phantom for even a moment. "Circle around, flank him. No need for complicated tactics against someone as crazy as him - just be careful. He'd be happy to take a mortal shot if it means he'll get to take one of us with him."

Mash nodded, and slowly, carefully, began to strafe around the Servant, her shield raised, her muscles tense, ready to react at the slightest move from the madman.

Insane the Phantom may have been, but even he wouldn't stand still and allow himself to be flanked. With a keening cry that sent chills down Mash's spine, he charged her, claws raised. For the second fight in a row, a Servant's unnaturally elongated talons squealed as they scraped on her shield, but, as before, her shield repelled the attack without the blades even marring its surface.

He rained down blows on Mash's shield, a high, giggling laugh escaping his ruined face as he worked himself deeper and deeper into a frenzy. But he was slow - slower than Carmilla with his injuries hampering him, and even if he had been fully hale he would have been less skilled than his 'Christine'. The Phantom was a killer, not a warrior.

Mash Kyrielight had sparred several times with Kratos, and a few times with Cu Chulainn - both of them holding back heavily, yes, but the difference between them and the likes of Carmilla and the Phantom was night and day.

She turned her shield so that the Phantom's attack was diverted down, then planted her feet, and swung her shield in short arc, forcing him to leap away or be broken in two. He landed, wincing as his injured leg took his weight badly, then howled as he was yanked into the air by that selfsafe bad leg.

A shimmer in the air, and a chain materialized, looped around his leg, and strung through the nearby treeline, the rotted branches somehow managing to hold his weight. As he twisted, attempting to get his claws on the chain binding his ankle, two more lengths of chain flew through the air, wrapping tight around his arms, and pulling them out until he was restrained, almost spread-eagled, held off the ground.

"I believe the expression is 'fish in a barrel'? Good work, Mash." Medusa held a tangle of chains in one of her fists, her arm bulging with muscles, veins standing out. "You were the perfect harmless looking bait for him - doesn't hurt that you roughed up his 'Christine' and he couldn't let that pass. It gave me just enough time to lay out my traps." She favored Mash with a glance that held a touch of apology. "Sorry for using you like that, but there really wasn't time to go over it - and you can never be sure how good the hearing of a Servant associated with music is."

Mash shook her head. "It's fine. After that woman, he really wasn't all that scary. Especially after how much you'd taken out of him."

The man in question was still fighting, still thrashing about, desperately trying to free himself from the chains that held him. "Christine, Christine…..I must save my Christine……."

Medusa looked up at the man, a trace of sadness on her face. "Kratos offered the Saber a chance to stand down, but there'd be little point in it with you, you're just too far gone, aren't you, you poor man. The only thing you can do to a monster when it's lost all reason…."

There was a whistling, then a sucking impact, as one of Medusa's stakes flew from her hand, into the Phantom's heart. He was dead almost instantly.

"......is put them down. Before they hurt anyone else. Even if it's still too late for all those the monster hurt before she was stopped." She let the chains slip from her fingers, and turned away from the Phantom's disintegrating body, as it fell, vanishing before it hit the ground.

Dark Jeanne's smile was all teeth. "And then there was one. How's it feel, Carmilla? No allies to gang up on me with, no stupidly overpowered ringleader to protect you - even Drac's bailed on you. Just you and me, one on one." Flames began to flicker around the edge of her spear. "I'd tell you to start praying, but that would ruin my heretic street cred. So let's get this over with."

"Fine, you guttersnipe commoner. I'll die happier knowing that you preceded me - not that a copy like you has anywhere to go afterwards." She made a beckoning gesture with her hand. "Come on, then. Oblivion awaits."

The Dark Jeanne snarled, and charged, spear point lowered and leading. Carmilla sneered, moving her staff to interpose, claws raised for a counter, when the stump of Dark Jeanne's arm twitched, and a wave of fire swept across the ground, forcing Carmilla to move out of its path, or be seared, leaving her out of position. She still managed to get her staff in the way of the spear, but was forced to use both hands to hold the weapon back.

"Turns out just a stump is enough for me to call down fire on you, Countess. So I suppose I TECHNICALLY won't be beating you with one arm tied behind my back." She pushed against Carmilla's guard, and shoved her away, then brought her spear across in a vicious swipe, one that forced Carmila to duck.

Carmilla leapt up from her crouch, claws stabbing at her enemy's eyes, but Dark Jeanne whipped the butt of the spear up in time to block the attack. For a moment, Carmilla seized the spear, possibly thinking of trying to wrest it from her hands, but fire erupted from the dark wood, charring her flesh and forcing her to release it.

"Stupid!" Mocked Dark Jeanne. "Did you think the tip was all you had to be worried about? Every INCH of me is fire, and hate!" She kicked Carmilla in her stomach, then, while she was bent over, gasping for breath, seized the Countess by her hair, and drove a knee directly into her face. "Like those noodle arms of yours could hope to overpower me, in any event." Another knee, and the sound of breaking cartilage. "You'd better fight back, or you won't have any fangs to feed…...DAMMIT THAT HURTS!"

Hissing, Carmilla had driven her claws straight through Dark Jeanne's foot, piercing straight through the boot, all the way into the ground. Spitefully, she twisted her wrist, breaking the talons off from her fingers, and leaving them embedded into Dark Jeanne's foot. "I won't even TASTE your filthy blood! I'll kill you so horribly that your real self over there will feel it, you gutter trash!"

Snarling, blood leaking from her shattered nose, Carmilla slashed at Dark Jeanne's neck with her burned hand, seeking to open her throat. In trouble for the first time in the fight, Dark Jeanne ducked her head, moving just enough to put her tiara in line to block the attack, unable to move enough to fully get out of the way, with her foot pinned as it was.

The blood drained from Carmilla's face as her talons shattered upon contacting the metal, then she gave a scream as, for the second time, she was run through the middle by a spear. "Fire can make things brittle, bitch, particularly fire as hot as mine. You should have stabbed me through the foot with your bad hand, then maybe you'd have lived up to your boasts about sending me into the void." Wincing, Dark Jeanne planted her feet, and began to hoist Carmilla in the air. Sweat leaked down her brow as she somehow, one-handed, held Carmilla up high, impaled on her spear. "BURN!"

In an instant, Carmilla was engulfed in flames. Seconds later, she was ash on the wind.

Grimacing, Dark Jeanne tore her foot free from the ground, twisting her foot about, inspecting the damage. "Yeah, not looking forward to walking on that." She looked up to see four pairs of narrowed eyes watching her every move, weapons still held in their hands.

"What? I got something on my face?"

---

There had been some discussion - quite a lot of discussion about the path they were taking.

Medusa had been of the opinion that they shouldn't trust this new Jeanne as far as they could throw her. She hadn't quite advocated for killing her on the spot, but she was watching the Servant like a hawk, and she hadn't yet dismissed her stakes.

Jeanne, of course, wanted to - or needed to - talk to this Jeanne that, for all that she shared her face, wasn't her at all. She'd been upfront about her intentions towards the Dragon Witch from the earliest moments they had met her - just as she had been adamant about being willing to stop the Dragon Witch, if words couldn't reach her.

Mash had sided with Jeanne. The girl, Kratos believed, did not have the word 'unforgivable' in her vocabulary.

(He hoped she would be able to hold on to that innocence.)

Romani and Da Vinci had been somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. Both of them were hungry for any intelligence they could gather on the situation, and the Dragon Witch herself would be an ample source of such. But she also, as Da Vinci had said, 'had a list of atrocities as long as my staff', and thus should be treated, very, VERY carefully.

Cu had been less careful in his words. He had simply said that he could 'smell the crazy on her', and he'd had bad experiences with crazy like that - particularly when it was crazy women.

(As much as Cu complained about this 'Medb', Kratos was hoping they never crossed paths with her. At times, the Irish Servant sounded like he'd rather be back in that fire-choked city than to see that woman again.)

In the end, it was the words from one of the few books (translated to Greek for Kratos, in that he was still reading English at what Mash called a 'first-grade level', whatever that meant) he had read in his short time at Chaldea, that was foremost at his mind, as they followed this Jeanne to her refuge.

It was an ancient treatise of war, and the ways of prosecuting it, supposedly from one of the acclaimed masters of this Earth. And within was a phrase - 'The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend'.

Possibly far too simple for the situation they found themselves in. But applicable all the same.

"Fuck me, this hurts."

So it was they were following this Jeanne to her refuge, because, as she had put it: "We could stay right here and have our little heart-to-heart, but there's no promise Vlad hasn't tattled on us, and that means the rest of my traitorous bunch of Servants might be on their way right now. So I'm getting the hells out of here. You can follow, or you can try to stop me, which means you're going to have to kill me. And that means you're stuck here longer, and might get beat up even more, just in time for your welcoming party to arrive, fresh as a daisy and with murder in their eyes. Your choice."

And with that declaration, she had started limping away, almost daring them to object.

After the aforementioned discussion, they had chosen to follow - keeping a distance between themselves and their would-be ally, and never letting their weapons leave their hands.

They had followed a stream of complaints and curses - most centering around the lineage of one Carmilla and the breadth and length of her intimate activities - to a cunningly hidden cave.

"Yeah, I looked for one hidden behind a waterfall, but I guess that was a bit too cliche. It's large enough, uninhabited, and best of all, it keeps things in the sky from seeing me." She ran her eyes over the group. "Hell, if it'll make you feel better, you can check the place over, make sure I haven't rigged it to explode, or that I don't have a gang of werewolves or some shit waiting to jump you inside." She shrugged. "Go on, knock yourselves out."

Kratos glowered at Dark Jeanne for a moment, who seemed unconcerned with being the focus of his ire. "Rider."

Medusa nodded. "I'll take a look in Spirit Form - if she has planned any treachery, it will be less likely to affect me that way." She vanished in a shower of light. 'I'll be quick about it, but keep an eye on her'.

'I share your misgivings, but be thorough with your inspection. She is little threat in the state she is in. Do not overlook a trap in haste.'

They settled in for what his son would have probably termed an 'awkward silence', as Medusa inspected the cave interior. Jeanne, for her part, kept stealing glances at her opposite - clearly only just holding herself back from barraging this other Jeanne with questions. Mash was mimicking Kratos in keeping her eyes firmly on the other Jeanne, both scrutinizing her every move - which was met by her meeting both their gazes, and yawning exaggeratedly.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was likely only a handful of minutes, he felt Medusa's voice in his head. 'It seems safe. There's little more than a firepit, some crude bedding, a handful of supplies, and some scavenged chairs in here. If she has any surprises for us, she's hidden them well.'

Kratos grunted. "It seems you spoke truly."

Dark Jeanne rolled her eyes. "I could have told you that, but you wouldn't have listened. So, we all feeling safe enough to get into cover?"

Kratos gestured with his axe, indicating that she should go first - which she did, not without a muttered "Paranoid bastard."

The cave interior wasn't spacious, but neither was it cramped. Kratos could stand without his head brushing the ceiling, and there was room enough so that they were not all jostling one another. As she passed by the firepit, Dark Jeanne set it ablaze with an offhand gesture, lighting up the room, and banshing a bit of the chill.

After a moment, when nothing jumped out and attempted to kill them, Kratos found his voice. "Speak."

Dark Jeanne gave a put-upon sigh. "Mind if I sit while we play Twenty Questions? I'd rather let my foot rest while it tries to put itself back together." At Kratos' nod, she flopped into a chair. "Feel free to take a load off, too. My hovel is your hovel."

Not a one of them took her up on that. "Geez, tough crowd. Fine. Get started with the interrogation. What do you want to know?"

It was Jeanne who was the first to speak. "I think the first thing we'd all like to know is…..why?" The Saint's expression was some tortured mix of a glare, and a desperation to understand. "Since being summoned, I've heard no end of tales describing the cruelty you were unleashing on France. Towns, villages, burnt, their people slaughtered, with no distinction between age, sex, or creed. Wyverns and Servants let loose to indulge their worst instincts across the countryside. And yet……here you are. Fighting the very Servants you claim to have been commanding."

Her back straightened, and a note of undeniable authority entered her voice. "What happened? And who are you - because I can tell, now that I've spent some time around you - you're not me."

"First - everything you heard I did, I did it. And I ain't apologizing for it, either." Her eyes narrowed. "France fucked me. Raw and bloody. All I did was give them the payback they'd earned." She gave a bitter laugh. "Or, at least, that's what I thought I was doing."

"Three days after That Day, I woke up in Orleans, face to face with Gilles." She gave another bitter laugh when Jeanne startled at that name. "Yeah, don't get your hopes up 'me', this isn't the Gilles who's still alive in this time, it was a Servant Gilles - a Caster. And one that was based on the Gilles who went off the deep end after we died, the one all the Bluebeard stories were from. He was the one who summoned me, got me on the path of punishing France for what it did to me - not that I took much convincing. So we summoned ourselves some Servants, slapped Madness Enhancement on them, and went to town. And it was glorious. Fire and brimstone, rack and ruin, vengeance came knocking for everyone in France, in the form of a Dragon Witch."

Jeanne was pale as a ghost. The other Jeanne, if she noticed, gave no sign of it. "The only bumps in the road were the Rogue Servants France was summoning to try to stop me. One of them was a particular thorn in my side - I managed to summon Fafnir to be my ace in the hole, but by summoning him, that meant I also summoned his nemesis - Siegfried. One can't exist without the other, or some shit. He fought me off a couple of times, so by the time I tracked him down, I was ready to put him down for good. Only I never got the chance."

She glared at Kratos. "This is your fault, god of resting angryface. See, while I was on my way to kill that Dragonslayer, we got a visitor back at Orleans, someone who knows you." She smirked at their reaction. "Does a green suit, a green hat, and brown hair ring any bells?"

"Lev……." Romani practically hissed the name.

"So it's 'Lev', huh?" Dark Jeanne sneered. "Right, making sure I remember that name. Anyways, he showed up at Orleans and put the fear of God into Gilles, which got me to call off my Dragonslayer hunt and go back to take care of my buddy. Once I met this fucker face to face, he fed me this line about how someone was coming to stop me, how they were a fearsome warrior, and wouldn't I like some means of fighting them?"

Da Vinci frowned. "Yeah, that's not ominous or anything."

The other Jeanne chuckled. "Yeah, I really shouldn't have taken him up on that offer - particularly as he failed to mention this 'great warrior' was a damn god. But someone waltzes into my castle and paints the walls with Gilles' pets, and even I'm smart enough to listen. Because powerful as that guy was, I could tell - whatever you did to him got under his skin."

Kratos found he was moderately pleased by that knowledge - it at least tempered his annoyance that he had not managed to put Lev down for good. Even as he remembered the man, he felt his buried rage howl, for the briefest of moments. With an effort of will, he pushed it down.

He would meet Lev again, and then, that man, or whatever he was, would meet the Ghost of Sparta for a second, and, if Kratos had anything to say about it, FINAL time.

Da Vinci's mouth was a narrow line. "He gave you some sort of Catalyst, didn't he?" She stood, and started pacing, her image in the communicator somehow managing to follow her as she moved. "It's the only thing that makes sense. A weapon, or a spell, or any sort of object wouldn't precipitate you being overthrown like this - unless one of them got their hands on it and used it on you, but both Vlad and Carmilla spoke of someone else leading them. And it couldn't have been one of your own Servants in charge - I assume you were VERY careful not to summon anyone stronger than you were, at least until you got your present from Lev."

She glared at the Dragon Witch. "So who was it? Who'd you summon?"

Dark Jeanne shrugged. "No fuckin' clue, lady. I couldn't get a name or class out of him - hell, when I first summoned him, he just stood there like a drooling idiot for what seemed like forever. Didn't respond to anything. Then he gave a shudder and FINALLY seemed to notice me, and the other Servants I had surrounding him, pointing weapons at him. And then, he just laughed, like he'd been told the best joke he'd ever heard."

She sighed. "I really should have realized the sort of mess I'd gotten myself into when that happened, but no, I figured once I slapped Madness Enhancement on him, he'd be a good little dog like the rest." A bitter laugh. "But the thing didn't want to take on him. We'd cast it over, and over again, and it'd slip off him like he was greased or something. Eventually, we gave up, and Gilles said he'd look into it. Our new Servant just smiled the entire time and followed us back to Orleans."

"He then proceeded to drink his way through the castle's stores of booze, somehow cajoled Atalanta into his bed, and picked a fight with both Vlad, that Black Knight I summoned, and fucking FAFNIR, and beat them all while laughing like a damn loon." She grimaced. "Now me, all I saw was him being a difficult pain in my ass - he didn't listen to a damn thing anyone said, didn't go out to terrorize the countryside, and actively kept some of the rest of my pets from doing the same. So I thought I'd teach him who the top dog was."

Medusa's expression, for all that she was trying to hide it, was a smug one. "And I'm guessing that's when you lost your arm."

Dark Jeanne snapped her fingers. "Bingo. Turns out our new addition hadn't just been drinking, fucking, and fighting with my Servants, he'd been ingratiating himself with them. Pointing out how bad a leader I was, and making them all sorts of promises. Promises he could back up, as it so happens." She scowled. "I'd barely raised my arm to start reading him the riot act when he'd crossed the room and tore my arm off. Boom - Command Seals gone. That opened the floodgates for the rest of them to come after me, but they all just sat back and watched."

She gave a sad little smile. "Well, not ALL of them. Gilles went berserk. Called them traitors, started ranting and raving at them, but……Gilles wasn't exactly what you'd call the most powerful of Servants. He only qualifies for Caster because of that nasty little book Prelati gave him. And while my former Servants were keeping their hands off of me, they weren't so reserved with Gilles. They beat the tar out of him - not enough to kill him, though. They apparently wanted him to watch what was coming."

"The bastard who tore my arm off didn't give Gilles the time of day, he just laughed at him, laughed at me. Then he REALLY put the dagger in. Apparently, it wasn't just my Servants he'd been talking to, your Lev had been talking to him too. And he'd apparently let that jackass into a big secret, one I didn't even know."

Dark Jeanne laughed, bitterly. "You were right, 'me', I ain't you. I'm just a clone Gilles dreamed up in the depths of his despair and madness, one that he made by getting his hands on a Holy Grail somehow, one that this Lev and his buddies let fall into his hands. And he proved this by punching right into me and tearing the damn thing out."

Jeanne looked as if she could not decide to be relieved at the confirmation that the monster that shared her face wasn't actually a version of herself, or to be repulsed at what Gilles had done.

Dark Jeanne chuckled at her other self's reaction. "Now imagine how I felt, 'me'. So positive I was some great vengeance come to make France pay for its sins, only to find out I was someone else's badly written snuff fantasy." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I was thinking about any of that at the time, I was writhing on the ground and trying not to die. But it's crossed my mind a time or two since then."

"So, that was apparently the last straw for Gilles. If I said he'd gone berserk when my arm got torn off, the reveal of his plot and me dying on the floor sent him right over the edge to pure bugfuck. Suddenly, portals opened everywhere and the throne room was drowned in more of his slimy little tentacle monsters than I'd ever seen. They were dogpiling everyone in there except me and Gilles, and he picked me up and ran." She gave a little huff. "Not that it did much good. He was hurt, I was fading fast, and I could hear them going through Gilles' pets like a buzzsaw. We had maybe a couple of minutes before they'd be all over us."

"Gilles got me out of the castle, and then set me down. I was almost gone by then, fading in and out, so I only got pieces of what he said. But for a moment, he almost looked like his old self, before he got mixed up with Prelati. He told me I had to live, because it didn't matter how I had come to be, I was as much Jeanne as the real thing."

"So he tore out his own Spiritual Core, and gave it to me."

Da Vinci was nodding her head. "So that's how you're still alive. I was wondering what trick he pulled to keep you around - if a Holy Grail was sustaining you, you'd need something to replace that." She grimaced. "And it's much better than the alternatives - I was expecting you to tell us he bound an orphanage full of children into a state of perpetual agony inside of you, or something of that nature."

"Nope. He just sacrificed himself, so that I could live. It stabilized me enough that I could get back on my feet, and made me more than just a clone of you." She grinned at Jeanne. "Congratulations, 'me'. It's an Avenger."

Romani made a strangled noise. "Two Extra Classes on the first Singularity? It's like all my nightmares come true. Next you'll tell me Magi*Mari has stopped streaming……."

Avenger Jeanne blinked. "Yeah……not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. So Gilles was breaking up at this point, but he had enough juice left to tell me to run, and to throw his Noble Phantasm at the castle. Biggest fucking tentacle monster I've ever seen. It would only last as long as he did, but it gave me enough time to get the fuck out of there, and find a deep hole to crawl into, and figure out what the hells I was going to do."

"This explains why they believed you dead," mused Kratos.

"Yeah, with me breaking apart, and Gilles on his last legs, they probably thought his kaiju was a last bit of spite for seeing me die. I have no idea if he faded out first, or if they got to him and took him out, but they obviously thought we were both dead at that point."

She leaned forward in her chair, eyes smoldering. "So, 'me', you asked 'why'? Because I want revenge on every one of these traitorous fucks. I could care less about France anymore - save it, burn it, I really don't CARE. Because as much as I hated France for what I thought it did to me - which was actually you, to be correct - that takes a backseat to my former Servants. Because they stabbed me in the back, and in doing so, they took Gilles from me. He might have been a monster, but he's probably the only person in the world who gave two shits about me. And I'm an Avenger, which means I can't forget that grudge, even if I wanted to." She spat to the side. "Probably the first real wish I ever had that wasn't given to me by someone else. France was never my grudge - but this one, it's ALL me. Not Gilles or God, this doesn't come from anyone but me."

She sat back, and the burning energy that had been animating her seemed to vanish. "So that's my story. So, Chaldea, can we work together? I don't care what you do to me after this - kill me, clap me in irons, let me vanish with the Singularity - long as I get my revenge, I'll be happy. And I'll sing like a bird about my former allies."

Kratos growled, low in his throat. "This revenge you seek. It will not make you happy."

"Happy?" The Avenger rolled her eyes. "Who the fuck is asking for happy? Don't lecture me you sanctimonious pagan. I ain't looking for happy. All I'm looking for is to know that the chuckleheads who killed Gilles don't get what they want, and are dead before I go to wherever I'll go when I fade out. I get that, and I'll be satisfied."

Medusa was glaring a hole through the Servant. Kratos almost thought he could see her eyes blazing through her blindfold. "I don't trust her, Kratos. She doesn't regret a single thing she did, just that circumstances took her ability to do those things away from her."

"Yeah, I did all those things. What's me feeling sorry for them going to change? Is it going to bring the dead back to life, rebuild what I destroyed, or change a goddamned thing? No." Avenger Jeanne sneered at Medusa. "It's fuckin' pointless. You want trust? Trust that I hate my former Servants enough that I'll happily do whatever you want of me, so long as I get my shot at them. I'll keep my hands off anyone but them and theirs and won't so much as lay a finger on anyone besides them. I'll be on my best behavior until we're done here - and if you want my head at the end, you can HAVE it."

There was a long silence. Kratos, for his part, was torn.

On the one hand, this woman reminded him FAR too much of how he had once been - at times, she seemed almost like a mirror of his past self. Consumed by revenge for the loss of a loved one. Lashing out, heedless of the damage she caused. Abrasive. Rude. And willing to ally with anyone for the sake of their revenge - that Kratos and his allies were not the monsters that the Greek Gods had been mattered little. She was willing to hand herself over to people who mere hours ago had been her enemies, all if it advanced her vendetta. It was as short-sighted as Kratos' plea to Ares had been.

But, to contrast, their list of allies was few, and their enemies were numerous, and largely unknown - something she could aid with. And this Servant she had summoned - it concerned him. His enemies were dead - and those he hadn't slain shouldn't be able to reach him here. It had taken a freak accident to land him in this strange land. And yet….

……the Blades had followed him here - and Athena too, if that had been truly her, and not just a product of his mind. A path made once could be followed by other things.

And Kratos had many who would eagerly leap for another chance at the Ghost of Sparta.

"I have many misgivings about you, Avenger. That you seem proud of your actions is but one of the many reasons." Kratos sighed. He did not like this. Not one bit. "If we are to be allies, you WILL obey my orders, and you will cease your campaign against France - you claim you do not care anymore, but I hear the venom in your voice. Should I find you have lied, I will kill you myself."

The Avenger sniffed. "You can TRY." Then she shrugged. "But fine. Those are easier terms than I expected you to give me. I'll be a good girl. I wasn't lying when I said I don't give a fig about France anymore - you give me the heads of the people who hurt me and Gilles, and I'll be the best little soldier you could ask for." She extended her hand. "Put 'er there."

Begrudgingly, Kratos reached out and grasped the woman's wrist. He had been about to squeeze - not with the intention of breaking bones, but merely to show her a fraction of his power, to impress upon her the seriousness of his words, when he felt it.

It burned through him - a strange sensation, for all that he had felt it now three times before. Foreign energy, blazing a path through him, to his core. It was hotter, more chaotic and wild than the three other strings that had been forged between himself and others.

The formation of a Servant Contract.

For once, the Avenger almost looked taken aback, as Kratos snatched his hand away from her. "The hell's YOUR problem?" That Medusa had raised her stakes, and looked to be seconds away from leaping at the Avenger probably didn't help things. She took a step back, her hand raised. "I didn't DO anything to him! Just sealed the Contract! He's the Master, I'm the Servant - it's what we DO!"

For a moment, Kratos could barely think straight. A Contract with a Servant, and not one that he had agreed to, but one that had been thrust upon him. Another life, however distasteful he might find that person, that he held complete dominance over. Only the realization that the Avenger did not, could NOT have known how Kratos would feel about this kept him from tearing her apart in that moment.

With an angry growl, he turned, and stormed from the cave.

---

Kratos' footfalls had barely stopped echoing when, predictably, it was the Avenger who broke the silence. "The FUCK was that?"

Mash wanted to see the best in people, she really did. But she was finding it hard to like the crude, foul-mouthed, and just plain rude doppelganger of Jeanne d'Arc. Still, in this case, the fault wasn't hers - at least not intentionally. "Mr. Kratos…….he doesn't like being a Master. He says it feels too much like slavery to him. It took a lot of convincing to get him to be a Master in the first place. And then you made a Contract with him without asking, so…."

The Avenger blinked. "Wait, you're telling me an actual GOD has hang-ups about being a Master?" She stared for a long moment. "Where the hells did you FIND him?"

"That is none of your business, Avenger." Medusa had backed down from imminent violence, but she was still radiating hostility. "Though if you're in a hurry to find out what's waiting for a monster like you after you die, call him 'Master'."

The Avenger met the Rider's hostility with a sneer that held only marginally less disdain. "Oh piss off, Violet. Don't use this as another excuse to grind that axe you have against me. This ain't my fault."

Jeanne leveled a glare at both parties. "Maybe the both of you could act like adults." Medusa, for her part, at least looked somewhat chagrined. The Avenger just sniffed and turned her nose up at her double. Jeanne sighed, but held back whatever retort she might have had for her other. Instead, she glanced at the cave entrance. "Should someone go after him?"

Mash shook her head. "No. Give him some time. He won't have gone far……it's…..he'll just need a bit to come to terms with this."

Jeanne nodded. "I agree. I had thought his hesitation to form a Contract with me was because he still wasn't sure I wasn't the Dragon Witch in disguise." The Avenger snickered. Jeanne ignored this. "But I can see that wasn't the only reason. Give him a bit, then one of us can check on him."

"So, what do we call you?" Medusa had at least finally put her stakes away. "We've already got one Jeanne - and one that's much more pleasant to deal with. Are you not-Jeanne? Avenger? Alter? Fake?"

The Avenger rolled her eyes. "You can call me Susan if it makes you happy. But fuck if I know. I didn't think I'd stumble into the real me wandering around the wilds of France. Not something I put a lot of thought into."

[It seems to me she doesn't put much thought into ANYTHING.]

"Avenger works well enough for now. It's not like anyone we're going to fight doesn't already know who I am - just don't bite my head off if you call out for Jeanne and get me responding too. It'll take a while for me to stop thinking of myself with 'me's' name." She gave a puff of breath that was tinged with a whiff of flames, then flopped back into her chair. "Not like I'll be around long enough to bother needing a real name."

Mash felt a twinge in her heart. If someone had told her this morning she would have found herself finding things in common with the Dragon Witch of France, she'd have stared at them uncomprehendingly. And yet…..

She well knew what it was like to have a ticking clock on your short existence.

---

Kratos sighed to himself, a sigh that was at least halfway on its way to becoming an angry growl.

He had lost control of himself. Not completely, but for a moment in that cave, his anger had been dangerously close to ruling him. Even now, he could feel it, that thin string connecting himself to the Avenger Servant in the cave, one that was so different from the others.

The string connecting him to Mash was soft - much like the girl in question. As soft as the pillows that Kratos' head sank into when he laid down to sleep at night on the luxurious bed they had provided him. At times, he barely noticed it was there.

Cu Chulainn's string was quite the opposite. The tie that bound him to Kratos thrummed with vibrancy and energy - eager to fight, eager to drink, eager to LIVE, however long it had. It matched his legend in that regard. The Child of Light that Mimir had described had been a man who had had little patience for sitting still. It had taken Kratos aback when he had found out this Cu Chulainn was an avid fisher - it was not something that Kratos could have seen the man enjoying. Far too slow and quiet.

(It just lent more credence to the nagging feeling he had that there was much, MUCH more to this Cu Chulainn than the man was letting on - and that somehow, however impossible, he knew this man.)

Medusa's string, for all it was new, was…..calm. Placid - as steady as waves constantly crashing to the shore. The connection between the two of them was new enough that it still felt foreign to Kratos, for as inoffensive as it felt.

Avenger's connection BURNED. Not painfully, or even enough to distract him - but he could feel it. The overwhelming emotions of hate, the NEED for revenge sang from her thread. And worse, it was a familiar song to Kratos, one he had thought himself rid of years ago.

He did not welcome its return in any form - least of all when it was thrust upon him without warning.

"Hey. I'm coming out. Don't tear my head off."

Kratos gave a low, almost inaudible growl. And here was the last person he wanted to see right now.

A silver head of hair ducked out from the cave entrance and looked from side to side until it located Kratos. If she was at all fazed by the scowl on his face, she gave no indication of such. She strode right up to him, not a shred of unease apparent in her bearing. "So, your cheering section let me know that I might have fucked up."

She angled her head up, fearlessly meeting Kratos' eyes. "Leaving aside that of all things a freakin' GOD has issues with being a Master, because what the fuck is all of that, I'm not running on a leyline like 'me' in there, so I thought with you being the Master in that little Girl Scout Troupe in there, and you CLEARLY not trusting me, there was an obvious solution here. And I thought you'd already Contracted with 'me' as well."

Kratos' head was beginning to hurt. "Your point. Make it."

"I'm TRYING to apologize, here….." The Avenger deflated a bit. "Doing a shit job of it, too. Not that I've had much….or ANY experience with it. You don't say you're sorry much when you're a crazy Dragon Witch burning the countryside to a cinder."

"Look, for all the nothing it's probably worth, I'm sorry for forcing you to Contract with me like that. I didn't hold a gun to your head or anything, but it's clear you thought that handshake was just a handshake, and not getting saddled with my ass in addition to whoever else you're carrying." She shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining from my end - I've been mana starved for days, and you're an all-you-can eat buffet. Been keeping myself going on pure spite, just waiting to see what Carmilla's face would look like right before I turned her into ash."

It wasn't the worst apology Kratos had had in his life, but those had largely involved the gods of Olympus. And those couldn't be the standard. "It is done. With hope, our Contract will be a short one."

Avenger gave a bitter little laugh. "Don't like me much, do you?"

"As I said, I have seen where your path of revenge leads." Kratos' scowl grew deeper. "You rush headlong to the ruin of everything you know, including yourself."

"Speaking from experience?" When Kratos didn't answer, she sneered. "Yeah, thought so. I can SMELL it on you. Like recognizes like, in the end. Tight-assed as you are now, you must have fucked up epically, huh?"

Still no response from Kratos. The Avenger's eyes narrowed, and she stepped even closer to look Kratos right in his eyes. "Get this through your head, I'm an AVENGER. My grudges, my hates, my vengeance are what makes me me - it's what gets me up in the morning, what makes me put one foot in front of the other, it's my meat and bread. I literally CAN'T forget anything that's been done to me - there's a constant voice in my head, SCREAMING at me about every single way I was done wrong. So don't fucking lecture me about how terrible the path I'm on is - this train ain't got no motherfucking brakes!"

Kratos gave the woman credit, even in the face of his thinning temper, she didn't back down a step. Brave, or foolish. Or both.

If anything, her scowl at him only got stronger. "So like me, hate me, I don't give a shit. Long as we can work together long enough that I get my vengeance, and you get to save this stupid little country, we can go our separate ways in the end. Just keep a lid on your hang-ups about whatever bad choices you might have made, and let me make my own bad choices. Ruin of everything I know, like I HAVE anything left anymore."

She rolled her eyes, but backed up, moving out of his personal space, and began stalking back to the cave. "I'm going to fill folk in on the rest of my former Servants, so it'd do me a solid if you were there for it, so I don't have to repeat myself. But you do you." Grumbling to herself, the Avenger ducked back into the cave, leaving Kratos alone with his thoughts.

---

Medusa looked up from where the Avenger was drawing in the dirt, as heavy footfalls indicated Kratos was rejoining them.

He seemed calmer, at least, though he was still scowling. Truthfully, she couldn't blame him. The Avenger was an unrepentant monster at best - simply being around her made Medusa feel dirty, for a number of reasons. And having Contracted with one? It would have made her want to chop her own arm off.

For a moment, she pondered, then, before she could second-guess herself, sent feelings of empathy and understanding through the bond they had, letting him know, if nothing else, she too understood his distaste for their new ally.

She hadn't known it was possible to send the emotional equivalent of a grunt through the Master-Servant connection, but that was what she received. At least he was consistent.

The Avenger waited until Mash had stopped fussing over Kratos before she spoke up. "Good of you to join us, Sourface the almighty. I was just drawing out the wanted posters for my former teammates."

Medusa scooted over, making a place between herself and Mash for Kratos to stand. Once he had taken his position, the Avenger resumed speaking. "So, we can knock Carmilla, Chevalier d'Eon, and the Phantom of the Opera off the list." She indicated three portraits that only bore a passing resemblance to the Servants in question. As they watched, she crossed each of them out with the stick she had been using to draw in the dirt of the cave floor. "I saw to the Bloody Countess, and you bunch did the other two. And Vlad quit the field, and from what I gathered, you'd already figured out who he was before I showed up. We'll get back to him in a minute."

She pointed at a second grouping of children's scribbles pretending to be portraits. "The rest of my Servants stayed with the jerk who usurped me. In order, Atalanta of Greek myth, Charles-Henri Sanson of the French Revolution, and some Black Knight I never got the name for - and don't look at me like that, the bastard was barely capable of speech, other than yelling 'ARRRRRTHURRRRRRR' at the top of his lungs. So, your guess as to who he is is as good as mine."

She aimed the stick she was using as a pointer at two figures, situated above the three Servants. "The big dragon is Fafnir, I already mentioned him, and would be a much bigger problem if his counter wasn't roaming around France right now somewhere - or at least I hope he is, and hasn't been run to ground by my former gang. And the other one……best I can give you is a description, since I was never able to force a name OR class out of him."

She fidgeted, readjusting her legs underneath her. "Bastard was pretty, if nothing else. Long, golden hair, pale skin so smooth it almost glowed, he LOOKED like he'd never done a hard day's work in his life, but the guy could throw down - I mean, you can see what he did to me…." She waggled her stump about. "But Vlad was a literal AND figurative monster, and he handled him easily, and did the same with that Black Knight, who probably was about the same weight class as Vlad. Seriously, he had some trick where he could turn anything into a weapon - swords, spears, or even a damn stick, he'd just snatch it up and send these red lines through it, and the thing would be on the level of a low-end Noble Phantasm. Only thing that was holding him back was how crazy he was, and the Madness Enhancement I put on him didn't help."

"But back on topic, golden hair, so pretty it hurts, and can fight like a mother. Ringing any bells, Glowers McGrumpface?"

All eyes turned to Kratos, who was a long time in answering. "None in that combination. All of my enemies could fight, but only a few from my past life could be considered to be…..pretty. And none had hair the color you describe, not in combination with the other features." He considered for another span of moments. "And all of the enemies I fought more recently were far too rugged to match your description - these foes looked like warriors, and had the scars, marks, and brands to show it."

Avenger gave an over dramatic sigh. "Greaaaat. So who the fuck did I summon, if it wasn't one of your enemies? The chant Lev gave me was supposed to summon someone from your past with an axe to grind. Just another tally on that bastard's sheet, I guess."

Jeanne was looking over the array of questionably-drawn foes. "Is there anything else you can tell us about him? I may not have True Name Discernment as I should, but with enough clues I should be able to figure it out - at least, narrow it down some."

Avenger shook her head. "I got nothing else. I didn't even see him fight Vlad or the Knight - only heard about it secondhand, as the fight was over by the time I got there. I should have realized the Servants I had summoned were starting to get a little closemouthed around me by that time, but I was already at my wit's end with the pretty boy by that point." She thought for a moment - Medusa bit back a comment about hearing some very, VERY rusty gears turning for the first time in ages. "No weapon as far I can tell - when he fucked my shit up, he did it barehanded, and it sounds like that's how he handled the others he picked fights with. But that's the only other thing that's coming to mind about him."

Jeanne shook her head. "Not enough to go on, still. I could make some educated guesses, but those could do more harm than good."

"Then we focus on what we can do," growled Kratos.

"Then on that subject…." Avenger hunched over, again scratching in the dirt. "We're about here…….just a bit south of La Charite - the hills south of there have enough little caves in them that I figured one of them would be a good place for me to hole up in while I got back on my feet. And the location's good." To the northwest, she created a crude image of a castle, with stick-wyverns hovering above it. "That's Orleans, where I was squatting - and where I assume the pretty boy still is. 'Me' told me you want to get your hands on that Holy Grail to put an end to all this - odds are, it's there. And I assume it's where you were heading."

Kratos nodded, and she continued. "The one problem with this is Vlad. He got away, and for all his crowing about being free, he's still the bitch of whomever has the Command Seals, which I would assume would be that pretty boy. So if we march straight up to Orleans and kick down their doors, there's every chance the Impaler could run right up our asses with an army of Dead - we MIGHT be able to take the crew at Orleans, but if Vlad shows up, those are shit odds."

Medusa couldn't help herself. "I'm surprised, Avenger. Considering how adamant you've been to get back at your former Servants, I'd have thought you wouldn't care about the odds."

Avenger almost looked sheepish. "Look, lady, I had a LOT of time to think about this. I was laid up for two days before I could get back on my feet after the ass-kicking they gave me. You think being bed-ridden's bad, imagine being bed-ridden as an Avenger. That voice chipping away at your sanity, telling you to wake up, get up, get out there and get back at the people who hurt you, but not being able to. I'd be crazier than Gilles was after two days solid of that if I hadn't found some way to drown that voice out, at least a little bit - and war-gaming scenarios on HOW I was going to get my revenge seemed to make the voice happy - or at least shut it up a bit."

She shrugged. "And, I saw how well I did against that pretty boy last time. If I was going to have any sort of shot at him, I needed to take away some of his allies. It wasn't chance I stumbled on your fight with them, I'd been skulking across the countryside since I got back on my feet, looking for a chance to pick one or more of them off."

She started drawing again. "And that's when I discovered this….." She pulled back, and indicated another castle, drawn slightly to the south of them. "Turns out when that guy let Vlad and Carmilla loose, he gave them a parting gift, I assume with the Grail. That USED to be Thiers - it's now Castle Dracula."

"Wait……what?"

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: Did I see the New Year's 5 star CE this year and immediately have that inspire me with JAlter's Banner of Vengeance? Yes I did. Fear her Chunni Rage.

I also may have been inflicting G Gundam on my better half, and the stock image of the winner of the Gundam Fight might have also been an influence.

Phantom may or may not have taken one look at that Banner and realized he dodged a hell of a 'not-Christine' bullet.

Gilles is a monster by any measure. But even monsters can love, or do noble things. And I do believe Gilles cared about the Jeanne he dreamed up. Enough to sacrifice himself to keep her alive. So we see the Spirit Core transfer that Amgery Boi did to bring Karna back for the Godjuna fight in LB4, and then Karna, because he can't go against his nature, gave said Spirit Core back to Amgery Boi, so we then got to fight Pepe and his Servant.

Gads, parts of this chapter FOUGHT me. And not the combat, which is usually the parts I take the most time with, either. JAlter is difficult to write in such a way that Kratos just doesn't splatter her. Or Medusa, since she doesn't like what she sees in JAlter any more than Kratos does.

Exposition-heavy chapter, but had to let JAlter be the carpet bomb into the nice dynamic we'd been building so far. And given how much she knows about the opposition, there's no scenario where they wouldn't make her spill the tea. But almost no one is happy that she's around, and she's not doing anything to ingratiate herself.

I am not, strictly speaking, the MOST happy with this chapter. I originally had it going longer, but once I typed up the last section, it just kind of FELT like a good stopping point - I had planned to have the team dealing with Vlad in this chapter, but thinking, I feel like that needs more than a short bit, and the proper amount would also make this chapter XBOX HUGE. So, this is the stopping point I'm choosing for the immediate. But again, this chapter FOUGHT me - I don't feel it's really up to the quality of the recent stuff I've posted. Apologies.

Chapter 15: Orleans 4

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 15​

It was a dark and stormy night.

Yes, it actually was - the weather was perfectly setting the scene as they looked down upon a castle, that, by all rights, should NOT have been here - it should have been leagues and leagues to the east. But there it was, having displaced much of the village of Thiers, looking as though it had erupted in the center of the hamlet.

Castle Dracula.

Those homes and buildings that had occupied the space it now dominated had been destroyed, rubble littering the area around the castle. Those on the outskirts of the town had been spared outright destruction, but they showed signs of fighting - shattered windows, burnt roofs, and doors hanging ajar.

Of the inhabitants of Thiers, there was no sign.

"Huh…." mused Romani. "No clocktower. I guess the game lied to me. But that means you won't have to deal with the Medusa Heads and their horrible sine-wave patterns."

If it wasn't for the rain, and thunder, you possibly could have heard a pin drop in the wake of the Doctor's statement.

"MY head is right HERE, Doctor. Nor shall it be doing any patterns……sine or otherwise." Medusa was giving Romani a look that said she might be wondering, just a bit, how he'd look as statuary.

Romani flushed. "No, no! It's a game……a video game! Magi*Mari was streaming it. It's one where you fight Dracula…….one of the enemies are Medusa Heads that….."

"Roman, your mouth is moving." Da Vinci's smile was dry as a bone in a desert. "You might want to see to that."

Romani sighed. "Right, shutting up now before I dig myself any deeper."

---

 

EARLIER

THE JALTER CAVE
​

"Castle Dracula? Here?" Romani groaned. "That's just GREAT…….depending on how far what he can consider 'his territory' extends, he's going to get a massive boost to his stats while he's in it. Vlad the Impaler might be the face of the vampire legends everywhere else, but in Romania, he's quite possibly their greatest national hero. They do everything but officially worship him there."

"You're spittin' facts, nerd." The Avenger ignored Romani's squawk of indignation, again adding to the map. "And he's not the only one who got a gift - the bastard gave Carmilla her home too, Castle Csejte is about here, just a bit to the southwest of Castle Dracula. Close enough to Lyon and Marseilles so she had a place to raid for blood for her baths, far enough away from Vlad so he didn't have to see her reveling in being a vampire." She chuckled. "SHE, at least, we won't have to worry about on account of yours truly spitroasting the bitch."

Jeanne, for the first time in hours, lost the look of having bitten into something incredibly sour. "Lyon and Marseilles haven't been destroyed yet?"

The Avenger shook her head. "They were far enough away that they mostly got ignored - not like I was planning any of this shit. Just raging about and letting my Servants rampage where they wanted to, and letting the wyverns fly around willy-nilly. It wasn't until Rogue Servants started showing up that I had to use something resembling tactics."

Lyon and Marseilles were quickly added to the map. She tapped Lyon with her stick. "Lyon's where I THINK Siegfried was operating out of. First time I ran into him was when he was guarding a refugee caravan that was trying to make it to Vaucouleurs. I wasn't even looking for someone to burn, was just flying around taking a look at the lay of the land, when I spotted that ragged group, and thought I had some easy fun. Man quickly beat that idea out of my head."

She frowned. "Though I swear, at times, it seemed like there were two of him. I'd hear one of my Servants report that a flight of wyverns got slaughtered by someone claiming to be a Dragonslayer, and then the same day, another one would get picked off miles away. Possible he was hitching a ride with the two in the carriage to move as quick as that."

Jeanne's lips thinned. "The carriage…..was it possibly incredibly ornate, pulled by a horse made of crystal?"

Avenger blinked. "Yeah, that's the one. Why?"

"There was one breaking apart when we stumbled on Vlad and Carmilla - the sound of music is what drew us to them." Jeanne bowed her head. "I assume the carriage's owner was already dead by the time we arrived - and Vlad tossed another body aside shortly after we arrived, one that it looked like he'd drained it of blood."

"Well shit. Cross off those two as possible allies, whoever they might have been. Fuck!" Angrily, she drove her fist into the ground. "Worst case, Siegfried was riding with those two, and we're out a good way to take out Fafnir. Happy thoughts, Jeanne, happy thoughts. Vlad, staked to the ground, right as the sun's coming up. That Lev guy screaming as he's being lowered into acid. Me burning the bastard who took my arm until he's nice and flakey."

"Leaving aside that disturbing bit of stream of consciousness, are there any other Rogue Servants you're aware of?" Da Vinci looked around the room. "Our list of allies are currently residing inside this cave, and with the leylines being as twisted as they are, we'd need to be practically in the throne room of Orleans in order to summon more help - or to bring our Caster in. It'd strain the reactors, but we could probably manage both him and Rider in the field for a short time before one of them would have to return. Too long, though, and we'd risk blowing one or more - and if we lose power completely, we'll have no way to verify your existences."

"I got nothing concrete, only rumors," admitted the Avenger. "Didn't really have an Office of Secret Intelligence or nothin', and we were mostly concerned with finding survivors. Once I knew they were a thing, the Rogue Servants I figured would turn up trying to stop me before long, so I didn't put much effort into finding them. Siegfried was the exception, since he could possibly take Fafnir out, so I wanted to wipe him off the map before he could do that."

Her brow furrowed, as she racked her brain. "There were some stories of some dragon-girl or something wandering the countryside, but those never came with any sort of consistent location or description. Sometimes she had pink hair and a spear, and a voice that could curdle milk, and other times, green hair and breathed fire and was looking for someone. For all I know, some peasant who saw one too many of my wyverns had his brain break and they made up something similar to the mermaid myths, and the story spread, and took on a life of its own." She shrugged. "You know how superstitious peons are."

There was little to say in response to that.

"So, what's next?" asked Medusa. "Is the plan still to head straight to Orleans? Even with the meat we harvested from the wyverns at Vaucouleurs, we still will need to resupply sooner rather than later - and establish a leyline connection."

Kratos peered down at the map, weighing options. "Do you believe Vlad would aid he who took your position, should we breach Orleans' defenses?"

The Avenger blew out a long breath. "Honestly…..I dunno. On the one hand, Old Drac fled with his tail between his legs, and might be happy minding his own business while we take care of things in Orleans. But, Vlad certainly seemed happier with him in charge instead of me, so he might do it out of gratitude for getting rid of me, and giving him his castle. At the same time, if that asshat found himself in enough trouble, he might not have to ask Vlad for help - as much as those bloodsuckers were crowing about being 'free', someone's holding their leash - or Command Seals, in this case. All he'd have to do is use one of those and MAKE Vlad come to his aid. And depending on what he did to the population of Theirs, he could bring plenty of Dead to throw at us."

"The ones we fought weren't really that strong…..," began Mash. "But….."

Kratos nodded. "Yes. Numbers can be an advantage that can make up for a lack of individual strength. And Vlad himself was formidable. And he would not be the only Servant we would have to contend with."

---

In the end, there had been only one viable choice. To leave an enemy the caliber of Vlad Tepes at their backs would have been foolish. To leave an enemy who could bring an army with them, as well as their own considerable power would have been the height of stupidity.

"I still don't know why we're doing this at night," grumbled the Avenger. "High noon - that's when you should fight one of those leeches, not such a cursed, horrible night like this. Wet as everything is, it's going to play merry hell with my fires."

Kratos wanted to sigh, but bit it back. Further exposure to the Avenger's personality had not made her any easier to deal with. Their march here had been a constant stream of irreverent remarks and barbed comments. While Jeanne and Mash had taken it in stride, Medusa was barely civil to the Avenger, when she deigned to respond to her at all. Da Vinci, of course, could give as good as she got from the Avenger - to the point Romani was dealing with her through Da Vinci.

(Fou, he was told, by Mash, wanted to bite the Avenger. On the nose. HARD.)

The most infuriating thing of it all was, Kratos did not truly sense any malice in the Avenger - at least not directed to their group. It was just how she was. Which made dealing with her all the more difficult.

Thankfully, Jeanne had patience in a deeper well than even Faye had - how his future wife had managed to calm the broken man Kratos had been when they had first met was something he only vaguely could recall, his mind being little better than an animal's in those days.

Jeanne could have given Faye lessons in patience - for all that Faye had been the reasonable parent to Atreus, and the balm that had soothed the Ghost of Sparta's soul, she had also been the one to fight Thor to a standstill, ruining the landscape around them in a brawl in Vanaheim, long before she met Kratos. Stories from the spirits haunting that land showed that within Faye had simmered a rage very similar to Kratos' - once upon a time.

(They would have liked each other, he believed, his wife and the Saint. And she would have adopted Mash on the spot - or attempted to share custody of the girl with Da Vinci. Romani would have little say in the manner, likely going along with whatever the two formidable women would decide, if he knew what was good for him. As, likely, also would Kratos.)

It was Jeanne, or occasionally Mash, who provided the buffer between the Avenger and the rest of them, when her abrasive personality began to grate to a level that had one or more of them seeing tinges of red. And sometimes, for a short, brief period, the two of them would actually manage to talk civilly for a bit.

The Avenger remembered nothing of her life as Jeanne d'Arc - having been made from Gilles' desire for a 'perfect Jeanne', he could not provide her with the memories of the real thing. She was in many ways almost like a newborn child - albeit a powerful, dangerous child, being driven to near insanity by a rage that was inherent to her very being. The few times Jeanne was able to calm the Avenger were times when she told the other woman about the friends and family she had forgotten - or truly never known, for all that she shared Jeanne's face.

She might have worn a mask of contempt as Jeanne had talked of her mother and father, her brothers, or the simple life on the farm in her younger days, but the Avenger had listened raptly, her snide remarks noticeably absent.

The reprieve from the Avenger's voice had been a blessing. If this was what a Saint was, the world could use more of them.

"The ground around the castle is largely barren of cover. Moving during the night masks our approach - we seek to fight Vlad, and only him." The Avenger was actually listening to him, Kratos noted. "A single wyvern spotting us, and then drawing the rest of our foes to us would be a problem." While he had little to fear from an executioner, the legendary huntress of his home was formidable, if by repute, as Kratos had never crossed paths with Atalanta. And Fafnir, if he was in any way as powerful as Hræzlyr had been, they would be in for a fight.

And that was not even considering the two unknowns. The Black Knight's ability to turn even mundane objects into powerful weapons was a potent threat - Kratos well remembered how the Archer he had faced had turned Draupnir against him.

But the Servant the Avenger had summoned, who supposedly was drawn from those who had opposed the Spartan in the past - this was where his concern lay. Facing them, whomever they were, was not something to be done while also facing down another dangerous enemy in the heart of their power.

So, this approach.

Avenger nodded. "Ok, THAT I get, but the second we set foot on whatever ground he's turned into Transylvania, he's going to know we're here. That means a ticking clock if he puts in a call to his Sugar Daddy for help. Even if he doesn't, I assume he's going to throw a ton of rotting bodies in our way."

"Then we go in, hard and fast." Kratos grunted. "Remove him before aid can arrive, if aid is coming."

"I just hope the castle doesn't fall apart like when he dies in the games," muttered Romani. "Bad enough if you have to worry about getting out of there before reinforcements show up, but ducking falling masonry is only going to make it worse."

"Ignoring Roman's idol-fuelled nonsense, I assume the cave will be the fallback point in case things go badly? Avenger and Medusa can just astralize if you all get separated, and Mash and Kratos have communicators so we can keep them connected, and steer them towards each other." Da Vinci frowned. "This does leave Jeanne out in the cold, however."

"I will be fine. The Lord led me to you once, he will do so again." Utter, unwavering faith in her deity. The gods of Olympus would have killed for a believer as devout as this woman.

(He hoped this 'God' never gave Jeanne a reason to doubt her faith. Once, Kratos had trusted the gods of his land. Once.)

"No." Kratos felt as if ants were crawling over his skin. "We go into a conflict with enough unknown variables…..it would be foolish to do so at less than our full strength."

He sighed - preventing it from becoming a growl by a pure force of will. "I did not contract with you out of suspicion of you being the Dragon Witch, in some guise. That concern has now been addressed." At least she would be a more pleasant burden to bear than her clone. Kratos held out his hand.

The Avenger smirked. "Going for twins, are you, big guy? OW!"

Medusa looked completely unruffled, for all that she had just smacked the annoyance across the back of her head, and the glare that was being directed at her from said annoyance. "Quiet, you."

Jeanne paid no attention to the two of them. "Of course, Kratos. You have conducted yourself with dignity since I first met you. I'm honored you would trust me like this." She grasped his hand. "To the salvation of France."

Jeanne's thread was the complete opposite of her clone's. It…….sang, for lack of a better word. A song with words unfamiliar to Kratos, but surging with light and joy. It was soothing, in its own way, for all that this song was likely one of praise to her strange sky-god.

(For all that it was a hymn of praise to a god, Kratos still felt it less offensive than the constant chorus of hate that seeped from Avenger's thread. He may have no use for gods - with a few notable Freya-shaped exceptions - but he could tolerate Jeanne's piety more easily than her clone's mindless wrath - though he would be happy to be rid of both.)

Jeanne, for her part, looked flushed, if only slightly. "My." She blinked, then came back to herself. "That is quite a lot of mana………I believe I can understand a little of what my other self meant when she called you an 'all you can eat buffet'."

Kratos grunted. "We move. We have much to do, and the night will not last forever."

For another fifteen minutes, they pushed on through the cold and wet, before Medusa, trailing slightly ahead of the group, held up a hand. "We're getting close." She pointed. "Look."

Kratos squinted through the pitch black of the evening, trying to spot whatever she had seen, but to no avail.

"Here, Mr. Kratos," Mash reached into her shield and handed him a device that resembled an elongated pair of glasses. "Just peer in this end - Da Vinci made these binoculars, so they should automatically adjust depending on the conditions."

Somewhat gingerly, he held the object up to his eyes, and looked.

And was again amazed at the creations of this strange world.

The object completely banished the darkness - peering through them, he could see as if the sun was high in the sky. It also extended his vision, so he could clearly see what Medusa had sighted.

Bodies, impaled on massive wooden stakes, and left to rot.

"His favorite means of execution when he was alive," commented Medusa. "They say that a Turkish army found an entire forest of impaled people when they invaded Wallachia, trying to depose Vlad. And that the sultan was so unsettled by this that he stated that he had come to fight a man, not a monster. I see he's keeping to his legend as a man, as well as a vampire."

Kratos frowned. "This is a message, but not the one you think." He handed her the device. "These bodies are mere dolls."

For a long moment, she stared through the binoculars, then lowered them. "No, you're right. They're cunningly made, but they're just dolls. And…..ones with our faces."

"He knows we're coming." Avenger spat to the side. "Or expects that we are. He knows I wouldn't let him skate on stabbing me in the back, so he either believes I talked you into helping me, or thinks I'm crazy enough to try a solo run at him now that Carmilla and their backup dancers are gone. This is him telling us to bring it." She blinked, as if something had just occurred to her. "And, probably, him making sure he's got every cold body he can get his claws on to throw at us. Why waste a corpse as a 'keep out' sign when you can get it back on its feet and have it shamble at us, moaning for brains."

Romani was squinting at something on his screen. "You're in sight of the castle now. We're not picking up any activity from it, not yet."

"For what little we CAN scan in there - we're getting jammed pretty badly when we try to do anything with that castle." Da Vinci's finger was tapping on her cheek. "I guess he takes defending his territory seriously on all fronts, whether it's from an invading army or attempts to spy on him. Annoying."

"This is probably the last chance to abort and fall back, if any of you are getting bad vibes from this - beyond the sort you'd get from taking on the most famous vampire ever in his home." Romani paused for a moment, then nodded, when no one spoke up. "Didn't think so. Good luck, then, and be careful."

They moved quickly, making no more pretense at stealth. As they drew closer, they all felt it - it was like crossing a Bounded Field, but it wasn't a barrier, per se. Just a divider that separated one area from another, a border, of sorts.

Dividing France from the slice of Wallachia that had invaded it.

Within the town, there came the sound of many, many voices, moaning in a hungry chorus.

"We're rumbled!" yelled the Avenger, her spear grasped in her hand, her absurd banner strapped to her back, billowing in the wind and rain. "Every motherless one of them just heard us ring the dinner bell!"

"We make for the castle!" Kratos could see them now, hundreds of shambling forms beginning to spill from the still-intact buildings that surrounded the castle. "Guard your flanks, and do not let yourselves become overwhelmed!"

Within moments, they had reached the town.

And hit the horde awaiting them like a runaway boulder.

Mash, the heavily armored tip of their spear, plowed into the zombies, scattering them before her. Bones shattered as her shield and momentum brushed the Dead aside, driving a wedge into the horde. Eventually, on her own, she would get bogged down.

But Mash was not on her own.

To each of her sides, a Jeanne struck out, flag and spear slashing, whirling, stabbing into moaning forms, using their length to keep Mash's flanks clear, letting her drive their party deeper into the village. Amazingly, the two women were operating in sync, both possessing just enough familiarity of the other to allow them to operate as a cohesive whole.

Jeanne swept her flag before her, the tip only making shallow cuts on the zombies on the left flank, but their corrupted flesh burst into flames at the mere touch of her weapon. Howling, they pressed on, too mindless to know fear in the face of a Saint. Within moments, the holy fire had consumed them, leaving not even ash behind.

On the right flank, the Avenger's fire held none of the holy power of Jeanne's, but for lacking that, it burned all the hotter. Cackling, Avenger impaled a corpse on her spear, and with a thought, set it aflame. Lifting the blazing cadaver, she slammed it into a knot of the Dead that were attempting to press into Mash's flank, knocking them off their feet. She then planted her feet, and pivoted, using her temporary torch to beat back the wall of undead that continued to advance, hands outstretched, hungry for flesh.

They were slowing.

"DOWN!"

Mash and the Jeannes dropped to their knees, and a second later, the Blades of Chaos cut through the air, not even slowing as they cleaved through the horde. Arms, legs, and heads fell by the dozens, and torsos were sent flying through the air, still howling their mindless moans as they were sundered in two.

Where Kratos was a single, overwhelming strike, Medusa was precision. Her stakes flew out, spearing through the heads of those zombies that had somehow weathered the Blades of Chaos and remained standing. Both of her hands worked independently of each other, as she whittled the survivors down.

But for each one they killed, there were many to take its place.

Mash and the Jeannes sprang back to their feet - their momentum had stalled, now their plan hinged on being able to fight their way to the castle gates. They raised their weapons.

"Got a big signal, incoming, looks like straight from the castle!" cried Romani.

"Vlad?" Kratos swept his axe through a wall of the dead that were advancing on their rear - with his allies clustered as they were, the Blades were too risky.

"No, not big enough, but……oh." The ground began to shake with a set of massive footfalls. "That is a BIG skeleton."

It thundered through the horde of moaning Dead, scattering them with its sheer size - where it didn't outright trample them underfoot. A massive bone was clutched in its hand, serving as a crude club.

Kratos had seen, and killed bigger - this was barely bigger than the trolls that inhabited Midgard.

"Here it comes!" Avenger sent a blast of fire at the giant bones, one that failed to slow it down in the slightest. The bones glinted strangely in the light of the flickering flames, then runes lit up across its form.

"Steel? He coated that thing in fucking enchanted STEEL?" Avenger groaned. "My spear's not going to be good for SHIT against that, neither is 'mes' flag, even with her Saint bullshit."

"Keep the Dead back, I will handle it!" Kratos yelled. "Mash!"

"Yes sir!" The girl swung her shield in a wide arc, blasting zombies from their feet, clearing an area for them.

And just in time, as the giant had arrived.

The bone-club in its hands beat a pattern on the ground as it drew itself up to its full height, towering over the Spartan and the Demi-Servant. Its jaws opened in a silent roar, as it brought the club down on them.

Kratos and Mash split, each leaping to one side of the massive weapon. Still, the force of its impact shook the ground under their feet. Mash stumbled, having been unprepared for the shock of the blow, for all that it failed to connect with them. The same could not be said for Kratos.

The Leviathan Axe wept frost as it crashed into the leg of the skeleton. For a moment, the metal coating the bones resisted, but the strength of the Spartan told, and the metal gave, and bone splintered. With a thought, Kratos released the cold the axe had built up into the leg, ice crackling up its limb.

He tore the axe free, then was forced to quickly duck, as the massive hand of the giant attempted to swat Kratos away. One of the skeleton's hands was still wrapped around its weapon, trying to free it from the ground, a job hindered by the ice trapping its leg - ice that was melting faster than it should have been, as the enchanted steel fought against the frost magic of the Leviathan Axe.

Mash was hammering her shield into its fingers, trying to dislodge its grip, but not having much effect. The cobblestone street cracked further as the club was finally torn free, forcing Mash back. It raised the weapon again, mindlessly focused, even as the Leviathan Axe twirled through the night, glancing off its skull.

The club swept through the air, wide enough that it even forced those battling the zombies to evade, lest they be blasted from their feet - inadvertently aiding them, as the Dead lacked the wit, or the agility to avoid the weapon.

'On my cue, follow.'

Kratos hurled his axe at the creature's leg, ice once again spreading across its limb as the Leviathan Axe sank into the metal and bone - though, as before, the runes flared bright, and the Leviathan Axe vibrated in its perch, the protective enchantments in the steel coating seeking to dislodge it.

But it held, and held the monster, for a moment. And a moment was all that was needed.

Kratos' shield snapped into place as he lowered his head and, roaring, charged. Mash was but an instant behind him, her voice roaring in unison with him, his fervor having caught the girl up in its wake. Almost as one, they crashed into the frozen joint of the leg.

Immovable object met a pair of irresistible forces, and for the briefest of moments, all was even - neither side could prove the better. Then that moment shattered, and with a surge of effort, Kratos and Mash blasted the huge skeleton from its feet.

"The head! Quickly!" The Leviathan Axe returned to Kratos' hand with a solid smack against the flesh of his palm, and he sent it crashing down into the monster's skull. The axe dug into the metal, but did not fully penetrate - Vlad had apparently seen fit to reinforce the skull more heavily than the rest of the monster.

Mash raised her shield and sent its full weight crashing into the crown of the skull, then repeated the motion, battering at one spot, hoping to weaken, and then break through before the thing could regain its feet. Kratos hacked away, knowing that, without the Leviathan Axe embedded in the wound, their window of opportunity would be a narrow one.

Metal groaned on metal as the giant pushed against the ground, seeking to regain its base. Then, suddenly, a clenched fist drove at Kratos, faster than expected, forcing him to snap his shield into place.

His shield groaned as it absorbed the blow, but the force of it knocked him back, away from its head, allowing it the second it needed to return to a vertical base. Growling, Kratos grasped the Leviathan Axe, preparing another charge.

Wait……where was Mash?

A dull clang, almost like a massive bell being rung, echoed across the battlefield, and Kratos' head tilted up.

When the giant had risen to its feet, Mash had clung to its back - somehow keeping hold of her massive shield all the while. Even now, she was swinging it one-handed, having climbed to grasp the thing by its neck - not that it needed to breathe - and was slamming her shield into its head. And while the blows may not have been the most powerful, the thing was distracted by the girl clinging to its back, and raining down stinging blows on its most vulnerable area.

"You didn't teach her that. TELL me you didn't teach her that!" Kratos couldn't be certain if it was Romani's voice, Da Vinci's voice, or some combination of the two, merged into a chorus of disbelief.

Not that he had time to respond.

The Blades of Chaos appeared in his hand as though summoned, and Kratos flung them wide. As they reached the edge of the chain's limits, he snapped them to the side, causing them to begin wrapping around the skeleton's legs. As the chains looped around, entangling the legs, Kratos seized them in one hand, and pulled them tight. With his other hand, he ripped the Leviathan Axe from its harness, and, with barely a second to aim, flung it through the air.

It was an almost impossible shot - a narrow window in a chaotic battlefield - but Kratos was among the most skilled warriors his world had ever seen. The Axe once more buried itself into the giant's leg, right where it had already struck twice. And, as before, ice leaked from its metal, once more warring against the protective magics burnt into the steel coating the bones.

The giant's balance, already questionable due to the chains binding its legs, teetered on the edge of total collapse, with one of its legs immobilized, however temporarily. It was stretched to the breaking point as Mash somehow managed to find a footing on its shoulders, and, with a cry, drove the long edge of her shield into its eye socket, and yanked to the side, twisting its head around.

With all that, Kratos taking the chains in both hands and pulling was almost overkill.

The massive skeleton toppled, arms wheeling as its legs were quite literally yanked out from underneath it.

Mash yelped, as she was flung into the air, dislodged from her perch by the skeleton's sudden fall. For a moment, she hovered in the air, the momentum of her body's upward trajectory and gravity's pull equal. Then, gravity asserted itself, as it always does, and she began to fall to the ground.

Amazingly, she didn't panic. She straightened her body, as if in a dive, and extended her shield out in front of her.

Because she had seen where her fall was likely to terminate.

One hundred pounds of girl, augmented by her armor, and shield, fell from the sky like a meteor, hitting the skull of the giant with a metallic noise that echoed across the battlefield. For a moment, it was as if all was still, that the only thing that existed was these two opposing forces, vying against each other.

And then, the moment shattered, as lines ran up the skull, and, with a boom that managed to eclipse the moment of impact, the skull fractured into hundreds of pieces, shrapnel that was blasted about the battlefield.

Whatever animating force had been propelling the giant forward vanished, and its limbs flopped to the ground, still.

For a moment, all was quiet. Then, there was a low whistle.

"That the same meek little girl I met in that burning city?" Cu was shaking his head. "Hot damn! Kratos, your son must be a holy terror on the battlefield, if you've had that kind of an influence on the lass in just a week." He glanced to the side, and grinned. "Also, you might have just broken the Doctor and the Genius."

"This was not my doing - Mash's actions are her own." He walked up to the girl, who was still struggling to her feet. He offered her a hand, and helped her up.

She looked up at him, face flushed. (Some part of Kratos wondered if he had looked the same the first time he had slain something that large - and in such a fashion.) "Reckless…..," her face fell. "....for your level of training. But necessary. For your first time scaling a giant's back, you did well."

"First……time?" Romani looked as if he was questioning the reality of what was seeing and hearing. "Back up. First time? Implying future times?"

Mash beamed, her face breaking out into a smile - one that quickly twisted into a look of horror, as a spear exploded through Kratos.

"Letting your guard down after killing a mere trifle such as that?" Vlad's voice was dripping with contempt. "Disappointing, heathen. Truly disappointing."

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off, there was a shriek of rage, then a lance of fire, so hot it was glowing white, split the night where Vlad had been - the vampire having vanished into mist. "VLAD YOU FUCKER! GET BACK HERE AND DIE…..AGAIN!"

Growling, Kratos seized the spear in his stomach, and tore it free. Mash, pale as a ghost, could only watch. "Mr. Kratos! Are you alright?"

Kratos grimaced, testing the wound. "I will be fine. The wound is not too deep - it will not hinder me. See to yourself."

Wincing slightly, he looked over the battlefield, seeking Vlad. Jeanne and Medusa were still working side by side, keeping the horde of zombies back, though their battle line now sported a hole - as the Avenger had abandoned them when Vlad had ambushed Kratos. Said Avenger was now standing amid the fallen bones of the giant, spewing fire at the shadows, as she raged and demanded Vlad show himself. Of the Vampire Count, there was no immediate sign.

"Go, assist Rider and Jeanne." His eyes narrowed. "I will reign the Avenger in, before she loses all control."

Mash frowned, but nodded. "Be careful…." She quickly jogged over two the two beleaguered Servants, her massive shield quickly reinforcing their flank, sending the moaning corpses flying.

Kratos' wound throbbed as he stormed over to the Avenger. "AVENGER!" he roared, seizing her by the shoulder, and turning her to face him. "Control yourself!"

The other Jeanne's face was twisted in a snarl, her teeth bared. For a brief moment, Kratos thought she might attack him, lost in battle-rage. But then, she blinked, and seemed to come back to herself. "The hell…….." She shook herself. "Fuck…..sorry." Her body smoldered hot enough under Kratos' grip that he was nearly burnt. "I FELT it when he stabbed you - that, and fighting for this long, and seeing Vlad…….I lost my fucking head."

Any moment now. "Do NOT let it happen again!" He glared down at the woman - then shoved her down as a spear once again tried to impale him. As the Avenger tumbled to the dirt, the Blades of Chaos flew from his hands, carving into Vlad.

Amazingly, the Servant was fast enough to escape with only shallow cuts, though he did hiss in pain as the Primordial Fire within the Blades seared his dead flesh. Before he could vanish into mist, Kratos was upon him, leaping into the air and slashing down with the Blades, not wanting to give the vampire a moment's respite.

For the second time in as many hours, the strength of a Vampire vied against that of a god, and this time, on this ground, the difference was not as great as it had been. "Hubris." Vlad bowed his head, fractionally, at Kratos, over their locked weapons. "I chastise you for dropping your guard, yet I believe you would fall for the same trick twice. Foolish of me."

Fingers of agony were traveling up from the wound in his stomach, but Kratos put it out of mind, and poured his strength into the deadlock. For a moment, they were evenly matched, then Vlad was forced back a step. With a hiss, the vampire was forced to disengage, as a circle of dark spears materialized above him, and came screaming down. His spear was a blur as he swatted aside the weapons, feet constantly in motion, drawing away from Kratos.

"Quick bastard." The Avenger drew up to Kratos' side, eyes narrowed. "Damned annoying power-up he's getting from home field advantage." She glanced at his wound. "Want me to sear that shut?"

Kratos grunted. "It will heal." He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. As the winds shifted, he could hear something…..distantly, but growing.

…..laughter?

"The hell is that?" Avenger gripped her spear tight, trying to both keep one eye on Vlad, and scan the battlefield.

Kratos saw it, or them first. Three forms, approaching from the sky. Coming directly for them.

Three women.

"Oh no……." Romani groaned. "Of course, if Dracula has his castle, then he has to have his three vampire brides…..this just keeps getting worse." He gritted his teeth, as his eyes bored into the screen of his device. "They're probably not as powerful as a Servant - since they're just manifestations of his Legend, they're probably on the level of a mid to high-end Phantasmal - though I can't get a reading to confirm that."

"Three on one? Sounds like it'll be a fair fight." Avenger slammed her spear into the ground. "You go see to the main leech, I'll deal with his wenches. Much as it galls me to say it, I can't take Vlad on my own, not with the boost he's getting now." She glared at Kratos. "Go. I'll get their attention. Just don't get killed before I put them back into the ground."

It was as good a plan as any - the Avenger was careless enough with her attacks that fighting back-to-back with her was a dangerous proposition. And on his own, he would have the space to use the Blades - vampires he recalled, did not care for fire, and the Blades had the speed to keep up with Vlad's increased agility.

Without a word, he charged, heading straight for Vlad, legs churning up the earth as he ran. There was a triple shriek of outrage, and the forms in the sky dove directly for him, but were cut off as a curtain of fire swept above him, forcing them to abort their dive or be seared.

By the time they were able to control their flight again, Kratos was upon Vlad.

Hissing, their features cruel and feral, three women descended upon the Avenger.

"Look sisters…." said the blonde, with a smirk. "It's the trollop who thought she was worthy to command our Lord."

The brunette's face was twisted in disgust. "Such filthy blood I smell from her, Marishka. Almost not worth drinking - what if we catch whatever it is that makes her a commoner?"

"Our Love says her heart was ripped out, yet here she stands." The redhead pursed her lips. "Perhaps we can see what is pumping her commoner's blood through her veins, before we send her to the potter's field."

Avenger sneered. "Yeah, yeah. Heard it all from the Bloody Countess already. I stink of hay and the fields, I routinely fuck goats like all my dirt-encrusted kind, my blood's not good enough for you to drink. Blah, blah, blah." She tightened her grip on her spear. "If you three bargain-bin Carmillas think you can take my blood, then go ahead. But it'll BURN all the way down."

A cloud of fangs and claws descended upon her.

The Blades of Chaos flickered with fire in Kratos' hands as he smashed through a wall of stakes, then was forced to jerk his head to the side, as Vlad's spear screamed forward.

"No more stalling, heathen." There was little of the noble ruler in Vlad's visage, now - his fangs were extended, his eyes pools of red. Kratos was facing the monster, not the man. "No more games, no more retreats, no more allies like Carmilla - fools only concerned with their hedonism. Just you, and me. You, the brutal heathen invader, and me, the defender of my land. Just as it ever was - even if you are not the accursed Turk. I will throw you back as I did them."

He jabbed low, aiming for Kratos' wound, but his spear rang off Kratos' shield. "Pointless." Pain flared as a stake erupted from Kratos' wound. "Within my territory, my Noble Phantasm is the very concept of being impaled by stakes…….were you not a living god, you would be skewered a dozen times over by now…….." Stakes erupted from underneath Kratos' feet, forcing him to fall back - which Vlad took advantage of by aiming a vicious cut at Kratos' head.

The Spartan was forced to parry as he stumbled backwards, swatting the spear aside. With his other hand, he sent one of the Blades screaming through the night at the vampire king, but stakes again erupted from the ground, tangling the chains.

Whatever advantage Vlad thought he might have gained from that was quickly proven to be for naught, as Kratos pulled on the chains, launching himself forward, smashing through the stakes, and not stopping, flying straight towards Vlad himself, Blades drawn back, and ready to strike.

Vlad desperately tried to get his spear up, but the sheer speed of the Spartan's momentum was overwhelming. He DID manage to divert the Blades enough to avoid a fatal blow, but his flesh burned as Kratos cut into his side, the jagged edges of the Blades raking across his ribs. Snarling, the vampire lashed out with his foot, seeking to push the god back, but Kratos merely turned, and took the blow on the meat of his thigh.

It was like being kicked by a horse. But Kratos bore it, and stepped in, pushing harder against the Count's spear, trying to dig his blades deeper into the Servant's side. Smoke began to waft up from the Blades, as the fire within the metal ate away at the dead flesh of the vampire.

Roaring, Vlad risked taking one hand off his spear - a risk he paid for as he was unable to match the god's strength with only a single hand on his weapon, and the Blades sank deeper into his body, ribs cracking - but he was finally able to force Kratos back, as he swiped a clawed hand at Kratos' eyes, and the Spartan reflexively flinched away, allowing Vlad the moment he needed to rip himself free of the Blades.

Fangs bared at the one who had wounded him, Vlad gestured, and two waves of stakes erupted from the ground, flowing straight at Kratos. Kratos rolled to the side, but it gained him no respite, as the wave continued rippling across the ground, still seeking its target.

And Vlad was not done.

Another wave tore itself into existence, this one airborne, and, like a flight of birds, descended upon Kratos, who was now beset on two sides - and it was unlikely Vlad would remain idle long - just long enough for his flesh to knit, and then he would press the Spartan again.

Across the field, Avenger yowled as clawed hands dug across her back. Her armor held, but only just. Snarling, she kicked backwards, having learned from previous exchanges that to take her eyes off the two in front of her for the one who had just hit her in the back was to invite an even worse attack. It didn't connect, but it at least forced the redhead to back off - the blonde was still nursing a burn from the one, and only time they had tried to block one of her strikes.

Good old fire. Nothing beats fire - at least not when dealing with some bloodsucking parasites.

Still, this wasn't going well. "You bitches want to stop dancing around and actually fight?" For all her bravado, Avenger was at least smart enough to know that if things kept up this way, she was in a word of trouble. One on one, she would paint the walls with any of Vlad's little harem - but there were three of them, and they were used to working as a unit.

The brunette sneered at her. "Sisters, the peasant thinks this is some sort of bar fight. So classless. So eager to roll around in the mud - she must miss her filthy childhood."

The blonde laughed, circling around to the Avenger's left - they were taking ruthless advantage of her missing arm. "Fear not, churl. Before long, you will be back in the embrace of the dirt you came from." Cackling, she darted in, the brunette hot on her heels.

Avenger sent a jet of flame at the blonde - she had already been burnt once, and seemed to have not cared for the experience, so the merest appearance of the flames of an Avenger made her skittish enough that she was just full of openings. Problem with those openings is you can't TAKE them when you're busy using the pointy end of your spear to see off another fanged leech - the brunette was easily the most dangerous of the lot, so she got the lion's share of the attention.

This, of course, meant her back was still wide open, which would be a bigger problem if the redhead didn't like to announce her attack by hissing like a snake - Avenger was just able to sway out of the way of her claws this time - luckily for her, that one had more tits than sense, because if she had a brain she'd be dangerous. There was a reason the Servant was letting her have her back - as bad options went, she was the best to be there.

Still, that didn't mean she was harmless - a second strike sliced through Avenger's hair, shaving a handful of strands away, which distracted her enough for the brunette to snap a nasty kick into the side of her head. Not the strongest of blows - she'd eaten a few punches from the bastard who took her arm, and those had fucking HURT - but she felt it, all the same. Igniting the tip of her spear, she twirled it above her head, then spun in a circle, forcing them back, buying a moment for her to catch her breath and uncross her eyes.

Yeah, really not going well.

And the cackling was really, REALLY starting to get on her nerves.

The redhead flicked Avenger's hair off of her claws, almost as if she was afraid of 'commoner germs' sticking to it. "She's on her last legs, sisters. Shall we finish this?"

The brunette pursed her lips. "Much as I would like to toy with her further……our Lord needs us. Any last words, slattern?"

Avenger smiled. "Yeah. Let there be fucking LIGHT."

There was the sound of a heavy object being driven into the ground, then a shout. "LORD CHALDEAS!"

The darkness of the ruined town was split by a wall of light that burst into being, causing the vampire brides to hiss as their eyes, sensitive, and adjusted to the night, were overwhelmed by the purity of the unveiled Noble Phantasm. At its epicenter stood a slight girl, her shield held before her, the fortress of her will forcing the moaning dead back, separating them from their prey. They beat on the wall, clawed at it, pressed against it, but they could not break it. It would NOT break, for Mash Kyrielight stood firm, even as before her, mere inches away, the dead snapped their jaws at her.

Her will was resolute - these things would NOT pass, not while she had breath in her body.

"What the…," the redhead never managed to finish her sentence, with a crack like a sonic boom, a pair of boots rammed into her jaw.

One second, Medusa had been standing by Mash's side. The next, she had crossed the space between herself and Aleera, and was driving her feet into the young vampire's face. One second more, and they were gone, shot away into the night.

"ALEERA! NO!" The brunette shrieked, trying to spot where her sister had been blasted away to, but her second of distraction - on top of the moment she had lost when the light had blinded her, proved to be her undoing.

A hand grabbed her shoulder, and twisted her around. She was only just beginning to shout her displeasure when a smiling face crashed into hers. Dazed, she only dimly felt the grip on her shoulder tighten. "Hey 'me'! Catch!" Avenger seized the dazed vampiress, and hurled her across the battlefield.

Then she was flying through the air. Were she a seasoned warrior, she would have had the presence of mind to arrest her flight, to stop her body from tumbling uncontrolled through the air. But she was no warrior - none of Dracula's brides were. They were predators, yes, but predators of the weak and helpless.

And their foes this night were neither weak nor helpless.

Verona fell from the sky, where a spear was awaiting her arrival. The point erupted from her back, but missed her heart. For a split second, she was relieved, even began marshaling her strength to pull herself off the spear impaling her.

Then the pain hit.

Not the normal pain of a weapon, no - this was the bane of all those who had spat in the Lord's eye, and embraced the damnation that was vampirism. Faith - True Faith, wielded by no less than a Saint.

Verona's form erupted in white fire, as the mere touch of Jeanne's flag consumed her flesh like it had been soaked in oil.

Jeanne watched as the vampire melted away in the cleansing flames, her head bowed. "You poor woman. I only hope undeath was forced on you - and that it wasn't your choice to turn from God's Grace. Maybe then, you can find some kind of salvation in the next life." Verona's answer was to be forever unknown, as by this time, there wasn't even embers left of Vlad's first bride.

"And then there was ONE!" Avenger laughed, cruelly, as she clubbed the blonde across the head, sending her sprawling. "Not so fun anymore, is it, when you can't gang up on me anymore, huh?" She stabbed down, the woman only just able to roll out of the way and avoid being pinned to the ground by the Avenger's spear. She made it to her knees, almost able to regain her footing, when fire leapt from beneath her, scorching her form, causing her to scream.

Avenger's spear cut through the night, severing the bride's left arm. "Go ahead, call me a peasant again, if you still have a tongue left!" A savage kick sent the vampire tumbling through the dirt again. "Tell me how you're going make me take a dirtnap, you cocky wench!" A vicious kick almost launched the woman into the air, but she never touched the ground. Avenger's hand shot out, seizing the blonde's head in her hand. Weakly, she dangled in the Avenger's grasp. "Well, bitch? Anything left to say?"

".....p…plll…please…."

Avenger snarled, pulling the vampire until they were nearly face to face. "Begging? You're BEGGING? How many men, women, and children have begged you, you damn parasite? How many pled for their lives, only for you to laugh in their faces while you filled your gut with their stolen blood?" Her hand tightened, digging into the vampire's skull. "No, you don't GET mercy. Not from an Avenger. BURN!"

Fire erupted from the Avenger's palm, boiling the vampire's skull until there was nothing left but blackened bone.

Avenger looked at the skull in her hand for a long moment, then scoffed, and tossed it aside.

Kratos rolled, ducking under a clattering swarm of stakes, then was forced to leap to the side, as a wave of stakes nearly erupted under his feet. His shield sprang into form as a second wave of flying death battered off it, pattering against the metal like wooden rain. His feet never stopping, he sent the Blades on a flight to where Vlad was standing, but, as before, an imperious gesture from the nobleman caused a wall of stakes to erupt, knocking the Blades aside - he wasn't giving Kratos any further opportunities to anchor his weapons in the stakes, and cross the distance that separated them.

Kratos snatched the Blades from the air, and ducked, as a wave of stakes passed so close he could hear the wind of their flight.

He was getting hemmed in - slowly but surely, Vlad was corralling Kratos to a position where he would have no escape.

Or so he thought.

From his left, a swarm of pointed death descended. From his right, a mirror of his left. Before him, two waves of sharpened wood ruptured the ground, as it chewed up the soil on its relentless path towards the Spartan.

And behind, just out of the range of the Blades, stood Vlad, watching, waiting for his moment.

Unfortunately for him, Kratos' moment had arrived first.

Kratos let the Blades trail out to the full length of the chains, concentrating, feeling the Primordial Fires bank to their maximum. For a moment frozen in time, he stood, his arms reared back, the Blades dangling in the air, metal beginning to glow red-hot. Across the field, he could see Vlad beginning to raise another wall before him.

In his hands, the chains grew hot enough to burn the palms of his hands.

With a roar of effort, Kratos jerked his arms forward, the Blades following. The air shimmered as the Blades cut through the air, steaming, as the rain evaporated before even touching the metal, so hot were the twin daggers.

They cut through the two waves of stakes closing on Kratos like they weren't even there, the wood burning from mere proximity to the Blades. Vlad's wall too, proved no impediment to the burning daggers, as they sliced through, and, mere feet away from the Servant's face, collided.

And exploded.

The shockwave was massive. What stakes weren't turned instantly into charcoal from the detonation were blasted from the air, broken, like the magic that had been animating them. The wave of stakes in the ground fared little better, being immolated down to root and stem. And worst of all, the wave of heat and fire washed over Vlad, almost blinding him to the mortars that followed the explosion.

Almost - for Vlad was still the King of the Vampires. Even in the face of a conflagration that would send a lesser vampire screeching for the hills, despite the pain he felt from the wave of fire that had scorched him, he stood his ground - even got his spear up to slice the globs of liquid fire from the air, before they could impact his body. This was HIS land, and he would die before he took one step back in the face of an invader, no matter who that invader might be.

Which meant he would die where he stood.

Vlad bellowed in pain as two stakes, expertly thrown, stabbed straight through his palms. Before his mind could catch up with the suddenness of the assault, his arms were jerked back.

Behind him, chains held by the purple-haired woman. How?

The red haze of frenzy tinged his vision as he pulled against the stakes impaling his hands, feeling the woman's strength beginning to fail. Pitted against the strength of Vlad Dracula Tepes, his feet upon the soil of his homeland, even the Monstrous Strength of the Medusa was not enough to hold him.

Fortunately, she did not have to hold him - alone.

A second pair of chains rattled through the air, wrapping around his wrists. They had cooled in the moments since they had unleashed their power, but they were still hot enough to turn metal molten. Vlad roared, as suddenly, he was being overpowered, restrained, held in place.

They couldn't hold him - even without his stakes, his accursed Legend held an easy means of escape. Vlad looked into himself, touching that part of him that was the vampire, and began to will himself into mist.

"NOW!" roared Kratos.

The sound of two pairs of feet gave Vlad a moment's pause, and in that moment, he was undone.

From his right, fire, burning even hotter, if possible, than the flames that had erupted from the pagan god's blades. The copy of Jeanne d'Arc charged at him, the tip of her spear white with heat.

From his left, light. Light that had been once familiar to him, before his detestable Legend had been borne. For the Grace of God was no stranger to Vlad Tepes - all he had wanted, in the end, had been to protect his people from the foreign invaders and their heathen beliefs. But, as a vampire, God's Light was nothing to him but blinding.

Avenger and Ruler charged, weapons held before them, fire and light in their wake. They met at the Vampire Count in a flash of brimstone and a burst of purity, their weapons crossing.

When the dark of the night reasserted itself, they were beyond Vlad, their charges having carried them past his form.

Vlad laughed…..a laugh that quickly turned into a choking gasp, as his strength left him, and he fell to his knees, his head bowed. "Well struck, Maids of Orleans. You have slain the Dracul."

He looked up, a cruel grin splitting his face. "Shame you will not have time to savor your triumph. He comes!"

Dracula's laughter echoed long after his form had vanished into motes of light.

"No no no no no!" Romani sounded as if he was on the verge of panic. "We've got a MASSIVE signal incoming - we were too focused on what was going on INSIDE of the Wallachia bubble - Vlad's weird jamming kept us from seeing outside as well as we should have while you were inside!" He looked up, his brow streaked with sweat. "We dropped the ball. I'm sorry."

Kratos slid the Blades back into their harness, as he grasped the Leviathan Axe. Whatever response he was about to make was drowned out as the air was split by the sound of a gigantic form flying overhead, at a speed that was almost beyond belief.

A dragon - beyond any dragon Kratos had ever seen in the Nine Realms.

It was easily half again the size, if not twice the size of Hræzlyr. Scales black as midnight covered its body, across which writhed sigils and runes that, even at this distance, felt unwholesome to look at for too long. The body was oddly more akin to that of a serpent's than that of a lizard - unlike the dragons Kratos had met in Midgard - though it still sported four legs, and as many wings.

It circled the castle once, then bellowed a roar, a challenge, and began to descend, the wind displaced by its wings enough to shatter some of the less intact buildings. When its feet touched the ground, the earth shook.

The thing reared up before them, fangs bared, a toxic fluid oozing from its jaws - then it settled down onto all fours, hissing quietly.

Then came the voice.

"Well, well, well. Looks as if my new friend wasn't lying after all. He said you would be here, and, here you are."

A form leapt from the dragon's back, plummeting to the earth and landing, shattering the ground with its impact. "It's been awhile, old man."

He wasn't terribly tall - maybe a head shorter than Kratos. His clothes seemed of fine make - something nobility would wear. Fine blonde hair, almost white, danced around his head, stirring with the slightest motion. Like Jeanne, he seemed to glow, but where the light seemed to follow her, with him, it seemed almost to emanate from within him. But where her features were kind and soft, this man's face was twisted in a mocking, knowing, sneer.

Kratos had never seen this man before in his life.

Before he could raise his voice, Jeanne took a faltering step forward, her face as white as a sheet. ".....Jean?"

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: Going to have to wait one more chapter for the full reveal of who the Servant is.

I originally planned to have the confrontation with Vlad be the second half of the last chapter - after seeing how long this got, that would have made the last chapter a monster. Glad I split them up.

I do not recall any instance of Kratos coming across anyone using a spyglass in either the Greek or Norse God of Wars. Correct me if I'm wrong on that score. They weren't invented until the 1600s, so they should, in theory, have not shown up, but it's a lot of games to go through to check for something as small as that. And it's not like the God of War games have been terribly historically accurate.

Uncle Vlad puts his knitting skills to good use.

Since we never get a name for Dracula's brides in the novel itself, I'm using the three names from Van Helsing - Aleera, Verona, and Marishka, for lack of a better source.

Unsure if it qualifies as a PROPER God of War finishing move for the Mashmallow, but she gets to climb a giant like her teacher. *sniffle* They grow up so fast……

Avengers feeling it when their Master gets injured, and it making them pissed is kind of a headcanon I came up with - Protag doesn't really fight in FGO, but it's something that's been chewing on my brain of late - what with JAlter having contracted with Kratos, who DOES fight. It may come up again, I might abandon it/rewrite it out, depending.

If you were mashing the Square button (I remapped my controls so light attack was Square, and heavy Triangle, instead of having them on the right shoulder buttons) in your heads during any of the weapon locks between Vlad and Kratos, you're in good company.

Constantly having to remind myself that the pop culture references are NEETbeard's thing, not JAlters. I almost had her bust out a 'Solar Flare' in the chapter, instead of the 'Let There Be Light' I settled on.

When I was planning out how I wanted the fight between Kratos and Vlad to go, I couldn't get that Runic Attack out of my head. I said I wanted to save them for big moments, and fighting the First Vampire on his home ground, in the thunder and the rain qualifies, to me, Castlevania fanboy that I am. Helps that it was my go-to for the Heavy Runics of the Blades, like Ivaldi's Anvil for the Axe.

Fafnir uses the generic 'Big Dragon' model in FGO, so I'm going with something closer to his more serpentine description in some of the Norse Mythology, mixed with some of the eldritch of Faf-kun's dragon form in Dragon Maid.

Chapter 16: Orleans 5

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 16​

Avenger's head jerked to the side, staring at Jeanne with wide eyes. "Wait, Jean? As in our motherfucking brother JEAN? That's who I summoned?"

The Servant laughed. "Oh…..so you know my meatsuit? That would explain why he's so worked up…….shrieking things like 'Run Jeanne.' 'Don't let him catch you, Jeanne'. 'He's going to kill you, Jeanne'." He cracked his knuckles. "Not that he's wrong." He took a step forward, only to find his path barred by the Leviathan Axe.

Kratos stared down the unknown Servant. "You will not touch her." A spirit, possessing the body of another - every day in this Singularity showed there were many things about Servants that had been neglected in his lessons. "Who are you, that steals the face of another?"

The Servant laughed uproariously, his body leaning back, ever so slightly. "Don't recognize me, do you? I suppose I have changed since we last met…..but you….." His eyes narrowed. "You're the same. I wonder how long it's been since you killed me?"

Red was beginning to leak into the corners of Kratos' vision. "Who. Are. You?"

A sneer. "As blunt as ever. You make my brother look cultured in comparison." He took a step back, deliberately out of the range of Kratos' Axe - and, more tellingly, beyond the reach of the Blades of Chaos. "Let me show you."

The Servant closed his eyes, and seemed to concentrate. For a long moment, nothing happened, then, his form began to ripple and change.

The vaguely aristocratic clothing melted away, replaced with more rustic leather leggings and cloth tied around his hips - and only that. He wore no boots, no shirt, nothing above his waist. Previously clear flesh erupted in a riot of patterns, as a sprawling network of tattoos sprang into being. Blonde hair darkened until it was brown, and lost its thin and fine nature, instead becoming short and thick. And finally, hair sprouted on a formerly clean-shaven face until it formed a matted beard, a handful of beads tied into the strands.

Kratos felt his blood run cold. ".....Baldur."

The Spartan's voice broke whatever spell had caused the Servant's form to change, and like a bubble popping, his body snapped back to what it had been when they had first laid eyes on the man. Baldur took a deep breath. "Can't manage it for long, but it's getting longer each time. Soon, this body will be completely mine."

"How?" asked Jeanne. "How are you here, and in the body of my brother? You're not even FROM this world - it should have been impossible for you to be inscribed on the Throne of Heroes…..much less to be here as a Servant!"

Baldur shot Jeanne a look of contempt. "I have no idea. The last thing I remember was lying in the snow like so much trash after your friend there got in the way of a family squabble and snapped my neck. After that, nothing but darkness - for how long, I don't know. But then……I heard a voice."

He stared right at Avenger. "HER voice. Begging for an enemy of some 'mighty warrior' to come help her fight her battles. So I answered. It looked like the void between realms, except there was a tear, getting smaller by the moment, and the voice was coming from the other side of it. I made it in right before the thing sealed itself up." He grinned. "Then, I was in this body, and I could feel……EVERYTHING!"

Baldur held his arms out, almost….shivering at the play of air across his skin. "I had only JUST gotten it back when you killed me, old man. I might hate you the most for that - not for killing Dagsetr, not for what you did to Magni and Modi, not for the prisoner you stole, not for you and your brat of a son leading me on a chase all across Midgard, and not for getting between me and my mother, no…….to kill me after I had FINALLY broken the curse she put on me………no. That, you are going to BLEED for."

He scowled. "Of course, it wasn't just me in there. There were two other souls I had to deal with first." He smirked, cruelly, as Jeanne's face twisted in pain. "Oh yes, it's not JUST your brother in here, girl. There's this world's version of me. Credit to your brother, wench, he didn't go down first or easy. He actually put up more of a fight than my other self did."

Baldur spat to the side. "Coddled little weakling went down with less fight than a child. But from what I've seen of his memories, it's no surprise. HE had a mother who ACTUALLY loved him, who didn't take EVERYTHING from him while claiming she was 'protecting' him. And it wasn't just her….everyone loved him, to the point where he never had to get his hands dirty, or even work for a single thing in his life. He didn't suffer, not like I did. So when I threw the first punch, he showed me his belly like a broken wolf pup. So……disappointing."

"Your brother at least fought…..for all the good it did him. He's still fighting now, beating his fists bloody on the cage I've got him in, trying to move a mountain with his bare hands." He leaned his head to the side, cracking his neck. "Not that it'll stop what's about to happen."

Kratos' hand tightened around the haft of the Leviathan Axe. "Is revenge truly so important to you? Before, I told you it would bring you no peace. You could not let go of your hatred once, and you found only death in the end. Would you find the same a second time?"

Baldur cackled. "Oh, that's the thing, I'm not doing this entirely for the blood price you owe me. There's a man in green who had all manner of questions for me after I was summoned. Who you are, what you are - now that I see you, I see some of the things the All-Father believed about you weren't quite right, but I was happy to tell him everything I could. And he made me an offer. You see, there's a bounty on your head, 'Kratos'."

There was a shimmering heat-haze around Avenger, as her rage was causing her body temperature to skyrocket. "So that's why you stabbed me in the back……it wasn't that I was a poor leader, and you didn't give two shits about how I was treating my Servants. You just wanted the bounty. What did that fucker promise you?!"

"Oh, I'd have torn your arm off regardless. The Aesir don't answer to some uppity peasant. You deserved to die just for thinking you could order me around. And those Command Seals had to go once our mutual friend told me what they could do to me."

He raised his right hand, and an intricate pattern, similar to the tattoos that covered his body, flared into life, angry and red. "I'll put them to much better use. But to answer your question, when I deliver the god's corpse to Lev, I get to keep the Holy Grail I tore out of you, to make sure I won't go fading out anytime soon. And then, once they're sure he's dead, they're going to open a portal for me, and let me go back home, where I can finish that conversion with my mother."

Romani made a short, choking sound of disbelief. "That's impossible. Only one person can use the Second Magic. You can't be telling me that ZELRETCH is behind all of this?!"

Baldur blinked at the projection of Romani for a second. "You must be Romani. Lev wanted me to tell you that, once we're done with this backwater of a land, they're going to come for your Chaldea, and burn it to the ground. Everyone you know is going to die screaming…..though I see the girl he said you think of as a daughter is here. You might want to turn away…..what I'm going to do to her isn't going to be pretty."

Mash paled, and took an involuntary step back, and Kratos felt even more red bleed into his vision. "Odin is dead. Asgard has been destroyed - Ragnarök has come and gone. The realms threw off the tyranny of Asgard - there is nothing left for you there."

"Odin, dead?" Baldur laughed in Kratos' face. "Even if I can now see you're no Giant like I thought you were, a weakling god like you could never kill the All-Father, much less my brother - who you'd have to kill to get to Odin. Tell a better lie if you're trying to get me to spare your life." He took a step forward.

The next moment, he was in front of Kratos, fist screaming through the air.

Kratos slid aside, the punch narrowly missing his face, then leaned back from the follow up body hook Baldur threw. A jab, and a fast, short elbow were also avoided in quick succession.

Baldur's fighting style did not seem to have changed, despite his new vessel. Like before, he still swung wildly, with openings everywhere. Before, when they first met, Kratos had been rusty - years of peace had dulled his instincts. Not to say Baldur hadn't been a formidable foe - the blow he had landed at the start of the fight had rocked Kratos harder than he had ever been - but Kratos had been a very different person then.

That was not the Kratos of today, who had fought off Freya for three years straight during Fimbulwinter, then had led the combined armies of the realms against Asgard.

Even if he couldn't harm Baldur permanently, he could kill him, temporarily. He had broken the god's neck and dropped his body off a cliff in their first encounter. It had bought he and Atreus time - and doing something similar here would do the same. Time to kill his dragon, maybe even time to resolve this Singularity.

He stepped back, avoiding a haymaker that would have taken his head off if it had connected, then planted his foot and swung the Leviathan Axe, putting his full strength into the blow.

The axe glanced off Baldur's skin - no, it failed to even touch him, being deflected before even reaching the man.

Off-balance, Baldur's counter took Kratos right in his chest and blasted him across the ruined town, his body digging a trench in the ground.

Baldur's mad laugh chased him across the span. "Surprised? Expecting to just snap my neck and leave me as carrion again, until I healed? It seems my mother in this world was less of a failure. She actually figured out how to make a spell that could protect, without taking away any feeling from the person she was trying to protect." Baldur's form loomed over Kratos. "And while I can feel EVERYTHING…..you can't touch me. Not with your axe, not with those blades of yours, not with anything."

Kratos pushed himself up from the ground, mind working furiously. Once, Baldur had hit him harder than he had ever been hit in his life - at least until Thor reset the scale. This Servant was weaker than that, but powerful all the same. And the difference in strength meant little if Kratos could do no harm to his enemy. "The land dying. Your doing."

Baldur's grin was sharp enough to cut. "Put it together, have you? A little of mother's magic, twisted up just so, and amplified with that Holy Grail I took from that half-dead failure that you picked up. Or did you think my mother wouldn't teach her darling boy the magics of her people?"

He strode across the battlefield, slowly. "So, this won't be like last time. No mistletoe to break the spell. No way for you to hurt me - you can dodge me for as long as you can manage, but that old body will get tired, and fail, and then I'll beat you bloody. And let you watch as I tear your allies apart, one by one." He cracked his knuckles. "Only then will I let you die."

Kratos seized the Blades of Chaos from his back and sent them screaming through the air - but, as expected, they too failed to even scratch the Servant, instead slowing as they approached Baldur, then flying away into the opposite directions, almost randomly. Growling, Kratos pulled the Blades back to his hands. He had expected as much, but to see it…..

Baldur sneered at the Spartan's growing frustration. "Anything more to try? You still have that Berserkergang of yours. You can wear the bear-shirt if you think it'll help……I'll rip it from your body all the same."

No, Spartan Rage would likely be as useless as his weapons. Draupnir could possibly blind him for a moment, but the opening it would create would be meaningless, with no way to harm him.

"FUCCCCCK YOU!" A gout of flame washed over Baldur's form, to little effect. Avenger blinked, stunned that her fire had done nothing.

"So eager to die, are you?" Baldur didn't even turn his head to look at the Avenger. "Or are you just in a hurry to see that freak of yours again?"

It was a wonder that Avenger's armor wasn't glowing white-hot from the sheer incandescence of her rage. "You…….don't GET to talk about Gilles like that!" With an incoherent cry of fury, Avenger poured forth a tidal wave of fire, an endless stream that washed over Baldur. It was impressive, the magnitude of it.

It was also completely pointless. From where Kratos stood, he could see the fire parting before Baldur. Even the heat seemed to not affect him in the slightest.

Baldur turned to face the Avenger, then took a step. Then another one. Almost deliberately, he began walking towards her, his pace mockingly slow. By the time he was halfway to her, the flames she was emitting were white. By the time he was almost upon her, they were almost blue. Then his fist cracked into her, and she was sent flying back, landing in a heap.

In a flash, Jeanne was standing over the body of her clone, flag raised, eyes narrowed. Baldur laughed. "Going to try your hand, 'Saint'? Believe you can somehow fare better than that pitiful copy of yourself?"

"Whether I can or not is irrelevant. You have the Holy Grail - to save France, to reverse all this senseless death and destruction, you must fall…….." She gritted her teeth. "....regardless of the fact that you bear the face, and soul of my brother."

Baldur snatched her flag from the air before she had even fully swung it. "So this is the power of that nailed god Vlad was always speaking of? Pathetic." Savagely, he backhanded Jeanne, blasting her to the ground atop Avenger. He raised his foot and brought it down on the Ruler's head.

Or tried to, as, at the last second, Mash slid in, interposing her shield between the vulnerable bodies of the two Jeannes. Baldur's eyes widened fractionally.

"Some power in you, little girl. You don't seem to be the useless waste Lev said you were……"

Sweat was pouring down Mash's brow as she pushed against the strength of the Servant. "I…..won't LET you hurt them!"

Incredibly, impossibly, she managed to push Baldur back, managed to surge to her feet and knock him back, just a little.

Baldur stared at her like she was a particularly interesting bug he'd spotted, crawling across his meal. "You……aren't quite the utter failure Lev said you were. It's almost interesting."

Then he flew forward, sliding under her attempted counter, seizing her hair and kicking her, viciously, in the back. Mash tumbled forward, strands of her hair dangling from Baldur's fingers.

"It's almost a waste to have to kill you." he said, watching as the girl's hair fell from his hand, floating to the ground. "But Lev was very clear - you have to die, if only to make Romani suffer."

Medusa's voice rushed into his head. 'Kratos, we can't win this. We have to get out of here. ….there's a way we can escape, but you're going to have to trust me.'

Kratos tensed his body, watching, waiting for Baldur to make a move. 'What must I do?'

'Have Jeanne and Avenger astralize. I'll only be able to carry two of us…….you'll just have to sling Mash over your shoulders, either fireman's carry or caveman style…….horizontally or vertically, I mean. And I'll need a moment to call him - and even with how little regard he's giving us, I don't think Baldur will give me that moment if he notices what I'm doing.'

Kratos grimaced. A moment. He could do that. 'Gather Mash, make your preparations. I will give you your time.' Across the field, he could see Avenger struggling to her feet, her lips stained red. Jeanne was helping the Avenger up, her flag half-raised, but she too was hurt - and still torn. As much of a brave face as she was putting on, seeing a Servant with her brother's face was unsettling her.

Kratos seized the two similar, yet opposite threads in his mind, and sent. 'I will draw his attention. When I do, astralize. Medusa has a means for us to quit the field.'

The reply from Jeanne was the mental equivalent of a shaky nod. Avenger's reply was much more vulgar, but she too agreed.

Then, it was time for the distraction.

From within him, it erupted. The frustration of having to fight, yet again, after he finally thought he had found some measure of peace in the wake of Ragnarök. The isolation of being away from his allies, his son - for all that they had made a place for him, Chaldea was not his home. The difficulty in dealing with Avenger, in many ways a mirror of a Kratos that he had hoped to never see again. And the anger at seeing Baldur again, a man he did not regret killing, though he had truly wished for another way - but whose stubborn NEED for revenge had tied Kratos' hands.

Red washed over his form as Spartan Rage claimed him, and the Ghost of Sparta once again walked the Earth.


He could have crossed the battlefield in an instant, hurled a haymaker at Baldur, but he knew it would do nothing. He had to get Baldur away from the Jeannes, away from Mash and Medusa, and throwing ineffective punches wouldn't do it. So, if he couldn't touch the man….

……then touch the ground he was standing on.

Kratos' fingers sunk into the ground, and PULLED. The earth shattered, and before he could process what was happening, Kratos tore the very ground from beneath Baldur's feet, and hurled both him, and it, through the air.

If it was anyone else, that might have given them the moment they needed. But Baldur was immune to all threats, physical and magical, said a voice in his head that sounded like….well, a head. The fall would not damage Baldur, nor would crashing through the building that he had aimed him at. He would need to do more to buy the necessary time.

The ground shattered beneath his feet as he flew across the ruined town, smashing through the wall of the building where Baldur had landed. As expected, Baldur was completely unharmed, and waiting on him. Just to confirm, Kratos DID throw that haymaker, and received his confirmation when his fist could not so much as touch a matted hair on the Servant's head.

No matter.

Roaring, in a manner he hoped Baldur would take as impotent rage, Kratos threw a barrage of punches, each one more sloppy than the last. None came anywhere close to connecting, but they seemed to amuse Baldur, if his laughs were any indication.

Good. Every moment he was laughing in here was one moment he wasn't watching Medusa.

Kratos felt it, then. Medusa's string……thrummed, pulling on Kratos' very being, drawing on the magical energies of his divinity to do……something. Her Noble Phantasm, perhaps?

Irrelevant - whatever it was, it was time to depart, before Baldur grew bored enough to counterattack.

The red receded from his vision, as he seized the reins of Spartan Rage and wrenched it back into the recesses of himself. Before the crimson energy had faded from his form, the Blades of Chaos were in his hands, and were sent out wide, shattering through the support pillars of the building.

The building groaned, and Kratos lowered his head and MOVED.

Baldur's crazed laughter followed him out of the collapsing building. "Run all you like! This won't stop me!"

Kratos made it out of the building as the structure fully collapsed. Even with a glance, he could see how the falling timbers and stone shifted in their fall to avoid touching Baldur. But even if he was not buried, he would be hindered, for just a moment.

Hopefully long enough for them to make good their escape.

Kratos rounded the corner to where Medusa had been standing, and, for a moment, his footsteps faltered, as his eyes took in what the woman was astride.

It was white as the purest snow. Majestic wings greater than those of any bird stretched from its sides, unfurled, and ready to take flight.

Pegasus.

So this, then, was why she was classed as a Rider.

(How long, he wondered, had it been since that day he had leapt onto the winged horse's back and attempted to fly to Olympus, consumed with only one thought - to regain his powers as the God of War and make Zeus pay for his betrayal? Decades? Centuries? Or even longer? Sometimes, he wondered what became of the beast.)

Medusa's head turned in his direction, hand outstretched. "Get on! NOW!"

Kratos ran full out towards the winged horse, and did not even pause as he reached Mash, lowering his shoulder and hoisting her bodily without pausing for a second. Then, before the girl's surprised squeak had died out, he was grasping Medusa's hand, and she was swinging him up behind her.

From across the town, there was the sound of wood splintering.

Then they were in the sky.

A bellow of rage followed them out of the burning town……then, a moment later, a roar loud enough to cause the very sky to shake.

'Yeah, bad news, Kratos, but he's not letting you go that easy.' Avenger's voice echoed in his head, sounding almost subdued. 'He reaaaaaalllly wants you dead.'

Kratos twisted his head around to look. Fafnir was right behind them - they had a small lead, one that didn't appear to be shrinking, but Baldur was a tracker - and a tenacious one at that. Merely running would not be enough.

"KRATOS!"

Mash's shield materialized in her hand, and Pegasus' flight dipped noticeably with the sudden addition of a massive hunk of cold metal, before the winged horse adjusted to the increase in weight. A second later, three impacts, so close together that they were almost one, glanced off Mash's shield.

"We're taking fire!" yelled the girl, desperately trying to shield them while still slung over Kratos' shoulder.

'It's Atalanta……..no one else could make those shots from dragon back like that.' Jeanne's voice was calm, despite their increasingly harried situation. 'I can see her from here, she's right beside Baldur on that thing's back……I recognize her, though I don't know how….'

Kratos snapped his shield into place, willing to take whatever extra protection he could manage - he had little hope of being able to spot one of the arrows in the night sky, but he might get lucky and deflect one on sheer chance. Again, he risked another glance behind.

No appreciable gain, either from their pursuers, or in their lead. But he thought he could just see it - a slight form standing on the back of the dragon, unconcerned with the speed at which they were cutting through the air, long hair billowing in the winds, a weapon that could only be a bow held in her hands.

As he watched, five more arrows were loosed from said bow, and this time, Pegasus was forced to dodge, as Mash's shield could not shelter them from every shot. The mystical horse did so almost effortlessly, weaving through the sky with a peerless grace - but by forcing them to evade, their pursuers made up ground. It was the merest fraction of the lead they held, but it put them that much closer to overtaking them.

And Atalanta was unlikely to run out of arrows.

"How long can you maintain the horse?" yelled Kratos.

Medusa laughed, though there was a touch of unease in her laughter. "With you providing me mana? Days! But they'll catch us long before I run out. We need a plan!"

'East!' Avenger's voice boomed in his head. 'Head east! If that really is Baldur, we need to find mistletoe! His bitch-ass spell can't have gone past France's borders! 'Me' even said she didn't see the blight affecting the land that far out!'

It was as good a plan as any.

For a desperate five minutes that seemed like much, much longer, they screamed through the night sky. Medusa stroked her steed's neck, whispering in his ears, praising him, soothing him, cajoling whatever extra speed she could from her mount. Pegasus, for his part, responded. He was a white streak amongst the stars, weaving through Atalanta's fire by the skin of his teeth, but always managing to avoid it.

But every evasion cost them, and the gap between them and the dragon shrank, little by little.

"Mash, left!"

Mash jerked her shield to the left, intercepting an arrow that would have torn through Pegasus' wing. Jeanne was acting as a spotter, apparently just familiar enough with Atalanta to be able to sometimes spot a tricky shot that was hidden in the blind spot of another shot, or one angled to catch Pegasus as he evaded another barrage. She didn't notice everything, but the few she had caught had been lifesaving.

"We should be coming up on Castle Csejte!" shouted Avenger. "If Carmilla was still around, we might have a welcoming party to deal with, but yours truly sent that bitch back to hell, so we should be……."

A pause. Probably only seconds, but it stretched into what felt like a lifetime.

"Are those fucking giant SPEAKERS?"

"HEY HEY PARTY PEOPLE!" A voice exploded across the night, easily audible despite the distance, and the wind screaming past their ears. "I'D LIKE TO THANK YOU FOR COMING TO DRAGON COUNTESS ELI-CHAN'S ONE NIGHT SPECIAL! AND WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE'S MY FIRST HIT SINGLE, COMING RIGHT AT YOU!"

A crackling noise, and an inhaled breath. Then….

"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Kratos had, in his time, fought harpies. He had fought sirens. He had even battled History's Greatest Musician (though he would never speak of it, if he had his way). Sound-based attacks were nothing new to him.

This was worse than all of them combined.

The wave of sound hit them like a physical blow, Pegasus only barely able to stay in the air. Medusa was yelling something - what, he couldn't tell, over the assault on his ears. Mash was shaking in his arms - possibly whimpering, though he was as deaf to that as he was to whatever Medusa was saying. And the Jeannes…..

'Is this hell? Am I in hell? Look, God, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I had no idea you had this shit waiting on me. Give me another chance?'

'Oh Lord…..why hast thou forsaken me……'

They were handling it as well as they could.

The only bright spot was that Fafnir seemed to care for the cacophony as little as they did - and the barrage of arrows had stopped, as well. Whatever this was, it was something of a blessing - a reprieve in exchange for their hearing.

'Pegasus can't keep this up - not in the face of……whatever this is! I'm going to have to dive, hope that it's less bad closer to the ground, with some of the hills to absorb the sound. Hold onto Mash tight!'

Kratos tightened his grip around Mash's waist as their steed plummeted from the sky so suddenly one could think it had suddenly lost the power of flight altogether. But it was a controlled dive, one that leveled off as they grew closer to the ground. Trees, hills, flew by as they cut through the air. And Medusa was correct - the dirge was more tolerable closer to the ground, though it still was like knives in their brains.

Unsurprisingly, Fafnir followed. Bloody froth oozed from his jaws as his wings beat the air, ramming bodily through trees that the smaller Pegasus had to maneuver around, the impacts barely slowing the dragon.

'I'm detecting a Servant ahead!' Jeanne's voice cut through the pain in his skull. 'A strong one, too! Whoever it is, they're making no effort to hide themselves, they're standing out like a beacon!'

As they drew closer to the displaced Castle Csejte, they began to notice other details that seemed out of place, beyond the massive speakers that continued to emit noise.

Banners declaring 'showtimes' in several different languages hung from the gates.

Flashing lights in a variety of colors decorating the castle walls.

Two bright lights, pointed at the highest tower.

And the castle itself showed signs of recent construction - specifically, a somewhat rickety bridge extended from one of the smaller castle towers to a nearby hill.

Atop which perched a man.

Tall, armored in silver and black, with long hair billowing in the wind, and a glowing sigil pulsing on his exposed chest.. A massive two-handed sword was held in his hands, pointed at the sky.

The screeching suddenly died out, leaving their ears aching.

"ARE YOU ALL HAVING A BLAST? I KNOW I AM! BUT, I'M GOING TO HAVE TO HIT THE PAUSE BUTTON FOR A SECOND. YOU'RE A GREAT CROWD, BUT WE'VE GOT SOME GATE-CRASHERS TO OUR PARTY, SO YOUR FAVORITE IDOL'S GOING TO STEP ASIDE SO SECURITY CAN ESCORT THEM OUT. SIGGY-WOOGY, YOU'RE UP!"

"That's motherfucking SIEGFRIED!" Avenger's voice held a note of panic. "DIVE! BANK! Do SOMETHING, but get us the HELL out of anywhere in between him and that fucking dragon on our tail, NOW!"

Medusa had barely pulled on the reins to bank Pegasus to the side when, from behind them, there came the shriek of the purest rage. Across the distance, they could faintly hear cursing as Baldur struggled to rein in his mount.

On the hill, the man clenched his hands around the hilt of his blade, and then took a step back, setting his feet firmly into the ground. He twisted the grip, and even across the distance, all watching heard an audible click, and saw a flash of light between the man's hands.

Medusa was pulling the reins hard, urging Pegasus to the side - Baldur had lost all control of Fafnir, who had eyes only for the man standing on the hill, no longer caring about his former quarry, who were desperately trying to keep from being caught in the middle.

The man's mouth moved. Impossibly, his voice carried across the night.

"The evil dragon shall fall, and the world will reach its sunset….."

"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT! GET US OUT OF THE LINE OF FIRE!"

"I am TRYING!" Medusa kicked her heels into the winged horse's sides, and Pegasus dove even lower, barely skimming over the ground.

"I shall bring you down!" The blade of the sword erupted into a torrent of magical energy, a beam of light extending from his sword, piercing the clouds.

He raised his sword above his head, arms tensing, as Fafnir drew closer, and closer.

Then, he brought his sword down.

"BALMUNG!"

Power exploded from the sword, a beam that dwarfed the first exploding from his blade. A torrent of pure magical energy screamed across the distance in the blink of an eye.

They got out of the way, but only just barely. Even then, proximity alone was enough to blast Pegasus from the air, sending him crashing to the ground - had Medusa not dropped them to the point where they had been almost touching the wilted grass, their fall would have been much, much worse.

Fafnir did not fare so well.

The Servant's Noble Phantasm crashed against its antithesis and reacted. Foul, polluted blood rained down on the soil of France as Balmung's released power carved into Fafnir's flesh. The dragon's shriek of pain caused the landscape to shake from the sheer power of it.

Then, it was over.

Fafnir hung there, still alive, but horribly wounded. Siegfried had flayed a good portion of the dragon's chest and flank almost to the bone - but somehow, Fafnir still had enough strength to maintain his altitude, blood pouring from its wounds.

Across the impasse, Siegfried drew himself back up, and observed his handiwork. "Hmm."

Balmung was raised again, pointing to the sky. Once more, armored hands twisted, and an audible click could be heard.

Fafnir shrieked, and went berserk with fear. Wings beating almost so fast they couldn't be seen, Fafnir turned and fled. Baldur's cursing vanished in the wind as the dragon drew farther and farther away.

For a long moment, Siegfried held his stance - then lowered his sword, and nodded.

Kratos picked himself up off the ground. "Injuries?" he yelled, casting about the area in which they had crash landed for the rest of his group. He himself was barely even banged up - compared to some of the falls he had taken in his time, this was little worse than tripping over a root in the forest.

"I'm ok, Mr. Kratos!" replied Mash. "You took the brunt of the fall, and managed to shield me against the worst of it. Thank you!"

Avenger popped into being. "I'm fine. Can't really take a fall in Spirit Form, but that was cutting it WAY too fucking close. I'd rather have my gums scraped than be smack dab in the middle of Siegfried and Fafnir again."

Medusa was kneeling by her steed, gently stroking its sides. "I am unharmed, but Pegasus strained a wing in the fall." She carefully ran her fingers across the wing in question, tension in her body every time the horse whinnied in pain at her touch. "Shhhhhh……you did so good. I'm going to have to dismiss him to let him mend - I should still be able to call on him for my Noble Phantasm, if need be, but he won't be able to carry us again until he heals."

"Well, I suppose that answers the question of who YOU are, then."

The voice came from above them. Almost reflexively, Avenger ignited a ball of flame and sent it upwards, illuminating the clearing where they were huddled, and exposing the speaker.

She was seated on the edge of a nearby hill, white-stockinged legs dangling in the air as she looked down on them. She appeared young, a girl on the cusp of adulthood, but not quite there yet. A strange green robe was wrapped around her form, while long hair a shade lighter than the robe blew in the wind. A simple fan was grasped in her hand, being tapped in her palm as she observed them. All in all, she would have been the picture of a noble maiden, if not for the white horns that sprouted from her head.

"Strange though, we hadn't heard that the famous Gorgon had been summoned by the Dragon Witch." Her head tilted back. "Now, we have been busy getting the gecko's castle ready for her concert, but I think we would have heard of the Pegasus putting in an appearance in France. And that still begs the question of why Fafnir was chasing you………curious, wouldn't you say, Dragonslayer?"

"Yes, lady. When last I had occasion to cross paths with the Dragon Witch, she and Fafnir were aligned." The knight, Siegfried, if the Jeannes were correct, strode into the clearing, blade held in his hands, but not yet raised. "By all appearances, it appeared that Fafnir was chasing these people……..one of which, I can say with some certainty IS the Dragon Witch."

Avenger glared at the man, but managed to keep from raising her spear at a look from Kratos.

"Though she has seen better days," continued the man. "The other two, I don't know……but I believe you can feel it, as I can, lady. That man is a god."

The girl's lips thinned, and she snapped her fan out, and began fanning herself. "While I find lies abhorrent, I must confess that a part of me hoped you were lying just now." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then again, suffering does lead to a better karma in the next life……..what he went through in the bell might have been enough to see him reincarnate as the divine……but he's so hairy……..but look at those abs….."

"Please…..we are not your enemies." Jeanne materialized in a shower of gold, hands raised, and if the two Servants were confused, it was nothing compared to their reaction at her appearance.

"There are two of them. Two Dragon Witches." The girl peered down at Siegfried. "Why are there TWO Dragon Witches, Siegfried? You never said she had a twin." Her voice dropped, a dangerous tone creeping into it. "Did you lie to us?"

Siegfried shook his head. "No, lady. That woman is not the Dragon Witch. I do not know how I know, but I do know it. That is the Maid of Orleans herself." He frowned. "I do not ever recall meeting her, and yet……I would swear upon my honor as a knight that this is she."

For a moment, in his mind's eye, he thought he saw a boy - young, like his companion here, dressed in simple, yet finely made clothes, red eyes so earnest that they seemed to pierce his very being. Then, the image was gone.

The girl sighed. "More truth. This just keeps getting more complicated." She rose to her feet. "As you haven't made a move to attack us, can I trust that if I offer a temporary truce, you will honor it?"

Jeanne glanced back at Kratos who nodded. "Your terms are acceptable."

"Such a deep voice. And….he tells the truth……..I wonder…..could it….." Then she shook herself, and continued in a louder voice. "Very well. The lizard should be here shortly, and it will save us the trouble of going over this whole mess a second time……and possibly a third, when she doesn't get it the first time."

Both sides settled in to wait in a tense sort of stalemate. Medusa, with a few more soothing words, dismissed Pegasus, then strode over to wait by Kratos' side. The horned girl paid them little attention, idly playing with her fan - and surreptitiously stealing glances at Kratos. Siegfried, for his part, kept his eyes on them at all times - no hostility in his gaze, but not taking chances, either.

'Kratos, the girl keeps glancing at you out of the side of her eye.' Medusa's voice sounded in his head. 'Please tell me this isn't another one of your friends from back home."

'I have never laid eyes upon this girl before. If this was another Baldur, they would have identified themselves. My enemies were not the sort to hide who they were.' He pointedly tried not to think of the Gravekeeper, who had been Zeus in disguise, or the fake Tyr who had taken Brok from them. 'At least, most of them were not. Still, I do not feel hostility from this girl.'

Medusa glanced at the girl, who was pretending to fan herself, but was very obviously peering through her bangs at the Spartan, then back at Kratos, who was very pointedly ignoring the attention he was receiving, and pointedly raised an eyebrow at the man. Then she shrugged, and settled back to wait.

Within a few minutes, they could hear the sound of leathery wings beating the air. Almost immediately, weapons appeared in their hands, and their eyes leapt to the sky, expecting to see a flight of wyverns inbound.

"No, you can put your weapons down." Siegfried was shaking his head. "What you hear is our ally - she can fly, a little, though I do admit it does sound much like the wyverns that infest this land."

"You'd think she would have realized that arriving in such a manner given the pests flying around everywhere wouldn't be the smartest of ideas, but I suppose she has some ridiculous justification about how idols MUST always make a flashy entrance," griped the girl, rubbing at her forehead.

After a moment, the owner of the wings descended, landing next to the girl in the robe, and they got their first look at her.

Pink. So MUCH pink. Her outfit was drowning in the color - and that was the least of its crimes, to Kratos' eyes. It was covered in frills, ruffles, and other frivolous decorations - a row of roses (pink ones, of COURSE) circled her waist. Her shoes were impractical in both the length of the heels and the massive spike that sprouted from the toe (even kicking someone with the spike would be difficult, given its placement). Long gloves, also frilled at both ends, covered her arms.

And the hat. It was of a style of the hat that Lev had worn - if that hat had been blown up to four times its size, and been decorated by children that had been plied with too much sugar. Another row of roses was in attendance, and the brim somehow managed to stay up despite supporting a horde of stuffed animals.

And the girl herself was equally as outlandish as her clothes. Aggressively pink hair streamed down her back in a cascade. Her fingers more resembled claws - long pink ones (Kratos was beginning to sense a theme). And a long, serpentine tail lashed behind her - with a bow tied where the tail forked into two. A pair of black wings sprouted from her back, then folded themselves up and vanished into nothingness.

The only thing remotely martial in her aspect was the long spear she held in one hand, and even that was decorated with pink (Kratos was beginning to discover a deep loathing for that color) gems - seeming more like a child's toy than a weapon of war.

She strode to the edge of the hill and peered down at Kratos' group, hands imperiously on her hips. She blinked, then took another, harder look - then looked between the Jeannes, raising one finger, then a second, then repeated those motions.

Her cheeks puffed out as she whirled on the green-haired girl, grasping her by the collar. "Why are there TWO of them? Am I seeing double?? Is my post-concert high so big I'm hallucinating? Explain, garter snake, explaaaaaaaaain!" She began shaking the girl, to her chagrin.

"Stop that, you." The girl swatted the pink menace's hands away with her fan, then took a step back, out of grabbing range. "We were actually waiting on you to arrive for an explanation - they've agreed to a temporary truce." She frowned. "And why are you still wearing that ridiculous outfit? You couldn't possibly fight in it."

The pink one sniffed. "Pfft, what if they were my FANS? They don't want to see boring regular Liz, especially not after such a great concert like that. They want to see Dragon Countess Eli-chan!" One of her hands flew up to her face, index and middle fingers extended, and Kratos swore he saw a little star flash into existence for a split second.

(Some part of him wondered if the din from earlier had broken his mind, and he was only now noticing it.)

'Liz' puffed out a sigh. "But you're probably right with your stupid cold-blooded snake logic. Better change." Particles of light poured off the girl, and the impractical outfit from before vanished, being replaced by something much more simple - though still ridiculous. A comparatively simple black dress, with the skirt flared up to where it was almost horizontal. With the travesty of a hat gone, all could see a pair of curling horns (pink, naturally) sprouting from her head.

She dusted herself off, then spun around to once again glare down on Kratos' group. "Ok, now that that's done, someone want to tell me what the hell's going on here?"

"Yes, we would all like to know that," said the green-haired girl. "Why is the Dragon Witch here, standing alongside the Maid of Orleans? Why was Fafnir chasing you? Why is there an incarnated god here? And, most importantly…." She drew herself up to her full height, her face becoming implacable and serious. "......would your name happen to be 'Anchin'?"

Liz stumbled, then recovered herself, and then whirled to glare at the other girl. "THAT'S the thing you think is most important? Not the twins down there, or Medusa, but your stalker fantasies?"

The girl sniffed, turning her nose up at Liz. "Obviously. And why are you NOT concerned about the fact that an incarnated god is standing before us……..and might be my Anchin."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I mean, DUH. It's obvious he's a fan! My singing was so wonderful that even gods are coming to hear me! It won't be long before I'm being asked to bring my act to the Other Side of the World!"

The girls' face was carefully blank. Her voice, however, was not. "You CANNOT be that delusional, you gila monster."

"At least I'm not already planning on ways to sneak under his bed, you moccasin."

The conversation devolved from there, as ever more childish insults began being volleyed between the two girls. Dimly, Kratos felt a headache coming on. "What….is happening?"

"I'm sorry. They get that way sometimes." Siegfried had walked up to the group as the argument on the hill ceased using any actual language, and was just two girls hissing at each other. "I came across them on the coast, defending Marseille from a host of wyverns and the walking dead. They were sorely pressed, so I lent my aid to them. At the time, I thought they were friends - and I still think they are. But sometimes…..this happens."

The two girls were almost nose-to-nose. Hair hadn't started getting pulled yet, but it almost seemed like it was a matter of time.

"You have been traveling with them ever since, Siegfried?" asked Jeanne.

The man nodded. "Yes. After I saw off the wyverns, Elizabeth there kept talking about how good of a 'bouncer' I would be, and insisted I accompany them. While I am unfamiliar with the term, a knight could not allow two young maidens to wander the wilds of France alone."

"And I love you for it, Siggy-Woogy!" Liz paused in her fight with the other girl to beam down at Siegfried, making an exaggerated 'heart' symbol with her hands. "Best. Security. EVER! You're going to be SO good at keeping the creepers at bay at handshake events!"

Kratos was speechless - the dragon girl was using words, but he failed to grasp their meaning. And from the looks of things, Avenger was equally, if not more, baffled than he was, while the rest of their group followed in their wake of confusion.

Siegfried scratched the back of his head, almost sheepishly. "As I said, I couldn't leave them to their own devices. Then, a day ago, we came across the castle here, and found it abandoned. We'd had some tentative plans of dealing with its owner, since she'd been raiding the coastal towns and Lyon for victims, but it was empty. So, Liz insisted we make it our base."

Avenger spat to the side. "Yeah, Carmilla's signing the guest register in hell. I fricasseed her yesterday. Traitorous bitch got what was coming to her."

The argument above them paused - or at least, one half of it did. The green haired girl continued throwing insults at the other, almost automatically, not registering that her opponent had stopped responding. Then, so fast it was like she had teleported, Liz was standing right in front of the Avenger, her eyes wide.

"Wait. Say that again. You killed that old hag?" Her eyes were boring holes through the former Dragon Witch.

Avenger, incredibly, took a half step back at the girl's sudden appearance, and the intensity of the gaze being directed at her. "Yeah, I did. What of it?"

Liz's eyes got somehow even wider, and began brimming with tears. She took a deep breath, and then flung herself at the Avenger, arms wide. "BESSSSSTTTTTIIIIEEEEE!"

She threw her arms around the confused woman, hugging her tight, and rubbing her face against hers. "I mean, it's not as good as if I got to deal with that horrible decrepit old woman myself, but I'll take it! Long as she's gone, I consider that a net win! OOOOOO, you've GOT to join my group! You've got that chunni/goth thing going on, it'd bring in a WHOLE new crowd for me! What can you sing? Tell me it's Death Metal! Please tell me it's Death Metal! Oh, another member! Even my frienemy/rival doesn't have a second member in her group! Take that, you Roman nutcase!"

As Liz continued to babble nonsense and badger the increasingly flustered Avenger with questions, never once relinquishing her hold on the woman, Kratos…..stared.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "What…….is happening?"

Siegfried smiled, almost fondly. "I suppose there's little point in keeping it a secret, I see Ruler there has figured it out. The girl there is Elizabeth Bathory. She seems to be obsessed with being an 'idol'........whatever that is. It doesn't seem to hold the religious connotations the word did in my time. Mostly it seems to involve singing, from what I've picked up."

Mash blinked. "Wait….Elizabeth Bathory……you mean that girl is CARMILLA? The Carmilla we fought?"

Siegfried nodded. "A much younger version of her, yes. And…..be careful with that name, she doesn't care much for her future self."

"Who WOULD like that miserable old vampire wanna-be? Skulking about, bathing in blood, withering away like that." Liz huffed, still maintaining her deathgrip on Avenger, despite the woman's increasingly frantic efforts to escape. "I'm going to be young and cute and wonderful forever, and do everything I can to NEVER turn into her, and she hates me for it. And that starts with becoming the best idol the world's ever SEEN, alongside my new BESTIE!"

"But…..she's you, just like you're her." Mash looked confused. "And you're a Servant…..you won't age or change…..you can't become her."

"Oh, the salamander there isn't about to let something like logic get in the way of her beliefs." The green-haired girl had joined them on the ground, standing a bit behind Siegfried. "I must say, the Dragon Witch is being much more tolerant of her insanity than I had expected from her title."

Jeanne glanced over at her clone, who was now being bombarded with suggestions for a 'group name', and asked what she wanted her group color to be. "Despite her name, Avenger has largely behaved herself since we had reason to make common cause with her."

The girl blinked. "THAT'S an Avenger?" She took another look at the other Jeanne, who was increasingly looking like she wanted someone, anyone, to save her from the tidal wave of pink that was still clinging to her. "It seems like there's quite a story there."

Kratos grunted. "The Avenger is our ally, for the time being, as we attempt to resolve this Singularity." An alliance he increasingly hoped did not last past the resolution of this age.

Siegfried stood up a bit straighter, if that was possible. "Then, you are here to save France? But from whom, if the Dragon Witch is standing alongside you?"

"We're from an organization in the future called Chaldea," stated Mash. "We were sent back here to get France back on the proper path of history…….but a traitor from Chaldea also traveled back to this time, and gave the Dragon Witch a catalyst. She used it to summon an enemy of Kratos', who ended up turning on her."

The girl frowned. "That would explain her missing arm, and general condition. And I suppose her class." Her lips pursed, and her fan snapped closed. "Being betrayed like that by someone can make a person do…….terrible things."

Siegfried's hand had reached up to cup his chin, as he considered Kratos' group. "It seems we have much to discuss. As you may have guessed, all three of us are Rogue Servants summoned by the land to fix the issues plaguing France. If you are here to resolve the Singularity, I believe that we should sit down and talk."

"You all should come to my castle!" blurted Liz. "We can hammer out the deets of everything, and then, after that, my bestie and I can have a sleepover! We can stay up late and braid each other's hair and talk about boys and tell each other secrets! And karaoke! Oh, it'll be SO much FUN!" The increasingly hyper girl began bouncing up and down.

Avenger's voice boomed into Kratos' head. It was a single word only. 'HELP!'

Kratos ignored her. "Your offer of shelter is acceptable." A shriek of pure betrayal echoed in his head.

They set off not long after that - thankfully the castle was not far from where they had landed. Avenger found herself unable to detach from Elizabeth, the girl sticking by her side as if she had been nailed there. Siegfried led the party, Jeanne just slightly behind him, the two talking softly, with a familiarity that seemed to fly in the face of this being their first meeting.

Kratos found himself escorted by the third member of the Rogue Servants, Mash and Medusa trailing just a bit behind him.

"So…..your name is Kratos then?" asked the girl, peering up at him through her bangs.

"Yes," he replied.

She tapped her fan against her palm, seeming to weigh her words. "Does the name 'Anchin' mean anything to you?"

"No," he stated, bluntly. "Whomever you think I might be, I am not he. I am not a god of this world."

"Not of this world……how….," she shook her head. "No, I'm sure you'll explain yourself once we reach the castle…….has my Anchin missed me so he came from another world entirely to be with me…….the passage to another world could have done something to his memory….."

There was silence for a moment, then Kratos spoke. "Your name?" The girl blinked up at him, startled out of her thoughts. "What am I to call you, girl?"

She blushed. "Oh, how rude of me. My apologies. I am Kiyohime, Berserker class Servant. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Kratos." She bowed formally, somehow managing to make it look graceful despite continuing to walk.

Medusa's voice sounded in his head, a note of alarm in her voice. "Kratos…….this is very, VERY bad. I'll explain later, but for now, never EVER lie to that girl. Not even half-truths. TRUST me on this.'

Kratos growled, low and barely audible. Not lying he could do……but as his relationship with Atreus had shown, half-truths were a habit of his he'd been trying to break, even since the many, many problems they had caused, both in the journey to spread Faye's ashes, and later, during Ragnarök.

After a few minutes of walking, and more glances at Kratos out of the side of her eyes by Kiyohime, they reached the castle gates.

Liz pranced to the front of the line, and swept her arms in front of her, gesturing at the castle. "Welcome, my guests, to MY Castle Csejte!"

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And the Lizard, Kiyo, and Siegfried join the battle. Honestly surprised that when I put in a line about Castle Csejte that no one twigged to the fact that Liz would steal that and put it under new management, with old management having gotten roasted by JAlter. Especially since we went through no less than FOUR Halloweens of Insanity (NA player - I don't know if the castle features in the Alter Ego SmoLiz Halloween we've got coming this year) that revolved around that damn castle. But that wouldn't be the first thing I've put in there that I expected to get some commentary that didn't, and won't be the last (I really thought someone would say something about Kratos having read the Art of War in his downtime at Chaldea). If nothing else, glad it flew under the radar.

Ah, Baldur. Odin's tool in God of War, and just stupid enough to be Lev's tool in the Nasuverse. I don't know if Goetia COULD use the Second Magic - I think probably - but it doesn't matter if he can or can't. All that matters is Baldur THINKS he can, and he's blinded by a need for vengeance against his mother enough that he can be led about by the nose.

I blame Marin Kitagawa calling her buddy Nowa 'Soogie-Woogie' for Liz's nickname for Siegfried.

It has a bit of awhile since I've seen Kiyo in the story, and the early writing in FGO wasn't the best for establishing her - and I don't think I've EVER used her in battle. Let me know if I'm terribly off in her characterization. Siegfried and Liz I have a better grasp of, given they've been with me since the tutorial gatcha, and I've got a handle on their personalities through their battle lines and such - and Apoc for Siegfried and our yearly Halloween torture from the Lizard.

I am a Nero fan - she's my waifu prime, so I know where I come down on the Nero v Liz rivalry. But man, if I didn't have fun writing the Lizard this chapter. I am fond of the little miscreant.

Apparently the cure for a sluggish writing pace is Liz, because damn if things didn't start flowing like a river when I started writing her.

I originally thought to end the chapter with Kiyo asking if Kratos' name was Anchin, but my muse wouldn't let me stop. So we got more. There's already been one 'fill folks in on the details' bit in this chapter with Jeanne, so this stopping point will let us brush past that somewhat, so we don't end up rehashing content too much.

Also putting up an informational chapter on Baldur, so look for that.

Chapter 17: Orleans 6

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 17

ORLEANS

APPROXIMATELY ONE HOUR AFTER THE BATTLE OVER CSEJTE CASTLE​

Baldur's fist reduced a wall to rubble. "Stupid beast! It's lucky I still need it, or I'd tear it apart with my bare hands!" Seething, he reared back to take another swing at the wall, but a hand wrapped itself around his wrist.

Atalanta. "Baldur, calm down." For a moment, his fury surged to the forefront, but, as ever, the woman's patient eyes and gentle touch managed to soothe his bubbling rage. When she felt the tension leave his arm, she released his wrist.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you calm enough to listen, now, or do you need to go throw that Black Knight around for a bit until you are?"

Baldur took a deep breath, some part of him still overjoyed with the fact that he could feel the breath in his lungs - nevermind that Servants didn't need to breathe, after what felt like lifetimes with no sense of touch at all, every sensation now was something to be savored. "Talk. I'll listen." The Berserker would always be there afterwards if he still needed something to hit.

She gave him a considering look, then nodded - apparently he had passed muster. "How badly is Fafnir hurt? They know who you are now, which means they know how to beat you - we'd always planned on taking them out in the first encounter, before they had time to scheme up some way to get their hands on mistletoe, but now…."

She didn't need to spell it out. Kratos knew his weakness from their last encounter in their world - damn that mewling brat and his hidden barb. Even if he had broken the curse his thrice be-damned mother had put on him, that wound had led to his death - and had shown Kratos how to kill him here - for all that the tales of his family weren't quite the same in this strange world (who the fuck was this 'Loki' that kept showing up in the stories?), some things remained the same.

Like what the fatal weakness of this world's Baldur had been.

"He's not going to be able to fly for at least a day. Even beyond what that Servant did to him, he ripped his wings to shreds trying to get away. I can only siphon so much of the power off the Grail to heal him - too much, and the land will stop dying." And they couldn't risk that. Even a shoot of newly grown mistletoe would be enough to kill him, if it was used right.

Damn this world's version of his mother - for all that she'd managed a spell that didn't make living a complete nightmare, it made mistletoe into an even greater bane than it had been for him. If she wasn't already dead in this world, once Kratos was a broken corpse, he'd track her down and kill her too. A warm up for killing his real mother.

"So, then, that gives them a day." Atalanta pursed her lips. "They're not close enough to the border to get there in a day, so we should be safe."

Baldur sneered, though there was little bite in it. "You're forgetting that damn horse - Pegasus, I think?" The voices in his head he could deal with - this world's version of him hadn't said much since he'd established his dominance when they'd all first gotten thrown together in this body, and the Ruler's brother seemed to have tired himself out for now, but the information from the Throne was something he was still getting used to. He'd known Tyr had traveled outside the realms - it was one reason the All-Father had never trusted the late god of war, but he'd been largely ignorant of them in his life. But the second he'd laid eyes on that white, winged horse, suddenly his mind had been filled with the tale of a monster from lands far outside Midgard.

Medusa. A different kind of snake monster than the one that slept in the Lake of the Nine - and who he'd hurt trying to draw out his quarry and his whelp, but one that would have been seen as worth killing for the glory of it in his lands. Shame Servants didn't leave any parts behind - it wasn't really proper among Asgard's warriors to kill a monster like that and not bring back a trophy of your deeds.

Atalanta brought him back from his musings with a shake of her head. "No, you were too busy trying to reign in Fafnir, but I saw them get blasted from the air by Siegfried's Noble Phantasm. Even if they didn't fall far…..horses are shockingly fragile things in some ways, and being that close to a released Noble Phantasm couldn't have been good for him in his unreleased state." Had that been Pegasus released as Medusa's Noble Phantasm, that would have been one thing, but this was him merely as a means of transport - and while he lost none of the speed that was his birthright, he wasn't nearly as durable without a full release to power him.

"So, you think they won't be able to use him to rush across the border and gather up some mistletoe before our beast heals enough to fly again?"

"It's what my instincts are telling me. Normal horses can end up lame from a simple fall - now imagine a winged horse taking a tumble out of the sky from being too close to a wave of power like that." She shrugged. "And it's our only chance - if they have a day's respite to do nothing but skirt across the border and forage……."

She didn't need to elaborate. He might have belittled Kratos both before and after his death, but the man could fight. He'd beaten Baldur two separate times in Midgard - the last one leading to his death, and while he hadn't won their most recent battle, he'd escaped with his life. If he managed to lay his hands on the means to actually hurt Baldur, the odds looked grim.

"And the wyverns aren't smart enough to handle being told to patrol. Stupid things don't even understand 'borders' - and by sending them we'd be risking some other land summoning yet more Rogue Servants to interfere." Damn the man - he'd somehow stumbled into the perfect position to screw them over.

She gave him a half-smile. "If it's any comfort, I do feel good about my gut feeling here. While I never met the Pegasus while I was alive, it WAS from my lands - and I'm familiar enough with the legend to make guesses about its relative abilities. I don't think it was able to walk - or more correctly, fly away from that landing."

"If you're wrong….."

"Yes, if I'm wrong, we're all dead, and your mother will never pay for what she did to you." Her eyes turned cold and hard. "So, for all our sakes, let's hope I'm not wrong."

She blinked, as a flash of inspiration hit. "Actually, I might have an idea……"

---

 

CASTLE CSEJTE​

"So, we're agreed?" Siegfried looked around the various people sitting at the massive table that made up Castle Csejte's dining hall. "An alliance between we three Rogue Servants and Chaldea, to set right the course of history."

Liz nodded enthusiastically. "No problems here! I get to fight alongside my spear bestie while we take our group on tour!" Avenger didn't even raise her head from where it was resting on the table, just gurgled something in response that sounded very, very defeated.

Mash beamed at the knight. "It's an honor to fight alongside you, Sir Siegfried."

"Seconded," chimed in Da Vinci from the communicator, which had been placed in the center of the table, allowing the observers from Chaldea to monitor the entire room. "It's nice to find some more allies, particularly ones as potent as the hero of Der Ring des Nibelungen. Particularly when the other side has his direct opposite working for them."

Siegfried bowed his head slightly. "Your words do me too much credit, fair ladies. I feel I must apologize for failing to slay Fafnir earlier when he presented himself before me."

"Oh Siggy-Woogy, always with the apologizing." Liz reached over and began to poke Siegfried in the side - an act that accomplished all of nothing, given the man's invulnerable skin - but it seemed to amuse the girl all the same. "I suppose I get the humility thing, but there's such a thing as taking it too far."

"Indeed," said Kiyohime. "And from what our new allies have told us, driving the dragon off was probably the best possible outcome." Her fan tapped on the table. "While Atalanta might have been killed, or injured in the fall, Baldur wouldn't have been. And none of us have a way to harm him. And while you're largely invulnerable, Dragonslayer, you aren't completely impervious to harm."

"That does seem to be the one hurdle we don't currently possess a means of overcoming," mused Medusa. "Baldur's legend makes it very clear what we need to kill him, but our access to it has been effectively cut off. And with Pegasus injured, it would take far too long to cross the borders of France and return - more so as we don't know how long it will take them to patch up Fafnir."

"If you could get me on the field, I could take care of him like that," Cu snapped his fingers. "Much as I might not enjoy being stuck as a stupid Caster, it's actually useful for a change, since that means I'm a freakin' druid. Mistletoe was KIND of important to us, and you can guess what my pouches are full of."

"Booze?" asked Da Vinci.

"No…..but yes, but also screw you." Cu paid no attention to his fellow Caster's laugh. "I've got all the standard druidic tools, and, you guessed it, mistletoe here. If you can get me on the field, I can take that bodysnatcher out of the game. Problem with that is…."

"Our only means of summoning you requires us to be in Orleans," stated Kratos.

"Yeah," Cu frowned. "Right in the damn belly of the beast. As far as plans go, it's only slightly less suicidal than trying to fight an entire army by yourself - and I don't think any of you are eager to emulate the way I went out. And I had an army I was buying time for, so me dying didn't cost us the war. We lose you guys, and it's game over, unless the girl in the coma wakes up sometime soon."

Jeanne looked out over steepled fingers. "The Servants they have, at least, aren't too formidable. Charles Henri-Sanson is fairly modern, and shouldn't be able to stand against anyone in this room - I feel I've recovered enough of my power by now that I should be able to handle him. Atalanta…."

She frowned. "Atalanta is dangerous, but…..again, as with Siegfried, I feel I know her - and that I've bested her once before, or at least was able to fight her evenly. Based on the Servants we have assembled here, I believe we would be able to defeat her. That only leaves…."

"The Black Knight," stated Siegfried. "I crossed blades with him once before, after the first time the Dragon Witch and I clashed. His madness has robbed him of none of his skill, and combined with his ability to turn anything into a weapon……..are you quite certain you were never able to discern his identity, Avenger?"

"I got nothing," said Avenger, still not raising her head. "And believe me, I've tried to remember something about that fucker, but that armor and that mist of his obscured EVERYTHING. And he was so batshit he couldn't manage much other than some incoherent yelling, with the occasional 'ARRRRRTHURRRRR' thrown in, so I couldn't MAKE him tell me who he was."

"The name 'Arthur' does imply that he might be one of the Knights of the Round Table," suggested Mash. "Arthur Pendragon is probably the most famous person to bear that name in history, so……"

"Odds would tend to favor it," agreed Da Vinci.

[..........that had BETTER not be you, old man. You were always a disappointment, but this would be something else. A Berserker, really?]

Kratos grunted. "We assume nothing. We will treat this Black Knight as a dangerous combatant, and nothing more, until we can find some clue to his identity…..or we kill him."

"As practical as ever, Kratos," said Da Vinci, but she was smiling. "And that just leaves Fafnir and however many wyverns they have - and we have the perfect answer to those in our Dragonslayer here. The walking dead should have lost the magic animating them with Vlad and Carmilla dead, so we shouldn't have to worry about them anymore."

Kratos considered for a moment, then spoke. "Baldur spoke of knowing Freya's magics - at one point, I saw her raise the corpse of a giant, one worthy of the name - Thamur, and control the body in an effort to keep her son and myself apart."

Cu gave a low whistle. "Thamur…..can't say I've heard of that one. Must be another difference between your world and ours. But even so, that's actually pretty dang impressive, to animate a body that big and control it, especially for a long time. The mana costs for my Wicker Man are pretty horrendous, and that's just for the short time I need it to torch someone. If she had it up and fighting for an extended period of time…." He titled his head back, thinking. "You think he can pull something like that off here?"

"I….do not know." Kratos furrowed his brow, thinking back. "The Baldur I fought had some control of fire and ice, but they were mere attacks. He never showed any signs of knowing seiðr. At least, not as his mother does." Though that could have been any combination of his loathing of his mother causing him to forswear the ability and his overconfidence in his invulnerability.

"We'll put down more undead as a 'maybe', then," commented Da Vinci. "If nothing else, they're not much of a threat to you or the Servants, other than in numbers. And even the horde back at Castle Dracula didn't do much to slow you down."

"Way too many unknowns," mused Romani. "Who this Black Knight is, what exactly Baldur can do, and the point we keep coming back to - how are we going to stop him?"

Everyone, even Liz, who had been somewhat continually barraging Avenger with questions and exclamations, grew quiet.

Jeanne was the first to speak. "It seems we have two options. We either have to acquire mistletoe from outside the borders of France, or find a leyline to bring our Caster into the field."

"And do so before Fafnir recovers enough to fly again. If they come upon us before Pegasus is healed, we won't be able to escape like we did last time." Medusa paused, thinking. "Though, now that they've seen him, I wouldn't promise we could escape that way again, even if he was fully mended. With all you've said about Baldur tonight, you've never said he's stupid. Now that he knows I can do that, he's probably thinking of some way to counter that. And even if he isn't, Atalanta is."

Kratos grunted. Her thinking aligned with his - back in Ragnarök, when it looked like a fight with Heimdall had been unavoidable, the first thing their group had begun to plot out was how to overcome his ability of Foresight. If Baldur was not doing the same thing with regards to Pegasus, he was even more foolish and short-sighted than Kratos believed him to be. "How far to the border?"

"A day and a half to two days by foot," replied Jeanne. "For Servants, if we ran the whole way, maybe a little more than a day."

"Within a reasonable timeframe," mused Da Vinci. "But once you get across the border, then the problem becomes FINDING mistletoe or a leyline. Worst case scenario, Fafnir descends on you before you do, while you're still worn down from the run."

"And that's not even factoring into what the border countries' response might be to a group from France straying across the border." Jeanne's face was drawn. "I'd rather avoid having to fight and possibly kill the soldiers of other countries if at all possible. There's been enough unneeded death in France alone……..I don't want to add to that tally, if we can."

"It's probably better if we avoid damaging the timeline too much," said Romani. "We don't know if Lev's group has managed to completely shut the Counter Force out of the loop - if we start running around doing the same thing as them, even accidentally, they might end up lumping us in with them. Either as an honest mistake or simple expediency. We have enough enemies at the moment without looking for more."

Whatever reply anyone would have been about to make was broken up by Mash yawning. The girl tried to stifle it, but with Fou already sound asleep in her arms, it was a foregone conclusion.

"It is late," stated Siegfried, favoring the now blushing girl with a gentle smile. "Perhaps it would be best to sleep on this - or at least think on it, for those of us who do not require sleep. We can reconvene in the morning with fresh eyes and minds."

"Good idea - I need to make sure Roman gets something in his system besides cold coffee, and make sure he gets some rest, especially if we're possibly heading into Orleans in the immediate future." Da Vinci seized the collar of Roman's shirt, and forcibly dragged the man to his feet. "Get some rest, Kratos, Mash, and everyone else. We'll talk in the morning." And with that, the communicator winked out.

Siegfried rose to his feet. "I will go stand watch. Lady Kiyohime, would you show our guests to the guest chambers?"

"Of course," she said, turning to the Chaldea group. "If you'll follow me. There's enough spare bedrooms on this level of the castle that you'll have your pick of them."

Mash wearily made her way to her feet, Fou still dead to the world in her arms. Medusa stood as well, but shook her head. "I think I could use some air before that, if it's not too much trouble? Go ahead and show Mash where she can bed down for the night, and I'll find my way there later." The girl nodded. "Good. Kratos, if I could have a moment?"

Kratos nodded, part of him watching out of the corner of his eye as Avenger was practically dragged out of the room by an increasingly hyper Liz - who was also dragging Jeanne along for the ride, insisting that her 'besties' twin sister' needed to be included in the 'sleepover'. Jeanne's face was halfway to baffled, while Avenger just looked resigned to her fate.

A moment later, he was standing on the ramparts of Castle Csejte, feeling the cool night air wash over him. Medusa was already leaning against the ramparts, her hair being caught by the wind, a frown on her face.

"Alright, about Kiyohime - I know you're wondering why I had the reaction I did to hearing her name. It isn't just that she's a Berserker - though that does factor into why she's so dangerous. You're probably wondering why she seems so rational, aren't you?"

Kratos nodded. "The Berserker in Fuyuki was not even capable of speech. He still possessed his combat skills, but those were the only things that kept him from being a mindless beast." It rankled, still, somewhat. He might not have been on the best terms with his half-brother, but to see this world's version of him reduced to that……

"And that Black Knight Avenger has mentioned sounds like he's in the same boat - a screaming madman at best. But some Berserkers are…….hyper-focused on certain things, to the point of insanity, rather than being completely robbed of their minds. There's a nurse I met on the Throne who….well, just pray you don't meet her with your cavalier disregard for your injuries - that 'It will pass' response to Mash noticing you being on fire would send her into a fit. She'd descend on you like lightning from Zeus, determined to commit medicine on you."

Medusa blew out a long breath, turning to look out over the walls of the castle. "In Kiyohime's case, her insanity manifests in the form of a complete intolerance for lying. Like most Servants, it's tied in with her legend."

"Kiyohime was once a young noblewoman in Japan - yes, the same Japan the first Singularity took place in, but hundreds of years ago. One day, she met a monk - it's a kind of a priest - making a pilgrimage to another shrine. He was staying at her parent's home - they opened their doors to monks making pilgrimages on a regular basis, and she fell head over heels for him, and asked him if he would marry her. He said yes. The only problem was, that was a lie - his first to her."

Kratos frowned. As someone who had seen his fair of tragic Greek plays, he believed he could see where this was going.

"He thought, maybe reasonably, that she would forget this promise as she grew up, as she was still a very young girl at this time. But she didn't. She waited, and waited, and waited for the day her monk would return to her. And one day, he returned to her home, on another pilgrimage. And, of course, she was waiting on him, and to his horror, she had not forgotten his promise despite the many years that had passed. He could have been honest here, and maybe nipped this growing issue in the bud, but, like most liars, when caught in a lie, they compound it with another lie on top of it. He told her he would finish his journey, and then return to her, upon which they would be wed."

Medusa shook her head. "So, he departed on his pilgrimage, and she waited. This is the part I've never been able to understand - eventually, he completes it, and begins his return journey. At this point, he had to know the girl wouldn't likely forget his two promises, yet, he returns on the same route. And, as he gets close to her family's home, he sees her standing by the road, waiting on him."

"It's possible he could have still salvaged the situation at this point if he'd just been honest. But upon seeing her, he changed the route he was taking to another road that would let him avoid her. And when she saw this, she snapped, and began to chase him, mad with feelings of betrayal and hate. She chased him to a river, where he had just convinced a ferryman to take him across, stranding her on the other side. He thought he was safe. He was wrong."

"The stories vary a bit on this point - sometimes, she tries to swim after him. Sometimes, she's stuck on the other side of the river, consumed by hate for the man. But whichever version it is, her rage transforms her into a Dragon, which allows her to cross the river and continue her pursuit of him. Desperate, he begs the monks of a temple to shelter him, and they hide him in the temple's bell. But, she has his scent, and tracks him to the bell, where she promptly burns him alive inside the bell."

Kratos gave a small grunt. It was almost worthy of being one of the works of Sophocles.

Medusa continued. "So, as a Berserker, she's incredibly focused on lies - to the point where hearing one can send her into a rage. Supposedly, if she is contracted with a Master, every time her Master lies, it automatically consumes one of their Command Seals to prevent her from outright killing them. If they lie once their Command Seals have run out…..well, I'm sure you can guess what will happen."

Another grunt. The tale Medusa had told him had left little to the imagination - he had seen, first hand, what sort of damage dragons could do in his time.

"The rest of this is just hearsay I picked up on the Throne from hearing a couple of Servants talk - there's a select few who claimed to be on good terms with her, particularly a couple of Japanese Servants who are oddballs in their own right. She's apparently still obsessed with finding her 'Anchin', only she's willing to believe that other people are him reborn, if they meet enough of her criteria." She fixed him with a look. "You can see why, given the glances she was constantly stealing of you, I might be concerned."

Kratos huffed out a breath. "I am not……unaware of the way my appearance affects some others. During Ragnarök, there was a smith, Lúnda. She made many comments - and she was not shy." He had second guessed inflicting her upon Atreus up until the moment the overly friendly woman had met his son. "Da Vinci has also not been quiet about the subject. More than once she has offered to 'sculpt' me. The girl could merely be of a mind with them."

Medusa shrugged. "It's possible. I just wanted to warn you - maybe we get out of this Singularity without you and her speaking more than a few words to one another, but in the event she does corner you, you should know who you're dealing with. She's not an inherently bad person - most Berserkers aren't, they're just dangerous because of the constraints of their class." She paused. "Avengers…….tend to be the same. I still don't care for our Avenger, however."

Kratos grunted. There was little else to say to that - he doubted his half-brother in this world had been a raging monster in life, merely forced into becoming one by how he was summoned in that burning city. And whatever corruption had been forced on him by the fallen Saber could not have helped.

Medusa pushed off from the wall and stretched, languidly. "I'll leave you to it, then. I'll check in on Mash, make sure she's sleeping well, then probably keep watch with Siegfried." She smirked. "That should keep me about as far as possible from whatever is being inflicted on our two Jeannes, as well. One song from that girl is enough - and I don't fancy having my hair tied into pigtails, either." She frowned. "That's fair too cute for someone like me. It would fit my sisters better."

With an absent wave, she walked off, leaving Kratos alone on the ramparts. For a long, quiet moment, he simply looked out over the castle grounds, and the dying land of France beyond it. Part of him wished Mimir was here - the head placed to look out over the same vista Kratos was seeing. He missed the council of the Smartest Head Alive - and more than that, his companionship.

"So, has the Gorgon finished filling you in on all my horrible secrets?"

The voice shattered the still of the night, for all that the words were quiet. The Berserker slowly strode out onto the ramparts, stopping a short distance away from Kratos.

"Kiyohime," he rumbled.

"Good evening." She bowed her head. "Now please, answer the question. I can see it, you know. Just a slight tensing of your muscles…….your very large muscles………and a very small narrowing of your eyes. You're wary of me. And I can still smell her scent, I know Medusa was just here, even if she hadn't asked to speak to you before our little group broke up. So, what sort of monster did she paint me as?"

Kratos heaved a breath. It seemed a conversation with the dragon girl he had been warned about was unavoidable. "She did not speak of you as a monster. She merely told me of your story. As this world is not my own, I am unfamiliar with its legends and people." He thought for a moment, then continued. "Even were this my world, I have seen only a small portion of it in my time. Beyond the burning city where I first arrived in this world, your 'Japan' is not a land I have ever seen with my own eyes - though I am told the Tyr of our lands has ventured to its shores." And many other shores, if the chamber underneath Tyr's temple was anything to go by. Greece, for one, and Mimir's homeland, from what the head had told him.

The girl titled her head to the side, considering Kratos. "Then why are you afraid of me?" She didn't sound angry, or plaintive, merely curious.

"Because you are dangerous," answered Kratos. "There are things in my past I would not speak of, and this, as well as half-truths and lies caused my son to walk away from me, for a time, into the grasp of a true monster." Kratos still had nightmares about what Odin could have done to Atreus, had the All-Father had more time to spin a web of lies around the boy. "While I have made an effort to change myself, habits are hard to break. I do not wish to provoke you, when we have enemies much greater."

The girl considered him for a long moment. "Did you lose him?" Her voice was quiet, a whisper amid the winds this high up on the castle walls.

Kratos shook his head. "No. Though I could have." He could still remember it, vividly. The vision the Norns had given him of Atreus running from him, calling him a monster. Running to the shelter of Odin's arms.

"Is he waiting for you, then, back in the world you came from?" The furtive, at times frantic interest the girl had been showing in him seemed to be draining away, replaced by….something.

"I do not know. After Ragnarök, he left on a journey. He had not yet returned when I found myself here." It was of some concern what Atreus would do if Kratos was not there when his son returned. The boy was still……reckless, where his father's safety was concerned. And he had access to a wolf who cut through the barriers between worlds with ease.

For a long while, there was only the sound of the night between them. Then, Kiyohime spoke again. "And your wife?"

"Dead these three winters," Kratos said through a thickness in his throat. "I would not speak of this further."

Kiyohime flushed. "I…….I am sorry."

The quiet of the evening reasserted itself, and Kratos lost himself in his thoughts. Baldur. How to deal with Baldur?

Eventually, long enough passed that Kratos recognized his mind was going in circles. He pushed off from the wall, about to ask Kiyohime the location of one of the rooms for guests, when the girl's ears perked up, and she peered out into the night sky. "What……is that?"

Faintly, Kratos could hear it. A whine, or a scream - constant, but distant, and growing closer. But he could see nothing in the darkness of the night's sky. That did not seem to be the case for the girl.

Or Medusa. 'Kratos, we've got a Servant incoming…..and FAST!'

Kratos took the Leviathan Axe in hand, vainly scanning the darkness for whatever the Servants could see - or feel, somehow knowing that he would have to wait until it grew close enough to be visible. Kiyohime was holding her fan, fire flickering around its edges, and wisps escaping her mouth.

They were not made to wait long. It soared past them, impossibly fast, so that Kratos could only get the vaguest of glimpses before it was beyond his sight again. A metal vehicle, one of the 'fighter jets' Da Vinci had shown him when they had discussed war in the current age.

But none of the jets she had shown him had been blackened, with flakes of metal falling off, and angry, glowing red lines flowing up and down the body of the thing.

And none of them had a man in armor, black like the corruption that had engulfed the plane, clutching to the back of the plane, armored hand dug into the spine of the vehicle, roaring into the night.

As the thing passed by the castle, Kratos could have sworn he saw the knight's visor, glowing red, lock eyes with him.

As the thing sped off into the night, Kratos lowered his axe fractionally. What had just happened?

'He's coming back around! Brace yourselves!'

There was the screaming of the jet again, and suddenly, two flares of light detached themselves from the object, and accelerated towards them. In the blink of an eye, the projectiles had crossed the space between castle and plane, and then, a pair of explosions, and Kratos found himself hurled into the air, the ground rushing up to meet him.

Kiyohime's scream pierced through the din, the girl clawing at the air as she fell.

Kratos dropped the Leviathan Axe - no time to sheathe it - and almost tore the Blades of Chaos from his back. He would only get one shot at this.

The Blades flew out, and for a second, Kratos thought he had misjudged, but then the Blades shot past the falling girl, and, with a jerk on the chains, they were wrapping around her body, and then, an instant later, he had pulled her to him.

No time. Desperately, he turned his body, his shield snapping into place, as he cradled Kiyohime with his right arm and tried to shelter her as best he could. Then the ground was there.

Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as the fall from the back of Baldur's dragon. That one had been from much farther up, and the stones of Tyr's temple much less yielding. But whatever pain he may or may not have been feeling at the time had been secondary - Baldur had had his son, and nothing, not even a child of Odin, would stand in his way. The pain from his fall was nothing against the pain of losing a child.

That didn't mean that it hadn't hurt. And just like before, this also hurt.

Dirt and the stones of the castle were blasted up as Kratos' body impacted, and the breath was knocked from his lungs. The pain was there, too, but pain was an old friend, one easily pushed aside. Gingerly, he made his way to his feet, head tilted upwards, looking both for the plane, as well as any falling stones that may need to be avoided.

Two more explosions sounded, this time against the castle walls. The Berserker roared, and a rapid, staccato sound echoed as the plane once more raced by the castle. Then, silence.

'I……I think he's retreating.' Medusa's voice was thready in his mind, the woman clearly rattled from the sudden attack. 'It feels like he's moving farther and farther away…….he might have exhausted the missiles the plane was carrying…….'

'Are you injured?'

'Minor scrapes at worst. He seemed like he was just firing haphazardly, and not specifically aiming at anyone in particular. Siegfried's also fine.' Some of her usual calm was returning to her voice.

'Kiyohime is with me. Find Mash and the others.'

'Already on it.' He felt her string in his mind go limp, and finally, now that the danger was past, took stock of his surroundings, and himself.

A gaping chunk had been torn from the walkways outside the room where they had discussed their alliance. Another one of the towers, a smaller one, had been completely toppled. He could not see where the walls had been impacted from where he stood, but he assumed similar damage had been done to them. Overall, it had accounted for little - none of the impacts looked to be in areas where it could have directly harmed them.

His shield retracted, and he raised his arm. A moment later, the Leviathan Axe returned to his grasp. He was sore - and would likely still be sore the next day, but it would not hinder him.

"Kratos." The voice was very, very soft.

"Are you injured?"

"No." The girl's head was bowed, her hair hiding her face. "You saved me."

"You are an ally. And I am your guest." He slid his axe back into its harness. "To my people, hospitality was not to be broken. Ever." The less said about those who had done so, the better - he did not often find himself agreeing with the Gods of Olympus, but those fools who had spat on the oaths of hospitality had EARNED their punishments.

"Oh." She fidgeted for a moment. "Thank you. We should probably check on the others." She turned, and began to walk back to the castle.

"Girl….Kiyohime." She stopped, startled, and turned to face him. "I am not the one you seek. And even if, somehow, I were, I still belong to another. And I shall for many winters yet."

Kiyohime regarded him for a long while. When she did speak, her voice was still soft. "You…..you loved her greatly, didn't you?"

What was there even to say to that? Yes, he had, but to say it………Kratos did not, as Mimir had sometimes put it, 'wear his heart on his sleeve'. Minutely, he nodded - even that feeling somewhat alien to him. Emotional displays had been one of the first casualties of the agoge, with stoicism left to fill the void.

She favored him with a small smile. "She was a very lucky woman." She turned, and resumed walking to the castle.

Blissfully unaware of the voice in her head that was talking, her voice. Calmly, for now, but getting progressively louder, and harder to ignore. Softly, she began humming to herself, as she skipped up the stairs to Castle Csejte.

---

Mash was unharmed. Hair mussed, still wiping sleep from her eyes, and with an aggrieved Fou in her arms, but unharmed.

The three Servants who had been in Liz's chambers had also escaped injury, at least of a physical variety. Liz was off checking on the damages that had been inflicted on her castle. Jeanne herself seemed as she always did, though her hair was unbound, flowing loose down her back, and appeared freshly brushed. Avenger, however…..

Her hair was also unbound from its long braid, and had been retied into two smaller ones, sticking out from the sides of her head. And they seemed to flash in the light as they swung in the air, as if they had been dusted with something that caused them to sparkle. And there was the hint of cosmetics on her face, half-applied. Upon seeing Kratos, her expression grew thunderous. "Not. A. WORD."

"I said nothing." The Spartan stoicism he had been musing about mere minutes earlier had come to the fore.

The Avenger swept her eyes around the room, as if daring anyone else to make a comment, and, when no one else did she allowed herself a pleased smirk. "So, anyone want to tell me what the hells just happened? The Pink Menace will let us know how badly we got hammered, but what the fuck hit us?"

"It was your Black Knight, Avenger," said Kiyohime, from where she was standing next to Kratos.

"Not MY Black Knight, dragon girl, not anymore," snapped Avenger. "And like, how? Those were some big explosions I heard, and then, nothing. That was way too quick for you to have killed him. He might be completely off his rocker, but the guy could throw down. And there wasn't enough of his insane roaring, either."

"He flew in," Medusa fixed Avenger with a look. "On a jet."

Avenger blinked, her jaw going slack. "A jet? You're shitting me."

"No, she is not….," Kiyohime coughed. "...'shitting you.' Kratos and I were on the ramparts when he appeared. He destroyed the walkway underneath us…..if it wasn't for Kratos, I might have died."

Avenger's mouth hung open for a long moment, her rebuttal forgotten. ".......how?"

"Clearly it must be his Noble Phantasm," replied Jeanne.

"No, I GET that, 'me'. I never had occasion to have him whip it out while he was working for me, but that's the only thing that makes sense." She shook her head. "No, what I don't get is how the unholy fuck does a medieval knight have a modern damn fighter jet as his Noble Phantasm? I've been harassed all evening by a young version of Carmilla who's part dragon and who wants to be an idol. I'm fighting alongside a god from another world. I'm a damn faulty clone of Jeanne d'Arc running off the Spirit Core of Gilles de Rais that went off the deep end. But THIS thing makes less sense than any of that!"

There was another question that was plaguing Kratos' mind. "And, why did he depart?"

Jeanne pursed her lips as she thought. "It must be the mana costs involved with his Noble Phantasm. To keep it manifested all the way from Orleans to here, and then back, he must only have enough time to carry out a quick attack before he has to return."

"But……they have the Holy Grail. Shouldn't they be able to power even a Berserker's Noble Phantasm for much longer?" asked Mash, her fingers scratching behind a sleepy Fou's ears.

"It must be the spell he mentioned when we were fighting him, the one that is killing all the plants in France. Kratos said he never showed any great skill at Magecraft, or seiðr, to use the correct term." Da Vinci was pacing again. "Plus whatever he's diverting from the Grail to heal Fafnir, since he probably wants his ride out here functional as quickly as possible. Between the healing and a spell affecting an entire country, and the Servants it's powering, most of its power must be largely spoken for."

Avenger looked confused. "So, why even waste the time? He got about as lucky as he could have gotten, in blasting the two of you off the walls, and you still survived. Were they just hoping to snipe someone?"

Kratos shook his head. "No. This was a message, to let us know they could strike us at any time. Even if they cannot bring us to battle, they can harry us. Tire us. And, as you said, maybe get lucky'"

"And he's too fast for any of us to hit. Siegfried's Noble Phantasm needs time to build up, and Jeanne and Mash's are defensive in nature." Medusa sighed. "I might be able to run him down in Pegasus, but I'd need to go alone. And as dangerous as you've said that Berserker is, without backup……I don't like my odds."

"You could certainly huddle behind Lord Chaldeas whenever he puts in an appearance," suggested Romani. "But that just leaves you stalemated - he can't hurt you, and you can't hurt him. And it pins you down here."

"And time is not our ally," stated Kratos.

"Right," agreed Romani. "We have to figure Baldur's healing Fafnir as fast as he can. Once he shows up again, if you don't have a way to hurt him, or a way to escape………"

He trailed off, but everyone in the room could see the writing on the wall. Without a way to harm Baldur, they were doomed.

Cu had stolen a pacing Da Vinci's seat, and had put his feet up. "I hate to say it, but that option I said was suicidal earlier tonight? It's looking less suicidal than just waiting here for Baldur to fly up and knock on your door." He pointed at the map that had been spread out on the table. "If you lay low enough on the way there, you'd probably be able to give them the slip until you're right on their doorstep. No way a Berserker's spotting you from the back of a jet, at least."

"We would need to take a more circuitous path to Orleans, however," commented Jeanne. As she leaned over, her hair spilled over her shoulders onto the map. She sighed, but before she could gather it up, Kiyohime was there, pulling it back for her. Jeanne nodded her thanks, then placed a finger on their location at Castle Csejte. "We're here, just a bit outside of Lyon……this is Thiers, where Castle Dracula is…or was."

She frowned. "Thiers would have been the ideal place to strike out from to approach Orleans. It's essentially a straight shot to there, we could have been there in a half day, or less. But we have to assume it's being watched now."

"Yeah, WAY too obvious," commented Cu, now leaning forward to see the map better through the screen. "You don't leave something like that so close to your home base without having eyes on it, or having some card up your sleeve to deal with trespassers. I'll bet you some good Irish whiskey that he's probably letting the greater whole of his wyverns nest there now that old Drac's dead. Someone shows up, they swarm them, and he gets an early warning that he's got guests."

Avenger shook her head. "No bet."

Cu smirked. "Yeah, figured I wouldn't get any takers on that one. It's the only thing that makes sense. He probably doesn't want to let any of his Servants out of his sight just in case they get ideas similar to the ones he had. So, if Thiers is off the table, what's our play to get me tagged in?"

Jeanne looked at the map for a long moment, then turned to Avenger. "Siegfried said you hadn't managed to fully ravage the eastern coastal towns. What about the western ones?"

"I terrorized them a bit, but didn't get around to burning them to the ground," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Bordeaux was next on my list after I got done with Siegfried, but the day I was supposed to handle him was the day everything went tits-up thanks to a certain green-suited visitor. Once I summoned our mutual friend, my campaign of terror kind of ground to a halt."

Jeanne nodded, tracing her fingers along the coastline. "If we slip along the coast……it'll take us a few days longer than going directly there, but we could probably sneak in that way." As she sat back into her chair, Kiyohime released her hair. "Best case, we come up on the castle while he's out looking for us, and we can snatch the Grail right out from under them with minimal fuss."

Cu gave the Saint a wry grin. "Lass, if my short but eventful life has taught me anything, it's that things never work out that easily."

Jeanne sighed. "I know. But it's a nice dream, every once in a while." She turned to the rest of the room. "Does anyone have any objections or suggestions?"

"The only concern I have is how our enemies will react when they find Castle Csejte abandoned," said Medusa. "Even before Fafnir is able to fly again, if the Black Knight does another raid and figures out that we've left, and can somehow convey that information to Baldur, it will make our journey that much more difficult. But……anyone we leave behind…."

"Is pretty much signing their death warrant," finished Avenger. "Yeah, Sir-Screams-Alot won't be able to do much damage to the castle or any Servants here with his jet, but once Baldur gets here, all bets will be off. He wasn't shy about what he was planning to do to anyone who got between him and his way back home."

There was a long silence as they wrestled with the dilemma before them. A silence that was broken by an unusually serious voice.

"I'll do it." Liz was standing at the door to the chamber, hands on her hips, a determined look on her face.

Kiyohime frowned. "You can't be serious. You stupid Komodo…" She bit back whatever she was about to say, then took a breath. "Elizabeth. Do you really understand what you're signing up for?"

Liz nodded. "This is MY castle! The ruler of the castle's got to defend it! And the idol's got to take center stage for at least one big moment!" She made that two fingered gesture again, and once again, a small star popped into being. Then her face fell back into a more serious expression. "And my Noble Phantasm's the best way to deal with him, too. It's a solid wave of sound - it'll knock him back, keep him away, and will make it look like we're still here. It'll draw all the eyes to your favorite idol, while keeping them OFF you."

Kiyohime looked torn. "But that'll only last until Baldur comes. When he does….."

"Yeah, I know. But you heard what they told us - if they don't get this Singularity resolved, that's it. No more humans - that means no more concerts for me, which means no more idol career." She gave Kiyohime a cheeky little grin. "And no more Comiket, either, which means your friend Batty will lose what little motivation she has to make those doujins. You know the ones, don't you?"

Kiyohime's cheeks pinked, ever so slightly. "Those 'doujins', as you call them, are quality works of literature for people with discerning tastes."

Liz patted the other girl on her head. "Suuuuure they are." She turned to the rest of the room. "But really, let me do this. My bestie already did me a solid by taking care of That Awful Woman, so let me repay the favor."

Kratos stared at the girl for a long moment. "Elizabeth. I….may have misjudged you."

"Awwwwww, do I have a new fan?" The girl beamed at the Spartan. "Don't sweat it. I know I don't come off as the most serious thing on two legs, but I'm a Servant at the end of the day. I know what the stakes are here. Just come to one of my concerts, and we'll call it even, Fuzzy."

Kratos blinked. ".....Fuzzy?"

Liz's head nodded furiously. "Yeah, Fuzzy! Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't very fuzzy, was he?" She pointed at Kratos. "You're all big and scary like some sort of big angry bear that hates people, even if you're not that bad once someone gets to know you, but you're not really all that hairy, other than that beard, so, you're Fuzzy."

Kratos had opened his mouth to reply when a very tired voice intruded on his thoughts.

'Don't fight it, 'Fuzzy'. Really, don't. I can tell you from VERY recent experience it won't do a lick of good. Just accept this new reality and hope she doesn't get any more ideas. At least you're just getting off with a nickname and not…..other things. If I get to the Throne and find out she remembers any of this shit my life's going to be suffering.' Avenger's voice was the auditoral definition of the sort of stare long-time soldiers got, where they had seen too much, and weren't looking at what was before them, but were peering off into the void.

Kratos closed his mouth. In truth, the nickname wasn't as outlandish as some of the ones Lúnda had come up for him. And after hearing Avenger's words, some part of him felt he would be tempting the Fates should he choose to make an issue of this.

Medusa was wearing a little half-smirk. "If we're decided, then, I think it's past time someone got back to bed." She pointed to where Mash's head had flopped to the table, her eyes closed, her breathing steady and regular. Fou was curled up in the girl's lap, also sound asleep.

"Will you need sleep as well, Kratos?" asked Kiyohime. "Do gods even need to sleep?"

"I require less than a mortal does, but I do require it." Carefully, he rose from his chair, and gently gathered Mash into his arms. So tired was the girl that she didn't stir.

Kiyohime had lifted a similarly exhausted Fou into her hands. "Follow me, then, and I will show you where she was sleeping. You can take any of the other vacant rooms, and then…."

Kratos grunted. "We set out at dawn."

---

It was a voice in his head that pulled Kratos from a dreamless sleep.

Medusa. 'Kratos, you're going to want to see this. We've got an army approaching the castle gate.'

He was awake in a flash, grogginess pushed aside with the ease of a long-time campaigner - though he noted he had only slept for a little. It would not affect him too much in the short term, but too many nights like this would start to tell. 'Their allegiance?' he sent, as he settled his weapons into their harnesses.

'They're flying the French flag, of all things, so this might not be a hostile force. Jeanne's already heading down to meet them - despite all the Dragon Witch rumors, she's the most normal looking person we have to meet with them, and if they are really French soldiers, her face might keep things from exploding into violence.'

Kratos pushed his door open, and then had to carefully step over the body of a sleeping dragon girl, who was sprawled out, fast asleep, just outside his room. For a moment, he considered waking her, but chose to let her, and Mash sleep. They would need the rest in the days to come.

As he stormed down the many winding staircases of the castle, he was joined by a scowling Avenger. "Fuck's going on?"

Kratos did not spare her even a glance, as he was focused on finding his way through the labyrinth that was this castle. "An army approaches, one flying the French flag. Jeanne has gone to meet them."

Avenger's face twisted in confusion. "An army? Who the hells could that be? I smashed any force that looked like it could cause me problems in the early days - took out the officers too, so the survivors were running around like headless chickens. Maybe….."

Avenger looked to be considering something. "I might have an idea. Let me get a good look at them."

"Keep yourself from sight. Those soldiers we met before were ready to fire upon your other self - even when she had just saved them from death. The sight of the actual Dragon Witch…"

Avenger cut him off. "Yeah yeah, I'll behave myself. I know I was a Very Bad Girl and most people aren't going to be happy to see me. I'll stay in Spirit Form." She faded from sight, though he could still feel her presence by his side.

Kratos stepped out into the pre-dawn morning a few moments later, the Avenger still following invisibly, and looked over the plain before the castle.

Indeed, it was an army that had drawn up to the castle. The amount of soldiers here qualified for that title in numbers alone. However….

'Just like I thought. Banners of different units, mismatched equipment, blah blah blah. These are the survivors of the various armies I crushed. Someone's been rounding them up and making them into this patchwork force. But who….'

Avenger's musings were cut off as a voice called out from within the massed ranks before them. "HO, THE CASTLE! IF YOU BE FRIENDS OF FRANCE, WE SEEK PARLEY! WHAT SAY YOU?"

"Kratos?" At his nod, Jeanne raised her voice, and let loose a reply. "YES! YOUR TERMS ARE ACCEPTABLE! SEND FORTH THOSE WHO WILL SPEAK FOR YOU TO THE GATES, AND WE SHALL GUARANTEE THEIR SAFETY!"

There was a shuffling in the ranks of men, and, after a moment, it seemed a group was beginning to form an honor guard around a single man. A white flag was raised, and they began to cross the plain.

Medusa's voice spoke in his mind. 'Siegfried's heading down. He says he's aided a few groups of soldiers since he was summoned to France, and they might recognize him. Might help keep this a friendly chat, if nothing else.'

After a few moments, a wall of shields and swords stood before them, obviously protecting the man who had been chosen to parley with them. Helmeted heads looked over the Saint and the god, and Kratos was certain he heard more than one whispered utterance of Jeanne's name, as well as much less quieter speculation about him - mainly commenting on his 'savage' appearance. Then, a new voice spoke, and the honor guard stiffened, and stepped aside.

The chosen representative of this makeshift army was, truthfully, far from awe-inspiring in appearance. A rather plain face, limp black hair, and rather simple white armor, notable only for the large cross emblazoned across his chest. There was something of nobility in his features, but he barely looked like a leader of men…….he was almost forgettable.

But apparently not forgettable to the pair of Jeannes, visible and invisible, that stood by Kratos' side.

Avenger made a strangled, choked sound in his mind upon seeing the man. Jeanne's eyes grew wide, and she took a half-step forward. "Gilles……is that you?"

The second she moved, the honor guard stiffened, their hands flying to the hilts of their swords, though they did not draw steel, not yet, as the leader of their group raised a hand, halting their motion. He looked upon Jeanne with an expression of disbelief, and, after a moment to gather his thoughts, spoke.

"Yes, I am Gilles de Rais." His voice was measured, with an undercurrent of emotion that was fighting to break through. "You…..by all appearances, you are Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid of Orleans…….but that cannot be. Jeanne is dead….so I ask, who are you, that wears her face? Do I behold the Dragon Witch herself?"

Jeanne's face fell. "It…..it's me, Gilles. It's a long story…….but I'm back…I was sent back to stop the Dragon Witch……back when the Dragon Witch was the one ravaging France."

More muttering from the group sent to parley with them. Gilles looked like he wanted to believe her, but the men surrounding him were far more suspicious. Most still had their hands on their swords. Finally, Gilles swept his hand before him, silencing the group, and spoke. "How? And sent by who? Is…..is this the doing of the Lord?"

"No, Sir Gilles, this is not the doing of the Lord. Jeanne d'Arc walks the soil of France by the same power that allows me to do the same." Siegfried strode out from the castle, coming to stand alongside Kratos and Jeanne.

If the reaction to Kratos and Jeanne had been borderline hostile, the reaction to Siegfried was almost the complete opposite. The knights relaxed almost immediately, hands finally releasing their sword hilts, and suspicious eyes that had been watching carefully from behind eye slits widened in relief.

Gilles too, seemed happy to see the man. "Sir Siegfried! Then……she speaks the truth? The Maid of Orleans…..our Jeanne……she has come back to us?"

Siegfried nodded. "Yes. On my honor as a knight, Jeanne d'Arc stands before you."

A ripple went through the assembled men, and then, almost in unison, they dropped to a knee.

"NO!" Jeanne stormed up to them, her face twisted in agony. "You do not kneel to me! You NEVER kneel to me!" She seized Gilles by his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, staring into his eyes. "It's just me….Jeanne. The simple farm girl who, after the battle was over, wept over every soldier who died around her - nothing more, nothing less. We kneel to the King of France. We kneel to the Lord our God. But you do NOT kneel to me……."

Gilles could not meet her gaze. "But…..what else could it be but a miracle that you have returned to us, in our time of need?"

Jeanne shook her head. "It is no miracle. Merely a system - a way for the land to respond when it is threatened. And…….when we have fixed things, when France has been saved, I will have to go, Gilles. When everything is back to the way it was…..I will still be dead."

She took his hand in hers. "So please, Gilles….my friend. Do not kneel before me. In this brief time we have to see each other again, please……..don't treat me differently."

Gilles shuddered, but, at long last, he met Jeanne's eyes. "Very well. Rise men, our Jeanne has come back to us, for a short time, to save this land."

As the honor guard rose to their feet, Jeanne threw her arms around Gilles and buried her head into his shoulder. And if both their eyes were wet, well, none would hold it against them.

When Jeanne drew back from him, Gilles de Rais stood just a bit taller, his back straighter, and his voice carried a hint of steel that it had been lacking before. "What would you have of us, my lady?"

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally planned to start this chapter with our group, but I kept getting persistent ideas to show a bit of what's going on with Baldur, so, there we are.

Talk-heavy chapter, but we're going into the climatic fights, so it's the deep breath before the big push. Going to be lots of fisticuffsmanship in the next ones.

I only count Kratos winning the first and last encounter with Baldur. When Baldur jumped them at Mimir's former prison atop the one peak, Kratos lost that fight - mainly thanks to the boi being a complete shit during it - Baldur snatched up Atreus and made it all the way back to Tyr's Temple and had opened the gate to Asgard - he'd essentially achieved his win condition. It was only Kratos flipping the table and screwing up the realm transfer and getting them thrown to Hel that didn't result in that gate opening and the armies of Asgard descending - or just Thor, which might have been worse, since that was still very much Thor as Odin's loyal mad dog.

In the first draft of this, I had Atalanta and Baldur talking about how they couldn't send Zerkerlot to patrol the border because it costs too much mana that they need to both heal Fafnir and power the withering spell - as it's established Zerkerlot is a mana hog. It's what kills Kariya in Fate/Zero after all - or at least partially contributed - Zouken's damn worms weren't doing him any favors, after all. But then I couldn't get the idea of him doing a drive-by of Castle Csejte out of my head, so here we are.

Yes, the Holy Grail SHOULD be infinite mana, or almost infinite mana, but I'm fudging that a bit for the purposes of my story - I want there to be a cap on it so Baldur can't keep France down and insta-heal Fafnir and still send Zerkerlot out on infinite drive-bys.

I looked pretty hard to see if Thamur existed in proper Norse mythology, and couldn't find anything - it looks like he was made up for God of War. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I leave it up to your imagination what exactly happened in the slumber party Liz dragged the Jeannes off to. And not like THAT, any of you perverts.

This took longer than I'd wanted, mainly because work last week was an absolute bear - a wall to wall week of stress that didn't leave me with much motivation to write, as I was so worried about other things. Apologies.

Probably one or two more chapters before France is done. I might be able to resolve everything in one chapter, but we've got the climactic fight coming up, and I somehow don't think that's going to fit in one chapter. So we'll see.

Kiyohime gave me the most trouble in this chapter - as I've noted, I really don't feel like I have the best handle on her character. I hope she was at least a bit more correct this time around than last, where I went a bit too big on the Anchin thing.

Also, I've finally figured out what I'm doing with Septem. So we've got a gameplan for the interlude between Orleans and Septem, Septem, and Okeanos - still not sure about the interlude between Septem and Okeanos, but that's far enough in the future that it can stew for a bit.

Chapter 18: Orleans 7

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 18​

Their plan was put together quickly - for all that the appearance of an army on their doorstep, and their subsequent acquisition of said army was an unexpected boon, it would not change their plans overmuch. For these were mortal men, and little use against Servants.

Wyverns, however…….

"Grapeshot, and lots of it!" stated Jeanne, her arms crossed. "By the time you reach the castle that has displaced Thiers, you will want to have enough to blot out the sun when your cannons fire! I wish our options were better, but there's enough abandoned towns and villages, or just small settlements between here and there that you should be able to scavenge enough metal to suffice in a pinch. Nails, forks, knives - whatever you can get your hands on - so long as you can wrap it in canvas and fire it from a cannon, it should tear through a wyvern - or their wings, at least."

Jeanne was……….surprisingly enthusiastic about the subject of cannons, Kratos noted.

Gilles was nodding along with Jeanne's increasingly impassioned orders with the air of a man who had long since grown used to this. "We will be ready, Lady Jeanne. In four days time, we will stand ready to siege Thiers."

Gilles' words seemed to break Jeanne from her cannon-induced fugue. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, Gilles. Were it only wyverns…..some of your men would die, but that is war. But once you begin your attack, that will draw their attention, and….."

Gilles placed a hand on Jeanne's shoulder. "You tell us that these enemies seek not only the death of France, but all of mankind. Jeanne……our lives would be a small cost, in the balance, to stop such a thing."

Jeanne bowed her head. "It feels too much to ask of you, even weighed against the calamity we face. And to spend the lives of your men…….your life, like so much coin, merely to buy us time with a distraction……it feels wrong."

"That is the burden of command," rumbled Kratos. "The weight of those lives that you hold, and, at times, must sacrifice for a greater objective. Those lives will stay with you for as long as you live." Or, in the case of a Servant, possibly forever.

Jeanne paused, staring at the ground. "It truly never gets any easier, does it?"

"No," said Kratos, shaking his head. "No it does not." It was one of the myriad of reasons he had been so uncomfortable with the mantle of General when they had assembled to bring Ragnarök down on Asgard.

Jeanne crossed her arms, a determined expression on her face. "Then we will have to make even better time than we were planning. The sooner we retrieve the Grail, the fewer of these brave men will have to lay down their lives for us."

Behind them, another group of men returned from Castle Csejte, setting their burdens in a pile. Liz had thrown the doors open to supply the ragtag army with anything that could aid them. Silverware, canvas, foodstuffs - as she had morbidly, but cheerfully put it "I won't be needing these much longer!".

Alongside them was Siegfried, who had joined in the work, using his greater strength as a Servant to haul loads that would take many men to carry, greatly hastening the looting of the Castle. Across the field, he met Kratos and Jeanne's eyes, and nodded. "We're about ready to depart. Most everything that would be of use has been taken from inside the Castle. Lady Kiyohime has gone to fetch Liz - I believe she wishes to see us off."

Kratos grunted, sending a message along the strings in his mind to Medusa to wake and fetch Mash. He had allowed the girl to rest as much as possible before departure, given her sleep had been interrupted, and she did not possess the measures of stamina of a proper Servant. A few seconds later, he received confirmation - the women were on their way down.

'Kratos? If we're about to go, can I?'

He sighed. Avenger had been asking constantly since a plan had been hammered out, and he had put her off as long as he could. Now that their departure was imminent, he saw little reason not to humor her. 'Yes. You may.'

There was a shower of gold, and then, suddenly, Gilles found himself being tightly embraced (despite only one arm being present) by a darker Jeanne. A fact he didn't seem to know what to make of.

"What? What….?" He stared for a long moment, looking down at the pale head of hair buried into his chest, then over to the actual Jeanne. "Who is this? This…….this cannot be the Dragon Witch?"

Jeanne sighed, her expression half between a smile and a frown. "No, you are correct, that is the Dragon Witch. It's far too long a story to go into, Gilles, but just trust that she's on our side." The 'for now' was left unspoken.

If Gilles wasn't struck dumb by this revelation, Avenger pulling back, and looking up at him with eyes brimming with tears would have stolen his voice completely. "Hey, Gilles. You don't know me from Eve, but I just wanted to do that, and to tell you 'Thank you.' When I was at my absolute lowest, you gave me a kick in the ass to get me back on my feet. So, whatever happens in your future, try to remember that there's two Jeannes now who loved you. It's because of you I'm here now, trying to save France instead of destroy it."

She hugged him again, tightly, then pulled away, storming back to Kratos' side, expression daring anyone to say anything about how she was still wiping at her face. Kratos met her eyes, and he felt a sigh thrum across her fiery string.

'I know. I lied - I still hate France. And it's not going to change a damned thing about how his life plays out. He's still going to get mixed up with that sick fuck Prelati, and he's still going to die a monster. But maybe when he's at his lowest, he'll be able to remember what I told him, and he'll be saved from absolute despair, before the end. It's stupid, I know. But…..'

'You owe him your life. You do not need to explain yourself……not to me, Avenger.'

---

Kiyohime pushed open the doors to the throne room, which had seen some recent renovation in the light of Liz's planned stand in her castle. A large table had been dragged into the center of the room, and a map of Castle Csejte sat in the center. Liz was hunched over the map, muttering to herself, and drawing on it with what appeared to be magic markers.

"So, I can't use the same trick on ALL the staircases, or he'll expect them. Probably set half of them to collapse if you don't start on the right brick……..maybe oil for the others? Or maybe springs?" She stared down at the map, chewing on the end of the marker.

Kiyohime smiled - so engrossed was Liz in her plotting that the girl hadn't even heard her enter. Quietly, like a proper Japanese lady, she padded up until she was standing almost right behind Liz, then, when she felt the moment was right, spoke. "Up to no good, frilled lizard?"

Liz's undignified shriek was ENTIRELY worth it. That she jumped nearly high enough to touch the vaulted ceiling was merely the cherry on top. The pink Servant glared holes through Kiyohime for the moment it took her heart to settle, not helped by the smug little smirk that the girl was wearing. "Sweet Uncle Vlad, Kiyo, don't DO that to me!"

Kiyohime tilted her head, the picture of innocence. "But you were working so hard, I could barely bring myself to disturb you - particularly when you're focusing on something so intently that isn't your idol career."

Liz glared even harder, if that was possible. "I suppose you being here means it's time for them to head out?"

Kiyohime nodded. "Yes. I figured you'd want to see Anchin and the rest of them off." She turned on her heel. "Best hurry up - we've got a long distance to travel and not long to do it in, I don't think they'll wait on you if you take your time."

She was halfway to the door when Liz's worried voice halted her in her tracks. "Kiyo. You just called Kratos 'Anchin'."

"No, I did not. I said 'Kratos'." She turned her head to look back at Liz. "He and I had a long talk last night, both before and after he saved me. He can't be Anchin, he isn't even from this world. And……..he still loves his late wife." She shook her head. "No, you must have misheard."

She began walking away again. "Now come on, we don't want to keep everyone waiting."

Really, she thought, as she departed the throne room. I know Kratos isn't Anchin. He made it very clear to me.

But he saved you, said another voice, her voice. Who but your Anchin would do that? And he's been married before, that means he's experienced. No fumbling around on your wedding night…….he looks like he knows how to please a woman. And imagine being pressed against all those muscles……

No, he ISN'T Anchin. It's just a nice fantasy to cling to. Just a fantasy my too overactive imagination is entertaining. Nothing more, nothing less.

Idly, unaware she was doing it, she began to hum to herself. It was the Bridal Chorus.

---

They set off soon after, once the last stragglers had emerged from the castle. Mash, with a head of hair only somewhat tamed from the mess it had become in her sleep and a still tired Fou, with Medusa trailing behind her. In the moments as they waited for Kiyohime and Liz to arrive, she had set the creature on the ground to let him have a few moments of freedom before their long march began - upon which he would be consigned to riding within Mash's shield. As the small animal woke up and sniffed at the new arrivals, Medusa produced a comb from somewhere and gently began to brush the girl's hair into something resembling order.

A few moments later, Kiyohime joined them, with Liz hot on her heels. A flurry of tearful goodbyes - at least from the pink dragon girl, though Avenger almost seemed less overjoyed about the parting than one would expect - then proceeded to happen. Finally, Liz stood before Kratos.

"Elizabeth…." he began. What to say to someone who was sacrificing themselves, willingly, for you and yours?

Liz poked him in his stomach. "Pffft, call me Liz, Fuzzy. Elizabeth makes me feel like that old blood-bathing crone. And don't tie yourself in knots over this. I told you last night, I know the stakes. Call it nobility or enlightened-self interest, but you're not making me do anything I don't want to here."

Hands on her hips, she somehow gave the feeling that she was glaring down at him, despite the height difference. "But!" She said, her finger pointing right between Kratos' eyes. "If you really want to make us square, I want to see you, FRONT AND CENTER for some of my concerts! And spread the word, too, when you get back to your world! How many idols get a chance to go viral on a completely different world?"

She glanced behind her. "Siggy-Woogy, could you?"

Siegfried, who had been in a conversation with Gilles, started, then nodded. "Yes, one moment, Lady Liz." He strode up to her, then knelt, cupping his hands together. Liz carefully stepped into his joined hands, and then he lifted the smaller girl, hoisting her up until she was eye level with Kratos.

The girl preened. "MUCH better. You really are a tall one, aren't you Fuzzy? If you summon me, I don't think you'll be much of a manager, but you might be an even better bouncer than Siggy-Woogy there. MUCH scarier looking. Now, hold still."

Suddenly, Kratos found his neck encircled by the girl's arms, as she had thrown herself into a hug with the Spartan. He supposed he should have seen this coming - everyone else from their little group, save Fou, who had gotten what the girl had described as a 'wuzzling', had received a similar hug from the girl.

Her voice in his ear, so soft he had to strain to hear it, jolted him from the unusual physical contact. "Be careful of Kiyo. A moment ago, when she came to get me, I swear she called you 'Anchin'. She totally denies it, but I know what I heard. I know the two of you talked, but you also saved her life. She might know you're not him, but she's still a Berserker. She seems to be in her right mind right now, but that could change in an instant.…..just be careful, Fuzzy."

Carefully, Kratos nodded his head the barest fraction of an inch. Liz's arms tightened around his neck, showing she understood, then she released him, falling to land on her feet.

"Now go give 'em hell, Fuzzy. The next time I see you, I want to hear all about how you saved France."

---

 

CASTLE CSEJTE

TWO DAYS AFTER THE DEPARTURE OF CHALDEA​

Baldur spat on the last wisps of gold, as they faded into nothingness.

Two days. Two WHOLE days he had been stalled. And he had absolutely NOTHING to show for it.

One day had been unavoidably wasted - it was just not possible to heal Fafnir any faster. And while he could have hitched a ride on the jet alongside Berserker, it left him with no way to retreat in the event they had, somehow, acquired mistletoe. So he had spent the interval of time while his dragon was healing sending Berserker off in random intervals to bombard the castle. He'd never expected it to cause any real harm - and it hadn't. As Atalanta had explained, it served the dual purpose of keeping eyes on them, and preventing them from relaxing.

And it seemed to have served exactly that purpose. After the first, surprise attack, the second time Berserker had flown by the castle, he had been met by a wall of horrific sound (or so the impressions he had gotten over their mind-link had implied) - it seemed the little group from Chaldea was still there.

After that show of defiance, he had worked the Berserker like a dog - barely an hour passed before he had sent the Black Knight out again to scream into the sky. And each time, the jet had been met by that screeching, confirming that they were still there. No possible way a Rogue Servant could be throwing that kind of power around without having contracted with Kratos, and not without the man himself being there to provide mana directly - even a god's mana would be that much less abundant over a large distance.

No, he had them right where he wanted them, and he meant to keep them there until he could lock his hands around Kratos' throat.

There was, of course, the possibility this was a trap. Maybe, somehow, they had gotten their hands on his bane and were luring him in, but he and Atalanta had gone over it again and again - the timeframe just didn't fit. It didn't seem possible that they'd have been able to get across the borders and back in less than a day - and none of the Servants they had identified there seemed like they'd be able to conjure mistletoe out of thin air.

But, at her cajoling, he had waited until Fafnir was fully healed - another half day - instead of taking him out as soon as he was good enough to fly. He'd sent the Berserker out one last time, just to make sure they were still there, and then set out himself.

As they passed over the fields of France, the Black Knight heading back to Orleans, he thought the thing almost seemed happy the endless flyovers were finally done, one way or another.

When he'd drawn close enough to the castle, once again, that horrible screeching had burst forth - and while it had done nothing to him physically, he'd had to ditch his ride and make the approach on foot. Before long, he was standing in front of the doors to the castle.

That was when his headaches began.

The entire castle, it seemed, had been rigged with traps.

Nothing that could hurt him - if nothing else, this confirmed they still hadn't been able to lay their hands on any mistletoe. No, the purpose of these traps had been to delay him - and also possibly to enrage him.

Stairs that collapsed when he was halfway up, or ones that transformed into sheer slides, the stairs sinking into the stone, and oil suddenly pouring down the slope. Doors that triggered the ceilings to collapse, forcing him to either dig through the rubble, or to go around. Pitfalls that dumped him one or more floors down - on one occasion he fell all the way from the top floor to the dungeons. And, it seemed there had been further digging, possibly seeing if there was a river that ran under the castle that he could be dumped into and swept out with the current. Had they been given more time, he shuddered to think what annoyances they could have put together.

Despite not having the means to harm him, that didn't mean they didn't make attempts. Spring-loaded traps that fired blades at him, tripwires that triggered showers of bolts from rigged crossbows, murder holes that dumped oil, then flaming rags from above - he even at one point tripped something that swung an anvil, of all things, on a hanging rope at him.

None of them could hurt him, but it delayed him, and frayed his temper to the barest edges, until he was literally seeing red by the time he finally breached the doors to the throne room.

Where he was greeted by a single Servant.

She looked, for the lack of a better term, like she had been starved for months. Dark circles under her eyes, hair a tangled mess, her outfit smudged and torn, and her skin an unhealthy pallor - but her eyes were defiant.

It was upon seeing those eyes that the coin finally dropped - Kratos wasn't here, none of them were, save this little pink annoyance. She'd been stalling him, endlessly using her Noble Phantasm, burning away at her very life to keep delaying him, giving the group from Chaldea time to slip away right under his nose.

When he came back to himself, when the red receded from his vision, the girl was in several pieces all across the room, rapidly vanishing. But her mocking laughter still echoed around the room. She'd won, and they both knew it - him killing her was pyrrhic at best.

Kratos and his allies weren't here, and he hadn't the first idea WHERE they were.

---

THE OUTSKIRTS OF ORLEANS

FOUR DAYS AFTER THE DEPARTURE OF CHALDEA​

When they finally laid eyes on Orleans, a ripple passed through the group. It had been a long, tiring four days, and to finally catch a glimpse of their goal……

The castle itself had seen better days - gloom and despair clung to it like a shroud. The corpses that Avenger had used as, as she had put it, as a 'keep the everloving fuck away sign' still lay strewn about the borders. But, even had they not known, they would have realized at a glance that this was the source of France's troubles, both those seeking to destroy it, and the plague that was slowly choking the life from the land itself. A miasma wafted from the very bricks of the castle itself, thick enough that it could be cut with a blade.

The walls, however, still stood strong, and the gate was drawn and barred. No signs of life could be seen from within the castle, but Romani had confirmed - there were Servant signatures within. At long last, the final destination lay in sight.

"Fuckin' FINALLY," griped Avenger.

Crude as her words were, the sentiment was at least shared by all of them, even Kratos. He had marched them all as he would fellow Spartans - Liz was giving her life to draw their enemies' eyes to her, and other soldiers would soon be spilling their own blood for the same reason. They would not let those sacrifices be wasted by being late.

To all of their credits, they had matched his pace easily.

It had been the hardest on Mash. The girl may have been a Servant, but unlike them, she still needed food and sleep like a human. But never once had she let her pace slacken, she had kept up through pure grit and will, always just behind Kratos.

No one commented on how, once she had eaten her fill in the evening - always lukewarm food, they could not risk a fire being spotted (though Avenger was apparently able to heat the metal containers their food was stored in through her touch alone) - she had collapsed into a dead sleep in her sleeping bag until the morning, Fou snuggled into her arms. The various Servants just smiled at the sleeping head of purple hair, made sure the girl was as comfortable as possible, and took their various turns on watch, always talking in a whisper, careful not to disturb her slumber. Even Avenger had made an effort to moderate her volume.

Kiyohime sniffed, turning her nose up at the other Servant. "Language, Avenger. Truly, I don't know how something so base came from Jeanne. You're nothing like her, and prove it in new and more disgraceful ways every day."

Kiyohime, for all that she had been a pampered noble girl in her life, had weathered the march as well as any of the other Servants - proving that the word 'superhuman' which had been used so often to describe Servants in Chaldea was as true as ever. She, like Mash, had been right behind Kratos every step of the way.

And that, in hindsight, should have been the first sign.

It was subtle at first. She was typically at his side - never too close, but always there. Watching, listening, engaging him in conversation in the few times they had breath to spare for words - typically only when they stopped for the evening. It could have passed for simple curiosity, were Liz's warning to him not ringing in his mind.

She'd not called him 'Anchin' once - something that had allayed his fears, until the second evening, after they had heard a massive explosion far to the east - one that could only be the destruction of Castle Csejte. While all had mourned their fallen ally, Kiyohime had taken it the hardest, having some familiarity with her fellow draconic Servant from the Throne.

That morning, he had awoken to find her curled up next to him, fast asleep, and far too close.

Part of him wanted to write it off as just a reaction to the trauma of losing a friend - and she and Liz WERE friends, despite their at times adversarial relationship - but he now knew Kiyohime's Legend. And Servants, as he had been told repeatedly, were slaves to their Legend.

For the next two days, Medusa and Jeanne had watched Kiyohime carefully. She'd not fallen asleep next to him again, and she'd still refrained from calling him Anchin - it continued to be Kratos or 'sir', mimicking Mash at times. But Medusa reported that one evening, while on watch, Kiyohime had been quietly talking to herself, carrying on both sides in a conversation. While it had been too quiet to hear the entirety, she had caught Kratos' name at least once.

It was clear, while the girl might know, on a rational level that Kratos was not her would-be beloved, her Legend, and the Madness that was the curse of every Berserker was beginning to take its toll.

And in a likelihood, because he had saved her life, and that had triggered something in the girl's fractured mind.

Kratos found his opinion of the Throne of Heroes deteriorating even further. Bad enough these spirits could be called up by mages unworthy of their service and forced into acts beneath them, but Berserkers were degraded even further, their very minds stolen by the class they had been placed into.

Kiyohime was stable, for now, but for how long would that last? Long enough for them to kill Baldur and restore this past France? And if she had lost sight of reality before they had reached Orleans, what was there to be done? Dismiss her from the group, and he risked provoking a battle that could well upend their entire plan. Talking to her, Medusa and Jeanne both agreed, would do little if her madness gained dominance over her mind - she would twist all answers to the reality she wished, rather than the reality that existed.

He would not even consider the option of killing her, sending her back to the Throne. Were she a ravening beast like the Berserker of Fuyuki, and actively dangerous, it would have been one thing…..but at worst, Kiyohime was merely delusional. Mad, yes, but she was not a threat. Not at this moment. And not to the group.

So she remained by his side, and he guarded his words carefully, and hoped her mind would remain intact long enough to see this Singularity resolved.

"Our scans are showing the army's drawing up on Castle Dracula," stated Romani, eyes flickering between displays on his screen. "If they hold to the plan, they'll send out a screen to draw out the wyverns, and start the bombardment soon after. So it's now or never."

"Means I better get down to the coffins, then, and get my stretches in," Cu's grin was positively feral. "After sitting on my ass for nearly a week, I'm finally going to get to see some action! Don't make me wait too long, Kratos. Sparring with you was fun, but fighting next to you is better." With a cheerful wave, he departed from Da Vinci's screen, allowing the woman to reclaim her seat.

Kratos grunted. "We make for the throne room at haste. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we finish this."

Avenger rolled her eyes. "Great speech there, grumpy. Don't quit your day job to become a motivational speaker….OW!" The pale-haired woman glared down at Kiyohime, who had jabbed her in the side with her fan.

The shorter girl glared right back. "Behave, Avenger. We're all of us anxious to avenge Elizabeth, even if we're not compelled by our class to do so."

"Enough," rumbled Kratos. "We move. Remain cautious."

They set out at a rapid pace, nerves on edge, all of them waiting anxiously for the moment they would be noticed - because they would be noticed. Whether it would be the sheer amount of Servant signatures approaching, or Kratos' divine radiance, or simply the chain of enmity that existed between Siegfried and Fafnir, they could not hide. Something in their group would be impossible for their enemies to miss. It was only a question of what, and when.

'When', it turned out, was when they had crossed half the ground that stood between them and Orleans itself. And 'what' was a dragon that boiled up from the castle grounds, shrieking in mindless rage.

Siegfried drew up next to Kratos, his eyes never leaving the wyrm flying towards them at reckless speed. "Is it time, then?"

"Yes," Kratos extended his hand, and Siegfried took it. One more thread burned itself into Kratos' mind, this one steady, reliable. A weathered, but implacable tree. One that would stand up through the fiercest of storms.

Siegfried drew himself up to his full height, his eyes going still and dead as he gazed upon his foe. "I shall not let you down, Sir Kratos."

"Fight well," Kratos and the rest of the group drew away from Siegfried, all them carefully watching Fafnir, but they needn't have bothered. The monster had eyes only for its destined foe.

Fangs and claws descended from the sky, but were met by a shining sword that leapt to meet the drake. Balmung was everywhere, darting left, right, and center to parry claws that would have rent Siegfried in two, or jaws that would have swallowed him whole. Blood rained down, both the toxic blood of the dragon, and the redder blood of the man.

Within a few moments, their fight had carried them far beyond the horizon.

"Nothing more we can do for him, now," said Jeanne, her face torn. "Just like he thought it would be."

"We have our goal, as does he," Siegfried had been unable to tell Kratos much of how he had slain Fafnir in his life - his memories of it were spotty at best. Dragonslayers in this world apparently entered into a kind of trance when in battle with a true Dragon, one that left little room for thought, only the cut and thrust of a life and death struggle against a foe like no other. But he had been certain, now that he had wounded his nemesis, Fafnir would come for him at the first chance, and he would meet him, as was his duty as a knight.

It had been oddly prescient.

They resumed their march, knowing that Fafnir would not be the only welcome they received from the gloomy castle. The Servants within knew they were coming now.

The whistling of arrows through the air signaled the next obstacle they would have to overcome. Shields raised, Kratos and Mash took the fore, as arrows rained down on them.

---

 

SOME DISTANCE TO THE EAST OF ORLEANS​

Siegfried wiped blood, both his and Fafnir's, from his face, as he heaved breaths into his chest. Above him, Fafnir circled, snapping and roaring, polluted blood still dripping down to the earth.

Though he had no way to truly judge based on his hazy memories of his past encounter with the monster, this seemed to be going well. He'd managed to avoid taking a serious wound in the frantic clash that had taken place just moments ago, though he'd not managed a telling blow to the wyrm, either. How long they'd battled he had no idea - there had only been his enemy, and life, or death. To his best guess, the battle in the air had carried him some distance from Orleans - but thankfully not so far that his connection to his Master was strained.

Fortunate, because slaying Fafnir would take every scrap of mana he could muster, and then some.

Hissing, Fafnir descended, claws outstretched. Balmung snapped up and, lightning quick, parried the claws, knocking the massive arms aside. His legs surged and he leapt forward, rolling under the snapping jaws that had been Fafnir's true attack - the creature had once been a sentient, thinking creature, before the curse had transformed it - far too many had thought it just a mindless beast, and had paid dearly for it.

He came to his knees around the area of the dragon's stomach, Balmung moving with his body, the tip of the sword cutting into the softer scales of the dragon's underside. But before the blade could dig deep into vulnerable flesh, the rear talons were there, and behind them, a snapping tail. He leapt from where he had been crouched, Balmung shearing a single claw away as he Disengaged, the spiked tail making a ruin of the ground where he had been a moment later.

Still no telling blows, but each cut he made sapped his nemesis' strength a little more.

Bellowing in rage, Fafnir slammed to the ground and half-slithered, half-clawed its way towards Siegfried. Again, he was forced to leap away as a maw of yellowed teeth and toxic froth shot forward, shattering rotten trees as it snapped shut. He'd barely landed when he was forced to take to the air, as Fafnir snapped his body like a whip, and the jagged tail sliced through the air.

Siegfried easily cleared the danger, though the crack that split the air made him wince at the thought of what such an attack could do to his body. Balmung flipped over in his hands, and he landed on the dragon's tail, sword stabbing down, finally cleaving deep into the monster's body.

Fafnir howled, and he dug his heels in and jerked the sword back and forth, plunging it deeper, and widening the wound. If he could sever the nerves here…….

Another howl of rage - he must have hit a particularly painful spot - and Fafnir again twisted his body, and with a crack that made the first sound meek in comparison, managed to dislodge the knight, hurling him though the copse. This time it was Siegfried's body that made ruin of the dying trees.

Thin, watery sap and splinters clung to his armor as he rose to his feet, thankfully never having lost grasp of his sword.

For across the distance from the two enemies, Fafnir was inhaling deeply.

So, it was to be the dragon's breath against his Noble Phantasm? So be it.

He took the familiar stance, both hands grasping his blade, point of the sword to the sky, and had just settled his foot back, about to twist the hilt, when he heard it.

Hoofbeats, and rapid ones at that.

He burst from the treeline, a man - a knight, astride a horse, clad in armor the color of bronze, and robes of white billowing as his charger churned up the ground beneath him. Brown hair fluttered behind him, and a sword, shining with radiance, was raised in his hand.

Siegfried would have recognized him anywhere, for he was one of a small fraternity of Dragonslayers, a fraternity to which Siegfried also belonged.

Saint Georgios.

He didn't know if Fafnir recognized the Saint for who he was, or just knew, on some instinctive level, that this man, like his destined enemy, was another Dragonslayer, but either way, the wyrm wasted no time in unleashing his greatest weapon on the charging knight.

Fire, a pale green, washed over the man……and parted. From within the deluge, the knight's steed glowed a brilliant white, and the flames were pushed back, not so much as singing a single hair on man or horse.

And the saint never stopped his charge.

Ascalon sang, and one of the creature's legs crashed to the ground, severed as neatly as you please, still twitching as it lay in the dirt.

Fafnir shrieked, a high, keening note of pain, and its many wings beat the air, leaving the ground, desperately putting space between itself and that blade.

Georgios wheeled his mount around, and within moments, had drawn up to Siegfried. "Well met, Sir Siegfried." His head nodded, as close to a bow as he was willing to give, with Fafnir still roaring in pain above them. "This, then, is Fafnir?"

Siegfried nodded, his eyes never leaving his quarry. "Yes, good sir, you behold the cursed drake himself. Though, I did not know you had been summoned in this land - but it does my heart good to see you here, nonetheless."

Georgios favored him with a smile. "I came across a band of men not two days ago - an army, really - they told me of a group that would be attacking Orleans itself, seeking to save this land. I accompanied them until I felt this monster rear its head, upon which, I departed. For I could not allow one of my brethren to fight such by himself…….I hope I have not made an imposition of myself."

Siegfried's smile matched the one on the saint's face. "Far from it, my brother. I would gladly welcome your assistance in seeing this blight scoured from the lands of France."

The sound of beating wings showed their time was up, Fafnir was hurt, but furious, and he was coming for them.

Steel filled Georgios' eyes. "Then, shall we?"

Together, the two Dragonslayers charged.

---

 

ORLEANS​

Arrow after arrow bounced off the Spartan's shield as he took step after painstaking step forward. Around him, the two Jeannes' weapons were a blur as they worked to keep the arrows from finding their flesh. Behind Mash's massive shield, Kiyohime had found shelter - possibly she would have preferred to remain close to Kratos, but she had wisely chosen the greater protection offered by the larger shield carried by Chaldea's Demi-Servant. Medusa, as of yet, had not had need to draw her weapons, her great speed allowing her to avoid the arrows sent her way.

"There's enough of us that she can't focus fire on any one of us, but she's just buying time!" yelled Jeanne, sweat beginning to leak into her eyes. "We need to breach the castle walls, and soon!"

"Seriously lacking some ranged options of our own here!" snapped Avenger, her head darting out of the way of an arrow that barely missed splitting her head open. "You might want to consider summoning someone with a bow, or better yet, a damn rocket launcher, in the future!"

Kratos growled, but bit back a retort - the annoying woman was right. The Archer had the ability to strike them from afar, and the high ground. Approach would be a challenge, were she merely a mortal with a bow - and she was far more than that.

"Rider," he rumbled. "Can you reach her?"

Medusa cast her gaze to the castle walls, eyes tracing a path. "She's moving between shots, like she should be……..but I think there's a way." She frowned. "But if she's operating with a buddy, like a sniper should be I could end up in trouble. Sanson shouldn't be a problem, but the other two……"

"If it is the Black Knight, or Baldur himself, fall back. Drawing the Berserker to us could benefit us, allowing us to remove him from the field." He did not think Baldur would allow himself to be baited in such a manner, but the crazed Servant was another matter entirely.

She nodded. "As you wish. Mash, cover me for a second!"

"Right!" The purple haired girl dashed over to Medusa's side, Kiyohime less than a step behind her. Once behind the cover of Mash's shield, Medusa crouched low, her legs tensing. Purple energy flared around her lower limbs.

And then she took off like a shot.

Within seconds, she had crossed the empty field between themselves and the castle walls. Pieces of the walls fell, shattered, as she flew up them, the cracks of her footfalls so close together they seemed like a single, continuous sound. For a second, Kratos thought he saw a flutter of the woman's purple hair as she leapt from the walls to one of the castle towers, but he couldn't be certain.

A moment later, the arrows stopped.

"MOVE!" shouted Kratos - unnecessarily, as every member of their group rushed forward at the sign of a reprieve from the barrage.

They reached the gate without further incident.

"Ok, now fucking what?" asked Avenger, her head tilted back to stare up at the walls. "We climbing?"

Kratos' shield retracted into the strip of metal on his arm. "Now, you stand guard. And stand back."

He strode up to the gate, looking for and finding nothing that would serve as suitable handholds. Two strikes from his fists solved that issue, caving in the metal enough for him to get a good grip. He took hold, inhaled deeply, and pulled.

Metal groaned, as feudal castle construction of the 1400s vied against the sinews of a living god. The veins in his arms popped out, and the muscles of his back, always on display, bulged until they seemed as if they were forged from steel.

(Kiyohime may have had to wipe a bit of drool from her lips. Not that she let that stop her from staring.)

For a long moment, there was only the steel gate, and the man straining against it. Then, the groaning metal gave way to a sound of breaking.

Avenger's jaw had fallen open. "No freakin' way….."

Stone shattered and metal fractured as the gate was torn from its moorings. Kratos took a step back, awkwardly balancing the gate as he held it above himself. Another step back, as he half-turned, then another deep breath. Then, with a roar, he hurled the gate aside.

The noise of its crashing to the ground had barely died down when Avenger let out a low whistle. "Hoooooleeeeee SHIT. Remind me to never piss you off."

Kiyohime's eyes were wide. "Kratos……just how strong are you?"

"When he first came to Chaldea, we tried to measure it," said Mash. "Doctor Roman ended up having to write down 'Yes' as the answer when we couldn't find an upper limit to it…..though we were operating on limited power for the Simulator then."

Avenger was shaking her head in disbelief. "Fucking impressive. So long as you didn't hurt your back doing that stunt."

"My back is fine." To hear those same words his son uttered coming from Avenger…..he couldn't decide if it rankled, or was just strange. "Three years ago, before Ragnarök, I was forced to flip Tyr's Temple. This was less, compared to that."

"You're telling me that story, if we both make it out of this alive, Kratos." There was a grin on her face that was almost friendly. "I'm holding you to that."

He grunted. "Jeanne, lead us to the throne."

Inside the castle walls, the miasma was thick enough to make any normal soul gag. There was an unwholesomeness in the air that reminded Kratos, in a small way, of the cramped and choked pathways of the Temple of Light, when it had been under Dark Elf control.

They had taken but a few steps into the courtyard, when there came a roar, a great cry of something that was once a man, once, before events had cost it its reason and sanity, then, hot on its heels, there came the sound of shattering stone, and a form was blasted into their midst.

Medusa landed on her feet a bit shakily. The woman looked worse for wear - her dress was torn in some places, and she freely bled from a cut on her forehead. Most notably, her blindfold was gone.

"Careful!" she snapped. "Don't meet my eyes - without my blindfold to suppress them, there's the risk that they might start turning you to stone!"

"Atalanta?" asked Jeanne, eyes flitting about the castle walls, seeking the Greek Servant.

"No, the Black Knight." Medusa's hands tightened on her weapons. "The stories didn't do him justice…….he's a monster. He tried to tear my eyes from my skull, and only got my blindfold…..and then slapped me with it when he realized he missed. It's what caused this cut. Be careful, he's…."

Whatever she had been trying to say was cut off, as a heavily armored form burst through a wall, roaring its head off. In the few seconds it was within his sight, Kratos' mind furiously took in the details.

Black, thick plated armor. Dark, shrouding smoke poured from every crevasse. A visor slit lit with angry red, a tail of blue hair fluttering from the top of the helm. And around his form, the flickers of red magical energy.

And this thing was crashed against Mash's shield, the girl having raised her weapon/defense the second the Servant had blasted through the wall. Time seemed to stop, as Kratos saw the mad Servant shove against Mash's shield.

Then, a second later, they were gone, the Berserker's charge having carried them off into another part of the castle.

"Mash!" the cry came involuntarily from his lungs. Whatever, WHOEVER this Servant was, it was nothing Mash was ready to face on her own. Truly, the aura of madness and savagery pouring from it even gave him momentary pause.

He began to take a step to follow them, but was cut off by a shout from Medusa. "No! You HAVE to get to the throne room and get Caster in - he's the only one who can stop Baldur." For the briefest of seconds, she turned her head back to look at him, and met his eyes. Her eyes, like her hair, were violet, he noted. Then she turned away. "I'll go - my eyes might be able to petrify him completely, or long enough to kill him - and I'm the strongest Servant you have to throw at him."

Avenger took a step forward. "I'll go with her. I feel Charlie off in that direction too. The fact he doesn't have his Presence Concealment up means it's probably a trap. Not that it'll help him. I'll roast him, keep him from jumping either your girl or sneaking up on the rest of you while you're dealing with Baldur's ass. He might not be much as far as Servants go, but he could still cause problems if we let him run around alive, and I owe him." She sneered. "Once he's dead, I'll go help the snake. Between 'me' and the dragon girl, you should be fine."

Kratos growled, but couldn't fault her logic, loath as he was to divide the group further - and Avenger was the one he would trust the least out of his sight. Not from fears of treachery - he believed her need for vengeance was genuine enough, given her class, but she was utterly lacking in control and discipline, as she had demonstrated more than once.

"Go," he rumbled, and both women hastened away, Medusa darting away in a flash, following the trail of destruction that had been left as the Black Knight had driven Mash through the castle. Avenger was hot on her heels, though she diverted paths soon after.

"Let's go," muttered Jeanne. "The throne room is this way."

---

It wasn't hard to find Sanson. He was, as she had noted, making no effort to hide himself.

Which, as she had also noted, likely meant this was a trap. Best case, it was just an attempt to either delay them by forcing them to deal with him, or to peel off a member of the group to reduce their concentrated awesome. Worst case, she was quite literally sticking her neck into the old guillotine for the executioner.

Well, not like she had any better ideas. And constant exposure to her showed that her real self had gotten most of the brains in this exchange. Thankfully, she kicked enough ass that it didn't bother her too much. And while the both of them couldn't read a lick, she, at least, had gotten the artistic talent, as her Banner of Vengeance so effortlessly displayed.

Advantage, Avenger Jeanne.

She kicked the doors open, and strode into the ruined church. Glancing about, she saw that it hadn't changed much since she'd been evicted from Orleans. Gilles had taken an unholy delight in defiling the church once she'd taken over the castle, and it looks like none of her traitorous Servants had cared to restore the building to its previous state. Not surprising, since the only one of them that could claim any sort of real fondness for God had moved out when he'd been given his own castle to live in, leaving a pair of pagans (Atalanta and Baldur), a lunatic (whoever the fuck that Black Knight was), and one other.

Who just happened to be there, kneeling in front of the broken altar. Her former Servant, Charles-Henri Sanson, his head bowed, that bigass sword of his held in front of him, doing that cross thing that pious knights were so damn fond of - or so parts of her tattered memory told her.

Rich, really, coming from an executioner. She had to give him credit for audacity - it also looked cool, so points for that.

"Praying the beating you're about to take will be over quick, Charlie?" She raised her hand up to her neck, pressing down, cracking her knuckles against her pallid flesh. (Gads, she missed her left hand sometimes. Can't do a badass knuckle cracking the way you're supposed to when you're a gimp, but she managed. She was dope like that.) "You can't be asking him for help - God wants about as much to do with a butcher like you as he does a heretic like me. Honestly, the Big Man might be more fond of that wall of muscles I'm walking around with these days than either of us."

He said nothing, his head remaining bowed, which stoked her ire - not that it had taken much to raise it, even before she'd gotten reborn into her current class. "If you don't answer me, I'm going to get mad and forget about giving you a chance to die on your feet, jackass. Cause I'm not exactly swimming in time here - I don't actually hate the little marshmallow that's tagging along with my current Master, and if you make me late and something happens to her, I might actually feel bad." The temperature inside the building began to climb, rising with her anger.

Sanson finally raised his head, and slowly made his way to his feet. "As boorish as ever, I see. I wondered, after you summoned me, how something like you could have ever been French. But after Baldur explained what you truly were, it made perfect sense. Just a flawed copy, dreamed up by a madman." He turned to face her, his face still in that bland, dead expression he always wore.

(It had always unsettled her, just a little bit. Knee deep in carnage, dead bodies all around him, and he'd look as bored as if he was taking a nice stroll across the town square. Then again, he'd probably seen enough death, up close and personal, in the Reign of Terror that it would take a lot to get him fussed by it.)

"I wonder," he said, as he raised his sword. "Will it feel any different to kill a fake, as opposed to a real person? When the guillotine blade caresses your neck, will it be new, or will it feel like all the others that I saw sentenced to the Madame's tender mercies?"

For the first time since she had summoned him, an expression marred his bland facade - his eyes flared, and he looked…eager. "Because, if ANYONE deserves death, it is you, Dragon Witch. You forced me to kill the innocent, those who had committed no crimes, all to sate your need to punish France - and worse, it wasn't even your desire. Just one handed to you by that gibbering blasphemer." He shook his head. "No……..this may well be the last act I perform in this summoning, but it will be a just one."

His sword snapped up, pointing directly at her. "Dragon Witch, false Jeanne, I sentence you to death for innumerable crimes against France and its people." His blade whistled through the air as he slashed it into a ready position. "Resist if you desire, struggle if you must. But I have my duty, and I will see it through. Then the Madame shall have her due."

Avenger's spear materialized in her hand, the point already beginning to glow white hot. Without her left hand, she couldn't really give him the 'come on' gesture that this standoff demanded, so she'd have to Use Her Words. "Don't sing it, Charlie, bring it."

And as one, they struck.

---

They made their way deeper into the castle, Jeanne at their head. The strings of Siegfried, Mash, Medusa, and Avenger thrummed in his mind - all four of them were fighting, possibly for their lives. But they were alive, for now.

"We're almost there," said Jeanne. "Just through this receiving area, and then up the stairs and……."

She trailed off, as they entered a large room, and beheld the two Servants awaiting them.

Baldur, sprawled in a chair. Still wearing the face of Jeanne's brother, but with hair that had darkened and thickened since they last laid eyes upon him. The fine, golden curls of the Maid of Orleans' brother were slowly transforming into the matted tangles of the Baldur that Kratos had known. And a face, formerly clean-shaved, was beginning to sprout the first wiry bits of a beard.

And by his side, one who could only have been the legendary huntress of Greek legend, Atalanta.

Truly, she looked little like he had expected. Thin and willowy, as one would have expected from one whose fame was tied to their great speed, but the tufted ears and tail were…..strange. Likely yet another oddity of the Servant system, somehow related to how she spent her last days in the form of a lion. And like as not, it only made her more dangerous.

Hate filled her eyes as she stared upon Kratos - but it was not merely him that drew her ire. Her eyes narrowed upon sighting Jeanne as well.

"Finally," sneered Baldur, pushing to his feet. "Looks like I lose my bet with you after all. He really was coming for us."

The Greek Archer's rictus of hate softened as she turned to favor Baldur with a small, confident grin. "Everything you told me about him made it seem like this foreign god wasn't one to tiptoe around things. Far too many things could go wrong with an excursion across the borders - no, he'd come here." The hate was back on her face as she beheld Kratos. "To try to murder an abused child once again."

Her bow materialized in her hands, though she did not draw it back. Yet. "Was it not enough to kill him in your world, after he had finally been freed from the curse his mother laid upon him?"

"He serves someone who wants to destroy all of humanity!" yelled Jeanne, taking a step forward. "Not just France, everyone, everywhere! All the children that ever lived, or ever will, will BURN if this Lev and his fellows are not stopped!"

"And I don't CARE!" shouted Atalanta, a hint of red flooding into her eyes. "Do you know what this boy's mother did to him? Cut him off from everything, all sensation, all feeling, all to soothe her worries. All for her own peace of mind, HEEDLESS of what it was doing to her son! And when he told her how he was suffering, she just laughed it off. No." She shook her head sadly. "No, I cannot let this stand. I can do nothing for the children that have been caught up in the Incineration - that is beyond me. But what I can do is help a child who is suffering right in front of me, HERE AND NOW!"

Her bow snapped up, an arrow appearing fitted to the string. Her eyes were filled with red. "And while I have no memories of what may cause it……merely seeing your face, Maid of Orleans, fills me with a loathing unlike any I have felt before."

"Well, looks like she's made her choice. You can have the 'Saint'," drawled Baldur. "That just leaves you, Kratos, and our unfinished business." He sneered. "Though I see you have another brat trailing in your wake. Did you miss that puling runt of yours so badly you had to find another one?"

Kiyohime hissed, and from behind him, Kratos could hear the crackle of flames. 'The stairs to the throne are just behind them, Kratos. We just have to get by them. I can handle Atalanta, can you figure some way past Baldur?'

'I will have to.' Kratos reached back and seized the Leviathan Axe. Its length would be more useful than the Blades in this cramped space, and indoors was a poor place for Draupnir. And better the frost of the axe than the fires of the Blades - a castle could burn like anything else.

(And, if need be, it could put out the fires that would be started by his possibly unstable ally.)

For a long moment, no one moved, the only sound was the crackle of Kiyohime's flames. Then, Atlanta loosed an arrow, and the fight was on.

Jeanne slapped the arrow aside, then yelped, as Atalanta was suddenly behind her, seizing her by the braid. With a feral cry, the huntress hurled Jeanne through the door they had entered by, then spun and fired a volley of arrows at Kratos, almost point blank.

He got his shield up in time, only just, but he needn't have bothered. A gout of fire, waved forward by a fan, turned the arrows into ash. Before he could retaliate, Atalanta was gone, sprinting off into the castle after Jeanne.

Then Baldur was there.

A hooking punch buried itself in his side, before he could turn, and he was knocked back, the breath blasted from his lungs. A jet of flame flowed over Baldur, the flames parting before ever touching him, and with a mocking laugh, he backhanded Kiyohime across the room.

And then it was just the two of them.

Baldur's fist crashed into his shield, the metal ringing like a gong. Kratos pushed back, shoving Baldur aside, then slid out of the way of a telegraphed haymaker. Testing, he stuck his leg out, seeking to foul Baldur's footing - if he could cause the man to stumble, he could possibly bury him again, and gain the moment he would need to break off and make for the throne room.

It was as useless as if he had tried to strike him - Baldur's legs flowed around his attempted trip, showing a grace and balance the man had never demonstrated in his living days. Kratos gritted his teeth - this likely meant grappling would be equally ineffective, as would attempting to bind him with the chains of the Blades of Chaos.

With a cry, Baldur's foot lashed out, and Kratos twisted out of the way. A barrage of fists followed, and Kratos weaved around them, ducking and twisting, trying to get Baldur off balance - if he couldn't trip him, maybe he could just get him to stumble under his own power.

Kratos faked a stumble of his own, and Baldur took the bait, throwing another titanic punch Kratos' way, one he easily rolled under, and then, he was behind Baldur. He made it two steps before, in a flash, Baldur was again in front of him, hand wrapped around the handle of the Leviathan Axe.

"Oh no, you're not getting away that easy," With a grunt of effort, he hurled Kratos back into the center of the room. Contemptuously, he stalked forward. "This doesn't end until you're dead, Kratos, and I have the bounty that gets me back to my world…….and to my bitch of a mother."

A shrieking, enraged Kiyohime leapt onto Baldur's back, attempting to seize him by the throat, but her hands slipped from his neck as if they were oiled. She fell onto the floor, and avoided a vicious kick by the skin of her teeth, narrowly stumbling under it. She choked, then belched a cloud of smoke into Baldur's face.

Smoke that dissipated almost immediately.

"Not FAIR!" she shrieked, as she backpedaled, trying to avoid the fist that was screaming at her face. At the last second, Kratos' shield interposed itself between them, the metal groaning with the impact. Baldur seized the edge of the shield, and Kratos jerked his arm, attempting to fling Baldur aside, but the Norse god released the shield the second he felt Kratos move, and threw a jab at Kratos' now exposed side.

Kiyohime's fan managed to block and stop the punch, proving that it was more durable than its fragile appearance let on. She slapped his fist aside, then leapt back, taking position at Kratos' side.

They were getting nowhere, fast. And he had no idea how his other allies fared. All the strings in his mind, save that of Cu Chulainn, were vibrating with the feel of imminent danger and combat. None yet had slackened in what he would assume was death - so they yet lived.

But for how long?

Baldur cackled. "Try everything you can think of, Kratos. You CAN'T hurt me. And your time is running out - whether my Servants win against your worthless allies or not, they can't hurt me either. You're skilled, I'll give you that, but you WILL make a mistake, eventually. And then, I'll make you pay for it in BLOOD."

Fingers on his arm caused Kratos to turn his head to the side, while still keeping one eye on Baldur. "Anch….." Kiyohime bit into her lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Kratos! Kratos….make a contract with me."

At his furrowed brow, she continued. "I can hold him, just long enough to let you get away. But I'll have to use my Noble Phantasm. And……I'll need more power to do that." Her eyes turned imploring. "Please……please trust me, this one last time. While I'm still myself."

Baldur's hands were on his hips, his entire posture one of callous indifference. "Plotting something? Go ahead. The more time you waste, the better for me."

Her eyes stared up at him. "Please, don't make me beg. Let me help you, in some way, to get back to your son….."

The one thing he had been warned against doing, both by Romani and Da Vinci, and by Medusa. But now, they were backed into a corner……..

Cautiously, he transferred the Leviathan Axe to his left hand, and held out his right.

Kiyohime seized his hand with both of hers, and another thread burned itself into his mind.

It was an unstable thing - parts of it burning with a fiery rage akin to that of Avenger's string, other parts hard and scaled, the dragon she became in her Legend. But underneath it all was the core, that of a simple, ordinary girl who had been overtaken by events and become something so much more, who had let her rage transform her.

Kiyohime's eyes brimmed with tears. "Thank you, for trusting me, at the end of all this." She wiped the tears from her eyes, then leveled a steely glare at Baldur. "Now stand back."

She stepped in front of Kratos, fire playing across her fan, and Baldur laughed uproariously. "Oh, letting a little girl fight your battles for you? This should be amusing…."

"You will not hurt him, you filth," Kiyohime's voice dripped with rage, and the promise of violence. "If by my death, I can see you stopped, then I will give it."

"I will exterminate all of the liars who ran from me……"

Kiyohime's form started to swell and grow, her formerly smooth skin rippling with scales. Her horns elongated, and her pupils transformed into reptilian slits.

"TRANSFORMING, FLAME-EMITTING MEDITATION!"

There was an explosion of heat and light, and when his sight returned, the girl was gone, replaced by the dragon.

If Fafnir had been more serpentine than the dragons he had seen in Midgard, Kiyohime's transformed body was beyond even that. He saw no wings or even legs, only a long, sinuous, white-scaled body.

Baldur, if anything, was unimpressed. "Oh, so THIS is your trump? Another dragon for me to break?" He sighed. "How incredibly…..disappointing."

The dragon that Kiyohime had become shrieked a challenge, body rearing up to nearly touch the ceiling. Baldur laughed at the display, his eyes taken completely off Kratos for a moment.

So he missed that Kiyohime's tail, quick as lighting, looped tightly around Kratos. For a moment, the Spartan was shocked, half-convinced that Kiyohime's sanity had been shattered by her transformation. But then her body jerked forward, flinging Kratos through the door at the opposite end of the room.

It wasn't a gentle throw by any stretch of the imagination. Kratos shattered through the door, then tumbled partways up the stairs - it hurt. But he was past Baldur.

"NO!" bellowed Baldur, already blurring as he made to cross the room, to catch Kratos and drag him back into the room.

He almost made it.

The second before he crossed the threshold, he crashed into a wall of scales and bounced back, Kiyohime's bulk now blocking the door to the stairs. Her body weaved from side to side, eyes locked onto Baldur as he feinted one way, then another, attempting to get past her.

"You……MONSTROUS BITCH! I'll RIP YOU APART!" His fist crashed into Kiyohime's body, knocking her back, making her cry out in pain, but she stubbornly remained in his path.

'Run Kratos. I'll hold him as long as I can. And goodbye…….'

---

Mash huffed a breath into her chest, fear thrumming through every part of her body.

She didn't know how long they had been fighting. In the first few moments, she had been acting purely on reflex and training, blocking the Servant's attacks by the narrowest of margins. At the time, she hadn't understood just how dangerous this foe was.

She had learned since.

She didn't know what part of the castle they were in, and she didn't have time to wonder - she only thanked her lucky stars that they hadn't ended up in the armory.

Not that this Servant needed traditional weapons. Before she'd even fully come to her feet once they'd crashed into this room, the Black Knight had seized two bricks and sent them screaming at her head. Before they'd crossed half the distance between them, the bricks had blackened, with angry red veins running through them.

The force and impact when they had collided with her shield had been so much greater than bricks should have been - she knew somehow - it had to be her Servant's instincts - those bricks had carried the force of a Noble Phantasm. A weak one, yes, but a Noble Phantasm all the same.

She shuddered to think of the damage those bricks could have done to her if she hadn't blocked.

The next few moments had been the most terrifying of Mash's life, more so than even waking up, alone, in the burning city, more so than when the explosions had torn through Chaldea, and she had found herself lying on the floor, so weak, and so cold, unable to feel her legs.

It had been just her, and the crazed Servant, and a desperate struggle to survive.

But she had survived.

It had been by the skin of her teeth, but she had managed to hold her own against the Black Knight. She'd fought desperately, frantically, and his clawed gauntlets had managed to leave her with a handful of wounds, but she was still alive.

At times, it almost seemed like the Berserker was….hesitant to truly strike her, but every time it seemed like his assault was slackening, red mana would flow over him, and he would howl, then redouble his efforts. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but those seconds of respite were a godsend to her - they allowed her a brief, brief window to catch her breath.

Amidst the terror and the adrenaline, there was something else. It was deeply buried within her, hidden, but almost begrudgingly revealed nonetheless. It was a sense of…..familiarity.

[Knight of Owner…….and Eternal Arms Mastery. It IS you, isn't it, old man? Girl, beat this disgrace, and hit him at least three times for me. I might even take back half the things I've said about you if you manage that.]


Had she a moment to herself, she might have wondered about this odd sense of having known this knight - but she was far too concerned with surviving the next few seconds to spare even a single thought towards this oddity. So she fought, striving to hold out until help came - she knew, as sure as the sun would set tomorrow, that her teacher, Kratos, would not let her face this alone.

And her faith was rewarded. With a crack akin to a sonic boom, Medusa shot into the room, moving so fast she was almost a blur.

Her eyes flashed, and for a second, the Black Knight was frozen in place. Medusa's foot crashed into his helmet, the metal cracking at the force generated by her kick, then she was flying upward, and past him, as the Servant seized a wooden beam and swung it, attempting to shatter every bone in the Greek Servant's body.

Chains clattered, and popped into being, wrapped around the Berserker's throat. Medusa landed, feet planted on the ceiling, and her arms bulged, as she hurled the Servant into the opposite wall.

For a second, it was quiet, as Medusa leapt off the ceiling and landed at Mash's side.

"Are you hurt?," she asked, eyes forward waiting, expecting the Servant to re-emerge any second.

"I'm ok!" replied Mash, heaving breaths of air into her lungs. "Mr. Kratos?"

"Heading towards the throne room. I came to back you up. Avenger should be here once she's done with Sanson. We just have to hold out until then."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!," roaring incoherently, the Berserker blasted through the wall. His hands opened, and were suddenly filled.

"Assault rifles! How….?," Medusa's exclamation was cut off, as the crazed Servant opened up with both barrels.

Mash ducked behind her shield, desperately trying to hide every inch of herself behind the solid metal, flinching as the first few bullets pinged off it. Medusa took off, flying across the room, barely staying ahead of the stream of lead. The torrent of fire continued, long after he should have run out of ammunition, so long that Mash began to realize she had to do something to break the stalemate - she was safe behind her shield, but Medusa could not keep this up forever.

Hesitantly, she took a step forward, terrified of letting even a sliver of her peek out from behind her shield. When she managed that, and did not feel a bullet crease her flesh, she took another step, this one more confidently.

And then another.

Then she was running.

The long, continuous roar the Berserker had been emitting was cut off as Mash crashed into him, her shield bending the barrel of the rifles backwards. The madman never released the triggers, and the guns misfired, then exploded in his hands.

This only seemed to make him madder.

He hurled the shattered remains of the rifles at Medusa, the woman weaving between them, then hauled back and struck Mash's shield, the sheer force of it blasting her back several feet. Medusa swooped in, her stakes gouging at the eye slit of the knight's visor, but he fell backwards, feet swinging upwards to blast Medusa in the gut, sending her crashing into the ceiling.

The Berserker sprang to his feet, legs tensing to jump up and finish what he had started, but Mash's shield crashed into his side, staggering him, and Medusa descended from the ceiling, leg falling in a vicious axe kick, one that the Servant only just avoided by springing forward in a roll.

Quicker than a thought, he spun around, snatching some of the masonry that had been blasted into the air by Medusa's kick, and hurling it at the two women. Mash got her shield up in time to protect both of them, then braced for the next attack.

Which didn't come.

The Black Knight was staring at her, again, that odd hesitancy once again having asserted itself.

"What….?," began Medusa.

"I don't know……..," replied Mash. "Sometimes, he just stops…..before red energy washes over him, and he attacks even harder…."

"....sounds like a Command Seal, one he's fighting." Medusa was gently probing her stomach, wincing as her fingers trailed across where she had been kicked by the other Servant. "I don't know why they'd use one on a Berserker, but this could give us our window. The next time he freezes, we'll….."

Medusa stopped, her eyes glazing over. "Mash……I'm sorry, but I have to go. Please……please, try to stay alive."

And then Medusa vanished in a shower of gold sparks, and she was alone again.

---

Kratos ran up the stairs, moving as fast as he had ever moved. The walls echoed with the sounds of the room he had left, the sounds of a titanic struggle.

And the cries of a dragon in pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, the stairs leveled off, and he beheld the door atop them - so garishly decorated it could be nothing else but the doorway to the throne of this castle.

Some part of him realized that the sounds of combat behind him had ceased.

He crashed through the doors, reducing them to kindling, his legs not stopping until he was close enough to the throne to touch it. He raised his left arm, jabbing at the button to activate the communicator - amazingly, it was still intact, despite everything he had been through in this Singularity.

"ROMANI!" he roared. "I AM HERE!"

"Leyline….connected! Ready to activate substitution!" Romani was clearly riding the edge of panic, eyes flicking between screen and screen and screen, somehow trying to monitor the many different battles taking place within, and without, Orleans. "We don't have the power to keep Medusa and Cu manifested at once, we're going to HAVE to pull her back - there's too much risk of blowing out a generator, and that would see you all lost."

His eyes met Kratos, fear filling them. "It's going to leave Mash all by herself against that Black Knight - Avenger's still fighting Sanson……..are you certain?"

Kratos could hear footsteps, heavy and rapid, echoing from the stairwell. He had no time……… "Yes." he growled, his gut twisting. "Do it!"

Three things happened at once.

Baldur burst into the room, howling Kratos' name.

In Kratos' mind, Medusa's string dimmed and slackened, as his sense of her presence faded. Dimly, he heard what he thought was the sound of two hands connecting, slapping each other across the palms. And Cu Chulainn's string flared to life.

And between Kratos and Baldur, a form burst into being, winds whipping through the throne room.

"FINALLY!" yelled the blue-haired Caster, his expression ecstatic. "Cu Chulainn makes his big entrance!"

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: While I was trying to sleep, the image of Liz Home Alone-stalling Baldur throughout Castle Csejte came to me, and wouldn't go away. As some have said, she can't physically harm him, but psychologically? Girl's in her ELEMENT. I may come down on the side of Team UMU in the great Fate/EXTRA Idol War, but Liz showed up on my tutorial gatcha and has been with me my entire journey, so I'm still fond of the little miscreant.

OOC Gilles: 'TWO Jeannes? I've had dreams that started this way……' Or maybe NOT so OOC Gilles.

I looked for a good picture of Kiyo's dragon form - her Noble Phantasm gives you like a SECOND of a glimpse of it, and it's mostly a fiery snek as far as I could see. The best image I found through a google search was this, which is what I went with.. https://images3.alphacoders.com/875/875647.jpg

As a note, I'll almost certainly never do an April Fool's spoof post or anything. Not to my taste. I realize this looking at the date, and how close I came to posting this on the dread date.

Next chapter will be the last for Orleans.

Chapter 19: Orleans Finale

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 19​

Baldur took a step back - having heard Cu's True Name, he was undoubtedly getting a lifetime's worth of information on the Irish Servant fed directly into his head, and was being cautious while he processed it.

Cu was bouncing on the balls of his feet, frenetic energy practically rolling off the Servant.

"Kratos!" The Celt's grin was wide enough to nearly split his face in two. "Before we get started, I have three favors to ask you! One, can I get a loaner?"

He held out his right hand, middle finger twitching - as if his meaning had not been immediately clear. Unhesitatingly, Kratos withdrew Draupnir from his finger and tossed it to Cu, who snatched it from the air and slid it onto his finger, in a single motion. A second later, Draupnir was eagerly clutched in his hands.

"Much better!" he exclaimed, spinning the spear around in his hand, almost unconsciously. "Never was much for the two weapon stuff, that was always more Diarmuid's thing, poor unlucky bastard. But he does alright with it, spears or swords, and I'll just have to do the same, or else he'll mock the shit out of me when I get back to the Throne."

He slammed the butt of Draupnir into the ground. "These next two are going to take some trust from you. Two - go help Mash."

He met Kratos' glower with a look of pure confidence. "I got this. And you know our cute little student needs backup more than I do. Go, save her, and get back here - pretty sure there'll be plenty of fight left by the time you do."

Kratos growled, low in his throat, but he knew Cu was right. He could feel the girl's fear and desperation through the string in his head. And, in truth, there was little he COULD do against Baldur.

It did not, however, mean he liked it.

"And the third?" he asked.

"This one will probably rub you the wrong way more than the other two - I don't want to take any chances here, so I'm going to go all out. And for that, I want you to give me a boost," he glanced at Kratos' hand. "The kind that comes from a Command Seal."

"Doesn't need to be anything in particular, doesn't even NEED to be a command, you can just think about giving me a boost. But if you want, you can just tell me to 'win' - aligns perfectly with what I'm planning to do to this guy anyways." His grin was all teeth, sharp and feral. "But the extra mana will REALLY let me open my bag of tricks up, in case this guy's got some cards he's been holding close to his chest."

Kratos hesitated. This Singularity had already stretched him far outside the places he was most comfortable. In a few days, he'd made contracts with far more of these spirits than he'd anticipated doing so across this entire campaign - and in at least two cases, with individuals he'd never have imagined, either.

(For all that his contracting with Avenger had been a mistake - or more correctly, a misunderstanding - and her thread was like a splinter in his mind, he'd not dissolved the contract.)

Now, he was being asked for one more thing, one more step into a place where he was not sure of what he might be becoming. Here he was, once more commanding soldiers in a war - soldiers he could, if he so chose, control utterly and completely, regardless of what their desires or wills might have been. That these spirits were willing - in some cases, EAGER - to swear themselves to him did not make his skin crawl any less.

But, at the same time, he remembered this man's words to him, what feels like ages ago.

("So I think you need to face this thing head on, and realize you're not going to turn into 'him' anytime soon.")

His arm felt like it was carrying the weight of Atlas himself as he raised it, the Command Seal on the back of his hand, the Omega, flaring bright. His voice, when he spoke, felt like he was trying to force words out while he drowned. "Cu Chulainn." His voice, thankfully, still came out strongly, with no sign of his inner turmoil showing. "I ask this of you. Fight hard, fight to the best of your ability, and fight as you will."

The left 'foot' of the Omega on his hand burnt away, and Cu's grin, if anything, only grew as his body was flooded with mana. "Oooooooooo, that's the STUFF!" His staff appeared in his left hand, and he settled into a stance, spear and staff almost vibrating in his hands. "Now go on, get out of here. Save the girl - and leave this guy to me."

Baldur took a single, menacing step forward, still blocking the door. "And you think I'll just be LETTING you leave?"

Cu laughed. "Who said anything about you letting us do anything?" His head shook. "No, I'm just going to kick your ass up in between your ears." The staff in his hands began warping, as the wood began sprouting green buds all along its length.

Baldur's eyes widened, and he hissed a breath between his teeth. "Druid….."

Cu nodded, briefly, his eyes focused on his enemy. "Yeah, that's right - I see the Throne filled you in. Take your eyes off me while you worry about keeping Kratos here, I DARE you. No, you're going to let Kratos go, because you know your best odds are to take me out, right here, one on one. You call for help after he's gone, and Kratos will just yank me to him, and then you'll have to chase us down before we take out your buddies and put the odds even more in our favor as I hand out mistletoe party favors to all and sundry."

Baldur licked his lips, unsure, truly unsure, for the first time in ages. Cu continued. "You can read a battlefield as well as I can - the tides of this whole thing changed when I arrived. You kill me, and Kratos is proper fucked. And letting him go is your best chance of that - he's more than a match for any Servant you can bring to help you, and he's got two more Command Seals that can call in reinforcements to match every move you make. You've only got three Servants left, after all - versus two Command Seals and a god for us. I'll take those odds any day."

For a long moment, Baldur merely stood there, seething. Then, with a growl, he stood aside. "Fine. Delay the inevitable a bit more. I'll find you after I'm done with this mutt, Kratos."

Cu's head jerked towards the door. "Go on, now. You've got a girl to save."

Kratos didn't hesitate, despite his many misgivings about….well, all of this. Mash's string was practically screaming in his mind - the girl needed reinforcement in the worst possible way. He practically flew from the room, and thundered down the stairs.

A moment later, he was down the stairs, and burst into the receiving room.

He was halfway through the wrecked room when a soft voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Kratos……"

It was barely a whisper, but he heard it as clear as day.

There, in the corner of the room, laying in a pool of blood, her limbs broken and twisted, was Kiyohime. Her eyes were barely open, her gaze weak, but it pierced him all the same.

Mash needed him, her situation was balanced on the edge of a knife. But even so, this girl had laid down her life for him. She was dying a warrior's death - one she had chosen. It would sit ill with him if he did not spare her a moment, this last time.

He knelt beside her, gently cradling her head with his hand. She sighed, happily. "Did you do it? Is your Caster there?"

"Yes," he rumbled. "He fights Baldur now - I go to aid Mash in her battle."

"That's good," she whispered, her eyes closing for a second. She sighed, deeply, then forced her eyes open. "Promise me two things, please?"

He nodded. "First….promise me you'll make it back to your world, and your son. That boy shouldn't be without a father as good as you."

Her eyes fluttered shut again, as her strength began to leave her, for good. "And secondly………don't summon me, if you can help it."

Her head lolled back in his hand. "If you do…….I won't remember any of this. And I'll fall for you………because you'll be kind to me, again, treat me like a person, and I'll think you're Anchin, because I can't help myself. And it'll ruin everything. So please………let me stay on the Throne."

"I will do these things, Kiyohime." Her body was beginning to break up. "But I shall never forget what you have done for me."

"Goodbye, Kratos. I'm glad I got to know you."

A moment later, there were only wisps of gold where the girl had been, and Kratos was thundering into the depths of the castle, following the shouted directions of a panicked Romani.

---

 

ORLEANS THRONE ROOM​

"So, now that you've gotten what you wanted so badly, are we finally going to get to it?" Baldur sneered, but his eyes never left the staff in Cu's left hand.

Cu sighed, just……looking at the mess of the Servant across the hall from him hurt - it hurt the little voice perched on his shoulder, but it also bothered him more than a bit. "Man alive. What did he DO to you, kid?"

Baldur spat. "Snapped my neck and threw me aside like rubbish. Or hasn't he told you?"

"No, you……," Cu sighed again, deeper. This kept up, he might actually feel bad about killing this guy. Maybe. Possibly. "Not Kratos - he's told us about your run-ins in his world." Left unsaid is that Cu and a friend might have been very, VERY carefully poking around in Kratos' dreams while the man was asleep, just to verify some things. Cu trusted the guy, he really did, but, well, someone ELSE was paranoid, and Cu wasn't calling all the shots these days. "I mean Odin - YOUR Odin. Cause frankly, kid, he RUINED you."

Cu's staff swept through the air, cutting Baldur's retort off. "And don't start with that stuff about your mother, either. Yeah, she fucked up pretty royally too, but your dad? He didn't give two shits about you being dead other than the value you had to him while you were alive. And he lied to you, too - the Giants didn't have any more chance of fixing you than I do of flapping my arms and flying to the damn moon." Not that he'd ever WANT to go to the moon, from some of the stories some of the Servants on the Throne told about it.

Baldur's eyes narrowed, and for a second, Cu thought he was going to charge him right then and there - and all he'd get out of this would be a quick, boring fight. But he somehow held himself back. "And just who the Hel are you to speak of the All-Father?"

Cu shrugged, subtly kicking one last rune over to the walls. Wouldn't do to have Roman or that crazy woman listening in on this. Some things needed to stay under wraps. "Me? Nobody, just a guy who loved to fight when he was alive. Normally, I couldn't even qualify for the Caster class. But a meddler saw some of the shit coming down the pipe for Humanity, and I got drafted, so here I am. No Gae Bolg, so slow I feel like I'm doing this underwater with weights tied to me, and with orders more complicated than the usual 'kill that guy, Cu'."

There, some of his contingency plans were all set up. 'Bout time to get this show on the road.

Baldur hissed a breath through his teeth. Yeah, he was about ready to throw the first punch - Cu was honestly shocked he'd held his temper this long. There was a bit more of a brain in this one's head than Kratos' stories had let on. "Who are you? You're more than just the shade of some god's bastard."

Cu shook his head. "Sorry, that's all you're getting. Too many ears around, even with me taking precautions. I just wanted a chance to take you in for myself. Call it curiosity to see what the Baldur of Kratos' world was really like." Or, more correctly, someone else really wanted to see, and what could he do but go along with it?

Morrigan's frigid teats, he wasn't even supposed to BE here! He should have vanished with that damn city, waiting until he'd be needed later on. But Chaldea had lost their Master, and had picked up one HELL of a wild/trump card in her place, and someone ELSE'S carefully constructed plans had gone belly up. So now he was sticking around, trying to make sure a certain girl made it to the end of her story - because she would be integral in his story, down the road.

Hence why he sent Kratos off to save her. They'd be fucked sideways if they lost Mash here. Forget some far away hell that was an alternate Britain - they wouldn't even make it that far. So here he was, trying to get the plan back on the rails.

Fuck's sake, when had his life gotten so complicated? He blamed Kirei, that bastard, not out of any rationality, but just because it made him feel better.

Least it looked like he was at least going to get a good fight out of this trainwreck of a Singularity. Be nice if someone else had been more aware of what was happening in the Singularities beyond 'they'll get taken care of without us'. But no, he was laser-focused on one point in particular, so he was flying blind where the Singularities were concerned. He'd have never let the snake woman take his spot in this one, otherwise.

"Fine." said Baldur, taking a step forward. "Whatever you are, it won't matter when you're dead. And once you're dead, Kratos won't be far behind you to whatever savage afterlife is waiting for the both of you."

One second, he was there, and then the next, he was right in Cu's face, leading with that big swing he liked so much. And damn if he wasn't a touch quicker in person than seeing it through the monitors back at Chaldea. Still predictable, though.

Or, apparently, not, as that had been a feint, and he'd fallen for it like a big dumb idiot who hadn't been put through the wringer by the scariest old hag this side of two worlds. Baldur pulled back as Cu's staff swept through empty space, and kicked him across the room.

Cu rolled as he flew, landing on his feet, staff and spear both flying up in case Baldur thought he'd be vulnerable on the landing. But he didn't seem to be in any hurry to follow, yet.

Well, at least he had confirmation of that - Baldur didn't hit as hard as Kratos did - or could, he supposed. For all that the Spartan always moderated his strength, you fight as long as Cu did, and you could get a feeling for what a body could bring to bear, and that man had power for days. And in their little brainstorming session after their mystery opponent had been revealed, Kratos had ranked Baldur as one of the most powerful foes he'd ever faced, at least in sheer brute strength, only coming in behind Thor himself. So it looks like even gods from outside this universe lost a little by being crammed into a Servant container.

That kick had still hurt, though.

And he still wasn't getting up in Cu's face and throwing another shot.

Well, fine by him. He'd never been one for playing defensive if he had his druthers. And Baldur had gotten his one free shot that Sétantas everywhere would do their level best to never let a certain Teacher hear about, or he'd be doing laps around the Isle of Shadows while a hag threw increasingly deadly things at him.

And he could do the speed thing too.

Cu's feet left craters in the throne room's floor as he leapt across the space between himself and the enemy Servant, his borrowed spear jabbing straight at Baldur's eye. It, of course, slid away from the Servant's body as if he had his own personal force field - and in a sense, he did. Seeing him over-extended, Baldur sneered, lining up a punch that would likely cave in Cu's chest.

Cu didn't know if it was long-buried instincts, or sheer bloody luck that made Baldur duck his head at the last possible second as Draupnir screamed through the space where his head had been. As it was, he still managed to shear off a few hairs from his head.

Though if he'd realized just how much the room would then be filled with the stink of burning hair, he MIGHT have had second thoughts about it. He'd rolled a mistletoe seed down to the tip of Draupnir, and kept it balanced there until just after he'd made his very obvious miss, then told it to sprout. He'd been halfway convinced he'd end the fight with that follow-up, but he only got some hair - which at the very touch of mistletoe, had burned itself down to the man's scalp.

Baldur snarled, some of it pain, but most of it sheer rage. Heat and light exploded from his body, as his flesh seemed to immolate, flames licking across his form. Fists slammed into the ground, sending a wave of molten death at Cu, who quickly took to the air to avoid it. Which meant he was an easy target for the bits of flame that Baldur hurled at him. Nothing he couldn't handle, Draupnir guided by Protection From Arrows knocked them aside before he could even feel the heat from them, but the fire did turn his little mistletoe bud on the end of his spear to ash.

That's fine. He had more.

Baldur was up in his face the moment he landed, throwing a flurry of burning hands that Cu had to weave between - his staff was still his obvious trump, and he couldn't risk parrying with it, he needed the blatant threat it represented, and hot as that fire was burning, well, you do the math what blocking with his druid's staff would probably result in.

Draupnir, however, acquitted itself well in that regard, keeping Baldur's strikes at bay (and Cu resolved that if they ever got within spitting distance of his homelands during this crisis, he was sending Kratos back home with a good bottle of Irish whiskey for the smiths who made this spear, as thanks from him for making the damn thing as well as they did. Voices in his head could whine as much as they wanted, it WAS the second best spear he'd ever handled, thank you VERY MUCH).

He ducked under one last strike, then wheeled about in a spinning kick that Baldur desperately leapt back from, when he saw the leaves sprouting from between Cu's toes. Cu continued his body's momentum, planting Draupnir into the ground and vaulting forward, leg scything through the air at an off-balance Baldur.

With no time for anything else, Baldur blocked, stoking the fires surrounding him as high as they could go in the microseconds before Cu crashed into him like a blue-haired missile. Frustratingly, it was enough, the plants shriveled into nothing before they could do more than brush against the man's skin, and Cu slid off his body as the protection reasserted itself, sending him crashing through the throne.

Cu kicked the shattered throne aside as he spun around to face his enemy, and let out a low whistle. The leaves had touched Baldur's body for maybe a fraction of a second, and where they'd touched, his arms looked like they'd been stuck into a bonfire and held there. They probably hurt like a sonofabitch, too.

As Baldur howled in pain - after so long without it, Cu wasn't sure if those were happy howls or angry ones, or a mix of both, Cu checked on his connection with Kratos.

Yeah, looks like it's getting about that time for the next part of Someone's plan.

Draupnir receded into the ring as he spun his staff about, sending flares of mana to a handful of the runes he'd spread around the room. "Ok, fun as this has been, I think I'm doing the rest of my allies a disservice by denying them a piece of this scrap. So let's take this downstairs."

Cu cackled as the castle shuddered, and the floor of the throne room shattered as massive branches erupted from the floor, and sent them tumbling down, down, down.

'So far, so good, Kratos. We'll be waiting on you when we land.'

---

ORLEANS CASTLE CHURCH​

Avenger's body crashed through a row of pews, failed to stop, and then met the wall.

Ow.

Shakily, she pushed herself to her feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Charlie…..you've been holding out on me. Where'd you get this power-up from?"

The Assassin Servant was unhurried in his approach as he crossed the church grounds. "You never even considered it, did you?" He shook his head sadly. "No, you were just all too happy to have another tool to kill for you, and never once wondered why I was so weak, even compared to the other Assassin you had summoned."

Having her back against the wall limited her options, but Avenger knew, after her first few exchanges had gone so poorly, she had to keep this suddenly Super-Sanson at range. She pushed off the wall, spear leading in a quick thrust.

Contemptuously, Sanson met her thrust, letting her spear slide down his sword until he could lock the point with the protruding metal at the tip of his sword, and jerk her forward. She stumbled, first forward, then backwards, as he hauled off and slugged her across the jaw.

Again. Ow. She thought she felt some of her teeth loosen on that one.

"You never once thought that making an executioner, one who's very PURPOSE was the punishment of the guilty, butcher the innocent might have some sort of effect?" Desperately, she called down spears from above, needing to buy herself a moment to get her feet under her. Sanson's blade was a flashing wall of steel as her spears fell, and he came out the back end without so much as a scratch or a mussed hair, but she'd gotten her legs back, so yay.

"The difference, of course, is that I'm not butchering some helpless peasant whose only crime was being born French - with the judge and jury being a delusional fake who was dreamed up by someone even more delusional."

Her stump twitched, and a gout of fire screamed towards him - he flipped his weapon and planted his feet, and the flames impacted his blade, but parted around him. His sword glowing white-hot from blocking the fire, but otherwise, he was unscathed.

"No, this time….NOW, I'm doing exactly what I did during my life. Punishing the wicked, the sinful, the guilty, and every single part of my Spirit Origin is SINGING with the righteousness of what I'm doing." His sword sliced through the air, seeking her neck, and she ducked, only to find a boot waiting for her.

She went through the broken altar, this time. Fucking OW.

Splinters fell off her body as she picked herself up. "I don't suppose saying I was fed a bunch of lies will get me off the hook, will it?"

"Ignorance of a law is no excuse," he stated, with the cadence of one repeating something that had long ago become rote. "And truly, can you say you would have done things any differently, AVENGER?"

The sheer venom he put into that word - she was shocked she didn't die on the spot. It'd have been a badass way to drop someone, if only it wasn't pointed in her direction. "Nah." She shook her head. "I ain't throwing Gilles under the bus like that. He might have put the ideas in my head, but I was the one making the choices. And I chose to summon a bunch of Servants, fuck with their heads, and get my murder on. That I wasn't a Real Girl when I was making those choices, or didn't have all the facts wouldn't absolve me. That excuse wouldn't fly with you anymore than it would fly with 'me' or that big lug I've attached myself to. And believe you me, the two of them hate me for what I did almost as much as you probably do. You guys should make a knitting club or something."

She chuckled a bit, despite her situation getting grimmer by the moment. Kratos would sit there like the big grumpy bear that he was, and Sanson wouldn't be much chattier. It would be up to her real self to carry the conversation. It'd almost be worth it to be a fly on the wall for that, if it didn't require her kicking off this Servant-mortal coil to see it happen.

She rolled her shoulders, checking, and thankfully finding that nothing had been broken inside of her - yet. "But you know what? That shit's all in the past. What's me saying 'sorry' going to do for any of those poor dead fuckers? And you chopping off my head's going to do just as much nothing for them too, given I'm actively TRYING to stop the guy who took my place, and is palling around with much, much worse than little old me."

Sanson's eyes narrowed. Oooo, seems like he didn't like being reminded that the person holding his leash was working for people so bad it made her look like a choir girl. What's the population of France vs all of mankind, after all?

"That does not excuse your crimes, Dragon Witch."

"No, it doesn't," Her agreement seemed to surprise him. "And when this is all said and done, if you want my head, you can have it. You step aside, right now, and let me settle my score with Baldur, and then you can have your justice after I get my revenge. It's win/win - we save France, and you get to punish me."

C'mon, Charlie, take the olive branch. I really don't think I can beat you one on one anymore, not with you riding that power high you've got right now.

He was considering it, she could see, but then she saw the first tinges of red flooding into his eyes, and saw his resolve harden. "No. You make a good case - but you are a villain, and a liar. I do not believe for a second you would willingly submit yourself to my judgment. I have you, here and now, and here and now I will pass sentence."

Hell. Goddamn Madness Enhancement. Why did she ever think it was a good idea to slap that on her Servants? It was like someone was constructing a morality play around making bad choices and how they came back to bite you in the ass, with her as the star. Understudy, please?

The ironic thing was, she was serious about what she'd said. Baldur might not be the last name on her list, but if she crossed that one off it, she could probably go to her death somewhat appeased.

But no, looks like we're doing this the hard way after all. Story of her freakin' short life.

"Fine, then, Charlie. You want my head, come and take it." Some nice bravado there, but she needed a plan, and fast.

She leapt down from the raised part of the altar, spear thrusting down at Sanson's head. His sword flew up to meet her, and she was shoved away, scrabbling to find her feet as she was knocked back to where she had started, amidst the ruined altar. Sanson leapt up to join her with almost casual ease, sword flying out to block her clumsy thrust, then shoving it down, and countering with a vicious riposte.

Avenger found herself beginning to give ground, slowly at first, but more and more as Sanson pressed her harder and harder, his greater speed and strength beginning to tell as the fight dragged on.

She knew she was running out of room, but truly didn't know how bad it had gotten, until Sanson's blade was screaming down in a diagonal cut at her left side, one she'd been planning on rolling backwards to avoid, only to find the wall of the church flush against her back.

Oh fuck.

She got her spear up, but her position was all wrong, and Sanson's sword blasted it aside and dug deeply into her side. Ribs broke, and she felt her legs turn into noodles as pain raced up and down her spine, as the blade damn near tickled it.

He tore the blade loose, and she fell to her knees, blood pouring down her side.

Under their feet, the ground shook, a small tremor at first, then a larger one, one that the damaged building didn't seem to appreciate. Already in questionable condition, it began making some noises that, in any other situation, Jeanne would have been just a touch worried about.

But she had much bigger problems at the moment. Like the gaping hole in her side. It wouldn't kill her by itself, but it had broken her badly enough that she wouldn't take her odds against an angry kitten right now, much less a very motivated Servant.

"Does the condemned have any last words?" asked Sanson, looming above her, sword raised.

Jeanne would have liked to spit out something defiant and hardcore, but she was too busy feeling the second worst pain of her life to muster up anything worthwhile. She might have gurgled something, or that just might have been some blood leaking out of her mouth when she opened it. He shook his head, and sighed. "If you stretch out your neck, I will make the cut as clean as possible."

As Sanson took a step forward, she saw it, through her haze of pain. He was wide freakin' open.

His sword caught the light through the windows, and a number of things happened all at once.

Another tremor, one bigger than the rest combined, blasted through the church, and it finally gave up the ghost, the ceiling cracking wide open and raining down on them. If Sanson noticed, he didn't show it, his eyes finding a path through the falling stone, his sword descending in an inexorable path to her neck.

Nor did he notice when she summoned up every last vestige of strength in her body, and rammed her spear right through his heart. Because the sword didn't stop coming to claim her life.

The ceiling fell, and there was the sword, and then darkness.

For a long, long while, she lay there, feeling nothing but cold and a smothering pressure, seeing nothing but a void before her eyes. She didn't even hurt anymore - guess the bastard really did take her head in one painless stroke. And she didn't feel Sanson anymore - so she'd probably managed to take him with her.

She could live with that.

Ok, Throne, if that's where I'm headed, get on with the show. Or Hell, if I've got a reservation there. Either/or, don't make me wait.

She was made to wait, but not for the afterlife. Stone shifted above her as the chunk of ceiling that she had apparently been buried under was lifted, and tossed aside. With the return of the daylight came the return of the pain, and oh, it hurt like a motherfucker.

But she was alive, somehow, and Kratos' craggy face was a sight for sore fucking eyes.

"Avenger," he rumbled, almost seeming concerned for her. "Can you stand?"

She gave it an attempt, but her body revolted almost immediately, and she had to lie back. "Nope. Sanson did a number on me - but you should see the other guy, if he wasn't already back to the Throne by now. Me, I'm going to need a minute. Go on, grumpus, get wherever you were getting to. I'll…" Her side made its displeasure known, she tasted blood, and she had to cut her rant short. "I'll catch up when I can."

He gave one of those grunts and was off with almost indecent haste. Still, she supposed she should be thankful he'd dug her out. Probably just wanted someone else to throw hands at whomever he was running off to fight - probably Baldur.

She lay there, feeling her side beginning to patch itself back together, painfully slowly. Despite the fact that it felt heavy enough to be made of lead, she raised her remaining arm and ran fingers along her neck.

Still intact, not so much as a crease. How the fuck was she still alive? She'd made that blow expecting that it would be little more than 'taking you with me' spite, with no expectation of surviving. If Charlie had just stabbed her and been done with it, instead of doing his little execution roleplay, she'd have never had a chance for even that.

Knowing she'd regret it, she cast about, looking around her - Kratos had apparently had to clear a good amount of the rubble around the area to dig her out. Strong as he was, he was probably hucking them about doublefisted without so much as a pause for the size of the chunks of stone he was lifting. After that stunt of his with the gate, the remains of a church's ceiling was probably child's play in comparison.

(Man, it was fucking bad-ASS. He just punched two handholds and tore the thing loose like a complete boss. So sue her if some part of her had squealed like a schoolgirl at a demonstration of such pure, unfiltered awesome like that.)

It took her a minute to spot it, then another bit to figure out what it was, so bent and deformed it was. And then another minute where her mind was just fucking blank.

It was the big cross that had hung above the altar of the church - Gilles had never taken it down, had just inverted it, and hung…..things (babies) from it. It must have fallen when the ceiling came down.

And from the looks of things, it had taken the blow meant for her neck. Right along the horizontal part of the cross, where he'd cleaved into the metal, and it had dented and slowed his sword just enough to stop it before he'd faded out.

Her strength exhausted, she flopped back to the ground.

A hell of a coincidence, if she still believed in coincidences. A one-in-a-million coincidence that kept her alive.

Yeah fucking right. Her luck wasn't that good. 'Me's' might have been, but Avenger Jeanne? No chance in France.

Godda…….ok, maybe just 'dammit', in light of recent events. She didn't like where this was going.

Avenger continued to lay there, staring into the French sky, her mind going in faster and faster circles, until, at last, she pushed herself from the ground, and slowly limped off to where she could feel Kratos.

---

 

ORLEANS CASTLE, SOMEWHERE ON THE GROUND FLOOR
​

Mash screamed as the Black Knight's clawed fingers came close enough to her eyes that she could feel the wind from their passing. Her feet slapped against the ground as she put distance between herself and the monster trying to kill her. She swung her shield, trying to keep him away from her, but he merely swayed back, then charged.

She ducked the sword, saving her life, but the follow-up elbow caught her in the side of the head and sent her sprawling. White spots flashed before her eyes, but she fought through the pain and fear and got back to her feet. She knew, even without Kratos' lessons echoing in her head, to fall down, for even a second, in this fight, was to die.

Something had changed in the Berserker. For about a minute after Medusa's departure, he'd just stood and stared, watching Mash like some sort of predatory animal deciding if the grazing animal before it would fill its belly. Waiting for its moment.

Then, from somewhere, he'd drawn a sword. And not some common blade, either - every single one of Mash's instincts had screamed at her that this was a sword with a Name and a Legend worthy of that Name. It held power, coming off it in waves in a manner similar to the corrupted Excalibur that she had faced in the first Singularity, or the twin Blades that her teacher carried.

[Arondight. Girl……..he's serious about killing you now. You….I……]

If she'd had any suspicions that this man had been holding back against her, those had been put to rest in the subsequent moments. When the Servant finally attacked, the blade was everywhere. Left, right, center. Descending to split her skull, sweeping to take her head, screaming forward to spill her guts, slicing across to hamstring her - or worse, sever the limb entirely.

And if the blade itself was dangerous, it was nothing compared to the man wielding it.

The corrupted King Arthur she had faced in the depths of that cavern had been skilled, for all that they had abused their connection to the Holy Grail to overwhelm them with pure speed and brute force. This man was better.

Mash fought on pure instinct, fueled by terror, and somehow, largely kept the blade from her body. She had long ago abandoned the idea of striking back, and was solely focused on defense - her novice's experience telling her that this was a foe that was well beyond her.

She had to survive until help arrived. Because she still believed with all her heart that help was coming.

Her shield flew up, the knight's sword crashing against it and bouncing back. Frantically, she grasped her shield at the base and twisted it, narrowly blocking the punch that had been the real attack from fracturing her ribs, then jerked the shield back before he could get a firm grasp on it.

She'd seen what his mere touch could do to anything he laid his hands on - her shield was her only defense. If he turned it against her, stole it from her, she was dead.

She'd barely settled back on her feet when she surged forward, needing to drive her opponent back.

(A cornered opponent is a dead opponent. Your weapon is large enough to command attention - use it to gain space when you are in danger of being pressed.)

Shield leading, she rushed the Berserker, for once, forcing him to give ground. She pulled back, swiping with the edge of her shield, not wanting to get too close. The Berserker slid under her shield, sword flying up to catch her shield's edge and let it push him.

Right into her flank.

Claws scraped along her side as she shrieked in pain. She kicked out, aiming for his kneecap like Cu had been showing her, but the knight merely angled his armor so that she was forced to glance off the plate - fully following through with the attack would have seen her foot impaled by the spikes jutting from his armor.

His sword flew in, and for a second, she thought she was dead, but it only slapped her across the cheek with the flat, snapping her head to the side.

[.....is he still resisting the Command? He would slap other knights like that in the training yard when they made a mistake, showing them that they would be dead if they screwed up like that when it was real. That couldn't have been a mistake - whatever his many personal failings, this man did NOT make mistakes in combat.]

She let the momentum of the slap push her, as she leapt and tucked and rolled, spinning about to face the Servant, her shield raised, expecting the next attack to already be on its way.

But the Black Knight was where she had left him, staring at her, his helmeted head cocked to the side, a low rumble echoing from his throat. He raised his sword, regarded it for a moment, then returned his gaze to her.

"......what?" she cried, her mind filled to the brim with terror, adrenaline, and……whatever this was. "What do you WANT from me? You could have killed me there, but you….you didn't? What is going on?"

"Urrrrr….." The Servant began to make noises, almost like he was trying to speak - to force a throat long ago ripped to shreds by constant screaming to create something approximating human speech. But whatever he may, or may not have been about to say would never be known, as once again, red mana washed across his form, and once more, he was reduced to howling in mindless rage.

Mash felt her stomach turn over - the moments immediately after the Command Seal had reasserted itself over the Berserker had been when she had been pressed hardest - and that had been before he had drawn his sword.

Despite that she would be defending nothing but herself, and her life, she had a half-formed plan of deploying her Noble Phantasm, weathering the storm behind its walls, until the Berserker had spent his frantic energy, but it was never to be. Roaring, the Servant charged, crossing the room in a flash.

Mash set her feet, body whipcord tense, trying desperately to watch every part of the knight for where the attack would come from.

She needn't have bothered. As the Servant leapt towards her, one part of her mind realized the battle cries she was hearing were suddenly in stereo.

Kratos came through the wall, and if that hindered his momentum in the slightest, she couldn't tell. Like the Servant, his body was also awash in red energy, as it had been in the two previous instances when he had unleashed, for lack of a better term, what almost seemed like a Mana Burst - for all that he was not a Servant.

Kratos' fist cracked into the Knight's helmet with a sound like a gunshot, and the Servant's body was thrown to the floor. The Berserker rolled out of the way as Kratos' foot stomped down, reducing the stones underfoot to so much dust. He regained his feet seconds later, and slashed upwards with his blade as he rose, Kratos rushing to overbear the Servant before he could fully regain his feet.

The blade cut across Kratos' leading arm, and failed to cut the god's flesh - but the aura of power surrounding him dimmed. Kratos' foot shot out and clipped the Servant, knocking him back a step. Before he had even skidded to a stop, a gatling gun formed in the Knight's hands, the barrel already spinning up.

Mash moved without thinking, moving herself, and more importantly, her shield between Kratos and the storm of lead that began flying his way. Bullets rained off her shield in a constant staccato patter, one that sang in unison with the Berserker's frenzied cries. There was the sound of movement behind her, then suddenly, Kratos' massive presence at her back was gone.

She watched, still crouched behind her shield, as he leapt through the air, axe raised. The violent energy that he had been cloaked in was gone - she had no way of knowing if it had run out or he had merely called for it to recede. The Black Knight saw him too, and began to raise the weapon, but Kratos was the faster.

His axe sliced through the barrel, ruining the weapon, and silencing its voice. The Servant filled in where his gun could no longer, bellowing an almost sorrowful cry, and hauling off and cracking Kratos right across the jaw with the remains of the weapon. It rocked him back a step, but didn't stop him from sending his axe whistling at the Knight's head.

Roaring in defiance, the Berserker sacrificed the ruined gun, using its remains to block the axe with one hand, while his other hand once again summoned that familiar blade. He tossed the shattered weapon aside, as he grasped his weapon in both hands, a growl that was almost…..respectful, coming from beneath his armored visage.

Axe and sword crashed against each other, once, twice, thrice, in the blink of an eye, and Mash then remembered to breathe.

[Get IN there girl! Back him up!]

With a battle cry that sounded almost pitifully meek in comparison to the two titans clashing before her, Mash lowered her head and charged in.

The knight parried Kratos' axe, shoving it up, then twisting it down, stepping in to lock it in place. Another second, and he might have tried a disarm, jerking it out the Spartan's hand, but he was forced to lean back to dodge Mash's shield. Somehow, he managed to uncork a kick that was met by Mash's shield, the girl quickly dropping it in front of her. Kratos tore his axe free of the lock, and chopped down with a cut that the knight sidestepped, then leapt, his back foot planting off Mash's shield, shoving her back as he unleashed a wickedly fast thrust right at Kratos' eye.

Unknown blade met the Spartan's shield, the metal unfolding with a click. Kratos' axe swung in the same moment, the Servant's arm shooting out to catch the god by the wrist, strength straining against strength as he struggled to hold the axe back, all while his sword pressed into the shield, blade cutting into the metal.

Roaring, both brought their heads back, and sent them crashing into one another - to no resolution, if anything, it only made them more determined. Another series of headbutts, each one harder than the last, and they remained locked together, both stubbornly unwilling to give the other even a single step back.

Mash broke the deadlock, her shield ramming into the Knight's knees, taking them out from under him. His leverage gone, the Berserker dismissed his sword, grasping the edge of the shield and falling back, the sudden shift in balance yanking Kratos forward.

The Berserker's foot shot up, and he rolled, hurling Kratos backwards, sending him crashing into Mash, both of them tumbling to the floor.

A howling madman descended upon them as they untangled from each other. Kratos rolled free, the sword slicing through the air just above his back. A series of impacts rang off Mash's shield, holding her in place for a second, before the Knight sprang away, oddly not going straight at Kratos, but moving off perpendicular to both.

A series of small, metal clinks sounded from in front of her, and her eyes saw a handful of ring-shaped pins hit the ground.

"Your shield!" Kratos' cry was cut off as a series of explosions thumped against the metal of her shield, and Mash was sent flying back, crashing against the wall.

Dizzily, she picked herself up from the ground, pain lancing through her skull. Gingerly, she reached up and touched her hair.

Blood.

Across the room, Kratos was weaving a web of flying steel, as he lashed at the Servant again and again with those fearsome blades. Fire licked across the metal as the Servant's sword rose to meet their flight again, and again, knocking them aside.

Until his sword vanished, and his hands flew up, and caught the Blades.

The room grew very quiet.

For a split second, the handles of the Blades began to blacken, and those red lines began to creep up across the metal of the weapons themselves.

Then the fires around the Blades erupted, a plume so large it scorched the very ceiling, and the blackness receded as if it was running for its very life.

Behind his visor, the eyes of the man who had once been the greatest knight of the Round Table widened. Somehow, impossibly, there was a woman standing before him, blue, lined in gold, translucent, eyes narrowed in disdain. Her mouth opened, and three simple words echoed through his mind.

"Not for YOU."

An explosion so bright it temporarily struck Mash blind thundered through the room. Distantly, she heard the sound of a body hitting the wall, and a continuous scream of the purest agony.

When her sight came back to her, Kratos was lying in a pile of rubble that had been one of the room's walls. Stirring, but not yet back to his feet. And the Black Knight…..

She blinked, then blinked again, unable to believe her eyes.

His hands were gone, vaporized. Indeed, his arms almost up to his elbows no longer existed, and what remained of his elbows were flaking off into gray, dead ash. He was howling, screaming in pain, having dropped to his knees, ruined arms waving pitifully in front of him.

There was a clatter, metal hitting the ground in front of her, and Mash looked down.

There was a sword.

[Go on, girl. Pick it up.]

She found her hand reaching for the sword before she'd even registered she'd moved.

[Come on. Pick. It. UP. Even he doesn't deserve to suffer like that. You know that sword, even if you don't know WHY you know that sword - that's because it's my sword…..or ours, I suppose. Put him out of his misery.]

Before she could second guess herself, the sword was in her hands.

It felt right, impossibly so. As right as her shield had felt from the moment her powers had finally awoken. Dimly, as if from a distance, she realized that there was an empty scabbard slapping against her leg, but her mind could not even process that.

There was only the sword in her hand, and the screaming Servant before her.

As she reached him, something must have pierced his agony, as his head tilted up to look at her.

Part of his helm had cracked and fallen off - either from the vicious heatbutts he had exchanged with Kratos, or from the subsequent explosion, but a tiny sliver of his face was visible - instead of an angry red visor, a single, violet eye stared up at her. Pain and madness filled it, but for a second, those things cleared, and…….something passed between them. What, she couldn't say - for days after this, she would toss and turn in bed, sleep escaping her as the memory of that eye and the myriad of emotions within it rattled in her brain.

But for now, in the immediate, the Servant simply nodded at her, and lowered his arms, bowing his head.

Her thrust was true - it slid into the Knight's heart, easily bypassing his melted armor. It was as merciful, and as painless as she could make it.

The man rasped something, and then was gone. The sword clattered to the ground, falling from Mash's nerveless fingers.

It wasn't her first kill - the wyverns from what felt like months ago, for all that it had barely been a week, qualified for that - in as so far as one couldn't kill the undead which had filled the burning city, or had been their greeting to this dying France. And she had been ready to kill Carmilla in their fight - she would have lost little sleep in putting the unrepentantly evil woman down, she believed.

So, why then did this hurt so badly?

[.......girl. He shouldn't have suffered so. I may have my disagreements with my father, but…..no one deserved that. I…….maybe I should have done more, should be doing more. ……..I need to think.]

A large hand enveloped her shoulder, and Mash wept. Was it for the man she had slain? The true weight of taking a life? Or was it something else? Were these feelings even hers?

What was happening to her?

---

Arrows chased Jeanne down the hall as she ran, full out, legs pumping, pushing out as much speed as she could muster from her Servant's body. As she neared the door, she kicked into a slide, an arrow hissing through the area where her head had been seconds earlier.

She rolled to the side, putting a wall between herself and the Huntress, but did not press up against it, despite needing something to lean against as she caught her breath. A decision that was proven sound, as a moment later, three arrows were driven far enough through the stone that they would have made a pincushion of her.

Additional strength from the Madness Enhancement, or simply the power of one of the greatest hunters of Greek Myth? Moot, as far as she was concerned, wherever it was coming from, it was currently pointed directly at her.

She had to close the distance - allowing Atalanta to define the terms of combat like this was playing right into her hands. For a moment, she envied Medusa her incredible speed - it would make all of this so much easier.

The Lord would provide, though.

She grabbed a broom that had been lying against one of the rooms walls and tentatively poked it out from behind the wall - to her utter lack of surprise, it was almost immediately blasted to pieces. Atalanta was still lurking, then, though she'd almost certainly moved from wherever she'd taken that shot from.

Not that it would matter much if she hadn't. Charging an Archer head-on down a narrow hallway would be a fool's notion. This room had doors that led elsewhere, and there was a window, so she wasn't pinned, at least. And she could always try to go through one of the walls, or the floor or the ceiling in the absolute worst case.

How to approach this?

"Stop hiding, Maid of Orleans!" cried the Archer, rage coloring her voice. Yes, that's it, keep yelling, and keep getting angrier. The less you think, the more you yell, the better this is for me.

"I am under no obligation to make this easy for you, Huntress," she yelled back, a plan forming in her mind. "Whatever your grudge against me is…," And there, for a second, there was the image of a young girl, ashen haired and scarred, dressed in tattered rags, lying dead in the streets of a foggy city, and then it was gone. "....you have chosen to stand against Humanity itself! The Lord…..and more, simple decency, were I not a pious woman, would have me oppose you!"

From within the room, there came the crash of shattering glass and timber.

"No!" shouted the Archer, practically flying down the hall. "You will NOT escape me!"

She burst into the room, quickly taking in the shattered window. In a flash, she was there, bow drawn back, eyes seeking the Ruler's form.

It wasn't there - a chair, falling to the ground in a shower of broken glass, however, was.

In a single motion, the Archer spun, loosing an arrow that took Jeanne in the shoulder as she burst from the closet. The Saint winced, but didn't stop her charge, crashing into the Archer, foiling her second shot.

A moment later, they were through the window, and tumbling to the ground.

Atalanta clawed at Jeanne as they fell, trying to tear free, but Jeanne clutched at the feral woman, unwilling to let her gain even an inch of distance.

Jeanne's head ducked as Atalanta slashed at her eyes, her forehead crashing into the other woman's chin, causing both their jaws to click shut, teeth rattling. Jeanne's knee crashed into the Archer's stomach, clumsily and largely ineffectually, given her utter lack of solid footing to put any real force behind it, but it distracted her enemy for a second, and seconds were precious.

Yowling, Atalanta's head shot forward, and sharp teeth sank into Jeanne's face, ripping at her cheek. Jeanne cried out in pain, and reflexively shoved the Archer away from her, forgetting her plan in the sudden instinctual terror that came from having one's face attacked.

Freed from her enemy's grasp, the Greek Servant kicked off Jeanne's body and rocketed through the air towards a hanging banner, claws digging into it and arresting her fall. Jeanne, for her part, was knocked towards the inner castle walls, body crashing into the stones - while it hurt, it was a blessing in disguise, as it allowed her to drive her flag into the wall and similarly halt her descent.

Jeanne let her weight pull her down, her flag bending as her momentum and mass pulled it down. She would only get one shot at this.

The tips of her boots touched the castle walls, and she pushed off, her flag hurling her forward, aimed somewhat in the direction of where Atalanta was pulling herself up to stand precariously on the staff of the banner, her bow forming in her hands.

She wouldn't make it before the Servant could fire.

She got her arms up, and managed to knock the first arrow aside, the tip deflecting off the armor protecting her wrists. The second missed, narrowly, in a stroke of luck. Atalanta had a third nocked and drawn, but would not get to fire it, as Jeanne crashed into her.

They tumbled together onto one of the walkways, bodies bouncing off the hard stone. Atalanta bucked and kicked and clawed, but Jeanne stubbornly held on until their momentum was spent. Once their bodies had rolled to a stop, she called for her flag.

The Archer got her bow up in time to block it, and pushed back, trying to keep the flag's point away from her - but the Ruler had the advantages of position, leverage, and greater strength, and she wasn't going anywhere.

Atalanta's arms were beginning to tremble with the strain of holding Jeanne back. She thrashed, trying to throw the other woman off, to no avail. So it was with some shock when Jeanne felt something drive itself into her back. The surprise of it caused her grip to loosen for a second, and allowed the Greek Servant to slide her legs out from underneath her, and kick her aside.

Jeanne's hand probed her back as she staggered to her feet. What in the world?

An arrow. Somehow, Atalanta had stabbed her with an arrow that had fallen from her quiver. Not deeply - it had barely broken the skin, but still……how in the name of sanity had she managed that?

Angrily, Jeanne tore the shaft loose and hurled it at Atalanta, using the second the woman would need to knock the projectile aside to close the distance, flag leading.

"Why?" she called out, as her flag darted and thrust, trying to keep the faster Servant from breaking free. "You know who Baldur serves - he may be nothing more than a mercenary to them, rather than a true follower, but the difference is little, in light of the ends they seek. Does Humanity mean so little to you against your lover?"

"Lov…..," Atalanta choked back a gag. "How did that notion……..ah, the fake you. I see she was as stupid as she seemed." Her foot shot down, aiming for Jeanne's instep, and the Ruler was forced back a step.

"It never could occur to one so blinded by hate and revenge that there could have been something between Baldur and myself besides base pleasures." In the split second before Jeanne re-engaged, she lifted her bow and unleashed a hail of arrows. Jeanne's flag spun through the air, knocking them aside, though each one came closer and closer to striking home. "We NEVER! He merely told me of his life - how his mother cursed him, how she dismissed his suffering, how ALL he wanted was to be free of her smothering, her constant hovering, her placing her own fears and worries over his well being!"

Atalanta slid under the point of Jeanne's flag, leg flying out to sweep Jeanne's legs out from under her - forcing Jeanne to leap forward, over the Archer's body.

Jeanne spun as she landed, seeking to slash her flag across Atalanta's body, but the woman had already darted away, putting distance between herself and her foe.

More shots rang out, and Jeanne was once again on the defensive, with no way to immediately strike back. "After hearing that, what choice did I have? Your other self cared only for wanton destruction, while Baldur only wanted to return to his world, to settle affairs with his mother. My decision was easy!"

"And he still serves those who would kill all Humanity!" Jeanne charged, eyes locked onto the Archer's bow. Red had nearly filled Atalanta's eyes, and she was getting increasingly rushed and sloppy, and the precision that had made her so deadly in the earlier parts of this battle was suffering for it. She was getting predictable in her rage.

Arrows ricocheted off her flag as she closed the distance, parrying shot after shot. A saner Atalanta would have fallen back as Jeanne drew nearer, but this one was hell bent on a kill shot.

When she was a step or two away, Jeanne stumbled, and Atalanta let loose a cry of victory. In one motion, she lined up a shot, drew, and fired at nearly point-blank range. Jeanne, off-balance, desperately spun her flag before her, the fabric unfurling.

The arrow bored through the flag as if it wasn't even there and continued on - but failed to hit anything else. Atalanta's eyes widened - where was the Ruler?

A booted foot crashed into the Archer's legs, from behind, and she fell to her knees. Before she had even registered the pain, arms slid around her neck, and squeezed.

The stumble, the fall - it had been a ruse. Jeanne had used that, and the visual blind of her flag to hide for a split second, in which she had rolled behind Atalanta. And she had been so focused on killing her enemy that she had fallen for it completely.

Frantically, she struggled, but Jeanne jerked her backwards, sending the both of them crashing to the floor. Jeanne's legs slid around her waist, locking her in place and preventing her from rising. Atalanta reached back, clawing at the Servant's face, but Jeanne ignored it, shaking free of her increasingly frantic attempts.

Atalanta's struggles grew weaker and weaker, until at last, she lay limp in the Ruler's arms. Still, Jeanne held on longer, unwilling to take a chance that the Archer was merely playing dead. She only released her hold when the tell-tale wisps of gold began signaling the death of a Servant.

Wearily, Jeanne rose to her feet. "It isn't wrong to want to save people - to save children. But to ignore a greater evil as you did……." She shook her head, as Atalanta's body began to vanish. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions…..and you were a fool, Atalanta of Greece. I only hope that it was the Madness Enhancement you were cursed with that affected your judgment so."

She bowed her head, all the aches and pains she had accumulated over this extended fight coming back to her. Wearily, she picked up her flag, feeling her body protest at the motions.

Her job wasn't done yet.

---

 

ORLEANS CASTLE DEPTHS​

Kratos had stood there, silently supporting Mash until her tears had stopped and she had regained control of herself. It was a delay, yes, but one they could afford. His connection with Cu sang of combat, but not the dire threat that he had felt from Mash. If anything, it seemed the Irish Servant was having the time of his life.

So he had given Mash the moment she had needed to work through her emotions - he expected however, that she would seek him out later with questions. In her, he saw some of the same signs he had seen in Atreus when the child had been forced to kill a man (a cannibal reaver, barely a man) back at the start of their journey to see Faye's final request fulfilled.

He hoped, this time, he would have better advice for the girl than he had for his son. Telling Atreus to 'close his heart to it', as he himself had been told in the agoge, was the absolute wrong thing to tell one as compassionate as his boy. And it would be equally incorrect to tell Mash.

He foresaw a long conversation with Da Vinci in his future. Afterwards, he may even take Cu up on his offer of a night of drinking.

They ran deeper into the castle, following the stairs down in the depths - the tremor that had rocked the castle, and collapsed the building on Avenger's head had apparently been the Caster's doing - and it had dropped him and his opponent from the throne room in the heart of the castle to the lower levels, where the fight continued. To Cu Chulainn's continuing enjoyment, if the sensations echoing back through his string were any indication.

"You're getting close," intoned Romani. "Just a bit farther ahead - though this hall, and there's a big area ahead - it looks like that's where they're fighting."

Kratos grunted. The farther down they had gone, the thicker the miasma in the air had become. Already unpleasant from the moment they had set foot in Orleans, now it hung about them like a pall. But beneath it……

It was like the cave in the mountain. He could feel it, if he concentrated.

The Grail was near.

"Mash," he rumbled, his voice low. "Are you ready?" Have you recovered, hovered in the thick air between them, unasked, yet asked.

Mash nodded. "I'm ok, Mr. Kratos. I……I can worry about the rest of this later. For right now, we have to finish this." Eyes still puffy from shed tears met his, and her hand, almost unconsciously, dropped down to the hilt of the sword that was sheathed at her side. "I…I can do this."

He sighed. Many, many conversations loomed in front of him when he returned to Chaldea. The spirits offered by Cu grew ever more tempting. "Defense only - neither of us can harm Baldur as it currently stands. We act to give Caster his opening." Unless things changed, of course, which they likely would. 'No plan survives contact with the enemy' - Tanya was fond of that quote, and he heartily agreed with the sentiment.

At last, they entered a large chamber. This was likely the hub of the lower levels - branching off into the dungeons, barracks, guard rooms, and other less savory areas that resided beneath most strongholds.

This one, however, had seen better days. Large roots and branches had split several of the walls open, and the ceiling was in ruins - Kratos thought he could see all the way to the sky from here. This then, was likely the cause of the tremors he had felt - Caster's doing, he suspected.

Within the room, its walls rang with the sound of combat.

Cu leapt high into the air, as a wave of fire swept beneath him. Draupnir shot down at Baldur, three spears released almost as one. None even came close to him, sliding away from the Servant and driving themselves into the ground, but Cu merely laughed, his staff swiping at his enemy's head as he fell to the ground. Baldur swayed out of the way and clapped his hands together, attempting to smash the weapon's head between his burning palms - but Cu quickly dismissed his staff, and rode the wave of the explosion higher in the air, Draupnir spinning in his hands, like a baton, knocking the bits of flame aside.

"Hey, Kratos! You made it!" Cu was grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining from the pure love of combat. He landed on his feet, resummoned his staff, and gestured with it to a point behind Baldur. "Look what I found!"

There, in the back of the chamber, where stones had been pulled from the flooring to expose the soil of France, buried to its neck, was the Holy Grail. Dirt filled the cup almost to its lip, with runes drawn into the soil, glowing a sickly green. The stench of Seiðr poured out of the Grail in waves, as bad, if not worse than some of the fouled isles in Vanaheim.

His axe was flying across the room in a flash, only to rebound off a dome of power as it neared the Grail.

A protection stave.

"Yeah, already tried that," commented Cu, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Guy's got a pretty good Bounded Field set up there. I could break it with a bit of time, but that would require him to leave me alone for far longer than I think he's willing to." Cu shrugged. "Fine by me, though, no need to complicate what's turning out to be a pretty good fight."

The Leviathan Axe returned to Kratos' hands with an audible smack, as he took in his enemy. Baldur was no longer pristine - he was missing a strip of hair from his head, for one, and, more tellingly, spots on his arms were horribly burnt, and did not seem to be healing.

Though Cu Chulainn was not without his wounds, either. He was hiding it well, but Kratos could tell he was favoring his right side a touch. His long experience said damaged ribs, likely bruised rather than broken, but this was also a man who had tied himself upright with his own guts to die on his feet, so his pain threshold had to be considerable.

His long mane of hair was much shorter than it had been when he had parted from the man in the throne room, looking like it had been rather hastily, and raggedly, cut.

Cu noticed the direction of his eyes, and sighed. "Yeah. Bastard caught me by the tail while we were free-falling from the throne room down to here. Couldn't let him hurl me into a wall, so I gave myself an emergency haircut. Broke my heart - women LOVE the hair." The only woman in the room, Mash, remained conspicuously quiet.

Baldur's face split into a snarl upon spotting Kratos and Mash. "WORTHLESS BERSERKER! He couldn't even kill a mere girl, with a COMMAND SEAL no less?" The fires surrounding him guttered for a second, then flared up, white-hot. "Sanson as well - not that I ever expected much from him. And Atalanta, the one I thought had some worth, is still fighting for her life against the chosen of some pitiful nailed god?"

He shook his head. "Fine. I'll just have to do it myself. Not that I ever planned on bringing any of them other than Atalanta with me when I go back to my world. You just saved me the trouble of killing them myself."

Baldur's hands clapped together, and fire rushed out at them in an expanding sphere. Mash sheltered behind her shield, while Kratos crouched and did much the same, though he could not completely block the wash of fire, and his skin blistered as it washed over him. Cu stomped his foot, and a massive root tore itself from the ground, sacrificing itself to guard the Caster.

Baldur was amidst them a moment later.

He swung a colossal punch at Mash, one that clipped her head and sent her tumbling. His follow-up of a stomp was foiled as Kratos slid in, grasping Mash and rolling out of the way of his descending foot. Cu leapt over their bouncing bodies, Draupnir leading.

Baldur slid his head out of the way of the spear's thrust - some part of Kratos' mind noted that Baldur was actively dodging now, even against weapons that should not affect him. Again, this had to be Cu's doing, somehow having made Baldur wary of seemingly harmless (to him) threats.

Baldur ducked under the attempted side sweep of Draupnir, then sprang up with a vicious uppercut, one that Cu jerked his head out of the way at the last possible second. Baldur sprang from the ground, fist trailing fire, and lashed out with both of his legs, catching Cu in the chest and knocking him back.

Cu twisted in the air, landing on his feet, just in time to see Baldur send another wave of molten earth his way. He tensed to spring away, but then a massive form darted into his view, shoulders hunched. The burning wave crashed against Kratos' shield, and the man's feet dug into the ground as the sheer force pushed him back a step. But he held, and kept the attack away from Cu, though his shield was glowing white-hot, the metal superheated.

Cu vaulted over Kratos' head, Draupnir withdrawn to allow him to throw a volley of mistletoe darts at Baldur. Baldur hit the dirt, allowing both the darts, and the Irish Servant, to fly over his head.

To where Mash was waiting.

The darts impacted on her shield, mere moments before Cu's feet touched down as well, much more lightly, then sprang off, flying at Baldur's crouched body, staff spun about, the point leading.

Baldur scrabbled back, only just able to get out of the way of the point of the staff before it, and the mistletoe it carried, ran him through. Instead, the floor felt the full wrath of the Irish Servant's attack, driving deep into the stone. Cu moved to pull it free, to continue his attack, but was jerked to a halt.

His weapon was stuck, driven too deep into the ground to easily free.

"Ah shite," griped Cu. With a cry, Baldur sprung from the ground, form blurring as he flew towards the momentarily off-balance Caster.

Kratos again interposed, and once more Baldur's fist rang off the Spartan's shield. But this time was different - his shield rang with an ugly note, and then, the metal cracked.

From over the lip of the shield, Baldur sneered at Kratos, as frost dripped from his form.

Hands seized the damaged shield and tore at it, jerking Kratos off his feet and hurling him aside.

Kratos rolled to his feet, eyes darting to his shield.

Damaged, but not ruined - but severely compromised from the frigid strike so soon after it had been heated as if it had been in Brok's forge. Now each son of Odin had managed to damage Faye's gift to him, each in their own way.

Kratos felt his temper flare.

Cu, who had managed to free his staff, and Baldur were exchanging blows, Mash hovering around the edges of the fight.

Slow, shaky footsteps sounded behind him, and Kratos turned.

Two Jeannes were slowly limping down the stairs, Avenger leaning heavily on her real self's shoulder. She hardly looked better than she had when he had discovered her beneath the ruins of the church that had collapsed on her, but the desire for revenge in her eyes was as eager as ever. Jeanne, too, was carrying her share of wounds. An arrow, shaft broken off, still protruded from her right shoulder, and her left cheek looked like it had been savaged by an animal.

"Shut UP!" snarled Baldur, his face twisting in irritation. "That other one isn't even your sister, just a mistake that should have DIED on the ground days ago! Something I plan to FIX!"

He fixed a look of hate on Jeanne. "Atalanta too? Damn you ALL! You're ALL going to die, then I will take that god's head and…."

Cu sighed. "Kid? Aren't you tired of letting him have his way all the time?"

Baldur turned to Cu, his expression puzzled, then a spasm shook his body.

And the flames and ice surrounding him winked out.

"NO!" bellowed Baldur, as another spasm shot through his form. "You weak excuse for a………NO!"

Cu's smile was oddly restrained…..almost fond. "Knew it. Thought you hadn't given up yet, kid."

"DAMN YOU!" Baldur rocketed forward, his body trembling, his arm drawn back, all thoughts gone but an all-consuming, blinding rage that demanded he kill this man now.

When his fist struck, it wasn't the face of Cu Chulainn that it impacted, but Mash's shield, which was quickly covered in blood.

Baldur's blood.

The Servant shouted in pain, jerking the remains of his arm back - which looked like it had been shredded - little more than a ragged lump of meat and bone. In a moment that seemed to hang, Baldur's eyes leapt to the shield, the shield that was covered in blood and bits of his flesh - but beneath that gory coating, the little leaves that had rooted into the metal and sprouted.

The darts that had missed.

Baldur clenched his teeth so hard he tasted blood, forcing himself to remain on his feet. He reached for the fire, clawing at it, trying to tear it from the grasp of the one blocking it, the fair-faced weakling that dared to use his name in this world. He could still win this - a large enough explosion and…..

There was an impact on his back, and a spear erupted from his chest, the tip blooming with a familiar plant.

The fight drained from Baldur's body. "When…..how…" he rasped out, as he sank to the ground.

"Tossed it to Kratos with a seed when you broke his shield," replied Cu. "Don't suppose you'll be a gracious loser and let the ladies say goodbye to their brother?"

Baldur laughed in his face. "Curse you all, every one of you……." He tried to raise his head, but lacked the strength. "Enjoy your meaningless victory…….Lev….and worse, are waiting for you. Oh, the things he told me he has planned for you……."

Baldur laughed, a raspy, choking laugh, up until the moment his body broke into particles and vanished.

---

A FIELD SOME DISTANCE FROM ORLEANS​

Siegfried drew a ragged breath into his chest, the last wisps of his Noble Phantasm's release draining from his sword. Across the field, Fafnir's lifeless eyes stared back at him.

It was done.

He was covered in blood, both his and the wyrm's, and had been wounded a score of times, at least, but it was done. His nemesis lay dead.

Georgios' hand clapped him across the back, his fellow's face jubilant, despite the injuries he himself had taken. "Truly a fight for the ages. We will have quite the tale for our fellows when we return to the Throne." At his side, Bayard nuzzled against his hand, the horse's coat spotted with its rider's blood.

"Indeed," sighed Siegfried. "It seems my Master has also found victory in his fight." He raised his hand, which was beginning to leak gold. "France has been saved."

Georgios let loose a deep breath, a weight seeming to fall from his shoulders. "Then the drinks shall be on me when next we meet on the Throne, to celebrate. We shall gather in our Order's hall and toast to our victory!"

(Their 'hall' was just Siegfried's room. He'd offered, and the Order of Dragonslayers on the Throne had used it as their appointed meeting place for business - or celebrations, ever since. He'd never seen a reason to deny them.)

Siegfried nodded. "I look forward to it, my brother."

They clasped arms, as their bodies began to fade. A few moments later, the clearing was empty, save for the signs of the battle that had taken place there.

---

 

ORLEANS CASTLE DEPTHS​

Cu was poking at the protection stave, walking slow circles around it, while every so often probing its barrier with his staff. Spiteful as Baldur had been, he wanted to make sure he hadn't woven any traps into the thing as one last attempt to take Kratos with him. After a long few minutes, he rapped his staff against the ground, runes flared, and the protections around the Grail collapsed.

"Looks like I was worrying over nothing, but never hurts to be careful." He kicked the Grail over, the soil spilling from the vessel, and the sickening odor of Seiðr began to fade. "There. That should put a stop to the plants dying…..all that's left is to take the Grail."

Kratos nodded to her, and Mash scooped the golden chalice up, quickly storing it in her shield. When a moment passed where no other calamity reared its head, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Grail secured," said Mash.

That was it, then. They had won. "Best news I've had in a week," said Romani, his face beaming. "We're getting the Rayshift ready to go, so you've got a few minutes to say goodbyes."

Kratos could already feel Siegfried's thread in his mind beginning to fray, the Dragonslayer starting to head back to the Throne, with his enemy slain, the satisfaction of a job well done echoing across their link. In the seconds before Siegfried's string vanished completely, Kratos sent a respectful nod, and his thanks to the Servant, and received the knight's equivalent back.

Serious, disciplined, and a great warrior. Kratos felt he would miss the knight's presence in the coming days.

And the same could possibly be said of the woman now standing before him. Kratos still had little use for gods of any ilk, but this woman…..

"Kratos, thank you again," said Jeanne, a serene, pleased smile gracing her tired features. "You saved my homeland."

He grunted, extending his arm. "You were a capable and trustworthy ally, Jeanne d'Arc. I would fight by your side again, should the occasion present itself."

She grasped his arm and pumped it up and down once, twice. "May you go with the grace of our Lord God, on the rest of your journey…" She shrugged at his frown. "….even if you have no use for his help, I feel he at least approves of the work you are doing."

Kratos huffed a breath out as she released his arm, and turned to say her goodbyes to Mash. He looked over to where Avenger was lying against a wall, her eyes closed.

"Don't bother, I'm not one for goodbyes," she said, never opening her eyes. "And it's not like we were best of buddies, anywho. You only Contracted with me because of a misunderstanding on my part, and you were never crazy about me."

True words, but still…… "You are correct, I am not fond of you. You are reckless, and blinded by your need for vengeance……but you carried your weight, and you were less of a burden than I anticipated."

Avenger chuckled. Master of the back-handed compliments, this one was. "Be seeing you, Kratos."

Kratos grunted, as Mash and Cu Chulainn walked up to him. "Are you ready to go?" asked Romani.

"The Grail is secure, and Baldur has been silenced. I think we're ready." Mash looked up at Kratos, who nodded. "Bring us home, Doctor Roman."

"All right! Beginning Rayshift…..now!"

Like before, there was a yank, and then, the tunnel of swirling lights, and Kratos lost sense of himself.

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND CENTER
​

Kratos pulled himself from the Coffin, sliding the weapons that had been resting on his chest back into their harnesses. Cu, still grinning like a madman, was helping Mash from hers.

"Both Mash and Kratos have been successfully returned to the present…..," Romani's voice was thick with emotion. "The French Singularity is beginning to stabilize….we did it, everyone!"

A cheer burst through the room, people hugging, leaping into the air, and venting emotions, both the pent-up week's worth that had accumulated since the Singularity had begun, and others that had haunted them since the explosion that had rocked Chaldea.

Kratos, for his part, felt something settle in his chest.

One step. He was one step closer to returning to his world, to seeing his son again.

Then Cu was clapping him on his back, and a beaming Mash was beside him, and he allowed himself a small smile.

They, all of them, had done well.

"OK!" Romani's voice broke out over the celebration. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, I want Kratos and Mash in the infirmary pronto! I know I'm probably being a mother hen, but I want to give you two a clean bill of health before I……"

He trailed off, staring at a point behind Kratos.

"Huh. Nice place you got here, big guy."

That voice. No.

Kratos turned, dreading what he would see.

Standing behind him, running her hand over the metal of the Coffins, was a pale, ashen-haired, one-armed Jeanne d'Arc, her side still coated in dried blood. As his gaze fell on her, she turned her head, and shrugged at him.

"What? Did you think I was done? I've still got some names I need to cross off my list…..starting with that bastard Lev."

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: And JAlter joins the team. Sorry Kratos, it's like you fed a very obnoxious cat, now you're stuck with her.

Serious note, she was always the choice for Orleans for me - both for the parallels between her - or the Avenger class in general - and Kratos, and for other reasons that will pop up in incoming chapters. The chunni still has a role to play in this story, beyond her stated need to finish settling the score. She's also one of my favorites, so I won't claim there's no favoritism in play, either. She's also somewhat fond of me, as there was an NA banner a bit ago that everyone was saying was the 'last JAlter banner' going off what had been released on JP at that time, and I tried a few on it, trying to Limit Break First Sunrise, which I had a few of already. I managed that, and also had three JAlters show up in five multis. So, yeah.

Look at that, Galahad actually being something within a country mile of credit to team. Begrudgingly as hell, but still.

Sadly, the chapter was massive enough as it was, so something, in the end, had to get cut, and Siegfried and Georgios vs Fafnir was the victim. I might, at some point, write an addendum where we see the fight in full. For anyone who was wanting to see that in the final chapter of Orleans, my apologies. This chapter really turned into a beast.

OOC Cu while fighting Baldur: POCKET MISTLETOE!

I almost had him say that during the fight. Almost.

This chapter brought to you by STAND PROUD and the Turtles in Time OST.

Chapter 20: Post-Orleans 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 20

 

HISPANIA, AD 60

UNITED ROMAN EMPIRE CAPITAL​

"Miserable, puling little godling."

In his quarters high atop the Imperial Palace of the United Roman Empire, Lev Lainur stalked from wall to wall, the air around his form shimmering with his rage. "A priceless, irreplaceable resource expended, and he can tell us little more than we already knew! Gods……in the end, little more than upjumped mortal filth!"

He stopped his pacing, coming to a halt in the center of the room, as voices began to echo in the depths of his mind.

"BROTHER. WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO OBSESS OVER THIS? WE OBSERVED THIS 'KRATOS' AS HE BLUNDERED ABOUT THE SINGULARITY. HE IS NOTHING TO CONCERN YOURSELF WITH. HE IS BARELY BETTER THAN THE MORTAL TRASH HE DEFENDS." Zepar. Of course he would be the first to speak.

"AND EVEN IF HE WERE SOMETHING TO BE FEARED, WE ARE IMMORTAL. SHOULD WE FALL IN BATTLE, WE WILL BE BROUGHT BACK AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AS LONG AS OUR LORD COMMANDS IT OF US." Phenex. Ever the True Believer.

"AND WE HAVE SEEN WHAT THIS 'GOD' IS CAPABLE OF. EVEN IN THE UNLIKELY EVENT HE SHOULD MAKE IT PAST YOU, THAT WILL ONLY ADD TO OUR KNOWLEDGE OF HIS ABILITIES. AND WE WILL ADAPT, AND ADJUST, UNTIL THIS FOREIGN GOD IS GROUND TO DUST." Forneus. He could, as the humans say, hear the gears of his brother's mind turning as he schemed.

"Nothing to say, Amon?," he asked the air, his tone contemptuous, though truly, he was surprised the most opinionated of the 72 had not chimed in yet.

"I have nothing to say at this time. I continue to watch, and to see if this 'Chaldea' or their pet god will merit my interest require my attention." Was he less agitated, he might have noticed something off with Amon's tone and cadence - but as it currently stood, he was simply happy to not have to deal with Amon's mockery of his failures in Singularity F for once.

"It irks, still. A precious, unique resource, expended, and we have little to show for it. Losing the Singularity was well within the plan - we never saw fit to dispatch one our number to oversee the mad Caster's little farce, but to gain almost NOTHING from it……" He growled, some of his True Voice overlapping with his mewling human disguise. "It CONTINUES to gall me. To be thwarted twice by these Chaldean RATS….." Bad enough he'd failed to finally make that Animusphere girl pay for all the irritation she'd caused - but that he, a Demon God Pillar, had been forced to retreat by a mere god…..

"YOU SPEND TOO LONG IN THAT HUMAN FORM, BROTHER. I FEAR IT BEGINS TO CLOUD YOUR JUDGMENT." Bael.

"It is a necessary sacrifice - we still require the mortal peasants to fuel the United Roman Empire with their labor. Until we have burnt Rome to the ground, I must hide myself, lest we lose them." It was a weak excuse even to his ears, and he knew it.

"OR MAYBE YOU CLOAK YOUR POWER, CONCENTRATING IT, KNOWING THAT, ACCORDING TO ALL OUR PREDICTIONS, CHALDEA WILL DISCOVER YOUR SINGULARITY NEXT, BROTHER, AND YOU SEEK TO HAVE EVERY SCRAP OF POWER AT YOUR BECK AND CALL TO INCINERATE THE INSECT THAT DOMINATES YOUR THOUGHTS." Barbatos. Never one to mince words.

"I do NOT FEAR him! Not any HUMAN, and not any so-called GOD!" His hands smashed through the table in the center of the room, heedless of the noise it would cause. The servants knew better than to enter his chambers, ever.

He heaved breaths into his human lungs, hating the feel of the weak mortal flesh he was cloaked in. He would have closed his eyes, tried to force himself to calm down, but every time he did, he saw it, replaying across his mind's eyes.

That roaring, massive form, awash in red energy, bearing down on him.

Information. He was one of the Pillars that governed the Information Sector, and he didn't have enough damn INFORMATION! If he just knew more, he could KILL the irritant like swatting a fly……..

…..information. Collect information.

Within the inhuman recesses of Lev Lainur Flauros' mind, an idea began to form.

---

 

CHALDEA​

"Look, I don't see what's so hard about this," complained the Avenger. "Despite what I said, I don't have any idea HOW I got to be here, or WHY I'm here! I'm as surprised as the rest of you. I was expecting to fade out like 'me' did and end up wherever I was headed next - the Throne, or maybe Hell. Then I found myself next to one of those 'Coffin' things - awesome name for 'em, by the way - heard you all talking, and realized I was still kicking."

She looked from disbelieving face to disbelieving face. "It's the damn truth! Those lines I fed you were because you only get one chance to make an entrance, so you have to look as badass as you can when you do!"

"I don't think she's lying," Da Vinci ignored the outraged face Avenger made. "Unless one of the Masters actively chooses to, we shouldn't be able to bring a Servant back with us on a return Rayshift. Cu Chulainn was probably some fluke that resulted from the combination of factors of Chaldea being held together with shoestring, bubble gum, and duct tape in the wake of Lev's sabotage, us deliberately pulling Kratos back as a plus-one from the janky initial Rayshift, and the fact that he was extra cargo, and contracted with Cu Chulainn meant he also instinctively pulled the Servant with him."

All eyes turned to the Caster, who had his feet up on the table again, and was leaning back in his chair. Feeling their eyes on him, he shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I certainly wasn't expecting to be here." Some part of him was glad Kiyohime wasn't around - she'd have burnt him alive for the blatant lie.

He knew DAMN well why he was here, and who was responsible for it - and why he was a stupid Caster. Damn meddler. HE wouldn't be getting any fine Irish whiskey - or shouldn't be, but that would require Cu himself to forgo the fine brewed spirits of his homeland. Not happening.

Curse his having to share a body with a freeloader.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm not happy to be here - there's every possibility that when I go, I'm going to somewhere very, very toasty. This place is a damn sight better than that. Much cooler than my likely final destination, if nothing else." She glanced around the conference room, taking it in again. "But if you're looking to blame someone for this, it ain't me!"

Medusa, from where she was standing by Kratos' side, was glaring a hole through the Servant (she'd refused a seat, and had never taken her eyes off the pale Jeanne). "You're hiding something, Avenger. You're not lying when you say you don't know why you're here…..but you're uncomfortable with those words. You know SOMETHING."

Avenger flushed, and almost seemed to deflate, shrinking in on herself. The brash confidence and arrogance she seemed to naturally project vanished, being replaced by….uncertainty?

It was a very, very strange look on her.

"Hand to the Bible - if a Bible wouldn't burn me - I truly, honestly, do NOT have clue freakin' ONE why I'm here." She said, her voice subdued. "But I have a suspicion. When I stabbed Charlie, he was already making to take my head. I only survived because the ceiling was falling, and the cross in the church got in the way, and took the blow for me."

Romani was white as a ghost. "You can't possibly be suggesting……"

"I don't KNOW, alright!," yelled Avenger. "My luck isn't good enough for something like that to save me. And God wouldn't do something like that to save something like me. 'Me', he would, in a heartbeat. But a sinner like yours truly?" She sighed. "But then, here I am, where you say I shouldn't be, and I have to ask myself, two coincidences in a row, all centered around 'me's' angry baby sister?"

She glared the man down. "The hell am I supposed to think?"

No one had anything to say to that.

"So then, what do we do with her?" asked Cu, still as nonchalant as ever. "We had to switch Medusa out to keep from blowing things when it was time for me to go in just a few hours ago. Can we handle another Servant haunting the halls of Chaldea?"

"THAT at least shouldn't be a problem, thanks to this shiny new Grail you brought home to Auntie," said Da Vinci, still toying with the Grail, which she had quickly liberated from Mash's possession. "This baby should give us enough juice to handle a few more Servants, both in Singularities and around Chaldea. No worries on that front, even if Kratos wasn't shouldering most of the load for all the non-me Servants."

"We could certainly use more help….," began Romani, tentatively.

"Much as I hate to agree, the Doctor is right," said Medusa, her tone begrudging. "But Avenger……….would that it would have been ANYONE else from that Singularity."

"Oh, blow it out your ass you stupid snake," spat Avenger, rolling her eyes. "Whatever issues you have with me, I kept up my part of the bargain I made with you bunch in that cave. I kept my nose clear, I kicked ass, and I sang like a damn canary about my former minions. Even you have to admit I was useful."

"I admit that I wonder what you would look like encased in granite," replied Medusa, her tone glacial.

"Ladies……please!," Romani was up and out of his chair, hands vaguely waving about the air - much as he might have wanted to separate the two, his survival instincts were screaming 'Servants' and 'do NOT get in the middle of this if you want to live'.

Cu, on the other hand, was grinning like a fool.

"I think, of any of us, Kratos should be the one who decides. He is the one who would have to continue to Contract with Avenger, after all." Mash's soft voice broke the increasingly heated staredown between the two Servants, both of them starting as the girl spoke.

Medusa, for her part, flushed, and sheepishly bowed her head in apology as she turned to Kratos. "No, Mash is right. I…..apologize for letting my emotions get the better of me."

Avenger, for her part, merely shrugged, and rolled her hand in a gesture that, to the best of his knowledge, meant 'hurry it up'.

Kratos sighed, for a moment, missing the Valkyries of his Midgard - those few that had survived Ragnarök. They, bloodthirst aside (their glee at wishing to hear how Gna had met her end had been……jarring, from the warrior women who had, up to that point, been so stoic), at least understood discipline. Which was more than he could say to the Servant he still found himself bound to.

Jeanne's copy was irritating, abrasive, insolent, and reckless. Her thread still burned in his mind, constantly echoing with rage and anger that was all too familiar to the Spartan. He had hoped to be rid of her with the collapse of the French Singularity.

But, her words were correct - she HAD kept her side of their bargain. She had fought for France - despite her animus for the land - and had not raised her hand to any but their enemies.

He sighed, again. He anticipated many headaches in his future. He wondered if they brewed willowbark for headaches, as Faye did, still. "She may stay." Medusa's expression was resigned, but not surprised - she likely expected his answer.

Avenger, however, had not - her jaw had dropped in shock. "Wait, really?"

"Yes." His eyes narrowed as he turned the full force of his gaze on the Servant. "However, I expect better of you than you gave in our recent campaign. You lost control, acted foolishly, and endangered both your allies and our mission at times. I did not tolerate that from my son - and you, I care for less."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hopefully shouldn't be an issue - I had history with damn near everyone we were fighting in France. It shouldn't be personal like that until we get to Lev and whomever else he's in cahoots with." She blew her bangs back with a huff of breath. "If you think I won't be able to keep my head when it comes to that, kick me back to here and let me ride the bench. I won't argue. After seeing you tear that gate off its damn hinges, I'd prefer to stay as close to your good side as I can."

Romani clapped his hands. "Then, unless there are any other objections?" He glanced about the room, eyes jumping from face to face, and receiving only shaken heads in response. "Then, welcome to Chaldea, Avenger." He frowned. "Would…..you like to come up with another name? Once, I thought seeing an Extra Class was a once in a lifetime thing - but after we encountered three in our first Singularity……..it's not outside the realm of possibility we might end up summoning another Avenger, and then things would get confusing."

"Wait, three?," asked Medusa. "The real Jeanne was a Ruler, and the copy here is an Avenger…….was the third….?"

Da Vinci nodded. "Yes, Baldur. From the scans we got, he was apparently a Servant Class called an 'Alter Ego'. It seems to be what you get from a mashup of different parts - in this case, human Jean d'Arc, the Baldur of this world, and the Baldur of Kratos' world. Or, at least, that's the working theory." She shrugged. "It's a bit of unexplored territory for us, so we can't be sure of anything until we run into another. For all we know, it could be what happens when you take something not of this world and force it into a Servant Container, instead of my theory."

She turned to Kratos. "And yes, I said it before, but I was remiss in only touching on the known Extra Classes when I taught you about Servants, Kratos. I'll remedy that the next time we sit down together. Thankfully, you've met the two we know about, so you have real-world experience of them to go with the lesson."

Kratos grunted, accepting the apology for what it was. He honestly did not feel that put out by the woman's oversight - while it had taken them by surprise, she had acted based on the information she had, that these Extra Classes were rare things. And there had been so much information to impart to him - if it had not been the Extra Classes, it would have been something else that would have fallen by the wayside.

Romani cleared his throat. "Getting back to the main point, Avenger, is there something you'd like to be called other than your Class name, since you'll be with us on a more permanent basis?"

The Servant flopped back into her chair. "No fuckin' clue. 'Jeanne' doesn't feel right - and knowing my abysmal luck, the second I start asking you to call me that, you'll pull 'me' on a Summon and I'll be back to square fucking one." She lolled her head back. "Let me think on it."

"Alright." He turned to Mash. "Mash, if you wouldn't mind giving Avenger a tour of the facilities - I'll have Da Vinci find her some quarters while you're doing that."

The girl nodded, and Avenger allowed herself to be led from the conference room. "Stop by Medical after - I'd really rather prefer to look you over right now, but you haven't been complaining about any pain or anything from your fights, so there's probably nothing dire to patch up."

"I will, Doctor Roman." She smiled, a soft little thing. "I do need to check up on Senpai, after all, and tell her we've resolved one of the Singularities. It's been a week since I visited her."

"Is there any change in the girl?," asked Kratos, as the door hissed shut behind the departing Mash and Avenger.

Romani shook his head. "Not a thing. Da Vinci's been devoting what time she can to finding an antidote, but….."

"There's just too many fires to put out," piped up the woman herself. "And the blood samples I have of that poison are………weird. It doesn't behave like anything I've ever seen." She huffed out a breath. "There's nothing I CAN'T do, but it's all a matter of having the time to do it."

"If nothing else, we'll have some time to spare until we find the next Singularity," offered Romani. "It was a stroke of luck we found the French Singularity so fast. I don't anticipate we'll find the next one anywhere as quickly." He pushed himself up from his chair. "And on that note, Kratos, if you'll indulge me and let me confirm you didn't take any serious wounds, then I can…."

"The next words out of your mouth, mister, had better be 'eat a real meal for the first time in a week, and then get some rest'," said Da Vinci, her tone promising dire consequences otherwise.

"....head to the cafeteria, then my room for at least 8 hours," finished Romani, somewhat lamely.

"Good to hear," said Da Vinci with a smug little smile. "Kratos, you get some rest, and bring your shield with you tomorrow morning. I'll see what I can do to patch it up."

---

"Man alive, that Simulator sounds wild," said Avenger, her head still turning back to look at the door that led to the massive room. "Shame I couldn't check it out."

"It's largely on restricted access until we get more repairs done to the base," said Mash. Avenger had been…….honestly much easier to handle on this tour of Chaldea than for the entirety of the Singularity. Certainly less abrasive - she supposed all the sights and sounds of the base were distracting her. "Kratos trains me there in the evenings, after dinner. If you really want to see it, you could always join us."

"Yeah……about that….." Mash continued walking, then paused and turned, as she realized the Avenger had halted in her tracks, and was chewing on her lower lip.

"So, spill the beans, Squeaks. Got any tips for me?"

"S….squeaks?," stuttered Mash. "And….tips for what?"

"Yeah, Squeaks. You squeak when you get flustered. Or when someone does this." The Avenger poked her in the side, and Mash couldn't help the 'eep' that escaped her lips. "And tips for staying in that big grump's good graces. I'd like to avoid having to constantly tell him I'm sorry every time I fuck things up or manage to push one of his buttons."

"Don't be sorry, be better." Avenger blinked, tilting her head in confusion at the other girl, who had recited that phrase almost reflexively. "It's one of his favorite sayings - I heard it a lot when he first started teaching me how to fight, and I kept apologizing for being so…..bad at it." Mash sighed, remembering those early days. They hadn't been much more than two weeks ago, but they felt like so much longer in her past.

"Kratos has…….very, very high standards, both for himself, and anyone he lets get close to him. When he agreed to train me, he said he wouldn't do it as he had been, but he would still push me hard….and he does." Her evenings after Kratos dismissed her were still largely a blur - she generally stumbled back to her room, showered, and then collapsed into bed. She didn't even notice when Fou would trigger the door and hop on her bed, as she had in the past, so drained was she.

"It's……he still demands a lot out of me, but he isn't really that bad when I make a mistake. It's only when I keep making the same mistake that he gets angry." Mash looked the Avenger in the eye. "He's always been very clear about what he expects from me. I know……you and him don't really see eye to eye, but he was pretty clear about what he wanted from you all throughout the Singularity."

Avenger considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, guess I can't argue that too much. He laid out the terms of our deal pretty damn clearly when we first hooked up. And he was pretty tolerant of my bullshit right up until I let my temper get the better of me. Be better, huh?" She rolled her eyes. "Would sound like some stupid self-help shit coming from anyone else, but I can see him belting that line out as grave as the damn reaper and meaning it. And can I help you?"

This last bit was directed not to Mash, but to someone who had been hovering just a bit away from the girls.

"Oh, Mr. Meunière!" Mash's face brightened as the blonde man walked over to them.

"Mash," he said, greeting the girl with a soft smile. "You're back, then?"

Mash blinked, then nodded. "You must not have been on shift, then." Meunière dipped his head in acknowledgement of that. "Yes, we just got back - we managed to resolve the French Singularity and make it back in one piece."

Meunière let out a deep breath of relief. "Good for you……both on fixing that mess and making it back alive. Hopefully that'll mean the end of 12-hour shifts for a bit, at least until we find the next one." He turned his attention to the other Servant, who was staring at Meunière with narrowed eyes. "And……I assume this is someone from the Singularity? I'm sorry for not recognizing you, my duties don't usually involve a view of what's occurring there……would you be Jeanne d'Arc?"

"Nope, sorry. We're all out of Saints." Her expression turned a touch unhinged, as a mad grin cracked her face. "All we've got today is a bad photocopy of the Maid of Orleans." She stuck her remaining hand out. "Avenger, the Dragon Witch of Orleans, at your service."

Meunière paled. "Oh." He glanced at her outstretched hand, then her expression, then her hand, then her expression again, before finally reaching out and hesitantly taking her hand and quickly shaking it. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. And I really need to be going, or I'll be late for my shift."

With almost indecent haste, he scurried off. Avenger watched him go, then turned to find Mash leveling a look of disapproval her way. "You didn't need to scare him like that. Mr. Meunière is French…..he was probably just excited to meet a hero from his nation's past."

Avenger shrugged. "Yeah, I probably didn't have to……it just bugs me. Everyone always seeing 'me' when they look at me, and not seeing……whatever the hell I am." She blew out a breath. "Problem for another day, though."

They resumed walking, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. Avenger, unsurprisingly, was the first to break it. "So what's the story behind it?"

Mash blinked, confused.

"The sword. I saw one on your hip when I limped down the stairs on 'me's' shoulder, and you didn't have it before you got bum rushed by that Berserker." Her voice began to take on the tone of a child asking for a story. "So what happened?"

For a second, Mash wasn't in Chaldea. She was back in that castle, fighting for her life…….and then there was a screaming man before her, and a sword in her hands…….and then she was stabbing him in his heart.

Mash felt her gorge rise.

"....H….here, Avenger. These are the quarters set aside for you." She swallowed thickly, her heart racing. "I'll let you look them over and get accustomed to them. I….I need to go."

Avenger stood there confused for a long moment as she watched the girl rush off. "What'd I say?"

---

 

DA VINCI'S WORKSHOP

THE NEXT MORNING​

Kratos raised his fist to rap on the door to Da Vinci's workshop, not entirely sure why he still bothered. Before he could even touch the metal of the door, it slid open.

Da Vinci's voice called out from within the room. "Come in, Kratos! Good to see you're as punctual as ever."

Kratos made his way into the cluttered room, a familiar scent wafting across his nostrils. Ah.

In the corner of the room, Da Vinci was feeding fuel into the fires of her forge, working the bellows.

It was the first time Kratos had seen the woman in something other than her elaborate dress. She was dressed……well, not more simply - as her clothing was as fine and as detailed and decorated as ever. But perhaps 'practically' fit. Trousers, a fitted shirt, and a thick apron - and her hair was firmly tied back, and further secured in some kind of net. A device rested on her forehead, loosely secured by a band that wrapped around her head. Likely protection for her eyes - though Kratos suspected that was far from its only purpose.

"I'd say you don't have to knock, but you Greeks always were serious about hospitality and all that, so the tiger isn't going to be changing its stripes anytime soon." She pumped the bellows one last time, then stepped away from the forge. "So, let's see the damage."

With a grunt, Kratos raised his left arm and unfolded his shield - then lowered his arm a bit so it was more eye-level to the woman.

Da Vinci slowly ran her hands across the metal, gently pulling it this way and that as she probed the damage and examined it from various angles. "Worse than it looks, but you were right, it's pretty much useless for defense until it gets fixed." She affixed a small loupe to her right eye, and leaned in close.

After a long moment, she let out a sigh. "And I can't tell what sort of materials it's made from, either. It looks like the base is just well-forged steel, but on top of that is……nothing I've ever seen before."

"Can you fix it?" asked Kratos. "It…..was a gift to me from my wife. It has value to me, beyond its use in combat."

Da Vinci leveled a confident smirk his way. "I might not be able to recognize whatever else was used to improve it - probably stuff that doesn't have a good analogue in our world, or just doesn't exist here - but that doesn't mean our world doesn't have its own set of wonders." She held out her hands. "Give it here, and let Aunt Da Vinci work her magic."

Kratos detached the shield from his arm and handed it over. Da Vinci turned it over in her hands, giving it a more thorough examination now that she could see all sides of it. "Whoever did the improvements, it's excellent work. I might not be able to recognize what they used, but I can recognize a quality job when I see it, and the smith who worked on this was a master."

"It was Brok……and Sindri." The mention of the dwarf's name sent a pang through Kratos - he still hadn't decided if he believed Sindri to be somehow involved in the battle that had landed him in this world, or if it had been just a coincidence. "Then later, a comrade of theirs, Lúnda. The dwarves….."

He thought back to his time with Brok in Svartalfheim. "Brok told me that dwarven magic was capable of using things that could not be grasped…..the relationship between that which could be touched, and what could not be. He said….'the nature of a thing is more important than the form of a thing'."

Da Vinci's brow was furrowed, and Kratos could almost hear her mind working furiously. "That's……….hmmmm. Deep……..but it's probably something unique to their race. But Norse myth had more than a couple of instances of odd materials being used in the creation of legendary items." She tilted her head. "If you wouldn't mind indulging my curiosity, do you have any other examples?"

Kratos indicated his axe, in its harness on his back. "While I did not see its making, they created the Leviathan Axe for my wife. Supposedly, it was forged from 'the echoing screams of twenty frost trolls'." He summoned Draupnir to his hand. "I did witness the creation of this spear. One of the items used was the 'sound of the wind'. I…..even saw Brok acquire it, by merely opening his bag and then closing it, as we rode a lift up a mountain." Draupnir receded back into the ring. "I cannot explain it - one moment, the winds howled around us, and the next, they were silent."

Da Vinci was grinning. "That's a trick I'd like to learn for myself. Oh, the things I could make with conceptual materials like that!" She shook her head. "But I can dream later. There's some tea on the table and snacks if you want them - no lessons today, you've all got the day off to rest after what you went through to resolve that Singularity." She smirked, anticipating his protest. "But there's also a whetstone, oil, polish, and some other tools if you'd prefer to do some maintenance on your weapons while you wait for me to fix up your shield. I know you don't like being idle terribly much."

The woman was as good as her word - a variety of tools were laid on the table, awaiting his presence.

Kratos settled into the chair and loosed the Leviathan Axe from its harness, setting it on the table before him. He slowly began to run the whetstone across the blade of the axe, restoring what edge it had lost across the Singularity. Once it was razor sharp again, he inspected the handle, while taking occasional sips of tea.

English Breakfast. Not his favorite of the varieties Da Vinci had introduced him to, but acceptable enough.

Across the room, Kratos could hear the sound of the bellows, and the echo of a hammer on metal as Da Vinci worked the forge.

"Kratos?" A grunt. "Couple of questions, if you don't mind." Another grunt - this one one of the more affirmative sounding ones.

Da Vinci wandered over to one of the nearby shelves, scanning over the various containers and items resting there until she located what she was looking for, a clear bottle filled nearly to the brim with purple dust. "Firstly - and you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but…..what exactly WAS that fire that came out of your Blades?"

She looked over at the man, who was rewrapping the leather around the handle of his axe, his back to her. "You mentioned how the Blades are bound to you way back when they first showed up here - that Berserker trying to claim them obviously triggered some sort of protection to prevent that. But the fire that erupted from it…….." She made her way back to her forge, setting the bottle down. "We saw your Blades catch fire during the Singularity - we assumed it was an ability like the cold of your Axe. But then…….whatever that fire was at the end, it shorted our scanners out, it was so powerful."

She uncorked the bottle, and sprinkled some of the dust over the metal she was heating. Coming along nicely, so far. "It's mostly just to assuage my curiosity, but what was that?"

Da Vinci continued her work, knowing the man would answer in his own time - either declining to speak of it, or elaborating - she would get at least that. After a week of spending several hours a day with the man, teaching, learning, or just talking, she felt pretty confident in the rapport she had built with him. She had a general idea of his boundaries and he, well……..she didn't really HAVE boundaries, so it all worked pretty well.

"These Blades were forged for Ares for his Champion - I spoke of this." Da Vinci perked up. Looks like it was storytime. She sent a pulse of magical energy to one of her recorders - she didn't want to take the chance that she might miss a single word. "I did not speak of how they were forged. Hephaestus himself forged these, in the depths of the underworld, using Primordial Fire itself."

Da Vinci's eyebrows shot up. "That's……" She stopped her work, turning to face the Spartan.

After the revelations of what slept within the Blades, he expected a look of manic excitement on the woman's face - but instead, she looked…..distressed?

"Those things were bound to you, tied to your arms for years, weren't they? That explains the damage Roman saw on the x-rays. Oh, those absolute BASTARDS of gods!" Sadness was quickly giving way to anger, and if Kratos was any judge - and anger and he were old, old friends - it was a towering rage building in the Italian Servant.

"They don't still burn you, do they? Oh, I can try to make you some arm guards to keep the fire from doing that…….it's Primordial Fire, but I'm the Universal Genius, nothing is beyond me." She made as if to return to her shelf of materials. "We've got some wyvern scales from Orleans - lots of them, in fact. We could start with those, and if they don't do the trick, then…."

"Da Vinci." Kratos' voice broke the woman from her mania. "The Blades no longer burn me as they did. With Ares' death, they ceased to be bound to my arms, as they once were. I was able to…..set them aside, for a time, then. It was only after I left Greece that I realized I could not leave them behind, that they would follow me." A grunt. "As you yourself saw."

"Then…….they don't hurt you, anymore?"

"Not physically." He held up a hand as she began to open her mouth. "The only harm they do is the memories they carry - the reminders of the acts I carried out while under Ares' service. To use them in battle causes me no other harm."

"Ok, that's good……" She let out a deep breath, beginning to return to her forge. "I'm sorry if I overreacted, but….well. After your response to Mash noticing you were on fire in Orleans was 'It will pass', you can forgive me for thinking your standards of 'acceptable pain' might be a tad different than the rest of ours. You honestly sounded more bothered by the question than being, y'know, on FIRE."

A few quiet minutes passed as Da Vinci hammered away at the metal. Then….

"Da Vinci." The woman hummed, a question in the noise. "Thank you. Your concern is…..appreciated."

"I think that even though you've only been here a short time, you've figured out that we care about you for more than the fact that you can fight for us." She sprinkled another handful of purple dust over the bars, then a pinch over his shield.

A grunt. "You mentioned another question."

Subtle. Well, it wasn't like you'd ever find his picture next to 'emotionally open' or 'wears his heart on his sleeve' in the dictionary. But she could accept his desire for a change of subject. "Well, with Baldur from your side of things managing to follow you here - even though it sounds like it was a very unique set of circumstances, I wanted to ask if, one, you think there's any chance of a repeat performance. And two - would you be willing to give us an outline of any of your enemies who you think there might be a chance of putting in an appearance."

She gently lifted his shield and laid it atop the fires, letting the heat start the process of warming it up. "It's not an immediate thing - from what Avenger said, it sounded like that catalyst Lev had was the only one. But…….better to be prepared, just in case.

Kratos said nothing, running a cloth over the metal of the Leviathan Axe, cleaning it.

"From what you've told us, I imagine that Odin, at least, would make that list, and Ares. But I can't imagine that's all of them. That Barbarian King, for one, is a possibility." She grasped a bar of metal with a pair of tongs, and began to hammer it into shape. "I'm not going to insist like I did when we wanted you to summon a Servant. This is….well, quite a bit more personal than that was - not that that wasn't personal, but, well, a person's past is THEIR past. Just give it some thought, that's all I ask."

Kratos nodded, setting the Leviathan Axe aside, and pulling the Blades of Chaos from their harness. These at least should not need much more than a simple cleaning - they were considerably more durable and resistant to wear and tear than his other weapons. The consequences of being forged by a god, rather than a mortal - even mortals as supremely talented as Brok and Sindri, he supposed.

"On the subject of Servants, how are things going with Medusa?" Da Vinci's foot was pumping the bellows as she hammered away, steady, rhythmic. "She did say she wanted to observe you on a trial basis before making her decision about staying. Has she given any hints one way or another?"

Kratos shook his head, rubbing furiously at a particularly stubborn bloodstain on the Blades. That one might have been allowed to linger long enough that there was no removing it - it would be there until the Blades fully absorbed the blood. Precisely why he had told the Head that any meat he tried to cook with them would be ruined. "She has said nothing to me. During the Singularity, she was as reliable an ally as I could have asked for. She was the one to warn me of Kiyohime. In truth……while being a 'Master' still sits ill with me, it is not as……..distasteful as I felt it would be."

He sighed. "I hope she chooses to remain, and continues to aid us. She is a powerful ally……and much easier to tolerate than some others."

Da Vinci's face twisted in a grin. "I can guess who you're talking about. And, on that subject, brace yourself, because…."

The door to the room slid open, and a pale head of hair poked itself into the room. "Huh, so that's where you are." Avenger strolled into the room, looking around as she did. "Neat place, what's it for?"

Da Vinci had returned to her work. "This happens to be my workshop, Avenger - which you'd know if you'd read the sign on the door."

The Servant started, having apparently not noticed the Caster working in the corner. She huffed, trying to hide her reaction. (She failed.) "Yeah, can't read."

Kratos blinked. "You cannot read?"

Avenger shook her head. "Nope, not a lick. 'Me' never learned during her life, and I guess that's one of the things Gilles remembered about her when he was making me, so I got it too." She shrugged. "Or didn't got it, I suppose."

Da Vinci had lifted Kratos' shield up with a pair of tongs, and was examining it. "But, shouldn't Mash have pointed my workshop out when she was showing you around yesterday?"

Avenger fidgeted. "Yeah…….about that. We only got about halfway through the tour before I might have……" She groaned. "I don't know what I did wrong, but I did something to make Squeaks run away from me. So I've been wandering around all morning, sticking my head into rooms to see what they are. Keeps me from being bored out of my mind."

(She wasn't looking for the girl to apologize. Not at all.)

"What did you do?" The glare he pointed at the pale Jeanne might have been mildly less severe than he normally would have directed her way during the Singularity - out of consideration for the fact that he would have to find some way of existing alongside this Servant for the foreseeable future.

Avenger threw her hand up in the air in exasperation. "That's the thing, I don't have the first fucking clue! All I did was ask about her new toy - that sword I saw she picked up between getting put through a wall by that Black Knight and me limping down those stairs to see you guys put Baldur down."

Oh.

"The fight with the Berserker was……difficult for Mash. There are things that happened there that I do not fully understand. We have yet to truly speak of it." The sword's appearance, he believed, had something to do with the Servant bonded to her. He, Romani, and Da Vinci had briefly discussed this the previous day, before going their separate ways, and they were largely in agreement on that fact. They were, however, divided on how to approach Mash about it.

Romani, and to a degree, Da Vinci, felt that giving Mash her time and space to bring it up was likely the wisest approach. And while Kratos did not disagree…….he recalled how his inaction, and his silence, had allowed some truly worrying traits to begin manifesting in Atreus, after the boy had been told he was, like his father, a god. Part of him wanted to sit Mash down and to deal with this issue, before it could fester - but that was likely his fears of repeating his mistakes talking.

"If it's any consolation, you didn't really have any way of knowing," said Da Vinci. "As long as you apologize, I don't think she'll hold a grudge."

Avenger sniffed. "IF I run across her, maybe I will."

Da Vinci snickered, quietly, adding a note to her mental file on the Avenger - 'tsundere'. Thankfully for her, the sound of her work at the forge covered it up enough that Avenger didn't hear, and she was spared the woman's ire. "Since you're here, Avenger, I can ask you something I've been wondering about. Why haven't you regrown your arm yet?"

Avenger snorted a laugh. "Same answer as to why I didn't read the sign - can't."

Da Vinci's tilted head indicated that she was going to need more than that. Avenger sighed, pulling a chair out from the table and flopping into it, then snatching some cookies off a plate. "I wasn't really a Servant when Gilles made me - just a kind of dream - or I suppose a fantasy - given form. No real connection to the Throne, no actual Spirit Core or Saint Graph or any of that other shit. I was only able to fake being one because I was running off a Holy Grail - right up until Baldur ripped that shit out of me."

She rapped her fist against her breastbone. "Bastard reached into me and yanked out the thing keeping me around, so I started fading out fast - and I wouldn't have lasted long even if he hadn't given me what would have been a killing blow to even a real Servant. Since I wasn't real, without the Grail, without something to feed me mana - and a big something at that, I'd be fucked."

She stuffed a cookie into her mouth, chewed noisily, and swallowed. "This is all info I got after the fact, mind. All that was going through my head at the time was 'Fuck ME this hurts like a bitch' and 'If I live through this I'm going to flay that fucker alive.' So, when Gilles stuffed his Spirit Core into where the Grail pretending to be my heart used to be, the fact that my brain was thinking nothing but 24/7 revenge porn meant I was pretty much guaranteed to be reborn as an Avenger."

She pulled the lid off the teapot, sniffed at it, then rolled her eyes. "What, no milk to go with the cookies? Lame." That didn't stop her from messily devouring another cookie. "But the long and the short of it is that my 'birth' as a proper Servant came when I was down one arm, full of piss and vinegar and hate for the jackasses who backstabbed me, and well aware I wasn't the real Jeanne. So I can't regrow the arm anymore than, I dunno, a famous pirate could regrow their eye if the thing that got them the invite to the Throne happened after they lost it and they started wearing an eyepatch."

"It's probably worse too, since you were a created being. That pirate might get their eye back if the point at which they were their most powerful was when they still had two eyes - the Throne might record them like that instead of with the eyepatch, in that case." Da Vinci frowned. "But you, well, the Throne probably didn't even consider you 'real' until Gilles gave you his Spiritual Core - that's your 'starting line', for lack of a better term. The fact that you were running off a Holy Grail that was specifically being used to destabilize Proper Human History couldn't have been doing you any favors, either."

Avenger snorted. "Yeah, no shit. Frankly, it's a shock that Gilles managed to save me. With my shitty luck, I should have exploded or something while Gilles was trying to do magical surgery on me. C'est la fucking vie." She pointed at a plate of cookies next to Kratos. "You gonna eat those?"

Wordlessly, Kratos pushed the plate closer to the Avenger, who fell on them with a relish. "So this is what you've got with me. Only one arm, but still handi-capable as fuck. I can still use Stumpers here to work my fire tricks, so it's not completely useless."

Da Vinci.

GRINNED.

Kratos felt the cold of Fimbulwinter run down his spine.

"Avenger…….I have a proposition for you."

---

 

CHALDEA MEDICAL​

Avenger glared at Romani, though there was no heat to it. "I still don't see why we couldn't have done this in that fancy-ass workshop. Woman looked like she had every type of gear you could imagine, from the sci-fi shit this place is swimming in to stuff that looks like it belongs in my backyard in some backwood alchemist's lab."

Romani gave the Servant a small smile, his demeanor still patient despite her continual complaining. Kratos supposed that was one reason he was a doctor, in the end. And this was a difficult patient. "Da Vinci might have a broad range of really excellent….well, everything, but for the scans we need to take, Medical has the specialized tools for that." He waved a clicking device over the stump of Avenger's left arm. "While Servants can heal from their Master's mana alone, our Director anticipated situations where we might be short-handed enough that we'd need all hands on deck, or otherwise to hurry someone back to combat readiness."

He waved his hand around at the room. "So Chaldea's medical facilities can treat Servants - to a degree, as well as humans. And hence why you're here."

"Fine. Just wish they wouldn't stare so much. They never seen a one-armed copy of a Servant before?"

There was barely anyone else in the room. Romani was there, obviously, and Kratos had accompanied Avenger, as she did not yet know the layout of the base well. Mash was there, visiting a still comatose Fujimaru - the girl had been talking to her friend when they entered. Upon seeing Avenger, she had shrunk in on herself, and lowered her voice to a whisper. Otherwise, there was only one other person in the room, an attendant to Romani that Kratos had not yet caught the name of.

And they had barely even acknowledged Avenger's presence.

Romani's smile didn't falter in the slightest. "Just a bit of patience, this shouldn't take too long. If Da Vinci is really going to try to craft a prosthetic arm that can keep up with a Servant, we're going to need as much data as we can extract from you. And the next set of tests will probably be more to your liking - we'll need to see what you can do with it, and yes," he said, seeing Avenger's face light up. "That means we'll need to see how you manipulate fire, too. We'll probably have to do that outside, which means setting up a Bounded Field and….."

As the man droned on, Kratos walked over to Mash, who was talking quietly to the sleeping girl. "Mash."

"Hello Mr. Kratos." Mash grasped the sleeping girl's arm by the wrist, and waved her hand at him. "Are you here to see Senpai, too?"

He shook his head. "Avenger, I believe, seeks to apologize to you for yesterday." A grunt. "Though she denies any such desire. As well….." He paused, seeking the words. "She told us of what happened. Should you desire to…..speak of it, I would listen."

"Oh." She took a deep breath, then let it out. "I…….when I'm ready to talk about it, I may take you up on that, Mr. Kratos. Just…..not now. I still need to get my head in order." She smiled at him, a more subdued smile than her usual beaming one. "But thank you."

A grunt. He would need to find Caster, then - he continued to see imbibed spirits in his future. "And Avenger?"

"She didn't really do anything wrong, it was all me……..," Mash shrugged. "But, if she wants to…….we are going to be working with her from here on out."

She stood. "Be right back, Senpai."

Romani was continuing to poke and prod at the Avenger as they made their way back over to where the woman was sitting. "Ok, things are looking good. The nerve endings, or the Servant approximations of them seem to be responsive enough that Da Vinci should be able to connect a prosthetic to your arm, all we need now is…."

Avenger's face screamed boredom. "So, I'm sure you've got your reasons, but why ARE you keeping a possessed girl around? You going to play Twenty Questions with the demon inside her, or something?"

Romani blinked, brought up short by the question. "....what?"

Avenger waved her stump in the general direction of the comatose Fujimaru. "Sleeping Ginger over there. I may not be a real Saint, but that's another thing Gilles remembered when he was putting me together out of memories and spare parts, so I got a few of those abilities, though I don't really touch them if I can help it. But when I look at that girl a certain way, I can feel something BAD curling up inside her."

"You….." Romani was at a loss for words. "No, that just can't be…." As he turned to face their only Master, the blood drained from his face.

Fujimaru was sitting upright in her bed, her eyes open - though they were rolled back into her head, showing only the whites.

Scalpels sprouted from in between her fingers, and in the time it took Romani to blink, they were gone - flying across the room.

Directly at him.

A massive form crashed into him, and the combined jolt of that impact and his hitting the floor, and Kratos' roar of pain as the scalpels that were meant for him dug into Kratos' shoulder snapped him from his paralysis.

"AUTHORIZATION ROMANI-ONE, DA VINCI TO MEDICAL IMMEDIATELY!"

Kratos rolled to his feet, doing a passable impression of a pincushion, with a brace of scalpels sticking out of him. He made as if to reach for his axe, then hesitated. "Romani?"

Gingerly, Romani picked himself up from the floor - he could already feel the bruises starting to form. Still, better those than dead - Kratos hadn't had time to be gentle. "I'm ok, but Fujimaru….." The girl was crouched on all fours on the bed, spine arched, almost like an animal at bay. He didn't even know where she had gotten those scalpels from - had she, or the thing inside her to be correct, been slowly stealing them in the two weeks she had been lying in that bed?

"We can't hurt Senpai!" cried Mash, her Servant armor flashing into form around her.

"Ok, but she doesn't seem to have any issues about hurting us!" yelled Avenger, with a pointed look at Kratos. "This girl important or something?"

"She's our last real Master - the only one to survive Lev's sabotage - we CANNOT lose her!" stated Romani. "But we…..oh dear…"

Hissing, the girl sprang from the bed, touching off a medical device and swiping at Romani's head - missing by only the barest of margins as Kratos shoved him back, towards the door.

As he felt the wind from that slash touch his brow, Romani noticed that the girl's fingernails had grown long, and jagged.

"Mash, defend the door and the Doctor! Do not allow her to leave, or to harm Romani." yelled Kratos, bodily blocking the possessed girl from taking another leap at Romani. "Avenger…..we will restrain her."

Avenger rolled her eyes. "Yeah, this is gonna suck." Still, the Servant began to slowly edge around to the girl's flank.

Romani found himself shoved against the door, with Mash, and more importantly, her shield firmly in the path of any further scalpels. "Mind your strength! This isn't another Servant, but just a regular mage - she's a ton more fragile than what you've been fighting!" Hurry it UP, Da Vinci!

Avenger leapt back as Fujimaru slashed at her, the girl's teeth snapping at the air. "Yeah, IF I can get my hands on her, MAYBE I'll worry about that. And why the fuck is a one-armed woman being told to restrain someone? Going to get a one-legged man for an ass-kicking contest next?"

Kratos lunged at the girl's back, but she charged Avenger, feinting a thrust with those claws, then sliding under the woman's arm, bending at the waist and skidding across the floor on her knees. Lightning fast, she leapt up, planting a foot on the back of Avenger's head, and using it a plant to rocket straight across the room at Romani, again.

Mash braced her legs, but in the instant before Fujimaru's claws would have scraped off her shield, there was the rattling of chains, and the girl's flight halted, and her snarling body was jerked to the ground.

Kratos jerked at the chains of the Blades, trying to pull the girl back to him, but she had dug her claws into the floor, and was resisting with far greater strength than she should possess.

Another scalpel flew through the air, and was narrowly intercepted by Avenger's gauntlet. "Where the fuck is she getting those from? And how'd she throw it?"

"Her teeth." Kratos growled. A greater measure of his strength would rip the girl from the ground, but it might well also tear her asunder as well. They needed to break this stalemate. "Go."

"Yeah, yeah." Cautiously, watching for any more thrown projectiles, Avenger approached the girl. As she neared her, Fujimaru tore her hands from the ground, and allowed herself to be yanked across the floor.

Kratos stumbled, the sudden absence of the force pulling against him caused him to involuntarily lurch backwards, and Fujimaru pushed off the ground as she slid, flying between Kratos' legs.

She may have thought to rob him of a portion of his strength, given the awkward position she had made of his footing, or possibly to knock him from his feet and to escape from the chains binding her while he regained his feet, but neither was to come to pass. Kratos moved with a grace that belied his size, turning a spinning leap and then reasserting his strength. The girl had no time to dig into the ground, and this time came flying directly at Kratos.

Claws out.

Avenger leapt from the side, crashing into the frenzied girl, seizing one of her arms, but was forced to continually move her head, jerking it out of the way as Fujimaru attempted to claw the Avenger's eyes from her head.

The door hissed open.

"Someone get this hellcat's other arm before she tears me a new one!" shouted Avenger.

"What in the devil is going on here?"

Da Vinci had finally arrived.

"Fujimaru's possessed." Romani shook his head as Caster opened her mouth. "No time! We need a binding circle, right now!"

Da Vinci's staff appeared in her hands. "One binding circle, coming right up! Mash, I'll take over defense here, go make sure Avenger doesn't get gutted."

"Sooner would be better than later!" shouted Avenger, as she was now dodging both the girl's free arm and her teeth.

Mash quickly crossed the room, and seized Fujimaru's arm. "Senpai, if you can hear me, fight this! Just hold on, and we'll get that thing out of you!"

Fujimaru, or, more likely, the demon inside of her roared, thrashing its body wildly, now that it was fully restrained. "She's going to break something important if she keeps this up!" yelled Avenger.

"Once the circle is scribed, what then?" asked Kratos, sweat staining his brow as he desperately tried to moderate his strength - to bring to bear enough to hold the girl, but not too much to crush her legs.

"We'll need someone to recite an exorcism ritual………I never thought I'd lament the lack of any members of the Church here at Chaldea, but I'm really feeling it right now!" Romani darted his head around the room, possibly wishing that an Executor would conveniently pop into being.

Da Vinci's eyes were closed, the crystal atop her staff glowing bright. "Don't look at me. A slapdash binding circle like this is going to need me to concentrate on it to keep it stable…..and….there!"

An intricate array of lines and runes flared into being underneath Fujimaru, and the thing shrieked with the girl's voice, a keening howl. "One Devil's Trap, courtesy of yours truly! If you're going to do this, we need to do it fast!" said Da Vinci, with a pointed look at Romani.

"I'm Jewish - it's a Catholic ritual!" cried Romani. "Avenger has some connection to Sainthood, couldn't she…."

"CAN'T-READ!" shouted Avenger, holding onto the girl's arm for dear life. "And even if I could, you don't want to risk your precious Master with something like me!"

"And Kratos is a pagan at BEST, and Mash…..wouldn't be the best idea! And Rebecca cowering in the corner there is an atheist!" Da Vinci's staff flared with power, and the circle followed suit, the surge of power pulsing against Fujimaru, and momentarily pausing her struggles. "Romani, you're literally and figuratively IT!"

For a long moment, Romani was motionless. Then, a shudder seemed to go through his body, and he nodded. ".....fine. Keep that circle up, and hold her tight."

He drew himself up, his spine ramrod straight, and he began to speak.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus"

The effect was immediate. If the girl had been fighting tooth and nail against both the hands that were holding her, and the circle that was restraining her, at the first syllable that left Romani's mouth, she went berserk.

"Motherfuck…." Avenger's curse was cut off as she was nearly thrown free, only holding on by sheer dogged stubbornness.

"Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te!"

Impossibly, despite the chains tightly wrapped around her legs, and the god grasping them, the girl still was attempting to kick Kratos in the face.

"Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis!"

Da Vinci poured her will into the circle, feeling the…..THING that was pitting itself against her. Powerful - yet it felt almost…..incomplete. Had whatever happened in Medical forced it to act before it was ready? If so, that was a blessing - whatever was inside of Fujimaru, it was plenty strong as is - what sort of horror could it have become with more time?

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine! Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos!"

Mash's eyes were wet as her friend, her Senpai began vomiting a black, viscous ooze from her mouth with increasingly pained noises. She sounded like she was dying…..

Romani's voice began building in volume, as he neared the end of the chant. "Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo! Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae! BENEDICTUS DEUS. GLORIA PARTI!"

There was a pulse of power, and Fujimaru's back arched, and her body was wracked with spasms. More black ooze dripped from her eyes, and wisps of smoke seemed to leak from her very skin.

Then, all was quiet.

"Did….." Mash swallowed, her mouth almost too dry to speak. "Did it work….?"

Avenger's entire body was tense, waiting for the girl to move, to try to fight free once more. "I……..I don't feel anything inside of her anymore that shouldn't be. I think….."

"Um…..guys?" Fujimaru's eyes were open, but her pupils were once again visible. She coughed, and spat out a thick gobbet of ooze. "What…..what's going on? Why'm I back at Chaldea? Who's the one armed chick? And why does it look like I'm about to star in some sort of combination gunge/bondage porn thing?"

---

Romani stumbled down the hallway, determinedly putting one foot in front of the other.

It was late - very, VERY late. He'd been running tests non-stop on Fujimaru for hours - kicking himself all the while.

How had he missed it? How had he not put two and two together? The Assassin had been possessed by something, and hadn't poisoned his blades, but merely smeared his own demon-tainted blood on his knives. Once that blood had been introduced into Fujimaru's system, it had used the girl's blood as a vector to slowly take her over - it had attacked the transfusion blood as it had already adapted to the girl's circulatory system, and having to adapt to another set of foreign blood would take time - time it clearly wasn't willing to spend.

Stupid, stupid, STUPID.

Eventually, he'd run out of tests to run, and was beginning a second suite of tests, just to be sure, when Da Vinci had pulled out her tranquilizer gun - the one with the darts she had been jokingly claiming were filled with her special blend of 'Naptime for Romani'.

He got the hint. If the gun hadn't done it, her glare would have.

Truthfully, he was tired enough that he was shocked he'd made it back to his room before collapsing. He'd crashed, and crashed HARD once the excitement of the exorcism had passed, but he'd held it off with caffeine and the NEED to assure himself he hadn't bone-headedly missed anything ELSE with regards to Fujimaru. Now that he didn't have that to fret over, the exhaustion he had been putting off was back, with a vengeance.

And it had brought friends.

At least there was good news - there didn't seem to be any lasting negative effects done to Fujimaru. She was bruised and would be sore, and she'd need a bit of physical therapy from her two weeks lying in bed, but otherwise, she seemed to be in the clear. So that at least was the silver lining on his bone-headed mistake.

His arm felt like it was made of lead as he raised his palm to the reader outside his door. He lurched into his room, already shrugging his lab coat off his shoulders - he was caked in dried sweat, and a shower sounded absolutely heavenly, but he didn't have the energy to stay awake long enough to manage one. And if he passed out in the shower, Da Vinci would read him the riot act to end all riot acts.

No, bed, and now. He'd regret it in the morning, when he would wake up with an almost visible layer of funk hanging around him, but…..

There was someone sitting on his bed.

Sluggishly, he blinked eyes, willing them to focus through his weariness. Armor, silver hair, one arm…… "Avenger?"

"Took you long enough." In the blink of an eye, Romani found himself slammed against the wall, the Servant's face inches from his.

"What?" he yelped.

"You SHUT UP, and keep your mouth shut, or ELSE." Avenger's eyes narrowed. "I felt it. When you did that exorcism……..I may not be the fucking 'Maid of Orleans', but there's JUST enough of 'me' in here that I could tell…….there was legit Power when you did that."

Her spear appeared in her hand, and she rested the point against his neck. "Whatever you are, Doctor Romani, it's not human - or not JUST human, because no mere human could get Him, or one of his assistants to answer like that. So, you're going to tell me what the hell you are, and why I shouldn't tell everyone about the possible snake hiding in their midst like that bastard Lev, right FUCKING now."

---

The door to Romani's room slid open, and Avenger staggered out. Her skin, pale already, was bone-white, her eyes unfocused. She stumbled forward in a couple of wobbly steps, before she stopped, and wrapped her remaining arm around herself.

She was shaking.

The hiss of the door closing caused her to jerk, her eyes staring at the door, through the door for a long minute.

Then she fled down the hallway.

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, and here we are.

Originally, I was planning on having Ritsuka down until London, when she'd join. But, as I've said a couple of times, feedback in the post-Fuyuki interlude had me move my timetable up. As I thought about things, that's where the JAlter alterations to Orleans came from, and then this started growing in my head.

The possession angle was always what I was going to go with for Fujimaru, but not THIS resolution, per se. It was only once I decided to move the timetable up some that this crystallized. So get ready for the Red Gremlin to make her proper debut next chapter.

Now, Roman, Solomon himself, not detecting that she was possessed. An obvious issue. I'm generally going with the belief that Roman has to actively LOOK for that - he doesn't have a demon-dar or anything like that since he was, by his wish, reborn as a regular human, albeit with his rings and some of his abilities still intact. So, in general, I'm assuming he saw the demon blood acting sort of like poison, and went from that assumption, and never thought to check for possession. A bit of a possible kludge for the story to go this direction, but Roman is as human as the rest of us, and makes mistakes just like all of us do.

Meanwhile, Avenger was bored out of her skull - not that that takes much - and just started looking around the room and noticed Fujimaru with the fragmented bits of having once been a Saint that are still rattling around inside of her. She may or may not have been trying to scan Kratos when she noticed what was going on with Fujimaru.

Also not exactly playing too strict with the possession thing - there's no indication that Shaytan in Cursed Arm's arm could do that, but I liked the idea, and decided to run with it. In the long and the short of it, it's the plot device that had Fujimaru down for the period I needed her out of commission.

Dust of the Realms. Void Dust. Close enough for government, errrr, Chaldean work. Luminous Alloy and Blazing Embers, also not terribly hard to find a couple of close substitutes. Aurora Steel for one, and it even comes from a Midgardy Lostbelt. Ghost Lantern is one thing that could sub in for Blazing Embers, and there's at least a couple other options.

Given how taken by utter surprise canon Chaldea was by Alter Egos, Foreigners, Moon Cancers, and Pretenders, (CCC has been a bit, but I don't recall them being well-versed on Alter Egos and Moon Cancers in that one - and I know they were completely pants by the appearance of Foreigners and Pretenders) I'm assuming they only know about Rulers and Avengers at the start of the story. And that's not even counting one-ofs like my Better Half's Space Son, who was a Voyager Class in Fate: Requiem, but got changed to a Foreigner for FGO, or other really unique cases.

JAlter as Romani's Secret Keeper. Another thing that leapt into my head when I first started thinking of Orleans, JAlter joining the team, coming back to Chaldea, and how she'd assist in getting Fujimaru back on her feet. I don't have any plans of having the Romani reveal come one second earlier than it does in canon, but I will admit some part of me has latched onto the point in Camelot when Holmes is warning you about Romani, and JAlter defending him. Still, ZERO plans on having that reveal come early, just because it's a such a pivotal moment. I also potentially have ideas about JAlter getting some development out of this - you'll see the crumbs of that start to show up in the next chapter. Because she isn't going to both be under Kratos' watchful eye, and get this revelation and NOT be changed, if nothing else a little bit, by it.

This chapter brought to you by the Lillim Harlot map theme and Cinco De Mayhem.

Chapter 21: Post-Orleans 2, aka Being Ritsuka Fujimaru

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 21

 

CHALDEA MEDICAL ROOM​

Ritsuka Fujimaru ('Gudako' to her parents for……reasons. She loved them, sort of, but right now it hurt to think of them - and for more than the usual reasons) was bored.

This wasn't necessarily surprising. She still wasn't allowed to leave Medical, now two days after she had woken up in the sort of situation she'd always been warned about waking up in by her mother if she didn't get good grades and keep her nose clean.

Well, her mother had never ACTUALLY mentioned an exorcism being involved in that horror story, but the chains and bodily fluids, yeah, those absolutely got a starring role in one of her mother's lectures whenever her dander was up about her daughter not doing well enough in school, or not taking her magical studies seriously enough, or…..well, she couldn't accuse her of hanging out with the 'wrong crowd' since the second daughter of the Fujimaru family paled in comparison to her big sister, and suffered socially for it - even from the mundanes who weren't aware of the Moonlit World.

She felt FINE. Her legs might not have been the MOST steady, but she was making progress on that front - aided and abetted by what Roman was calling 'magical acupuncture' he'd picked up from somewhere that was helping stimulate the muscles in her legs to regrow and bulk up faster. While she tired quicker than she had before, well, that burning city (not that she'd ever been what you'd have called athletic - her fitness scores were purely average across the board), she could at least make it to the bathroom and back on her own now.

Even if Mashie had been an absolute sweetheart about helping her when she needed to use the facilities - or the head, as her father still called it. Once a navy man, always a navy man. But she was used to managing on her own, and having to ask her Kohai for help…….she didn't MIND it, per se, but part of her rebelled at it.

Blame her parents, at least partially, for heaping all their attention on her big sister, the Heir, who could do no wrong, and only having sporadic time for the spare with no real outstanding magical talent, besides an off-the-charts Master affinity that she didn't even know about until the day after that Blood Drive, when Chaldea came a-knockin'.

In hindsight, her thinking that 'at least this will get me out of the house' was almost prophetic. She really, REALLY didn't comprehend just how FAR out of the house it would get her. In distance, or chronolly.

Anyways, long story short, she was kind of used to relying on herself. Which made this forced helplessness from spending two weeks lying in bed while something unholy tried to do a Gudajack on her all the more vexing.

Romani was being a worrywart. On some level, she could understand it - and honestly appreciated it. The poor guy had seen Chaldea, well…..decimated really didn't do it justice. If she'd offered to have him only lose one in ten of the members of Chaldea, she thought the man would HAPPILY take it, possibly even offering himself as one of the sacrifices, if it would save the lives of a great many of his co-workers. Point is, he'd lost a lot of people in a horrible few minutes. And he'd come damn close to losing her, their only Master (at the time, an ugly part of her mind whispered, before she grabbed her mental mallet and shoved that part of her back in the box), with only what she'd come to learn was a LITERAL, not figurative Deus Ex Machina showing up to save her.

And here she'd thought he was just a really, really dedicated cosplayer at the time. Then again, she was in enough pain that she hadn't realized a cosplayer, no matter how dedicated, wasn't about to be winning a fight with a Servant, even the remains of one - or whatever that Assassin had been.

Besides being an attempt at an unneeded reboot of 'Revenge of the Body Snatchers', starring her as the female lead/victim.

So he was being EXTRA careful with her. Tests, tests, and more tests, on top of daily physical therapy for the foreseeable future. She might have tried the Puppy Dog Eyes while insisting she was fine, but one look at the bags under the poor guy's eyes killed that idea dead.

So she put up with it, for his peace of mind. Really, the goofball doctor(b) she had met the first day seemed to have aged a decade in the two weeks she was napping. And she couldn't find it in her to add to his stress.

She hoped he wasn't still using her room as his secret slacking lair, though. It was her room now, and she had put up with a pushy, intrusive sister barging into her room enough already while growing up. She didn't want to stumble into her room one day and find him watching that virtual idol Mashie kept telling her he was obsessed with. She only prayed that if that day DID happen, he'd at least be wearing pants.

(Even if Magi*Mari did apparently stream Castlevania playthroughs. Respect.)

At least Mashie was visiting her regularly. Her friend Kohai was a welcome sight each day, both for staving off the boredom, and just for nice human contact.

The one girl who had been on duty when she'd started doing the reverse crab-walk and trying to kill the Doctor had apparently spread the story, and now she was getting the side-eye from the rest of the Medical staff - she could only imagine the looks she was going to get when she was released back into General Pop.

(Make life more difficult for her, why don't you? Already from somewhere the Clock Tower considered a podunk backwater, and barely a Mage at that, and she was the last girl standing from all the Master candidates. Yeah, she was going to be watching her back for the next few weeks. And mother had always said she'd never amount to enough to have to worry about people wanting to kill her to take her place. She'd be so…..proud?)

"I brought you some of the books that were packed away in your room, Senpai," said Mash, handing her a stack of paperbacks - mostly manga, but with a couple of actual books in the pile as well. She flipped through them. Tale of Genji, Chaldea handbook - how'd that get in there?, all of Hellsing, Prisoner of Azkaban, Lovecraft collection, wait, The Prince? That wasn't hers…..did she get someone else's luggage?, trashy romance novel, ok, also not hers, what was IN her room? Still reading it, though. - guess Mashie just grabbed a handful of things. Still, they'd keep her entertained well enough.

"Thanks Mashie. You're a lifesaver." She settled back into her pillow-throne - if she was going to be stuck here, she was going to be comfortable, and as the only patient in Medical right now, she was the Queen Patient of this place, and the Queen would have Her Throne. So she may or may not have raided the other beds for their pillows in a daring midnight operation. All Glory to House Fujimaru. "None of the rest of these guys are too eager to make conversation, and I can only listen to the machines beep so much before I start wanting to climb the walls. And NOT in a demonic WAY!" She yelled that last part, some part of her internally chuckling as Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin.

Man, she was BORED.

Mash gave her a small smile. "I can…..understand that. When I was younger, I wasn't really able to leave my room for……reasons. I got pretty bored in there until Doctor Roman started sneaking me some books - and later he'd let me watch some movies."

"Yeah, nothing to help you pass the time like a good book," she agreed, with a grin. "What'd he start you on? Tell me it wasn't some dry medical textbook or something?" Though she did find the image of a tiny little chibi-Mash, brow furrowed and tongue between her teeth as she stumbled through some dense text on, I dunno, brain surgery to be too cute for words.

Mash brightened, no, she seemed like she was about to start glowing from within. "It was Sherlock Holmes."

"Oooo, classic, total classic." Fujimaru nodded her head. "Points to the Doctor for good taste." She gave the girl a sly smile. "Given by how much you perked up there, I assume those are your favorites?"

Mash eagerly nodded her head. "They really are. I must have read them dozens of times……..I've even seen some of the TV series, too….."

"Ever seen the movies with Downey Jr. as Sherlock?" asked Fujimaru, warming to the subject. "Or the BBC TV series? I think they were talking about doing more of it before….." She gestured at the direction she vaguely thought was 'outside'. "Everyone went 'poof'."

Mash shook her head, and Fujimaru frowned. "That's a shame. This is a Clock Tower facility, they might have some of the BBC one in the archives since….," She put on a bad accent. "Bri-ish solidarity and all that, chums. Pip pip cheerio, guv'nor."

Mash snorted out a laugh, and Fujimaru's chuckles soon followed.

It felt good to laugh. Kept her from thinking too much, and her mind had far too much time to just think in the day and a half since she woke up.

The door to Medical hissed open, which was a tad unusual - Roman was off discussing something with Da Vinci about her situation, he shouldn't be back yet. (She was holding out hope that Da Vinci would be able to talk Roman around and get her out of this place before she started keeping a Diary of Crazy and talking with her finger). No one else should be stopping by - it wasn't shift-change yet - yes, she had been bored enough to know when that was, if only because it gave her new people to try, and fail to talk to - so who?

Oh, it was the one-armed Servant.

Scowling, just like she had been when Fujimaru had woken up on the floor tied and filthy with Mashie and her clinging to her arms, but it seemed to be more her default facial state than any indication of malice or even a bad mood. And, upon seeing the two of them, her eyes widened, and she made a direct beeline for them. "Oi, Squeaks. So this is where you were. Been looking for you all morning."

Wait, hold on. "Squeaks?" asked Fujimaru.

"Yeah, cause she squeaks when she gets flustered, or when you poke her in the side," said the Servant. "Noticed that when the Pink Terror from the Singularity was trying to convince her to come along to the Slumber Party of Doom(™). Words weren't working, so she tried other means - which for her meant jabbing you in the side with those talons of hers."

"Avenger!" Awww, Mashie was blushing. She needed to hear this story in full, it seemed. Also, 'Avenger?'. What kind of name is that? But more importantly…..

"She does? I need to try this out!" Before Mash could process the words she was hearing, Fujimaru had extended a finger and poked Mash in the side.

She DID squeak, and it WAS adorable. Thanks, Avenger!

"See!" said Avenger. "So she gets to be Squeaks."

"Yeah, but……Mashie, what happened?" She poked her in the side again (garnering another squeak, which was every bit as cute as the first one). "That doesn't feel like that smooth tummy I saw poking out of your armor in Fuyuki, it feels like there's some muscle there now. What have you been doing while I've been in Dreamland?"

Mash wrapped her arms around her middle, attempting to protect herself from more pokes, and sending a glare that wouldn't have intimidated a mouse at the two of them. "I've been training in the evenings with Mr. Kratos and Cu Chulainn. I hadn't noticed but……..maybe it's having some effects on me physically….."

Ritsuka had played enough tactical RPGs to know that sometimes, if one front of a war is cut off, you start a second one. So she took hold of the sleeve of Mash's coat and rolled it up. "I'll say. Look at that, would you! You're not about to start selling tickets to the Gun Show anytime soon, but there's some actual definition on those arms now."

"Seeeeenpai!"

The silver-haired Servant flopped into a chair and huffed out a laugh. "And from what I hear, she's only been at it a week or so - the big guy must have one hell of a training regime to have her showing results that fast."

"Senpai….I WILL stop visiting you if you keep this up." Mash was trying very, very hard to look like she meant that threat. No one believed her.

Ritsuka shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "That's fine. I've got my new best friend here to keep me entertained." She extended her hand to the Servant. "Ritsuka Fujimaru, recent coma patient."

The Servant grasped her wrist and gave it a good firm shake. "SchwartzJeanne, Avenger-Class Servant."

Ritsuka blinked. Not at the Class type she hadn't heard Olga mention when the Director was berating her back in Fuyuki, but, because of that name.

Apparently it had about the same effect on Mash. "Schwartz…….." She sighed. "Is that the name you've chosen for yourself, Avenger?"

"Trying it out." She shrugged, letting go of Fujimaru's wrist. "It was between that and Jager d'Arc - if I don't like this one, I'll see how that one feels."

Mash blinked. "But…..aren't you French?"

"Yeah, but German just sounds so much better." Avenger (because she couldn't use that ridiculous name and not burst out into giggles) grinned. "You can be saying the most mundane shit in it and you sound like you're spitting pure fire. It's damn cool."

Oh no. Oh dear me. It was a real, live, feral chunnibyou in the wild. They DID exist - and apparently had existed for awhile, since, well, Servant from the dusty past of human history.

"Plus, it helps set me apart from 'me', so there's less confusion if we should ever run into her again - besides the fact that I look like I lost all my color in the wash, and well, this…" She waggled her stump with an audacity that Fujimaru couldn't help but respect just a tad. "Though if that nutcase of a Servant is as good as her word, nobody will mistake me for my good twin once I get that baby bolted on to Stumpers here."

"Wait……you named what was left of your left arm?" Is this Servant possibly the mold from which all future chunnibyou were cast? Is that how she ascended to the Throne, by being the first?

"Yeah, I mean, why the hell not?" She shook her head. "Getting distracted, I came here for a reason. Squeaks! You not doing your English lessons anymore?"

"Oh, no, I am, but not until Senpai gets out of here." She glanced at Fujimaru. "Everyone felt it would be best if I kept her company while she's stuck here, so Mr. Kratos is with Da Vinci - she's supposedly doing something with his shield. More than just repairing it, I mean."

"But you are going to keep doing them?"

Mash nodded. "Yes. Mr. Kratos……he's learning, but he's not very good at it yet. So once Senpai is out of here I'll start teaching him again - I think we'll all get back to a more regular schedule at that time."

"Fantastic," Avenger sat up straighter, and stared Mash right in the eye. "Can I join?"

Mash blinked. "You…..want to join…."

"Can't read, remember?" Avenger rolled her eyes, then leaned forward and snatched up one of the volumes of Hellsing that were lying on Fujimaru's lap, and flipped through it. "I can look at the pictures in these 'comic' things, but that still doesn't do me any real good - and I'm even more shit out of luck in real books." She tossed the manga back to Fujimaru. "Badass pose with those bayonets, though. But there's something I want to do, and I need to be able to read to do it, and you're already teaching the big guy, so……."

Now she was curious. "And what might that be?"

"IwannareadtheBible."

Mash blinked, then glanced over to Fujimaru to see if she understood that any better than she had. No luck. "Come again?"

Avenger held herself stiff for a few seconds, before flopping back into her chair, her bangs falling forward to hide her eyes. "I…..want to read the Bible."

"You……." Mash struggled for words. "You want to read……does this have something to do with…."

"NO!" Avenger deflated. "Maybe." She deflated further. "I don't know. I'll probably need thick gloves to even touch the thing without getting burned, but…….there's too damn many coincidences piling up around me. If That Guy is screwing with my life for shits and giggles, then I need to know my enemy so I can be prepared."

"Wait……when you say 'That Guy', you can't possibly mean…" began Fujimaru.

"Yes, HIM." Avenger drew her knees up to her chest, her remaining hand fisting in her hair. "I have no idea why He would bother with someone like me, but……..a million to one chance saving my life in Orleans, then me showing up here when I should have vanished into so much dust after Kratos and Squeaks here fucked back off to their time……..I ain't stupid, y'know." She grumbled something unintelligible. "Even if I don't fucking like it."

Mash gave the distressed Servant a small smile. "I'll talk with Mr. Kratos, but I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be able to join us. Honestly, I think it's a good thing you want to learn to read."

"Certainly would make getting around this place a shit-ton easier. Having to do it by memory sucks ass." Avenger's arm flopped to her side. "Thanks, anyways." She pointed at the manga still in Fujimaru's hands. "Once I can, you're loaning me that one, Red. Looks badass."

"If you like it, there's plenty more. I brought some of my favorites from home - since I didn't know what I was getting myself into here, or how long I'd be gone." She smirked. "Mama needs her stories."

---

 

CHALDEA SIMULATOR​

It was much later in the day, and Ritsuka Fujimaru was FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Ok, so she had been told, strictly, with dual parenting glares from Roman AND Da Vinci that she was to be very, VERY careful with how much moving around she did - she'd even been issued some Da Vinci Brand Extendable Crutches to keep on her person and to use in case her legs started to hurt or gave out on her. But she wasn't confined to Medical anymore, and could actually make her way around the base - and sleep in her own room tonight.

This day just kept getting better.

Sadly, her freedom hadn't come until AFTER dinner - they were probably trying to keep her from going wild with the easing of the restrictions she found herself with - because she was totally exploring the base tomorrow when she could. But tonight, and for the foreseeable future, she had a curfew since her body still needed rest and recovery, so she couldn't explore to her heart's content this evening. Clearly, they expected her to just head to her room and crash for the day.

More fools they, since they didn't know she had a new buddy, who had informed her Mash was, right this moment, being put through her paces by a couple of deities. She wasn't missing that for the world.

So, here she was, sitting on a nice blanket, with Avenger sitting by her side, the Servant idly flipping through her manga again (she'd brought them with her from Medical, since she needed to take it back to her room and was EVENTUALLY heading there, and, well, she'd seemed a bit interested in it, so she offered another look, and the woman had gladly accepted) and watching the spectacle before them.

Because it seemed like Mash's training was something of a spectator sport. Or, more correctly, what her teachers did while Mash WAS training.

Kratos' axe whistled through the air, but Cu danced out of its way, slapping it down with the staff he held in one hand, while jabbing at Kratos with the spear he held in the other. Kratos merely ducked under the point, letting it slide by his head, and bulled forward, attempting a shoulder-check that Cu only avoided by pushing down with his staff and using it to vault over Kratos' head.

Brilliant agility, if only Kratos didn't spin about and slap Cu from the air with the flat of his axe. She might have gasped at the brutality of it - if he had used the edge….

"Yeah, it's really damn unfair how FAST that big hulk is, isn't it?" commented Avenger. "You'd think he'd be be all slow and deliberate - and he kind of is, both in and out of combat, and then suddenly he pulls something like that and you're too busy picking your jaw up off the damn floor from seeing that wall of muscles move like greased lightning."

Cu spun and somehow landed on his feet, touching the ground for barely a second before he was flying through the air, spear screaming straight at Kratos' chest. Kratos twisted out of the way, though not quite fast enough, as the spear scraped a line of red on his chest.

"Mind, that Caster's a ton faster than a Caster should be," Avenger chewed on her lower lip. "Or at least the Caster I knew. Gilles wasn't going to be winning any marathons anytime soon, that's for damn sure. You hear 'Caster' and you think of some weedy little nerd in their robes and wizard hat, way back in the backlines throwing fireballs around, not some crazed Irishman who'd be happier solving his problems with his damn fists instead of any damn spells."

She wasn't wrong on that score. Fujimaru had seen serial killers in shows and manga with smiles less crazy than the one Cu was sporting right now. His weird red eyes were wide, and those extra pointy canine teeth of his were on FULL display. Guess you don't get a name like 'The Hound of Chulainn' and not have it reflect on you in some way once you become a Servant.

Unless he always looked like that, in which case him getting that nickname was just an inevitability.

Not that the teeth or eyes took anything away from Cu in her opinion - he was much more to her taste than Kratos was. Pretty enough, but with a hint of danger - much better than the Greek statue look Kratos was sporting. Not that she couldn't enjoy the show where Kratos was concerned, but she had her preferences.

Cu cackled as he landed and spun, spear leading, staff following, pressing Kratos, the Spartan taking slow, measured steps back in the face of Cu's fury.

"He's REALLY missing that shield of his, huh?" The manga was abandoned in Avenger's lap, as she was raptly watching the two men duel. "Guess the local mad scientist hasn't finished fixing it yet."

"Was it as impressive a piece of work as that axe of his?" Asked Fujimaru, with a glance at the Servant. "Or that spear he lent to Cu? Cause I might not be much of a Mage, but I can feel the power in those two things."

Avenger shook her head. "Nope. Seemed like it was just a really good shield. Don't even know if it'd qualify for whatever term you Mages would use for his weapons." She shrugged. "Fact that it broke and his other three toys didn't in that Singularity is another mark against it."

"Wait, three?" She glanced at the giant man's back, really looking this time, and not tracing the lines of those muscles (well, not JUST. She was a healthy girl, alright!). "Hey, you're right, he's got a harness there without anything in it."

Avenger chuckled. "Yeah, he's got a pair of short blades with chains tied to them. You think that axe or that spear he loaned out are nasty pieces of work, just wait until you get a load of those fire-blades of his. They'll knock your damn socks off, and that's before you see the tricks he can pull with them."

"My, Avenger. You being almost civil to another person? Is there some hope for you yet?"

A new voice. A kind of deep, husky voice. Fujimaru twisted her head to look behind her.

Tall. Not like, basketball player tall, but still decently tall for a girl. And obviously a Servant, the purple hair, the odd outfit (though the dress wasn't that outlandish, but that blindfold, yeah), and the bright red sigil on the forehead - yeah, Servant, even if she couldn't tell with Master eyeballs. "So…..just how MANY Servants did we pick up while I was having a bit of shut eye?"

"The stupid snake is the only one you haven't met so far," said Avenger, unphased in the face of the glare (at least Fujimaru thought the purple-haired Servant was glaring at Avenger - she could only guess since, well, she couldn't see her eyes). "The Blue Maniac over there tagged along after whatever the first Singularity was, and I think Kratos picked her up right before he came knocking to what had been my Singularity. And then I somehow ended up here……" She glared right back at the other Servant. "And I TOLD you, my name is SchwartzJeanne."

"And I told you that I wasn't about to use that ridiculous name, Avenger." The woman huffed a small laugh at the other Servant's ire, placidly unconcerned with it in the slightest. She peered down at Fujimaru, who suddenly found herself with the vague sensation of being prey, with a predator looming over them.

Then it was gone, and the Servant nodded at her. "You must be the other Master they spoke of. My summoning came too close to the operation in the French Singularity, so this would be the first time I've laid eyes upon you." She extended a hand. "Servant Rider, True Name Medusa."

Well, that explained the use of 'snake' as a pejorative from her new buddy. But THAT was Medusa? She was expecting something a lot more…..well, snakey and less absolute bombshell.

Aaaaaand from the furrowing of the woman's brow, she just said all that out loud, didn't she? Hellfire.

"Sorry! My mouth runs away with me at times." She took the woman's hand and shook it. "Ritsuka Fujimaru, completely demon-free according to Doctor Roman." She felt her face flushing, and lowered her head, hiding behind her hair. "Sorry about……all that. Mom always said my brain to mouth filter needed some work." Among other things her mother complained about regarding her second daughter.

Medusa stared at her for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. "No harm done. Truly, it is hardly the worst thing that's been said about me upon a first meeting." She turned away from Fujimaru, and settled in to watch the continuing brawl, where Cu had apparently decided two weapons weren't enough, and was now using both legs in his offense. He was raining down blows on Kratos, who was still managing to stay just ahead of the barrage.

After a moment. "How is Mash?" Medusa wasn't watching the two specimens of testosterone duke it out anymore, but had cast her veiled eyes over to where Fujimaru's Kohai was running through yet another series of drills.

"Squeaks is………," Avenger sighed. "I dunno. She seems to be acting alright, but I don't know her all that well. I wasn't the easiest person to get along with back in the Singularity, so she didn't hang out with me much."

While one couldn't see her eyes, you could HEAR the eye-roll in Medusa's response. "You're hardly the easiest person to get along with NOW."

"Hey!" Fujimaru might not have known, well, anything that went down in the Singularity that had just been resolved, but she wasn't about to not stick up for her buddy. "Avenger's been perfectly fine company so far! And what's wrong with Mashie?"

Avenger and Medusa shared a look. "Something happened with her in the last Singularity. She got bulldozed by the Berserker who was working for me before everyone stabbed me in the back……..separated from the group and dragged off into some other part of the castle. I went to help, but I had to deal with Charlie first, and….."

Medusa picked up the story from here. "I went after her. Jeanne still needed to show Kratos where the throne room was, since that was the only place in the Singularity where we could connect with a Leyline and bring Cu Chulainn in, so I was the only remaining choice. We fought the Servant together, but then, I had to return so as to not blow out the generators when we summoned Caster to the Singularity."

"This Berserker was bad news, then?" A pair of nods. "And that means my cute little Kohai was all by her lonesome against that bad news?" Another, slower pair of nods.

Avenger frowned. "In my defense, at the time, I had an entire church lying on top of me, and a chunk ripped out of my side, so I wouldn't have been much help even if I could have gotten there. I had to lean on 'me's' shoulder just to get to where the big battle with Baldur was going down."

"Kratos got to Mash before anything terrible happened…..but neither of us really knows what took place when they fought the Berserker." Medusa leaned against a tree, her arms crossed. "They managed to kill him, I know that much from watching the fight with Baldur - he raged at Kratos, Mash, and the Berserker himself for not managing to kill Mash. But……"

"Y'see that sword she's got on her hip?" Fujimaru looked where Avenger was pointing, and blinked, taking another look to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "Yeah, that's new. As in, she got it sometime in between me losing sight of her, and me limping down the stairs in time to see the three of them put Baldur down. And when I asked her about it, she acted like I'd just drop-kicked that little white furball of hers across the room."

Avenger drew her knees up to her chest. "I apologized, and everything, but whatever's eating at her, I just picked at the scab of it without knowing I was doing so. And now I've got to try not to fuck up and upset her when she starts teaching me how to read tomorrow."

She'd almost expected Medusa to make another snide remark at Avenger, but it never came. The tall woman was just watching Mash, a frown on her face. "Mash is…….she's pushing herself to get stronger, to get better, but she's not really……..suited for fighting. Even her weapon - or at least her first weapon is more defensive than offensive."

"Yeah," whispered Fujimaru, remembering the kind, sweet girl who had woken her up after she'd conked out from exhaustion during the scan she'd had to sit through to even get into the base. And how terrified that girl had been, both in that destroyed room where she'd found her, after the explosion - and in that burning city, where she'd been so, so scared, but still fought her hardest, smashing those skeletons, and keeping her and the Director safe.

Until that blackened Servant had showed up.

Fujimaru shivered. NOT thinking about that THING, no siree. She wanted a sleep free of nightmares tonight.

"Guess all I can do is wait for her to open up about it." said Fujimaru. "She seems…….ok to me, so if it's bothering her, it's not affecting her too much. Maybe she just needs some time to work through it."

A round of shrugs was what she got from that, no one apparently having any better ideas. In front of them, the spar slowed to a halt - neither side having gained a distinct advantage. With a nod and a grunt to his opponent, Kratos lumbered over to check on Mash.

Cu stretched, popping his neck, and then sauntered over to the blanket, grinning playfully. "Enjoy the show, ladies?"

"Two sweaty men going at each other hammer and tongs?" Fujimaru grinned right back at him. "You better believe it!"

Cu cackled. "Oh, I'm going to like you, I can tell." He flopped down onto the blanket, cross legged. "But I assume you were here to check on our student - and not for the bloodsport like the rest of these lot?" He waved his arm around, indicating the various staff who had also been watching the spar.

Fujimaru blinked. Was…….someone collecting bets? Did we have an actual bookie taking wagers on these fights? Oh Lord.

Cu noticed where she was looking, and laughed. "Yeah, didn't take them long to start betting on our friendly little scraps. Don't like that I'm the underdog in the betting pool but…." He shrugged. "A lousy Caster vs an actual god - my record speaks for itself."

He grinned, and lowered his voice. "Shame they didn't know tonight wasn't about wins or losses, but just the love of combat. Kratos would have won it when he slapped me to the ground with his axe if we were playing by the usual rules. And it's a REAL shame that that little Templeman lass just so happened to place a big wager on 'draw' for me."

Avenger snickered. "You sneaky bastard. You're going to drink your winnings, aren't you?"

"It's the BEST way to enjoy them, after all!" He flopped back onto the blanket, obviously pleased with himself.

After a few minutes, Mash staggered over to them. Fujimaru blinked as she took in her Kohai - Mash was literally dripping with sweat, her legs were wobbly, her hair was…….it looked like it would aspire to be merely called a mess, instead of whatever it was right now - but for all that she looked like she was about to keel over, there was a glow to her, the kind that came with accomplishment, and she was smiling - tiredly, but proud of herself.

(When was the last time she'd looked like that, Fujimaru wondered to herself. How long had it been since she'd really pushed herself towards a goal - any goal………instead of just not bothering, because she'd never live up to the standard set by her perfect big sister - doubly so if her big sister found out and decided to show her up.)

Wordlessly, she handed a water bottle to Mash, who quickly guzzled it down, taking massive gulps of the water. By the time she had lowered the now empty bottle, Fujimaru was already handing her a second one.

"Sheesh, Mashie. Do you do this every day?" Her Kohai nodded while draining the second water bottle. "No wonder you're starting to pack on the muscle. Maybe we'll get you a funnel so you can just shotgun the water after your workouts."

Mash finished off the second bottle of water, and heaved a deep breath. "No, I…..shotgun? Senpai, I'm not sure I want to know what you mean."

Fujimaru shook her head. "No, as your Senpai in being human, I may have to insist." Mash wobbled on her feet, and Fujimaru took pity on her. "But maybe tomorrow. You look like you need your bed, stat."

---

 

CHALDEA CAFETERIA

THE NEXT MORNING​

The second best thing about being out of Medical to Risuka Fujimaru was the end of the hospital food. Miso soup and wonderful, wonderful white rice, how she'd MISSED you! She dug in with glee, savoring the tastes dancing across her tongue.

Next to her, the small blonde woman who had been introduced to her as 'Tanya' was talking. "Look, all I'm saying is, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and pulls mysterious coincidences to save your life like a duck, then it's probably some Mysterious Extradimensional Power with an unhealthy interest in your life." Avenger grimaced. "I mean, is it really that hard to believe, Avenger, that some Being might see you as a useful enough chess piece to keep you on the board?" Tanya pointed at Kratos. "You're sitting next to an extradimensional, incarnated deity right now who's keeping his bacon from being stolen by a white ball of fluff - why is it so hard to believe that some other deity, somewhere, might also have their own designs on this mess we've found ourselves in, for their own inscrutable reasons?"

"You think I WANT that? That maybe God Almighty himself is keeping his eye or worse, BOTH of them, on me?" The Servant shivered. "Bad enough I have this lug making sure I keep my nose clean, at least I can tell what he's thinking. But God, watching out for me?" She groaned at the thought.

"I mean, it doesn't necessarily HAVE to be God. It's well established by the Clock Tower that just about all of the deities worshiped by Humanity existed at one point or another." Tanya shrugged. "Even if most of them have retreated to the Other Side of the World - or died wholesale, in the case of the Norse deities. So it could be, say, Zeus, or some fragment of Odin, or Amaterasu, or Kali who decided to give you a helping hand. In the end, isn't one unknowable insanely powerful creature really all that different from another one, no matter what name they go by?"

"You're not HELPING!" groaned Avenger, her head sinking down to rest on the table.

"And that's not even considering the other powers that could be interfering. Alaya, Dead Ancestors, hell, maybe we're not the only collection of Mages who managed to shelter themselves from what happened to the rest of Humanity, and they're trying to throw us whatever help they can." Tanya shrugged. "There's plenty of possibilities for what could explain those strange coincidences besides a god, or gods that have gotten themselves involved with your life, Avenger."

"I do not believe the Greek gods would aid humanity in such a manner." Fujimaru's ears perked up. Kratos talking - she hadn't heard much out of him so far that wasn't instructing Mash on training drills.

She plucked up her courage, and found her voice. "Speaking from experience?"

He turned to look at her, and GOOD GRIEF he could put a glare on you - for all that he wasn't really glaring at her. But him just looking at you came with a pressure like a ton of bricks. Maybe Mash wasn't exhausted in the evening JUST from the workout - having those eyes on her while she was training must have been like getting your reps in in higher gravity. Still, she'd been glared at all her life, by her mom, her dad, and her stupid big sister, so a living god…..well, wasn't NOTHING, but she wasn't about to shrink from that.

So she hammered some steel into her spine, and met his eyes like he was just another guy, and not the God of Swole he was.

After a moment, his face, well, it didn't soften, but the pressure she felt relaxed just a bit, and he spoke. "The Greek gods of my land were…..cruel, and had little regard for the mortals that lived there. The ones of this world seem less cruel……..but seem equally fickle in their attentions." He turned to Avenger. "If you truly think a god has taken a hand in your being here…..the Abrahamic God is a better option than some, if he truly is as Jeanne described him." He grunted. "Though I would prefer it if no gods saw fit to meddle in our affairs."

"Amen to that, Kratos," said Tanya, raising a fist to the man. He stared at it for a second, not comprehending the meaning behind it. "Fist to fist, knuckles to knuckles, Kratos. It's a gesture of respect among comrades." Almost gingerly, Kratos rapped his knuckles to hers. "There you go, just like that."

"Fou fou?" The animal raised one of its paws up to Mash, who, smiling, tapped the paw with her fist.

Fujimaru grinned. ADORABLE, both of them. Mash turned to her. "What are you doing today, Senpai? Do you have more physical therapy?"

Fujimaru felt her grin wither just a little at those words. "Yeah, after this it's right back to the gulag for the rest of the day. Physical therapy until after lunch, then I get to lie still until dinner while Roman pokes me with needles." And then some meeting they wanted her for after that. So much for her plans to explore today.

"Then I guess I'll see you at dinner, Senpai." Oh Mash, you don't know how good it feels to know someone's looking forward to seeing me again. That smile's going to get me through the next few hours.

Avenger perked up, almost as if she had remembered something. "That reminds me. Squeaks, do I need to bring anything to reading lessons? Paper, pencil, pens, any of that shit?"

Mash shook her head. "No, I make sure to have that on hand." She frowned. "The base doesn't really have any good books for teaching someone how to read from scratch, so I had Da Vinci print out a couple of primers for me." She bowed her head. "Please forgive me if I make some mistakes - Mr. Kratos already knows how to read, so……you're going to be a different challenge for me."

Avenger raised her fist and (gently) bonked Mash on the head - garnering a squeak from the girl. "You'll be fine. What's the big lug here keep telling you - " Her voice dropped several octaves. " 'Don't be sorry, be better.' " She shrugged, her voice returning to normal. "I'll probably fuck up more than you do on this thing, so don't stress yourself over it. Not like you're getting an easy student here."

"I mean….it IS good advice." Suddenly she was the focus of every pair of eyes at the table. Eep. "Someone can say they're sorry all day long, but if they never change any of what they're doing, all they're doing is just asking you to forgive them for being a continual screw-up. Actions speak louder than words and all that jazz. I'd rather have someone who screws up but tries to get better watching my back than someone who just makes noises about how sorry they are all the time, but that you know is going to let you down when things get dicey, because they've never tried to fix any of the things that made them screw up in the first place."

(No, she most certainly wasn't talking about herself. She didn't just…..STOP trying one day when she saw she could never compete with her sister. And if she did, that wasn't a trait she had brought with her to…..wherever this base was situated, nope, not at all.)

Her speech got a grunt from the deity sitting next to her. "And even those who continually make the same mistakes are not completely lost……..one that I knew was convinced he could be nothing but a monster…..a destroyer. That that was the only path he could walk. I…..managed to show him there was another way, that he could be better…..for his child." A deep sigh - there was a story behind that sigh, or she was a kappa. "I wonder what he would have become had his father then not slain him for daring to try to be something other than his tool."

And that killed the conversation deader than disco. Avenger groaned. "Man, you're BAD at this telling stories thing."

"I don't know," chimed in Mash. "The one about his son and Garm was fine. It was before we met you, Avenger, so you wouldn't have heard it. But there was nothing wrong with it, or how he told it."

"I'll take your word for it." The Servant pushed herself up from the table. "Going to go bounce ideas off the resident nutbar about my new arm, guess I'll see you there, Kratos, since she's still working on your shield too."

Tanya watched Avenger go, then turned back to the table. "Kratos……..how worried should we be about this new arm? Da Vinci is….." Her hands waved in the air in some indistinct pattern. "Well, you know what she's like. And that new Servant is also…..eccentric. Should I be fortifying my room and stockpiling provisions?"

---

CHALDEA DIRECTOR'S OFFICE

(TEMPORARILY OCCUPIED BY ROMANI ARCHAMAN)

LATER THAT EVENING​

"Yeah, not happening."

And with those words from Avenger, Ritsuka Fujimaru felt her heart fall into her gut, as events began to take on a familiar pattern.

Avenger turned to Fujimaru, who was biting her tongue to keep from letting what she was feeling leak out and crack the mask her face had become. "I'm sure you're a perfectly fine Master, Red, but you ain't who I'm interested in following. You're not the one who's been telling me all this smoke about 'revenge is bad' and 'I've seen the path you're walking' and 'you're not going to be happy if you keep this shit up' - and all the rest of the lectures I've gotten since I signed on with you bunch. No, I want to see if this guy's actually living what he preaches, and isn't just full of shit."

Kratos' face was thunderous, his voice a low growl. "Avenger….."

She wasn't the least bit fazed in the face of his displeasure. "Hey, I get a say in this shit too! If you really want to be rid of me, I'll go with Red. But if I get a vote here - and I damn well better - then I'm staying RIGHT where I already planted my flag. You want my ass to 'be better', then I want a front-row seat to see how you do it."

She crossed her arm across her chest and stubbornly met Kratos' glare with one of her own. Fujimaru almost thought she could see the metaphorical sparks where their eyes were meeting.

"While I am shocked to find I would agree with Avenger about anything……I too would prefer to remain with Kratos - on a permanent basis." Medusa folded her hands in front of her. "I believe I have seen enough over the course of the French Singularity to make my decision, and my decision is to remain at Chaldea - but as one of Kratos' Servants."

It was like she'd been punched in the stomach again, only this time, she'd known it was coming, but at least had been able to brace herself for it.

"I mean no slight," she said, clearly addressing Fujimaru. "But I have no wish to be passed around like some sort of…….object, or commodity. I was treated as a disposable thing by Poseidon……..and was told that Chaldea……….and the god that was standing before me was different." She tilted her head, as she regarded Kratos. "Unless the words I heard on the Throne were not true?"

Well, that took the wind out of his growing annoyance quickly, while ripping another hole in the stern of her boat. "No. I meant the words I said." He sighed. "If you truly feel so strongly about this………I cannot change your mind? You know my feelings on the power I hold over you."

And wasn't that one of the wildest things she'd heard, when Romani had told her they'd see about getting Kratos' Servant Contracts transferred to her that evening. A god, a literal god who had issues having power over Servants - things most Mages saw as little better than familiars, and he was angsting over having power over them.

It really made her less atypical than she thought, what with her belief that Servants should be treated as people. She'd been walked over all her life, and wasn't about to do that to someone else, whether they were a vat-grown homunculus or a Ghost Liner, but you'd figure a god would have come with a bit more inherent arrogance.

Medusa shook her head, firmly. "No. It is……against my nature to ask for something like this, and to be so stubborn about it, but on this, no. I will not be moved in my decision."

Internally, Romani groaned - this was not going how he thought it would be going. And his budding headache intensified as Cu Chulainn raised his hand, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"If you want my two cents, I'd prefer to stay where I am, too." This third shot to her body barely even registered. She was either growing numb, or had really expected this one - and after watching the two of them fight, how could she have not?

Cu continued. "Girl's probably going to be a fine Master someday, but, well, I'm a damn Celt. I've fought with Kratos, shed blood with him, swapped war stories - done everything but get blind stinking drunk with him." The corners of Cu's face turned up in the start of a grin. "And if we ever get close to my homeland, all bets are off." He laughed, then turned serious again. "Hounds are loyal creatures. Don't ask me to swear myself to a different Master after I've already done so once, and my original Master is still drawing breath. Reminds me too much of what that bastard Kirei did to me - I didn't get a choice there, and look how that turned out."

Romani groaned, this time aloud, and massaged his temples. "Mash…….do you agree with them?" Please, he begged, please don't let our only remaining Master not have a single Servant to her name.

"No. I was Senpai's Servant first……," she smiled at Kratos. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Mr. Kratos, but…..I want to be her Servant again."

Fujimaru felt some of the snakes in her stomach settle. So she wasn't going to be completely abandoned.

"I still want to keep training with you, though!" The words tumbled from Mash's lips in a rush. "I'm….I'm learning so much. I want to be able to protect Senpai to the best of my ability……"

Kratos held up a hand. "Were you to stop now, I would be greatly disappointed in you." He held out a hand to Mash, which she took. "I release you, Mash Kyrielight……..though I will expect you in the Simulator after this."

There was a flash of light, and a sound that half sounded like breaking glass, half like some sort of weird, shrieking horn…..and then Mash was holding out her hand to her, and, just like that, she had her first Servant back.

---

 

QUARTERS OF RITSUKA FUJIMARU

THE DEAD OF NIGHT​

Ritsuka Fujimaru was trying, and failing to sleep.

Who had she been kidding? She thought, for a second, that if she got away from home, things would be different. Make a fresh start, go somewhere new - maybe make something of herself.

Only to have her life repeat its inevitable pattern.

Oh, she'd heard the whispers in the hall. Not from everyone - but from enough of the surviving Mages.

'Why do we need her? We have a god on our side, after all.'

'She's not even of any family worth the name - and she failed miserably on her first sortie, too. Why even waste the time on her - effort could be better spent elsewhere.'

'He's already handled two Singularities so far. What can someone like her even offer? Mages from that part of the world are primitives to begin with, and she's not even the Heir.'

And other mutterings of that ilk - it wasn't a lot of voices, but they didn't even bother to hide the whispering from her. It was one reason she sat where she did at breakfast - Mashie and Avenger being there meant she'd have sat there regardless, but a table consisting of two Servants, a god, whatever Fou was, and Tanya (she'd been worried when the woman had introduced herself as a fellow Mage, but those worries had died as soon as she had called Fujimaru 'someone lucky enough to have avoided the stupid Clock Tower so far') had been the safest, and most welcoming place for her to sit.

So she'd ignored the jealous - and borderline hostile stares (the latter had at least stopped cold the second she'd sat down next to Kratos - guess they didn't want to risk any splash damage there) for most of the rest of the day. When Roman had told her she was going to be getting Kratos' Servant Contracts, she'd been elated - not just Mashie, but the rest of them as well?

She'd sworn to herself she'd be the best damn Master they could ask for.

Only to hear the same refrain she'd heard all her stupid life - 'not good enough, there's someone better'.

That all three of them had done their level best to state that it wasn't anything with her, but that all three of them had personal reasons for their decision had gone in one ear and out the other. After a decade plus of constantly being overshadowed by her perfect older sister - and not even being ALLOWED to carve out her own space (the few times she had tried to branch out into some new area, Big Sister Susumu just HAD to barge her way into it and show her up), all she'd heard was 'not good enough', and a bunch of static after.

End of the damn world - both literally and figuratively - and who knows how far back in time, and life kept offering her the same role. The runt of the litter, overshadowed by someone better.

She hadn't cried, ok. She'd wanted to, but she hadn't. Though, if Mashie had wanted to stay away from her too……..

It'd be all too easy for her to fall back into her old patterns and just……give up. Put in the minimum effort, coast by, and just stop caring. Wear a mask, pretend everything was ok, and fake it. She'd faked being ok with her life up until this point, why stop now?

The obvious answer why to NOT do this was that it was the actual END OF THE FREAKING WORLD. Humanity was so much ash, and if the responsibility for fixing that didn't rest SOLELY on her shoulders, she at least was carrying some of that burden. There was no place for her neurosis and hang-ups and issues, not here, not now.

And……..'Do not be sorry, be better'. Stupid god and his stupid words making too much sense.

She'd run away from home to get away from her sister, her parents, her sister, her life, her sister, Japanese Mage society, her sister, and to try to MAKE something of herself, to break herself from the patterns she'd been stuck in back in Tokyo. If she fell back into those patterns here, didn't do SOMETHING to change her situation well……

There really wasn't anywhere else for her to run to. She'd already run to the ends of the world, and then someone had wiped everything else off the map, leaving her well and truly stuck here.

And while she might have some very complicated feelings about her family…..she didn't, had never wanted them dead. And even if she had - she'd never wanted to throw out the entire rest of humanity along with them. Baby and the bathwater, or however that saying went, though you had some bigger issues if you missed there was an infant in the tub when you were about to throw out the water in said tub.

She was depressed with an inferiority complex, not some JRPG villain looking to punish all of humanity for not getting enough hugs as a child.

So, yeah, maybe her co-worker was a LITERAL god, and had already taken care of two Singularities while she was taking a snooze. Big deal.

Starting tomorrow, Ritsuka Fujimaru was going to show them all - Mages, Servants, and even a god, what she could do when she put her mind to it.

Come hell or high water, she was going to save Humanity.

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: So, this is the Fujimaru that's developed as I wrote out the 20 previous chapters. Hope she's to your liking.

I had no REAL plan for this chapter beyond starting in Medical, and ending with the discussion on transferring the Servant Contracts and the last scene. Beyond that, I just let the gremlin off the chain and let her bounce off people and wrote what she told me.

Also there's the reveal of Tanya's last name for this fic. Tanya Ashton Templeman is her full name. Because of course the one who's got an axe to grind with the Clock Tower would aid and abet Cu in fleecing some of them of their coin.

Not a TON happens this chapter, since it was mainly a device to establish Fujimaru as a character after she was missing for two Story chapters. More plot will happen next chapter, as we start rolling down the hill to Septem.

JAlter: CALL ME THIS. Everyone else: There are levels of chunni we are willing to tolerate, but this is too far.

This chapter came out ALOT quicker than I expected. The last few chapters have just been DEMANDING to be written.

Chapter 22: Post-Orleans 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 22​

Ritsuka Fujimaru……..was back in Medical. And getting the lecture-beam in stereo.

"I can't BELIEVE you!" Yeah, Romani was MAD. Like, legitimate angry, not frustrated or exasperated, but honestly and truly mad. At her.

Like she didn't already feel like crap about all this without him piling on.

"We told you to take it easy, that your legs were still healing from everything you went through……" His arms were crossed across his chest, as he loomed over the girl lying on the bed. "And you went running."

She wanted to fire back, to tell him that her legs had felt fine, that she'd just wanted to see how she felt……..but she knew those were just excuses. The truth….. "I know, Romani…..I screwed up. I just………" No, voice, you are NOT cracking right now. With the practice of a lifetime, however short it had been, she forced the tears back and demanded her voice remain steady.

Don't let Susumu them see you cry. Never let Susumu them see you cry.

"I just couldn't stand sitting still and doing………nothing, so…..this." She sighed, a sliver of what she was feeling managing to slip into that sigh. "It was stupid, I know, and……hellfire, I won't say I'm sorry given Chaldea's new motto seems to be 'Don't be Sorry, be Better.' I'll just say I won't do something that stupid again." Intentionally, at least, where her health was concerned.

Romani flopped into a chair. "If Avenger hadn't been there…….who knows how long you might have laid there, doing more damage to your legs than you already did." He whirled on Avenger. "And what were you THINKING, letting her run like that?"

"Hey! Don't take this out on me!" snarled Avenger. "I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be doing anything like that - she asked me to pace her, so I thought she was cleared for that kind of shit." Avenger turned her displeasure on Fujimaru, and if she didn't already feel like pond scum, NOW she really did. "You and me are going to have a Conversation later, Red."

She managed to keep her mask up, but she flinched at that. It was subtle - she'd gotten really good at masking her reactions, but they all saw it.

Romani sighed. "No, you're right, I'm taking out my frustrations with this whole situation on you, Avenger. I owe you an apology."

Avenger shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. I'm more concerned about what we're going to do with Red, here."

Disappointed glares in triplicate. It was like being at home. Shitburgers.

Might as well take her lumps and get this over with. "So, Doc……what's the damage? How badly did my poor judgment set me back?"

Romani's brow furrowed further, and she braced herself for another tongue-lashing……then he heaved a breath out, and his agitation seemed to leave him. "You're going to be on crutches and off your feet for at least a week. You tore muscles that were still healing so badly that your legs simply aren't going to be able to support your weight. And you're going to be wearing leg braces, too."

"They'll periodically stimulate your legs in the same sort of fashion as Romani's acupuncture, as well as using the ambient mana around Chaldea to encase your legs in a healing field - not a terribly strong one, I'm afraid, but every little bit helps." This was the first time she thought she'd ever seen perpetually happy/amused Da Vinci……well, not.

Gads, she felt like a heel.

"After a week, we'll check on how your legs are doing, and see if the braces can come off." Romani's face shifted into something less angry, and more……sympathetic. "Fujimaru…..I can understand where you're coming from……our situation being what it is, and given how much time you missed, you want to jump right back into things……but you have TIME to heal, right now. It hasn't even been a week since we settled the French Singularity, and, right now, we don't even have the start of a lead on the next one."

He sighed in frustration - this time frustration not aimed at her. "We're pretty much randomly checking major points in history and hoping to get lucky in that we find some breadcrumbs, or, God willing," Avenger flinched at that. No one noticed. "....the Singularity itself. But you're in no danger of us stumbling across it tomorrow, not as it stands currently."

"I get it…….and I really am sorry for screwing up like that. I…..no." She shook her head. "No excuses. I'll listen better to you in the future where my health is concerned - I can't promise I won't do something reckless in the field, because who knows what the situation might be there, but here…." She hung her head. "Here I'll listen."

Romani's hand ruffled her hair, patting her on her head like she was a kid - another day and she might have gotten really annoyed at this, but given how low she was feeling right now, she clung to it like a drowning man would clutch at a lifesaver. "That's all I ask, Fujimaru. We almost lost you once……..I don't know how many beats my heart skipped when we got that call from Avenger, saying you'd collapsed." His finger extended, and got right in her face. "And I'd be saying that even if you weren't our only remaining Master. That I was able to save anyone from that horrible day was a borderline miracle……….in a perfect world, I wouldn't have to see you in here again for the foreseeable future, but….."

She smiled, a little. "Yeah, doubt the Singularities are going to be that nice to me, even with Mashie's big shield and that walking slab of meat to hide behind."

There really wasn't anything else to say to that.

"On a happier note," began Da Vinci, as she rummaged around in the suitcase she had been dragging behind her when she had entered Medical, with fire in her eyes (fire that had been directed at Fujimaru). "The leg braces aren't the only thing I brought….."

Avenger perked up. Fujimaru SWORE she saw the Servant's ahoge standing straight up for a second - ahoge-boner. Who knew that was a thing? "Izzat?"

Da Vinci set a small metal case on the bed. "Yes, yes it is." She clicked one of the fasteners, slid the lid off, and reached in.

Matte black - she guessed she couldn't be surprised at the color scheme given the Grand Poobah of chunni's tastes. Sharp, clawed fingers, also no surprise. Otherwise, it was surprisingly…..normal. Less spikes and go-faster stripes than she had expected, though it DID have a couple of backwards spikes around where it would attach to her arm - sort of like the ones on Batman's costume.

"This IS just the test model," said Da Vinci, cutting off the complaints she could see starting to form in Avenger's eyes. "Once we get some solid test data, we can see about upgrades. But I didn't want to overload it with too much before we knew a) it would work, and b) you could handle it - or it could handle YOU."

Avenger pouted (which was cute, though Fujimaru wasn't about to say that out loud - she bit her tongue HARD to keep from letting her mouth run away with her), but nodded her head. "I guess that makes sense. What can it do?"

"Not much more than a regular arm at the moment," replied Da Vinci. "I've disabled most of the extra functionality until we see that it can attach without any issue and connect to what passes for your nervous system. IF you can make it a day or two without breaking it, or without it starting to cause you any aches or pains, we can see about slowly taking the training wheels off. Don't astralize until I give you the say-so, either. That'll be the first thing we test once we can be certain it's not fatally flawed from the word go."

"Got it." Avenger frowned. "Big as my wishlist was, if you get one thing and one thing only on it, not having to take the thing off and put it back on whenever I want to go 'poof' would be it." She grinned. "So, what're we waiting for? Strap it on!"

Fujimaru's mouth was open, and the 'Phrasing!' was on the tip of her tongue before she caught herself. Damn you, Darrin for showing her that.

Da Vinci picked up the metal arm and motioned Avenger to one of the more sturdy looking chairs in the room. "You're probably going to want to be sitting down for this. I'll be connecting wires and electricity straight to your nerves - this won't be pleasant."

"Yeah yeah," muttered the Servant, flopping down into the indicated chair. "Can't possibly hurt worse than losing the arm in the first freakin' place." She fidgeted in the seat as Da Vinci fiddled with the arm, getting it lined up - constantly checking both a small holographic panel that was projected from the arm, and another set of readings on a tablet that she had set on a nearby table.

"Ok……here we go. Brace yourself." Da Vinci touched something on the tablet, and the arm hummed softly for a second.

Then Avenger gagged, her breath suddenly stolen.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, as her back arched, and she gasped, heaving short, frantic breaths into her lungs. Her body curled into herself, her flesh arm desperately scrabbling at the arm of her chair. Da Vinci kept one arm firmly on Avenger's shoulder, holding her in place - making sure she didn't damage the prosthetic.

After a long moment, Avenger's breathing returned to something approximating normal. "Jesus jumped-up fucking CHRIST on a barbed wire pogo stick, lady, you call that fucking 'UNPLEASANT'?" She wiped blood away from where she had bitten through her lower lip. "That felt like getting crucified on an electric chair - while also being on fucking FIRE!"

"Would you rather I have told you it's probably going to be the worst pain you've ever felt in your short, eventful life, Avenger?" Da Vinci shrugged. "But it's done - all the readouts are showing green, it looks like it successfully connected. Can you move your arm?"

"Give me a minute for my damn nerves to stop feeling like they're on fire…..thanks Red." Avenger snatched the bottle of water Fujimaru held out to her and chugged it down. "Better." She looked around at the three pairs of eyes that were staring at her. "What?"

Da Vinci was grinning like the cat who had caught the proverbial canary. "Avenger…….you do realize you grabbed that bottle with your LEFT hand, right?"

"Wait, really?" She looked down, dazedly realizing the Caster was right - the now empty bottle was being held by five cold metal fingers. "......huh."

"How does it feel?" Da Vinci looked like she was about to start vibrating on the spot. "Is there any pain, tingling, or any other odd sensations?"

Slowly, carefully, Avenger set the empty bottle down, then began to move her left arm around. "No pain…..feels a bit weird, but I'm going to chalk that up to it being a hunk of metal and not my real arm." She closed her fingers into a fist, then opened them, then closed them into a fist again…….then extended her middle finger. "Feels a bit slow. Like it's lagging a bit behind my thoughts. Wouldn't want to try twirling my flag or my lance around like the Mad
Celt does with this hand - probably end up taking my other arm off."

Da Vinci nodded. "I'd anticipated there might be an adjustment period - there was a chance, since this was made for a Servant, it would bond instantly, but I guess that was being too hopeful." She rummaged around in her carrying case. "So you're going to want to reflex train for the next couple of days, and I have JUST the thing!"

She handed a thick gray object to Avenger, along with a very familiar (to Fujimaru) box, which Avenger squinted at the text on the box.

"T……..e……t……r…..i……s?" She looked up at Da Vinci. "What the hell is 'tetris'?"

---

Fujimaru's crutches clinked as she slowly limped down the hallway.

"I can't believe she's having me play some stupid game to get me adjusted to my arm," griped Avenger. "Not throwing daggers at a target, or darts, or something cool, noooooooo, I get to play some game on this gray brick she handed me."

"Hey, don't knock Tetris! You start playing at some of the higher levels and your fingers will get plenty fast - or you'll keep losing, but I can't see you being happy with that." Kind of glass houses to throw stones at Avenger for being stubborn, given she was now much less mobile after she'd let her determination overshadow her common sense, but well, if the shoe fit, and Fujimaru couldn't see Avenger willingly accepting being bad at something.

Her immediate desire to learn how to read as just one example.

"It's not Street Fighter or anything, but Da Vinci's on the right track, I think. Once she's sure you've got a bit better control, I'm sure she'll let you play with knives then." And wasn't that a terrifying thought.

"Hey, Red? Stop for a second."

Awkwardly, Fujimaru halted her momentum, and swiveled around to face the Servant, who was glowering at her. Guess it was time for that 'conversation' she had been promised. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am!," snapped Avenger. "The fuck were you thinking? And the FUCK did you lie to me? I like you Red, you're not a chickenshit like most of the rest of the chumps around here, you didn't flinch when you talk to me, you're not a stick in the mud like grumps or the snake, and you even stood up for me against her. But the guy who made me lied to me…..about a lot. And then you go and do the same thing……..makes me start to wonder about the people I'm choosing to be around."

Damn. She really made a mess of this, didn't she? Hellfire. "No, I……..I didn't mean to lie to you, Avenger." She bowed her head. Couldn't really dogeza in crutches and leg braces - this was as close as she was getting. "SchwartzJeanne." The use of the woman's chosen name got her attention. "I really didn't mean to lie to you, I truly….honestly thought I'd be ok. I asked you along because I wanted someone to help me stagger back to my room after it was over…….not because I thought you'd help me hide my rule breaking or anything like that."

She leaned against the wall, because, ow, the crutches were starting to dig into her armpits a bit. Even with the padding Da Vinci had on these things, they still weren't the most comfortable. "I made an honest mistake, but all the same, I still didn't mean to lie to you." Her gut started twisting like it had the other night. Even without her family around to cast a shadow - or to actively sabotage her, and no one really knowing her from Adam, she was still screwing up her relationships with other people. Well, it was fun having a buddy while it lasted.

A metal fist rapped her on the head, very, very gently. "Oh, buck up, Red. Where's the girl who stared down the big guy the other day?" Fujimaru raised her head. Avenger was scowling, but the heat behind it appeared to be rapidly dissipating. "I ain't HAPPY with you, but I'm the last person to rake some poor bastard over the coals for making a mistake. My past ain't exactly lily-white, after all."

Hope blossomed in her heart. "Then…….are we ok, Avenger?"

"Just don't do it again, Red." Avenger crossed her arms, turning away from the girl's gaze. "You're tolerable enough company at the end of the day, even if you still don't use my real name. So I suppose I can forgive you this time."

She snorted a breath out through her nose. "Probably shouldn't have bonked you on the head with my murder-arm, though, not until I get better control of it. You wanna show me what I'm supposed to do with this box?"

Fujimaru grinned. "With pleasure!" It had been awhile, but she'd whiled away more than a few hours in the arcades of Tokyo in her younger days. She almost certainly still had it.

---

 

QUARTERS OF RITSUKA FUJIMARU​

"How are you so good at this?" There was a tinge of whining in Avenger's voice, but it was overshadowed by honest to goodness respect.

And wasn't that salve to a battered ego, even if it was coming over something as silly as a video game. She'd take what she could get after the day she'd had so far.

"Many hours dedicated to a misspent youth," said Fujimaru, imparting a touch of faux-sage wisdom into her voice.

(More like hiding from her family - arcades were about the one place Susumu never thought to look for her, so they were a refuge for her during her anklebiter days. And even once word got out, there were usually enough people there that she could blend in - yes, DESPITE her weird hair - and avoid notice when big sis came looking for her. And Susumu never learned ALL of her haunts, too.)

"But that should give you an idea of what you're looking to do," she said, handing the Game Boy back to Avenger, who was lounging on her bed. "It's not a terribly complicated game, but there's enough interactions there to keep people invested - it's a classic for a reason."

"Misspent youth," Avenger huffed a laugh. "Maybe I can start calling the time before I was a Real Girl that. Sounds better than 'yeah, I was trying to reduce the countryside of France into cinders'."

Fujimaru plastered a fake look of terror onto her face. "But you've gotten that out of your system, right?"

Avenger glared, and she couldn't keep up her facade in the face of that - the Servant CLEARLY looked like she knew she was being teased, and wasn't playing along. She burst out into giggles at the unimpressed look on the Avenger's face. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she managed, in between giggles. "Kratos would probably never have allowed you along for the ride, or to stick around after if you were."

THIS glare had a touch of heat to it. "You trying to say I've been tamed or some shit?"

"Oh no, not that, never that. I read the report of what went down in the French Singularity - after you hooked up with Kratos you still put down two Servants, one of Dracula's Phantasmal Brides, and you picked up at least a partial share of the Big D himself. You're still hell on wheels." Oh yes, the terror of the French Singularity, currently lying on her back on Fujimaru's bed, swearing under her breath as she fumbled about on a video game.

She'd almost want to pat her on the head, if she wasn't dead certain she'd get bitten.

"And don't you fucking forget it, either." They sat for a few minutes in companionable silence.

Of course, it was the Servant who broke the silence. "Hey, Red? Why's your room so…..I dunno, empty?"

Fujimaru sighed. "Would you believe this, right now, is the first free moment I've had to myself since this whole mess began?" She began ticking off points on her fingers. "Got here RIGHT as the Director was holding her big pep-rally before kicking off the first mission. I passed out from the scan they did to let you into this base, and only made it to the meeting because of Mashie." She smiled, remembering waking up to a surprisingly heavy ball of fluff on her chest, and the endearingly awkward girl who was trying to get her out from under said ball of fluff.

"Then I got kicked out of said meeting because I was still getting the zu-zus from a lethal combination of whatever that scan did to me, and the Director's……well, let's just say she wasn't….or I guess isn't, if we can get her back on her feet, going to be winning any public speaking awards." Credit to Kratos - he managed to save both her and the Director back in that hell of a city, and got them back to Chaldea to boot. He might cast a massive shadow, but never let it be said that Ritsuka Fujimaru couldn't recognize when something was deserved.

"After that, you know the timeline. Kaboom, sudden Rayshift, stabbity, coma, speaking in tongues and pea soup." Avenger snickered. "After that, all my time's been spoken for - if I wasn't in physical therapy or getting tested or poked with needles by Roman, I've been sleeping. And now, when I have some free time - mainly because physical therapy's off until my legs heal enough, I'm too much of a cripple to really unpack much."

Avenger had rolled over onto her stomach, and was regarding her over the handheld - she'd heard the rude noise that signaled a game over, so she was getting her undivided attention at immediate. "Once I'm a little less wobbly, I'll probably put some of my books up on the shelves, unpack a bit more. But until then, I'm fine with living out of boxes. We moved around a bit when I was a kid - dad was in the navy, so sometimes we'd have to pick up stakes and move at a moment's notice, so it wouldn't be the first time I lived out of a box for awhile."

Thankfully, her dad had managed to wrangle a more permanent posting while she was still small. Well, she said her dad, but it was likely his connections back in America - and maybe a bit of the connection he made in Germany - that managed to get him a more stationary posting.

Either/or, it was nice to live in a proper house, and not military housing - living in the barrack SUUUUUCKED. And it let her grow up in a proper city like Tokyo. If she'd gone through her formative years somewhere smaller, where avoiding her sister was more difficult……well……

Yeah, best to not think about that.

'Y'want some help unpacking?"

Fujimaru was halfway between gratefully taking her up on that (because she might be used to living out of a box, but that didn't make it any less impersonal and suck less) and rejecting her out of hand, because the idea of anyone, even this surprisingly enjoyable Avenger, pawing through her things set off alarm bells in her head. (Thanks, sis.)

She was saved from a response by a chime indicating someone was at her door.

Her brow wrinkled. Who could that be? Not like anyone's been falling over themselves to visit her since she woke up. "It's open!" she called, the door sliding open a moment later.

And in strode the smuggest genius to ever walk the Earth. She took in Avenger, sprawled out on the bed, Game Boy in hand, and her ever-present smile got only wider. "Having fun, Avenger?"

Avenger shrugged. "I guess. I can see why you thought this would help with my fingers - but couldn't you have found something with, I dunno, more explosions?"

Da Vinci laughed. "Sorry, but you'll have to work your way up to that. Baby steps, Avenger, baby steps - particularly while you're working out how best to use my creation there." She patted the other woman on the head - and didn't get bitten - guess Avenger knows not to bite the hand that gives her video games - or does maintenance on her arm. "Don't worry, we'll have you cursing out giant turtles or pig-men before long."

Avenger's mouth was working, but no words were coming out - and Fujimaru could clearly see her mouthing 'turtles', as Da Vinci turned to her. "And as fun as it is to tease Avenger, you're actually why I'm here, Fujimaru."

She thought she managed to completely hide her flinch - was she about to get another lecture? Not that she didn't deserve it, but it would just be piling on at this point. "I was originally going to talk to you about this, but then you went and pulled the stunt you did….." The woman's sunny smile turned sour. "And Romani and I had to talk a few things over. But in the end, we agreed on going ahead with this."

Her finger darted into Fujimaru's face and hung there, waggling right between her eyes. "Don't get it into your head that this is some kind of reward for you doing what you did - this is, in the end, the best for the overall mission. We were going to have you do this anyways, and there's no real point in putting it off - even if we're not the happiest with you right now, young lady."

No way. No freaking way. She couldn't be talking about……

Her poker face must have failed miserably, because Da Vinci's frown turned into a small smile. "Yes. If you feel up to it, would you like to try summoning a Servant?"

Would she like to… "Hells YES I would like to try Summoning a Servant!"

A pair of laughs, one from the bed, one from a few inches in front of her. "I thought that would be your reply - because who wouldn't want their own Superhuman ghost from Humanity's past." Her hand descended to Fujimaru's head, and set about making a mess (well, MORE of a mess) of her hair. "Don't misunderstand - you're still in hot water with us, but given that none of Kratos' Servants wanted to leave him…," Avenger was very deliberately rolling her eyes behind Da Vinci. "You need to start getting some experience handling a Servant that isn't Mash - she's a sweet girl, but really isn't going to teach you anything about dealing with some of the more extreme personalities you'd meet from the Throne on a personal level."

"Like present company?" snarked Avenger.

Da Vinci didn't even bat an eye at that as she returned serve "That does go for both of us, yes."

Avenger, surprisingly, didn't puff up like an angry balloon at that, just shrugged and nodded. "Can't argue that. You want me to tag along for this, Red?"

"Would you?" Da Vinci turned back to Fujimaru. "If you don't mind, of course, Fujimaru. Avenger would be a decent deterrent if you manage to summon someone completely uncontrollable, but would be potentially less……volatile than Kratos being there would be, given what he is and how certain Servants might react to that."

Avenger snickered. "Yeah, I bet. I heard how that snake reacted to him. Not anything like the Ice Queen act she usually puts on."

"Avenger's rambling aside," Da Vinci ignored the shouted 'HEY!' from behind her. "Do you have any objections if she's there as a safety measure?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "Not in the slightest. It would probably help my nerves a bit to have my buddy there for support."

"Excellent," Da Vinci offered her hand to Fujimaru. "Then, shall we get this show on the road?"

---

 

CHALDEA SUMMONING CHAMBER

15 MINUTES LATER​

Fujimaru shivered. She was sure there was some long, dry, technical reason for it, but why did they have to keep the Summoning Chamber so blasted COLD? It was even colder than the rest of Chaldea. Seriously, she could see her breath here!

In the center of the room, Mash set her shield down with an audible thunk, then stepped back, behind Fujimaru.

"Everything looks good, Fujimaru, so whenever you're ready!" Da Vinci's voice piped through the room, as chipper as ever. Fujimaru swallowed heavily, and, for one last time, glanced over her shoulder.

Mash, standing just a little behind her - not in her armor, but ready to move in case they pulled something nasty when she put in her call to the Throne.

Da Vinci and Romani, seated at their positions, watching the various monitors.

Avenger, throwing her a thumbs up……..and she had to stifle another snicker at the sight of the sign the woman was wearing around her neck, with an arrow pointing up, and the words 'Not Jeanne!' written in angry red sharpie - not her handwriting, but Fujimaru's.

A 'precaution', the Servant had said, when she'd asked her to write the words out for her. Fujimaru had rolled her eyes, but had still done it. Buddies had to have each other's backs, after all.

(At least, that's what all the stories said. She hadn't really ever had a buddy to put it to the test.)

She turned back to the room, and glanced over the scrap of paper in her hands, refamiliarizing herself with the chant. Thankfully, it wasn't stupid complicated.

She took a breath, and began speaking.

"Let Silver and Steel be the Essence."

"Let Stone and the Archduke of Contracts be the Foundation."

"Let Red be the color I pay Tribute to."

Damn right she was going to pay tribute to red. Gingers rise up!

"Let my great-father, Kanpeki, be the ancestor."

It was a…..choice, to pick her father's line as the ancestor, instead of her mother's much more distinguished line but…….she had always been closer to her father than her mother. No point risking some of the animosity that existed between her and her mother contaminating the plea to the Throne. Honestly, she'd take any little inch of goodwill she could get, here.

"Let a Wind rise against the Wind that shall fall."

"Let the Four Cardinal Gates close."

"Let the Three-Forked Road from the Crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

"My Will creates your Body, and your Sword creates my Destiny."

"If you heed the Grail's Call and obey my Will and Reason, then answer me."

Please? Hello, Throne of Heroes, this is Ritsuka Fujimaru. I'm not much of a Mage….or a Master yet, but I WANT to be. Forget some badass warrior - though I'd appreciate one of those, too, but………..I want to be better, to get stronger, and to prove myself……..to save Humanity. Help me do that, please. Help me stop running away, and stand my ground…..for once in my life. Help me NOT be that girl anymore.

"I hereby swear that I shall be All that is Good in the World."

"That I shall defeat all that is Evil in the World."

"Seventh Heaven, clad in the Great Words of Power."

"Come forth from the Circle of Binding, Great Guardian of the Scales!"

Her voice had risen in volume, until she was shouting that last stanza. She heaved breaths into her lungs - it had only been a small chant, but still, she felt drained.

And now, she waited for someone to answer her call.

She fidgeted, feeling the silence stretch out. How long did it take before they'd know if…..

"Reaction detected!" Romani's voice echoed through the room. "Put out the welcome mats, Fujimaru, you're about to have company!"

Ten orbs formed a circle, then flashed gold, and began spinning - then divided into three golden rings. Mana welled up in a geyser that touched the ceiling, then exploded across the room, stealing her sight in a wash of white.

From far away, she heard………hoofbeats?

When the light died down, and she could see again, there was a figure standing before her.

Long brown hair, blue eyes, some NICE arms, a simple white tunic-thing (that was cut to show off said NICE arms. Yum!).

Oh, and the lower half of a horse.

"Servant, Archer," he began, in a deep, resonant voice. "Known as Chiron to my friends and students. I heard your call, and bring my knowledge and skills to aid you." He bowed his head. "I am pleased to meet you, Master. From this point onward, I shall endeavor to aid you in any way I can."

Fujimaru's heart skipped a beat. Wait, wait, WAIT. Had she FINALLY gotten the pony she had asked Santa for Christmas all those years ago?

Everyone was staring at her. Why was…..oh no. Oh NO. Oh Gods. She said that OUT LOUD, didn't she?

She groaned. Loudly. "Can I use a Command Seal and have you kill me before I die of embarrassment?"

---

Chiron was chuckling as they walked through the hallways of Chaldea - he had shifted his lower half into a human pair of legs to better maneuver Chadlea's halls. "No, truly, Master - Fujimaru, was it? You did not offend. It was a more…..spirited introduction than I have received in the past, but there was nothing wrong with it."

"Still, I am SO sorry." She bowed her head for what seemed like the umpteenth time as she hobbled down the hall, her Servant trailing behind her. "My mouth frequently runs without my brain having any say in the matter. You're not……I don't see you as some sort of gift I received or something like that……you're not my property or anything."

He raised a hand, still smiling. "Truly, Master, it is fine. I know the difference between the callous statements of intent that I have heard from other Mages regarding Servants, and a young girl's surprised utterance. There was no harm done."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Ok……I was just…..really worried about botching this whole thing. You're my first Servant, well, my SECOND, but the first one is a complicated thing."

"The girl that shield belonged to?" She nodded. "Yes, I could feel she was a Servant, but……there was something odd about her, unlike other Servants of my acquaintance."

"Yeah, she's something called a Demi-Servant…….some sort of experiment this place was carrying out years ago. I haven't really gotten the details on what exactly they were doing…..either because I don't have high enough clearance, or whatever they did was bad enough that they aren't interested in broadcasting it." She shrugged. "But that was my Mashie back there - Mash Kyrielight, Shielder Class Servant."

"Shielder……," he muttered, hand coming up to cup his chin. "How interesting - that is the first I have ever heard of a 'Shielder Class'."

"It was apparently new to Chaldea when they summoned one, too," she said. "She's not the only Servant we have running around here - you met Da Vinci back there, she's pretty much the second-in-command of this whole place for the moment, with all the people we lost, and then our other Master has three Servants Contracted to himself. You saw Avenger back there with Da Vinci, she's one of his three."

He nodded. "Yes. I had thought I was seeing an associate from another Grail War that I have some…….jumbled memories of - at least until I saw the sign around her neck." He shook his head. "A copy of the Maid of Orleans, and an Avenger, to boot. Truly, you seem to have many anomalies around here."

Fujimaru gave a dry laugh at that. "Oh, Chiron, you have NO idea how true that statement is." She chewed on her lower lip. Lead with it, or let him walk straight into it after she'd gotten a better idea of his personality? "The other two are a Caster - Cu Chulainn, and a Rider, Medusa - I think she's from your neck of the woods."

He nodded. "Yes. I've run across her a time or two in the libraries on the Throne. A pleasant enough woman - truly nothing like the monster her Legend suggests. And certainly much easier to get along with than her sisters."

"Yeah. She certainly wasn't what I was expecting when she introduced herself." She cringed a little. "She…..might have also gotten some of the patented Ritsuka runs-on-at-the-mouth like you did."

Man, he really did have a nice smile - but it seemed like being really, really easy on the eyes was a requirement for being a Servant - or it was an upgrade you got from the Throne. People did, in the end, prefer looking at pretty things - she knew SHE did.

"Master, a question, if you do not mind?"

She shrugged. "Shoot. After the way I put my foot in my mouth back there - and I know I didn't offend you or anything, but I still feel like an idiot for it - a question is the least of the things I owe you."

"Your legs……" He pointed first at her crutches, then her leg braces. "May I inquire what happened? Are you injured, or is it a more permanent affliction?"

"Ah….." Guess it was time for him to learn his Master was a bit of a screw-up. "No, I got hurt in the First Singularity we kind of crash-landed into - some sort of blackened Servant put some knives into me that were smeared with its blood - they thought I was in a coma, but the thing was trying to possess me."

His eyes widened, and she smiled grimly. "Yeah, now imagine how I felt when I woke up on the floor with two Servants clinging to my arms, my legs in chains, and discovered I was covered in some sort of black gunk I started coughing up when they exorcized me. Apparently Avenger noticed whatever was in me and it tried to stab Roman."

Why him when Kratos was RIGHT there was a question she had been batting around her head since she'd first heard the story. Best she could guess, the thing might have had orders from Lev to try to take out the Acting Director - Da Vinci could probably hold the place together for awhile, but she was WAY too necessary for far too many other things to wear the Director's hat AND do all that.

"But since I was comatose for two weeks, my legs were a little messed up - and the thing in me leaping around the room didn't do them any favors." She sighed. "Then I got a bit ahead of myself and tried to jog a bit earlier today, and……..well…." She gestured lamely at all the metal she was hauling around today. "Sorry, your Master's going to be a bit of a cripple for a bit."

He was regarding her curiously. "Whyever would you think that would bother me?" He walked up until he was right in front of her. "True, some of my students were some of the greatest heroes of Greece - Achilles, Jason, Asclepius, Actaeon, but they all started as callow young men when I began with them." He smiled. "And it is not like they did not have their share of flaws. Jason…..well, let us just say he grew very familiar with the stables I would have him clean."

He continued. "But Master, I believe I have mentioned a Grail War of my past, the one where I believe my path crossed with that of the Maid of Orleans?" She nodded. "I recall little else of that War - I get impressions at times that it was……complicated, even for a Grail War, but one memory that has stuck with me through all this time was my Master from that War. She was in a wheelchair, you see."

"Some interaction between her body and her Magic Crest ruined her legs, yet that did not stop her from being a fantastic Mage, and an exceptional Master." There was true fondness in his smile. "And I do not see why you could not manage the same, my Master."

Fujimaru's heart was racing. "Did….did she win it?" She swallowed. "The Grail, I mean, or did she….."

Chiron sighed. "I do not know. I have some memories of fighting by her side early in the war, but nothing of the later stages. But………something in me tells me she neither won the War, nor died, but went on to be happy." He shook his head. "But….maybe that is just an old teacher being hopeful for one of his students. Still, it is what I choose to believe, in the end."

---

 

CHALDEA SIMULATOR​

Kratos turned the shield over in his hands, running his hands over the face, tracing the metal. So far, it felt sturdy enough.

A few inches away from him, Da Vinci was watching him intently as he inspected her work. "So, first impressions?"

Kratos slid the shield onto his arm and folded and unfolded the shield a handful of times, watching it as it moved. He then left the shield open and moved with deliberate slowness through a range of motions, testing out the weight on his arm. "It feels……lighter."

Da Vinci nodded. "That's a consequence of the materials I used - whatever those smiths of yours used when they upgraded that shield, it's like nothing we have easy access to here. Durable as all heck, too - I'd LOVE to get my hands on a few bars of that." She shook her head, snapping herself out of whatever genius-fueled dream she had been falling into. "Best I could do was some magical steel alloyed with a few more exotic bits - Orichalcum and the like. You shouldn't notice any real loss in strength or durability, at least not in the short term, but I doubt it will stand up to the really heavy stuff as well."

Her staff formed in her hands, and with a nod to Kratos, she wound up and swung. Her staff clanged off the shield. She dismissed her weapon, and ran her eyes over the face of the shield. "I put it through a handful of impact tests before I handed it off to you, but tests are tests, and won't really stress it like actual combat - and me and my twig arms aren't really going to put it through the paces it needs to be put through." She grinned at him. "Should we put in a call for our favorite Irishman?"

Kratos had been about to nod his head, when the Simulator door hissed open, and the girl who was to be his ally walked in, with another man following her.

So, this was the Servant she had summoned, then?

He was a more unassuming sight than some of the stranger Servants he had met (Kiyohime and her eastern dress, Liz, the plate mail of the Black Knight, whomever he might have been, Liz, Carmilla and her impractical outfit, Liz, the Assassin that had felled Fujimaru and his grotesque arm, Liz….). Slightly shorter than Medusa, and wearing a simple, almost plain tunic, with hair and eyes a more human color than the purples and blues (and pinks, as a part of his mind reminded him of Liz once more) he saw on a regular basis. Kratos thought he could have passed him on the streets of Sparta and never looked twice at him…..

….at least until the man's form shimmered, and his lower half transformed into that of a horse.

A centaur……and a Heroic Spirit. The Heroic Spirit part, he hoped, would be stronger than the centaur - though Medusa was nothing like the Gorgons of his home. It was possible that the centaurs of this world were as equally unlike the savages that plagued Greece in his lifetime.

(He had HATED fighting centaurs. Minotaurs, Gorgons, Harpies - he would take a horde of them over the cursed horse-men. And the Stalkers of his new home were equally as aggravating, if in a different way. THEY married the speed and strength of their half-equine bodies with discipline and skill - a truly frightening combination.)

The girl - Fujimaru, and her Servant were crossing the simulated field to where they were standing.

"Truly, when you explained the situation, it sounded almost too fantastical to believe - even for a Heroic Spirit like myself. Yet, here I stand, and I see you spoke nothing but the truth," The man drew up in front of Kratos, regarding the Spartan with not even a touch of wariness or unease. "A living god……..something I have not seen since the days when I was still alive…….it is quite a sight."

He extended his arm. "Servant, Archer, True Name Chiron. I am pleased to see we have such a mighty ally on this labor we find ourselves undertaking."

Kratos felt his eyes widen, ever so slightly. It must have been enough to be noticeable, for Chiron gave a small little laugh. "I see that I was notable in the world you called home, then."

Kratos grunted, taking the man's wrist. "While it is no longer my home…..I was born in Greece. Many were the tales of those who trained under you."

Chiron's grip upon his wrist was firm - strong. "Were you one of those? You share the name of one of the children of Pallas, and while I never trained him in this world, I am given to understand your world's history unfolded differently."

Kratos shook his head, releasing the Servant's arm. "No. While I fought many centaurs in my time - they were savage brutes in my world, little more than barbarians - my path never crossed with that of Chiron." Kratos considered, his mind remembering things from so long ago. "I was at Troy, and saw Achilles from afar. And…..I came upon Jason in his last moments, during my….travels."

Chiron sighed. "So the boy came to a bad end, even in another world. While I wish I could say I am surprised……" He shook his head. "Another time. If it would not trouble you, sometime I would like to hear that tale."

Kratos nodded, not seeing the harm in it.

Da Vinci drew up alongside Chiron, and from the gleam in her eye, Kratos could tell she had an idea she wanted to try out. "Getting along with Chiron, so far, Fujimaru?"

The girl nodded. "He's been a big sweetheart so far. Figured I should rip the band-aid off and let him get an eyeful of the big surprise sooner rather than later, so here we are."

Da Vinci's grin threatened to split her face. "If you don't mind, may I borrow your two Servants for a quick minute? There's something I'd like to test out, and both of them are ideal for it."

A shrug. "Sure. Let me hobble on out of the blast area here….." She began to move over the tree line, a bit unsteadily on the uneven ground. "Oi, Mashie, Da Vinci needs you for something that I'm sure is going to be completely safe and not crazy at all!"

"Coming!" The girl stood from where she had been sitting alongside Avenger, who was still doing…..something on that gray box. Something to help her grow more used to her new metal arm, she had said, though the details had escaped Kratos. To his eyes, it seemed to involve the box making a great variety of noises, followed by a greater than usual volume of cursing from the Avenger.

(Truly, he missed the simplicity of his simple cabin in the Wildwoods at times, and today he felt that ache in a stronger fashion than usual.)

Mash jogged up to them, her Servant armor flashing into being around her. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just stand here, and keep your shield up," said Da Vinci. "I mostly want you here as a fail-safe in case something goes wrong. Nothing's been able to get through your shield so far, and if worst comes to worst, we have your Noble Phantasm as a panic button."

One of Chiron's eyebrows quirked up. "I take it, going by her weapon - though I do see a sword on her hip, that her Noble Phantasm is defensive in nature?"

At the mention of her sword, Mash gave a very, very small flinch - Kratos had been looking for it, so it did not escape his notice. He was beginning to wonder if he would have to broach the subject himself - Mash was not showing any signs that the events with the Berserker were affecting her physically, but she was at least partially a Servant. The superhuman constitution that granted her could be bolstering her enough that it was less noticeable.

"Yes - good eye, though considering the source, it shouldn't be surprising. Mash's Noble Phantasm has managed to stop two different Noble Phantasms and hold back a horde of Dead among its accomplishments, so it should suffice if this little field test goes off the rails." Da Vinci thought for a moment. "Which is why I'll be standing right here, along with you, Chiron."

"Avenger!" she yelled across the field. "You and Fujimaru should be far enough away that you'll be safe, but just in case, I want you to protect Fujimaru!"

Fujimaru nudged the Servant with one of her crutches. "C'mon, Avenger, put down the Russian crack and make sure I don't end up getting exploded or something, here."

"Fine, fine. Just when I was starting to get the hang of it." Grumbling, the woman sprang to her feet. "Shit goes bad Red, I'm slinging you under my arm and booking it. I'm not taking the chance this will ruin my shiny new arm before I get to kick some ass with it."

"I'll hold the Game Boy, when that happens, then."

"Ok, Kratos, you walk, oh, I don't know, a fair distance over there," said Da Vinci, gesturing a ways off into the field. "Far enough away to let one of Chiron's arrows build up a good amount of speed."

A bow formed in Chiron's hands, with an arrow fitted to the string. "What would you have me do?"

"When I give you the signal, fire an arrow right at the center of Kratos' shield. It took some damage on the last Singularity, and while I was fixing it up, I gave it a little upgrade." Da Vinci grinned. "Kratos, there should be a grip that can fold out from your shield now - you should just need to think it, and it'll pop out."

No sooner had the woman's words registered in Kratos' mind than his hand was filled with a solid length of metal. "There, just like that. You shouldn't need it except for this, but if you find it lets you use the shield more effectively, well, bonus! But on the end of that grip, right where your thumb would rest, there's a button. DON'T PRESS IT YET."

"I had not been about to do so." Even were he as reckless at times as his son was, Kratos would still have hesitated at just unquestioningly pressing a button linked to some improvement Da Vinci had made to his shield. He trusted the woman, yes, but she was as subject to the madness that was wed to genius as the other brilliant craftsmen he had known in his time.

He supposed this might have been how Mimir had felt, right before he had been handed over to Brok and Sindri and placed into the thing they had claimed would fix the issues with the Realm Travel doors.

"Ok, just making sure. I'm going to have Chiron fire an arrow at you, and a few seconds before it hits, press that button." She moved to stand behind Mash. "You shouldn't need to hold it down or anything, just give it a push. Just let us know when you're ready, and we'll get this show on the road!"

Kratos settled his feet, then nodded. Chiron raised his bow. "How strong a shot do you desire, Lady Da Vinci?"

"Don't take all the limiters off, but don't just phone it in, either," she replied. "I want to see if this can stand up to a Servant putting in a reasonable effort at killing someone - and a proper combat Servant at that, and not yours truly." She smirked. "I'm a genius, not a fighter."

"Understood." He drew the arrow back, sighting down its shaft (Fujimaru's eyes may or may not have been eating up the taut muscles of his arms as he did so). "Firing!" And with those words, he loosed the shot.

Fast. The arrow screamed across the short distance in the blink of an eye. Kratos' finger had only just depressed the button when the arrow arrived.

There was a hum, and his shield crackled with energy - and then the arrow was flying back the way it came, twice as fast.

"Duck!" cried Mash, as both Chiron his form behind her shield, where Da Vinci was already sheltering. The arrow impacted, and shattered, exploding in a shower of splinters. Mash herself was pushed back, just a bit, from the force of the blow.

From across the room, Fujimaru and Avenger blinked in shock.

Kratos was encased in a bubble of shimmering blue energy.

"Spettacolare! It worked! It worked!" Da Vinci's head popped out from behind Mash's shield, and her mad cackles filled the Simulator. "The Da Vinci Omni-Directional Attack Repeller Mark 1.2 is……."

Kratos' shield began emitting sparks, and a mournful whine seemed to emanate from it. As quickly as it appeared, the bubble of energy vanished.

"Oh, poops." Her hands went to her hips, as she pouted. "I had hoped the power source would hold up better, but I guess that's the best it can manage. It's not broken!" Kratos was staring at his shield with a look of unease. "Just overtaxed - I'll probably need to shorten the amount of time the dome is out to keep that from happening. If it was just doing protection, it would last longer, but the reflection against a Servant-level attack is apparently too much of a drain on the batteries to keep it deployed for even that long. If I get my hand on a better core or something, I could probably improve that - something to keep an eye out for in future Singularities, I guess."

She had been crossing the field as she was talking, and now poking and prodding at the shield as it hung on Kratos' arm. "It should recharge naturally from ambient mana in the air, though I built in a small conductor that will gather up some power from kinetic energy - the more you move that arm around, the faster the charge will build. And since you're not adverse to hitting people with that shield, well….."

A grunt. It was less outlandish than some of the things the Huldra brothers had built for him - he could find a use for this. "It is……acceptable, Da Vinci."

The Servant beamed. "That's high praise coming from you. I recall how much of a hard time Atalanta was giving you in the last Singularity - she was firing too many arrows - and too fast, on top of that, for you to do that reflection trick of yours I've seen you use on Cu. So I had this idea……"

"So you made a FORCE FIELD?" Ritsuka was shaking her head. "Da Vinci, is there anything you can't do?"

"And when do I get one of those in my arm?" shouted Avenger.

Da Vinci turned to grin smugly at Avenger. "Do you want a force field generator in your arm, Avenger, or would you rather I use that space for something more offensive……like a Rocket Punch?"

"I dunno what that is, but yes!"

---

"Well that was certainly…..eventful."

It was later in the evening. Dinner was settling into her belly nicely, and she could feel the fatigue of having to propel herself about for the better part of a day using crutches starting to sink in. Bed was sounding REALLY nice right about now.

"Indeed. It is certainly a….colorful collection that have gathered here." Chiron's hand was cupping his chin. "Kratos is certainly……unique, for a god. At least, compared to the gods of my acquaintance."

"Yeah, he's……" She shook her head. "A lot to take in." And that was if you were MERELY a superhuman familiar summoned from the Throne of Heroes, much less the girl who was staring right at the guy who had resolved two Singularities while you were taking a snooze, and hearing not exactly-whispered comparisons to when she walked the halls or sat down in the cafeteria. "He's not really crazy about being a Master from what I hear - something about it being too close to slavery for his liking."

"As I said, unique," replied Chiron. "A question, Master, if you do not mind?"

"Fire away."

"What can you do?"

Fujimaru blinked. Was he……

Chiron raised a hand. "Forgive me, that came out harsher than I intended. You are a Mage, I gather." A nod of her head. "Then, for my understanding, I wish to know what you are capable of, so I can begin to formulate a plan on how best to teach you. Treating you as I would Artisaeus, or Achilles, or my other students would be ill-fitting, I feel. You will not be learning to fight a Servant hand-to-hand from me - there are limits to even what I can impart."

He smiled. "Though I feel I will not have to chase you down to get you to learn, as I still must do with Achilles."

"Wait, still?"

"Oh yes. I still teach, even on the Throne. To live and learn are the privileges of all who draw breath." He raised a finger. "For anyone, even a teacher, to cease learning is to die - even if your body still draws breath, your mind has died, and you are merely existing day to day until death claims you."

He turned to face her. "Which is why I am pleased to have a student such as you, Master. There is much you need to learn to be a proper Master, and I am excited to teach you these things." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Because you will be wonderful, my Master. I can see it."

Curse whomever was cutting onions in this hallway. She'd track them down and make them pay…..later. "You really mean that?" she asked, her voice a bit thick. "Cause after the last couple of days I've had, you're saying all the right things, Chiron."

He shook his head. "I will never lie to you, Master. That is among the greatest of sins a teacher can commit, that of lying to a student. I will not claim that you do not have a long road ahead of you, but from the short time we have spent together, it is one I believe you can walk……..with my guidance."

She sniffled, and gratefully took the handkerchief her Servant handed her. This guy….. One deafening nose-blowing later, and she felt a bit more under control. "Ok……..this isn't going to be much of a list. I'm ok at Reinforcement, nothing spectacular, but I can manage most of the intermediate stuff without too much trouble. Not so hot at Projection, though - you'd think with all the reading I do I could manage to shift my mental reality enough to create things out of nothing, but….." She shrugged. "I'm absolutely pants at it."

Chiron raised his hand. "A related question - what is your family's speciality - if they have one."

"Spiritualism," she said, without even bothering to check if there were any listeners lurking around the halls. It's not like it was any big secret. "More the seances and Ouija Board kind of stuff than things like Necromancy or Spiritual Evocation. Our family get togethers can get……crowded."

He frowned. "Then……are you seeing spirits right now?"

She shook her head. "Nah. I have to concentrate really hard to see them even in somewhere like a graveyard - I told you I'm not much of a Mage. My big sister though….." She sighed. "She was apparently seeing them all the way back in the crib - I don't want to imagine how bad things would be for her right now if……well….." No, she was not about to make a joke about her sister being dead. She might be flippant, but even she had lines she wouldn't cross. Even where Susumu was concerned.

"I can understand your meaning well enough," he said, his face grim. "I assume you haven't tried to 'see' since you've woken up?"

"Got it in one. I'm way too scared of what I might see if I do, considering the absolute scale of what happened outside these walls." She shuddered. "And worse, ghosts TALK to each other. If one or more of them figured out there was a medium, even a weak one like me here……….."

"Absolutely for the best, my Master." He titled his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "Possibly we could try in a carefully controlled scenario - with you inside a VERY strong Bounded Field, but for the moment I would have to strongly suggest you continue as you were and not exercise that part of your skillset."

"Believe you me, I'm in no rush to try - I've got the willies just thinking about how bad the other side of the Veil is right now." She shivered, and not just because they kept the inside of Chaldea just a few steps above frigid. "Otherwise, I've never really managed much else beyond the basics. I can cast a mean Gandr, though."

She thought for a second, then snapped her fingers. "Oh, and I'm reasonably good at alchemy and I've got a good grounding in stuff about homunculi - Dad made some friends in Germany when he was deployed there." And she had never really gotten the full story behind that, either. "Not the most useful stuff for a Master, but you wanted to know everything."

"Indeed." His hand was once again cupping his chin. "It is…..an eclectic collection of talents you have, but I have certainly worked with worse. And, more promising is that I can feel you want to learn - truly, that is the best thing a teacher can have in a student."

Fujimaru felt an honest to goodness genuine smile threatening to escape from her, and for once, she didn't fight it. This guy, she swore….. "Just don't make me muck out the stables like Jason."

He laughed, a deep, rich laugh. "Oh, I do not think I will need such for you, my Master. Nor do I think I will have to sit on you in order to get you to sit still long enough to learn as I did with Achilles."

He offered her his hand. "Shall we begin?"

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And there we have it. Tip of the hat to Grimoire, who guessed it in one of their big lists of 'Servants I'll lose my mind if they get summoned'. Though when you're doing the shotgun approach, you do increase your odds.

Not going to lie, it was ALMOST Scathach, because she's a stone badass, because it would TERRIFY Cu to no end, her interactions with Kratos would be FANTASTIC, and because she's a personal favorite (and hot as hell - pyon pyon), but in the end, I opted for Chiron when I was going over the possible 'teachers' Fujimaru could summon to help her hit the ground running (for all she TRIED running and set herself a bit back). Chiron not being story relevant until Atlantis also helps (and is a possible trauma point for the poor girl in the future) - lets me avoid the 'Double Servant in a story chapter' thing I'm largely looking to duck (Mo in Camelot continues to be a possible exception, to note). It also opens up further possible amusement in Okeanos.

That's also why I decided to have Fujimaru go too far in the break between chapters, both because it'd be something she'd do, and for just a little bit of allusion to Fiore, Chiron's master from Apoc.

Most of the other teachers are, sadly, story locked - Waver's in the next chapter, Sanzang in Camelot, etc etc. Reines was an option, and wouldn't Waver HATE HIS LIFE in Septem if he spotted his demonic little sister there, but I passed on that as I have other plans for Waver in Septem. Kichii Hogan danced across my mind for a bit, and that would lead to some interesting times in Babylonia with Ushi being there, but in the end, I decided on Chiron. That he's ALSO Greek certainly played a factor in my decision, though I don't intend for Chaldea to be largely Greek Servants just because Kratos is there. Her next Servant - I don't have clue ONE who it is, writing Septem will probably give me a better idea who she will next summon (who will be different from whomever may or may not tag along after Septem, on that, I've already decided) in the interlude, if she summons someone in the Septem-Okeanos interlude. But I don't INTEND for it to be someone else from Greek mythology - my damn muse being willing, of course.

I really did NOT have it planned that Avenger and Fujimaru would bond like this, but when I let all the characters off the chain last chapter, the chunni and my girl ended up getting along like two peas in a pod, so, here we are. Going to possibly really change Shinjuku, however, whenever we get to there.

Da Vinci gave JAlter an OG Game Boy because those things were LITERALLY impossible to destroy. I still remember the Nintendo Power story of the one that got caught in the fires during Desert Storm, and STILL FUCKING WORKED LIKE A BOSS. So it could tank JAlter getting frustrated when she loses.

Stalkers SUCKED to fight in Ragnarok, especially their bullshit almost ZERO windup back kick with the damn hooves. Fuck them in the eyes with an icepick.

Less Kratos than I had initially planned with this chapter, but it's Ritsuka's first actual summon, so she badgered me to let her bond with her new Servant. Planning for at least a sit down between the three (four?) teachers next chapter where they talk about their students some.

If I'm way off base in the Fujimaru family's specialty, let me know. Went over the families in the Type-Moon wiki to see if there was anything that horribly disproved it, but I didn't see anything.

Maybe one more chapter before Septem? Or two. Don't really have as strong of a plan for the next chapter as I did this and the two other interludes, so we'll see where it takes me.

This chapter brought to you by the Hell's Paradise Intro.

Chapter 23: Post-Orleans 4

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 23​

"Senpai…….why didn't you tell me you were going to try running?"

---

 

CHALDEA CAFETERIA​

It was late - the cafeteria was nearly deserted when Kratos entered it. He scanned the room, and was unsurprised to see the two men had already arrived, and were waiting on him.

"Kratos!" Cu waved his hand, grinning from ear to ear - and acting as though the room was more crowded than it actually was. Even then, he and the other man sitting at the table would have been distinctive, even were the room filled to capacity.

The wave and the shout were entirely unnecessary, but to ask Cu Chulainn to be otherwise would be like asking a fish not to swim.

Kratos settled into a chair at the table, exchanging a nod with the other man seated there. "It is good of you to join us, Kratos," said Chiron, the other man in question, his equine half hidden - as it had been for most of the week since the Servant had been summoned. "When I suggested we sit down from time to time and compare notes on how our various students were doing, you seemed hesitant to agree."

Kratos grunted. "Being a teacher……it is not new to me. My son, with Ragnarök approaching, had to be trained. But it is not something I have a vast amount of experience with." He laid his hands on the table. "And I made many mistakes with him. I wonder if I am not repeating those as I attempt to teach Mash."

"Hey, you've got more than me!" Cu smirked. "About all my experience comes from the other end - being put through my paces by my slavedriving witch of a Teacher day in and day out on the Isle of Shadows. And from that perspective, I think you're doing alright with the lass. She's soaking up what you have to teach her like a sponge."

"Regrets come part and parcel with being a teacher - any kind of teacher." Chiron sighed. "For all that I am lauded for my successes, it is the students who fell short - either by cruel fate, or their own shortcomings, that occupy my thoughts the most. Even those who achieved the greatest heights and ascended to the Throne……..for all their glory, their lives were so short."

"Achilles made his choice, same as I did." Cu rapped his knuckles on the table. "A short life, but an eventful one. And from what chatter I've had with the guy on the Throne, I think he'd make the same choice again, same as I would."

"Yes," Chiron's smile was fond. "Peleus' son is not one for looking back - only forward, to the endless horizon. An admirable trait, but one that makes him much more eager for a lesson of a more physical bent, rather than sitting still and hearing his teacher drone on."

Cu shook his head. "And on that somewhat melancholy note, what are the two of you drinking?" He waved his hand over an assortment of bottles. "I brought the good stuff for our first one of these little sit-downs - none of that pisswater in the cans. You'd be better off drinking those soda things, they'd at least taste better than that swill." His finger began darting around to the various containers. "I've got some Jack, some Jim Bean, something that Jay character claims is 'authentic New Zealand mead' - and if that isn't a weird combination - and a couple of wines recently liberated from a couple of Clock Tower Mages with a little too much fondness for gambling."

Chiron shook his head. "We are drinking your winnings, then, Caster?"

Cu laughed. "Only some of them!" He popped the cork from one of the bottles, and poured himself a generous amount. "Jay actually donated the weird New Zealand mead stuff. But the rest, yeah, you're spot on." He lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed deeply, with a contented sigh. "No proper Irish stuff, sadly, but hopefully we'll get a chance to visit my homelands before all of this is over. Then I can show you a REAL good time!"

Kratos selected one of the bottles of wine and poured himself a small amount. "On our journey to fulfill my wife's last request, my son and I discovered a great trove of items from across the world beneath Tyr's Temple." He held the glass up and inhaled the scent of the wine. Certainly more pleasant smelling than he had been expecting. "There, we found a bottle of Lemnian wine…….it was…..pleasant….to be able to share a bit of my homeland with my son."

He sipped at the wine. Acceptable, if a bit sweeter than what he had grown up with.

"Achilles grew fond of that wine over the course of the Trojan War," said Chiron. "He was apparently a frequent sight around the campfires of the Spartan soldiers there." He peered at Kratos. "I take it then, that you hail from that part of Greece?"

Kratos took another sip of his wine. "I was once a Spartan. Many, many lifetimes ago." Before Ares. Before years of mindless rage. Before Pandora's Box. Before Zeus. Before…..

Before many things.

Cu was already refilling his glass. "So, Chiron, how's it going with that spitfire of a Master you've got?"

Chiron seemed to be taking the more moderate approach that Kratos was, swirling his drink in his glass. "Well enough. She was able to get out of those braces today - the continual healing from being in them, and the handful of things I was able to do to help speed the mending of her legs seems to have worked - there was no permanent damage, thankfully. In a day or two she might not even need the crutches anymore." He smiled. "She and Mash are having a little celebration of their own, now."

---

 

RITSUKA FUJIMARU'S ROOM​

Fujimaru was frozen, Mash's question still echoing around the insides of her brain.

"Did……I do something wrong?" Mash's voice was quiet, and it was breaking Fujimaru's heart. "Or do you just not trust me……"

Shit. So we were having this conversation. Wonderful. Good job, me, what's next on your brilliant plan, going to go kick some puppies?

She turned to Mash, who was adorable in Fujimaru's borrowed PJs (because her innocent little kohai didn't have any, as she slept in the nude - who knew? Guess it really was always the quiet ones…..), scooped up Fou and handed Mash the animal.

"Here. Fuzz therapy until I can get my words straight." She flopped into a chair and thought…..really thought about what she was going to say.

"It wasn't about trust……not really," she began, carefully choosing her words. "Or you in particular, really. I just….." She sighed. "I was stupid, and some part of me KNEW I was pushing myself too fast, trying to do too much before I was ready. I got the riot act from Roman, Da Vinci, and Avenger for that……and Chiron gave me a pretty stern lecture about it as well - that one might have hurt more given he never even raised his voice."

(Recklessness has its place, my student - but never when you are safe and healing. In battle, if the choice is between your arm and your life, or your arm or the life of a comrade, the decision is easy. Similarly - and this is a lesson I have had to impart to more than a few of my students - there is a time when, even as much as it may chafe, you must sit still and do nothing but think of your well-being, for the future. Because there are always battles to come in lives like ours.)

Yeah, she'd had a bad few days, and all of it was entirely her fault. Thankfully, everyone involved seemed to think the issue was done with after they'd had their say, and weren't hanging it over her head - it was a welcome change.

Helped keep her from dwelling on it as had been her wont back home. Amazing what a difference that made.

(Having a supportive teacher also made a big difference.)

"But…….that's not really here nor there for what you're asking, Mashie." She hung her head. "I think on some level I knew I was doing something I shouldn't have been, and I knew you'd try to stop me. So I asked Avenger, since she seems to live and breathe 'fuck the rules, I do what I want', though I wasn't thinking that at the time. Because…..all I was really thinking about is how far behind I've fallen, and how you've grown so much since I last saw you."

She met Mash's eyes. "I mean, you climbed a giant skeleton and bashed its head in! You! Who was struggling against normal-sized skeletons not two weeks ago, and you rode a giant skeleton to the dirt and ground pounded its head into mush! That's like, so awesome!" Her eyes dropped to the floor. "And that's not even touching that you fought Heracles, some weird Archer, and King Arthur - we really need a better name for her since we know he's a she now - all in a row, and won, and that's before you got any training from the resident god and the feral but good-looking Celt around these parts! Don't make me start poking those proto-abs you've got going on again!"

(Mmmmmmm…….Mash tummy.)

Mash was blushing - any other time and she'd feel her heart going 'dawwwww' at the cuteness, but things were way too heavy for her to revel in embarrassed Mash. "I….it…..Senpai, I didn't do those things alone."

"No, you had help…….meanwhile, I was no help in Fuyuki, for all of the five minutes I was even upright." She held up a hand. "Yeah, I know, hardly my fault, or yours that an actual Servant got the better of someone who's barely a Mage, the Director, and a newly-minted Servant like you - we could have come out of that a lot worse. But that wasn't what I was thinking when I was telling myself I needed to do something to make up for all that time I spent sleeping. All I was thinking was how little I've managed to do so far compared to how much happened without me."

"So…..and I can't believe I'm saying this, but the issue here isn't you, it's me." First time saying that in her life and it wasn't even being used as a cliche way to hurry a breakup. She supposed normal had long since left the building that was her life. "My home life……wasn't great. You've heard Tanya rant about how rough it can be to not be the Heir - and that's from someone like her who can at least manage some decent Magecraft. It's about a million times worse when you're seen as barely better than a mundane, like I was."

She smiled a bitter smile. "I mean, why do you think I was so eager to sign up for some mysterious organization and fly halfway across the world to….wherever we are now? It certainly wasn't for the good chance of dying in the past like I almost did."

"Senpai…."

"Don't pity me, either. Yeah - I've got issues, issues I'm working on with my Horse Psychiatrist, because who knew that that was a field he had expertise in? Then again, given some of the headcases he trained, I guess it shouldn't be surprising. The stories he's told me about Jason….." She shook her head. "Getting off topic. Point is, while some of my issues aren't my fault, there's more than a few that are entirely of my own doing. And getting over those is one of the steps on my way to be a real hero……..or so my teacher says."

She looked up, and suddenly her world was white fuzz. She made garbled noises as she took the squirming Fou from Mash. "Fuzz therapy, Senpai. You looked like you needed it."

The hairs she was still spitting out were telling her to be annoyed with her kohai, but the grin on said kohai's face was too adorable for her to even consider the thought. That, and Fou's ears were just as soft as ever, and skritching was an excellent way to bleed off animosity. Devious little beast, and more devious little kohai.

Truly she was in a Den of Evil.

She felt….a little better, having gotten that off her back, and that meant she was about to ruin what had returned to a companionable air with her next words.

But Ritsuka Fujimaru was DONE running away from things, dammit.

"Mashie………are YOU ok?"

---

 

CHALDEA CAFETERIA​

"I swear, if I didn't know I was drinking with a centaur and an actual GOD, I'd think the two of you were lightweights," griped Cu, as he filled his glass again - Kratos had lost count of how many times the Irishman had needed to refresh his drink. Cu leveled a glare at the two of them - albeit a glare that lacked any form of anger. "If you two are waiting until I pass out so you can draw on my face or something, you'll be waiting a long-ass time. They haven't made a Servant or a god who can drink a Celt from the Ulster cycle under the table."

"I never cared much for drink, Caster," said Chiron, rather mildly all things considered. "Or, at least, I never had the love of it that the rest of my kind did. It was yet another thing that set me apart from my brethren - beyond the circumstances of my parentage and my immortality, of course. But I was always much more controlled, where they were wild with abandon in all the aspects of their lives. Not that there was anything wrong in living that way……it was simply not my path."

He smirked - a sly grin that spoke of mischief. "However, we would need much more than this paltry amount of spirits to affect me - as Achilles and Heracles both learned, to their dismay the mornings following their attempts to out-drink their teacher."

Kratos took a small sip of his wine - still nursing the first glass he had served himself. "The Lemnian Wine I partook of with my son was the first spirits I had drunk in…….many, many years." He closed his eyes, and he could almost see it, feel it….. "After I left Greece, I lived a simple life with my wife in the woods where our cabin stood, and contact with others was…….not even infrequent, it simply did not happen." That changed with Faye's death and the shattering of the Protection Stave that had encircled their land - all by her design.

"We drank water from the river, or juices made from the crops we grew, or foraged from the forest. But spirits….." He shook his head. "Neither of us had the knowledge, or the resources to devote to such things."

Wine, and other, stronger drinks had been a frequent companion in his younger days - both before and after his pact with Ares. Looking back on it, it was no shock that he felt very little desire to indulge, even among allies as he was here.

"Bah," scoffed Cu. "No fun at all, either of you. I was raised drinking harder stuff than this - and I don't think my Teacher HAD anything that didn't pack a mule's kick in her home. Probably another form of 'training' for her - damn old hag." Despite his words, his smile was fond. He leaned back in his chair, limbs sprawling out. "So if we're not going to proper drink, then I guess we tell stories."

Chiron set his glass on the table. "If you would not mind, Kratos, I would hear of your meeting with the Jason of your world."

Kratos grunted. "I met Jason when I was seeking the Sisters of Fate. Zeus had betrayed me, and Gaia claimed they possessed a way for me to avenge myself upon him. When I arrived at their island, there were many others there, seeking the Fates, as I was."

Theseus, Icarus, Atlas, to name a few. And the last Spartan…..the only survivor of the retribution that had been unleashed upon his home for his actions.

"When I came across him, Jason was already mortally wounded - he had fallen in combat with a Mole Cereberus," Cu was clearly mouthing 'the hell is a MOLE Cerberus?', but Kratos ignored him. "I slew the beast, but he was not long for the world. Before he passed, he told me he was seeking the Sisters of Fate to undo his parting with Medea and his children."

Chiron was shaking his head sadly. "Foolish boy, to make the same mistakes in two worlds. At least he died trying to fix them, rather than being killed after a life of regret by his own ship."

"Wait a second - Kratos didn't say 'fix', he said 'undo'." Cu was staring at him. "Don't tell me the Fates of your world could travel in time?"

"The threads of Fate spanned all life and time. Should they choose to, the Fates could undo any event in the past at their whim." A touch of a growl entered his voice. "Had they chosen to use their powers responsibly, perhaps my homeland would have been a better place. But they abused their power - I know not how many events they affected for their own inscrutable purposes. Or how many people they simply erased from history."

"Erased……as in gone……?" There was not even a hint of playfulness or mirth on Cu Chulainn's face - he looked as shaken as Kratos had ever seen him. "Like, not turned into ash like all of Humanity outside of these walls, but just……wiped away without even a trace of having ever existed?"

Kratos scowled. "They threatened me with that very thing when I finally found them. To undo my existence. I was forced to kill them in self-defense."

Chiron too, looked like he could not believe what he was hearing. "And then, I expect, you turned their own powers to your own purposes - to settle your debt with Zeus."

"Yes. It was reckless and ill-conceived……..but I was blinded by my need for revenge. It had consequences I could never have considered - not that I would have cared had I known what they would be." Greece, ruined, possibly forever. Is it any wonder that, by the time Faye found him in the woods that would become his home, he was little more than a rabid animal?

Cu was shaking his head in disbelief. "Kratos, whatever you do, don't die while you're around these parts. Pretty sure the Throne would snatch you up in an instant for pulling a stunt like that, even if you weren't what you are."

Kratos gave a small snort. "I have no intention of dying before Humanity is restored, and I am able to return to my son."

Chiron's drink had been set aside, and he leaned forward with interest. "Your son - I take it you trained him in the same fashion you are training Mash?" A nod. "If I may inquire - from what little I saw of Spartan training from this world, it seems less harsh than I would have expected."

"I am not training Mash as I was - as I did not train my son that way either." He settled back in his chair. "The way I was trained was cruel……..while I believe flaws in myself led to the decisions of my younger days that I regret, I cannot shake the feeling that being brought up in a crucible such as the agoge may not have caused some of those flaws. Or amplified them in myself and others." He frowned. "While the skills I learned there have kept me alive all these years, teaching Atreus or Mash in that manner would destroy them."

Chiron was nodding his head. "Ah, the Nature vs Nurture debate." At Kratos' questioning look, he elaborated. "A philosophical debate that has spilled into psychology - the science of the mind in these modern days. The question being that is what makes up a person set in stone from the moment of their birth, or does the environment they are raised in determine it? Or, is it parts of both that make a person who and what they are, and how much?" He shrugged. "Truly, it is akin to some of the Zen riddles Sanzang is so fond of, questions without any true answer."

He picked his glass back up, but did not bring it to his lips. "For whatever it may be worth, from one teacher to another, I feel you have done the right thing. Training Mash as a Spartan warrior would be ill-advised. The girl, I feel, would endure the training to its bitter end, as she is terrified of failing - yourself, Chaldea, her Doctor Romani, her Master, truly, it does not matter, as she largely defines herself by the people around her - at least those she admires and values. But the person that would emerge from that training would not be Mash any longer."

"On that subject," began Cu. "Has she talked to you about whatever's bothering her since our last fight in France?"

---

 

QUARTERS OF RITSUKA FUJIMARU​

The door to her room slid open, and Avenger tromped in, arms laded with a handful of boxes and bags, a bowl, and several canned drinks that appeared to be secured with duct tape, of all things.

"I brought snacks, Tanya recommended something called 'Pock-eyy' that's pretty damn tasty and….." She blinked, noticing how Mash and Fujimaru were staring at each other. "Oh fuck, what'd I interrupt?"

"I asked Mash if she's ok."

"Oh. WONDERFUL." Avenger dropped her bundle onto the table then flopped into a chair. "Guess we're not tip-toeing around it anymore."

"Senpai, I'm fine, really." And she sounded like she honestly believed that, too.

Fujimaru gave her kohai a sad little smile. "No, Mashie, you're not." She reached out and wiped some of the concealing makeup from beneath Mash's eyes, revealing the dark bags beneath them. "Not even going to ASK where you learned that trick from - if I find out one of the people on ice was hurting you and you learned to hide bruises because of that, I can't promise I won't contemplate murder. Before committing it."

Avenger was muttering something along the lines of 'be next in line behind you, Red.'

"But it's clear you're not sleeping well, and haven't been since you got back from France. And there's only one dark area of that whole mess in the reports." She reached out and took Mash's hands in hers. "I've been about as patient as I can be, Mash…….and if I'm going to be different……better," she said with a roll of her eyes. "than the person I was back in Tokyo, I can't run away from this. My kohai's hurting, and you don't seem to be getting better, for all that you're hiding it well."

There was a long stretch of silence. "I won't push you more than this, Mashie…….if you tell me you really need some more time, I'll give it to you. But I'm worried about you - we all are, aren't we Avenger?"

Avenger sniffed. "I'd just like to not have to walk on eggshells around you, is all. I pretty well know where I stand with everyone else - well, everyone who matters, but after I almost made you cry when you were showing me around this place, I ain't so sure. Nothing more than that." Suuuuure, Avenger. And she was the reincarnation of Isami Kondo. "But the big lug's been fretting over you as much as he frets over anyone. Even the snake's been dropping her glacier act some to worry in your general direction."

"Maybe……just telling us what happened might help, Mash," said Fujimaru with a shrug. "I haven't really had friends to help with this kind of thing before, but…….that's somewhere to start, if you feel up to it."

Mash reached for Fou and hugged him to her chest, eyes closed. Then she sighed, and began to speak. "It was just so……terrifying. Being in the ruined command room, waking up in that burning city…..they were scary, but……I was so hurt that the first is like…..almost like a bad dream, until you show up, Senpai."

Fujimaru couldn't help it, she blushed.

"Once I found you in Fuyuki, and we linked up with the Director……the fear took a backseat to protecting the two of you. I had a job….a mission and focusing on it helped me push the fear away. Even when that Assassin hurt you, Senpai, Mr. Kratos and Cu showed up so quickly and then you weren't in immediate danger anymore - at least no more immediate danger than any of the rest of us. And I had them for the rest of the fights in that city…….it's hard to be scared when Mr. Kratos is by your side."

"Yeah, you're spittin' fact, Squeaks," Avenger cracked open one of the soda cans, bits of duct tape still clinging to it. "We walked right into Castle fucking Dracula in the middle of the fucking night, which under different circumstances I'd have thought was about one of the stupidest plans I'd ever heard, but when you're rolling with an actual god by your side……..it makes the impossible seem almost doable."

"But I didn't have Mr. Kratos when I was fighting that Berserker. At first, it was just me, and I could tell I didn't stand a chance. But……he wasn't really trying to kill me. Not all the time, I mean."

Fujimaru felt her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean, not all the time?"

Avenger had started on the Pocky. "Baldur put him under a Command Seal of some kind - we all saw it flickering over him when he pulled his Mashnapping,"

"Yes. He'd fight………not half-heartedly, because he could have still killed me if I'd made a mistake, but he wasn't putting his all into it. But always after a little while of that, the red would wash over him and he'd suddenly redouble his efforts…….I don't remember much of that, I was so blind with panic to hold him off until someone came to help me." Fou was still being crushed to Mash's chest, her nose in his fur. "Medusa showed up and we fought him off for a little, but….."

Fujimaru nodded. "That much I know - the generators couldn't manage both her and Cu in the field, so she had to come home so Cu could go in." Her tone turned grim. "Which left you all by your lonesome, again. And that's where the big 'redacted' is written all over the report from the last Singularity."

Mash set Fou down, and reached for a soda can with trembling hands. Fujimaru reached down and popped the tab, and handed it to her kohai, who took it with a nodded thanks, then drank deeply from it. "He……..pulled out a sword once Medusa vanished - this wasn't some weapon he'd picked up from somewhere and……changed, like he could do to other things he touched. This sword felt like the Excalibur the corrupted King Arthur had, or Kratos' axe or spear, or Siegfried's Balmung, or….."

"You're babbling, Squeaks." Avenger tossed a chip to Fou, who had wandered onto the center of the table and was giving the various bags and boxes of snacks a good sniff. "But I'm guessing if he whipped a weapon out that was on the same level as grumps' two toys, that meant playtime was over?"

"Yes," Mash was crinkling the soda can in her hands. "He….was better than Saber was, as a swordsman. She was just using her Mana Burst to fly around the room and overpower us. He was using pure skill to get around my shield, to come at me from every direction he could, to try to kill me. Not that she wasn't skilled, but……"

"How are you still alive?" Avenger was using a stick of pocky to gesture with, jabbing the air with it. "You're not bad, but what you're describing sounds like it's WAAAAAAY out of your league. Sort of like how Charlie ended up being out of mine…….by the time it was all said and done, I thought my best-case would be killing him while he killed me."

Her grimace grew in intensity, and no one needed elaboration on why that was. Avenger's growing worry that God was keeping an eye on her was well known by most of Chaldea at this point.

"I don't know," said Mash. "He could have killed me at one point, but just….slapped me across the face with the flat of his sword……like…."

Fujimaru finished her sentence for her. "Like we've all seen Cu or Kratos do to you when they're training you. Or like the other night, when they were fighting just to fight, and Kratos whacked Cu out of the air with his axe, instead of cutting him in two, like he could have." Ok, she needed some sugar to kick-start her brain. A good swig of some Pepsi and her throat was wet and she could feel her neurons firing with a shot of that sweet sweet combination of sugar and caffeine. "You don't think he was……training you?"

"I really don't know. I don't know anything, even who that knight was….." Mash chewed at her bottom lip. "But……he felt familiar."

Avenger was leaning forward in her seat. "That's the Servant inside you talking, I take, whoever the fuck that is?"

"I…..think so. I mean, it has to be." Mash's cheeks were puffed out in indignation. "Until two weeks ago, I'd never even seen a Servant before……I just wish I knew more about whoever this is."

[I'm still thinking. I know it might be a little rich coming from me, girl, but give me some time here.]

"Whoever it is, though, they don't feel as…….distant, as they once did."

Math might have not been Fujimaru's best subject, but she could put two and two together as well as the next girl. "And that probably has something to do with your new sword."

Mash held out her hand, and the sword in question popped into being, still sheathed. ".......the Berserker, after he slapped me with his sword, had the Command Seal reassert itself. Kratos made it there before he could attack, and we fought the Servant off together, for a little bit." She swallowed. "Right up until the Black Knight tried to steal Kratos' blades."

Mash was met by a pair of confused looks. Avenger was the first to ask the question on both of their minds. "Maybe I'm missing something, but…….and?"

Mash was shaking her head. "Neither of you were there for it…..I mean, Senpai, you were, but you were in a coma and……" She laughed. "I'm babbling again." She took another sip of her drink, and calmed her breathing. "Kratos didn't have those blades when he showed up in Fuyuki. They followed him here."

You could hear a pin drop - or, more correctly, a certain creature that had stuck its head in a potato chip bag and was rustling about for scraps.

Fujimaru's mouth was very, very dry, and she didn't think even the rest of her soda would fix that. "Followed him………like………from HIS world?"

Mash nodded. "One night, alarms started blaring…….Da Vinci told me it was the Summoning Chamber, that something was wrong. When we got there……..something activated the room without authorization…….and then we saw something tear a hole between worlds, and his blades fell out of it."

"And…..just so I'm certain, this doesn't have anything to do with that Zeltretch guy I've heard my parents mention before?" She didn't think so, but it never hurt to be certain.

"No. It's some sort of curse……..he says the Blades are bound to him, that he can't be apart from them, even if he wants to." Mash bowed her head. "I really can't say more……..he told a few of us in confidence, and even then…….." She shook her head. "I don't want to betray his trust in this."

Fujimaru reached out and patted her kohai on the head - degenerate headpats. "It's ok, Mashie. I understand. Kratos doesn't really know me from Eve right now, and Avenger well…."

She laughed. "Yeah, he'd trade me for just about any of the other Servants he had to work with from France in a heartbeat. Even the Pink Terror, I think. Might even pay them to take me."

Fujimaru cracked a smile. "So don't worry about it, Mashie, I'm not going to hold it against you for keeping his secrets for him - just like I'd hope he would do the same if our positions were reversed." Not that Mash KNEW any of her secrets, but it was the principle of the thing. "But to get back to what we were talking about, if those things really are tied to him by a curse strong enough to drag them across worlds, then I think I can guess that someone, even a Servant, trying to steal them would go badly for them."

"......they burnt his arms off, all the way to the elbows." Mash shivered. "He was in so much pain……..and then, I saw this sword lying in front of me." Mash was almost visibly shrinking into herself. "I…..I picked it up before I even knew what I was doing, and…..it felt like it'd been made for my hands. And then…….I put him out of his misery." Her voice was a whisper. "I stabbed him in the heart."

Tears were leaking from Mash's eyes, and Avenger was alternately staring at Fujimaru and Fujimaru's kohai with a look that was getting increasingly panicked. 'Do something about this!', the look screamed, 'Because I'm shit at this!'.

Like she was any better! She was always the one BEING comforted, at least until she learned to bottle things up long enough to break down in private. Still, she couldn't just let her kohai crumble in front of her and not do SOMETHING.

Once more into the breach, she supposed.

Gently, carefully, she stood up and put her arms around Mash, not tightly, but firmly enough to let the girl know she was there. That seemed to really open the floodgates, and Mash began to ugly cry, clinging to Fujimaru.

"I….I don't even know why it's affecting me like this…." she said, between hiccuping sobs. "He was trying to kill me…….and I was terrified every second I was fighting him, so why……why…..?"

"Was that your first kill, Mash?"

Mash looked up at Avenger through a tear-stained face, and a nose leaking snot. "No…..I killed skeletons in Fuyuki, and Dead and Wyverns in France, I…."

"So it was your first human kill, then." Avenger nodded. "I stole Carmilla from you, you were scrapping with her when I butted in. Me and 'me' got Dracula, and you didn't get one of his Brides. Everyone else in Orleans was accounted for by the rest of our crew. And Wyverns and undead aren't really people……..killing a person, it's…..." She heaved a breath, and drew her knees up to her chest. "They say it gets easier……..but it was never hard for me, but I was just some murder doll Gilles cooked up and turned loose on France, doped up on a diet of grudges and revenge. I never even thought what I was doing was wrong, given what I thought France did to me."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Only France never did shit to me. And I think of all the people I killed and I wonder if they're going to be waiting on me whenever I check out." She shook her head. "It would be the perfect way to end the joke of my little story."

Sanson's face - and the righteous anger on it - was an image she couldn't get out of her head.

She reached out to Mash, her (human) fist lightly bonking the girl on the head, before her hand opened and she awkwardly ruffled the girl's hair. "Squeaks, don't even let yourself get any more used to this shit. You don't want to end up like me. And dollars to fucking doughnuts that big grump would tell you the same thing."

"Have you talked to him about this?" asked Fujimaru. "He was right there for it, and…..yeah, Avenger's not wrong when she says he's probably seen some things in his time. He……well, he's not really good at this talking thing, but he might have some advice." She managed to keep a straight face while saying that, which, to her, was an accomplishment. Still, she did sort of believe her words. The advice Mash might get would be gruff as a grizzled mountain man, but it would be well-meaning, if nothing else.

Mash's sniffles were beginning to subside. "No. He promised to listen when I did, but……I just haven't been able to. I wanted to get everything straight in my head, first, but….."

"None of it is making sense, is it?" Mash nodded, and Fujimaru rubbed her kohai's back in slow, comforting circles. "I don't think it will, Mashie, not until you know who your mystery Servant is."

"I just……." A sniffle. ".....it's like I don't even know where I begin and they end sometimes……"

"Preachin' to the choir, Squeaks, if there was any choir that would take me." Avenger's head was resting on her knees. "At least you probably don't look like the Servant you're sharing headspace with. I get to look like 'me' for the rest of eternity and constantly have other Servants mistaking me for her. It sucks for all of us, honestly, you, 'me', and me. We all got a raw deal. Maybe even for that jackass inside of you - not like he asked to be stapled to you like that, either."

Can't let that downer of a line linger. "Are you feeling any better, Mashie?"

Mash was wiping at her eyes. "I think so, yes. It feels better to not have all that bottled up anymore." Avenger, of all people, produced a handkerchief and handed it to Mash, who noisily blew her nose with it.

"Anytime you need to talk, Mashie, we're here." She debated it for an endless second in her mind, and then said to hell with it. "We're…..friends, right?"

Mash's eyes were bright. "Of course we are, Senpai!"

Ok, that's it, her resistance couldn't hold up in the face of adorable Kohai like that. Time to hug the Mash again. "Avenger, get your butt in here!"

"Not happening. Hugs ain't my thin……ACK!" Mash quickly cut the Avengerian Knot by simply yanking the stubborn Servant over to where she was quickly enveloped by their arms.

---

 

CHALDEA CAFETERIA​

Kratos shook his head. "No. I continue to wait for her to be ready to speak of it……but each day that passes leaves me to wonder if I should not simply ask her."

"Would be much more what I would do rather than wait, but well," Cu shrugged. "Never had much patience when I was alive, and things didn't change much when I got to the Throne."

He reached for the bottle and frowned when he felt how light it was. He still poured the remains into his glass. "So, Kratos, what's your thoughts on the other Master we have?"

---

 

KRATOS' CHAMBERS

THE PREVIOUS EVENING​

The chime at his door was unexpected. Only Da Vinci had set foot on his doorstep, once and only once - and the circumstances of that had been…..unique.

Still, the rules of hospitality required he answer the knock.

The door slid open, and there, standing in the frame, was the girl. Fujimaru.

"Hey," She was meeting his gaze firmly, trying desperately not to shrink in on herself, and doing a passable job of it. "Mind if we talk for a second? I'll try to make this quick, I figure you're tired after running Mashie ragged……if you even get tired."

Kratos stepped aside, a curt jerk of his head indicating she should enter - which she did, hobbling into his quarters.

"Mind if I sit? Doctor's orders are that I try to stay off my legs if at all possible."

He pulled a chair from the table and slid it across the floor to her, which she wasted no time collapsing into. He remained standing, as she quickly glanced around the room. "I guess I was expecting more furs or something, but it's not really like you brought anything with you other than the clothes on your back and your arsenal, so……"

"Fujimaru," His use of her name caused her to startle. "What do you want of me?"

"Sorry, babbling. Nervous here. I'll get to the point." She drew herself up in her chair. "Tomorrow I'll be having my legs looked at by Roman, and from what Chiron tells me in the informal checkups he's been doing on me, I'll probably get these braces off - so assuming I don't mess myself up again, I'll be cleared for active duty……which means the next Singularity, when we find it."

She bit back a sigh. "Which means I need to figure out what you're expecting from me when the boots hit the ground." She looked up at him. "I'm assuming it's largely to follow your lead, keep in the back, since, puny human here, and keep an eye on Mashie and Chiron, since they're my Servants."

"You would be correct." While Kratos was still conflicted about acting in the role of a general again, he would do so to the best of his ability, regardless of how it had been thrust upon his shoulders.

"Ok. I just wanted to say I'm fine with that." Kratos gave a grunt of approval, though one that was quickly cut off by her next words. "......for now."

She continued talking, almost desperately trying to get the words out. "Chaldea can't…….no." She shook her head. "I can't just expect you to take the lead and do everything in this……that's…..that's too much like how I was before I came here. Just drifting along and never really trying with my life. And what kind of place does that leave us in the event that, somehow, someway, you get banged up or even killed…..though I'd imagine you'd take a lot of killing to put down. I don't think you want me to be incapable of acting on my own if I have to."

He couldn't help but agree. "No. That would be…..inadvisable."

"Right? I know I'm much less likely to make it through this thing than you are since, well, you big strong god, me weak little mortal, but you never know." She shivered. "I came pretty close to cashing in once already - and while it doesn't sound like you had any real close calls in France, I don't expect things are going to get any easier."

She took a deep breath. "So……for now, I'm fine following orders - hell, I think I'll always be fine following your orders because you've obviously got more experience doing this sort of thing in your pinky than I do in my entire body. But I don't want to be……no. I won't be just a bystander like I've let myself be all my life."

She sat up straight. "I'm going to get better, until I'm capable of being a Master that can stand on my own - right beside a dang god."

She flushed, and began rapidly deflating. "So…….any help you can give me on that front, would be appreciated. Because when this is all over, you're going to go home, and I don't think you'd want to leave things in the hands of a complete screw up like I am now."

---

 

CHALDEA CAFETERIA
​

"She is…..brave, in her own way." Kratos found himself in need of a small swallow of wine. "We have spoken little as of yet. And her speech is…..at times, incomprehensible." Perhaps that is why she got along so well with Avenger. "But she seems eager to better herself."

"On that, I cannot help but agree," said Chiron. "As a teacher, it is always a joy to have a student who is hungry to learn, and she is nothing if not that. Were there more hours in the day that I could spend teaching her……"

Kratos considered his words before speaking. "She has asked that I impart what aid I can during the campaigns. She is your student, I would not…"

Chiron waved his hand through the air. "Do not worry yourself - she needs the help." He laughed. "We all do, in truth. We sit here, two legendary heroes, and a living god, and still, the task that sits before us seems almost insurmountable, despite the great deeds we have to our names. And for a girl like her……no. I will gladly accept any help you can give her."

He considered for a moment. "Once her legs are more stable, I was thinking to begin working on teaching her to dodge. It is very unlikely she will ever be able to stand up to a Servant on her own, and we do not know when the good Doctor will locate the next Singularity. I would have her be capable of avoiding damage before that - learning how to defend herself can come later."

Cu was shaking his head. "It's not as unheard of as you might think, a human being able to go toe-to-toe with a Servant, at least not in my experience." Cu's frown grew deep. "The Master who summoned me for that aborted Holy Grail War where Kratos picked me up was a Seal Designation Enforcer - and a mean one at that, with a really nasty trick up her sleeve. She could have given a Servant a damn bloody nose, at the very least. Or so the guy who stole me from her said."

There was an ugly look in Cu's eyes. "And Kirei, bastard that he was, was still an Executor. Getting up there in years but he could still throw down. Don't know if he could have managed against a normal Servant, but he'd have made them work for it." Cu barked a bitter laugh. "Shame that he ran up against that corrupted Saber who blew through all his tricks and schemes without even blinking. Served him right. I only wish it could have been me who got to off him, but by that time I was halfway across the city, with every Command Seal Kirei could throw at me telling me to keep my head down and survive as long as possible."

"Still, it will be months, if not years of grueling effort for her to achieve the heights your former Master - and the thief who took you from her, reached." He shrugged. "And she is much more valuable than a mere Master in a Holy Grail War, all things considered."

"No, you aren't wrong about that," said Cu. "Best we do everything we can to keep the little lady alive - and that means teaching her to duck. When she's ready for a good workout, bring her by in the evenings, between the three of us, we can probably get her ready. And I know it'd be nice to have your help with the little eggplant."

"Agreed." Even were he training his son and not Mash, he would still welcome the aid of the legendary teacher of his homeland, never mind that this Chiron was from this strange world and not his own.

"Then, a toast." Chiron raised his glass. "To the beginning of a fruitful relationship, for both ourselves, and our students."

---

CHALDEA COMMAND CENTER​

Doctor Romani Archaman blew out a long breath. Nothing. Still nothing. He had thought the Sengoku period - with as turbulent as it had been, would have been a prime location for a Singularity, but…….nada. Not even a trace of unusual activity. Two days wasted.

He lowered his head to the surface of his desk, resisting the urge to bang his skull against the metal.

How long he just laid his head on the cool metal, he wasn't sure, but he was brought out of his self-recriminating spiral by the sweet smell of the ambrosia that was coffee.

He began to raise his head, hands already reaching for the cup. "Da Vinci, you're a lifesaver….." His voice trailed off as he realized it wasn't Da Vinci he was addressing at all.

The lines around Medusa's brows crinkled as he realized his mistake. "Medusa, I'm sorry. I just…..it's usually our resident genius who brings me coffee. Not that I mind the delivery, but……"

"Why am I here?" She shrugged. "Mash, Fujimaru, and Avenger are all having themselves a little celebration for the girl getting her legs out of those contraptions of Da Vinci's. And the three teachers are having their own little gathering. I find myself a bit……out of sorts, this evening, with little desire to read, and so I decided to check in here, and brought gifts along with my presence." She tilted her head. "How goes the search for the next Singularity?"

Romani groaned, wrapping his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth of the beverage seeping into his fingers. "No better than it has since we resolved France. The Sengoku period of Japan looked so promising, but……..nothing." He shook his head. "Less than nothing, even. Not even a hint of a trail."

"Sengoku……." Medusa pursed her lips. "That would be what is referred to as the 'Warring States' period of Japan?" Romani nodded, taking a long sip of his coffee. "It sounds…..messy. Chaotic. For some reason, I feel like I am glad we are not having to venture there."

"True. The first two Singularities were all centered around wars - the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki, for all that was a small, local thing, and the Hundred Years War of France. So we've been largely checking other war-ridden periods of human history - and Sengoku, being over a century of almost continuous warfare, seemed like an ideal time period for our enemies to stir up trouble, but……" He shook his head sadly. "I guess it's TOO obvious - if they only picked times of mass bloodshed, it would be far too easy to find them."

"And our enemies are not stupid," said Medusa, settling down into a chair. "Even their plan in France, for all that it did not work out as they expected, at least gained them some more information on Kratos than they already had. And, if we did not have Cu Chulainn, we would have been hard-pressed to defeat Baldur. It was a narrower victory than it appears."

"And Lev wasn't even there in person when we arrived." A current of deep, deep….not even anger, but rage churned in Romani's gut. "Sooner or later - and I'll bet it's sooner, we're going to see him again." Hopefully Kratos would be able to bring him back alive - because he had questions, many, many questions for the traitor - but he wouldn't lose any sleep if it had to be dead, in the end, for Lev Lainur.

As much information as he could probably squeeze out of the man, he was far, far too dangerous to be allowed to run around freely. He knew enough about Chaldea to cripple them, if he was so inclined. Da Vinci was running herself ragged, updating their systems and looking for any backdoors the man might have left in the base before he attempted to blow it to kingdom come.

"So what have you eliminated?" He peered at her. "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes - for all that mine are hidden - can provide a new perspective."

"There was a…..trace, or a thread, or a path, or whatever you want to call it, that led from Fuyuki to France. It was just a matter of following it through the jumble of time - that's why we found France so quickly." He frowned over his mug of coffee. "I'd almost think we were led to it, if I was a more suspicious man."

"Quite possible," said Medusa. "That Lev certainly took pains to intervene in what was already an interference by them and theirs - Avenger was clear that they gave the Servant Gilles the Holy Grail that began the Singularity itself. His failure in Fuyuki - or Kratos himself - seems to have gotten under his skin."

"Hopefully you're right, and it makes him stupid enough to make a mistake. He's got quite a debt to pay." So many dead - and they, unlike the uncounted masses of humanity, wouldn't be brought back with the resolution of the Singularities. "But France didn't have any such traces left behind. Lev must have visited Baldur only briefly, or took pains to hide his tracks. Or both."

He set his mug down. "So, once everything calmed down with the whole mess around Fujimaru, we started checking some really turbulent times. We started with the two World Wars, because, well, just look at the name. WORLD-WARS! But there was nothing there. Next was the Three Kingdoms period of China, which was equally barren for anything resembling Singularities. We then moved on to the Sengoku period, which is where you find me tonight."

His fingers played about the lip of his cup. "For a second, it looked like there might have been something there, some weird particles or something, but then on a second look, nothing. Must have just been an error with the scans. Nothing else popped up in the two days we went over that era with a fine-toothed comb."

"Hmmmm…." Her fingers drummed on the surface of the desk. "Certainly some of the more violent periods of human history - but no signs of our enemies there. I don't disagree that periods of sustained conflict are good places to look, but it does seem a bit…..too simple of a thought process."

Romani shook his head. "I'm starting to come around to that way of thinking myself. Next was going to be the Crusades, but I think I'm going to pivot to something else. Just not entirely sure what."

"I suppose it would be far too fortunate to find that they seeded a Singularity into the Greek era - as there are plenty of ways one could have destabilized the city-states of that time enough to cause history to derail." She smiled. "With two Greek Servants and a Greek god - though not one of this world, the boost we would get from the land itself would be considerable."

Romani was typing something into his computer. "That would be entirely too lucky for……" He paused. "Well, would you look at that?"

---

DA VINCI'S WORKSHOP

THE NEXT DAY​

"Romani has found a trail, then?"

Kratos sat at the table, watching as Da Vinci continued to tinker with his shield - she was as yet unsatisfied with the performance of the protective field she had added to it, and continued to modify some of the minute bits within on a daily basis.

"It's too faint to even be called a trail, really," she said, eyes never leaving the sparking tool in her hands as it touched the metallic components she had installed within his shield. "Just a few lingering traces - the same sort of thing that we found in the wake of the Fuyuki Singularity's collapse. But these are even more scattered - Roman's got no clear direction to go in, so it's a coin flip - forwards or backwards." A bright spark illuminated her eyes behind the darkened visor she wore. "Or it would be if it wasn't already so far in the past that it'd be a struggle for our systems to push any farther into the past with any sort of accuracy. So forward it is."

Kratos wracked his brain for the scraps of history he had learned from Da Vinci - even now, approaching a month in this world, he still knew only fragments of the history of this place, an unavoidable issue when covering millenia. The earliest period of time they had covered had been….. "Do you mean…." he began.

"Yup," her lips smacked the p in that word audibly. "He found the traces in the Classical Greek era - what would translate to the period of your birth and life in your world, at least while you were in Greece." She shrugged. "And maybe currently, for you, since you don't really know how long passed between you leaving Greece and you arriving in your Midgard."

Greece. For a moment, he was hit with a longing so intense he was forced to dig the nails of his fingers into his palms in order to keep his thoughts straight. For all that it would not be HIS Greece, to see it again…… "But the traces do not suggest a Singularity is there."

"Unfortunately, no," Her frown turned aggrieved. "And you can't believe how much we were hoping otherwise when we found those fragments, too. The home ground boost we'd get for Medusa and Chiron there would be considerable - and who knows what it would do for you, if what you've told me of how magic worked in your world, being tied to the land. Probably nothing, given it's not your Greece, but you have to admit, the idea of having an easy Singularity with a Super-Kratos tearing through it is a nice one."

She chuckled, and he found a small smile gracing his lips. "But sadly, it's not to be. Roman's moving forward in time, because any further back and we start brushing up against the Age of the Gods, and the mana density there………our instruments just can't handle that. And we have no idea how a modern day human like Fujimaru would take it, either. If Roman doesn't find anything in the next few hundred years, we'll have to put a pin in that one until later. If nothing else, we'll certainly be able to locate the Singularity if it's back farther than the Classical Greece, but going there……"

She shrugged. "That'll be out of the question until we can procure a few more Grails, at the very least. And I craft up something that will help Fujimaru withstand the mana density - though that should be trivial enough for a genius like me."

"Forward would be…….Rome?"

"Always nice to be reminded what an attentive student you are, Kratos." She nodded. "You're correct, forward is Rome, the empire that took over where Greece left off after it lost most of its power. A millennium and more of Rome."

One last spark, and she laid her tool aside, and closed his shield back up. "Even if Roman chooses to work at it from both ends, half the team looking at the Fall, and the other half the Rise, it'll take a considerable amount of time to scour all of it for a Singularity. And that assumes it's Rome itself, and not one of its neighbors - or neighbors who became vassal states - where Lev has decided to cause trouble. A constantly expanding empire like Rome had plenty of places for that. Carthage, Egypt, Gaul, Britannia, Hispania - any of them could hide what we're looking for."

"Then we must see that we are prepared, when the campaign is ready to begin."

---

 

QUARTERS OF MASH KYRIELIGHT​

Mash fidgeted in her seat, unsure of what to say now that the moment was upon her. She'd made to start talking a few times now, only to have her voice fail her each time.

"Mash," his voice, unusually quiet, breaks her from her mind's frantic search for what to say. "You have been distracted all day - your attempts to teach myself and Avenger saw little success for it. Speak what is on your mind - I believe I am aware of what it is."

He turned to the side. "Why YOU are here, I do not know."

"Moral support, grumps," Avenger was sprawled in a chair across the room, idly toying with that gray box again. "Squeaks is going through some of the same things I'm going through about her identity, so I'm here to pick up the slack in that area. And because Red is tied up with her Servant and can't be here right now."

"Ok…….I'm…..I'm just going to come out with it, then," Mash's hands knotted together, and her fingers began to fidget with nervous energy. "Senpai and Avenger already know but……I've not been doing particularly well since the end of the Singularity…….." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Since I killed that Berserker."

"I've been trying to sort everything out in my head before I talked about it, but….." She gave a sheepish little shrug. "Senpai noticed that I haven't been sleeping well, and she got me to open up about it…..and it helped. But…..she - and Avenger too - said I should also talk to you about it…..to see if you had any advice that would help."

Kratos thought for a long moment. "My son was younger than you when he was forced to kill another human." Barely three years ago, and yet it seemed almost a lifetime ago. "It was at the start of our journey to lay my wife's ashes to rest. We were trapped - surrounded by Reavers. Men, but barely that. Cannibals, ones who spoke of cutting the flesh from our bones while we still lived to eat it."

Mash looked like she was turning a shade of green. Avenger, on the other hand, looked enthralled. "I told Atreus to stand back - to kill Draugr or animals in the hunt is very different than taking the life of a man. But they were many, and one attempted to harm my son - in desperation, he was forced to kill him."

Kratos looked Mash in the eyes. "He was much as you are now, torn, unsure about his actions. At the time, I told him to close his heart to it. It was only later, during Ragnarök that I realized my words were wrong. Wrong for Atreus, at least. And I feel they would be wrong for you as well, Mash Kyrielight."

Two quizzical expressions met his eyes. "I was trained…..brutally. Taught to not think of the enemy as anything other than an obstacle to overcome. And….to a point, I agree with such. In combat, you cannot be distracted by anything when another is trying to kill you. You must always defend your life - and the lives of those important to you with every fiber of your being." Atreus, Mimir, Freya……and now other names were appearing in the small circle of those he would fight to the death to protect.

Kratos leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. "And if you must, you must fight to kill. Few foes can be reasoned with, and the Servants we will fight may have little choice in the matter. Wars - and what we fight is a war, are won by those willing to sacrifice everything."

"But you must not sacrifice what makes you human." He reached out, and tapped Mash on the forehead. "Your compassion, Mash…….it gives you strength. A desire to protect. To tell you to close your heart to the suffering you see would rob you of what makes you yourself, just as doing so would have robbed my son of the empathy that makes him……." Unique. Special. At times infuriating. Wonderful. Better than his father in so many ways. "....Atreus."

"Mourn the Berserker, Mash Kyrielight, if that feels right to you." His face twisted into a frown. "Or the Servant within you, if you think that is where these feelings are coming from. I cannot tell you that it will not get easier to kill another, because…….it does."

"Familiarity breeds contempt and all that," chimed in Avenger. "Not that it was hard for me. The people I killed…….they weren't even really people to me, after what I thought they did to me. So it was easy for me, and from what you're saying, it sounds like it was easy for you with how you were raised." Avenger turned a glare on Mash. "So don't you let it get easy for you, Squeaks. If I ever think you're starting to act like I was, I'll smack it out of you in a flash, and I'll use my murder-arm for it, too! If the big guy doesn't beat me it, that is."

"I think…..," Mash nodded her head. "I think…..I understand what you're trying to tell me. At least a little."

Avenger was grinning. "You feel like you've got your head on straight now, Squeaks?"

Mash nodded. "Or, at least I'm getting there." She smiled. "Thank you both."

"Good," said Kratos. "For we have much to prepare for."

---

Notes:

AUTHORS NOTES: I don't drink. Like, at ALL. Too many worries I'd be a very, VERY mean drunk and say all manner of things I keep tied up inside me. So any inaccuracies about liquor - the taste, the difference between types, etc - all can be chalked up to that.

Modified things with Kratos' meeting with Jason in God of War 2 a little so that they at least got to exchange some words, but left out the part of Jason trying to stab Kratos in the back that the novelization added. I like that GoW Jason wanted to turn back time to undo his mistakes with Medea, so we get this so Kratos can be aware of that, and pass that on to Chiron, possibly setting up things in Okeanos.

This was another largely freeform chapter with no real idea of an outline. I knew I wanted to have the teachers talk, to have Mash and Fujimaru have a couple of heart to hearts, and Fujimaru and Kratos to have at least one face to face interaction with no one else involved, but beyond that, I just let things happen as I typed them.

Next chapter, we begin Septem. Enjoy Traum, for those of you who are current. And luck on your rolls,there's a lot of folk people are interested in - Charlie, Kriem, DonQ, and Chunni Moriarty - who I will be trying for when he shows up because I love that evil old//young man. Also want a Kriem, but she's on the OTHER banner. WOE.

This chapter brought to you by Crazy Noisy Bizarre Town.

Chapter 24: Septem 1

Notes:

Mild warning for a sort of surgery/autopsy scene in this - that stuff always makes me wig out, but its mild as hell, and this also 50% a God of War story where Kratos does much worse things in combat.

Anywho, I'm squeamish as hell about surgery scenes, so it probably shouldn't bother anyone, but putting the warning up just in case.

---

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 24​

Time passed, as it does. In the blink of an eye, two weeks passed.

Not that the days in between were not filled with activity.

---

"So, you're going to teach me how to dodge by just throwing things at me?"

Fujimaru was dressed in gym shorts and a sports bra, her hair for once tied behind her instead of in its usual side-ponytail. Across the field stood her sensei, Chiron, and a grinning Cu Chulainn.

"It's how I learned to dodge! The old hag would throw things at me all hours of the day, even while I was sleeping. She used to say if I could dodge her Gae Bolgs, I could dodge anything. And if I couldn't, well…" He shrugged. "Best we not dwell on that. But it got results! Not a Servant on the Throne who can tag me with something through Protection from Arrows, at least not at range. You won't find a version of me running around that doesn't have it, unless the Throne grabbed my really young self up, before I went off to Teacher's home."

Chiron was shaking his head, though he too was smiling. "Though we will not be using methods as, ahem, extreme as the Queen of the Land of Shadows used. Cu Chulainn will be firing magical bubbles at you. They should not hurt…" Cu gave him a look, and he coughed. "They will STING a bit when they hit you, and will pop with a rather loud noise. Nothing crippling, or debilitating."

He leaned down and picked up a bucket filled with yellow balls. "In addition, I will be circling the area, and will occasionally throw one or more of these balls at you - do not worry, I will moderate my strength. The bruises will heal before you know it. You graduate to the next level of training when you manage to last until I exhaust the balls within this container."

Cu's grin was like a razor that had just been honed. Sharp, and gleaming. "Think fast, girlie!"

---

"Mash? A question."

Mash, hands on her knees as she gasped breath into her lungs, looked up at Kratos.

He stared down at her. "Your sword. It remains by your side, but you do not draw it when we train. Why?"

He held up a hand as she began to stammer something. "I do not seek to scold you, merely to understand. Your desires, or expectations of that weapon, and what I can do to help you with it." He crossed his arms across his massive chest. "Take your time, and answer only when you are certain of your words."

So she thought, as she got her breathing under control, and thought some more as she drained a bottle of water, her Senpai's yelps from across the field the background noise as she considered.

"I've tried to draw it a few times since, since France." Always in the quiet of her room, alone, without even Fou around. "And it's never felt…right to do so. I think…" Her mouth made a thin line. "I think I, or maybe the Servant I'm bonded with, is waiting for something."

[The Sword of The Strange Hangings is not to be unsheathed lightly, girl. But if you really want a proper look at the blade, I can restrain most of its power so it won't harm anything, if you take it out just to peer at it. I suppose I can do that much, while I'm still dragging my feet like this. And it might well scramble that annoying Avenger's tiny little mind, should she lay eyes upon it. That almost might be worth the hassle.]

"Then, when the time is right, we shall speak of this further."

---

Mash was coughing, as smoke and grit clouded her lungs. Da Vinci was digging herself out from under a pile of rubble. And Chiron was shaking his hair out like, well, a horse trying to dislodge something by shaking it free of its mane.

The area around Mash was a crater - a deep trench, with only a small area of grass still intact, centered around Mash - more correctly, her shield.

Across the field, Kratos had detached his shield from his arm and tossed it to the ground, where it lay, the metal glowing white-hot, the grass in flames where it had touched down.

Cu Chulainn was laughing uproariously.

Da Vinci spat out a mouthful of dirt. "Ok, just MAYBE I might have overtuned the reflect functionality just a tad."

Fire alarms began going off, and Cu crumbled to the ground, rolling around as he laughed.

---

"Why the reverse-grip?" asked Fujimaru. "I kind of feel like you're handing me a pistol and telling me to shoot 'gangsta style'." Her voice twisted into a kind of accent as she said the last.

"While I am not familiar with the terms you are using, Master, it largely is due to the sheath Lady Da Vinci has crafted for you." Chiron reached out and rolled up her sleeve, then placed the wooden practice knife against her arm, handle resting just above her wrist, the blade pointed at her elbow.

"For the interests of drawing it more quickly, it is best the handle be closer. And she is including a trigger to where you will be able to cause the knife to fall into your hands with a small bit of magic - in that case, you certainly would not want it reversed."

He trailed the knife down her arm, until it rested in her palm. "While you certainly could try to catch it by the handle if it was reversed, that is a bit too advanced for you at this stage of your training. This way, you can cause it to fall into your hands with but a thought, and quickly strike."

He met her eyes. "Because this is a weapon of last resort, my Master. Your Gandr should suffice to keep an enemy at bay long enough for a Servant, or Kratos, to intervene on your behalf. But in the event that such is not the case, a quick, precise strike may be the only thing that stands between you and death - or captivity, which may possibly be worse, as you hold Command Seals over myself and Mash that could cause great damage in the wrong hands."

"And, you don't really have the muscles to punch through armor, even with the best possible knife Da Vinci could make you," said Cu, with a shrug. "You're not looking to do a killing blow, a stab from a twiggy thing like you isn't going to be much more than a pinprick to a Servant. No, you're looking to get someone to flinch long enough for you to get some space so one of us can get between you and whatever ugly sort has you in their clutches. And for that…" Cu bared his teeth. "Nothing in the world is better than a quick slash at the eyes. I don't care WHO you are, as long as you've got a working pair, nothing unsettles someone like something sharp coming at your peepers."

Fujimaru gave him a cheeky little grin. "And here I thought you'd be telling me to go after a DIFFERENT pair, Caster."

Cu laughed. "It's not a bad idea." He walked up until he was standing just behind her. "You're a short little lass. Someone grabs you like this…" He slid his arm around her neck, lightly, merely resting it there. "Or twists your arm up, or does something that leaves one of your hands free, that leaves you free to get a knife and just stab backwards and ruin someone's entire day."

"Knives for both arms, then," muttered Kratos. "It will make it harder for you to be disarmed, and will give you the element of surprise."

"Which, as a human surrounded by Servants, may be your only advantage, my Master." Chiron smiled. "At least for now."

---

Avenger faded into nothingness, for what felt like the hundredth time this night. Only this time, there wasn't the sound of something metal hitting the floor.

Had….had it worked?

Da Vinci's triumphant shout told her that it had. She quickly rematerialized, eyes flying to her left arm.

Which was still attached.

Oh, thank….Him. She wouldn't have to reattach the thing again.

"HA! Take that metaphysics! Da Vinci is once again your Supreme Lord and Master!" The Universal Genius' hands were on her hips, and if Avenger was any judge, she was about to burst out into some prime maniacal laughter. Squeaks and Red were clapping politely.

"So," she began. "If I can finally astralize without leaving my arm behind, is it time to talk about additions? Because I have ideas…"

Da Vinci's answering grin was all she needed to see.

---

Fujimaru was staring down at the paper in front of her. Her pencil scribbled something, then erased it, scribbled something else, then stopped halfway. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm officially stumped. I don't see a way to get out of this without us losing."

"That is because you are trying to save everyone. Admirable, but, in this case, misguided, my Master." Chiron's smile was fond, if a touch sad. "In the scenario I gave you, you are surrounded, cut off from communications with Chaldea, and limited in your options, with only myself and Mash by your side."

He sighed. "No, the optimal, and probably only route to salvaging something in this case is to sacrifice me. To use me to drive a hole in the forces surrounding you, and then have Mash carry you from the battlefield, while I keep them occupied."

For the first time since meeting him, his Master looked angry, and possibly a bit hurt. "I don't want to do that if I can help it." There was conviction behind those words, conviction that reminded him so much of so, so many of his students.

He knew she was something special, a diamond just waiting to be polished.

"I understand, Master, and, as I said, it is a commendable trait to have. But you must think of the bigger picture." He laid a hand on his chest. "I am not truly alive. That you and Kratos both treat Servants as more than mere tools, or wayward spirits is laudable in many ways. But you and he are Masters - and Masters are a very, very limited quantity in this war."

"Servants can be resummoned if we are slain. A dead Master is dead forever."

She flinched at his words, but when she replied, her conviction had not dimmed in the slightest. "I get that, I really do. I was raised with all the 'a real Mage dances with death and isn't afraid to make sacrifices' bullshit my mother seems to live and breathe. And I get that we're playing for about the highest stakes we can here."

She shrugged. "But I'm not going to stop trying to find a way that all of us can come home at the end of the day. I get that things might not work out like that, and the sacrifice play you're talking about might be our only option. If that's the case, I guess I'll just have to live with it." She huffed out a breath. "Doesn't mean I'll like it, though."

Her eyes met his, firm and unyielding. "But I'm going to exhaust every option I can before it comes to that."

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM​

"So, it was Rome after all."

Romani nodded. "A stroke of luck that you decided to visit me that evening, Medusa. Your comment about Greece had me check there on a whim, and that led us here." He shrugged sheepishly. "Took us longer to track down the exact year than it should have, but that's largely on me. I had us check the fall of Rome, since that time was, well, turbulent doesn't even begin to describe it."

"So, when was it?" asked Avenger.

"About 60 AD. That's about a year after Agrippina's death, so Nero has been ruling uncontested - or at least without his mother's meddling - since." Romani frowned. "One of the more stable periods, at least for internal strife. There was the Roman-Parthian War, and Boudica's uprising, but it was largely stable up until the end of his reign."

Kratos sorted through his lessons of the past two weeks - Da Vinci had been making the Roman Empire a priority once it appeared that that was the location of their next campaign. "He was the mad one?"

"Kratos, do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?" Da Vinci said this with a grin. "But you're largely correct - History largely describes Nero as a tyrant - selfish, compulsive, corrupt. Though that is a bit disputed - much like how certain Pharaohs of Egypt would be vilified after death, like the one who attempted to push the Kingdoms towards monotheism and had their name wiped from history, there's at least some schools of thought that Nero was subject to this as well."

She shrugged. "Nero WAS largely popular with the common folk, at least, so much so that the eastern provinces of Rome had a legend that Nero was merely in hiding, and would return to save the Empire."

"Either way, this is long before his famous decline, the Great Fire of Rome, and the revolt that forced him to flee and take his own life." Romani pulled up a map onto the screen before him. "And we'll be dropping you right into Rome itself - far away from any of the historical conflicts going on. So your welcome here should be easier than the one you had waiting for you in France, what with the Dead and Wyverns you had to deal with on the first day."

"But all this assumes there's been no massive historical changes, which isn't a bet I'd be willing to take," said Da Vinci. "Which is why I've got a couple of presents before you hop in the Coffins."

"First, Kratos, here's your shield." She handed over the item. "I dialed the reflect back to the original settings, with the generator tweaked so it shouldn't overload except in the most dire of circumstances - I'm talking about you trying to stop a Noble Phantasm circumstances."

Kratos slid the shield onto his arm, one eyebrow quirked up just a touch at the inventor as he recalled the explosion and subsequent fire and alarms of a week past.

"Don't give me that look, mister! I took it back to levels that we had already tested and verified. It should be as safe as it ever was before I got my hands on it. Now, Fujimaru!"

The girl stepped forward. "What do you have for me, Da Vinci?"

"Firstly, your uniform. You didn't even get issued it before everything went bad on the day of your arrival, so here it is." Da Vinci handed over a folded, white uniform. "The standard issue Mystic Code you saw everyone else wearing that horrible day. Armored enough to withstand a reasonable amount of punishment from regular humans and animals, but don't expect it to do much against Demonic Beasts or Phantasmals. And against Servants it's little better than tissue paper."

Fujimaru had taken the uniform by the shoulders and shook it out, and was now holding it up before her. "Hey, some protection's better than nothing. Ask my poor t-shirt how well it did in Fuyuki." She glanced over at Da Vinci. "Does it have any other tricks up its sleeves?"

Da Vinci nodded. "Three spells woven into it, good for one shot each before they'll have to recharge. A brief power surge one, a displacement that should let a Servant dodge an incoming attack, and a first aid spell. THAT one you can use on yourself, or Kratos if need be - or anyone else that might need some patching up. Our Director, and Roman there, were both adamant that any healing spells needed to be usable on everyone, not JUST Servants or Masters."

"Not bad thinking, really," said Cu. "No promise your Masters would be able to summon anyone who could manage the healing for them, either. Two Casters between us here, and neither of us is going to be opening a hospital anytime soon - our resident Archer could honestly run rings around us both in that regard."

Chiron was shaking his head. "It is somewhat surprising your teacher did not attempt to teach you even the basics of healing magics, Caster. A warrior queen like her I would have thought would value such more."

"Oh, she TRIED," said Cu, with a chuckle. "It just never took root in my hard head. No matter how much she tried to beat it in."

"Fascinating," said Chiron, his hand cupping his chin.

"And now that you're covered as well as we can on defense, offense." Da Vinci reached into a case and passed over two sheaths, in which were resting a paired set of knives. "Cu and Chiron and Kratos have given you a grounding in using a knife as something other than an eating utensil, so here's the real deal." Fujimaru slipped one of the knives a few centimeters out of its sheath.

The metal looked odd - as if something else had been worked into it. "Knowing you, I take it these aren't your average knives, Da Vinci?"

"Correct. Since your training was largely around using them for a quick, single strike to get yourself away from trouble, I melded the steel with some conductive spells. When you stab, or slash someone with these babies, they should release a powerful shock into the flesh of whomever, or whatever is on the business end. And they're selective enough that the charge won't flow into the person holding the knife, so they're perfect for escaping a grapple." She waved her finger. "They're like the spells in your uniform, they'll need time to recharge after that - and them being in their sheaths will make that process a lot faster, but you'll still be able to use them as a weapon in the meantime. I just hope you don't have to."

"You and me both, you and me both. If I have to use these things for any sort of extended period of time, it means something's gone horribly wrong." She tucked the sheaths under her arms. "Let me pop over to the head and get changed, and get these things tied around my arms."

"What of the Servants?" asked Kratos, after a moment. "What is our capacity for this Singularity?"

"The Grail you brought back, and two weeks to do repairs have done wonders for our power output, but that comes with the added burden of another Master to send back. People - or gods, in Kratos' case, are much harder to verify the existence of than Servants." Da Vinci began pointing. "Mash is absolutely necessary - her shield is key to establishing contact, to making a connection at a leyline and for any on-site summoning. And as Chiron is Fujimaru's only other Servant, so he's a lock for this one." She looked over Kratos' three Servants. "So that means we've got the capacity for one more - though we should be able to handle an emergency summons of one more from Chaldea at the same time for maybe ten minutes or so."

"Ok, you bitches. Only one way to settle this, then." Avenger held out her metal hand, her flesh hand resting in it, balled into a fist.

Cu stepped up. "Before we begin this thing, let's go over the ground rules. Two smacks, then throw on three. And no trying to read someone's hand and changing your throw on the way down, either."

"Why I ever let the two of you talk me into this…" While it was hidden by her blindfold, the tone of Medusa's voice made it clear she was rolling her eyes.

Fists hit flesh twice, then the three Servants gestured. Avenger stared at her fist like it had betrayed her, while Cu was grinning at his palm.

He turned to face Medusa. "Now, for all the marbles." Again, fists hit flesh twice, and a pair of gestures, and Cu crowed triumphantly.

"Rock beats scissors!" he exclaimed, as his fist tapped Medusa's two-fingered gesture. "And that means I get to be first on the ground for this one!"

Kratos sighed at the spectacle unfolding before him. It was only the fact that none of the Servants present would receive, in theory, any sort of noticeable boost from the location that had convinced him, at length, to allow them to decide amongst themselves who would accompany him.

He had, however, expected it to take the form of something more rational, rather than this…game.

He felt a headache coming on.

Cu was clapping Kratos on the shoulder, as Avenger pouted (there was no other word for it), when Fujimaru rejoined them, now in her uniform.

Cu gave a low whistle. "Not bad, lass, not bad at all."

Avenger raised her fist, which Fujimaru bumped with hers. "He ain't wrong, Red. You look pretty sharp in that."

"How's the fit, Fujimaru?" asked Da Vinci. "And how do the sheaths feel on your arms?"

"Honestly," she said. "It's a little tight - not bad, but just not my style. I prefer looser stuff. But the sheaths feel fine. I even did a practice draw before I came out here, and everything felt fine."

"Show me," said Kratos, Chiron, and Cu, all at once.

Fujimaru stifled a giggle, but straightened up, and a second later, a knife fell into each of her hands, and in a smooth, practiced movement, she raised the weapons into a ready position. "Drawing them from up my sleeve isn't as smooth - I think I just need more practice, really. But you three have drilled me on this one enough that I could probably do it in my sleep."

"You've still got a bit of wasted motion there, Master, but for the time we had, you're more than adequate." Chiron patted her on the head. "Though I will do everything in my power to keep you from having to use that knowledge."

Romani looked over the group. "Are we all ready, then?"

A round of nods, and a grunt, was his answer.

"All right, then. For the official record, your orders are the same as they were for the French Singularity. Find the Holy Grail causing the destabilization in 60 AD Rome, and either retrieve it, or destroy it." His face turned grim. "And, in the event Lev Lainur can be located, his status remains wanted, dead or alive. Alive is preferred, but dead will allow a lot of us to sleep better. Your judgment in the field will trump ours back in the Command Center on this issue."

"Very well," said Kratos.

A few moments later, Kratos was once more lying in the coffin, his weapons lying across his chest. The mechanical voice began its countdown, and he braced himself.

Then, there was the tug at his very being, and the tunnel of blue.

And then he was gone.

---

 

HISPANIA, UNITED ROMAN EMPIRE CAPITAL​

Lev Lainur looked up from the map spread across the table, as he felt reality shudder. "Finally." He closed his human eyes and concentrated for a moment, then called out to the drone standing guard by his door. "Send an order to the Servant we stationed near the Roman Capital. Tell him it is time to fulfill his duty."

---

When Kratos came back to himself, it was to a sound that was very, very familiar to him.

Battle.

His axe was in his hand, as he blinked his eyes rapidly, vision returning swiftly. He cast his head about, taking in the details with the practiced eye of a Spartan General.

Two armies, both wearing red and gold (the favored colors of the Roman Empire, his mind supplied, in Da Vinci's voice), with some subtle differences to set them apart. The larger force favored a darker red, akin to that of dried blood, while the smaller force seemed closer to the colors in the images Da Vinci had shown him during their lessons. Armaments were largely identical, the large shields and either the short swords (gladii, said his mind) and spears (hasta for the thrusting spears, pilum for those that are meant to be thrown), with the only real difference being the design of the eagle on their shields.

His companions were rapidly coming back to themselves, shaking off the disorientation of the Rayshift, though Fujimaru still looked to be a touch rattled - as it was her first true Rayshift, it was probably to be expected.

They had maybe moments before one, or both of the armies would notice them.

His finger jabbed at the button on the communicator, and Romani's visage popped into being.

"Kratos! You're all verified and looking green, what…"

"Romani!" barked Kratos. "You have dropped us into a battle!"

"What, but that's…" He frantically checked his displays. "There weren't any conflicts this close to the capital during this time period, and you were supposed to be dropped into Rome itself, not the outlying countryside! That's it, no more assumptions about the time period!" He gritted his teeth, and his face took on a serious mien. "What's your situation?"

"Unengaged for the moment," said Chiron, helping Fujimaru to her feet, her legs still having trouble sustaining her weight. "But that is unlikely to…"

"They appeared from nowhere! Sorcery! Foul sorcery!"

"Aaaaaand there it is," drawled Cu, his staff already in his hands. "Kratos, orders?"

"Defense only," Kratos stood up to his full height, hoping his size and bulk would gain them a few moments more to gather themselves - as Atreus was fond of saying, his father was 'scary-looking' at even the best of times ('tall as a tree', though he lacked the talking head on his belt at immediate). "One of these armies is the distortion we are here to solve, but we lack information. We do not wish to fight two forces at once."

Neither of the forces had, as of yet, made an overt move towards them, as they were far too occupied with one another. The majority of the cries relating to them were coming from the smaller force - a ripple of unease had passed through the army when the small band from Chaldea had been spotted. The larger force was quiet - eerily so, though Kratos could hear orders being barked by the officers, farther in the back, their words indistinct over the din of the battle.

"HOLD TO YOUR ORDERS!" The voice was loud - almost impossibly so. "These strange visitors may be emissaries of the gods, here to see our glorious victory! Take NO action against them unless they strike first! Your Emperor commands it!" It was coming from the smaller force - someone in the front ranks, though Kratos could not see precisely who through the press of armored bodies. "Should they prove hostile, I will deal with them!"

No sooner had the 'Emperor's' words ceased echoing about the battlefield, then a large detachment of soldiers separated from the larger force and began slowly making their way towards the Chadleans.

"Well, that's that," said Cu, drawing up beside Kratos. "Doesn't necessarily mean they're the baddies here, but it does seem to lean that way." He flicked his eyes across the ranks of men approaching them. "Want me, or Archer to fire off a warning shot?"

He considered. There was still far too much they did not know, and a warning shot could be taken as a sign of aggression - not that detaching what appeared to be a hundred soldiers and advancing upon them did not scream of aggression, but it could be merely to screen them from the greater battle, and ensure they did not interfere.

Yes. 'When redcaps stopped dying their hats in blood', as Mimir would say.

He raised his axe, pointing with it "A curtain of flame, two lengths of a man from us."

"Got it!" Cu slammed his staff into the ground, runes flaring into being around him. A second later, a wall of flame roared into existence. "Now, let's see how you react to that…"

"Fujimaru!" barked Kratos. "Your status!"

"I've got my legs back - the Rayshift knocked me for a loop, but I'm over it." The girl's voice still sounded a bit thready, but she was no longer relying on Chiron to stand. "You think that fire's going to keep them back?"

Kratos had opened his mouth to reply, when the first ranks of soldiers reached the crackling flames.

And strode right through them.

Their capes, leggings, and sleeves caught fire, their armor blackened, but they walked through the blaze without even a shout of pain.

"Ok, that's NOT right!" shouted Cu. "I didn't turn the heat all the way up, but they tanked that without even blinking! What kind of fanatics are these guys?"

They had but moments before they would reach them. "Archer! Keep Fujimaru safe! Mash!"

"Coming!" Mash darted up to stand at Kratos' left, with Cu flanking his right.

"Man, look at all of 'em," muttered the Caster, shaking his head. "Probably going to have to drop the wall, best I use all my focus on cracking some skulls." The pillars of flame winked out, and Cu settled into a stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eagerness seeping from his every pore.

Chiron settled himself in front of Fujimaru. "Take what shots you can, my Master - but be mindful of our allies. And take care not to exhaust yourself, either."

"I'll worry about keeping them off you, if any of them make it past our front line," muttered Fujimaru. Mash was a stone wall, and Kratos and Cu together would be a pair of buzzsaws, but there were a lot of soldiers to account for.

The first soldier reached them, and without even a second of consideration, gripped his spear and thrust it at Kratos' eye.

It was a good thrust - the man was obviously skilled, and it was made with a minimum of effort, and good speed.

To Kratos, it was as if he was moving in slow motion - akin to the times his enemies had been trapped in a Realm Shift.

Kratos sidestepped the spear and the Leviathan Axe sliced through the air - and through the man, bisecting him.

For a second, Kratos was frozen. That had been too easy - easier than even felling the rotten Dead that had greeted them in France.

His skin…..felt strange. Not the raised flesh that accompanied cold, or unease, but something seemed to thrum beneath the surface.

And then the dam burst, and the soldiers descended upon them.

Three spears screamed at Kratos, all aimed at different parts of his body, but he lowered his arm, his shield snapping into place, and caught the tips of all three spears, one after the other, and forced them up. He stepped forward and blasted a kick into the chest of the nearest soldier, who was sent rocketing back into his fellow soldiers, with the dual sounds of snapping bones and a shattered breastplate. A soldier stepped into the gap and slashed at Kratos with one of those short swords, but missed, as Kratos stepped back, then removed the soldier's head with a quick chop from his axe.

But more advanced.

Cu slammed his staff in the skull of a soldier, grimacing at the man's knees buckled, but he continued to advance. "Sturdy bastards, aren't you?" He lazily slid out of the way of a hurled javelin, almost casually reaching up to snatch it from the air and fling it back from whence it came. A gurgling sound told him he'd hit true - like he would ever MISS with a spear - and a soldier fell with a spear through his throat.

The soldier before him swung again, almost heedless of his crumpled helmet, and Cu struck again, this time flaring a rune as he connected with the man's body. Fire erupted into being, and this time, the man fell, his head consumed in flames.

And yet, he never once cried out.

A pair of arrows flew over his head, landing amongst the back ranks of the soldiers, dropping two men who were raising pilums in anticipation of launching them.

Spears and swords scraped against Mash's shield, to no avail, as she shoved the wielders back, her shield sweeping forward and cleared the space before her. She pivoted and charged, shield leading, crashing through a small group that had been attempting to edge around her and rush Chiron and Fujimaru. She stomped down as she overran their fallen bodies, her heavy boots shattering legs and arms - but avoiding killing blows.

Wyverns, the undead, even Servants - she had made her peace with having to kill them, but other humans…some part of her still quailed a bit at ending the life of another human being. So she sought to be merciful.

It would cost her.

Heedless of their broken limbs, the fallen soldiers seized Mash's legs with grips of iron, and she stumbled and fell.

Hands pawed at her armor, weakly attempting to tear at it, or simply to strike with enough force to harm - or to distract her from the other hands attempting to seize her arms and throat.

They were too close. Too many bodies, too many hands. She felt panic welling up.

[Mercy is a beautiful thing when you can afford it, girl, but now is NOT the time! Get yourself up or they'll tear you apart! And keep your head, remember what that Spartan taught you about panic.]

It was like a chill ran down her spine, and Mash forced herself to focus.

She dismissed her shield - it would be of little help in her current situation, and swung a fist into the face of a soldier attempting to get his hands around her neck. In her rising fear, she held none of her strength back, and the man's head snapped back, broken teeth flying from his mouth. He made a choked noise and fell to the ground, limp. She tore her arm from the grasp of another soldier, and hammered at the hands holding onto her legs. Stubbornly, despite fingers that were clearly bent the wrong direction, they held on.

A shadow loomed over her - a soldier with a raised sword.

"GANDR!"

A red bolt of magic screamed across the distance and slammed into the soldier's chest, who froze for a moment, then spasmed and fell. A clutch of arrows rained from the sky, burying themselves in the heads of the soldiers trying to pin her down. Gritting her teeth, she shook loose of their now limp hands and sprang to her feet.

'Mash, are you hurt?' Fujimaru's worried voice sounded in Mash's mind.

'I'm fine, no real damage!' Her shield reformed in her hand, and she took stock of the battlefield. In the few moments she had been down, a mass of soldiers had merely stepped around her, and were advancing upon Chiron and her Master. And they had abandoned the methodical approach that had been the hallmark of this army so far, and were charging - likely aware that Chiron would tear through them if given the time.

And another group was already surrounding her, preventing her from going to their aid.

"Apologies, Master, but they seem to be unwilling to allow me to pick them apart at a distance." Chiron said this casually, as if he was discussing the weather, and not the 15 (Twang - 14) soldiers running hell bent for leather at them. "Best you stand back and allow me to handle this." (Twang 13 still advancing).

"All yours, Sensei," she said, backpedaling quickly. Chiron loosed one more shot that was fouled as a soldier launched a pilum at the same moment, and it managed to deflect the arrow JUST enough to cause it to miss. And then they were too close for arrows.

Chiron dismissed his bow and cracked his knuckles. "Come then. Time for a lesson - a final one for you."

His legs tensed, and in an instant, he was in the middle of them.

He slid low, and his leg scythed through the air, chopping the nearby soldier's legs out from underneath them. Still spinning, he slammed an elbow into the body of a soldier that had yet to fall, and sent him rocketing off into the distance. He stepped forward and snapped a kick through the air, his heel shattering the pelvis of one prone soldier. His toe hooked under the groaning man's body, and flipped him forward, knocking two men to the ground with his hurled body.

Chiron laughed. "Come now. Did you think because I wielded a bow I would be helpless at close range? My knowledge is much more vast than that."

He waded in, fists flying, bodies then flying in their wake.

Fujimaru felt her mouth drop open. She'd seen some fairly skilled martial artists in her time (her school had been renowned for both its judo and karate clubs) - Chiron lacked their grace, but made up for it in sheer force and, well, brutality, really. There was nothing pretty in his movements, this was the style of someone looking to put someone else down hard and fast. When his fists hit, the sound of the impact echoed across the battlefield. And he wasn't even breaking a sweat.

She was enthralled enough by the sight before her that she almost missed the creak of metal and leather.

She ducked, falling to the ground, and the sword that would have sliced through her neck passed over her head, a narrow miss. Automatically, her hand formed the pistol shape, and she felt her Magical Circuits fire up.

She spun and fired. "GANDR!"

Her snap shot took the soldier right in the face - he dropped and probably wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Shame he had a friend, who had come with from wherever these two had come from - they weren't part of the group Chiron was currently beating into the ground. They must have come from the larger melee.

And he was a BIG friend.

Not enough time to fire off another Gandr. And his legs were a hell of a lot longer than hers, too, so running was out of the question - even if he wasn't pretty much on top of her.

He rammed into her, bearing her to the ground, and she flooded her Circuits with energy, reinforcing her bones from the impact she was about to take, and sending strength into her thin arms. Then her back hit the ground, and the wind was blasted from her lungs as the full weight of the soldier bore down on her.

Thankfully she kept her head up, so it didn't bounce off the ground, or worse, a rock or something and knock her silly. But that was a small comfort when she had a soldier who had at least 100 pounds, and at least a foot of height on top of her.

She thrashed, one arm clinging to the man's wrist with all her might, keeping it away from herself, while the other sought to shove him off of her. He wasn't using his other arm, which was a blessing - she was only just barely holding his one arm back, even with Reinforcement - his leverage and greater bulk and strength was almost too much for her. Snarling gutteraly, he brought a knee up to crash into her side - she winced, but her reinforced bones dulled most of the impact. She'd likely have been nursing broken ribs otherwise. His knee crashed into her again, and she felt her concentration flicker through the pain.

She didn't even think about it, not consciously. Suddenly, her knife was in her left hand, and she was driving it up, into the soldier's chin.

The man shuddered, and went limp. A wash of blood flowed down the knife, to her hand.

She felt the knife pulse in her hand, and a surge of magical energy left it, and then the man's body jerked and spasmed.

Numbly, she pulled the knife from the man's throat (causing another, larger spurt of blood to squirt from the wound), and frantically shoved the man off of her. Shakily, she stood.

She'd just killed someone. And not from orders through a Servant - with her own hands.

She began to think she really hadn't truly understood what Mash had been going through.

'Master, I can appreciate what you are dealing with at this moment, but if you would kindly hit the ground?'

Chiron was using his 'Serious Teacher's Voice', as she had labeled it, and she was lying flat on the ground before she'd even really registered the words he'd spoken to her.

A barrage of arrows sailed over her prone body, all of them making a pincushion of the first soldier, who had somehow made it back to his feet. Chiron was by her side before the man had fully hit the ground.

"Master, are you hurt?" he asked, as he helped her up.

"I…" She bit her lip and forced her spinning mind to grind to a halt. "Bruises at worst, I managed to Reinforce myself before he got his hands on me."

"Very good." He nodded, then frowned at her. "We will be having a discussion on battlefield awareness sometime in the immediate future, my student. Can you continue?"

A lecture, in other words - but one she probably deserved. "I can manage. Go, keep sniping them. I'll pay better attention."

By the look on his face, he didn't quite believe her, but he nodded in the end, and resummoned his bow, and resumed firing.

Cu drew up until his back was almost flush with Kratos', his grin wild and gleeful. It'd been far, FAR too long since he'd had a good fight like this with a battle brother - that whole mess with Baldur had been far too sad to really get much joy out of it (stupid moping freeloader). But this, THIS was what he'd been BORN for!

"They're a LOT better than I'd have expected for grunts." He weaved between two spears and a sword, using his staff to tangle the hafts of the spears, then jerking them up to catch the sword. He vaulted forward, hooking the head of his staff into the crossed spears and using his body's momentum to hurl the two spearmen off into the distance. Almost as an aside, he kicked the swordsman in the head as he landed - who somehow remained on his feet.

"See, that's what I'm talking about. I didn't pull that kick much, and his head's intact, and he still wants a piece." His staff spun in his hands as he darted forward, ramming the sharpened butt right between the man's ribs - the armor barely an afterthought to the strength of a Servant. "Something's not right about these guys."

Kratos had been coming about to the same thought. "They are too quiet." Even monsters incapable of human speech roared and hissed at their prey. And his foes in Midgard had not been shy about crying out during battle - that he could not speak the tongue of the elves, or of the Einherjar had not stopped them. But these men were oddly silent.

Cu tossed the body off his weapon. "Yeah. Don't know if everyone's as quiet as you in a fight where you come from, but in my neck of the woods, the banter was half of the fun!" Runes lit up in the air in front of him, and a rapid shower of fireballs exploded into the closest soldiers. Some were blasted from their feet, but others absorbed the flames, either through their shields, or their armor, and continued advancing.

Cu grimaced. "And they're taking some of my better shots and asking for seconds. Something ain't right."

"Then we will have to do better." Kratos slid his axe back into its harness, and drew the Blades of Chaos. Quickly, he cast his eyes across the battlefield.

Chiron was protecting Fujimaru, who was staying close to his side. Mash was engaged, but did not seem to be in danger of being overwhelmed - but she was also pulling her shots, attempting to incapacitate without killing. Given the issues she was still resolving over her first true kill, Kratos supposed he should have expected that. And, as for the larger battle that they were only a small part of…

The smaller force seemed to be standing fast, despite their numerical disadvantage. Their line seemed to be centered around a figure in red that was defiantly taking on all comers - and winning, though as Kratos watched, they took a slash across the back, and stumbled - but with a wheeling slash, took the man's head in response. Still spinning on one leg, the figure dropped low and swept their sword horizontally, taking out the legs of three men.

The line was holding, but it would hold only as long as that warrior - possibly their general, remained on their feet. And as he watched, a spearman blasted them back with a brutal shield charge. They rolled, and regained their feet, but Kratos could see them wince as they did so.

"Go to Mash," Kratos felt the Blades begin to warm in his hands. "I will deal with these." These being the majority of the soldiers that had been dispatched to deal with the group from Chaldea.

Cu pouted. "Hogging them all for yourself, no fun at ALL! You better give me a good show, then!" Cu swung his staff, shattering the arm of one last soldier, then he blurred and was by Mash's side, kicking a soldier that had been edging around to her back in the ribs.

(LvieRdkaziGielaE;aienz;ieNeaivAelaq;lcdicllpeaE)

Kratos blinked. "Romani? Repeat yourself."

The communicator on his wrist winked with a blue light - Romani's image not appearing. "Kratos? I didn't say anything - we're not about to distract you during combat."

Kratos grunted. An error then, or something he misheard. "Very well."

The soldiers fanned out, surrounding Kratos. Spears leveled, they began to edge closer - wary of him, but committed to their actions.

It would not avail them here.

He raised the Blades of Chaos high, the unearthly metal heating until it was white-hot - then he drove them into the dirt, points-first.

The ground cracked, and fire spewed forth from the fissures, searing through the bodies of the soldiers. Molten earth splattered across their bodies, melting their armor to their flesh. Kratos tore the Blades from the ground and slammed them down again, a fresh wave of fire and death following.

A man gave a cry of pain as he was caught flush by one explosion, and was turned into ash.

Concentrating his power, Kratos raised the Blades one last time and slammed them down, a wave of fire washing forth from the point of impact. The soldiers closest to the Spartan fell, charred black by the fire's caress. Those farther away merely fell to the ground, their legs gone, consumed by the hungry inferno.

The smell of burning flesh surrounded Kratos, and not all of it was that of his foes'. His hands stung - the Blades, as ever, eager to mark him as THEIR property. Ignoring the pain, he slid the Blades back into their sheaths, taking the Leviathan Axe back into hand - somewhat gladly, as the ever-present cool of his wife's axe was a balm to his seared palms.

Laughter ran out across the battlefield. "See, my soldiers! They retreat in the face of our might, and that of these fearsome observers! Rejoice, REJOICE! ROME STANDS, AS IT ALWAYS SHALL!"

A cheer went up from the smaller force - now considerably smaller than it had been when Kratos had first laid eyes upon it. But the loud voice was correct, they had won. The larger force was retreating in good order - the general of the victorious force was having to restrain their men from pursuit. Wisely, in Kratos' estimation, as they were still outnumbered enough that a false retreat and a rally could chew them up piecemeal.

He turned his head to where Mash and Cu stood - the Irish Servant shooting him the raised thumb gesture that meant a favorable situation, or agreement. Chiron was speaking in a low voice to Fujimaru, then patted the girl on the back, and quickly jogged to Kratos' side.

"Our foes have been dealt with, but now that raises the question of what is next," He glanced over to the remaining army on the field. "These seem more matching in expectations of Roman soldiery - but that does not necessarily mean they are our allies."

"If we have chosen poorly, we will know soon," The general in red was in a heated discussion with what appeared to be fellow officers - if their more ornate armor was any indication.

"What do you think?" asked Cu, as he strolled up to stand by Kratos. "We about to fight again?"

"No," said Kratos, as the general stomped their foot, and gestured, head and arm working in concert. The surrounding officers nodded - though some seemed to do so begrudgingly, and they began barking orders. The army began reforming, and it appeared as if an honor guard was assembling. "I do not think so."

"Then we probably should get my Master over here if we're going to be meeting dignitaries," said Chiron. "Let me…"

He trailed off, as he turned his gaze upon said Master. "...what is that girl doing?"

---

Ritsuka Fujimaru was breathing heavily, trying to keep her breakfast down - for the second time in as many minutes.

She'd killed a man.

And it had been so easy. That was the thing her mind kept focusing on - for all the weight it was given, it hadn't taken much effort to slide her knife into his chin, and then up into…

Ok, NOT thinking about that part anymore, not if she wanted to keep from spilling her guts here in the barely ADs. Think about something else. Not how much of a mess she felt like, not the screams of the wounded she was still hearing, and not how she needed to clean her knife (Chiron had been quite clear about keeping one's weapons clean when he'd started her on weapons training). Something, anything to focus on was what she needed here.

But she couldn't focus, not with the stench of blood surrounding her. She reached a hand up to run it through her tangled hair, stopping only when she saw the red still staining her palms.

She felt her heart accelerate, and sucked in a deep breath of air, regretting it almost immediately as her nostrils were flooded with the scent of blood.

Blood, and……..something else.

Wait.

Wait a pair of minutes.

Only somewhat aware of her actions, she walked over to the man she'd killed, and stared down at him for a second.

Glassy eyes, no movement - chest was still. If he was playing dead, he deserved an award. Swallowing heavily, she knelt down, and forced her hands to be still as she removed his cuirass. Thankfully, she was able to get it off without too much fuss, since it looked like it was designed to be separated into four sections - probably to make it easier to store and transport. The shirt he was wearing underneath was quickly sliced away by her knife, and then his chest was bare to her.

Ok, Fujimaru. You've done this before. It's just another summer in Germany - keep telling yourself that, and you can manage this.

She made her first cut, channeling a simple Reinforcement spell into the knife - no bonesaw needed when you could manage the basics of Reinforcement like most Mages could. In no time at all, she had his ribs out of the way, and was peering at the man's internal organs.

"Master, may I ask what it is you are doing?"

Chiron's voice almost broke her out of her fugue, but she held onto her focus with the skin of her teeth. "Checking something - there's something not right about these soldiers. You felt it too, didn't you?" She continued to stare forward, hoping to spot what she was looking for, but knowing she was going to have to get her hands dirty. "The one you shot, this guy's friend, he took a Gandr right in the face, and didn't stay down. I've got a hunch…" Now she did look up at her Servant. "Trust me?"

Chiron's hand dropped onto her head. "Always, my Master. What is it you're looking for?"

She sighed. "Something I wish wasn't hidden like I think it is." With a shudder, she thrust her hands into the man's chest cavity, and began to root around, searching.

"Remember how I said I had a good grounding in Homunculi and stuff? Well, Homunculi don't really have blood - I mean, they do, but it's MORE than blood. It's got a few extra things in it by necessity given Homunculi are artificial beings. Perfectly safe to use for transfusions and stuff, but it's like, I dunno, Blood+ or Super Blood or something. Which means…"

She turned the heart over, and there it was - the little nodule she'd been looking for. "...it smells different - it's really subtle, but if you've been around Homunculi long enough, you can tell. And when I brought my hand up to my face, I got a good enough whiff to recognize it, even though the beginnings of the breakdown I was starting to have."

She sat back, and pointed at the little silver nodule, tucked in right behind where the heart would rest, small threads still connecting it to the organ in question.. "That's why these guys were so tough, and so fearless even while you were breaking them in two. They're artificial. And really good work, if I'm any judge."

Chiron looked at her for a long moment, a pleased smile breaking out upon his face. "My Master…you truly are full of surprises."

He helped her to her feet, heedless of the mess still clinging to her hands. "You may wish to clean yourself off. It looks as if we are about to receive a delegation from the force we aided, however inadvertently." He handed her a bottle of water and a cloth from the pouches on his belt. "And later, I would like to hear about where your knowledge on Homunculi came from. I gather it is a bit of a long story."

"Yeah, sure. And you're not wrong, either." A few moments of furious scrubbing and her hands were largely free of crimson, and her knife looked like it was at least enough to go back into the sheath until she had time to give it a proper bit of cleaning.

She jogged across the field, blurting out the answer to the question she could see on the faces watching her as she ran to join them.

"Homunculi! They're homunculi!"

Cu snapped his fingers. "It fits! Explains everything - artificial humans, grown in a vat, or a cauldron if you're being traditional - at least in my neck of the woods," he said, as Kratos' brow began to furrow. "Guess Da Vinci didn't get to those yet. They're not exactly commonplace, but Mages have been growing them since my living days."

"We can go over the particulars later - we are about to have guests." Chiron took his place behind Fujimaru, as the group of Romans drew up to them.

Kratos' first impression of the general who had held the army together was the color red. Her - because it was obviously a woman leading the party that approached them - outfit was a dress, and one that looked completely impractical for the battlefield. Wide, billowing sleeves with trim that almost flowed completely over her hands, shoulders decorated with gold braid, her chest - and therefore her heart, totally exposed. And no armor - save the greaves on her legs - which Kratos had a full view of, as her skirt was completely transparent in the front and the back.

Possibly this was a ceremonial outfit - one she had not expected to fight in this day.

She was also short - bordering on tiny. Even with her heeled greaves, Kratos doubted she would come up to his chest. Which made her choice of weapon, an oddly shaped sword nearly as tall as her, and as red as her outfit, all the more strange. And yet, Kratos had seen her wielding it almost effortlessly - one-handed, at times.

He reached for Cu's thread in his mind. 'She is not a Servant?'

'Nope. She feels completely human to me. I don't feel any Servants in the area other than ours.'

Interesting. More interesting was that her outfit appeared pristine - no rips, tears, or signs of battle. And Kratos knew with certainty he had seen her slashed across the back, and rammed with a shield that had caused her to tumble across the ground. As with the soldiers - now revealed to be Homunculi, something was off with the woman.

Kratos had expected the honor guard to stop a reasonable distance from them, but the woman general walked right up to Kratos, the long tendril of hair that stuck out from her otherwise contained hair bobbing as she moved, and regarded him with a bright smile, and a nod.

"Hail, mighty warriors! Am I correct in thinking you are observers from mighty Olympus, come to watch my victory this day?"

For a second, Kratos saw red. All-consuming, burning red.

When he came back to himself, Cu Chulainn was speaking.

"Nah, we're just travelers. Honestly an accident we landed here like we did - the thing we use to travel isn't always the most accurate."

'Kratos, you back with us? Sorry for answering for you, but I FELT that jolt through our link - if Avenger was here, you might have turned her brains into mush.'

'...my apologies.' Kratos chided himself - he had been warned by Da Vinci that the gods of Greece were still venerated here, under different names. But hearing Olympus again - in the present tense - it had still been a shock to his system.

'Don't worry about it. I'd probably do the same if I came face to face with my teacher suddenly, or, Morrigan forbid, Medb.'

"Truly?" said the general, her tone disbelieving. "With the great powers I saw you command, I would have thought you were servants of the gods, if not the gods themselves. But no matter!" She swept her hand before her. "You have aided the Roman Empire today, and gained the favor of me, Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Venus personified, Emperor of Rome! Rejoice in your fortune!"

Nero. This…..tiny woman was the mad Emperor who ruled in this time.

'I guess after King Arthur, we shouldn't be surprised.' Cu's wry voice sounded in his mind.

"You're Emperor Nero? But, I mean - you're shorter than I am!" Fujimaru flushed as she realized that, yet again, she had said something aloud that she had been thinking.

"Umu! I am she!" If she had taken any offense at the comment about her height, Nero did not show it. "May I have the names of our bold allies?"

(Umu? The word was unfamiliar to him, and even Freya's bracelet did not translate it.)

"This is Kratos," said Chiron, with a nod from Kratos. "Our leader. And this is Ritsuka Fujimaru, my student and our second-in-command. I am Archer."

"Caster," said Cu, with a grin, his eyes walking up and down Nero's form, to her obvious delight.

"Hello," said Mash, with a bow. "I am Mash Kyrielight."

"Kratos, Mash, Ritsuka - and Caster and Archer," Nero pursed her lips. "Titles as names?" she asked.

"Forgive me, Emperor Nero, but in the culture that Caster and myself come from, names have great power, and they are revealed only to those we are very close to." He gave a courtly bow. "Please forgive any offense this custom may have done to you and yours."

Nero shook her head. "No, no. I would be a poor host, and a poor Emperor if I was to hold such a petty thing against those who aided us in battle against the treacherous fakes who dare to call themselves the United Roman Empire. I shall honor your customs in respect for the great service you have done my men!"

"United….Roman Empire?" Mash raised her hand. "Forgive me, Emperor Nero, as we are travelers new to this land, and this is the first we have heard of this United Roman Empire."

"Does Rome fight amongst itself?" asked Kratos.

At the sound of Kratos' voice, Nero's eyes widened, and she seemed almost as if she stifled a shiver. "Truly, you see to the heart of the matter." She frowned. "My beautiful Rome is beset by traitors claiming to be the true Roman Empire - fakes and liars who seek to destroy all that is wonderful about my Rome."

She placed her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full (insignificant) height. "We fight them daily - those soldiers you helped us see off were but one of their many cowardly armies."

A considering look came into her eyes. "They seem to have their issues with you, newly come as you are to my Empire as you are. Could I persuade you to accompany me back to glorious Rome, where I could show you all the wonders of my city, and perhaps discuss an alliance with such doughty warriors as you?"

Cu shrugged. "No objections here. Would give us a chance to get the lay of the land."

'And a city like that is bound to have a leyline beneath it. Be nice if we could resupply and switch people in and out easier - I don't think any of us are looking forward to another experience like France.'

'Agreed.' sent Kratos.

"Your terms are acceptable," he stretched his hand out. "We will accept your offer of hospitality."

"Umu!" She took his hand in both of her small ones and shook it eagerly. "Then follow me, and prepare yourself to lay eyes upon the greatest city in history!"

---

The Emperor had managed to get her army moving with a minimum of fuss. Kratos and the rest of the Chaldeans (as they were using that as the name of their homeland) had been afforded a spot in the train slightly behind the Emperor, who was riding in a chariot - deep in conversation with her officers. She had seemed to want to exchange more words with the Chaldeans, but had been corralled by her officers almost as soon as the army had begun their march.

"Fujimaru," began Chiron. "If you would not mind, I would like to hear your story about how you learned so much about Homunculi."

Fujimaru looked around at the group. "I don't really mind, but, I mean…" She shrugged. "It's not really the most interesting stuff."

"Would give us something to focus on other than marching," said Cu. "Unless anything in there is some kind of big Mage secret or something. The Romans might not care, but we don't know what kind of ears Lev has out - if that bastard's even here."

"Nah. It's all pretty mundane." She took a deep breath, and then began talking.

"So, my dad's not native-born Japanese. He was born in America, only met my mom through his job." She waved her hands. "Dad's family, the Chuda, they moved to America back in Meiji - Meiji wasn't just the Chosu and Satsuma and other clans getting their payback for being on the losing side against the Tokugawa Shogunate, the Mage families used the Revolution to do the exact same thing. When my ancestors saw the direction the wind was blowing, they got out just ahead of the other Mage families that were after their heads. They could have tried to make a go of it in China, or Korea, but relations between those two places and Japan have never been…great, and the outlying islands or places like Australia were too close. They had a feeling if they tried to settle down somewhere close, they'd keep getting chased. Japanese Mage clans can be really, really vengeful"

"So, they picked up stakes, hopped on a boat, and settled down in California. Did pretty well for themselves…right up until World War 2."

Mash, Chiron, and Cu all winced, while Kratos frowned. "Yeah. They'd never made much of an effort to integrate or play nice with the locals - I think my great-grandparents still believed someday they'd be able to go back home to Japan and re-establish themselves there. So when America started opening internment camps for the Japanese, they were one of the first doors to be knocked on by the Mages in the government who were handling rounding up the displaced Mage families from Japan."

"Senpai…" began Mash.

"I won't repeat the stories grandad told me of the camps. Just imagine it was bad, and let's move on." She sighed. "As bad as the camps were, it was worse when they got out - the Mage families who had handled hauling them off to the camps had also looted everything they could from my family's workshops. They had…barely anything, really, when they got out. Almost not even the bootstraps to try to pull themselves up by."

"Gramma had dad pretty late in her life - there's a BIG gap between him and his brothers, and he could tell from a young age there wasn't going to be much for him. He was the third son, and the family was barely scraping by as it was. And he had a weird affinity - the family speciality was soothsaying and fortune telling, but he didn't have any knack for it. Instead, he's got a strong affinity for water magics - water spirits and elementals love the man, I swear."

She shook her head. "Anyways, when he graduated high school, he didn't have a lot of prospects. No money for college, not for the third son, and there wasn't going to be much of anything to be left for him in the family estate. So it was an easy choice for him to join the navy - especially with his affinity."

She linked her arms at the wrists and laid them against the back of her head, and stretched. "He was stationed overseas a lot - it's how he met my mom, when he was stationed in Japan. But before that, he was in Germany for a few years, and while he was there, he ran into the head of a local Mage family." She frowned. "I've never gotten the full story of what happened between them from him - I'd almost think a Geas Scroll was involved if he hadn't promised to tell me and my sister when we're 'old enough' ever since we were old enough to ask."

"Never mind that Susumu's 21 now - old enough to legally do everything you could want to do in Japan, and he's still keeping tight lipped on it." She shook her head. "Off-topic. Anyways, SOMETHING happened between him and Gordes Musik - if you made me guess, I'd guess someone saved someone else's life - or they saved each other's lives. Because the two of them have been thick as thieves ever since."

She smiled, thinking back. "Seems like every summer I can remember, we were either spending a couple of weeks in their estate in Germany, or they'd be visiting us in Japan. Summer breaks…they were really kind of nice. Though I don't think the Tooles liked me showing Gordy Ridge Racer in the arcades. He was already a bit of a nut for fast cars and racing - that probably only made things worse."

"Tooles?" Kratos' rumble jarred her from her memories.

She kicked her train of thought until it got back on the tracks. "The Homunculi the Musik family had as the tutor - and really nanny of their heir, Goredolf. They got up to the fourth one before he got old enough that he didn't need a tutor anymore. Their Homunculi didn't last super long - really a far cry from the immortal ideal Mages strive for in their created Servants. But when one…" She bit her lip. "I hate this term, but 'wore out' and stopped being able to function, they'd activate another one, with the same face and largely the same personality. So they kept the same name, but just with a number added."

She sighed. "It's probably why I'm a bit atypical when it comes to things like Homunculi and Servants - not like most Mages. I was never able to wrap my head around seeing them as just, y'know, tools. Probably since I was exposed to them since I was a little brat - I imprinted on them, or something, saw them as no different than people. The Homunculi the Musik family kept around, I mean." She shrugged. "But that carried over to Servants when I learned about them on the plane ride to Chaldea."

"But that's where I got my grounding in alchemy and Homunculi - 'cause my dad has some sort of bond with the Musik family. So much so that they were happy to teach me and Susumu some of their stuff when we'd visit during the summers, and we'd do the same when they'd come by our place."

"There was nothing in your file about this," said Roman, audio only still, but the consternation in his voice probably matched what was on his face. "A relationship with one of Europe's Mage Families…" He shook his head. "The Director would possibly have treated you a bit better had she known."

Fujimaru laughed. "Why would it have? The Clock Tower couldn't be bothered to care about where some backwater Mage family was spending their vacations - probably thought it was a good thing we were visiting somewhere civilized like Germany. And I'm sure the Musiks had a good excuse for their trips to deflect any suspicions - probably something suitably condescending about 'seeing how the savages in Japan lived'." She rolled her eyes as Roman sputtered something. "Don't bother denying it, Roman. I've heard how most Clock Tower Mages talk about my homeland - it doesn't really bother me. You guys don't think that way, and that's what matters. Not going to lose any sleep worrying about what a bunch of stuck-up Mages who'll never give me the time of day think."

No, her issues were, and always would be with what the people she loved thought about her - how little they believed in her.

"So, you know the current Heir, then?" asked Da Vinci. "You called him 'Gordy' a minute ago, so I assume the two of you are close."

"Yeah, despite there being like twelve years between us, and seven between him and Susumu, the three of us always got along well enough. He liked seeing Tokyo when he'd come to visit every other summer - though that might have just been because that was one of the few times the Tooles would let him out of their sight." Fujimaru smiled fondly. "He's a bit of a worrywart, but he's not a bad guy. Probably where I got some of my fondness for Homunculi from - despite how much he'd complain about how strict the Tooles were on him, you'd have to have been blind to not see how close he was to them."

Fujimaru considered for a second, then shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound, she supposed. "I halfway think there might have been thoughts about engaging me to him, once upon a time." She ignored the simultaneous gasps from both Mash, Da Vinci, and, she supposed unsurprisingly, Roman. "When I was still really young, back when my parents were still holding out hope I was a 'late-bloomer'..." She made air quotes with her fingers here. "Mom sat me down and asked me some questions that, when I got older, were really specific and almost…leading. 'How did I like Germany?' 'What did I think of Goredolf?' Things like that."

She shook her head. "But when I turned out as a disappointment, that was probably the end of that. And there was no way they'd ever think about engaging Heir to Heir - completely unthinkable, so Susumu was out of the question. Not that I'd ever have gone along with it, anyways. Gordy's really not my type. If my parents had tried to force me into an arranged marriage like that, I'd have stolen a bike and taken off like some kind of yanki."

"Probably for the best," said Roman. "I know some Clock Tower families still practice arranged marriages, but they rarely work out well."

"I agree," said Mash, her cheeks puffed out. "Senpai should be allowed to choose who she wants to marry."

Fujimaru grinned, and snatched her Kohai up in a big hug. "Awww, Mash, that's sweet. I accept. Think we can have Emperor Nero do the service for us?"

Mash turned beet red and started sputtering, which was the whole point of it. Well, that and taking her mind off other things.

Like the fact that talking about her childhood reminded her that, besides her family, Gordy, the Tooles, and THEIR family were also ash in the wind.

And that she'd killed someone today.

"But anyways…" she said, still draped across her blushing Kohai. "That's how Ritsuka Fujimaru learned about Alchemy and Homunculi. Like I told Archer, not the most useful skills for the situation we're in - growing a Homunculi takes resources that would be better spent elsewhere given we're still picking ourselves up after Lev's sucker punch…" She trailed off.

"And here comes the Emperor, so I'm guessing we're getting close to Rome." She winced, as her feet renewed their complaints. "And just in time - it's getting dark, and my poor feet really aren't used to all this walking."

---

 

SITE OF CHALDEA'S ARRIVAL

MANY HOURS LATER​

The night was deep when the Servant finally stirred from his position. The Chaldeans had been gone for hours, but his orders had been specific - and enforced with a Command Seal. He was to observe, then report back. And under no circumstances was he to be detected by the Chaldeans. So he'd stayed in his burrow, soil and grass covering him, not moving an inch. To be certain, you see.

The Command had just enough wiggle room to allow him to essentially shirk his duty by remaining hidden here, given plausibility because it was something he himself would do, go back to check a battlefield after the fact to make sure there were no loose ends. Justifying it that way was honestly some of the easiest mental gymnastics he'd done in his blood-soaked service.

But it was a pointless rebellion - eventually he would have to make his way back to his loathsome Master, and report. But every second he was here, and not doing the bidding of that Mage - if someone who set off every alarm bell in his head was just a Mage - was a second he was gifting to the Chaldeans. By now, they'd made it back to Rome, and saw how desperate the situation was. And if what he saw was any indication, they'd not waste time - they'd act.

Maybe the seconds he was buying them would be just enough to overcome the odds stacked against them.

Red, compelling energy flickered across his vision, and he knew he'd overstayed his grace period. The Chaldeans hadn't returned by now, which meant the Command Seal was reasserting its authority, telling him to return and give his report.

And he had a great deal to report. The bloody, apocalyptic histories of two weapons filled his mind, and the Command Seal was a beckoning voice, ordering him to speak of what he'd seen.

He stood, dirt cascading off his form, the dim moonlight catching on his silver hair, the wind ruffling at the hem of his long coat.

The man who had once been called Shirou Emiya, many, many lifetimes ago sighed, and began his trek to the north.

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Training montage? Training montage.

It's never made too much sense for me for protag to be in the Chaldean uniform to start the story - they pretty much got dumped into Chaldea straight out of the flight/transport there, and then were immediately shoved into Olga's meeting. Never saw where they'd have had time to change. So Fujimaru in this story was running around Fuyuki in her street clothes. Also makes more sense that she'd stick out in the meeting and would draw Olga's eye, and ire, more easily.

As Achilles v Chiron in Fate: Apoc showed us, despite being an Archer, Chiron can throw HANDS. That was honestly, to me, a better fight than the much-lauded Sieg v Karna fight. Much less flashy and more brutal - but I still swoon to the Winter Soldier v Captain America bridge fight over anything else in the MCU for its brutal simplicity. And those knife-flips were sick as hell.

Largely making up the Homunculi stuff up a bit as I go on to serve the needs of the story.

Gods, I hope I am writing Nero right. She's my waifu prime, but I am so nervous over finally being able to try to handle her in this fic. Also trying not to go overboard with the 'Umus!', despite wanting to spam it like a looping NP.

Weird post time given my usual schedule, but this was almost finished earlier, and I meant to finish it before I started dinner, but Traum, and the Charlemagne rank up took longer than I expected, so you get this after dinner because it was ready, just had to give it a read over.

Hope you enjoy.

I'd claim this chapter is brought to you by something other than JoJos Intros 1, 2, 3, and 5, but I'd be lying. Damn ear worms.

Chapter 25: Septem 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 25

 

ROME​

As they neared the capital of the Empire, the Emperor had finally been able to detach from her officers, and had abandoned her perch on the chariot to drift backwards in the column to flit around the group from Chaldea, like they were candles and she was some sort of tiny, blonde moth, possessed of far too much energy.

Likely due to the fact that she had been riding, and not walking as they had made their way from the battlefield. Though it was possible she was just possessed of the same boundless energy that the pink Dragon Girl from the previous Singularity had.

(Some part of Kratos' mind recalled that Liz had made a comment about a rival who she had described as a 'Roman nutcase'. He wondered…)

She was as certainly fond of the sound of her own voice as Liz had been - their march since they had been 'graced' by the presence of the Emperor had been a continual barrage of questions and breathless boasting about the city they were about to behold. At least up until Fujimaru had begun to flag - the girl's still-healing legs reaching their limits. At which time she was invited to share the chariot of the Emperor for the final approach to the city - something the girl eagerly accepted, with Mash and Chiron allowed to jog alongside the chariot as an honor guard for the Emperor's esteemed guest.

'She's hiding something,' Cu's voice in his head was contemplative. 'For all that she was darting around us like a bat out of hell, she was moving very, VERY carefully. And she practically jumped at the chance to get back on her chariot.'

'She took wounds in that battle.' replied Kratos. 'I saw at least two instances with my own eyes, but she shows no visible signs of them. And her dress shows none of the marks of battle. Dirt, grime, dust, blood - she is completely free of all of them.'

'Might be one of her officers is her Court Mage or something - if anyone would get immediate treatment, it would be the Emperor.' Cu was watching Nero closely, likely only partially because of the glimpses of her body he was getting from her outfit. 'Think it's possible we backed the wrong horse here?'

'I…do not think so. The use of the homunculi soldiers seems to suggest this United Roman Empire is the change we are here to correct.' Though Kratos could not discount that possibly, history had been accelerated, and Nero had gone mad earlier than history had recorded. And the United Roman Empire was merely those who had fled her madness, and were forced to resort to drastic measures to fight their former Emperor.

He sighed. Traveling in time remained more trouble than it was worth. And when he had done so, it had not involved another party actively trying to change history as well.

As they drew closer to the city that had, for a while now, been on the horizon, they began to get their first good look at Rome itself.

It had seen better days.

The city was massive - even at the rapidly closing distance they were at, Kratos could see that it sprawled across an area that would dwarf even the largest of cities from his homeland - yes, even Athens or Sparta.

And yet…

The walls that encircled the city were oddly light on guards - they were there, certainly, but far fewer than Kratos would have expected - and demanded, were he in charge - for a city that had active enemy forces less than a day's march away.

And it was not as if the walls were pristine - they showed signs of damage that looked recent. Clearly it was not the case that Emperor Nero had been surprised by the force that they had battled less than a few hours ago. It was certainly possible that she had led these men out there to deal with the very force that had damaged the walls of her city.

'If you scowl any harder, Kratos, your face might freeze that way,' Cu, in the corner of Kratos' eye, shrugged. 'But I can't blame you too much. I don't like the looks of this, not one bit. And I bet if we could talk with Chiron like this, he'd be nodding his head along with what we're saying.' Cu's hand reached up to cup his chin. 'The inside of the city's going to tell us a lot - and I think we both know what we're expecting to see.'

The column slowed as they drew up to one of the gates that barred entry into the city, and the Emperor, with Fujimaru still in her chariot, raced ahead to shout up to the gatehouse. By the time they had reached the walls, the doors had been unbarred, and the city lay open to them.

Emperor Nero had wheeled her chariot around to face her men, and with a flourish of her arm, gestured to the gates of the city. "My men! I thank you for your service this day! You stood fast and saw off a force greater in number, if inferior in QUALITY! Rest, and celebrate your victory this day!" A cheer went up from the assembled soldiers, with scattered cries echoing down from the walls. She then turned her gaze to the Chaldeans. "And to our new allies, MY guests, behold, the Jewel of the World, ROME!"

The Jewel of the World, noted Kratos, as they entered the city, was quiet. Well, quiet, save for the voice of the Emperor, who was wasting no time in extolling the virtues of her city to the Chaldean visitors.

"And HERE! The finest wines in the Empire were sold at this shop, they graced my table every evening…or they did, until this despicable war came upon us, and we were forced to focus our city's production on other things." Nero gave a disdainful sniff. "But they shall resume production again soon, once we have bested these fakes who dare call themselves Romans!"

As the Emperor began another tangent, Fujimaru drifted back from where she had been walking, just a few steps behind Nero, who had left her chariot to be stabled at the gates as she marched purposefully through Rome. "The city…it's so empty." Her eyes were darting around, taking in the few people that they passed on the streets.

"This is war, Fujimaru," said Kratos, his voice low. "I suspect, as does Caster," he met Chiron's eyes, who nodded, while making noises of agreement to Nero's current boast. "And as does Archer, that the United Roman Empire possesses the advantage of numbers in this conflict."

"Which means that the winemakers the Emperor was just praising were likely conscripted into the front lines to make up some of that difference," Chiron frowned. "Which, given your discovery of the manner of the forces facing Rome, will only be a temporary solution. The empty streets…the people who once lived here are likely now serving on whatever fronts make up this war. If they are not already dead."

"And if they haven't left for the other side," said Cu, with a whisper. "It's kind of inevitable in a conflict, you're always going to have some people who think their side is a sinking ship and will bail out at the first sign of adversity, or when they think their side is doomed to lose. I saw it in my time, and I'd bet the other two soldiers in our group saw it in theirs."

Kratos grunted. Even in the conflict with Persia, in Sparta of all places, there had been some few who had begun to speak, quietly, of the virtues of bending the knee and becoming Persian Empire's strong mailed fist in Greece, and the rewards that would bring - such as seeing Athens finally humbled by Spartan might, backed by the countless legions of Persia.

Defeatists. They had changed their tune when the tale of Leonidas' final stand at Thermopylae had returned to the city. And those few who had still argued submission had been dealt with as the traitors they were.

Kratos growled, low in his throat. He felt hemmed in by this far too empty city, and he knew why. Statues of familiar figures loomed from buildings and temples as they passed them by - that he could not read the writing on the plaques did not stop him from recognizing the gods of his land, even different as they were in this world. Zeus, Athena, Ares, Poseidon, and others. They surrounded him, their stone eyes seemed to follow him, judging him as he walked the streets of this city.

'More and more I think it's a good thing I won our little game and got to accompany you here, Kratos, because Avenger would not take well to being on the receiving end of what you're putting out. It'd probably make her even more irritable. Medusa could probably handle it, but she doesn't exactly have a good opinion of these gods much either, the two of you would probably end up feeding off each other.' Cu slapped Kratos on the back, while pretending to point out something in the city. 'Can't blame you, though. I doubt I'd be doing so well if I was wandering through a city that was dedicated to worshiping Medb. Hell, I'd probably have turned tail and run the other way before I got five steps in, just in case the genuine article was waiting on me somewhere inside.' The Irishman shuddered.

Kratos took a deep breath, feeling some of his ire dissipate. He nodded along to whatever Cu had been saying aloud, and sent a feeling of thanks across their link.

They had made their way into the heart of the city by this time, and had steadily been ascending the hill that the city had been built on.

"And HERE, my honored guests, is the grand palace where I rule fair Rome from!" If Rome had been lacking in splendor, the palace at least matched the images Da Vinci had shown him of Rome at its height.

And yet, again, there were subtle signs of, not squalor, but that the palace had once been grander. The fence that surrounded the palace was wrought iron, but here and there were signs that it had once been gilded with some other metal - likely gold, going by the few spots that still remained. And there were holes in the gate itself where it appeared that gems, likely rare and precious ones, had once been fitted, but had since been removed.

Nero turned, and marched up to them. "My allies, I INSIST you be my guests this night in my palace! All the wonders of Rome shall be at your fingertips, and I shall feast you in thanks for your aid this day." A shrewd look came onto her face. "And then, later, we could discuss the circumstances by which you have come to my Empire, and if a possible alliance would serve us both."

Kratos looked around at his group, receiving nods from each. "That is acceptable."

Nero beamed. "UMU! Wonderful, my guests! Follow me, and prepare to be dazzled!"

The inside, at least, had not seen any obvious degradation in quality. It was luxurious, and decadent.

Kratos hated it on sight.

"Goodness, this is all a bit…much, isn't it?" said Fujimaru, head darting around, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could. "Even for a big-city girl like me from Tokyo, this is really something."

"Toh-kee-yoh?" Nero carefully sounded out the unfamiliar word. "This is where you are from? Given your hair, I had thought you were possibly from Britannia - hair that color is much more common for those from that northern land."

For a brief second, a shade of something seemed to darken the Emperor's face, then it was gone.

"Nope. It's far to the east - like, really, REALLY far. The other side of the world, far." Fujimaru laughed. "Does have it in common that they're both islands, though. But that's about it. At least we figured out how to use spices in our food, unlike them."

"Umu! It sounds fascinating, and exotic!" The Emperor seized Fujimaru by the arm. "You MUST sit next to me at the feast this evening and tell me tales of your homeland!"

"Sure, I can do…..and she's gone." As quickly as Nero had pounced upon Fujimaru, she had detached, and was greeting the servants who had, apparently, been awaiting her arrival. After a round of orders, the Emperor marched back to them.

"These shall see you to your rooms, where you may refresh yourself before the evening's feast! As my guests, the whole of the halls of my glorious palace are yours to explore! I do SO recommend the baths, I designed them myself! Perfect for washing the exhaustion of a day away!" She crossed the room, heading for a grand staircase that led to the upper levels. "Unfortunately, I must part with you for the time being, there are affairs of state that…"

The Emperor stumbled. She covered it well, making it look like a mere trip, but Kratos saw. Her legs had nearly given out on her. She was, however, close enough to Kratos to make it look like she had merely caught herself on his arm, preventing a simple fall.

"Kratos! It occurs to me, as the leader of your group, we should speak preliminarily before any serious discussions occur! Please, would you accompany me to my solar, where we could speak further?"

Nero's head turned to look up at him, while her expression remained the same as it had been, her eyes were wild, and desperate. "Play along…..please, I beg of you," she whispered, so soft that, even as close as she was, Kratos barely heard her.

Kratos gave a grunt that Nero clearly took as one of assent (it was, for the record), and clung tighter to his arm. "Wonderful! Then let us be off!"

With her back to the veritable army of servants that had descended upon the rest of the Chaldeans, Nero began to lead Kratos up the stairs, leaning heavily on his arm - though at a glance, it would appear as nothing more than the Emperor being somewhat…touchy with one of her guests. Something that, from the knowing smiles on the faces of the staff, was apparently nothing unusual.

Kratos could see, however, close as he was to her. The tendons on her neck were standing out - she was gritting her teeth with every step she took up the stairs. He was practically carrying her, so much of her weight - minor as it was - was being borne by him.

'Any other time I'd tell you not to stick it in crazy, but I think we both know you're not about to do any such thing, just like she isn't clinging to you for any other reason than to try to stay on her feet.' As he'd suspected, Cu had noticed the Emperor's near collapse. 'Bellow if you need help or anything, I'll try to stick close to the lass and her crew. Though I'd bet Chiron's filling her in right now.'

Nero continued regaling Kratos with the storied history of the various works of art - some created by her, she boasted - as they ascended the stairs, her breath coming in quicker and quicker gasps - though she did not let it show in her voice or her ceaseless narration. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, and were finally out of the sight of the servants on the ground floor, he was practically dragging her, her feet slapping weakly against the ground.

"Left, yes, please," she bit out. "My quarters are there, help me there, if you would."

With barely any effort, he lifted her from the ground and quickly crossed the distance to the door she had indicated.

"So strong," she muttered, a sigh of relief escaping her lips once she no longer had to support her own weight. "Rest is all I need - but I will make you a Viceroy for your service to the Emperor, and Rome itself, for the Emperor is Rome." Kratos shouldered the doors open, entering a lavish chamber obviously meant for entertaining guests - plush seats surrounded finely crafted tables, upon which rested vases filled with fresh flowers - red ones that were unfamiliar to Kratos, but put him in the mind of the hellebores of Greece.

"You may set me down, Master Kratos. Your service, no, your courtesy and your aid will be rewarded." Carefully, he placed her back on her feet. "My bed is just through those doors, I will be able to make it on my own from here. I will rest for a few hours, then we shall speak again at this evenings…"

Nero made it two steps before she collapsed to the ground. Her arms flailed as she tried, and failed to catch her fall, and something flew from her hands, clinking against the ground.

Nero's form shimmered, and like a curtain being pulled away, her image changed.

Her once pristine red dress was now torn and shredded, blood and dirt staining it, in parts, almost black. One sleeve had been torn completely away, leaving her arm bare - upon which Kratos could see an ugly bruise, yellowed with age, in the shape of a massive hand.

And that was not the only wound the Emperor bore. Caked blood covered her back - the slash he had seen her take in the earlier battle. One of her legs was splinted and bandaged, and the bandages themselves were giving off the sickly-sweet odor of pus. A ragged hank of hair had been torn from her head, leaving a bloody patch of bald skin atop her skull. Numerous other cuts and scratches covered her form - all minor in comparison to the more serious injuries she sported.

And around her neck was again the imprint of a massive hand, a twin to the one that had grasped her arm.

Nero did not try to rise, she merely curled up into a ball, her breaths coming shallowly and unevenly. Whispered gasps of 'no' escaped her lips.

'CASTER!' Kratos' voice rang in his mind, as he seized Cu's thread with almost indecent haste. 'Come to where I am, and bring Chiron and Fujimaru, NOW!'

Carefully, Kratos knelt by the woman's side and lifted her, gently bearing her to one of the couches that rested against the walls of the room. Nero's head lolled up at him - staring at him through a single green eye - her other eye had been swollen shut by a black eye that had swelled so badly that she was unable to open it. "And now you know….the pitiable state of the Emperor."

"Do not speak," said Kratos, laying her down on the couch - oddly glad of the opulence of the room. The softness of the couch would at least provide her some comfort, he hoped. "Aid is coming."

"No, no, no…" she protested weakly. "They cannot, MUST not see! Morale holds on by a thread. If they see their Emperor in this state, it will crumble…my Rome will crumble."

Nero's protests were cut off as Cu barged in through the doors. "Came as quick as I could and they're right behind me, and…holeeeeee shit!" Cu drew up to Kratos' side as he looked down on a barely-conscious Nero. "What the hell happened in the handful of minutes you were out of our sight?"

Kratos had no time to reply, as Chiron and a gasping Fujimaru dashed into the room. "Too….many….stairs…..what's going……" The girl's eyes widened as she took in the state of the Emperor. Lines flared up and down her clothes, and she dashed to the couch. She knelt down, and placed a hand on Nero's forehead. "First Aid," she intoned, green mana flowing out from her uniform and over the woman's body.

Nero gave a soft sigh as her wounds began to slowly mend. Fujimaru frowned down as she watched the spell work. "That'll do for some of that, but I don't think that spell had nearly enough juice for a full patch job - not as many injuries as she's sporting."

Chiron was nodding. "You are correct, my Master. Which means we will have to do this in the manner of Asclepius." He drew a small first aid kit out of one of his pouches. "Can I ask you to assist me, Master - I assume your strong stomach will carry over to medical procedures?"

"Never put it to the test, but I'm game," Fujimaru was already slipping out of her uniform jacket, leaving her in the thin shirt she had worn to the briefing this morning, and moving to switch her ponytail from the side to the back. "Just tell me what to do, Sensei."

"Please," whispered Nero. "My people MUST not know of this."

"I'll get the door," said Cu. "Won't be much help with any of this, so I can go stand outside and look intimidating. I'd say Kratos should come with, since he lives and breathes big and scary, but it would ruin the fiction that the Emperor is having a 'discussion' with our leader - intimate or otherwise." He clapped Kratos on the shoulder. "Sorry buddy - I know you probably don't want people thinking that about you, but if we're going to honor the Emperor's wishes, we'll probably have to let that rumor float about."

Kratos growled, low in his throat, but nodded. "I have made greater sacrifices for worse causes. Go."

Chiron sighed, looking over the contents of the kit. "We may as well get Mash up here - she had access to most of our supplies, after all, and this kit was never meant to be much more than an emergency stopgap in the event myself and others were separated from the group."

"We can probably make a leyline connection as well," said Cu, who was shoving the doors closed. "Felt like there was a decent one running beneath the city - most big cities this far back in history were built on top of them, either at the direction of the gods, or the local wisemen, whatever name they went by - druids, mages, medicine men, yada yada." The doors creaked closed, and his voice was cut off.

Fujimaru closed her eyes, then, a second later, nodded. "She's on her way. I'm getting Roman on the line."

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Chiron and Fujimaru tended to the Emperor, with Romani observing and making observations and suggestions as the only true medical professional in the room - while Chiron's experience probably dwarfed his, Roman was much more familiar with the modern items and procedures that Chaldea used. Mash arrived a few minutes into the procedure, and quickly pulled a full first aid kit from her shield, which Chiron gladly took.

"Mash," rumbled Kratos, as the girl stepped back from the couch where Chiron was tending to Nero. "Caster suggested there was a leyline beneath this city. Do you believe you can connect to it?"

"I can try, Mr. Kratos." She summoned her shield, and laid it upon the floor of Nero's quarters. Lines of power flickered up and down her shield, and a circle burst into being around it. The energy pulsed once, and then was gone, the circle fading a moment later.

"Leyline secured - now we should be able to resupply from Chaldea, or switch people in and out." Mash picked up her shield, then dismissed it. "Honestly, after France, that's a bit of a relief."

"Agreed," said Da Vinci, who was anxiously watching the collective effort on her monitors, not even looking at Mash or Kratos. "You're at least in a proper city this time around, so you shouldn't have to worry about food for the time being - but if this turns into a proper war against this United Roman Empire, depending on the supply lines, it might become an issue. And being able to swap Servants based on the situations we face is a nice thing to have in our back pockets."

Kratos knelt and picked up the object that had fallen from Nero's hands. It was little more than a bauble, a decorated sphere that sparkled as it caught the light, perhaps a toy for a child. But he could feel magic from it - not strong magic, but magic nonetheless.

"Da Vinci," he held the item up so her projection could see it. "This seems to be the object that allowed the Emperor to hide her wounds. What can you make of it?"

"Let me see," Da Vinci pursed her lips, and leaned forward in her seat. "Hmmmm. A surprisingly dense array of spells in such a simple looking trinket. Definitely some illusion magic there - but that's about all I can tell over a connection like this. I'd need to get my hands on it to really tell more - and since it's not exactly your property, that's off the table if we want to stay on the Emperor's good side."

"Then we shall get answers when the Emperor is fit to speak," Kratos set the item on the table, and settled back to wait. Chiron at least seemed calm as he tended to the Emperor. That was a good sign, in Kratos' experience. Physicians tended to panic when they were close to losing a patient, particularly one as important as an Emperor - though from the time he had spent with Chiron, the man seemed almost Spartan in his inability to be shaken.

Very unlike two other Servants Kratos could name.

It was maybe 15 minutes later that a somewhat bloodied Chiron left the Emperor's side and walked up to Kratos, Mash, and Da Vinci. "She's resting for now. I gave her something for the pain - I can't imagine the agony she was in trying to walk on that leg."

"What's the verdict, Doc?" asked Da Vinci. "I could always bother Roman, since he was working directly with you, but better I get it straight from the attending physician."

Chiron shook his head. "She is, quite frankly, a mess. I managed to disinfect and bandage most of her battle wounds - infection should not be an issue, at least." He smiled. "That time I spent learning of modern medicine was certainly beneficial - thank you for indulging me, Doctor Romani."

"No, thank YOU, Archer," Romani scratched at the back of his head. "You don't know the world of good it does me to know there's someone going along with Mash, Fujimaru, and Kratos who at least knows enough medicine to keep them alive if the worst happens." He shrugged. "Though, if we get to the point that Kratos needs medical attention, we're already in a world of trouble."

"True - as you have mentioned, he has his own tricks for healing, beyond his fearsome constitution." Chiron glanced over his shoulder at Nero. "Fujimaru's spell seems like it did the majority of its work patching her broken leg - and wisely, it would seem. It looks to have been set improperly, without that spell, we possibly would have had to break it and reset it, and that would not have been a quiet process."

"Yeah, hearing the Emperor of Rome screaming would have brought every soldier in the city down on us," said Fujimaru, from where she was cleaning her hands off in a basin.

"Otherwise, I have done all I can. The rest of her wounds, the bruises, the hair torn from her scalp, and the black eye, the bruised ribs, as well as everything else all merely require time to heal. Once Fujimaru's Mystic Code recharges itself," he glanced at Da Vinci, who mouthed '12 hours'. "We will see about giving her another treatment of that."

"Is it safe if I go clean myself off, Sensei?" asked Fujimaru. "Between the homunculus bits still sticking to me and now this, those baths are sounding mighty nice."

Chiron nodded. "It should be fine, my Master."

"Good," Fujimaru linked her arm with Mash, and began pulling the girl along with her. "C'mon, Mashie, I need someone to protect my virtue down there, and, well, I hate to say it, but you're getting a little ripe yourself. Let's go get ourselves clean."

Mash stammered something as she was dragged off, and those still in the room could hear Cu mutter something to the two girls as they departed.

After a moment, Kratos asked the question that was at the forefront of his mind. "Can she speak?"

Chiron opened his mouth to reply, but it was not his voice that spoke. "She can."

Chiron span around, a look of exasperation on his face. "I quite clearly told you to rest, your Majesty."

"And while you are a peerless physician, Sir Archer, I am afraid it is the Emperor's prerogative to ignore your orders. There is a banquet to be held in honor of my return, and you, my guests, this evening, and the lack of the Emperor's presence would send ripples of unease throughout the city."

She made as if to sit up, but Chiron was there, hands on her shoulders, pushing her down. "You should not even be able to walk on that leg - it may hold your weight better now, but it must be agony to use it for any length of time. Truly, I do not know how you bore it before my student healed what she could of it with her spell."

Nero glared up at the Servant, though she ceased trying to rise. "Simon taught me a simple spell to dull pain - it was for my migraines, but I have discovered it works just as well for injuries taken in battle."

Chiron sighed. "If you are truly set upon this, I beg of you to gain what rest you can. We have a capable smith who can create something that will brace your leg and allow you to move about with much less pain." He glanced over to Da Vinci's projection, and she nodded, and the image winked out. "She will work quickly, and have it ready before you must make your appearance, so I beg you, please, rest."

Nero sagged back into the couch. "Very well, physician. You have an hour - no more. After that time, I will be at the feast if I must go through you, then drag myself to it after we fight." She turned to look at the rest of the room. "You have questions, I believe?"

She peered at the projection of Romani. "And who is this blue man, and by what sorcerous means has he joined us?"

Romani gave a formal bow, his movements oddly smooth and practiced. "Your Majesty, Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, I am Doctor Romani Archaman, the acting head of Chaldea - the organization to which these people belong. We have a magic that allows us to speak from across great distances, that is how you are seeing me here."

"May I ask your purpose in my Empire?" She raised a finger to her lips. "Warriors as mighty as these, and not just warriors, but a physician and mages as well - you are no mere band of travelers. I feel you are here for a reason."

"We are tracking an enemy of ours…a traitor," Romani's face twisted in a scowl. "A man named Lev Lainur - committed treachery that did us considerable harm and took the lives of many of our friends and allies, before fleeing." Romani licked his lips. "We have been tracking him for a considerable distance and a great amount of time, and the trail has led us to here."

"It is possible his hand lies behind this United Roman Empire," said Kratos. "He has already attempted to destroy another kingdom as we tracked him, though he had fled long before we came upon the ruin he had left."

Nero stared at them for a long moment, thinking. "I cannot recall any mention of this man, though it does not mean he is not involved in some way." She fidgeted. "The United Roman Empire…they rose from nothing months ago, and have stolen a full half of my Empire from me in that time. Their leaders claim to be Emperors such as myself."

"Serv…." Romani cut himself off. "When you say other Emperors, your Majesty, you mean…"

"Names from the past. I had thought it just talk, imposters using the names of our legendary founders to gain legitimacy…" Her voice got quiet. "Until my uncle returned from the dead."

"Emperor Caligula," Chiron looked down at Nero. "Did he do this to you?"

"I was overjoyed to see him, my dear uncle. I ignored that his men were flying the banners of the United Roman Empire and threw open the gates of the city. I hoped that we could possibly reach some resolution that would stop the bloodshed, so I paraded him into my palace, welcomed him with open arms…then he seized me by the throat and howled my name."

Nero curled up into a ball on the couch, turning so she was facing away from them. "He was so strong…impossibly, inhumanly strong. Far stronger than my uncle ever was…and less sane. I tried to break free, but it was akin to Sisyphus pushing the boulder - a fruitless endeavor. If it was not for Simon, I would be dead."

"Simon Magus, Nero's mentor and Court Mage," said Romani. "By all accounts, very, very powerful. For him to be able to drive off a Servant, he would have to be, but the Mystics were much more powerful now, this close to the end of the Age of Gods."

"I see the stories of his, and therefore my, exploits have reached even the far lands from whence you hail," Kratos could hear the fond smile in Nero's voice as she spoke of her mentor. "True, he was able to free me from my mad uncle's grasp - if indeed that was my uncle and not some demon using his face. But all it did was transfer his ire to him, from me."

"Simon fought him hard, using every trick he had, and at the last, was able to hurt that thing, my uncle or no, enough that he was forced to withdraw. But Simon passed from his wounds soon after. Had we a physician of your skill, Archer, maybe…" Nero's voice grew thick. "But we did not, and I was forced to leave him lying there to pursue that thing wearing my uncle's face to make sure it died for the crime of laying hands upon the Emperor."

She coughed. "Could I please beg some water? There should be some on the table - I would ask for wine, but I fear the physician would protest."

Kratos helped the woman sit up, while Chiron poured water into a cup and held it up to her lips. She muttered about not being an invalid, but still drank deeply, all the same.

"My thanks," she said, settling back into the couch cushions. "To resume my tale, that was three days ago. I had been hunting that thing ever since. Or, that had been my plan, until I discovered he was leading an expeditionary force, one much larger than the troops I was able to muster to pursue him. Then it became three days of measured withdrawals, hit and run attacks, and desperate fighting. My presence on the frontlines was all that kept my men putting one foot in front of the other."

"Could you not have fallen back to your city, gathered more men?" asked Chiron - though his expression said he already knew the answer to that.

"The Legions of Rome are far from the capital, engaging the United Roman Empire on many fronts. We have only a single Legion here to protect the capital - the lines of battle were far enough away that we…that I never expected to confront enemies so close to Rome itself." Nero rested her head on her knees. "Clearly, I was wrong."

"Where was your uncle in this?" rumbled Kratos.

"I do not know," Nero's words became short, clipped, frustrated. "I have not seen him since he was driven from the city by Simon. In all the battles in the fields surrounding Rome, not once did he show himself." Her fists clenched. "He lives still, I know this. And once I am able, I will resume my chase of him. It does not matter if he is or is not the spirit of my uncle - Rome cannot tolerate these false 'Emperors' running around, fracturing my Empire. Not if it is to remain whole."

Romani and Chiron exchanged a look, then they turned to Kratos, who shrugged. He did not see the harm in it - better she know what enemies she faced.

"Emperor Nero, as we already know some of your secrets, we are going to trust you with some of ours. It is entirely possible that that IS your uncle Caligula, returned from the dead through Magecraft. He would be what is called a Servant, a legendary figure of human history." Romani scratched at the back of his head. "We have a bit of familiarity with them, and it would explain the power and strength he displayed - you yourself said it was much greater than what he had in life."

"By what spell, no…," she stopped herself. "This 'Lev' you pursue. This would be his doing, wouldn't it?"

Romani nodded. "We believe so. He used similar means in the last land he tried to destroy, though he did not take an active hand in events beyond setting them in motion, at least not at first. Once we survived his treachery, he returned to there to put a plan in motion for some end - beyond simply trying to stop us."

"And you feel he is, or was, here, in my Empire, as well," Nero's lips thinned. "It would seem then that we have a common cause, travelers from the land of Chaldea." Her eyes trailed to Chiron and Kratos. "Particularly if you possess the means to fight these 'Servants'."

"We do, your majesty," said Chiron. "It could be said that Chaldea specializes in combating Servants."

"Would that be because you yourself are one, Archer?" She laughed as Romani sputtered something incoherent. "I am no Mage myself, but Simon has taught me some things. Yourself, and Caster both felt odd to me. The girl with the shield as well. I imagine, had I not been so overjoyed to see my uncle again, then…terrified, as I dangled from his hand, he would have felt the same to me." She paused, thinking. "And…it would explain some other oddities."

"You would be correct, your Majesty. Caster and myself are Servants, contracted to Chaldea to assist in their endeavors in tracking down and stopping Lev Lainur - and the unknown organization he belongs to. Miss Kyrielight is also a Servant, but her circumstances are special, and not relevant to our immediate situation." There was a small smile on Chiron's face - likely the result of getting to step into the role of a teacher, however briefly. "It is also why we hide our names. To use an example you would be familiar with, a Servant who went around claiming to be Achilles would also be broadcasting his greatest vulnerability to all who could hear."

"I see," said the Emperor. She thought for a moment, then spoke. "And Kratos and the girl who helped tend to my wounds? The girl is obviously no Servant - she is a Mage like my Simon was, yes?" Chiron nodded. "That leaves Kratos as the only unknown here - for he feels nothing like yourself or Caster, or, truly, anything I have ever laid eyes on before."

"Unfortunately, that, like Miss Kyrielight's situation, is a special case that must remain a secret for the time being. Suffice it to say that Kratos is a trusted ally who, like the Servants in Chaldea's employ, has offered his aid in resolving this crisis." Chiron bowed his head. "I do apologize if this causes you any offense."

Nero waved his apology off. "As with your strange names, I would be a poor Emperor to hold such against those who have done me two services now. Keep your secrets. Umu, if you had wished me harm, you could have just left my army to the battle you found us in, or allowed me to lie on the floor where I fell not moments ago."

She gestured, and Chiron lifted the cup to her lips, and she drank greedily, then lowered her head to the pillows. "It seems to me that we share a common enemy, travelers from Chaldea. Whether your Lev Lainur is here or not, you seem convinced the troubles that plague my Rome are due to his mischief." She looked up at them, a desperate hope kindling in her eyes. "Could I prevail on you to assist my Empire in its hour of need?"

"That's why we're here, your Emperorness." Da Vinci's projection winked into life. "I've got the braces ready - it was a quick thing, just had to modify the ones we'd been using for Fujimaru. Once Mash gets back, I can send them right over. They'll be rather obvious, I'm afraid, but I assume whatever means you were using to hide your injuries will see to that."

"Yes. Simon created an object that would allow me to quickly change my look - it was meant for my appearances on stage, but it has served me well in this role." Nero was giving Da Vinci an appraising look. "May I have the name of the vision of loveliness that has done me this boon?"

Da Vinci's laugh was bright and cheerful. She bent in a curtsey. "Leonardo Da Vinci, and yes, I am also a Servant. There's a few of us still at Chaldea besides the ones you've met - if this campaign drags on, you might get the pleasure of their acquaintance." She frowned. "Sadly, for reasons, I can't leave Chaldea, so you'll just have to make do with basking in my radiance though our communicators."

Nero huffed out a breath. "A shame. But putting aside pleasure for affairs of state…and war, do we have an alliance, my guests from the lands of Chaldea?"

"Yes," said Kratos. "Even if Lev is not the one behind the United Roman Empire, they must be defeated to foil his greater plans."

Nero gave a sigh of relief, and tension seemed to leave her body, as she almost melted into the couch. "Finally, after so long, some good news."

---

NERO'S SOLAR

LATER THAT EVENING​

The feast had concluded without incident, though to call it a feast would have been generous.

Oh, Nero had obviously brought out the finest fare from her stores for both her new allies and her generals and the senators she had invited to celebrate her army's victory, but the food had been plainer than Kratos had been expecting for Rome - which had become, as Da Vinci had mentioned, something of a byword for decadence in modern times. And while the courses served had been richer than Spartan staples, they were still simpler dishes than one would have expected to grace the table of an Emperor.

Kratos himself had almost skipped the entire affair, only convinced to attend by the nature of being the leader of Chaldea's forces - his attendance therefore being necessary for the image it would project.

Politics, and 'face', a concept that both Fujimaru and Tanya had explained to Kratos over a meal in Chaldea's cafeteria. Neither were things that Kratos had much use for.

Fortunately, he had largely been left to eat his meal in peace. He had been seated at Nero's left side, a place of honor, but she had largely been distracted the entire meal with Fujimaru, barraging the girl with questions about her homeland. What breath she didn't spend on Fujimaru had been spent bandying words with Cu, who had enjoyed himself greatly - and had caused Mash to flush red with some of the comments he had made to the Emperor, then flush even redder as Nero responded in kind.

The rest of the Romans had not been as well-disposed to the Emperor's guests. The senators, councilors, and others of their ilk had struck Kratos as sharing the worst of traits with the Athenian elite - self-importance and entitlement, all from men who had never had to fight for anything in their lives. Fortunately for all involved, Chiron had been a buffer between the rest of the Chaldeans (and Kratos specifically) and these men. Nero's officers - particularly those who had been with her in the field were more favorably disposed to the Chladeans, having seen them fend off a force much larger than themselves with their own eyes. Something that had helped tilt the battle in the favor of the Roman forces.

Kratos had even managed a few words with one man, Aelius, who seemed as ill at ease with the feast as Kratos himself.

Thankfully for his temper, the feast had been briefer than he had feared it would be, as the Emperor had left the table, citing a need to confer with her new allies over the state of the war, and he had been released from his obligation to remain.

Now, they were back in Nero's chambers, clustered around a series of maps that had been gathered while they had been eating. Nero herself was back on the couch on the orders of Chiron, a certain white-furred creature, who had apparently stowed away again, curled up on her lap and currently being scratched behind the ears.

"Truly, your land of Chaldea must be a place of wonders," said Nero, as Fou barked his approval of the attention he was being paid. "This animal, Fou, you said, I have never seen his like."

"Fou is…Fou," said Mash, with a shrug. "Even we don't know exactly where he came from. He has just always been around." Her face turned downwards, into a frown. "Even when we tell him it isn't safe to sneak into my shield and come along, he does."

"Would that that was the greatest concern we had, but alas, it is not." Nero sat up a bit straighter. "These maps show the current state of our war, as last reported to me. What do you see?"

Kratos needed barely a glance to see the state of affairs for what it was. "You are cut off."

"Umu…..you cut right to the heart of the matter, Kratos," Nero's hands ceased their motion, and merely rested on Fou's head. "Originally, we held a line in Gaul, but we have been pushed back. First to Mediolanum, then to Florentia itself, where fighting is bitter, but at a standstill. This would not be such a dire situation, if not for…" She trailed off.

"The fact that your enemies control the seas," said Chrion. He placed a finger on the various outlying islands. "Your enemies have established bases on the islands around Rome and are sinking any ships attempting to enter or leave the Empire - denying you any fresh supplies or troops."

"Correct. And while some of our provinces still stand and resist this United Roman Empire, they too are cut off from orders from Rome itself. We still have land enough to feed the capital, but if fighting presses any closer…" She sighed. "Tonight's feast will likely be the last one for many months, even if we manage to throw our enemies back."

"And that still leaves your crazy uncle's force wandering around behind the lines, doing as it pleases," said Cu, who was using a splinter of his staff to pick at his teeth. "That's got to be our most immediate concern. They didn't look like they had enough men to besiege this city, but they could absolutely cause a problem if we tried to break the stalemate up north and took us in the back."

"Their existence in the field also threatens the capital," said Kratos. "While Caster is correct that they cannot besiege the city, a well-timed attack could breach the gates."

"And that CANNOT happen," said Nero, her voice brooking no disagreement. "It…pains me to say this, but many of our cities have gone over to the United Roman Empire willingly. For some, it was the only choice, as they lacked the means to resist. They chose to surrender and spare their homes from being sacked. But others, ones that possessed entire Legions, strong walls, and what I believed were loyal consuls bent the knee readily."

"You need a win," said Cu, leaning back in his chair, his feet resting on the table. "Hell, you need several wins all in a damn row. You get on a roll, and it'll show your people here that you're still strong, and would silence any voices that are whispering that maybe it's time for new leadership. Might even bring some of your wayward sheep back into the fold. Back home, I'd do that by going out and winning a string of challenges against the champions in the armies - it's what I did when Medb did her little spell that put all our soldiers down. But that was more about buying time than boosting morale."

"And I don't think these Homunculi they're using against us have enough personality to really have champions," Fujimaru frowned. "It would fit what you told me about the things Lev said - someone with as much contempt for humans as he was showing wouldn't want to dirty his hands by using filthy apes like us to do his dirty work. And grown right - or wrong in this case, Homunculi don't have any free will or individuality to get in the way when you tell them to slaughter babies."

Fujimaru cracked her knuckles. "Mashie, when we find Lev, you're going to hold him still for me while I punch him a few times. And I'm giving him one for Gordy while I'm at it. He'd hate this almost as much as I do." She grinned savagely. "Maybe THAT one will be a knee right in the family jewels."

As Mash nodded, Romani spoke. "It seems like our obvious first step is to clear Caligula's army from the fields around Rome. Based on what Emperor Nero has told us, he's likely a Berserker - the apparent inability to speak anything but her name suggests it. And while there's some instances of Berserkers retaining enough rationality to communicate, the reverse, where one of the Knight or Cavalry classes has high enough Madness Enhancement, they don't lose their reason completely. And certainly not to the point where they can't form sentences."

He shrugged. "But that's a tangent for another time. Unless there's any disagreements, that's our next move."

A round of shaken heads. "And as obvious as our first move is, that brings up the question of what follows that," said Chiron. "We have several options - as there is no lack of areas that require immediate attention."

"Before all…this, with my uncle, I had been planning to lead what men I could spare to Florentia," said Nero. "Breaking the stalemate there seemed most pressing with what forces I could spare. The situation at sea, while not ideal, was not as imminent a threat."

"We handle your uncle, and that could change in a heartbeat," Cu dragged his feet back to the floor, and leaned over the map. "My only real experience with the sea was pulling myself out of it after my teacher punted me into it for talking back to her, but if they start using those boats to unload soldiers on your shores, instead of just locking you down, and that's an issue. They'll bypass the battle lines, and suddenly we're right back to the same problem we had with your uncle's army, only bigger."

Kratos grunted. "We will have to split our forces."

"Two-front wars rarely work out," sighed Fujimaru. "Unless you're the Americans and don't have to worry about fighting on your shores."

"But it would allow us more flexibility. And on the seas, in ship to ship combat, the advantage of a Servant, or Kratos, would be that much greater than against an army on an open field." Chiron considered. "The only question would be who goes where?"

"I can't believe I'm about to suggest this, but if you send me back and bring in Rider, her mount would give you a HUGE advantage there," Cu shook his head. "Imagine, me offering to bow out of what looks like it will be something of a proper war, but the girl would give you air superiority on the high seas, and that's just with her riding it. If she dropped Kratos onto a ship, she could go bombard another part of the battlefield and then pick him up after the ship she dropped him on is a burning ruin."

"The only risk would be is if they have some means of communication with their capital, or one of the ships is carrying a Servant," Da Vinci turned to Nero, who was beginning to open her mouth in a question. "Rider's mount is VERY distinctive - if you see it, Emperor Nero, you'll know immediately who she is, and I expect that would be the same for any of your enemies, even if they don't have a Servant with them. We don't know how much Lev knows about our previous fight against him, so we're trying to keep our cards as hidden as possible."

Mash tilted her head. "Would that mean Senpai, Archer, and myself would accompany Emperor Nero?"

"Yes," said Romani, with a frown. "I'm not crazy about this, but it really does seem like the fastest way to deal with as many problems at once."

"Splitting the party is the quickest way for things to go wrong, and really fast too, but…" Fujimaru shrugged. "It was going to happen sooner or later. I mean, no way the rest of these Singularities are nice enough to let us stay in a group the whole time, and drip-feed our enemies to us one at a time. At least this way, overall command stays with Nero, and I've got my Kohai to keep me safe, and my Sensei to keep me from screwing up too much. I'm about as insulated as I can be. The other way, no." She shook her head. "I'm way too inexperienced to lead something like a sea campaign, even if my dad is an old salty dog."

She gave a sheepish smile. "No, this way I get to watch and learn at an Emperor's side. Field experience with training wheels, or something like that." She flushed. "If, of course, you'll have me, your majesty."

"Umu, I would be a fool to turn away such help," Nero's finger began tapping on her nose. "Foreign auxiliaries are nothing new to the Legions, be they Britannian, Germanican, Gallic, or Aegyptian. A Chaldean one will just be one of many in our rolls - though with the power and skill you demonstrate, I expect you will see your fair share of honors by the end of this war."

She pushed herself up to sit as straight as possible. "But while I will be willing to allow you a fair amount of freedom, as befitting your unique skills, you WILL be under my command. Is this something you can swear to, people of Chaldea?"

There was a long silence as the various Chadleans exchanged looks amongst each other. Finally, Kratos spoke. "So long as your orders are just. But our campaign here has objectives of our own, ones we must meet. We will pursue these should an opportunity present itself."

"I suppose that is acceptable," said Nero. "And I know I have little to no means to force you to do anything - I have seen first hand how powerless I am in front of a Servant. So I will strive to keep my orders just - or I would, if I was capable of giving an unjust order." She extended her hand, which Kratos took, grasping her wrist.

"I welcome you to the forces of Rome, the I Chaldean Auxiliary Force."

---

 

KRATOS' CHAMBERS​

The meeting with Nero had not lasted much longer after that. The Emperor had begun yawning, and Chiron had insisted she sleep - along with the rest of them, as they planned to set out the next day to track down, and eliminate Caligula and his force.

Kratos had retired to the rooms that had been set aside for his use, and it was only as he had begun to pull back the sheets of the (far too opulent, in his opinion - and he had thought the bed in his quarters in Chaldea had been a luxury, at least compared to his bed back in his cabin in Midgard) bed that he realized the dust, sweat, and grime of the road were still clinging to him.

He almost laughed - how quickly he had become accustomed to being able to clean himself before resting for the evening. He was getting soft. (A deeply buried part of him admitted that, possibly, he would miss Chaldea's showers when he returned home.)

Nothing for it, however. He had no desire to wander the halls in search of the baths at this hour.

He had set his Axe and the Blades on a table, and removed his armor, and was debating the merits of just sleeping on the floor, instead of a bed that looked far too much like that it belonged in a brothel, when his communicator crackled.

"Kratos……are you still up?"

Fujimaru. "Speak." Somehow, despite her eccentric behavior, Kratos did not feel she was calling for a frivolous reason. But what could have happened in the moments since they had parted?

"Can you come to my room? I'm two doors down from you, and well, there's something you need to see." She did not sound as if she was in immediate danger, but there was a thread of uncertainty in her voice, one very different from the uncertainty she had, at times, shown before.

Kratos was out the room and rapping his fist on her door moments later, his axe gripped in his other hand. The door cracked open, and a red head of hair beckoned him into the room.

"I ducked my head in here before you called me up there to play nurse to the Emperor, and then I didn't get back here until after the banquet and our strategy session," she said, walking over to the bed, and pointed. "And while I didn't get a ton of time to look around, THAT wasn't here when I first arrived."

'That', in this case, was a rolled piece of paper, sealed with wax. "Sensei's watching through my eyes - if we need him, he'll be here in, well, two shakes of a horse's tail."

"You have not touched it?" As the seal was still unbroken, he did not think she had, but it was best to assume nothing.

"Nope. Mysterious scroll shows up on my bed? Not touching that with a ten-foot pole, and not without running it by leadership - which in this case, means you and Sensei." She frowned. "And I don't know if Da Vinci's knife would unload its charge if I used it to cut the seal - since I'm not about to touch that with my bare hands if I can help it. Didn't really ask her about using them to open correspondence."

"Wise," said Kratos, nudging the scroll with the head of his axe. He did not have the best senses for it, but to him, it felt like a completely ordinary scroll - if there was magic woven into it, it was very faint. More curious was the seal itself - it was the symbol of Chaldea itself, the curling branches, and the unique 'C' within them - inside, of all things, a heart - the stylized modern representation of the organ, at least.

"Yeah, that's the other thing that made me pick up the phone and ring you," said Fujimaru, hovering just behind him. "Neither Sensei or Mashie left that, and it doesn't seem like it'd be Cu's style - if he was trying to prank me, he'd do something more direct."

(Like turning up naked in her bed - if only for the shock value. They might have flirted a bit, but it was largely harmless fun. Cu flirted like he breathed, but in reality, she didn't think he'd lay a hand on her, even with her permission.)

"And he would not do such while we were deployed," said Kratos. The Irish Servant was at times irreverent, but in both Fuyuki and France he had been deadly serious when called to action. "Do you sense anything from it?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "Not a drop of magic, not even whatever was used to drop it off here. Which means it was done really carefully, or someone just dropped it on my bed like putting a bed mint on the pillow." She frowned. "Or it's so carefully hidden that I can't feel it, which, really, wouldn't take all that much. Still not yet that much of a mage."

Kratos grunted. Carefully, he extended a finger, and quickly, briefly, touched the scroll.

Nothing. Not even a tingle on his skin where he had touched it. He supposed that meant it was safe to handle.

He reached behind him and drew his knife.

"Want me to get Mashie?" Kratos stared at the girl. "You could point the letter at her shield, in case it's rigged with exploding runes or something, let that eat the blast instead of our faces."

Kratos considered, then shook his head. "No. I do not feel this is a trap. It feels far too complicated for such."

Fujimaru gave a grim chuckle at that. "When we have some time, remind me to tell you some of my mom's stories about ridiculous plans some Mages have concocted to get one over on each other, but you're the boss. I'll just be on the other side of the room here."

Kratos grunted, then slid the knife between the paper and the seal, and sliced through the wax, then pulled the scroll open.

No explosion, no burst of power. Nothing. It seemed he was right.

Now if only he could read the writing here. He could make out some of it, but other words still remained too complicated for him.

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor broke him from his contemplation of the letter, then Fujimaru's head was peering over his shoulder. "Huh. Want me to read that aloud? Not sure how far along your reading lessons have gotten."

Another grunt from him, and she began speaking. "To the members of Chaldea, do not relax your guard. Your enemy has spies everywhere - even in Rome itself. And of course, that also includes assassins. Be wary."

Fujimaru frowned. "As to my identity, I cannot say, as I am watched carefully, and while I have taken precautions in case this letter falls into the wrong hands, no plan is foolproof. Suffice it to say that I find myself unwillingly in the service of your enemies, and, for reasons of my own, resent this fact. I will seek to aid you in what ways I can until the time at which we can meet, face to face."

"Stay alive until then. Signed, a Co-conspirator, and an Unwilling Slave."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Britain - builds possibly the largest Empire in the history of humanity, upon which, legendarily, they claimed the 'sun would never set', and imported all manner of things from these lands - including spices. Uses none of them in their food. Headdesk

No detour to a volcano for a pointless side bit to connect to a leyline solely so there can be some fights - early FGO writing and 'suddenly wyverns'. I'm generally going to go with the bit about most major cities - at least old ones, having leylines under them.

Chiron - 'How are you still standing?'
Nero - 'TRIPLE GUTS, BITCH!'

This Nero isn't a Servant, so she's not going to be going toe-to-toe with Servants anytime soon, and if it does happen, it's not going to be when she's by her lonesome. So, I'm touching more on what she learned from Simon Magus here - since she learned enough from him to qualify as a Caster - and without forcing herself into the class like she did for her Saber version. Part of the Summer UMU profile even says it's a better fit for her than Saber. And Rider would be an even better fit, but she avoids that like a plague because it strays too far to Beast UMU, or so I've read.

Honestly, it's a weird choice to have Septem and Okeanos have living characters as the main support Servant in them - AND Camelot, but that's because it's a massive OH SHIT! moment in the final fight when that coin is dropped, as Bedi's been burning himself away at both ends to try to save the Lion King.

OOC Everyone: Chiron, you get to the Face for our Shadowrun party. Because Kratos is grumpy, Fujimaru can't control her mouth, Avenger is AVENGER, Cu is trouble, Mash is still learning to be human, and Medusa is far too quiet for the job.

OCC Chiron: 'But I wanted to be a Street Samurai!'

Not a ton of action this chapter, but need to establish the state of things before we hit the starting gun. Septem in game never felt like the Roman Empire was really being pressured, so that's something I'm aiming to highlight better this time around. A more minor sin of Septem considering its more egregious flaws (too much Nero-simping), but still an issue that's glaringly obvious to me as I re-read the chapter with fresh eyes.

This chapter brought to you by SLASH.

Happy Memorial Day to you lot. Hope you're enjoying your day off, for those in the States.

Chapter 26: Septem 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 26​

It was still dusk when they set out - the Emperor wanted an early start hidden by the predawn darkness, in case, no, because she expected the gates of Rome were watched. By moving before a camp would begin breaking for the morning, she hoped to steal a march on her uncle's forces.

It had some merit to it - Fujimaru had been clear that Homunculi DID need sleep like normal humans, though it varied by maker and formula how much they required.

"And I can only guess for this batch - rummaging around in one's chest cavity isn't going to tell me that, even if I was a Master at it, and I'm not - I wouldn't even qualify for my Merit Badge, despite how many summers I spent elbows deep in one at the Musik Family Estate." She shrugged. "A couple weeks a year, for every other year is no substitute for continual, concentrated study like Gordy had. HE could probably sniff their blood and give you a detailed outline of their strengths, weaknesses, and ways to improve the process."

She smiled fondly. "Then he'd turn red, puff up like an inflated balloon, and demand to know who was behind this abomination, and start warming up his 'Gof Punch' for when he met them. Good old Gordy."

So it was that the sun was only just beginning to break out over the horizon when Rome's sole remaining Legion marched out from the gates.

Kratos was glad to put his back to it, and the gods worshiped there.

"It will be a half-day's march to the site of our battle," Nero was saying, again mounted on her chariot, with Fujimaru riding by her side - publicly as a way of honoring the newest auxiliary force in Rome's armies, but in truth to keep the girl's healing spell, and Chiron, close at hand in case her injuries flared up while on the campaign trail. "I have already dispatched scouting parties ahead of our march to try to find their spoor. With luck, we will be upon them before they have gone too far from wherever they made camp last evening."

"IF they made camp," said Fujimaru, her side-ponytail being whipped about by the wind as the chariot's wheels ground up the dirt. "Homunculi might need sleep eventually, but if you're enough of a sadist, you can push them until they drop. There's always the possibility they marched on through the night, and are just making camp now - or are still marching."

"But there were humans there to give the soldiers orders - possibly only a handful, but still, there had to be some. If, as we have theorized, Caligula is a Berserker, he would not be able to fulfill that role," said Chiron. "So they would have to take that into account. Even if they are mounted, as you are, Master, their horses would need rest at some point."

"Unless of course the whole point is to run the army into the ground," said Cu, easily jogging along with the chariot. "If they know we're here, they might be looking to salvage what they can out of this before we fall on them like a hammer squashing a grape. They march the dolls to death, and what do they care, they can always grow more. The actual men - and the Servant, if they give two shits about him, are much more valuable. And it would be much easier to fit a couple of officers and a Berserker on a getaway ship than it would be to transport an entire army."

"There is also the north," Kratos' voice rumbled over the din of marching feet and rattling wheels. "An army appearing in the rear of your forces there could break the stalemate - if your forces are as sorely pressed as you say, their mere appearance could cause the lines to falter."

Nero sighed. "And that is not even accounting for what harm they could do if they scattered their forces into smaller centuries and simply set out to cause as much damage as they could in the countryside." Her grip on the chariot's edge grew white-knuckled. "We would not have the forces, much less the TIME to chase down and put out so many small fires, not while we are needed elsewhere."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And, with each farm burned, each small settlement butchered, they stir up unrest - which already bubbles beneath my Empire's surface. Rome is dry kindling, and they are the torch. All they need is one spark to catch and…"

"We will find them, your Majesty," said Chiron. "The plan you have drawn up is adequate for your needs - and for a situation with so many possibilities for how your enemy may act. Your scouts should be close to reaching the battlefield now - such a large force will leave signs of their passing. Signs that we can follow."

"Umu. If the gods are favorable."

---

It seemed the gods were inclined to bless their cause - or at least that was what Nero believed - for her scouts easily found signs of the army's passing. Kratos, however, refused to give any credit to the residents of Olympus in this world. The path was obvious enough that even Atreus, before their journey to lay Faye's ashes to rest, could have followed this trail.

And following it they were - Nero was driving her men hard, eager to be done with this distraction, as she termed it, and to move onto the war proper.

"Are there any settlements of note to the west, your Majesty?" asked Chiron.

"None!" She was seated, conserving her strength for when they came upon their enemies. "Some of my Senators may have manses or villas on the coast, but they lie abandoned - all have fled for the safety of Rome's walls!"

Cu grinned. "Then I was right, they are looking to bug out. Only reason they'd be running for the sea. No sign of a camp yet, either, which means they either marched through the night, or just slept where they stopped." He shrugged. "Callous bastards probably don't think homunculi need things like tents or bedrolls."

Fujimaru cracked her knuckles. "They've got a pretty big lead, then. Their officers could be long gone by now, and Caligula with them."

"Avoiding battle may be more advantageous," said Kratos. Cu shot him an incredulous look, and he grunted. "We face the disadvantage of numbers, and our enemy can replenish their losses more easily. Wiping out this force means little, if it is merely the enemy's tools that we slay." It was akin to Ragnarök, in a way. He could kill Einherjar until he could no longer lift his arms, but they would merely be sent back to Valhalla, ready to fight again. The only way to stop them was to stop Odin.

And while a Servant was the equal of many, many men - and the same could be said for Kratos, numbers great enough could fell any warrior. Skill, power, training, they all mattered. But quantity could close that gap - even Leonidas and his men had, in the end, been overcome by a horde of lesser soldiers.

Cu's head perked up. "Hey, we've got a rider incoming!" He squinted. "Colors look right for it to be one of your scouts!"

The rider drew up, Chiron tracking his every movement. While his bow was not visible, Kratos knew from experience the Servant could have it materialized and fired in the blink of an eye. Truly, those in the Archer Class were among the finest with a bow in Human History.

Their caution, in this instance, was to be for naught, the scout was no imposter - Nero clearly recognized him as he drew near, and leapt from her seat to greet him.. "Speculatore Segovax! What news?"

The man drew his horse up, stopping at a respectable distance, and dipped his head in a bow. "Emperor Nero. We have them."

Nero's hands gripped the edge of her chariot so hard her knuckles went white. "And their officers, are they still present?" She frowned. "And…what of the imposter calling himself my uncle?"

"And are there ships?" Several heads turned to regard Cu, who shrugged. "If they're already taking on boarders, then there's no way we'll make it in time to stop them. But if they're merely on the horizon, then we've got a chance. Lets us know what kind of timetable we're working with here."

The scout looked to Nero, who nodded. "We saw no boats, auxiliary. Not on the shore, nor on the horizon. Nor any signs that any had been there. And while we did not draw close, as we wished to avoid being spotted, we believe that the officers of the force remain." He paused. "As well as a giant fitting the description of the man who claimed to be your uncle, Emperor."

"Curious," Chiron brought his hand up to his lips. "That they fled to the shore like this seems to indicate this was their planned extraction point. But the lack of the ships…it does not make sense."

"Yeah, you don't run for the shore like that unless you're expecting a boat to be waiting on you. Dad never really saw any action, but he knew some SEALS, and they had stories about operations that went bad, and only making it out alive because their ride out was on time, when and where it was supposed to be." Fujimaru's fingers tapped on the edge of the chariot. "Think this could be a trap?"

Kratos thought, then shook his head. "No. I do not think so. From what we have been told, the United Roman Empire has conducted their campaigns with precision - if brutally. If they fled to the coast in this manner, then they expected ships to be waiting there." He frowned. "There is something we do not see here."

Nero seized the hilt of her strange sword and drew it from where it rested in a special sheath, bolted to the side of her chariot, and raised it above her head. "Then we shall ask them ourselves, when we have run their men into the ground!" The soldiers around her took up a booming cheer, as the army resumed its march.

After a few moments, she beckoned the Chaldeans near. "I do not know your strengths in detail enough to properly deploy you, beyond that you are many times stronger and faster than my men, so I will leave you to your own devices. I only ask, can you acquire a living officer that we may put to the question?"

Cu felt four pairs of eyes shift to him, and groaned. "HAS to be me, doesn't it? Archer has to stay back and protect the lass, and Mash is only slightly less stealthy than Kratos, by virtue of him being about as unnoticable as an Ulster pub crawl. And we'd be wasting both of them by having them try to slip behind enemy lines, huh?"

He shrugged. "Fine, I can do that. I'll even throw in trying to defuse any spells that might have been put on them to make their heads go pop in case they get snatched, free of charge."

He clapped Kratos on the back. "I'll see you on the other side of the battle, Kratos. Don't have too much fun without me." Then he was off like a shot, still grumbling about how he'd miss most of the fight.

"I have one more favor to ask," Nero met Kratos' eyes. "If possible, I must be the one to strike the final blow against Caligula. Even if it is just me taking his head after the battle is done, my men must see me dealing with this so-called Emperor of the United Roman Empire in a decisive fashion." She sighed. "I know, in a battle, one cannot make any solid promises. But…if the opportunity presents itself, I would request this of you."

Chiron looked to Kratos. "As our field commander, Kratos, the decision lies with you - as would the burden of accomplishing this. I will remain behind the lines of battle, where I can do the most good - and to protect my Master, who should not be close to melee under any circumstances. Thus, the responsibility of fulfilling the Emperor's request would fall to you - and possibly to Mash, if my Master could spare her sworn shield."

Kratos growled. More complications, exactly what one did not need on the battlefield. But, as much as he had little desire to become entangled in the political game that was swirling around the Emperor, they had a vested interest in keeping her in power. And they were all in agreement - Rome could not weather an internal revolt and remain standing.

So they had to prop up Nero to the best of their ability.

He sighed, feeling a deep loathing for Rome, or, more correctly, the complicated situation that they found themselves in, seeping into his bones. "I will do what I can. But battle is unpredictable, and Berserkers more so. I promise nothing."

"If it is not to be, it is not to be. I will merely pray that Fortuna favors you this day!" Nero nodded once to him, then spurred her chariot to the front of the lines, Chiron following by their side.

Mash raised her hand. "Mr. Kratos? Should I accompany you, or…?"

"No," he said. "Guard Fujimaru, and the Emperor. Nero will be a target. As will Fujimaru should she remain close." He fixed her with a look. "And Mash. You must not hesitate, as you did in the previous battle."

She flushed, and bowed her head, hiding behind her bangs. "I know. I just…animals, monsters, Servants, I was prepared to have to kill them. Not…not people. I'm sorry." She bit her lip. "I'll do better."

Carefully, Kratos placed his hand on her shoulder. "Mercy does not make you weak, Mash Kyrielight. But as with anything, you must choose carefully when to apply it." He gripped her shoulder. "But do not let war make a monster of you, for it will try to."

"Yes sir!" Then she too was off, running to stand by Fujimaru's side.

It was maybe an hour or more later that Kratos began to smell the sea.

It brought back memories. Many memories. How long had it been, since he had heard the crash of the waves, or smelled the scent of salt-water in the air?

Too long. His memories of his time wandering the world were so muddled he did not even recall how he had come to Midgard - and his years in the time since had been spent inland.

It was a short time later that the horizon gave way to an endless expanse of blue. And clustered around the shore was the force they had been chasing.

Kratos scoffed. They had not even made up battle lines - their troops were scattered across the beach in no form of order. Clearly, they had not even anticipated the need for such, as their leaders had expected to be aboard a ship, far from shore by now.

And those leaders were one of the two immediate points of interest he noticed. Clustered together, almost close enough to the waves to feel their spray, they had likely been discussing something - the lack of the promised ships, he would bet - up until they spotted the approaching Roman army. Now they were barking out panicked orders, trying to reform the lines and get their soldiers in something approximating order.

Far too late. Were they Spartan Generals, they would be rushing to the front, seeking a glorious death in battle, for they would face a much less honorable end should they return to Sparta after such a blunder in the field. But these were Romans, or one of their vassals, and as such, they were seeking to salvage the situation, and save their own skins.

Looming in front of them was the other point of interest. Tall - smaller than Kratos, but not by a considerable margin, and bulky. Dressed in armor of gold and black, with a tattered red cape flowing from his shoulders. Everyone, human or homunculi, were keeping a considerable distance from him, and it was not hard to guess why. Even at this distance, Kratos could FEEL it. The same aura of violence and insanity that had surrounded this world's version of his half-brother, and the Black Knight of Orleans. Even Kiyohime and Vlad had possessed it, though it had been muted in their cases, as they had, by whatever quirk of the Throne, retained a portion of their minds.

Romani had been right. This was a Berserker.

At the fevered shouts from the officers, the Servant looked up, eyes flickering over the line of advancing soldiers. Until those eyes spotted the golden chariot in the center of the formation.

And he tossed his head back and howled at the sky. "UUUUOOOOHHHHHH! NERRRRROOOOO!" Suddenly, he was moving, charging forward, heedless of anything in his path. Homunculus soldiers were tossed aside as he ran straight for the Emperor.

An arrow screamed from the Roman lines. Without stopping his charge, Caligula snatched two soldiers up, one with each massive hand, and whipped them in front of himself. The arrow bored through the first soldier, but had been slowed enough that the Berserker was able to throw the still bodies aside before the arrow could penetrate his own flesh. He was close, now, the distance between himself and Nero rapidly shrinking.

Kratos moved. Head lowered, he charged, legs propelling him forward. Caligula leapt forward, an arrow flying through the space where his body had been, his hand reaching out, seeking his niece.

Kratos arrived mere seconds before he would have grasped her head. He crashed into the Servant, ramming into Caligula's side and sending them both tumbling, tangled together, far from the battle lines.

As they landed, Kratos heard, almost distantly, as the lines of the two armies met.

He drew his knees up and kicked the Servant off him, rising to his feet, then ducking, as a massive fist cut through the air just above his head.

"Nero…..MY NERO!" The man's eyes were black pits, within which rested maddened, glowing pupils that stared at Kratos with unbridled hate. He lunged forward, seeking to seize Kratos by the arms, but Kratos rolled, coming up behind the Servant, his axe in hand.

For a moment, he thought Caligula would try to break free, to try to charge once more for the Emperor, but the man sniffed, then growled low, and turned to fully face Kratos.

Then charged.

Kratos chopped down with his axe, seeking to take the one of the Servant's arms, but the man slid inward, attempting to absorb the blow with his pauldrons. Against a lesser foe, the armor may have held - indeed, it still managed to rob Kratos' attack of some of its force. But not enough, as metal crumpled, and the blade of the Leviathan Axe dug into Caligula's shoulder.

Caligula seemed not to care. He seized Kratos by the waist and snapped his head into the Spartan's, both men grunting in pain as their skulls collided. His fingers pressed in, attempting to bore into Kratos' flesh, lifting him from the ground. Kratos' kicked out, aiming for the Servant's knee, and connected, but his blow had its force partially stolen from his lack of footing. Still, he felt, rather than heard bones crack.

Roaring, Caligula hurled Kratos across the battlefield, rocks and driftwood battering against the Spartan's back as he hit the ground and rolled, coming back to his feet in a crouch.

Again, the madman was charging - this Berserker seemed to have retained little of whatever martial skill he had possessed in life - unlike the Black Knight, or Heracles. Kratos stepped back, watching as the Servant swung down, his fist missing Kratos and crashing into the ground.

Where it exploded.

Lightning flowed from the ground and jolted Kratos. He felt his muscles momentarily seize and lock up. Growling, Kratos fought against his own body, forcing it to move. His shield snapped into place, and he sluggishly blocked a wild haymaker - then felt a second impact against his shield, as an explosion rocked his shield and sent a tremor through his body. The mad Emperor's nails raked across Kratos' chest, drawing blood as they gouged at his flesh.

This man was more dangerous than he appeared.

Shaking off the last of the effects of the lightning, Kratos stepped aside from a vicious kick and slammed his forearm into the Berserker's face, causing him to stumble. Kratos ducked low, seizing the still-extended leg, and his muscles surged with power.

Roaring, he jerked Caligula from his feet, spinning around once, twice, then releasing the man to hurl him through the air.

Caligula made a crater when he landed, and was slow to get up. He'd come down on the leg Kratos had kicked earlier in the fight, and was now clearly favoring it - the pain severe enough to pierce through the inherent madness of a Berserker. Blood too was leaking from his mouth in a thin line - he'd possibly bitten his tongue when Kratos struck him last.

Caligula heaved a shaky breath into his chest, then bared reddened teeth at Kratos. Despite the pain he was in, his eyes burned, if possible, even brighter. "My Nero…….you will not……keep me from her!" He tilted his head back and howled.

Night fell.

Despite it being still late afternoon, suddenly, the sun was gone, and a curtain of stars looked down across the battlefield.

"The goddess……THE GODDESS! I CAN SEE THE GODDESS!" Kratos felt the Servant's energy spike, as the moon, impossibly full, shone down on him. "FLUCTICULUS DIANA!"

Moonlight burst from his form, playing across the battlefield. Where it touched them, men quailed. He could hear Nero's voice crying out over the din, trying to restore order.

Then the moon was gone, and it was day once more.

And Kratos, suddenly, fell to his knees, as howling madness flooded his mind.

Memories, clear as the day they happened, paraded before his eyes. The day of his pact, as he slew the Barbarian King who had, moments ago, been such a threat. His years of service to Ares as he rampaged across Greece. The day he took the lives of his wife and daughter. And even his years after he destroyed Greece, where he wandered the world aimlessly, barely human. All of it returned to him in a flash.

Voices erupted in his head. Familiar voices. Ares, taunting him as they battled. Zeus, dismissing his efforts as he cast him down from Olympus. Athena, reminding him he would never be anything but a monster. And…his wife and child, screaming, begging. And there were more voices, many more. An uncounted horde of men, women, children, all his many victims over an uncounted number of years. All screamed in his mind, begging, accusing, weeping.

And from where he kept it within himself, deeply chained, the Ghost of Sparta roared free - the thing within him that Thor had demanded to see as his blood-debt.

Its cries joined those of the soldiers across the field, both friend and foe. And above it all Caligula howled through blood-stained lips, his voice the conductor leading an orchestra of insanity, as he once more charged straight at Kratos.

Kratos forced himself back to his feet, holding onto his control through sheer force of will. This was not Spartan Rage, the power he had shaped over a lifetime, until it was just another tool in his arsenal - a dangerous tool, but still one he controlled. This was his true legacy - that of a destroyer. A monster.

He felt the chill of the Leviathan Axe in his hands, and shoved his old self back, battling against the man he was with the thoughts of his wife, and the man she believed he could be - or was all along.

(We are not our failures. We are not who we were!)

Caligula was almost upon him.

He needed a moment - a second to regroup.

He raised the Leviathan Axe into the air and willed light from it, seeking to disorient the Servant - but the light did not come. He could feel the power within the axe, but the tide of madness that had been set free within him was blocking it.

He had no more time - Caligula was here.

Moving, fighting against his own body, Kratos ducked under one of the Emperor's mad swipes, but his spasming arm was unable to get his shield up in time to block a hooked body blow that sent him flying back. Pain erupted, far greater than the blow should have caused. He growled, the blow and the agony accompanying it making his barely-contained rage surge. He beat it back with every scrap of discipline left to him, holding on, but just barely. And Caligula loomed, legs tensing to rush in again, to overbear the Spartan.

The clatter of wheels made both combatants turn their heads.

Nero's chariot had separated from the army, and was rapidly crossing the ground between there and the battle Kratos was locked in.

He could not see Nero's charioteer - likely the man had been overwhelmed by the Servant's Noble Phantasm, and was tearing at himself and others, as was the fate of the greater whole of both armies - even the Homunculi had fallen victim to the bedlam that had been unleashed. Instead, Fujimaru held the reins, though the girl looked as unsteady as Kratos himself felt. Even at this distance, Kratos could see her lips moving, though what she was muttering, he could not say.

Nero stood tall (or relatively such, for her), her massive sword pointed forward. Directly at Caligula. "FACE ME, IMPOSTER!" Her voice blasted out over the battlefield, temporarily silencing the tumult of men descending into the throes of madness.

Caligula turned, an eerie smile on his face. "Nero…..my brave Nero." For the briefest of seconds, the rage and madness left his face, and he almost looked proud. Then his visage twisted into a cruel smile, and he bared his teeth, hands clenching.

Kratos knew he would not get a better opportunity.

He forced all of it to the side, the memories of his past and the regrets they brought, his pain, the man he once was that demanded to be set free to rip and tear. He seized his wife's words with both hands and hammered the insanity, the voices, his chained rage, hammered it all back with the mental fortitude of a Spartan, and sprang forward, his axe slicing through the air, every drop of his power put in the blow.

Distracted as he was, Caligula never saw it coming.

The Leviathan Axe dug into Caligula's back. Armor split like it was mere cloth, and the Servant's skin did not resist the blow any better. Bone shattered as the axe severed the spine, or whatever passed for it, of the man, and Caligula's legs spasmed as they lost any ability to hold him up.

Kratos gritted his teeth and lifted the dying man into the air, still impaled upon his axe. Caligula struggled, weakly, but he had little strength left.

And Nero was there, tears in her eyes as she brought the sword down.

The chariot thundered past, and Caligula's head bounced to the earth.

Like the slamming of a door, quiet suddenly fell inside Kratos' mind, and he was once again the master of his own thoughts.

As Caligula's body broke apart, Nero's chariot skidded to a stop, and Fujimaru tumbled from it, falling to her knees as she was violently ill.

Nero hopped from the chariot, pausing for a moment to affix Fujimaru with a worried glance, before she rushed away, back to the battlefield. "Watch her!" she yelled, as she passed Kratos. "I must attempt to restore order!"

Kratos heaved a breath into his chest, as the last traces of red cleared from his vision. Caligula, while only a threat physically due to his status as a Servant, having the ability to project one's madness in such a manner…

Kratos growled, and shook his head, throwing off any lingering remnants of the Noble Phantasm. Nero, by this point, was long gone - she likely should not be running on that leg, but this would hardly be the first time the Emperor ignored Chiron's orders about her health.

His communicator crackled to life. "Kratos, are you alright?" Romani's worried face sprang into being. "We registered a Noble Phantasm - I'm assuming that was Caligula's - being deployed. Nearly everyone's vitals went haywire for a few moments, before stabilizing. What's your status?"

"I am as well as can be expected. Fujimaru is down - uninjured, but affected. I will check on her." He glanced across the field. Nero's loud voice could be heard bellowing out orders, and the Roman lines were shakily reforming into something resembling proper order. He would have expected the officers of the United Roman Empire to be doing the same, but he could hear no voices other than Nero's calling out. As a consequence, the Homunculi were milling about - some attempting to reform lines, but others almost catatonic. Possibly this was a consequence of them being artificial, and having less mental strength to bolster themselves against such a Noble Phantasm.

He began to move to Fujimaru's side. "What of Archer and Mash?"

"They're both ok. Archer seemed to largely resist most of the effects of it, thankfully. That might have something to do with his heritage, or simply what he is, but he managed to keep the battle-lines around him together. He also took out a couple of the officers, though we couldn't tell if he killed them or just crippled them." Romani shrugged. "Based on the lack of orders coming from them, I'll also assume Caster was successful."

"And Mash?"

Romani's brow furrowed. "That's the strange thing - the Noble Phantasm didn't affect her at all. Her Spirit Origin…I don't know what else to say other than it sort of lit up, or brightened when that light hit her. But she didn't suffer any of the mental corruption she should have. It was almost like something was protecting her. Possibly by taking the brunt of the attack itself. If that's the case….well, there aren't a whole lot of possibilities for that, are there?"

Kratos grunted. If the Servant within Mash was finally beginning to take a more active role, that was at least some good news. The girl still had so many questions - ones that had only intensified with the appearance of the sword she now carried on by her side.

Maybe she could finally get some answers.

He reached Fujimaru, and knelt by the girl's side. "Fujimaru. Are you well?"

She spat, then pushed herself up, wobbling as she rose. "Let me give you a real answer in a minute. Still trying to get the needles out of my brain." She shivered. "Gods, that was horrible. It was like every mistake I'd ever made in my life came knocking, trying to get me to curl up on a ball and just……give up. Permanently." She rubbed at her temples, her movements sharp and jerky. "I don't think there's enough brain bleach in the world to get those feelings out of my head."

As was so often the case with this girl, parts of her speech were incomprehensible. Kratos chose to focus on more immediate concerns. "Can you walk? We should rejoin the battle, but I cannot leave you unguarded."

She took a step, then, when her legs did not give out on her, another one. "Yeah, I think so. One foot in front of the other, right?"

She was quiet as they made their way back to the battle - though there was little combat left by the time they reached it. Lacking their officers, and with any semblance of order destroyed by Caligula's Noble Phantasm, the Homunculi had been crushed, though not without cost. Possibly a fourth of Nero's Legion was down, either from wounds inflicted in battle, or during the tide of chaos that had seized both sides of the conflict. Nero was directing her troops against the last holdouts as they rejoined the back lines.

Chiron nodded at his Master as they drew close. "Master, while I can agree that the enemy Servant needed to be killed as quickly as possible, I would have suggested another means - one in which you did not get so close."

"Archer, if you can figure out a way to tell an Emperor 'no' I'd like to hear it." After a second, her smile fell. "Yeah, can't really keep up my usual level of banter after what that Servant did to me. She was going anyways, with or without me. At least with me along, she was able to focus completely on cutting his head off. And we agreed, we need her alive, so I made the best of the bad choices I had."

Chiron's hand dropped to her head. "Truthfully, my Master, it was surprisingly measured, considering some of the things my other students did, both under my tutelage, and on their own. But it certainly made my heart skip a beat to see you hurtling that close to a Berserker." He stared down at her. "Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "Nothing physical. Just a bad taste in my mouth from losing my lunch over that Noble Phantasm, and a major case of the willies still clinging to me from the things it did to me. How'd you get off so easy, anyways?"

Chiron glanced around them, then dropped his voice. "His Noble Phantasm called out to Diana - that would be Artemis, for Kratos and myself. From what the Throne is telling me, it does not affect those related to her. As Apollo was my foster father, and Cronus my birth father, it would seem I gained some level of resistance to it because of that, or at least, that is my theory."

"Lucky," griped Fujimaru. "Shame you couldn't have shared some of that with me. I'd rather have had my gums scraped than go through what I just went through." She glanced around. "Where's Mashie?"

"Guarding the Emperor," said Kratos, who could see Mash's distinctive head of hair, and shield standing in front of the Emperor.

"Ok, I'll go check up on my Kohai, since it looks like there's nothing left but some mopping up here." She paused. "Was Caster successful?"

Cu's thread in his mind was radiating smug satisfaction. "I believe so." He could feel the Irish Servant nearby, and the battlefield was largely calming down. With a nod to Chiron, who began to follow his Master, Kratos loped off to the shoreline.

Within a few moments, he had drawn up to a familiar blue-haired man, who was sitting atop three men wearing the colors of the United Roman Empire, each one of them bound with what appeared to be wooden rope. Cu grinned and waved, sea water dripping from his hair and arms. "Piece of freakin' cake! Hid out underwater until they spotted you guys, then snuck up behind them and grabbed the three guys who were panicking the hardest - figured they'd be the easiest to get to spill their guts, and probably the highest ones up the chain, given how badly they were losing their shit over not being able to leave their men high and dry."

Cu spat to the side, and looked as if he was resisting the urge to kick one or more of his prisoners. "You doing ok, Kratos? I was too far away to get much of that Noble Phantasm, but from what I could feel, you weren't exactly having a ball there at ground zero."

Kratos grunted. "It was unpleasant, but it is not the first time my enemies have tried to turn my own mind against me." Ares, for one. And though he would not call them his enemies, the Norns had been just as cruel in their taunting of him, and his allies, with their pasts, fears, and doubts.

"Good to hear." Cu sat back, putting his full weight onto the most ostentatiously dressed of his three captives. "It looks like this all went about as well as we could have hoped."

---

Night had well and truly fallen by the time the battlefield was fully pacified. There had been some discussion of attempting to make for one of the abandoned residences that were nearby, but that gained little traction. The furious pace set by the army as it had set out early that day, and then the unsettling effect of the false Emperor's sorcery - as Nero was describing the madness that had gripped the battlefield - had left the Legion in no shape to go any further. So they had made camp here on the shore.

Still, Nero had not allowed her men to be lax in setting up camp. Trenches were dug, and watches were set - the lack of nearby trees meant she had had to forgo setting up barricades, but otherwise, she was taking no chances. They had dealt with Caligula's expeditionary force, but there was no promise it was the only one.

The Chaldeans were clustered around a fire, allowed to make their camp close to the Emperor's tent in an obvious show of honor for their contributions during the battle - and, in truth, so that Chiron and Fujimaru (and her uniform's healing spell) would be close at hand.

"I still don't get it," said Fujimaru, who was toasting a chicken leg over the fire. "That Noble Phantasm was the definition of indiscriminate. Why would you ever send that kind of Servant out with an army? Honestly, I think he did more harm than good when he uncorked that thing."

"Hmmm. But recall what Emperor Nero said. At first, he simply presented himself at the gates, upon which she welcomed him into the city. It was only once he was face to face with her that he attacked." Chiron was staring at the stars. "As unorthodox as it sounds, it would seem they were using a Berserker as an Assassin, of all things."

"And then, with the Emperor dead, he could have plunged the entire city into madness," said Kratos.

"They'd have torn each other apart, like fucking animals. Whole place would have been a burning wreck within hours," Cu wrapped his hands around the mug of wine had acquired from…..somewhere. "With the capital in flames, the rest of the holdouts would have toppled one by one. I guess we owe that Simon Magus guy a round of thanks, he kept us from dropping into an even worse situation."

"Still….things aren't good, are they?" asked Mash.

"No," said Kratos. "Even if this force is the only one behind the lines of battle, our enemies control the seas, and most of the lands beyond the north, where the Roman Legions hold back the United Roman Empire."

"You're taking a portion of the Legion with you when you head to, what was it…" Fujimaru scrunched her face up and thought. "Neapolis, right? One of the few remaining port cities left, and where most of the surviving Roman Navy is?"

"That's the place," said Cu, finishing off his drink. "Bit of a hike to the south, but Rome's watched too closely, and the other one's too close to the front lines. Neapolis is also about the same distance to the three major islands where the United Roman Empire has set up bases. Gives us our pick of which one we want to hit." He set his mug down into the sand. "Guess I'll swap out with Rider early tomorrow morning, before we set off. But the second you're back on land, you'd better get me back into the thick of things, Kratos! Girl got the lion's share of fun in France, after all."

"Leaving us, Caster? And here I was set to award you Imperial Laurels for your service to Rome," Nero walked out into the firelight, glancing over the assembled Chaldeans, apparently looking for a chair, or even a large enough rock to sit on. But finding none, she shrugged, and dropped down to sprawl in the sand.

Fujimaru sputtered. "No, Emperor Nero, your dress, you'll get sand all over it! You…you can have my seat," Fujimaru's 'seat' being little more than a smallish rock the girl was perched on.

"Nonsense! If the sand is good enough for my men, and my stout allies from the land of Chaldea, it is good enough for the Emperor!" Her voice dropped. "It is also more comfortable to sit upon something soft, given my still mending injuries."

"Injuries that you thankfully did not exacerbate with your stunt today," muttered Chiron, his voice just as low. "But while we are honored that you have graced our campfire, Emperor Nero, I assume you are not here merely for our company?"

"Yeah, did you get the officers to sing?" asked Cu.

"Indeed, Caster. That is part of why I was going to award you honors for your service, you picked well in the men you captured. We did not even need to use more severe methods to get them to talk," Nero reached down, and began drawing in the sand with her finger. "Sadly, they had little of note to tell us that we were not already aware of. They were dropped off here a week past by a ship, and told to do their best to bring down Rome itself. And they were 'gifted' Caligula as the means to do so."

"Then, them marching right up to your gates was their idea?" Cu cupped his chin. "They've got some brass ones, I'll give them that."

"Umu. It is no secret I was fond of my uncle when he was alive, despite his…flaws. They read me well, and came within a hair's breadth of toppling the Empire." Nero scraped one last line through the sand, putting the finishing touches on her picture - a portrait of her uncle. For a long moment, she stared at it, then brushed her hand over it, smearing it out. "If, as you say, that truly was my uncle, I cannot fully express my gratitude in helping me lay him to rest. Maddened dog that he was as this 'Servant', I feel had he killed me, it would have further destroyed him."

For a time, there was only the sound of the night winds, the crash of the sea, and the merriment around them as the surviving soldiers celebrated a victory that had become all too rare in recent days - joy that did not touch the Chaldean campfire.

"What of their plans for escape, Emperor Nero?" asked Chiron. "By their behavior when we came upon them, it certainly seemed like they expected a ship to be waiting there."

Nero's face broke out into a smug grin. "That, in fact, was one of the reasons they were so easy to break. A ship was supposed to be waiting, off-shore, but close enough that they could signal it, in the event they required egress. They arrived at the shore the very evening after the battle, and signaled the ship they expected to be waiting. And signaled, and signaled, and signaled. Up until we came upon them."

Kratos frowned. "They were abandoned?"

"That is the conclusion I allowed them to come to, as it best served our purposes. Once the seed of the idea was planted, it took little time to bear fruit - they fell over one another trying to gain the favor of myself and my officers by selling out their former masters," Nero shrugged. "And while it certainly appears they were left to fend for themselves, something does not feel quite right with that."

"I can see them writing off the Homunculi soldiers," said Fujimaru, an ugly scowl on her face. "I don't like it, but I can understand the logic of Lev, or whoever is calling the shots. They're easy enough to replace in the long run. But to throw away a Servant with them just seems….stupid really."

"And, even as a Berserker, Caligula was a former Roman Emperor. He gave some legitimacy to their cause, as you yourself said, Emperor Nero." The Emperor nodded at this, and Chiron continued. "In the scenario where they did just abandon such a valuable piece, that would imply that they have in their possession much greater than he."

Nero chewed at her lower lip. "While I did not wish to believe them, reports from Florentia say that he who would have been the first Emperor, had assassins not cut him down, leads the army there."

Romani made a strangled sort of noise. "The first….please tell me you're not talking about Caesar himself!"

Nero bowed her head. "I had thought it lies, an imposter trying to claim the name of the greatest Emperor of Rome's past to sway the foolish to their side. But now, with what you have told me of Servants…" She looked up, eyes boring a hole through Romani. "I have agents, foreigners who have been aiding me in my fight. At first, I thought them merely powerful warriors, but now, I begin to suspect what they are."

She held up four fingers, then lowered two. "Two of them I have not had any form of contact with in months, ever since we were pushed back to Rome's doorstep. The last I heard, they were still holding the United Roman Empire back in Lugdunum, though they were heavily besieged. The other two I had dispatched to the front lines - it was they, as well as my officers there, who spoke of Great Caesar having set himself against us."

Cu sighed. "Maaaaaan. And I'm tagging out with a Servant like that waiting just a little to the north? Curse my rotten luck."

Fujimaru patted Cu on the back. "If it's any consolation, Caster, even if you were sticking around, you'd be stuck on a boat while I get to go see the First Emperor of Rome."

Cu fixed her with a look. "Girlie, that ain't no consolation at all."

Romani raised his hand. "Your Majesty, if I may ask, who are these two Servants, as it sounds like that's what you suspect them to be, who have been aiding you in the north? And the other two, who are cut off, as well?"

Nero hid a flinch. "The two who were cut off are likely dead by now, so there is little point in speaking of them. But the other two who are waiting in Florentia had strange, foreign names, and, like you, claimed to be from far to the east." She pursed her lips, thinking. "I believe they called themselves Jing Ke and Lu Bu."

Fujimaru gave a low whistle. "The Flying General himself, and China's most famous Assassin? Those are some hefty names, if that's who they really are."

Nero nodded. "You speak truly, Lady Fujimaru. While I have not had occasion to see Jing Ke fight, Lu Bu was like unto one of the Titans on the battlefield. I witnessed him battering aside entire centuries with little more effort than you or I would swat a fly. But they always had more to fill the gaps, and even his might was not enough to hold the lines. The walls at Florentia that my fabri constructed as we fell back have held them, for now, but that cannot last."

Fujimaru's hand ghosted over Nero's back for a second, then she shrugged, and committed, thumping the Emperor on the back. "That's where Archer, Mashie, and myself come in, your Majesty. I'm no tactical genius or anything, but my Sensei has a pretty good head on his shoulders. Two more Servants, and the Emperor herself should be enough to break the stalemate and get you some breathing room."

Cu fired the Emperor a raised thumb. "And meanwhile, Kratos and Rider will sweep the seas clean of your enemies, letting you finally do something with your ships other than collect barnacles."

Nero's would-be reply was swallowed up by a heavy yawn. "And, in the interests of an early start tomorrow, you should find your rest now, Emperor." Chiron was unfazed in the face of Nero's pout. "You ARE still recovering, so I must insist."

"Your words are wise, even if I find them unpalatable," Nero pushed herself to her feet. "I will retire, then. I will speak with you again in the morn, before we break camp and go our separate ways."

---

Kratos was, as his habit, up before the sun had fully begun to peek over the horizon. As the camp slowly began to stir, he ran through a quick series of exercises, knowing he would likely be doing little more than marching today - and then stuck on a boat for the foreseeable future. Best he push himself now, while he could.

It was only as he stopped, and began looking for a place to set his axe and the Blades that he noticed he had gained an audience. Cu was not surprising - the man had said the previous evening that he would look to return to Chaldea before they set out the next day. But the tiny Emperor was unexpected - he had fully expected her to still be sleeping at this hour.

"Want me to keep an eye on those while you take a dip?" asked Cu. Kratos nodded, and handed his weapons over to the Servant. Sea water was notoriously corrosive, and while he did not think it would do any harm to his weapons, best not to take chances.

A moment later, he emerged from the waters, shaking droplets from his form. It was not the miraculous showers that Chaldea possessed, but it was refreshing to feel clean again.

Nero was peering at his weapons as he walked over to where they lay, under Cu's watchful eye. "The make of your axe, Master Kratos, it is a wonder, and no style I have ever seen before. But these chain-blades - would I be correct in guessing that the workmanship is Greek? I see a common hand in the improvements done to them and your axe, but the underlying work of the swords puts me in mind of some of the treasures that lie within the Imperial Vaults from Rome's early days, when we gained dominance over the remains of the former Greek Republics."

Kratos grunted. "Yes. I have carried these Blades for most of my life, but their origin lies in Greece." Again, Kratos was surprised by the woman, but she had made several claims to be well-versed in art - claims that were apparently not all boasts. And there was artistry in both his wife's axe and the Blades of Chaos - as well as the improvements done by Sindri and Brok to each - though the Blades were much more of an ugly tool of destruction, in his eyes.

Cu seemed to sense that he was eager to change the subject (and given how good the man was becoming at reading Kratos' moods, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised). "I'm ready to head back whenever you're ready, Kratos. Most of the camp's still down, so unless you've any objections, now seems like as good a time as any."

Kratos nodded, and activated his communicator. Of Romani, there was no sign, nor Da Vinci. Instead, another tiny blonde woman greeted him.

"Kratos. Romani is still asleep - Da Vinci has mandated he get at least 8 hours before he returns to duty, and she's off doing the weekly maintenance check of the facility, so I'm warming his seat this morning." Tanya reached for a cup offscreen, and took a deep sip, a shiver running through her body. She sighed happily. "And with you and Fujimaru splitting up, I'll be filling in as a standby in the event one of you is already on comms with Romani when the other calls. I take it you're ready for the substitution, then?"

"Yes," he said. "Rider is standing by?"

"She's down in the waiting area right now by the Coffins." She glanced from side to side, and leaned in close to the screen. "Avenger has largely been behaving herself by virtue of constantly testing 'improvements' to her arm with Da Vinci. Are you certain that a shelter with some very thick walls isn't a good idea?"

Kratos shook his head. "I trust Da Vinci to not allow her ideas to get out of control."

Tanya snorted out a laugh. "I feel like someone isn't remembering a fire from about a week ago, but very well." She raised her finger. "Beginning swap in 3, 2, 1."

Cu slapped Kratos across the back, then faded from sight. Medusa's string in his mind flared to life, and a second later, the woman's feet touched down into the sands of the beach..

She glanced from side to side, and then took a deep breath. "The sea……..how long has it been, I wonder?" Wistfully, she gazed out at the crashing waves, her string vibrating with feelings of nostalgia and melancholy.

Nero, meanwhile, had perked up, and was staring intently at Rider. "Such a statuesque beauty! Between the fetching smith who made these braces for my leg, the exotic vision of loveliness who has just graced us with her presence, and even this woman here who looks like she could have been one of the fairies the First Emperor claimed to have fathered children with, Chaldea seems to be a place filled with beauties!" She nodded her head. "And that does not even touch the paragons of masculinity that are Caster and Kratos - even your Doctor Romani is passable to my eyes. Umu! I have decided! Someday, I must visit it myself!"

Medusa was staring at the Emperor, and, despite her mask, Kratos could see her blinking in confusion. "Rider," he rumbled. "This is the Emperor of Rome, Nero."

"Ah," she bowed her head. "Your Majesty. Servant Rider. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Nero tilted her head. "So formal. But your Archer has a similar manner, as does the Doctor Romani.. Are you one of their fellow physicians?"

"No," Medusa shook her head. "I am merely a soldier - I suppose that is the closest equivalent for a Servant."

"And your eyes?" She pointed at the blindfold. "Do you hide an old war wound behind that cloth? If so, you should not. Aloysius, one of my most trusted advisors, lost his sight in Britannica. But he remains at my side in a position of honor, for his mind remains as sharp as ever, and all respect the scars he took in the service of Rome."

"Oh, no. It's not a wound, it's to protect others from me." She shuffled her feet. "My eyes are something called Mystic Eyes - eyes that can produce a variety of magical effects. Mine can cause harm, so I hide them….and why am I telling you this?"

"Maybe you're just weak to tiny blonde women?" A yawning Fujimaru, her hair still mussed from sleep, joined them. "Looks like I missed saying goodbye to Caster, even getting up early like my dad always drilled me on, huh? Good to see you, though, Rider. I hope Avenger didn't drive you too crazy back at Chaldea."

"No, our paths have largely failed to cross since the operation began, thankfully," A tiny smile struggled into being, displacing her typically passive expression. "She's been occupied playing with her new arm, constantly running back to Da Vinci with feedback and ideas."

Fujimaru laughed, though it sounded almost more like a groan. "Lordy. Kratos, warn me before you bring in Avenger - want to make sure I'm wearing my asbestos underwear."

Nero was staring quizzically at them. "Avenger is the last Servant contracted with Chaldea, your Majesty," said Tanya. "If this civil war of yours persists, you'll undoubtedly be blessed with her unique character at some point."

"Avenger. Such a title to carry. I expect her to be as singular and as splendid as all the rest I have met from your land of Chaldea," Nero stretched, then turned. "But now, I must see to the affairs of the day, and hasten the breaking of our camp. I will see you all again, shortly, when I will dictate the divestment of our forces."

Fujimaru stretched. "Probably should go see about waking my Kohai, then, though I might hop in the ocean real quick - cold sea water does wonders for clearing out the cobwebs."

"I will sign off, then, if there's no further need for me at this time, always plenty to do around here," said Tanya. "Feel free to call should something come up." Her image winked out.

As Fujimaru waded into the surf, Medusa opened her mouth, started to say something, then closed her mouth - then finally found her voice and spoke. "Not to question you, Kratos, but, are you certain about revealing my mount to these people? The heroes…and villains of Greece are recent memories to the Romans. They'll quickly figure out who I am - and I wonder if that Emperor hasn't already started putting the pieces together. Things could get ugly if they realize the monster of the Shapeless Isle walks among them."

"Any who take issue with your presence shall answer to me," growled Kratos. "Whatever you were in the past, you are an ally now. You are not the monster you see yourself as. At least, not as I see you, by your behavior in the short time we have been contracted."

Medusa ducked her head, and fidgeted quietly for several seconds. "Thank you, Kratos," she said her voice soft.

A moment later, Fujimaru splashed out of the ocean, thoroughly waterlogged. "Alright, I feel like I can face the day now. Let's go wake up Mash."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As this takes place before the Valhalla DLC, Kratos isn't aware that Odin's version of Valhalla for the Einherjar isn't QUITE what the actual Valhalla is.

Yes, in lore, Flucticulus Diana isn't supposed to work on those related to Diana/Artemis, which technically includes Kratos, but since he's not related to the Nasuverse Diana/Artemis, he doesn't get that immunity.

I'm interpreting 'Defense Down' as a general weakening of the flesh and slowing down so you can't dodge/block/parry as effectively - so for Kratos, that means his pain tolerance goes down a bit as well, beyond the obvious of he's just easier to damage. Skill Seal for him is a locking out of his runic attacks, since those are about the closest thing he has to skills. Noble Phantasm Seal is locking him out of Spartan Rage - he doesn't HAVE a Noble Phantasm, since he's not a Servant, but Spartan Rage skews close enough to it that that's how I'm choosing to implement it. It could also just fall under the same umbrella as Skill Seal.

Thankfully, most of the other status effects in FGO are straightforward enough that there's no real difficulty in translating them to a crossover character - stuff like Stun, Burn, Curse, etc are obvious in how they'd affect Kratos.

No luck on Bakin. Got two Nikitich spooks, and a Faker, which were both new, at least. My Better Half got a Napoleon Spook on her first roll, then a double Bakin a little later - clearly Bakin knew which one of us has a Terminal Case of Dog on the Brain. I swear, between petting the dogs, sending them out on missions by playing fetch with them, and just the general dog-content (including Barghest, who she ADORES), she's going to die from doggo overload before this event is over.

Wasn't really able to get to a good stopping point for this chapter, so this is where I decided to halt it. Next chapter will be split between Kratos and Medusa's High Seas Adventures, and Fujimaru's flailing at the front lines.

This chapter brought to you by Zankyou Zanka.

Chapter 27: Septem 4

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 27​

She felt the salt spray across her face, and for the briefest of moments, was home. Her sisters were still alive, the island was quiet and undisturbed, fish were cooking over a fire, and everything was perfect. No heroes seeking to rescue the 'fair maidens' from the grasp of a horrible monster, the air wasn't tainted by the scent of blood, and her sisters weren't chiding her for being such a brute (well, they were, but they weren't being as mean about it, at least) for the latest instance of her having to kill to defend their paradise.

And she wasn't trying to ignore that voice in the back of her head that was saying it was ok to just take a little taste of the blood of the latest 'hero' who had come to slay the horrible creature that made its home on the Shapeless Isle. Just a few drops, after all, for she was so PARCHED after killing the man.

But then, she heard the creaking of wood against wood, and she was back in the present. Aboard a ship that was cutting through the waters, wind at their backs.

And eyes upon her, as they had been since she and Kratos had boarded this ship, two days past.

Some of it was obviously down to their appearance. Kratos was massive - there was no other word for it, and half-naked to boot, so his size and physique drew eyes, some envious, some fearful, some curious, some with unbridled lust - but it was a rare crowd that he walked into and did not immediately command attention. And she, well, she was the sole woman on a ship full of sailors. Even her freakishly tall appearance would attract longing gazes - nevermind that these men had been in port for weeks when the fraction of the Legion had joined up with them. The second the ships had sailed away from the docks, every man aboard had begun to wonder how long it would be until they saw land - and its myriad pleasures, next.

There had been no trouble so far. Perhaps it was due to the obvious favor the Emperor was showing the Chaldeans - a point that had been made clear by Tribunus Laticlavius Calvus when he had addressed the assembled sailors and introduced them to Rome's newest Auxiliary Force (or the two members of that who were accompanying the divided Legion). Perhaps it was due to her appearance - she could be so freakishly grotesque that even sailors wouldn't touch her (she shuddered to think how bad it could have gotten if either of her sisters were here - not even Cerberus himself could have kept the men from her perfect, ideal sisters).

But most likely, it was due to the man standing by her side at the rail, staring at the horizon with narrowed eyes.

(She could still hear his words - she still occasionally played the moment back across her mind's eye. He didn't think she was a monster. Her, the dread and terrible Gorgon. The foolish man - to think she'd ever thought he was a god like the gods of Olympus.)

She glances at him, out of the corner of her eye. Hunched over, face placid for once. In the day and a half they had been at sea, he'd been surprisingly…not calm, as Kratos kept hold of his emotions with an iron grip, but patient, maybe? He was very, very direct as a person, and she had seen how the delays in between the French and Roman Singularities had, at times, chafed at him. But then, there had been plenty to occupy him - training Mash, learning from both her and Da Vinci, the antics of both Avenger and Cu Chulainn, meals with the small group of people that had been drawn to his side. On the ship, there was little for either of them to do. They'd have gotten in the way with attempts to help run the ship, as neither was a sailor by profession - small boats were about the limit of her knowledge during her life, though her high Riding Skill could easily make up for that now. And for all that they were surrounded by sailors and soldiers of the Legion, they were alone in a crowd - it was largely just the two of them.

She was speaking before she'd had time to reconsider. "Denarii for your thoughts?" A furrowed brow from a craggy face was what her words got her. "Something of a modern expression - it generally is just another way of asking what is on your mind."

Kratos gave one of his grunts (she wasn't sure which one of the nearly 20 different kinds that Tanya and Mash had been cataloging it was), then leaned a bit more on the railing. "I do not know how long it has been since I was on a ship. My time as a soldier was largely on foot, though the shores of Troy were choked with the sails of the armies that had come to battle on the plains before that city. Later…when I served the gods, I possessed my own ship. During my final labor for them, it was left in a harbor near Athens. I sometimes wonder what became of it."

He shook his head. "My home since leaving Greece was far from the sea - my travels over water there were by a smaller boat, where I chose the destination, and was responsible for propelling us across the waters. To be idle like this…" He snorted out a breath. "I recall why I never cared for ships."

Medusa gave a small, small smile. "That was how my sisters and I got to our home, when we were looking for a place to hide. Them sitting in the prow of the boat, and myself on the oars. This was long before He gave me the gift he did, so we had to cross the waters as mortals did." She sighed, remembering. "It was a long journey, and I was not as strong," (stumblingly giant said a voice in her head in Euryale's voice) "as I am now. I was so tired when we finally made landfall. I would have slept for days, if my sisters did not get me up early the next day to fish for that day's meal."

She sighed. "It was peaceful there. Just the three of us. At least until the heroes began showing up."

"My life in the woods too was quiet, and simple." He frowned. "Until the day my wife died, and Baldur appeared. I did not know peace again until three winters had passed, and then, after a brief respite, I found myself here."

Where he was being asked to fight again, she thought. "It's shockingly similar to the life of a Servant, in some ways," she mused. "Periods of peace, broken up by wars - though the Holy Grail Wars I have participated in are so much smaller than this Grand Order of Chaldea's. And in your case, it seems as if trouble found you, rather than you being called by some Mage."

Carefully, she reached out, and lightly laid her hand on his arm. "We will get you back to your son, Kratos. I can't speak for Avenger's mind - nor would I want to know what thoughts fester in there - but Caster and myself will do everything in our power to see you get back to your home."

Kratos made a low noise in his throat, and for a while, there was only the sound of the waves, the creaking of boards, and the rippling of the sails.

Uneven footsteps brought them both from their thoughts, as Calvus approached them. Grizzled, formerly dark hair turning to steel gray, and with a noticeable limp. She still wasn't certain if he was merely a career soldier who was determined to die on his feet, or a formerly retired general who had been recalled in Rome's time of need (or some combination of both). But he had been fair to them, so far, at least. "Lord Kratos. Lady…Rider," he grimaced, apparently still unused to the strange naming conventions the Servants used - though Medusa was enjoying it while it lasted. Once she summoned Pegasus, much less complimentary names would be turned her way, she feared.

At their nods, he continued. "The Emperor was very clear in that you should be allowed a level of autonomy unheard of for an Auxiliary Detachment to a Legion. And while I might have issues with allowing foreigners recently come to Rome such freedom, the war we find ourselves in is one unlike any our Empire has ever seen."

"And…I witnessed your power, Lord Kratos, when you appeared on the battlefield and turned the soldiers of the United Roman Empire into ash. And your fellows kept order amongst our lines against the imposter, and delivered to us prisoners that we were able to make use of. As such, your strength, and your service thus far speaks for itself. So I shall put my misgivings away, and attempt to trust you as the Emperor does." He drew himself up, ramrod straight, and met Kratos' eyes. "We approach the isle of Sardinia. How would you have me best make use of you?"

Kratos and Medusa glanced at one another, then she begins speaking. "I possess the ability to call a mount to me, one that can fly." Calvus' eyebrows went up fractionally. "It will be more than enough to carry Kratos and myself to any hostile ships and sink them - either by crippling them from the air, or by simply depositing Kratos on one and allowing him to destroy it while I handle others, upon which I will pick him and repeat the process."

"Sowing chaos in their lines, allowing us to pick off any ships that become isolated," He scratched his nose. "It has the advantage of simplicity, at least."

"What numbers do we face?" asked Kratos.

Calvus leaned against the railing, shifting so that his bad leg was taking less of his weight. "Truthfully, we do not know. A pitiful handful of ships have ventured from Rome's shores and returned to tell the tale since the war began, with only a single ship having made it past the blockade from one of our provinces across the Mare Internum. And their reports are fragmented, the panicked babbling of men who barely escaped with their lives - and sailors are notoriously superstitious. Conservatively, I expect three times our numbers, if not more."

"And us with only five ships, and those with only a skeleton crew of soldiers to repel boarders," said Medusa.

"Yes," Calvus pushed off from the railing. "Some of the men think we sail to our deaths, that the Emperor is going north to die in a last blaze of glory, before Rome is swallowed up by these pretenders. But I have seen what you Chaldeans can do - and I would never have approved of this plan otherwise."

His steely eyes met theirs. "You are being entrusted with the last of Rome's once mighty navy. If you fail - if WE fail, there is no tomorrow for the Empire."

---

OUTSKIRTS OF FLORENTIA​

They saw the smoke long before they reached Florentia.

It turned the once blue sky into a haze long before they reached the city, almost enough to block out that eerie ring of light that had been giving her the heebie-jeebies from the first moments she'd seen it (Avenger, Mashie, Cu, and even Medusa had all tried to describe it, but none of them had done it justice. Kratos' low 'You will understand it when you see it' had honestly been the best description of the thing that any of them had managed).

(And she'd really like to know why it was her, specifically, that felt like every hair on the back of her neck stood up whenever she looked at that thing, so high above the ground. None of the Servants or Kratos were getting the feelings she was from it, which really wasn't helping her sleep at night. It was too far away for her to feel anything from it, whatever this was, it was some sort of lizard-brain instinctual reaction.)

She'd been worried that the city had already fallen, but her Sensei had put that to rest with a shake of his head. "Not enough smoke, my Master. No, what you are seeing is the campfires of two armies - and large ones. There's probably some fires raging in the city - or smoldering embers of fires that have been put out, because to allow a fire to burn controlled, even in a battle," He shook his head. "No, ESPECIALLY in a battle is an invitation to disaster. While Achilles did not live to see it, Odysseus did witness the sack of Troy first hand, and he said the smoke from the fires unleashed that morning blotted out the sun for days after."

He gestured at the horizon. "That is merely the by-product of having so many men encamped in one place, for they must eat. Weapons must be tended, arrows must be lit, and the night grows dark, so watch fires must be tended."

Nero's hands were steepled, her thumbs tapping against one another. "And, had Florentia fallen, we would have seen the fallout from that by now. Men fleeing, or the armies of the United Roman Empire surging forward to take yet more Roman lands under their grasp."

She shook her head. "No. Legatus Valerius would not have let a single one of their soldiers cross the line he has set in the ground. We control the only surviving major crossing of the Arno, here - he even drew them there specifically to choke their advance. His last communication said that he had them held - they could not cross, but we also could not push them back. Though he feared that if they gained any further reinforcements, the balance could tip, and quickly."

Fujimaru perked up, and gave Nero a friendly (probably too friendly since she's the dang EMPEROR and everything, but she didn't seem to mind the last time she did it, so she wasn't stopping anytime soon. And it wasn't like Nero wasn't……handsy herself. Poor Mash was still recovering from the night they'd found a river to bathe in, and the Emperor had decided to join them.) thump on the back. "Well, your side's getting some pretty good reinforcements yourself, Emperor Nero. Two Servants to add to the two you already have there - even if Caesar's on the other side, we've got him outnumbered, four to one!"

"Umu! You raise a good point, Lady Fujimaru. With the fine allies from the land of Chaldea I have made, soon, we will be throwing these upstarts back, out of the lands of my Rome!" She laughed, arms crossed over her (ample, she'd gotten a VERY good look at the river the other night - good grief, she was the definition of a damn shortstack) chest. "And the sight of the Emperor herself should bolster morale - which will turn into a sweeping tide that shall dash the United Roman Empire against the rocks of the Eternal Shore!"

Her laugh was taken up by a cheer from the nearby Praetorian Guard, which spread to the rest of the Legion. By the time they reached the city, the soldiers were eager to fight, with marching songs and boasts being bandied back and forth between the different units.

The camp was quiet when they pulled up to it. That wasn't to say it was silent, men were running back and forth between different tents, and there was the clang of metal on metal - either soldiers sparring or smiths forging and mending weapons. Draft animals were corralled in a pen by the edges of the camp, and parties of men were even now hauling in felled trees from the outskirts of the town. But there was no immediate sound of battle.

Which was probably why what appeared to be the entire officer corps was waiting to receive the Emperor. If they were under attack, they'd be at the front lines, or up high in a building somewhere, directing their men.

The big one - not as big as Kratos, but still pretty big for a Roman (everyone was so short - Japan wasn't exactly going to be topping the height index anytime soon, but she was a touch over average here. It was WEIRD!) had to be the general, or Legatus of the Legion. Golden-haired, recklessly handsome, and honestly, shockingly young compared to the older men who had led the Legion entrusted with the defense of Rome itself.

She recalled that her father had once told her when you see someone young in a position of command - and a high position at that, they were either really good at what they did, or they had powerful friends. She hoped this guy was the former.

If he was incompetent, he had to have a VERY good command staff under him.

Mash's voice brushed against her brain-meat. 'Master, do you feel it?'

Fujimaru sent back the mental equivalent of a nod. 'Servants. Hanging back, but I'd have to be blind not to see that hulk looming over there. I mean, he's bigger than Kratos!' And while the massive Servant would draw the eye, both with his size and eye-catching dress - the tassels of his hat catching in the wind, Fujimaru could see her (by Reinforcing her eyes, but it counted, dang it!), lurking just behind him.

Smaller, dressed in white, long black hair also blowing in the wind. In Tokyo, she'd probably barely draw an eye, but in a Roman military camp, she stood out, and she didn't look to be happy about it, from the slight scowl on her face.

Or at least, that was what Fujimaru was assuming, if that was Jing Ke, the woman who almost assassinated an Emperor. 'I don't suppose you've met either of who they claim to be, have you, Sensei?'

'No, I have not. But, as has been noted by Caster, the Throne is a big place.'

'Guess we'll find out in a few minutes.' Nero's chariot was pulling up to a stop before the line of officers, and the Emperor was jumping to the ground, as the line of officers fired off salutes, and the gathered men began a shouted chorus of 'AVE NERO!'.

Smiling, Nero basked in the adulation for a moment, her arm waving through the air. Then she was grasping the wrist of the pretty boy that seemed to be in charge, all to another roaring cheer from the assembled soldiers. "Legatus Valerius! It does me good to see you still here, holding the line. I told you I would return with aid!"

The man laughed, a deep basso chuckle, as he returned the Emperor's grin. "What took you so long, my Emperor? The men and I were getting bored waiting for your return! Had you taken longer, we were about to see about pushing these imposters out of our city, then sweeping them from our glorious peninsula!"

Nero smirked. "Generous of you, my Legatus, to wait for me to return so that there might be some glory left for me." Sharing another laugh with her general, Nero then began to exchange greetings with the other officers, all by name - and easily reciting messages and news she had been carrying from Rome, from their homes and families.

"She's good at this," muttered Fujimaru. "I've seen modern-day politicians work a crowd with less finesse than she's doing right now."

A pair of white-sleeved arms draped themselves over Fujimaru's shoulders, and a voice spoke into her ear. "She's had to be. From what I can tell, she was always a people person, but she's had to turn it all the way up since the war started. All the officers are desperate to keep up morale - because let me tell you, it's BAD!"

Chiron's bow formed in his hands in the space of a thought, an arrow pointed at the head of the woman who was leaning against Fujimaru's back. She stared at the arrow with only passing interest. "Like you'd REALLY fire that with me so close to your Master - least that tells me what class you are, Archer."

"Do not underestimate how accurate I am, even at close range like this…Assassin." Mash was edging around to the side, her body tense with an unknown Servant so close to Fujimaru, but Chiron had eyes only for the Assassin. "Though I expect this is all a show for you - for an Assassin to use Presence Concealment to get close, and not make a kill - the sons and daughters of Alamut I met on the Throne would see that as a disgrace, or at minimum a shameful waste of their powers." Despite his casual tone, his bow remained drawn, the arrow pointed right between the eyes of the Servant.

Who snorted out a laugh. "Ha! Didn't even need Presence Concealment to get your backs - the second you started watching the eye candy over there, I just crept around, quiet as a mouse while you were distracted." Still snickering, she extended a finger and pushed the arrow aside. "But yeah, consider this my way of saying 'hi'. Assassin-Class Servant, Jing Ke, currently serving under the Roman Legions. You must be the Chaldeans we've been hearing about for the past couple of days, eh?"

Thundering, ground-shaking footsteps announced the presence of the other Servant, who hissed out a noise not too dissimilar to some of the jets Fujimaru had once seen taking off from the deck of an aircraft carrier her dad was stationed on. "Lu Bu here says hi too," said the Assassin.

"You can understand him?" asked Mash, her head tilted to the side.

Jing Ke held up a hand and waggled it in the air. "Eh. Kind of? We've been working together long enough that I've got a good idea of his moods and stuff. Enough to get by, at least. We're both Chinese - that might help."

"Great. Think you could detach yourself from my back sometime soon? Nothing against you, but me and Assassins don't have a good recent history," Though that was putting mildly - even if she didn't think this Assassin was going to look to gut her, then stuff a demon into her, she was still having to force every cell of her body to stop panicking.

"Oh, sorry," Jing Ke pushed off from Fujimaru's back, and a second later was standing by Lu Bu, her face sheepish. "I'm entirely too sober to be thinking straight."

Mash raised a finger, opened her mouth, then paused for a second. "Should….that not be the other way around?"

Jing Ke grinned cheekily. "Nope!"

Lu Bu huffed a noise that sounded like a plane cutting through the air, and nudged Jing Ke none too gently. "Fine, fine, I'll get to business. No patience for small talk, or any of the other fun things in life, I swear. Berserkers." She sized the three of them up. "Now, given even with the nice information packet I got from the Throne, I've never heard of a place called 'Chaldea', I'm going to guess you guys aren't from around these parts, huh?"

"You would be correct. Though it's much more a matter of 'when', rather than 'where'." said Chiron, after a nod from Fujimaru.

"Proper time travel? Well, given we're all probably a few centuries, give or take, from when we lived and died, guess that's hardly the weirdest thing to hear." She gave them a considering look. "The thing both me and him are wondering is, why're you here? Seems a bit too convenient for us to be this desperate and then you guys show up out of nowhere."

A low rumble from Lu Bu, and she smacked him on the arm. "I don't care how good of a horse Red Hare was, this isn't him, and it isn't a gift horse either - and you should look in their mouths - you know how many poisoned needles you can hide in your mouth? When did you get so trusting, anyways?"

Fujimaru felt some of her unease begin to dissipate - a pair of Servants bickering. It was like being back in Chaldea, in a way. "Suspicious as it might sound, we really are here to help. This whole mess with this United Roman Empire - it's not supposed to have happened. We're here to fix it." She shrugged. "It's all part of a larger thing all related to that ring of light in the sky."

Two pairs of eyes flicked up to the sky. "Don't suppose you have any idea what THAT is, do you?" asked Jing Ke.

"We're as much in the dark as you are - this is my first time seeing the thing, and it puts goose bumps on my goose bumps." She held out her hand. "Ritsuka Fujimaru, Master of Chaldea." Jing Ke reached out and gave her a proper handshake - it had been a bit, since just about all the other Servants (and Kratos) were all about that wrist-clasp, and Avenger had taken to the to fist bump like a fish to water. She nodded her head to the side. "This is Mash, my Shielder and Kohai, and on the other side, my Sensei. I'll leave it up to him if he wants to hand out his True Name."

"If we are to be working together, it is probably something I should share - though please continue to refer to me as Archer. My name would cause a bit of a stir amongst the Romans." Like Fujimaru, he extended his hand. "Archer-Class Servant. In life, I was called Chiron."

Jing Ke gave a low whistle as she fell into the trap that was the Greek wrist-clasp of Doom(™). "Yeah, that'd explain why you're keeping it under wraps. That's a name that would kick up all manner of fuss if it got out around here."

Fujimaru glanced over to where Nero was, it appeared, still inspecting the men. "Looks like she's going to be a bit longer. So, give it to us, how bad is it really?"

Jing Ke shrugged. "Pretty bad. The two sides were already fighting when Lu Bu and myself got summoned by the land. We joined up when they were retreating from Gaul. It's been nothing but a series of setbacks and retreats since then. I don't care WHO your leader is, loss after loss after loss is going to erode morale. They've managed to claw back a bit of that with the stand they've made here - probably a combination of them having their backs to the wall, and FINALLY being able to finally HOLD the United Roman Empire here, even if they can't push them back. But it FEELS like a win to them. That, and the promise of reinforcements did a lot of heavy lifting in the recent days."

Lu Bu grumbled something. "And yes, you too. Lu's been the rock that's been holding the bridge since we stopped here. They can't really swarm him like they could on an open field, so we've thrown back their first few assaults." She glanced over her shoulder, to the contested bridge. "After that, they got quiet. It's been a few days since the last attack - which doesn't sit right with me. If Nero had taken much longer to get here, I might have tried to sneak across the water at night and see what I could pick up in the enemy camp."

Chiron was staring at the bridge, and both the Roman and United Roman fortifications, his brow creased. "That may still be advisable. For as good a stand the Romans have made here, it comes with one major problem. Can you guess it, my Master?"

Fujimaru didn't have to look long. The United Roman side of the river was fairly bristling with artillery pieces - ballista, the smaller scorpio bolt throwers, and stone-throwing onagers. Not to mention the sheer number of archers they had laying in wait. "As much as of a bitch as we've made it to take this side, it's going to be a Super King Kamehameha Bitch to take the other side." She grinned. "That is, if we didn't have just the Noble Phantasm to create a big old impenetrable wall."

Mash blushed, as every head turned to her. "I mean…..yes, Senpai, I could do that. But I can't move while my Noble Phantasm is deployed. And anyone who moves past it I won't be able to protect. It doesn't seem ideal for attack." Her eyes narrowed (cutely, thought Fujimaru). "And I don't think Avenger's idea of the 'Mashapult' is a viable one."

Fujimaru waved her hand. "Details! I'm sure between Sensei and Nero's officers, we can workshop something that'll get us across that river." She frowned. "Because that's what we've got to do. Unless Kratos and Rider manage to speedrun cleaning up the seas, there's no more reinforcements coming for us. Nero pretty much emptied out Rome to march this Legion here. I don't think the United Roman Empire is going to have that problem."

Horns began sounding from the other side of the river, and the barricades parted. A lone soldier began walking forward, crossing the bridge, a pennant in his hands.

"White flag?" asked Fujimaru. "No way they're surrendering." She glanced at Chiron. "Parley, you think?"

Chiron steepled his fingers. "It could be that was what they were waiting on - the Emperor to return so they could attempt to seek terms. And, we do not know the reach of our enemy's eyes…if that letter is to be believed, we are being watched. Our appearance could also be a factor in this."

Jing Ke looked like a hound that had just caught a very interesting scent. "Letter?"

Fujimaru flicked her eyes to the Assassin. "Later. It looks like we're being waved over by the Emperor." Indeed, Nero was loudly beckoning them over - either the Chaldean contingent, or the two Servants attached to the Roman Legions, or both. Even her piercing voice was having trouble penetrating the din that had been kicked up by the United Roman Empire's request for a meeting.

"Sure, but don't think I'll forget. You're not putting me off about this - my claim to fame was a caper that required, frankly, insane attention to detail. You and me are going to talk about this 'letter' at some point." It was delivered in a friendly tone, but one that didn't touch the Servant's eyes, and Fujimaru, for a second, got a glimpse of the killer that was just beneath the surface of the woman's breezy, laid-back persona.

For a second, there was a skull mask superimposed over Jing Ke's face, and Fujimaru suppressed a shiver. (Not NOW brain!) She dredged up some steel from the reserve and pounded it into her spine, reinforcing herself as they drew up to where Nero was holding court with her officer corps.

"Lady Fujimaru! Come, join us!" She turned back to her officers. "These are the Chaldeans I was telling you of, that aided me in dispatching the imposter claiming to be my uncle."

The looks they were getting weren't outwardly hostile, at least. Probably had something to do with having fought beside two foreign Servants for a couple of months now - though they were in the dark about the 'Servant' part. Valerius was obviously sizing them up - and thankfully spending as much time looking over Chiron as he did herself and Mash. "I must say, Emperor, after the stories - which you say were not exaggerated - of the giant who fought the imposter, and took out nearly a century of the enemy's forces single-handedly, these three seem a bit disappointing in comparison to the tales that have made their way north. The girls are lovely, certainly, and the man looks as if he has seen battle, but are you sure?"

Nero laughed. "Oh, my dear Valerius. Just watch, they will surprise you." She stamped her foot into the dirt. "But that is for later. We have an opportunity here to look our opponents in the eyes, and possibly reason with them." She frowned. "I will not countenance any further aggression into lands that belong to Rome, but if there is a possibility to reach them, to make them lay down their arms, I would take it." She turned in what could only be described as a pirouette, meeting the eyes of each of them in turn. "What say you?"

"Feels like a waste of time," said a compact, dirty man wearing a badge that identified him as the head of the fabri - the Engineer corps. "They've not bothered with saying anything to us for the past two months. And they've got us on the run - they might be stuck here, but that can't last. Why talk now?"

"Feels like too much of a coincidence that their assaults stopped right as your new friends showed up, Emperor," said Valerius. "Perhaps they just want to get a look at the new enemies before they commit to a proper offensive."

"It could be a trap," said Fujimaru, bluntly.

That kicked up a hornet's nest. "The banner of truce is sacred, almost as inviolable as the laws of hospitality!" declared Nero, affronted.

Fujimaru frowned. "That flag only has as much value as someone else puts on it, Emperor Nero. It's just like a family bond - you can value it all you want, but if the other person doesn't give two figs about it, then it's worthless. Are you really willing to gamble your entire Empire on your enemies playing by the same rules you do?"

That got them thinking. Fujimaru sighed. "That's why, if you are going out there, Mash and me are going with you. Mash will be able to protect you, and everyone else from our side in the event they try something - well, anything short of them outright collapsing the bridge. Sensei will probably work better back here where he can keep his eyes open - and an arrow ready for any tricks they might want to pull."

For a second, she thought she might have gone too far, and quickly began backpedaling. "I mean, if it's ok with you! We didn't help you out back in Rome to see you lost like this."

Jing Ke's snicker broke whatever mounting tension was left after her babbled apology. "Oh, this one's paranoid, but properly paranoid. Couldn't be anything but a Mage - but she's right. You should absolutely take precautions here." She shrugged. "It'd be just the sort of thing I would do, after all. Use the expectations of safety to get close enough to take down an Emperor."

"If the Emperor trusts these new Auxiliaries, it costs us nothing to have them accompany her," said a bearded man who had the look of a former gladiator, given the trident strapped to his back. "Better to expect treachery and prepare for it, and then to have it not appear, than to be taken by it without any defenses against its appearance."

"I can probably hide myself in the water well enough that they won't know I'm there," said Jing Ke. "It'll give you another layer of defenses in case things go bad. Someone tries something, and I can be up on the bridge in a second - and Lu Bu won't be far behind me - though he'll be taking a much more DIRECT path."

Valerius shrugged. "It's probably about as good of a plan as we can put together on this short notice. If you're determined to do this, my Emperor?" Nero's only answer was a firm nod. "Then we, as your loyal soldiers, have little choice but to make this happen." He raised his voice. "Send a white banner of our own out there, and prepare the Imperial Standard to be carried with our Emperor as she makes her way out to the center of the bridge." He turned his gaze to Fujimaru. "Would you wish for some armor, Lady? You are slight, but we might have a cuirass or two that would fit you."

"Thank you, but no," Fujimaru took Mash's elbow into her grasp, with both hands. "I've got my sworn shield here - she should be more than enough to keep me safe for what HOPEFULLY will just be some talking. If it gets to proper fighting later, I might take you up on that offer."

"As you wish."

There was a flurry of activity as a matching white flag marched out to the center of the bridge, followed shortly by Emperor Nero herself, her personal standard preceding her, and Valerius at her right side. At her left, barely a step behind her was Mash, her body tense - Chiron had found an elevated position and was running down potential threats though the mental link Fujimaru and her Servants shared. Fujimaru herself was bringing up the rear, dwarfed by the the Praetorian Guard that surrounded Nero as she made her way across the bridge.

When they reached the center, they stopped, and waited.

And waited.

'Are they really doing this petty power play stuff where they make us wait?' asked Fujimaru. 'Guess politics really hasn't changed much in 2000 years - whether it's heads of state or corporate boardrooms - or Mage Family bullshit.'

'Indeed, my Master. In my time as a Servant, humanity remains surprisingly constant in their ways. It is both a comfort, and a source of despair, as I witness them make the same mistakes over and over again.' Chiron, for the first time since meeting him, truly sounded his age there - not that he had ever sounded young to begin with.

The United Roman lines stirred, and the barricade parted once more. A wall of massive soldiers, clad in brilliant golden armor began marching their way across the bridge.

Fujimaru let out a low whistle in her mind. 'Those things are massive - if they're not seven feet tall, it's not by much. Probably a batch of homunculi they spiked with some growth hormones - if not outright steroids. They're WAY too big for this time period, going by the heights we've been seeing.' Something twisted in her gut - from what she remembered, that drastically cut into the lifespan of a homunculi - and made their later days agony as their bodies broke down.

Just one more notch on the list of things she had to hold Lev accountable for.

The Romans with them certainly noticed the soldiers, but they were more focused on the banner that was preceding them. "The eagle and the laurel…the Imperial Banner. The audacity of these…" With a glance at Mash, Valerius bit off what was likely a very unpleasant curse.

"I agree, it galls, Legatus," Nero's voice was the quietest she had ever heard, as the woman stared up at the towering soldiers drawing closer by the second. "We shall return these insults a thousandfold, soon - Fortuna willing, we can find some common cause here and turn these forces against the true cause of this uprising."

The United Roman party stopped maybe ten feet away from the center of the bridge, the soldiers snapping into parade rest. Then, the leading four stepped aside, and a man began striding towards them, the soldier carrying his standard trailing behind.

It almost looked like he was wearing a modern suit - even the deep red color and golden accents wouldn't have been too out of place amongst the halls of Chaldea, or the streets of Tokyo. The image was ruined somewhat by the sandals on his feet, and the toga he was wearing beneath it, instead of pants. A yellow belt that was more a series of discs jangled at his waist, and resting on his brow was a crown of laurels.

And he was stocky - or just plain fat, Fujimaru couldn't quite tell. His gut strained his otherwise fine suit, and maybe a week or two prior, Fujimaru would have dismissed him as being overweight and out of shape. But that was before she'd overheard an incredibly detailed discussion between Jay and two of his gym buddies about the difference between 'pretty muscle' and 'working muscle'. Apparently powerlifters - and people who were simply strong from doing heavy physical labor all day looked VERY different from bodybuilders, who were nice to look at, but couldn't muster a fraction of the power of a good old farm boy. At least to hear Jay tell it.

'Servant confirmed, Master.' Fujimaru hadn't needed Mash's confirmation to know what she was looking at. That he was being accompanied by a banner reserved for the Roman Emperors was enough of a giveaway. At least he looked like he was in his right mind, unlike the last former Roman Emperor they'd had to deal with.

He smiled, broadly, and opened his arms wide. "Greetings, my fellow Romans. My countrymen. And while we are not yet friends, I have hopes that we will be by the time we are done here today. I am Gaius Julius Caesar." He looked them over. "I believe you know of me."

They were being quiet about it, but Nero's guards were whispering 'First of the Empire' under their breaths. And from what Chiron was telling her, similar things were being said back on their side of the bridge - he'd not raised his voice, yet somehow Caesar had managed to project it well enough that she thought they'd heard his proclamation all the way back in Rome itself.

Nero hissed something to Valerius, then stepped forward, stopping at the same distance from the center as Caesar had. "I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus! Emperor of Rome! And I ask you, if you truly are who you claim to be…why?" She raised her chin high, and met his gaze fearlessly. "Why have you turned against Rome?"

Caesar smiled, almost paternally at her. "What a beauty you are. Ah, truly you live up to your reputation as Venus herself. But you are descended from my line, I should have expected nothing else. But to answer your question, Emperor Nero, I have turned against nothing."

He waved his hand to the sky. "I, and the others who have found the cause of the United Roman Empire to be ours merely wish to bring Rome to heights beyond imagining! True, your reach extends much farther than in my days, but it could be GREATER!"

He clapped his hands together. "Britannia, for one, remains a land of savages that still bitterly resist anything Roman - did you, yourself, Emperor Nero, not have to dispatch a Legion to quell an uprising there not too long ago?" Nero flinched - she hid it well, but it didn't escape Fujimaru's notice, and Caesar saw it too. "Caledonia and Hibernia remain beyond your grasp, as does much of Germania Magna - and the rich lands of Arabia also beckon for Roman rule. And the lands of my beloved Cleopatra lay fallow and largely ignored, where they could see us make gains into the heretofore unexplored, and unconquered lands of Africa, and do what Scipio never did, and bring the whole of that land under the banner of glorious Rome! Think of it!"

He reached out a hand to Nero. "You needn't even give up anything - not your throne, or your title as Emperor. You could join us, as one of many equals, and combine your Roman Empire with the United Roman Empire, and we could set forth to make Rome last forever - never to fade, never to decline, but to persist for as long as humans walk this world!"

Fujimaru had to tell herself to take a breath. She'd thought her sister had a force of personality about her, but Caesar's charisma was like a tidal wave, and she was drowning in it. Rationally, she knew he was fighting for Lev's side, and that to join with him meant the end of humanity, but dammit, for a split second, a vision danced across her eyes. Her, astride a horse, leaping from a boat and charging up a beach to duel Queen Himiko of Yamataikoku one on one, while soldiers crying her name made landfall behind her.

And she didn't even WANT to leave her name in the history books, much less as a conquering queen. She could only imagine how the soldiers around her were feeling.

Even Nero seemed as if she was wavering. Her breaths were coming in short gasps, and she could see sweat running down the back of her neck from where she was standing. She took a single shaky step forward, then another, until she was standing an arm's length from Caesar. She raised her arm…

And slapped his outstretched hand away.

"Join you?" she hissed. "My mother, Agrippina raised me to be an Emperor from the time I could walk. She was…a monster, in many ways, and I carry the scars she left upon me, both outside, and in. But she taught me three things that I have carried with me all my life, even if I do not agree with all of her words."

Nero raised a finger. "An Emperor stands alone." A second finger. "An Emperor must stand taller than any other citizen of the Empire." A third, and final finger. "And an Emperor bows to NO ONE." Her greaved foot made a sound like a thunderclap as it stomped down into the stone of the bridge. "Join you, lower my head to whomever is behind you, pulling your strings? NEVER! Rome is MINE! I reject you, false Caesar, as I reject my mother's demand that an Emperor stands alone - as I rejected the fake you sent to my doorstep wearing the face of my beloved uncle."

Fujimaru's stomach twisted, as the scent of something sickly sweet, yet foul, wafted across her nose for a split second. 'Chiron, did you feel that?'

'Yes, Master. But it was too quick for me to know what it was. But it felt like it was coming from Nero herself. Be careful.'

Caesar's cordial mien was starting to show cracks. "Please, Emperor Nero, think of what you are throwing away! Because you cannot win this - your Legions are exhausted, and pushed back to Rome's very doorstep. The holdouts you left behind as you fled have fallen, one by one. And we outnumber you many times over. I had to haggle greatly to even be able to offer you this last chance to save yourself, to save Rome itself from a sacking that would leave the city in ruins, and forever a shadow of its former glory." His voice grew plaintive. "Please, do not reject the olive branch I am offering you. For your people, if nothing else." He extended his hand again.

Nero took a step forward, then reached up and slapped Caesar across the face. The sound of the blow echoed across the riverside like a gunshot. "And again I say I REJECT YOU, imposter who calls himself Roman! You, or your master, who sent a thing masquerading as my uncle to treacherously slay me in Rome itself are BENEATH contempt! There is ONLY enmity between us!"

Caesar's face fell. He shook his head sadly. "So be it, then. This is your Rubicon. There will be no more reprieves, and, when the time comes, no more mercy. Your name shall be reviled as the Emperor who saw Rome ground into dust, all over her own ego."

He turned and began walking back to the United Roman side of the river, his shoulders slumped. "Prepare yourselves, for soon, our uncounted Legions will descend upon you." He stopped, and looked back at them. "You need not share your foolish Emperor's fate. I ask you to consider what will happen to your wives and children when Rome burns. She has spat in my face, rejected the mercy I attempted to offer her, but my heart is generous, and it's bounty endless. Some of you can still save yourselves." His guards closed ranks about him as he resumed walking, and a moment later, he was back amongst the barricade at the edge of the river.

---

 

MARE INTERNUM​

"That does not sound like it could have gone much poorer, short of blood being spilled," Medusa cocked her head at the image of Fujimaru. "What happened with Nero?"

They were drawing near to Sardinia - possibly only an hour or less away, when Kratos' communicator had beeped. Kratos had expected Romani, or possibly Da Vinci. Fujimaru, by his estimations, should have only just been arriving at Florentia - to get an update so soon after their arrival had filled him with foreboding for the state of the war, and in that, he had been correct.

"I don't know. I mean, we knew she was possessive of Rome, but to talk of it like it was her property?" Fujimaru scrunched up her face. "Really wasn't expecting her to almost go full yandere here. But it works for us - we didn't want her agreeing to any sort of deal with the United Lev Bastards, and any chance of that is dead in the water." She glanced around her. "Now we just have to worry about knives in the back after Caesar's parting shot there, at least until the fighting starts."

Kratos grunted. "What you felt from Nero - do you think her possessed, as you were?"

Fujimaru shrugged. "No clue. Avenger's no help on that front, she says she'd need to be there in person to tell, she can't make heads or tails of the readings since she's still functionally illiterate, and really not up to speed on computers yet, even if she could read. Best case we can tag her in once you link back up with us and have her take a gander at her. Maybe it's nothing."

"Her mother, Agrippina was, well, to call her abusive doesn't do it justice," chimed in Da Vinci. "Supposedly Nero suffered migraines for most of her adult life from the silver cup her mother forced her to drink from - that also led to the mental instability that caused the last few years of her reign to be so brutal and chaotic. She knows enough magic to be dangerous to herself, it could be a reaction between her circuits and her emotional state, or something of that ilk."

Da Vinci paused for a second, then continued speaking. "There's also schools of thought that believe the Book of Revelations was written in response to the later days of her reign, when she was brutally suppressing Christianity."

There was a choked noise from off-screen. "Wait just a damn minute!" Avenger's silver hair butted its way into the image. "Are you telling me you guys have allied with the damn Whore of Babylon?"

Everyone stared, and Avenger flushed, and shrugged. "'Me' bits in my head. I can probably quote the damn Bible pretty good if I think hard enough."

"You just continue to surprise, don't you Avenger?" said Da Vinci, patting the woman on her head. "But for Kratos, the Book of Revelations is the last book of the Bible - supposedly telling of the end of the world, when the faithful will be taken to the Abrahamic God's side, and plagues, fire, and brimstone will rain down on the world for an age, before God cleanses the Earth. The Whore of Babylon is a key figure in all that, and, as Avenger so bluntly put it, there's some who believe those who wrote the book were using that figure to describe Nero."

"Given that it's a historical fact how Nero died, and, y'know, didn't bring in the apocalypse, I think we're probably safe on that score," said Fujimaru. "And none of this changes the facts - even if Nero is the anti-Christ, we can't let her lose. She has to survive this, go through the Great Fire of Rome, descend into madness, and be overthrown, and die alone after she flees the coup that toppled her reign." She sighed. "She's nice enough, for an Emperor. Kind of sad knowing she's got all that coming in the next few years."

Avenger grimaced. "It is what it is, Red. You think you'd have been any happier if you'd have run into living 'me', knowing what she had coming after you left?"

"No. No I wouldn't have been." Fujimaru shook her head. "Still sucks though."

Horns sounded from around Kratos and Medusa, who perked up her ears. "That's the call for ships sighted. We'll have to cut this short, then. It's time for the two of us to start earning our keep." A thin tendril of fear coiled in Medusa's belly - some part of her was dreading having to call Pegasus.

"I'll leave you to that. Sensei's going to walk me through the lines and point some things out. Good luck, you two!" Fujimaru's image winked out.

"Luck?" Avenger snorted. "Like he needs LUCK. Going to go find myself a good seat for the show, might even steal a drink from Cu." Da Vinci laughed at the Servant's antics, then waved, and her image also vanished.

A few moments later, Calvus was there. "Ten ships on the horizon, by our count. Fewer than I anticipated." He frowned. "It is possible the others lay beyond the horizon, waiting to take us in our flanks. But if we are quick enough, these are far from terrible odds with your abilities at our disposal."

Medusa stared out across the expanse separating the two flotillas. "To ask, do you recognize any of the ships? If there is an obvious capital ship, then that is where I shall deposit Kratos."

Calvus shook his head. "No. And I am not a man who has spent much time at sea, and even then, not for many years, so what knowledge I had is long since dated. My best advice would be to aim for the center-most ship, and spread what havoc you can from there." He glanced again at the approaching ships. "What preparations do you need to depart?"

Medusa managed to keep her voice steady, despite the chills that were beginning to run up and down her spine. "Just a space to call him, nothing more. We can be off as soon as it pleases you."

For a long moment, Calvus stared at the ships on the horizon as if he was trying to bore a hole in them. "Allowing them to draw closer would allow us to support your assault, but would open us up to their return fire. And we are few enough as it is - my soldiers have had to help out with the basic tasks of running the ships." He shook his head. "No. Go now. Cause what damage you can, but do not allow yourselves to be overwhelmed. Powers such as yours must be preserved for future battles, if we are to save Rome."

Kratos grunted, and they made their way to the front of the ship - Calvus already calling for sailors and soldiers both to make their ways to the railing. In the blink of an eye, there was a space more than large enough for her to call her mount.

She took a deep breath, and called to that part of her. At least summoning him as a mount did not require her to slash her own throat, as was a necessary part of the ritual to utilize him as a Noble Phantasm. The onlookers would be shaken enough by the mere sight of her steed - adding what appeared to be blood magic on top of it would have only made the inevitable worse.

Then, in a shower of feathers and a whinny, he was there, and the whispers - and shouts began. All variations on a single theme: 'Pegasus', 'The carrier of Jupiter's Thunderbolts', 'Son of Neptune', and so on.

And the looks she was getting. Some were staring at her like a god come to earth - and they weren't far off in that, for as minor as the divinities of herself and her sisters were. Others, and Calvus was one of them, were staring at her as if a final puzzle piece had neatly slotted into place.

She was already bracing herself for the calls of 'Monster' to begin when Kratos' bulk moved between herself and the many staring eyes. A low growl and his formidable glare quieted the chatter, though it did not fully silence it. "Ignore them," he rumbled. "We have a task to complete."

It helped. Enough to get her moving, and astride Pegasus, who, as ever, was pleased to see her. She ran a hand down his neck, gently, whispering to him, then extended her hand and helped Kratos up. Not that he needed it - he'd apparently ridden his world's Pegasus at least once before - but he, and everyone else had figured out how much the winged horse meant to her (not that she'd ever really hidden it), so he waited for her permission before joining her on Pegasus' back.

"Ready?" she asked, as she felt him settle in behind her.

A grunt, and she tugged on Pegasus' reins, and they were off.

Her boy was clearly happy to be in the air, flying again, as he carved through the air, rapidly closing the distance between themselves and the United Roman ships.

Kratos made a low noise behind her. "A standard wedge. Three ships on each side supporting a larger one at the tip, one with a more sizable ram than the others. Two ships behind - and one ship bringing up the rear."

"Either the one at the tip or the one in the rear could be where the leadership is, depending on if they're of the mind that a leader fights at the front, or that a leader commands from the back." She nudged Pegasus, and he began to dip lower in the sky. "The one in the back is too far from the other ships in the flotilla for you to leap to…" She glanced back at him. "Maybe." She hadn't seen him tear the gates of Orleans from their moorings - she'd been locked in combat with Atalanta when that had happened, but she'd heard it happen, and also heard Avenger's retelling of it. Thus, she wasn't about to put much out of the reach of this man's abilities. "As close as the leading wedge is, the tip might be the best place for your particular talents."

"Stopping it would throw the formation into chaos. They would be forced to halt at least some of the ships, or risk colliding. And the wedge would lose cohesion." He nodded. "Place me there. You see to the ship in the rear."

"Alright." Pegasus dipped lower, still outside of the range of any weapon available in this time period, but low enough to be obviously visible. The homunculi probably wouldn't care about seeing a legendary winged horse, but whatever human crew they had might be rattled by it. She'd already outed herself, best she make the most of it.

As they neared, a handful of arrows were loosed from the leading ships, none coming even close to them. Tracing shots, nothing more - once that initial barrage had failed, no further shots had been forthcoming. They were likely planning to throw everything they had at them once she dipped lower - as she would have to to attack them.

She almost wanted to laugh. None of them had even the slightest chance of hitting her, and that was assuming she was going to linger around and let them take shots at her. She tapped her heels into Pegasus' sides and he let out a shrill cry, and descended from the skies like a bolt of white, almost too fast to see. The expected barrage was already behind them by the time it was loosed, and did nothing but litter the waters.

By the time they had adjusted their aim and drawn a second arrow, she was already above the large ship in the center of the wedge. A grunt, and then the weight on Pegasus lessened, and Kratos was falling.

"Good hunting, Kratos," she whispered, then had Pegasus climb, as she sped towards her target.

---

Kratos had the Blades of Chaos in his hands even as he began his descent. He could survive a fall of this height - he had survived much worse, in fact. But simply because he could do a thing did not mean that he should.

The Blades flew from his hand, looping around the beam that held up the large single, main sail that these Roman vessels utilized. (Triremes - it was a small piece of his homeland, here, before his eyes, even if the flag flown was not that of Sparta, but that of the United Roman Empire.) It failed to hold his weight, the beam shattering as his momentum pulled against it, but that had never been his goal. It slowed his fall enough that he would not need to brace himself with his shield on his landing, and it deprived the vessel of the wind - the oars continued to slice through the waters, so it would not stop completely, but every bit helped.

And the falling sail would sow havoc on the deck of the ship.

Kratos hit the deck with a sound like a shattering tree. The Blades settled in his hands as the first soldiers - sailors or marines, he did not know, began to approach him from all sides, weapons raised - it seemed they carried the same armament on the waters as they did on the land.

He swept the Blades out, sending them in a circular arc, and men (or homunculi - though Fujimaru was very specific that, in her eyes, there was no difference) fell, as the Blades carved through them with little effort.

Still, they came - some struggling free of the fallen sails to get at him, others stepping over their fallen comrades. All as silent as ever.

He rolled out of the way of a pair of spear thrusts, sending one of the Blades through a soldier's skull in return. It continued on, burying itself into the mast, and with a jerk of his arms, Kratos was flying through the air, the Blade held by his left hand trailing behind. His arm surged forward, and the weapon sailed through the air, again reaping a bloody harvest of men.

From beneath, there was the sound of men abandoning their oars - in panic, or in haste to grab weapons and rush to confront him, he did not know.

He landed before the mast, free of enemies for a split second, though his foes were regrouping and once again seeking to close with the Spartan. He kicked a catapult across the deck, snapping the chains that kept it tied down, buying him a few more seconds as soldiers dived out of the way, or were crushed between the siege weapon and the railing - before the railing gave way and they plunged into the sea along with the catapult. Draupnir formed in his hand, and he sent a flurry of spears screaming below, each one impaling into the wooden stairs that lead up from the lower banks where the rowers did their work. A second later, Draupnir thudded into the decking, and a series of detonations shredded the stairs. As with the catapult, it would slow them only, for there were more stairs that he could not see from his position.

He had a moment. Best to use it.

His arms wrapped around the mast, and wells of power from within him, that normally he kept restrained, surged out. The mast groaned, then cracked, as it crumpled around his arms, and then he was the only thing holding the mast up.

He took a shaky step back, body adjusting to the weight he was holding, and he heaved breath into his lungs.

And spun.

Once, twice, a third time, until the mast was fully extended from his body - buying him further time as the sailors and marines were forced to fall to the decking or be blasted into the sea.

He began forcing his body to a stop, his arms and back screaming as they fought against the incredible momentum he had built up. His legs dug into the wooden deck as every muscle in his body tightened, and he threw the mast with every ounce of power he possessed.

It sailed through the air, an unwieldy arrow never meant to take flight, and penetrated straight through the first ship - likely aided by the large gaps in the sides for the oars. Somehow, it had enough momentum to carry it to the next ship and hit it, this time below the waterline. An ugly sound of splintering wood, and the ship began to list hard to the side, its mast entangling with the first ship that had been struck by Kratos' massive javelin, which had gone wildly off-course in the wake of said javelin's impact. Strangely, despite both ships being doomed, few men were diving off the side. It seemed in their haste to save their own skins, the few actual men on the ships had not even bothered with any form of instructions for their slave-soldiers.

Kratos growled, a thin haze of red beginning to make its presence known at the edges of his vision.

A guttural roar, and massive, thudding footsteps sounded from behind him and he turned to face a towering warrior, clad head to toe in steel.

Big - as large, or larger than one of the Einherjar brutes that served Odin, but better armored. One of the giants Fujimaru had seen guarding the Servant Caesar, he believed. It seemed they were used in places other than as an honor guard for the United Roman Servants.

The monstrous homunculus slammed its gigantic, rectangular shield into the ground and charged.

Kratos' axe was in his hand as he met the thing's charge.

Their shields crashed into one another, and the giant was forced back a step. Its spear swept in, and was swiftly reduced to uselessness as the Leviathan Axe chopped the weapon in two. Barely missing a step, the brute hurled the haft of the spear at Kratos, and tore its sword free from where it was strapped to its back.

No short sword here - the blade was almost as large as Siegfried's Balmung, but thicker and weightier - and cruder.

Kratos didn't even bother blocking the thrown spear haft, the wooden pole bouncing harmlessly off the Spartan's shoulder. He stepped into the Homunculi's guard, as the sword crashed down behind him. His axe sliced upwards at the thing's face, but the Homunculi managed to get its shield up in time to stop the blow - though the Leviathan Axe cut deeply into the metal.

Kratos twisted the head of the axe and attempted to tear the shield from his enemy's hands, but the giant moved with him, stepping forward as he pulled back, managing to maintain its grip on the shield. It punched out with the hilt its sword and Kratos ducked, the wind of the blow's passage caressing his skull.

Growling, he ripped his axe free of the shield, then hastily had to use the head of the axe to awkwardly block a vicious kick from the Homunculi.

The shield rushed forward again, and he was a second slow in snapping his own shield into place, and took the blow across his crossed arms. It rattled him, but did little real damage, though it did knock him back.

Enough. There were many other ships still afloat. He had no more time to spar with this creature.

The Blades of Chaos filled his hands and began to shimmer with heat. He crossed the distance between himself and the Homunculi with a short leap, the Blades held close together, vibrating in his hands. Grunting, the Homunculus settled onto its back feet, shield interposed.

The Blades cut through the shield as if it wasn't there. The Homunculi's armor provided just as ineffective at stopping the Blades, parting before them like thin silks. The Homunculi made a noise of distress as the Blades entered its gut, then a series of them, as Kratos rapidly stabbed the creature again and again.

Finally, he tore the Blades free, and took a step back. The Homunculi wobbled for a second, and began to take a step forward.

Then it exploded.

And the deck belonged to Kratos.

To his left, two ships were slowly sinking into the ocean, bound together for a watery grave, still entangled by both abandoned oars and a shattered mast. Far across the waters, he could see Pegasus as it swept down, again and again, on the large ship that had been bringing up the rear of the formation. The sails were little more than tattered strips of cloth, and Kratos could see only a few oars still dipping into the water - it seemed Medusa had flown low to the water and shattered most of them - leaving the ship dead in the water. To his right, the remnants of the United Roman flotilla's wedge were beginning to exchange fire with the loyalist Roman vessels. The ships in the middle of the United Roman formation were halted, trapped between the wrecked ships at front and the deadened ship at the back of the formation.

From across the waves came the sound of a horn. Loud, and mournful, and nothing like the instruments the Romans, either loyalist or United, used.

The sound of it stirred memories in Kratos' breast. It was somehow…familiar.

His communicator sprang to life, Romani's face winking into existence. "Kratos, we've got a Servant reading incoming! Not from any of the ships nearby, either." He glanced at something off-screen, frowning. "In fact, we've got an enormous magical signature incoming from the south…"

Kratos strode to the railing, and looked out across the endless waves.

And, for a long second, could not believe his eyes.

It was a ship of bones. A juggernaut, easily two or three times the size of the ship he was standing on. And despite its size, it was practically flying across the waters, heading directly for the two fleets that were joined in battle. Even at this distance, Kratos could see that no living men crewed the vessel, for skeletons climbed the rigging, manned the ballista, and gathered at the rails, weapons raised, mouths open in wordless screams.

And from the mast flew a flag that Kratos knew. He had seen it before, the day messengers had ridden into Sparta to demand that King Leonidas kneel, and submit to King Xerxes.

Persians.

Medusa's voice sounded in his head. 'Kratos……that thing's going to tear through both fleets - it might not even notice the bumps as it crushes ships underneath it. I'm on my way to you, we have to stop it.'

'Romani has detected a Servant approaching. From the south.' Kratos needed to say little else.

'Then they're probably maintaining that ship - we kill them, we kill it.' She paused for a second. 'But Persians? Even I heard of their invasion of Greece, despite how isolated we were on the Shapeless Isle. What is a Persian Servant doing here, so long after their empire crumbled? So far, the United Roman Empire has favored Roman Servants.'

'We shall find out.' Kratos held his hand up, and a second later felt a hand on his wrist, snatching him from the ground. He swung himself onto Pegasus's back, and they were off.

As they drew closer, they could hear the deep, rhythmic pounding of a drum coming from the ship. The oars dipped into the waters, pushed, and raised in time to the beats - a trace memory of their living days, or an intimidation tactic - it did not matter.

'I assume I'm dropping you off on the deck again. What do you want me to do while you're busy there?'

Kratos' mind raced as he considered possibilities. 'Destroy their oars as you did with the last ship. We must halt their progress - killing whatever Servant is on board that ship is the most straightforward means, but combat against a Servant is unpredictable. And the ship draws near to the fleets.'

'Understood.' Pegasus climbed higher into the sky, held there for a heartbeat, then dove. The horn sounded again, a faster and more urgent note, and two of the ballistas at the fore fired. Pegasus was forced to weave out of the way as the siege weapons, impossibly, had enough power to reach him even at this elevation.

'Going to be a hotter landing than the last. I won't be able to slow down as much either - but I imagine that won't hinder you much.' Medusa's voice in his head was wry.

Before he had time to reply, the ship was beneath them. Kratos slid off of Pegasus' back, Leviathan Axe in hand. Below him waited a carpet of animated bones, weapons raised, swords and clubs banging off their shields.

His wife's axe shuddered and began leaving a trail of frost in the air as he spun it in his hand.

Kratos hit the deck like a hammer, Axe burying itself into the bones that made up the deck. A wave of glacial ice erupted from the point of impact, washing over the skeletons and freezing them in place, then shattering them, as a second, even more frigid wave blasted into them as Kratos tore the axe free of the decking.

He snapped his shield into place and growled, for while he had cleared some space, his enemies were numerous. But they did not approach. Their jaws snapped at him, and they continued to beat their weapons against their shields, but none made a move towards him.

The deck shuddered, and the skeletons, as one, fell to their knees, save for a small handful who stepped aside, parting like a river suddenly dammed.

For the second time this day, Kratos had to look up to stare his enemy in its eyes.

The Brute Homunculus had been large. This Servant dwarfed it as it had dwarfed Kratos. As tall as Thor, at least, and every bit as broad. Skin as dark as obsidian, save where white tattoos or war paint decorated his body. And that body was on display, as he wore as little as Kratos did - though where Kratos was garbed in simple leathers and skins, this man wore gold - bracelets, jewelry, collars, rings, even his teeth were coated in the metal, and his eyes seemed to be made of gold as well - he glinted in the light as he crossed the deck to stand before Kratos. Two huge axes rested in his hands, large enough that a lesser man would have to wield them with both, but he carried each with a single hand as though they weighed nothing at all.

"Not Isssssskandar. No," The Servant's voice was a rumble from the pits of Tartarus themselves, and while the words came out laced with an underlying bloodlust, Kratos felt only a touch of the madness of his half-brother, or of the Black Knight in this Servant. "Divine like him, but not him. Where? Where is he?"

"I have no quarrel with you, Servant, if you do not serve the United Roman Empire," growled Kratos. "But you WILL turn back - or turn away from the ships in your path, for I find myself allied with them."

"Never. Cannot turn back. Iskandar is here. Iskandar WILL be here. How many of his ships must I sink, how many of his men must I kill before HE SHOWS HIMSELF?" The giant raised his axes and clanged them together. "If I kill you, will he APPEAR BEFORE ME?"

Kratos was moving even before the two axes began descending. There was some reason and rationality here, but tainted by a single-mindedness to find this 'Iskandar'. Another Berserker, then.

Bone splintered where the axes fell, but the giant tore them free and rushed forward. One axe sliced across horizontally, seeking to cleave him in two. The Spartan's shield plummeted down, forcing the axe into the deck. In a mirror of Kratos' motion, the other axe chopped down, only to be met by the Leviathan Axe.

Brute strength met brute strength, and neither could gain an advantage. The giant had weight and leverage, but even that, combined with his own power, could only match that of the once God of War.

Rattling bones broke the stalemate, as the undead soldiers surrounding them moved to intervene. Kratos kicked back, body spinning to cleave through the nearest skeletons that had advanced on his back. His shield punched out, blasting a crater into a group of dead and gaining him a wedge of space, space he was forced to abandon as twin axes descended in an X, Kratos rolling past the Servant.

He spun to his feet and, both hands grasping the Leviathan Axe, sliced into the Servant's thigh. The golden armor resisted better than the soft metal should have, but it parted before his blade all the same. The Servant's flesh put up better resistance, but before he could complete the swing, he was leaping back, as the spot where he was standing was suddenly filled with arrows.

Above, from the masts, skeletal archers clacked their jawbones in a parody of laughter.

The Servant was grinning down at Kratos. "A warrior. Good. I shall offer you to Mithra, as a sign of my oath to find him. To best him. To best ISKANDAR!" He feinted a chop, then stepped inwards and kicked out, Kratos sliding out of the way. "Your heart I shall offer to Ahura Mazda, so that he shall bless me with VICTORY!" Kratos snapped his axe down, but the Servant managed to turn his outstretched leg so that the blow glanced off his golden greaves, though the armor again suffered from the blow. "Your soul I shall give to Ahriman, so that my foe shall be cursed, not in life, but in death, when he has FINALLY fallen before me!" His head snapped forward, seeking to crash into the Spartan's, but Kratos kicked upward, foot ramming into the Servant's jaw, stunning him for a second.

Once again, Kratos was unable to capitalize on the opening, as more skeletons, this time armed with spears, intervened, coming from both his sides to jab at him, and, as before, he was forced to break apart from his enemy to avoid the attacks, and giving the Servant time to recover.

More arrows rained down upon him, and he scattered out of the way, axe slashing around him, reducing any skeleton who drew too near to little more than dust.

The skeletal archers again mocked him with their clattering jaws - only to be shattered into pieces as a winged horse flew through them without pausing, leaving both them and the sails in tatters.

Medusa is speaking faster than he has ever heard her. 'Kratos! I can't do anything about the oars - I shatter them, and by the time I've circled around, they're repaired them by having whole skeletons cling to one another in an unliving chain to make new oars! We're going to have to kill that Servant, and fast. I'm coming to join you!'

Pegasus bobbed and wove around the sails, a white blur, then the horse vanished into a shower of feathers, and Medusa fell from the sky, her hair a purple trail as she plummeted to the deck.

Skeletal warriors gathered where she would land, weapons raised, but she stopped, just outside of their reach, and there was the jangling sound of chains, as she swung through the air, and landed on the rails, as perfectly balanced as a cat.

Then she blurred forward.

Stakes buried themselves into skulls, shattering them outright and causing the bodies to fall to the ground, or wedging themselves into the bones and using them as a lever to roll herself across their backs to launch herself into another cluster of soldiers. In seconds, she was flying over the titanic Servant's head, and spectral chains shimmered into being, binding the Servant's arm.

Medusa dug her heels into the deck, her muscles bulging as she fought against the Servant's might. Growling, the Berserker jerked his arm back, and the part of the mast that held up the sails splintered - Medusa having twined her chains around it to use it as a pulley against the Servant's strength. Medusa was torn from her feet, hastily dismissing the chains and tucking into a roll that narrowly took her under the blade of one of the Berserker's axes.

Kratos made the most of the distraction he had been provided. The Blades of Chaos flew into the Servant's chest, sinking in up to their hilts, and Kratos jerked on the chains, sending his body hurtling forward. His knees drew up, and with a sound like a clap of thunder, they crashed into the Servant's forehead.

The Berserker took one step back, foot making a crater in the deck, and he roared. His eyes glassy, he still managed to raise his axe and swat Kratos from the air, the Spartan's body bouncing off the ground. His foot shot out, kicking Kratos all the way back to the railing, a glancing blow, the greater whole of its power wasted as the Servant's vision was still blurred from the shot he had taken. A split second later he howled, as Medusa dove, driving her stakes into the Servant's leg, twisting them, then tearing them free just ahead of an axe that screamed through the air. Impossibly fast, she planted a foot on the axe as it passed and leapt, snapping a spinning kick into the Servant's head.

As her body spun, hanging in the air, a strip of cloth floated to the ground.

Then her eyes, unbound by Breaker Gorgon, met the golden orbs of the Servant, and magic pulsed. The Servant shuddered, stone beginning to creep into being around his extremities.

'NOW KRATOS! I don't know how long this will hold!'

Kratos rolled to his feet and charged, Draupnir forming in his hands. He could hear rock cracking as he drew near, but the Servant's movements were sluggish, hindered by the spell Medusa's Mystic Eyes were casting upon him. Flakes of stone fell to the ground as the Servant forced his arms to move, as he stubbornly willed his weapons to interpose in the charging Spartan's way.

Draupnir took him full in the chest, as another burst of magic from Medusa recalcified his arms just as they began to descend. She landed, one foot on each arm, and snapped a scissoring kick into the Servant's face, then backflipped away, as Kratos forced the spear deeper into the giant's chest.

The point of the spear erupted from the Servant's back, and Kratos roared, arms straining as they lifted the Servant into the air and hurled him backwards. Draupnir snapped free, a shimmering replica of the weapon still buried in the Persian titan's chest, as he crashed to the deck.

Kratos turned, Medusa landing on his hand as Draupnir receded back into a ring, and then, as the Servant staggered to his feet, he hurled her like a javelin.

Medusa's arms flickered, and then she was turning, feet crashing into the mast.

The Berserker gurgled, hand reaching up to his neck, which had been neatly cut by the Rider as she had flown past.

Skeletons began dissipating as the Servant fell to his knees with a crash, blood pooling around him. The ship itself was shuddering in time with his choked breathing.

"Why….." he gasped. "This…….is this not Okeanos? His dream?" The Servant fell to his elbows, his form beginning to break up. "He was supposed to be here. To fight me. One….last….time."

The golden orbs looked up at Kratos, still maddened, but clearer than they had been. "Iskandar. Find him……..and tell him Darius III was waiting…..will be waiting……to fight him again…."

Then the massive body crumpled to the ground, and was no more than golden dust, caught, and scattered by the sea winds.

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Since Darius III was purely a chain-summon pulled to Rome because Iskandar, as a brat, was Summoned by the United Roman Empire, I considered what to do with him, and then decided that a ghost ship crewed by skeletons was the obvious response.

This chapter brought to you by Fighting Gold. Good to see Coda doing another JoJo's intro.

You would not believe how much reading I've done over the past couple of weeks on the Roman navy. They really didn't have the most effective one, for all that they were the dominant Empire for so long.

I see triremes used both single sails and oars and also a big sail and some smaller ones and oars. Using the single sail model for here. Could not find a good diagram showing how many stairs there were on the thing, so there's some guesswork here.

Darius is noted to be a Berserker capable of strategy and reasoning, so him being completely unable to talk never made a ton of sense to me. So he gets a bit of his communication ability here, because it serves my purposes.

6 months of writing this story. I'm honestly shocked that it's as far as it is, and that I've not lost interest even slightly in the time frame. All credit to you lot, you remain a wonderful bunch I'm happy to write for.

Chapter 28: Septem 5

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 28

 

FLORENTIA​

The attacks began that night, almost as soon as the sun had fallen beyond the horizon.

"SPEARS TO THE FRONT!," cried Nero. "Archers, loose at will!"

At first, they'd tried what they had previously attempted, swarming the single bridge. But Lu Bu had been there, and they had been so much wheat before the farmer wielding the scythe - a weapon configuration that Lu Bu was apparently able to whip out, to note.

'Catapult loading….I don't know, something that's burning! Sensei!'

'I see it, my Master.' An arrow sailed through the air, and there was an explosion of fire and debris from the United Roman lines.

Even the 'Brute Homunculi', as Kratos had termed them, had been unable to shift the Chinese Berserker from where he had planted his feet in the center of the bridge. His armor was sporting some new dents and nicks, and they'd even managed a wound or two, but he'd still torn through them in the same fashion as the regular soldiers. He seemed as if he could hold the bridge for an eternity.

So that was when the United Roman Empire's fabri stepped up.

"MASH!" yelled Fujimaru, her voice hoarse and crackling. "New wave coming, I'll be right behind you!" She chugged down the last of the bottle of water and tossed it aside, her legs screaming as she crossed through the rubble of the city, keeping her Shielder's back in sight. She ached, muscles and magical circuits both, but she was stubbornly refusing to use one of the simulant ampoules until absolutely necessary. She really didn't want to chance getting addicted, to the high that came with them even if they were perfectly safe to use, according to both Romani and Da Vinci.

("IN MODERATION!" came a remembered pair of voices in her head.)

Apparently, the United Roman Empire camp had been far from idle while they had been waiting for Nero to return to the front. Perhaps if Jing Ke had gotten bored enough to try sneaking around the other side of the river, they'd have had some forewarning, but if wishes were horses, or fishes, or however the saying went - Fujimaru's brain was having trouble remembering at the moment.

The reason for that was because there wasn't just ONE bridge anymore - there were four, five if you counted the main, stone bridge. The smiths and engineers of the United Roman Empire had put together boarding planks, impossibly, ones long enough to reach from one side of the river to the next. No normal human would have been able to manhandle them into position, but the Brute Homunculi had been up to the job - and in one instance, Caesar himself had been seen helping maneuver one into position.

Maybe they didn't have enough Brutes for the job, or maybe it was all for the image of the First of the Empire leading from the front, for the psychological damage it would do to the loyalist Roman armies.

In either case, it was moot. As one, the United Roman armies had marched up to the banks of the river, utterly dismissive of the heavy fire they found themselves under, slammed the planks into the ground, and shoved them forward.

One had been off-target, and had crashed into the river, where it was quickly destroyed and washed away. That one had been the one to the immediate right (from the Roman side) of the bridge.

One had been taken out by Chiron who, in the space of a breath, had put enough arrows through the center of the plank that it had shattered in two when it had fallen forward, and, like its fellow, was claimed by the river.

But that still left four.

Deep stakes on the ends had driven into the soil and stone of the river's edge, magic flaring as they had bored deeper, almost rooting the planks themselves into the ground.

And across them had descended the Legions of the United Roman Empire.

Five bridges. Four Servants - and Jing Ke was not suited for frontline combat, while Chiron was much more valuable high up, where he could affect all the battlefield.

They were in trouble.

Dueling cries of 'AVE NERO!' and 'AVE CAESAR!' (the Homunculi clearly having been instructed to take the call up to drown out the Roman shouts, for their yells of support were dead and passionless) surrounded the far left bridge, where Nero was front and center, holding the line, facing down her opposite. For Caesar stood at the other side of the River, sword drawn, but merely watching as Nero spun and danced out of the way of spear, sword, and arrow.

(They'd been able to pump enough healing magic into her on the journey north that she was largely functional, and her leg was almost completely healed, but she wasn't 100%. But she'd been the one of the first to the bridge where Caesar had been, and would not be moved. Fujimaru only prayed she stayed alive, or that her body didn't give out on her. And that wasn't even touching whatever that was that had happened at the parley with Caesar. They had enough on their plates without that putting in another appearance.)

Lu Bu held the center - but they were no longer giving that front anything but a modicum of attention. They trickle-fed a steady stream of men into it, JUST enough to make sure the Berserker could not either leap to another bridge, or charge headlong into the United Roman lines. And when he wasn't occupied slaughtering United Roman soldiers, they were pelting him with missile fire, both arrows and heavier siege weaponry. He was an unbending tree in a storm, implacable, but rooted.

Chiron was able to see the whole battlefield from the tower he was perched in, but the fighting was so fierce he was fully committed to supporting Nero, and raining fire onto the next one over - where they were attempting to blunt his attacks with the testudo formation - it slowed their advance to a crawl, but the thickness of the shields were enough that his arrows were being stopped by the bodies of the Homunculi, and failing to penetrate the makeshift bridge of wood and steel.

That left two bridges. Two bridges for Mash, Fujimaru, and Jing Ke to hold in concert with the Roman Legions.

For her part, Jing Ke was a whirlwind of blades and kicks. Never where her enemies expected her to be, she slid out of the way of attacks with an almost serpentine grace, or simply was beyond an enemy before they could realize their throats had been neatly cut, or their hamstrings slashed. These cobbled-together bridges were hellish places to fight, too narrow for more than five men abreast to fight, and always there was the hungry river below, waiting to embrace any who fell. Jing Ke was in her element as much as she could be - bolstering the Roman lines wherever they were pressed, never a foot out of place.

But Servants could be pressed too, and could tire, and she was tiring. Her legend, her entire skillset was built around a single, quick, precise application of violence, and damn the consequences after. She was still a Servant, with all the inhuman strength, stamina, and agility that entailed. But she could be injured, could be worn down. And Caesar, or his strategist, seemed to know it - and was directing a greater concentration of the Brutes at her bridge than any of the other four.

Singularly, they were no match for her. She could probably walk into a small room with ten of them and walk out unscathed, save for whatever of their blood got onto her white robes. But a constant press of them, hour after hour, and she was beginning to wear thin - her kills losing their clean lethality, and were edging close to sloppiness. Or what would pass for sloppiness for her.

For her part, Fujimaru was dictating a letter to Da Vinci in her head where she DEMANDED some Rocket Boots, or something, for her Kohai. The bridge her Shielder was holding was near, yet still too far from Jing Ke's bridge for her to leap over to provide relief to the flagging Assassin in any of the lulls in the fighting on their front. And while Mashie was quick on her feet, she was far too slow to withdraw from the bridge and make it to the adjoining one where Jing Ke was making her stand before a new wave would be shoved right down their throats.

Rocket boots, jump jets in a backpack, hell, strap something to her shield to allow her to rocket jump - her Kohai needed a way to more quickly close the distance.

She lined up another Gandr - she'd long since lost count how many she'd fired today - and sailed it over her Kohai's shoulder, taking a Brute in the face and stunning it just long enough for Mash to whirl in a circle and blast it off the bridge and into the waters below. Her circuits renewed their complaints - they had passed the stinging sensation you got (and she had been reintroduced to, recently) at the tail end of a good workout probably an hour or two ago, and were now up to 'bad internal sunburn' level. At least as she categorized the stages of Magical Circuit overuse. 'Why have you replaced my veins with molten rods?' was next, followed by 'HOT LAVA!', either of which was treading on dangerous territory for her.

'Master, have Mash and the Romans fall back from your bridge - I'm going to do something that I do not necessarily have the best sight lines for, but your bridge is the least heavily engaged.' Chiron's voice was as unflappable as ever, but she could feel the underlying stress there.

"FALL BACK!" she cried, punctuating the order with a messy Gandr shot into the air that burst like a poorly-made flare. At the start of the night, the Roman soldiers might have scoffed at listening to a mere slip of a girl (and that was only the kindest of the names they'd had for her - the rest weren't fit for polite company, meaning they were right up Cu and Avenger's alley). But once she'd busted out the magic, and Mash and Chiron had demonstrated what they could do, suddenly her words had gained a lot more weight - that two warriors on par with the two Servants the Legions had battled alongside for now two months listened to her made her someone to be noted. That she was a mage, a wonder-worker, only added to that.

The Legions under her eye, if not nominal command, fell back.

As they, and Mash hustled back onto solid ground, Fujimaru felt her magical reserves take a steep dip, and her circuits began to knock on the door of the aforementioned molten rods. Then, from high up, a quartet of arrows bored through the boarding plank, sawing it in two.

United Roman soldiers scrambled back, trying to make it to their side of the river before the bridge completely collapsed. Some made it. Most didn't, and fell into the Arno, which eagerly claimed them.

A ragged cheer went up from the soldiers around Fujimaru, one she couldn't find the energy to join in - she was running through the mental exercises her mother had drilled into her, all while begging her circuits to cool down.

"To the bridge where Lady Jing Ke holds!" yelled one of Tribuni, though she couldn't recall his name at the moment. As the surviving Legionaries double-timed it to the next bridge, Mash looked over at Fujimaru, who nodded, not trusting her voice right now - if she opened her mouth, she might scream, or whimper. Wobbly, she staggered into a still-standing building and collapsed into a seat.

Chiron's voice brushed against her mind, gently. 'Apologies, Master. The curve of the river and the buildings were such that I needed to leap high into the air to get the needed height for the shot, and the distance was such that I needed a touch more power than usual to break the bridge - I feel I've taxed you a bit more than you were expecting.'

Fujimaru stifled a chuckle - she still didn't think opening her mouth would be wise, though her circuits were cooling so that the pain was getting back to manageable. 'Hey, no harm, no foul, Sensei. It got me a reprieve that I honestly needed. How's the rest of it looking?'

'They…..hold a moment.' There was the sound of metal splintering and splashing water, then what she could only describe as what sounded like a very pleased jet engine. 'The bridge nearest me is also down. Lu Bu hurled his weapon straight through it, and I was required to redirect it to him by altering its flight with my arrows. A challenge, certainly - but one I was able to meet.'

There was a long pause, she could feel him sweeping his eyes up and down the river's course. 'Master…they are pulling back.'

Fujimaru blinked. 'Wait, really?' She staggered to her feet and lurched out of the burned out house, her body protesting every step.

The cheering was the first thing to hit her once she was outside, the Roman soldiers raising their weapons to the sky and celebrating, and she could see why. The United Romans were retreating from the bridges - in order, but they were still tucking and running. As she watched, a barrage of shots from Chiron sent the remaining assault ladders into the drink.

Was it over?

As she limped to link up with Mash and make her way to the command tent, she saw Caesar, standing at the edge of the remaining bridge (probably best to call it the 'permanent bridge' at this stage of things). Finger running along his jawline, staring hard at the Roman lines. And smiling.

---

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, but, as of yet, the United Roman camp had been quiet. If there was another assault coming, there were no signs it was coming anytime soon.

Nero and her officers were going over the tally of wounded and injured, and she'd tried to keep her eyes closed, but after the second time she'd been nudged awake, a puddle of drool drying on Mash's shoulder, Chiron had managed to get her excused from the meeting, citing her overloaded Magical Circuits and a need for rest.

It wasn't until she'd made it back to the tent that had been provided for the Chaldean Auxiliaries that she'd realized she was starving - but their ration kits were all squirreled away in Mash's shield, and she plain didn't have the energy to stagger across camp, get one from the girl, and then eat it.

She was just simply done - the simple cot right now was akin to a four poster bed in her mind, and she didn't care about anything else. Her grumbling stomach, the aches and pains her body was still sending up, or the fact that her clothes were sticking to her in unpleasant ways, none of it mattered. She just wanted sleep.

She didn't even bother taking off her boots, or her uniform, she just collapsed into the cot, face-first.

There was the sound of flesh hitting metal, and then she yelped and fell out of the cot, hands holding her forehead. The hell…?

"Really, you didn't even look before flopping into bed?" Jing Ke melted out from the shadows. "Maybe I was wrong about you being properly paranoid."

Fujimaru, to quote Avenger, was ALL out of fucks to give, and she mustered every inch of her aching body, her tiredness, and the new pain lancing through he skull, cobbled them into a glare, and fired it right at the Servant.

Who just chuckled, and proceeded to take a swig from a bottle she was carrying by her side. "Not bad, girl. I'd give it, generously, a 6 out of a 10. Now, are you going to keep trying to kill me with your eyes, or are you going to take a look at that scroll on your pillow?"

It took a second for the words to pierce the fog that was enshrouding her brain. 'Scroll…' Then she got it. "Wait, another one?" She pulled herself from the floor and leaned over the cot, and yes, there it was. Another scroll - this one in a metal case, and again, sealed with the Chaldea logo inside of a heart, same as last time.

"Was going to ambush you and finish our conversation about that scroll you mentioned," came Jing Ke's voice, FAR too close. "But then I got here and saw that, so I figured I'd stab two Emperors with one knife, so to speak." The tent was suddenly infused with just a touch of danger - Killing Intent if you would. "You want to explain what's going on here?"

Fujimaru swallowed thickly. "I really don't know much. When we arrived in Rome, there was a scroll waiting on me." She rummaged in her fanny pack - it had largely been decided that Fujimaru was to keep the scroll on her person at all times, just in case someone decided to rummage through her things - and tossed it to the Assassin, who cracked it open and began to read. "And that's about all we know. So…..good talk?"

Jing Ke's eyebrows went up as she finished the short letter. "And, just to check, this thing wasn't smeared with poison or otherwise trapped?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "Nope. I mean, Kratos picked it up and opened it - I never touched the thing until way later, but he said he didn't feel anything. And we looked it over after and didn't find anything. In the absence of anything……it looks like it was just a scroll."

Jing Ke rolled the scroll back up and began tapping it on her shoulder. "So, you going to open that one, then?"

"I…don't suppose you'd be willing to give it a once-over before I do?" Fujimaru reached deep into the wells of her past and unearthed the puppy dog eyes. "As an Assassin, you'd know the sorts of things to look for, after all."

Jing Ke snickered, and took another hit from her bottle. "Sure, kid. Probably wouldn't do me any favors to have you keel over here while I was around." She didn't even set her bottle down, instead using it to poke at the scroll. "Don't smell anything that smells like poison, and it doesn't feel like there's anything overtly magical on it, either. Could be an odorless poison, but why bother sending a harmless scroll first - I mean, it could have been to get you to drop your guard, but that just seems overly complicated."

She licked the tip of her index finger and laid it onto the metal of the scroll case. "Nope. I'm going to tentatively say this thing's clean." She grinned. "So let's see what's inside!"

Before Fujimaru could say anything in protest, Jing Ke had twisted the top of the case off and tossed it aside. She turned the case upside down and smacked it once, and a handful of things fell out.

"Another letter," muttered Fujimaru. "But those almost look like…photos?"

Jing Ke turned one over. "Not actual photos, but magical equivalents." She paled. "These are pictures of the United Roman camp across the river."

She held the picture in question out to Fujimaru, who stared at it for a minute before she saw what the Assassin had seen. "That's……..that's a bunch more of those bridges. Enough to turn the river into a parking lot."

Jing Ke looked like she'd been punched in the gut. "That's why that fat bastard was smiling at the end today. All that was just a probe, to see how well we could hold them off. Tonight….or tomorrow, they're going to throw everything they have at us. And there's absolutely no way we can stop those kinds of numbers, not when we can't force them into chokepoints like we did today." She took a long drink from her bottle. "Shit. What's the letter say? Maybe it's got some better news."

Fujimaru was already unrolling the scroll, and turning it around so that it was right-side up. "Ahem. 'It does me good to see you have managed to stay alive, as I bid you to do so in my last missive. Enclosed is the first of the aid I have promised you - while you have managed to see off the United Roman Empire this day, that attack was merely a probe.'"

"Duh," said Jing Ke.

" 'Enclosed are pictures showing the layout of the United Roman camp, and the numerous bridges they have constructed. The next attack will be a swarm, and one you cannot hope to defeat. Thankfully, you only face Caesar - the other Servant that was deployed with him has been called back to the United Roman capital in Hispania, though I have been unable to discern the reasons for this. However, in the end, this serves your purposes. Remove Caesar from the field, and your victory will be assured, as the men who serve the United Roman Empire will not be able to hold the army together in the wake of that blow to morale. While their soldiers are Homunculi, the officers have only seen victory after victory - the loss of no less than Caesar will have a crippling effect on the morale of those who command, and have yet to suffer a loss.' "

Fujimaru paused for a moment, pawing through the pictures, until she found what she was looking for. "He wasn't lying - we've got a pretty good diagram of the camp here, and it's even got patrol routes marked out, and things like who's sleeping in what tent? If it's accurate…" She glanced up at Jing Ke. "Think you could do something with this?"

Jing Ke gestured at the scroll still in Fujimaru's hands. "Keep reading. I want to hear all of this before I make any plans."

Fujimaru took a breath, and resumed. " 'This is the extent of the help I am able to offer you at this time - though I have erred in calling this the first aid I have been able to send your way. Your other forces, the ones in the Mediterranean will be able to verify my claims soon. Should you survive this, and manage to break out from Italy, many paths will open up to you - and, depending on circumstances, we may be able to meet sooner, rather than later. I will see about contacting you at that time. ' "

" 'Signed, your continued Co-Conspirator, who grows tired of the chains that bind him and others.' "

Fujimaru lowered the scroll.

---

 

MARE INTERNUM​

The rising sun was turning the sea into molten lava as Kratos and Medusa stood at the prow of the ship, the isle of Sardinia just a stone's throw away. "We should be landing within the hour," muttered Kratos. "We will see if there is any truth to these claims made by this 'Co-conspirator'."

"Faster would be better, obviously, but we'll take what we can get," said Fujimaru, through a yawn. "If they're telling the truth, and the pictures we got from them are legit, then we're going to need a plan, and fast. Though we need a plan regardless."

"Removing the head of the army is always an option," said Romani. "The problem is how to get to him."

"And I doubt he'll accept a challenge like if we were in Ulster," laughed Cu. "He's got every advantage here, and nothing to gain by doing so. And the Romans weren't as big on personal honor and other Ulster values like me and mine were. Add to that your little Emperor did everything but spit in his face, too. He said he had to pull some strings to even offer her a chance to surrender, to try to spare Rome. That ship, I think, has sailed."

"Can the Assassin slip into his camp before the attack and kill him?" whispered Medusa, her voice almost inaudible. She'd been extremely withdrawn since returning to the ship with Kratos. Almost to a man, everyone on the boats was giving her a very wide berth. It wasn't hostile, or didn't feel like it was (yet), but whispered conversations were being held far and wide, and they always ground to a halt whenever she drew near. Kratos (obviously) and Calvus were the only exceptions to this, and even Calvus, when he had praised them for their efforts in the battle, had been unusually stilted - a change from his usual blunt directness.

Still, he didn't flinch when she addressed him, nor did he look away when addressing her. No one else would even dare to look her in the face, even with Breaker Gorgon hiding her eyes.

(Some part of Kratos was wondering if he was going to have to coax her down from the masts if this continued. Or, he would have to join her up there until she was ready to return to the decks.)

"She's looking over the diagram of the camp we got right now," said Fujimaru, with a glance over her shoulder. "If there's a way in, she'll find it."

"Yeah, not happening," A raven mane of hair and a flushed face inserted itself into the screen. "These United Roman bastards are beyond even properly paranoid. Caesar's tent has a pretty strong Bounded Field set up around it, or so the plans say, and that's only the start of their defenses. I cross the line of that and every alarm bell in the place will go off, and at BEST I'd have myself a straight-up fight, which is the last thing an Assassin class wants." She took a long drink from a bottle, then stared down the neck.

"Bah. Finished it off." She tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder, where it landed with a crash. "But we don't even know Caesar's class - based on his behavior and Legend, it's probably not Berserker - he's too sane. Caster and Archer and Lancer are right out, he didn't really do those sorts of things when he was alive, or not to the degree he'd need to qualify for those classes. Assassin - MAAAAAYBE if you squint, given all the political backstabbery he did in his life. One on one against another Assassin I'd like my odds, if it wasn't a Roman Servant on Roman soil. With that, I'd give myself 30/70 odds, and NOT in my favor."

She reached up and scratched at the inside of one of her ears. "If you had to make me guess, he's probably a Rider or a Saber. IF he's a Rider, AND I can jump him before he summons whatever his mount is, my odds go WAAAY up. But if he's a Saber?" She rolled her eyes, which then went dead and cold. "Forget about it. Saber's the premium class for a reason - face to face he'd probably take me apart. I'd HAVE to get him by surprise. And that's not happening if I go through that Bounded Field - he'll be waiting on me, weapon drawn - and almost certainly with some goons, too."

"Now, I COULD find somewhere to hide near his tent, and jump him when he leaves it - he was completely willing to be seen helping with the assault ramps yesterday - and if they're deploying even more of them, he'll probably do the same. So that would give me a window of opportunity. But I'd only get ONE shot - and it would be complicated by how many of those big guys he has tagging along with him. A clean shot with my Noble Phantasm would almost certainly drop him - but it takes a toll on me. I'm not in much shape to fight after using it, which means it'd almost certainly be a suicide mission I'm signing up for." She barked a laugh. "Not that that'd be anything new for me. Same story, different day, and a different Emperor."

She licked her lips, tasting the remnants of whatever alcohol still lingered there. "Too many unknowns for this to be called anything resembling a clean job. I could make an attempt - but you're probably going to be saying your goodbyes to me, permanently, when I head out." She blinked, and the animation and life came back into her eyes. "Also hey there! You two must be the other part of Chaldea I haven't met yet! Jing Ke, Assassin Class Servant, though I assume Ritsy here has already told you that!" She looked Kratos up and down. "You're a BIG one, aren't you?"

"Kratos," he rumbled. "And Rider," when Medusa made no move to speak. "It would be best not to speak her True Name at this time."

"Same situation as your Archer, then? Got it," said Jing Ke, eyes flickering slowly over to Medusa, before returning to Kratos. "You're not a Servant - I didn't get any sort of download from the Throne when I heard your name. And yet, I hear you fought both Caligula and Darius straight up." Her eyes narrowed, and some of that coldness returned to them. "Just what are you?"

Kratos grunted. "You will know when we meet."

"More secrets. Gotta tell you guys, this is like catnip, and a brain like mine's the cat." She shrugged. "But I'm fairly convinced you guys are on the up and up, so keep your secrets for now. Gotta trust someone these days, after all, between weird time-travelers, Roman plots, and now these secret love letters Ritsy is getting."

Fujimaru was staring at something off-screen, and fighting off another yawn. "So, about it being a suicide mission - what if it wasn't? Would you be ok making a Contract - it could be a temporary one - with me, and after you get him, I can use a Command Seal to pull you out?"

Jing Ke perked up. "Just speaking for myself here, but I like the sound of that much better. Can't drink when you're dead, after all." This was, of course, a lie. She regularly had drinking nights back on the Throne with various and sundry - including the Ulster contingent, who absolutely adored her, even if she was only all about two of their three favorite things.

"Still, it would be better if I could get him alone. The fewer guards he has around him, whether they're the big ones or not, the better my chances. Less bodies mean less things that can get in the way, after all, and overall less variables to mess up a plan. The Gods know it was something unexpected that tanked the plan that got me admittance to the Throne, after all."

Fujimaru pursed her lips. "Hey, Mashie…..how big of an area can you make your Noble Phantasm cover?"

"I…" Mash paused, thinking. "I don't know. I've only ever used it to protect a small group of people. The biggest I ever made it was back in France, to hold back all those skeletons." Kratos could hear the frown in her voice. "Senpai, you aren't thinking…."

"That we let them in, and then use your wall to hold them back?" Fujimaru grinned. "Yep! If they think they've taken us by surprise with all those instant bridges, Caesar will probably open the floodgates and throw everything at us. If you can stop them cold there, that'd give Jing Ke her opening."

"But I…" Mash was stumbling over her words. "The entire river, Senpai? I…really don't know if I can do that."

There was a pause. "What if you had a Command Seal backing you up?"

That kicked off a storm of voices. Finally, Romani's voice managed to make itself heard over all the others. "Fuji….Ritsuka! You're talking about using up two of your Command Seals, and very early in the operation!" There was worry in his eyes as he stared at her. "Are you sure about this?"

She shrugged. "About as sure I can be. And it's the best I can come up with on short notice, little sleep, and a body that feels like it got thrown in a washing machine set on 'agitate'." Fujimaru gave a half-hearted smile. "Clock's ticking. If our mysterious friend is telling the truth, we've got until nightfall - probably at best, until the United Roman Empire's going to be crossing the river with everything they've got."

"She's right, you know," said Avenger, from somewhere off-screen. "If anyone's got a better idea than Red, your asses better speak up now. Girl needs to get some shut-eye badly before the shit hits the fan again in a few hours."

Romani let out a ragged sigh. "I feel like I've been saying this alot, but we really don't have a whole lot of better options, do we? Though it doesn't comfort me to hear last Singularity's bad option agreeing with our Master." Ignoring Avenger's shouted 'HEY!', he continued. "Fujimaru, I want to be certain of this - you know the Chaldean Command Seals won't regenerate until you're back in the present, and the base reactors can start to recharge the expended energy. This will leave you with only a single Command Seal left - you won't lose any of your Contracts if you go down to zero, but it will leave you without one of a Master's biggest emergency measures. This is a massive commitment of resources at a very early stage of things."

His lips made a thin line. "Tell me you're certain, and I'll back you to the hilt on this - as it's ultimately your call, as the Master on-site in Florentia. But I want to make sure you know what you're expending here, before you commit."

Fujimaru hesitated for a heartbeat, before nodding firmly. "Two Command Seals to get Caesar off the field, keep a Servant ally around, and hand Nero a big victory? That sounds like more than a fair trade."

"Alright," Romani didn't sound happy about it, but he nodded. "Leave the line on, and you get some sleep. Mash, if you can send us a scan of the camp plans, we'll see what we can work out with Jing Ke while the two of you get some rest."

---

 

THE ISLE OF SARDINIA​

It was a short time later, and Kratos had found himself oddly glad to have solid earth underneath his feet, if only for a short time. The soldiers of the partial Roman Legion that had traveled with them were still circling around the island, looking for a natural harbor that was not occupied by the United Roman Empire, as the state of the docks of Calaris, the major port of the island, was still unknown.

So, once again, Medusa and Kratos were ahead of the ships, to take stock of the state of the city - and to signal the ships if it appeared safe to attempt a landing. Medusa had been given a small number of flares when they had parted ways with Fujimaru, which they would set off in the event the harbor defenses looked vulnerable.

(Da Vinci had been astounded when Kratos had been fully aware of flares - and this had renewed her desire to meet the smiths of his world, if, as she had put it 'They're crafting things centuries ahead of schedule? Oh, the beautiful creations we could make!')

Kratos' companion had not said a word since they had touched down on the island. And while normally, he relished the quiet, in this instance, it felt…unnatural.

"We are nearly there," he said, softly. They had been shadowing what passed for a road on this island - little more than a beaten path at this time, as the port of Turris to the north had not yet been founded, so there was little need for one of Rome's famous roads to the interior of the island. As of yet, they had not seen any other people - human or homunculi.

A soft 'mmm' was the only reply he received - the same as the previous times he had spoken.

He was beginning to understand his son's - or Mimir's - frustrations at times with him.

He sighed internally. He was not made for this.

Before his misgivings could gain traction, he was speaking. "Does it bother you, so? That they appear to fear you as they do?"

The silence after his words stretched, leading Kratos to believe no answer was forthcoming. Then…

"It shouldn't." Medusa's voice was soft, still, but some of the life and animation had returned to it. "I've spent time out of mind knowing what I am - the Monster of the Shapeless Isle. It's part of my Legend as a Servant - I can deny it all I wish, but I cannot escape it. I never hid from it - impossible to do so on the Throne, with my sisters there to always remind me of what I did, by their presences, or with their words. And I never denied it in my past summonings - at least from the scraps of memory I have of them, and I did not hide it from you."

A tendril of her hair moved as though it was alive, and she caught it and began twirling it around her finger, nervous energy leaking off of her now that she had begun to speak. "Those who summoned me in the past were eager to have such a fearsome creature as their Servant. I fought, I killed, I was killed. I consumed souls at the behest of some of my more morally bereft Masters to try to gain power and win them the Grail. I turned people to stone: Servants, Masters, and those with nothing to do with the Holy Grail War, and shattered their bodies like glass. It was easy - whether my Master was a sinner, or a saint, I was a monster, and it was easy to simply follow their commands."

A niggling feeling of….something missing tugged at her. Deep inside her, the ashes of a memory flared for a second - that of a broken girl, hair a similar shade to hers, a shattered vessel hastily pieced back together too many times. Then it was gone.

"Then….there has been the past month," she said, staring at her feet. "A cause much more noble than a group of selfish Mages killing each other for a wish, for one. And to have people….Mash, Fujimaru, Caster, Jeanne…..you…..even Avenger, as much of a similar monster as she is, treating me as just another person. It was enough to make me forget. Until I was reminded of what I really am."

A touch of bitterness entered her voice. "I think that's why the Throne seals our memories away, as best it can, when we return to it, why we Servants are just temporary. Ephemeral ghosts that exist between breaths of the planet. We're not meant to remain for this long….because things like this can happen. A man who has seen first hand what a monster you are - even if this was another world's version of yourself - and he can still treat you like you're something other than an abomination. It's nice."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Until reality slaps you in the face with the truth."

She was just beginning to get the words on her lips to tell him not to worry about her, when his voice rumbled over her. "You are braver than I. After I left Greece - and my past - I did hide."

That craggy face of his was as if it had been carved from stone. "My wife knew of my past, but, beyond that….even my son thought me merely a man, until I could hide it no longer, for his sake. And it took a tragedy, and nearly losing him for me to speak the truth……despite much advice…" His face broke out in a very small smile. "From a wise man about the harm I was doing by hiding these things from him."

He huffed out a breath. "I imagine Faye, had she lived, would have said similar things to me before long. She, like Mimir, never feared speaking her mind to the once Ghost of Sparta." There was a look in his eyes, and even if she hadn't been connected to the man's mind, she would have known how vastly and deeply he had loved this Faye.

Then he looked at her. "And I feel they, were they here, would speak the same to you. But they are not, so I will have to. You, whatever you were in your past, are not a monster. Not now - not as the woman I have known. You can be something else, if that is what you wish."

There was a hint of a challenge in his eyes - unspoken words of 'If I can do it, what is holding you back?'. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

They had almost finished climbing the hill that would give them an excellent view of the port when she spoke again. "Kratos? Again….thank you."

A grunt was the only reply she received, but it was all she needed.

---

 

FLORENTIA​

The sun was just beginning to sink, and the United Roman Empire hadn't made their move yet. It was making Fujimaru antsy.

At least she'd gotten some sleep, and some food in her belly. Eight hours and some calorie-rich - if not so rich on flavor - Chaldean rations did wonders for a young body.

There was a tension hanging over the camp - Nero and her officers had let it slip down the lines that another attack was expected imminently, and the rank and file had been on edge all day, from what her Sensei told her. As morning turned into noon, and then the sun began to dip low, the tension in the air had only gotten thicker and thicker.

She hoped, to the United Roman Empire's observers, it just looked like any other camp that was expecting an attack at any moment. The thing of it was, even if they knew they'd been tipped off, the United Roman Empire might still go ahead with it. They had one heck of a numerical advantage, and probably thought they could drown them in a sea of bodies, even against a forewarned and prepared enemy.

And they were probably right.

She fretted for a moment, then touched the part of her brain that still was giving off that new Servant smell. Up until a bit ago, it had felt like what she imagined a good buzz felt like - right up until the mission had started, and suddenly, changed into something hard and sharp. 'Any activity in the camp, Jing Ke?'

'Yuuuup.' Fujimaru didn't know how she managed to pop her lips when talking mind to mind, but she did it. 'Whole camp's buzzing like a hornet's nest. They're gearing up to attack - I can see them hauling in portable bridge after portable bridge. Caesar hasn't left his tent yet, but it's only a matter of time.'

'Ok. We'll be ready.' She hung up on the call, and looked over to Mash (Chiron was again up in his tower, but his ears were sharp enough to hear her at this distance.) "Jing Ke says they're getting ready to start."

She reached over and patted her Kohai, who was looking a bit green around the gills, on the head. "Mashie, have I told you recently that you're the absolute best Kohai a girl could ever ask for? You got this. And I'll be right by your side, watching as you totally crush this."

Mash seemed to settle a bit, and stopped fidgeting. "Thank you, Senpai. It's just a lot of responsibility."

[No greater than stopping Heracles in his tracks, or facing down the full force of a corrupted Excalibur, girl. Our Noble Phantasm - because it's as much yours as it is mine, given how we're mixed together, is meant to defend - whether it's a few souls or an entire army is meaningless. The crazy ginger is right - you CAN do this.]

(Missed in the pleasure of her Senpai's hands ruffling through her hair was a single, quick sensation - that of a hand lightly touching her on the back, then withdrawing. But in the wake of it, she felt her worries beginning to recede, though she attributed it to her Senpai, and she was largely correct in that.)

'Master,' Chiron's voice echoed in her mind, as horns began to sound up and down the Roman lines. 'It looks like they're beginning to move.'

'And I have eyes on Caesar. He's rolling out of his camp surrounded by those big ones.'

"Here we go…," muttered Fujimaru, as, all across the United Roman side of the river, soldiers - both the Brutes and the normal sized men, and even, here and there, what looked like officers, marched up to the edge of the river, carefully supporting enough bridges to cover the river and half again as much.

Nero's voice, loud as ever, could be heard shouting over the noise from both sides. She was playing the role to the hilt, sounding like she was panicked out of her mind, but Nero had laughed and boasted of her skill on the stage when they'd outlined the plan to her. 'You wish for me to act, Lady Fujimaru? That would be like asking a fish to swim, or a bird to fly, though no creature of this earth, whether it crawls or flies, is as great at that as I am at the thespian arts!'

Credit to her, she really did sound like she was desperately trying to stop what was looking like an utterly crushing defeat. She imagined Caesar was smiling Evil Overlord Smile #36 right now.

'Can't see his face to confirm that, Ritsy.'

Chiron had opened up, and was riddling the bridges with holes, but they had spares a-plenty. He'd need a gatling gun, or there to be a dozen of him to be able to take them out before they could drop them down.

Lu Bu had stomped to the edge of the stone bridge, and was bellowing his engine roars in challenge - looking all the world for someone who was ready to go down fighting.

Then, in a cacophony of metal on metal, the assault ramps fell, almost as one.

It was a mess. A couple were damaged enough by Chiron that they didn't survive the landing, and one or two fell wrong, but that's why they went with copious amounts of quantity. In seconds, they'd connected the two sides of the river with a metal roadway.

The dust had barely settled from the bridges' landing when it seemed like the entirety of the United Roman Empire camps came charging straight at them.

'Here we go…,' thought Fujimaru, as Mash stepped up in front of Lu Bu, a look of grim determination on her face. "Mash Kyrielight," she said, her voice gaining volume, as a brilliant flare of red light burst from the back of her hand. "By My Command Seal, I order you…….HOLD THE LINE!"

Mash's shield went up into the air, a web of light beginning to form from its center. "NOBLE PHANTASM DEPLOY! LORD……." Her shield crashed into the ground. "CHALDEAS!"

The light spread, becoming a web, a barrier, indistinct, but towering, and solid. Red energy, that of the Command Seal, flickered around them, from foundation to peak.

The army of the United Roman Empire crashed into the flickering field and bounced back. Those soldiers at the front who stumbled were mangled underfoot, bodies shattered. Even those who kept their feet were still pressed into the defenses, bones straining - where they weren't crushed against the unyielding bastion that was Mash's Noble Phantasm.

Fujimaru took a shaky breath - it had worked. The Noble Phantasm had spread out to encompass the river from one edge of Florentia to the other, leaving the United Roman Empire with a bunch of shiny new bridges that didn't lead anywhere. Now, if they could only keep it up.

Because even with Mash hooked up to the pure magical IV that was a Command Seal, Fujimaru could feel her reserves burning away. Her Kohai was guzzling up her magical energy to keep a barrier of this size going - she had about five minutes, at best, until the whole thing came tumbling down when her gauge hit 'E'.

Fujimaru wiped sweat from her brow as she forced her brain to pick up the phone. 'Jing Ke, now would be GREAT!'

'Would if I could! He's not happy about the wall, but he's keeping his bodyguards around him, still. We're going to have to separate him from those."

Fujimaru put Jing Ke on hold and picked up the Chiron's line. 'Sensei, they're still surrounding Caesar. It's time to rile them up.' The planning session that had gone on while she was sleeping had come up with this contingency plan for this exact situation - Caesar had been done in during his life by treachery, and it had been pointed out that he had kept his Praetorian Guard close to him all throughout the battle yesterday. So they'd come up with a few thoughts as how to peel them off.

This particular plan, amusingly enough, had been a joint effort from Da Vinci and Avenger.

'Understood Master.' As soon as the attack had begun, Chiron had descended from his perch to man a ballista - a ballista that was mounting a reinforced bolt.

On which Lu Bu was standing. 'Just a moment to get my sights, hold on until then.'

Fujimaru didn't even bother replying, wanting to reserve every drop in the bucket that was her reserves for supporting Mash, who, to her credit, hadn't taken a single step back, despite a literal horde beating themselves, sometimes to death, on the impenetrable shield of Mash's ultimate ability. But she was starting to look as frazzled as Fujimaru was feeling. And the barrier was beginning to look less pristine, as more and more blades, bodies, arrows, and outright siege weapons bounced off it.

Before she could think better of it, Fujimaru was crossing the distance to place her hand on her Kohai's back. Mash started, but didn't look back, her eyes resolutely forward. "Hey, Mashie?" Fujimaru's voice was soft - it was all she had the energy for, with her everything being put towards her Kohai. "You can do this. Because I know you won't let a single one of those guys through - to hurt me, to hurt Sensei, to hurt Nero, or any of the other people you're protecting. Why?" Her other hand drifted up to rest on Mash's shoulder. "Because you're the best, and because I believe in you."

(No, Ritsuka Fujimaru didn't see some of the same insecurities she herself had in her Kohai, not at all. No, she didn't remember times in her life when she'd have killed to hear someone she valued tell her those four simple words. Not at all. The greatest lies, after all, are those we tell to ourselves.)

The Noble Phantasm pulsed with white light, and suddenly, for a second, there were walls. Colossal walls of white marble, surrounding a closed gate, the center of which was Mash and Fujimaru, the eye of the hurricane.

(No one noticed it, as all eyes were upon the two girls who were facing down an army, but atop the gate was a man, clad in armor, silver hair whipping in the breeze.)

[You….shall not pass. Heh.]

Then it was gone, but the barrier remained, stronger than ever.

'Loose!' Chiron's voice in her head was almost drowned out by what, if Fujimaru didn't know better, was a fly-by the Blue Angels.

The bolt crashed into the ground in front of Caesar, snapping in two despite having been heavily reinforced. Lu Bu wasn't on it when it did - he had leapt free moments before - and was even now flying straight at Caesar, and the guards who were belatedly raising their shields.

His spear clicked and whirred as it reformed (Fujimaru would later deny, STRENUOUSLY, that her brain was making Transformers noises every time she saw it do that), reforming into a massive military pick, which was driven into the front row of guards, reducing two of them into a messy paste. The weapon was already changing as he whipped it up from the ground, now a curved sword, one that cleaved a guard's head in two, helmet and all, before carving a deep groove into the shields of the others, who had been quick enough to interpose their defenses.

Lu Bu roared in the faces of his enemies, completely indifferent to the handful of arrows that began to reign down on him by the archers who were just now beginning to redirect their fire.

His weapon was a spear when next he raised it, the point hammering against the shields of the Brute Homunculi, who were being forced back. Three of their number were already down, and the remaining six seemed almost paralyzed by the sheer force of the Servant. Lu Bu shoved his spear straight through one of the shields, then tore it away, taking the guard's arm along for the ride. A snarl, and he stepped forward, spear screaming straight for the guard's chest.

Until Caesar stepped into that space.

He shoved the bleeding Homunculi aside and, showing agility that was frankly incongruous with his bulk, rolled under the spear strike. A sword, cross shaped, formed in his hands, and he thrust with it, once, twice, thrice, as he came back to his feet, the tip scoring Lu Bu's armor. "An assassination attempt, but from the front? How refreshing! When I saw your beautiful Noble Phantasm there, I thought for certain you would be trying to drive a knife into my back. But you surprise me, Rome, in that you send your assassin to look me in the eyes, when you try to kill me."

Lu Bu rumbled something, steam escaping from his lips. "A shame you are a Berserker, and we cannot have any form of a meaningful dialogue here. But needs must." He raised his sword. "Have you heard of Kingcraft, Berserker? It is a kind of transaction, or contract, between a ruler and his people. From time to time, a ruler, be they a King, a Dictator, or an Emperor, but a ruler, whatever the title, must prove himself to the masses, show them why he stands atop them, unquestioned. It can be with a great military victory, by surviving a coup, or by a great personal feat. In less civilized times, it could be done through leading a successful hunt, or by slaying some great beast, or a champion in single combat."

There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Or, by killing a Servant his enemies sent to assassinate him."

Caesar was already ducking low as Lu Bu's spear swiped through the space where his head had been. His left arm was raised up and to the side, almost a fencer's stance, as his blade poked at Lu Bu's eyes, joints, groin - any vulnerable spot. Lu Bu took a step back, spear whirling in front of him to deflect the blade.

Impossibly, one of the strikes slipped through, piercing deep into Lu Bu's left shoulder, causing the Berserker to emit a grunt of pain. The spear shifted, once more becoming the massive sword, slashing down at Caesar's head.

Again, impossibly, the blade deflected off Caesar's sword just right, the First of the Empire stepping in and driving the Blade into his enemy's gut. Blood still stained the blade as Caesar tore it free and took Lu Bu in the left knee, causing the Servant to stumble, dropping his head for a split second, as Lu Bu made a noise that could only be described as sounding like a very confused fighter jet.

Caesar leapt, blade screaming for Lu Bu's eye.

The weapon reformed with indecent haste, becoming a thick gauntlet that shot up into the path of the blade. It didn't stop it, not completely, as the tip sank into the metal - and from the spurt of blood when it was withdrawn, into the Berserker's flesh - but it managed to parry what would have been a fatal blow.

"You are no Brutus, my savage enemy, no Brutus at all!" He raised his sword in a warrior's salute. "It was a valiant effort, but my Crocea Mors makes any combat with me a foregone conclusion. Even that 'Kratos' my Master has warned me of will be nothing in the face of it!" He laughed. "Was this the best that Rome could manage against me?"

There was a chuckle, from behind him - no, in front of him - no, damn it all, from all around him. "Sorry, bud. He was just the distraction. I'm the main event."

"From here I no longer fear death, no longer desire life." A woman in white, the Servant from yesterday, materialized so close to him that they could share each other's breaths, a calm smile on her face. The scroll in her hands unfurled, wrapping around them both in a sphere of paper.

Only he heard her next words.

"ALL I DO IS KILL."

Then the scroll was flying away, and there was a dagger buried into his heart.

Desperately, Caesar pulled himself off the blade, blood pouring down the front of his suit. The woman laughed, then choked, as she fell to her knees, blood oozing from between her satisfied smile. "Got you…." she whispered.

His plans crumbling around him, Caesar forced his limbs to work, raising Crocea Mors, determined to take her with him - but as he brought the sword down, red energy flowed through the Servant's body, and she was gone.

Caesar's strength deserted him, and he fell, face forward, into the dirt of Florentia.

Panic swept through the United Roman lines. Even the Homunculi seemed distressed by this turn of events - had they been programmed to reverse the First of the Empire, or had Caesar's legendary charisma affected even their simple, automaton-like brains?

Either way, it did not matter. A single voice rose above the tumult.

"THROW THEM BACK!" cried Nero, her sword raised, red blade catching the firelight.

Green healing energy washed over Lu Bu, who carved into Caesar's remaining guards, the Brutes still milling around the body of their fallen charge, barely reacting as the Berserker cut them down one by one.

Fujimaru was down to her knees, trying to pour out every last drop of her magical energy as the army's assault on Mash's barrier halted for a second - all clustered together.

In a perfect position as the Roman armies unleashed hell on them.

Archers, siege weaponry, even thrown rocks, they emptied their arsenals in the space of a handful of seconds, cutting through the front lines of the gathered horde like a buzzsaw.

It wasn't enough. It made a dent, but the United Roman army was still many.

An officer raised his voice, began shouting orders, looked to take the place that had been vacated by fallen Caesar…until an arrow took him right in the eye, the force of it reducing most of the side of his face into ruin. Chiron fitted another arrow to his bow, eyes darting across the United Roman lines, looking for the next man to show initiative.

While a silent, and not so silent debate was being had by the United Roman officers, Lu Bu was a runaway train, plowing in the rear of the United Roman forces.

While Nero led a contingent into the front.

"FLEEEEEEE!" Fujimaru couldn't see who yelled it, if they were a ranking officer or just a scared NCO (or the Roman equivalent of such), but it didn't matter. Any dissenting voices - if there were any - were quickly silenced by Chiron's arrows, making that exclamation the only order that the United Roman forces heard.

Between the twin hammers of Lu Bu and a mad, desperate Roman Emperor, and the anvil of Mash's flickering barrier, they broke, and ran.

Mash shuddered and let her Noble Phantasm fade, Fujimaru almost sighing with pleasure as the drain on the dregs of the dregs of her reserves ceased. Her Kohai sank to her knees next to her, and Fujimaru weakly reached up and pulled Mash into a hug. "You did it, Mashie. Just like I knew you could."

There was a pained laugh, and a pair of arms draped around them both. Jing Ke, her face, and some of her robes colored with her own dried blood, grinned at them both. "No, WE did it. Not as spotless as I'd have liked - who knew he had a sword like that up his sleeve, but we got him." She licked her index finger and drew a line in the air. "One more Emperor for my tally. Maybe someday I'll get a shot at the one who got away, but Caesar's a hell of a head for my trophy wall."

Weakly, Fujimaru pushed herself to her feet. The United Roman lines were in full retreat, and the fighting had moved across the bridges and into Florentia itself - what fighting there was. That last command had the Homunculi not even attempting an ordered retreat - it was full chaos. Then she saw something, just across the bridges "He's still lying there - shouldn't he have faded away by now?"

Jing Ke squinted, then coughed up a gobbet of blood. "Yeah, he should have. Tough bastard. Let's go make sure." She leaned heavily on Mash as the three women slowly made their way across the bridge. Fujimaru could feel Chiron tracking her as she moved, just in case any stragglers decided to try anything - she didn't think the three of them could see off an angry kitten in the state they were in.

Caesar had managed to turn himself over by the time they reached him, and though his eyes were glassy, he turned to regard them as they drew close. "Well done…," he gasped. "You free me from this hateful duty."

Fujimaru blinked. "Wait, you didn't want to be doing this? Because you sounded pretty damn enthusiastic when you were trying to sell Nero on the benefits of joining up."

Caesar laughed bitterly, before it devolved into weak coughing. "You think I WANTED to do this? When I was first summoned, and was told I would be leading armies to destroy Rome, I protested - said I would rather die than follow those orders." His eyes were frigid as they looked at the three women. "Do you know what they did, then?"

"What, First of the Empire?" Nero strode over to them, blood still dripping from her sword. "What did the United Roman Empire do to you that would make you do what you said you would rather die than do?"

Caesar turned his head to look upon his descendant. "They summoned her. My Cleopatra. And then they held me down, and made me watch, as they tortured her. To death." He choked back a sob. "I fought, I pleaded….and then I begged, but nothing stopped it. And when she was dust, they said they would do it again. And again. And again, until I understood what the price of defiance was. And if that was not enough, they would find a way to summon my Caesarion, and do the same to him."

His eyes slipped closed. "I broke. I am not proud of it, but I could not endure that again. I took up the banner of the United Roman Empire - to spare those I loved more than life itself suffering."

"But….why?" asked Fujimaru. "Couldn't they have just used a Command Seal on you, MAKE you obey? That's what most Mages do to Servants….or so I'm told."

Caesar sighed, wisps of gold beginning to escape from his form. "They have few Command Seals to spare - all their energy is being used to make the leader - or figurehead," he spat bitterly. "Compliant. Even with all their efforts, it is a narrow thing, to cage something of that power." He forced his eyes open, and met Nero's gaze. "For your enemy, Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus is no less than the Holy Progenitor himself."

Nero bit back a gasp. "You cannot mean…"

Caesar nodded. "Romulus himself, though he is wrapped in chains more real than the ones that bound me, and spells that muddle even his divine clarity. But he is who has been 'chosen' by that despicable man to be the one who stands at the top of the United Roman Empire."

He sighed, and settled his hands onto his ample gut. "Would that I could tell you more, but I have stretched my ruined Spirit Core as far as it will go. When I see her on the Throne, I hope my Cleo can forgive me….."

His body faded, and the golden wisps joined the ashes on the air, and were carried off.

Nero glanced between the three women, and their surroundings, making sure none were within earshot. "Not a word of this. To ANYONE! We cannot let it be heard that the Holy Progenitor stands against us…..not……not until I figure out what is to be done with that information."

There was an almost crazed look in her eyes, and Fujimaru noticed that her hand was tightening its grip around her sword. If they said no, was she going to attack them? She didn't think so, but…

"Understood, Emperor Nero. Not a word."

---

THE ISLE OF SARDINIA​

Kratos settled into a seat, ripping into the simple fare he had scavenged up in what, until a few hours ago, appeared to have been a residence for officers stationed in Sardinia. His communicator was lying on the table in front of him, Tanya's face flickering on the screen.

"So, there was nothing there, then?" She tilted her head. "They must have abandoned Calaris almost immediately following your victory at sea, though I have no idea how they heard about it so fast."

Medusa shook her head from where she was perched, sitting on the edge of the table. "It seems they were already moving their operations north - apparently Darius had been causing enough of a nuisance of himself that they were looking to consolidate their forces, and possibly pick up a Servant from the mainland to properly deal with him. It's why we only faced ten ships, instead of the fifteen or more that Tribunus Calvus was expecting."

She shuffled through a pile of scrolls and assorted reports that were spread out all across the table. "They took most of what I expect were the sensitive documents, or burned them, when they left. There's not much here that we don't already know, or isn't probably already outdated."

She found what she was looking for, and held it up to the screen. "This is the only interesting thing we found - orders instructing a ship to be ready, south of Rome, to pick up Caligula and the officers at a certain date."

"Far to the south of where we found the army waiting, when we came upon them," said Kratos.

Tanya pursed her lips. "So, do you think this is what our Mysterious Benefactor was talking about in his last letter? That he somehow changed the orders, either of the ship, or the army, so that they would be unable to escape?"

"It fits. Which would imply this individual has either some form of rank in the command structure of the United Roman Empire, or is able to slip in and replace orders before they're sent out - or while they're in transit." Medusa shrugged. "As far as allies go, either is useful to have."

"Now that Fujimaru has broken the stalemate at Florentia, they will be able to move north," mused Kratos, sopping up the last of his meal with the remains of the bread. "Perhaps she will encounter this benefactor, and can take his measure."

"It would be nice if we knew who he was," said Tanya. "Romani and Da Vinci are getting Fujimaru's debrief of the battle now, but I can tell neither of them are happy dancing to someone else's tune like this - no matter how helpful he's been." She leaned forward. "And I can't help but agree. Wars are best when they're straightforward - all this Roman knives in the dark stuff reminds me too much of the damn Clock Tower."

She settled back into her chair. "But at least I'm here, far away from most of that nonsense. What's the next move for you two?"

"Like Fujimaru, north," said Kratos. "If the United Romans have consolidated their fleets there, then there is where we shall go. There seems little point in sailing to Sicilia, in light of what we have discovered here." He frowned. "Assuming these reports speak truly."

"That is always the risk, isn't it?" said Tanya, with a rueful smile.

"And, again, IF they're to be believed, the United Romans had something of a phobia of the south seas. Writing about some new island there that none of their ships had ever come back from. It's a potential problem, but it doesn't sound like it's an active threat. We have enough trouble without going and looking for more."

Tanya sighed bitterly, rolling her eyes. "And now you've jinxed us. Pounds to biscuits that island is going to become a problem down the road."

She stifled a yawn. "Anyways, if that's all, I'm going to log off. I'm sure Romani's going to have me go over Fujimaru's debrief and log it before he lets me sign off for the night, and I'll need coffee for that." The small blonde woman waved, and her image vanished.

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Had to draw out a diagram to keep the bridges straight. Let me know if I still managed to mix them up - I think I kept who's at which one consistent in this.

Not ENTIRELY sure on the settlements on Sardinia - the map I'm using (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Roman_Empire_Trajan_117AD.png) lists two main settlements, but the other image (https://cdn.thecollector.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/image5-25.jpg?width=1080&quality=55) for the Empire in Nero's time doesn't list Turris, so I'm ASSUMING it was a later thing. My search-fu didn't turn anything up, so we're going with what is in the fic, just the south port city.

Another chapter I couldn't get QUITE the right place to end. I thought about ending it with the fight in Florentia, but I wanted to get the bits about the orders being mucked with in this chapter. So, apologies for the somewhat abrupt end.

Flatly a bit shocked that I got this out in a week's time. I was stupid writer's blocked about how to resolve the stalemate in Florence, but then, inspiration hit.

Chapter 29: Septem 6

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 29

HISPANIA

UNITED ROMAN EMPIRE CAPITAL​

Lev Lainur Flauros was staring at the map spread out over one of his tables while he waited for the filth to be delivered to him. It was the same map the heads of the United Roman military forces, and their puppet of a God-Emperor were staring at right now, in the heart of the palace.

The human trash were likely bleating like the upjumped sheep that they were, suddenly seeing a war that had been nothing but a string of victories hitting a stumbling block. Their minds were limited by their mortal perspective - only the chained deity at the table could possibly see the board the way he could.

That they had lost Caligula was of no concern - the Berserker had been barely controllable, to the point where using him as a disposable assassin against his niece had been considered the most value they could get out of him. And they'd planned to retrieve him, and the officers they'd sent to mind him, even if the operation had ended up failing, as it had. That wires had gotten crossed with the locations had been an inevitable casualty of the primitive times they were stuck in - and humanity's inability to manage the perfection of the shared consciousness he and his brothers were blessed with.

What degenerate monkeys humans were.

Their enemies had honestly done them a favor in removing the Servant who had been such a nuisance to them on the high seas. It saved them from having to divert resources - namely a Servant - from more important battles to essentially swat an annoying fly. It allowed them to keep the powerful pair that were, even now, driving their forces to meet Nero's forces, on the front lines.

And it allowed him more time to decide just how he'd use the Servant he'd recalled to the capital for maximum damage against Kratos. The possibilities were endless - he was having difficulty deciding on just one.

If things hadn't changed at sea, he might have had to risk sending that Archer, which was a questionable proposition at best. Defiance still smoldered in the eyes of that Servant - oh, he was servile enough, at least on the surface, and the Command Seal they'd chosen to use on him kept him obedient, as far as they could tell. But his voice dripped with sarcasm whenever he spoke to his betters, and his body language spoke of one who wasn't broken, not by any metric. And, as they were loath to use a Command Seal to determine who exactly he was, they couldn't subject him to the same treatment Caesar got. So in that, Chaldea had actually done him two favors, removing an enemy, and not forcing them into a situation where that Archer could potentially cause trouble out of the eyes of his Masters.

He might have to make their upcoming deaths a fraction less painful, as a reward. Maybe. Though he likely would not. He OWED them, after all.

Caesar's loss, however, stung, and was a cause for concern, though only a mild one. Oh, it had shattered the morale of the farthest reaches of the armies in the field, and likely would until they linked up with the Legions that had been dispatched to absorb them and teach them the consequences of failure. But Caesar had been a reluctant follower - in breaking him to their leash, they had taken some of the spirit from him as well. Lev couldn't discount the possibility that Caesar had chosen to die by the hands of the true Romans to escape the hell he was trapped in.

No, things were still proceeding apace. This war had never once left the palm of his hand.

A heavy, booming knock sounded at his door, and he sent his consciousness out to the Homunculi who had been chosen to watch his doors. None too gently, but what did he care - Homunculi were even more disposable than humans, and it soothed his irritation to do so.

The door creaked open, and the cause of his current irritation hesitantly shuffled in.

It was a young man - though 'boy' would be a more appropriate title for this mortal whelp. Too young to be conscripted, and, still being in the early throes of puberty, not yet strong enough of body to truly aid the United Roman Empire's efforts in any meaningful way. Completely and utterly useless…

Except for the fact that this human rubbish had Master potential. So, for that reason alone, he had value.

As the brat stood before him, shuffling nervously, Lev was pleased that at least this one knew better than to meet his eyes. But the blood and ashes of the last one to do that was still scored into the floor - as a warning to the other human scum of what happened to insolent trash that forgot their place.

Lev peered down at the boy, wondering if he would be foolish enough to speak first - his ire was such that he would enjoy erasing this ape from existence, potential Master or not. But the sandy-haired youth kept his mouth shut, and his head down, so Lev supposed he would have to get on with it and make nice with the thing, much as he didn't wish to. He hated having to converse with humans, to lower himself to their insignificant level.

"Do you know why you have been summoned, boy?" Try as he might - and he wasn't trying hard - Lev wasn't able to keep the contempt from his voice when addressing mortal garbage these days. Fortunately, the peasantry of this time were used to that from the nobility, so it didn't seem out of place.

The boy, wisely, kept his head, and eyes down. "No, Consul. I was merely told that I was summoned to do a great service to the Empire. Nothing more." No tremor in his voice, that was good. The last one had soiled himself when Lev had first spoken.

"You are correct in that, boy." Lev didn't ask for their names. Lev didn't care what their names were. Only that they served. "You ARE here to serve the Empire, in a way only you can. The Emperor requires it of you."

The boy's head jerked up, but he caught himself, and didn't look Lev in the eyes, something that likely saved his worthless life. When he spoke, his voice was an awed whisper. "The….Holy Progenitor. What could a person like me…"

Lev was growing tired of this - no, he'd been tired of it before the waste had come to his door. "It takes much for such as the Holy Progenitor to walk this world, and to create the city you live in. And, as such, he requires a….connection. A human one. A select few humans are capable of this connection. You just so happen to be one of these."

The boy's face flushed, pleased. So his next words were unsurprising. "What must I do, Consul?"

Ah, blind devotion to a god-figure. So useful here, but just another reason humanity deserved to be wiped out to a man. They could not even commune with their beloved deity as he and his brothers could with their Lord, but they still bent the knee, assuming their gods cared (they did not). The sooner this was over, the better. "Simply say the words 'I accept the contract.' As this entire city is of great Romulus' making, he will hear it, and, if he judges you worthy, will accept it."

Lev was especially fond of that lie - Romulus was under so many spells to confound his immense power that he'd agree to a contract with the foulest wretch - possibly he would have even without the bindings, for they were all his 'beloved' children of Roma.

Disgusting.

The boy was shouting the words even before Lev had finished speaking. "I accept the contract!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, and then the boy yelped as three precious Command Seals burned their way into existence on his hand. As with all the others, it took the form of the Imperial Eagle of Rome - possibly some peculiarity of Contracting with a Divine Spirit as potent as Romulus. His will overriding that of the Grail's to put his stamp on his Master, rather than the Command Seal taking a form that represented the Master themselves.

Whatever the reason, he did not care. All that mattered was that the Contract was made, and they had three new Command Seals to use to keep their figurehead bound for a while longer.

"Good," said Lev, turning away from the child. "You and your family will be given quarters in the palace, as a reward for your service. In time, you will be asked to use those marks on your hand in a manner that will benefit the Holy Progenitor. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Consul." The boy sounded beside himself, probably lost in dreams of what his new life would be like from henceforth. He'd likely never seen such luxury before as he was led through the palace, and now, he was being informed he would live in it? His life was turning around, he must be thinking.

Lev wanted to laugh. But he had to maintain the fiction for a bit more. "Good. Then leave me. I have much work to do still."

The boy was led from the room, unable to see that his face was already looking a bit more hollow, and his sandy brown hair had become a touch lighter in the few moments since he'd made the contract. Romulus had an appetite for mana that was quite insatiable, after all.

The doors slammed shut, and Lev considered. What task to now address?

"ARE YOU CERTAIN THIS IS WISE, BROTHER? YOU GIVE MUCH POWER TO THE HUMANS."

Lev felt what passed for his gut in this flesh-sack curdle. Amon. Always Amon. Always second guessing him, always harassing him. Were they not emotionless by their very nature and creation, he would almost think his brother derived some twisted pleasure from this.

"The humans are well accustomed to the leash - without us even having to break them as we did Caesar. The sight of their 'Holy Progenitor' and they line up to put their necks in the yoke, out of 'love' ." The scorn dripped from his voice. "This one will burn up his life to feed Romulus, and expend his Command Seals as we ask, all unknowing that it keeps his beloved god chained to OUR will, in the end. I can only imagine their faces if they knew what we were truly asking of them. Though, when we have finally killed Kratos and Chaldea, and burnt Rome to the ground, I will treasure seeing these worthless humans scream as their god slaughters them, at OUR command."

"ALL WHILE YOU KEEP YOUR SERVANTS CHAINED BY FEAR. TRUE, IT IS HOW I WOULD PROCEED." Amon was quiet for a moment. "BUT BE WARY OF THESE HUMANS. IN THE SERVICE OF THEIR GODS, THERE IS LITTLE THEY WILL NOT DO. They will even betray a beloved brother if commanded to by a God they love and worship. THERE IS A FALL WAITING FOR YOU, FLAUROS, ONE YOU MAY NOT EVEN SEE. DO NOT LET YOUR PRIDE BLIND YOU TO THIS DANGER."

Amon's presence receded, and Lev scoffed. Betrayal by these mewling cattle would require more intelligence and initiative than any of them had. No, all was under control. His Servants served - willingly or not, and they had power enough to finally kill Kratos. Amon was worrying over nothing.

His nose curled, as it caught a whiff of the boy's remaining odor.

Human filth. Too many of them.

But not for much longer.

---

NORTH OF FLORENTIA​

It had been two days after the victory in Florentia before the Legions could move on.

One day had been inevitably lost due to the United Roman Empire having attacked at night. By the time they had been properly routed, and the other side of the river had been secured to the officers' satisfaction, it was nearly daylight, and the men weren't in any condition to be marching anywhere anytime soon. And the wounded had to be attended to, which included, in no specific order, both Jing Ke and Fujimaru herself, though the last Master of Chaldea was more exhausted than anything. She spent most of the next day asleep in her cot, while Jing Ke snoozed in the cot that had been provided for Chiron, a half-empty bottle of wine clutched to her chest, a happy smile on her face.

The second day had been lost to one long meeting of the top brass all asking one question 'What next?'. They'd been pushed back into the Italian peninsula for so long that they were pretty much blind to whatever else had been happening while their backs had been to the walls. And Kratos and Medusa hadn't uncovered anything of value in Sardinia - and he was unlikely to be able to provide any new information before a decision was made here. Like them, they had rested for a day in Calaris before setting back out onto the seas.

Nero, of course, was determined to head straight for Mediolanum, the nearest major city, and one the Romans had been forced to completely bypass on their frantic retreat south, leaving it to the tender mercies of the United Roman Empire.

Valerius eagerly supported this plan, both out of hot blooded desire for battle, and to maintain the momentum they had gained by routing an United Roman Empire army.

In the face of a coalition of the Emperor and the ranking Legate of the combined Legions, Fujimaru would have thought the rest of the officer corps would have rolled over and showed their bellies, but they had fought them on the decision. Most of them favored sending feelers into the Eastern provinces of Rome - seeing if they had been turned, and if they had not, replenishing their Legions from there. It was a plan that Nero found far too conservative, by her arguments.

Fujimaru honestly preferred the more conservative approach, herself. They'd torn a pretty good strip out of Caesar's Legions, but a good percentage of them had been able to escape. The Homunculi - well, Fujimaru wasn't sure if they'd just keep running until they dropped, or if they had some rudimentary survival instincts programmed in. But SOME officers had survived, and not all of them had been cowards, she felt, just ones who were savvy enough to see how Chiron had been taking out any that had tried to rally the troops, and had kept their mouths shut. A handful of them and they could restore some form of order to the remaining soldiers, and either link up with another big army at a major city, or lay low and turn them into a big problem in the Roman army's flank, just waiting for the right moment.

But Nero had been, well, not weird, because she was already kind of quirky. But there was a frantic edge to her that, while it had already been present in the woman, had been amplified ever since she'd heard Caesar's dying confession. But she supposed hearing that the founding deity of your civilization was opposing you would do that.

She hadn't understood until she'd asked Da Vinci for some background - she had a decent grounding in the Greek/Roman pantheon (Roman - planets, went her mnemonic that, while it didn't keep them completely straight, at least worked for most of the major gods), Romulus didn't usually show up in the mythology, so she was fairly ignorant there. A quick Da Vinci tutorial session and she was up to speed, and properly terrified. This was a guy that could probably stand toe to toe with Kratos and not flinch back even a little.

(Cu, of course, was beyond excited. He wanted to fight Romulus in the worst possible way, to the point Avenger was worrying to Fujimaru that she might end up tied in a locked closet somewhere when her turn to switch in came up. Possibly on the moon.)

In the end, Nero had won by the virtue of being the Emperor, and they had set out to Mediolanum the next day. They were leaving about a half of a Legion behind just in case the stragglers from the battle decided to try to take the city once they'd left. In total, that left them down about one whole Legion, half to invest Florentia, and half lost in casualties, both the wounded and dead.

It was a massive number, to Fujimaru, but all the officers were praising her for her plans, insisting they'd gotten off light. Her status in the camp had taken a massive jump in just two days - to the point she'd already been asked about her family's status back in the lands of Chaldea, and if her parents would possibly be open to a Roman match.

(And here her mother had despaired of her ever being seen as a worthwhile catch by anyone of quality and breeding. Mind, she halfway thought the Musiks would have taken her if offered - ignoring that she and Gordy both would have openly revolted at that.)

Needless to say, it had made the next few days interesting, if a bit awkward. She was still being chosen to ride with Nero, so that meant a steady stream of officers throughout the day, some of whom had been there to talk with her as much as the Emperor. She'd dredged up years of etiquette training that had lain fallow, and had largely comported herself as something within spitting distance of a, if not well-bred young lady, at least not a complete bumpkin.

Though she was about to ask Da Vinci to send her a handful of cards with 'I'm sorry, I'll have to ask my parents about any potential plans for my hand.' printed on them in Latin so she could just hand them out, and not keep repeating that phrase. By the time she was done here, she was probably going to have a dossier of potential Roman suitors to take home and let her parents browse through.

(Thinking about it, she MIGHT just do that. Be a hell of a thing to drop on them when she first saw them after putting the world back to rights.)

She didn't talk about it during the days, while they could be overheard, but at nights, the Chaldean contingent was a frequent visitor to Nero's tent, both for meals, as she seemed to be trying to apologize for that bit of ugliness at the end of the battle, in her own Nero-ish way, by lavishing them with the best food she could manage.

As it was camp food, it wasn't much in the way of lavishing. But the thought counted for something, at least in Fujimaru's book.

But it wasn't just wining and dining them that was Nero's aim - though she was very eager to be appreciated (or loved) by them. But once they had full bellies, the conversation always turned to Romulus, and what to do about him.

"It's going to get out, one way or another, Emperor," said Jing Ke, taking a long swig from her goblet. "You'd best get ahead of it, before it blows up in your face. Because you can't control when and what your enemies are going to do with that information." Another long swing, then she snatched the bottle to refill her glass. "But it's stupid of them to hide it like this. If it was me, I'd have been trumpting that from every tower from the moment we started fighting. I saw how bad morale was - it'd have been WORSE if you'd have been backed up like you were, with the knowledge that your Holy Progenitor still hadn't taken the field yet."

Nero, who had barely touched her food, and HADN'T touched her wine, sighed heavily. "I know. I know that well, Auxiliary Jing Ke." She picked up her goblet and swirled the wine in it around for a few moments, before setting it down again. "But it is the scale, the MAGNITUDE of it all that I am struggling with. Romans grow up hearing tales of our Founder from the time we are in the cradle. To hear that he stands against us - and worse, has been enslaved….I do not know which is worse. To think of raising one's hands to him is inconceivable. To think of such a being being subjugated by another….there are no words in the tongues of Rome, any of its provinces, or the uncivilized barbarian lands to describe such."

Sighing, she seized her goblet again and drained it in a single motion. "I find myself missing the usual politics of Rome."

Fujimaru (who was being served fruit juice - Chiron, Romani, and Da Vinci had all been adamant that she WAS underage for HER time period and thus would not be indulging any more than Mash would be - and Cu and Avenger had been NO help at all on this front, as their agreement with Fujimaru had just hardened the voices against her) pushed her plate back, her belly doing a happy dance at being fed something other than Chaldean rations, and settled back into the chair. "So, what then? We just kick the can down the road and hope?"

Nero sighed, eying the bottle in Jing Ke's hands, possibly thinking of fighting the woman for it, then thought better of it. "I need more time."

In the end, nothing had been decided on that front. All of them, from Romani to Da Vinci, to all the Servants capable of human speech (and Jing Ke was adamant that Lu Bu was on their side in this) were agreed, the information about Romulus was a ticking time bomb that was primed to blow the Roman forces' morale six ways from Sunday. But Nero was dragging her feet.

Flatly, she was scared. From what Fujimaru could tell, she'd been scared since the United Roman Empire had first reared their ugly head and began their winning streak. The appearance of the Emperors of yore only amplified that fear - and now, the news about Romulus was the straw that broke the camel's back. And she'd been holding to a mask - that of the untouchable Emperor who fought at the front lines yet still shone like Venus, uninjured, unflappable, indefatigable, that she was pulling something of a Ritsuka Fujimaru special - running and hiding from the truth, hoping it would resolve itself.

Fujimaru rested an arm across her face as she shifted in her cot. She was probably going to have to have a talk with Nero sooner rather than later. Hopefully the fondness the tiny woman felt for her would allow her the leeway as she gave her a blow-by-blow of how she'd screwed up years of her life with that kind of thinking. Hell, she was still having to suppress her instincts on that now, and the stakes were much higher than the mediocre life that had been looming ahead of her before she signed up to join Chaldea.

Maybe after they got to Mediolanum. Rooms were much more secure for those kinds of talks - though they usually came with things, like vases full of flowers (Nero LOVED her roses, after all) that could be thrown at people.

Least she'd gotten reasonably good at dodging things - she was up to the second level of Sensei's dodgeball training.

They drew up to Mediolanum the next day, prepared for a fight, as it was the logical fallback point from Florentia. Which explains their surprise when they looked upon it.

"Impossible," muttered Nero, peering through Fujimaru's binoculars (which had been quickly 'appropriated' to let the Emperor look upon the walls of Mediolanum). "But….there is no sign of the enemy. The standard of Rome, not that bastard replica of the United Roman Empire, flies above the gates. And the walls…"

"No sign of recent damage - and with walls that high and thick, if the United Roman Empire took this city, it would have had to have been through siege," commented Chrion.

"Or, you know, treachery," interjected Jing Ke, from where she was riding on Lu Bu's shoulder. No bottle of alcohol was present, and her eyes were chips of obsidian. "But they're flying the wrong flag for that. Unless this is a big old trap. But the gate being open feels off for that."

"Even with whatever troops are garrisoning the city, we without question have more accompanying us," said Valerius, his eyes only slightly softer than Jing Ke's. "Possibly they could be thinking of assassinating you once you are within the city's walls. But if that is not their plan, I can't see what advantage they can gain by allowing us the shelter of the walls. Far better to take us in the plains around the city, before we can invest it. The walls would negate their advantage in numbers."

Chiron was scanning the flat ground around Mediolanum. "And while the grounds do show signs of many men having crossed through here somewhat recently - there is no place to hide them. The forests are too far for them to ambush us before we could gain entry - assuming the gates stay open."

"Hammer and anvil if they don't," said Fujimaru. "But if we send a small party, we could be there and back again if they won't open up - the hill we're on is decent enough to deter them for a time if they run straight at us." She licked her lips. "Maybe….they did surround the city, but never got around to trying to take the walls. And then when they heard we killed Caesar, they fell back to somewhere else, worried that they'd be the ones being trapped between the old rock and a hard place?"

Everyone was quiet for a bit, thinking it over. Finally, Jing Ke broke the silence.

"If there's a trap here - short of every citizen drawing a knife and rushing you once you're inside, I'm not seeing it," she said, dropping from Lu Bu's shoulder. "Want me to go take a peek before you lot march through the gates?"

Nero nodded. "Go. We shall draw up to the gates and see what kind of welcome we receive."

Jing Ke skipped off, fading from sight as she passed by a large chunk of rock.

Nero turned back to the rest of them. "Valerius, you will remain here. You I trust the most to hold the Legions together should our enemies appear - whether we choose to stand our ground or fall back. My Praetorians and the Chaldeans will come with me, along with my standard bearer. Should we be permitted entrance, he will give the appropriate signal."

Valerius nodded. "Do not think of entering that city one footstep before I get there, my Emperor. This still may be some bizarre trap that we have not seen the truth of yet."

Nero gave him a sly smile. "Please, my Legate. My mother, for all her failings, raised me better than that. I will remain outside, while the Chaldeans ensure we control the gate - so there will be no chance we are kept out should the enemy appear. Any one of them can easily hold the gatehouse by themselves - so this many will be overkill, should circumstances force our hand."

And that, apparently, was that, and how Fujimaru found herself holding onto the reins of the chariot as Nero bellowed up to the walls, her personal standard clearly visible - not that the Praetorian Guard and their distinctive armor wasn't a dead giveaway as to who was standing in front of the gates to Mediolanum.

Truthfully, it turned out to be a bit of a letdown. The gates were quickly opened, and Chiron and Lu Bu quickly slipped in in Spirit Form and watched carefully to make sure they weren't about to be slammed shut anytime soon. But from what Jing Ke was saying in Fujimaru's head, the citizens didn't seem overly agitated - in truth, they seemed like they were over the moon to see some signs of life from Rome. And to have the Emperor of Roses herself being the one at the gates? Jubilation.

It still felt way too easy to her, but she wasn't the one calling the shots here - and much as she stared at this puzzle, she couldn't see where the trap was hiding.

So she fingered the hilts of her knives and kept her head on a swivel.

'From what I can gather, the United Romans really were besieging the city until recently. Then they apparently pulled back during the night - the citizens of the town went to sleep with the army still encircling the city, then woke up to empty plains this morning. Best I can tell, they really pulled back when we got close.' Jing Ke's mental voice sounded as skeptical as Fujimaru herself felt about the whole thing, but she still couldn't fit the square peg of 'trap' into the round hole that was their current situation.

What wasn't she - and everyone else - not seeing?

'It is possible what we have here is exactly what it appears to be, my student,' said Chiron, though there was skepticism in his voice too. 'Tactically, I do agree, however. I cannot see the logic in just handing us this city - with strong walls, granaries that we can resupply from, and a fresh infusion of troops. And the city itself is an excellent place to strike out from, whether we decide to drive further into occupied territory, or attempt to bolster our numbers from the East.' Fujimaru received a brain-to-brain shrug from her Sensei and they both admitted to being stumped.

Nero, for her part, looked to be on Cloud Nine. The cheering crowds, the mass adulation - they were showering her with rose petals, of COURSE - the hero's welcome, Fujimaru could only imagine it was a soothing balm for a very battered psyche. Her expression was reaching new and potentially terrifying levels of smug with every step she took through the city, right up until they reached the Governor's mansion, and an older man who everyone was taking their cues from bowed his head, and said, simply, "I'm sorry, Emperor Nero."

And there was the crack of thunder, despite the skies being completely clear.

'Fuuuuuu….Ritsy? You're going to want to get to the walls RIGHT NOW!' If Jing Ke's voice when she was on her game was the cold steel of her favorite dagger, right now it was a cat trapped in a room with a gang of hungry wolves, with no high place to jump to.

The old governor looked like he was dying by inches as Nero whirled on him, her face livid. "Governor Sergius! You WILL explain yourself!"

The old man fell to his knees. "We never bent our heads to them. Our walls never fell, and our gates never opened. But then, last evening, he flew in, and told us what would happen. Some of my men tried to object." His face twisted in sorrow. "They died - quickly, despite being some of the finest warriors from the nearby Imperial Provinces. In the face of that overwhelming power…..there was nothing we could do but agree, what with the blade to our necks….to our families' necks like that."

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "You should go to the walls, Emperor Nero. He wishes to speak with you."

There was fury in Nero's eyes (and, maybe she was imagining it, but Fujimaru thought she smelled that stink again, very, VERY faintly) as she rushed from the Governor's palace, Fujimaru and Mash hot on her heels.

If nothing else, their mad dash through the city streets confirmed that the people of the city had been completely in the dark - all of them were staring at the sky and pointing at the object that was circling around the city, lightning trailing behind it. Those who weren't outright panicking, at least. Fujimaru bit down on her lip and focused Reinforcement into her eyes, zooming in on the thing above them, but it was moving too fast for her to get a good look at it.

Then they were climbing the walls.

By the time they reached the top of the walls, the Unidentified Flying Object was circling lower and lower, and Fujimaru could finally make it out - it was a chariot, being pulled by two, frankly, MASSIVE bulls, lightning crackling around its wheels. But Fujimaru didn't have eyes only for that - for she could see on the fields surrounding the city that there was suddenly a massive army where there had been none not moments before, moving to fully encircle the city.

"That's……that's a Servant signature in the sky. And an ENORMOUS one, at that," muttered Romani into her ear.

As the chariot neared, they could hear it, over the lowing of the bulls, and the snapping sound of the lightning, a raucous, booming laughter.

Finally, the flying chariot landed a respectable distance away from them - still far too close for Fujimaru's comfort (and her hair, which was frizzing up like she'd stuck her finger into a live electrical socket), and a man dismounted.

He was every bit as big as his ride. He'd have a head, at least on Kratos, and was easily as broad as the Spartan was. Skin, a dark olive, and fiery red hair sprouted from his head and face in a shaggy mane, with an equally impressive beard framing his weathered face. His clothes were a brown skirt and cuirass, trimmed with gold. At his hip was a short sword - though the blade itself was likely larger than both of Fujimaru's arms put together.

All together, it was a friendlier face than Fujimaru had been expecting when he'd descended from the sky. Or it would have been, if the pressure emanating off of him wasn't screaming at her to do one thing, and one thing only.

(KNEEL.)

He looked at them and grinned, though there was curiosity in his eyes as he looked them over. "Boy? Where did you get yourself to?" He looked over his shoulder, then shrugged. "Hopefully you didn't fall off. You've still never really taken to the Gordius Wheel, even after all this time. But you can take care of yourself, I suppose. I do think you were here when we took off, but it is possible you're still in the camp, putting together your many plans."

Shaking his head fondly, the man boldly walked right up to Emperor Nero and stopped, towering over her.

Nero, for her part, wasn't backing down an inch in the face of the giant man. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her chin was tilted up. "You do not look like any of the busts of my famed ancestors. To whom do I address?"

The Servant grinned down at her. "You're a tiny thing, aren't you? Even smaller than that Saber I once spoke of Kingship with. But I can see it. Just like her, you are fierce." He laughed, and Fujimaru swore that if the situation wasn't so tense, he might have patted the Emperor on her head. And possibly gotten bitten for his trouble.

He raised his arms to the side, and thunder BOOMED. "I….am ISKANDAR! The King of Conquerors!" He looked at all of them, his grin only growing bigger as their eyes widened. "I see Emperor Nero, and the Mage Fujimaru - and her two Servants. But where is this 'Kratos' that my master has spoken of? I wished to lay my eyes upon a genuine Spartan and see if he matched the stories I have been told of him."

Fujimaru felt a trickle of sweat run down her back as Nero turned narrowing eyes on her. Well that's just great, the cat's at least partially out of the bag now. At least the big guy hadn't said the 'g' word yet. Distract, distract!

"Kratos isn't here," she said. "He's off to the south, dealing with the ships you and yours have infesting the waters down there." They were, in fact, drawing pretty close to Corsica as of this morning. Depending on how things shook out, they might have already seen battle. But she couldn't well ask Romani about that right at this instant, as she had bigger (literally) things to worry about right now.

Iskandar's arms dropped to his side, and his wide grin morphed into a frown. "A shame. He would have been a worthy adversary, if what I hear of him is true." A hint of red flickered in the man's eyes. "The victories I have earned so far have been beneath me - no challenge to them. Even had my advisor not been doing everything in his power to keep casualties low - at my behest, mind, there has been no one to face me as an equal, no Darius to force the best out of me."

Nero's hands were on her hips - if she was at all intimidated by being face to face with Alexander the Great, she wasn't showing it, but Fujimaru supposed that after facing down her uncle and Caesar in quick succession, the legendary Macedonian king was just business as usual for how weird Nero's life was becoming. "Let me see if I understand this. You claim you are trying to keep casualties….low?"

Iskandar gave a dismissive sniff that somehow managed to not seem insulting. "Of course I am! We could have had this city in a heartbeat, had we so desired it. But it is a lovely city. To take it by force would have been to despoil it so that it held only a fraction of its worth. That is not how I lived my life. Victory without elimination, ruling without humiliation - THAT is true conquest!"

A sheepish expression crossed his face. "And, well…..we may have believed Caesar was close to victory, and I thought, 'Well, once that is done, these holdout cities like Mediolanum will see the light and surrender, and that would work out best for all concerned.' So I held off from taking it, thinking the war was a few short days from being over." He shrugged, then grinned at the Emperor. "Though it has complicated things for us, I must offer my praise, little Emperor of Roses. To overcome the odds that were stacked against you is a feat worthy of praise!"

Nero looked, in a word, gobsmacked. Iskandar continued. "But now, well, with Caesar sent back to the Throne, I find myself leading the armies of the United Roman Empire. And I can no longer be as merciful as I wish - while I would yearn to take this city peacefully, conquest has an ugly side, and a King cannot shy away from such. Ugliness that I will be forced to unleash upon you if you do not surrender."

He gestured at the plains around the city. "For surrender is the only option left to you. You are surrounded - penned in. If we so wished it, we could easily march to Florentia and finish what Caesar started there, all while you could do nothing but watch - if you quit the safety that these walls provide you, you will be cut to ribbons by the numbers I command."

"Why allow us to enter, then?" asked Chiron. "As you say, you outnumber us greatly - you could have taken us on the fields and scattered us easily. Why do this, instead?"

Iskandar laughed. "For the challenge of it, of course! My advisor may constantly be looking for ways to turn the battlefield on its head, but I prefer an honest, straight up fight. I have been bored with these easy victories. And this way, I am given the chance to offer you terms. His way would have seen us strike before you even knew we were there. It would have been a slaughter. I would avoid that, if at all possible." He huffed a laugh. "He is a good boy, for all that he gripes incessantly, and has a mind of wheels and schemes. But he has not yet grasped that his ways are not always the best, where I am concerned. Not fully, at least." He smiled, fondly. "But he is devoted, and a loyal follower, so I am glad to have him by my side for this war."

He looked down at Nero, at the fury simmering in her eyes, and shook his head. "Though I think I can guess what your answer to my next question will be, based on the stories I have heard from those who saw what happened when Caesar treated with you. Will you bend the knee, Emperor Nero?"

Nero gave a haughty laugh. "Never! Whether you are Alexander the Great or not, I WILL defeat you. The sun has set upon Macedonia's day - it now resides as one of the provinces of Rome!" She jabbed the point of her blade into the stone of Mediolanum's walls, her feet set and defiant.

Iskandar barked a laugh, and began walking back to his chariot. "EXACTLY what a king should say, Tiny Emperor! It is almost a waste to have to kill you. After my victory, maybe I shall keep you around as a trophy - though not in THAT fashion." He gave her a grin that just managed to not be a leer. "I demand my lovers to be willing - and I feel you would be quite the prize in that regard, were you to come to me of your own accord. Otherwise, you would serve just as well as a part of my court. I feel I would enjoy your repartee as much as your beauty."

He turned back to the chariot, and stepped back into the carriage. "Brace yourselves, for the full might of the United Roman Empire is about to descend upon you!"

Fujimaru's mind was racing. Before she could think better of it, her mouth was moving. "You said Darius? Big guy, wears a lot of gold, pitch black skin, rolls with a bunch of skeletons?"

Iskandar, who had been taking up the reins of his vehicle, paused. "Yes? Why?"

Everyone's eyes were on Fujimaru, and she just wanted to curl up onto a ball and glitch through the world. But she didn't do that, and somehow kept talking. "He was hanging around in the sea to the south of here - waiting for you on a ship of bones." She swallowed, and looked up (and UP) and met the King's eyes. "Kratos beat him."

You could hear that metaphorical pin drop for what seemed like an age. Then Iskandar burst into laughter - big, loud belly laughs that dwarfed the laughs he'd graced them with before. Slapping the edge of his chariot (or the rumps of the bulls when he missed), bent over, grin so wide it could split his face. Finally, he regained some control of himself, though chuckles still escaped his lips. "DID he now? While that is very interesting, what of it?"

"You were saying you were looking for a real challenge. How does the guy who beat your biggest rival sound?" Iskandar set the reins back on the edge of his carriage, and she knew her bait was working, at least. Now to get him on the line. "We could get him here, so you could have that glorious fight you want so badly."

"From the seas to the south?" The Servant scoffed. "Not in any reasonable time - and while I am granted some leeway in how I prosecute this war, my Masters will not allow me to sit for weeks while the Emperor of Rome lies in my grasp."

"Wouldn't be weeks," said Fujimaru, desperately trying to keep his interest. "There's a Servant with him - yeah, he's a Master too, like me, only one who can slug it out with you Servants a lot better. But she could have him up here in…." She calculated. "Five days. Be enough time to get him and her here in a decent condition - enough to give you a really good fight."

The big man's fingers drummed on the lip of his carriage, while Fujimaru crossed her fingers and prayed. Finally, he held up his hand, four fingers raised. "Four days, Fiery Mage. That is all the time I can allow you. On my word as King, there will be no hostilities until dawn, four days from now." Red flickered in his eyes once more. "But on that morning, we attack, whether Kratos is here or not. Do you agree to this?"

Fujimaru turned to Nero and begged her with her eyes to say yes. "Very well," said the Emperor. "We accept your offer of clemency, temporary though it is. No hostilities until the sun rises for the fifth time from when we last spoke."

Iskandar shook his head. "No, not from when last we spoke - if we are to wait, I would hope to see you, all of you again. To speak with another King is a rare treat for me - I may return to this spot in the time between, seeking your company, Little Emperor of Roses." He grinned. "If you would be amenable to humoring a fool such as I, that is."

Nero rolled her eyes. "As you wish it, King of Conquerors. Five sunrises from now. As to your other proposal?" She shrugged. "We shall see."

Iskandar beamed. "Then there is some hope! I shall see you before long, then!" He cracked the reins, and his bulls took off, his laughter trailing behind him, leaving a scorched patch of stone atop the walls.

Nero turned to her, the Emperor's green eyes calculating. "Now, Lady Fujimaru, I have questions for you. Starting with what exactly that man meant by calling Kratos a 'Spartan'."

Fujimaru gulped.

---

MEDIOLANUM

LATER THAT EVENING​

Fujimaru pushed the door to her room closed, and halfway thought about dragging the table against it to make a barricade. Not that it would stop the Servants from getting in, but it might keep pushy Emperors out.

Fujimaru had learned new and varied ways to say 'I can't say, these are Kratos' secrets, not mine, and I'm not about to betray the confidence of a man who can rip a Servant in two with his bare hands' over the past two hours. Nero hadn't been mad - well, she HAD been mad, but not really - more frustrated than anything at Fujimaru's continued refusals to talk. Eventually, she had been talked down by Chiron (thank you, Sensei) and had left to handle some of the dozens of other things that needed the Emperor's attention - like issuing a sternly worded set of orders to everyone in the city that there wouldn't be even the hint of hostilities until the set date.

She'd probably doomed Kratos to an interrogation session of his own when he got here. She was dreading the furrowed brow she was going to get from him.

But they were on their way, now, Pegasus flying across the oceans in a direct beeline to Mediolanum. While she'd been face to face with Alexander the Great, they'd been sinking a few ships they'd stumbled across while creeping around Corsica, and had sent them to the briny deep. No one of what was being called the Southern Expedition was happy about having to detach and rush to join them, but all agreed it was a necessary evil. The ships, lacking Medusa and Kratos, were pulling back and looking to harass any smaller groups they could ambush - and would fall back to Calaris in the face of a larger force.

Fujimaru was ready to fall into her bed and just be DONE with the day, and would have, if it wasn't for one thing.

Another damned scroll.

She didn't even bother calling for Jing Ke, just tore the seal off it and rolled it open.

Much more to the point this time. A simple 'Tonight, midnight. Bring only your Assassin, the others will likely be unable to slip out of the city without drawing notice.', and a drawing of the surrounding countryside - with a cave outlined with an 'X' over it.

Wonderful.

She tossed her communicator onto the table and activated it, while jabbing at the part of her brain that felt like Jing Ke - thankfully it didn't feel like she'd gotten too far into the city's supply of booze. Give the woman credit, she was climbing into Fujimaru's window about at the same time that Romani and Da Vinci were starting to outline how many ways this could go bad.

"Do we have another choice here, though?" she asked. "This guy, whoever he is, has given us good intel once already, and it seems like he's the one who stranded Caligula's forces to boot, so if he's got another rabbit that he can pull out of his hat to help us with this situation, I want it. Plus, a face-to-face with him lets us ask questions, which I know everyone has. I mean, I certainly do!"

Romani looked to be working himself up to protest, then he deflated like a balloon when Da Vinci patted him on the shoulder. "She's right, Roman. Mysterious informants are nice for mystery novels, but we need to suss this guy out better than we can from a few terse letters. And if he is setting us up for a fall, better we find out now rather than when our position is more precarious."

Da Vinci turned a smile on Jing Ke, one that didn't touch her eyes. "Because I'm sure Jing Ke would never dare to let something happen to our Master here, would she?"

Jing Ke laughed, though there was a nervous edge to it - when Aunt Da Vinci got scary, she got SCARY. "They'll have to step over my dead body to do so. It may only be a temporary Contract, but I take those things seriously. I'll bring her back, or I won't come back at all."

Mash wasn't happy about being left behind, however. "Senpai…" Her eyes were hidden behind her bangs, Fou nervously clutched on her lap.

Fujimaru leaned in and gave her Kohai the best hug she knew how to give. "Hey, Mashie, it'll be ok. Don't get me wrong, I wish you were coming with me for this - your shield's great to hide behind. But there's going to be times on this crazy journey we're on that we're going to get separated. I'll be fine, trust me."

Mash sighed, her face still turned up in a worried pout. "I do. I just worry. If you don't come back…"

"Mashie, you're currently being trained by Kratos and the Irish Heracles. Anyone who tries to hurt me has no idea of the world of hurt they'd be in for from you. There might not be enough left for those two after you get done with whoever lays a finger on me."

Mash's pout turned a fraction less worried, and more cute. "I don't think I would be quite that violent, Senpai."

Fujimaru laughed and gave Mash another squeeze, then pulled away from her and turned to Jing Ke. "I'm guessing we're doing this piggyback?"

Jing Ke nodded. "I'll absolutely want my hands free for this, so yeah. Best hold on tight, Ritsy."

"I will keep a respectable distance away - but I should be able to see this cave without too much trouble. The night is clear, after all." Chiron was smiling, but there was an edge to it. "Just say the word, my Master, and I will provide whatever you need - be that covering fire, or a precise shot."

"Thanks Sensei. I'll be careful - and I'll yell at the first sign of trouble." One hair-ruffling later, and she was mounted on Jing Ke's back.

"You good back there, Ritsy? No time to do this gently, I'm afraid." Fujimaru nodded, trying to decide which of Jing Ke's bony shoulders was less likely to choke her if she rested her head on them - wiry didn't do the woman justice.

"Then here we go!" And the madwoman just leapt out of the window like she did it every day.

Which, in fairness - Servant. She probably did do it on a semi-regular basis.

In her short lifetime, Fujimaru had developed a habit of trying to stay out from under her parents' (or Susumu's) notice once she'd stopped living up to their expectations of what a mage of their bloodline was supposed to be capable of. She'd gotten, she felt, passably good at creeping through the house without making much noise (easier to sneak out of the stifling place), fading into a crowd (easier to avoid Susumu's attention when her sister was looking for her, either at one of her regular hangout spots or just if she didn't feel like dealing with her at the moment), or just being forgettable during big family dinners (easier to have the adults' eyes ghost over you and not get another lecture about what a disappointment you were). So she had a reasonable idea of how difficult sneaking about was.

Jing Ke didn't make so much as a whisper as she skipped from roof to roof, then up the wall, and then down to the ground.

Assassin Class Servants - capable of making real life ninjas look like bumbling toddlers, apparently.

They were at the location outlined in the note in what felt like a flash. Fujimaru felt Chiron's (comforting) presence settle down a distance away as she dropped from Jing Ke's back. She took a deep breath, and cracked her knuckles. "Guess we should get on with this."

She made to enter the cave, but Jing Ke's arm stopped her. "I lead, Ritsy. Just in case. Call it enlightened 'I don't want that woman to do whatever she'd do to me if I bring you back with so much as a hair out of place' self-interest."

Fujimaru nodded, and followed the woman into the cave.

It wasn't terribly deep. And it wasn't dark, or dank, either, surprisingly. As she stepped into the room, Fujimaru felt the familiar sensation of a Bounded Field washing across her skin, and suddenly, the empty chamber wasn't so empty.

It had actually been set up as a rather pleasant sort of room - some tapestries covered the walls and a ring of braziers crackled merrily around a pair of chairs that faced each other, ones that Fujimaru would definitely classify as 'fancy'. And a handful of other decorations were scattered around the room - one was a big Ying Yang symbol that rested between a pair of tapestries. There was also a table in the room, upon which rested some wine glasses, a bottle of wine, and a fan.

There was a man standing before the table, a cigar in his hands. Blinking almost owlishly at them. "Earlier than I expected you."

Tall - just a touch over 6 feet, if she was any judge. She couldn't tell his age - his face had the lines she would expect of an older man, but his hair (which was long, shiny, and jet black - man had some NICE hair - she suppressed an urge to run her fingers through it) didn't show a single hint of gray. Oddly enough, he was wearing a modern black suit and red tie. Seeing that, of all things, in the middle of the Roman Empire left her feeling a bit off-kilter. The suit worked for him, though - even if he was a beanpole, he pulled the look off well.

She'd also watched enough Sherlock - in the original language, having an American father meant she'd been raised bi-lingual - to recognize a British accent when she heard one. Which didn't help her at all in placing this man, to be fair, but it was something she noticed.

Jing Ke, on the other hand, was staring at the tapestries on the walls. "I recognize those things - saw at least one of them in the Imperial Palace on the day I was supposed to assassinate the Emperor. But you…" Her eyes narrowed. "You don't look Chinese. Trying to put me at ease?"

The man took a puff of his cigar, and shook his head. "No. They make the cave more tolerable. I know Servants don't really feel the cold, but always preferred the warm - ironic considering how miserable England gets in the winters. But without my assistant, I have to do what I can to warm the place up. She was always better at taking care of myself than I was."

Fujimaru decided to cut right to the chase. "Are you the one who's been helping us, and leaving me these scrolls - like the one that told me to come here?"

He nodded. "I am. Lord El-Melloi II. Your co-conspirator."

There was a twin pair of strangled gasps. One from her, and one from her suddenly active communicator. Romani managed to find his voice first, simply because Fujimaru's mind had gone blank. "A Lord of the Clock Tower? Here? But, I mean…how? You're not just a modern Servant, you're pretty much current-day?"

The man frowned. "It's a bit of a long story. Shall we sit?"

Fujimaru happily took him up on the offer, as her legs were feeling just a touch wobbly. Clock Tower Lords had been described to her by her parents (and the Musiks) with the same reverence - and FEAR - that little kids had used for kaiju, back when they were still young enough to believe there was a very real possibility that Gojira was going to stomp through Tokyo at some point in the nebulous future. And there was one now, sitting across from her…one who looked like he forgot to eat two meals out of three, and had stress lines that made him look a good decade older than he probably was.

Fujimaru felt her stomach settle just a little. He's a Servant - just like the two that throw tennis balls and really loud bubbles at me, or like the chunnibyou best friend I've made. And I share a table with an actual physical god. I can do this.

She still was tensed to move at the slightest twitch from him, whatever she told herself.

Jing Ke was looming over her shoulder like a very pointy attack dog (only two chairs in the room), as the Lord took his seat with at least some of the elegance she would expect from someone in the upper crust of the Mage aristocracy. He took one last drag on his cigar, then stubbed it out. "You are, of course, correct. Lord El-Melloi II never achieved enough in life to qualify for the Throne of Heroes. I'm what's known as a Pseudo-Servant."

"Pseudo-Servant?" Romani sounded about as confused as she was.

"Essentially, a Servant using a compatible human body as a vessel." The Lord leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "It allows a Servant who, ordinarily, could not be summoned by the usual mechanisms to be summoned - either because they are too weak, or too powerful." A small smirk graced his face. "Such as in the case of a powerful Divine Spirit. Or because the Heroic Spirit in question refuses to fully manifest."

This time, there were three gasps, with Da Vinci joining her and Romani. "You mean to say..?"

"No," Lord El-Melloi II shook his head. "My partner isn't quite that potent. I was more thinking of what might happen if that god you have on your side should manage to get inscribed upon the Throne, and what might be necessary for him to be summoned to this world as a Servant."

And THERE was the 'g' word. The part of her brain that had been given over to Jing Ke suddenly got very, very cold and focused.

Heedless of the bombshell he'd dropped on the dynamic Fujimaru had possessed with Jing Ke, the man continued. "But in the interests of full disclosure - as I suspect you still have misgiving about me, given all the cloak and dagger I've been forced to engage in to this point with you, the Servant I'm bonded with is Zhuge Liang, courtesy name Kongming."

Fujimaru hadn't been the biggest of Three Kingdoms fans, but even she'd heard that name. And Jing Ke had gone from suspicious to something approaching respectful. "How does that work, anyways?" asked Fujimaru, once she found her voice. "Are you some sort of combination of him and you, or do you each have your own separate consciousnesses? We have a Demi-Servant with us, and she's kind of on her own."

The man's full attention turned to her, and she flushed, despite herself. "And….do I need to call you 'Your Lordship' or something? Sorry if I've been rude, but my parents thought the odds of any of us meeting a Clock Tower Lord was this side of never, so they never went over the protocols." With her, at least. She vaguely suspected Susumu had gotten them.

"Lord El-Melloi II is fine, though 'Sir' will do as well. It's what my assistant used most often, and it sufficed." He tilted his head slightly. "Also, Demi-Servant? That isn't something either myself or Kongming have heard of before."

"It's…..something of a proprietary secret of Lord Animusphere's," said Romani, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Obviously, your Lordship, you being a Lord will understand there are things we cannot fully disclose, even with another Lord - at least at this time."

The Servant sighed, but nodded. "Clock Tower paranoia. I suppose I was being overly optimistic to think the end of Humanity would put an end to it, but we can table that for now. To answer your question, Kongming and I each have our own minds. He's there, in a corner of my mine, but largely leaves me in control. I have access to his accumulated knowledge, however, and he does chime in when something takes his interest, or the situation calls for it." He blinked. "Or he has something to say about the Japanese music industry. He's…..surprisingly well informed and opinionated on that subject, for some reason."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a fraction of a smile. "It's that tactical knowledge that I've been using to stymie the United Roman advance in what ways I could - and when Lev Lainur informed us that Chaldea had arrived, we saw our chance, and took it."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, why?" asked Jing Ke.

The Lord stared up at her. "Because I am a loyal follower of the King of Conquerors. And it APPALLS me to see him enslaved like this."

The sudden burst of emotion from a man who had shown little to this point made everyone flinch, to some degree. He sighed, again, and reached up to press fingers into the bridge of his nose. "Apologies. When I was younger….long before I bore the name of Lord El-Melloi II, I fought in the Fourth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. My Servant there was Iskandar. We lost, in the end, but the events….HE…they shaped me into the man I have become."

"Wait, what?" Romani was frowning, and Da Vinci didn't look much happier. " 'Fourth' Holy Grail War of Fuyuki? But, by our records, there's only been one."

Another sigh, and Fujimaru started thinking about charging the man for them - assuming she could get over the hurdle of shaking down a Clock Tower Lord for his lunch money. "And that brings me to my next point, one I suspected as soon as I was summoned - and that your mention of only a single Holy Grail War confirms. This isn't my original timeline - or universe, if you want to think of it that way, given you have on your roster a living god from another universe."

Jing Ke was starting to stare at her like the cat that had just cornered the canary, and was deciding just how to pounce on it. Fujimaru ignored it, and asked her question. "What first raised your suspicions, Sir?"

"Lev Lainur," he said. "By my memories, he died several years ago. And, to boot, Chaldea had long been a dream of Lord Animusphere, but he never managed to acquire the funding to make it a reality. Two major inconsistencies, both of them staring me right in the face - because Lev Lainur was not quiet about his hatred for your organization. I assume Lord Marisbury won the singular Holy Grail War of your timeline and used the wish to create Chaldea in some fashion."

Romani nodded. "That would be correct, yes. It's no secret, really - while the Clock Tower may look down on the Holy Grail War as a ritual from a backwater country, they still take note of the winners and losers from it."

The Lord's brow furrowed. "Actually, why is Lord Marisbury not overseeing this operation? Something as big as the wholesale extinction of Humanity, one would imagine he would be personally leading this - from Chaldea, if not in the field itself."

There was a look exchanged between Da Vinci and Romani. "Lord Marisbury is dead. A few years now." Romani swallowed. "Suicide."

"Suci…" Lord El-Melloi II bit the word off, and visibly had to regain control of himself. "That does not fit the man I knew - while we weren't especially close, I had at least a tolerable working relationship with him. Better than most of the other Lords, at least." He grimaced. "His daughter, the Heir, and my…." His face twitched. "Sister also were fairly close. Does that mean that Chaldea then passed to Olga Marie Animusphere?"

"She's…..indisposed would be the term, I believe," said Da Vinci. "Lev Lainur sabotaged what would have been our first mission - and Olga Marie died in the explosion, but her soul was caught in the Rayshift. Kratos and the Caster we met there managed to store her soul in a relic from his world, and I've been working on creating a suitable vessel for her to inhabit." Her shoulders slumped. "But I haven't had much success so far with what little time I've been able to devote to it. There's just too many critical things demanding my attention with how short-staffed we are. At this rate, we really might have to track down The Red once Humanity is restored."

The Servant flinched. "I would recommend avoiding that woman if at all possible, but this is the life of one of the heads of the Clock Tower we are talking about here." He swept his eyes across all of them. "You do realize what a disaster this is for you, even without taking into account that you have a living god walking your halls?"

"It's frequently the subject of my nightmares," said Romani, his voice dead. "Replacing Magi*Mari announcing her retirement. We at least had everyone in Chaldea sign a Geass Scroll to prevent them from talking about what Kratos is to the Clock Tower. But the number of Heirs we've lost, and a prospective Lord as well." He bowed his head. "We're aware it's going to be bad, but that's a bridge we'll cross if we manage to restore Humanity."

"Very well. We've gotten off-topic in any event." He pulled out another cigar, sliced the tip off, and lit it. After a deep inhalation of smoke, he resumed speaking. "Iskandar, my King, is little more than a puppet, or tool of Lev Lainur. They didn't have to do much - just a single Command Seal to amplify his lust for battle and conquest, and they could point him at their enemies without much fear. They considered him powerful enough that a Command Seal was the only way they could control him, even when most of their resources are devoted to keeping Romulus in check. And in this, they are correct. Iskandar is a much more powerful Heroic Spirit than the various Roman Emperors they summoned, or the Spartan King they have under their thumb."

Fujimaru felt her blood run cold. "Spartan….King? Please tell me you don't mean…"

He nodded. "Leonidas himself. He was originally accompanying Caesar, but Lev Lainur called him back to the capital for some reason both myself and Kongming have failed to discern."

"Kratos knew Leonidas - his version, at least. He could have been with him at Thermopylae, to hear him tell it, though he wasn't chosen for that duty, in the end," said Da Vinci, concern written all over her face. "I don't know how he's going to react to this news, but I can't imagine it will be good."

Lord El-Melloi II frowned. "Not my intent in giving you that information, but it does dovetail nicely into the point I was slowly getting to. As a condition for my further help, I want you to free both myself and my King from our bondage. And if you are capable of that, then freeing Leonidas should also be possible."

A silver head of hair butted into the picture. "And just how the hell do you expect Red to do that, nerd?"

Lord El-Melloi II quirked an eyebrow up, and Da Vinci placed her hand on Avenger's head and shoved her out of the picture, none too gently. "Apologies, this is one of the two Servants on standby at Chaldea. Avenger, behave yourself in front of the Clock Tower Lord, or I'm disabling your arm."

The blood seemed to drain from the Lord's face. "Avenger?" he sputtered. "Like that THING that was in the Fuyuki grail, corrupting it? HOW do you have something like that walking around Chaldea?"

"Corrupting the….," Romani shook his head. "That must be another difference in the universes. There was nothing wrong with the Fuyuki Grail. And while Avenger's a bit difficult to deal with, she aided us in resolving the last Singularity we dealt with."

Avenger's hand returned to the image, a single digit raised. "Screw you, doc. I'm a JOY to have around. And the pencil-neck still hasn't answered my question, either."

His smirk had a sense of almost familiarity to it. "Another problem child, or student, then. I'm well acquainted with her type." Avenger bristled, which he promptly ignored. "To answer your question, Kongming and I have been doing some scrying and soothsaying on that very subject. Are you aware of an island that seems to have sprung into being in the sea to the south?"

"Yeah," said Fujimaru. "Kratos and his Servant found some messages talking about it when they took Calaris. Something about no ship that's ventured to it having ever come back. Let me guess, that's where you want the two of them to go?"

"If it is an island where Men do not go, then a living god and the Medusa seem like they would be well-equipped to survive such a journey." He met their stares. "After the Fifth and final Holy Grail War, I taught the Tohsaka Heir for a time. Both her and her then-estranged sister fought in the war, and her sister's Servant was the same one that accompanies your god. I needed to only hear a description of her to know who she was."

"But every augury we've received points to SOMETHING of value to our combined goals being there. Best case scenario, there's a relic or Mystic Code or something that can free my King and myself, and that you can use to free Leonidas as well." He shrugged. "Worst case, you gain a powerful weapon or ally that will allow you to kill Lev Lainur and free us. Not my preferred scenario, but slaves cannot be too picky of how they break their chains."

"What if we can't find something on that island to free you immediately?" asked Romani. "What then?"

"I'll still aid you. I might have been summoned by someone in league with whomever, or whatever wiped out Humanity, but I am a Heroic Spirit, even if I'm not a particularly impressive one. I can hinder the army's efforts enough and can probably convince my King to fall back should you manage to best him in the field. He listens to me, for the most part." He raised a finger. "But Iskandar must live, at least until Lev Lainur is dead. Once he is back in his right mind, I expect he will want to take revenge on the Mage who bound him thus - and may wish to accompany you back to Chaldea after, as well."

He shifted uncomfortably. "If need be, Kongming's Noble Phantasm can contain him, for a time. But to use that on my King would…not sit well with me. But I will do so if I must, to protect him from being used and abused by such as Lev Lainur." He looked up, meeting Romani's eyes. "That would probably burn out my Spirit Core to do so, but it would be in service of a worthwhile cause. Should that happen, I ask you to tell my King why I did what I did."

Romani nodded. "We can do that, your Lordship."

Lord El-Melloi II held out a hand. "Do we have an agreement, Ritsuka Fujimaru, Last Master of Chaldea?"

Fujimaru found her mouth suddenly dry. She took his hand and shook, inwardly panicking about how sweaty her palms were, and wishing she'd wiped them off before shaking his hand. "Deal," she said, her voice only quavering a bit. "Think you can get us an extra day, though, if we're going to have Kratos detour back down south after he's already started flying this way?"

Lord El-Melloi II snorted a sort of laugh. "That shouldn't be too hard. My King is fairly taken with your Emperor Nero. So long as she manages to hold his interest, I should be able to convince him to give you one more day."

"What was with the heart, anyways?" Fujimaru blinked, not sure who was talking, then she recognized her own voice - oh gods, it was happening again. Well, too late to stop. "Putting that around the Chaldea logo made it look more like you were trying to woo us or something."

The Lord blinked. "Is that not what the youth of today do to show they're trustworthy? Flat mentioned it was the current trend?"

Everyone shook their heads, and the Servant's hands reached up to rub at his temples. "Flaaaaaat…….and I checked with Svin and Gray as well, just to be certain." He groaned aloud. "This is my own fault. I should have asked Caules. He has a better head on his shoulders than those two. I cannot blame Gray overmuch, given how sheltered she was. But those two…." One of his hands twitched, grasping at the air like a claw. "When I next see them…."

---

MARE INTERNUM

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING​

The sea rushed beneath them as they flew to the south, Pegasus cutting through the sky.

They had been almost within sight of land when Kratos' communicator had sounded. They'd been forced to find a bit of rock to settle on to hear Tanya - the rushing air as they'd flown had made that almost impossible, at the speeds they had been going.

What he had heard had made fury want to explode from his very skin. King Leonidas. A slave to Lev Lainur.

The next thing he knew, Medusa had been shaking him, her hair almost hissing as it moved about with a life of its own, as she'd shouted at him to snap out of it.

Once he'd managed to come back to himself, he'd readily agreed to head back south, even though it would delay them.

To save King Leonidas, even though it was not the King he had known in his life, he would tear this island down to its roots, if need be.

'We're getting close to where the island is supposed to be,' Medusa's voice brought him from his thoughts. 'Kratos - are you going to be ok? What I felt from you when you heard what they'd done to Leonidas……it frightened me.'

'A legacy of my past - I try to keep it chained…controlled, save when it is needed. I am sorry you had to feel such.'

'Kratos,' he felt her sigh through their connection. 'I'm not afraid of you - after everything we've been through in such a short time, I don't think I'll ever be afraid of you. I'm afraid for you, though, should you lose yourself to the anger I felt a little while ago. Don't do that, please, for me.'

Don't become a monster like me, she wanted to say, but didn't.

Kratos made a noise, and pointed. 'Below.'

Wrecked ships littered the ocean waters, some far enough beneath the waves that only their masts felt the salt air, while others listed aimlessly, still retaining enough structure and wholeness to remain afloat, though barely. There was no sign of their crews - either they had swam for the island itself, had been dragged beneath the waves, or had fallen victim to the sharks.

But there was no sign of any humans in this ship graveyard.

And there were more broken ships upon the shore of the island they were rapidly drawing near to.

"Guess that explains what happened to them. Partially, at least." Pegasus had slowed as they'd approached the island, wary of any surprises. But as with the waters surrounding it, neither of them could see any sign of habitation, or life on the island.

"I suppose one landing spot is as good, or as bad as any other," muttered Medusa. She tugged at the reins, and Pegasus began to descend to the shores.

Something felt different from the moment Kratos' feet touched the sands. It was almost familiar.

(ALkeiacv;efiejiaci;eeGEkdaidaicikmv;av;eRkdaidaiveafjdjafeicaeNE)

Kratos blinked. "What?"

Medusa's face was pale, her mouth hanging open. "This place….it's impossible, but this," She turned to look straight at him, terror in her posture. "It's the Shapeless Isle. I'd know it anywhere, even through Breaker Gorgon."

She inhaled deeply from the brine soaked winds. "The smell, the air, the sound of the waves. Everything. This is the place that was once my…..OUR home."

Kratos felt the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand up, though he did not yet reach for any of his weapons. "How?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It shouldn't be possible - I can only think it's something to do with the Singularity itself." Her shoulders slumped. "And I don't see how there can be something that would aid us in freeing those Servants would be here. I know every rock of this place, every plant, all the hidden places. There was nothing like that here."

"And yet, the Mage was convinced we would find something here," Kratos grunted. "We will search."

He set off down the beach, Medusa following behind, unease leaking from her like a sieve. After a short time, she held up her hand and paused. "Do you hear that?"

Kratos tilted his head and closed his eyes. It was faint, but he could hear it over the sound of the ocean. Short, hard blows - metal against wood, he thought.

Medusa now leading, they followed the sounds down the beach, eventually coming to their source.

It was a house - or the beginnings of one. Cobbled together from wreckage salvaged from the ships, it at least had four walls and the beginnings of a roof. A man was halfway up a similarly ramshackle ladder, pounding a nail into a board on the roof of the shack when they arrived.

As they drew near, he looked up and caught sight of them, and gave a weary sigh. Shaking his head, he descended the ladder, moving to stand before the door to what they assumed was his home.

"Well, whattya want?" He wore a hooded cloak that hid most of his body - though they could see flashes underneath it. He seemed to be dressed largely in clothes that seemed to fit the age - a simple red robe, secured at his shoulder, and sandals. He wore a mustache, and a beard that pointed out in three places, hair dark, but beginning to sprout gray in some places, a man leaving the prime of his life, but not yet fully into the twilight of his days. A narrow, suspicious eye peered at them, the other hidden behind a simple leather eyepatch. "And where is that woman? Damnably useless goddess, never here when she's needed."

His accent was strange, but familiar. In his voice, there was a hint of the same twang Cu Chulainn (or Mimir) spoke with.

He grumbled, then looked at them again. "So, what's your business here? What does a Servant and…hmmm." He peered at Kratos, then reached up and pulled his eyepatch away, revealing an empty socket, lividly scarred - if Kratos was any judge of it, it looked as though the wound had been cauterized after the fact, though the damage almost looked too clean to have been done in the heat of battle.

"Well now, a god. Been awhile." He lowered the eyepatch down, hiding his wound once more. "You two don't seem to be Roman - either of them. You don't reek like the cankers that erupted from that cesspool of a city, or the new one that's appeared in Hispania. So, again, what is your purpose here on this gods forsaken island?"

"Who are you, old one?" asked Kratos. "You are a Servant?" The question was partially directed at the man, partially at his companion.

Medusa nodded, surreptitiously, and the man laughed. "Who I am is none of your damn business, and WHAT I am is retired!" He walked to a pile of nails that were resting on a salvaged drum, and picked one up. "Quite happy here building my home, except people keep coming to bother me. First it was all those United Roman soldiers, looking for treasure, or whatever it was they thought they'd find here other than death. After awhile, it seemed like they'd gotten the message, or all the ships breaking apart off shore was good enough of a 'Go Away' sign."

He turned his back to them and began climbing the ladder again. "Then the two of you show up here. Not Roman, either of you, but I can smell a bit of a stench of that sewer on you, though I can't tell which sewer it is, the original, or the new one."

He placed the nail against one of the boards on the roof, and picking up a hammer, pounded it in. "So, for the third and FINAL time, I'll ask you. What is your purpose here?"

"You are correct. We are currently allied with Rome, to defeat the United Roman Empire."

The old man scoffed. "Allying with Rome. What is the world coming to, I ask?"

"It's to resolve this Singularity - the United Roman Empire is an aberration, a change to the past that has pushed History off course - and resulted in the incineration of all Humanity many centuries in the future," said Medusa, cautiously. "Rome has to survive, so we are here - as I expect you were summoned by the land for the same reason."

"Might be," he admitted. "But I'm still retired. I fought for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. The lad there gets it, he's got the look of one who's fought more than their fair share, and is well and truly sick of it. So I laid my sword down, and I'm quite pleased with the decision, thank you very much. Not looking to get dragged into the middle of a pissing match between Empires, much less two Romes."

He pushed at the board, and finding it to be within his expectations, descended the ladder again. "So what can I do to get the two of you to leave this island, and to leave me alone?"

He blinked, then looked at something over their shoulders. "Or, I suppose I should just let the proper welcome wagon deal with you two. It's part of our deal, after all. I only handle unwelcome guests until she gets here."

A voice sounded from behind Kratos and Medusa, one that made Medusa want to sink into the sands and hide.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. My monstrous sister, come home at last…."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And so things begin to spin off course.

The God-Emperor of Mankind needing to consume so many psykers a day to maintain the Astronomicon was absolutely in my head when writing how Lev was using people to keep Romulus restrained. So any parallels you see there are intentional.

If you're looking for a facial model for the grumpy old man of the island, think Tamiya Gantetsusai from Hell's Paradise, but more lined and turning gray. His beard, at least, was the model for the Old Grump's beard and face.

A new reader to this fic described themselves as a massive Iskandar glazer, and to be fair, I'm also guilty of that. Since I'm not sure if Fate/Accel will be a thing that happens here, I'm using my authorial fiat to have the King of Bros appear here instead of the shouta, since it gives Waver an even stronger reason to revolt, and because I want to use Broskandar instead of the kid.

Seriously, since I got Gramps (and promptly spoiled him to level 100) over New Year's, I'm almost 100% trying for Iskandar on this year's GSSR. Already have Ivan - got him on the New Year's GSSR, but a second one isn't bad since Ivan's good. And if I get Maid Alter, I will appreciate that for entirely 100% red-blooded male reasons that are only SOME of the reasons my Scathach never switches out of her bunny suit. The other reasons being that outfit terrifies Cu, and I do love to make the Hound suffer.

You thought the mole was EMIYA, but it was me, Waver, all along!

Something I found out while writing this, adult Waver is 6'1". He's as tall as Barghest. I feel my world collapsing around me.

I figure Zhuge Liang would be fine with the person he's sharing headspace with using his courtesy name, hence Waver calling him 'Kongming' all the time.

I know Waver eventually teaches Rin, and I know Shirou is accompanying her when she goes to the Clock Tower, but I've never been entirely certain which route it's from - they don't seem to be in a relationship (going by Rin's comments where she seems to be wishing they were) so it's probably not Unlimited Blade Works (my preferred, because Rin superiority). And I don't think he'd be accompanying her if it was the Heaven's Feel route (both because he'd be with Sakura and he's kind of dead/bodiless at the end of that, though they're working to fix it in the epilogue), so it's PROBABLY Fate route.

The old man is ENTIRELY knolden's fault, who convinced me to try my hand at something I've been leery of doing, making an original Servant. So blame them.

I still don't know where this pace of updates is coming from, or how long it can be sustained. I didn't even HAVE the original Servant planned until last weekend, when it sprang fully-formed into my brain - so he got added into Septem and I've been adjusting plans to take his presence into account.

Chapter 30: Septem 7

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 30

MEDIOLANUM​

The sun was beginning its ascent into the sky, and Nero and Iskandar were STILL going at it. It had started as a debate on the hows, whys, and assorted other interrogatives of ruling, had a sidebar into how necessary the arts were to a functioning empire (Nero, unsurprisingly, had thoughts on this, thoughts she was happy to share. At length. Excruciating length.), then derailed for a time into comparing wine vintages - for all that Iskandar had brought his own wine to this sit-down/dinner/courting(?) the Governor of Mediolanum had a fairly decent wine cellar, so comparisons had been inevitable.

From there, it had dovetailed into a boasting competition - each trying to outdo the other's feats, be they in battle, statecraft, hobbies, or (gods help her) the bedroom (and not JUST the bedroom - Nero was adventurous). Mash had turned very, VERY red during that portion of the discussion, and Fujimaru wouldn't swear that she herself hadn't pinked up a bit.

(It at least had been educational, though.)

If nothing else, the two of them were getting along famously - so well that the 'charm the King of Conquerors into giving us an extra day' plan seemed to be going well. Lord El-Melloi II, from where he was sitting behind his king, gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

So far so good, then. Now, it was all up to Kratos and Medusa.

---

THE SHAPELESS ISLE

AT THAT SAME TIME​

Kratos turned, slowly, deliberately. He expected to see something that resembled the Servant by his side.

An elaborate, frilly white dress, trimmed in black and purple wrapped around her figure, which was petite - or possibly even undeveloped, as she was smaller than even Nero, and seemed younger, as well. She appeared more a girl than a woman, barely older than Calliope had been. But Kratos was not fooled - where his daughter's eyes had been filled with the innocence of youth, this girl's eyes showed her true age. They were old, and calculating.

Some part of Kratos recalled that Medusa had said when she and her sisters had fled to the Shapeless Isle, that she herself had not been as strong then as she had become. Had she rowed all the way to what would become her home when she had been like this, little more than a child, in size, if not in mind?

Her hair was the same shade, at least, and similarly as long - longer even, though it was tied into two tails that would have dragged the ground, were she walking upon the ground.

She was not, however, walking upon the ground. She sat on a gilded throne, one that was borne upon the shoulders of a group of men, all of whom still wore the armor of officers of the United Roman Empire, and, to a man, had vacant, empty expressions - save when they looked upon their charge. Then it shifted to rapt, mindless adoration.

Bewitched mortals. He recognized the signs. Despite that they were his enemies, Kratos felt something curdle in his stomach, and his eyes narrowed.

The not-girl was not even looking at Kratos, she had eyes only for her sister, who was…pale. And halfway looked as though she'd rather be hiding behind Kratos. "Stheno. Sister."

"Hello, sister," The goddess tapped one of her throne bearers on the head, and with a grunted order, they set the massive seat on the sands of the beach. Gracefully, she pushed herself up from her throne, then padded across the warm sands to peer at her sister. "Certainly not who I was expecting when I felt that there were intruders. I thought it was more of these," She reached behind her, and jabbed one of the smitten soldiers in the stomach. He made a whimper of pleasure at his goddess' touch, while the others looked on with jealousy. "Come to serve me."

She smirked at their reactions, then turned her attention back to Medusa. "But I arrive, and who else do I see standing on the shores of our home but my clod of a sister, the Big Mountain of the Shapeless Isle, returned here after centuries away." Her smile developed a jagged edge. "Why return here, Sister dear? Did you hear that one of your sisters was here and happened to get hungry?"

A shadow fell over her, and she turned her head, wondering what possibly could be between herself and the sun, and finally noticed Kratos. "And WHO is this, sister? He doesn't smell like the United Romans that have been coming here to swear themselves to me, but…" She blinked, then stared harder at Kratos.

What she saw made her face twist into something ugly, and she sighed. "ANOTHER god? Is THIS why you're here, sister? Come to show off your newest paramour?" She shook her head. "Completely forgetting how badly things ended with Poseidon, as well? Why you ever took up with an Olympian, after they and their worshippers forced us to flee to this island…" She pursed her lips. "Where did you even FIND this one, sister? The gods were supposed to have retreated long ago - what rock did you scrape this one up from?"

"It's….not like that, sister. This is Kratos." She paused. "My Master."

"Master?" The small not-girl cocked her head to the side. "Doing THAT again? You always were the only one of us three to bother answering a Summon on the Throne. But a GOD, sister? What happened to the brute who wanted nothing to do with the gods after the curse that that jealous bitch laid upon her?" She sniffed. "Who spent nights weeping after Poseidon did nothing to help her, all while his fellow's curse worked its cruelty upon the woman he claimed to care for?"

Medusa's head was bowed. "When I first saw him, I thought as you did." She looked up, meeting her sister's gaze through the cloth of Breaker Gorgon - though Kratos wondered if her eyes were steady, even behind her blindfold. Her face was twitching as though they were constantly darting away. "I've served him for nearly a month now, and he….he is a good man. Not like Poseidon, or Athena, or any of the rest."

"And I'm SURE you said the same of Poseidon, once, before he let Athena walk all over you and then left you to your fate." She made a disgusted noise. "Well, I suppose there's nothing for it. One must make allowances for one's less intelligent relatives to make their own mistakes."

The shadow looming over her seemed to have gotten larger, and she turned to see that this 'Kratos' was standing even closer to her. "What do YOU want? Come to sing me platitudes of how wonderful my sister is, and how you'll never hurt her?" She made a dismissive noise. "I heard it all before from the lips of another, fairer-looking god than you."

The god was staring at her like she was a puzzle he couldn't figure out. He at least seemed less volatile than the last one that had been sniffing around her sister - Poseidon, or most of the other Olympians would have flown into a rage at the smears she had been throwing out there - not that it would have done them much good, after all. In the end, they were STILL men, and men were her playthings. "Well, can you speak, or are you mute?"

He stared at her, while her sister fidgeted in the background. Finally, he spoke. A single word. "Why?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Why what?"

"She is your blood, your kin. And yet, you demean her. Belittle her." Suddenly, a trickle of unease ran down her spine as she realized how close the god was to her. "Were someone to speak of my son, or my brother…or any of my family in the way that you do of your sister, it would fill me with anger - anger that I would consider acting upon. And yet, you treat your sister as poorly as the Gorgon Queens of my world treated one another. So I ask, why?"

"Your world?" Stheno turned an accusing glare on Medusa.

Who sighed, her hair falling to hide her face. "You asked what 'rock' I found him under?" She glanced at Kratos, who nodded. "Kratos isn't from this world at all. All of this, this Singularity, that ring of light in the air, and my being his Servant is tied up in a larger thing that will hopefully get him back to his world, in the end - along with restoring Humanity."

"Well, well," came a voice from farther down the beach, where the old man had dragged a rickety looking chair from within his shack, and had sprawled himself in it, his chin resting on his fist. "Isn't that one of the more interesting things I've heard in awhile? Explains this whole United Roman nonsense - not that one Rome wasn't bad enough. But it explains why there's now two of the festering hives."

Stheno ignored him. "So, did my brute of a sister kill me in your world, as well?"

Kratos grunted. "So the story goes. The Medusa of my Greece slew Stheno to become Queen of the Gorgons. Later, after I slew her, your other sister attempted to avenge her death. While they were monsters, she still cursed me for slaying her kin."

His eyes narrowed. "And while her form was hideous and twisted, she still showed more concern for her sister than you show for yours. I believe I would prefer her company to yours - and she wished me dead."

He turned away from her, dismissively, and she felt a spark of rage ignite within herself. Her useless sister was standing frozen, unable or unwilling to defend her against this….insolent MAN'S words.

(In truth, Medusa's mind had blanked at hearing Euryale described as 'hideous and twisted'.)

She was Stheno, oldest of the Gorgon sisters, and a GODDESS. She would NOT be talked to this way.

She reached out with her powers, seeking the man's heart. A simple caress, like all other men, whether they were mortal or not, and he would be hers. Then she would show him.

"Sister, NO!"

She ignored the oaf's words, and felt her powers sinking into the man, seeking the core of his emotion. Where all his loves, all his hates, all his desires, the sum of his being rested. It was there, she could feel it. Strangely muted - at least compared to her recent conquests, who had been so loud, and proud, and foolishly mortal. But it was there. She focused, and reached out to claim it, to add another to her list of willing minions. The tips of her fingers brushed his heart.

And nothing happened.

She touched it again, and again, and still nothing. His heart, it was like it was encased in steel - or, more correctly, like there was something protecting it. A memory - a memory of love.

For a second, she got an image, that of a woman, hair a red strawberry-blonde, staring at someone (Kratos) with eyes brimming with fondness and love - love that was matched only by the love she felt coming from the person she was staring at.

Then a wall of red erupted in front of her, her ears were filled with a howling chorus of voices screaming their anger at the skies, and she was sent flying back to herself, and her sister was screaming, and a thin trail of blood was leaking from her nose.

"Kratos? KRATOS! NO, PLEASE!"

She was hoisted in the air, her face inches from that of the god's. There was a fury in his eyes that, for the first time in millenia, made her feel tiny. His nostrils were wide, as he heaved breaths into his lungs, and his face was twisted into a rictus of pure rage.

And a blade was at her neck.

Her useless sister was pulling fruitlessly at the god's arms. The wind shifted, and she caught a whiff of something off the weapon that was held up to her neck - old blood, ashes, and something else, something horrible and foul. And suddenly, she was honestly, truly scared.

Another hand placed itself on the god's shoulder. "Son, she ain't worth it. Kid did something stupid, but she doesn't deserve to die for it. And do you really want to kill her in front of her sister?"

The god growled, then took a shuddering breath, and dropped her to the ground, where she landed with none of her usual grace. Her thralls had clustered around her, whimpering and offering to brush the sand from her clothes, or help her up, but she ignored them. She had eyes only for that short blade that was still clutched in the god's hand. "What IS that…..THING?"

The god was still breathing deeply, visibly wrestling himself back under control - her sister still clinging to his arm, even though he'd released his hold on Stheno. Slowly, fury still radiating off of him, he slid the dagger back into a harness on his back. "The Blades of Chaos." His eyes fell on her, and she could see the rage there, only barely held back. "Attempt to control me in such a way again, and I cannot promise what will happen to you."

"Probably would help if you apologized, too." The old man almost looked amused at her state. "Because that was pretty stupid of you, brat. Bad enough what you do to the men who end up here, but trying that trick on something like him?"

Medusa had released the god's arm and was crouched by her side, hovering there, hands flitting about aimlessly in front of her - wanting to touch her sister, to confirm she was alright, but afraid to do so. "Sister….what were you THINKING?"

Her gigantic sister must have been concerned, if she was talking to her like that. Some part of Stheno (a very, VERY small part) began to realize she may have made a bit of a miscalculation. And while it galled every inch of her, her ally of convenience was right. "I…..am sorry. I should not have done that."

Even she wasn't sure how much of that she honestly meant, and from the look in the god's eyes, he had similar thoughts, but at least the hostility that had been choking the air dissipated, at least a little. Carefully, she allowed her pets to help her to her feet, wincing a bit as she moved her right arm - she was going to bruise a bit where the god had grabbed her by her shoulder and lifted her up, but she would heal quickly, the dual blessings of being divine and a Servant would see to that.

The old nuisance had his arms crossed. "So, to get back to a question I asked before you arrived, what can get you two off this island? Hopefully before there's any further excitement of the same kind as we just saw?"

Medusa glanced at Kratos, who was in no mood to speak, and began talking. "We're looking for something to help us against the United Roman Empire. They have a Servant, Iskandar, bound to them, and his assistant is convinced there's something here that can set him free, or otherwise help us against the United Roman Empire." She shrugged. "There were auguries that indicated as such, at least."

The old man gave a low whistle. "Iskandar. Now that is a hell of a name. I can see why you'd want him on your side, rather than having to fight him."

Stheno smiled, as she felt a measure of control returning to the situation, and, by that measure, to her. "I may know of what you're looking for." At Medusa's confused look, she waved her finger in the air. "It's something newly come to the island, sister, like the old man there. But it's hidden, and only I know where it is." She licked her lips. "I could see to guiding you there, IF you do me a favor, first."

Kratos' eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch back - she had something they wanted. After a bit of a staring contest, he grunted. "What would this favor entail?"

She smiled, sweetly. "The old man, these rabble," she lightly smacked one of her toys on the head, and he burbled happily. "And the thing you want aren't the only things to come to this island in recent days. There's also a vicious beast that's made a nest here. And without my towering brute of a sister, who kept us safe for all those years, there's been nothing I can do about it, other than to let it be and hope it doesn't bother us. It hasn't, yet."

Her voice was pure honey. "It would do me good to know the thing is dealt with, so a frail goddess like myself didn't have to worry about it eating me one evening, when it stumbled into my home."

Both her sister and her god flicked their eyes over to the old man. "She's telling the truth. Thing doesn't like the beach much, so it's not any of my concern, so I can't be bothered to deal with it. The deal the girl and I made only concerned any damn Romans who showed up here, not monsters."

Kratos frowned. "And the item we seek?"

The man shrugged. "That I don't know anything about. I don't bother going inland - too much trouble. She's probably got a host of secrets I know nothing about, so it could be true. Whatever signs your friend read in the entrails, or the bones he cast, the fires, or whatever method he used seem to say there's something here, after all."

Kratos and Medusa exchanged a look. "Very well," he rumbled.

Stheno clapped her hands together, her grin growing wider. "Wonderful! Then follow me." She ascended to her throne, and with a tap on the shoulder of one of her men, was once again lifted into the air.

"Boy, a word before you go,"

Kratos turned back to the old man, one of his eyebrows slightly raised. "Yes, you. It won't take but a minute, you'll be able to catch up with them, long as your legs are. And it's not like the little goddess is moving quickly."

Medusa shrugged, as she trailed behind the throne and its bearers. "And there's our connection, you can use that to find me if it takes longer than you expect."

Kratos grunted, but nodded, and a moment later, the procession had moved out of sight. "You wished to speak." He turned to face the Servant. "Speak."

The old man chuckled. "Gruff one, aren't you? But I can respect that." His hand reached up to cup his chin and stroke the point of his beard. "I assume I don't need to tell you this, but don't trust a word that crosses that goddess' lips. I'd trust one of those Roman whoresons before her."

"I do NOT trust her, old one." Stheno felt more like one of the Gorgons of his home - dangerous and hostile, though much less of a physical threat than the serpent women that were such a menace to his Greece. "If she is so untrustworthy, why do you tolerate this alliance you have with her?"

The Servant smirked. "Two things in life, lad, that make for the strangest of bedfellows. War, and necessity. This one's the latter. I ended up here, and, to put it plainly, it's HER island more than it's mine. So I made nice with the local deity since we both had an interest in keeping this place quiet."

He sighed, and leaned his head back, staring skyward. "With the two of you showing up here, I begin to wonder if that wasn't possibly a doomed endeavor all along."

Kratos grunted, and turned to go, but then paused. "Why warn me?"

The old man shrugged. "Call it instincts, or a gut feeling, or maybe just the wisdom of an old man who was destined for a lifetime of war after a somewhat reckless oath in their youth. But you have a look about you that makes you feel like we're kindred spirits of a sort. I look at you, and I see someone who, like me, is tired of fighting. You, however, kept going - for what sounds like a noble cause - where I stopped. Makes me wonder about some things."

He turned and began walking down the beach, back to his shack. "But don't take me too seriously, son. Just a damn fool old man, in the end. You hurry up and get caught up with that Servant of yours. Best to not leave her to the tender mercies of her sister for too long."

---

Kratos caught up quickly - they really had not moved too far inland in the time it had taken the old man to impart his wisdom - if that was what it was.

Thankfully, Medusa didn't look any worse for wear when he arrived. Neither sister was talking to each other, however. Stheno was firmly facing forward, never once looking back at Medusa, while Medusa seemed almost anxious, looking for an excuse to say something, but also dreading it. All the while she was glancing around, refamiliarizing herself with the place that had once been her home.

It was only once they'd turned down a beaten path that Medusa spoke. "Sister? You aren't taking us…?"

Stheno nodded. "Yes, to the cave. It seems to like it down there, spends most of its time in the dark - only ventures out at night, and then, only occasionally. If I wasn't certain it would stumble on my home before long, I'd be content to leave it be." They could both hear the smile in her voice. "How fortunate for me that you showed up when you did."

The men bearing her throne drew to a stop. "Now that you've figured out where you need to go, there's little point in me getting any closer to that creature. Come find me when you've disposed of it."

The throne and its carriers turned, and began moving away from the path that led to the cave. "I won't be hard to find, once you're finished. I'll be in my sister's garden, waiting."

Medusa flinched. "Sister…could you not wait somewhere else?"

"Whyever would I do that? I always liked that place. Seeing the lengths my dear sister would go to protect us always comforted me, when I would think of all the things the men of the world wished to do to myself and me." Airly she waved, and then the underbrush swallowed her up.

Kratos felt unease settle about him like a cloak. He did not like this. "What is this cave?" he asked, as they resumed moving, Medusa in the lead.

"It's a cave - more like a system of them, under the island. We never went there much - there was a leyline that ran under the island, but because of how close we were to one of the entrances to the Underworld, the mana flowing through it wasn't the most healthy or pure." She frowned. "It was one of those heroes who was seeking the Underworld who first stumbled on our home - and I was younger then, less capable of defeating his kind. And less willing to kill, as well. He got away, and from there, word began to spread of the two goddesses here held hostage by a monster."

"That's where it all began, the endless stream of warriors coming to 'rescue' them, and from there, everything spiraled out of control." She didn't have to elaborate further - her story was no secret to him, not after all this time. "The caves are large enough that anything could be down there. And my sister's unwillingness to fight it does not narrow it down, as neither of my older sisters ever wished to get their hands dirty in such a manner. It could be something as simple as a rabid wolf, or something as dangerous as a hydra." She shrugged. "I assume the fires in your Blades would at least serve to cauterize those heads, in that case."

"I do not know. The one I killed was merely a lesser descendant of the one Heracles killed. It did not regrow heads as that one did - nor was the greatest head immortal." He remembered that day, and with a feeling of shame, remembered the Boat Captain, and how he treated that man. Just one more act of pointless, petty cruelty in a lifetime of them, it felt like. "That was the last labor I did for the gods as their servant. My steps then took me towards another goal - vengeance upon Ares."

"And I feel it brought you as much joy as it did for me, when I finally had strength enough to protect my sisters." There was a note of sorrow in Medusa's voice. "It is often said the cruelest thing you can do to a person is to give them exactly what they want."

Nothing else was said until they reached the entrance to the caves. Kratos could almost understand what Medusa meant by them - even the opening gave off a feeling of a place that was unwholesome, akin to many other places Kratos had ventured to in his time.

Medusa, for her part, was sniffing the air. "Rotten meat. Not a strong odor, but it's there. Doesn't help us with identifying whatever is down there - thank you for that, sister. But it does make me wonder what is causing that smell. There isn't much game on the Shapeless Isle, and the old man said it didn't care for the beaches. So, what could be rotting down there?"

"It is possible the creature died, and we will have to do nothing," Kratos did not bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice, and Medusa, he felt, was rolling her eyes at him behind her blindfold. Neither expected they would get that lucky.

"I can continue to lead, if you want, but my memories of the caves are hazy, at best," offered Medusa.

"No, I will lead. I have the shield, and the confines of the cave will limit your ability to dodge," said Kratos, unfolding his shield as he did so.

Medusa nodded, and together, they descended into the depths.

It was, like most caves in Kratos' experience, dark, and cold. And wet - the humidity of the island causing the ceiling to drip with water at scattered intervals. The light source on Kratos' belt came to life instantly, preventing Kratos from having to stumble about in the dark - Medusa having no need for the light.

'I can smell some kind of animal musk now that we're inside,' Medusa's voice in his mind was quiet, whispering even though it was unnecessary. 'But nothing immediately familiar.'

Kratos pointed. 'Hair, caught on the rocks, there.' It was only a few strands, but it seemed to indicate the animal it had come from was large enough that it had brushed against the walls as it made its way through the tunnels. As the tunnels were moderately spacious, that meant they were dealing with something very, very big.

As quietly as possible, they continued deeper into the cave. Kratos had the Leviathan Axe drawn, and Medusa had summoned her stakes. 'Blood.' Now it was her turn to point. 'A trail, as if something was dragged - not much disturbance, so whatever it was was probably already dead.'

At least it gave them a more solid path to follow. The cave system wasn't sprawling like the one beneath the burning city, but there were enough forks and side chambers that without the tracks of blood they might have wasted a fair amount of time investigating dead-ends.

Kratos could begin to smell the reek of decomposing flesh in the air, as well.

They had entered a tight tunnel when it erupted from the darkness, roaring in three voices. Flame, two separate jets erupted, and Kratos shoved himself fully in front of Medusa, the fires licking on his shield. The light on his waist flickered over its form as he moved, but it was a creature he would recognize anywhere.

"Chimera!" shouted Medusa, all need for quiet gone. "How did something like that get here?"

Kratos was backing up - he could not possibly fight in such a narrow corridor, and even if he could, it would completely limit what aid Medusa could offer. There was a larger chamber behind them that would suffice for their purposes.

They just had to survive until they reached it.

A hissing maw of fangs rushed at his face, and he swatted it aside with the flat of his axe, unable to bring the edge to bear quickly enough due to the low light. Claws raked across his shield, pushing him back and inadvertently aiding him by moving him closer to the end of the corridor. A stake hurtled through the air, and there was the sound of metal stabbing into flesh, and a roar of pain. The stake tore free, and Kratos leapt up and seized it, then allowed Medusa's strength to yank him out of the corridor, and to her. He had only just landed on his feet when the monster burst forth, hot on his heels, and he got his first good look at the thing.

It was almost as large as the ones he had fought. Its muscles were swollen and distended, and even in this larger chamber, it barely seemed to fit, the tops of its heads almost scraping the ceiling. There was a madness in its eyes, and froth oozed from the lips of the lion's head. The goat's head was braying continually, spittle flying from its jaws. And the snake's head was weaving through the air, its eyes never leaving Kratos.

As the thing was fully revealed, he noticed something. There were…nubs, or growths on the monster's body. Some looked like little more than warts, or blemishes, but others resembled….heads.

Human heads.

As the creature turned to more fully face both Kratos and Medusa, the goat's head shifted, and Kratos saw what could only be a fully formed human head, eyes empty and vacant, that had sprouted from the thing's back. Its mouth opened, and it moaned mindlessly.

Medusa saved him the trouble of asking the question that was on his lips. "What IS this thing? How did it get like….this?" Disgust was evident in the Servant's body language, her entire weight settled back onto her heels, ready to move at the slightest movement from the twisted abomination.

The chimera roared, and suddenly, the chamber was awash in fire, as the lion's head spat out a wave of flame. Medusa left the ground, leaping to the ceiling and clinging there, while Kratos was forced to again huddle behind his shield and weather the storm.

The second the fire abated, he struck.

Kratos rushed forward, this time able to get the edge of the Leviathan Axe up in time to cut into the snake head, which retreated, hissing, with a broken fang leaking venom. A raised paw was suddenly pinned to the floor by a thrown stake, and the beast was momentarily off-balance.

Kratos crashed into it. The stake tore through its foot as it was pushed back, the goat's head squalling in pain. The Leviathan Axe cut through the darkness and dug deeply into the left shoulder of the forepaws. Before he could tear it free, or twist it to enlarge the wound, a mouthful of teeth flew forward, and Kratos shoved his shield into the lion's mouth, stopping it.

The jaws of the king of beasts closed about his shield, the roar muffled by the metal. Then the muscles of its neck flexed, and Kratos was hurled into the air, his body crashing into the ceiling.

Stalactites and rocks rained down to the floor, alongside Kratos' body as he fell. The goat's head brayed a discordant note, and a ball of fire rushed up to meet the Spartan's form. He felt the familiar sensation of a chain wrapping around his arm, then he was yanked out of the way, passing underneath Medusa, and landing on the far side of the chamber. Their eyes met for a split second, and he nodded, then Medusa was spinning out of the way as the snake head darted for her. Its fangs narrowly missed her - and the glob of venom it spat came even closer to the woman's flesh, but still did not connect. Her legs scissored as they snapped a kick into the serpentine head, sending it flying away.

The Leviathan Axe twirled end over end and a shift of the monster's body caused it to fly past the goat's head, instead burying itself into the malformed human head right above the chimera's spine - if it felt that at all, it gave no sign. The head itself slumped lifelessly, but the creature itself did not seem to notice in the slightest. Nor did it react when the Leviathan Axe tore itself free and returned to Kratos' hand.

The goat's head gave another mad warble that was abruptly cut off as Medusa flew past, body a thin spear as she threaded the needle of teeth and flame - though she did lash out with a kick as she sped by, snapping off one of the goat's horns. She slid to a halt behind the monster, twirling out of the way of the snake's fangs even as she landed. A stake plunged into the body of the snake, scales giving way before sharply pointed metal, but the hooved hind legs reared up and kicked, and Medusa was a hair too slow.

She managed to turn and let one blow glance off her shoulder, but the other hoof caught her flush in the chest, knocking her to her knees. The snake hissed in her face, and like quicksilver, she fell prone, the caustic poison spat from the snake's mouth splashing through her hair and eating away at it.

Whatever follow-up it had been intending was foiled by the sudden application of a few hundred pounds of roaring Spartan in its face. The chimera managed a short gasp of fire, one that washed over Kratos, but he did not stop , the Spartan accepting the hit to allow himself to bury his axe into the lion's skull.

The bone was thick, and hard. His axe proved the stronger, but the incredible resilience of the chimera's skull robbed the strike of some of its power, enough to turn what would have been a likely killing blow into one that merely wounded. He tore the axe free as the injured beast lunged forward, seeking to overbear him and take him to the ground. The claws gouged trails into the stone of the cave floor as it rushed at him, swiping at his flesh. Blood poured down the monster's face as it roared point blank at Kratos, battle lust completely filling the lion's eyes.

Claws, teeth, fire, and the sheer body weight of the creature. Kratos blocked, dodged, and worked his axe in a familiar dance - he had fought chimeras before, and while this one's heads seemed to exist in greater harmony with one another than the ones of his world, it was, in the end, still largely just a beast.

The thing lunged at the same time Kratos' foot touched the wall of the cave. Out of room to maneuver, he ducked and rolled forward. The monster's claws raked strips of flesh from his back, but he avoided the greater danger of being crushed against the wall by the thing's greater bulk.

Kratos surged to his feet, arms reaching up and seizing the monster. It thrashed and roared, but he ignored its cries, and lifted. His legs tensed, and then he leaped.

The chamber shuddered as the monster crashed into the ceiling. Stalactites speared into its body, and rank-smelling blood began to drip down on Kratos.

He dropped to the ground, the chimera falling a moment later, sliding off the stone spears it had been impaled upon. The Blades of Chaos were in his hands, and the beast's weight and momentum drove them into its body, almost up to Kratos' wrists. His knees bowed as he absorbed the weight of the chimera, then he hurled it across the room, the chimera tumbling as it crashed into the wall.

Medusa appeared by his side as he heaved breaths into his lungs. The chimera, too, was breathing heavily as it staggered to its feet, a pool of blood growing beneath it. The goat's head hung limply, the neck having been snapped either when it impacted the wall, or as it had rolled across the cave floor. The snake head was still alive, though its movements were far less crisp and energetic than they had been. Of the three, the lion's head seemed the least damaged - the mad fury still blazed in its eyes.

Not that Kratos or Medusa were undamaged. His skin was singed from the fire, though his divine constitution had resisted it somewhat. He could feel blood coating his back from where the chimera had raked him, and a trickle of blood had leaked from Medusa's mouth - possibly broken bones or internal injuries from where she had been kicked. And her shoulder that had weathered a glancing blow from the hooves was turning an ugly shade of purple.

Their eyes met (in as much as they could, given her blindfold), and they moved.

The chimera roared, and met their charge, only to jerk to a sudden stop. Metal rattled, and chains shimmered into being around the snake head, binding it, further chains twining around the various stone formations in the chamber. It bellowed, then, with a tearing sound, ripped itself free, leaving the snake head behind to dangle lifelessly in the chains. Pure rage filled its body as it charged, the pain and anger urging it on to kill these things that had caused it such harm.

But it had lost a critical second from Medusa's distraction, and Kratos was one step faster for it.

The Leviathan Axe crashed into its skull, the Spartan's full weight and force behind it, and this time, the bone was as paper to the weapon. A wet crunching sound filled the chamber, and the monster's momentum became pure dead weight, as it flopped to the ground. It roared weakly, still trying to push forward, its claws scrabbling at the stone floor. Kratos was pushed back several feet, but remained standing.

Growling, Kratos planted a foot on the monster's head, driving it into the floor, tightened his grip on the axe, and twisted it, blade still dug deeply into the beast's head. There was a series of cracks, each one louder than the other, and finally, the fight left the chimera. Its body slowly slumped down, legs splayed in a pattern no living thing could hold for long.

Kratos grunted and pulled the Leviathan Axe from the chimera's skull, and felt his wounds begin to assert themselves, now that the chaos of battle was fading. He glanced at Medusa, a question in his eyes.

"Shoulder's bruised, but it doesn't feel broken," She rotated her left arm around, with only minimal winces of pain. "My chest doesn't feel like anything's broken either, just cracked - but it kicked me pretty hard. I should be fine in a day or two. And it shouldn't keep me from summoning or riding Pegasus." She fixed him with a gaze. "How are you holding up?"

Kratos grunted. "The burns are minor, as are the wounds to my back. I will heal."

Medusa glanced at his back, and shook her head. "Possible we should bandage those, but you know your body best. If they're still bleeding by the time we get out of here, I might have to insist - we should probably wash them regardless."

Kratos made a noise that could be taken, in some lights, as assent, and she turned to the chimera. "More pressingly - what in the hells happened to this thing?"

Kratos slid the Blades back into their sheathes and looked down on the chimera's still form. "Then this is not how these beasts are, in this world?" he asked.

"No!" said Medusa. "They're not common by any means, but the few I've seen were never this big. And the human heads growing from it - I've never even HEARD of that." She turned a worried gaze on him. "Is this possibly something from your side of things?"

Kratos shook his head. "No. While the chimeras of my Greece were larger, their heads did not work as well together as this one's did. It was a constant battle of dominance between them. I do not believe this to be a chimera from my Greece."

"Then what…" Medusa poked the body with the toe of her boot, then shook her head. "No. It's nest, or lair, or whatever must be deeper in the cave. Let's see what we can find there. It might have answers." She sighed. "And we should be certain there's no more of these things in here. I wouldn't want to go back to my sister only to be told we hadn't finished the job. She loves giving lectures whenever I leave something half-finished. Or not done to her standards."

Kratos said nothing, not fully trusting his tongue where the other Gorgon sister was concerned. Leaving the body behind, they returned to the narrow tunnel where it had first appeared, and continued deeper into the cave.

Medusa's nose wrinkled in disgust. "We're getting close."

The creature had apparently made its nest only a short ways away from the passage where it had ambushed them. There was a pile of shed hair and scales clustered around what was likely the spot it slept in. The walls showed signs of having been used to hone the creature's claws. And there was a pile of bodies, some half-eaten, in one corner of the room.

Human bodies.

Medusa drew close to the pile and sniffed at the charnel stench coming from them. "Homunculi. I can smell the extra chemicals in their blood, now that it's so concentrated and….fresher." She frowned. "Eating all that meat, tainted with whatever steroids or growth hormones the United Roman Empire was using to get these things to mature so quickly must have made it grow out of control."

"And the heads?"

A stormy expression was forming on Medusa's face. "Chimera are patchwork creatures as it is. I assume eating created humans like this had some sort of reaction in this one. Some combination of the things that caused this one to get so massive, and the other artificial parts of a Homunculi's blood and flesh. Maybe something to do with the Leyline running under this cave, as well."

Kratos blinked. There was something in her voice… "You are troubled. Why?"

Medusa gave a frustrated sigh, still staring at the pile of bodies. "How did these all get here? Some Homunculi would have survived the shipwrecks, but both my sister and that man said the chimera largely stayed in the caves. And any Homunculi would have been gathered up by my sister like she did the human officers."

Her expression was conflicted. "And she never mentioned being attacked by it - which is the only way it could have gotten these to eat. Unless….." She turned to look at Kratos. "I think she was feeding this thing, to keep it in the caves."

Kratos, already ill-disposed towards the goddess, felt something dangerous move inside of him. "Do you think she meant for us to die here? To become food for it?"

Medusa gave a bone-weary sigh. "I don't think so." She shrugged, seeing his incredulous expression. "Really, I don't. My sisters never liked getting their hands dirty, and fighting something like this - you heard her. A 'frail goddess' like her isn't suited for killing beasts and monsters. Without me here to take care of these kinds of problems, it's what I could see her doing. Stalling for time until a viable solution presented itself, rather than throwing her men at it and hoping for the best. And possibly having to fight the thing herself if that didn't work."

She fidgeted. "And, I also think this was some kind of test. For you. To see if you're worthy of me."

Her face was flushed, as she held up a hand, stopping whatever he was about to say. "I know we're not. It's no secret you still love your wife dearly, Kratos - it's obvious to anyone who knows you well enough. But my sister….I think she just sees me repeating the same mistakes I made with Poseidon - no matter what I say about how that isn't how things are. So she threw me into a situation with you where she probably thought you'd abandon me like he did, in an attempt to make me realize what a fool I was being, again."

The thing of it was, the logic made a twisted kind of sense. No few of the Olympians of his land had used logic of a similar bent to justify their actions. Gods. Just when he thought he had no new reasons to hate them. "And if you died, as a result of this?"

Medusa gave a small shrug. "I'm a Servant, Kratos. Little more than a very powerful ghost, in the grand scheme of things. We've all died once, and no matter what happens, at the end of this, even if I survive this war we're in, I'll be sent back to the Throne at some point, essentially dying again. It won't be the first time, nor will it be the last."

She gave a sad little smile. "Dying is what we Servants do best, after all."

---

His wounds had partially closed by the time they exited the cave, but Medusa insisted they be cleaned before reporting back to her sister. The salt water stung more than the injuries had, at the time. Thankfully, he did not feel the familiar throb of poison from the cuts.

Poison was always unpleasant.

He could see the Servant beginning to withdraw into herself again as she led him inland, her legs moving automatically on a path she had apparently walked many a time before. She was moving quickly, her shoulders set in a resigned line - likely looking to get this done as quickly as possible.

In no time at all, they were there.

It was largely as he expected (Cu Chulainn had mentioned that the corrupted version of this Servant from the Grail War he had been a part of had created something similar in one of the homes there) - a clear glade in the middle of what passed for a forest on the Shapeless Isle. Statues filled the space - almost all of them men, armored and bearing weapons. Some had been frozen in the middle of combat, weapons raised, faces a picture of determination. Others, however, were forever stuck huddling on the ground, their expressions ones of fear and terror.

Stheno was there, having left her throne to walk around the mass of fallen heroes, a smile on her face. She turned her head as they entered the clearing. "Do you remember this one, sister?" She ran her hand along the man's petrified face, fingertips trailing across his angry visage. "The very first one of these 'heroes' you froze like this. He was one of the earliest to come to our island, seeking to take myself and me away. You thought turning him into a statue and leaving him on the beach would serve as enough of a warning to others to make them turn away."

"It didn't," mumbled Medusa.

"No, it didn't. We all underestimated how much they resented you, thinking you were keeping two goddesses like myself hostage on this island. If anything, it made them more determined." An ugly look came into her eyes, and she poked the former hero in his stomach, causing the statue to wobble. "He learned his lesson, in the end. Would that the others would have taken that lesson to heart."

She sighed airily. "But from there, it all fell apart. The endless stream of heroes, everything with Athena and Poseidon, your increasing desperation to protect us. It's nice, at least, to stand here in your garden and remember when things were simpler." A smile that almost seemed genuine blossomed on her face. "And to remember how hard my giant of a sister worked to keep us safe."

"The creature is dead," growled Kratos, his skin crawling with every second he was in the presence of this goddess.

The girl that was not a girl clapped her hands delightedly. "Wonderful! I was beginning to think I would run out of things to feed it before something arrived to deal with it - that old pest on the beach being completely useless for that." She snapped her fingers, and her throne bearers began approaching, carrying her seat. "I suppose that means you want me to fulfill my end of the bargain?"

A narrowing of Kratos' eyes was the only answer she would receive, but it was enough. "Very well. Follow." She climbed up onto her pedestal and bid her servants to begin walking. After a moment, she heard the two of them following. Her sister's surprisingly quiet footfalls and the much more audible stomps of the god.

At least they were otherwise quiet, though she could feel the god's stare boring into her back. How painfully direct he was. However he'd won her stupid little sister over, it wasn't with honeyed words, that much she felt certain of, by now.

And he hadn't run when confronted by the chimera, either. He'd even taken wounds for his trouble, and there was still blood clinging to his wrists - not his own blood, either. Though her sister wasn't unscathed either - she was moving a touch gingerly, favoring her left shoulder.

(Maybe, just maybe, said a small, quiet part of her brain, there was something to the nonsense her sister had been spouting.)

Medusa's head tilted as they began a gradual ascent. "The hill? Why here? There must be half a dozen better places to hide something in the woods, sister."

Stheno smirked. "It wasn't my choice. You'll see, just have a touch of patience, sister."

A few moments later, and she held a hand up. She had her pets swivel her around so that she was half-facing her sister and the god, and gestured forward. "Go ahead - hold out your hands and try to climb higher." She sighed at the sheer lack of trust she was receiving from their expressions. Though her sister was more displaying worried caution - as if she was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underneath her. "No, really. This isn't a trick, just a demonstration."

Tentatively, Medusa reached out her hand, slowly edging forward, until her hand stopped, splaying against something. Her eyebrows shot up above her blindfold. "A Bounded Field? No?" Her hand pressed against the barrier, careful not to cross the dividing line that would cause it to trigger, if it was rigged to react in such a manner. "It's…more than one. I can't count how many, but there's layers upon layers here. If we had just blundered into this, I can't imagine what would have happened."

She looked over her shoulder. "This isn't your handiwork, sister."

"No, no it is not. Magecraft of this potency was never among my many talents." She reached up and tugged at a thong that had been hanging around her neck, on the end of which rested a crystalline key. "This will allow access through the Bounded Fields. Keep close - you don't want to see what happens if you stray."

It was a much more clustered group that made its way up the rest of the hill. As they passed the first barrier, reality shimmered and a small hut rippled into being at the top of the hill. It was surprisingly cozy-looking, especially compared to the hardscrabble shack being built on the beach. A chimney was emitting a thin strand of smoke into the sky, and an awning cast shade over a pair of chairs and a small table that overlooked a view of the beach. There was even a garden resting behind the hut, fenced, and with a handful of plants sprouting from the soil.

When they were about halfway to the peak, Stheno halted the procession. "There, we're past all the Bounded Fields now. I'll leave the two of you to it, then." Her men began turning her throne around, and she sighed at the looks she was getting. "The Fields are only there to keep people out, not to trap them in. You'll be able to leave with no issue." She frowned. "And if you're really looking to make a good impression, it's best I not be there. She and I don't exactly mix well."

They might have had more to say, but she wasn't listening. "Good luck!" she tossed over her shoulder as she was carried down the hill.

Kratos and Medusa watched her go, matching exasperated frowns on their faces. "Your sister….." growled Kratos.

"I know. Believe me, I know. She's not….good at dealing with people other than myself and Euryale. Let's just get this taken care of," she began walking to the door of the hut. "We are on a deadline, after all."

She was right, in the end. The sooner he could put his back to this island, the better. As repugnant as he found the oldest Gorgon Sister, both his allies in Chaldea and Leonidas were depending on them finding whatever this El-Melloi had seen in his scrying was here.

He marched up to the door and banged heavily on it.

There was the sound of movement from within the hut. "What? What has you in such a temper today?" The door was pulled open, and a pair of blue-violet eyes peered questioningly at her guests.

A woman - a Servant. Hair the same color as her eyes was pinned up in a bun and restrained by a pair of sticks. A purple robe wrapped around her body, with a cloak of a darker color resting across her shoulders, the hood pulled back. Her ears were pointed, the tips jutting out from where her hair had been pulled back.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "And what, might I ask, does the youngest Gorgon Sister want with me?" She glanced at Kratos. "And who is…?"

She paused, taking a longer look at him.

And gasped.

"WHERE did you find a GOD, Medusa?" A shiver ran through her body. "His kind shouldn't even be able to exist here - not now!"

Medusa bowed her head politely. "Hello, Medea. This is Kratos. He isn't from this world."

If anything, that seemed to unsettle the woman more. Medusa looked over to Kratos and nodded. "The auguries were correct - she is exactly what we would need. Our paths have crossed before in the past….or the future." She shrugged. "Her Noble Phantasm is capable of undoing all magical contracts - including those between a Master and a Servant."

Medea. The Witch who, when abandoned by Jason, wreaked her vengeance upon him in the blood of their children. What he did in madness, she did by choice.

For a second, Spartan Rage HOWLED within him, rattling the bars of the cage he kept it in.

Whatever he was feeling must have shown on his face, as the witch took a tentative step back. "What….what WAS that?" Her eyes narrowed. "Something in you just tried to get out…..what the HELLS kind of god are you?" She continued to stare at him. "And there's a curse over you, as well. A very, very old one. And…"

"I am a man who became a god," he said, cutting her off (strangely enough, something he had done in the past with Da Vinci when the woman had begun a similar tangent/rant). "That is all you need to know." He tried to soften his voice somewhat, as they were standing on the woman's doorstep, and needed her aid. "May we come in and speak with you?"

There was a brief moment when he thought he would be rejected outright - and possibly would have the door slammed in his face. But at last, she relented, though not without some grumbling. "Fine, come in. But don't touch anything, I'm in the middle of brewing something, so you'll have to make do with only a fraction of my attention."

She turned and walked back into her home and Medusa, shrugging, followed after her, Kratos just behind.

The inside was strikingly familiar to Kratos, at least on a surface level. Dried herbs and other plants hung from the rafters, while a cauldron bubbled over the fire pit. The shelves and tables were littered with scraps of parchment and various other paraphernalia. But for all the clutter, there was an order to it - in that, it was different from the more general chaos that Freya kept her home in a state of.

Still, it was obvious a witch lived here. Kratos felt a pang in himself as he wondered how his ally - no, his friend - was doing. How much time had passed on his world in the month he had been in this one? They were likely worried, and none more so than her and Mimir would be.

Medea walked to the caludon and peered into it. She picked up a ladle and carefully began (or resumed) stirring the mixture. "You'll have to stand. I don't really entertain so there's no concessions for guests. And the one chair is occupied." Indeed, it was holding a handful of glass vials in a rack, all stoppered by cork. Empty, for the time being. Likely waiting to hold whatever potion Medea was brewing, if it came out correctly.

She scooped up a small amount of whatever she was crafting in the ladle and took a sniff of it, then poured the liquid back into the cauldron. "It's stable enough for now, so be quick about it. What do you want? I assume it has something to do with the Singularity that has gripped this point in time?"

"You are aware this is a Singularity?" asked Kratos.

Medea barked out a mocking little laugh. "It was obvious when I first heard of a second Roman Empire from the men that washed up on the beaches here. And that's not even touching the ring of light in the sky - powerful magic created that, whatever it is. It was easy enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together and figure out that something happened to history itself." She tapped the ladle on the side of the cauldron. "The information I got from the Throne upon my summons here never said anything about a second Roman Empire, after all."

"You are correct. We are here to do something about that." Medusa glanced around. "Forgive the stupid question, but I assume the Bounded Fields prevent any form of magical spying?"

Medea gave a dismissive nod. "Of course. Which begs the question of how you knew to look for me here."

"We have an ally on the inside of the United Roman Empire. He did some scrying, and everything pointed to 'something' relevant to our mission being here."

Medea groaned. "Scrying. Just unreliable enough to be too bothersome to bother warding against, but the one time I don't…" She shook her head, and turned back to her cauldron.

Medusa continued. "The conditions for his help, in fact, rely on us finding a way to break the Servant Contract he finds himself, and his…King, I guess, under." Medusa glanced at Kratos. "There is also a Servant that Kratos has a vested interest in seeing freed from his bonds as well. I think you can see why all the signs led us to you."

"Yes," said Medea. "The signs did not point wrong, in this case. But what of it?" She glanced over her shoulder at the two of them. "I'm not some high-minded idealist - aiding a Master, so long as they're not some brute or monster is one thing, but being summoned by the land like this means I have the freedom to make my own choices. Or to ask the question of 'what's in it for me?' " Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not merely a tool, despite what Mages might think of Servants."

"On that, at least, we agree," rumbled Kratos. Medea's raised, disbelieving eyebrow was the only response to his statement. "Servants….," he began. "You are little more than slaves. As one who once suffered that fate, I would not wish it upon another."

Medea glanced over to Medusa, who nodded. "That explains how you tamed this one, and have her showing emotion, and otherwise acting like something other than a doll. Not that she wouldn't make for a pretty one."

Medusa subtly bristled - Kratos assumed it was something in the two women's shared past. "What would it cost us to gain your aid, Medea?"

The woman pursed her lips, finger tapping against them. "I can't imagine you would have anything I would want that you'd be willing to part with. You seem far too distrustful to ever give your blood to a witch - the blood of a god would be an excellent catalyst or reagent for any number of things, but it could also be used to do incredible harm in the right hands - like mine." She looked him over. "Nor would I expect you to part with either of those weapons - not that I think I'd want anything to do with those short blades of yours. The ring is interesting, but given how you're scowling, that is probably a non-starter as well. And the trinket on your belt, while interesting and foreign, looks to be far too simple of an item to be of any true value to me."

Kratos felt Medusa's string in his mind quiver. 'Kratos, didn't you once say you saw the Jason of your world die? She hates Jason - this is her as the 'Witch of Betrayal' in Servant form, after all.'

Medea was turning back to her cauldron when Kratos spoke. "The Jason of my world. I saw him die. Was there for his last moments."

She tried to hide her reaction, but Kratos could practically smell the interest radiating from her. That her pointed ears twitched, very, very minutely didn't help her cause. "And you are, what? Offering me the memory of that as payment if I free these Servants from their Contracts?"

"If that is your price," Kratos was far from comfortable letting a witch rummage around in his mind, but to save Leonidas from enslavement by the likes of Lev Lainur…

He would sacrifice that memory, and much, MUCH more in pursuit of that goal.

She was quiet for a long while, the only sounds in the hut that of her ladle as she stirred the concoction in the cauldron. Until finally, her shoulders slumped and she gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll even make a Contract with you until all the Servants in question are freed."

Kratos felt his skin crawl. He had only just begun to get used to having Avenger bound to him - though she had become merely irritating, rather than actively enraging, in the weeks since the conclusion of the French campaign. (Fujimaru's presence helped with that, by distracting the Servant.) But Medea, who had stained her hands with the blood of her own children…

"Is it necessary?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "I do not ask you to give up your freedom to aid us."

Medea began pouring measures of the potion into the waiting vials. "It IS necessary. Away from my Workshop like this, my power will be severely reduced - the drawbacks of being in the Caster Class. So I will need a steady mana supply to make up for that - a god's mana should more than suffice. As should your sturdy body to stand between me and anyone seeking to relieve me of my head."

She stoppered the last vial, and dispelled the fire with a wave of a hand. "And it isn't as though this will be a permanent arrangement, once I've done the three services we've bargained on, and I have my payment, I'll be on my way back to here. And should you turn out to be false, you'll find out, as Jason found out, I am not one to be crossed." Her eyes blazed with a challenge as she held out a hand to Kratos.

This was for his return to his world, and to free Leonidas, he told himself, as he took the Servant's wrist and clasped it. "So be it."

The thread that spun itself into being in his mind was two-fold. Part of it practically thrummed with power - to use a recent example, it was like an almost over-full kettle hanging over the fire. The heat had not been banked enough to cause it to boil, but when it was, the contents could spill over in an instant. Indiscriminately.

The other half was an emotion he had long familiarity with. Bitterness. The thread twisted and hissed, and if it could speak, it would be chanting a singular name, over and over again. In this, he was not surprised - Servants are slaves to their Legend, and Medea's Legend was forever entwined with that of another. And both had left their mark on each other.

Medea's face was flushed, but she was nodding. "Oh yes. You'll do nicely for this little contracting job I've taken on. Give me a few minutes to secure the place and pack, and we can be on our way."

---

Medea was as good as her word. She packed whatever she needed quickly, and then with a snap of her fingers, awoke a swirling array of magical fields around her house once she had closed the door. "That should keep any nosy neighbors from snooping while I'm gone."

There was little conversation as they descended the hill and made their way back to the beach. As the rickety shack came into view, Medea sighed. "I suppose I'll need to go into Spirit Form for the trip. I assume you made the trip by flying horse, and while I can fly with magic, I can't keep up with the Pegasus, even on my best day." Her form shimmered, then faded out. "I might catch a nap in the meantime. Bellow if I'm needed." Her thread in his mind quieted, though it did not completely still.

Kratos looked over the beach, but saw no sign of Stheno. They had little time to waste, but he imagined the look he would get from Mimir (or his son - or the sarcastic response Freya would make) if he did not offer. "Do….you need to say your farewells to your sister?"

Medusa chewed on her lower lip. "I should. We don't know how long this fight we're in will take. It might be months, or years, before I see my sisters again." She sighed. "I'll be quick."

Kratos grunted. "Medusa. Do not take her words to heart. You are worth a thousand of her."

Medusa shook her head, a small, sad smile on her face. "You're wrong, of course. But, thank you, all the same. Only one of the Gorgon Sisters, in the end, became a monster, and it wasn't them."

She ducked back into the tropical forest, and then Kratos was alone, save for the sound of the waves.

"So, did you find what you were looking for, boy?"

And a certain old man.

Kratos turned, seeing the Servant watching him from one of the misshapen windows of his home. "We did. Once Medusa returns, we shall be leaving, as you wished us to."

The man gave a chuckle at that. "Good, good." He leaned on his elbows, peering out at the sea, the island, and at Kratos. "Think I could possibly tag along?"

Kratos blinked. "What of your retirement, old one?"

The Servant sighed, rolling his eyes. "Starting to think it's not all it's cracked up to be. My back is killing me from what little I have done building this house, and look at it! It's a damnable mess! The roof leaks, the windows are crooked, and it rattles in the slightest breeze! If a big storm came along, the whole thing would probably blow away, with me in it!" He shook his head, laughing all the while. "No, I'm coming to realize that just possibly I wasn't meant for retirement."

A pensive look came across his face. "And…after hearing what you're facing - the complete Incineration of Humanity, across all of time, I'm starting to think it's a mite selfish of me to try to bury my head in the sand here." His fingers tapped a chaotic beat on the sill of the window. "I didn't fight JUST because of my oath - my people, my home, they all needed me. That it went to shit in the end doesn't make what I fought for any less important."

"Then there's you, who looks as weary as I am of fighting, but you're still soldiering on. For a damn noble cause, too." For a second, his accent faded, and was replaced with another one - thicker, and unfamiliar. His back straightened, and he looked less like a tired old man, and more like a warrior. "Makes me curious to see how you're doing it."

Then, like a cloud passing across the sun, it was gone, and he was back to being the same person who had greeted them upon their arrival to the Shapeless Isle. "And, well, Iskandar! Who doesn't want to meet the legendary King of Conquerors? And to witness him being saved from bondage, even as a bystander, it's quite the item to cross off one's bucket list."

"So, what about it? Don't even need a Contact, either - you said you're going to Mediolanum? I can find my way there - I've a trick for that. I can meet you in the city, or anywhere of your choosing - or just find you." He chuckled. "You do stick out some, boy, being what you are."

Kratos grunted. "Do what you wish, then."

The old man grinned. "I think I will, at that, son."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I did say the Old Man was a recent addition, but that Tammy Cat and Liz would be excised from Septem for a more relevant Servant. And if we're going to break Servant Contracts, there's only one girl for the job, accept no substitutes.

Canon that Kratos never met his world's Stheno - it's ambiguous if she was killed by Medusa or just imprisoned or exiled. You fight her in the Bog of the Forgotten in GoW:Ascension (during the multiplayer parts of that game, which makes the canon a bit dubious), but Kratos travels to there in GoW:2 and never sees her, so I'm assuming she's dead.

Neither Medusa or Chiron reacted that way to the Blades, but they also didn't get an introduction to them like Stheno did. And considering what a reaction Chaos got in LostBelt 5, Stheno gets to freak out a bit more.

Medea, despite being criminally weak in the game (at least compared to her in the fluff - but one of the easiest single target Casters to get - since those things are at a premium - there's a reason my first free five star ticket 3 years ago went to Sanzang), is stupidly powerful in Fate itself - probably one of the strongest Mages to ever walk the Earth who wasn't divine in some way. So if anyone could look at Kratos and start to figure out the things that make him tick on a magical level - like sensing the curse laid over him, or feeling when Spartan Rage gets uppity in its cage, it would be her.

Time for some real life things here. Since last Friday, I've been dealing with some really unfortunate work stuff - to the point that I wasn't certain I'd have a job past this upcoming Friday. Hence me being a complete ghost - I've been dealing with that and starting to look into scenarios if the worst came to pass. Fortunately, everything got resolved this morning, and I will remain gainfully employed for the foreseeable future. Apologies, but this story kind of fell off the radar with that looming. I was writing a little bit, but I couldn't really focus on it, given my brain was full-on panicking. My lease being up and needing to be renewed early next month in conjunction with the work drama didn't help.

Thankfully, that's resolved. I'd have probably had to put this fic on hiatus until I found a job if I'd gotten laid off, but by the Grace of God, that didn't come to pass.

On happier notes, I hope everyone who plays had a good 7th anniversary. I made out like a damn bandit - hit the 33% on the GSSR Banner and walked away with Iskandar, which is exactly who I wanted. My Destiny Summon coughed up a Melu, which wasn't my TOP choice - she was there for the crunch rather than fluff or waifu reasons (my Saber and Caster slot were both taken up by UMUs, for added NP levels, where everywhere else was an attempt for a new unit - though I was TEMPTED as hell to put Ozzy on the Rider slot because of how bonkers good he is. And the Dio brainrot I've contracted since starting JoJos isn't helping), but she's an absolute house. Ironically enough, she was also who my Better Half got on HER Destiny Summon. Also lucksacked Arc on the daily disappointment button. So all in all, THAT at least was a bright spot when I was almost out of my mind with panic about work stuff.

Randomly, the order was Saber - Bride. Archer - Useless Goddess. Lancer - Melu. Caster - Summer UMU. Rider - Maid Alter (I think, don't really remember my choice there). Assassin - Shuten. Zerker - Cu. Extra 1 - Kiara. Extra 2 - Summer Kiara.

Chapter 31: Septem 8

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 31

AN UNNAMED ISLAND IN THE MARE INTERNUM​

They'd made what time they could with the minimal daylight they had left, but long before they'd made it back to the mainland, the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon, and they'd been forced to stop. Much as Kratos would have wanted them to continue on, Pegasus did need rest, and he could tell Medusa was still in pain - much as she tried to ignore it.

Moreover, now that they were away from the Shapeless Isle, they could once again communicate with Chaldea. Something about the displaced home of the Gorgon Sisters had interfered with the communication device on his wrist, but once they had flown past whatever construed of its borders, the device had crackled to life. He'd been forced to give a short, concise explanation - one that largely boiled down to 'later', as the winds whipping past them made speaking, and being overheard largely an exercise in futility.

"Medea?" Cu grinned. "That is EXACTLY what you need. That stupid Red Archer could probably also work, if he was around - AND if he could reproduce her dagger. But going by how he could whip out Uncle Fergus' sword at a moment's notice, and how he did the same to your spear, Kratos, it's a possibility, even without taking into account all the other weapons he could create." Cu glared at something off in the distance "Glad that bastard isn't around. I hate that guy."

Kratos grunted, having little else to say, now that those back in Chaldea were fully filled in on what had occurred on the Shapeless Isle. His hands were occupied with whittling points onto a number of sticks, preparing skewers. Medusa was off securing what fish she could for their meal - even injured, she was almost certainly a better fisher than Kratos was.

"He's not wrong," said Romani. "And going by your location, you made good time even with having to detour back down to the south of the Mediterranean when you were almost to the mainland. If you push it, we might not even need that extra day, though I don't know what kind of condition it would leave you in to fight."

"How is that going, by the way?" Medusa walked into the firelight, water dripping off her form, carrying a spear (Draupnir, actually) upon which a sizable number of fish were impaled. With a nod, she handed the spear to Kratos, who began to clean and gut the fish, before stabbing them on the skewers and setting them over the fire to cook.

"Swimmingly!" chirped Da Vinci. "Nero and Iskandar are getting along like a house on fire. I don't know if they see each other as rivals, or just want to screw each other's brains out, but they're meeting again tonight, and by all reports it's going just like it did the previous night. Lots of food, wine, and boasting."

"The two ain't mutually exclusive, y'know," Avenger flushed as every eye turned to her. "What?? It's BORING here while the snake's out in the field, and Squeaks isn't here to teach me to read. So I've been watching things in Chaldea's library. Seems a lot of problems on these shows would be resolved if two people would just fuck already." She leveled a glare at Da Vinci. "And nuts to your 'Hooked on Phonics' nonsense, Da Vinci. I want a real life person here to teach me, not some robot."

"That's only because you can't heckle one of my teaching programs, or poke it in the side when you start zoning out," replied Da Vinci, smugly.

"You will likely be joining us once we reach Mediolanum," rumbled Kratos, cutting off the argument between the two women before it could begin - for a genius, Da Vinci was far too willing to let herself be dragged down to Avenger's (infuriating) level at times. "Medusa has injuries that need some time to heal." Though she would likely be close to mended by the time they arrived in Mediolanum. "But, as well, should we be forced to fight Iskandar, I would have a Servant he will not know the identity of."

"Because, even if word hasn't made its way north from our actions on the sea, the second he sees Pegasus, he'll know," muttered Medusa, nudging one of the skewers so that it was more fully on the fire.

Avenger pumped her fist in the air. "Bout damn time! You also want me to take a look at the Emperor, right?"

"Yes," That had been a looming concern for Kratos - and, to be fair, the rest of Chaldea's leadership, ever since Fujimaru had first reported on it. "Though I am unsure of our path should we discover she is possessed, as was Fujimaru."

"Roman and I have been brainstorming on that - with luck, we'll have something viable by the time you reach Mediolanum," said Da Vinci, with a look at Romani. "Hopefully it's nothing."

"Would that we be so lucky," In Kratos' experience, such was never the case.

The smell of the fish was such that Kratos' mouth was beginning to water - he had yet to eat today, and his hunger was asserting itself with authority. Medusa, too, looked eager for this evening's fare. She leaned forward and sniffed at the cooking meat, and nodded her head. "It's ready."

She eagerly picked up one of the skewers and took a bite, a much larger one than she usually did when eating, her usual grace and simple efficiency gone. "A simple meal of freshly caught fish, roasted over a fire," she whispered, once the first bite had been swallowed. "How long has it been?"

"Good memories?" asked Da Vinci.

"Of a simpler time," said Medusa, her voice wistful. "As difficult as things were, it was good to see my sister again, and to see the Shapeless Isle once more, too. I wonder if we'll stumble across Euryale on this journey we're on."

Cu perked up. "Oh! Speaking of unexpected encounters, I reviewed what footage you managed to get of that old man, Kratos, and I don't have the first idea of who he is." Cu frowned. "He's not any Celtic hero I know, and while that narrows it down some, it still leaves out more than you'd think. There were even some of my contemporaries while I was alive that I never crossed paths with - byproduct of living a short, but eventful life means you miss out on a lot. And he could be a Pseudo-Servant, too, now that we know those are a thing." He shook his head. "And here I was thinking that the mess with Baldur was a unique case, what with him coming from your side of things."

Cu cracked his neck, idly. "His accent's a little weird too. I can't really place it, or say what's strange about it, but something about it is….curious, for lack of a better word." He shrugged. "Sorry I don't have more to offer on that."

Kratos shook his head. "I did not expect it to be that easy. It never is."

"And if it is, it ain't worth doing!" chirped Cu.

"What do you think of him, Kratos?" asked Da Vinci. "You interacted with him the most - he honestly seemed to take a particular interest in you, after all."

Kratos took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I do not believe him to be an enemy. But I am equally doubtful that he is an ally. I am unsure what to make of him."

"He certainly didn't seem to be fond of either of the Roman Empires, that's for sure," said Romani. "Which makes it all the more curious as to why he'd leave the Shapeless Isle and go right to the front lines of a fight between the two."

"Could be he just wants to watch Romans die, and this way, he gets to double-dip," mused Avenger.

Medusa had frozen, about to take another bite from her fish skewer. "It makes sense. I don't know if that means I truly am exhausted, or I've become dumber."

Da Vinci laughed over Avenger's inarticulate cursing. "We probably should let the two of you get some rest, you've still got a long way to go, and not much time to do it in. Dormi bene!" She waved, and the communicator's screen winked out.

They were left with the sound of the waves, the crackle of the fire, and their quiet eating sounds. When the last of the fish was reduced to bones, Kratos rose and stretched. "You should rest, and heal what you can. I will take my first watch."

Medusa stifled a yawn. "I doubt one is even necessary, isolated as we are on a tiny spit of land like this, but you wouldn't be you if you weren't careful." She curled up by the fire, and in moments was breathing slowly and evenly.

Kratos, for his part, simply watched the waves crash into the shore. She was likely right that no watch would be needed, but he would not be dissuaded from the habits of a lifetime. His days in the agoge had been filled with tales of how carelessness had caused even the greatest of warriors to fail.

"You could have also asked me to put up a Bounded Field, and gotten yourself some sleep as well."

Kratos turned his gaze from the endless ocean to see that Medea had appeared on a log on the opposite side of the fire from him. She met his eyes unhesitatingly from underneath her hood. "It would be as much for my safety as yours, in the end. I'd rather have some alert if something crawled out of the oceans to try to eat us all. And if you truly are going to fight Iskandar - as there's no way I'll be able to get close to him until you've weakened him some first, then I'd rather you be as fresh as you can for that fight." Her eyes were shrewd. "Particularly as you'll be fighting from a handicap there - trying to keep him alive, while he has no such restriction against you."

She was right. He had been up for nearly an entire day at this point, and while he could go for much longer before it would affect him greatly, battles could be won or lost on very minor differences. "Very well," he rumbled, softly, so as to not disturb Medusa's rest.

The woman nodded, and with a simple gesture, an array of magical circles shimmered into being, before vanishing once more. "There. That should keep anything but the most potent of Phantasmals out. And anything else, like a Servant, will at least get a very nasty, and very LOUD surprise should they try to force their way through."

Kratos nodded his thanks, and made to lay down. Pulling the Blades from the harness and laying them on the sands, and making sure that the Leviathan Axe was near to hand. He was only just beginning to drift off when Medea's voice sounded again.

"You're an interesting one, for a god." Kratos cracked an eyelid open to see the witch watching him. "Fairly obvious you're Greek. Even if you hadn't said you saw Jason die, the magic I can feel on those daggers of yours is familiar, for all that it's subtly different from what I learned from my aunt. Either would be a dead giveaway, though the latter only to someone with my level of familiarity with Greek Magecraft from the Age of the Gods. The rest of the things you carry are more of a puzzle. The magic in them is all from the same place, I can tell that much - but I'd have to make an educated guess as to where it's from."

She rested her chin on her fist, her head tilted slightly. "And the curse you bear - I'd recognize that spite anywhere, or at least the surface level of it. It's Olympian, though again, I'd have to make an educated guess as to which one laid it on you. Given how you know what my Noble Phantasm does, and haven't once mentioned seeing if it could rid you of the curse, I assume you have your own reasons, probably personal ones, to keep bearing it, even with a potential cure mere feet from you. So I'll cease my prying, even if it would be a fascinating challenge to try to unravel that thing, with or without Rule Breaker."

Kratos stared at her for a few moments longer, but, when it became clear she had said her piece, he closed his eyes once more, and allowed sleep to take him.

It was only after his breathing had taken on the rhythm of one in slumber that she resumed talking. "Then there are the ghosts swirling around you. So many of them, and so faint, but growing more substantial with every second. I certainly seem to have taken on an interesting Master, however temporarily."

---

It was another two days before they saw the mainland again. The Shapeless Isle had apparently moved even farther to the southwest while they had been on it, so they had been forced to stop at Sardinia at the fall of night on their second day, too far from the mainland to risk a flight in the darkness, and both riders welcome for the break from being on horseback.

They had reached the mainland the next day. By accounts, and Romani's guesswork, they were somewhere to the East of Massila. Possibly within range of Mediolanum with the daylight remaining, but Kratos had called a halt as the sun began to dip.

They still had a day left. Better that they arrive as rested as possible the next day, instead of tired this day. All the Servants contracted to him agreed, Iskandar would be no easy fight.

So they once more huddled around a fire, assumedly safe within Medea's Bounded Fields, and slept through the night.

They arrived at Mediolanum before the sun had reached its peak the next day.

---

 

MEDIOLANUM​

Kratos felt something in him settle at the sight of the city's walls, finally peeking into sight from over the horizon.

Nearly four days of constant travel by horseback had worn on him. He had never spent much time mounted, even in his days as a general in Sparta's army. And these recent days had reminded him how long it had been since he had even seen one of the beasts. True, this was not his first time seeing Medusa's fabled mount, and there was a 'kelpie' that had taken them to the Norns, but his time astride both had been fleeting. Nearly four days spent riding Pegasus had reacquainted him to muscles that had grown unaccustomed to the special strain that was riding horseback.

(Or, possibly, he was simply getting old. He dismissed that thought, for even though they looked aged, both Odin and Zeus had held immeasurable strength and power within themselves. And Kratos himself did not look that old - yet. Older, yes, but not quite to the level of the two chief gods of the Pantheons he had encountered in his lifetime.)

As they neared the city, they could see the camps encircling it. It was as Fujimaru had said, though a truce held, the United Romans had not wasted any time preparing for the inevitable battle. Even now, from this distance, Kratos could spot siege towers to the rear of the camp, some half-constructed, but many others completed.

Their arrival was likely to be the spark that set this war aflame once more.

'Kratos, incoming.' Medusa's warning was almost unnecessary. Kratos could feel the pressure that marked a Servant drawing nearer to them, despite having little sensitivity for such things.

It shot up from just outside the largest tent in the United Roman camp, circling as it gained height, then quickly rushed out to fly alongside Pegasus.

A chariot, just as Fujimaru and others had described, pulled by two bulls that were easily the equal of any from Kratos' homeland. Lightning sparked around it as it swiftly cut through the air. Yes, Kratos could see this thing being an offering to Zeus, once.

And over the wind in his ears, the cries of the bulls, and crackle of the lightning, Kratos could hear the laughter of the Servant driving it. Then the chariot drew up alongside them, and Kratos got his first look at the so-named King of Conquerors.

'Goodness, look at the size of him. I'm not sure which is bigger, his body or the amount of power he's got packed into it.' Medea's voice in his mind was dry, as calm as if she was speaking about the current weather. 'You, my temporary employer, will have QUITE the fight on your hands to get him subdued enough for me to make a safe approach. Because I'm not getting within a mile of him while he can still move - he could probably snap me in two with just his pinkie, the brute.'

The woman was not wrong. Iskandar was massive - Kratos did not think he was as large as Thor, or his half-brother Heracles (either the one he faced long ago, or the one he had fought in that burning city). Even Darius, the Persian King that had apparently somehow manifested in this Singularity for the sole purpose of fighting his rival once more would have towered over Iskandar.

But Iskandar had won in the end. Even if their conflict had been mainly between armies, to chase another so far, Kratos felt that somehow, someway, Iskandar and Darius had sought each other out more than once during the battles between Macedonia and Persia. Possibly it had started as merely an attempt to deprive the opposing army of their king and general, but the more they clashed, the more personal it had become.

The King of Conquerors was grinning broadly as he looked across the skies and beheld Kratos. The expression on his face put Kratos in mind of a man who had been stumbling through a desert for days, only to finally sight an oasis on the horizon.

The thin, bespectacled man by his side did not look as pleased. His hand cupped his face, and his eyes seemed to be boring holes through Kratos, dissecting him layer by layer. This, then, was the Lord El-Melloi who had been aiding them since their arrival in this Singularity. Compared to his King, he was unimpressive.

That his face was faintly green also did him no favors.

With a last booming laugh, the chariot pulled away and began returning to the United Roman camp. It looked as if they would be allowed to land in peace.

The King was as good as his word. No hostilities until the sun rises for the fifth time.

Honor. A rare, but valuable trait to have in an enemy.

Kratos saw the gathering atop the walls, and even were he to miss that, Nero's personal standard was flapping in the wind just behind them. They were expected.

With a gentle nudge, Medusa set Pegasus to descend, and in a short space of time, the winged horse's hooves were sounding as he landed atop the wall. Kratos was quickly off the horse's back, seeing the group of people already approaching him, a certain tiny Roman Emperor leading the charge, two people who could be nothing but Servants flanking her.

"Kratos," she said, as she drew up to him, as full of regal grace and hauteur as she had been when they had departed her company. "As ever, you exceed expectations. I was set to request one more day in this evening's meeting with Iskandar, and yet, here you stand."

"Emperor Nero," said Medusa with a bow, Pegasus fading into nothingness behind her.

"Rider," greeted Nero. "Or should I call you Medusa? I am unsure which is greater, Chaldea, your list of allies, or the secrets you keep." Her hands were on her hips. "At least tell me your trip was fruitful."

"Yes," Kratos reached into his mind and tugged on Medea's string, rousing her, the woman materializing a second later.

"Emperor Nero," she said, with a bow that spoke of long practice. "Caster-Class Servant. And no, I shall not be giving my name, that was one of the stipulations I worked out with Kratos for this job."

Nero frowned, but she held her peace at being blatantly denied straight to her face. "You CAN, however, assist us?"

Even the shadows of her hood could not hide the wide grin that sprouted on Medea's face. "Oh yes." A dagger appeared in her hand, the blade twisted like a bolt of lightning. The Praetorian Guard and Nero's Servants tensed at the weapon's sudden appearance, but Medea made no move to attack with it. "The merest scratch with this dagger will undo all magical contracts - were I to nick Rider with it, her bond with Kratos would be null and void. It should easily suffice for the King of Conquerors and his retainer."

She dismissed the dagger, and stretched languidly. "Assuming Kratos can get me close enough, of course, with minimal danger to my person. The retainer I do not expect will fight us, but Iskandar - well, him being unable to retaliate was ALSO part of the deal."

She turned and began walking away. "I'm going to look around the city for a while. I don't expect that you'll be needing me until tomorrow, but yell if you require my services."

The woman didn't even look back once as she descended the stairs.

"Haughty, isn't she?" said Jing Ke, not even bothering to hide her grin. "Almost reminds me of someone."

Lu Bu rattled something in response, his eyes having never left Kratos from the time the Spartan had alighted from Pegasus. "Yeah, I suppose she's small change compared to him, isn't she? Hi! Jing Ke, Assassin Class Servant." She looked up at Kratos, her friendly demeanor never wavering. "Got to say, Fujimaru's stories don't do you justice."

Steam hissed from the Berserker's mouth. "Oh, and I think Lu there wants to arm-wrestle you before this is all said and done."

"You are the one who slew Caesar," She was certainly not what he had expected of an Assassin. The corrupted thing in the burning city had been simply a husk, deadly, but only a vessel for the demon that had been in control - and had later attempted to take Fujimaru for its own. And Carmilla had been nothing more than a murderer, and a slave to her obsession. This woman was like night and day to them - cheerful to the point where she was more akin to Mimir, or Lúnda.

A friendly Assassin. This world, it seemed, would never run out of new things to show him.

She almost seemed to glow at his words. "Yep! One more Emperor for the tally. Two more and I get free drinks at the bar on the Throne for a year! Still…" The mirth drained from her eyes, and for the second time in as many minutes, Kratos felt the layers of his skin being peeled back. "Now that I finally lay eyes on you, I can see why Fujimaru gambled everything on a fight between you and that King. He'd probably slap me and Lu about without too much effort, but you…..you, I think can take him."

"It seems we have much to discuss," said Nero. "Shall we adjourn to somewhere more private? I would not risk being overheard by our enemies. And I would spare my complexion the ravages of the sun, as well."

"One second," said Fujimaru. "Should we swap first, now that you're here and have access to our connection to Chaldea?"

Kratos glanced at Medusa, who shrugged. "I won't lie - rest, nearer to Chaldea's reactors does sound good. It's been a strenuous few days." From the sound of her voice, she would be doing more thinking than resting. Family had that effect on you. "And better we have our," she frowned. "Unpredictable wild card here, in case Iskandar gets impatient."

"Very well," he triggered his communicator, and was graced with the faces of Romani and Da Vinci.

"Is it that time, Kratos?" At his nod, Romani sighed. "Good. Avenger is quite LITERALLY chomping at the bit to transfer in."

"He's not kidding," said Da Vinci, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I swear I think I saw her gnawing on one of the guardrails a second ago."

"Anyways, beginning transfer." There was the sound of keys, and then Medusa began fading out. An eyeblink later, and a silver-haired headache was standing where she had been.

Avenger spun around, quickly taking in the army surrounding the city, and pumped her metal arm, glee radiating from the tips of her toes to the tip of the tendril of hair that protruded from her head. "Bout damn time you got me in on this! Just look at all of 'em!"

Nero was peering quizzically at Avenger's metal arm. "Your arm…..what is it? Even throughout Rome and all its glories, I have never seen the like."

Avenger started, only just now noticing Nero - and all the others who were staring at her. "This thing? Something the local crazy woman whipped up for me after I lost my arm on our last little expedition." She rotated the arm around, then twitched each finger, one at a time. "Now I finally get to see if the thing can keep up with me!" She smirked. "You the Emperor I've been hearing everyone talk about?"

"Umu! I am Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. Venus reborn, and Emperor of Rome!" She offered her hand. "And you must be the last member of Chaldea, the dread Avenger."

Avenger clasped Nero's wrist with a feral grin. "Fuckin' right I am." Kratos felt her burning string in his mind shudder, for just a second.

They released arms, and Avenger stepped back, eyes flickering down to her hand, almost like she wanted to wipe it on something, but knew better than to do so. Her voice sounded in his head, unusually quiet. 'Later.'

"Now," said Nero, her tone brooking no argument. "Follow me. We have much that awaits us tomorrow, and little time until then."

---

 

MEDIOLANUM

NERO'S QUARTERS​

The door had barely settled into its frame when Nero stopped and spun to face Kratos, her face somewhere halfway between annoyance and something that almost seemed like it was approaching reverence. "There have been many revelations while you have been off to the south, fighting at least part of my war for me. For that, I thank you - at least some of the seas now once again belong to true Romans." She strode over to a table and quickly filled a goblet with wine, then tossed it back, almost seeming like she was fortifying herself.

It was unlike her. While Kratos had spent only a fraction of the time in the Emperor's presence that Fujimaru had, confidence and self-assurance had been two traits the woman had not been lacking in. Kratos felt his stomach begin to twist.

Fujimaru had mentioned that both Iskandar, publicly, and El-Melloi, in their private meeting, had mentioned two of Kratos' secrets. Nero had been present for the former - and the woman was many things, but stupid was not one of them. And while she had not been present for the meeting with the Clock Tower Lord, one of Nero's Servants had been.

He suspected what was coming next.

Nero set her goblet down, made as if to pour herself another measure, then stopped, and placed the pitcher down as well. She took a deep breath. "I was mostly jesting, back when I first saw you Chaldeans. Calling you Olympians was merely an attempt to inspire my men and bolster their morale during a time when victories were few and far between." Her voice was softer than any of them had ever heard it - even when she she had been burdened with the numerous injuries she had been hiding, she had still been able to fill the room with the sound of her voice. "To learn there was truth in my errant words was not what I was expecting."

The anger surged inside of himself, but he had been able to muster up his will beforehand, and met the tide of red with a wall of pure discipline, until the rage receded.

Greek, or Spartan - those were titles he could wear, even with some pride. But… "I am no Olympian." He paused. "Not anymore."

Nero's expression was curious - clearly wanting to badger him with questions, but something - likely the ingrained respect for the gods of her people was holding her back.

Kratos sighed internally. It was nothing his allies from Chaldea did not know, in the end. "This world - this…" He tried to hide his distaste for the word. He failed. "Olympus is not my own. In my word, Olympus…and Greece itself is no more. The gods there were petty and corrupt, and were brought down by the pride, and events of their own making. I had been cast away from them before this, and left Greece after the fall of Olympus." His voice became quiet. "I do not know how long ago that was, in my world. Time lost all meaning for me, as I wandered in the wake of the death of my home."

Until Faye. Despite that their first meeting nearly resulted in them killing each other, that was the moment that triggered time to begin moving again for the once Ghost of Sparta.

"Another world…," murmured Nero. "If there was another Olympus in your world, that means there could be another Rome - and another ME there? Oh, imagine the duets we could sing!" Her grin was almost manic (and put Kratos in mind of another girl of his recent acquaintance - who also was obsessed with singing), before it smoothed out into a more neutral expression. "But it is not something I expect to ever see, outside of a moment of whimsy. But you, Kratos, even if you no longer claim the title, you ARE an Olympian. The last surviving one, to hear you tell it!" Her eyes were shining with a manic light. "THIS! Can you imagine the boost to morale we would reap if the common soldiers heard an Olympian fought by our side? It could even erode support from the United Roman Empire…"

"NO." The room rattled from the force of his words, and even Fujimaru took a step back away from him. The red surged again within himself, and he wrestled it back. Avenger was watching him, none of her usual smug, contemptuous expression visible - she looked as serious as he'd ever seen her. "Who I am…WHAT I am, it is not something I wish to be shouted to the far corners of your realm."

"But…" began Nero, only to pause as Fujimaru placed her hand on the Emperor's shoulder.

"Emperor Nero, please. I haven't known Kratos long, but this….this is important to him." Her voice was soft, and placating. "And, things are turning around. You've fought out of Rome itself, and morale's up. If we pull this off, can get Iskandar on our side, we won't even need to let everyone know what Kratos is. We just need to keep winning."

Nero's nose wrinkled, and her shoulders slumped. "Are you completely certain on this?" she asked. At Kratos' curt nod, she sighed. "Very well. Venus reborn I may be, but I will cede this to you. But!" Her finger sprang forth, pointed right between Kratos' eyes. "Should things change, I reserve the right to revisit this conversation. We stand on unsteady ground as it is, and war is an ever-changing quagmire. Should our fortunes reverse, I may be forced to ignore even the protests of a god to save my Empire - for Rome, and its preservation is the most important thing to me, in the end."

Her green eyes were hard, and she waved them away. "Leave me. You may occupy yourselves until evening, for that is when Iskandar and I were to meet next. Given he agreed to this delay for a chance to battle you, Kratos, I expect he will wish to see you there tonight. Take what rest you can until then."

---

 

FUJIMARU'S QUARTERS

A FEW MINUTES LATER​

"Man, she didn't even bother to give you a room. You pissed the midget off something fierce, Grumps," Avenger was grinning as she said it.

Fujimaru was staring at the Servant, who had, upon entering the room, simply marched over and flounced onto her bed, and was even now running her hand under the covers, keeping just ahead of a certain white-furred creature who was in hot pursuit of the moving lump, continually attempting to pounce on it. "Avenger…."

The silver-haired Servant tilted her head back, looking at Fujimaru. "What? Not the first time I appropriated your bed with my culture of thieving and evil, won't be the last. And this bed is a shit-ton nicer than the ones we had back in my day, or the ones in Chaldea." She withdrew her arm from underneath the covers, which caused Fou's ears to droop.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, her legs dangling off the bed. "The half-pint's not possessed."

Romani gave a sigh of relief. "And you're certain about this?"

Avenger shrugged. "About as sure as I can be. Not like these 'me' parts Gilles crammed in me came with an instruction manual - not that I could freakin' read it if they did." She drew her knees up to her chest, and rested her head on them. "With Red there, I could feel something was wrong with her the second I set foot in the same room as her….hell, something stank long before I even got there. The closer I got, the more I had this alarm going off in my head, and once I laid eyes on her, it was like my weenie other self was telling me 'yeah, shit's possessed'. Just in nicer language, because heaven forbid the goody-goody Maid of Orleans ever swear."

She blew out a long breath. "With the Emperor there, it's different. There's something off with her, but it doesn't feel…..I dunno, awake yet. It's like a caterpillar or one of those other bugs that takes a nap, then turns into something else. Maybe when the midget gets really upset, whatever that thing is turns over in its sleep and grumbles a bit, before hibernating again. I got no clue." Her head tilted back a bit, as Fou had seized her braid with his teeth and was shaking it furiously. "All I can say is that whatever's going on with her is ALL her. It's not something from the outside that invaded like with Red. Whatever it is, it's coming entirely from Nero herself."

"That's more than a bit worrying," muttered Da Vinci.

"Yeah, but she dies in what, nine years or so, when the Empire gets tired of her shit and runs her out?" Avenger shrugged. "Maybe whatever this is has nothing to do with us, and history just squashes it before it ever becomes a thing. Do we really have time to worry about this, when Kratos is getting ready for a no-holds-barred cage match with the damn King of Conquerors?"

Kratos blinked. "She is right."

He ignored her muttered "Don't have to sound so surprised."

"So long as she remains in control, we must focus on the goal of this campaign, resolving this Singularity."

"Maybe whatever Avenger's sensing is part of the reason why she went more crazy as the years passed," offered Fujimaru. "Cause I have to say, it's kind of hard to spend as much time with Nero and see the mad tyrant history remembers her as. She's far from perfect, but she's no monster."

Kratos turned to Avenger, who had already flopped back onto the bed. "Yeah, yeah," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll keep an eye on her as long as I'm here, and I'll let you know if it looks like shit's about to get real."

---

Once more they were atop the walls of Mediolanum, only now, Kratos was the one awaiting an arrival.

"He's late," murmured Nero. "All previous evenings, he's been punctual, even early. I wonder what is keeping him."

Fujimaru had a wry grin on her face. "You know, your Majesty, for someone who had to be cajoled into meeting with him because we thought we'd need an extra day, you certainly don't seem to mind it much anymore."

Nero puffed her cheeks out and crossed her arms over her chest, her nose pointed skyward. "This King of Conquerors is tolerable company, nothing more. If I was to ingratiate myself with him with the aim of delaying our conflict, I should at least endeavor to enjoy myself." She shook her head. "The man does have interesting ideas about ruling, and the burden it carries, however. Umu. Fool he may be, but he at least is an entertaining fool. I find myself glad that we will attempt to steal him to our side, even if he did not carry the powerful Name he does."

Chiron's eyes narrowed. "I can see increased activity from the United Roman camp. I think our waiting will be over shortly."

As if to punctuate the Archer's words, thunder boomed, loudly and powerfully enough that it almost seemed as if the walls shook. As the cacophony faded, all those upon the walls saw an object beginning to head their way.

The Gordius Wheel's path was incredibly direct - there was no circling, no showboating or fancy maneuvers this evening. It flew straight to where the Roman and Chaldean party was waiting, as though it had been shot out of a cannon. The landing was less smooth and controlled than previous evenings, as well. The bulls had barely set their hooves on the stone of the wall when Iskandar was tossing the reins to his advisor (who squawked in an undignified manner, for a Clock Tower Lord, but managed to catch them), and then leapt from the chariot.

He ignored Nero, Fujimaru, Avenger, and everyone else, stomping right up to Kratos, anticipation practically leaking from his every pore. "Finally! All day I've had to wait, wearing out a trench in my tent as the sun seemed to hang motionless in the sky." Despite his words, the man was grinning from ear to ear. "Let me look upon this Spartan who bested my rival, who I have been delaying the battle for this city for, now!"

The two men took the measure of each other, while those around muttered in the background.

For Kratos' part, the man who carried the title the 'King of Conquerors' looked the part. Up close, he was as big as he had appeared when he first laid eyes upon him. And it wasn't merely his size - Kratos could feel the power that was bound into this Servant's form. It was eerily similar to the corrupted King he had faced in the cave beneath the dead city, only without the sickening feeling that had permeated the air around her and had attempted to crush him, and those who stood with him, into the ground with its weight.

Still, there was a compulsion woven into the man's energy. Whether it was a part of his legend, sheer charisma, or the intangible thing that all those who carved out an empire from nothing throughout history had, in the end, it didn't matter. Kratos felt it, at the edges of his perception. The urge to follow this man to the ends of the earth, or to simply kneel before his grandeur. Indeed, he could see it in his peripheral vision - the knees of a few of Nero's entourage were visibly shaking. Even Fujimaru was a bit paler than normal - despite that she had been in this man's presence for hours at a time, for several evenings in a row.

Kratos ignored the pressure with the experience of a lifetime. He had faced down gods, Titans, and monsters. He acknowledged only one king in his lifetime, and he bowed only to those who were worthy (Brok, beneath the waters of the Forge, his mind recalled, and the blessing of a great blacksmith).

Kratos stood before Iskandar and took not one step back, meeting his gaze as an equal.

The Servant tilted his head back and laughed, joyfully. "Not an OUNCE of fear in this one! Come, boy, and take a look at him!" Iskandar was beaming as he waved his harried advisor over. "I've only just laid eyes on him and he's worth the wait!"

"Coming, my King," The El-Melloi was not as impressive a sight as his king. Had he not felt like a Servant, he could have blended in seamlessly among the halls of Chaldea. Still, while he was almost certainly not from one of the more martial Servant classes, he was not to be underestimated - he shared the same calculating light in his eyes with Da Vinci and Medea that spoke of a fierce intellect.

And to his credit, the man did not flinch in the slightest when he came face-to-face with Kratos. "Kratos, was it?" He offered his hand, and Kratos reached to clasp his wrist. "Lord El-Melloi II. I have heard much about you." He grimaced as Kratos released his arm, moving to massage his wrist. "Mostly from my liege, who has been eager to meet you."

Iskandar's hand thumped on El-Melloi's back. "Wouldn't you be eager, if you were me? A living Spartan, and more, from the time when Sparta was still a nation to be feared, and not the shadow it was when it bent the knee to my armies! Kratos, I don't suppose I could convince you to join me, could I? The three of us could do great things together - we could found an Empire that would stretch from one end of the world to the other."

"No," said Kratos. "Even were you not allied with my enemies, I no longer lust for battle and conquest. I have a life - a simple life, yes, but one that I wish to return to."

Iskandar threw his hands up into the air and laughed, but it was a good-natured laugh. "No one ever takes me up on it when I make that offer in Grail Wars, either. It shouldn't surprise me to be rejected here as well. At least you were more civil about it than the Golden King was, Spartan."

Chuckling, the man walked back to his chariot, then returned a moment later, a cask of wine resting on his shoulder. He set it down on the stones of the wall with a thump, then dropped to sit beside it. "Sit, sit! No need to stand on formality here, not on the eve of what will be a glorious battle!" He slapped the cask. "This is actual Macedonian wine, laid down during my lifetime. One of your governors had it, little Nero, and gave it to me as thanks for not razing his city when he surrendered - not that I would have, but it was a welcome tribute nonetheless. I was saving it for the end of this campaign, but something in me told me that there would not be a more momentous occasion than this, so here it is." He glanced over his shoulder. "Waver, if you could?"

"Yes, one moment." The man set about tapping the cask, as Iskandar and the rest watched him.

"I would have just driven a spike into it, but he claims there are more modern methods that spill less of the wine." Iskandar shook his head, fondly. "The things you have learned from being dragged about by that sister of yours. Hopefully someday I can meet her, as well."

El-Melloi's face twisted as if he was ill, and he paused in his motions. "My liege….I pray that you, and everyone else here never has the misfortune of encountering my sister." He shuddered, and then returned to his work. "There, it is ready."

Iskandar quickly filled his goblet, then passed it to Kratos, who took it after a moment of hesitation. For the sake of hospitality, only - he would drink little, wishing to keep his wits close at hand this evening. Nero, Jing Ke, and Avenger were less hesitant, eagerly accepting the glasses of spirits from Iskandar - indeed, Avenger even intercepted one that had been meant for Fujimaru.

The woman was resolute in the face of Fujimaru's disappointment. "Sorry Red - you're still underage. Da Vinci would probably tell my arm to start punching me and just leave it like that for an hour if I let you get shitfaced."

"Et tu, Avenger," muttered a pouting Fujimaru.

Avenger quickly drained the goblet that had been meant for Fujimaru, letting out a belch. "Whew. You really are missing out, though. That's good stuff."

Jing Ke made a pleased noise. "That's putting it lightly. This is some premium booze!"

Iskandar smiled, swirling the wine in his cup before taking a deep whiff of the spirits. Then, in contrast to the two women, he took a gentle sip. His voice was wistful when he spoke. "Wine of my homeland. It has been a long, long time." He set the cup down, and placed one palm on the stones of the wall. "Now, Kratos, I have another proposal, a more serious one for you, as I never expected you would accept my offer to become one of my followers. I could tell at a glance, you are a leader of men, not a follower, whether you accept that title or not."

"This is a beautiful city. One that I could have had at any time, if I desired it - but to take it by force would be a crime, for it would destroy everything that makes the city worth having. I delayed originally because it looked like Rome was days away from falling, only for you and yours to breathe new life into a dying empire. And so, here we stand." He rapped his knuckles against the ground. "Set to clash tomorrow morning, and despoil this jewel."

"And what do you propose?" asked Kratos, setting his own goblet down, the wine inside barely having been touched. "I do not believe you are offering to withdraw."

Iskandar barked a laugh. "Never! I still want this city, as I want everything under the sun, until my army meets the horizon itself and we find Okeanos!" The red of a Command Seal flickered into his vision, causing the king to shake his head distractedly, and the red to recede from his vision. "And I have taken other cities in this war in that fashion, though only after exhausting all other avenues - and having an advisor like mine gives me options I would never have considered before. Treachery and skulking about in the night are ugly things, but to keep a city pristine, and to keep loss of life down, well, my hands are already dirty. A little more in the service of a worthwhile end is nothing much to me."

"I was ready to take this city the hard way - the ugly way, until that spirited girl there made her proposal, and gave me another option." He grinned at Fujimaru, before turning back to Kratos. "Though it wasn't all her. The boy there has certainly put his two cents in in the days since."

El-Melloi shrugged, almost seeming embarrassed. "My King wished for a solution that would spare the city from a sack. As a loyal retainer, it was my duty to find one." Kratos was impressed - the man was a good actor. He sounded truly genuine.

"You should give yourself more credit, Waver my boy, but it is who you are." Kratos felt that it was only the fact that the man was still standing that saved him from having his bones rattled from a friendly thump across the back from his king. "In any event, this is what I propose, Kratos of another Sparta. Tomorrow morning, instead of our respective armies going to war, you will fight me. You can even bring what Servants you have, as the girl tells me you are a Master, in addition to what other titles you bear. If I win, then you, and your armies will surrender, and we shall bring this war to an end. If you win, then we shall withdraw - we will even give you our solemn oath to leave you be for three days time as you withdraw from the city."

It felt far too good to be true - fighting him in such a way was tailor-made to allow them a chance to get Medea in close to use her Noble Phantasm. Kratos suspected it almost immediately, for it felt far too akin to the tainted deals offered by the gods of his Olympus, that promised the world, and delivered misery in their stead. "Why?" he asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion. "What would you possibly gain from this?"

"Beyond sparing this city the ravages of a brutal sacking?" He shrugged. "You bested my rival Darius, and I will not pretend that I do not wish to test myself against you, even if you were not what you were. That you are only makes it so much more exciting! And if I lose?" He threw his hands up in the air. "What have I truly lost? My army still outnumbers yours by magnitudes. We will fall back, and allow you to march, and will catch you in the field, and finish our business there, where only the wilds will suffer from our clash." His eyes grew hard, and the red once again surged in them. "And if you remain in the city, spurning my good will, well then. I have been as merciful as I can be, but to throw my mercy back in my face like that would be the end of it. Not that I think you would do something so dishonorable and cowardly, but, well, warnings must be made. Just so it is clear."

"You gamble little in the hopes of gaining much."

Iskandar gave him a toothy grin. "Indeed. As the one speaking from a position of power, it is my right and prerogative to do so." His grin turned a little sheepish. "And I find that I have grown to enjoy Emperor Nero's company. I would keep her empire, and her, as intact as possible."

He leaned forward, anticipation writ upon his face. "So, what of it? What do you say to my generous proposal?"

Kratos glanced over one shoulder to Fujimaru, who nodded. They had discussed ways to possibly get Kratos as close to Iskandar when the fighting started, though they had assumed the King of Conquerors would see him out once battle was joined. This would potentially allow them to preserve their forces, so it was no surprise that she advocated for this. He swiveled his head around to look over his other shoulder, where a blonde head of hair and a pair of green eyes was watching him carefully. This was the true hurdle, for as much as Iskandar assumed Kratos held some level of power, it was Nero to which the Roman armies looked to.

She nodded. "What choice have we? Iskandar is correct in that he holds all the cards. Whether we fight on the battlefield, or in this contest, we must play the game he chooses. This way, at least, I can maybe spare my men Mors' touch, and leave Mediolanum as I found it." The look she directed Kratos' way was a mixture of many things, desperation, worry, hope, and many other things he could not identify. "And were to choose a champion to fight for me, I could do much, much worse than Kratos."

She sighed. "Much rides on your shoulders, Kratos. Do NOT disappoint me."

The glee was leaking from every fiber of Iskandar's being. "So then, do we have an accord?" He held out one meaty paw.

Kratos seized his wrist, and did not hold back any of his strength as he grasped it. Which only made the Servant more ecstatic, if his face was any indication. "We do."

And around them, thunder shook the world again.

---

THE FIELDS BEFORE MEDIOLANUM

THE NEXT MORNING​

Kratos had gotten what rest he could through the night. Fortunately, he had long since learned the trick that all soldiers eventually learn - take your rest when and how you can get it, for you never know when your next chance to sleep will come.

The sun was just beginning to rise in the sky as he stood before the gates of Mediolanum, chains and metal creaking as the doors to the city were slowly leveraged open. Kratos' breaths were slow and even, as his mind narrowed to focus on the fight to come.

He was as ready as he could be - this would be no different than any of the other many battles that he had been part of in his past. The only difference was that, like his battle with Thor, he was fighting to save another from a life of slavery, for all that no actual chains had bound Thor, he had, in the end, had as little freedom as the Servant Kratos was about to clash with.

(Some part of him hoped Thor had found peace in whatever afterlife had claimed him. He had been to Helheim, and would not wish that place on the troubled man, despite his long list of crimes. He hoped Valhalla had seen the Thunder God's death as one that took place in battle and reached out for him.)

He was rudely broken from his musings by a hand smacking him in the small of his back. "You look ready, son. And I have to say this promises to be quite the show."

The voice was familiar - it was the only thing that stayed his hand from lashing out at the unexpected, and unfamiliar contact. A hooded figure quickly moved into his frame of view, and Kratos knew at once who it was. The old man of the island, here, just as he said he would be.

"No need to look so surprised. I did say I wanted to see this thing. Just took me a bit longer to get here than I thought - been awhile since I had to use my old tricks." He smiled from underneath his hood. "Don't ever get old, boy, it opens up a host of problems that will make you miss your younger days, let me tell you."

The amusement left his face in an instant, as his mien turned serious. "Quite a foe you have waiting on you, though. I got a look at him as he departed last night - that chariot of his is a whopper of a weapon, and if he's half the tactician he was said to be, that's only the first of his tricks." His hand reached up to twirl the point of his beard around his finger. "Then again, I'm pretty sure you've got a few nasty surprises up your sleeve, too."

A low, gruff laugh escaped Kratos despite himself. "Concerned, old one?"

The old man shrugged, heedless of the eyes he was drawing. "Maybe just a touch. You're interesting to me, Kratos. You managed to get me off my ass and out into a world again, even if it's filled with accursed Romans."

He strode away, shaking his head. "Anyways, just wanted to say hello before your little bit of bloodsport. Going to go find myself a good seat for the spectacle now. Do your best not to die, hear?"

Kratos watched as the man wandered back into the city - going the opposite direction of where the contest would be held.

"So that's the old man you met on the island, with Rider's sister?" asked Fujimaru. "I see what you mean about him. He's…..unique."

'And now that I've gotten a live look at him, I've still got no idea about him,' muttered Cu in his mind. 'Still, I'll keep borrowing your eyes whenever he shows up. Maybe he'll let something slip that will give me a clue as to who he is.'

The gates were open. It was time.

He walked out into the morning sun, the rest of the Chaldean contingent following in his wake.

The United Roman Camp had, overnight, been moved, or, at least, a portion of it had been. A large space had been cleared, the ring that encircled the city having been pulled back so that there was now a large opening in the besiegement.

Standing at the center of it was the King of Conquerors.

"Will this be enough space?" he called, as they approached. "Seems little point in our fighting like this to preserve the city if, well, we damage it with our battle." He glanced over his shoulder. "We could take it into the surrounding woods, but that would prevent those in the city from observing, and as their very future is on the line, I imagine they would want to see."

"This will do," muttered Kratos, reaching back to free the Leviathan Axe from its harness.

"A moment!" Fujimaru raised her hand. "Just so we're clear, what exactly are the rules going to be? I don't want us losing on a technicality or something."

'Clever girl,' muttered Medea in his head. 'Definitely a Mage, that one. Always guarding against the knife in the back. And yes, I AM aware of the irony of me saying that.'

Iskandar blinked. "Huh. I never considered any such rules for this. I had thought we would just fight. Boy? Do you have any input to share?"

The El-Melloi strode up to stand by his King's side. "Given both of your natures, I don't expect you would care too much for a list of illegal holds or a gentleman's agreement to not gouge eyes or pull hair, so that seems pointless." He sighed. "So, to quote one of my more troublesome students, this will be the first match to a fall - be that surrender, incapacitation, or death." He looked them over. "And I will be observing closely to ensure you keep to the terms of the fight - Kratos, and whatever Servants of his, only, no assistance from the outside."

"As we shall be doing the same," said Chiron. "Both my Master and myself, as well as our comrades back at Chaldea. Not that we think you would ever do something so underhanded, but an ounce of prevention, as the modern saying goes."

El-Melloi nodded. "Better to prepare for treachery and have those preparations be unneeded than to be betrayed and not have a plan in place."

"Then we are agreed," Iskandar strode forward, cracking his knuckles in his massive fists. The short blade at his side scraped as it was drawn from its sheath. "Will I face your Servants as well today, Spartan Master of Chaldea, or shall this be between only the two of us?"

"They are there, if they are needed." Indeed, Avenger was standing just inside the clearing, a few steps apart from the rest of those from Chaldea, her spear drawn, and her metal hand clenching and unclenching. Another of her 'banners' was planted in the ground - the winds were too strong this morning for him to get a good look at it, but it seemed she had rendered his form on it in her….unique style, a sun of victory rising behind him.

(Mimir, he felt, would have done a better job. And he lacked hands.)

(From the edges of the United Roman camp, a hooded figure settled into a chair he had 'borrowed' from one of the officer tents, his one eye focused on the impending battle.)

"What of your chariot?" he asked, as the two men began to circle one another, drawing ever closer.

Iskandar laughed. "To volley your words back at you, 'if it is needed'. Let us see what you can do, Kratos of Sparta!"

With a bellow, Iskandar charged, sword raised over his head. The Servant was fast, but Kratos easily slid out of the way, his axe already darting in - only to be met by Iskandar's blade, which had reversed course like he had known the attack was coming. Iskandar stepped in, attempting to use his greater height to his advantage, but Kratos held firm, his strength equal, or greater than that of the immense Servant's.

Kratos twisted his axe, tangling the King of Conqueror's sword and pulling it down, and then it was his turn to step in, crashing his shoulder into the broad chest of the Maecondian King. Iskandar grunted and was knocked back a step, though the grin remained on his face. "Good!" A fist, screaming at Kratos' head, accompanied the shout, and Kratos was forced to duck, feeling the winds as the blow narrowly slid overhead. Their weapons slid free of each other, and Kratos set his axe in an upwards chop that claimed a few hairs from the Servant's beard, but little more, as he stepped back in the nick of time.

The second the axe had reached its apex, Iskandar seized his sword in both hands and sent it screaming down. Kratos had to work quickly and catch the blow on the wooden haft of the Leviathan Axe - and it took both his hands to do so.

Iskandar beamed at Kratos over their locked weapons. "Strong! As strong as my rival, at least!" He turned the blade, attempting to slide it down the haft and slice at Kratos' fingers, but Kratos turned the axe and knocked the blade away, then leapt back as Iskandar chambered and unleashed a vicious knee at his vulnerable midsection. "And clever, too. At least clever enough to see through my most basic of tricks!"

He raised his sword over his head again, only to fling it straight up. Almost instinctively, he jerked his arm up, his shield unfolding in the nick of time to stop a thunderous sweeping spear strike from parting him from his arm. Still, the force of the blow sent him skidding in a circle around the Servant, as he was nearly lifted from his feet by the power behind the strike.

Iskandar laughed uproariously. "And you kept your eyes on me, instead of the blade," he said, snatching the sword from the air and sliding it back into its sheath. He stepped back and twirled the spear with a flourish. "The spear is the first weapon a Spartan learns, yes?"

"That is correct."

"Then tell me how I match up to the warriors of your legendary homeland!" He sent a series of testing jabs at Kratos, constantly varying his speed. Kratos easily avoided them, waiting for the real attack, which he knew was coming.

He saw it. The way the King was angling his body, how his legs tensed. It was familiar. So when the Servant withdrew a failed attack with greater speed than he had shown so far, Kratos was already moving. The strike, thrown from two planted feet that then sprang into a short, violent leap forward, spear leading, Kratos's center of mass simply wasn't there anymore. The spear slid under Kratos' right arm, where its momentum came to a screaming halt as Kratos wrapped his arm around the weapon.

"Slow, and predictable," said Kratos. His arm tensed, and the spear shattered. Iskandar's face showed a moment of amazement, before Kratos' forearm smashed into his face and sent him sprawling.

Kratos tossed the shattered remains of the weapon aside. Iskandar tumbled, coming to a stop on his knees, then it was his turn to scramble for his life, as the Leviathan Axe came hurtling end over end at him. He narrowly got his body out of the way, and then again, as his instincts screamed at him, and he clumsily pushed off the ground and roll-stumbled out of the way of the axe as it returned to Kratos' hand.

He surged to his feet as the Spartan approached. "I suppose I cannot find fault with your judgment. I always preferred the spear as a cavalry weapon." Iskandar leapt into the air, and then thunder split the sky and caused the world to shake. "Come, BUCEPHALUS!" Lightning fell from the heavens and stole the sight from those watching, even those on the walls of Mediolanum.

When their eyes again worked, it was to behold the King of Conquerors astride a massive black steed, cloth and armor of the same colors and style of his rider adorning him. Iskandar ran a hand down the neck of his horse, a look of fondness on his face, before another spear formed in his hands. "Now, let me show you how we used a spear in my homeland…."

The horse snorted, and charged.

Lightning crackled around the head of the spear as it crashed into Kratos' shield, the electricity flowing through the metal and into Kratos' body - but this was a man who had fought both Zeus and Thor in his lifetime. The lightning of Iskandar, while formidable, was lesser in comparison. He shrugged off the tingling jolts and shoved the spear aside, but his axe cut only the air, as Iskandar wheeled his mount aside and out of range of Kratos' counter-attack. Bucephalus bore down on him and he rolled to the left, Iskandar a moment too slow in switching arms, and thus unable to sweep his spear along Kratos' back.

Kratos, expecting the rider to be rounding for another charge, was instead met by a pair of hooves as he came out of his roll. He desperately interposed his shield in the way, and the metal groaned as hooves as hard as iron battered against it. The impact stunned Kratos for a split second, and again allowed Iskandar to spur his mount into a gallop, and out of Kratos' range.

Avenger's voice sounded in his head. 'Want me to tag in and flank him, Grumps? Bastard's a Rider, and he's going to keep abusing his mobility until he runs you into the ground, if things keep going this way.'

Kratos' axe cut through the air as it slapped a thrown spear aside. 'No. Keep to the plan. He has more tricks to play. I would have you remain our wild card as long as possible.' The woman was right, however. He couldn't allow Iskandar to dictate the fight like this, not if he wished to win.

With a nudge of his legs, Iskandar sent his steed into a leap, his spear sweeping across at Kratos, who slid under the head. His arm snaked out and seized the haft of the weapon, but Iskandar let it be jerked from his grasp without even a shred of resistance, as Bucephalus lowered his head and butted at the Spartan, the sharp point on the horse's helmet forcing Kratos back again. Iskandar roared a battle cry and left his steed's back, vaulting over the horse's neck to catch Kratos as he fell back and driving both his feet into his chest, stomping him into the ground. A second later, he was reaching up and seizing the reins of his steed, and as Bucephalus galloped away, he swung himself back into the saddle, both rider and mount already circling around for another attack.

Kratos felt the world begin to slow as he picked himself up off the ground. Iskandar was twirling his spear over his head as his horse galloped ahead, hooves thundering against the ground, and Kratos saw his opening.

(Cu Chulainn was fast enough to get away with such flashy, showy maneuvers. Iskandar was not as fast with a spear as the Child of Light. And Kratos fought with Cu Chulainn on a daily basis - even in his supposed lesser Caster self, Cu was the equal, or superior, to any other that had fought Kratos with a spear in their hands.)

Kratos sprang from his crouch, the Blades of Chaos suddenly in his hands for a split second, and nothing more, as they flew across the gap to wrap around the haft of Iskandar's spear.

"What the…?"

The King of Conqueror's exclamation was cut off as Kratos flew through the air, chains pulling him across the space and sending him crashing into the Servant. Despite the impact, Iskandar kept his seat, even managing to shove Kratos back, despite his eyes crossing from the shock of Kratos' shoulder ramming directly into his forehead.

As Kratos hit the ground, his arms reached out and wrapped around Bucephalus' sinewy neck.

The horse snorted and bucked, but Kratos' feet dug into the ground. His legs screamed, the muscles becoming as steel as he slowly, but inexorably ground the horse to a halt. For a split second, they were motionless, the immovable object vying against the unstoppable force.

Then, before Iskandar could regain his wits, Kratos LIFTED.

Horse and rider were suspended in the air, held completely vertical for a moment frozen in time, before Kratos fell backwards and sent both Iskandar and his steed crashing into the ground.

Avenger's jaw was hanging open. "Holy SHIT!"

Bucephalus whinnied in pain. Iskandar, somehow, managed to roll free, his eyes flying to his mount - a mistake.

Kratos was upon him in that second, Blades slashing across the King's chest and drawing a snarl of pain from him. Iskandar snatched his sword from its scabbard and blocked one of the Blades with it, though that left the other free to plunge into his shoulder. Growling, Iskandar reached up and seized the Spartan's wrist, grinding the bones under his grip.

Red was beginning to fill the Servant's eyes. His earlier mirth was nowhere to be found. "Finally, we're getting serious! There is still a chance for you to surrender - I would hate to have to kill such a warrior as you." His eyes narrowed. "But I will if I have to. A ruler does NOT shy away from doing everything in their power to grasp victory!"

Kratos could feel the power building in the man, welling up from within him. Light pulsed around them. 'MEDEA, NOW!'

The Servant was just beginning to form when gale-force winds whipped up from nowhere, blowing her back. A dome of light erupted from Iskandar's feet and washed over Kratos.

And then they were gone.

---

SOMEWHERE ELSE​

When Kratos' senses returned to him, he found himself still in a clench with the King of Conquerors. But they were no longer on the plains outside of Mediolanum.

Sand shifted under the two men's feet as they continued to struggle against one another. The sun mercilessly beat down upon them from where it rested at its zenith.

And they were not alone.

"The fucking HELL?" Avenger, her banner still planted in the ground next to her, the cloth still now, as there was no wind in this desolate place, darted her head around the dunes. "Where are we?"

Chiron's eyes were wide. "This…..this is a Reality Marble."

Fujimaru made a strangled noise that was echoed by Avenger. "You mean those things my mother always described as one of the pinnacles of Magecraft? How does he have one of those up his sleeve?" Fujimaru's face was twisting in panic. "We're in trouble….."

Iskandar laughed, though it was interspersed with grunts and pained noises, as he continued to pit his strength against that of Kratos. "This is MY world, fiery little Mage - the world that exists in my heart!" Growling, he slowly managed to pull Kratos' arm upwards, extracting the blade from his shoulder. With both of Kratos' weapons pushed high, he kicked out at the Spartan, who angled his body and absorbed the blow on the meat of his thigh, then lunged forward to crack his skull against that of the Servant.

There was a sound like boulders splitting, and both men staggered back.

Shaking his head, Iskandar took a ragged breath. Then smiled.

From all around them, they heard the sound of footsteps. Countless footsteps.

"But it is not just MY heart - a King does not stand alone!" An army, men beyond reckoning, were climbing the dunes all around them. "These are my soldiers, my loyal followers - and my greatest treasure! Though they have long since passed into the dust of history, still, they endure, to fight alongside me! And I alongside THEM!"

Bucephalus snorted piteously, attempting to rise, but unable to. Iskandar almost made as if to go to his horse's side, but then stilled, his eyes never leaving Kratos. "Go, and rest, my friend. I shall have to fight the rest of the battle today without you." The horse whinnied, and tried to rise one last time, but collapsed. It lay there for a second, before finally slumping into the sands, and then vanishing a moment later.

"Fear not, soldiers of Chaldea - you will not be harmed by my armies - nor shall you, whomever you are," he said, as he caught a glimpse of an old man in a camp chair, far from the battle, who was wearing an expression that was asking why exactly he was here. "This battle is between Kratos and I - and it shall be settled as such."

His eyes narrowed. "Now, Kratos. Spartan. God. And yes, worthy rival. Let us see how you fare against my Noble Phantasm, my IONIOI HETAIROI!"

A cheer, no, a roar swelled from the throats of thousands of soldiers, echoing down the dunes and hitting them like a physical force.

They would be upon him in moments. And Iskandar had escaped his grasp - though he was still close. He could feel Medea nearby, circling - though he knew she would not strike until Iskandar was completely vulnerable.

There were footsteps on the sand, then a pale form between himself and the charging army.

"You need time, right?" Avenger's eyes were hard and determined, as she flicked her gaze back to him, before returning to the horde crashing down upon them. "Then take that bastard down. I'll give you the time you need."

As Kratos grunted, and turned his full attention on his opponent, Avenger took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. "Ok, time to light this shit up." Her spear lengthened, growing longer by the second. With her right hand, she drove it deep into the sands, bracing her feet.

And she raised her left arm up.

"Dropping restrictions on the Murder Arm." A series of clicks were issued from deep within the mechanical arm, as her magical energy began to spike. The hand stiffened, then slid upwards, until it was resting on her wrist.

The arm began to glow red from within.

"This better fucking work," Avenger pointed her arm at the center of the oncoming army, ashes beginning to catch on the wind. "THIS IS THE HOWL OF A SOUL FILLED WITH HATRED - JUST A BIT BETTER!" Dark, fiery spears sprang into being and stabbed into her arm, which was now glowing white-hot.

Her body tensed, and a mad light shimmered in her eyes. "Chew on this you fucksticks! LA GRONDEMENT DU HAINE - MARK ZWEI!"

A concentrated, thrumming beam erupted from her hand, nearly knocking her from her feet with the kickback. Only her hand on the spear driven into the ground kept her standing.

The oncoming soldiers fared much worse. Where the beam touched them, they simply ceased to exist, vanishing without even ashes being left behind. Avenger swept the ray through the frontlines of the army, carving through them with almost no resistance. But, as many as she felled, there were always more behind.

This was a stalling tactic, nothing more.

The two men crashed into each other like a pair of warring bulls. Subtlety, tactics, finesse were gone. All that was left was an overwhelming desire for victory. For Iskandar, the NEED to conquer this challenge, to best a man who had defeated his greatest rival, and over the course of this fight had proven himself to be just as worthy of a rival as the Persian King. For Kratos, every second that passed drew Iskandar's army closer to the two battling titans, and their arrival would mean the end of Kratos' journey - and that he would never again see his son.

Neither was willing to give an inch. Iskandar's sword hammered into Kratos' shield, denting the metal with the sheer force of the blow. Kratos rode the impact and used it to drive his body into a circle, coming up back to back with the Servant. Draupnir formed in his hands, and was thrust between the feet of Iskandar, and a twist of the weapon fouled the King's footing. Iskandar stumbled, off-balance, and ducked his head as a brace of spears sailed past, one narrowly missing his eye. Sand flew up as Kratos charged, spear held in two hands as he leaped and sent Draupnir screaming at Iskandar, the full weight of his body behind the thrust.

Iskandar got his left hand up in the nick of time, sacrificing his hand to save his life. Roaring, he pulled Kratos in close, his fist cannoning into the Spartan's face.

Bones cracked, both in Kratos' skull and Iskandar's hand, but neither felt it. Kratos tore Draupnir loose, a transparent reflection of the weapon left in the Servant's hand, and spun in a circle, sweeping the spear horizontally so viciously that the sand itself was blown back.

Iskandar leapt, only just clearing the head of the spear as it sliced the air in twain. He snapped his knee up, ramming it into Kratos' chest with a sound like a crack of thunder, and forcing the Spartan back a step. Kratos snarled, spat blood, and rammed Draupnir against the sandy ground, and Iskandar bellowed in pain as the remnant of a spear still skewering his hand detonated. The King's eyes were drowning in red as he closed the short distance between the two and, heedless of the damage done to his left arm, screamed a battle cry and buried his forearm into Kratos' ribs, his damaged hand flapping uselessly.

Kratos retaliated by ringing Draupnir off the King of Conquerors' skull.

Avenger's laughter had long passed manic and was now into full-blown crazed. "POWER! UNLIMITED POWER!" she yelled, sweeping the beam across the sands and turning it into molten glass, before erasing a column of soldiers that was attempting to leap the hazard she had created. "WHO ELSE WANTS SOME! I GOT PLENTY YOU CHUCKLEFU….." Her arm gave a whine, and the beam petered out. Slowly, her hand slid back into place, and steam thick enough to create a miniature cloud was expelled from the arm.

Avenger blinked. "Oh hell."

The cry of "AAAAAAALALALALAIE!" washed over her.

Kratos was a second too slow in ducking his head, and Iskandar's sword drew a deep line in his forehead. Blood washed over the Spartan's vision, but he had neither the time nor the hands to wipe his eyes free of the crimson fluid. He got Draupnir's haft up in time to intercept the next strike, then pushed back, one foot darting forward to hook around Iskandar's legs and turn his stumble into a full-on fall. Iskandar was rolling out of the way almost before he hit the sand, as Kratos attempted to pin him to the ground with Draupnir, straight through his gut. The Servant still did not make it back to his feet, he was on his hands and knees, muscles already surging to push himself to his feet when Kratos' booted foot blasted into his stomach, blowing the wind from his body. Saliva and blood leaked from Iskandar's mouth as he was knocked into the air, but somehow, impossibly, he managed to lash out with a kick that took Kratos in the shoulder, causing him to wince for a split second.

Just long enough for Iskandar to land on his feet.

Avenger rolled, scurried, and ducked out of the way of a brace of thrown spears. Without even looking, she called down flaming spears from the sky, knowing the press of soldiers around her was so thick that aiming wasn't necessary. She pushed off the ground, spinning as she rose, spear sweeping out around her body and driving the warriors back - only a few fell, but it gave her another few seconds of life with the breathing room it created. Her arm was throwing out sparks at a worrying rate, having taken a few blows that would have otherwise crippled the Servant. Swords darted in at her back, and she was forced to slide away, the trap swiftly closing around her.

She had but moments left before her death would be inevitable.

Kratos pulled his body back, Iskandar's blade coming within a hair's breadth of spilling his guts. Iskandar swept the blade up, then drove down with it, but Kratos was already moving. His shield snapped into place - for a second, it looked almost as if Kratos had been too late with it, but then the edges of the shield closed shut around Iskandar's sword, trapping it.

With a surge of energy, Kratos pulled his arm down, taking Iskandar's blade, and the hand - and therefore the arm - holding it, with him. At the same time, he leapt up, using the momentum to drive himself high into the air, and one-handed, drive Draupnir through the left elbow of the Servant, and into the ground below.

He did not pull Draupnir free.

Iskandar snarled, struggling against the Spartan's strength, then laughed, as the sound of marching footsteps grew close. "A MAGNIFICENT fight, Kratos! But I still live, and I am far from surrendering. My men are almost here - I believe the victory is mine this day. You cannot best me in the limited time you have left."

Kratos shook his head. "I cannot. But she can."

"What?"

In a shower of particles, a woman materialized behind Iskandar, a dagger raised. "Magical providence, oh natural master of this world, return all to its origins…." She stabbed down, driving the dagger into the back of the King of Conquerors. "RULE BREAKER!"

Magical energy erupted from the wound, pouring out in torrents as Iskandar screamed. There was the dull sound of something, somewhere shattering, and Medea twisted the blade, then tore it free.

The red washed from Iskandar's eyes.

Avenger's back hit the sand as a spear was driven through her leg. She tensed and prepared to spring back up, but a sea of spears were suddenly pressed against the length of her body. She froze.

A ring of steel and hard eyes had circled Kratos and Iskandar, and, to a man, were staring death at the Spartan. A heartbeat passed, then two, then they took a step forward, weapons raised.

"MEN, HALT!"

Iskandar's voice echoed through the dry air.

A spear that had just barely punctured the skin of Avenger's neck froze.

Iskandar released his hold on his sword, and held his hand up. "I have been bested this day. I surrender to you, Kratos of Sparta. The victory is yours."

It was over.

The Reality Marble shattered around them.

As the fields around Mediolanum faded into view, Iskandar beckoned his advisor over. "Boy…..Waver, if you could…?"

Waver was smiling, though it was a pained smile, as he looked upon the numerous wounds Iskandar bore. "Already done, my King."

Iskandar took a deep breath, then spoke, his voice many times its normal volume. "Soldiers of the United Roman Empire - this is Iskandar, your general. I bid you to hear and obey these orders!"

"Seize all the officers and hold them!"

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Lying through his teeth Cu: 'Pseudo-Servants? What a shocking and new revelation to me!'

Given Medea's first reaction to seeing Gatorade's orphan-into-magical crystals operation was to point out how inefficient it was, and immediately demonstrate a better way, I've always had this image of her as a magical scientist/nerd, constantly doing experiments to push the bounds of her knowledge - and she also hacked the damn Holy Grail ritual to make herself a Master and summon herself a Servant, to boot. So that probably colors my writing of her a bit. But given her writing in FGO is largely just a meme of how much she hates Jason, and her Lily self gets more of the spotlight, FGO isn't the best source of characterization for her.

Medea: I'm not going to tell you my name.
Also Medea: I like to brag, so I'm going to show off a bit, and tip the two Servants there to who I am, because I assume they belong to Chaldea.

Hope folks are enjoying Summer 7. Got Lady Avalon on two rolls - haven't tried for the snek yet. Seeing how hard I'm going to have to coax Skadi before she shows up - she was a pain to get in her first version - before I try for Ibuki.

Tentatively, maybe 3-4 chapters left in Septem. I've got a general idea of how the rest of this will resolve, and something of an outline of the path left.

Chapter 32: Septem 9

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 32​

Pacifying the officers of the United Roman Empire took little time, in the end. Once given an order, the Homunculus soldiers were quick to act on it. In an hour's time, the greater whole of the United Roman Empire's officers were being marched through the gates of Mediolanum, destined for the cells beneath the barracks.

"They were caught so flat footed that only a handful thought to try to fight their way free," laughed Iskandar, tearing into his food despite one of his arms being in both a sling and a cast. Fujimaru had done what she could for him, but his hand was still a ruin after a single application of her uniform's healing spell. It would need time, a steady supply of mana, and more treatments before it would be repaired. "Those that did, well, only one or two survived, and they may not survive the night. Very single-minded, those Homunculi."

"But they have delivered to us an abundance of riches," said Nero, who was almost bursting with energy. "In addition to whatever we can learn from the captives, our forces have swollen to near-bursting. The only problem is that we now have too few officers for such a massive army." She glanced to her Legate, who nodded. "Valerius and myself will be up late into the nights promoting from within our forces to fill the gaps. I assume you wish to remain in overall command of the Homunculi Legions, King of Conquerors?"

"It would simplify things greatly," said the El-Melloi, as his King was in the midst of taking a deep draught from his goblet. "Overall field command was granted to three Servants. Caesar, who you have removed from play, my King, and one other."

"Leonidas," rumbled Kratos.

"Yes," El-Melloi frowned. "Who was called back to the United Roman Capital unexpectedly - and what spies and listening spells I had in the capital could not discover why. Those spies and spells, I might add, have been wiped out in the half-day since my Contract was broken, so Lev Lainur wasted no time once he became aware of our betrayal."

"So then, what happens if we run into an army led by King Leonidas?" asked Da Vinci. "Will he be able to order our soldiers around, and vice versa for Iskandar there?"

The Clock Tower Lord drummed his fingers on the wood of the table. "I expect the United Roman Empire is frantically updating their armies to disregard any orders from my King, so do not expect that we will be able to incite them to turn on their leaders as we did this morning. As to our soldiers…" His face scrunched up, and he thought for a long few minutes. "I simply do not have enough data to know what would happen should they get conflicting orders from two leaders who match in rank. It is possible it happened with the southern army, as Caesar and Leonidas were initially meant to command together, but I did not observe it happening with my own two eyes."

"And, it wouldn't shock me if Lev didn't implant some additional commands in all of them to make it so he could assume direct control over them in the event one or more of you guys decided you didn't like the feeling of his boot on your necks," muttered Fujimaru.

"That is true," said Chiron. "Ruling by fear is a risky endeavor. From what you have told me about Lev, I doubt he would feel that even holding the lives of Caesar's wife and son over his head would be enough. This is a man who ascended to the heights of the Roman Empire through treachery and betrayal. He was cowed for now, but Lev having a contingency plan in case Caesar found his mettle again would not shock me."

"And the same would also go towards the Servant they are using as the figurehead for the United Roman Empire," said El-Melloi, with a glance to Nero. Both he and Iskandar had been informed on the precarious nature of speaking the name of Romulus aloud. They had both, unsurprisingly, agreed with the Chaldeans in that hiding the information was a fool's errand, but they had agreed to hold their peace. Neither was happy about it, though. "I would expect he would be able to turn our soldiers against us with a mere vocal command."

"That will make an invasion difficult, if not impossible," said Valerius. "For while we now know where our enemy's capital lies, we cannot approach, or risk losing the greater whole of our forces."

"Then we must bolster our loyal forces," said Nero, finger running across the map that had been spread out on the table. "Cities that merely surrendered may be welcomed back into the fold, and their forces added to ours. Would that Lugdunum have held out, a three whole Legions were huddled behind its walls, but it fell weeks ago."

Iskandar and his retainer shared a look. Finally, Iskandar spoke, a look of confusion on his face. "But, Lugdunum still stands. Where did you hear that it had fallen?"

Nero looked as if she had been punched in the gut. "Caes…..," she swore. "Curse me for a fool. He lied. I knew his reputation, and yet I still trusted his words. My mother must be rolling in her unlamented grave at her daughter's foolishness."

Her finger jabbed at the map, right above the drawing of a city that bore the label of 'Lugdunum'. "Beyond the Legions, there were two mighty warriors there - knowing now what I do of Servants, they could only have been such….especially given that both are supposed to be dead. And one recently at that."

She milked the moment for all it was worth, but it was spoiled by a cranky voice. "Just give us the names already. This ain't some damn play, we don't need dramatic pauses and shit." Avenger was poking at her arm, which, since the battle, was moving sluggishly, and letting off the occasional spark.

(It was also why there was an empty seat to both sides of her. Or at least part of the reason.)

Nero puffed her cheeks out in a pout. "You may be an exotic beauty, Avenger, but you have NO sense of the theater! Fine. Their names were Spartacus….and Boudica."

You could hear a pin drop. "Spartacus?" said Fujimaru. "THE Spartacus - gladiator who led a revolt AGAINST Rome? I can't think of someone LESS likely to be helping you!"

"Though if it was, it'd be the Queen of the Iceni,' said Cu, picking at his teeth with a toothpick. "And it would be extra raw for her, since her revolt is recent history at this point in time, too. She'd be aiding the very person who tore her life down around her."

At the Caster's words, Nero deflated. When she spoke, her voice was soft, and lacked its usual vigor. "What happened to Boudica was…..regrettable, to say the least. Her husband's will should not have been ignored like it was. But by the time word reached back to Rome itself, she and the tribes of Britannia were already in full revolt." Her hands clenched at the edge of the table until her knuckles were white. "I had little choice by then. Her uprising had to be suppressed, and quickly, lest the sparks it was casting catch fire elsewhere in my empire."

Cu, for once, wasn't smiling - there wasn't even a hint of mirth in his face. "And what happened to her daughters, and her?"

Nero couldn't meet his eyes. "I could say that my men went too far, that in an attempt to quell what looked to be a burgeoning rebellion, they went too far. That their actions, what they did to both Boudica and her family, and ignoring her husband's will were the short-sighted actions of brutal fools more interesting in cruelty than just ruling, but that would be unworthy of me." She stood up straighter, and looked right at Cu Chulainn. "I am the Emperor of Rome, and the responsibility lies with me, whether I gave the order or not. What happened to her was horrible, and I will bear the weight of those sins until I stand before Pluto himself and am forced to give an accounting of my life. And if I am sentenced to Tartarus for it, then so be it."

Cu held her gaze for the space of a breath, then nodded. "Fair enough, then. You're not trying to pass the buck, I can respect that." He leaned back, until he wasn't visible in the communicator window anymore. "Carry on with your meeting."

Nero took a deep breath, as she tried to regain her train of thought. "To answer the question before we were…..diverted on a tangent, both of them fought as hard as any other in the battles against the United Roman Empire. Our forces were separated after a loss at the Rhodanus, but their orders were to fall back to Lugdunum, while we would retreat closer to Rome itself, in the hopes we could either divide their forces, or that they would be able to muster support from Gaul and Britannia, should they find the chance. Obviously, that did not work, as even with a divided force, my Legions suffered defeat after defeat until we managed to halt them at Florentia."

Valeruis took over. "The last report we received was that they were penned in at Lugdunum, but that was months ago. To have held out all that time would be a remarkable achievement." He turned his gaze onto the King and his retainer. "Why were the two of you not directed to take the city?"

"Truthfully, I don't know," said El-Melloi. "Caesar and Leonidas had strict instructions to follow Nero and finish her, those I can understand, as she was the only thing holding Rome together in those days. And it isn't like attempts weren't made to take the city. At least three were, with siege weapons and the full might of the Legions surrounding it. But all three failed."

"Something always bothered me about those attacks, as well," said Iskandar, having finished his meal. He picked up a bone and tossed it to Fou, who sprang on it with a happy cry. "They felt more like probes than true attacks. For all that they threw everything they had at the walls, they called a halt much quicker than I would have ever done. And after the last attack, they just settled in and seemed to be content keeping them contained there."

Chiron trailed his eyes along the map. "Lugdunum is far enough removed from things that they could have simply been looking to keep supply lines open. If Boudica's forces were the only ones of any significance in the area, all they would need to do is remove their ability to affect the war, which they did."

"And that would make sense, were this a normal war, Archer," Iskandar was only barely containing his glee - he had been made aware of who Fujimaru's teacher was shortly after the battle, and he had been beside himself with what Fujimaru had termed 'fanboying'. "But the United Roman Empire has no cause to worry about things like casualties. While I was under that Command Seal, had I been ordered to, I could have cracked that city wide open in a day, two at the most." His eyes narrowed. "The loss of life on both sides would have been horrific, but the city WOULD have been ours. And the Servants you mentioned would have been difficult fights, but not beyond my retainer and myself."

He shrugged. "But instead, we were ordered to secure Mediolanum, though it had a fraction of the forces deployed there, and walls that were lesser in comparison. Perhaps they expected that I would quickly raze Mediolanum and then they could redeploy me to Lugdunum, but that is not what happened. And despite my insistence at trying to spare Mediolanum from a sack, countermanding orders never arrived."

"I mean, you did say it looked like Caesar was a couple days away from total victory," said Fujimaru. "Maybe they just made a mistake. It was about that time that they sent Caligula into Roman territory to try to assassinate Emperor Nero. Seems to me they had at least two other schemes going at that time. Maybe your army just got lost in the shuffle with two other higher priority things happening at the same time."

Iskandar nodded. "Maybe, fiery little mage. Lev Lainur is human in the end, after all. As prone to making mistakes as any of us."

There was a long silence, one that was broken by Mash. "So…..what is next, then?" The girl flushed as all eyes turned to her. "I mean…..it sounds like Lugdunum is where Emperor Nero wants to go."

"It does seem to be your best move, from a tactical standpoint," said Cu. "Two more Servants would be a hell of a windfall, especially given how few Servants the United Roman Empire still has left." He chuckled. "Would be nice to have the numbers advantage on them for once, at least in that regard."

Nero's finger was tapping over Lugdunum again. "Two days. That is how long we would need to reorganize our officer corps. Such a monumental shuffling about of personnel will take time - and it will require a forfeiture of some of our sleep to do so.."

Valerius groaned, but nodded. "As my Emperor wills it."

Nero pushed herself up from the table. "We should begin at once. Valerius, gather your staff - we shall need their opinions on the most promising of your juniors, those who are ready for their first taste of command. And I shall need to know whom you can spare to fill the gaps in our new army. And furthermore…" Nero's voice trailed off as they left the room and marched down the hall.

Fujimaru watched them go. "Well, I guess they've got that handled then. Anything else we need to handle?"

Avenger sighed. "I'm probably going to have to tag out. My arm's going to need some TLC from the crazy lady." The arm in question gave a particularly piteous whine as she attempted to move it. "My own damn fault, to be fair. She told me it probably wasn't ready for a full on Noble Phantasm channeling like that, but I don't think she expected me to be facing down a damn Reality Marble, either." She shrugged. "Eh, worth it."

"Words to live by, Avenger," said Fujimaru, who held her fist out to the ashen-haired woman for a bump, which she received.

Cu's face shot back into the communicator's window. "Wait, does that mean…?"

Kratos grunted. "Yes, with Rider still healing, and Avenger unable to fight, you are the only choice."

Cu barked out a happy peal of laughter. "Great! I'll be right there!"

The man's face vanished from the screen, and Da Vinci sighed. "He just vaulted right over the guardrails, and now I swear he's vibrating in place next to the coffins. The Lord save me from fight-happy Irishmen." She looked up at Kratos, who nodded. "Beginning transfer."

"Kick some ass for me, Grumps," said Avenger, as she faded out, and was replaced with the Child of Light.

Cu took a deep breath, then grinned. "Good to be back." He looked over to the two Servants who were watching him across the table. "Cu Chulainn, Caster-Class Servant - unfortunately. Good to meetcha face to face."

"I know you, Child of Light. Or know of you," Lord El-Melloi shrugged. "I said I taught the Tohsaka Heir for a time. In my timeline's version of the Fifth War, you were the Lancer Servant in it."

"Really?" asked Cu. At the man's nod, he groaned. "Man, I can't win for losing. That version of me probably had the time of his life, while I'm stuck here in the End of Days as a stupid Caster."

"Actually…" began El-Melloi. "As I was given to understand, you were stolen from your proper Master from what she described as a 'fake Priest' - the moderator of the War, as it turns out, who was running his own scheme the entire time. He'd apparently somehow managed to keep the Archer from the Fourth War around, and used you as a stalking horse to gather information on the other Masters and Servants, while lurking in the shadows."

Cu blinked, once, very slowly. "Wait, REALLY? That's pretty much exactly what happened to me - well, minus the being a Lancer." His expression grew thunderous. "The guy who stole me, his name wasn't Kirei, was it?"

El-Melloi nodded. "It was."

"That…..is a very odd bit of symmetry," said Romani. "Obviously, since there was only one Holy Grail War in our timeline, Kirei couldn't have had a Servant from the previous war around, but still. Mind, that Singularity differs in a few details as is, as Lord Animusphere won the sole War with a Caster-class Servant, so you being the Caster Servant of your war is already one divergence." His fingers clacked over the keys, and his eyes flicked to the side for a moment. "And what records we have do show that a Kirei Kotomine of the Church died around 2004 - that's the same year as the Fuyuki Singularity."

Cu swore. "Bastard! If that Singularity was still around, I'd ask you to take me back there, Kratos, so I could piss on his ashes, get some revenge for that other me."

"Revenge, and in such a petty manner would be a waste of both our time and resources," rumbled Kratos.

"But it would feel, so, SOOOO good," whined Cu, but good naturedly. "Thankfully, Kratos, you'll never have the misfortune of meeting that guy, but I bet you a good bottle of proper Celtic ale against the best stuff from your world that ten, no, FIVE minutes around him and you'd want to punch his teeth down his throat."

"I would advise against taking that bet," muttered El-Melloi. "From what little the Tohsaka Heir said of the man - as he was apparently her legal guardian for a number of years - he was, to use her own words, 'the most irritating jackass she'd ever met, and I knew Shinji Matou.' Whomever that might have been."

"Getting us back on track," said Da Vinci. "Is there anything else we need to address?"

"If I am to be recovered in time to be of any use in the campaign, I will require a Master," said Iskandar. His eyes were locked on Kratos. "And there is only one I will accept."

He waved his working hand, seeing Fujimaru wince, though she attempted to hide it. "Take it as no slight against yourself, girl. You have potential - your ploy to stall me until Kratos could arrive was perfectly calculated to pique my interest. Were things different, I would contract with you in an instant." He grinned widely. "But next to an actual Spartan who bested me in combat, well, can you blame me? My love of Greek culture is no secret - I carry my childhood copy of the Iliad to this day."

Kratos sighed internally. As with Medea, he understood the necessity of it, but it still made his skin crawl. They had just freed the man's from another's control, and here he was, immediately willing to swear himself to another. Servants - some part of him wondered if something in them wasn't changed by the Throne itself to be willing to accept bondage. "Am I to carry your advisor as well?"

"No," said Iskandar - this apparently coming as a surprise to the El-Melloi, as his face twisted in what looked like disappointment - though Kratos wasn't certain. The man was not the most emotive (and Kratos was aware of the irony of him, of all people, thinking this), and Kratos was hardly an expert at reading the moods of others.

Iskandar turned to look at his retainer. "Think, boy, it's simple tactics. While Kratos is mighty, it is best we do not tie all our Servants to him, just in case. And you are better suited back, away from the fighting - exactly where the girl will be. She could benefit greatly from your guidance."

The Clock Tower Lord frowned, but nodded his head. "True. Even gods can die, as Ragnarök proved. And if I am having to throw a punch, things have gone horribly wrong - which will be the case if I am by your side, my King." He turned to Fujimaru. "Is that acceptable to you?"

Fujimaru was trembling in her chair. "But, but, but…..you're a Clock Tower LORD! I'm….nobody. I'm LESS than nobody! I can't…"

El-Melloi sighed, though he almost sounded happy. "While I appreciate the respect my position is due - especially with how some of my students behave, you are the Master, I am the Servant. My acceptance of a contract with you means that I acknowledge that I will follow your orders." The man almost looked bemused. "You will command much greater than I, I feel, on this journey you are on."

"Yeah, but," Fujimaru was waving her hands about indistinctly. "Kings and Emperors and even gods are these abstract things that I never gave much thought about growing up. Clock Tower Lords are…." her mouth moved for a second, as she tried to formulate the words. "You're like the kaiju of the Moonlit World. The stories BOTH my parents told me of some of you nearly turned my hair white!"

El-Melloi looked bemused. "I see. Another problem student." He held out his hand. "If I am a kaiju, my would-be Master, then I am certainly the runt of the litter. Someday, I may tell you of how I came to warm the seat I hold."

Fujimaru swallowed heavily, but took the man's hand. Red light flashed around them, signifying the formation of the Contract.

All eyes (and one particularly eager pair) then turned to Kratos who, after a moment's hesitation, extended his hand. "You are no slave, and never will be. We fight as equals in this campaign."

Iskandar's smile was so bright the man was almost glowing. "Look at him, boy! So different from the Golden King! Oh, this is going to be enjoyable!" The King seized Kratos' wrist, and he felt the Contract form.

Loud. The King of Conqueror's string in his mind was firstly and foremost loud. Vibrant. ALIVE - in a way that almost laughed in the face of the fact that he was, in essence, a ghost. And it wasn't alone. It felt like there were tiny threads, so thin that the slightest gust of wind would snap them, all attached to Iskandar's thread, stubbornly holding onto him, something they felt like they had been doing for years untold.

Iskandar took a deep breath, his eyes closed. "Yes, goodness. I can feel my body already beginning to patch itself - this will do." Laughing, he clapped Kratos across the back. "I should be fighting fit much quicker!"

Kratos' grunt was drowned out by Romani's voice. "Then, if that's all the immediate business, it sounds like you will have a day or two of rest - something that will be welcome, I imagine."

"Particularly after the beating the two of you gave each other," commented Da Vinci. "With some downtime, I think SOME of us here will take this time to catch up on their sleep."

Her baleful gaze fell on Romani, who tried to stand up to it.

He failed. "Yes, Assistant Director. I'll call Tanya to spell me - and Medusa. She has been making noise about wanting to contribute a bit more while she's stuck here. A hopefully quiet period should at least let her learn the ropes."

"And I'll see how badly Avenger has broken my beautiful creation. Ciao!" said Da Vinci, with a wave, as the communicator winked out.

---

Fujimaru Ritsuka was limping a bit as she lurched back to her room. With downtime, and Cu Chulainn available, her Sensei had decided to resume her dodge training in the afternoon. She had been doing well until she'd realized her newest Servant had come to watch, then she'd tried to move in two directions at once and had tweaked something. Which led to her eating, in order, one of Chiron's tennis balls, two of Cu's loud bubbles, and then, finally dirt.

(Way to impress, girl. Lord of the Clock Tower and he sees you falling over yourself like that.)

She'd tried to soldier on after that, but Sensei had shut that down hard, not about to let her possibly compromise her ability to move in the middle of a campaign. Thankfully, her hamstring was only pulled a little (Fujjimaru was possibly going to be feeling his strong hands on her thighs for the foreseeable future - she was a HEALTHY GIRL, alright!), but he'd put on his most stern face when he told her to take it easy for the next two days.

At least she likely wasn't going to be marching along with the regular army. At this point, she was pretty much on permanent chariot-buddy duty with Nero. She'd even gotten a few lessons on steering the thing after she'd had to do an emergency turn at the reins during the whole mess with Caligula. By the time this Singularity was over, she might have a future career in Roman reenactments.

Cu had wandered off, stating a desire to explore the city (read: find a tavern and tie one one, probably with some gambling on the side), so she was leaning on her Sensei's shoulder as she limped back to her room.

And the Clock Tower Lord was trailing behind them.

His voice, when he finally spoke, made her jump just a little bit. "Do you do this every day?" He sounded curious.

"Not every day," said Chiron. "I've only been teaching her a short while, but dodging has been one of our focuses. As a Master surrounded by a war of Servants, it seemed prudent that she learn how to avoid damage, as Masters are in short supply for us."

"True," mused Lord El-Melloi II. "Losing a Master in this war is much more consequential than in a standard Grail War. And while it would not have made much difference in the one I took part in, it is knowledge I could have done with in my later years." His eye twitched, once, and the part of her brain where he had taken up residence seemed to radiate feelings of frustration to the point she wondered if a person could get second-hand ulcers.

Thankfully, it wasn't far to her room, and then she was reclining on her bed, a half-empty bottle of water already drained (still no wine - she was planning how she was going to get back at Avenger for this. Shortsheeting her bed sounded like a good start.), and her Sensei once more probing her hamstring (I'm flushed from the workout, NOTHING ELSE - UNDERSTAND) to reassure himself that whatever damage she'd done to herself was light.

"I'm not familiar with any Fujimarus in my timeline," said the Lord, who had taken a cigar out, but was twirling it between his fingers, unlit, in deference to Fujimaru (she assumed). "Not that that says much, given the disdain the Clock Tower has for Japan. What can you tell me, my Master, of your family, and more importantly, your capabilities?"

Fujimaru let her head loll to the side so she could look at the man ('Always look at your superiors in the Moonlit World, girl. Particularly when they ask you a question!,' sounded her mother's voice in her head. 'And superiors, so you understand, includes your sister!') "We're nothing special, pretty small time, really. Kinda like me. I already told Sensei this, but I'm not much of a Mage. Reinforcement and Gandr is about all I've been able to do consistently. And I'm pants at the family specialty."

"Which is?" he asked.

"Spiritualism. If you just think of the Fujimaru's as mediums, you're not far off," she shrugged, hiding a wince as Chiron's fingers found where her muscle was the most sore. "Dunno if I got more of my dad's stuff than my mom's - my dad's American-born Japanese, married into the family - but I can't really see ghosts or other things unless I concentrate hard. And Sensei's flat out forbidden me from doing that with how the world is right now."

"Wise," muttered Lord El-Melloi II. "I've had more than my fair share of dealings with ghosts, and they're dangerous at the best of times. I can only imagine how bad things are with all of humanity crowding the stations of the various afterlifes."

He tapped his cigar on the surface of the table. "It's interesting though. My assistant was the gravekeeper of a small town in the English countryside for years. Through a variety of circumstances, she was very, VERY sensitive to ghosts, which came in handy given how often I found cases involving them in some fashion. Her situation was…..unique, but there might be one or two things that I can dredge up that might help, should it become necessary to begin working with your family speciality."

Chiron set her leg back down on the bed. "That would be appreciated. While I consider myself to have a broad base of knowledge to draw from as a teacher, that is one area on which I find myself to be a bit thin on."

The Lord actually cracked a smile - a narrow one, but a smile nonetheless. "I can't promise what little scraps I know will be of any benefit, but I'll see what I can remember."

---

Nero's estimate was correct. It took them two days, and most of the nights, to find an acceptable number of officer-quality candidates from the Roman Legions, and either shuffle them over to the Homunculi Legions, or promote them to the vacancies left in their respective armies.

Iskandar was healed enough to be pestering Kratos and Cu both for spars by afternoon of the first day, something Cu at least quickly agreed to. Though they took their mock battles out to the space of cleared land where Servant and god had fought the previous day, as even the ring set aside in Mediolanum's barracks wasn't large enough to accommodate them, in physical space or the size of their personalities. Kratos had been cajoled along to keep the fight from spiraling beyond the confines of a friendly bout (though most suspected the two men of wanting him there in the hopes of getting to take a turn fighting him), and while he was his gruff as ever upon their return to the city that evening, there was a spring in his step (if you squinted really hard). So it seemed he had enjoyed his time scrapping with his two Servants.

The second day was a day of bustling organization. Fujimaru, even if she hadn't been ordered to take it easy, would have stayed in her room and kept her head down, as there was a steady stream of runners coming to and from where the Emperor was sequestered with her officers, reorganizing two disparate Legions into a single force, piece by piece. Rooms in the palace were being fought over as newly minted officers met those who would be commanding under them, and attempted to hash out their expectations and duties.

Flatly, it was a mess. Fujimaru kept her head down, and imagined this was akin to the chaos in Chaldea after the first Singularity in Fuyuki, as Da Vinci and Romani had desperately tried to plug holes in an organization that was suddenly missing a metric ton of personnel.

The reorganized and reinforced Roman Legions marched on the third day.

Nero slept standing up (or leaning on Fujimaru, more correctly) for most of that day's march, the Praetorian Guard rebuffing all those who wanted a word with the Emperor, gently, but firmly, while Fujimaru consigned herself to being a body pillow of sorts.

She might have griped a bit, but she didn't honestly mind. The bags under Nero's eyes had bags - she had really pushed herself to get them moving as fast as possible.

"Indeed, to strike when the iron is hot is the essence of battle," said Iskandar, his chariot rattling alongside Nero's. "We have dealt a great blow to the United Roman Empire in adding their forces to our own, but even the Legions they let me command were but a portion of their numbers. If they empty the capital, and manage to recall all the forces they had in the field and forge them into a single unit, they would outnumber us - less so than they would have two days ago, but numerical superiority would still be theirs."

"Which is why we are rushing to Lugdunum as quickly as possible," said Lord El-Melloi II, from where he was standing by his King's side. "For we hold the Servant advantage, and Servants can single-handedly rout entire armies. And we have the chance to add two more to our roster, if Lugdunum still stands."

Kratos, who has been quiet most of the day in his fashion, speaks for the first time in hours. "The remaining Servants are two?"

"Three, actually," says the Lord. "Leonidas and their, ahem, figurehead, we know. But there were missives from Lev Lainur himself speaking of a third who he was using for information gathering purposes, but he never directly named him. From what I could gather - and there wasn't much to go on, it seemed like Lev was keeping this Servant heavily under wraps. Whether as a trump card, or simply because he wanted his spy's movements shrouded in as much fog as possible, I don't know. Our paths certainly never crossed."

"Unless he had Presence Concealment like me!" chirped Jing Ke, from her perch on Lu Bu's shoulder.

"True. We cannot discount his class being Assassin." The man's eyes were distant, no longer looking at the fields before them. "They are perfect for the role of a scout or information gatherer. It is how Kirei used his Assassin in the War I took part in."

Cu's muttered aspersions on Kirei's lineage, parents or lack thereof, and sexual practices (goats may or may not have been involved) were drowned out by Iskandar's laugh. "Though they found themselves with nowhere to run when I trapped them in my Reality Marble! They were cut down in less time than it took me to unravel the mystery of the Gordian Knot."

The Caster smiled, a smile laced with memory. "True. Of those you dragged into your inner world that day, my King, none were as surprised as them. And I was reacting much as my Master did a few days ago, when I first laid eyes upon a Reality Marble."

"They had no place to hide," rumbled Kratos.

"Exactly!" If anything, Iskandar laughed harder.

It was a week of marching from Mediolanum to Lugdunum. And in all that time, they saw no sign of the United Roman Empire.

"Where ARE they?" Nero slammed her goblet down on the table that had been set up in her tent, wine sloshing over the lip of the vessel. "Small, large - all the settlements and colonies we have passed have been unguarded, with not even a token force left to keep order."

"And we see no sign of them at the choke points, either," said Chiron, from where he was perusing the map.

"Indeed," commented Iskandar. "The path to Lugdunum is littered with areas where they could ambush us - or merely force us into an unfavorable position. For one, we will be forced to cross the Rhodanus sooner or later, and that would be a prime opportunity for them to bleed us heavily."

"And yet, the scouts have yet to pick up even a trace sign that their Legions are nearby," muttered Lord El-Melloi II.

"This feels like what you mentioned a few days ago," said Fujimaru. "Them emptying the capital and recalling all the forces in the field to make a giant army. But…."

Chiron, Iskandar, and Lord El-Melloi II all nodded as one. Chiron was the one to speak, however. "Yes, my Master. If they truly are consolidating their forces, the question is, where?"

"It cannot be Lugdunum, if that city, and our forces within, still persist," said Valerius, scowling down at the map. "That forces them to deal with all the difficulties of besieging a city while also trying to hold off an advancing army. History - and proper military doctrine states that an arriving army of comparable size means a besieging army MUST withdraw, lest they risk being flanked and overrun."

"It is possible they seek to raze it before we arrive," rumbled Kratos.

"Were it another force huddled behind those walls, I could agree," said Nero. "But if Boudica and Spartacus still draw breath, what hope have they? The Queen of Victory and the Gladiator King were formidable in life, but as these Servants? I have seen what they can do, particularly with none to counter them, as we anticipate that is the state the United Roman Empire finds itself in."

"It is possible Leonidas has returned to the field," said Lord El-Melloi II, reaching into his suit for a cigar. "But depending on how much Lev Lainur knows about the status of myself and my King, that would be borderline foolish. If he is aware that we have not died, but changed sides - and Masters…"

Iskandar cut him off. "Forget foolish, boy, it would be military suicide! If he knows we have some means of breaking the Contract between a Master and Servant, and turning them to our side, then that is the kind of blunder that would have earned me a slap across the head from Aristotle." He shook his head. "No. While Lev may hate you Chaldeans, he never struck me as being blinded by that hate - even through the haze of the Command Seal he had me under, he seemed determined to grind you beneath his feet, and was taking every necessary step to do just that."

There was a silence as everyone digested the King's words, and mulled them over. At last, Fujimaru raised her hand, like she was still in school (and surrounding by the collection of tactical geniuses and stone badasses like she was, she kind of did feel that way). "You don't think…..could they have pulled all the way back to the capital?"

All eyes turned to the last Master of Humanity, then some eyes dropped to a recent addition to the map, a shaky collection of Roman-style building and a colosseum, inked in Avenger's questionable style that had been placed somewhat in the middle of what would have been present-day Spain.

The label upon it, written in another hand, said simply 'United Roman Capital'.

"It's a theory," said Lord El-Melloi II. "But why would they cede so much ground to us, when they still have numerical superiority?"

"Home ground advantage, perhaps," ventured Chiron.

"I don't see it," said Iskandar. "That is the move of an army that is outnumbered and reeling. While we have dealt two - no three major blows to the enemy, none of them have been decisive. Caesar's defeat could have been turned around had morale held and enough officers decided to rally, despite Archer there deliberately targeting any who made the attempt. And your victory over myself was not one where your army triumphed - I was brilliantly manipulated into a scenario that let you break me free of the Command Seal I was under. So while the United Roman Empire has seen setbacks, I do not feel they are reeling."

His finger tapped over the capital. "And drawing their Legions behind their walls negates their greatest advantage, the sheer hordes they can throw at us. Lu Bu alone as the tip of the spear on a siege tower could create enough space for a beachhead to be established. And Kratos could easily do the same, I feel - and Spartacus, if he yet lives."

"And that doesn't even take into account the Gordius Wheel," said Lord El-Melloi II.

"Exactly! While they are defending the walls, I could take to the skies and make their defenders' lives a living hell," he shook his head. "MAYBE they've stripped the surrounding countryside of anything foragable, have burnt the settlements to the ground, and fouled the wells, or plan to."

Nero's face twisted. "That is abominable."

Iskandar nodded. "It is ugly warfare, yes. But this is an enemy who wants you exterminated - the promises Caesar made to allow you to remain as an Emperor of a fraction of the Roman Empire were hollow ones, in the end, as that surrender would signal the death knell for Humanity itself in the past, present, and future. I'm not the most knowledgeable in such things, but I expect the next thing you would feel after bending the knee would be your body turning to ash."

Valerius ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "It feels as if we are trying to put together a puzzle, but are missing pieces." His fist struck the table, causing the pieces on the map that represented their armies to rattle. "I do not like any of this. Something is coming that we are not expecting."

"No disagreement there," said Fujimaru. "This whole thing stinks like there's a trap waiting, somewhere."

"Then we will just have to keep our eyes open," declared Nero, and that was that, because, at that point, they'd been going around in circles for the better part of two hours, and everyone was tired of the discussion.

Six and a half days after departing Mediolanum, the Speculatores returned mid-march to say that Lugdunum had been sighted, and, to all appearances, the walls still stood. They were damaged, but whole.

Nero wanted to march through the night to reach there, but calmer voices managed to prevail in the end. They made camp early that night, determined to start early the next day. By the best estimates of their Speculatores, they were maybe a half-day's march away. There continued to be no sign of the United Roman Empire, and most agreed that the area around Lugdunum would be a poor place for an ambush, if loyal Legions still remained within the city, but none wished to be the one who had pushed for hasty action that ended up costing them.

So they settled down for the night, and if the sentries were instructed to be extra watchful that evening, none complained.

"Got to say," said Cu Chulainn, as they drew into sight range of the city. "If you Romans are going to rip off the names of my people's gods for your cities, couldn't you make the city itself a little less ugly?"

The Caster wasn't wrong. Where Mediolanum had been a city of open spaces and white marble, Lugdunum was sprawling, but somehow squat, cramped, and somewhat ramshackle. Various portions of the city that they could see from the hill they were on almost seemed to clash with one another, as if many different hands had taken their turn at shaping the city to their liking.

Nero gave a derisive sniff. "You speak of the administrative center of Roman Gaul, Caster!" She took another look at the city, and deflated a bit. "But, you are not incorrect. Many of the Emperors that preceded me graced this city with their presence, and left their mark upon it. Augustus, Tiberius, even my uncle spent time there, either as a stop on a campaign, or for a longer excursion. I, myself, had been intending to visit….before the war began. It had never sat right with me that the Imperial Mint was moved there from Hispania by my ancestor Augustus. Rome itself should be responsible for issuing the coin of the realm, and not another city, even one as important as Lugdunum."

"The grounds around the city look clear - no sign of our enemies," said Chiron, his eyes squinting and narrow. "And unless our enemies have another Reality Marble to hide their forces in, as you did, King of Conquerors, I do not feel there is an ambush awaiting us."

"Leonidas - if he was ever here, should not have a Noble Phantasm like that," said Iskandar. "It is almost certainly defensive in nature, going by the feat that saw him inscribed on the Throne."

"Thermopylae," Kratos' eyes were distant.

Iskandar nodded. "Yes. You of all people would know of that, I expect." Iskandar had been slowly but steadily chipping away at Kratos' walls in the week hence. It had been inevitable - once he had learned that Kratos had been at Troy, he had practically begged the Spartan to tell him of his world's Achilles (something Chiron had been quietly curious about, as well). Thankfully, for as overbearing as the Servant could be, he was willing to accept Kratos' refusals to talk when the Spartan wasn't in the mood to indulge him (and the rest of them, as storytime with Kratos was always a treat, at least in Fujimaru's opinion). But they were getting along tolerably well, at least in her estimation.

A belief that was bolstered by having seen, a couple of nights ago, Kratos flipping through Iskandar's prized copy of the Iliad by the fire. If Iskandar had been willing to lend that out, it had to mean the two men had at least found some common ground with one another.

"Means we just have Mystery Servant X to worry about, whoever he is," said Fujimaru. "So, how are we doing this?"

Nero sniffed. "I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus! Rome itself! I shall march up to the gates of the city and ask if my Legions still stand within." She looked over her shoulder at the rest of them. "With such stalwart protectors around me, what have I to fear?"

---

THE GATES OF LUGDUNUM​

The plan had the advantage of simplicity and directness, at least. And, try as he might, Kratos had not been able to see how it could be turned into a trap. If loyal soldiers still resided within the city, then the United Roman Empire would be playing right into their hands by attacking now. And if the city had been turned, they need simply pull back and encircle it. Taking it by siege would give the Legions practice at the more serious undertaking that would be cracking open the United Roman capital.

Still, an uneasy feeling seemed to hang over his head as they drew up to the gates. Nero's personal standard preceded them, so that there was no question who it was that had come calling to Lugdunum.

They stopped just outside of arrow range, and Nero drew herself up to her full (insignificant) height, and called out to the walls. "HAIL THE CITY! THIS IS YOUR EMPEROR, NERO CLAUDIUS CAESAR AUGUSTUS GERMANICUS, ASKING - DO LOYAL ROMANS STILL HOLD THIS CITY?"

At least the woman's voice was much larger than her stature.

There was no response.

"Archer says he can see people on the walls moving around, so SOMEONE heard that," whispered Fujimaru.

Slowly, the gates began to grind open - a single man was pushing them aside. That alone would have marked him as a Servant, even if Kratos did not feel the subtle pressure that emanated from one in this man.

He was a veritable giant. Taller, and broader than even Iskandar, and covered in slabs of muscle - all of which were on full display, as the man wore little else beyond a few strips of grayish leather. Ragged, unkempt blonde hair blew in the winds where it poked out from the odd mask he wore. A naked blade, chipped from use and covered in flecks of dried blood was grasped in his hand. His eyes were crazed, but his voice, when he spoke, was level and controlled. "So…..the weak return, having grown strong. I ask, does that now make you oppressors?"

An elbow buried itself into his ribs. "Knock it off, Spartacus. This isn't the time for your usual antics." A woman stepped around Spartacus and began approaching the Roman lines, utterly without fear or concern.

Kratos did not need to see the crown on her head to know the woman to be royalty, for she carried herself with the unmistakable air of one who had been born to rule - much like the Emperor they all found themselves in the presence of lately. Bright, flame red hair streamed out behind her as she walked up to them, a sword and shield grasped in her hands. A cape fluttered from her shoulders, white, like most of her outfit. She stopped a respectable distance away from them, blue eyes narrowing. "Well, Nero. It took you long enough, didn't it?"

"Boudica." Nero almost seemed to want to flinch from the woman's gaze, before her spine straightened, and a tentative smile found its way to her face. "It does my heart good to see you still live. When our armies were separated all those months ago, I feared the worst - and Caesar claimed that Lugdunum had fallen. I am pleased to see he lied."

Boudica scoffed. "My armies almost threw yours back, and we had little more than the clothes on our backs and a handful of weapons to do it with. Behind walls like these, and with proper steel? Those United Romans never stood a chance of breaking us."

Her eyes moved to take in the rest of them. "And you bring such allies with you. Servants - more than just Lu Bu and Jing Ke, I see, have joined your ranks. As well as…." Her eyes reached Kratos, and they widened. "A g.."

"Great warrior, yeah," cut in Cu Chulainn. Boudica's eyes met his, and something unspoken passed between them. "Kratos here is my Master - yeah Kratos, I know you still don't like that term, but too bad - and a hell of a fighter, as well. Sparring with him is the most fun I've had since my days with my teacher, let me tell you."

"I…..see," Boudica's brow was furrowed. "Much seems to have occurred since we have been stuck here." She turned to Nero. "The city is yours, Nero."

She stepped aside and allowed them to begin to file into the city, though she started a bit when she laid eyes upon Fujimaru and Mash, who had been a bit overshadowed in the crowd, both having been behind Kratos and Iskandar. "Now, who are the two of you?"

Mash gave a formal bow. "Hello, your Highness. My name is Mash Kyrielight, Demi-Servant of Chaldea, and this is my Master, Ritsuka Fujimaru."

A softer light had come into Boudica's eyes. "Demi-Servant…..but you're both so young."

"Needs must," said Fujimaru, with a shrug. "I'm the only Master left to Chaldea. And even if I wasn't, stakes are high enough that I'd be here anyways." She snaked an arm around Mash's neck and pulled her back to her, causing the violet-haired girl to squeak. "And anyways, I've got my wonderful Kohai here, as well as my Sensei to keep me safe." She shrugged. "Or as safe as anyone can be in the middle of a crazy civil war in the past."

Fujimaru nudged Mash, and the Shielder began moving, keeping up with the rest of their party as they entered the city - though it was slow going as Fujimaru was still draped over Mash's back.

Boudica kept pace. "The past, then…..time-travel?" She glanced ahead to where Kratos' bulky form was. "Is that then where he comes in?"

Mash shook her head. "No. Mr. Kratos is, well, it's complicated."

"Let's just say he showed up out of the blue and saved me, and everyone else, and has kind of been on our side since," Fujimaru waved her hand in the air. "It's too long to go into here and now, I assume you and Spartacus will get the full briefing sometime before we head out to finally kick the United Roman Empire's teeth in."

"I…..see," said Boudica, who clearly didn't see at all. "I suppose I will have to wait to have it explained how something like that is walking the Earth when, by all accounts, that should be impossible." She frowned. "It will probably be later in the evening, as well. Once I saw that it was Nero approaching, I set the city to preparing a feast, both to celebrate the siege being broken at last, and to hail our saviors."

Nero was looking back and waving her arm at Boudica, beckoning her up. "Probably what she wants you for, too," said Fujimaru.

For a split second, something twisted in Boudica's expression. It wasn't simple hate - that emotion was far too plain. It was loathing. Mash was looking at Nero, not Boudica, and missed it, and it was there and gone so quickly Fujimaru was more than halfway convinced she'd imagined it - if not for the chill that ran down her spine.

Boudica's tone was tense, but pleasant, when she spoke. "I suppose she is, isn't she? I'll speak with you two later then."

She was halfway between the girls and Nero when she paused and looked back. For a second, she seemed as if something was on the tip of her tongue, but then she shook her head, and resumed walking.

From his position beside Kratos, Cu hummed. "Boudica working alongside Nero. Never thought I'd see the day." The moment Boudica arrived at Nero's side, the smaller woman began chattering at her. "They're about the two most incompatible people under the sun, given what happened between them, and yet, here they are, co-existing. It's like seeing those two Indian demigods working together - or me and that damn Medb, who I continue to be glad that we haven't run into yet."

Kratos turned his head to regard Cu. "If she was a Servant summoned by the land itself, then should she not be aware of what she opposes?"

"Eh…..," Cu raised his palm until it was flat, and waggled it from side to side. "Depends on the Servant, really. None of the ones you ran into in France knew anything about Humanity being wiped out. They did know something was wrong with France itself, at least, but only some of them were doing anything about it. If it wasn't for Siegfried, what are the odds those two girls would have ended up doing anything but bickering with each other?"

Cu glanced from side to side, seeking for something in the crowds. "And then there's that old man. He was plenty aware that something was off with this Singularity, but he was content to sit on his ass and do nothing, at least until whatever it was about you got him giving a damn again. Which is more than I can say for the rest of the Servants on that island."

"Really, Caster," said Medea, as she materialized at his side in a shower of particles. "And I must say, seeing you in my class has almost been payment enough for this job - I suppose you can teach an old dog new tricks." She laughed, melodiously at Cu's glare. "But I don't know what you expected me to do. I was summoned on that island, and had little means of making it back to the mainland, and less desire to do so. I assumed if my aid would be necessary, fate would see its way to sweeping me up in something. And lo and behold, here I am."

She raised a finger and waved it under her fellow Caster's nose. "Despite the title we carry, not all of us are heroes like you, Child of Light, forever looking for the next fight or idealistic crusade to throw ourselves into. For some of us, happiness is a quiet cottage, far away neighbors, and the freedom to pursue our own interests for a change."

"Not long ago, I would have agreed with you," said Kratos, to Medea's thinly-veiled interest. "After I left Greece, I cut myself off from the land I found myself in. My wife laid a protection stave around our woods, one that kept the outside world away." And she carefully marked trees to be used for her pyre that would crack that stave wide open, and force her husband and son to reckon with that outside world. "But one day, I could hide no longer, and the world was there, and I…and my son, had to face it." Violently, in fact. "And we learned that there were things that would not leave us alone, no matter how little we desired to be part of their quarrels."

Medea's head was tilted, and interest sparkled in her eyes. "So, what? Once you're done here - and I hear that you're only helping out this Chaldea in the hopes of finding a way back to your home - but once you are back there, will you seek out another cause to champion?"

"No," said Kratos. "Would that I could lay my axe down and be done with a life of conflict, but I do not feel that will ever be my fate. But the Odin of my world was a tyrant and a monster, one who had taken from the Nine Realms for far too long. He could no longer be allowed to continue in that path." Kratos paused, and his voice was softer when he resumed speaking. "And…..I would have helped Chaldea regardless. To try to be the man my son believes me to be."

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over Kratos. "Well spoken!" A grin so manic that it almost seemed that teeth were being bared at the Spartan, if not for the friendly, almost overjoyed tone of the speaker's voice. "I had concerns when I saw what you were - gods are oppressors, almost one and all. But to hear you rose up against an oppressor god yourself, and are aiding humans in their fight, and would have done so regardless?" The behemoth of a man barked out laughter that threaded the boundary between sanity and outright madness. "You may well be a brother-in-arms, yes!"

Kratos looked up at the Servant (and again, some part of him continued to marvel at how often he found himself doing that of late). "You are Spartacus. The gladiator who rose up against Rome?"

"I AM!" More laughter. "Romans are oppressors, so I sought to throw them down, but the United Roman Empire are worse oppressors yet, so I find myself working with the very oppressors I once fought!" Something that might have, someday, passed within a mile of being called 'contemplative' moved across his face. "It is a strange life we Servants lead. But never a quiet one, for there are always oppressors to oppose!"

"I hear that," chuckled Cu. "My life is much easier when I'm just an attack dog - 'go there, Cu', 'kill that Servant, Cu.' And so on. Wars like this are complicated when I can't just stick my flag in the ground and duel the other side's champions day in and day out."

That comment got Cu his own facefull of grinning gladiator. "I know your story, Child of Light. You too stood up against an oppressor, an evil queen who sought to grind all of Ulster beneath her heel. And you died on your feet, spiting her even with your death!" Spartacus' laugh was mirthful, for as guttural as it was. "Well done!"

"Buddy, you want an oppressor, you won't find much better than that crazy bitch," Cu hung his head. "The things I have to do on the Throne so she won't catch sight of me and then spend the rest of the day chasing me around, like some kind of psycho pink poodle. I don't know what's worse, the innuendos, or the veiled death threats that halfway also sound like innuendos."

They had been making steady time through the city, once more being hailed as heroes (or for the first time - Kratos had not been present when the Roman Legions had arrived at Mediolanum, but from what he understood, they had been welcomed in this fashion). It was, in a way, somewhat similar to how a victorious Spartan army would be received upon their return home. The cries were different - and Spartans were not ones to shower the red petals down upon their warriors, as was being done to them now, but at its core, the emotion was the same.

He found that it was not something he had missed. The praise he had received from being the general of Ragnarök had been uncomfortable enough - much less the near-reverence the surviving Valkyries showed him. This…..this was too much.

He would be glad when it was over.

As they drew up to the gates of the palace, where, of all things, a small stage had been constructed - hastily it seemed. Nero's eyes were wide as she looked to Boudica, who nodded dismissively. Nero impulsively (or possibly not - the woman had, as Fujimaru put it, 'more hands than an octopus' - whatever that meant - whenever she was around someone who caught her eye for beauty) threw her arms around the woman, who stiffened, and did not relax until Nero was halfway up the stairs leading to the stage.

Once she reached the center of the stage, the crowds roared, something that made the Emperor beam. "MY PEOPLE!" she cried, her voice easily carrying over the noise of the throngs of people crowding to see her. "You have endured, and suffered much, these past months! The hardships you must have had to endure - I can only imagine!" She opened her arms, beckoning to the crowd. "But my heart SWELLED to see the walls of this great city still standing! And it swelled AGAIN to see Queen Boudica when the gates opened, and to know that her leadership and bravery saw you through that long night!"

Her foot stomped down onto the stage with a crack. "BUT THE DAWN HAS COME! The so-called United Roman Empire is in shambles, fleeing from our renewed MIGHT! Soon, we shall lay siege to the capital of their miserable Empire, and RAZE IT TO THE GROUND!"

The crowd roared. Amidst the cheers of 'AVE NERO!', there were more than a few voices shouting Boudica's name.

Nero held up her hand for silence, which she got - after a time. "But that is a concern for tomorrow. Tonight - WE FEAST! Queen Boudica has thrown the stores open, and has had all the splendid chefs of the city preparing a repast for us all - commoner, soldier, noble, and yes, even Emperor - tonight! Tonight, let us celebrate this city's return to Rome's bosom, and the beginning of the end of this pretender Empire claiming the name of GLORIOUS ROME!"

Deafening applause rained down upon her.

---

 

LATER THAT EVENING​

"I know I've said it before, but the Emperor can really work a crowd," said Fujimaru. "She had them eating out of the palm of her hand before she'd even said a word."

They were all seated around Nero's table, just outside her tent in the middle of the massive Legion camp. Food had been brought out from the city in a steady stream since midday, and massive pots had been set up to cook the evening's fare. A great number of hunters, as well, had been dispatched to the nearby woods. As day turned to early evening they had begun trickling back, all bearing some form of game that was quickly turned over to the various cooks, and the smell of roasting meat began drifting on the wind.

There were spirits, as well - to both Jing Ke and Cu's delight. The nobility of the city had enthusiastically donated the contents of their wine cellars for tonight's celebration, and the sounds of revelry had begun to echo out from the city at an early hour - and was quickly matched by similar noises from the Legion camps.

Mash and Fujimaru (to the girl's continued annoyance) were drinking water. Cu had argued against it - reasoning that if the girl was old enough to fight and die for a cause, then she was old enough to get good and proper drunk, but Da Vinci and Romani had been adamant in their refusals, at which point Cu had thrown his hands up in the air and surrendered.

(Fujimaru had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't tried all that hard, with the thought process of 'more for me this way'.)

"Kind of comes with the Emperor territory, girl," said Jing Ke, through a drunken hiccup. "Qin Shi Huang might have been a dictator bad enough to get a group of like-minded people including me desperate enough to hatch a plan to kill him, but the man could move a nation with his words alone. How else do you explain him being able to get something like the Great Wall built? He didn't ONLY use the whip and the bootheel."

Lu Bu made a sharp hissing noise. "And how did your life end, big guy?" Jing Ke reached out and slapped the Berserker across the arm. "Got to use the carrot AND the stick - can't just use one or the other all the time. Or, in your case, treachery, which was your go-to."

Lu Bu's reply was almost morose.

"Speaking of our tiny, but formidable Emperor, where is she?" asked Cu, glancing about.

"Emperor Nero is seeing to the festivities in the city," said Mash. "She said she would be joining us later, but she wanted to make sure everything was going well for the people of Lugdunum before that." Mash smiled. "She said, given how much they went through when the Roman Legions were forced to retreat, they deserved this feast more than anyone, and so, she wanted it to be as grand as possible."

Mash poked her index fingers together. "I kind of get the sense that she feels responsible for everything her citizens have had to go through in this war."

"On the one hand, that's admirable," said Fujimaru. "On the other hand, everyone around this table knows who's to blame, and it rhymes with Dev Dainur." Her face turned down into a grimace. "But the clock's ticking for him. Won't be long before we're knocking on his door."

"I'll drink to that!" crowed Cu. "Something about that guy made my skin crawl back in Fuyuki, and I had to spend quality time around Kirei fucking Kotomine, so I grew a thick skin where slimy sorts are concerned."

"Still, she's so busy," said Mash. "I don't think I've seen her stop moving since she entered the city. I hope Emperor Nero can find some time to stop and rest and relax tonight."

"Not just her," said Fujimaru, glancing across the camp. "Boudica's been just as busy. She was even helping the cooks with the soups a little while ago." She licked her lips. "Got to say, whatever she put in it, it was damn tasty."

Kratos grunted. He had little appetite this evening, for some reason. He had had a bit of boar, but little else. This whole celebration sat ill with him. He understood the reasons and necessity behind it, he did, but he would have saved such for after the United Roman Empire was vanquished.

(And King Leonidas was freed, said a part of his mind.)

"I'm glad you enjoyed it!" said Boudica, as she approached their table. "I thought about warning you away from it - the cooks in this city are all poor hands at soups, something I can testify to after eating their fare for months on end. That's why I helped with their preparations tonight. It wouldn't do to send out a poor meal to the people who worked so hard, both inside and outside this city, for the past few months."

"It was very good, Queen Boudica," said Mash.

Boudica's smile turned a touch wistful, as she reached out to pat Mash on the head. "I told you, you don't need to call me Queen. Boudica is fine. But I'm glad you liked it. It's the same recipe I used to make for my daughters…."

She sighed, and shook her head, seeming to banish the brief bout of melancholy. "Anyways, I'm going to go find Nero. She should eat something sooner rather than later, she's been running around all day. She'll keel over and collapse if she doesn't get something in her belly."

As the Iceni Queen walked away, Kratos pushed himself up from the table, something that immediately drew every eye at the table to his form.

Unsurprisingly, it was Cu who proved best able to read the Spartan's mood. "Need some air - and maybe a break from all, well, this?" he said, waving an arm vaguely at the ongoing celebration.

Kratos grunted, and began walking away from the camp, into the night. A few shouted words and a handful of waves caressed his back as he trudged off.

He did not look back.

After a few moments, the sound of the army had lessened, and he stopped, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

Too many people, too much noise, and far too much revelry. How many years had it been since he'd seen any sort of celebration? His years in the Nine Realms had been quiet, for the most part. Even in the aftermath of Odin's defeat, the survivors of Ragnarök had been too concerned with picking up the pieces of their lives to give any thought to some grand celebration to mark the passing of the All-Father. The Aesir had lost their homes, Vanaheim was still a realm broken by years of occupation, and a thousand other things needed to be addressed.

(His son had also left in the wake of Ragnarök. It had been a necessary thing, true. But it still hurt. No wonder he had felt little desire to cheer at their victory.)

And, Boudica's words about her daughters had brought Calliope to his mind. He knew well the loss that occasionally twisted the Celtic woman's face - in his most private moments, it was an expression that he also wore.

(A voice in his head, one that sounded far too much like Athena hissed at him that Boudica had only had her daughters taken from her - had not slaughtered them with her own hands. Kratos ignored the shade, if that was what it was, and not merely his guilt speaking, with the ease of long practice.)

Kratos stood alone in the night's chill, and remembered.

"The festivities not to your liking, Spartan?"

Though he had heard it only once, and very briefly, Kratos knew that voice, that contempt. It had reminded him of the disdain the gods of Olympus had for humanity.

His axe was flying through the air before he'd even completed his turn. As his eyes swept the darkness, he spotted him, dressed in green as before, a second before his axe tore through him.

Lev Launir.

The man's image flickered as the Leviathan Axe flew through the space where he stood, the twirling weapon seemed to find absolutely no resistance at all.

An image, akin to the ones Chaldea used with the communicators, then.

The man in green laughed. "I see your bloodthirst hasn't dimmed, despite the mask you wear, godling." Lev steepled his hands, displaying a grin with teeth far too sharp to be human. "But then, that recklessness and lust for power and blood is what made you fall to your knees and beg a power mightier than you to save you from your own failures, isn't it?"

The Leviathan Axe returned to his hands, once again disrupting the image of the man, something Kratos might have taken a small, spiteful amount of pleasure from if Lev's words were not echoing through his head.

Lev strode up to the Spartan, fearless in the face of Kratos' inability to hurt him, as the man was not even here. "I can see your mind working furiously, asking 'how does he know that?' But the question you SHOULD be asking yourself is: 'Can I make it back in time to save some of that miserable collection of filth from Chaldea'?"

Kratos turned back to the camp, while still keeping one eye on Lev's image.

Battle, in the camp. How?

Lev's laughter lashed itself against his back as he set off in a furious run. "Run! Maybe you can cradle the body of that failure of an experiment before she dies just a bit ahead of schedule!"

The darkness swallowed Kratos as his legs propelled him back to the camp.

He entered to a scene of absolute chaos.

Men were strewn everywhere. Some were still alive, moaning in pain, but many, many others were still. Tables were broken, their contents scattered across the ground. Tents everywhere were riddled with holes - large ones at that, not the pinpricks of arrow fire but rents that looked as if they had to have come from a siege weapon, at the bare minimum.

And yet, as he flew through the camp, he saw no signs of the enemy. No soldiers currently battling at the edges of the camp, no enemy dead. He lowered his head and ran on, to the sounds of explosions and clashing weapons.

He finally came upon them, in a space within sight of the gates of the city. There, he saw, as the distance shrank between them, as a giant, bronze skinned man slapped Spartacus aside with almost insulting ease.

The man was of a height with Kratos, maybe a touch shorter, and was equally well-built - for he wore just as little as the Ghost of Sparta did. A strange sort of helmet, almost a cross between that and a crown, sat up on his head, a single spike jutting up from it. Eyes, burning red, flashed as he turned, impossibly fast, sliding out of the way of Iskandar, snapping an uppercut into the man's chin, then blasting him back with a palm strike to the chest.

A writhing tree was, even now, growing behind him, gaining height by the second. Branches surged forth from the trunk of the tree, harrying all those around him. Cu was laying about him with fire, but the branches were regrowing as fast as he could burn them. The El-Melloi was adding to the barrage, not limiting himself to only flame, as rocks fell from the sky to block the branches, while ice and wind slashed at them, cutting them to ribbons.

Mash, for her part, was valiantly defending her Master, and the two Casters, moving to intercept any of the arboreal tendrils that slipped too close - but she could do little to damage them. And she was getting overwhelmed, slowly, but steadily.

The Servant gestured, and a veritable forest surged through the night air, wooden death screaming forward to overwhelm the Casters.

Kratos leapt, the Blades of Chaos in his hands. He whirled them in circles, even as he careened through the air, primordial fires building within them, then sent them flying out.

They carved through the branches like they were the thinnest of paper. A sound no tree should ever make assaulted their senses, as the branches thrashed about. His expression never changing, the Servant reached behind him and tore a massive spear from the ground. Seconds later, the tree was gone, with only the disturbed ground to mark where it had once stood.

The weapon - it was a spear, though only in the loosest sense of one. Instead of a thin staff of wood, it was a thick, red blade - closer in form to a massive sword than a spear. And it writhed, almost as if it was alive, and it well might be, given how a living tree - one that had not been there a few moments ago, had receded into nothingness when the weapon was pulled from the ground.

Kratos raised the Blades of Chaos as the Servant took a single step forward.

In that single step, Kratos felt pressure crash down on him - or, more correctly, became fully aware of it. It had always been there, a thickness in the air that he was only noticing now that combat had paused, and he was face-to-face with this Servant, this god.

For this was a familiar pressure - it was how he had felt when he had stood in the presence of the gods of Olympus. If he dared to take his eyes off the enemy before him, he would have seen uncounted Roman soldiers having fallen to their knees, heads bowed, their faces almost worshipful. Even some of the auxiliaries, Roman only insofar as that was the name of the Empire that ruled them, would be mimicking them, their terrified eyes showing they did not know how or why they were bowing their heads to this thing - only that they MUST.

Standing before Kratos, before Chaldea, before Rome itself - this could be nothing else but Romulus.

"Un…..wwworthy," said the Servant, his head jerkily sweeping across the expanse before him - both the camp and the city of Lugdunum. "I give so much of my love to you all, embrace you as Roma, and this…..thiiiisssssz is how you respond?"

The Holy Progenitor…..sounded almost like he was drunk, his words slurring. Kratos' eyes were suddenly assaulted by a sudden stinging, and then, a world unfolded before them.

The Servant's bronze flesh was almost completely covered with runes, magical script, and pulsing protection staves - or Bounded Fields, as Chaldea called them. So many, in fact, it was almost painful to look at.

'I would apologize for the pain, but time is of the essence, and I had to brute force past your resistances to enhance you like this,' Medea, despite the calm she was trying to project, was clearly unsettled. 'The latticework of the combined spells is like nothing I've ever seen - my teacher would fall to her knees and tear her hair out in despair at the complexity of Magecraft here.'

'Will your Noble Phantasm still work?'

Her response was immediate, with no hesitation. 'It should. Even if it does nothing to the greater whole of the binding spells, it will break his contract. IF I can get close enough to that…..MONSTER.'

The divine Servant took another step forward. "We came in peace, the True Roma, our hands outstretched, openly, bearing no weapons, and you rebuked us. Stabbed ussssss with the daggers of treachery, and then, slew my children. The artificial children who we grew to spread the vision that is True Roma, and my other children. Like Caesar, who fell to his knees and gratefully requested to join us when he beheld meeeeee….."

The burning pits of fire that were the Servant's eyes fell upon Iskandar. "And you even devissssseed some fell means of enslaving the minds of my children. The great king stands by your side, a slave, his will stolen……this is not RRRRROMA……"

The spear was raised a fraction of an inch, then, suddenly, the Servant was in front of Kratos, the twitching blade flying at his heart.

Kratos got his shield up, but just barely. The force of the blow sent him skidding back, and the metal of his shield seemed to scream.

A rain of arrows plummeted from the sky, and were stopped cold as red branches erupted from Romulus' spear and caught the arrows mid-flight - then sent them screaming back back at twice the speed. Chiron leapt from the wall, and was forced to dodge falling rubble as his returned arrows tore massive chunks from the city walls.

Roars echoed from two throats - both equally unintelligible, as Lu Bu and Spartacus crashed into Romulus. The Servant managed to block the unwieldy, but massive scythe that Lu Bu had modified his weapon into, which allowed Spartacus the freedom to slice his weathered blade across Romulus' arm. Despite the gladiator's strength, he drew little more than a thin line of blood with his attack, and his subsequent attack was blocked by the haft of Romulus' spear.

Both Berserkers howled and leaned in, bringing the full force of their might to bear against Romulus, who somehow held his ground. All three men's legs were trembling, sweat beading on their brows as the stalemate continued.

A wave of the El-Melloi's fan caused a wave of fire to erupt from a diagram floating over his shoulder, washing over Romulus' back to little effect. A Gandr shot from Fujimaru accomplished barely anything more.

The twin walls of muscle that were Kratos and Iskandar, however, could not be ignored.

With an oddly hollow cry, Romulus pushed back, shoving the Berserkers away. Lightning fast, the haft of his spear tore through the ground, sweeping the Berserkers' feet out from under them, and sending them sprawling. Kratos and Iskandar were forced to jump over their flailing bodies. It was the delay of a second - a microsecond. It should have been insignificant.

It wasn't.

Romulus dropped his spear and lunged forward, arms extended, sliding up and under the two men's raised weapons to ram his forearms into their necks and crush them from the air, the Spartan and the King of Conquerors joining their fellows on the ground.

Branches erupted from the ground as a tree twisted into being, pulsing in time with the Roman founder's spear. The four of them hacked at the branches, fighting a losing battle against being engulfed by the carpet of living wood.

Romulus paid them little mind. He flew across the grounds, weaving around a fresh batch of arrows, and straight through a hail of blistering ice, closing in on El-Melloi.

"WAVER!" bellowed Iskandar, his arm a blur as he tried to cut himself free.

In his younger days, the man who would carry the title of Lord El-Melloi II might have flinched, might have taken his eyes off the approaching enemy. This man, who had survived in the feeding frenzy of the Clock Tower for nearly a decade, did not.

So he saw when Romulus' fist crashed into him and sent him tumbling deep into the ruins of the Roman camp.

Iskandar's howl of rage was nearly inhuman, but it was drowned out by the sounds of a loud, familiar voice.

Nero.

Her legs flew as she charged straight for Romulus. The founder of Rome itself looked up, an almost paternalistic expression coming over his face as the current Emperor of Rome bore down on him, her sword gleaming in the moonlight.

Romulus did not move as she neared. He watched as she made a small leap, planting on her outstretched foot and pivoting her body in a spin that made the air scream. The sword was mere fingerspans from his head when, finally, he did move.

One second, he was standing, still as a statue, the next, his hand was wrapped around Nero's throat, lifting her from the ground like she was a mere child.

"My child. My great daughter of Roma……whhhyyyyyy do you reject me?" He pulled her close, until their faces were close enough to share breaths. "All is Roma. United or otherwise……why do you raise up with blades against me? Why do you spurn my love?"

Impossibly, Nero managed to lift her blade and, somehow, muster the strength to swing it.

Romulus caught her arm at the elbow. "Perhaaaaaps….somewhere, something has gone wrong with my Roma, as the years have passed." His voice grew in strength, until it was booming around them. "Perhaps you are all……UNWORTHY."

His fist tightened, and Nero's arm shattered.

As Aestus Estus fell from her spasming fingers, Romulus released her ruined arm and snatched at the air. "And you….." With a shriek of pain, Medea appeared, her wrist firmly in the grasp of the Divine Spirit. "You…..I do not know. Are you how these have stolen the minds of my beloved children…….?" Romulus' eyes narrowed. "Unforrrrrrrgivable."

Whatever his intentions for Medea, they were forced away, as a massive object barreled out of the city gates on a pair of rattling wheels, driven by a woman with murder in her eyes.

Boudica.

Her red hair streamed out behind her, a cry that was less words, and more unintelligible rage on her lips, her sight set solely on the progenitor of Rome.

So she missed the bulging ground in her path. As soon as her chariot rolled over it, branches burst forth and tore it asunder.

But Boudica wasn't there.

Had she seen the trap, and deliberately sprung it? Or had she moved the second she had felt the wooden spears touch her summoned vehicle? Kratos did not know. But before she could be thrown from the chariot, she had already leapt.

Straight at Romulus.

Who watched as she rocketed through the air at him.

All while another spear of wood burst from the ground behind him, and flew to impale the Iceni Queen.

A single word echoed through Kratos' mind.

(ENOUGH).

From the edges of camp, a hooded cloak was thrown aside, and a formerly unassuming man drew a sword, lowered his head, and RAN.

Romulus' eyes widened as a sword cleaved the branch in two. Then, a second later, he hissed in pain as Boudica's sword sliced his wrists, forcing his hands to release his two hostages. Nero tumbled bonelessly to the ground, and was caught by a pair of weathered arms - the old man of the island. Medea's cloak flared up into batlike wings, and a dizzying array of magical circles sprang into being, flashing almost painfully bright, before erupting with a shower of bolts that scorched the metallic skin of the god of Rome.

But all that was a sideshow, compared to the burst of red light that exploded from Kratos.

The branches holding him shattered with the barest flex of his body. Before the splinters of wood had hit the ground, Kratos was in front of the god.

The Ghost of Sparta's fist cracked into the Holy Progenitor's jaw, and Romulus was forced back a step. A blow screamed into the god's ribs, then a savage backhand snapped his head to the side. Kratos planted his foot and roared loud enough to paint the world red, firing a strike that seemed to break the sound barrier.

Romulus' hand caught the blow.

It was a narrow thing, done only a breath away from his face, and his arm trembled like a branch in a hurricane as he held back the strength of the Ghost of Sparta, but, for the moment, his strength held.

Slowly, the god reached up to his lips, and placed his other hand where he had been struck, then held it up to his face.

There was a thin smear of blood on the palm of Romulus.

The Servant blinked, his eyes suddenly gaining a focus that had been previously absent. "What…….what am I doing?" He looked at Kratos, blinking rapidly. He shook his head. "Why….where? This power…..before me….Mars. My father. Is that……you?"

"Damn!" Lev Lainur's voice spoke from the darkness. "Boy, get him back here!"

"Yes, lord," said a thin, weak voice. "Holy Progenitor, please, I beseech you, by the power of my Command Seal, return to my side!"

Red washed over Romulus, and he was gone.

There was a series of coughs, each one threadier than the last, then the sound of a small body hitting the ground.

The image of Lev Lainur looked to his side with a sneer. "Used up already. I suppose I'll have to find another one before the Holy Puppet fights you fools for real."

A wave of fire crashed through the image of the man, to no noticeable effect.

Lev laughed. "Stupid dog. I'm not actually here - you can't hurt me."

"Makes me feel better," snapped Cu, his eyes narrowed.

Lev looked around at the forces beginning to surround him. When his eyes settled on Medea, he nodded. "The Witch of Betrayal. That explains how you stole Iskandar and his little tagalong from me. Clever, for filth." He turned to the man holding Nero. "But this….this is unexpected. To see you, saving a Roman Emperor? What would your father think…" Lev's face twisted in a cruel smile. "...Hannibal Barca?"

Nero's eyes were as wide as saucers, even through her pain. Her lips moved, her voice barely a whisper. "At….the gates…."

Hannibal laughed, no trace of his former accent present. "Not what I intended either, whoever you are. Not when I first was summoned to this place, not when I heard that there were two Romes fighting each other, and not when I scuttled off to that island to let them kill each other, and to the hells with both of them." The Servant gave a tired grin. "But then I ran into that boy, and damn if he didn't make me realize how stupid I was being. So here I am, acting like a proper Heroic Spirit for a change."

He leveled his blade at Lev. "I damn near tore down one Rome in my life - so I guess I can tear down a second one in my death."

Lev scoffed. "Summon a thousand more Servants, it won't make a difference in the end, even with your toy of a war god. Not against the powers arrayed against you. Now, before I go, I have one more present for one of you pitiful ghosts specifically." He glanced about, his eyes falling on Boudica. "Queen," he snickered. "Boudica. Take this, with my regards."

A portal tore itself into being, and a man was thrown through.

Boudica flinched in shock as she saw him. The man was in rough shape, bleeding from a handful of wounds - wounds that were immediately visible, as he wore little other than some blue paint (Kratos was suddenly reminded of a conversation with Mimir where the head had mentioned how Kratos could have passed for one of the people of the former faerie's homeland if his tattoos had been blue, instead of red). Raggedly, he looked up, a gasp of surprise escaping his lips as he saw the once-Queen of the Iceni.

He attempted to push himself up, to kneel before his Queen. He failed.

She was by his side in a second. "Warrior….," her face was alternating between horror and boiling rage as she cradled his body. "What has this man DONE to you?"

"Not…..him," the few words left the man gasping for breath. He managed to raise his arm and limply point at Nero, who was leaning heavily against Hannibal. "THEM."

"It started a month ago…..reports of another Roman Empire, on the mainland." He coughed, a trickle of red leaking from his mouth. "It sent the governor into a panic, with the countryside still simmering from your rebellion. As word came of each Roman defeat, his fears grew. Until the dam broke."

The soldier met Boudica's eyes. "The Legions marched. And any of the tribes they found, man, woman, or child, they butchered."

"Lies…..," whispered Nero, but even she sounded like she didn't believe her own words.

Lev's laugh drowned out her words. "It's the truth - I would swear it on my Lord. That's the BEST thing about you miserable humans, we barely have to do anything to get you to start killing each other." He sneered. "It's why what we're doing is a mercy to this world, and your wretched species in general."

His image began fading. "Come to our capital, Rome. Chaldea. The Holy Progenitor will bury you all there."

Very carefully, Boudica laid the soldier, now unconscious with the exertion of the few words had spoken, on the ground. She then rose, and turned to face Nero. When she spoke, her voice was oddly flat. "Is it true?"

"I…..do not know. We have had no word for months from even the nearest parts of the Empire, much less the distant fringes," Nero's head slumped. "But, given the quality of men in charge there, and what happened in the wake of your husband's death, and then, your rebellion…..it would not shock me if it was true."

Silence, and then…..

CRACK!

Nero was sent sprawling into the dirt. Boudica raised her fist again, and took a step towards the downed Emperor.

A massive hand caught her fist, while old, but still hale arms slid up around her shoulders, holding her back.

Kratos spoke a single word. "Enough."

Boudica stared at the two men, Kratos and Hannibal, through tears of fury and frustration. "She, ALL of them are monsters! That's what we do, Heroic Spirits, we KILL monsters!" Her head jerked back to Hannibal. "How can you, of all people, stop me?" She then stared up at Kratos, fearlessly. "And how can a god know ANYTHING of what this bitch and her Empire did to me and my family….is STILL doing to my people?"

Kratos only just managed to restrain himself from crushing Boudica's fist into a ruined pulp - with the aftertaste of Spartan Rage still lingering in his mouth, on his senses, his temper was more threadbare than normal. But while his hand tightened, it was not enough to harm a Servant. Grimly, he released her hand, almost tossing it away from himself. "Revenge will not bring them back. That path leads only one place, in the end. To ruin."

He turned away from her, not trusting himself to speak more.

Boudica snarled, but slumped in the hold Hannibal had her in. "Believe you me, girl, I wish I'd saved anyone BUT a damned Roman Emperor just now - my father's going to tear me to pieces when I finally meet him in the beyond. FIFTEEN damn years of my life I spent, fighting them, and for naught. Even after I'd abandoned Carthage like Carthage abandoned me, the whoresons of those seven hills were so scared of me that they kept hounding me, until all I had left was a choice between the tender mercies of their captivity, or poison." He sighed. "But the stakes on the table are much bigger than petty grudges like ours. I made my choice. I hope I can trust you to make a similar one."

Boudica said nothing, simply snarling, choking on her anger.

Fujimaru and Chiron were by Nero's side, who was attempting to rise. "I…..deserved that blow. And many more," said the Emperor, her eyes downcast.

Chiron frowned, and prevented the Emperor from standing. "Whether or not you did, your Majesty, can wait until we have set your arm. Master, is your Mystic Code available?"

Fujimaru nodded. "Yeah. Good thing Kratos and Iskandar are such fast healers." She placed her hand on Nero's back, and a wash of green energy cascaded over the Emperor. The swelling in her arm receded somewhat. "Probably still have to make a cast for that," muttered Fujimaru.

"You may attend me in my tent - assuming it still stands," snapped Nero. "But I must stand - my people MUST see that their Emperor still lives, especially after…….everything that just happened."

"You have bigger issues," came a tired, pained voice. The El-Melloi was limping up to them, his once pristine suit a torn mess, dirt and grass tangled in his hair. "Your fight attracted attention, and your words after weren't quiet. Look around you."

The soldiers of the Roman Legions were crowding around them in a loose circle. To a man, they were on their knees. All save one.
Valerius took a handful of tentative steps towards Kratos, then reverently fell to his knees, his head bowed.

"Lord Mars."

Chapter 33: Septem 10

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 33​

They could still hear the chanting through the walls of Nero's tent. "Mars. Mars. Mars."

Fujimaru pulled her head back into the tent, and sighed. "Well, this is a fine kettle of fish." Her eyes strayed over to the resident god, who everyone, even Cu, was giving a wide radius to. Partially because of the sparks of angry red energy that were sporadically flickering over his body, and partially because of the sheer rage that was radiating off of him.

"I am NOT Ares." Kratos' voice was thick, his words coming in slow, snarled spurts. "And I will NOT BE called by his name!"

There was a loud pop as a noticeably large spark of energy burst from Kratos' shoulder.

The silence stretched after that.

Finally, it was Fujimaru who walked up to the angry god. "Kratos…..we get it, we really do. But Romulus just spilled the beans on what you are to the entire stupid camp, now. So there's no putting the genie back into the bottle." She fidgeted, as the seated Spartan looked up at her (not by much, mind). "So how do you want to play this?"

She gestured over to where Chiron was splinting Nero's arm, in preparation for immobilizing it in a cast. "Because we've got the Emperor herself here - we can spin this story just about any way we want. We just need her to say it."

Nero's eyes were a bit glassy from the painkiller they had administered to her, but they retained their focus. "Indeed. I spoke of re-evaluating your decision to hide your divinity should circumstances change, but while I blustered, I would not have desired to force you to wear a mantle that is not yours." Her eyes narrowed. "Much less a mantle you seem to have a disdain for that rivals that which I carry for my mother."

She gave a soft hiss as Chiron began binding her arm. "So, then. What do you desire we do?"

Kratos' hands clenched together on his lap, his brow stormy. "I left Olympus behind a lifetime ago, and tried to forget them, to leave them forgotten. If I can no longer do that…." His voice was getting rougher by the word, an angry burr intruding into his speech. "....then tell them I am a god from another land, come to aid in the battle to free your 'Holy Progenitor'."

Nero nodded. "That, I believe I can accomplish." She glanced to Chiron. "Once this physician is done with my arm, that is."

"I will NOT be worshiped," From the tone of his voice, Kratos would brook no argument on this.

Nero tilted her head. "Kratos….you realize there is nothing I can do to stop them? I could decree that doing so would be considered heresy against Rome, and yet, some would still do so privately. Even beyond the auxiliaries who revere their own deities, some of our Roman soldiers are so rattled to see great Romulus himself opposing us that they are desperate for anything to cling to - and a god, even a foreign one, who stood up to the founder of Rome and matched him as an equal?" She shook her head. "Whether alone in their own heads, or in small groups in the night, they will call out to you, hoping that by your hand, Rome can find salvation. That great Romulus can be freed."

Kratos bristled for a moment, then seemed to hunch in on himself. "Let them do what they wish, so long as I do not have to see it."

Nero sighed. "Umu. I will do what I can."

Chiron finished immobilizing Nero's arm in a sling, and patted her shoulder. "There, your Majesty. That should keep your arm stable until my student can once again give you a treatment."

Nero nodded. "Thank you, physician." She eyed the bottle of wine sitting on the table across the room, but only settled back into her bed. "My injuries aside, how badly did our enemies hurt us this night?"

"Not so bad," rumbled Iskandar, from where he was hovering around a still-recovering El-Melloi. "A handful of soldiers, and more tents than I can count, but this strike seemed more about damaging our morale than reducing our numbers."

Medea gave a derisive laugh. "I certainly feel demoralized after laying eyes on that monster of a Servant. And this was with his Master many leagues away from him. In their capital, he will have no such distance handicapping him - and he will be on home ground as well."

"Yeah, not going to lie, he slapped us around like we were children," muttered Cu. "His Magic Resistance is on par with that damn gold bastard and his fancy-pants armor, so we Casters aren't going to be able to do much other than tickle him." His eyes glinted. "At least, not with magic. Thankfully, I don't have any objections to getting my hands dirty with a proper fight. Hell, I'm looking forward to it!"

Medea's face crinkled in thought. "Rule Breaker should work on him - a Noble Phantasm isn't something you can typically just resist, barring ones that have escape clauses or conditions on their use. But…." She shivered. "He saw me, even in Spirit Form, and snatched me out of the air like I was some insect. I'm willing to add a freebie to our deal, since that Lev character has probably marked me for death, now. But I won't be able to ambush him as I did Iskandar. Even if you had all four of his limbs restrained, I'd still be worried he could tear my throat out with his teeth."

The El-Melloi steepled his fingers, a cigar still grasped in them, though he had been unable to indulge in his vice with the damage his chest had taken in the brief skirmish. "In the event we cannot restrain him to the point where Rule Breaker would be safe to use, can we kill him?"

"Anything can die, son. Anything."

As one, they turned their heads to the newest addition to their group, the old man of the island, Hannibal Barca himself.

The hooded cloak was gone, and he was no longer affecting a slight stoop and a bent back. His former accent was also gone, his words now coming out more naturally, colored with a thicker, richer inflection. While the reveals of Romulus, and Kratos (still mistakenly believed to be Mars) had captured most of the attention of the camps, the once nightmare of Rome itself had garnered a fair amount of attention too, even overshadowed by two gods as he was. If the old man was in any way affected by this, he wasn't showing it.

"And that's something I've been wondering about," began Cu. "The hell did you pick up that accent from, old man?"

Hannibal laughed. "When I drove my army over the Alps, a good chunk of my forces were Celts like you, Hound - yes, I know who you are. Your countrymen liked to tell stories over the fire, and your legend was a frequent nighttime story. I recognized you on sight. But fifteen long years I spent in Rome's backyard, fighting alongside hard bastards like your people. You think I didn't learn how to mimic their accent in all that time?"

He shrugged, looking almost wistful. "Honestly, your people were a damn sight more loyal to my cause than my own people were, in the end. Carthage broke before you Celts did."

He smacked his fist into his palm. "But if you're looking for someone to kill a Roman bastard, god or not, you won't find better than me." He grimaced. "Or the Iceni Queen, I suppose."

The mood in the room, already a bit gloomy, dipped further.

Boudica. She was still around, still technically in the camp, but had retreated far from the Roman lines, refusing to even return to the city she had held for months. She'd been barely able to look at any of them as she had stalked off into the night, so conflicted and beside herself with frustrated rage. She hadn't abandoned them, but her loyalty was hanging by a thread.

Cu yawned, and stretched. "I think I can handle her. Or at least talk to her, one Celt to another." He turned to Fujimaru, and grinned. "It'll go better if Archer lets me borrow his Master for it, though."

Fujimaru blinked, and held her hand up, a single finger pointed at her disbelieving face.

"Yes, you, girl," said Cu, rolling his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you? People - and I'm including Servants in this, just LIKE you. You managed to somewhat tame that feral Avenger Kratos brought home by virtue of you being able to tolerate her company without tearing your hair out, even if she'd deny it to the ends of the earth. Rider's more fond of you than she is anyone not named Kratos in the whole place. Hells, I think you've got potential to be a real spitfire in a few years, kinda reminds me of two of the Masters from the last Grail War I was in. Your teacher practically dotes on you compared to how mine treated me. And your Shielder looks at you like you hang the damn moon."

He glanced over to a brooding Kratos. "Even the big guy speaks well about you - as much as he does about anyone. It ain't for nothing you've got such a high Master potential. You being able to get along with a bunch of headcases like us is just one expression of that - being a good Master isn't being able to pump a bunch of mana into a Servant and having them fire off Noble Phantasms willy-nilly, or, it isn't JUST that. It's about being able to work with them. Fucking Kirei could probably play a Servant like a instrument, and work them better than you could, but only the most twisted of bastards would go along with him for the ride. You think I wasn't looking for every loophole I could while he had me as his puppet? He knew what he was doing when he put me under Command Seals - same reason our buddies in the United Roman Empire are doing the exact same thing to their Servants."

Fujimaru muttered something through her blush that sounded distinctly like 'wasn't that way back home'. Cu looked over to Chiron, who nodded.

Fujjimaru yelped as Cu materialized his staff and bonked her on the head. "Home ain't here, girl. Dunno what happened there, don't care - for all I know you were surrounded by a cadre of harpies with Medb's temperament." He shuddered. "Gods help you if that was the case. Point is, you've got something about you, and if I have to abuse that to wrangle an unruly Iceni Warrior Queen, I will."

Chiron had a sly grin on his face. "And the fact that her hair shade somewhat resembles Boudica's, and thus, might in some way put her in mind of her daughters?"

Cu shrugged. "Yeah, won't lie, if I can exploit that, I will. Boudica seemed to be fond of you and Mash, given how young the two of you are. That's the thing about an angry Celtic woman, you want every advantage you can get in your corner when trying to get back into her good graces."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience, Caster," said Nero, with a tired grin, her energy beginning to wane from the combination of the painkiller and the long day's events.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," said Cu, his face the picture of innocence. "If nobody has any objections?"

None were forthcoming, and Fujimaru found herself quickly hoisted to her feet and escorted into the night by a grinning Child of Light. Mash trailed behind, unwilling to let her Master walk into a potentially dangerous situation without her.

That seemed to be the signal for the group to somewhat go their separate ways. Medea vanished in a shower of particles, citing a desire to rest. Waver followed her, still cradling his chest as he vanished from sight. Nero, leaning on Chiron a bit, departed the tent to speak to her officers.

Leaving Kratos alone, as he wished to be.

There was the sound of a large form settling itself into a chair, and Kratos opened his eyes, to see his newest Servant staring at him, a pondering expression on the man's face. "A question for you, Kratos, if you would indulge a fool like me."

Answering a question was close to the last thing Kratos wished to do now (the actual last thing would be leaving the tent and dealing with a literal army falling to their knees before him while hailing him with the name of the one he hated more than any other), but he grunted assent all the same.

"Does it truly bother you so, the reverence?" The Macedonian King's head was cocked to the side, an expression of honest confusion on his face. For all that, his voice was gentle and curious. "I was a King in life - THE King, and acclaimed as a prodigy from the time I solved the Gordian Knot, so it is possible I merely grew used to it, to the point it was mere background noise in my life. But it carried over even to my death - my men choosing to follow me is the only reason I have such a thing as a Reality Marble in my arsenal. But such reverence, or even worship - I was a Pharaoh, among my many titles, and they were seen as gods on earth." He snickered. "There's even one on the Throne who claims to be the embodiment of their chief god, Ra himself. THAT one has an ego to rival the Golden King, let me tell you."

The man rolled his shoulders. "Anyways, I suppose that I always saw such as the due of one who stands above others, be that a King or a god, or truly, any man of singular accomplishments." He grinned. "Not for nothing I was called 'the Great' in my life, and not merely for my heritage, though that certainly played a part."

Iskandar leaned forward. "But you seem to actively reject it, be it the acclaim as a leader of men, or the worship that should be your due as a god. I must confess, it baffles me. It puts me in mind of a discussion of kingship I have fleeting memories of from the Grail War where I met the boy. There were two of my peers there, and we spoke of what a King was, and what a King should be. The girl who ruled over Britain had ideas that…..frankly, ran directly counter to what I believed. I disagreed with her, as did the Golden King. Though he also found fault with my idea of kingship - difficult man that he is."

Iskandar looked directly at Kratos. "And I think you, too, are wrong."

He held a massive hand up as Kratos' eyes narrowed. "Hear me out, at least, before you judge." After a spell of time, Kratos nodded, and Iskandar continued speaking.

"I don't know your past, beyond what little I've heard from others. But I can assume there's something there that causes you to turn away from being worshiped. I'll not pry, though I also will admit to a great deal of curiosity. I'm certain you have your reasons for it - or think you do. I just believe it is, in the end, futile."

Iskandar drummed his fingers on the surface of the table. "You could call it fate, or destiny, or whatever term you wish, but some men will always stand above others through their deeds in life, and, as such, lead. And with that comes the accolades of such. I have heard you fought in your world's Ragnarök. You were no mere soldier on the line in that, were you?"

Kratos sighed. "I was the General," he said, almost having to force the words out.

Iskandar laughed so hard it nearly shook the canvas walls of the tent. "Exactly as I expected of you! And, from that successful battle, has anything changed in your life?"

Kratos grunted. "I have begun to be seen as a fair, and neutral arbiter for disputes. And….the surviving Valkyries continue to call me 'General'." A trickle of ice moved down his spine. This next bit bothered him more than a little. "As well…..the seat of the God of War for the Nine Realms is empty."

"Tyr was a casualty, then?"

"No, merely imprisoned. Since we freed him from the place where Odin had hidden him, he has shown no interest in retaking his position," Kratos glared at Iskandar's grin. "I have NO desire to take his place."

"But there has been talk, hasn't there?" Kratos' silence only confirmed the King's suspicions. "You see! Even were you just a man, Kratos, you cannot help but stand out! It is a quality all who ascend to the Throne share, so I can see it in you, as well."

He met the Spartan's glare with a good natured grin, and a pair of raised hands. "Now, let me finish! I'm not saying you should be demanding worship and extravagant temples from people. I can tell the latter would not suit you at all. But if believing in you - as a god - helps even one soul get through a difficult day, is that not a good thing? It is the foundation of my belief in Kingship. That, in the end, that a King must be something that the people look up to, and aspire to - he must make them dream dreams as great as his own!"

Kratos considered his words carefully before he spoke. "For a time - a short time - I occupied a throne in Olympus. I was…..ill-suited to the task. And only ruin came from it, in the end."

"Then you are, if nothing else, wiser for your failures," said Iskandar. "If things did not work last time, then do something else this time. And yes, that may indeed involve you passing on the throne that some may be planning to offer you, if you truly think you are unfit to take Tyr's place. Wisdom is also knowing when you are not right for something."

Iskandar shrugged. "But, even if that is the correct path for you, I do not think you will spend the rest of your days living out a simple, uneventful life. You survived Ragnarök, and now, you are here, fighting to save all of Humanity itself!" He shook his head. "No, Kratos, I think life will always have new wrinkles to throw at you. And in the end, I feel there is much good that can come of it."

"Would that have the belief in myself that you do," muttered Kratos. "But you do not know me - not truly. Or my failures."

"No, I do not," Iskandar's agreement was immediate. "But I would like to learn. From what I have seen, you are quite a man, Kratos of Sparta. How many, when faced with what you have faced, would stand up and fight for a world not their own?"

Kratos had nothing to say to that, but much to think about, at the same time.

---

They heard Boudica long before they saw her.

She'd made no effort to hide her tracks, which seemed to confirm Cu's belief that she wasn't about to stalk off into the night and abandon them (his words had been something more to the nature of 'she'd be more likely to take her pound of flesh from us before burning everything down'). Even in the dark, Cu had followed them effortlessly. As they neared, they heard her singing something in what was likely her native tongue - something that the translation spells woven into her Mystic Code weren't able to decipher.

"That's a dirge for the dead," muttered Cu. "Guess the poor bastard Lev threw through that portal didn't make it. That might complicate things a touch." He looked back at Mash and Fujimaru, who were trailing behind him. "Guess it's a good thing I have you two cute little ladies with me, then."

His rakish grin was almost enough for Fujimaru to forget her worries about walking into a confrontation with a possibly hostile, probably pissed off Servant. Almost. (He was PRETTY, ok! HEALTHY-GIRL is what she was, dammit!)

Boudica was kneeling over a still body that was lying in a freshly dug hole, a large number of stones piled next to it. Boudica's head was bowed, as the last mournful notes left her lips. She tensed, and glanced over her shoulder at them.

Her lips were opening to say…something, when Cu's voice rose in a dirge of his own.

It was rougher in cadence to what Boudica had sung, but whether that was due to the man doing the singing, or the difference between the Ulster and the Iceni, Fujimaru couldn't tell. What she could tell was that Cu had a set of pipes on him, even if he sounded out of practice. (Guess singing drinking songs isn't like singing a proper litany for the dead)

Boudica, who had tensed upon seeing them, deflated as the notes of Cu's dirge washed over her. She was still wary, but wasn't coiled tight as a spring anymore.

Cu's voice trailed off, and he exhaled, his head bowed. "Sang something similar over the body of my kid, once upon a time. Fact that I was the one who made him like that only made it worse. But I figure a brave soul like that guy there deserved more than one person to mark his passing." He gave Boudica a half-smile, almost seeming contrite. "Apologies if I butted in where I shouldn't have."

"No," There wasn't much anger left in her voice - she just sounded tired. "It's….appreciated to have someone else to see him on his way." Carefully, she reached over to the pile of stones and began piling them onto the body. "Come to try and reason with me, then?"

Cu waggled his hand in the air. "Eh? Mostly just checking on you. There might be a few centuries between our people, but a Celt's a Celt at the end of the day. Our tempers run pretty hot, after all, so you can't blame me for making sure that we're not going to have to fight you or something."

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm just so done with all of this," Boudica paused, sitting back on her haunches. "I could choke it down and work with Nero….with Rome, because of the stakes, because I could tell something was wrong. That I was getting to kill other Romans….I won't lie, that probably helped. Let me close my eyes to who I was fighting alongside. And, I'm already dead, after all. My revolution already failed. My daughters are gone. There's nothing left for me in this time. So what was one more indignity, like helping the very people who tortured me, who violated my children?"

She picked up another stone, and just held it, her hand clenching around it. Her eyes grew distant. "Seeing Nero made my blood boil, but I could grit my teeth and bear it. It was almost a relief when our armies got separated. It made it easier to focus on leading the army, on keeping everyone fed, and when the siege came, there was so much to do that I didn't have time to think about how much my skin crawled to be around Romans everyday."

"Then you saw her, and it all came flooding back, right?"

Boudica jerked, her mind coming back to the here and now. She looked up, and saw Fujimaru kneeling across from her, gently placing stones on the deceased man. "What are you doing, child?"

Fujimaru looked up, and gave the Iceni Queen a sad smile. "Helping. My family…..long story short, we have a fair amount of traffic with the dead. Mom used to say that officiating burials like this was something even I couldn't screw up, so both me and my sister learned burial rites for just about every culture growing up, just in case we needed to soothe an angry spirit, since that's usually the safest way to get a non-hostile one to move on." Her face broke out into a half of a smirk. "Though she didn't cover ancient Celtic funerary practices. Guess that's one leg I'll have up on Susumu when all of this is over."

(She resolutely ignored the part of her brain that was reminding her that Susumu would see her do it once, and then be able to do it better than she would.)

"But that's how it was, right?" Fujimaru scooted over a bit as Mash settled in beside her, and also began piling stones on the fallen soldier. "All the things you thought you'd buried, or maybe just forgotten came rushing back when you saw her, and you didn't really know what to do with it all. There's….someone I have a complicated history with. She's gone now."

Fujimaru flushed, and rapidly began waving her hands around. "Not, permanently, or anything! Just so much ash because of what Lev and his buddies did to Humanity. The hope is if we resolve all this, she and everyone else will come back in the end. But it'll be awhile before I see her again, in any event. But when I finally see her again, I'll probably have a reaction like yours….only, less violent, y'know, because I can't see myself slugging her."

Fujimaru picked up a handful of stones, and began covering the man's face with them. "Or, maybe I'm completely off base here. I'll shut up now." She hunched over, and redoubled her effort in building the simple cairn.

She jumped at the touch, but it was simply a hand, gently patting her on the head. "You're not wrong, really, but not right, either. Seeing Nero wasn't that bad - I could steel myself for it. It wasn't pleasant, but given she was showing up with an army, and pretty much confirming that the siege was over, whatever my feelings for her, I could overlook them. And hearing that the United Roman forces had been driven back, it felt like things were finally over. What's that modern expression your people use, 'a light at the end of the tunnel'?"

She stared down at her fallen countryman, scowling. "And then there was Romulus himself - the embodiment of everything I hate, standing right before me. And in the wake of that, I find out Rome wasted no time in exploiting this mess to commit further atrocities on my people. They couldn't band together to keep my homeland safe - even though that's supposed to be the job of the 'governor' they appointed to oversee what should have been my daughters' lands. No, they just used it as an excuse to wipe even more of us out. Everything just boiled over, and I…snapped."

She began lining the edges of the nearly-completed cairn with stones. "After that, I couldn't even be AROUND them. And right now, I don't still don't know what to do with myself. I know that whatever's going on is bigger than me and my feelings, I do. But just thinking about Nero makes me want to run her through, again and again."

"Believe me, you aren't alone in that."

Everyone jumped a little bit, even Cu - none of them had heard anyone approaching. The old man - Hannibal, corrected Fujimaru's brain - walked out of the shadows.

Cu blinked, then grinned. "Presence Concealment. You're just full of tricks, aren't you, old man?"

Hannibal laughed. "Compared to sneaking my entire army away, right under the Roman's noses, in the dead of night, creeping up on you bunch was a breeze." He reached into a pocket and drew out a block of wood that was already half-formed into something. His other hand drew a knife, and began shaving bits off the block. "But there's nothing I'd like better than to chop that little Roman Emperor's head off. Even knowing it'd be the worst idea of my life - well, I made an oath to my father and the gods of Carthage, and I can tell that NONE of them are happy I saved a her life earlier tonight. That it's the damn Emperor is just that much worse."

He rolled his eyes. "But I'm not here to convince you. I'm just here as a chaperone." He turned to the night. "Girl? Get your ass over here and get this over with!"

There was some rustling in the underbrush, then, Nero stepped out into the weak firelight.

Fujimaru's jaw didn't drop open, but it was a near thing. "You just said you wanted to chop her head off, but….you're escorting her?"

The man shrugged, his eyes never leaving his whittling. "If I really wanted her dead, I could have sat back and just watched earlier. She's probably safer around me than anywhere else in this damn Singularity - save maybe when that boy is nearby. He's a handful, that one, you can ask his other Servant how he liked her sister badmouthing her. Was anything but boring, let me tell you!"

Boudica hadn't risen from her crouch when Nero appeared, but she did glare. Oh, did she glare. "Nero. What do you want?"

The Emperor opened her mouth, then slumped, and sighed. "Honestly, I do not know. I think I had some vague notions of trying to talk to you, to apologizing, but, really, what would be that worth to you from me?"

Nero knelt, putting herself on the same level as the Iceni Queen. "I never gave the orders for what was done to you and your children. Nor did I tell the governor to use the fear of the United Roman Empire to continue culling your people. Those are truths - but meaningless ones, in the end, for I am Rome. The responsibility falls to me, even if it was done without my knowledge - as I am Rome itself, thusly my deeds reflect upon my peoples, and so do their actions reflect back upon me."

"If we had the time, I would set out NOW to Britannia, and put a stop to what is happening there, and purge what are clearly unworthy men, and replace them with what I hope are better ones."

Boudica rolled her eyes. "But we don't have time."

"No, we do not," Nero's voice was frank. "The United Roman Empire is reeling - their strike tonight was that of a foe pushed onto their back foot. We cannot give them time to recover."

She looked up at Boudica, trying to meet the Queen's eyes. "I can't promise you anything, Boudica. I would say that I swear I will fix this, to make things better for your people once the United Roman Empire is no more, but there is no guarantee I will survive the battle. And as I have no heir of my blood, whoever follows me is under no onus to honor my will." She gave a bitter laugh. "Not that my successor being from my loins would be any better promise of that."

Boudica laughed bitterly. "Then what use ARE you, Nero?"

"Distressingly little, it seems. At least right now," Nero slumped. "I'd offer you my head when this is all over if I didn't think that would only make things worse - the Emperor being killed by a Celt would only inflame a situation that has long since spun out of control."

"It would be an empty offer, in any event," muttered Boudica. "Once this is resolved, we Servants will be returning to where we came from. I probably wouldn't be around long enough to take your life once the final blows have been struck, regardless. So you really have nothing to offer me."

"I suppose I don't," said the Emperor. "All I can do is say that I wish things had been different between us, between our peoples. And to once again ask for your help." She gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Though I wouldn't blame you if you chose to ride off into the night and leave me to my fate."

"I could, couldn't I? Fighting me - wasting effort stifling a squabble within your own ranks would be catastrophic right now." She looked up to Hannibal, who was putting the finishing touches on his woodcraft (an elephant, of all things), then let her eyes drift over to where Mash and Fujimaru were kneeling, smoothing out the stones that had been laid over the nameless soldier. "But I won't. You, and all the rest of your people may be monsters, but you're lesser monsters, in the end, Nero. Whoever - whatever that Lev is, he has more blood on his hands than you could accumulate in a lifetime of trying. Your hands may be dirty, but his are dripping with blood still wet. And he seems eager to dye them again with a fresh coat."

Boudica spat to the side. "So I'll help you, Nero Claudius. But not for you." She raised her arm and gestured at the two girls. "For children like them, who don't deserve to suffer just because of your many sins."

Even kneeling, Nero managed to bow. "I thank you, Queen Boudica."

---

"So what do we do about the Homunculi?"

It was the next day, and they were frantically resupplying and integrating the Legions of Lugdunum into the greater whole of the Grand Roman Legions, as Nero had taken to calling the force that would drive into Hispania to lay siege to the United Roman capital. And in the middle of it all, a question that had been put off had raised its ugly head again.

"I really don't know," said Fujimaru, from where she was playing with Fou. "A handful of summers with the Musik family does not a Homunculus expert make, sadly. I'd need…." She licked her lips, and stared at the tent's ceiling. "I dunno, a month, maybe two, and I could possibly crack whatever programming Lev put into their heads. We've got enough bodies that I could examine the brains, that'd help. But even then, getting whatever kind of Order-66 stuff he left there out of their heads?"

She shook her head. "Probably well beyond me. Makes me really wish Gordy was here. I'm just an amateur, when you get right down to it, while it's his family's speciality. He could probably have them fixed in a day or two, and that's with breaks for him to whip us up some of his fantastic cooking, too."

A meaty hand thumped her across her back, almost spilling her out of her chair. "Still! It is good you see how these poor soldiers are chained by oppression, and wish to free them from their shackles. You are a worthy one, girl, yes yes!" Mash looked about ready to interpose her body (and, more importantly, her shield) between her Master and another friendly pat on the back from the Berserker, but Spartacus let his hands fall to his sides, and spared them all a confrontation between the Unstoppable Force of Anti-Oppression and the Immovable Kohai.

"They are, if nothing else, a much smaller percentage of our forces, with the addition of Boudica's Legions," said Iskandar. "Maybe now a third to a half overall, instead of the two-thirds they were. It would limit the damage they could cause if they were turned against us."

"Problem is, by your account, we'll need every single one of them, and then some," muttered Cu.

"The Servants - and Kratos, will even the odds on that some," said Lord El-Melloi II. "At least until our enemy deploys their own Servants against us. Which would, coincidentally, be the perfect time to trigger whatever failsafe he has in the Homunculi soldiers."

"Could have them in the reserves, though reserves for a siege is a bit of a ludicrous concept," said Iskandar.

"It really all hinges on how this theoretical failsafe is triggered," muttered Chiron. "If it's tied to something auditory, we could deafen the Homunculi, either through magic, or something as mundane as earmuffs. Though that then creates problems in relaying orders to them. Flags, or some other form of signs or signals would be one option, though either comes with its own drawbacks."

"If it's magical…..," Mash frowned cutely. "Could Rule Breaker maybe work on it?"

Medea shook her head. "Unlikely. I doubt my Noble Phantasm will see whatever commands a created being was programmed with as anything resembling a proper contract. There's also the possibility, slim though it might be, that it could interfere with them on a more fundamental level, given they're inherently magical beings, and they'd just dissolve into their component parts or something." She shrugged. "I could try, of course, but I take no responsibility for what happens."

Fujimaru had gone a touch pale. "Let's table that one for now. Seeing someone turn into a human slurry isn't a box I want checked off my bucket list."

Medea's eyes were closed, her face scrunched up. "I will say, assuming there is a failsafe like what you're describing, if I saw it in action, I could potentially design a counter-spell that would keep them from being turned against us. Or some way to snap them back under our control. The only problem with that is…."

"The need to see it happen," finished Lord El-Melloi II.

Iskandar's hands were steepled. "We could have a small handful in the vanguard when we approach the capital, and the rest far, far back, with the shielding measures we've already discussed. Assuming it isn't some cascade effect that would turn the whole lot against us, we could get your information that way. And the mere fact that my former Master hasn't already turned our soldiers against us suggests that it requires proximity of some sort."

"Probably to him, since it's pretty obvious he's got Romulus bound six ways from Sunday," Fujimaru let her hair fall across her face. "I'm not crazy about essentially sacrificing a handful of Homunculi to save the rest."

Chiron was giving her a look, and she sighed. "I know, Sensei, I know. It's exactly what you told me that one time. Can't save everyone." She pushed herself up from the table. "I'll keep looking over them. Maybe I can figure it out."

"And if you cannot?" asked Iskandar, as she reached the flap that served as the tent's door.

"Then we do it your way," Her shoulders slumped as she said it. "Mashie, you want to keep me company?"

"Yes, Senpai!" The two girls ducked through the opening, and were off into the night.

Iskandar watched them go, then turned back to the room. "Now, that leaves us with only one question - how do we crack the United Roman capital wide open."

"I might be able to help with that."

Hannibal ducked into the tent, with Kratos, who was practically radiating displeasure, following in his wake.

Cu grinned. "Did it go that badly?"

Kratos made a noise of frustration, but Hannibal shook his head. "Went fine. The men seemed to accept Nero's explanation of the boy being a foreign god, and Romulus being confused from all the shit they have him tied up with. Credit to them, Rome at least was fairly accepting of other gods, so long as they didn't try to overshadow the chief deities of the Empire. So the thought of an outsider god showing up to help," Sarcasm entered his voice here. " 'Glorious Rome' free their founder god plays right into the arrogance that's every Roman's birthright."

He looked over at Kratos and shrugged. "It got the chants of 'Mars' to stop, at least. But that only made the whispers of 'Kratos' louder." He smirked. "To his annoyance."

"I left any desire to be worshiped behind with Greece," snarled Kratos.

"And yet, as I said, it comes your way regardless," Iskandar made a sweeping gesture. "But I'll not rehash our discussion from earlier today. Hannibal, you said you had a way into the United Roman capital?"

"I should," he said, settling into a chair. "Part of my Legend was my ability to get places the rest of the world judged impossible, in ways and means that, flatly, shouldn't work. It means that, in theory, I should be able to sneak a small team into the city, even with the gates up."

He grinned viciously. "Better yet, it lets me re-create part of my deeds from life, since I conquered Roman Hispania in my living days. So I'll be that much more formidable during this siege. Useful, considering what's waiting on us - and considering my Origin is rebelling against myself a bit for aiding damnable Romans, even if it's against OTHER more damnable Romans."

The El-Melloi leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "How large a team are we talking about?"

Hannibal thought for a minute. "Not too many people - and certainly not either of the Berserkers. They'd be welcome hands in a fight, but they're just too loud for the kind of creeping I'm thinking of." He glanced upwards to a grinning Spartacus. "No offense meant, of course."

"None taken!" barked Spartacus, cheerily. "Truly, I doubt I could stifle my urges when in the middle of a city of oppressors, even for the sake of allowing all our fellows an easier time at staining their blades with oppressor blood. No, best you leave me behind."

"What we'd want to do is get to the gatehouse, quick and quiet, and hold it until we could get the gates up. We'd want to time it about to when the army arrives at the walls - whatever sideshow you have planned with the sacrificial Homunculi soldiers should serve to keep eyes focused outward from the city, instead of inward. The Assassin's a given for this type of mission, in case we need to shut up any sentries or such, so she's in. As for who else….."

Hannibal glanced around the room, staring at each person for an uncomfortable amount of time. "The King of Conquerors is at least a general in this makeshift army, so his absence would be noticed, and the same can be said of the boy. So they'll have to be there, with the little Emperor. As I said, the Berserkers are right out. The Shield-girl wouldn't be bad to have, her weapon could easily clog up the door long enough for us to get the gates most of the way up, so I'll ask about her. That leaves….."

He turned to Cu, and a genuine grin split Hannibal's face. "If I'm going to walk into the lion's den, I couldn't imagine better than a Celtic hero to be by my side."

Cu chuckled. "Don't have to ask me twice!"

"Jing Ke for quick, quiet eliminations, Hannibal and Cu as your heavy hitters, and possibly Mash as your tank," El-Melloi seemed to be turning the grouping over in his head. "It could work. Not too large to be unwieldy, but with a fair amount of force for when it's needed. Do you think four will be enough?"

"It'll have to be. It's probably the limit of what I can manage for an enemy capital, even if it's likely a city I took in another lifetime," He cracked his neck. "And most everyone else needs to be on the front lines to draw eyes, so I'm limited in my choices."

"And once the gates are open, we head straight for Romulus," said Iskandar. "That likely means the throne room. It's largely where they kept him, though we cannot rule out being met in the streets by him, and one or more of whatever Servants they have left."

"Leonidas is mine to fight," muttered Kratos, his voice low. "I would see him freed, if possible."

"Doable. Between us, we should be able to stall Romulus long enough for you to free Leonidas as you did my King and I," the El-Melloi's face looked as though he wasn't looking forward to it, however.

---

They drove straight in Hispania from there. No more detours, no stopping to be feted at a freshly-liberated city, only the sparsest of delays to take on supplies and to absorb the garrisons as they passed. Nero, and all under her were eager to finish this.

A sentiment shared by Kratos.

The gazes continued to follow him, when he moved about the camp. The low whispers, the reverent looks. And, in the mornings, a few offerings, always piled just in front of Chaldea's tent. No indication of who they were for, but it was painfully obvious to all.

(Kratos had not, as of yet, repaired the protection stave around his home, post-Ragnarök. If the inhabitants of the Eight Realms began leaving offerings to him outside his cabin, Freya would find herself the recipient of a visit from himself and Mimir soon after.)

In the face of their patron god being turned against them, many had seized onto the hope that another god represented, fully and completely.

He hated it.

Still, as the days passed, he could not deny that morale around the camp was higher than it had been. Possibly it was that they were driving towards the conclusion of this campaign, to finally end a long civil war that would culminate with freeing their legendary founder from bondage. Perhaps, just maybe, the Macedonian King's words held some value.

He still hated it.

Boudica had chosen to stay with them, in the end. As she was essentially the third general of their forces, having led the Legions that fell back to Lugdunum for months, it was welcome in that it avoided the need for yet another restructuring of their officers. Boudica's command tree was already in place, and it let them depart immediately, something they all were eager to do after being attacked in the night.

They essentially had three armies, and three generals now. Valerius, Legate of the greater whole of the Legions, Iskandar, who commanded the Homunculi, and Boudica, who the Legions of Lugdunum still looked to to lead them. So far, there had been no issues. So far.

Boudica was the weakest link. Not in strength, but in loyalty. During the day, she rode far from Nero, or any of the other Romans, keeping Iskandar's Homunculi Legion as a buffer between herself and them. Spartacus plodded alongside her, but otherwise, she had little contact with any outside the circle of her Legions. She was at least more tolerant of Chaldea, but it was not a high bar to clear.

(Cu Chulainn had been her most frequent visitor. Kratos was unsure if he was happy to have another Celt to talk with, or if his intentions were more base. The man had a history with women, by his own admission. For her part, the woman lavished the lion's share of her attentions on Mash and Fujimaru. No one commented on how she was, essentially, mothering the two young girls. Not out loud, at least.)

On some level, Kratos understood the woman, the frustration and bitterness she was feeling now. It was, in some ways, a mirror to Freya's feelings during Ragnarök when she had temporarily put her vengeance against Kratos on hold to break the spells that Odin had bound her with.

Or, in some ways, Kratos' feelings at the start of the journey to lay his wife's ashes to rest, when his past had caused him to distrust Freya merely because of what she was, and had nearly alienated one who had become one of his most trusted allies. A friend, even.

Bitterness. Anger. Distrust. They were familiar faces to the Ghost of Sparta, and why it was so easy to recognize them in the Iceni Queen.

---

 

A FEW EVENINGS AGO
​

Kratos paused in his steps, as a massive form blocked his path.

"God who is the enemy of oppressors," Even in the pitch of night, Spartacus' eerie grin was clearly visible. "Do you have business here?"

Kratos grunted. After another day of what was worship in every sense but the official and direct from the Romans around him, Kratos had just needed to get….away for a time. The cool and dark of the night had allowed him time to himself, time to find himself again.

(And to again run Iskandar's words through his head.)

"No," he said. "I was merely…walking."

Spartacus regarded him for a moment, before gesturing. "Come, then. Boudica has wished to speak to you….away from the lesser oppressors."

Kratos felt his temples throb. He had merely wanted a simple spell of time to himself, but he followed all the same.

Spartacus led him to a small camp. A fire crackled weakly, throwing out just enough light to let him see the Iceni Queen huddled by it, and little else.

Gone was the crown, the royal cape, and most of the rest of the accouterments of her station. Curled up, seated on the ground, with her knees drawn up to her chest, she simply looked small….and exhausted.

She didn't even look up as the two men approached her camp. "Foreign god…..Kratos." There was little life in her voice. "I am sorry to disturb your solitude this evening. I will not keep you long. I just wish to ask you one thing."

She turned a pair of bloodshot eyes to him, now. "Chaldea. Are they worth it? To ally myself with such monsters as the Romans to help them……are they good people?"

"They are people," said Kratos, simply. "No better, or no worse than any others. And I have not spoken with many of them." Of Chaldea itself, only Romani, Tanya, Mash, and Fujimaru had truly spoken with him at any length. And Da Vinci, if he truly considered her more Chaldean than a Servant.

"But," he continued. "They welcomed something like myself in with few reservations. To fight for them was not even a demand for them to try to return me to my home. Had I chosen, I could have chosen not to fight. And they would have still forged ahead, against a foe many times their superior, even without me."

He shook his head. "I cannot judge if they are 'good'. But they are brave, and they are worthy allies. I would not raise my axe for them if they were not."

The silence stretched into the night air as Boudica stared at him. Finally, she nodded. "I see." She turned back to the fire. "You may go, and, again, I am sorry for interrupting your walk."

---

And it was only one of many troubles that dogged their heels.

"I've got nothing," said Fujimaru, throwing her hands in the air.

They were, by the estimation of the Legion's speculatores, mere days from the United Roman capital, and their resident expert on Homunculi was out of ideas.

"I've poked and prodded, and even done what I could with autopsies - all with Medea looking over my shoulder," she aimed a nod at the hooded woman, who acknowledged it with the barest tilt of her head. "But I'm not able to figure out if Lev's got something nasty in them. So forget about turning it off, if I even could." She hung her head. "Sorry guys, but it's way too advanced for me."

"Then we are out of time," said Kratos.

"Leaving us with only the one play," Iskandar's face was like stone.

Fujimaru's shoulders slumped. "I hate it," she whispered. "But there's really nothing else we can do. All because I'm not good enough."

A shudder ran through her body, and she rose from the table. Her eyes were downcast. "Mash, go with Hannibal and them, keep them safe. We'll link up with you once the gates are open." She stormed from the tent, her shoulders quivering.

Mash made as if to follow her, but Chiron caught her by the shoulder, and shook his head. "Give her some space, Mash. At least for a bit."

Fujimaru had been quiet and withdrawn for the remaining days of their march. Even Nero, who had forged a rapport with the girl, had been unable to draw her out much.

And then, they were there.

---

UNITED ROMAN EMPIRE CAPITAL​

The city itself seemed to shine. The walls were white, pristine, and larger, grander, than the walls of the actual city of Rome.

And they were fairly bristling with soldiers.

Soldiers that, to a man, had been outfitted as though they were Spartan warriors.

Long spears were gripped tightly. A massive, bronze shield was borne by the other hand. Little other armor was worn, other than a familiar, plumed helmet.

It was an insult. Direct mockery of Kratos himself. Had he been the man of his younger years, still, he would likely have charged the city alone, intent on tearing it down, stone by stone, with his bare hands, if need be.

(That he would have been accompanied in his charge by two Berserkers, this time, was no comfort.)

Kratos was not that man anymore. Rage simmered in his gut, but he leashed it, letting it boil. It would be useful, in the near future. Of that, he was certain.

And Nero was infuriated enough for two of him, it seemed.

"The NERVE!" she exclaimed, her eyes narrowed. "Bad enough he defends what he claims to be a superior Rome with the arms and armaments of one of our vassals, but he does it merely as a mockery of you, Kratos!" Her greaved foot stomped down into the dirt. "And the city itself appears as a mere copy of the original, just…..enlarged, as though mere size is enough to make it grander." One hand raised to her lips, and she let out a short, mocking laugh. "A clear overcompensation for one who feels inferior, who thinks height is some mark of superiority."

'We're ready to go whenever, Kratos,' Cu's voice whispered from the string in his mind, far quieter than he had ever heard the man speak.

He glanced over to Fujimaru, who nodded. Confirmation from Jing Ke and Mash, then, as well.

It was time.

Their small delegation left the greater whole of the Roman army, Nero's Praetorian guard surrounding them with a wall of steel. They stopped at greater distance than the previous two times they had faced a closed city, and then, for the third time in as many months, Nero called up to the walls.

"UNITED ROMAN EMPIRE!" The Emperor's sword was brandished, pointed directly at the gates. Gone was the more open attitude she had taken with Mediolanum and Lugdunum. There was no question about the city's loyalties today. This would only end in one way, in bloodshed. "YOU HAVE BEEN DRIVEN BACK TO THE ENDS OF YOUR SO-CALLED EMPIRE! YOUR REBELLION IS OVER! I WILL OFFER CLEMENCY BUT ONCE! REFUSE ME, AND WE WILL RAZE THIS CITY TO THE GROUND, AND SALT THE EARTH, SO THAT NOTHING WILL GROW HERE EVERMORE!" She drove the point of her sword into the ground, hands planted atop its hilt.

Then they waited.

It was longer in coming than any of them expected.

"Hmmm." There was the sound of a derisive snort, amplified many times. Lev. "I must admit to a touch of curiosity how you would approach me, Chaldea. But even I didn't think you would be foolish enough to march up to our very doorstep, with our stolen forces still swelling your ranks." Mocking laughter echoed around them. "You should have saved yourself some trouble and purged them when you had the chance."

Lev's voice suddenly thrummed with power. "SLAVES, HEED YOUR MASTER'S WORDS, AND KILL!"

A ripple passed through the Roman lines, and a number of soldiers gave a strangled yell and drew their weapons.

"And it begins," murmured Nero. "Time to make this performance a grand one!"

---

AT THAT SAME TIME

INSIDE THE UNITED ROMAN CAPITAL​

Cu nodded. "Kratos says it's started. Let's move."

He glanced around at the three people huddled with him in the alley. All of them had their hoods pulled up, to hide their faces, and around each of their necks was a simple leather thong, upon which hung one of Cu's runes, which was projecting a general field of 'Oh, me? I'm no one important, your eyes just want to slide right over me, don't they? Don't pay me any mind.' It wouldn't stand up to the dedicated scrutiny of a Servant, or even a decent Mage, but it easily pulled the wool over the eyes of regular people.

Frankly, the operation had worked like a damn charm so far. They'd split off from the Roman Legions a few days before, and had managed to get to the city before it had been completely sealed up. Cu had never thought they'd just be able to slip into the city - he'd been fully prepared to go over the walls at night. But Hannibal, that mad bastard, had marched them up to the gates, and the guards had barely glanced at them, despite the city being on obvious high alert.

Whatever the man called his version of Presence Concealment, it was damn useful.

Mind, having an actual Assassin along for the ride, as well as his runes boosting their stealth certainly didn't hurt.

Once inside the city, they'd found somewhere to lay low, and had bided their time until it was time to move. It had been hardest on his cute little student. She wasn't a legendary assassin, a famed general, or the baddest man to ever walk out of Ulster, so she'd been nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thankfully for them, it never had.

And now it was time.

"Alright, we know our jobs, and what we have to do. They should be completely focused on the army outside, so hopefully, we'll have more of a margin for error. But let's act like we don't." Hannibal nodded at Jing Ke. "You're our forward eyes. You see anyone starting to cotton onto us, put them down as quiet as you can if they're by themselves. If it's a bigger group, well, we'll have to decide if we're getting noisy. The Hound and I can probably take out one or two each, quietly, but, you girl…."

Mash flushed. "I'm sorry. I tried, but I just….can't get handling a knife."

They'd used some of the time they had to try to get Mash up to speed in case she had to take someone out quietly. It hadn't gone well. Knives had slipped from her hands like they were trying to run away from the girl. They'd eventually had to give up - grappling was an option, but they'd have needed more time than they had.

Cu lightly rapped his knuckles into the girl's head. "Don't you start apologizing again. It's not your fault that whatever Servant you've got bonded to you won't let you use anything but that big shield of yours….." His eyes dropped to her hip. "And maybe that sword. But if you're drawing a sword to kill someone silently, you might as well be announcing your intentions to the whole damn city."

[The Sword of the Strange Hangings is many things, Child of Light. But silent is not one of them. If she unsheaths it, everyone of a mystical bent on the continent might well sit up and take notice.]

Cu continued. "So, IF we have to deal with a group, you'll hang back and try to nail any runners. Hopefully, that shouldn't be an issue. I expect they've got every soldier they can on the walls, so we shouldn't have to fight until we get to the gatehouse. There, THAT will be your time to shine."

"Time's wasting," spat Hannibal. "Let's go while we can."

As one, they slipped from the alley. Jing Ke darted off, her form fading around her as she did. Thankfully, martial law hadn't been declared, so there were still some citizens around that they could use to blend into, but most of the population was huddling behind their doors.

"Keep up a normal pace," whispered Hannibal. "Even without a crowd to hide us, I should be able to keep us somewhat hidden, so long as we don't do anything unusual."

So, instead of sticking to the shadows and ducking through alleys, they strode down the streets in the same manner as the handfuls of citizens that hadn't taken shelter. And it worked.

"There's the gatehouse," said Cu, his voice low. "No windows, because of course. Too easy to just let our Assassin slip in and slit all their throats. But man…..that is a light guard around the doors."

Hannibal sniffed. "They don't expect trouble from within. These people are all here by choice, and who of them would ever turn on great Romulus?" The sarcasm dripped from the general's voice. "I'm more shocked that I don't see anyone by the gates who looks like a Servant. Romulus is in the palace, we know they won't let him roam around freely. But I expected Leonidas to be leading the troops. But it was Lev who answered the little Emperor, not him."

"Or the other Servant, whoever he is," said Mash.

Both the men frowned. "Yeah, that's a wild card they still have up their sleeves," griped Cu. "Knowing my shit luck, one that's going to pop up at the worst possible time." He shrugged, and turned his attention to the gatehouse. "So, how we doing this?"

"Too many for us to take quietly. We're going to have to get noisy." Hannibal pointed to the door. "Girl's our battering ram. She gets us to the door, while the two of us put down as many as we can on the way. Breach the room, Jing Ke goes in first and does what Assassins do while we hold the entrance. Once it's clear, we get in, you use your spells to warp the door and seal us in. We open the gates, and then we see what happens first - they breach the doors and overwhelm us, or our allies get into the city and get them off our backs."

"Simple. I like it. Don't see any of those Brutes there, either, so they shouldn't stand up to Servants for long." Cu reached out and slapped Mash on the back. "You're up, girlie."

"Alright," Mash's shield materialized in her hands, and she took a deep breath. "Senpai knows we're about to move, so….Mash Kyrielight, charging!"

Cu grinned. The girl blasted through the unsuspecting soldiers like a sliotar fired straight out from a hurley (shot by him, of course. It was how he got his name, after all.). She couldn't hit all of them, they weren't grouped up right for that, but she made a nice path straight to the gatehouse door that they had no trouble following in the wake of.

Hannibal's sword flicked out, and a man's head went rolling. "That's for my father, Hamilcar!"

And anyone who had the grit to try to stop them was getting that, either from the old man, Cu himself, or they were suddenly finding themselves coming down with an unexpected case of Slit Throat or Knife in the Back.

In seconds, they had their backs to the door.

"Stand back," said Cu, leveling his staff at the door. "Might be some blowback."

Hannibal had already surged forward to catch a soldier's wrist, immobilizing his sword arm as his sword tore the man's guts out. "And that's for my brother, Hasdrubal!" His eyes were simmering with fury. "I have a long, distinguished, and unavenged line, for any of you who also want to test me…."

"Or you could do that," muttered Cu. He concentrated power into the end of his staff, looking for precision that wasn't exactly typical for him with his fire. He wanted the door intact enough to use it to block the opening once they got in, after all. He could hear his teacher chiding him now, telling him that for all his grace on the battlefield, magically, he was a brute.

Yeah, well. He'd also never expected to have to fight in a Grail War, much less whatever this one had become, as a stupid Caster. He'd have paid better attention to his magical lessons from the old hag if he had - not that he'd had any idea about the Throne of Heroes at all during his living days.

Cu funneled his annoyance into the spell, using it to bludgeon the fire into a more controlled form. With a pleased snarl, he turned it loose, and the compact dart of fire crashed into the gatehouse's lock, which didn't put up much resistance.

Cu's wrapped foot crashed into the door, and it flew open (staying on its handles, thankfully), giving Cu an eyeful of the soldiers within, all of whom were clustered around the gate mechanism, with steel bared.

A fireball would have solved the soldier problem like that, but it would have possibly fused the crank for the gate, which would defeat the whole purpose of this operation.

Which meant it was time for the soft breeze he'd felt slip past him a moment ago to earn their pay.

He cracked his knuckles, baring his teeth in the way that put his extra-sharp canine teeth on display. "Don't suppose any of you guys want to drop your weapons and just run for the hills? Would save me some trouble…"

Their weapons didn't waver in the slightest. But they were Homunculi - probably not programmed for fear, doubt, or anything but blind fucking loyalty.

Poor bastards.

"Yeah, thought so," One of them gurgled as a neat, knife-sized hole opened in his throat, and in the moment they all glanced to their dying comrade, Cu moved.

Not enough space in the gatehouse to use his staff as a proper bludgeon, but he could pull it in close and use the butt as a shorter, stabbing spear, like he liked to do. Draupnir, or even his girl would have been a disaster in here (he quickly muttered an apology to Gae Bolg, wherever she was right now), the confines of the place just weren't made for spear-work. But he had fists, feet, and a bad attitude to carry him.

Within moments, the guards were down, and wouldn't be moving, ever again.

"Get in here you maniac!" bellowed Cu, as Mash ducked inside. A second later, Hannibal reluctantly entered, covered in blood, and likely with generations of his line still demanding satisfaction. Cu slammed the door shut behind him.

"Take care of the gate," said Cu, focusing on the door. "I'll block the door."

The runes on his staff flared, and the door began to shudder, the wood beginning to warp and grow beyond its confines.

An axe shuddered into the door, and a chunk was knocked loose. Before the wood could flow over the opening, a spear jabbed in, aiming for his eye. Cu was set to move, but before it reached him, Mash's shield interposed, shoving the spear up. The girl seized the spear, and yanked it forward, the soldier's face ramming into the door. With a yell, Mash planted her foot and straight up slugged the man right on the nose.

There was the oh-so familiar (to him, at least) sound of a breaking nose, and the man's eyes crossed. Then the wood flowed over the opening, patching the hole.

Cu glanced at the girl. "Mash, that was a pretty damn nice punch. I know I didn't teach you that. Kratos?"

Mash flushed. "Avenger. She was trying to get used to her 'murder arm' with a punching bag, and when she found out Fujimaru didn't know how to throw a punch, she took it upon herself to teach her, and well….I got roped in as well."

Cu laughed. "HA! Not bad, not bad at all." The wood flowed into the walls, and the door settled. They could hear blows raining against it from the other side. "I hardened the wood, but it won't hold forever. How's the gate coming?"

Jing Ke and Hannibal were winding the mechanism as fast as possible - humanly possible, as there was every possibility that they could snap the chains if they applied their full strength to it. "Coming along!" cried Hannibal. "It's probably about halfway up by now. Means our forces can start making their way in, hopefully."

The door shuddered from a heavy blow, but it held.

Cu licked his lips. "Guess all we can do now is wait."

---

 

OUTSIDE THE WALLS​

"Kratos!"

Kratos looked away from the thrashing, rabid man he was trying to restrain. Nero was pointing at the walls.

Specifically, at the gate, which was sliding open.

They had done it.

"MEN!" bellowed Nero, her voice booming across the battlefield. "EXITUS!"

At once, nearly all the raging soldiers suddenly calmed, safe for a bare handful that had already been restrained by the Servants. The lines reformed with almost indecent haste, battle-ready in the blink of an eye. And much closer to the walls, as they had drifted there while trying to quell the chaos in their ranks.

Lev's laughter, which had been echoing over their heads since he had sent the command out to the Homunculi, suddenly cut off with a strangled noise. "What??!"

It had been Nero who had come up with the plan. Keep a bare few Homunculi at the front, with the rest far away, and behind the best protection staves that Medea and the El-Melloi were capable of forging. Then, when the command went out, have a portion of the human army act like they had gone berserk as well, to make it seem like the Legions had been thrown into utter chaos. As Nero had reasoned, Lev saw regular humans as beneath his notice - little better than insects. Could he really be bothered to tell if the ones following his command would actually be Homunculi?

The Leviathan Axe was in Kratos' hand, and he raised it high. "CHARGE!"

Then they were off.

Spartacus and Lu Bu were the tip of their spear, two massive bodies hurtling directly at the disorganized soldiers trying to form ranks there. Lu Bu's metallic scream tore at the ears of all around, but was eclipsed by Spatacus' mad laughter. They hit the soldiers like the twin fists of one of the Titans. Men were blasted away by the mere impact. And they did not stop there.

Spartacus' weathered blade sliced the air - and anything else that it found in its path. He sang out a litany of curses to all oppressors as he laid waste around him.

Lu Bu, somehow, was the more precise of the two. His weapon clattered and reformed into his familiar spear, and swept men into pieces around him. Those few it did not simply bisect, it crushed from the simple force of the blow, drained enough from cutting through innumerable men to merely shatter bone, instead of cleaving it.

Homunculi did not know fear. They barely knew pain. And yet, in the face of the onslaught, they fell back without knowing why.

They had their foothold. Now to keep it.

Chiron's arrows drove furrows into the remaining soldiers, in between raining fire down on the walls - for the soldiers above them had quickly opened up with every armament available to them. The Berserkers had drawn the majority of the early fire - Spartacus, in particular, had more than a few arrows sticking out from his flesh - but now that they were within the shadow of the gate, the Legions as a whole were taking increased fire.

The mortals were advancing slowly, in the formation Kratos had learned was called the testudo - for all that it was merely a shield wall formation by another name. But it was apparently old doctrine for the Romans, having been applied successfully for decades. And against other Romans, it was proving its worth. Men were falling, yes, but far fewer than should have given the sheer weight of projectiles pattering down on them.

Their slow speed, however, meant it was up to the Chaldeans to hold the line, until true battle lines could be formed within the city.

Kratos crashed into a knot of soldiers who were trying to edge around to Spartacus' back, knocking a great many of them aside. Those still standing set themselves behind their massive, rectangular shields, and leveled spears at the Spartan.

The Leviathan Axe swept through, shortening the weapons by a length. Before the soldiers could recover, a shower of rocks tumbled from the sky, burying them.

The El-Melloi was heaving breaths into his lungs, an ornate fan gripped in one hand. A much less winded Fujimaru was staring at him in bafflement. "You're a Servant….how are you more out of breath than me?"

"I was a teacher in life……not some……athlete or soldier." He straightened up a bit, with some effort. "There was not much call for running in the Clock Tower."

Fujimaru's brow wrinkled, but whatever retort she was about to make was drowned out by Kratos' voice. "The walls!" His axe pointed at the staircases allowed access to and from the tops of the walls. "Bury them!" Soldiers were already beginning to tromp down the paths, seeking to reinforce the sparse troops on the ground.

The Servant gritted his teeth, and set his fan into a series of complicated gestures. More rocks, a literal hail of them, began to pelt the soldiers descending the stairs. "They're not wide enough for me to be able to block them well, but I can slow them, if nothing else."

Thunder boomed, and the Gordius Wheel swooped over the top of the wall, lightning raking the battlements. The King of Conquerors laughed as he jerked the reins of his flying chariot, and dipped low. He swept across the stairways, using the bladed spikes protruding from his chariot's wheels to tear at the soldiers crowding them, either forcing them down, sending them plummeting to the streets, or simply shredding them in twain.

It bought the El-Melloi more time to litter the stairs with rock.

"There!" yelled Kratos, pointing to a large cluster of soldiers - some of which were the larger Brutes. Even now, they were ignoring the army that was beginning to encroach into the city through the gate, and were hammering furiously against a door to what could only be the gatehouse.

The El-Melloi darted a look at the soldiers, tearing his eyes away from the stairs for a heartbeat. "We still don't have enough of a presence here to lead a charge in relief! The Romans are moving in, but they're weathering heavy fire. The Berserkers are the only ones keeping us established here!" Soldiers were beginning to pour out of the wall from further away. While they had managed to block the closest stairways, there was little they could do about the others, and reinforcements were beginning to arrive for the United Roman forces.

"I will go," Kratos slid the Leviathan Axe back into its harness, and grasped the Blades of Chaos. In a flash, they had buried themselves into the stones of the wall, just above the gatehouse. A surge of his muscles, and Kratos was following their path through the air.

His body tucked into a forward roll, as he jerked the Blades free from the wall. Fires flickered around the metal of the Blades as they followed the momentum of his body, and lashed through the soldiers below him. Men screamed, and Kratos hit the ground like a meteor.

He sent a Blade each flying out in different directions, each burying themselves into the throat of a Brute Homunculi. As the creatures gurgled, choking on their own blood, Kratos snapped his arms together, jerking the massive things off their feet, and crushing some of the smaller soldiers between them, as the two dying giants crashed together. He retracted the Blades, planting one foot and skipping off the ground in a short half-leap, just over a spear that had been thrust his way. The Blades whipped through the soldiers on his left, managing only light injuries through Roman armor and shields, but forcing them back a step.

The Blades drug low across the ground as Kratos wheeled them in a circle, then sent them slamming into the stone streets, fire blasting from the impact point, and sending the unfortunate soldiers nearest spiraling through the air. Kratos arms moved in a complicated motion, his wrists crossing and uncrossing, one the Blades mimicked. They were glowing red hot as they screamed through the air, no longer hindered by the metals the United Romans wore for protection. Men, or parts of them, fell to the ground, twitching.

A mad, joyful laugh sounded behind him, and then, a second later, Cu Chulainn flew over Kratos' shoulder, leg extended to crack into one of the few remaining soldier's helmets, driving him to the ground. The Hound of Chulainn twirled his staff with a flourish, then set upon the enemies.

It didn't take him long.

There was a gruff noise from behind Kratos. "Not bad, boy. I think you avenged a good chunk of my line back at least a century." Hannibal clapped him on his shoulder. "Fortunately, there's still plenty of my bloodline left with grudges against Rome."

Mash was similarly happy to see him, but less bloodthirsty. "Mr. Kratos." She gave a small bow. "Thank you. They were getting close to breaking the door down. Is Senpai here?"

"She is with the other Servants," rumbled Kratos, turning back to the area around the gate. The Romans were finally beginning to filter into the city, with Nero at their head. "We should rejoin them."

Mash nodded. "I'll clear you a path." She slammed her shield into the ground, and with a shout, barreled into the soldiers between them and the Roman forces.

Hannibal snickered. "Little girl seems to be fond of that move. Let's make sure she doesn't get in over her head." He glanced over at Cu, who was encircled by enemies, though it was a circle that was diminishing by the second. "He'll be fine. Seems to be having the time of his life."

Kratos grunted, but did not dispute the point. They flanked Mash as she drove into the soldiers, and moments later, were drawing up to where Nero had established her seat of command.

"Mashie!" Fujimaru ran up to greet her Shielder. "You made it out ok, then?"

"Yes, Senpai. I'm unharmed. I think we all are." She glanced around. "Actually, where's Jing Ke?"

"Oh, she's gone on ahead. Scouting the best path to the palace, since that's where we think Romulus…" Fujimaru's face darkened, and something akin to true venom entered her normally cheery voice. "And Lev will be."

"Then that is where we shall go!" Several voices were raised in protest, but Nero swiped her arm through the air, silencing them. "NO! This is something I MUST do! I must face our Holy Progenitor, and either free him, or see his fall myself! And…..if we are able to return him to his right mind, I must stand before him, and be judged." She shook her head, firmly. "No Emperor worthy of sitting the Throne of glorious Rome would be cowed from such. So, I WILL be accompanying you."

She turned to her officers. "Valerius, my Legate. Commander of the greatest Legion in Rome's armies! Should I not return from this, I name you my heir."

Valerius paled, but sank to his knees. "My Emperor…."

"I have no natural heir, so I will trust you to hold the Empire together in my absence. I would tell you to fight, to fight to the ends of your ability…." She bowed her head. "But I will trust in your judgment. If I fall….and you feel the only way for Rome to survive is for it to lay down its arms, then….as Emperor, that will be your decision. One you will have to answer for before Pluto." She placed her hand on Valerius' shoulder. "I hope to see you again, my friend."

"May Mars himself grant you his blessings," murmured Valerius, his eyes straying to a bristling Kratos.

"Now come!" Nero raised her sword, pointing it to the palace on the hill, in the distance. "We go to end this!"

The El-Melloi was climbing up into the Gordius Wheel, which had landed while Nero was naming her successor. He waved, catching Fujimaru's attention. "Master, would you ride with us?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "No, I don't think I'd handle it too well if you had to take to the skies for some reason. Better I keep my feet firmly on the ground. After all, I can't go into Spirit Form to save myself from a fall."

Iskandar nodded. "Very well. Spartacus! Lu Bu! See to my flanks!"

"What's the word on Medea?" asked Fujimaru, as they began to form up behind the massive bulk of the Gordius Wheel.

Kratos touched the witch's string in his mind for a moment. "She believes she now has a way to ward the Homunculi, and is currently crafting it." He grunted. "She says she will be right behind us."

"Hopefully not too far behind, since our entire plan kind of hinges on her," Fujimaru shrugged. "At least for Leonidas. Romulus….I felt the power he was putting out, even separated from his master by a big distance. She might not be able to get close enough to him to use Rule Breaker."

"One problem at a time, girl," said a grinning Cu, who had rejoined the group and was now jogging alongside them. "Maybe we don't even have to worry about Leonidas, and we can just blitz Romulus and take him off the field first."

Fujimaru gave Cu a look. "I can SEE your stat card, you know that right? You really want to tempt that abysmal Luck stat of yours like that?"

Cu shrugged. "Going to happen regardless. Lady Luck hates me enough that me tempting fate can't make it any worse."

"Imagine, an Irishman without the fabled luck of the Irish," Boudica had drawn up beside them, the reins of her chariot held in one hand, and a naked blade, still stained with blood, held in the other.

Cu cocked his head to the side, giving the Iceni Queen an appraising look. "Joining us, are you?"

Boudica's reply was more of a growl than it was words. "Whatever my issues with….everything, Romulus himself is waiting for us at the end of this. Even if it's merely to resolve this Singularity, my past demands some level of satisfaction from him." She chuckled, bitterly. "And, my skills and abilities make me one of the more potent weapons you have against a powerful deity of Roman origin. No, I said I would fight, and I will keep my word." Her eyes bored a hole into Nero's back. "Despite my misgivings. I will keep my given word…..unlike others I can name."

Her words effectively killed what little conversation was going.

The city loomed over them, houses made of gleaming marble, streets impossibly clean, each stone laid perfectly, showing no sign of wear. A few frightened faces looked out upon them from windows as they passed, but otherwise, they saw little sign of the citizens, as they moved on in silence.

Silence that was eventually broken by Hannibal.

"I don't like this - since we split off from the Legions, we haven't seen hide nor hair of their soldiers." His hand rested upon the pommel of his sword. "There's no way they managed to fit every soldier on the walls, not with the numbers our former United Roman Servants claim they possess. There should be at least some patrols in the city itself to deal with fires, uprisings, or panicked citizens. But so far….." He gestured around. "Nothing."

"This city feels wrong, as well," spat Iskandar. "It is beautiful, and pristine…..and utterly hollow. It feels less like a city, and more like a dream of one….the platonic ideal of a city." He grimaced. "I do not like it."

"We are being baited in," rumbled Kratos.

"Ignore the Servants, and funnel all the soldiers against the other soldiers, while counting on your Servants to deal with them. It's a solid enough plan," The El-Melloi's hands were white-knuckled on the rim of the Gordius Wheel. "Concentrated as we are, there's little their soldiers will be able to do to us. So you count on either pushing the Legions out of the city, and cutting us off, or simply beating us in a direct confrontation in the heart of the city, and essentially winning the war in a single stroke."

"The hell of it is, it also gives us the best chances," muttered Hannibal. "The Legions holding around the gate limits just how much of the United Roman forces can be brought to bear. They can hold for a time - hopefully enough for us to take the head right off this snake."

"We are here," Nero's voice was oddly muted, though it carried as well as it ever did.

The Grand Palace of the United Roman Empire towered above them. Opulent and imperial - it was in many ways similar to Nero's Palace, but was larger, more impressive, shining white, perfect and flawless. Looking upon it, Kratos began to understand Iskandar's words about the city. For all its splendor, it felt empty. Nero's palace, while also not to his tastes, at least felt real - a place where people lived.

"And they left the door wide open for us," Fujimaru rolled her eyes. "Not even trying to hide that this is a trap."

Hannibal and Boudica's eyes were grim lines. "Romulus is in there. The two of us can feel it, down to our very bones." The Carthagian general's words were punctuated by the sound of his blade sliding out of its sheath.

"Throne room, then?" asked Cu. "Just like last time?"

The Communicators on Kratos and Fujimaru's wrists crackled to life. "We have Avenger and Rider on standby. The Reactors are holding steady, so we can emergency summon them to your location if need be," said Romani. "Best estimates, though, give us about five minutes of battle before we risk an overload, and would need to recall them both."

Kratos grunted, for what else was there to say. It was time to finish this.

Iskandar and Boudica both dismissed their chariots, and the group, Chaldeans, Roman, and Servant, entered the palace.

The inside was every bit the match in splendor for the outside. Works of art, fine pottery, painstakingly crafted furniture surrounded them. Wealth the likes of which almost none of them had ever seen was on display (and even Kratos, who had walked the halls of Olympus, thought the halls of Romulus' home managed to hold up in comparison to the city of the Greek gods) all around them.

It was also, like the streets of the city, completely deserted.

They made quick time into the palace, Iskandar leading them to a staircase that he said had led to the room where the military command of the United Roman Empire had met. From there, he believed, lay passages that would take them to the throne room, where all believed Romulus awaited.

They had begun to ascend the stairs when they noticed they were one person short.

Cu Chulainn stood at the bottom of the stairs, stock-still.

"Caster?" called Kratos.

"There's something….." Cu hand reached up and scratched at just below his left eye.

"We do not have time for diversions," snapped Nero. "My army is buying us time with their very lives!"

"I know, I KNOW!" shouted Cu, suddenly very agitated. "I can't explain this, but I feel like this is important." He waved them off. "Go on, I'll catch up."

"No, you should not go alone," Kratos descended the stairs. "I will go. Locate the throne room, but do not enter until we rejoin." He looked to Cu. "We will be quick."

The greater whole of the group rushed off, and Kratos looked to Cu Chulainn.

"Right, I'd tell you to keep up, but we both know you can, so let's hurry." Cu dashed off, and Kratos thundered along behind him. Cu's path led him off to one of the towers, then below, down a winding spiral staircase.

"They want to ambush us coming back up these, it could be a problem - or it would be if I wasn't fast enough to run along the walls," muttered Cu. "We're almost to whatever I'm feeling, in any case."

They came to a heavily sealed door, deep beneath the tower. Cu sniffed the air, then poked at the door. "Bounded Fields. A lot of them. And I can smell blood - old, dried blood, behind that door." He brandished his staff. "Give me a second."

Runes lit up around Cu, his staff glowing bright, and he smashed the head against the metal door. There was a groaning sound, and the door rattled in its frame, then fell still. "There, should be safe, now." He looked over his shoulder. "Want to do the honors?"

Kratos' foot rammed into the door, tearing it from its hinges, and shattering whatever physical locks and bars kept it closed.

The room was dark. Cu summoned light to the head of his staff, as the dwarven device at Kratos' waist sprang to life. Both men's noses wrinkled as they set foot inside - the small chamber was rank with the smell of an unwashed body, and old, stale blood. Cu's breath left him in a gasp as he raised his staff high.

Impaled on a spike jutting from one of the walls was a human body - less than that, merely a torso without arms or legs.

And it was somehow still alive.

A silver head of hair weakly looked up, flinching as the light hit his eyes. Now, it was Kratos' turn to make a noise of surprise, echoing the one that came from Cu, for they both recognized the face that was staring at them.

It was the Archer from the burning city.

Despite his condition, the man's eyes were faintly amused. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the man, or god, of the hour." He turned his head fractionally, and a smug smile crossed his face. "And Lancer, as well……though I suppose I can't call you that anymore. To what do I deserve the honor?"

"You?" spat Cu. "You were the mystery Servant that bastard Lev summoned?"

"Unwillingly. But yes. I don't ever recall meeting a Lev Lainur, but he seemed to remember me from somewhere. Also seemed to know some of my more secret tricks, which is why he summoned me specifically." The Archer looked straight at Kratos. "He was very, very interested in you, and your past. So he used me to get what he could. All the history I could read from your weapons."

Kratos felt his blood turn to ice.

If Cu noticed Kratos' sudden discomfort, he showed no sign of it. "So what'd you do to get put down here like this? I may not like you, but you're annoying enough of a fighter that you'd think he'd want you around for the big final showdown that's about to happen."

The Archer laughed. "I may, possibly, have been just a little too good at finding loopholes in his orders for his tastes. Taking my time getting back to the capital, then forcing him to use a second Command Seal on me to get me to report seemed to push his patience past its limit. And that doesn't even count the backtalk."

"Why are you still alive?" asked Kratos, finding his voice.

The mutilated man laughed, bitterly. "Too useful to kill. I think he had plans for exploiting me further, before you started turning the tide against them." He shrugged, despite the agony such a movement must have caused him. "Or maybe he just forgot I was down here. Wouldn't be the worst thing one of my employers ever did to me."

Kratos felt a presence behind them, and turned, but it was merely Medea, appearing in a shower of golden sparks. "I warded the Homunculi as best I could, and they're reinforcing the Legions now. Why are you down here?" She caught sight of the Servant, hanging from the walls, and blinked. "And who is this?"

Meanwhile, the nameless Archer's grin had turned even more sardonic. "Medea as well? It's a Fuyuki reunion here. Do you also have Saber following you around like a duckling?" Despite the man's words, there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he mentioned the King of Knights.

Medea shrugged at Kratos and Cu's look. "I've no memory of ever setting eyes on this man before in my life."

"And I was the Caster in the Grail War you pulled me out of Kratos, so this means this is more alternate universe shit," Cu groaned. "Why is it, everytime I see you, you're making my life difficult, you red pain-in-my-ass?"

The man's smirk was possibly the most calculatingly irritating example of one that Kratos had ever seen in his life. "Everyone needs a hobby."

"Right, well, you have fun with that," Cu turned on his heel. "This guy's not going to be an issue, and we've got a Roman god to beat down. Let's go." He started walking out of the room.

"Wait," The man's voice had shifted, the sarcasm and mockery were gone, replaced with something almost….humble. "Take me with you. I might be able to help, somehow."

He met their gazes with eyes of steel. "You think I don't want to get back at the person who did this to me? And even if that wasn't a factor, I can tell this is a Singularity, and a bad one. Cleaning up messes is kind of my job, though I never dealt with one as big as this one."

"You will be a liability as you are," said Kratos, not maliciously, simply stating facts.

Again, the man shrugged, heedless of the pain it was causing him. "So leave me as I am, and lean me against something when the fighting starts. It's simply bad tactics to leave your enemy a tool, when you could deprive him of it." His eyes fell on Medea. "And the Princess of Colchis there has just the thing for that."

The jagged dagger appeared in Medea's hands. "Rule Breaker is hard enough on a whole Servant, much less the ruin you are right now. This could kill you."

The Archer met Medea's eyes, and she took a step back. Fires smoldered in the Servant's silver orbs. "I'll survive, I can promise you that. This, this is nothing. I've walked through hell itself, more than once. Bring it."

"Your funeral," muttered the witch, raising the dagger. "RULE BREAKER!" With an intonation of the Noble Phantasm's name, she drove the blade into the Archer's chest.

Iskandar had yelled when the Noble Phantasm had stabbed him. The El-Melloi had screamed. Credit where it was due, other than a hiss of pain, the Archer was silent as the magical blade shattered the contract binding him to Lev Lainur.

He still breathed as Medea pulled the blade from his chest. Sweat coated his body, but he still drew breath. He looked up at them through hair that was clinging to his face. "Alright, who's carrying me?"

---

It did not take them long to rejoin the rest of their group. Though for such a short trip, Cu managed to fit in complaining that would have sufficed for a much longer journey.

"Why of all of us did I have to carry him?"

Not that it was one-sided. The Archer, as he had in Fuyuki, seemed to take a perverse glee in needling Cu. It would have given Kratos a headache, had his temples not already been pounding.

"I could have tied him to my belt, but he would have dragged," growled Kratos. "He is larger than the head that traveled with my son and I."

Thankfully, his comment bought a few moments of silence. Then….

"Wait, a head? Kratos, my friend, you're going to have to elaborate on that some. That sounds like a wild story, even for someone like me!"

"We are here."

They had arrived at a massive, ornate staircase, where the combined Chaldean and independent Servants were clustered. Mash perked up and waved as they approached.

"You were right, that was quick," Fujimaru blinked as she noticed the new addition. "Who's Cu carrying?"

Fujimaru suddenly found herself shoved back, with the El-Melloi bodily stepping in front of her. "Master, keep your distance. I recognize that face. That is a mercenary, a very dangerous mercenary that the Clock Tower would occasionally find reason to employ."

The Archer smirked (it seemed to almost be his default expression). "And hello to you, too, Lord El-Melloi. Or do you prefer 'Waver Velvet' as a Servant?"

"I'll thank you to call me Lord El-Melloi II," snapped the Clock Tower Lord. "Kratos, why is he here?"

"Jerk practically begged us to bring him along," drawled Cu. "Medea already broke him free from Lev's control, so we don't have that to worry about. Worst case, we can throw him at one of them, maybe distract them for a second."

"I can't fault him for wanting to see the end of the one who bound him," said Iskandar. "So long as he doesn't expect us to protect him during the battle. We will have our hands full as it is keeping ourselves alive, much less Fujimaru and Nero."

"Like I told your god, just lean me against something and go about your business," The Archer's voice was casual, unconcerned with the death he might be inviting with these instructions. "I might surprise you yet, though."

"Enough," said Nero. "Time wastes while we stand here. Are we ready to end this?"

There was a round of nods, grunts, and various other forms of assent.

"Then let us go."

Chapter 34: Septem Finale

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 34​

The stairs leading up were wide, impossibly so. A full cohort of Spartan soldiers could have marched up these stairs, and had room to spare. If the palace itself was meant to represent the wealth, glory, and excess of Rome's ideal, these stairs were that concept taken to its logical extreme.

The throne room managed to outdo even that.

It was no enclosed space - there were no walls whatsoever. The entire space - which seemed to cover an area as large as the palace itself, was open to the skies, with only a near forest's worth of pillars, each one showing an incredibly detailed picture of what Kratos assumed to be Rome's history, to break up the open space, past, present, and he assumed, future, as one pillar showed a space shuttle (how Kratos' mind had struggled with the concept that humanity had constructed vessels to take them to other worlds entirely - only the moon so far, but it still was almost beyond his comprehension) emblazoned with the Roman eagle blasting off into the skies. The ceiling, too, was beautifully painted with a massive mural - one that put Kratos in mind of the ceiling of a chapel that Da Vinci had shown him, mentioning that it was the masterpiece of one of her contemporaries from her living days.

In the center, seated upon a throne that would have dwarfed the throne that Kratos had occupied in Olympus, was Romulus, his strange spear resting across his legs. His aura saturated the area, the pressure emanating from him considerably stronger than it had been in the fields outside Lugdunum.

"So…..you stand before me," Even at the distance separating them, the god's voice filled the massive space easily. He made no move to rise from his seat. "To face my judgment."

One of his massive arms raised and swept across his plane of view. "Look upon it. My beloved Roma, what was." A gesture to a pillar depicting two boys being raised by wolves. Another pillar, showing the founding of a city upon one hill of seven. "What is." A battle scene, now, showing two nearly identical armies clashing. "And what will be." A globe, the world, all united under the Imperial Eagle of Rome. And yes, their attention was directed to the pillar with the space shuttle.

The throne creaked under the Servant's weight as he rose from it. "At least, the future, once you are gone, once you who reject my love have seen the light - either by coming to your senses, or by being sent to Pluto's embrace."

"So, that is it, then?" Nero slipped under the arms of those around her and strode, fearlessly up to the front of the group. "My Empire, my Rome, despite having pushed the borders farther than ever, despite shining brighter than Rome ever has, is unworthy? Simply because we refuse to roll over and submit - to die, under the heels of this….mockery?"

Romulus' smile grew sad. "This is more truly Roma than the world has seen since my departure from the mortal realms." A muscle on his skull twitched. "As the root from which all Roma sprouted, I would judge your Empire to be the mockery, my daughter."

'Subtle spell, that' muttered Medea, who had vanished into Spirit Form before the group had ascended the stairs. 'It looks like it's bringing to the front his buried impulses and thoughts - things he'd normally never act upon or say. If he truly feels like all of Rome is his children, then what parent isn't at least somewhat disappointed with their children, or the choices they make, at some point or another?'

Romulus settled the butt of his spear onto the floor of his expansive throne room. "But your Empire, my beloved daughter? Rebellion still seethes in the far north. Tribes who should have been rejoicing in the glories we could show them reject us with blades in their hands. Parthia still defies us, a conflict that has been unresolved for decades now. And yet, you waste uncounted sums on theater and song."

His hands tightened on the spear. "No. It is through conquest, by testing ourselves against worthy foes, that Roma has grown strong. So, too, must I test myself against you, my daughter, you and the allies you have surrounded yourself with - both through your charisma, and those you have cruelly twisted to serve you." His eyes fell upon Iskandar and the El-Melloi. "Do not fret, my children, you will be free soon enough."

"Are we done with the tedious pre-fight posturing?" The voice came from behind the throne. Expensive shoes clicked on the floor, as a man robed in green walked into view.

Lev Lainur. A ripple of tension washed through the group.

The man in question sneered at the raised weapons. "Oh, you trash have greater concerns than me. But if you wish to waste your efforts battling me when the Servant who fought you fools to a standstill is right there," His grin grew more pointed, showing his unnaturally sharp teeth. "By all means."

It was quieter than a whisper, but Kratos heard it - as did others. The sound of another person, a small one, shifting their weight, coming from behind Lev.

"Oh yes, I forgot. How careless of me," Faux sincerity dripped from Lev's mouth. "Let me introduce our other notable. Romulus' Master. Boy! Show yourself to our distinguished guests!"

A small form hesitantly walked out from behind Lev Lainur.

It was not Atreus. That fact was the only thing that kept Kratos from flying across the space that separated them and tearing Lev Lainur limb from limb. The child had red hair, yes, and it had been shorn to look like Kratos' son, and the boy had even been dressed similarly, but it was not Kratos' son. He knew that.

Spartan Rage still HOWLED within him, held back by a titanic effort of will, and still, it was the barest fraction away from slipping its leash.

On the back of the child's hand was a Command Seal, in the shape of the Imperial Eagle of Rome.

And the child himself looked…wan. Wasted. More akin to one who had been starved, than what one would expect from a child who lived in a city of apparent plenty like the United Roman capital. In some fashion, it also mirrored Atreus, when he was still sickly, his dual-natures at war with each other.
Kratos became dimly aware of a voice shouting at him, in his head. 'Kratos! Are you FINALLY listening? The boy's being drained dry by Romulus. It's something that can happen with Servants, if a Master contracts with a one with a need for mana greater than they can provide. Though, that usually simply restricts them from using their abilities, rather than leading to the outright slow death of their Master…..but some Berserkers, in battle, can….'

'Lose yourself in the intricacies of magic LATER, woman!' Cu's voice rang in his mind, cutting off Medea's mumbling tangent. 'Kratos, you got your head on straight? We're only going to get one shot at this thing, so we can't fuck this up.'

The tide of red within Kratos receded, just a touch. Enough for him to pull himself back from the brink of uncontrolled fury. He sent a feeling of assent along the threads in his mind that connected him to his Servants.

Lev was frowning. "Surprising. I thought for sure that would set you off. Turn you back into the mindless savage you keep trying to pretend you aren't." His face twisted. "I suppose I'll have to try harder."

Two flares of red, sorcerous light pulsed from the man's clenched fist. His voice, when he spoke, was thick with magical compulsion. "Minon! Kill him!"

It happened so fast. Before Kratos could even turn, a form had crashed into him, sending them both skidding across the tiled floor of the throne room.

"Kratos!" Iskandar had half-turned, one foot already starting to propel him after the Spartan…

…when Romulus was suddenly among them.

His spear swept through them in a circle. Mash hastily shoved both Nero and Fujimaru behind her and her shield, managing to block the blow at the last second, though her arms screamed with the effort. She could not fully stop it, only deflect it, meaning the blunt edge of the spear clubbed Spartacus and Lu Bu off their feet, instead of slicing into them. The Berserker's thick skulls robbed the blow of enough momentum to allow their Caster to dive aside.

Finally, the blow was fully stopped, the massive wooden head meeting the blade of Iskandar, and the staff of Cu Chulainn, who halted the blow - but even then, only just barely.

Cu's teeth were bared in a grin of challenge - and excitement. "Round two, then. Magic didn't do much to you last time. So, this time, we'll try the direct approach."

He twisted his staff, dropping below Romulus' guard, and charged.

Kratos tumbled, rolled, and bounced off of pillars as he skidded across the room, his enemy tenaciously clinging to him as their bodies careened off the floor. A hand snaked up, raking at Kratos' eyes, stopping only when the Spartan seized the offending wrist and squeezed. He drew his knees up to his chest and attempted to kick his opponent away, but an elbow dug itself into his ribs and robbed him of breath as he attempted to extend his legs. That, and another leg entangling his kept the fight close, foiling Kratos' attempt to break away.

Growling, he looped his arm around the elbow that was still pressing into his side, and, despite the positioning, pulled himself up, using the arms as levers, and drove both his knees into the chest of the Servant (for it could be nothing else) grappling him.

Hardened knees met flesh and bone, and the man gasped. Viciously, he tore his wrist free from Kratos, but in that second, before he could bring the arm to bear, Kratos' palm thudded into his chest, in the same area where his knees had already done damage.

Space was made.

Kratos put both hands on the arm still entrapped, and hurled the man off him.

They flew through the air in a short flight, before impacting one of the pillars, hard, and slid down the surface.

They were not down long. Shattered bits of the mural slid off their body as they rose, only moments behind Kratos, who was already rising, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

He knew who this was. He'd known from the moment Lev had sent out his call. Seeing it, clearly, for the first time, only confirmed it.

Tall, only a touch shorter than Kratos himself. Muscular, each with a build that almost mirrored the other. A red cape fluttered from the man's shoulders - other than a simple loincloth, and an achingly familiar plumed helmet, that was all the man wore. Kratos could not see his face - the aforementioned helmet hid the man's features completely, save for a pair of blazing, red eyes.

But he knew this man. Any true Spartan would.

"Leonidas," whispered Kratos.

"Kratos," The Servant's voice was deeper, a rougher rasp than the King Kratos had known in his life. But the same authority, the same surety pulsed from his words. "I am told you claim to be a Spartan."

"I am the last….in my world."

"Because of your actions?" Leonidas' voice was a lash. "Because of your choices? What price did our home pay for your reckless quest for revenge?"

Kratos' silence was enough for the Spartan King. "As I thought. Even slaying Ares, and taking his throne - it was not enough. It would never be enough for one such as you. You are a failure that should never have made it out of the agoge." Weapons formed in Leonidas' hands. Familiar ones - a spear, and a massive shield. "My 300 marched with me, laid down their lives for a cause greater than them, and still, they cried out for vengeance, vengeance that was delivered by the armies of Sparta."

Flickers of shapes that were almost humanoid winked in and out around the two men, encircling them in a ring. "And yet, you carry the ghosts of an entire nation, dead by your own actions, with you. Have they been avenged?" Leonidas shook his head, cutting off whatever Kratos had been about to say. "I think not. Whatever you may have done to the gods of Olympus, it was never for your fellow Spartans. It was always about you….and only you. No, it falls to me to avenge them."

He raised his spear, the point aimed right between Kratos' eyes. "Against the monster who caused their deaths."

(aiefeHEREicivpekGENidfaieaeARElapccoiveoERAldaifeLWElaijeiea)

Kratos winced, as something throbbed in his skull - then was gone. He shook it off, his ears still ringing. "I have paid for my crimes. Not enough. Possibly never enough. But I am still walking a path to that end."

Leonidas' eyes blazed. "I will be the judge of that, Spartan."

Draupnir met Leonidas' spear, point glancing off of point, and the battle was on.

Across the room, Spartacus and Lu Bu surged to their feet, weapons in their hands as they regained their footing. Romulus raised one leg, seeking to snap a kick into a charging Cu, who pivoted out of the way, only to run into Romulus' other foot, as the founding god of Rome dropped his raised leg, scissoring the other up and sending Cu flying off into the distance (though his landing was softened by the torso of Archer, still tied to his back). His foot cracked into the ground as he brought it down, planting, then he spun in a short leap, arms moving to intercept the Berserkers.

His spear met Lu Bu's in a quick parry. His other arm met the weathered blade of Spartacus, the metal rings on his arm (and possibly his bronze flesh) halting the sword in its tracks. His arm twisted, sliding around Spartacus' like a snake, and hurled the brute into Lu Bu, tangling them together. He then ducked, allowing Iskandar's sword to pass just above his head, as he snapped the butt of his spear into the King of Conqueror's chin. He sidestepped, just as two arrows punctured the space where he had been standing.

Chiron frowned. Romulus was fast - incredibly, incredibly fast, and hyper-aware of the battlefield. Even landing a shot, he felt, would be a task among tasks. He fitted another arrow to his bow.

Fujimaru had seized Nero by the arm, and was trying, with little success, to pull the Emperor to some form of cover behind one of the pillars. "Nero, come ON! This isn't the sort of place mere mortals should be in the middle of!"

Nero was half resisting, half limp. "I….should be doing SOMETHING! This is my Empire, MY ROME they are fighting for! And I stand here….USELESS!" Her hands went up to her head, where two spots of pain had begun to blossom.

Jing Ke exploded into being, knife leading, but the bronze-skinned Servant was simply not there - only the haft of his spear, which struck the Chinese Assassin's stomach so hard she retched. He raised his foot, about to stomp her into the ground, when a charging Lu Bu caught him about the waist, pushing him back, away from the downed woman.

Instead of resisting the Berserker's momentum, the god rode it, leaping into the air, and flinging his spear at Spartacus, who narrowly got out of the way of the projectile. His hands free, Romulus locked one arm around Lu Bu's head and squeezed, riding the Berserker as though he were a charging bull. His legs touched down, and pushed back against the Berserker's strength, while his fist hammered into Lu Bu's face.

Once. Twice. A third time, and there was the sound of bones breaking. Romulus raised his fist again, only to howl in pain.

Roaring, he tossed Lu Bu to the ground. He spun about, eyes narrowing as he felt blood beginning to trickle down his back from where he had been scored, once, by a pair of swords, making a nice, clean 'X' upon his back.

Hannibal and Boudica stood side by side, their swords stained faintly red.

"Iceni Queen," boomed Romulus. "And our great enemy from the Punic Wars. Of course. Who else could cut my flesh so, but you two, carrying the grudges of your peoples."

His gaze lingered on Hannibal. "But did not your own people cast you out, in the end, son of Hamilcar?" His arms opened. "My Roma has room for such as you - my love for my children is boundless, especially children abandoned by their own."

Hannibal spat, and combined it with a rude gesture. "That means 'no', if you fancy Roman sorts never managed to decipher Carthagian insults after 15 years of me laying waste to your countryside."

Romulus shook his head. "Very well, then. And I know better to offer to you, Queen Boudica. I can feel the fires of your hatred from here." He bowed his head. "So be it."

He raised his arms, pointing diagonally up from his body, and the room exploded around him.

Branches stabbed upward from the ground, shot down from the ceiling, and erupted every which way from the nearby pillars. As quick as lightning, they would spear across the room, then, once they had buried themselves into something, they would sprout new branches of their own, that would repeat the process.

The room quickly became a riot of sharpened, writhing wood.

Lord El-Melloi hissed as a branch sliced a line into his cheek. "Soil….he's got soil in both the floor and the ceiling, and he built these pillars around trees!"

"This entire room is a trap!" yelled Chiron, weaving between a tide of wooden death.

Mash was bleeding from a handful of small wounds, wounds she had taken by blocking branches with her body, to keep them from piercing her Master. Fujimaru was huddled behind her, Mash's shield only so effective against attacks that could come from any direction or angle.

Romulus was the eye of the storm, dispassionately watching as he hurled a literal forest at his enemies.

Draupnir glanced off Leonidas' shield, the Spartan King stepping inwards and forcing the weapon up, booted foot shooting out, aimed for Kratos' ankle. Kratos matched his forwards step, Leonidas' foot grazing off his boot, and attempted to hook his leg behind it. Leonidas jumped back, spear flying up and jabbing at Kratos' head, forcing him to duck or lose an eye.

Kratos did not give him time to breathe, lowering his shoulder and bulling straight into his opponent. Their spear work was close enough that if it was not equal, it was not different by much. But Kratos was bigger, but just enough, and he meant to wring every bit of that advantage that he could from it.

Shield crashed into shield, and Leonidas was knocked back a step, feet shuffling rapidly to avoid a stumble. He struck out with his shield, crashing it into Kratos' shield and forestalling another charge from the Spartan, then feinted high with his spear, pulling it back at the last second, sending the butt of the spear into Kratos' side, who absorbed the blow, but not without a grunt of pain. Draupnir receded, as Kratos wrapped his hand around the haft of the spear, and hauled Leonidas forward.

Skull met helmet, and a hideous noise echoed across the battlefield. There was a massive dent in the Spartan King's helmet as his head was rocked back. Not that Kratos was unscathed, a trickle of blood now ran down his forehead, his skin having been sliced open by the edges of Leonidas' helm. But if he felt it, or even noticed it, he gave no sign. Roaring, he planted his feet, and swung his body in a circle. Perhaps, in other circumstances, Leonidas could have stood his ground and resisted, or simply released his spear, but his head was ringing like a bell, and he instinctively kept his hands wrapped around the haft of his weapon (as had been beaten into his head during the agoge).

And he kept them on it as Kratos lifted him into the air and spun him around, once, twice, thrice. On the fourth revolution, the continual circular motions, as well as the recent blow to his head finally won out, and his hands slipped, and he was sent flying across the throne room.

Before he had even landed, Kratos was hot in pursuit.

Elsewhere, things were not going as well. Lu Bu, Spartacus, Boudica, Hannibal, and Iskandar were weaving a flurry of flying steel in front of them, but they were only just keeping the encroaching branches back, and were steadily giving ground. That they were not shoulder to shoulder yet was simply because of the sheer number of people they were trying to protect.

Lev's mocking laughter, beating down on them from where he had seated himself in Romulus' throne, was not helping matters.

"There's no END to them!" yelled Hannibal, as he intercepted a rippling branch moments before it would have torn straight through his shoulder. "If anyone has any bright ideas, NOW would be the time!"

"EVERYBODY DOWN!"

They ducked - the sheer weight and command in the voice was enough that they would have dropped, even if the voice was unfamiliar. As their faces went level with the stone floors, some saw a handful of carved runes sliding across the ground.

"ANSUZ!" Power pulsed from the word, and the runestones responded, thin, burning lines of magical energy leaking from each of them. A second later, a sheer wall of fire erupted through the space.

If they could have, the trees would have screamed. They may well have, but in no fashion that humans could hear. The branches weren't even turned to ash, they simply ceased to exist. The pillars closest to the point of origin of the fire melted, molten stone running down and pooling on the floor - the trees they were built up around suffering the same fate as their branches. And it was not just a simple wave of fire - it was a continual stream, pouring forth from the staff of an enraged Irishman.

Sweat poured down the brow of Cu Chulainn, the runes on his staff glowing painfully bright. Oddly, he didn't sweep the fire across the room, or attempt to turn the blaze onto Romulus, instead keeping the area above the Chaldean's heads clear. A minute, two minutes, three - he threw everything he could into the spell, despite the obvious strain on him. Still, he gritted his teeth, veins standing out on his neck, as he determinedly kept the inferno going.

Until….

"I have it!"

There was a shudder, and the aura of abundant life in the throne room began to recede - as did the branches that had not yet felt the caress of Cu Chulainn's fire. Confused, Romulus turned to look behind him.

There stood Nero, his massive spear in her hands. Somehow, the slight woman had pulled it from the pillar that it bad been driven into when Romulus had hurled it at Spartacus. "The spear of the Holy Progenitor - that I can touch it shows, if nothing else, I am a TRUE Roman Emperor, whatever your misgivings about me, oh Great Founder!"

The woman directed one of her most smug looks at great Romulus, demanding his eyes. She was the star of the show, center stage was hers.

All according to plan.

"Kratos, fucking NOW!" With a wheeze, Cu finally let the fires sputter out, falling to his knees.

Kratos, at that point, had just arrived at where Leonidas had fallen. Even dizzy and disoriented, the Spartan King was the leader of a warrior city like none other, and he was reacting even as he hit the ground, and began to regain his feet. His shield raised, his body angled behind it.

Just as Kratos had known he would.

Kratos turned, his back hitting the shield as he rolled over Leonidas' body. His axe was in his hand, raised above his head even as his body spun. Every ounce of power Kratos could muster went into the resulting throw.

In the blink of an eye, the Leviathan Axe flew across the now cleared space, and cleaved straight through the neck of Lev Lainur.

There was silence, save for the decapitated head bouncing off the stone floor.

"Got him!" crowed Cu, his palms on the floor the only thing keeping him somewhat upright.

"Without his Master, that should do it for Leonidas!" yelled Fujimaru. "That just leaves Romulus…."

Laughter cut her off. Cruel, mocking laughter.

Wet, slithering sounds began to echo about the room, and then flesh, slick and unwholesome in its color and texture, erupted from the stump of Lev Lainur's neck. It oozed across the room, quickly finding the lost head, and wrapping it in an almost loving embrace, before quickly retreating to the body, the head in tow.

The head that, despite having no connection to lungs, was still laughing.

With a stomach-churning squelch, Lev's head was set back upon his neck. Smaller tendrils, the same sickening color as the larger ones quickly flowed over the scar, erasing it in a matter of moments. Only then did the man rise from where he had been seated.

"Clever, Chaldea, clever. And devious." His hands smacked together in sarcastic applause. "In the various scenarios my brothers and I devised, you only were intelligent enough to try to kill me in a few of the millions we ran. And those were the ones where you came the closest to victory. I see I have been taking you far, FAR too lightly." His eyes flared an unholy red. "That ends now."

"What the FUCK are you?" shouted Cu Chulainn, his eyes wide.

"More than any of you filth, for one. But I think it's time you truly realized that. Time to shed this weak, fleshly mask, and for you to behold what I really am." Power surged from him in a wave that blew them all back. "And for you to know, truly, how outmatched you ARE!"

There was an explosion of light and sound.

When their vision had come back, Fujimaru, for a moment, wished she had been struck blind instead.

It was massive. The ceilings of Romulus' throne room were enormous and it still scraped at the ceiling. Its slick flesh was an ugly gray-black, and rippled with spasmodic movements. But the worst was the eyes.

They were innumerable. Bloodred, with cross shaped pupils as black as night. Loosely anchored in their sockets, madly twitching from side to side, each movement causing the thin red veins, or nerves that connected them to one another to shudder and rustle like fleshy vines.

It was an abomination. Even the Heroic Spirits, warriors beyond legend, felt their gorge rise at the sight of it.

For the girl named Mash Kyrielight, it was somehow worse. Pain was not something that was unfamiliar to her. Her early years had been blank stretches of time broken up by periods of intense, incredible suffering - the experiments of the Demi-Servant program, as the scientists enlisted by Lord Animusphere had tinkered with her body. Lacking any frame of reference, she had simply thought it was the norm. She became used to it, after a while. She wouldn't utter some tough-guy line like Mr. Kratos about how 'pain is an old friend', but the sentiment would have been the same.

But this thing……simply looking at it was like a thousand, a million needles in her brain. She wanted to cry out, to scream, and only managed to hold it in by biting clean through her lip.

[What…..in all that is holy is that? It…..simply CAN'T be. Something like that SHOULDN'T be able to exist in this world!]

(In its sheath, Mash's sword rattled once, then was still.)

It was wrong. Distantly, all of them, human, Servant, and god thought they could hear reality itself screaming at the thing squatting before them, and how much it disagreed with its mere existence.

One of the eyes flashed a bright, sickly yellow, and a ray of blistering energy speared through the air. By the time Jing Ke's mind registered it was aimed directly at her, she knew she was dead.

Then a body rammed into her, and she was rolling across the floor.

By the time she had pushed herself up from her sprawl, the lower half of Lu Bu - all that was left of him - was vanishing into golden particles.

Her shriek of "LU!" was drowned out by malevolent laughter that seemed to come from all around them.

"YES. DESPAIR, CRAWLING MORTALS OF CHALDEA. I AM FLAUROS, OF THE INFORMATION CENTER, AND THE TIME OF YOUR ENDING IS NIGH!" The thing's flesh writhed as it bellowed its words, each syllable seeming to worm its way into the minds of those who heard it and infecting them with a slippery, pelagic unease - one that bordered on abject terror.

Several more of the eyes began to pulse with power.

Jing Ke found herself yanked from the ground and quickly, roughly put back on her feet. "Stand girl!" shouted Spartacus. "This….thing, it is an oppressor against life itself! Mourn your fallen comrade LATER! Now…." He raised his worn blade. "Now….we fight."

The Gordius Wheel was already forming in front of Iskandar, the King not even waiting until it had solidified to jump aboard. He kicked the bulls forward, his hand outstretched behind him. "Boy, to me! We need a strategy - a cunning one - to survive this! You'll plot better as a moving target!" El-Melloi didn't even hesitate, grasping his King's hand and swinging himself up into the chariot.

Boudica, as well, had summoned her chariot, and had bodily hauled both Nero and Fujimaru along with her. "Even your shield won't stand up long against one of those attacks, Mash!" she yelled, to a worried Mash. "Speed is your Master's best defense here! Protect who you can, but stay mobile!" Those words were said in a rush, as she was forced to kick her chariot into motion, only just avoiding a beam that would have erased her chariot and all the riders from existence.

An arrow screamed through the air and dug deep into one of the flesh-pillar's eyes, causing the thing to emit a screech of pain. But a few seconds later, the arrow had been pushed out of the eye, and the aqueous humor had begun to bubble and mend.

"It can heal," muttered Chiron, his form flickering into that of his true, centaurian appearance. "Damaging an eye does seem to stop it from firing for a time! I will do what I can!" He kicked into a gallop, his hooves clacking on the tiled floor, arrows flying across the room.

Cu weaved under a network of searing magical energy, leaping forward in a roll, then exploding from the ground, twirling his staff over his head and cracking Romulus across the back with it. The Holy Progenitor barely seemed to notice, retaliating with a sweeping chop that shaved a few hairs from the top of the Child of Light's head. "Not for nothing, but this guy's still here too! And Kratos is STILL tied up with Leonidas! We need a plan, fast!"

A thin, needle-like beam lanced across the floor behind where Cu was standing, leaving a crater, one that caused the Irish Servant to stumble for a second. Romulus' fist came flying in, aimed for Cu's chest.

It stopped, a hair's breadth away, as Hannibal's sword gouged straight through the Roman god's arm, halting the strike. But only barely - just long enough for Cu to recover his footing and jump back. Hannibal tore his blade from Romulus' arm, not about to try to pit his strength against that of a Divine Spirit on his home ground. "You and me, kid, we'll keep this one entertained. Everyone else, harry that monster! Girl, you and that Mage of Iskandar's come up with something!" He flicked blood from his sword. "And we pray that they come up with something, or Kratos can get Leonidas free before we break."

Fujimaru's mind raced, voices racing between her link to the Clock Tower Lord. 'We can hurt it, at least a little - Sensei's arrows are at least lessening the amount of fire we're taking. Could you trap it in your Noble Phantasm?'

Fujimaru felt Lord El-Melloi's shake of his head through their connection. 'Possibly. But I do not think I could hold it for long. It claimed to be Flauros, one of the demons of the Ars Goetia! If it truly IS what it claims to be, even Kongming's maze won't be able to hold something like that!'

'Would a Command Seal help?'

There was a pause. 'Yes….probably. But it is your last one. Are you certain, Master?'

'Right now isn't really the time to be holding back! Tell me, AAAAH!' Fujimaru's head was shoved down, as a beam sailed through the space where her head had been.

"Careful, Fujimaru. We cannot lose you," Nero said it with her usual bravado, but her facade was cracking. Her dress was soaked through with sweat, and her eyes were bloodshot. And she was wincing frequently, hands constantly moving up to rub at her skull. Whatever effect the supposed demon was having on all of them, the effect on a mere mortal like Nero had to be much, much worse.

Jing Ke leapt from pillar to pillar, using even the shattered and melted ones to stay one step ahead of the beams chasing her. Four of the eyes narrowed, then fired a spread of beams that seemed designed to cut off any angle for the lithe woman to escape from - up until an arrow drilled into the ceiling, a mere second before Jing Ke arrived there. Planting her foot, she used the arrow to push off at an impossible angle, flying right at the pillar.

Her dagger flashed, and an entire row of eyes went dark, cleaved in two. Flauros howled, even as a rank smell wafted from the ruined eyes, and they began to stitch themselves together. Both rows of eyes that flanked the ones that had been torn in two lit up, and bored straight through the ground where Jing Ke had been standing.

The Assassin, though, was long gone, running before her feet had hit the ground.

The platform the throne room was situated on rocked alarmingly.

Yanking hard on the reins, Iskandar swerved dangerously close to the monster, the spikes of his wheels gouging into its flesh and soaking the ground in its polluted blood. The eyes flared, and he pulled the Gordius Wheel away, a shower of arrows putting out a row of red orbs, providing him a corridor for escape. In the wake of his departure, Spartacus charged in, heedless of the damage the foul ichor of the thing was doing to his feet.

Fujimaru ducked her head up, just over the lip of the chariot's carriage. 'Can Iskandar's Noble Phantasm trap it? We wouldn't even need to kill it there….just buy us some TIME!'

'I believe so. We used a similar strategy in the Grail War where I first summoned my King, though the thing there was barely a fraction of what this monstrosity is.' She could feel the part of her brain where he had taken up residence turning like a set of gears. 'I doubt we could hold it long, but we COULD hold it. I will overlap it with Kongming's formation once it is within the Marble. That should buy us a little more time, but I cannot promise much.'

He reached up and tapped Iskandar on the shoulder, and the King of Conquerors nodded. The Gordius Wheel once again began to edge closer to the thing in the center of the throne room, Iskandar's magical energy beginning to spike.

Kratos saw it all out of the corner of his eye, even as he remained locked in combat with Leonidas. Both of them were having to duck and avoid stray beams, as the thing, whatever it was, seemed to care as little for the safety of his Servant as he did the life of Kratos. More than once, each had rolled out of the way of a shot that would have maimed, or even killed them both, had it connected.

Kratos grasped the Leviathan Axe in two hands, angling it just so, so that the head of Leonidas' spear slid through the opening just under the blade. Kratos twisted the axe, catching the weapon and forcing it to move, hoping to toss Leonidas from his feet. But the Spartan King moved as his weapon did, flipping his body around and riding the momentum, bringing his shield flying forward to crunch into Kratos' shoulder with bone-jarring force. Kratos winced - his shoulder did not feel broken, but it HAD been damaged.

Dismissing the pain, he stepped into the blow, his foot crashing into Leonidas' gut. The Servant's legs wavered for a split second, his stance falling, and Kratos lunged, attempting to seize the man's arms, to restrain him just long enough for Medea to act. But Leonidas surged forward, his arms wrapping around Kratos' midsection, lifting the man, and barreling the both of them into a ruined pillar.

The impact blasted the air from both of their lungs, but Kratos recovered first. He raised one arm and hammered an elbow into Leonidas' back, preventing the Spartan King from refilling his lungs. His other hand reached down to the Servant's helmet, grasping it, and twisting it to the side.

Leonidas gave a strangled noise of agony, his neck twisting painfully. With a half-gasp of effort, all his lungs were able to manage, he lifted Kratos and hurled him across the room. His helmet was torn from his head, Kratos never relinquishing his hold on it, the awkward angle as it was removed slicing into Leonidas' face.

Time seemed to slow for the Spartan as he flew through the air. Somehow, he was able to see the full panorama of the room in a second.

Spartacus, laughing madly as he cut into the flesh of the demonic pillar thing. The former gladiator's flesh was seared in a score of places, but whatever pain he was or was not feeling only seemed to spur the Berserker on.

Jing Ke, flying from point to point, knife gripped tight in her hand.

Cu Chulainn and Hannibal, both heaving breaths as they worked in tandem to keep Romulus tied down.

Boudica, chariot weaving between rays of death, Nero almost curled up into a ball in the carriage, while Fujimaru's face was beginning to twist in desperation, as red light flared from her hand.

Chiron, arms a blur as he kept an unending stream of arrows flying through the air.

Iskandar and Waver, dancing the same dance as Boudica was, one where any misstep spelled doom.

And, just in front of them, the floor of the chamber beginning to glow white-hot.

Kratos opened his mouth to yell, but it was too late. The Gordius Wheel rolled over the tiles, and energy detonated from beneath it.

And the pillar laughed.

The two bulls were vaporized in an instant, not even having enough time to register the pain before they were wiped away. The Gordius Wheel fared only slightly better, being blasted apart, the carriage reduced to so much burning shrapnel. Iskandar and the El-Melloi were sent flying, careening through the air in opposite directions.

The man who had been born with the name Waver Velvet landed hard, the breath blasting from his lungs. Pain lancing through his body, he pushed himself up on his hands, shakily.

The pillar was laughing, still, its unwholesome flesh rippling with each chortle. "FOOLISH MORTALS! DID YOU THINK I HAD FORGOTTEN? YOU SERVED UNDER ME - YOUR NOBLE PHANTASMS ARE NO SECRET TO THE ONE WHO PRESIDES OVER THE INFORMATION CENTER!" An eye lit up with fire. "NOW DIE."

He couldn't move. Boudica's chariot was on the other side of the room. Spartacus was still madly hacking away at the pillar. Kratos could not get away from Leonidas, any more than Cu Chulainn and Hannibal could get away from Romulus. Jing Ke could not reach him in time, nor could Chiron.

In his mind, he could hear his Master screaming, berating herself. The energy of her Command Seal still thrummed through his body, but it was a simple power boost for his Noble Phantasm. Unreturning Formation would not halt these beams.

That was it, then. He was dead.

The beam of energy approached like an oncoming train.

At the last second, a form darted between them. Big. Massive even. A cape as red as the hair on the man's head billowing in the air that was being displaced by the oncoming beam. Voice, roaring his defiance, as the energy washed over them.

And then it was over. And Waver Velvet found himself untouched.

His King looked back at him, and he could not say the same for Iskandar. His skin was almost blackened, peeling in places, where it was not flaking into ash. Still, the Servant grinned, as he looked down on his follower.

And then toppled forward.

"SO TOO WILL YOU ALL FALL! YOU HUMANS ARE MISTAKES! FAILED CREATIONS THAT MUST BE PUT DOWN! IT IS WHY MY BROTHERS AND I WERE BORN!"

A thin, pulsing beam of energy clipped Jing Ke, spinning her to the ground. "AN ASSASSIN, NOTABLE ONLY FOR HER FAILURE!"

Magical energy coalesced in front of Spartacus, exploding and sending him flying through the air - though his legs still pumped, and he hit the ground running, charging straight back at the pillar. "THE MAD DOG, ANOTHER FAILURE, WHO ENDED HIS DAYS HUNG FROM A PLANK OF WOOD!"

A web of rays converged on the only other chariot, the pillar now able to focus its attention on the only other rapidly moving threat. Boudica was evading, but with the pillar able to bring more of its eyes to bear on her, she was running out of places to go. "A QUEEN WHO SAW HER DAUGHTERS VIOLATED AND HUMILIATED, BEFORE RISING UP AND BEING CRUSHED BY THE VERY PEOPLE SHE NOW LICKS THE BOOTS OF!"

Hannibal ducked his head as a wave of sound and light narrowly passed him by. "A GENERAL WITHOUT A NATION, THROWN OUT BY HIS OWN PEOPLE LIKE SO MUCH TRASH!"

The pillar's laughter filled the room."ALL OF YOU WORTHLESS! YOU PLACE YOUR MISGUIDED FAITH IN THIS GOD, BUT HE IS NOTHING!"

The Spartan impacted off the floor, and bounced.

It was Kratos who hit the ground.

It was the Ghost of Sparta who rose up.

His roar momentarily drowned out all other sounds in the throne room, as red burst from his body.

Romulus, who had seen this before flinched, for just a moment.

The pillar's eyes narrowed.

Leonidas took a step back, his eyes widening. "What in the name of all Olympus…"

He did not get to finish that sentence.

Kratos crossed the space between them in an instant. His fist buried itself into Leonidas' gut, physically lifting the Servant off the ground. While Leonidas was still flying upwards, Kratos knotted his fingers together and hammered down, cratering the Spartan King into the ground. Before the rubble had settled, he was gone.

He flew by Romulus, the Progenitor God only just able to track his movements. Rome's founder got an arm up, intending to block Kratos' strike, but it was knocked aside like it wasn't even there. Romulus was spun to the ground as Kratos darted past, viciously clotheslining him into the tiles of the floor.

He did not linger, he did not HAVE time. Boudica, Fujimaru, and Nero did not have time. None of them did.

He leapt through the air, fists raining down blows on the pillar's many eyes. Some were blasted into so much crushed sludge by the impacts. Others, torn free and hurled away into the depths of the throne room. Spartacus, below, howled his approval of Kratos' actions against the 'oppressor', but the Ghost of Sparta heard none of it. Spartan Rage, freer than it had been in months, consumed nearly all of his senses.

Which is why he almost missed the tiles in front of Boudica's chariot beginning to glow.

Almost.

He kicked off from the pillar, hurling towards the chariot. With no time to be gentle, he bodily shoved it aside, mere seconds before the ground exploded. The edge of it nicked Kratos, just barely, spinning his body around, but it was not enough to stop him.

He rode the movement, preparing to hurl himself back at the pillar.

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE BLOOD ON HIS HANDS? AN ENTIRE NATION'S WORTH! AND NONE GREATER THAN THE BLOOD OF HIS OWN FAMILY! THIS IS WHO YOU LOOK TO FOR SALVATION?"

Kratos.

Stumbled.

It was barely a split second. A miniscule loss of footing in a chaotic battlefield. Against another foe, perhaps, it would have mattered little. Against a clockwork mind like Flauros, it was an opening that could not be missed, or ignored.

Five rays seared into Kratos. Spartan Rage flared over his body, a red wall, a shield, one that sought to defend him, as it always had.

It blunted the attack. Not completely, but just enough for him to survive.

His skin smoked. Agony caressed every inch of him. And he felt the haze of Spartan Rage fall away from him, his reserves completely exhausted from surviving the blow.

Kratos tried to take a step forward, WILLED his body to move.

It did not. All he could do is fall to his knees.

Boudica was screaming….something, her voice a chorus, joined by Fujimaru. Mash, too, was crying out something…..possibly his name. The El-Melloi was staring down at his motionless king, shivering.

Nero was standing from where she had been thrown, tears falling from her eyes, her hands fisted in her hair. Lightning split the clear sky, thunder boomed, and in the flash of light, Nero's image flickered, becoming taller, her outfit changing from her ostentatious dress to an armored suit.

And with a pair of massive horns sprouting from her head.

Then the lightning faded, and she was Nero again.

He felt a cry through the strings in his mind. Suddenly, Medea was there, above a still prone Romulus, her dagger drawn. She drove it down.

And was reduced to particles a moment before it plunged into the Servant's flesh.

"PREDICTABLE." Gloated Flauros, one of his eyes smoking.

Her string in his mind SCREAMED. It reached out, seeking something, and Kratos, without conscious effort, dredged up his last memory of Jason, and pushed it forward.

He did not know if it reached her, before her presence faded into nothingness.

Then, the pain TRULY hit him.

He lost all sight, all sound, all feeling of the battle, of the room around him. For how long, he did not know. He only came back to himself when he heard the sound of heavy footfalls behind him, and felt a presence.

A familiar one.

"Thanatos," he rasped. "Are you here for me?"

"Nay. I am not thy pagan god of death, Spartan. Nor am I here for thine head." The voice echoed from a place deeper than even Tartarus.

Kratos felt eyes on himself, felt his entire being being weighed and considered. Then the voice spoke again. "I am merely an observer at this time. One of many. The Golden King. He who claims the mantle of the Sun. The Mage of Flowers. Thine enemy. They, and many others gaze upon thyself, foreign god. For thy presence sends ripples throughout this world that teeters on the brink of destruction."

Another pause. "Thou art near to death, however. It is only for that reason that we might speak as we are, now, in this moment." Kratos heard metal moving on metal. "Art thou finished? I can take thy head, if that be thy desire, though the bell doth not toll for thee at this time."

A sword, so massive that it barely could be called such, was laid upon his shoulder, the keen edge just barely caressing his neck. So sharp was the blade that even that pressure, almost non-existent, drew blood. "Or wilt thou stand up, and continue fighting? They call to thee, even now. Raise thy head, Spartan, and thou shalt see them."

It felt like the weight of Atlas rested upon his brow, but Kratos forced his head up, forced his eyes to see.

They were all around him. A hundred, no, a thousand of them. Ghosts, their forms insubstantial. But Kratos knew them, every one of them.

(GENERAL. WE ARE HERE. COMMAND US.)

His men. His comrades. His fellow Spartans. And standing at the fore, Atreus, his son's namesake, his spear held tight, his head high, his customary smile wide upon his face.

His body screamed as he rose from the ground, the sword sliding off his shoulder. From behind him, he heard footfalls, slowly growing fainter.

"Rise, Kratos of Sparta. I, and many others, await thee on thy journey." He felt eyes on his back. "When next we meet, I shall render my judgment of thee."

Kratos swallowed, his throat dry. "Spartans," he croaked.

"Defend my allies."

Sound, feeling, sight, all rushed back in, as time reasserted its movement.

Flauros let loose a cry of triumph as beams lanced through the air, aimed directly at the Last Master of Chaldea, and Rome's Emperor. They felt the heat as the beams reached them. Desperately, Fujimaru threw her hands over her head, praying it would at least be painless.

She braced for death.

It did not come.

When she pulled her head out from the cradle of her arms, she saw.

The beams had been halted, just in front of her, by a literal wall of men. Big men, their muscles tense and rippling, as they dug in their heels, braced their shields on their shoulders, and gave EVERYTHING that they were to protect her.

And not just her. Beams that had been aimed at Lord El-Melloi, the melee that still took place around Romulus, even Spartacus, each and every one of them had a contingent of protectors. Some of them were barely wisps, their shields little more than molten metal, leaking soul-stuff in the wake of stopping one of Flauros' shots, but they stood all the same. Unbowed, and unbroken.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" The pillar's eyes, all of them, those that were not patching themselves back together, bulged sickeningly.

Romulus had frozen in his rise from the ground, a look of puzzlement and almost…wonder on his face.

And Leonidas, if anything, looked like he could not believe his eyes.

The ranks of ethereal Spartans parted, and slowly, Kratos limped through them. Steam and smoke still rose from his body, his normally pale skin an ugly red, where it was not seared black. And he was leaning on Draupnir, not heavily, but noticeably.

And still, he advanced. Straight towards Leonidas.

Leonidas' spear rang against the ground in challenge. "So…..they have not abandoned you after all. Your men. I misjudged you, Kratos of Sparta." The King of Sparta inclined his head in the most minute of bows. "I can only offer recompense by settling this with you, in the only way we Spartans can."

He raised his spear to the heavens. "My warriors, ATTEND ME! THERMOPYLAE ENOMOTIA!"

And suddenly, Leonidas was not alone anymore.

One hundred. Two Hundred. Three hundred. Those that had marched with him that long ago day rallied to their King's side. Fewer than the Legions that stood by Kratos, but the odds had never mattered to the honor guard Leonidas had selected for that mission. As one, they raised their spears and clanged them off their shields, their war cry roared from three hundred chests.

A cry that was answered by those who had come to aid their General. The two sounds blending until it was impossible to tell where one began, and the other ended.

Then, as one, both sides charged.

Their collision sounded like the world ending.

Ritsuka Fujimaru ducked behind a pillar, half-dragging an oddly silent Nero behind her, her magical circuits throbbing. Sure, they might have an army of ghostly protectors, but she was still going to make it so they had to do less protecting her, and more fighting the OTHER ghost army that had shown up. Because right now, she was flatly, useless. No Command Seals, no Magecraft that could do a thing in the middle of a Servant superfight like this. Better she keep her head down, keep Nero alive and keep being a battery.

"Hey, girl."

Because that's all she was at this point. Little more than a glorified mana battery for the superhumans duking it out - and powering four of them in an extended combat was taking it out of her, fast. Maybe she could try and get Lord El-Melloi to stop blue screening - she still wasn't getting particularly good vibes through her connection with him…

"Last Master of Chaldea!"

With a start, Fujimaru slowly turned to locate the voice that had snapped her out of her spiral/fugue. "Oh, it's you."

It was the guy they'd dragged back with them - I think they said he was an Archer? He was leaning against a pillar (or had been leaned against one, more like), a look of annoyance on his face. "If you're done spacing out, and still want to win this, I might be able to help."

Fujimaru blinked. "You? No offense, but….how exactly? Going to bite that thing to death?"

"Your plan. It was to use Medea to break Leonidas, and possibly Romulus free?" Fujimaru nodded. "If you can get me close enough, I can do that."

Something of her skepticism must have shown on her face, and he sighed. "I barely have the reserves left to do this, but…..Trace…On."

A weapon clattered to the ground in front of her, having materialized out of nothing, right at her eye level. She'd recognize it anywhere - the local god was almost never without it.

Kratos' axe.

"Then….," she whispered.

"One time. I can probably pull it off once with what I have left in the tank. I doubt my former Master will let me survive to pull it off a second time, even if I had the mana remaining." He gave a sarcastic huff. "And I also notice I didn't get a bodyguard like everyone else, so I doubt I'll get a timely save like you did."

He leveled a glare at her, somehow giving the feeling of looking down on her despite having to stare up at her. "So, what's it going to be?"

Kratos forced his body to move, every new jolt of agony being ruthlessly quashed and stuffed into a box, deep inside himself. He would feel the pain later, after they had won. As their soldiers warred around them, Leonidas and Kratos had found one another, the tides of battle drawing them together.

More of the Norns 'fate', possibly, or simply two warriors who knew there was only one way to end this battle, seeking out their opposite.

Leonidas leapt across the space separating them, his spear leading. Kratos' damaged shoulder screamed as he blocked the thrust, but he channeled that pain into strength, knocking the blow away, up, and sweeping his spear horizontally into the space created.

The point of Draupnir dragged along Leonidas' chest before he could interpose his shield, blood beginning to coat his chest. Incredibly, Leonidas used the two points of pressure, the spear gouging into his chest, and his shield pushing against it, to push off, spinning his body around, rolling into Kratos' flank. Without enough room to truly bring his spear to bear, he again brutally bashed his shield into Kratos' already damaged shoulder.

Kratos' vision momentarily went white. But even blinded by pain, he reflexively planted his foot and sent his elbow flying back, where it hit Leonidas' skull with the force of a charging bull. Kratos felt bone give - whether it was his or his enemy's he did not know, but Leonidas was sent staggering back.

Ranks of soldiers flowed into the gap between them, both their men attempting to give their leader a moment to catch their breath.

Kratos snarled, and took a step forward, one that was mirrored by Leonidas.

Their men parted, again.

But before they could again come to grips with each other, another interposed.

Her shield tearing up the tiles as she charged, Mash Kyrielight crashed into Leonidas, their shields vibrating as they collided with each other.

She bounced off him, but set her feet, and swung her shield in a roundhouse blow that was easily caught by Leonidas. Her attempt to set the shield on the ground and charge him was quickly thwarted, Leonidas' spear sweeping low and forcing her back a step. But her legs tensed, and she flipped forward, using her shield to vault over the weapon, shield aimed at Leonidas' head.

He sidestepped, and Mash sailed past him, crashing to the ground in a tangle of legs and arms.

Leonidas turned a pitying expression on Mash. "Your spirit is admirable, girl, but what do you hope to accomplish? As inexperienced as you are, you cannot defeat me. Are you simply giving him time to recover?"

Mash shook her head. "No. I'm the distraction."

From above them, Jing Ke shimmered into being, Presence Concealment fading. Her feet planted on the ceiling, she hurled an object with all her might.

A silver-haired object. One that had Medea's Rule Breaker clenched between his teeth.

Leonidas almost got his shield up in time to block it. Almost turned, just enough, to stop the attack.

But the fight had taken much out of him, and he was a second too slow.

The projected Rule Breaker sank into his shoulder, and he screamed.

His body thrashed, so violently, that the man once known as Shirou Emiya lost his tenuous grip on the weapon, and was hurled far across the room. Blood leaked from his mouth, around a handful of broken teeth, as he looked up from the floor he was resting upon, seeing a wave of magical energy heading straight for him.

"I hope my next job is better than this one…" he muttered, a second before he was sent flying back to the Throne of Heroes.

But the damage was done.

A ripple seemed to pass through Leonidas' soldiers. The air in the throne room seemed to grow thinner, as hundreds all took a single deep breath at once.

"SPARTANS!" yelled Leonidas, his spear pointed directly at the pillar of flesh and eyes. "This abomination robbed me of my free will! Forced me to fight against a fellow Spartan for its own evil goals! For that, we shall take from it…..EVERYTHING!"

"NO. NO!" Flauros' eyes fired off beams rapid-fire, pushing them back, keeping them back, but there were too many. The tide of Spartans would only be delayed for a time.

"Now!" yelled Boudica, rounding the pillar to come face to face with Nero and Fujimaru. "We have to kill Romulus NOW, while that thing is distracted!"

Neither budged. "What are you waiting…"

The smell then hit Boudica, and she gagged.

Fujimaru looked up at the Iceni Queen, her eyes worried. "Something's wrong with Nero. She's been out of it since we got thrown out of your chariot….hell, since that thing first showed its boss form, but she's been almost catatonic for a few minutes now. And then, she started giving off that smell again…."

"I do not know what you are talking about, Ritsuka Fujimaru. For the first time in ages, I feel…..fine." Nero looked up at her, and Fujimaru felt her blood turn to ice.

The formerly green eyes of the Emperor were drowning in red, and there was an evil light in them. Two streams of blood ran down the Emperor's head, both originating from two points beneath her hair. Right where said hair was bulging up, as if something was rising up from beneath it.

She grinned, but there was none of the warmth, or life that had once been so intrinsic to her. "Seeing that thing….that glorious thing, it made my migraines fade away almost to nothing. Now, they're almost like a pleasant song, or a lullaby." She rose. "What did you say we were doing? Killing Romulus? I believe I would like to do that."

She knelt and picked up her sword, which burst into flames at her touch.

Unconsciously, Fujimaru took a step back. "Nero….what the hell?"

"Nero…..?" The Emperor cocked her head to the side. "Yes….that is my name. Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. That is who I am. But I feel that name does not fully capture my glory. I feel another name would be more appropriate…..something like…."

A hand tapped her on her shoulder, and she turned. "Oh, Boudica. What is it that you…"

Boudica hit her.

Not a gentle, or even a firm slap, as if trying to snap someone out of a fit. Not a chiding bonk on the head, as if between friends. No, Boudica hauled off and backhanded Nero, fully across the face, her fist clenched. Nero was flung to the ground with incredible force.

The Emperor snarled, her back arching, her teeth bared at the one who dared to strike her.

Boudica stared down at her, unflinchingly, contempt written across her face. "Nero….if there's any of you still in there, you'd better listen."

"I hate you."

Nero's rage seemed to vanish, like a torch doused in water. "You're a tyrant. A monster. Maybe you were aware of what happened to my family, my people, or maybe it was just a series of events that caught you, me, and all of us up in its wake, like a ship being tossed about on the sea. I don't know, and I don't care. I still blame you. Maybe it's not right, or rational, but it's how I feel. Maybe how I'll always feel."

She reached down and seized Nero by the throat, hauling her up so that she could stare directly into her eyes. "But to see you like this? The puppet of something else? Or giving up, succumbing to…whatever this is? Are you Nero Claudius or not? Are you going to bow to this thing? Or are you going to get your ass up and laugh, like the mad little dictator you are, heedless of what the world thinks?" She dropped the blonde woman to the ground.

Nero reached up and touched her face where she had been struck. It was already starting to bruise. She blinked, once. "Boudica…..thank you." The stench that had been surrounding her began to recede. Using her sword as a crutch, Nero began to push herself to her feet. "I will ignore your temerity in striking an Emperor this once, only, in light of your words, for they have reminded me of who I am."

She wiped the blood from her face, and turned to Fujimaru. "Young Master of Chaldea, what pieces remain on the board?"

"Surprisingly lots, given how desperate things felt just a few minutes ago. Iskandar's down - no idea about his status. Kratos is hurt too, but he's not letting it stop him."

"He's lost balance, and speed, though," muttered Boudica. "He's so impressive that he's still able to keep up, but he could falter at any moment."

"Spartacus, Cu, and Hannibal are pretty beat up too. Sensei, Jing Ke, Mash, and Lord El-Melloi are better off, but they're sucking me dry." A drop of sweat dangled off her nose. She reached up to wipe it away, but her hand froze, halfway there. "Actually….he should still have all the power from the Command Seal I used on him. He never got to throw it at Romulus."

Nero leaned in close. "Tell me more."

Cu bent in half at the waist, his head almost touching the ground, just ahead of Romulus' fist, which swept through the air where his body had been moments before. Still bent backwards, he slammed his staff into the ground and used it as a vault to spring into the air. He feinted with the sharpened end of his staff, driving it at the god's eye, then, when it was blocked, used THAT as a pivot to snap a kick at Romulus' throat.

Which was promptly blocked by the Servant's other arm.

But that was the whole point of this, as that left his midsection wide open, which Hannibal took full advantage of, the tip of his sword scraping along and digging into the Servant's toughened flesh. Before the blade could go too deep, Romulus' hand shot up to seize Cu by the throat and hurl him bodily into Hannibal.

They rolled apart and bounced up to their feet, almost as one, their weapons raised.

Cu shook his head, tossing his sweat-plastered hair back from his face. They were getting steadily worn down, piece by piece. They'd managed a handful of wounds on Romulus, largely due to Hannibal being able to follow in Cu's lead like they'd been fighting together for years (Cu supposed the guy hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd worked closely with the Celtic warriors that had made up his army), but none of them were telling blows. Romulus, for his part, had given them a couple of real good shiners. It was only their coordination, and the threat of Hannibal's sword (and, more importantly, all the anti-Roman bullshit the Carthagian general was carrying as part of his Servant package) that was keeping them alive.

It had devolved into a long, slow chipping away at each other, and they flatly didn't have time for that shit.

Kratos was hurting - Cu could feel it through his connection with the man. They had to end this dance with Romulus, one way or another, fast, and deal with the demonic tower in the room. (Would have been NICE to know something like that was waiting on him, his mind shrieked at a certain guest of his.)

(Some part of him found himself wishing that Archer hadn't gotten vaporized right after he freed Leonidas. The rest of his brain violently suppressed the part that was thinking that. Mental Scathachs may have been involved.)

"Got any bright ideas?" he asked, not taking his eyes off a looming Romulus, who was slowly, confidently, approaching them.

"Aye," spat Hannibal. "But I don't think you're hiding an anti-Divine Noble Phantasm under that robe of yours, Hound. Mine might do it, but I doubt it. It's for routing armies, not winning duels."

"Then maybe a few more blades might help," Her eyes as hard as diamonds, Boudica drew up alongside them, Nero only a few steps behind. Fujimaru peeked her head out from behind a mostly-intact pillar, shooting a raised thumb at them.

Romulus made a noise of disappointment. "The Iceni Queen who defied us. And, with her, perhaps the greatest enemy Roma has ever known. These are who stand beside you, my dear child." His eyes, pleading, met Nero's. "If nothing else should convince you of the rightness of my cause, these allies should. They hate the city I have created with every fiber of their being, and seek nothing more than to tear it down. How could they have the best interests of our glorious Empire at heart?"

Nero shook her head, sadly. "You say that, Holy Progenitor, and yet, LOOK at the thing that commands you!" Her sword shot up, its point aimed at the abomination Lev Lainur had become.

Romulus' eyes flicked to the side. "I see only a man, valiantly holding off an army - and another Servant you have managed to steal the will from and bind them to your side."

"Great Founder…..can you not SEE it?"

There were hesitant, shuffling steps, and, led by Mash Kyrielight, Romulus' young Master stepped through the fray.

The boy looked like he had aged decades since the battle had started - and he had already looked poorly when it had begun. He was leaning heavily on Mash, his breaths coming in short, labored gasps. The bones of his face stood out starkly, and his rich clothes hung on him like a scarecrow. Liquid fear filled his eyes, and he flinched as he looked upon Romulus, his form shuddering. But his voice never wavered. "Great Romulus, I'm just a poor common boy….but that thing is akin to Typhoeus, or one of his children! The very enemies of Olympus!"

Romulus looked crestfallen. "My beloved Master…..have they even stolen your mind from me?"

The child winced at his Servant's tone, and possibly the only thing that kept him from physically shrinking back was the fact that Mash was almost completely holding him up at this point. "No. I think I'm finally thinking clearly for the first time. I was so awed to be of use to you, Holy Progenitor, and so happy to be able to live in such luxury, to give that to my mother and father."

The boy's head was bowed, his voice barely a whisper, but it rapidly grew in volume and strength. "I never understood why we were fighting other Romans…..they weren't the evil barbarians my mother told me stories of, who were so savage that they refused the light of our Empire, and had to be shown the glory of Roma. These were other Romans…why couldn't we just be friends with them?"

"And then there was Sabina. She was chosen for a 'special duty', just as I was. She was my friend. And she vanished." The boy looked up at the god. "Did she serve, as I do?"

A shadow of unease crossed the son of Ares' face. "Sabina…….why……who….I should know that name…"

The child blinked back tears. "Great Romulus……I want you to see, and remember."

Red light flashed on the boy's hand.

And Romulus' hands shot to his head, and the god fell to his knees, howling.

Unbridled terror filled the Holy Progenitor's eyes as the energy of a Command Seal temporarily pushed back some of the spells that entwined themselves around his memories, his eyes, his very mind. He remembered - the ever-growing pile of small bodies, drained to husks. And he saw, fully and completely, the true form of Lev Lainur.

Even a Command Seal could only push back the web of magics binding the Servant for so long, for Command Seals were temporary things. Eventually, the power would fade, and Romulus would once forget, would believe the lies that had been engraved upon him.

He had but moments.

He rose, and held out his hand. "Emperor Nero…..my spear. Please."

Wordlessly, she handed the weapon over, and Romulus hefted it, tears streaming from his eyes, as memories continued to assail him. With a single cry of "ROMA!", he charged.

And Chaldea followed in his wake.

"DAMN YOU! DAMN ALL OF YOU!" Flauros seared the floor in front of him, tearing large chunks from the platform and sending Spartan warriors of both worlds tumbling into space. Even whilst that was happening, another section of his being was concentrating, calling forth a tidal wave of foul explosions that finally forced the mad Berserker back - nearly off the edge entirely, but Spartacus dug his sword in the ground and held on with stubborn glee, bellowing his defiance in the face of Flauros.

"HOW?" he cried, as yet another section of himself seeding magical energy beneath the tiles surrounding him, laying traps that were quickly detonated to force the swarm of ants back. "WHY?" His flesh twisted and rotated, his body rotating in a quick circle, beams cutting through the air. "YOU HAVE ALREADY LOST! YOUR WORLD BURNS - HUMANITY ITSELF BURNS! THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU! THIS ACCOMPLISHES NOTHING!"

His ultimate magic was still coalescing - he still needed time, before he could wipe these vermin away. He needed to shatter their morale, now.

And as the tides of battle shifted, he saw just the thing to do exactly that.

KRATOS.

Where all of his problems had begun, when that puling little godling had stumbled into the burning city, and upset a plan millenia in the making.

No more.

His eyes, the ones that were not keeping his enemies back, began firing off short, quick bursts, seemingly at random, but all calculated to clear the space around the foreign god. A minor delay, as he was forced to divert some resources to drop the ceiling on a charging Leonidas - it would hold him long enough.

He called up every inch of the hate, frustration, and ANGER that still persisted in his pure form, despite having shed his weak flesh moments ago, and focused them into an attack that would strip the flesh from the Spartan's bones.

As the energy built, he saw Kratos falter, and fall to his knees, and knew the moment had arrived.

The beam screamed across the space between, the air itself burning as it tore into being.

In the seconds before it hit, the air around Kratos rippled, and a blue dome of energy deployed around him. In the confines of his mind, Flauros scoffed. Some new trick, possibly of the Caster Chaldea kept around. It would not be enough.

Then, just before impact, the barrier shimmered again. A ring of the ghostly Spartans appeared, surrounding Kratos, their shields raised, and their spears leveled. The blue of the barrier shifted, becoming a darker bronze, and taking on a metallic hue.

Then the beam impacted - and was stopped cold.

A shudder passed through the dome as the beam struck home, the Spartans lining its edges bracing their heels in the ground.

Then, as one, they stood, spears pointed at the sky. They took a single step forward, their spears falling forward, pointed outward.

And the beam's energy blasted from the dome, returning itself to Flauros.

PAIN. It was his entire world. They, as creations of their Master, were supposed to be beyond such petty things, and were supposed to have such obvious weaknesses removed. He knew all that.

But he still could not stop screaming from the agony he was in, from the massive hole that had been blown through his body.

His body, despite the damage, was attempting to heal. It WOULD heal - he was immortal, a Demon God Pillar. No amount of injuries would be enough to stop him. Screaming, trying to force the pain into will, to hurry his flesh to knit quicker.

Right up until a spear flew through the air and sank itself into the hole that had been bored into him.

"WHAT?" Flauros looked down, and saw Rome's founder standing before him, his eyes clear for the first time since he had been summoned.

"Enough, monster. Finally, I see clearly. See the lies you have told me. See the atrocities you have had me perpetuate on my children. You will not divide my Roma ONE SECOND LONGER!" The Servant's fist clenched, as his magical energy skyrocketed. "Everything, absolutely everything leads to my lance! MAGNA VOLUISSE MAGNUM!"

A Demon God Pillar's mind worked, overall, in a manner very dissimilar to, and on a much higher level than a human mind. Flauros, in addition to being able to multitask in a manner that would outstrip the most powerful computers ever created (though a certain program on the moon would dispute that fact - loudly), was also hyper-aware of, frankly, everything to do with its form. It could easily process and collate the sight data from its myriad number of eyes. It felt every inch of air caressing its skin, knew to the fraction of an degree every injury on its body, was aware of the internal processes of its form in intimate detail - even the autonomous ones.

So, which is why, when the Progenitor of Rome's spear bloomed, he felt all of it.

In detail.

For the second time in as many moments, Flauros screamed in pure agony.

He felt his form fighting against the invasion, trying to expel the spear, but it rooted itself in, and fought back. And worse yet, he could NOT devote the greater whole of his focus on the enemies without.

Light flared on Kratos' hand, and a second later, a giant of wood tore itself from the floor, burning fists impacting into Flauros' eyes. An elephant, with the Carthagian General mounted on its back, was battering itself against him, the ground groaning under the massive animal's weight. Spartacus and Leonidas had closed, and were hewing away at his base, like he was a tree they were trying to fell. Boudica was once again mounted on her chariot, carving strips of flesh from his body as she wheeled by. The Assassin was running up and down his form, vaulting from the branches that were, even now, erupting from his form, and cleaving through eye after eye.

Even the failed experiment was harming him, her shield battering his form in an unceasing flurry of blows.

He called every scrap of power he could muster, determined to destroy the very throne room itself, if it would RID HIMSELF OF THESE FILTHY HUMANS, when, suddenly, the floor heaved alarmingly underneath him, and he found him suddenly standing on an odd platform that had risen beneath his bulk.

Columns rained down from the sky, surrounding him, and Flauros saw the one who was barely worth the name of Clock Tower Lord staring daggers at him from across the room. "For my King," he snarled, snapping his fingers, and a tile fell, capping the columns, sealing him off. Flauros felt his form lock up, as reality warped, and the throne room became an endless, stone maze.

He was frozen, his body refusing to move. His mind could see through the Noble Phantasm, could discern the way out, but he could not MOVE! And worse, his power was leaking away like water through a sieve.

Back in the throne room, there were two more flares of light from Kratos, and suddenly, he was flanked by two forms.

He recognized them both. The Gorgon, and the mad Caster's failed creation.

Blood poured down the throat of the snake, as a magical circle formed in front of her. She said nothing, as it slowly began to approach her.

The fake Jeanne, however, was not so quiet.

"Miss me, you Overfiend reject?" Her hand slid back onto her wrist, and began to glow from within. She raised it, pointing it directly at his largest eye. Power began to build within the mechanical arm.

He RAGED. Every bit of the magical might within his being, everything he had been holding back surged to the fore. The pure, unadulterated power of one of his Lord's prime architects surged against the prison holding him, and cracks began to form in the layers of stone surrounding him.

Unreturning Formation shattered around him, returning him to conventional reality.

Right in time for the fake to land, booted feet first, on his largest eye.

"This is for my buddy Gilles, you fucker." She jammed her arm into the humors of his eye, which began to bubble and boil from the heat. "This is the howl of a pissed off soul avenging their friend! LA GRONDEMENT DU HAINE - MARK ZWEI!"

The beam punched straight through him, and it BURNED. His very nerves themselves felt like they were on fire. And it only got worse, as she swept her arm from side to side.

Neatly chopping him in two horizontally, and sending his upper half pinwheeling through the air.

The woman was laughing madly, maniacally as she tumbled through the air with him. One last spurt of energy from her arm sent her sailing away from him, and knocked him even higher into the air. Every inch of his processes went towards healing - reaching out to his trunk, trying to force his two halves to connect and begin the regeneration process.

A tide of white light, following in the wake of a winged horse, swallowed him whole.

"BELLEROPHON!"

He couldn't maintain his form. Too much damage, not enough time to heal. His rubbery flesh and eyes began melting away as the Gorgon's Noble Phantasm ripped away at his very being. When it dissipated, after what seemed like an eternity, two forms hit the ground.

Medusa landed hard, but rolled to her feet. Scratched and bruised, but still able to fight.

The human form of Lev Lainur, when it hit the ground, was a much more ragged sight.

His hat was gone. His once fine clothes were torn and rent. Blood matted his hair. And gone was the aura of superiority that he had radiated from the moment he had first revealed himself as a traitor, in that cavern underneath Fuyuki. But as he pushed himself to his feet, his arm trembling, contempt still filled his eyes.

Contempt that boiled nearly to running over Mash and Kratos approached. "It's over, Lev Lainur." Romani's image crackled into being. "You can surrender, and come quietly to be detained. Or you can keep resisting, and we can do this the hard way."

"As someone who remembers the name and face of EVERY single person who died that day, I'm BEGGING you to keep resisting!" snarled Da Vinci, no trace of her usual whimsy present.

Lev hissed a breath out through bloody teeth. "Not yet. You haven't beaten me yet!" His hand shot out from where it had been hidden in his jacket, and raised itself to the sky. There was a glint of metal between his fingers.

"Hear me!" His voice boomed. "With this catalyst, I will…"

A knife tumbled end over end through the air. It was clumsily thrown, but, amazingly, managed to sink point-first into Lev's shoulder, if only shallowly.

He stared at it, then his face twisted in a sneer. "And just, what, exactly, were you hoping to accomplish with that, you pitiful excuse for a Mage?"

Fujimaru shrugged. "I was trying to knock that out of your hand. But this works too."

Lev opened his mouth, a blistering retort on his tongue, but the words never made it past his lips. Electricity coursed through his body, his form jerking erratically as the man-made lightning flowed through the shortest path to the ground, him. His weak, human muscles clenched and unclenched.

And the catalyst fell from his fingers.

He wanted to scream his defiance, to ask how this could be happening - how his masterful plan could have fallen apart, but his throat was closing up, stealing his voice away. He had no control over his movements as he crashed to the ground, his body continuing to seize.

A shadow fell over him. It was one of his former slaves. The god.

"This is for all my children." He raised his foot, and brought it down on Lev Lainur's head.

---

Once the body had stopped twitching, and they were as certain they could be that Lev wasn't playing dead again, they quickly turned out his pockets and turned up the Holy Grail.

Like it could have been anywhere else. Lev ticked all the boxes of a serious control freak - he'd have never trusted it to another, not when he could carry it. Thankfully, they were right, and it meant they didn't have to turn Romulus' city upside down looking for the thing.

Speaking of Romulus….

The spells on him had shattered with Lev's death. And the man-god was proving to be surprisingly affable when he was in his right mind.

"This city will fade, shortly. It was a mere dream, the ideal that all Roma aspires to be." He shook his head. "But it was tainted from its very inception. Corrupted from within." He sank to one knee before Nero, and his young Master. "So much evil was done, in my name….in Roma's name. The victory is yours, Emperor Nero. Before I depart this world, I will address those who made this city their home, and explain all." He frowned. "I ask of you to be merciful, for what Roman could truly say no to the Holy Progenitor?"

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "I could, but I'm no Roman…..thank the gods of my home. That queen over there would probably say something similar." he added, pointing at Boudica, who was keeping a pointed distance between herself and both Romulus and Nero.

"Son of Carthage," Romulus cracked a faint smile. "I will not insult you by calling you one of my children. Just know that I am in your debt for the service you have done for my children this day." He glanced over at Boudica. "If you would convey that to the Queen of Victory, I would consider it another debt I owe you. I feel she does not wish to speak with me at this time." He sighed. "Possibly, someday, in the future, we can have a dialogue. But that day is not today."

Hannibal shrugged, and Romulus turned his attention to the time travelers from Chaldea. Medusa and Avenger had already departed, the generators near to overload from their brief time here, so he addressed Kratos, Fujimaru, Mash, Cu, and Chiron (though Avenger was crowding into Da Vinci's viewscreen). "And everything I have said to them, I say also to you, soldiers of Chaldea. In Roma's blackest hour, you arrived, and brought salvation. I will repay this debt, someday."

He turned his head, to where Lord El-Melloi was kneeling by Iskandar's side. "Though I fear the scars of this war will still linger for quite some time."

For the man who held the title of Lord El-Melloi II, he was a teenager again, and watching his King charge an impossible foe across the Fuyuki bridge. And once again, he was powerless to do anything about it.

"My King," he rasped out, his voice thick. "Why?"

A thick, meaty paw thumped itself onto his head. "Foolish boy. A King is nothing without his followers. And, in the end, I am just a strong arm - a VERY strong arm, and a brilliant tactician, yes. But this war that Chaldea is fighting needs a devious mind like yours, for their enemies are not going to meet them on the field of battle like an honorable foe."

The King of Conqueror's head settled onto the tile floor, his eyes closing. "And someone must carry my tale after I pass. I can think of no better to do so than you, Waver Velvet."

Iskandar felt drops of water splashing on his skin, and gave one last grin. "Mourn me, boy, but remember this isn't the end. We'll meet again on the Throne, if not sooner. And I will expect many fantastic tales from you when next we meet."

A wind blew through the shattered throne room, and carried the golden particles that the King of Conquerors had become off, into the sky. Perhaps, eventually, they would be carried far enough that they would land in the Endless Ocean.

Lord….no. Waver Velvet wiped his eyes, and pushed himself up.

"Must you go immediately?" asked Nero, a wheedling tone in her voice. "We finally have the victory, after so many long months of struggle. You deserve to be honored to the ends of the Empire!"

"No," said Kratos, simply. His skin was still an ugly red, and it was clear that sheer willpower was doing a large part of keeping him on his feet. "This campaign is only one of many for us. We must return, and prepare for the next. We must return."

Nero frowned, but nodded. "Very well then. Though you will be missed."

"INDEED!" bellowed Spartacus, clapping Kratos on his back, and sending a flare of pain through his body. "You are a worthy ally against oppressors! I would willingly fight by your side again!"

"About that…" The El-Melloi was approaching them. Kratos had felt it when the Macedonian King had departed - they had collectively decided to give the two of them their space as they said their goodbyes, though Iskandar had, in the privacy of Kratos' mind hoped that he would be summoned in the future. Both to experience a conflict like no other, and to fight alongside the Spartan again - and to see his follower once more.

Dried tears still stained the man's eyes, but there was a determined light in them. "If there is the capacity, could I join you?"

Romani and Da Vinci exchanged a glance. "We could certainly handle it. We're running at a tiny bit of a surplus right now, it's why we were able to overclock for a little with Medusa and Avenger like we were. A modern Servant shouldn't tax the generators too much."

Da Vinci grinned. "And, let's not forget, we've got another Grail to add to our collection, so our ceiling's about to go up again. We could probably just BARELY bring home two strays from this Singularity, though it'd be tight. But we could manage for a special occasion." She grinned at Kratos. "In case there's anyone you were thinking of, Kratos."

Hannibal held up his hand before she had even finished talking. "It BETTER not be me! I'm retired! Said it once already, but you managed to drag me back into things." He shook his head, grumbling, but it was good-natured. "Troublesome boy."

It hurt to laugh, but Kratos did so anyways. "I was not looking to further interrupt your 'retirement', old one."

"Good, because I ain't saying yes." He crossed his arms and huffed out a breath. "Anyways, I figure you've only got eyes for one Servant, don't you?"

Kratos grunted, and slowly turned his aching body to face an oddly-quiet Leonidas.

Who shook his head.

"No. You are a true Spartan, Kratos, but….I feel I am needed elsewhere." His mouth was drawn into a grim line. "There is a tug at what feels like my very being, calling me to somewhere. Another battle, perhaps. One where I can wash away my distaste at being the puppet of such a….thing."

He shrugged. "I cannot explain it. I just feel that I know I must do this task, whatever it is." He raised his head, and saluted Kratos, one Spartan to another. "I feel, however, that this is not the last time we shall meet, Kratos of another Sparta."

"Fight well, Leonidas. King of Sparta." Kratos bowed his head, respectfully, and watched as Leonidas faded into particles, headed for whatever destination was calling him.

"Are there any other goodbyes you need to say?" asked Romani. "We're ready to pull you back whenever."

Kratos looked over, to where Boudica was hugging Mash and Fujimaru tightly, her back pointedly to Nero, while Jing Ke was poking the Chaldean Master in the side, promising that the drinks would be on her next time. "No. I think we are ready."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than there was a clattering sound, and something shot up from the floor, straight at his face.

His arm shot up, his body lodging numerous complaints at having to move so quickly, but he got his hand in the way of whatever the object was. Only, it turned out to be moot. The object stopped, just in front of him, and hovered there.

"Oh, it's that thing Lev was going to use as a catalyst!" Fujimaru had escaped from Boudica's arms, and was standing beside him. Her brow wrinkled. "What is it?"

"Kind of looks like the tip of a weird sword," muttered Cu, cupping his chin. "But not any one I've ever seen. And I've seen a few real odd ones in my time."

It seemed to be almost the convergence of four blades, instead of just one. And the metal was odd, as well, seeming to shimmer between blue, red, yellow, and green as it hung in the air before him.

"Might as well take it with you, Kratos," said Da Vinci. "It seems to like you, and it might come in handy."

Kratos grunted, and reached out to the bit of metal. It did not move again as he secured it in one of his pouches.

"If there's nothing else?" Romani paused, and when no reply was forthcoming. "Beginning Rayshift, everyone!"

Farewells washed over them, from Nero, from the other, also departing Servants. And a bellowed "ROMA!" saw them off as Kratos felt his self being tugged out of time and space, and into the corridor of blue.

---

After the Chaldeans had gone, and the various Servants had followed in their wake, it was only the three of them. Nero, the founder, and the boy.

Romulus knelt before the wan child, his head bowed. "You must end the contract with me, my Master. I am not meant to be here….and I have taken far, far too much from you already."

The child made as if to protest, but Romulus shook his head. "My city, whatever is to come for it, must move forward without my guidance. Even were the cost for that guidance not too steep by far."

There were a few more words, too soft for Nero to hear, and then, it seemed it was done. The Holy Progenitor stood, and turned to Nero.

His form was already beginning to waver as he spoke. "As I said, this city…this dream, will fade. When it is gone, I would have you do something for me, Emperor Nero."

"Anything!" she said, with no hesitation.

"I remember them," True sadness entered into the god's voice. "Everyone. Every man, woman…." His eyes turned to his former Master. "...and child who died in this senseless war. I would have you raise a monument to them, here. So that they may be remembered - for however long the monument may last."

He knew, of course, that history would soon correct itself - would smooth over this deviation as the Singularity faded. There would be no record of this war, and the monument would not stand long. But the act of doing, in the end, felt right to him. Even if it would be meaningless in the end.

"Of course, great Romulus. Let us find writing material and scrolls, and you can dictate."

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM
​

As with the end of the Orleans campaign, cheers greeted them as they returned to Chaldea.

A second successful campaign. Two Singularities resolved, and they were one step closer to the end.

Kratos closed his eyes, as the exhaustion and wounds caught up to him. He toppled forward, as consciousness failed him.

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: That's all for Septem.

Chapter 35: Post-Septem 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 35​

Kratos came back to himself in a rush.

White. Wherever he was, it was very, very white. And bright.

He groaned, his body beginning to wake up, sensations returning to him one by one. Sight was already there, if not yet fully back, his eyes working to focus. Touch came back next. He was in a bed, he could tell, but he felt unfamiliar sensations against his body. Hearing followed - quiet, save for a steady chime.

Before the rest of his senses could come back, his eyes sharpened, and an ashen head of hair poked itself into his view.

"Huh. Guess Cu wins the betting pool."

"Avenger," croaked Kratos, his throat very, very dry. He blinked his eyes, and the room came into focus. The medical ward. "How long…" His voice, already raspy, broke off into a coughing fit.

Avenger held up a finger. "Hold on a second, let's get you something for that." She took some device into her hand, and, as if by magic (he knew it to be Chaldea's technology, but the whys and hows of its mechanics were as arcane to him as the Magecraft Chaldea utilized), the bed began to incline, raising his upper body up.

Once had been raised to a position level to her head, she handed him a flask with a small tube sticking out of it. "Wet your whistle, then you can ask me questions." She glanced to the side, where her familiar mechanical contraption was sitting. "Beating up on Wario can wait until after." she muttered, switching the device off.

From his first day there, Kratos had always noticed that the water in Chaldea had a metallic tang to it, different from the rivers, streams, and wells where he had always gotten water from before. Something to do with the piping used in modern times. It wasn't bad, simply not to his tastes - even after he had been assured it was otherwise wholesome and safe to drink.

The metallic taste was still there. But the water tasted as sweet as the ambrosia he had partaken of when he had walked the halls of Olympus. Or the strange apples that had been held in the warded chests across the Nine Realms.

He drank deeply, and greedily, quickly exhausting the contents of the flask, and soothing his raw throat. When the flask was empty, he still craved more, but simply handed it back to Avenger. "How long?" he asked, his voice now more steady.

"Two and a half days," answered Avenger. "You were in pretty rough shape after the fight - given what you absorbed during it, not surprising. Still gave all of us a big-ass shock when you toppled like that. Guess folks have gotten used to the idea of you as this big, invincible force of nature," she said with a shrug.

She looked him up and down. "You heal fuckin' fast, though. Your skin looked like a boiled lobster when they dumped you in that bed, but you're already back to being pale as a damn ghost."

Kratos glanced down at himself, and finally identified the strange sensations he was feeling. He had been dressed in (as he could not see himself ever willingly wearing them) the thin, flimsy garment they had tried to foist upon him when Romani had first examined him, after his arrival in this strange place.

Avenger noticed the direction of his gaze, and snickered. "Yeah, your gear was pretty well trashed too, when you got back. And they had to take it off to clean you up and check you out, anyways. I think Da Vinci's doing what she can to salvage it." She gestured to the side. "Your weapons are right there. Everyone figured you wouldn't want to be parted with them, 'cept that spear. Cu's carrying it, just in case something came up before you rejoined the world of the living. He figured you wouldn't mind."

Kratos turned his head to the side and saw that yes, laying on a table next to him, was the Leviathan Axe and the Blades, as though they were waiting on him. He concentrated, and his wife's Axe shook, ever so slightly, on the table. He needed to do no check on the Blades - he could feel them, as he always did - a splinter in his mind.

Avenger was speaking as he turned back to her. "It's just your gear that took it in the teeth, your boots, the shoulder guard, and the stuff you wore around your waist. Your pouches were fine, as was that little light thing you keep there. Those are all in your room."

The woman's grin turned sly. "Oh, and you don't need to worry about your virtue. There was a bit of an ugly competition brewing among the staff here, both the chicks and a couple of the guys, as to who would get to clean all that grime off you after the Doc determined you weren't in any danger, just resting and healing. But Da Vinci put her foot down and read them the riot act."

Avenger's grin widened. "And then did it herself."

And hadn't the local mad scientist been in a sunny mood since there, thought Avenger, cackling madly in the privacy of her own mind.

Kratos' stoic face took some of the amusement away, though. "If you're looking for your prognosis, you'll have to wait on the Doc to get here. I signaled him once I saw you were waking up. And I assume the rest of our motley crew will be right behind him." She frowned. "You really gave everyone a scare."

---

IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE RETURN FROM THE SECOND SINGULARITY​

For the briefest of moments, there was silence. A collective deep breath, a gasp of air, before complete pandemonium broke out. Seeing Kratos, a living god, fall sent a wave of panic through the Command Room.

Panic that was stopped only by the sound of a metal flag being rammed, none too gently, against the floor of the room.

"Everybody CALM YOUR FUCKING TITS and get the HELL out of our way!" bellowed Avenger, a look in her eyes DARING anyone to object.

Behind her, Medusa's arms had swelled up with Monstrous Strength as she knelt and lifted Kratos bridal-style - not that anyone would comment on that right now. Even with her eyes hidden behind Breaker Gorgon, some of the inherent magic of her Mystic Eyes was leaking out.

The staff of the Command Room parted like the Red Sea, making a wide path from the coffins to the door to the halls. Roman squawked as he found himself unceremoniously tossed over Avenger's shoulder. "What…?"

"Sorry Doc," muttered Avenger. "But we're not wasting the time it would take you to catch up to us. The second we set Kratos down in one of those beds, you're going to be there to check on him."

Romani's utterance of "Da Vinci, I'm leaving you in charge!" was almost swallowed up by the sounds of several pairs of feet, moving inhumanly fast, up the stairs, out the door, and down the hall.

---

Kratos grunted. "I have had worse wounds."

Avenger scoffed. "Yeah, you don't exactly hide that big-ass scar on your stomach at all. Whatever left that must have been one hell of a fight, considering, well, it's you." She waved her metal arm at him. "One of those beams smote Lu Bu and that piece of an Archer like the fucking Fist of God, and put Iskandar down, even if he hung around for a bit. You took five of them, and after a nap, your skin looks as pretty as it ever did." Which was not at all, but the point was made.

There was a period of silence, then Kratos voiced the question foremost on his mind. "That….thing. What was it?"

Avenger gave a low whistle. "Hoooo boy. That's a loaded question."

---

DA VINCI'S WORKSHOP

TWO HOURS AFTER THE RESOLUTION OF THE ROMAN SINGULARITY​

"Impossible."

Romani's tone brooked no disagreement.

He still got it, though.

"How can you be so sure?"

It was a closed meeting, being held in one of most secure places in the entire base - Da Vinci's workshop (which had already had its already formidable security bolstered by Cu Chulainn, and likely would see similar attention once their newest Caster had had time to integrate into daily life at Chaldea). All the Servants were there, as was their only conscious Master, and, of course, Romani and Da Vinci, as the acting Director and the Deputy Director.

Da Vinci set a tray of snacks down somewhat more roughly than usual, her typical grace notably absent. "That thing, whatever it was, nearly tore through a combined force of nine Servants - and powerful ones at that. Medea was a Caster from the Age of the Gods, and it went through whatever protections she had effortlessly." Her mouth turned into a grim line. "It nearly killed Kratos, Romani. You say he's going to recover, but throughout two Singularities of Servants, monsters, and everything in between, nothing's done so much as a fraction of the damage as that thing did to him."

"It….just CAN'T be," he murmured weakly. "A demon of the Ars Goetia is a thing of the Age of the Gods - or close to it, at least. For the same reason that an actual physical god can't manifest in the world these days, a demon with a Name like that should be….no, IS just as impossible!"

[He's not wrong. Those things were supposed to have been sealed, and sealed WELL, by Solomon himself. For something to crack that open implies……power the likes of which is almost incomprehensible. And very, VERY worrying.]

In her seat, Mash Kyrielight fidgeted, a sense of unease settling over her.

"It is possible to summon demons, even in this day and age," said Lord El-Melloi. "In the Fourth War - my Fourth War, at least, Gilles de Rais used his Noble Phantasm to call forth a creature similar to that. But it was just a mindless beast, and had no proper name. And it was a pale shadow of that monstrosity we just faced. Saber's Noble Phantasm eliminated it with little difficulty, once she was able to use it."

"Yeah, but Gilles was a crap Caster, all his mojo comes from that damn book of Prelati's." Avenger rolled her eyes. "It's why, even with a Holy Grail, his attempt to make a 'perfect Jeanne' came out so shitty."

The Clock Tower Lord glanced over at her, and she shrugged. "Where'd you think I came from, Smokey? Avengers don't exactly grow on trees, and 'me' is far too much of a choir girl to ever want revenge on the people who fried her."

Romani waved his hand through the air. "Leaving that aside, I never meant to imply that demons can't be summoned. Just not the named ones. The Mysteries are just too weak to support them."

"Then just what in the hell WAS that thing?" Cu's fingers were drumming a beat on the table's surface. The man was almost twitchy, overflowing with nervous energy. "That thing could have taken on Romulus, who was head and shoulders above anything else we've faced so far, and asked for seconds. I'm pretty damn confident in my abilities, but we're going to run into that thing's brothers and sisters……"

He trailed off into muttering, his expression twisting into a scowl. The only word any of them could make out was 'freeloader'.

"He's got a point," said Fujimaru. "That was our second real Singularity, and my first one, and for the capper, Lev goes all 'Behold my True Form, and Despair!', and turns into….that? He wasn't shy in claiming that he's not exactly operating alone in all this. Whenever we find the next Singularity, what's going to be lurking there?"

Romani steepled his hands, and closed his eyes. For a long moment, he was silent. Then…. "I don't know what it was, beyond that it was powerful, and dangerous. But it couldn't be Flauros. That just isn't possible based on everything I know. It was probably just using that name for shock value."

Cu gave the man an incredulous look. "I'd say it had all the shock value it needed with the amount of power it was throwing around. Much less that it looked like something really, really pissed off that crawled out of the sea. Claiming to be a big bad demon just seems like overkill when it came within a hair of winning."

"I don't have any answers," said Romani. "I've got people going over the data we collected now. Maybe we can figure something out. But all we can do right now is wait and see."

No one had anything much to say after that, and the meeting adjourned shortly after, with the various and sundry going their separate ways. Cu adamantly declaring he was going to go get drunk, or as close as a Servant could get.

"Are you going to go back to your room, Senpai?" asked Mash.

Fujimaru groaned. "I wish I could - my bed, and more importantly, a hot shower is screaming my name right now, but I should at least show Lord El-Melloi II the important places before I crash. Want to come along?"

Mash nodded, though she too was hearing the siren song of modern plumbing and soft mattresses.

"You don't have to," said the Lord, drawing up to them. "It's not like such a facility is that alien to me. So long as you show me to whatever room I would be using, I could certainly manage." He shrugged. "Though I wouldn't mind a tablet of some variety. It would let me get up to speed on any differences between my timeline and this one."

Fujimaru raised an eyebrow. "All due respect, sir, you're not exactly typical for a Mage, are you? My mother and sister had to be told what the hourglass icon on a computer meant. My dad's better, but you serve on a US Navy vessel and you'd better know how to use modern technology." She sighed. "But, no. I should at least give you a quick tour. You're a Clock Tower Lord, after all."

The man frowned. "And I told you my title is largely meaningless, with there being no Clock Tower anymore. Much less one that would be familiar to me. But, given the looks I've been getting in the handful of hours I've been here, I see it won't be that simple."

"Nothing with Mages ever is," she muttered. "Hey, Avenger?" Fujimaru's head turned to the ashen haired Servant, who, oddly enough, was still sitting at the table. And quietly, at that. "You want to join us as we show Lord El-Melloi II around? After the day we've had, I could use some of your witty commentary."

It took Avenger a moment to reply. "Nah, you go on Red. I've got some stuff I should take care of."

Fujimaru frowned internally. She sounded almost….pensive. And Avenger was never pensive. "Ok. I'll talk to you later, then."

---

"We don't really know what it is," said Avenger. "Romani's pretty damn insistent that it isn't what it said it is. Dunno what Da Vinci went over with you in her lessons, but Flauros is one of 72 Demons - really, really powerful ones that were supposedly sealed away by Solomon, a King in the Bible." One of her eyes twitched. "He's also a really, REALLY big deal with Mages too. One of his titles is the King of Mages, or the King of Magecraft, depending on who you ask. Those 72 Demons, and from what I understand, they were described as Demon GODS. They were his Familiars. That's how powerful he was."

"Familiars," rumbled Kratos. "That is a term I have heard used to describe Servants."

Avenger leaned back into her chair. "It's not terribly off, really. If it works for you to think of Solomon as having 72 badass demon things as his Servants, then go you."

She lolled her head back. "The Doc ain't wrong, really. Something like that shouldn't be able to exist nowadays. Kind of the same reason you're such a big fucking deal around here - things as powerful as gods - demon or otherwise, just can't BE on this side of The World."

She turned back to Kratos. "At least not without pulling some real bullshit like falling through a crack in realities like you did. Cu, that King you were buddies with, the snake and the horse-teacher, fuck, even me and 'me' have a bit of Divinity in us," She held her thumb and forefinger up, barely apart. "JUUUUST a smidge, but it's weak shit compared to what an actual Divine Spirit would have."

"Baldur…." growled Kratos.

"Yeah, him," The scowl on her face matched the one in Kratos' voice. "Him having to use the body of an actual person like that might be a thing that's just necessary for a Divine Spirit, even one pulling the bullshit I already mentioned. Then again, it might not be. Not that I'm the best source for this, but I ain't even HEARD of a Servant Class called 'Alter Ego' before. And it doesn't sound like the brain trust here has either."

She licked her lips. "Romulus too, for all that I saw him in person for like a fucking heartbeat. From what Red tells me, they had him tied up six ways from Sunday, and he was gobbling down Masters like Squeaks' ball of fluff on a bacon bender. And he was only part of a god, not a whole hog one like, I dunno, Zeus or Odin or fucking Anubis or some shit. What it would take to get one of those bad boys into a Servant container, I don't wanna know."

And, though it was unspoken - the question laid over them. If Flauros was telling the truth, how had he managed to manifest himself?

---

EVENING OF THE RESOLUTION OF THE ROMAN SINGULARITY​

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He, and the best and brightest of the Command staff had poured over the data from the final fight for hours, looking at it from every angle they could, only to come up with the same end result. Every. Time.

Inconclusive.

Inconclusive. Inconclusive. Inconclusive.

They'd been unable to determine if it was, or wasn't what it claimed to be.

He'd been ready to order another look at the data, from the start, when Da Vinci had marched in and put an end to that. One look at the woman's thunderous expression had killed any protests from him in their tracks. That she'd pointed out how exhausted the Command Room staff looked only made him feel worse. That she'd had Medusa standing by to haul him to his room and chain him to his bed had been the final straw - he knew a losing battle when he saw one.

And he'd been roughly handled by one Servant already today. He wasn't looking to repeat the experience.

He'd apologized, profusely, to everyone, and had given them tomorrow off - as apologetic gestures go, it was mitigated by the fact that it was also borne somewhat of sheer necessity. None of them would be good for anything the next day anyways, after forced overtime in the wake of more forced overtime that always came with the final bits of a Singularity.

Yeah, he'd screwed up.

He'd quickly checked in on Kratos before heading to his room - if the Spartan's readings had so much as blipped, he'd have gotten an alert, but he was old-fashioned. He wanted to look in on his patient and trust his eyes over the admittedly fantastic technology they had watching over the man. But Kratos was fine - or as fine as he could be given what he'd gone through. Sleeping like a big, angry (he scowled even in his sleep, it seemed) baby. But his life-signs showed he was recovering, still.

Leaving instructions that he was to be woken up if any of the readings moved so much as a hair in the wrong direction, he'd slumped off to his room.

Chiding himself all the way.

He'd gotten so focused on proving what he KNEW couldn't be possible that he'd lost sight of, well, everything else that had happened over the past few days. A Singularity ending was hard enough on everyone, but to follow that up with an immediate, unscheduled crunch, and an increasingly manic Director was bad enough. But everyone, and he meant everyone, was rattled today. The amount of power that thing (he refused to call it Flauros) that Lev turned into had been putting out had been terrifying. And then, to see the literal god that had been walking the halls fall, well….

He expected a lot of people were emulating Cu Chulainn tonight, and breaking out their stores of alcohol.

He placed his hand on the palm reader next to his door, and after a moment, the door slid open. He lurched in, the exhaustion finally starting to hit him. He was debating if he had enough in the tank to shower before sleeping, when he heard it.

Simple, monotone bloops and bleeps. Coming from his bed.

"Lights," he said. As the room was illuminated, he groaned.

Sprawled on his bed, her heels kicked up, was Avenger, her Game Boy in hand.

"Yo, Doc. What took you?" she asked, never taking her eyes off her game.

He was momentarily struck dumb. His brain, low on sleep and having been fueled by caffeine for far too long, struggled to get up to speed. "Avenger……just what exactly are you doing here?"

There was a rude noise from her game, and she swore. "Damn underwater levels." She set the device aside, and pushed herself up.

Her eyes turned hard as they met his. "I'm here to call you out on your bullshit, that's why I'm here."

Magi*Mari, give him strength, he simply did not have the brain cells to deal with this right now. "I don't have the faintest clue of what you're talking about."

Avenger made a scoffing noise, sticking her tongue out and everything. "Doc, I ain't God's favorite little blonde weenie cheerleader, but there's a few bits of her in here," she said, tapping her temple. "And I could FEEL it. That thing that called itself 'Flauros' was major league bad news….and it was legit."

"It's NOT Flauros," he snapped, almost reflexively, some of his worry bubbling over.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and leveled a firm stare at him. "Because you're the one who locked those things up. And if, somehow, someone cracked your seal, what the hell does that mean for all of us?"

His legs wobbled, and he staggered over to a chair, collapsing into it, as all the fears that he had been putting off since Lev had transformed, and bellowed out THAT NAME for all to hear surged over him. "It just…can't be possible. That seal was my magnum opus, the single greatest piece of Magecraft I created in my life."

He favored her with a wan smile. "Not to brag, but I was pretty good at it. So to even consider that someone had enough skill and power to break the Seal, and let the things I bound up in that loose……" He shuddered.

"I get that. But I'm giving you an eyewitness account that's telling you something all your data and fancy-pants readings won't. The parts of my brain that are genuine 'Maid of Orleans' don't think that bastard was lying about his name."

His head sank into his hands. "And that's why I've been trying so hard to prove it, one way or another." Almost unconsciously, his hand began toying with something hidden underneath his ever-present gloves. "If….if the worst has happened, then there's countermeasures I can take."

He heard shuffling from his bed. "Just what sort of things are we talking about?"

He licked his lips. "It's….best not to say. Even warded as this room is, speaking the name of the technique I'd use could draw eyes. Just….trust me that there's a few things I could do."

She huffed. "Fine, I guess." More shuffling. Her voice, when it came out, was hesitant. "Doc, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you can't keep this shit bottled up like this. Since I'm about the only one who fucking knows your secret, if it gets bad like this again, I suppose I'll listen."

He looked up at her, and she shrugged. "Can't promise I'll be any good at it. Hell, I might just make fun of you and call you a wuss. But I'll listen if you need it." She rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine keeping the kind of shit I'm carrying around all repressed like you are. I'd explode."

He gave her a look. "I'm also not a Servant programmed to remember every slight that was ever inflicted on me, and kept in a state of perpetual anger by the container I was placed in."

She threw a pillow at him. "Shut your stupid face or I'm taking my offer back."

---

He saw Avenger frown. "We won this time, but it was fucking narrow. Everyone's worried that there's more of those things waiting for us in the next Singularity. And I'm fucking stressing over the thought that maybe Lev was the runt of the litter."

Kratos grunted. "Any enemy can be beaten. We will just have to be better - stronger, should another of these…demons appear."

Avenger laughed. "That simple, huh? Then again, given some of the things you've probably fought, old squiddy probably doesn't really hold much of a candle."

He shifted, beginning to push himself out of the bed.

Avenger loomed over him. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving this bed. I have recovered well enough." His body still ached, somewhat, but he could feel that his constitution had already mended most of his injuries - weariness still clung to him, but that could be dismissed, at least for a while. "I can rest in my quarters," he said, the unspoken 'and not be an object of spectacle' hanging in the air.

"Hey! You really shouldn't leave until the Doc gives you a clean bill of health!" Avenger's hand hovered over his shoulder, as if she was considering trying to keep him in bed.

Kratos opened his mouth to snap that he would be fine, when he suddenly found himself pushed back into bed by a pair of hands.

There was a woman floating over him. Actually floating - her feet did not in any way touch the ground.

Avenger groaned. "And that's the OTHER new thing I would have gotten to…"

---

 

THE MORNING AFTER THE RESOLUTION OF THE ROMAN SINGULARITY

SUMMONING CHAMBER​

"Should we really be doing this?" asked Fujimaru, shivering in the polar temperatures it seemed like they kept the Summoning Chamber in. Next time, she was bringing a sweater.

Romani looked like he'd barely slept, and Da Vinci was giving him a side eye that was verging on morphing into a full on stink eye, but she'd not marched him back to his room. Yet. Though she did seem to be running a tally on how many cups of coffee the man had consumed so far today. "We don't know how long Kratos will be down for. He's stable,and healing, but…" He made a helpless sort of gesture. "They didn't really cover gods in medical school. He's close enough to human that I can make some guesses, but I don't know if he's just sleeping off the damage he took, or is in a proper coma - healing or otherwise."

He sighed. "He might wake up today, he might wake up in a month…..worst case, he might not wake up. So, just in case - and just like we told him when it was you in the coma, we want to bolster our forces, just in case something comes up while he's still down."

"And we have a brand new Grail, all hooked up to our generators after a night of hard work from yours truly, so we have the power to spare, and then some. So we might as well make use of it!" Da Vinci was giving her a smile, though it was a touch strained - she was obviously worried about Kratos. It was a coin flip if she or Cu was closer to the man, of the small handful of people he allowed into his orbit. Cu - well, he hadn't managed to get blackout drunk last night, but from all reports, he'd done his level best. As had a good number of off-duty Chaldea staff.

Celtic drinking songs had echoed throughout the cafeteria for many, many hours.

Seeing Kratos topple like a tree had done a number on the base's morale. Reports that he wasn't in any immediate danger had stemmed the panic only so much.

"Ok," she said. "Lord El-Melloi II isn't much of a drain on me - guess that comes from him being a modern Servant. So one more shouldn't hurt."

Mash was setting her shield into the center of the room. "There's also a system to partially connect them to Chaldea's reactors," said Da Vinci. "We weren't using it for Kratos, since, well, god. But it's been taking some of the load for you - that's why you aren't really feeling much of a strain from supporting three different Servants, even if one of them is modern, and Mash is a unique case."

She rolled her eyes up the ceiling. "The main draw on our reactors is keeping the Servants anchored outside of a clearly defined Grail War, where the Holy Grail does most of the heavy lifting on that score. It's why we have such a hard cap on how many….but that's neither here nor there, really. Point is, we can handle one or two more now."

She clapped her hands. "So get to it. I'm excited to see who answers your call!"

Fujimaru glanced around the room. Avenger was there, wearing her 'Not Jeanne!' sign proudly around her neck, though the pride might have been for the additions the woman had made to it. What vaguely seemed to be a tall, cool, Avenger was forcing what seemed to be the actual Jeanne to fetch her bread. And Jeanne had stink lines coming off her, too.

Sensei was there, calm as always. Her newest Servant, however, was looking around the room, his eyes the furthest thing from still. "So this is how lord Animusphere managed it. Fascinating to see a means of summoning a mass number of Servants that isn't tied to a Grail."

Da Vinci gave the man a nudge with her shoulder, which caused him to stumble a bit. "I can give you the full rundown later. Proprietary Mage family secrets kind of went out the window with the Incineration of Humanity." Her smile turned wistful. "And I'm sure Olga Marie, if we could talk with her right now, would agree."

The man opened his mouth, possibly to ask about the status of the girl he had a passing acquaintance with, but then shook his head. "Very well. I look forward to it."

All eyes in the room turned to her, and she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped up to the edge of the circle.

Just like last time, there was a charge in the air. The circle was fully activated, the room humming with power (power that wasn't going to the heat, her mind complained as she shivered). Everything was ready for her to call out to the Throne.

She cracked her knuckles, and began reciting the chant.

As the lines flowed over her tongue, she concentrated, again trying to send her thoughts to the Throne (it had worked last time, or had seemed to - she'd asked for a teacher, and she'd gotten one).

Hey, it's me again, Throne of Heroes. Thanks for listening the last time. The Sensei you sent me is amazing - and I got to ride on his back yesterday, too, when we ran Kratos to the infirmary, so……I guess I sort of did get the pony I wanted for Christmas. So, this time, could I have a certified badass? If…..if I am going to be flying solo, without Kratos, in the immediate future, I'd like someone who can throw down well enough so that I only sort of miss having a god along for the ride. If….you know, that's not too much to ask.

She completed the ritual chant, and took a breath. Now, we wait.

Behind her, she could hear Avenger's fingers tapping on her palm, possibly counting the seconds.

There was a spark, and then a definite reaction. Romani's excited words only confirmed it for her. "Response received! Guess someone heard you, Fujimaru."

Ten orbs again winked into being just above the summoning circle, shuddered, and then changed to show every color of the rainbow. Then they began spinning, and mana washed up, almost to overflowing, as it spilled over to cover the entire ceiling.

"This…..," Da Vinci almost sounded awed - or maybe worried. "This is a MUCH bigger reaction than the last two times!"

Three rings that were cycling through the visible color spectrums coalesced, and a bright burst of light erupted throughout the room, causing the onlookers to wince, and avert their eyes.

There was a roar. Loud enough to cause the room itself to shake. And then muttering, and the roar died out - almost…sheepishly.

When she finished blinking the spots out of her eyes, there was a man standing in the center of the summoning circle.

Not exactly what she'd call pretty, or even handsome. He wasn't ugly, for sure, but compared to Cu's feral charm and pretty-boy looks, or Chiron's classical features - or even Lord El-Melloi's severe face (not her thing,but she knew more than a few classmates who would have gone all 'hot for teacher' over him), he was almost kind of plain looking. At least in comparison to the male models she had surrounding her of late.

His clothes were also simple and understated, just like his face. A simple, white uniform, and a white hat with a band of blue atop a well-kept head of black hair. And damned if she didn't recognize that uniform on sight - it bore FAR too many similarities to the dress uniform for the Japanese Navy for a Navy brat like her to miss them, even if the Navy in her blood was American.

The katana on his hip just confirmed it - she'd streak the halls of Chaldea if this guy wasn't Japanese.

There was an easygoing grin on his face as he opened his mouth to introduce himself, when, from behind him, there was movement.

And a whole-ass woman floated up into the air and hovered there, like a balloon, just a little behind and over his head.

A balloon wearing, of all things, what looked like the uniform you'd see the girls wearing at just about any school in Japan. Predominately black, with dark red accents, and a skirt that was much larger than average. A scarf, long enough to drag the ground when she walked (if she walked, which she probably didn't), with a pattern like scales or snakeskin was wrapped around her neck. Her hair was as black and as dark as her partners (friends? Husbands?), and every bit as long as the scarf. It was a tidal wave of raven tresses flowing down her back - or would be, if it didn't seem to have the same aversion to gravity as the woman did.

She wasn't wearing shoes, either. Just some dark red stockings - that would probably get torn up if she walked like a normal person. So, probably another reason for the floating.

Where her companion's face was smiling, her face was almost completely blank. Her eyes were flat as she leveled a finger at Fujimaru and spoke in a monotone voice. "Rejoice, human. The great Oryou-san has answered your summons! I hope you have plenty of frogs to pay us with."

The man let out a sigh, though it sounded almost fond. He reached up and patted the woman on the head. "Maaa. Oryou, maybe we shouldn't be demanding things of our Master when we've just arrived."

He squared himself up, almost appearing as if he was at parade rest. "Rider, Sakamoto Ryouma. I have answered your summons. And this is Oryou, though she's already introduced herself." He gave a formal bow. "Please take good care of us."

"And if you don't, just know that Oryou-san thinks you look tasty," muttered the woman, eyes the same color as her stockings running up and down Fujimaru's form.

"HEY!" Avenger stormed out to stand in front of Fujimaru. "Ain't nobody eating Red!"

"That's right!" yelped Mash, her shield vanishing from the floor and reforming in her hands. "Senpai is not for eating!"

---

The woman was a slight thing. Compared to a Spartan woman, she could almost be called scrawny. But she had pushed Kratos back down into the bed with little effort, and Kratos could feel the power in her form, as her palm continued to rest against his shoulder.

Not human. And powerful even for a Servant, to boot.

"Oryou-san will sit on you if she has to." The words were delivered almost tonelessly. It lacked any of the hostility that would have made the words a threat, they were merely matter-of-fact, a statement of intent lacking any real menace. Though the woman's eyes did narrow minutely as she stared down at Kratos.

Avenger sighed. "Meet the new Servant Red summoned yesterday. Or half of them. The other half's probably…."

The door to Medical slid open, and a rather innocuous-looking man strode in. "There you are." He was shaking his head as he walked over to Kratos' bed. "I should have guessed you'd have been curious about the god everyone's talking about." The woman floated away from Kratos, flitting over to hover around the man, one of her arms loosely resting around his neck. "I hope she didn't cause you any trouble. I apologize if she did. Oryou's a handful sometimes."

The man bowed his head in greeting. "Sakamoto Ryouma, Rider Class Servant. And this is Oryou. We've heard a lot about you, Kratos."

Oryou scoffed, turning her nose up in the air. "Gods. Oryou-san doesn't much like gods."

Kratos grunted. "Then we have that much in common."

Oryou blinked, and seemed to take another look at Kratos. "Maybe Oryou-san won't have to eat you, then."

The woman floated off to the other side of the room, seemingly paying Kratos no further mind. The man - Ryouma - shook his head. "Don't worry too much about the whole 'eating people' thing. It's almost like a greeting for her."

"He's not lying," commented Avenger. "She threatened to eat Red if she didn't treat the two of them well enough yesterday."

"Yes, but we got that straightened out quickly enough." The man's smile was pleasant and completely affable, seemingly unconcerned with whatever trouble his companion had, or was causing, as he extended a hand to Kratos. "Really, we are glad to meet you. It's not every day you see a god with your own two eyes. And having one on our side for this job is also fairly welcome."

Kratos shifted in his bed, but took the man's wrist and clasped it firmly. Stronger than he appeared - much stronger. "I was not aware that two could be summoned as one Servant."

Ryouma drew a chair over and settled into it, every inch of him at ease. "Oh, it's not common at all. We might honestly be the only instance of it on the Throne. The only one I'm aware of, at least, though, to be fair, other Riders do tend to come with their mounts from life. But for us, I guess our stories, and fates were so intertwined in life that we ended up together in death." He turned his head, looking over to where Oryou had floated to, and his face seemed to light up from within. "Not that I mind at all."

The woman in question was currently floating right over the head of one of the attendants, and causing her a considerable amount of distress. Kratos hesitated for a moment - recalling his own aversion to questions of the ilk he was about to ask, but the man's body language screamed of openness. "What….is she?"

Ryoma reached up and fiddled with his hat. "That is a bit of a story."

---

OUTSIDE THE SUMMONING CHAMBER

A FEW MINUTES AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF THE NEW SERVANT​

"Really, don't worry about it." Fujimaru waved her hands through the air. "You say she doesn't mean anything by it, so no harm, no foul."

"That's understanding of you, Master," said Ryouma, a wide smile on his face, wide enough that his face was crinkling at the edges of his eyes.

Fujimaru shrugged, awash in the most concentrated good guy aura she'd ever experienced. "Really, I could tell she didn't really mean it. I got to see what a real, honest to goodness threat to my life felt like a couple of days ago. Hers just didn't have the same bite."

Fujimaru shivered a little, glad that Lev - or whatever the hell he was, was dead and gone.

"But still," she continued. "Sakamoto Ryouma - my dad would lose his mind if he was here."

An eyebrow was raised. "Oh?"

Fujimaru nodded. "Yeah, he's a Navy man. American Navy, but still Navy. Despite the fact that your side kind of ran his family out of Japan back then, he's always spoken better of you than the rest of the Sat-Cho Alliance." She frowned. "Possibly because you weren't around by the time they had to pack up and flee for America."

Oryou, who had been pestering Avenger, went stock still for a split second, and a pall seemed to fall over the hallway. Even Ryouma seemed to lose some of his cheer. "That…..that is a bit of a sore spot for Oryou, Master."

"Not….you?" asked Mash.

Ryouma stopped, and peered up at the ceiling. "I mean, of course. I would have liked to see what became of the country I was trying to save. But it just wasn't to be, and I was happy with my life. Even if I didn't see it to the end, what we started ending up changing Japan for the better."

He reached out to Oryou, who had floated over to him, and took her outstretched hand. "But for Oryou, well, she sees it differently. It's a bit private, and not something to really talk about at a first meeting."

"I understand," said Fujimaru. "When you're ready to tell us, we'll be all ears."

Oryou gave a sort of snort in Fujimaru's direction. "Don't hold your breath, human. Even if you seem to be tolerable, as Masters go."

She rolled over into the air, almost reclining on her back. "Though Oryou-san does have questions for you, human." She pointed to Avenger. "Like why does that one smell of dragons?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or why does this place stink of gods?"

Avenger squawked, and Mash and Fujimaru exchanged a look. "I hadn't noticed about Avenger," began Fujimaru. "But as to the other thing, well, we've got a few other Servants you haven't met yet. Cu Chulainn is around somewhere - probably either hung over or sleeping it off. Medusa's also here, probably in the archives room reading if I had to guess. That might be what you're smelling."

She sighed. "But it's probably not. Thing is, we've got one other guy who's been helping us out with the Singularities. His name is Kratos….and he's a god from another world."

Oryou's hair seemed to spring up of its own accord, like a cat raising its hackles. Ryouma, for his part, seemed to take the news in stride. "A god, from another world? Huh." He tapped the brim of his hat. "That certainly isn't something you hear every day."

Oryou's chin came to rest atop Ryouma's hat. "Ryouma remembers how Oryou-san feels about gods."

He reached up to gently lay a hand on her cheek. "Now, now. Let's wait to meet this god before we pass judgment on him. He might not be anything like the ones that sealed you away."

Avenger, who had been surreptitiously trying to sniff her non-metal arm, froze stock still at that. "Wait, sealed you? Lady, what the exact fuck are you that a god - or gods tried to seal you up?"

"I'm actually kind of curious myself," added Fujimaru, with Mash nodding along. "Your wife's name was Narasaki Ryo, and she was nicknamed Oryo. But there wasn't any record about her, well…..floating."

Their two new Servants (or Servant - it was a bit confusing, to be honest) exchanged a look, then Ryouma shrugged. "We could show you, I suppose. Is there anywhere with a bit of space?"

"The Simulator would probably work - is anyone using it right now, Mashie?"

Mash shook her head. "It should be free now. I think most everyone's taking a lazy day today, considering how much overtime there was in the run up to the finish of the last Singularity." She made a face. "But Tanya's probably still working."

"Yeah, she's all about things running efficiently, isn't she." Fujimaru clapped her hands. "So let's head over there, then."

A few minutes later they were in the Simulator, and their newest arrivals were suitably impressed. Or at least, Ryouma seemed impressed. Oryou was just as hard to read as ever, though she did at least seem to appreciate being able to stretch her wings - so to say - more, gliding up into the virtual ceiling with a look of almost pleasure on her face.

"My, this is a wonder, isn't it?" said Ryouma, looking around. "What all do you use it for?"

"Training mostly," She struck a thumb out at Mash. "I was in a demonic coma - long story - for the first Singularity, so Kratos took to training my cute little Kohai here." She rubbed a spot on her arm where a particularly nasty bruise had long since healed. "Once I woke up, my Sensei started training me as well. Mostly on how to dodge, since I'm not going to be winning any fist fights with Servants anytime soon."

Ryouma tilted his head. "You are carrying a weapon, though. Two of them, in fact, up your sleeves." She gave him a look, and he responded with a sheepish grin. "I was a samurai, and one of the leads in the early stages of the Meiji Revolution. Not every assassin came at us head on with drawn swords like the Shinsengumi. You learned to look for those things."

She nodded. "Makes sense. I've got a pair of knives Da Vinci forged for me, mostly as a last line of defense in case anyone got too close to me. I honestly kind of forgot we were home and strapped them on this morning by reflex. A few weeks of doing that in the middle of an active civil war does things to your head, I swear."

He reached up and scratched at the tip of his nose. "Makes sense. Though…..mmm, something for later." He looked up to where Oryou was staring through the observation window at a certain blonde woman. "Oryou, can you come on down so we can show Master?"

"Coming!" Oryou floated down to join them, a pout on her face. "The blonde human isn't very fun. She wouldn't change it to the ocean for Oryou-san." Her nose wrinkled. "She also didn't react at all to Oryou-san being there."

Avenger chuckled. "Yeah, that's Tanya. Not much gets her to bat an eye." She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers drumming a beat on her metal arm. "So, we're here. Let's see this thing."

Oryou began to float out into the field, but stopped and glanced over her shoulder at them. "And you're sure you don't have a frog for Oryou-san?" When all she got for her question was a trio of shaken heads, she sighed. "Alright. Stand back, humans. Oryou-san needs some space."

Once they had backed away to what the woman seemed to think was a safe distance, she hovered up into the air, her eyes closing. Her hair, already long, seemed to gain length, flowing down to pool on the ground, as her form began to blacken. In a matter of seconds, all color had drained from the woman, and her form began to run like it was melting, until she was little more than a drop of inky blackness. Which fell into the greater pool that was forming on the ground, and there was a flash of light.

When everyone opened their eyes again, the room was much, MUCH more crowded.

Avenger's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Good L……something. She's as big as Fafnir was…..maybe bigger."

Her half-whispered exclamation wasn't far off the mark. While Fujimaru hadn't seen Fafnir, or any of the French Singularity personally, she had seen what footage they'd captured of it.

Oryou was a dragon. Or something very closely related to them. More Eastern Dragon than Western, her scales were as black as her hair had been - or still was, as some of those raven tresses still sprouted from her hair, though much more wildly than her previously well-kept mane. Even coiled up, she seemed to fill the room.

"Behold, humans!" The dragon's chin was resting on two nubby feet that sported some really wicked looking claws. "Oryou-san's great transformation!" Her tail flicked over to where Ryouma was standing, and nudged him until he began idly stroking the scales there. "Oryou-san will take all appropriate praise and worship in the form of frogs."

---

Kratos listened to the man's tale, then, after another long draught of water (his throat continued to be persistently dry), had only one thing to say. "So, on a journey over a mountain, you found a dragon, sealed by a spear you believed to have been thrown by the gods." He paused. "It offered you riches and other boons if you freed it, which you did - but not for any of the promised rewards, but simply because you hated to see a creature trapped in such a manner?"

The man appeared to consider for a second, then nodded. "That's about the shape of things, yeah. I would have hated to have been trapped like that, so I did what I hoped someone else would do if I was in that position." He smiled fondly at Oryou. "We've been together ever since."

Kratos huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I believe you would get along well with my son."

That brought a smile to the man's face. "Oh?"

"On our journey to lay my wife's ashes to rest, we found three dragons, bound and chained in three separate locations." Kratos grunted. "He insisted we free them. Persistently." As Atreus did with all things he had set his mind on.

Oryou's upside-down face peered down at him from above. "And did you?"

"We did. Largely at his insistence, though, not entirely," Kratos managed to resist the urge to rub at the scars on his arms, but only just. "I too, have known what it is to be bound by those with power that rivals their cruelty."

"Any particular reason those dragons were chained up like you said?" asked Ryouma.

Kratos thought back. "One was captured by a dwarven king who was obsessed with visions of his people's future, and was seeking to avert it by crafting a set of armor that would protect them. We found that dragon, and another imprisoned in his strongholds. The last one we can only speculate - but Mimir believed he also fell victim to the dwarven king's madness. He had been a dwarf once, before changing."

Kratos grunted. "We freed them, and they flew off. I know not where they are now. They could not speak the tongues of men, but my son could understand them. He says they thanked us before departing." Another grunt. "At least, two of them did. Fafnir did not, but those who knew him once said that becoming a dragon did nothing for his personality."

Kratos felt eyes on him, but did not turn. It could only be the dragon-woman. "Oryou-san wants to know, what happened to the dwarven king?"

"His desire led his kingdom, and people, to ruin. He died at the hands of his own subjects, who had returned as Hel-walkers, and slew him." Kratos' voice sank into a low rumble. "In the end, he brought about the end he was trying so desperately to avoid."

Avenger made a rude noise. "Of course. Ain't that how it always works?"

Ryouma nodded. "It is a bit of a common theme with visions." He glanced over his shoulder. "But I think we'll leave you be for the time being. I can feel approaching Servants, so it feels like this room's going to get pretty crowded." He gave a shallow bow. "Thank you for the story, though, it was entertaining."

The two of them walked out, Oryou floating behind Ryouma - though she paused at the door, and glanced back at Kratos. "You might not be so bad, for a god. But Oryou-san is watching you." She raised two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them at Kratos, then floated away.

---

CHALDEA GENERATOR ROOM​

It was debatable if there was a more well secured area on the entire base than the Generator Room. Da Vinci's workshop, for sure, was warded six ways from Sunday, and was acquiring even more layers of protection as they gained new Casters for her to collaborate with. Romani's room, though almost no one knew it, had its own defenses, though they were more focused on the prevention of certain things - mainly to keep prying eyes out of that one space. The Summoning Chamber, obviously, had massive security by way of pure necessity, given the potential harm that could be done by a rogue Master with an equally rogue Servant.

But the generator room was the beating heart of the facility. Without power, the entire base would shudder to a halt, and the various Bounded Fields and other protections that were sheltering Chaldea from the Incineration would gutter and fail. So it was not easy to gain entrance without permission - which was something that Da Vinci was very, very stingy at granting.

Sakamoto Ryouma, however, had a very eclectic and specific set of skills. So while he wouldn't say it was easy for him to sneak in, he'd managed it.

He glanced around the massive underground chamber, suitably impressed. The generators were humming along noisily enough that it would be difficult to think in the room under most circumstances. And even if they weren't visible through glass he would bet even Oryou would have trouble punching through, he could feel the trio of Grails Chaldea had liberated as clear as day.

One of those Grails was probably feeding him mana and stabilizing his presence even now, come to think of it.

Oryou sniffed at one of them, then floated back over to him. "Ryouma…..are you sure about this?"

He shrugged. "About as sure as I am about any of our jobs, really. You heard what that thing said, just as I did, when we got shown it before we were sent here. That god killed his family, when he was just a mortal, and by all accounts then killed Ares and took his place." He frowned. "And he certainly seemed to have something to do with whatever happened to the Greek gods in his world, as well."

Oryou's eyes were boring a hole in him. "Oryou-san doesn't want to have to fight him. Oryou-san will if she must, but…." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "He's STRONG, Ryouma. Oryou-san thinks she can take him, but you……aren't as strong as Oryou-san."

Ryouma felt warmth flow through his body, and he reached up and placed his palms on Oryou's cheeks, meeting her eyes. "Maybe it won't come to that. He doesn't seem like a bad guy - he's dangerous, sure. But we're all dangerous in our own ways. The Counter Force just wants us here as insurance, just in case. If we don't end up needing to do anything except save Humanity, then we all get to go home happy."

He brought his face close to Oryou's and brushed her lips with his. "But I do appreciate your concerns for my safety. Even with you at my side, Kratos would be a nightmare to fight."

He was a pretty good swordsman in life. And that was only magnified as a Servant. But an incarnated god - well, there was only so far pure skill and Servant strength would carry him.

Oryou shook free of his hands and turned her nose up in the air, though Ryouma wasn't fooled - he could see a very light blush dusting her cheeks. "Ryouma should stop distracting Oryou-san and take care of what we came here to do."

"Mmmm. You're right." Everyone was crowding around Kratos right now, excited that their comrade had finally woken up, so they'd taken this opportunity to poke around a bit. And, moreover, there was nowhere else in the base where they could check to make sure everything had come with them when they'd been summoned.

His hand drifted down to his nameless katana, and gently twisted the hilt.

Anywhere else in the base, the sheer amount of mana that was released would have set off alarms. But in the presence of three Holy Grails - even lesser ones that didn't hold the same amount of power as the one that would be the prize for a Grail War, the ambient mana in the air simply drowned out the release.

The weapon changed, pieces clicking and shifting until the sword had lengthened, first into something more akin to a No-Dachi, then, becoming something that wasn't even a sword at all.

A spear.

Ryouma's attire had changed as well, going from a fairly modern suit to robes of blue and white. His hair lengthened, and glowing sigils lit up on his arms. Oryou, as well, had changed, every inch of her now glowing the purest white. Two massive eyes floated over her shoulders - both of which were staring directly at the spear in her lover's hands.

Amasakahoko. The very same spear that had pinned her to the mountain for all those long years.

"It works," muttered Oryou. "Now can you put that thing away, Ryouma?"

"Probably should. We don't want to push our luck here." He slid his thumb along the haft of the spear, and it began to fold back into the form of a katana. A few seconds later, and all was as it had been before.

He reached up and took Oryou's hand. "Alright, let's get out of here. Why don't we check out this cafeteria of theirs. They probably don't have frogs, but they might have something that can tide you over for the time being."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And here's our new Servant. Fujimaru's dad being former Navy, and Ryouma being, in essence, the founder of the Japanese Navy gave her a connection to him so he was her next non-Catalyst Summon. And Oryou-san, because everyone loves Oryou-san.

Yay. Peace, peace.

Beyond the Counter Force finally making a move.

Ignore that Romulus does not have Divinity as a Passive on his 3 star. He ABSOLUTELY should. Cu's (both Caster and Lancer) Divinity B being higher than Chiron's Divinity C also makes no sense. Just like Martha having it, but Jeanne NOT having it. But FGO's full of weird things like that.

In the original Japanese, Oryou always appends a 'san' to her name, but the text doesn't add it for the NA version of the game. Testing out the 'san' in her speech to see if I like it, and if it's not overly clunky. Let me know.

Chapter 36: Post-Septem 2/Does the Moon Goddess Dream of Dumplings?

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 36

TWO DAYS AFTER KRATOS REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS​

"A….minor Singularity?"

It had been early, earlier even than Kratos, who often rose with the sun, when the base had been rocked by the shrill sounds of the alarm. Even woken from a deep sleep (his rest these past few days had been shockingly free of nightmares - for once), he had been instantly alert. He would have been the first one to the Command Room, normally.

If not for the garb he was forced to wear, in lieu of his armor - which was still being repaired by Da Vinci.

It was comfortable enough, he supposed. The texture was unlike anything he had ever worn, as well. But he missed the feel of his usual leathers. And, as ever, he felt out of place - more so than he normally did. Identity was not something Kratos gave much thought to - he knew who he was. It hung over him - he had long since accepted it (though events, both immediately recent and more distantly, but still recent continued to badger him with questions asking if he was as certain and secure with that belief as he thought), so he did not worry himself overmuch with thoughts of it.

But far from his home, wearing strange garb, involved in a war that dwarfed even the massive, apocalyptic conflicts he had battled in, and surrounded by heroes of a history alien to him - some part of him worried if he was losing some of who he was.

Truly, he missed his home, and a world that was familiar to him. It was like a persistent ache in his bones. But there was nothing to be done for it - he would continue to move forward.

Hence, why he was standing in the Control Room, wearing a black 't-shirt' that proclaimed the wearer to have completed the 'Auckland Spartan 10k 2014', and a pair of 'gym shorts' that clung to his lower body tightly (and, for a number of the staff, distractingly - Da Vinci may or may not have created a special folder on her private server to hold the recordings), staring down at Romani.

(The material's ability to stretch, though, he somewhat approved of, even if he was unsure of its value otherwise.)

Romani nodded. "We found it this morning. It's….." He pondered a moment, finding the words. "Minor Singularity is the best term we can find for it, really. It's a scrap of what's left of the French Singularity that hasn't dissolved yet. It should have, by now, but hasn't."

"Not to sound rude or anything, but why do we care?" asked Cu. "We took care of that place, snatched the Grail that was keeping it up, put Baldur down, and even had the original source of all the problems follow us home." He shrugged, ignoring the glare that the Original Source of the Problems was giving him. "Why do we need to go back there?"

"Minor Singularities are still an issue that needs to be resolved," said Romani, patiently. "The fact that there's still part of the French one persisting is troubling enough, but there's the possibility it could stabilize and become a full-blown Singularity if we don't intervene." He grimaced. "And there's also our enemies to consider. We don't have any idea of their capabilities - they could use a minor Singularity like this as a staging ground for any number of things - starting with creating a whole new Singularity, or restarting the French one somehow. Those are kind of worst case scenarios, but obviously, we have to deny them any chance of that."

"And that kind of dovetails into the other issue we discovered this morning." Da Vinci was wearing a worried frown on her face. "There's a holiday coming up - the Mid-Autumn Festival celebrated in some of the Asian areas of the world. It originated in China, but it's spread outwards from there. Japan, where Fujimaru's from, also celebrates it, as an example. We were making plans for a small celebration, for morale's sake, even if only a small number of our people are from the areas that observe it. The kitchen staff's been making moon cakes - it's a kind of sweet traditional to the holiday - in preparation. Last night, they were all stolen."

The El-Melloi leaned forward. "So, I'm to take it this isn't a staff member who couldn't wait for the holiday?" He gestured towards the ceiling. "There's cameras everywhere, both hidden and visible. If this was a normal threat, you'd have the person responsible by now."

Da Vinci nodded. "Right in one." She pressed a couple of buttons on her device, and directed their attention to one of the large screens. "Watch this."

The screen flickered, and then displayed an image of the cafeteria. The lights were dim - late at night, no one was on duty, as only a skeleton crew was active during the Chaldean nights. For a minute, nothing happened, then the door hissed open.

No one entered. Then, the image went white.

"The hell?' muttered Avenger.

"A few minutes later, the cameras in the cafeteria came back online, but the room was empty. And we managed to track a similar moving blackout as it moved through the halls." Da Vinci was scowling. "From everything I've been able to piece together, it was just a burst of very bright UV - Ultraviolet, Kratos, I'll explain that later - light that overwhelmed the cameras." Her scowl grew more pronounced. "And very powerful at that. The camera lenses should have been able to handle anything up to concert strobe lights without an issue - but whatever was projecting that light blinded the cameras long enough for them to slip by."

One of her eyes twitched. "An oversight on my part, assuming that the cameras couldn't be blinded like that, which is why no alarm was tripped. That WILL be taken care of, I can promise you."

"Now, here's the really interesting thing," said Romani, taking over from an agitated Da Vinci. "We said we were able to track whoever, or whatever stole the cakes as they moved through the facility. They kept using the same trick with the light to hide their movements……right up until they didn't."

The screen shifted to show a sea of white. Then, suddenly, the light faded, the camera coming back online, showing a nondescript hall, one of many in Chaldea. Deserted, as to be expected that late at night.

"Huh. Why'd they abandon their light trick?" Fujimaru asked the question that was on everybody's mind.

Romani grimaced. "Near as we can tell, they stashed the cakes in a nearby conference room while that was happening, and then retrieved them right after they went back to using light to knock the cameras out of action. As to why they suddenly switched tricks….this seems to be why."

Another view, of another hallway. A small map nearby showed it to be one nearby where the disturbance, by their estimations, was currently located.

And striding down the hallway, heading straight for it, was Kratos.

His head was bowed, and he barely seemed to be looking where he was going. As they watched, he turned down the hallway where the disturbance was. The main view then showed him passing through the hallway, quickly. For nearly two minutes after he was out of the picture, there was nothing. Then, once again, bright white light, and the camera was once again overwhelmed.

Every eye in the room turned to the Spartan. "Kratos," began Romani. "I'm assuming you saw nothing, otherwise you'd have said something about it already."

"I had trouble finding sleep," muttered Kratos. "I rose to move, to see if that would settle my mind. While I was not as alert as I could have been…" His brow furrowed, as he thought back. "I do not recall seeing anything unusual."

Romani nodded. "That's about what we figured. Our intruder must have noticed you coming, and realized that their light trick would have drawn your attention, so they shut it off." He grimaced. "They must have had some other way of hiding themselves, which leads me to believe we're dealing with a Servant here…..somehow."

"They certainly paused their operation for longer than I expected after he passed. Curious," commented Chiron. "Their operation so far had gone flawlessly, before Kratos stumbled upon them. If it really was a Servant that breached Chaldea's security, that means they had the means to identify exactly what he is. That could rattle even the most competent of burglars."

"True," said Ryouma. "Even knowing about him, seeing an actual god is something of a blow, and that's with Oryou and myself being warned about it by Master ahead of time. For someone completely unprepared…..well, I've seen supposedly hardened warriors get panicked by the oddest things."

"Possible," said Romani. "After that, they seem to have laid low until just right before shift change for the Command Room. Then, as the night shift was signing off and the day shift was filtering in, they dropped a massive burst of light - essentially flashbanging the entire room, and somehow forced a Rayshift to the Singularity."

The El-Melloi's expression was incredulous. "From what you have told me over the past two days, the amount of power that would be necessary to brute force your systems like that would be considerable. Far more than an average Servant possesses."

Da Vinci's expression was a mirror to that of the Clock Tower Lord's. "You're right on all accounts, there. A rogue Servant being able to hijack the Rayshift system was something we THOUGHT we had accounted for. Certainly, and I mean no offense, but none of the Servants standing in this room should have the necessary power to do so, at least, not in this fashion, where they just simply overpowered the security with pure mana."

"And we're not a bunch of lightweights, either," said Cu. "Well, except for our modern Clock Tower Lord here, maybe."

The El-Melloi shrugged. "I'm well aware as far as raw power, I don't hold a candle to the rest of you. This gives us at least some insight as to who……but why?" He withdrew a cigar from his suit, but made no move to light it. "It's often more important, in crimes that involve Mages to know the whydunnit, rather than the whodunnit. But I cannot wrap my head around why something with the amount of power to overwhelm the impressive security here would do all this, simply to steal some sweets."

He peered longingly at the cigar, but slid it back into its box. "Were they an assassin or saboteur, they could have done any number of things that could have harmed Chaldea, particularly with their ability to move invisibly as they've so demonstrated. Romani, or Fujimaru could have been killed in their sleep. Possibly some of the Servants could have been assassinated, as well, depending on precisely what our intruder was, though that risks turning into a very loud fight if they do not succeed in their first strike. Or they could have tried to gain entry to the generator room, and destroyed it. Just as a few examples."

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "But, instead, they simply steal a few bags of moon cakes. That is almost insultingly mundane given the trouble they had to go through to gain entry, avoid detection, and then forcibly activate a Rayshift to make their escape."

Avenger was cracking her knuckles. "We ain't about to let this stand, are we? We know where they ran to, after all. So that means we can track them down and kick the shit out of them."

"Yes, and no," said Da Vinci. "Yes, in that we do have the coordinates they used to Rayshift, so we can absolutely follow them."

"No, in that Kratos can't go."

That caused a commotion in the room. Da Vinci had to bang her gauntlet-clad hand on the table to restore order. When quiet had finally been restored, she looked to Kratos, who had a simple question. "Why?"

She glanced to Romani, who looked to Ryouma, who shrugged. "Oryou, if you could, please?"

The woman gave a put-upon sigh, but still floated over to Kratos, and reached out her hand, extending it as if she intended to tap him on the shoulder.

From out of nowhere, a muscular arm appeared, and smacked her hand away from Kratos, then vanished.

Fujimaru had sat bolt upright in her chair. "That's one of his ghosts from the end of the Singularity!" Her lips pursed. "They're still there, then? I wonder…"

"No, my student. Any attempts by you to examine this with your Ghostsight will be done within the confines of a VERY good Bounded Field." Chiron's tone was firm. "As you told me on the first day we met, you don't know exactly what the Shroud looks like right now given the state of Humanity. And ghosts talk to each other. No unnecessary risks will be taken, given those facts."

"Right, sorry," Fujimaru frowned sheepishly. "Got a bit ahead of myself there."

Kratos was still staring where the arm had appeared. "What does this mean, then?"

Romani took a deep breath. "We noticed it at the tail end of the Roman Singularity, or we WOULD have if your vital signs hadn't been going haywire then, so we only discovered it when we were going over the data afterwards. But from the moment you managed to do…whatever it is that summoned all those ghosts to your side, something about you has changed."

"If you were a Servant, we'd say your Spirit Origin had mutated, or evolved, or whatever word you want to use. But as you aren't, it's more like your…..spiritual signature, or something has shifted a bit." He sat back in his chair, and blew out a long breath. "What it means is that, until it settles down more - since I don't think you directed that ghost to do that - and we get a few more detailed scans of you, we can't be certain of our ability to verify your existence when you Rayshift."

"We don't think it'll take long," said Da Vinci. "Maybe only a day or two, or a week at most. We really didn't expect another operation to be starting this soon, and we were intending to talk to you about it today. But as it stands…."

"I cannot assist in this campaign," muttered Kratos.

"Honestly, even if this hadn't been an issue, I might have suggested you sit this one out," Romani held up a hand, forestalling the protest he knew was coming from the Spartan. "You're still without your armor, and while I know you say you feel recovered enough, another day or two to heal wouldn't hurt. We've already had to reprimand one of our Masters for pushing themselves to come back from an injury too fast. And while you might be a good deal more durable, and able to bounce back much faster than she is, the point still stands."

"Either way, it's moot. If we aren't 100% certain we can verify your existence, you're not setting so much as a toe into a coffin." Da Vinci's eyes were hard as sapphires, but her voice was soft. "You're too important to us, Kratos, to risk us losing you, and I mean that as a person that we happen to care about, and not as a god to just throw at our problems. A lot of us still haven't gotten over the scare you gave us a few days ago."

Kratos growled, deep in this throat. He did not like this. Idleness was not in his nature. Idleness when there was an active campaign sat even more poorly with him. But both of their words held truth - if they truly could not send him into the past safely….

He was used to danger. But this was not one he could fight. "Very well," he grumbled.

Fujimaru raised her hand. "So then…..I'm flying solo on this one?"

"As solo as any Master is," replied Da Vinci, to Fujimaru's nod - and her immediate draping her arm over Mash's shoulders, and pulling the girl into a loose embrace.

"So, how many can I bring with me?" asked Fujimaru, her adorable Kohai's proximity stilling some of the snakes that were starting to knot in her stomach.

"Mash, as ever, is mandatory," stated Romani. "Perhaps sometime in the future we'll be able to establish leyline connections without her shield, but as it stands, Rayshifting is still uncharted territory enough for us that we're not taking chances. It works reliably, and allows for on-site summons as well, so we'll not be deviating from a proven method." He glanced to his screen. "Normally, with the amount of grails we've collected, we'd be able to send more, but something about this Singularity's nature as the leftover shards of one is somehow limiting what we can send."

He held up a single finger. "You'll be limited to a single Servant, in addition to Mash."

"There's some odd compatibility issues, as well," continued Da Vinci, taking over from where Romani had left off. "We've not seen this before. In the previous Singularities, there were no limitations on who we could send - at best, a Servant might get a power boost from being on familiar ground. But this is something else."

"In order, from most compatible to least, your Servants go as follows. Sakamoto, Chiron, and Lord El-Melloi, who's almost completely incompatible with the Singularity." Da Vinci shrugged. "Possibly because he's British, possibly because he's modern, or maybe even because he's a Pseudo-Servant. We don't really know for sure."

Ryouma shrugged. "From the map you have on the computer there, it looks like at least a good portion of the remaining Singularity is by the shore. Oryou and I do have something of an affinity for that. It may explain why we're the most compatible."

"There is one that's even more compatible than the two of you," said Romani. "I think we can probably guess who."

All eyes turned to Avenger, who bristled. "Oh, of fucking course. Cause I'm a copy of the oh-so-perfect Nerd of Orleans, huh?" She groaned. "I'm never getting away from her shadow, am I?"

"Without a Master there, we can't send you, obviously. Kratos might have mana for days, but even he'd strain to power you across the gap of centuries," said Da Vinci. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to swap Masters, even just as a temporary thing?"

"Nope," said Avenger, crossing her arms over her chest. "I said it before, I'll say it again. I chose my fuckin' horse, I'm going to ride it till the end of wherever this shit's taking me."

"And Red's got this," Fujimaru perked up, the flickers of a hurt expression vanishing into her more usual one, as Avenger turned to her. "You said it yourself, this is just the bits of France that haven't figured out they need to go back to what proper history was. There shouldn't be any nonsense like what we ran into in Rome there, or even the shit that I turned loose on France."

She leaned over and nudged Fujimaru with her shoulder, none too gently - the girl didn't mind, as that caused her to stumble, and necessitated having to lean on Mash a bit more heavily. "Red did alright in Rome. She should fucking crush this shit."

There was a pause, then Avenger continued, her voice quieter. "But….if she gets into the shit, I suppose I can move over to save her bacon. If you can do the whole swapping crap from range."

Da Vinci was grinning. "We can. Thank you, Avenger. It's good to know you're not completely heartless."

"Oh, shut your stupid face up before I roast you."

"It shouldn't come to that, in any event. Hopefully," The newest Servant, Ryouma, was watching the proceedings with a quiet little smile on his face. "I assume we'll be going along for this mission? Since we have the highest compatibility, and I've some small skill in investigation, we seem like the natural choice."

Fujimaru nodded. "It's what I was thinking. Let me really see what you can do, since the Simulator's too small to really let Oryou cut loose."

"And there might be frogs," stated Oryou, as she drifted across the room.

"And there might be frogs," said Fujimaru, her expression entirely deadpan. "What are we looking for here, Romani? I don't think we're really going to all this trouble just over a couple of bags of treats, are we?"

"No," Romani shook his head. "The theft, in the grand scheme of things, is largely inconsequential. Your objectives for this Rayshift are to track down just exactly who managed to infiltrate Chaldea, and find out how - and more importantly, WHY they did it. Our Clock Tower Lord's 'whydunnit', in essence."

"And then what?" she asked. "Am I supposed to arrest them, or is this search and destroy?"

The two directors exchanged a look. "I'll leave that up to your discretion," said Romani. "Logic would suggest that someone breaking into the last bastion of Humanity would be inherently hostile, but as has already been noted, their actions just don't match with that. We're in uncharted waters here."

"I'm just going to throw this one out there, too," said Cu. "What if this is someone else from Kratos' neck of the woods?" He rolled his eyes at the looks he was getting. "There isn't any Humanity outside of these walls to sneak in here, which means we have to consider the possibility. We don't want another Baldur bushwhacking us."

"If that's the case, then you get as far away from them as possible," said Da Vinci, with a glance over to Kratos, who nodded. "We'll either trigger an emergency Rayshift to get you back to Chaldea, or we'll have you hide out until we can send Kratos to join you - depending on what things look like on that front. Under no circumstances should you confront anything from Kratos' universe on your own, unless you have no other choice."

"Got it," said Fujimaru, with a shudder. "Avenger's told me enough horror stories about Baldur that you don't have to tell me twice."

"Mind you, from everything he's told us, it doesn't seem like his universe is all that more dangerous than ours. I mean, it is, just by the nature of the timeline, as it's still in its Age of Gods, with all the nastiness that comes from that. But mainly, it's just that we don't really understand it as well as we do ours," said Da Vinci. "So it would be honestly stupid to send you up against it without our resident expert by your side."

Romani glanced around the room. "Any further questions?" When none were forthcoming, he drew himself up in his seat. "Alright, then. You have your orders - head to the minute Singularity of France, and determine who it was that snuck into Chaldea. From there, it will be up to you how you handle things. If they're overtly hostile, or in league with our enemies, then they're to be taken out. If, somehow, they're neither," He shrugged. "Managing a dialogue with them would be the best case scenario, I suppose. But we badly need to know how they managed to get past our security, whatever you choose."

A few minutes later, a pep talk from her two teachers, an aggressive noogie from Avenger, and a grunt from a grouchy Kratos, and Ritsuka Fujimaru was lying in her coffin, alternately listening to the countdown, and the noises from the coffin to her left, where Oryou was complaining about the tight fit, having had to cram in there with Ryouma.

(Though, for all her complaints, the woman didn't really seem to have minded at all. She'd nestled right into the man without a moment's hesitation.)

And then she felt the same sensation as last time, as if a massive hand had scooped her up, and there was the endless tunnel of blue.

---

 

THE REMAINS OF THE FRENCH SINGULARITY​

The smell of the sea was the first thing that hit her when she was able to completely gather herself in the jumble that immediately followed a Rayshift. Probably one of her first memories in life, too - consequence of having a father in active naval service, she'd spent most of her life close to the sea.

The second thing that hit her was the face hovering just in front of hers, when her eyes decided to start working again.

"Pooo," huffed Oryou, floating away from her. "Oryou-san was looking forward to eating you if you didn't wake up."

"Sorry to disappoint," she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. As far as Rayshifts go, this one was head and shoulders over the last two - she hadn't been dropped into an active battle, or a burning city, so it was already ahead by a wide margin.

They were in a forest - the outskirts of one, but there were enough trees overhead as to still block out the sky. She also couldn't see the ocean from where they'd been dropped, despite the faint whiff of salt on the air, so they were at least close.

Well, first things first. She tapped her communicator.

Which showed only static.

"Did you get banged up when I landed?" Fujimaru turned to her armored Kohai. "Mash, my communicator's not working. Can you get the Doc on the line?"

Mash's brow was furrowed. "No. I'm not able to raise Chaldea either." She hit a couple buttons, and an alert popped up on Fujimaru's communicator. "It seems we can still contact each other, but not Chaldea."

"I take it this hasn't happened before?" asked Ryouma.

"Not in any of the past Singularities, no," said Mash. "We've always been able to establish contact immediately. It's sometimes been spotty before we manage to find a leyline to stabilize the connection - Fuyuki was like that. But even then, we were able to make one."

"So, is it some peculiarity about this Singularity that's preventing a connection, or is something blocking us?" Ryouma shrugged. "Not much to be done about it, either way. If we're being blocked by the Singularity itself, that's pretty well out of our ability to affect. And we'd need to find who was blocking us, if it's someone doing it more directly."

"So, the usual then, Ryouma?" asked Oryou, floating high overhead, inspecting the branches of the nearby trees.

"Maybe a bit more noisy than we usually are. Not as much point being quiet out in the wilds, as opposed to our usual sort or urban jobs." He grinned. "If someone really is trying to keep us from contacting Chaldea, then we'll stumble across them eventually as part of our investigation. So, which way do you want to head, Master?"

---

She'd picked a direction more or less at random - without their connection to Chaldea, they had no real idea which way might lead to a leyline, so any direction was as good as another - at least to her way of thinking. Her pair (or trio, she guessed - she was still trying to figure out just how to classify her newest Servant, which had come as a pair. If Sakamoto died, did Oryou follow, and vice versa, or was one more 'core', if you will, to their existence than the other? After how badly they'd both taken the mention of his death in life, she was a little hesitant to broach the subject.) of Servants hadn't had anything to add beyond hunches.

So, they were heading deeper into the forest, simply because they didn't want to have to deal with linking up with a leyline if it ended up being underwater.

"I mean, Oryou could probably fly you out there, but we're not really like other Riders, where they can summon their mounts, even if they're their Noble Phantasms, in a weaker form. To use that much power just to link up with a leyline is….." He shrugged. "Honestly wasteful. And Oryou can't stay transformed for too long - not without taking the chance that the World could catch wind of her being out and about and disagreeing."

"Oryou-san could fly you out there as she is, but it wouldn't be as quick." The woman floated over to Mash and peered down at her, making the girl squirm a bit. "And you look heavy. You might have to swim back. Especially if Oryou-san catches some frogs while you're busy." She frowned. "No frogs out in the deep waters though. Fish would be nice, though. Oryou-san also likes fish."

"Let's hope we find a leyline further inland then, and spare everyone the trouble," muttered Fujimaru, mildly vexed at the implication - even if it wasn't the woman's intent - that her Kohai was fat. Really, she wished SHE could pack away the food like Mashie could, and retain her figure. Stupid Servant cheats.

Speaking of which…..

"You were looking forward to the Mooncake Festival, weren't you, Mashie?" A sly grin spread itself over Fujimaru's face. "Possibly for said mooncakes, am I right?"

Mash turned an interesting shade of red, and ducked her face behind the white fluff of Fou, who was nestled in her arms. "It wasn't JUST for the mooncakes, Senpai!" Fou looked up at her with an expression that screamed 'dubious'. "Chaldea never bothered much with holidays and things while I was growing up…..and I couldn't really leave my room much then either, because of how weak I was. This…..would have been my first real holiday of any sort, at least with a group of people." Doctor Roman had celebrated Christmases and birthdays with her, but it had been only the two of them. She wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the world, mind you. But there was still a nagging sense of….incompleteness.

Humans did things like have holiday parties with their friends, and she had friends now. She wanted to experience this.

Fou wiggled in her arms. "Fou. Fou Fou FOU. Foumplings." (And you want to get your hands on those mooncakes. I know - I've seen how you can't pass up the dumplings on nights when the chefs make them. It's doing wonderful things for your figure.)

Fujimaru made a fist in the air. "Then that just gives me more motivation. We'll find whoever made off with the moon cakes, and then…."

She trailed off, as they entered a large glade, and was overcome with a sudden case of the willies that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Mash was blinking her eyes as well, as if trying to get them to focus. "Why….why is it so dark? Shouldn't it be brighter without the trees overhead?"

Ryouma was looking up at the sky with a worried look. "That would be because it looks like the moon is gone."

It took her a moment for her brain to catch up and completely process that, but when it did… "Wait, what?" Ok, so maybe her mouth jumped the gun before her brain was ready. That was a pretty big declaration he just made!

"Yeah, just look," he pointed up at the sky. "Did your father teach you to read the stars?" At her nod, he indicated a patch of black in the sky. "That's about where the moon should be….but it isn't. Or, if it is there, it's been dimmed so much that I can't pick it out."

It was quiet for a long moment as the two girls peered up at the heavens, following the man's pointing finger. "Ok, that's not good." Fujimaru could just see it, a space of nothing where, by her estimation, the moon should be.

"Ryouma," muttered Oryou, nudging against his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, turning to the two girls. "Are you two thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so, Sakamoto, but that'll just kill the green cheese market," A trio of blinking faces was her response. "Sorry, bad joke, didn't consider my audience." Cultureless philistines, the lot of them. "But I think I can see where you're heading with this. Security cameras in Chaldea get taken out by really bright ultraviolet light, and then we get here, and find the moon, or its light, has been stolen." She licked her lips. "Doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together."

"So, if we find who did this, we probably find our thief," said Mash, her eyes blazing. "And we get our moon cakes back!"

"That's about the sum of it, I'd say," Ryouma scratched the tip of his nose, then paused mid-movement. "Oryou, what is it?"

The woman had floated up above their heads, and was sniffing the air. "Oryou-san smells something. Wet dog…..and something sweet." She pointed, her usually impassive face twisted in a frown. "And something else, that Oryou-san doesn't recognize. That way."

Ryouma put a hand on the hilt of his katana, and nodded. "Then, Master, should we head in that direction?"

She nodded. "It's more of a lead than we've had yet. Let's go!"

They plunged back into the forest, following Oryou's nose at a quick, but reasonable pace. No less than her Sensei, Cu, Kratos, and even the Clock Tower Lord had warned her that running the forest at night was just begging for a broken ankle (though that last one had lamented that a good number of his most troublesome students had ways around that, and knowing his luck, she'd take after them rather than Caules - whoever that was). And they didn't know what they were moving towards, anyways. Better to not blunder right into the middle of something they couldn't handle.

"Sounds like…..wild animals," muttered Mash. "Better get into my shield, Fou, at least until it's safe."

"Possible they smelled whatever Oryou is smelling," offered Ryouma, his katana loose in its sheath. "We'll go in first, Master, you stay back, just in case."

"Got it," she said, as they drew up to a small clearing, then entered it.

Well. She hadn't had werewolves on her bingo card for today.

Because what they had taken for the sounds of wild animals were in fact werewolves - Magical Beasts, so still beasts if you were being technical about it. But quite a bit more dangerous than some hungry wolves.

"Hmmm," Ryoma's eyes narrowed. "They've got someone surrounded. Guess they were fighting over who got to take the first bite." His sword made that awesome noise as it slid out of its sheath. "Master, your orders?"

The person the werewolves were encircling was down, and not moving, though she didn't see any blood. Or any signs of a fight, really. "We're not about to let someone get eaten. They're the first actual person we've seen - maybe they can tell us what's going on here."

"Understood," Oryou floated down to hover just over Ryouma's shoulder, as he turned to glance at Mash. "Will you be hanging back to protect Master?"

Fujimaru made a shooing motion. "There's not that many of them, and we'd better take them out before they can hurt that person. Go on, Mashie, I'll be fine." She made the fingerguns. "I've got my Gandr in case one gets too close. You go keep whoever that is from becoming dog chow."

"Be careful, Senpai," chided Mash, raising her shield. "Mash Kyrielight, entering combat!"

Shield churning up the ground, she hit them like a bowling ball, and the wolves were the pins. Some of them, at least, were smart enough to get out of the way. But the ones closest were blasted aside, yelping in pain.

Ryouma let out a low whistle. "So that's a Shielder? More offensively minded than I expected her to be." Mash had already broken through the ring of wolf-men and was fending off attacks from the circling lycanthropes. "Let's go back her up, Oryou."

Oryou gave a huff, and cracked her knuckles. "Does the human want to see offense? This is offense." Oryou rotated her shoulder, and then, as she floated into the air, began, of all things, spinning her arm in a circle. It was so comical, so cartoonish, Fujimaru would have laughed - if not for the fact that it sounded like videos she'd seen of tornadoes.

"DORYAAAAA!" With a shout, Oryou plummeted from the sky at a knot of werewolves, fist leading. If 'blasted aside' was the term to be used for the wolves knocked aside by her armored Kohai, then 'obliterated' was the term here. The one at the point of impact was turned into mush. Fujimaru was certain she saw it bend in ways living things were not supposed to bend. The nearest couple didn't fare much better - the force of the impact sent them spiraling through the air, with more than a few limbs that didn't look like they would be working properly anytime soon.

The remaining werewolves snapped and snarled, reeling from being hit by two hammer blows in quick succession. Their backs arched, but before they could gather themselves, the scalpel appeared in their midst.

He was efficient, she had to give him that. He cut down one of them before it had even realized he was there, before quickly stepping in and taking the head off of a second werewolf while it was still turning to face this new threat. Given the Servants she interacted with on a somewhat regular basis, she'd been expecting a showy style (yes, Avenger couldn't be the standard, but Cu was a born showboat, what with all the spear-twirling he did. Even Kratos, as ruthlessly practical as he was, had some level of spectacle to his attacks - chain-blades weren't exactly the most practical of weapons, after all) from her new Servant. But Ryouma's attacks were simple, focused, and almost utterly lacking in flash. He ruthlessly attacked any openings, seeking to down his opponent as quickly as possible.

Openings that were, frankly, abundant, given who his partner was. Oryou was fast, and powerful enough to make a mockery of their attempts to dodge or block. And those she hit, even with glancing blows, did not get up again. As Fujimaru watched, she had seized one of the crippled beasts and was bludgeoning another with its limp form, while her hair snaked across the battlefield to entangle one that had been creeping up on Ryouma. Before the thing could howl in displeasure, Ryouma had planted his foot and spun around, neatly cleaving the monster in two.

Yeah, wow. Looks like the Throne had delivered on that badass she'd asked for. They were going through the werewolves like a hot knife. And that wasn't even taking into account the damage Mashie was doing to them.

Her Shielder swung her shield in a wide arc, sending the monsters scampering back. She then planted her foot, and used the momentum of the giant slab of metal to throw herself forward, shoulder-checking the closest lycanthrope off its feet. Still riding the momentum, she brought her shield down, ending the creature's threat. Then, the shield still planted in the ground, she used it as a fulcrum to push herself back in a leap, returning her to where the unknown person lay. She squared her shoulders, firmly between the vulnerable party and the slavering creatures.

The werewolves growled, circling Mash, but cautious, now, of the power and speed she'd demonstrated.

A raven head of hair suddenly interposed itself, upside-down, floating right in front of one of the larger werewolves. "Boo." Oryou followed that inflectionless statement with a quick inhalation of air, then an exhalation of caustic breath. The monster howled, its fur burning, its flesh corroding at the very touch of the miasma. It turned to run, and made it maybe three steps before it collapsed, the body still twitching.

Oryou floated down to hover by Mash, her expression, as ever, somewhere in the neighborhood of complete boredom. "Come on then. Oryou-san's stomach has room for all of you." Her hair flared up, and she bared a set of teeth that could have found a home in just about any decent horror flick.

That was it for the werewolves. In no time at all, they'd broken and run, tails quite literally between their legs.

Ryouma, his white suit now somewhat less pristine than it had been, strode up to join them. "Should we pursue, Master?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "Nah. We've got more important things to worry about here. Let them go. No point in picking more fights than we need to." Particularly as she was very alone out here - no communications with Chaldea, and no Kratos to back her up. At least she was in good hands with her Kohai and the Married Couple of Doom here.

Oryou had a smug look on her face. "Weak little puppies were no match for Oryou-san. Can Oryou-san have one as a post-battle snack?"

"You probably shouldn't," said Ryouma. "Who knows where those things have been, after all. And they might have rabies."

"Mmmm. They do look like they'd be stringy," said a pouting Oryou, floating over to where Mash was crouching.

"How's our mystery person, Mashie?" asked Fujimaru, as she weaved through the craters and bodies of the battlefield, making her way over to the rest of them.

"I don't see any injuries on them, Senpai," she said, quickly checking over the downed figure. "If I had to guess, they look like they just passed out."

"Or were knocked out," said Ryouma, kneeling down as well to probe the back of the person's head. "But I don't feel a knot or anything like that."

Fujimaru frowned. "I don't suppose the medical kits in your shield have smelling salts, do they, Mashie?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary….she seems to be coming around." Mash made shooing motions with her hands. "Back up, all of you, give her some space."

Grinning at her suddenly fierce Kohai, Fujimaru stepped back as the woman woozily opened her eyes, and Mash helped her sit up, and they all got their first good look at her.

White was Fujimaru's first impression. Pure white hair, and a dress that matched (and how the HELL did that thing stay up, especially considering what it was barely concealing? Those things were HUGE!), both trimmed in red. Eyes of blue-silver stared foggily at them, blinking in confusion. "Oh, hello." She glanced around the clearing, taking in the dead werewolves and torn up ground with a lot more calm than Fujimaru would have managed if she'd have been in the woman's place. "And who might you all be?"

"Ritsuka Fujimaru, we're from Chaldea." She pointed. "The girl helping you sit up is my wonderful Kohai, Mash. And that's Rider and….." She blinked. Normally you just call a Servant by their Class, but there's two of them. "Rider's wife, I guess, is the floating woman."

"Ah, it's nice to meet you," she favored them with a bright smile. "This might be a strange question, but would you happen to know who I am?"

Fujimaru blinked. "You….don't know who you are?"

"Not a thing!"

---

Short chapter, but only a week turnaround time. Next one, that probably deals with most of the rest of the event, will likely be longer.

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, I know I originally said I probably wasn't going to do events, but someone mentioned using this time to give Fujimaru some time to do a Singularity on her own - problem with that is there's no way Kratos is missing the Greek bonanza that's in Okeanos, and all the others after that are far too important to have him miss for a variety of reasons. So someone else mentioned that the Moon Goddess event is before Okeanos, and thus, this idea was born.

Don't think this will be too long. Modern FGO events are largely 'introduce the new gatcha and welfare Servants (if there's a welfare Servant), and spend some time with other relevant Servants. For GUDAGUDA that's usually Nobbu and the Shinsengumi and the other assorted hangers-on. For Summer, that's usually the new swimsuit Servants, whatever boys got Spiritron Dresses that year, and then a rotating cast of bikini-clad hotties and pretty boys who put in cameos. Something like, say, the Sea Monster Crisis from earlier in this year had a handful of core Servants and appearances from others in the various chapters - Wu and Melt and Best Girl Eresh being at least fairly relevant in each chapter.

Moon Goddess, as I've watched the event on youtube, it having been before my time, seems like it was even more cameo and gag-heavy than usual - probably a consequence of the dread Early FGO Writing (™). And I don't want to do that. So I'm going to try something a little different with it.

Doesn't hurt that a good handful of the Servants in it were never properly introduced in this story - Marie and Mozart got eaten by vampires before our cast got to meet them, Martha was used to summon Baldur, and Georgios only showed up to help Siegfried after Fafnir carried him away from the group. So that's at least a bit of a salvage of it, to keep it just being 'oh, hey, here's these characters doing a bit!'.

Chapter 37: Does the Moon Goddress Dream of Dumplings? 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 37​

If the woman felt at all bothered by the declaration that she had lost her memory, she wasn't showing it. Her disposition was positively sunny.

"So, have you forgotten everything, or just…." began Fujimaru.

"Oh no, I'm not a complete blank," said the woman. "I know I'm a Servant - Archer Class. And I can tell three of you are Servants, too." She frowned, and stared hard at Mash. "Though something feels different about you, dearie. You kind of feel more real than a Servant should."

"I'm a Demi-Servant, Miss….." Mash trailed off.

"Oh, a name. No, that's something I don't remember.," The woman nibbled on her lower lip for a second or two. "Other than a letter that feels….kind of important to me. My heart gets all heavy and gooey when I think of it. O."

"So….Miss O, then?" asked Fujimaru.

The woman considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Miss O. I like it!" Her sunny smile grew wider. "It makes my heart even more gooey. Yes, I think that can do until I remember more about myself." She began humming to herself, rocking to the beat of the song.

The four of them exchanged a worried look - or at least three of them did. Oryou had floated up into the branches of the trees and was shaking them, looking for something. Squirrels perhaps. It was Ryouma that was the first to speak, the tone of his voice very calm and placating. "Miss O, do you happen to remember anything else? Like how you got here, perhaps?"

Miss O shook her head. "Not anything much. Just a few odds and ends. There's this sensation of familiarity, overlaid with some sort of….wrongness. Like when you see something that you should recognize but it's all incorrect somehow. I seem to recall someone I know describing it as the 'uncanny valley' or something. Then….here?" She waved her arm in the air. "I think I was here, for some reason, and there was someone else here with me."

She pursed her lips. "Nothing else is really clear. There was some….yelling, I think. A name, maybe, starting with a D. Then, nothing else until you woke me up." She shrugged, a happy smile on her face. "Sorry I don't remember more."

Mash patted her on the shoulder. "No, that's fine Miss O. It's not your fault you can't remember more. Whatever happened to you probably has something to do with your amnesia."

"Do you think?" she asked.

Fujimaru looked to her new Rider, who gave her a nod. "Possibly. We're actually here because someone stole something from us - just some food, not anything as big as your entire memory. But the first thing we find when we get here is that the moon's either gone, or its light has been stolen. Then we find you, who's lost your memory." She shrugged. "Kind of hard to miss a pattern that obvious."

Miss O's eyes went wide. "OH!" She stuck a hand down the front of her dress and began rummaging around. Fujimaru's eyes widened, and Mash blushed, but everyone's jaws dropped a bit when she pulled out a messenger bag from inside there (HOW DID IT FIT?), one that was branded with the Chaldea logo and everything.

Miss O smiled brightly. "I do have this, for some reason. I think I might have picked it up or something?" She held it out to them. "It has the same funny little picture that's on your outfit, dear, so does it belong to you?"

Fujimaru carefully peered inside the bag.

Moon Cakes. Still neatly wrapped and mostly intact - one or two looked like they'd been a bit squashed, but they weren't completely ruined or anything.

Miss O had a hopeful look in her eyes. "Are these the things you're looking for?"

Fujimaru handed the bag over to Mash, who nodded. "Some of them. These were for a celebration, Miss O. We might not have as many staff as we once did," There was a flicker of something in her Kohai's eyes that Fujimaru didn't need to be an expert in reading people to decipher. "But it would take more than one bag to carry all the ones we'd made for the event. I don't suppose you remember where you found this?"

"No, sorry. I have some vague memories of picking this up….and maybe one or two more. But nothing really solid." Her lips turned up in a small pout. "I'm sorry I can't be more help, considering how much you've done for me so far."

"It's ok," said Fujimaru, as Mash stashed the bag into her shield - after letting Fou hop out. She hoped there were separate compartments for things in her Kohai's shield, or else they might return home with a bunch of empty bags and a ball of fluff with a belly comically distended from gorging himself on sweets. "It's a lead, which is more than we had before."

"And we might have something more," Ryoma was kneeling over by the edge of the clearing. "Ground's too much of a mess because of the fight, but there's some tracks farther away, over here. What looks like two people, heading towards the ocean, one wearing boots, the other sandals."

There was a fierce light in Mash's eyes. "So they might have made off with our moon cakes?"

"It's certainly on the table," said Ryouma, as he brushed the knees of his suit off. "Should be enough of a trail for us to follow. What do you think, Master?"

Fujimaru glanced back to Miss O, who was still sitting. "Are you feeling up to coming with us, Miss O? I wouldn't feel great about leaving you behind with those werewolves still wandering around."

"I think I can manage to tag along," she said, and then floated up. "See!"

Huh. Another floating woman in as many days. That's a heck of a coincidence.

Now that she was upright, Fujimaru could make out a few new details on the mystery lady. There was what looked like a hose dangling off the hip of her dress - which was a weird accessory, but hardly the strangest thing she'd seen a Servant wearing - Nero alone, bless that woman's heart, could fill a volume on her own. Not that she was a Servant when she met her, but considering her family had made it to the Throne, she wouldn't be shocked if the Emperor of Roses had also ascended those stairs in some outlandish outfit.

No, she was more impressed - or taken aback - by the pair of metal….wings? Something, that unfolded from just behind her hips. Miss O swayed a little, then almost seemed to relax into them. "Ok, I think I'm ready to go! I'm a little wobbly, but that should pass."

Oryou was giving her an unimpressed stare, muttering something about copycats, but it was low enough that Fujimaru couldn't really make it out all that well. "Right, then, lead on Sakamoto. We'll follow."

They began to pick their way through the trees, Ryouma's eyes attached to the ground, Oryou just over his shoulder, sweeping her eyes through the underbrush, covering him. They moved with the ease of long practice - Fujimaru had already seen what an effective team they were, but this was just another reminder.

Really, she thanked her lucky stars they had been the ones to hear her voice from the Throne, and had chosen to answer her call. She didn't expect future Singularities to be as straightforward as the last one - from the reports she had read of the French one, it sounded like they could have used a good investigator there, at least in the early stages, before Avenger had shown up. (And she still needed to write her reports for the Roman Singularity. And now she'd have this on top of that. Whee.)

The part of her brain where Sakamoto and Oryou had made their homes grew warm. 'So, Master, what do you think?'

'About our mysterious Miss O?' Fujimaru considered for a second. 'I don't think she's lying about having lost her memory. Though I didn't think that was a thing that could happen to Servants.'

'Oh yes. It's not common or anything, but, for one, a bungled or otherwise poorly put together summoning ritual can scramble a Servant's brains. I've even heard of a Servant using that excuse to feign having lost their memories for one reason or another.' A small chuckle slid across their connection. 'But I agree, I don't think she's lying about that, in this case. I was more wondering what you thought about her in regards to our intruder.'

'Like, could she be it?' She got the mental equivalent of a nod. '....maybe? Kind of hard to get a read on her when she's like this, but she doesn't really seem all that malicious. Not that breaking into Chaldea and just stealing some snacks is all that malicious, but still….'

'She did have one of the bags. Not really damning evidence on its face, as she could have really just picked them up when the real culprit dropped them, but…..'

'I'll keep an eye on her. Just in case.' She felt a sense of approval from Ryouma, before he returned his attention to the tracks they were following.

Miss O, by this time, had floated up alongside Fujimaru. "So, I suppose it's rather obvious, but you're the Master here, then?"

"Yep, that's me," Fujimaru tapped her chest, right above the Chaldea logo. "Last Master of Humanity…well sort of." She shrugged to the question on Miss O's face. "We have one other Master, but he couldn't come along due to some complications. He's…honestly a lot more impressive than me."

She thought about it for a long moment, then decided to go for it. Maybe, if she was faking it, it'd get her to drop the act. "He's a god from another world."

Well, the shock on her face looked genuine enough, at least. "A god….and a foreign one at that?" Her lips pursed. "Something's telling me that's kind of a rare thing, isn't it?"

"Not really. From what he's told us, it was some really specific circumstances that ended up with him here. And not by choice, either." She shook her head. "He just really wants to get home, but he's helping us out in the meantime."

Miss O beamed. "That's nice of him. I don't think most gods would be so generous in his place."

"Yeah. He's intimidating as HELL, but he's a pretty decent guy." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "He saved my life, both during our first operation, and during our last big operation, at least a couple of times. And not just me, either. He got pretty beat up, too. Pretty much everyone panicked when he collapsed afterwards."

Miss O looked to be considering something. "If it's not too much trouble, could I ask his name?" She flushed, and began waving her hands in the air. "Only if you want! I know that names, especially for gods can have a lot of power. So if he wouldn't want you to just hand it out like that…"

"Nah," Fujimaru shook her head. "Probably wouldn't mean anything to you, anyways, since, you know, god from another world, which seems to have a history REALLY different from ours, anyways. Even if some of the big names are the same over there." She shrugged. "Anyways, his name is Kratos."

Miss O floated to a stop. "Kratos….." One of her hands went up to rub at her temple. "No relation to the personification of strength from the Greek myths?"

(That's a pretty obscure guy to know. Everyone around the base knows it cause….well, duh. But she's oddly familiar with Greek mythology, though that could just be the download every Servant gets from the Throne.) "As far as we can tell, no. Though he's not really talkative about his past."

"Oh." Miss O looked like she was thinking. "I guess things would be different in his world, wouldn't they?"

Fujimaru nodded. "Yeah. He fought in the Ragnarök of his universe, for one, and it didn't go down at all like it did here."

Ryouma held up a hand, halting them, as they reached the edge of the woods. "Oryou hears voices, just up ahead."

"And Oryou-san smells more sweets," The woman sniffed the air. "And blood. Old blood."

"Not exactly the most promising combination," muttered Fujimaru. "Still, nothing for it. Let's go introduce ourselves."

With her Servants leading - specifically Mash and her shield directly in front of her, they strode out of the woods, following Oryou's nose.

It wasn't hard to find them - the night was darker than she'd ever seen. Tokyo was always lit up, and even the camping trips they'd taken in the wilds of Japan or around the Musik estate had had plenty of light, natural, technological, or magical around. So the fire they were huddled around was a giant beacon, and they were the moths, heading straight for it.

As they grew closer, they began to make out voices.

"I must say! These….moon cakes, you called them? They're quite delicious!" Whoever this was, they sounded overjoyed at their sudden bounty - a fact that Mash wasn't taking too well, if the sudden narrowing of her eyes was any indicator.

"Mmmm, they're a bit too sweet for my tastes." The second voice was calmer, almost mellow. "That is not to say I did not enjoy the one I had, but I feel too much indulgence would be unbecoming of me."

"Does that mean I can have your share?"

A pause. "If you wish." Though for all his claims of temperance, the second voice did sound a bit begrudging.

There was the sound of rapid footsteps next to her, and then her Kohai was rushing up to the fire. "Excuse me!" Mash was drawing herself up to her full height, which wasn't much, even with the heeled boots that came with her Servant outfit, but the big shield might have helped some. "Those are OUR moon cakes you're eating!"

The rest of them arrived a moment later, and got their first look at the two people around the fire.

It was a man and a woman, seated on opposite sides of the fire. A Chaldean bag was lying in between the two of them, the top open, with a few moon cakes having spilled out - the trail leading directly to the woman, who was in the process of biting into one herself.

The woman. Goodness. Fujimaru had been taken somewhat aback by the flimsy little dress Miss O was wearing, but the number this woman was wearing was something else, too. It wasn't QUITE like she'd walked into Strippers Discount Warehouse and said 'I've got a Halloween party in a week, and I was thinking of going as a nun. Do you have anything that would work?', but maaaaaaan.

The plunging neckline (she could see a belly button - and abs, too. DEFINED abs, too, not the proto-abs her Mashie was developing, but proper Kratos ones, and her arms weren't slender twigs, either, she idly noted), the thigh slits, the generous amount of cleavage, the thighhighs - it was like bad nun cosplay. The big (heavy-looking, possibly explaining those arms) staff topped with a cross was just the cherry on top of the whole package.

The other guy, at least, was more sensibly dressed - and he was wearing the garb of an honest to goodness Samurai (so that should tell you how Fujimaru felt about the other's one's outfit) - haori, hakama, robes, the whole nine yards, in simple whites and dark purples. He was also gorgeous - you could cut glass on that face, she swore. And if his face didn't do it, the massive, sheathed sword that was laying against his shoulder could probably do the job - it was nearly as long as he was tall - maybe taller.

He was also the first to react to their sudden appearance, mainly because the woman was still chewing on her (stolen) moon cake. "My. It would seem we have visitors. And they're here to reclaim their property, as well."

The woman hastily tried to swallow her mouthful of pastry, and broke out in a coughing fit as some of it went down the wrong pipe. "We didn't know they belonged to someone else!" she exclaimed, once her coughing had died down. "We just found these out in the woods! I….we thought they'd been abandoned or lost!"

"Ignorance of a crime doesn't excuse the commission of a crime!" barked Mash. "Not to mention you left Miss O just lying there! If it hadn't been for us, she'd have been eaten by werewolves!"

Miss O floated up behind Mash and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now, now, sweetie. It's possible they didn't see me. It is very dark out." She turned a brilliant smile on the two Servants. "I'm the Miss O they're talking about. We kind of followed you from where they found me. You don't happen to have my memories with you, do you?"

The only sound was the crashing of the waves. The two exchanged a glance, then the man started speaking. "No, I'm afraid we don't happen to have such. All we took from there was this bag that we stumbled across. Something as….unusual as a person's memories is far outside this one's skills to acquire."

"Though, if you're looking for wyvern parts, we have an abundance," said the woman, who reached over to her staff, and, taking it hand, caused it to flare with a brilliant light, fully illuminating the nearby area.

And causing Fujimaru's mouth to drop.

Behind the man was a literal pile - no, PILES - of dead wyverns. Stacked up high like that one beach in the manga she'd read a little of once upon a time, except wyverns instead of mountains of trash. Forget dozens, there might have been a hundred or more of the things, all neatly killed and left there to rot.

Ryouma let out a low whistle. "That's some impressive work. Did you kill all those yourself?"

The man nodded. "Yes. I was called to this Singularity back when it was still a proper one, summoned by the land itself. I found it to be infested with these pests, and set out to cull their numbers down to zero." He gave a small, self-satisfied smile. "A wyvern is little more than an overgrown swallow, after all."

'Human.' The Ryouma part of her brain shuddered to life, but the voice was Oryou's - the first time she'd ever bothered to directly contact her. 'There's something under the water. Something big. Not as big as Oryou-san's true form, but still big.' She heard the woman sniff the air. 'It doesn't seem to be doing anything but watching right now, but it's there.'

"Wait, you were in the French Singularity?" Mash frowned. "We must have missed you while we were there…….and you've been here all that time since?"

The man gave her a curious expression. "Has it been so long? It feels like only a few days have passed for me." He brought a finger up to his lips. "But what I find more interesting is your statement that you 'were' here. Do I have the honor of addressing those who resolved this Singularity?"

Fujimaru stepped up to stand beside her Kohai. "Yes and no. We're from the Chaldea Security Organization, and yes, we did resolve this Singularity, but Mashie here was the only one of us that was involved in that. The others of us are back at base. I'm Ritsuka Fujimaru….and those are STILL our moon cakes, by the way." This last was addressed at the woman, who had polished off her pastry and was subtly reaching for another.

The woman flushed, and withdrew her outstretched hand. "I'm sorry. Stealing is a sin, but they're just so good." Her face got even redder. "In the face of such temptation, I'm ashamed to find myself so weak. Please forgive me."

'Well, they don't seem hostile, and their only crime seems to be one of ignorance,' She could almost feel Ryouma stroking his chin thoughtfully through their mental link. 'Maybe we won't have to fight them after all, with some good diplomacy.'

More or less her thoughts exactly. And it seemed like the man was more or less of the same mind. "In the face of such valiant warriors, I can only offer my respect." He stood, and gave a formal bow. "This one happens to be called Sasaki Kojirou. Assassin Class."

Somehow, Mash beat her to it, but only just. "The legendary rival of Miyamoto Musashi?!?" Some part of her felt herself losing her Japanese street cred in that a girl who'd never left the confines of Chaldea out fanboyed her about one her home country's legends.

The man gave a bitter laugh at that. "If only. There is no evidence that a man named 'Sasaki Kojirou' ever existed. He was, at best, a mixture of the rivals Musashi had in his life, all conglomerated into one person by the passage of time and the myth and legend surrounding Musashi. I am merely the best approximation the Throne could find for such a phantom." He stared down at one of his hands. "Or, perhaps I am merely a phantom myself. A legend the Throne has seen fit to breathe life into. It is like the great riddle - Am I a man who was dreaming of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming of being a man. I know not."

Fujimaru's mouth was moving before she realized it. "You know, I've got a friend - a Servant, back at Chaldea who I think you'd get along with. She's got a handful of identity issues as well." At Kojirou's raised eyebrow, she continued. "She's kind of a copy of Jeanne d'Arc. This Singularity was sort of her fault, up until it wasn't, and she ended up joining our team. She might have a little complex about that whole being a copy thing." She gave him a lopsided little grin. "You two might have a thing or two to talk about if you ever met."

Kojirou's other eyebrow had joined his first in being raised. "My. It seems I did miss something quite momentous by not meeting up with your….Chaldea, was it, while you were in this Singularity."

"I'm Martha, JUST Martha. A Rider," said the woman, rising to her feet and offering her hand, in turn, to each of them. Though Fujimaru winced a little after she'd shaken the woman's hand. She had a HELL of a grip. "I haven't been here long, maybe half a day or so…..though I feel like this isn't the first time I've been in this Singularity."

She glanced over to Kojirou. "I met him a little after I'd been summoned here, and we've been sticking together ever since. He's tolerable enough company."

"So, possibly a stupid question, but do either of you know what's going on with that?" Fujimaru's finger, pointing up to where the moon would be aptly demonstrated what she meant by 'that'.

The two Servants shook their heads. "No. The moon has been shining down, as it always does, since I arrived in this Singularity. Even its dissolution and gradual return to Proper Human History changed nothing in that regard. It was only a short time ago that it suddenly vanished."

"We were walking near the forest, not going anywhere in particular. Kojirou says he hasn't seen a wyvern in days, but he's kept up his patrols just in case, so I was accompanying him for lack of anything better to do." She cracked her knuckles, almost unconsciously. "Such beasts must be seen off when they're found, after all. But instead, we heard some yelling from within the forest. But before we could investigate…" Her eyes flicked upwards. "The moon went dark."

"We still went into the forest," said Martha. "Someone might have needed help. But it was so dark, even with my staff's light. We stumbled about for a bit, but never found any sign of anyone." She turned to Miss O, her face apologetic. "I'm so terribly sorry we missed you."

Miss O waved her hand at Martha, a big smile on her face. "Oh no, I can't blame you for it. You are right, after all, it's terribly dark out, and I was all unconscious on the ground. I probably would have missed me too."

There was a look of relief on Martha's face. "Thank you for that. It was as we had turned around and were heading out of the forest that we discovered the bag of pastries. Since we couldn't find their owner, we thought we might as well eat them, before they went bad."

"Mind your words, lady. It was largely you who wanted to eat them," chided Kojirou, though there was no malice in his words.

"You had one too!" Martha's rejoinder was dulled by the fact that she was once again reaching for the pile of loose pastries.

Mash huffed out a breath, and crossed her arms over her chest. "In any event, we'll be taking back our property now. These were meant for a celebration, and every one that gets eaten here is one less for our people." She seemed to deflate a bit. "Everyone's been working so hard, and they deserve something nice - a break from everything for just a little."

She moved to push the spilled cakes back into the bag, when she found her path suddenly blocked by Kojirou's weapon.

The calm smile had not left his face. "I'm afraid that I can't let you do that….just yet."

Fujimaru immediately took a step back - out of the range of that stupidly large weapon. Ryouma also shifted, just enough so that he could intercept an incoming strike. Oryou, for her part, bristled. "Does the little samurai need to take a tour of Oryou-san's stomach?"

Kojirou held up a hand. "Hold. While fighting you would be a challenge, great and terrible lady, it is not what I seek." His eyes turned to Ryouma. "You move with training and purpose, and you wear a katana on your hip. Before surrendering these moon cakes back to you, I would request a duel. A friendly one - to first blood, not to the death. If that would not be too much of an imposition."

Ryouma gave a sigh, though he was more concerned with holding back an irate Oryou. "Are you that concerned with who's better? That was never really my style, not when I was alive, and it hasn't changed since becoming a Servant."

Kojirou shrugged. "What can I say? As a Phantom whose existence is merely to be the 'rival' to Miyamoto Musashi, such competition is ingrained into my very Spirit Core." His hand flickered, becoming indistinct. "And I am fading, as well. My job is long since done here, and it is a wonder I have held on this long. Before I go, I would have one memorable duel." He looked back to the pile of dead wyverns, and gave a dismissive sniff. "Slaying such beasts was far from fulfilling."

Ryouma shook his head. "You remind me a bit of a friend of mine, though you're less….well, bloodthirsty." He considered for a moment. "First blood only, and no Noble Phantasms, right?"

"I would also request you not use that pistol on your hip - and that it be truly one on one. For I feel your companion does not have the greatest of opinions of me at this moment." Oryou's cheeks were puffed up with outrage, so he wasn't far off the mark in that. "But your terms are otherwise acceptable. My Noble Phantasm is not the sort of thing for a friendly duel, as it is decidedly lethal. And I expect yours is of a similar nature."

"It's certainly something, that's for sure." Ryouma shrugged. "Fine. As one samurai to another, you can have your duel."

He still wasn't terribly emotive, but even so, Kojirou seemed pleased as punch. Oryou, on the other hand, was not. And Fujimaru wasn't exactly super thrilled either. "Sakamoto, are you sure about this? Not that I think it's a trap or anything, since these two seem like they're mostly on the level, but still, something could happen, and you don't really HAVE to do this." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm pretty sure he'd give us the cakes even if you refuse."

Ryouma chuckled. "No, it's fine. It's really no skin off my nose. And there shouldn't be any real danger. I may not look it, but I was a pretty good swordsman in my day. Not quite to the level of the best of the Shinsengumi, but I can still hold my own." He placed his hat atop her head. "Look after my hat for me. Not really something you wear to a duel, and I'd hate it if it got ruined."

Together, the two swordsmen strode off together down the beach, until they were a short distance away from the camp. Martha, her staff providing illumination, walked with them, the rest of Chaldea a short distance behind.

Ryouma drew his katana from its sheath. "Since you've already given your name, I suppose I should do the same. Sakamoto Ryouma, of the Hokushin Itto-ryu school." He bowed, deeply.

Kojirou returned his bow. "My name has already been given, and my style has none - or, if it did, I have long since forgotten it as part of the consequences of being a fake." He raised his massive blade. "Come."

Ryouma didn't need to be told twice, and sprang forward. Blade rang against blade, and the fight was on.

When she had first seen it, Fujimaru had had her doubts that a twig of a man could wield such a ridiculously long sword, but Kojirou quickly silenced all of them, in short order. Despite the fact that the thing was longer than Medusa (no shortie, that one) was tall, he was swinging it about effortlessly, responding to Ryouma's probing attacks with almost careless ease. Ryouma, for his part, was watching his opponent carefully, his movements, as before with the werewolves, economical and precise.

Still, he was having a hard time on the approach. Ryouma slid under Kojirou's blade, and made as if to make a lunging slash forward, but was forced to abort his attack and parry as the blade reversed itself in an almost impossible manner. Ryouma was pushed back even through his parry, the sheer force behind the strike forcing him away.

Ryouma slid to a stop, and raised his sword, though Kojirou made no attempt to follow up.

The hat sitting on Fujimaru's head was suddenly lifted away, and a chin replaced itself on her head. "Hey!"

"Oryou-san's hat now, human. Through actions." Oryou's hair settled down around Fujimaru like a curtain, while her arms slid around her shoulders. "And don't turn your head. Oryou-san doesn't want to miss this."

While she was resigning herself to being a comfortable perch for Oryou's head, Ryouma was back on the attack. Now trying to force the blade low, in the hopes of tangling it in the loose sand underfoot. His parries were almost blows in their own right, trying to match, if not overwhelm the sheer force the weapon was generating. Right up until Kojirou feinted an overhead swing, then, as Ryouma's blade moved to block, pulled the blade back, and, with the speed of a striking snake, fired a thrust right at Ryouma's head.

Ryouma jerked his head out of the way by the thinnest of margins, then ducked and rolled and Kojirou flipped his blade over and turned the missed thrust into a vicious side sweep.

Again, Ryouma came to rest just outside of his opponent's range, his blade held defensively.

Kojirou laughed, pleased. "You ARE quite good. I thought to possibly draw your blood with that, but I see it was not to be." His sword came to rest across his shoulders, his posture at ease. "It is good to know the art of the blade had not diminished by the time of the Bakamatsu, even if those turbulent days did lead to the end of the way of the samurai."

Ryouma gave him a sheepish grin. "Coming from a legend, even if you say you're a fake one, like you is quite the compliment."

Kojirou took a step forward, as Ryouma rose to his feet. "Are you done testing the waters, now? You show great promise, so far. I would hate to vanish from this world before we both could get serious."

Ryouma laughed. "That obvious, was it? I won't claim it's my first time seeing a weapon as long as yours, there's a rather unique lady I've fought beside in the past who carries around something similar. But we've never really crossed blades, so this is a new experience for me."

Before he'd even finished talking, he'd already darted forward. He ducked forward into a short roll, just under Kojirou's attack, blade screaming up at the Assassin. With no time to retract his blade, Kojirou was forced to catch the attack on his hilt, and, for the first time in the fight, he was forced back step.

But from the wide grin on his face, he didn't seem to mind at all. "Now this is more to my liking." He struck the back of his weapon's hilt, knocking Ryouma's sword away and breaking the lock. A vicious overhead swing scraped off Ryouma's sword as it was held above his head, sparks flying. At the same time he pushed up with his sword, forcing Kojirou's weapon away, he kicked out, aiming for his opponent's knee.

Kojirou stepped forward, his feet dancing around Ryouma's kick, almost flush up against Ryouma as he spun around him, blade windmilling around. Ryouma jerked his sword down, vertically, almost behind his back, stopping the massive blade just before it caressed his face.

Still, he was at a bad angle, unable to bring his full strength into the parry, while Kojirou suffered no such disadvantage. The Assassin placed a single hand on the back of his blade and pushed, seeking to overwhelm Ryouma's awkward position with simple leverage and strength.

It was Ryouma's turn to pivot into a spin, as he used the force Kojirou was exerting to drive himself in a circle, until they were once again facing one another. Ryouma rode the dregs of his momentum, sword cutting across at eye level.

Only Kojirou suddenly wasn't there at all.

He'd jumped, straight up in the air, over the slash, and had waited until Ryouma's attack had passed his airborne body before countering, the tip of his blade dragging through the sands as he tore his blade upwards.

If he'd aimed for the body, he would have won here and now - but he'd also possibly have killed Ryouma. So his slice was aimed at the man's arm - a crippling strike, if it fully hit, but a far less lethal attack. The difference was just enough to let Ryouma sidestep - more a full, desperate leap back than a controlled dodge.

As he landed, the soft ground fouled his footing, and he stumbled.

Kojiro, who had landed with no issue, was on him in an instant.

Ryouma's free hand scrabbled at the ground as he attempted to halt, or control his fall. He pushed himself back up,stance still shaky, as the tip of Kojirou's sword screamed into his zone in a thrust.

The blade was inches away when Ryouma threw a handful of sand into the samurai's face.

Kojirou gagged, some of the sand having made its way into his mouth, but the greater whole of it splashed right across his eyes.

Though every instinct screamed at him to do so, he did not reach up to wipe at his eyes. He kept both hands on his weapon, ignored the pain and discomfort screaming from one of the most sensitive and vulnerable areas a person had, and FOCUSED.

It was sheer training, skill, and instinct that drove his next movement - and it got his sword into just the right position to block Ryouma's attack.

"Sand?" Kojirou blinked his watering eyes, staring daggers at the blurring figure of his opponent over their blade lock.

Ryouma shrugged. "I'm from the Bakamatsu, remember? I had to worry about the Shinsengumi, and they didn't hold to Bushido in the strictest sense, given they were willing to rush a single opponent with a full squad, instead of fighting proper duels. So we had to learn to be flexible, too."

Kojiro was smiling, despite that he was being forced back, Ryouma's greater strength telling in these close quarters. "Ironic, but somehow fitting, given the philosophies of the one I am modeled to be a rival of." His vision was returning, but it wasn't quite fully back yet. Withdraw, and risk having to fend off an attack in the break with less-than perfect senses, or allow himself to be pushed about the battlefield?

The answer was obvious. One did not pick up the Monohosi Zao and train with it to such single minded focus that you could almost replicate True Magic with it if you weren't willing to take risks.

He twisted his arm, forcing Ryouma's blade up, breaking the lock, blade turning and sweeping down, hoping the sheer coverage of his attack would preclude pursuit.

It didn't. As his blade crashed down, his watering eyes told him everything - Ryouma had vanished. As quickly as he could, he spun to the right, trying to get his blade up.

It was not in time. The tip of Ryouma's katana scraped through his robe, only shallowly.

But it was enough to draw blood.

"You used the size of my weapon, and combined that with my compromised vision to slide into a created blind spot to get around to my flank." Kojirou laughed, lowering his weapon. "Well done."

Ryouma sagged, hands on his legs, letting his weapon droop into the sand. "To be honest, it was a gamble. If that didn't work out, I'm not sure what I had left in my bag of tricks." He reached up and wiped some sweat off his brow. "Because you're every bit as good as those maniacs in the Shinsengumi, if not better."

"You sell yourself short. For did you not win our little contest?" If Kojirou was bothered by his loss, he did not sound it. His voice, and every inch of his posture screamed of, if not satisfaction, something very close to it.

Ryouma straightened up. "Only because I got lucky with that sand. I'd hate to fight you in a serious duel. Your Noble Phantasm's probably something else."

The grin on Kojirou's face was as animated an expression as they had seen on him since meeting the man. "Meanwhile, I would relish fighting you in such a manner. You alone were a challenge. With your formidable mistress by your side, how far would I have to push myself to keep up? The very thought sends a shiver up my spine."

"Formidable Mistress-san likes this guy, Ryouma," Oryou deposited Ryouma's hat back on his head. "He's better than Izo. Can we keep him?"

"Unfortunately, great and terrible lady, it seems my time has finally run out," Kojirou held up a hand, which was beginning to leak golden particles. "I am glad I was able to hang on until the conclusion of our duel."

"It would have been a bit of a letdown to have it conclude like that," Ryouma offered Kojirou a respectful bow, which was returned.

"Before I go, I would suggest you continue checking along the beach." Kojirou pointed up to the north. "While I have not seen them myself, in my patrols in the recent days, I have seen signs of others wandering about the area. Perhaps one or more of them is responsible for your missing cakes - and the lost memory of your companion."

And with that, he was gone, the pleased smirk still on his face.

---

CHALDEA

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

Being unable to affect the current situation was not something Kratos was familiar with. In Sparta, even as a simple foot soldier, he had been able to fight where he was directed to, and battles were such that even a single man could turn the tide. Later, even as he had suffered under the chains of Ares (that he had willingly accepted, in his blindness and pride, it must be said), and later the greater whole of the gods of Olympus, he had raged against his fate, always looking for a way to break his bonds. And of his labors after - to lay his wife's ashes to rest had been a goal with an obvious end, even if the path they took had more twists than such a simple request would have initially appeared to require. And once it had become obvious that Ragnarök would not allow them to simply weather the storm, he had begun to once again put one foot in front of another.

Even his agreement to serve Chaldea in their battle, as strange and unusual as many things in this world were to him, it was a problem he could solve in the fashion he had been trained for. Even teaching Mash was not so unfamiliar to him, given the three years he spent doing the same with his own son during Fimbulwinter.

But now, he found himself powerless. Whatever means Chaldea used to communicate across the void of time and space to their Rayshifted, it was not something he understood, or could in any way aid with. So when they had been unable to establish a line of communication with them once they had touched down into the Singularity, he had only been able to stand there and wait, as the various staff and technicians ran test after test, Romani and Da Vinci shouting ever more arcane and mysterious terms across the room.

While he stood there, powerless.

He felt a hand on his arm, and turned his head.

Medusa.

"Come on," When his brow furrowed, she tugged on his arm a bit more firmly. "You're not doing anything here but making everyone nervous, and making yourself more grumpy than usual, and you're already unhappy about not being able to go with Mash."

She gestured at the chaos in the command center. "They've at least been able to verify her existence, all of them, in fact. So they're at least alive. And none of them are helpless. You've been training Mash, and Fujimaru's got a decent head on her shoulders. And that new Servant isn't anything to sneeze at, either." She met his eyes through her blindfold. "If anything changes, and you can help, you know they'll let you know. But right now, you're doing more harm than good here. So please, Kratos, come with me."

It galled him, but she was right. So, he allowed himself to be led from the control room, Da Vinci sending him a wave as he departed.

Her hand remained on his arm as she guided him down the halls - though not in the direction he had anticipated. He had expected her to lead him to the Simulator to burn off the frustration and excess energy that he was brimming with, but that was not the direction they headed. Instead, they were heading back to the area of the base where he had been quartered. Within moments, they were standing in front of an unfamiliar door, which opened at Medusa's touch.

She beckoned. "Come in, please." Her room then. Things had been tense in the immediate aftermath of her summoning, as she was still wary of the god that had called her, given her past, so Mash had been responsible with seeing her to her assigned quarters. It was only as he crossed the threshold of her room that he realized he had never inquired as to where she was quartered in the time since.

Perhaps it was that she was easy to find, almost always being in the records room during her waking hours. Or perhaps it was due to the connection they shared, mind to mind, meaning that she was never more than a thought away.

(Possibly, he owed her an apology. He was not sure. He also did not know where Avenger resided, but his feelings towards that one were much more complicated than the dependable woman who had been the first Servant he had willingly summoned.)

Her room was as simple and nearly as bare as his was. Little in the way of decoration or personal touches. Other than a stack of books on one of the tables, the only other thing was that one of the monitors on the walls was displaying a scene of the ocean, complete with sound. The noise of seabirds and the crashing waves echoed throughout the room.

She noticed the direction of his gaze, and shrugged. "It's….soothing. Considering how long I lived - and now with existing on the Throne, the time on the Shapeless Isle was brief in comparison, but still…." She sighed. "I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world."

"Why am I here?" Thankfully, there was no part of him that believed he was here for the typical reason a woman would invite one into their chambers - and he would not have obliged if he was. He still belonged to Faye, utterly and completely.

She sank into a seat, peering up at him. "Partially to get you out from underfoot in the Command Room so that they could focus on their jobs. Those people are worried enough without having Servants, or an intimidating god looming over their shoulders, for all that we're every bit as worried as they are."

She gestured at a chair. "And partially because I wanted to talk to you, if that's not too much trouble."

He settled into the offered chair, and, with a grunt, indicated she should continue.

She folded her hands in her lap. "First - and it really wasn't something I was planning on talking to you about, but I just realized - did you notice your ghosts didn't react to me just now?" She tilted her head slightly. "I wonder why that is?"

"Possibly because I trust you," the words were out before he had even considered them, but, then, as he paused, he began to feel the truth of them. "The….woman, who accompanies Fujimaru's new Servant is…" He struggled for the correct words. "Still unfamiliar. And to know that she is a dragon in truth - I have fought dragons. They are powerful, and dangerous."

Medusa looked thoughtful, though she had a faint smile on her face. "Possible. It's something to explore, if nothing else. As I feel you want to get this thing stabilized as soon as you can."

"We can head to the Simulator later - Avenger's in there right now, venting her frustrations, and I assumed you wouldn't want to deal with her right now." A grunt, and she continued. "But the main thing I wanted to talk to you about is what Lev said in the last Singularity."

His flinch was minute, almost infinitesimal, so it was impossible to tell if she noticed. If she did, she gave no sign of it. "I sometimes wondered why, of all the Servants on the Throne, I was one of the ones to hear your voice calling for aid when you first chose to Summon a Servant. That we're both Greek is the easy explanation - maybe my sisters also heard you, as well as some of the other Greek Servants there, but it's more than that, isn't it? Why was I the one, out of whomever heard you, that first responded?"

There was no judgment in her voice - and also lacking was the horror that Freya had expressed when he had told of her his past. Only patience - and understanding, but could he truly be surprised by that given her own past?

"It didn't surprise me, really, to hear what Lev declared to everyone. I've felt the spite of the gods myself, after all. Athena, more directly, and….him…..less so, but more painfully. You said you made a pact with Ares, didn't you?" Slowly, he nodded. "He wanted a more perfect tool, didn't he? Someone without attachments holding him back?"

Her expression was that of a sad smile, almost wistful. "I wonder if that wasn't one of the things that caused him to abandon me when I was cursed. That I was so devoted to my sisters, and couldn't entirely belong to him. I assume the gods of your Olympus were every bit as possessive as the ones here."

He didn't answer, but that was answer enough for her, it seemed. "And it also explains why you hate the gods so much. If anything, your reasons for hating them are so much more personal and deep than mine. Athena's petty little curse and then his using and abandoning me. They pale in comparison."

Despite himself, Kratos' ire remained at a low ebb. Questions, probing ones about his past usually caused him to bristle, and end the conversation - if not snap at the one asking the questions, should his mood be bad enough, his temper short. But, as with Da Vinci in the wake of his Blades appearing, once again he was confronted with simple patience. "Why?"

She rested her chin on the back of her hand, staring directly at him. "At least somewhat because it lets me know why, despite you being a god, I heard your call so strongly. We have a lot in common, you and I." One of her fingers tapped on her leg. "Partially because you've never treated me badly. Despite my history, and despite yours - since you apparently killed your world's version of me once - and I expect my sisters as well. Not that doesn't sound like we didn't have it coming, since you describe the Gorgons of your world as a scourge on the mortals there."

"I never met Stheno in my world….not like this one," muttered Kratos, his dislike of the girl dripping from his words. "But Euryale pursued me in vengeance for slaying the Medusa of my world. We fought, and I survived. She did not."

'"Huh. At least they had some semblance of the bond we had, then." She sighed. "But, mainly, I'm talking to you because I understand your past. The situations might be different, but our hands are stained with the same blood - that of our families, all the same."

She looked straight into his eyes, despite the cloth covering hers. "We're both monsters, in the end. Aren't we?"

His answer was a long time in coming. "From the time I left Olympus, I believed that. Even finding one who accepted me, helped me become less of a beast, and more of a man again….even loving me, and giving me a son did not change that feeling in me. My only consolation was that I was no longer THEIR monster."

Medusa was leaning forward in her chair. "But? What changed?"

"In the wake of Ragnarök, I saw something. A prophecy, from my wife."

He could almost see her blinking, rapidly, behind her blindfold. "Your wife was a seer?"

"My wife was a Giant - a Jötunn. Many of them could see the future. It is why Odin pursued them with such zeal, he coveted their ability in that area." He stared down at his hands, not seeing them. "I did not know this until after she had passed - not until we had gained access to the sealed realm of Jötunnheim."

He looked up. "It would have changed nothing about my feelings for her."

"Wait," Medusa held up a finger, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Your wife was a Giant, and her name was Faye." She looked up at him. "Laufey?" He nodded. "Then that makes you Fárbauti, and your son…." She trailed off.

"Loki was the name my wife wished to give him." A grunt. "I prevailed in the discussion, and we named him Atreus." His voice dropped in volume. "There were prophecies about him, we discovered."

"That explains why you said he was their 'Champion'. Loki played a large part in this world's Ragnarök, too." She shook her head. "But I'm allowing myself to get distracted, as fascinating as this is to hear. You said you found one of her prophecies, after Ragnarök?"

"It was not the first of her prophecies we found in the three winters since her death. Much of our journey, from the time I cut down the trees she had marked to be used as her funeral pyre, to the moment we walked the ground of Jötunnheim, was set up by her. Even her request for us to spread her ashes from the 'highest peak in all the realms' could only lead us to Jötunnheim, in the end."

And the walls of prophecy they had beheld there. Including one that had depicted his death. To this day, he still did not know if that had been a fate he had averted, or if it had been deliberately false, scribed to push them in a certain direction.

"After Ragnarök, after the destruction of Asgard, and my son had awoken, we found a final shrine, inscribed with her last prophecy. After he departed to find any of the Giants who had fled the Nine Realms, I discovered that there was more, hidden on the back."

His voice grew thick, as he remembered. "The last image inscribed on it showed myself…..beloved, and revered by mortals."

He swallowed, and reigned his emotions in. "Since that day, I have begun to wonder if redemption is something that may be possible for myself." He met her eyes through her blindfold. "And if something like myself…..a monster, could overcome their past, it is then so impossible for another?"

Medusa gave a forlorn sigh. "If it was only so easy. You're still alive, still a part of this world. Servants….we're little better than ghosts. Imprints of a person that the Throne made of us when we died. We're not meant to remain in the world long - or change."

"An inability to change is a choice. Nothing more." Kratos considered his words, unwilling to believe what he was about to say. "Avenger does not seem constrained by this thinking. As….vexing as she is, she claims to remain contracted with me to see how to be better, through my example."

"And she doesn't act like she has a shred of guilt about her past, either," He couldn't see it, but he could physically feel her rolling her eyes. "Maybe. It's something to think about, at least. It would bother me if someone like Avenger could manage that, where I couldn't."

She leaned forward, and carefully laid a hand on his. The lightest, and briefest of touches. "The point of all of this is, whenever you're ready to tell us….or just me, what happened with your family, we'll listen." She smirked. "Cu's furious on your behalf already, though some of that might just be an Irishman spoiling for a fight. But he's fond of you, all the same. And Avenger's bad mood is only partly because we can't contact Fujimaru. She said, and I quote 'Bitch-ass gods probably mindfucked him or something to make him do that. No way Mr. 'Be Better' does that willingly, not after he judged me so harsh, and how he talks about his kid.' And Mash has been fretting - not that she's alone in that. We haven't been worried about you just because of how badly you were hurt by that thing. It might have been overlapped by the worry at seeing you fall like that, but what he said has had us just as worried for you."

"Perhaps," He had been wary of Chaldea, and even now, weeks later, many of their ways were still strange to him. But the people here were worthy allies, their cause just. He had even said as much to Boudica, after all. "Perhaps when Fujimaru has returned from her campaign. Your past, your histories…I know. It may be time you know mine."

"Whenever you're ready," she said. "Whatever misgivings I had about you, Kratos, have long since been put to rest. Don't feel you need to tell us until it feels right to you."

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Like I was going to pass up a chance to have the Regend of France and Ryouma have a duel, even a friendly one.

I will neither confirm nor deny that the Bravern intro was on loop while I wrote that fight.

Probably one more chapter until this event is over, and we return to moving towards Okeanos. Depending. These are shorter than my usual chapters, but there really isn't much meat to such a tiny event. Possible it'll be two chapters, or just one larger one - with a longer turnout time than a week.

Chapter 38: Does the Moon Goddess Dream of Dumplings? Finale

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 38​

"Ok, I get why you're coming with us. Making up for having eaten some of our moon cakes." And really, she did get it. She at least understood some of the principles of Christianity, even having not been raised as such. Mom was a pretty devout Shintoist, and Dad, well….Dad said he was 'keeping his options open' whenever he was asked about that sort of thing.

"But why do you have to be tied up?"

"Because I'm a sinner!" whined the woman in question, who was currently being led along by Mash, her wrists bound, and a length of rope trailing from the knot around her wrists to her Shielder's hand. "I've been wicked, and a criminal must be restrained."

"Oryou-san thinks it's mainly to keep you from grabbing more cakes," observed the floating woman. "And possibly because you enjoy being tied up."

Mash had a look of puzzlement on her face. "Why would someone enjoy being tied up?"

Oh god. She wasn't doing it. Not about to touch this with a ten-foot pole. Roman would kill her, too, if he found out that innocent little Mashie had suddenly had the word 'shibari' added to her vocabulary.

Thankfully, she was saved from putting her foot in her mouth, and possibly being yeeted down the mountain Chaldea was stationed on by Miss O. "I think Oryou's just teasing her, sweetie. She probably does want to make sure she isn't tempted by those cakes. They did smell REALLY good, after all."

Going by the flush on Martha's cheeks, Fujimaru wasn't entirely convinced, but it forestalled any further questions from her too pure for this sinful world Kohai, so she owned Miss O one. She wouldn't be turning into a Fujimarucicle anytime soon, kicked out to freeze solid on the side of the mountain.

"On a more immediately pressing topic, do you happen to know where Kojirou found those tracks?" Ryouma was peering into the darkness, his eyes on the ground. "We've been walking for quite a bit, and I haven't seen any signs of tracks, human or otherwise. It's sand on the ocean, so most things wouldn't survive long, so it's not surprising, but still, it would be nice to know if we're going in the right direction."

Martha shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't. As I said, I wasn't with him for very long. We did all of part of one patrol before we heard that disturbance in the forest. Him mentioning that he'd seen signs of other people around was as new to me as it was to you."

She glanced over her shoulder. "But this way is the best way to go. There's not much left of the Singularity the other way. This stretch of the beach gives us the most area to cover."

"And the most places for people to be," said Ryouma. "Or to hide."

Speaking of hiding…. 'Is whatever you sensed in the water still there?'

Oryou's response was immediate. 'Yes, human. It's been following us the entire way. Still staying under the water, though.'

'Well, that's something, I guess. Thanks for keeping an eye on it.' Not enough that she had to worry about a missing celestial body, there was this thing under the water - and given what people were still pulling out of the oceans these days, it could be anything. Even beyond the stories her Dad had of his time out at sea, she'd be willing to believe just about anything about the depths of the ocean. Atlantis, Mu, Y'ha-nthlei, she'd believe any of them existed, and that anything from the wildest parts of her imagination swam through their waterlogged halls these days.

"Hmmm?" Ryouma stopped, and knelt down, shining his flashlight (and hadn't he been fascinated by the things when Mash had handed them out? 'Much better than the lanterns and torches of my time', he'd said, while Oryou had wanted the single headlamp they had - only relenting once Ryouma had pointed out how likely it was to get broken if fighting broke out) on the sand. "Ground is really messed up here. Looks like something big, moving in a hurry."

He trailed the light along the beach. "And it looks like it was coming from the direction of the forest."

"That means it's probably only got one direction it could be going, then," said Fujimaru. "Finally! I was beginning to get tired of walking on this sand. You forget how much you take firm ground for granted."

"Mr. Kratos had me running on sand in the Simulator when he first started training me," said Mash. "My stamina was something he said we had to work on…..well, one of the first things." Her head dipped a bit. "He had a lot of things he said we'd need to work on."

"He wasn't wrong. Running on unstable ground is a good way to build up stamina, and really make your legs work," When every eye turned to her, Martha flushed, almost as if she didn't realize she'd been talking. "Or so I hear! It's not something a proper lady of my time would know about! But you pick the strangest things up if you listen, and I did have a bunch of rowdy brothers!" This last bit was followed by an unconvincing laugh.

Suuuure lady. Pull the other one, as Gordy was fond of saying. Those thighhighs didn't disguise the fact that her legs were every bit as toned as her arms. She got those muscles one of two ways - either hard, everyday work, or training your body like it was a religion (and given certain people she knew, and their dedication to hitting the Simulator every-single-day, it might well be a religion to them. Even her Mashie was getting swept up in it - and she wasn't being spared, either. Sensei had ideas about how a student should be training, even a girl like her. And she had the bruises to prove it.).

Out of the corner of her eye, Fujimaru noticed something sparkling on the ground, just as the edges of their tiny zone of light. She knelt down, and picked it up. "Is this…..glass?" She frowned. "What's that doing here? No way it got hot enough to fry the sand, pretty we'd have noticed something like that." And Avenger, the only one she knew who could pull off that trick, was nowhere around, either.

Mash was also staring at the pieces littering the ground. "No, they almost seem like…..crystal." She chewed on her lower lip. "Why does that sound so familiar to me?"

Whatever response was forthcoming from anyone, it was cut off as several objects rocketed down from the sky, slamming into the sand, surrounding them. Statues. Of angels.

From behind her Kohai, where she had been roughly shoved, Fujimaru stiffened, remembering the monsters from some show Gordy had found out about from his time at the Clock Tower. Crying….Seraphim, or something like that? She mainly remembered her sort of brother/cousin being TERRIFIED of them - and Gordy wasn't exactly the bravest thing out there, to start with.

One of the statues' mouths hinged open, and a voice bellowed from within. "Hem. We have you surrounded! Normally, I'd be willing to let you turn around and walk the other way, but not after you so rudely barged into our camp, wrecked everything, stole those wonderful cakes, AND had the temerity to lay hands on Marie!"

The statues cracked their necks, moving with eerie synchronicity. "So I'm afraid you've managed to make me rather upset. I'll give you a minute to beg for forgiveness before I reduce you to a fine paste. Countdown will start….now!"

"Wait!" yelled Mash. "We didn't do ANY of that! And those were OUR cakes first!"

Ryouma's eyes were sliding through the night, trying to locate the Caster - as it could only be a Caster that could summon and manipulate objects like this. "Really, this IS a case of mistaken identity. We were just following the tracks of the person who, I assume, did all those things to you. We've as much reason to want him stopped as you, since he seems to have stolen those cakes from us."

"And he might have my memories with him, too!" added Miss O, who had summoned her bow, and was sighting down an arrow. "I'd very much like those back!"

"Behind the rocks, just to the left of us," she whispered, sotto voice.

Fujimaru squinted into the darkness. "I can't see a thing - you can?"

"Mmmm. Once I had my bow and was aiming it, it's like the night suddenly became….less dark, for me?" She shrugged. "Maybe it's something I can only do if I'm focusing, or when I'm using my bow? It's all so new and mysterious!"

"....good to know," muttered Fujimaru, shifting so that Mashie was more directly between her and the area Miss O was indicating.

The statues were stock-still and silent for a long few minutes. Finally, one of them spoke up. "Against my better judgment, Marie is willing to hear you out. But the statues are staying there! One false move and you'll be enjoying my finest works - for a few moments, before your eardrums burst, and you're sent on to whatever is waiting for you in the next life."

There was the sound of movement, and then, two people moved into view, just on the edges of their pool of light. A man and a woman, for the second time on this increasingly weird night.

The man was, to put it mildly, ostentatiously dressed. Fine clothes - VERY fine clothes, the sort you'd expect a period-drama noble to be wearing. A black suit, accented in greens and purples. The coat he was wearing as a cape just added to his flashy appearance - not a look most people could pull off, but he managed it. His face though…..

Something about it put the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Her instincts were saying he looked suspicious as hell, and by the expression on his face, he felt the same way towards them - his eyes were narrowed, and his arms were crossed over his chest, fingers tapping away in a steady beat on his arm. It was rather clear he was here begrudgingly. As to his companion….

She was the first sensibly dressed woman Fujimaru had seen in this mini-Singularity. The red dress wouldn't have stood out too much on the modern streets. (And she was petite! Fujimaru didn't feel QUITE as inadequate in comparison looking at her - not like the Mountains McKinley and Everest that had been the two most recent acquaintances of hers, courtesy of this Singularity. Grumble Grumble.) Well, as long as she left that hat behind - that thing was huge, poofy as heck, and borderline ridiculous.

She was also sporting one HELL of a shiner - at least, what Fujimaru could see of it, from behind the ice pack (and where exactly had she gotten one of those from in 1400s France?) she was holding up to her face.

The man was scowling at them, his eyes every so often flickering over to his companion. "So, we're here, say your piece, alrea….OOF!"

The woman had not so subtly buried her elbow into the man's side. "Now, now, there's no reason to be so suspicious, Amadeus. I don't see that brute that caused so much damage with them - and really, could you see such an uncouth individual being able to play nicely with others? It's more likely he would have done to them what he did to us."

She favored them with a bright smile. "And they're such nice looking people too!"

"Wait. Marie and Amadeus?" Fujimaru wasn't the most knowledgeable about European history, but those were names that even a slightly-above average history student like her would recognize. "The rest of those names wouldn't be Wolfgang Mozart, and Antoinette, would it?"

"The one and only," said the man, who was apparently Mozart, haughtily, and with a bow. Which earned him another elbow in the side, though this one was delivered more playfully.

"And yes, I am she. Marie Antoinette, Queen of France. Viva la France!" She went to curtsy to them, then paused. "Or should I greet you in a more modern fashion?" Her lips pursed, then she nodded.

The ice pack was tossed over her shoulder (and managed to catch Mozart right across the face) as she took two steps forward, thrust her chest out, and raised her arms up to head level. "Wazzup?" She slid to the side, one hip jutting out, as her arms crossed over her head. "My!" Her legs crossed, as her arms dropped down in front of her face, making what Fujimaru could only assume were gang signs. "Homies!"

Fujimaru could hear their collective brains screeching to a halt, all of them, simultaneously crashing. Except Miss O, who was clapping her hands, overjoyed. "That was so NEAT!" She wiggled in the air. "Oooooo, do it again! Do it again!"

"Ryouma…."

"No, Oryou," The man glanced up at her. "I love you, I do. But that might give Izo ideas. What did we say about giving Izo ideas?"

"That it's a bad plan. Especially when he's drunk. And bad plans typically end with you losing your hat." Oryou pouted. "And Oryou-san likes your hat."

Marie was frowning. Her arms drooped, and she turned to look back at Mozart. "Was I too modern?"

He patted her on the shoulder. "Possibly." His glare at them intensified. "I must say, you're not doing yourself any favors, bullying Marie like this." The statues began to creak ominously.

"No, no!" Fujimaru's hands leapt up in front of her and began waving about. "Not our intention at all! It's just…..not really what we expected from the last Queen of France, is all. It was a very…..unique greeting."

'Unique'. That was one way to put it. She was pretty good friends with Avenger, who even on her best days was so edgy you'd get hit with some cringe-splash-damage. And Marie had somehow topped all that in one fell swoop. The two of them must NEVER meet, even ignoring Avenger's still-complicated feelings towards the subject of France. (Then again, that one had complicated feelings about A LOT of things. God, Jeanne, Kratos, Jeanne, France, Jeanne, her hazy status as a 'real' being, Jeanne….)

"Anyways! I'm Ritsuka Fujimaru, from the Chaldea Security Organization. We're here looking for some stolen property of ours." She glanced back at Mash, who like the wonderful Kohai she was, had already retrieved one of the two bags of sweets they'd recovered from her shield, and was holding it up - having handed the rope off to Fou. Who was holding it in his mouth, while giving a VERY stern look to Martha (as she had taken a half-step forward when the bag had come out). "Does this look familiar?"

The French Servants exchanged a glance, and then Mozart sighed. "It does. And the symbol on there does match the one on your outfit." The statues faded from existence, as he huffed. "I suppose you might be telling the truth after all."

"So you're where those delicious pastries came from?" Marie beamed, and it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds. "They were fabulous! My compliments to your chef!"

Mash managed a frown, even in the face of a full-on assault of good vibes. "I hope you didn't eat too many of them. They were supposed to be for our staff - a thank you for them after all the hard work they've been putting in lately."

"Oh, non. You have nothing to worry about there. I only had…." She pursed her lips, thinking. "Maybe ten?"

"Ten?!?" Mash's eyes narrowed further, and for a second, Fujimaru wondered if her sweet little Kohai wasn't weighing the pros and cons of giving Marie another black eye, so she'd have a matching pair.

"Oh, if you're worried, you shouldn't be." Marie put her hands on her hips, and almost seemed to gleam. "Pastries go RIGHT to the best parts of my figure, so I won't get fat at all."

"Senpai…." began Mash. "I'm experiencing an unfamiliar emotion. I think it might be…..rage."

"In any event," said Fujimaru, quickly placing herself between her suddenly homicidal Kohai and the French Queen. "You want to tell us what happened here?"

"We were having a party, Mozart, Henri, and d'Eon - and myself, of course. We'd bought some of those cakes from this funny man a little while ago, and were just settling down to eat them with some tea and other things. I'd just finished making us a nice little gazebo to sit in when someone came thundering up the beach."

"I heard him coming, so we had some warning," interjected Mozart. "But I thought it was just some beast, as heavy as the footfalls were - not to mention the heavy breathing. It didn't sound human at all." He shook his head. "Which is why we were all surprised when a man stumbled out of the night, and proceeded to wreck everything."

"I tried to talk to him, but he didn't even seem like he could hear me - or if he did, he didn't care. He went straight for the bag of sweets." She winced, and gestured at her face. "And gave me this on the way."

"Charles and d'Eon didn't take that particularly well. I didn't either, mind you, but they're much more used to solving things violently than I am, so they were quicker to jump to Marie's defense, for all the good it did." Mozart shrugged. "He just grabbed them, one in each hand, and tossed them away."

Ryouma was glancing around the wrecked camp. "So, I assume they're resting up somewhere, then, since I don't see or feel anyone else around?"

There was an uncomfortable silence that was broken by Mozart. "No, I mean he threw them away. Very far away."

He pointed out to the ocean. "d'Eon was tossed into the water, so far away that I couldn't hear the splash when they landed. And Henri got the same, only it was the forest." The man looked as though he was holding back laughter - laughter that he knew would get him in hot water if he let it out. "I heard trees breaking for almost a minute before they grew too faint for me to detect. I'm not really holding out hope that we'll be seeing either of them anytime soon - and that's assuming they didn't get sent back to the Throne already."

Fujimaru's eyes widened. She'd seen Kratos hurl Cu what she thought was pretty far when they were sparring, but this…. "Who the hell was this guy?"

"Neither of us had ever seen him before," said Marie. "After he was done with dear d'Eon and Sanson, he stomped right into my gazebo, snatched up the bag with the remaining cakes, and ran off to the north." She huffed. "And he went right through the pillars, causing enough damage that it destroyed it, and after I had done all that work getting it just right, too!"

"It really was a work of art," said Mozart, patting the sniffling woman on the back. "He was a fairly large man, wearing armor and a ragged red cape. Neither of us really got a great look at him, considering how dark it is, but that's what stood out. Well, that, and one other thing. The strangest thing about him was that his eyes seemed to be glowing white."

"Glowing white eyes, came from the forest, and seems to be collecting our moon cakes." Fujimaru nodded her head. "I think we've identified our burglar."

She stared down at her feet. "That description kind of sounds familiar, though…."

"The glowing also makes it sound like he might have something to do with the missing moonlight, as well," mused Ryouma. "It's not conclusive - more than a few Servants can do the glowing eye trick one way or another, but it does feel like we're heading in the right direction." He tapped the brim of his hat. "Don't suppose there's anything else that comes to mind, is there?"

"He didn't really seem capable of speech at all," said Mozart, after a moment's thought. "Just some garbled yelling - it's why I thought he was a bear or something coming out of the woods when I first heard the crashing coming our way."

"Sounds like a Berserker," muttered Ryouma. "It's the rare Servant who's incapable of speech that isn't one, in my experience. Might also explain why he's so fixated on those moon cakes, too. Single-minded is kind of their hallmark, after all."

"Guess we'll just have to ask him when we run into him," With a shrug, Fujimaru turned her attention to the two French Servants. "You two want to come with us, get some payback for this guy wrecking your tea party?"

Marie shook her head. "As much as Amadeus might want to, I'm afraid we'll have to decline. I want to see if we can find Sanson - he did get hurt trying to defend me."

"And d'Eon was probably eaten by a shark that thought they were a dolphi….OOF!" Once again, a pointedly delivered elbow cut Mozart's snark off.

"I do hope you manage to get your cakes back - and I am sorry for eating so many. They just were the most perfect things, though." Suddenly, Fujimaru found herself being, well, glomped by an actual French Queen, and then she had the very unique experience of being gifted with those two cheek kisses she'd seen nobility do in some of the dramas she watched. While her brain was still processing that, Marie saw fit to gift everyone else with the same - even Fou, who got a third kiss right on his nose as Marie squealed about how cute he was.

By the time her brain had started back up, Marie had seized Mozart by the wrist, and was dragging him off in the direction of the forest. "Au revoir! I do hope we have the fortune to meet again, and good luck on your search!"

Fujimaru exchanged a glance with her (furiously blushing) Kohai. "Senpai…..when I started this journey, I knew I was going to have many new experiences. But…."

"This was new to me too, Mashie," said Fujimaru.

Fujimaru was distracted from the sights of her adorable Kohai and a furiously sulking Oryou - who had not appreciated Marie's handling of her man - by Miss O, who was oddly subdued. "You ok there, Miss O? The sudden bum's rush of French Nobility too much for you - I mean, I wouldn't think less of you if it was. It was almost too much for me, honestly."

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "It's not that. When that colorful man mentioned a bear…..it kind of felt familiar."

Fujimaru blinked. "Have you remembered something?"

Miss O began tapping her index fingers together, staring down at the ground. "No, I'm still a complete blank. But something about a bear…" She licked her lips, and fidgeted. "It feels important to me. Very, very important."

"Maybe you hunted them in your life?" suggested Mash. "You are an Archer, after all. The Archer Class might not be full of hunters, but there must be a few there. William Tell as one example, as his skill with a bow came from hunting."

"Robin Hood too, since forest bandit and woodsman kind of have a fair amount of overlap with hunter," added Fujimaru. She regarded a pensive Miss O. "Does any of that ring a bell?"

"No, not really," she sighed. "I do sort of feel like I was chasing a bear, but not to kill it or anything."

"Possible that one of your other classes is Rider, and you're feeling some echoes from that - though that's a bit of a stretch," mused Ryouma. "It's really rare for a Servant to be summoned with a mount and NOT be a Rider, though it isn't completely unheard of, either." He shrugged. "We can speculate all night, but it won't really get us any closer to figuring this all out."

He pointed down the beach. "We've got a path to follow, hopefully this Servant, whomever they are, does have something to do with your memory loss and can shine a light on all this."

"Oryou-san very much likes the idea of punching something," said a still visibly annoyed floating dragon-woman.

"Punching things I'd like to leave as a last resort," said Fujimaru, as they began moving. "We still can't contact the base, so it's just us out here. If we can solve this by talking, then it'll be easier on everyone."

"I agree!," chimed in a still-bound Martha, trailing behind Mash. "The Lord teaches us to solve our issues in a peaceful manner. Though, it sounds as though our opponent here may not be one that can be reached by mere words. If that is the case, I will regretfully have to earn my penance by fighting for you against such a mighty-sounding foe."

Fujimaru would have believed her a bit more if she hadn't seen her hands twitching - in excitement. They walked for a bit, before something occurred to her. "On the subject of Servant Classes, you're a Rider, aren't you, Martha?"

The woman nodded, and Fujimaru continued. "Is your mount something you can summon? I'm not much of a Christian myself, like, at ALL, so your legend isn't one I know."

"It's tied to my Noble Phantasm, though I can summon him for things other than that," she said, very pointedly NOT looking out to sea - which pretty much confirmed some of Fujimaru's (and Ryouma's) suspicions. Whatever that thing under the water that was following them was, it was Martha's. "I suppose…"

She was cut off as there was a brilliant flash of light, some distance ahead. A pillar of white speared up into the sky, briefly lighting up the pitch-black night.

"Oryou-san thinks we've found what we're looking for," said Oryou, her face as deadpan as her tone.

"Yeah, it does kind of seem that way, doesn't it?" Fujimaru groaned. "It's time for more running, isn't it?"

Another spike of white split the clouds. "I think so, yeah," muttered Ryouma. "Whatever's going on over there seems to be increasing. That burst of light was bigger than the last one."

"My legs are going to HATE me tomorrow," she groaned, as they set off in a run. Oryou and Miss O, at least, didn't have to deal with the stupid sand, and Ryouma and Mash at least were nice enough to moderate their pace to take her being a weak little human into account.

Martha, even with her arms still bound, was handling the run like a champ, not even seeming fazed by the unsteady ground. "I could carry you if we need to increase our pace - this kind of thing is nothing to me. Your weight wouldn't be any kind of real burden on top of it."

For a second, Fujimaru parsed that sentence, trying to figure out if she'd just been called fat - yes, she'd said her weight wouldn't be any burden, but that woman had muscles on top of muscles. But mostly, it distracted her from how much her lungs and legs were screaming at her. "No, I'll be fine," she said between huffs of breath. "If I took the easy way out, my Sensei would have me running up and down dunes for the next week solid, in addition to whatever else he'd have me doing."

"Well, if you're sure…" The woman seemed almost disappointed to be turned down like that. And by the time her brain had finished kicking that around, they'd crested the dune (uphill, WHYYYYYYY?) and were staring down at quite a scene.

The first thing she noticed was the numerous bags, all identical to the ones they'd been picking up all night, stacked up in a rather ramshackle looking cart. Signs in English and a couple of other languages she couldn't read offered competitive prices for the cakes, individually or by the bag - so this must be where the French contingent had purchased their moon cakes from.

The next thing she noticed was the two men standing below them on the beach. Well, only one of them was standing, the other was sprawled out on the sand, shouting something at the other.

And the hell of it was, she recognized them both.

She'd stood within a few steps of one of them in the last Singularity, and had had an up-close and personal look at the other's death - all while she'd been trying to control a wild pair of horses.

Julius Caesar and Nero's mad uncle, Caligula. We meet again.

"Caligula, my descendant, you have to STOP this!" Caesar's hand was outstretched, beckoning to the Berserker, who, if he heard his words, wasn't heeding them at all.

"DIANA! DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA DIANA……what have you DONE to me?" The Servant shuddered, falling to his knees, and everyone present heard an audible CRACK.

Caligula gagged, and another spear of light shot into the night sky.

Somehow, even over the Berserker's ranting, Caesar heard them as they skidded down the dune - probably paranoia from years of political backstabbing giving him a very sensitive set of ears. Whatever it was, he looked happy to see them.

"Servants?" His eyes fell on Fujimaru. "And a Master? The Gods of Olympus have not abandoned me yet!" He rose to his knees. "Please, I beg of you - help us!" He gestured at the driftwood cart. "I can even pay you - in goods, but it's fair payment for your services!"

"Leaving aside that you're offering to pay us in our own property," Caesar's face paled even more as he noticed the Chaldea symbol on her uniform. "Just what is going on here?"

"Caligula and I had stumbled across these bags, and I had thought to make a little profit before this Singularity completely fell apart. Save up something so I could buy my Cleo a nice present when I next saw her, and Caligula could do the same for his niece. We had just closed a sale with a group of four Servants and were making our way up the beach when the cart threw a wheel."

He grimaced. "I had Caligula go into the forest to find a suitable tree to fashion a new wheel from - I had plans to replace both, truthfully, driftwood not being the most reliable of mediums for a cart. He was gone far longer than he should have been."

Caesar looked over to the man, who was beating his skull on the sand, roaring that name over and over again. "When he came back, he had the bags we sold to those French Servants…..and he was like this."

Gingerly, he pushed himself to his feet. "I don't know HOW he did it, but he's somehow absorbed the Authority over the Moon - probably from the connection to the Goddess Diana he had all his life. But it's too much for him! His Servant Container can't hold it, and he's breaking apart!"

Caligula vomited light, and daggers of white erupted from his form in all directions.

Mash flashed in front of Fujimaru, and incredibly, was pushed back by the impact of the released moonlight on her shield. She collided with Fujimaru before her heels dug into the sand and she was able to halt her skid.

"Solid light?" Fujimaru pushed off from her Kohai and mentally adjusted the threat level of Caligula up several notches - he was going to be a very different animal than the Servant they'd fought in Rome. "Not to say we aren't willing to help, because we are - but what exactly are you expecting of us here? I don't have the first idea of how to separate an Authority from a Servant, not short of killing him, if that would even work."

"That may be the only way," said Caesar, his head bowed. "If nothing else, it would prevent permanent, crippling damage to his Spirit Origin. Death, and a return to the Throne is a better fate than that…."

A feeling of incredible dread walked itself up the spines of every one of them. For a moment, it was as if the waves had stopped moving. Fujimaru felt herself break out into a cold sweat.

Caligula had stilled, and was looking directly at them, his eyes two glowing pools of white. "No." His arm sliced through the air. "I am closer than ever…..to Diana. To my goddess. This feeling…..this oneness……you will not take it from me."

And then he was charging, and backhanding Caesar so hard that he skipped off the ground, as he flew across the beach.

Caligula made as to turn and advance upon Fujimaru and Mash, but a descending Oryou cracked him across the jaw with a blow that sounded like rocks shattering. It staggered him.

Not enough.

He exploded, uncoiling in a flash to uppercut the woman in a move so fast Fujimaru couldn't even follow it. Oryou yelped as she was sent rocketing off into the sky.

"Senpai…no, Master, your orders?" Mash didn't even spare a look back at Fujimaru, her eyes locked onto the Berserker.

"Take him down!" she yelled, scrambling back, heading up the dune. "I don't think we've got any other choice here!" And it wouldn't be the first time she'd killed Caligula. A couple more and she might get a commemorative plate or something.

"Understood!" cried Mash. Shield in hand, she charged, Ryouma just behind her.

Miss O had formed her bow in her hands, and was floating by Fujimaru, keeping pace with her - though she wasn't drawing an arrow just yet. Martha looked up at them, from where she was standing. "Can I help?"

"Feel free!" yelled Fujimaru, still scrambling up the dune, trying to put distance between herself and the fight.

Martha took a deep breath, then easily snapped the rope tied around her wrists.

Despite her desire to be nowhere near the brawl that was developing, Fujimaru paused, as her brain screeched to a momentary halt. "If you could do that, why were you even tied up?"

Martha flushed. "I was a criminal! I had to be restrained, for my punishment to be correct!" Her staff materialized in her hands. "Not for any other reason!"

She raised the staff high, and the cross flared with light. At the same time, explosions of that same light battered Caligula.

To no visible effect.

"Attacking the Servant infused with the light of the Moon with light. Of course it doesn't work," sighed Martha, with a roll of her eyes. "I suppose we'll have to do this the ugly way. Well, He helps those who help themselves." Despite her words, there was a gleam in the woman's eye - Fujimaru began to feel that she might need more distance between herself and the battle.

Which was solidified as Martha knelt down, her legs tensing, before she leapt, shooting through the air.

And brained Caligula right across the skull with her staff.

THAT snapped his head down, but he planted his feet, roared, and retaliated with a vicious backhand. Blood flew from Martha's mouth.

Right as her clenched fist cannoned into Caligula's kidneys.

Before she could pull her arm back, he had trapped it, and bodily lifted her from the ground in a military-style press. Martha squawked as she was flung through the air, crashing into a charging Mash. The two women tumbled to the ground.

Ryouma leapt to the side, avoiding the still rolling bodies of his allies, and then was forced to lean his body back, going almost perpendicular to the ground, as a massive paw swiped for his head. He slashed out, a quick strike with his katana, that scraped across the Berserker's arm, drawing blood.

Caligula bellowed in pain, and his leg fired out. Ryouma, still on the balls of his feet, leapt back, so close that he could feel the wind from the passing of the attack. That was harmless.

The wave of sand that was kicked up from the displaced air, less so, as it swept over Ryouma, who coughed and sputtered, stumbling backwards.

Caligula howled and raised both hands, leaping forward, seeking to bear Ryouma to the ground and, given the way his hands were clenching, throttle him.

He never made it.

There was a boom, as Oryou descended from the sky, ramming her knees into Caligula's back, and driving him into the ground. Ryouma was once again showered with sand.

"You want to stay down," Oryou's arms were crossed, as she floated over the downed body of the Roman Emperor. "Oryou-san WILL sit on you if she has to. Or just eat you."

Caligula's body twitched, and a beam of light shot up from his back, spearing through Oryou's ankle. The woman hissed, and swung a fist down, but Caligula rolled out of the way, and she struck only ground (once again causing Ryouma to eat sand).

Growling, Caligula sprang to his feet, seizing Oryou's head in his hands, and bringing his skull to hers.

Fujimaru winced. That was among the ugliest sounds she had ever heard in her life.

Oryou span through the air, her eyes crossed - Fujimaru thought she could almost see the cartoon animals (probably frogs) circling her head. Caligula, for his part, didn't seem to have fared much better, he staggered back, holding his head, where blood was beginning to seep between his fingers - he had apparently split his own head open with the headbutt.

Right into Martha's grasp.

Her arms slid up under his, clutching together behind his neck, seeking to restrain him. The muscles on her arms stood out like steel cords as she pitted her strength against that of the mad Emperor's. "Someone clock him! I don't know how long I can hold…."

Incredibly, Caligula managed to bend his arms just enough to seize Martha by the hair and hurl her over his shoulder, breaking her hold on him in the process. She bounced off the soft ground, and came up with her fists raised - her staff buried somewhere in the sands of the beach.

Caligula kicked out, but there was a flash of purple, a metallic crash, and suddenly Mash was in front of Martha, her shield having taken the brunt of the attack.

Caligula raked his nails across the surface of Mash's shield, then rolled away, as Ryouma attempted to slice him open along his spine. The Berserker retreated back several steps, eyeing them warily.

"Is everyone ok?" Fujimaru called down from where she was situated atop the sand dune. "I've got one shot of the healing in my Mystic Code if anyone needs it!"

"I'm fine, Master. More filthy with sand than anything," Ryouma was watching the Berserker carefully, his sword raised. "His skin's tough. Not quite as hard as Mori's armor, but close. He must be getting a pretty big stat increase from that stolen Authority he has."

There was an ugly crack, and one of Caligula's pinky fingers fell to the ground, light streaming from the knuckle-stub.

"Caesar was right," muttered Martha, retrieving her lost staff from the ground. "He's falling apart before our very eyes. If we don't beat him, and fast, there will be so little left of him that the Throne itself might struggle to recover him."

"Oryou-san would just like to renew her support for her plan of just letting Oryou-san eat him." The pale woman's forehead was already turning quite a vibrant shade of purple where her head had met Caligula's, and her stocking was soaked through with blood from the hole that had been put through her ankle.

"Let's save that for a last resort - and here he comes!" Ryouma raised his sword, as Caligula once more charged in at them, bellowing in rage.

They clustered together, drawing him in, then breaking apart right before he arrived. Mash's shield once again blocked his attack, as Ryouma and Martha slid around to each side of the Berserker.

His hands shot up. He managed to catch the head of Martha's staff, though not without a grunt of effort. He caught Ryoma's blade, as well, but at the cost of it slicing into his hand. With his hands up like that, his chest was wide open, which was exploited by a charging Mash barreling into it, shield-first. Caligula's breath wheezed out of his lungs.

"That poor man," From where she was floating beside Fujimaru, Miss O had a heartbroken look on her face. "He's fighting so hard for a woman he loves, but that closeness is killing him." She frowned. "Is this always how it is, when a human loves a god?"

"History's not exactly bursting with happy endings in that case," said Fujimaru. Below, Caligula clenched his fists around the two weapons in his grasp and sent their wielders careening into Mash. Before they had rebounded from each other, his shoulder crashed into the lot of them, knocking them aside.

Caligula skidded to a stop, was in the process of turning, when he was strafed from above by Oryou, who spat a line of toxic looking flames all over the Servant. "But we do have a man and a dragon who seem to be crazy about each other. So, really, how nuts is a human and a god when we have that pairing to compare it to? I suppose it really depends on the people, in the end."

Miss O favored Fujimaru with a look. "You're pretty smart for such a young girl, aren't you? Oooo, I bet you broke a lot of hearts back in your hometown, didn't you?" Paying no need to Fujimaru, who she had reduced to a sputtering mess, Miss O drew her bow back, and sighted down the arrow. "But I suppose you are right. This is all we can do for him."

The twang of her bow echoed across the shore. The meaty sound the arrow made as it sank into Caligula's left shoulder, and spun him about was even louder.

Miss O, for her part, had a confused look on her face. "I….missed? I was aiming for his heart….I don't think that was supposed to happen…."

There was the sound of meat sliding over bone (and THAT was going to be an addition to her nightmares in the coming nights - not that she wasn't already revisiting Fuyuki and that skull-faced Servant far too often for her liking already), and the flesh of Caligula's arm sloughed right off. Light flowed from his exposed bones, in every direction, and the arrow in his shoulder was incinerated.

"Get behind me!" yelled Mash, as Caligula swept his arm across, in their general direction, and a torrent of light perforated the beach, the stones, and would have done the same to the three Servants had they not taken shelter behind Mash's shield.

"Even a Servant's body won't hold out long in the teeth of that!" yelled Ryouma, one hand holding down his hat, to keep it from blowing away in the winds that were being unleashed. "We need a plan!"

"I've already called for help," Martha was down on her knees, a position that Mash had originally thought was meant to reduce her profile and to keep as much of her as possible behind her shield, but on second glance, Mash recognized the pose - her head was bowed, her hands were clasped. The woman was praying.

It sounded like a tidal wave coming in, the crashing of the surf was deafening as something exploded off-shore and rained salt water down on them. A moment later, it landed.

It was a damn kaiju. A biblical kaiju, summoned by an actual Saint. Wider than it was tall - and it WAS tall, just to note that, it squatted on six legs. It was a mismatched beast, covered in claws and scales, but with a thick, turtle-like shell on its back. A bearded face, with a wicked overbite snarled down at Caligula, the monster's tail lashing in anticipation, drool leaking from between its lips.

Martha looked up at the creature, her expression more stern than even the harshest teacher Fujimaru had ever known. "Tarrasque, please……SIC HIM!"

The creature bellowed a challenge, and the ground under their feet shook as it thundered up the beach towards Caligula. The Berserker answered the roar, and charged.

Seconds before they met, he leapt, flying into the monster's face, chambered fist screaming out to crash into the thing's jaw.

Once, Fujimaru had been present for a tree getting struck by lightning - it had been one summer when they'd been on vacation at the Musik estate. It was one of a handful of memories from her short life that were still as clear to her as the day she'd experienced them.

The sound that Caligula's fist made when it struck Tarrasque was like what she'd heard that night, when the tree had exploded, sap overheated to the point of detonation.

It staggered the biblical monster, for a single step. Then the creature's tail lashed in, and swatted Caligula from the air, sending him bouncing across the shore, his body digging a trench in the sand. Gingerly (though that possibly was due to him only having one working arm), Caligula rose. Light continued to stream from his form, pattering across Tarrasque's body - though, unlike the Servants, it did not penetrate.

"You were right," muttered Ryouma. "The light can't pierce that thing's hide."

"Tarrasque's hide was too tough for my weapons, back when I tamed him." A stream of fire erupted from the dragon's mouth, forcing Caligula on the run. "I had to resort to prayers and purity to finally stop his rampage. So I thought he might be able to handle this."

Caligula snatched up a rotted tree, one handed, and flung it like a spear, straight at one of Tarrasque's eyes. The monster flinched, and the tree shattered harmlessly on the scales of its face. But its mouth had snapped shut, putting a halt to the torrent of fire.

Caligula crossed the beach in a flash, his shoulder crashing into the monster's left foreleg. There was an ugly noise, and Tarrasque staggered.

Ryouma shook himself, sand scattering from his clothes. "But even he can't do this alone. We need to get in there." He glanced over to Oryou. "How badly is your foot hindering you?"

"It hurts, but Oryou-san can still fight," said Oryou, cracking both her neck and her knuckles.

"I'll kiss it, and any other hurts you have better, after this." For all that it was delivered off-handedly, Oryou still turned a very faint shade of pink. "Mash, you lead us, we'll break and go our separate ways once you make contact. We need to go in hard, and fast, and take him out, now."

He glanced over his shoulder, to the dune where Fujimaru was crouched. "Master's ready to supply what support she can, and Miss O is just waiting for a good shot. So let's finish this."

As one, they charged.

Caligula had seized one of the dragon's horns, and incredibly, was managing to keep the beast's head restrained. Tarrasque yelled and bawled, legs pawing at Caligula, but it couldn't manage an angle of attack with its head being twisted as it was. Caligula jerked the beast close, then his foot snapped up, pistoning into its nose.

Tarrasque yelped, then screeched, as Caligula roared, and tore the horn from Tarrasque's head, then turned in a circle and cracked the beast across the face with a piece of its own body.

Tarrasque, momentarily blinded by pain, had no defense as Caligula wound back, and prepared to hurl the horn, point first, straight into its eye.

Mash crashing into his back, every inch of power and momentum she could muster into the charge, put a halt to that.

With an inarticulate bellow, Caligula planted a foot and made as to swing the shattered horn into Mash, but with a cry, Oryou shot down from the sky, arm cocked back, and viciously clotheslined Caligula as she sped by. The Berserker was knocked from his feet and sent spinning to the ground. So great was the impact of Oryou's blow that he bounced.

Only once.

Staff held in both of her hands, Martha hauled back and swung it with a form that would have done any member of the Hiroshima Carp proud. Caligula tumbled through the air.

Right into Tarrasque's open mouth.

The biblical dragon bit down once, twice, then stopped. The muscles of its jaws strained, then began to quiver, as, inch by inch, its mouth was forced open.

Howling, Diana's name on his blood-flecked lips, with only one functional arm, somehow, Caligula prized the creature's jaws apart.

He roared, and tensed, preparing to force the jaws to go even wider, to shatter the bones.

An arrow screamed into his gut, and strength began to leak from his form. Staggering, he toppled, and fell.

"Mash!" Martha crouched, cupping her hands together.

The Shielder got it immediately - both Kratos and Cu had hurled her about the Simulator in the exact same fashion for weeks now. In a flash, she was leaping at the Saint, her foot landing in the woman's cupped hands.

A second later, she was screaming through the air so fast her eyes were watering. It didn't stop her from getting her shield up.

Metal met Servant flesh, and metal proved the stronger. There were several snapping sounds, then Mash, a battle cry on her lips, shoved with all her might and hurled Caligula aside.

He hit the sandy ground with a thud. Incredibly, impossibly, he still tried to rise - even making it as far as his knees, before his strength failed him. "Diana…." he mewled, weakly. His form shuddered, and cracks began appearing on his skin, light seeping from between them.

"Looks like you're about done. I'd let you vanish peacefully, but who knows what kind of damage you might do, to yourself or us, with that time, even unintentionally. So all I can do is give you a clean death." Ryouma's sword shimmered, reflecting the light being emitted from Caligula's body, then cut down.

Caligula's head bounced off the beach, once, twice, then became a shower of gold.

Oryou slapped Ryouma across the back, then frowned, as he winced. "Are you alright, Ryouma?"

"Yeah," the man chuckled, briefly, before wincing again. "I think I might have pulled something there - it felt like I was trying to cut through an iron bar. Had to really put my back into it."

She gently rubbed his back. "Oryou-san will find that tiny blonde woman who runs the Simulator when we get back, see if they have an onsen program. Oryou can wash your back. Onsen are good for aches." She grinned. "And they're nice and warm, too. Oryou-san likes warm."

Caligula's body was also breaking up, fading into nothingness. There was a massive burst of light, and everyone winced, covering their eyes.

When the light faded, and they could see again, the moon was back, shining down on them as it always had. And floating above where Caligula's body had been was a smaller replica of it.

"Is that….." asked Fujimaru, as she slid down the dune.

"It must be - the Authority that he somehow managed to acquire," Ryouma scratched the back of his head. "I kind of expected it to go back to where it should be, but it's just sitting there. Should we do something with it?"

There was a rumble under their feet, and suddenly, the communicator on Fujimaru's wrist chimed, then sprang to life.

"FINALLY!" Romani looked haggard, and even on the image, Fujimaru could see his eyes were bloodshot. "We've been trying to get in contact with you for hours, but something has been blocking us! I'd ask if you were alright, but we don't have time for that. The Singularity's started rapidly destabilizing! We need to get you back here!"

Fujimaru blinked, and Martha nodded. "I can feel it, whatever connection I had to the land is rapidly fading. This place is returning to Proper Human History!"

"But…." Fujimaru turned to Miss O. "Your memories! We never found them!"

Miss O patted her on her head. "It's ok, sweetie. You tried, and that's the most important thing. There's still a bit before this place falls apart, I'll search what I can of it before that happens. Don't worry yourself too much over me, I'll be alright."

She smiled, impossibly brightly. "After all, even without my memories, I got to have so much fun today, and had a wonderful adventure with some new friends. Maybe, later, once I've found out who I am, we'll meet again." She cooed. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"You could always come back with us," said Fujimaru, impulsively. "We could probably handle the burden one more Servant would put on our generators."

Miss O shook her head. "Oh, that's a tempting offer, but I'll have to say no, for now. I really do want to find my memories, if I can. And, there feels like something else I'm missing too. So I'm going to keep searching." She reached out and grabbed Fujimaru by the cheeks. "But I will remember your invitation, Ritsuka Fujimaru - that, and all the kindness you showed me today."

"And I too, will remember the service you did me, and Rome itself, today." Caesar was limping his way up the beach. "While I wish there had been another way, in the end, you saved my descendant from oblivion, or worse." Caesar bowed, formally. "You have my gratitude, and that of Caligula himself, and his niece as well, I feel."

Just like before, his charisma was like a tidal wave. It almost made Fujimaru willing to forgive him for selling their moon cakes off - nevermind that they'd gotten most of them back in the end.

"Fou, what are you doing?"

Mash's voice brought Fujimaru out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Fou pawing at something in the sand. "What's he got there, Mashie?"

"I don't know," Mash walked over from the cart, where she had been securing the remaining bags of sweets. She knelt down by Fou, and dug in the sand, briefly, before holding up a shard of gold. "It almost looks like a piece of a cup….."

She paled. "You don't think…."

Fujimaru nodded. "It would explain how he could flat out steal an Authority from someone or some thing - Holy Grail bullshit, even if it's just a fragment of one, and the crazy power he was showing. Secure it, if nothing else, and we can have Da Vinci take a look at it when we get back." Which needed to be soon, the ground was starting to shake alarmingly.

Caesar and Martha were both starting to give off copious amounts of golden particles. Miss O as well, though she was concentrating, clearly trying to hold on. Martha looked over to them, Tarrasque looming over her. "Have I sufficiently atoned for my sins?"

Fujimaru couldn't help it, she laughed. "And then some. Don't beat yourself up too badly, you didn't know that someone was selling stolen property. Go," She made an exaggerated gesture, likely influenced by the priests she'd seen in anime and video games. "I absolve you."

With a salute from Caesar, and a declaration that she'd be praying for them, Martha and Caesar returned to the Throne.

"Have you said your goodbyes, because we REALLY need to get you out of there!" said an increasingly panicky Roman.

She looked over to Miss O, who nodded, and waved. "We should be good to go. Group up guys, let's get home."

With Mash to one side of her, Ryouma to the other, and Oryou floating above her, Fujimaru's last sight of the Singularity was Miss O, staring up at the moon.

Then she felt that hand snatch her up, and there was an endless tunnel of blue.

---

 

FRENCH SHORELINE

A FEW MINUTES AFTER THE DEPARTURE OF CHALDEA​

She continued staring up at the moon, after those nice people had left. Just processing everything, but mainly the memories that were returning to her.

No one had seen it, blinded by the light as they had been, but she had felt it - a solid bit of energy, returning to her, as Caligula had died. And then, so much had flooded her mind, and she had remembered.

Everything.

It had been difficult to force her Authority to remain in place - thankfully that nice girl had mistaken her look of concentration for an attempt to hold on and stay manifested for just a bit longer, so she hadn't had to do much. Just use a few tricks of the light to make an illusion of her starting to fade away, until they were gone.

With open arms, the Moon Goddess finally stopped resisting it, and welcomed her Authority back to her.

She shivered. Oh, that was SO much better.

"Now," she said, feeling her power settling back into her. "To find what I was looking for all along. Daaarrrling! Where are you?"

No answer - not that she'd really expected one. He was probably long gone by now, which meant she'd need to keep searching. Maybe somewhere else, also near the sea. He was the son of Poseidon, after all.

Humming to herself, Artemis looked out across history for a likely spot. Somewhere where she'd feel a tug - for the two of them shared a Spirit Origin now, after all, so he couldn't hide from her, any more than she could hide from him. She'd track him down, sooner or later - but she did hope it would be sooner. She missed him so much.

But, at the same time, her mind couldn't let go of one thing in particular.

Kratos. A foreign god - he'd startled her when she'd seen him in the halls of that Chaldea place - both from the sight of a physical god walking the earth, and the eerie familiarity she'd felt from him, despite having never seen him before in her very long life. Oh, she had SO many questions for him, when next they met.

And she did intend on them meeting again. It wasn't every day you might find a sibling you hadn't known about when the day started, after all.

Smiling, Artemis floated off into the night.

---

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: With how much JoJos has eaten my brain since I finally got around to watching it, like I wasn't going to have Marie do some JoJos posing when she did her ridiculous intro.

If I am WAY off on Authorities here, it's a FGO event, which largely make no damn sense. Last one on NA we won by the day by drowning the enemy in tea. And now we're playing Suikoden with Liz. Though if it's just a simple correction by changing 'Authority' to another word, let me know.

The Elf National Anthem was my soundtrack for most of this chapter. Between that, Oshi No Ko, Beastars, and the first Witch From Mercury opening, YOASOBI is managing to tickle my fancy.

Chapter 39: Post-Septem 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 39

MAIN CONFERENCE ROOM

ONE DAY AFTER THE RESOLUTION OF THE FRENCH MINOR SINGULARITY​

"So, to sum up things, we still don't know who it was who infiltrated our base?"

Romani's question was greeted with a roomful of shaking heads and shrugs.

"From everything I saw in the transcripts of Fujimaru, Mash, and Ryouma's reports of the mission, it does not seem as though Caligula could possibly have been the culprit," said the El-Melloi, his eyes down, as he flipped through three different stacks of papers. "Caligula simply does not have the power to override the Rayshift mechanisms with pure mana, or, at least, the one I knew from the Roman Singularity did not."

"And I can't see a Berserker sneaking through the base all quiet, either," added Avenger, her heels resting on the conference table, her expression beyond bored. "Even some artificially added Madness Enhancement doesn't do great things for a Servant - and I should know. But when you're coming by that shit naturally?" She laughed. "Guy would have been going through walls instead of tiptoeing around like he was some sort of Assassin."

"And, from Caesar's testimony, he and Caligula were summoned together, and had been in each other's presence almost continually." Chiron was standing next to a whiteboard, where he had been filling out a series of events, with the caption of 'Timeline?'. "Moreover, Caligula was acting normally - for him at least - up until they briefly separated. But they'd already had possession of the moon cakes, and had been selling them prior to this. I would wish to interrogate him more on his claim that he 'stumbled onto' the bags, but unfortunately…."

"Yeah, the rampaging Berserker kind of prevented us from talking to him much before fists started getting thrown, and everything fell apart too quickly after," said Fujimaru.

"And that's in no way meant to be a condemnation of your actions during the mission, my student," Chiron was quick to add. "Given the circumstances, I would have to say you performed more than adequately."

"Oryou-san still thinks there was something suspicious about that Miss O." Oryou was floating over the conference table, her arms dangling down. Her ankle - the one that had been stabbed with Caligula's stolen light, was (supposedly) still healing, and thus was in a cast. A green cast, which was sporting a handful of signatures, and a drawing that could charitably be called a frog, done by Avenger.

"I just can't see it," said Fujimaru, while Mash enthusiastically nodded along. "She was just so nice. And, moreover, why?"

Why? That was the big question they kept circling back to, and still were unable to answer. Why break into Chaldea for something as commonplace as some food? And for Fujimaru, and the others defending Miss O, why would she lie about losing her memory, and then spend the entirety of the Singularity helping out?

"We're going in circles," muttered Cu, his head lying on the table's surface. "We just don't have enough information to go on. But, for the record, I think there was something a bit fishy about Miss O as well. But that's just my gut speaking, nothing else."

"Then we must make sure that this cannot happen again," rumbled Kratos, wearing a simple pair of gray sweat pants and a shirt warning the reader that he had eaten bigger burgers than them, and proclaiming the virtues of 'Fatburger'.

Whatever that was.

"Already on that, Kratos," said Da Vinci, with a nasty gleam in her eye. "I've upgraded the cameras so that they can't be blinded like that again, and I've added some extra security protocols to the Rayshifting controls - there's not much we can do about someone overwhelming them with pure mana, but we can at least make it harder for them to do so."

"In addition, we're having at least one Servant on standby in the Control Room at all times," said Romani. "We discussed having Kratos in the rotation as well, but we feel there's enough demands on your time as it is. And unlike Servants, you do need sleep, even if it isn't as great a need for you as it is for us mere mortals."

Kratos grunted. He would not have protested taking his turn at the watch, but in the end, he had understood their arguments against. Between his time with Da Vinci and Mash, learning, and then switching roles and continuing his training of the girl, and his own regimen, he had little spare time - just the way he preferred it. But sleep was necessary, even for him.

He had been injured in the last campaign - and while it had not come due to any lack of rest on his part, it was a reminder that this war they were embroiled in gave little margin for error.

So he had agreed and thus, his 'downtime' was not cut into with additional duties. (He would fill it with duties of his own.)

Ryouma raised his hand. "Just to ask, I assume we also don't have any clue as to why we weren't able to contact Chaldea while we were in the field?"

"Correct," said Da Vinci, begrudgingly. "Best we can tell is that something about the Singularity was blocking us - or someone was doing so." Her expression grew thunderous. "Based on the logs and timestamps, it ceased right when Caligula was defeated. But as convenient a scapegoat as he makes, it just doesn't sit right with me, for all the same reasons that Lord El-Melloi II there stated already."

Avenger voiced what they were all thinking. "So, do you think it was Lev's buddies fucking with us?"

"It doesn't really fit their modus operandi," said the Clock Tower Lord. "An empowered Caligula, while certainly dangerous, doesn't compare to the threats from the Roman Singularity, or the ones you faced in France. A single Berserker is a far cry from the founding god of Rome, and whatever Lev Lainur became. Or a threat from Kratos' universe in Servant form." He shook his head. "No, I feel that whatever hand lies behind the recent events, they're from another party entirely."

"That fits my line of thinking as well," said Romani. "The entire situation was almost tailor-made to end badly for us, looking back on it with the benefit of hindsight. One of our Masters, cut off from Chaldea, and with limited support on the ground. No, if it had been our enemies, they'd have made a much bigger play than just a single empowered Servant."

"It was also much less personal," said the El-Melloi. "Though that could have just been a consequence of Lev being the driving force behind the first two Singularities. Given Avenger there the means to summon a foe from Kratos' past, then summoning that Archer to tailor a scenario intended to put Kratos off-balance. The whydunnit, for him, at least, is obvious. Revenge for the slight of being bested by Kratos in Fuyuki. Now that he is dead, we cannot expect whomever takes his place to have that flaw."

"There is the possibility of them seeking vengeance for a lost comrade," said Kratos. "I have been pursued more than once by one with that motivation."

"Maybe, but it…." Fujimaru frowned, and fidgeted. "It just doesn't seem like their thing, you know? When Lev turned into that…whatever it was, for all that he was throwing around insults and taunts and talking like a stereotypical villain in a Sentai show, his rage felt……cold. Mechanical or something."

She slumped in her chair. "I dunno what I'm trying to say."

"He got heated there at the end, when all his brilliant plans were blowing up in his smug face," snicker Avenger. "But you ain't wrong, Red. He made it pretty clear how he feels about us, all of us. He sees us as bugs. You don't get mad at bugs. You just squash them." Avenger's grin turned vicious. "Right up until the bugs start biting back, HARD."

"Took the words right out of my mouth!" exclaimed Cu, who reached out and bashed his knuckles into Avenger's outstretched fist.

Da Vinci sighed, but it was a fond sigh. "So, in the absence of anything else, it looks like we're just going to have to put a pin in this one."

"I would tend to agree," said Chiron, capping the marker he had been using to annotate the timeline. "While there is enough to throw at least a touch of suspicion on Miss O, she too is not here to interrogate. And, if she truly did have the power to break into the base, and then overwhelm the Rayshifting protocols, attempting to forcibly bring her back to Chaldea could have gone poorly with the forces we had available to us at the time."

"If we bump into her again, maybe we can ask her, then. But what are the odds…." Fujimaru trailed off, and groaned. "And I probably just jinxed us, didn't I?"

"Ignoring one of our Masters dooming us by tempting fate, what do we think we should do with this?" asked Romani.

'This', being the fragment that Fujimaru had brought back from the Singularity, and currently resting inside a sealed container, on the center of the table.

"It's absolutely a Grail. A piece of one rather than a whole, but the patterns on the side, and the readings match the others we've recovered so far." Da Vinci steepled her fingers, a glint in her eye that sent chills down the spines of most of the room's occupants. "It's obviously not going to be a near-infinite source of mana like a proper Grail would be, but that only limits the most grand of things we could do with this."

"Why not just use it for power like you've done with the others?" asked the El-Melloi.

There was a pause. "We could," admitted Da Vinci. "It's certainly the most obvious use for it. It'd take a little finagling to make sure we didn't deplete it, but that's nothing to a genius like me."

"It's also boring." Her tone was dismissive, a haughty sniff of her nose accompanying the declaration. "I've got at least a dozen projects that could do WONDERFUL things with something like that, that could produce a massive burst of mana with carefully controlled usage. And they'd be much more beneficial to our efforts than using this as a simple battery."

Romani groaned. "Get me the proposals, and we'll CONSIDER it." He glanced over to the El-Melloi. "If it isn't too much to ask, Lord, can I request your eyes in helping me review what she comes up with?" At the man's blink, he continued. "You're our most modern Servant, even if Da Vinci's designs aren't exactly what you'd call modern. But you're also a Caster, so you're probably the best suited for such a job. More than our other Caster, at least."

Cu laughed. "Yeah, you aren't wrong about that. I do my work in combat, not in workshops. On a good day I can only follow about half of the stuff that crazy lady is saying."

The Clock Tower Lord nodded. "It should be within my means. Probably not too different from grading papers for my class back at the Clock Tower. Though I would hope the proposals to be more sane than what Flat would manage to cobble together."

"It won't be," whispered Avenger, though her voice was pitched such that it defeated the purpose of whispering entirely. "It'll be worse."

Da Vinci's smile was deceptively placid. "What was that, Avenger? I do believe I heard that you'd like your arm to explode?"

Romani rolled his eyes as the two of them began to bicker. "With that derailment to the subject of the Grail fragment, is there anything other pressing issues anyone else wants to discuss?"

Silence, and then….

"You have questions." For all that it was soft, Kratos' voice filled the room. "Have had questions since I arrived here."

There was a chorus of nodding heads. "My past - my story is not something I share easily. And this world, and your ways were….strange to me." A grunt. "Many things still are. But in the last campaign, I was asked if you are good people, if you were worthy."

He looked up at every one of them. "You are. Ask your questions." He frowned. "Though I cannot promise I will answer all of them."

Looks were exchanged between the occupants of the room. Still, no one spoke immediately - Mash and Fujimaru were fidgeting, as though they wanted to speak, but couldn't muster up the nerve. Eventually, it was (unsurprisingly) Avenger who broke the silence. "Well, if no one ELSE is going to speak up, I fucking will."

She pulled her feet from the table and sat up straight in her chair. "I want to know about what that Lev bastard said about you. What happened with your family?"

She grimaced. "Your first family, or whatever. I know you've got a kid now, and your wife died a few years back - you've mentioned spreading her ashes and all that shit. But what the fuck happened before then?"

Her eyes smoldered, challenging him. Demanding he prove himself to her - he who had been so disdainful of her past actions. And, in some way, demanding to understand just where his repeated 'be better' came from.

He felt Medusa's hand on his arm, her touch featherlite, and very, very brief. He did not have to look to know her eyes were on him - more than anyone else in the room.

He took a deep breath, then reached behind him, and set the Blades of Chaos on the table. And not lightly, either - the table itself shook. "These were Ares' first gift to me, after our pact was sealed." Even when not in his hands, the metal of the Blades glinted, the fires within simmering. Banked, but still awaiting the moment they would be unleashed. And he could feel them, reaching out to him - or possibly that was just his imagination, and his knowledge that the hateful things would never let him be free of them.

Ignoring the Blades, he continued. "With them, I served Ares for years - and each day, I lost more of myself. At times, I was little better than an animal….or a monster. I killed hundreds….maybe thousands, unthinkingly….willingly. Ares was pleased with his slave. But he believed with more I could be his ideal warrior, if only the things binding me were cut away."

A ripple passed through the room, as a chill seemed to settle over those listening to Kratos' tale. "If the gods of your Olympus were like the ones I knew, then, the 'ties' you speak of were…." Medusa's hair was beginning to flare up, writhing in the air.

"I was ordered to sack a village, and destroy a temple of Athena. I did so, unquestioningly. Only once the deed was done did I realize that the blood staining my hands, and the bodies at my feet were those of my wife and daughter. Transported there by Ares himself, and placed in my path."

Almost unconsciously, his hand came to rest on his chest. Even through the thin material of this shirt, he could feel it. The ash still clinging to his skin, all these years later. The curse he continued to bear. "Every day….every moment since then, I have carried the guilt of those actions with me."

Mash and Fujimaru looked horrified - for him, or OF him, he could not tell. Romani seemed to share their feelings. Da Vinci, for her part, was scowling, her expression livid, and she was joined in this by Cu, whose teeth were showing through his angry snarl. Chiron and Medusa, to contrast, hardly looked surprised. Their faces told a story of grim acceptance, as though this was something they had heard many times before. If the words differed in the telling, the tale itself was familiar in its tragedy to them. Those who became involved with the gods of Olympus rarely came to happy endings. The El-Melloi's look was calculating - Kratos could hear the wheels of the man's mind turning as he digested this new information.

Oddly enough, Fujimaru's new Servants hadn't reacted at all. At another time, he might have taken greater notice of this.

But his attention was grabbed, no, demanded by a metal fist striking the table, hard. Avenger's eyes were as hard and as serious as he'd ever seen them. And when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and steady. "What'd you do to them?"

"I swore revenge. I broke the blood-oath to Ares, though I was punished for it. I was charged to serve the gods of Olympus as a whole, as they promised me redemption, and a relief from the nightmares of my sins." A bitter grunt. "They lied."

"I served them ten years as their executioner - their butcher. Solving their problems, slaying their monsters. With no relief in sight, I began to understand that I would never be free - that I would be their tool for eternity." His fists clenched. "Finally, Athena offered me a deal."

He could hear Medusa inhale sharply. Kratos himself was tense, some part of him expecting Athena's shade - if that was what he had seen before, and not just the ghosts of his own mind haunting him - to appear at the mention of her name. But if she was there, he did not see her. "Ares had crossed lines that even the other gods found to be objectionable. She claimed that by killing him, I would find peace."

"She lied."

"Of course she did," sneered Medusa.

"But in my foolishness…and desperation, I accepted her deal. And I took Ares' life. But the guilt, and the nightmares remained. Even death was denied me, as the gods of Olympus raised me to Ares' seat."

Da Vinci was nodding to herself. Kratos had long believed the woman had put at least some of his history together by now, and that his tale was merely adding confirmation to what she suspected. "The throne of a god was a poor fit for me. In time, my excesses were such that the gods of Olympus turned against me, as they had Ares before. I was tricked into giving up my powers, and then I was cast down by Zeus. I could have turned my back on them - I was free of their meddling."

"But you didn't." Avenger's words weren't a question, they were a statement.

"No, I did not," Kratos sighed. "Predictably..." And back in his world, he could hear the Norns laughing at him. "I swore revenge. And by the end of it all, I had burned Olympus to the ground, and in the process, ravaged much of Greece."

He shook his head. "When I saw the ruin I had caused, I realized then how far I had fallen. In disgust at my actions, I fled Greece. I do not know for how long. For much of that time, I was barely human. Until I met Faye, and she managed to slowly bring me back to sanity, a piece at a time."

"So now you know." He let out a long breath, and waited.

"Fuckers had it coming," Avenger slouched back into her chair, drawing her legs up to her chest. "Ares for fucking sure - the rest of them, maybe not, but I doubt they were saints or anything. You might regret what you did, but you don't talk about them like their hands weren't fucking dirty, either."

"No," he said quietly. "They were petty, and cruel. Greece suffered under them as much as they did the monsters that threatened the land. Much of my hatred of gods comes from them. It is only in recent years I have begun to realize that not all gods are like the ones I knew in my home." Freya, and Tyr, to name two. Even Thor, in as many similarities as he had had to a younger Kratos, the man had almost been able to step back, and find a better path, if not for Odin.

And then there were the gods of that desert land, who had been strange, but not hostile - they had dealt with the broken man he was then more fairly than he had deserved at the time.

"I would understand if you did not wish to answer, but…" Chiron was weighing his words carefully. "Did you kill all of them?"

He was right. Kratos DID not want to answer that. But… "Most. Only the ones who stood against me on that day. Those that did not oppose me….I do not know their fates." Those were few enough - most of Olympus had opposed him, both on that day, and before. Though from what Mimir had implied, more than once, it seemed as though they had all perished when Zeus fell. If not immediately, then after. And he had not yet found the right moment to ask Tyr of his homeland's fate, either.

"I don't think we need a full list, not right now," said Romani. "Maybe later, just so we can be aware of any potential issues should we run into them, from either of our worlds." He shifted in his seat. "This is difficult enough for all of us as it is."

He glanced around the room. "Maybe….we should break for a time. Come back to this another day. It's….honestly a lot to digest."

There was a murmur of assent from the assembled and slowly, in groups of twos and threes, they began to depart. Until he was alone in the room.

Or so he thought. A hand was placed on his elbow, then gently, but firmly began to urge him from his seat.

Medusa. "Come on." She began to ferry him from the room.

Apparently his expression was easy enough for her to read, even with her eyes covered. "I'm not about to let you sit and brood after a story like that. It'll do you about as much good as it does me to think about what I did to my sisters." Her hand on his arm momentarily tightened. "So we're going to distract ourselves."

---

 

DA VINCI'S WORKSHOP

SHORTLY LATER​

Da Vinci was humming to herself as she weighed her various projects in her mind. She had a baker's dozen - or more, that could all potentially make good use of a Grail fragment, but she couldn't bury Roman in that many proposals. The man was barely sleeping as is, and even between Singularities as they were hadn't lessened his workload - or, more correctly, the workload he was taking upon himself.

She was twitching the fingers of her left hand, just listening to the complex mechanisms within her gauntlet, when she realized she'd been doing that for ten minutes now.

Woolgathering. She was woolgathering. And she knew exactly why. Kratos had finally shared his story - some of it, at least, and it was every bit as horrible as she'd expected.

Not that she'd been too surprised by it. Well, the SCALE of it, certainly. How often did anyone, even a Servant, share a table with someone who had personally killed almost an entire Pantheon? But then rest….

All the signs were there - even beyond the physical ones (and the images of those chains, visible from how they had seared all the way down to his bone how many centuries - or even millennia later never failed to stoke the fires of her anger). Kratos showed definite signs of abuse - or PTSD. Or both. He'd admitted to doing some horrible things in his service to Ares, after all, so, again, it wasn't surprising.

But to make someone kill their own family, in the hopes of turning them into someone's idea of the 'perfect warrior'? Bastard. (And the fact that it wasn't too different from the plans some Mages had come up with was just adding to her ire.) Avenger wasn't wrong when she'd said Ares had had it coming. The justification for the rest of his rampage…..well, she'd need more data to make a proper judgment on that.

Not that she was going to throw stones at the man or anything. Justified or not, he was clearly carrying guilt for his actions during that period of his life. And, moreover, had tried to move on from the person he was then. When someone was trying to better themselves, you didn't knock them back down. You helped them - so long as they were sincere.

Which, from the sounds of things, was exactly what Kratos' wife had done for him. Honestly, Da Vinci was sorry that she wouldn't get a chance to meet her someday - she sounded like a hell of a woman. To have won Kratos' love, she'd have had to have been, much less to have him still carrying such a strong torch for her years later.

There was a chime at her door, and she twitched, startled out of her thoughts. Goodness, if she was so deep in her own head that she'd missed someone approaching her door, then she really was a bit rattled by all this. Hopefully whomever was there would provide a good distraction.

"Come in!" she yelled, signaling for the door to unlock and slide open.

A moment later, Fujimaru's newest Servant walked into the room.

Well, walked in, and floated in, as Oryou immediately levitated herself up to the ceiling to examine some of Da Vinci's projects that were hanging overhead. Ryouma, for his part, also took his time looking around, the expression on his face clearly showing that he was impressed with what he was seeing.

Exactly the kind of reaction she liked to see.

"Well," she said with a smile, her mood lightening, at least somewhat, by seeing two people's virgin reactions to her workshop. "Not who I thought would be walking through my door today - honestly, I was expecting Roman. Though that isn't to say I'm unhappy to host you." She glanced upwards. "And Oryou, look, but please don't touch. Some of those things are either fragile, or in the process of being worked on."

"Why hang them up there if they're fragile?" Oryou withdrew her hand from where it had been inching out towards one of her flight machines. "You humans don't make any sense to Oryou-san."

"Eccentricity often goes hand-in-hand with genius," she said, more than a little pompously. "So, what can I do for the two of you?"

Ryouma reached up to scratch at the back of his head. "Ah, it's nothing much. Just an idea I had. You made a pair of knives for Miss Fujimaru, right? I noticed them when I was first summoned - spotting stuff like that was a basic survival skill during the Bakamatsu - and she told me about them, how they're a last line of defense for her."

He rummaged around in his suit, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "It's a good idea, which got me thinking."

He held it out to her, and she took the offered piece of paper, quickly unfolding it and scanning the contents.

….this. This could work.

She looked up from the diagrams, and favored the man with a raised eyebrow. "Since when did a legend of the Bakamatsu period pick up an idea like this?"

Ryouma shrugged. "Here and there. Some of the things I've seen, I swear….." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you think you can manage something like that?"

She glanced over the sketches in her hand one more time, more thoroughly. "I think I should be able to make something happen. Honestly, seeing this thing gives me a few ideas of my own." Various parts of her brain began to spin up, as she felt the spark of inspiration light her own fires.

Idly, she walked over to her workbench and laid the paper on a scanner and fired the machine up. Better to have a copy that she could project as she worked on this. That would take a minute or two. While she was waiting…. "So, you two were awfully quiet during Kratos' tale today. Now that I've got you two to myself, do you have any thoughts to share?"

For a moment, there was only the hum of the scanner. Then…

"Oryou-san would have done worse to them if they'd made me hurt Ryouma." The woman's tone, normally so flat, practically crackled with menace. Then, she continued, more calmly. "But Oryou-san can see why he doesn't like gods, despite being one."

"It was a proper tragedy, wasn't it?" said Ryouma, reaching up to take Oryou's dangling hand in his. "Greek and everything, too." He gave a weak chuckle, then his expression turned serious. "But all that aside….."

He fixed her with a level gaze. "By his own words, he killed an entire pantheon of gods, with his own hands, and in the process, caused the deaths of nearly everyone in that land. How certain are you to be trusting Humanity's future to him?"

He wasn't saying anything she hadn't considered herself, if she was perfectly honest. From the moment Kratos had landed in their laps, she'd been devising failsafes and plans JUST in case, even as the days had passed and she'd come to know Kratos better - the point that she considered him a friend, and hoped he felt the same. It wasn't personal - the stakes they were playing for just didn't allow her to take anyone lightly - she had stratagems, multiple, for every single person and Servant in the base should one or more of them turn against Chaldea.

And yes, that included ones for herself, too, in case she should somehow be suborned or turned.

And his tone wasn't accusatory at all, either, not in the slightest. Not against Kratos, or her (and Roman's - because he was a part of all this, too) decisions. Just a simple, matter-of-fact question and a look that told her in no uncertain terms he was gauging her reactions.

In the back of her mind, something itched, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on this one.

"If you had asked me that when he first arrived, after hearing his story, I'd have probably said something different. Even beyond the desperate situation we'd found ourselves in, and the emotional toll we were all going through, to fight someone who had incinerated all of Humanity with another, lesser monster….I still might have said yes to that deal, given that it would have been the only hand we had to play, with our only Master in a coma." She paused. "But that was then, and you're asking me now. After two months, give or take, of getting to know him."

"Two months of spending a few hours, every day, teaching him about this world, and the society of Mages he's gotten himself wrapped up in. Two months of watching him train Mash - and that girl is like a daughter to me. I threatened him, you know, when she first asked him to train her. Told him that if he hurt her, or turned her into something she wasn't, I'd skin him alive. And he just nodded - not the kind of sarcastic nod you give when you blow someone off, but one that said he knew EXACTLY where I was coming from, and he's a father, so he probably does. Two months of watching him spar with that crazy Irishman that's so attached to him, of seeing him get Medusa, of all people, to open up to him. He's even managed to tolerate Avenger, despite how infuriating she can be, and how much she must remind him of his younger self."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Two months, and I can tell you with every certainty that I don't feel any misgivings about accepting his help. Whatever mistakes he made in the past - and he DID make mistakes, don't think I'm overlooking that - he clearly regrets them. And it shows, in the parts he hasn't mentioned. He had the chance to go through a second apocalypse in his new home, and from the sounds of things, a lot more gods survived at the end. The thing on his arm that lets him understand us, and us, him, was made for him by Freya, and he's mentioned Tyr once or twice too, both of them in the current tense. And in much more friendly tones that he did any of the gods of Olympus, too."

"No," she said, firmly. "Whatever monster he was, and still thinks he is, he's not that anymore."

From above her, there was the sound of….applause? And Ryouma was smiling at her. "Good answer."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "I had to ask. After hearing a story like that, well….it wouldn't do any of us any good for us to resolve the Incineration of Humanity only to have to turn around and deal with a cancer in our midst, right when we'd probably be exhausted and at our weakest, too. And I don't have your history with the god walking these halls, so all I really have to judge him is a handful of quick conversations."

He sighed, and slid his hat off his head, and ran a hand through his hair. "But, for the record, I don't think you're wrong to defend him like you just did, either. Unless he's playacting at being this serious, straightforward soldier, the sort of which would fit in right alongside the likes of Okita or Hijikata, I really don't think he's any danger to this world. Not looking to set himself up as the new ruler of Earth once the Incineration has been resolved and Humanity's back." He shrugged. "At least, that's my read on him so far. But there's always the possibility I'm wrong."

"He fought the gods like Oryou-san did, and got beat down like Oryou-san did too. But he didn't have a Ryouma to come pick him up like Oryou-san did." The woman sniffed. "If someone else had pulled that spear out instead, Oryou-san might have done the same to the gods of Japan."

"And I think they're quite happy things worked out the way they did," said Ryouma, with a fond smile. "As happy as I am, at least."

As Oryou swatted at Ryouma, Da Vinci felt some of the things twisted around her heart loosen, just a bit. It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement of Kratos - but it wasn't a fiery condemnation, either. It was, at its core, utterly fair. And, in the interest of complete honesty, she did have some questions of her own for Kratos, to be raised at a future date. When he said he'd 'ravaged much of Greece', she didn't think he'd personally burnt everything to the ground - more that there had been consequences he hadn't anticipated. She desperately wanted more information, if only to hear the story.

A finger jabbing into her hair brought her back to herself - drifting off twice in one day, goodness. "Hey, human. What's this?"

Oryou was floating in front of her, pointing over to her workbench. Specifically, at something that was behind layers of glass equivalent to the protections she had around the Grails, and a myriad of other, more subtle defenses.

Very, very lethal defenses. It was a good thing the woman had listened when Da Vinci had said 'look, but don't touch'. Even a dragon like her would not have enjoyed the backlash she'd have gotten by rapping on the glass there.

"That, Oryou, is the director of Chaldea." Da Vinci's tone was wistful. "One Olga-Marie Animusphere."

A pair of blinking eyes. "But, I thought Doctor Romani was the acting head?" said Ryouma, his tone curious.

"Acting head, yes," said Da Vinci. "You haven't been here long enough to hear the story, but we lost the actual Director in Lev's sabotage on what was to be our first mission. Her soul was caught in the Rayshift and transported to Fuyuki. We managed to save her from Lev, but her soul would have broken apart in the return Rayshift, since her body was dead." And this was why she'd been willing to take a chance on Kratos, when he'd first crossed into the domain of her workshop, those months past, even with how guarded he'd been, and knowing how dangerous and unpredictable a god could be.

"Kratos saved her. Well, Kratos and Cu. That thing there is something from his world, that the Giants made to abandon their bodies, and hide their souls from Odin's genocidal hunt for the Giants and their secrets."

Ryouma was now peering closely at the marble. "So, you're saying there's a human soul in that thing? Aren't you worried about it decaying?"

She was quick to reply. "Of course! It's a constant worry. But given we're dealing with magic from completely outside this universe - and these things were intended for the Giants to hide in - for possibly millenia, so we have to hope the foreign magics aren't subject to the same rules." It was a continual worry, for both herself and Roman, that she would get an appropriate body grown or created for Olga, only for there to not be enough soul left in the marble to attach. Or, possibly worse, that the soul was damaged in some way by decay brought about by the passage of time and what they got wasn't Olga anymore. "Kratos did say that his son managed to bind one of the souls in the other marbles to a snake - that eventually became the World Serpent, and that it didn't seem to suffer any ill effects from the long time spent in the marble, so that's a hopeful sign. But all we can really do is cross our fingers and pray."

Ryouma settled his hat back on top of his head. "I assume one of the projects you mentioned to Romani was using that piece of a Grail to help stabilize her soul when you attach it?"

She nodded. "Got it in one! It would be at the top of the list, if I could only get a good base to grow a body from." Her fingers drummed on the surface of her workbench, sharply, mirroring her annoyance. "Unfortunately, the sort of resources we'd need to grow a quality body isn't stuff Chaldea stockpiles anymore. And growing something that would last requires a bit more quality ingredients than the meatsuit I use to keep myself anchored."

Again, two pairs of blinking eyes. "Did you not wonder why I'm not contracted to either of our two Masters, yet somehow I'm still around as a summoned Servant? On paper, I'm contracted to 'Chaldea', but in reality….." She lowered her voice, her tone taking on the kind you'd take when discussing conspiratorial whispers. "Well, I may have grown a body to count as my Master so I can stick around."

Ah, they both looked suitably impressed, just what she loved to see when demonstrating her genius. "It allows me a good deal more freedom than standard, which is almost necessary given the hats I have to wear these days. But something like that is much more simple than creating a functional body that can attach and hold a human soul. It's not outside the reach of Uomo Universale, but even Renaissance Woman like myself can't do so in a cave with a box of scraps, despite what popular culture might tell you about geniuses." She sighed. "Even the Red would struggle with this. You need clay to make bricks with, in the end."

"We did manage to salvage some components from the last Singularity," she said, gesturing off to the side where a heavy, locked metal door led to her cold-storage area. "The armies there were mainly comprised of Homunculi, so there were plenty of things to harvest. But what Fujimaru was afraid of is right - they weren't growing them for quality, but quantity. Even if there wasn't the worry of putting our Director in a body that could have any number of failsafes that our enemies control, those Homunculi weren't built to last. It's debatable that any body made using them as the base would even survive to the end of this fight."

"I assume that's at least part of what you're thinking of solving with the Grail fragment," muttered Ryouma, hand stroking his chin. "Even if, as you said, it's not infinite mana, it could certainly bolster an otherwise less than impressive base - sort of like how it did for the Servant we took it off of."

"It's one of the paths I've been exploring, yes," she shrugged. "That one still leaves us with the problem of whatever biological malware might be there. I'm just going to have to workshop various solutions in the coming days, now that things look to have calmed down a touch and we're not dealing with yet another fire." Tempting fate, yes, she knows, but given that there was someone walking the halls of Chaldea who might have killed the Fates of another world, maybe the ones of this world might keep their distance.

---

 

CHALDEA GYM​

Avenger's fist hit the bag, hard, and despite it having been reinforced to hold up to Servant level strength, it wobbled alarmingly, then the hook snapped, and the bag went flying wildly through the air.

Mash dragged Fujimaru behind her with one hand, while the other called her shield to her. The bag crumpled against the metal, sending sand spraying everywhere, then limply slid to the ground. Both girls sputtered and coughed as the sand splashed over them.

"Thank you SO much for that, Avenger! I just got all the sand washed out and was thinking, 'I could go for another round of having to vacuum sand out of my bed!' " snarked Fujimaru, shaking grit out of her ginger locks.

She glanced over to a pile of spare bags. "Do we need to have Mashie hang up another one, or do you want to use your words now?"

"No!" snapped Avenger. At Fujimaru's raised eyebrow, and glance over to the pile of ruined bags - that were still surrounded by cleaning robots trying to sweep up all the sand still leaking from their torn surfaces, she deflated, and flopped to the floor. "Maybe. Fuck. I don't know."

"FUUUUUCK!" Avenger's fist rang off the floor, denting it.

A hand carefully, tentatively laid itself on her shoulder. The ashen-haired woman looked up. Red was leaning over her, her expression worried - an expression mirrored by Mash, who was hauling the broken bag over to the pile.

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?" Fujimaru's tone was soothing, like she was trying to talk down a crazy person, and fuck it, she was kind of exactly that, wasn't she? The Avenger class might not come with Madness Enhancement like Berserker did, but it didn't come with a clean bill of sanity either.

And yet, the girl wasn't flinching back at all. Not a lot of people who wouldn't be intimidated in the face of a pissed off Avenger. If she didn't know how much ass she could kick - and HAD kicked in her brief existence, she'd be worried that maybe she was being seen as having been tamed.

But no, that was just fucking Red. When she'd been dragged along after France to this place, making a friend hadn't been on her list of expectations.

"He's just……fucking me, all over again." The girl gave her a grin, and Avenger groaned at her. "Not like that you damn pervert. 'Fucking' as an emphasis word, not an action word." Look at her, putting those reading lessons from the mouse to good use. "The gory, murderous backstory, getting screwed over and stabbed in the back, the rage - the only thing he's missing is being created specifically to be someone's murder-puppet, and he's Greek, right? They had prophecies all over the damn place. I bet you they had one for him, too."

She drew her knees up to her chest. "The only difference is he clearly regrets what he did - it's fucking obvious where all that 'Be Better' shit is coming from, now. Probably from having nightmares about his son turning out like he did. Meanwhile I ain't got time to feel guilty," she said, not quite lying through her teeth, but not exactly telling the whole truth, either.

She remembered enough of 'me's' life to know that France ABSOLUTELY stabbed her in the back. No questions asked, they served her up on a silver platter right to the damn stake, and worse, got away with it. Remembering the prison, the abuse, the flames, and the jeering crowds, Gilles hadn't had to twist her arm much to get her on board. She regretted nothing - feelings of justification were a hell of a drug.

Later, in that cave, missing one arm, barely able to move, and with that shit Baldur's words echoing in her head that she realized the grudge against France wasn't hers, had never been hers. It was as fake as she was. Took the wind right out of her justification sails. If she hadn't had something else to focus all that anger on (Baldur), she might have been forced into something resembling introspection and self-reflection.

Then she'd hooked up with Chaldea, and they'd brought along some wonderful distractions as well. 'Me' was great for taking her mind off of things, even if the woman was an actual damn Saint and never rose to Avenger's baiting. Squeaks was alright. The Snake she could take or leave. (She deliberately managed to avoid thinking about the Pink Terror.) And then there was Kratos.

"Like, it's no wonder he hates me and wishes he could have left me back in France. I must be like a damn mirror to him. Just French and a chick. And a cyborg, now, too." She held up her Murder Arm and waggled the fingers, for effect.

"I don't think he hates you, Avenger," Mash dropped the torn bag into the pile with a noise of effort, then turned around. "Listen to how he described Medusa's sister, or how he says Ares' name. That's hate - even an inexperienced human like myself can recognize that. You just bother him. And he'd have sent you back to the Throne - or I guess not 'back' but to the Throne, if he really hated you."

"Maybe," said Fujimaru. "Not that I think he hates you, I agree with Mashie on that. But he's not above using something he doesn't care for. When he dropped those Blades of his on the table, he looked like he'd bitten into an acid lemon. Those things were given to him by the god who tricked him into killing his wife and daughter, but he still uses them. Yeah, I heard how he can't get away from them, and how they followed him here, but he could have kept them in his room - maybe. But he did, he's used them as much as his other two weapons."

"Not doing yourself any favors here, Red," muttered Avenger.

Fujimaru exaggeratedly, deliberately rolled her eyes at Avenger. "My POINT is that even if he hated you - and I'll reiterate that it doesn't seem like he does - he's still keeping you around. And don't act like you aren't glad to be here, either. Hellfire, you said you were sticking with him instead of transferring over to me because you wanted to see how he did his whole 'Be Better' thing."

There was still a touch of hurt in the girl's voice when she brought that up, and Avenger would be lying to herself if she didn't admit to hating having to turn Red down like that. Maybe she could have been more 'politically correct' or gentle when she did it, but fuck it, she was who she was, rough edges and all. But at least she seemed to be getting over it - girl had, for a second, looked like she'd been gutted when all the available Servants except Squeaks had told her no that day, before she'd gotten control of her face.

But on the subject of what Red had just said…. "Yeah, I'm happy to be here. I got to Avenge my buddy and myself on that Lev bastard, and I got to see Baldur off too, even if I didn't get to get any licks in myself. Living's a whole shit-ton better than vanishing and not knowing if the Throne's got a room waiting for me as I disappear." And that was something that occasionally danced across her mind - she was a cobbled together mess of a Servant on the best of days, and that was before Gilles had shoved his Spirit Core into her chest, and a crazy lady had built her a robot arm. "Company's good too. The two of you are tolerable enough, and that Irishman's fun too. Kratos ain't bad either."

And then there was Solo….ROMANI. Not even THINKING that name. Things were complicated enough on that front as it was.

"So I've ranted myself out for the moment," And she did feel a bit better, now. "How are you two holding up? You looked about like you were getting ready to cry when he was telling his story, Squeaks."

"It was a lot to take in," said Mash, coming to sit down by her Master's side. "Mr. Kratos was always so quiet, even from when we first met him in the Fuyuki Singularity. But….that's so much to have seen and lived. And a lot of it was terrible. And at least partially his fault, too. Don't think I'm just overlooking that."

Avenger mentally rolled her eyes. A certain white-furred creature had climbed into the girl's lap, and promptly rolled over onto its back and demanded tummy rubs, which Mash had immediately granted. She wasn't holding her breath on this stern line the cupcake was taking.

"But those things are in his past, and he clearly regrets them," continued the girl. "Being human is making mistakes and learning from them, after all. He's never been mean or cruel with me, even when he's been training me - it's been tough, but not like what he went through. He even told me as much when we started."

"He's been pretty nice to me, or at least neutral. Not that we've really had all that much to do with each other, but he at least listens to me," said Fujimaru. Her next comment was mumbled, but given she was talking to two people with Servant-level hearing, they both made it out. "More than my family does, at least."

"But as shocking as it was to hear that he killed pretty much an entire pantheon by himself, I guess it wasn't all THAT shocking?" Her hands made an indistinct gesture in the air. "I mean, tales about the gods are always messed up like that. And the Greek gods, from what I remember reading, got up to some pretty wild stuff in the myths. Even my home country's gods have their stories. Doing a striptease to lure a god out of a cave isn't exactly normal."

She smirked, then sighed. "Honestly, I'm just glad to have him on our side. This whole thing feels like way too much for me to handle on my own. I screwed up a few times in the last Singularity, and I keep wondering how much worse it would have gone if it was just me. Kratos - he's got experience fighting these kinds of threats." She frowned. "Even if he went a little off the deep end, he's still swam in those waters and lived to tell the tale, while I'm barely treading water here."

Frankly, Avenger thought that Red had done a bit better than 'treading water', but from the sounds of things, the girl was used to comparing herself to her more accomplished big sister, so running herself down like this might have just been force of habit. She wasn't backing down, at least, which was good. She'd gone right at the remnants of France, even by her lonesome and without godly backup. And in the end, she'd done, from all accounts, a fairly bang-up job at it.

But she couldn't say something sappy like that and retain her badass aura, so she just shoved the girl on the shoulder and scoffed. "Don't go fishing for compliments from me, Red. You won't get 'em."

That got her another deliberately slow roll of the eyes from the cheeky little minx, and Avenger pushed herself up from the floor. "Fuck all this feelings bullshit, anyways. I'm hungry. Let's go get ourselves something unhealthy and fattening."

Fujimaru groaned. "That's always what you suggest. You don't have to worry about it going right to your waist, neither of you!" But despite that, she still leveraged herself off the ground, and followed Avenger out the door.

---

 

CHALDEA HALLS​

"So? What's your take on all this?"

The question came from his fellow teacher, walking alongside him through the halls of Chaldea.

At his raised eyebrow, the Clock Tower Lord huffed out a half-laugh. "If you're worried about us speaking of what we just heard in such a public area, you needn't worry. I've got a fairly standard muffling spell around us right now. Standard, except for some refinements one of my students came up with."

He grimaced. "Not Flat. Never anything THAT one dreams up - only partially because none of what he does follows anything that resembles Earthly logic, and also because it is almost impossible for anyone to replicate the feats he manages. No, this is something one of my more sane students came up with, which is the only reason I trust it over the more accepted spell."

Chiron felt the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. "That you don't mention any purely sane students leads me to believe that, like myself, you tend not to attract many. But that tended to be my lot, as such a famed teacher of heroes." His grin grew wider. "Your classroom must be equally impressive."

"Hardly. I merely seem to attract all the problem children - or have them dumped on me. Modern Magecraft was in shambles after Lord Kayneth died. I've tried to do what I can with it, but its reputation is still somewhat questionable." The man was massaging his temples. "If not for Caules and Gray, I'm quite certain I'd have been driven around the bend years ago."

"We all have that one student, or students," said Chiron, remembering. "For me it was Jason. So much potential and drive, but needed a very firm hand - or dire circumstances to make him shine." His smile fell. And then that foolish boy went and made such a mess of everything in his life. In both worlds, it seemed, given Kratos' story of the Jason of his universe. He wondered, idly, if there was a Jason out there somewhere who had managed to overcome the odds and actually find the happy ending Chiron had wanted for all his students, that so few of them had achieved.

But those were thoughts for another time. He had been asked a question. "But to answer you, it's at least a little concerning to hear. That kind of carnage in one's past is rare, even for those of us on the Throne. To kill a single god in one's lifetime is the stuff of legends. To do so to an entire Pantheon, and the lands they oversee is almost unprecedented."

They walked for a bit in silence. "Still….I would be a poor teacher if I allowed a single mistake, no matter how large, to define one of my students."

The Lord chuckled. "I'd have thrown out most of my class within a week. The Tohsaka heir would have probably lasted longer than most, at least until she and the Edelfelt girl started one of their predictable fights. That boy that came with her from Japan would probably have made it to the end of a semester. Shame he lacks the talent to really excel in the Moonlit World."

"Exactly my thoughts. And while Kratos isn't one of my students, I do feel he deserves the same leeway I would give them. The Spartan training of this world was brutal, savage even. And Kratos' world seems even more harsh and violent - I can only imagine what they did to the boys of Sparta there." Chiron frowned. "While there's flashes of the man he once was, Kratos has, at least somewhat, managed to lift himself above such brutality, and try to move on from his many mistakes."

"More than a few similarities to Heracles, too," observed El-Melloi.

"Killed their families in a fit of madness sent by the gods. Forced to endure labors as penance. Eventually ascended to godhood." Chiron nodded. "A very apt comparison. Did you know they fought in the Fuyuki Singularity?"

The Clock Tower Lord tilted his head, the light in his eyes indicating that Chiron should continue. "Oh yes. Heracles was little more than a shade at that point, however, slain by a corrupted Saber and brought back. No God Hand, and what sanity he had as a Berserker was gone, but still very, very powerful despite all that. They fought, and Kratos overcame him with the help of Mash and Cu."

"Given what Kratos is, and that Cu at times is called the Heracles of Ireland, it's both not surprising and still very surprising to hear." The man's eyes grew distant, as he thought back. "Heracles was the Berserker of the Fifth War in my timeline, and the Tohsaka heir, and her boy, both got an up close and personal visit from him in the early nights of it. I'd have thought that girl completely fearless up until I heard her tell the tale of that night. It reminded me of how I felt staring down Gilgamesh, after Iskandar fell to him."

Chiron stopped in his tracks. It took his companion a moment to realize what had happened. He turned and glanced back, his expression puzzled.

Chiron couldn't hide his disbelief. "You've met Gilgamesh? THE Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, in a Grail War, and you lived to tell the tale?"

"When I was barely older than our Master, no less. Like her, I was in over my head, though it was my own fault. I had these fanciful notions of winning the Holy Grail War and proving that all my theories about how hard work could overcome the bloodlines that Mage society are so obsessed with was true. I was a fool." He laughed bitterly. "It was a bloodbath. That my King and I survived to the final four Servants was more due to luck than anything else - Saber nearly killed us a few nights before the finale, and it still cost my King the Gordius Wheel. Without it, and with the secret of his Noble Phantasm revealed, Gilgamesh easily defeated him. I thought I was next, but he spared me, out of what seemed to be genuine respect for my King, and my devotion to him."

"My," said Chiron, beginning to walk again. "That is quite the story. There aren't many, even on the Throne, who can say they've faced down the King of Heroes and walked away intact."

"It certainly makes my classroom of hellions pale in comparison," The man almost sounded fond. Almost. "To get back onto our topic, the question does need to be asked, what do we do if Kratos turns out to not be the man he portrays himself as?"

The man gave a sheepish shrug. "It's only the truly foolish, and truly powerful who don't have contingencies in place. And I am neither - and while I may be the least of them, and truly only someone keeping a seat warm, I am still a Clock Tower Lord. Most of my counterparts sit in a thick web of plans, counterplans, prestation, obligations, and codes of conduct from both the Clock Tower and their families, and I am no different, for all that I tried to not let myself get entangled in their schemes. Honestly, after so many years, it's almost reflexive by this point. To see a situation and begin planning for the worst case scenario."

"I'd imagine Da Vinci has more than a few scenarios for just that situation," mused Chirion. "Despite that she would probably be the man's first defender if it came to it. Her or Mash, or Cu Chulainn. They've all known him the longest, since the Fuyuki Singularity, or shortly after."

"Perhaps it is something we should discuss with her," said El-Melloi. "Just in case."

It was a few moments before Chiron answered. "Perhaps."

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM​

Romani flopped into his seat, his mind still churning. He'd thought Kratos would have quite the story to tell, whenever the man finally opened up enough to trust them with it. But what they'd heard - and it had only covered his life in Greece, not even really touching on what happened after - had surpassed anything he could have expected.

Ares, he wasn't shocked by. Since those Blades had shown up, he, and everyone else had figured how Kratos had become a god - over Ares' dead body. But he'd assumed that Kratos had been driven out by the other gods afterwards, either over resentment over what was done to their fellow, or for some other reason.

Not that he'd killed all of them.

The one saving grace of the whole thing was that Kratos clearly wasn't the same person anymore. (Or he was a much, much better actor than anyone was giving him credit for, but that way lay madness. And it was Da Vinci's job to worry about those sorts of things, anyways.) God help them all if the person who had landed in Fuyuki had been that younger, angrier Kratos. From the way he spoke of himself, it would have been a dice roll - possibly a loaded dice roll - if that Kratos would have even bothered to notice the three girls in mortal peril there. Or if he had, if he would have even cared.

A crumpled ball of paper bounced off the back of his head, and Romani turned, glaring at the Servant on duty, who was sprawled in a chair, his feet up. Whittling what looked like a fishing hook.

"You're taking this well, Caster," he said. And, in truth, some part of his brain was chewing over that fact. Upon hearing a story like that, everyone had reacted about how he'd expected for them - everyone but this man, whose utter lack of a reaction was, frankly, puzzling him. Given how Cu had accidentally slain one of his own children, he'd have expected the man to at least react to that, but Cu hadn't so much as batted an eye at anything he'd heard, and now, he was here, serving his turn at the watch like nothing had happened.

If he didn't know better, he'd think the Irishman had already heard Kratos' story before, but he didn't see how that was possible. From what Mash had told him in her checkups, she didn't seem to be getting any of the usual Master-Servant dreams that usually happened over time as a result of the mental link they shared, as part of their Contract. And while she'd only been Contracted with the Spartan for a short time, since transferring her Contract to Fujimaru, she'd already started to get glimpses of the girl's life, and it had barely been a few weeks now.

So, when he'd discreetly inquired, Medusa had also said as much, though in fewer words. Not even a hint of what Kratos' life had been through dreams, not for her. At least not yet, in any case.

Which made the reactions, or lack thereof, of the man sitting behind him odd.

"What, do you expect me to start sobbing and rending my clothes or something?" Cu barked a laugh. "My own uncle sided with Medb - MEDB! - in the war that eventually took my life, but we still managed to be civil about things, both during that whole mess, and then later on the Throne. And it's not like my own life wasn't rife with more than a couple of bad decisions. Pretty sure my Teacher, if she's still out there - and she was supposed to be immortal, so I can't see her letting what she would see as a minor thing like the total incineration of every human hold her back - is expecting me to somehow kill her someday."

He groaned. "How exactly I'm going to pull THAT off still hasn't come to me, and if I run into her, she's going to put me through the meat grinder until ONE of us is dead, and frankly, smart money would be on her coming out on top."

He set the knife and half-formed hook down, and pulled his feet off the table. "But, I've fought by Kratos' side in three different hells - that burning city, a France overrun with wyverns, even if I only saw the tail end of that, and a full on Roman civil war. We've shed blood together, sparred together, even had ourselves a good night of drinking together." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Far as I'm concerned, that man's my brother in battle as much as any of the men I fought beside in my life, or suffered through that hag's training alongside me." He shrugged. "You get down to it, I'm a simple man, and I see things in a simple way."

While that was the truth, left out was that he wasn't reacting because he'd seen it all before, thanks to a certain damn meddler, who Cu was very, VERY unhappy with these days. Bad enough he has to have him here as a stupid Caster, but then to snoop around in someone's memories, just because he wanted more information? Nooooo, he couldn't trust Cu's instincts, had to know right now.

It was a damn violation of the trust between comrades, and Cu hadn't been able to lift so much as a finger to stop it. And worse yet, he got a front-row seat to the entire miserable show, to boot.

Yeah yeah, the 'greater good' and all. Cu was starting to feel some empathy for Kratos and his utter dislike of gods, even if this Odin was a saint in comparison to the one from his world. That guy had been a megalomaniac and manipulator that would possibly have even turned Medb off, and THAT woman wasn't picky. Her standards were 'is it breathing?', and at times, Cu wasn't even sure that was a bar that a potential partner/paramour/toy would have to clear.

Fuck him, why of all the Servants did HE have to get picked for such a complicated job?

Romani was goggling at him. "It is really just that simple for you? Even considering the stakes we're dealing with, and the edge of the knife we're balanced on?"

Cu shrugged. "It's how I've always kept things when I've been summoned in the past. To your point, though, Grail Wars are a lot simpler, especially compared to this." He gestured with his knife. "Cu, go fight that guy. Cu, hold their Servant here while I go punch their Master out. Even Kirei having me scout the other Servants makes sense for a twisty bastard like that. He got off on knowing things other people didn't, so he'd naturally want to know everything about the other Servants and Masters so he could scheme away, on into the night."

"And, if I'm summoned, it's almost always as a Lancer, and that version of me runs right off the mindset I was in during my most famous feat, holding back an entire army by my lonesome. Wasn't really much time for nuance there, it was just duel after duel after duel after duel, until I was tying myself upright with my own guts." His expression turned pensive. "Other versions of me might see things differently. I kind of get the feeling that if there's a Saber of me out there, it's me as a brat, before my Teacher got her hooks deep into me. Rider's probably not all that different from Lancer, really. And Berserker…."

He shuddered. "NEVER summon me as a Berserker. Just….don't."

Romani quirked an eyebrow. "Is it really that bad?"

"Doc, just look up 'Warp Spasm'. That'll tell you all you need to know." Cu shivered again, and picked up his half-formed fishing hook, once more applying the knife to it, the conversation clearly over - or at least that part of it.

Which didn't do much for Romani's peace of mind. He trusted Kratos, really he did, but the story he'd heard was…….well, it was almost biblical in the scale, and sheer amount of carnage that had been unleashed. 'Old Testament', would be the term that the kids in this age, or some of the more hardline preachers would have used - and it wouldn't have been terribly incorrect. Things were very, very different back then. Even his reign hadn't been completely peaceful, for all that he'd tried his best, with every bit of the wisdom he'd been granted.

Shaking his head firmly to banish THOSE thoughts, as he knew where they'd lead (and would probably end up with Avenger in his room again, poking him until he talked to her and stopped, to use her words 'moping like a weenie'), he turned back to his computer, beginning to skim through his messages, hopeful that someone had found a clue to the next Singularity, eager for something to distract him.

After a few minutes, his messages pinged. His personal messages, oddly enough, and not the intra-work network they had.

Who, and how?

Maybe it was Da Vinci? But she'd never bothered with that, she'd either use the work messenger, or just haul him into her workshop whenever she wanted to chew him out over something, or to discuss some pressing piece of business.

He surreptitiously glanced to the sides to make sure no one was nearby - but his elevated position meant that only Cu, who was focused on his whittling, had sight lines to his monitor, and then opened his personal messages.

And, for a moment, forgot to breathe.

Magi*Mari had messaged him.

So floored was he that he didn't even think of about the hows or whys of a message getting through the base's insane cybersecurity to reach him, no, he was already opening it.

Greetings Superfan! You've seemed down in the chat on my most recent streams, so I thought I'd reach out. I hate to see one of my devoted fans so out of sorts, so I thought I'd offer some advice.

Firstly - don't overthink things too much. Sometimes, a goose is just a goose, Untitled or not. And sometimes, Occam is right, the simplest solution is exactly what happened.

Secondly, here's a sneak peek at what's coming - Follow the White Rabbit - or Amnesiac in this case. With Halloween drawing near, my next streams will be showcasing Amnesia: the Dark Descent! It's a special teaser, just for you, one of my #1 subscribers!

I hope this cheers you up at least a little, and I'm looking forward to seeing you at my next stream!

#1 in your heart and mine,
Magi*Mari!

Romani blinked. That was…..actually, he did feel his spirits lifting up a bit. He didn't know exactly why he was so fond of this virtual idol, but she'd always managed to take his mind off things - and these days, he had a lot of things on his mind. So to have her reach out like that, well, it was something he'd clearly needed. Gave him some hope, or something.

Smiling, he sent a quick thank you message, confirmed the time of the next stream, and returned to work, his spirits lighter.

A few minutes later, something was still niggling at the back of his mind. 'Follow the white amnesiac'.......he wondered.

'Huh….."

---

 

MEDUSA'S QUARTERS
​

Once again, he had been led (dragged) to Medusa's quarters, the woman insistent on not leaving him to his own devices. Again, if hadn't known better, he would have almost suspected her of having intentions of distracting him in a certain way, so determined was she, but once they arrived, she had merely had him take a seat, and then busied herself with one of the mechanical contraptions in the room.

Within moments, loud noises began issuing from within it, and then she called up something on the screen that had previously been displaying a scene of the ocean shore.

It seemed they were here to watch one of the plays of the current age.

"Here, something to snack on." A warm bowl was handed to him, filled with something white and unfamiliar, but carrying a strong smell of…salt and butter?

But what truly held his attention was something else - Medusa was not wearing her blindfold. She was looking straight at him, and neither was he turning to stone.

She reached up and tapped the frames of the small pair of glasses she was wearing. "Something Da Vinci made for me. It suppresses my Mystic Eyes, though they can only work for a short time period. If I want to watch something, they're necessary, at least if anyone else is around."

She somehow did what Fujimaru or Avenger would have described as 'flopping' into a chair, but still managed to lose none of her typical grace. "I'm good at compensating for the lack of sight when I'm wearing Breaker Gorgon, but I'm just not familiar with the format of these modern plays to manage. And, it's nice to see again, for a little while, for something that isn't combat."

She favored him with a small smile. "Really, no ulterior motive here, Kratos. I could tell how much telling that story took out of you. I'd be in the same state of mind if I was forced to go over the minutiae of how things fell apart between my sisters and I. So I thought we could sit down and watch something to take our minds off that. Just….two friends enjoying something."

She flushed, and looked away. "Though, if you would indulge me, I do have one question."

A grunt, and she continued. "Athena, was she…."

"She attempted to stop me from killing Zeus, and threw herself between us. I did not intend to take her life." That it had been her plan all along, working towards a greater goal of surpassing Zeus did not absolve him of his guilt, even with how little fondness he had for the once Goddess of Wisdom. And if it truly was her shade, still haunting him after all this time, she had not forgiven him either, for thwarting her plans at the final moments.

There was a flash of vindictive pleasure in Medusa's eyes, before it was replaced by something more wistful. "And….him?"

"On Olympus' last day, he was the first to try to stop me." Kratos remembered him well. That small form, plummeting down from the heights of Olympus, knocking a Titan from the slopes, sending them both into the waters below. Then, the seas churning and boiling, and the things that erupted from it. "I slew him, and I was not gentle about it." A chill ran through him. "None of my kills that day were."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You were after Olympus, and that means Zeus, in the end, and they were brothers. The only real loyalty he ever showed was to his family."

She sighed. "It shouldn't hurt. I've cursed his name a thousand times if I've done it once, and it wasn't even the same god, in the end. But…."

"We do not choose how we feel…or who we feel for," said Kratos. "And if the one you loved was cruel to you, the one from my world would have been immeasurably worse. And that is not something you deserve."

Medusa did not respond, but rose from her chair, apparently to start the play they were to watch. Then she paused. "What were their names?" She turned back to look at him. "Please?"

He knew at once of whom she was speaking. "Lysandra." One of the few people in Sparta who did not fear the fearsome Captain he had become. And who had had the will to question him, and the path he had been on, then. His voice grew thick. "And Calliope…..was my daughter."

"Thank you," she said simply. A moment later, she returned to her seat, as the image on the screen began to move.

Before him was a picture of a pile of skulls, and a narrator began speaking.

"When the boy was born, like all Spartans, he was inspected….."

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one fought me more than a bit.

Vigrid was the soundtrack for this one's creation.

Okeanos looms.

Go Dodgers (my brother's team, not mine).

Chapter 40: Okeanos 1

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 40

SOMEWHERE IN AN ENDLESS OCEAN

A.D. 1573​

Edward Teach - "Blackbeard" to the crew of his ship, his peers on the high seas, and, really largely everyone, didn't like this one bit.

It wasn't the ancient boat approaching the portside of the Queen Anne's Revenge, no. His girl could run rings around that antique - or just blow it to hell and laugh as it sank to the bottom of the ocean. Cannons trump catapults and ballista, you B.C. era throwback. The problem wasn't the ship itself.

No, it was what was squatting just off the prow, gray-skinned and XBOX YUGE, and radiating Slaughterer's Haki, if that was a thing - he wasn't up to date on the most recent chapters. (He'd have time to get caught up on them now, only there was a finite number of chapters waiting on him anymore. Though he figured if ANYONE other than Rohan Kishibe wouldn't let something like the end of the world keep them from submitting new chapters, it would be Oda-Sensei.)

Heracles. The attack dog of the actual master of these seas, and something that old Blackbeard never, EVER wanted to have to fight.

Which is exactly why he was always front and center whenever Jason called one of these little 'sync meetings'. He knew exactly what kind of big stick he was carrying, and loved showing it off. Just to let everyone else in this little alliance know who was calling ALL the shots, and what was waiting on them if they didn't keep him happy.

It was why Teach was allowed to hold onto the Grail. Because Jason was confident he could take it back whenever he well pleased, and there wasn't much any of them could do about it. So completely confident in his OP Berserker that he was fine with someone else carrying around a wish-granting piece of hax.

And the damnable thing about it all was that the arrogant little man was completely right in all of that. There wasn't much any of them could do to Heracles. Not by themselves.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Yuri Pirates were just starting to get their first whiff of the edge of Heracles' aura. It always got their hackles up, though they tried to hide it. Hector, too, had flinched just a tiny bit, despite the fact he was working for Jason directly, only here on the Revenge to keep an eye on Blackbeard.

And Blackbeard could see that his buddy Eric Bloodaxe wasn't happy either over on his longboat. Supposedly even his fearsome wife was unsettled when her man was around Heracles, and not for the usual reasons that got her dander up whenever he was around others - usually prime-tier waifus.

Prime-tier waifu, Heracles was NOT.

As the Argo neared, Teach was able to make out the other two members of the Argo's crew. Jason, his ostensible boss, and his yandere little girl, who kept the Argo moving, despite the complete lack of other crew members. Truthfully, if Heracles scared him shitless, Medea wasn't far off from doing the same. Yeah, she had ALL his preferred dimensions, short, petite, just a whiff of innocence. But he could SMELL the crazy on her. And while he might not have much in the way of standards, even she fell under that bar.

That girl had a look in her eyes like she'd cheerfully wear your skin and dance. Sure, it was buried under all that devotion to Jason, but he'd ridden herd on some well and truly depraved sea dogs in his life, and he knew it at the first glance, that girl would CUT you if you put a toe out of line. And she'd do it with a creepy little smile, too.

God, he needed a drink in the worst possible way. Why was the rum gone?

Mary had been glancing over him for awhile, working up her nerve, and it looked like she had finally mustered up enough of it, as she began padding over to where he was standing. Normally, he'd have said something - likely something crude and designed to get her riled up. It was a testimony to how tense things were that he didn't.

"Captain….," she began - and that she was calling him THAT instead of one of her surprisingly diverse and entertaining list of derogatory names hit home to just how worried she was. "Are you sure about this?"

He gripped the ship's wheel, if only to keep his hands steady. "No. But it's not like we have much of a choice. You remember what our oh-so benevolent benefactor said last time we had one of these little sit-downs. You know what's coming here to try to take this Grail. Another damn god, and not a Servant, either. A real, pissed off god, here to throw hands with anyone who gets between him and fixing this Singularity."

He grimaced, and a little of the Blackbeard persona slipped out. "We're right up shit's creek. To our left is Heracles, who will happily tear our heads off and shit down the hole without so much as breaking a sweat if Jason tells him to. On the right shore is some unknown god and his gang of Servants coming from the future to send us to see old Davy Jones. And then there's us, smack dab in the middle of that wonderland."

And that's what it came down to. Known commodity vs unknown commodity. It was why he was doing this crazy thing in the first place - because both his options led to the same place. It only differed in how he could stack the deck in his favor.

He met the tiny woman's eyes, and tried to impart to her just how fucked they all probably were. His voice dropped to a whisper. "That's why I'm doing this. Best as I can calculate, it's the best chance we have to sail through these straits and not bottom out." His voice dropped. "It's why I've been trusting you two out of my sight so much these past few days, after all, while I did my thing here. And why the 'special cargo' you brought back the other day is in the hold, waiting for showtime."

"I really, REALLY hate it when you make sense," grumbled Mary. "Worse, you're not even undressing me with your eyes, which means you're honest to God serious about all this."

"As a heart attack, Mary. My brain's got no neurons to spare for thoughts of your loli-licious body without a stitch of clothing on it. Not right now." He didn't flinch in the face of her glare. "If that doesn't tell you how serious I am, nothing will."

Her glare intensified, but even though her fists clenched, she didn't whack him. "Like I said, I HATE it when you make sense."

Jason was beckoning them over, that arrogant little smirk of his all over his stupid face. Which meant it was time to get this parody episode of his life started.

Grumbling under his breath about a certain old cow-uddered woman - one of the banes of his current existence, Edward Teach began striding over to the gangplank that led to the Argo.

---

 

CHALDEA HALLS

PRESENT DAY​

"He didn't like it?" Fujimaru sounded almost crushed, and Mash's expression was mirroring that. "But it's a classic!"

Medusa shrugged. "He had a number of complaints. To be fair, so did I. Your modern theater is quite different from what it was in our time."

There were a handful of puzzled looks, and Chiron elaborated. "Plays in our time traditionally happened in a single place, without any cuts or changes of scene. The events would proceed without interruption from start to finish. It was the style at the time."

"So wait," Avenger had a look of incredulity on her face. "Tell me it wasn't just a bunch of people talking, while all the interesting shit happened off-screen?"

"Not all of them, but….." Chiron shrugged, almost sheepishly. "More than a few."

"It is clearer that way," rumbled Kratos. "Clearer than the constant changes of scene and characters in that play."

Avenger rolled her eyes. "Sure it is. Sounds lazy to me. Don't show any of the good shit, just tell everyone how awesome it is."

"Beyond that, what didn't you like about it?" asked Fujimaru. "Not everyday you get to hear an actual Spartan critique something like 300." Mash nodded her head, her eyes eager.

"As it was a tale told on the night before battle, the exaggerated nature of the play is understandable. Tales grow in the telling," He grunted. "Even the tales of my time in Greece were altered as they made their way to the Nine Realms, to where only some of the details were correct." Mimir had been fascinated to hear the true story that had corrected some of the falsehoods in the history he knew.

"Breaking rank, as Astinos did, was NOT done. But the boy was foolish and inexperienced, and had little understanding of war. And he died for his mistake, demonstrating why Spartans were trained to hold the line before all else. It was a lesson, to those watching. His father then breaking rank is….more understandable." Another grunt. "Were it Atreus…." He trailed off. Threats to his children, either of them, had never caused Kratos to respond like, to quote Thor 'a calm and reasonable person.' He had even blocked Thor's offer of mead to his son, despite now knowing the man had meant it in the spirit of hospitality, and nothing else.

"Yeah, I can imagine what you'd do to someone threatening your kids," muttered Avenger, making a gesture that seemed to indicate her tearing someone's arm off and beating them to death with it.

"There were no traitors in Sparta. The city was united in the desire to fight Persia. And the Ephors were elders, elected by the assembly. Not the….foul and lecherous creatures depicted. And their loyalty would have been steadfast, not so easily bought." Rapt eyes were following his every word - it was akin to when he had spoken of Greece to his son and the head. "There may have been those who favored the Persians, but among the lower ranks of the city. Those in power understood what it meant to serve, and valued loyalty."

"But, as a tale told before battle, it was…acceptable. There are things I would change - many things. But that is a complaint that could be given to any work."

He paused. "I also question the necessity of seeing the intimacy between Leonidas and Gorgo."

Fujimaru blinked. "I wouldn't have thought you of all people would have been…." She paused, considering her words. Eventually, she settled on, "Prudish."

"Such things are to be kept between those involved, and only them. However many they are."

Fujimaru's eyes widened, and Mash was turning a bright shade of red. Even Avenger had a touch of a flush to her cheeks. "Wait, 'however many'?" Fujimaru's grin turned sly. "Kratos, did someone have some wild times in their youth?"

His face was stone, he would not allow his expression to change. He did not even permit the memories to cross his mind. Women were one of the many outlets he had used during his darkest hours, when he served the gods of Olympus, to fill the void left inside him after he had killed his family. Up to bedding Aphrodite herself in the middle of his storming of Olympus, while her handmaidens watched. And commented. Frequently and often.

He was not proud of it. And such stories were not fit for anyone's ears, much less those of children like Fujimaru and Mash. So he said nothing, only continued walking.

"To ask, was Thermopylae before or after your time, Kratos?" Chiron, diverting the conversation away, for which Kratos was oddly thankful.

"During."

"Did…." Mash's eyes were wide and hopeful. "Did you fight there, Mr. Kratos?"

He shook his head. "I did not. I was not selected for that task."

Fujimaru opened her mouth to ask a question, then closed it. Then opened it again. "So was the movie right about that? Only soldiers with male heirs?"

"Yes. It is why I was not chosen."

Any further questions were halted by their arrival at the door to the Command Room. As one, they filed in.

Romani spun about in his chair as they entered, his eyes bloodshot. "We've got one!"

Mash blinked, and took a hesitant step forward. "Doctor Roman, have…have you been sleeping?"

"Yes!" His shoulders hunched defensively for a moment, before he took a breath, and seemed to shrink a bit. "I got a bit of a nap at my desk just a few hours ago. That's sleep enough."

"Anyways!" he said, quickly turning to his monitor, "We found a lead, and I didn't want to waste any time following it. And it paid off." He hit a couple of keys, and the large display in the room shifted, displaying a picture of an open sea. "The next Singularity has been located."

"Honestly, it's not somewhere we would have ever thought to look. It's right in the middle of what should be an empty patch in the Atlantic Ocean. How we'd have stumbled across it regularly, I have no idea. But when I went to check on the remnants of the French Singularity, to be certain they'd finally dissipated, I found a few odd traces still lingering about." He gestured at the screen. "A couple of days of following the tracks through the centuries, and here we are."

He frowned. "Though, it's begun behaving oddly in the past few hours."

"When discussing Singularities, 'oddly' is not a word we want to hear," muttered the El-Melloi. "What exactly is happening, Romani?"

"It's almost like it's in two places at once, at times," said a new voice, over the hissing of the main door. Da Vinci strode into the room, a mechanized cart rolling behind her.

A ripple of unease passed through the assembled Masters and Servants. "Wait, how does that even work?" asked Fujimaru.

"And what does it mean for the verification of the existence of the team that is sent?" added the El-Melloi.

Da Vinci came to stand alongside Romani, and they exchanged a look. "It's a concern, true, should the distortion get worse. But as it currently stands, we should be able to manage. But it would be best to get this resolved sooner, rather than later." Romani sighed. "So you'll be working against a ticking clock, potentially, as well as whatever enemy or enemies there that have caused history to go off course."

"As to the where, as I said, the original location was in the middle of the Atlantic, but the other place it seems to be….." Romani chewed his lower lip. "Overlapping, I guess, for the lack of a better term, is the Caribbean sea. Functionally, it shouldn't change much - all we're reading is a lot of water and some smaller islands, either way. But the Caribbean of 1573 A.D. would at least have some semblances of civilization there, as opposed to the probable nothing that we're expecting for a group of remote islands in the center of the Atlantic."

Fujimaru brightened. "It's a bit early, but that's edging close to the Golden Age of Piracy. Yarrrrr!" She blinked, then turned a bright crimson as all eyes turned to her. "Oh, my mouth did its own thing again, didn't it?"

Mash was patting her Master on the back, as Fujimaru tried to shrink into the floor. "Do you like pirates, Senpai?"

"Dad was in the navy, so of course little me thought anyone who sailed around on boats was just the coolest things ever. While other kids were playing superheroes or Sentai, I always wanted to play pirates." She grinned, wistfully. "Dad even got me a bunch of the old Lego Pirates stuff for birthdays and Christmases when I was growing up. I spent a lot of time just playing with those things when I was younger……there was too much of a gap between me and Susumu for her to ever really play with me much. She was also old enough to really start learning the stuff the heir has to learn, so, no time even if she did want to. So those things were my best friends for a long time."

And she may have dressed up as a pirate for five straight Halloweens, but she was keeping that to herself. Thankfully, any incriminating pictures were far, far away from here.

"So," she said, changing the subject. "Are we going to need a boat? Cause I might be a navy brat, but I'm not really any sort of expert on sailing. Much as dad loves the sea, he was happy to be on dry land on his leaves and didn't take us out much. And summers were spent inland, either in Germany with the Musiks, or in Tokyo with us hosting them."

'And me showing Gordy around,' thought the girl. 'At least in the beginning with my mom hoping there'd be some sort of marriage arrangement, before I turned out disappointing.'

"And Kratos largely, from what you've told us, mainly got around in the Nine Realms through a canoe, and lots of rowing." He gave a nod, confirming Da Vinci's statement. "And while I'm sure you could get the party between them, that'd be a lot to ask even of you. So once you've gotten the lay of the land, and establish a leyline connection, we'll see. I've a few inventions that would suffice, if it comes to that."

Mash raised a hand. "Does that mean Mr. Kratos is cleared to Rayshift?"

Da Vinci nodded. "Cleared as of this morning. Just like we expected, he just needed a couple of days for the changes to settle down and for his signature to stabilize. You said this was an ability you once possessed?"

"Yes," rumbled Kratos. "When Greece perished, I lost many of the abilities I once had. Freya believed that, as magic is tied to the earth itself. When my homeland died, my powers followed."

"And while we may never know exactly why this power specifically has returned to you - it could be any combination of the fact that Greece in this universe never died, either the land or the gods, Rome's close connection to classical era Greece, and/or that voice you said spoke to you in the final battle there - but the fact that this is an ability you once wielded means that it was just a matter of your body remembering it again," Da Vinci preened. "Just as I theorized."

"Yeah, yeah, you're brilliant, woman," The sarcasm dripped from Avenger's voice. "But what you're telling us is that we" She gestured at Cu, herself, and Medusa. "Aren't riding the pine for this Singularity, right?"

"That's correct. And since it's a new Singularity, that means Aunt Da Vinci has presents!" The woman tapped the top of her cart, and it hissed open.

"Firstly! Kratos, so you don't have to brave a Singularity in street clothes," Though, today, the man had forgone a shirt entirely, and was wearing only the gym shorts again - to the immense pleasure of more than a few parties (Da Vinci was one of these parties).

"I tried to keep them as close to your originals as possible, I wasn't sure if you preferred the more brief, lighter armor to maximize speed - it's something we can discuss if we get more time between the next Singularities. But here we are." She set a pair of leggings, with matching boots, a shoulder guard, and a belted waist piece, all of a style matching the armor that had been damaged in Rome, on the surface of the table. In the light, they shimmered, a glossy green.

Kratos reached out and lightly ran his fingers along the surface of the leggings. "These scales….the wyverns from France?" He turned the shoulder guard over, noticing the addition of several of the talons set into the leading edge - and looking as sharp as they had been when they had still been attached to the creatures. It would add damage to his charges - or make it more hazardous in a grapple.

Da Vinci nodded. "Yep! Easily the most plentiful material we have access to right now, both from the harvesting you did in the French Singularity, and what Fujimaru brought back from the remnants of France a few days ago. They should provide you with decent protection from fire, poison, and slashing and stabbing, since wyverns fight amongst themselves pretty often. And they'll be a good bit more durable than your old armor was, since, as best as I can tell, that was just made of just regular leathers and hide - probably of some creatures that would be at least near-phantasmals in this world, but still. If nothing else, it'll be easy for me to repair them, since we have plenty of spare materials."

Da Vinci held up a set of straps that had several teeth set into the bottoms. "I also made you a set of crampons to slip over your boots, just in case of snowy or otherwise treacherous conditions." She frowned. "I had to scrap the idea for some cestuses using the teeth or talons, though. You seem pretty happy with the weapons you have, and you don't really seem to think to use them when you do that Mana Burst of yours."

She was watching Kratos carefully, as he inspected the armor. "So, what do you think? If you want more coverage of your body, that's certainly something I can do for version 2.0."

A grunt. "It is good work." Not quite up to the quality of the dwarven smiths he knew, but their standard was a high one. And they were specialized, while Da Vinci had yet to find a field she did not dabble in. "It should more than suffice."

And then, he unceremoniously slid out of the gym shorts, and began to slip the leggings on.

The blood rushed to Mash's face so quickly it was a wonder there was any left elsewhere in her body, even as quickly as Fujimaru's hands quickly flew to cover her Kohai's eyes - though she was also blushing furiously as she turned both of them around so their collective backs were to Kratos - and they were joined in this by the Clock Tower Lord. Avenger, for her part, just grinned - a grin that was matched by Da Vinci. Cu wolf whistled. Oryou stared at the ceiling, unsure what all the fuss was about. Medusa went very, very still - not that it was noticeable, given it was her. And despite a withering glare from Romani, most of the Command Room staff at least turned to see what was going on - with some watching eagerly, at that.

Kratos paid none of them any mind. Within a few moments, he was once again surrounded by the comforting feel of armor, and carefully running through a series of movements, seeing if, and how, the armor would limit him in battle.

It did not. If anything, it felt astonishingly similar to his old armor. He gave Da Vinci a respectful nod, as he slid the Leviathan Axe back into its harness. "A good fit. It is appreciated."

Da Vinci's smile was pleased (for more reasons than one). "Good to hear. Now, on to my next surprise. This one's for you, Fujimaru."

She handed over a metal case, which Fujimaru took. It was surprisingly heavy.

Inside was a gun.

Fujimaru blinked, not quite sure what this was. "A….gun?" She looked at it more closely. "No….well, yes, but….a revolver?"

"It was my idea, Master," said Ryouma. "The knives are a good idea and all, but I wanted you to have some means of defending yourself that didn't rely on your mana - given the number of Servants you're powering, and that wouldn't require you to be at close range. So…." He gestured at the weapon. "A gun."

He shrugged. "If we'd have had more time, I was going to run you through some gun safety classes and general target practice, since I appear to be the most qualified Servant on that front - with your Sensei's blessing, of course."

"Granted," said Chiron, with an easy smile. "If it was a bow, that would be another story. But I confess to never having handled a gun before."

"I'll go over the basics with you at a later date, but most importantly, ALWAYS treat it as if it was loaded, and never point it at anyone, or anything, unless you fully intend on shooting them." The man's easy going demeanor was nowhere to be found.

She nodded. "Yeah, my dad was really, REALLY clear about that with both of us growing up. I don't know if it was him being military, or my mom and his connections that got him around Japan's stupidly strict gun laws, but he had some guns in the safe in the house. Not that either of us should have ever been able to get our hands on them, but he wasn't taking chances with his kids, both of us being Mages and all. He never taught us to shoot or anything, but he made sure we knew they weren't toys and ABSOLUTELY not to be played with, ever."

"Good," Ryouma was nodding his head. "Very, very sensible of him. A gun is a tool, at the end of the day, same as my sword, for defending yourself. And it's one you have to treat with a healthy amount of respect."

"Why a revolver, though?" asked Fujimaru. "Isn't that a bit old-fashioned?" She blinked. "I mean, it makes sense for you, since that's the kind of pistol you had access to back in the Bakamatsu, but wouldn't an automatic be better? More shots and all that?"

"Revolvers are what I'm familiar with, given they were commonplace during my lifetime - or as commonplace as guns were in Japan, back then. So you can chalk it up to me wanting you to have something I'm more familiar with, if I'm going to be doing the teaching Maybe as things go on, we can both get a crash course on automatics, and then we can see about upgrading you some. And, I suppose they just feel more reliable to me, too. Given the rough and tumble nature of what we're doing, I figure you want reliable." He shrugged. "It does come with the tradeoff of less shots, and the difficulty of reloading it, but if we get to the stage of you having emptied a full set of rounds into something, and you either needing to reload quickly, or that none of us can get there in the time you bought with your shots, then we're already in trouble."

"It's pretty heavy," said Avenger, testing the gun's weight. "Worst case, you can always hit them with it." She frowned. "Though that toy won't do anything against Servants."

"Not normally, no," Da Vinci handed over a box. "Regular rounds, and a couple of speed-loaders. This is entirely for keeping wild animals and low-end Phantasmals off of you. As Avenger has noted, they'll be less than useless against a Servant."

Da Vinci grinned. "That's what these are for!" Another box, more like a small briefcase, was handed over. Fujimaru wasted no time in cracking the lid open.

"Huh," There were three different kinds of bullets in there, all carefully separated. She picked up one and held it up to the light. "Are those…runes?"

"Yep!" chimed in Cu. "Da Vinci had me carve some of my runes into them - it was a lot more fiddly work than my runestones, I'll tell you. But those things should let you set one of your spells into them for later use - yeah, I know, right now it's pretty much just Gandr for you, but you can do a lot with that one. The Tohsaka girl from the Grail War you bunch pulled me out of got good mileage out of it."

The El-Melloi nodded. "I can also confirm that. Though she had the elemental affinity to allow her to master all five of the Great Elements, she had a habit of defaulting to Gandr in tight situations. Possibly due to it being one of the first spells she learned, or simple familiarity. But regardless, storing your mana like that will free you up somewhat during fights. From the reports, it seems like you almost suffered damage to your circuits during the battle with Caesar."

"You'll still be limited, though, time crunch meant I could only make so many of them, though now that I've got the hang of it, I can keep churning them out." Cu shrugged. "If nothing else, it gives you a few more options, which are something you can never have enough of in a fight."

"And these others?" asked Fujimaru. "These ones almost look like darts."

"That's because they are," answered Da Vinci. "Two sets. The ones with the purple bands are tranquilizers - only a few, as I didn't expect there'd be much use for them, but I included them just in case. The green ones aren't meant for enemies. They're for healing."

Fujimaru blinked, and Da Vinci's grin grew wider. "Magical nanomachines, Fujimaru! As well as a cocktail of Romani's best stimulants, designed for quick patch work. They'll work on humans…or a god, we think," she said, with a glance to Kratos. "But they're largely meant for use on Servants. They won't instantly regrow a limb or anything, but they should stem any bleeding, repair moderate internal damage, purify moderate toxins, and chase away fatigue, for a time, at least. Though a crash WILL follow, so be aware of that."

"Given how much you had to use the healing function of your Mystic Code last Singularity, we wanted to give you a few more ways to patch up Servants mid-fight." Romani frowned. "Sadly, it's time-consuming to machine up the resources needed for those things, so there's only three right now. So use them sparingly. Though, with a leyline connection, and time, mid-Singularity resupplies aren't off the table."

"And the last ones?" Fujimaru held up a bullet with bright-yellow casing.

"Simple flashbangs and flares," answered Da Vinci. "Much easier to make than the other two, so more numerous. The flares have a stripe of red on them, while the flashbangs are pure yellow." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Understand, we're not expecting you to fight with this thing. It's entirely to bolster your ability to support from the back and to keep enemies off of you. So if you have any ideas of wading into a battle and doing some ridiculous gun-fu, banish those thoughts right now."

"Never even crossed my mind!" said Fujimaru, waving her hand wildly. "But really, Da Vinci, this is great, thank you!"

Da Vinci preened. "As much as I love hearing you singing my praises, the idea was originally Sakamoto's. Though it did give me some thoughts for future additions - I toyed with a round that would quick-grow a Homunculus bodyguard for you, but it didn't seem viable, and I didn't figure you'd be ok with using one in a disposable manner like that, either. So now I'm looking into robots." She shrugged. "Dreams for a future day, for now."

Fujimaru straightened up and bowed to Ryouma. "Well, thank you too, Sakamoto, and you too, Oryou, if you helped at all on this. Like I said, I really appreciate it."

"Anything to keep you safe, Master," said Ryouma, scratching at the back of his head. "There's a lot riding on you, and anything we can do to increase the odds of your survival we'll take." He gestured at the gun. "It's not much, but every little bit helps. Just, again, be very, very careful with that thing."

"Promise," said Fujimaru.

"What is our capacity for allies this campaign?" asked Kratos, as Fujimaru cinched up a belt with a holster around her waist, and slid the weapon into it.

"The same as it was for Rome, unfortunately. While we have a greater power capacity now, the strangeness with the Singularity's location is forcing us to hold back and send a smaller team than we'd like." He steepled his fingers. "We're keeping a reserve of power ready for an emergency return Rayshift in case of a shift or some other in the Singularity that puts your existences at risk of being lost. There's enough unknowns with how this one is behaving that we're playing it more safe than usual."

"Better to be careful, rather than reckless," said Chiron, watching as his student slid the speed loaders into a specially made pouch on her belt, then carefully sorted the other rounds into her remaining pouches.

"Mash, obviously, as always, is mandatory, for reasons we've gone over before, that haven't changed," said Da Vinci, closing up her cart and sending it out of the room - presumably back to her workshop. "It'll be one Servant each for the two of you, though we should be able to crowd the field much more easily now that we have another Grail."

"So then, my student," said Chiron. "Which of us will accompany you to start?"

Fujimaru looked around at the gathered Servants. "How are you with boats, Lord?"

"Truthfully, they make me as motion sick as my King's chariot. But it's nothing incapacitating." He sighed. "I take it you wish me to be the one who comes along to start?"

"Start of these things seems like it's a whole lot of figuring out who we need to fight, and your skill set seems perfect for it," she said. "We can cover the support area while Kratos handles the heavy lifting - his Servants are much more geared towards, well, hitting things."

"Very well. As this is my first deployment, I look forward to seeing how you handle yourself as a Master." He gave her a wry smile. "It cannot be worse than my first time, after all."

"Alright, that's decided then." Romani turned to Kratos. "Kratos, who's your pick?"

Kratos' answer was a moment in coming, as he considered. Medusa would be the obvious choice - her winged steed could potentially carry them from island to island in the event of an emergency, or provide air superiority in the event of naval combat, but a long trip would exhaust her and her mount. No, better to keep her in reserve - doubly so as the mere sight of Pegasus would reveal her identity.

That left Cu or Avenger. Cu was more versatile, while Avenger possessed more raw power - though that power was at times uncontrolled. Though, to the woman's credit, while she had lost herself in her arm's new power the first time, she had been more controlled the second. And that had been against a foe she had every reason to hate. It was progress.

It did not make her any less irritating, however.

"Avenger," rumbled Kratos, his decision made.

The woman's jaw dropped. "Wait, really? I would have thought for sure you would have taken one of those two!" Her mechanical arm gestured about at 'those two', Cu having to lean back slightly to avoid getting smacked in the face.

"I have made my choice," said Kratos. "Do you wish to remain behind?"

Avenger's response was quick in coming. "Hell no! I'm just surprised, that's all. But I'm ready to kick ass, anytime, anywhere!" She cracked her knuckles, her expression eager.

"Alright," Romani drew himself up in his chair, and looked over them all. "As before, your orders are simple. Find the distortion that's causing this Singularity, and retrieve the Holy Grail. With Lev out of the picture, the standing orders you had to capture or neutralize him are voided, though any information you can acquire about the organization he belonged to would be greatly appreciated."

He sighed deeply, and, though it went unnoticed, Avenger gave him a look that was uncharacteristic for her. "There's still SO much we don't know about all this, while we seem to be an open book to our enemies. It's a secondary objective, and one that might not even come up on this deployment, but something to keep in mind. But even if an opportunity does present itself, don't prioritize it over resolving the Singularity. There is nothing more important than that, in the end."

Kratos grunted. There was really nothing more to say to that. A brief clasp of hands with Cu, and a promise to summon the man if it looked like there was a good fight on the horizon, and a brief graze of Medusa's hand across his arm, and then, he was once again in the confining coffin. Awaiting the countdown, and blocking out Avenger's complaints about the experience of being sealed in.

Then, there was the tug, and the pulling sensation, and once more, the tunnel of swirling blue.

---

 

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ATLANTIC

A.D. 1573​

The first thing that came to him, to all of them, was dampness. Rain was falling from the sky in torrents, drenching them, as they blinked their eyes and their senses returned to them.

"Senpai, quick!" Mash held her shield above her head, and Fujimaru, the Clock Tower Lord, and a waterlogged Fou quickly scampered beneath it, taking what shelter they could. Kratos, for his part, looked around, taking the lay of the land.

A beach, and palm trees. So, one of the islands, then. At least they had not been dropped into the middle of the sea.

Avenger, her hair plastered to her skull, save for the small strand, and even that was hanging limply in the downpour, splashed over to him. "Of course it's raining like this when you bring me along. The universe hates me." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "So, what's the plan?"

"Inland," rumbled Kratos. "We seek information about these lands, and shelter, if it can be found."

"One moment!" With an apology to those standing under her shield, Mash lowered it, and began rummaging about in the boundless storage contained within it. "Here! Rain ponchos for all of you. I've had them packed since France, but there's never been any real need for them."

Quickly, she distributed them - there was even one for Fou. Kratos, unsurprisingly, declined. "I was trained to march through worse than this. I will be fine, Mash."

"Ok…but it's there if you need it, Mr. Kratos." The remaining coat was quickly returned to the inside of Mash's shield, where it was likely to remain.

"Not to complain, but why did I get the only yellow one?" asked Avenger. "Why even was there a yellow one in there? I stick out like even more of a sore thumb."

"If nothing else, it'll draw eyes to you, Avenger." Fujimaru was grinning, though some of that was likely due to the steam rising from her - it seemed the material of the ponchos had a spell worked in it to warm and dry those it was covering. "You're tough enough to take it, right?"

"Damn right I am. I just would prefer to be doing it in a better color, that's all," Avenger grumbled a bit more under her breath, but fell silent as they began to make their way inland, through the underbrush.

As Kratos and Avenger forged a path - more simply bulling their way through the vines and branches, Fujimaru reached down and activated her communicator. Immediately, Romani's picture winked into existence.

"Fujimaru! We've got a solid lock on all of you, and so far, the connection is stable." After the issues they had last time, the relief in his voice was to be expected. "What's the situation on the ground for you?"

"Wet," said the girl, her tone deadpan. "No idea where we are, but we landed on a beach, in the middle of what feels like a monsoon. We're heading inland, looking for either civilization or shelter - hopefully both. Don't suppose you have intel on a leyline for us to link up to, do you?"

"Give me a minute," Romani's eyes slid to the side, and they could hear him calling across the room, and garbled responses to his questions. "There doesn't seem to be one on this island, unfortunately. Closest one seems to be on the next island over, a bit to the southeast. If you don't find any sign of humanity where you are, we might have to have Da Vinci give you all a crash course on boat building. That should at least let you make something seaworthy enough to get you there. She can send over one of her creations once you establish a leyline connection."

"Sailing in these conditions though would be ill-advised," said the El-Melloi. "The wind is shifting at a moment's notice - we would probably have to rely on oars to power us."

"Just how Kratos got around back in his home, then," said Da Vinci. "Though it'll probably be an adjustment for the rest of you. Thankfully, Servants don't get tired as easily. If you push yourselves, you could probably make the trip in half a day, barring something like a waterspout."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," muttered the El-Melloi, looking distinctly unhappy at the thought of having to take his turn on the oars.

"Don't worry, Twiggy!" said Avenger, clapping the man on the back, causing him to stumble. "Some time pulling an oar might put some meat on your bones. You could damn sure use it." She pursed her lips. "I guess if we end up doing this old-school, you'd be on the drums, Red. Since I don't think the little critter would be able to pound the drums very loud, and the rest of us would need to row."

"You'd better hope not," said Fujimaru, ducking under a vine (and very much hoping it was only a vine, and not a snake - she HATED snakes.) "My musical talents have been described as 'unique' - that was my teacher's nice way of saying I'm almost tone deaf."

Kratos held up a hand, those behind him halting. He pointed. "A path."

"We talking a game trail or something else?" asked Avenger. "If you can see any details in this fucking rain, I mean."

"I cannot," muttered Kratos. "And the ground is too muddy for any tracks." A grunt. "We follow it."

"Anything to get out of this rain," mumbled Fujimaru. Fou chirped his approval, having climbed onto Mash's shoulder, as he was sinking deeply enough into the mud that he was in danger of becoming stuck in the quagmire. (His little pawprints, left by his muddy feet as he scampered up Mash's form, were quickly washed away, to Fujimaru's sorrow.)

They were quiet for the next quarter of an hour, most too focused on their footing and navigating the thick underbrush to say much. Not that the rain would have made that easy in any event, as the downpour had, somehow, increased in potency.

So it was that they resembled nothing but a sextet of very drowned rats by the time the El-Melloi spoke up. "The trees seem to be thinning somewhat. And I think I can see some signs of recent logging."

"Logging means people," said Avenger, her loose strand of hair now fully plastered to her face by now. "Or something like werewolves, I suppose. But if it uses tools, that probably means it can build a house or something, which means somewhere dry. Or dryer than this shit, at least."

"Right now I'd even take a cave," said a similarly drenched Fujimaru, shivering despite the curtain of heat her coat was putting out.

Kratos moved ahead of the group by a few steps, and squinted into the rain. Yes, the man was right. Tree stumps, clearly felled by human, or human-like hands, with the wood chips that accompanied the use of an axe scattered across the ground. Those that had not been washed away yet, at least. But enough still remained to show definite signs of habitation. They needed to find some form of shelter, and soon. He would be fine, as would the Servants, but Fujimaru was mortal - illness was only one of the things that could result from the cold and the wet for her.

He narrowed his eyes and peered into the distance beyond the treeline. "Mash?"

He held out his hand, and, after a moment, the girl started and understood. "You want the binoculars? One second!" She reached into her shield, and a moment later handed over the far-seeing glasses. "Here you are, Mr. Kratos."

A nod to the girl, and he held the device up to his eyes, looking through them into the distance.

His eyes had not deceived him. It was a town.

"There," he said, handing the item to Mash and pointing. After a moment, she nodded. "It's a town - or at least enough of a collection of houses to be called one." She lowered the binoculars. "Even with these I can barely make out any details through the storm."

The seeing glasses were passed to the remaining members of their group, who all took their turns peering through the haze. "So, we're heading there, right?" asked Avenger.

"Even if it is uninhabited, the buildings should provide respite from this storm," Kratos glanced over to Fujimaru. "And the cold, for Fujimaru. We cannot have her falling ill."

"Do you not get sick, Mr. Kratos?" asked Mash.

"I cannot recall the last time I fell ill," he said, as they began moving again. "Even when I was mortal, sickness was not something that troubled me." A few steps, and then… "My son, though, was often sick when he was small."

"He's alright now, though, right?" asked Fujimaru. "You said he's off on a journey of his own, I know I'd be worried plenty about that without adding on some chronic illness while he's off who knows where."

"Yes. His illness was…." Kratos paused, considering his words, then continued. "He was unaware that he was a god…because his father was one. Freya said his natures were fighting within him. To cure him, I went to Hel itself."

Avenger blinked. "That's Hel with one L, right, and not two? Just so I can get any images of you ripping and tearing at Old Scratch out of my head."

"The Land of the Dead for the Nine Realms," said Kratos. "Though it is not the only Land of the Dead I have set foot in. Tartarus tried to hold me more than once."

"Helheim was cold. So cold no fires would burn. And my axe would have had no power there. So I was forced to dig up my past……to save my future. My son." Even through his new armor, he could feel the Blades grow hot, almost searing his skin.

Mash was staring at him through eyes that were in danger of becoming moist, while Avenger's grin was mocking, but without any of her usual edge. "You big softie you."

The Clock Tower Lord nodded. "I can understand that. While I have no children of my own, my assistant is almost like the daughter I never had, in some ways. I discovered her when she was still young - rescued her, really. I took her away from the village where she had been raised - they had been intending her to be a sacrifice." He grimaced at the memory. "Ever since that day, she was by my side. I suppose in some small ways, I raised her from that point. I would have moved heaven and earth to protect any of my students…..even Flat. But my Lady was…special."

He bit out a laugh. "Though, my life being what it was, she ended up protecting me more often than I did her. Her unique circumstances, and the Mystic Code she carried meant she was able to fight on an equal level with a Servant - and did, in the Rail Zeppelin incident."

Those native to this world had wide eyes. The communicator on Fujimaru's wrist crackled, and Romani's face winked into view, a look of shock on his face. "A human being who could fight a Servant? Lord, just what did you find in that girl?"

The El-Melloi's grin was enigmatic. "A gravekeeper."

A few minutes later, and they had reached the gates - the doors of which were only just hanging on the gate itself.

This did not bode well, thought Kratos.

He stared up through the slashing rain at the sign, loosely hanging from the entrance to the town. "Nassau…..Free….Port," he said, slowly, parsing the words in his mind, before speaking them.

Mash clapped her hands, delighted. "Good job, Mr. Kratos! I know we haven't had much time for our lessons lately, but you read that perfectly!"

The girl's praise made him oddly pleased, in a way not dissimilar to when his son had done the same to him during Fimbulwinter, when he had been learning the runes. Both of them were just so honestly genuine in their emotions, it was hard, even for him, not to get caught up in their feelings.

Fujimaru's brow, meanwhile, had furrowed. "Nassau? Wait, I read about that. Wasn't that supposed to be in the Caribbean, and not wherever here is?"

"We have been seeing oddities on the Singularity's location, as you all know," said Romani, his expression worried. "This is probably only the start of that. Be careful, everyone."

"What was this Nassau?" asked Kratos, not entering the town just yet.

"It was a free city established by sailors out of work after the wars between England, Spain, and the other colonial powers of that time had died out. So, having only the one skill, they turned to piracy." She gestured at the city. "Nassau was their attempt to make a republic in the New World. But, given that their only form of income was piracy, and pirates being, well, pirates, it failed pretty spectacularly."

She sighed. "Eventually, the British got sick of them and sent a fleet there to offer the pirates a choice, take a pardon and work for the crown as privateers, or hang."

Avenger was cupping her ears. "I don't hear any people though. I can't blame them for not being out in this mess, but still….it's too damn quiet. Add that to the state the gate's in and I don't like this shit at all."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, though," said Fujimaru. "Kratos said it best, we do need to find shelter. And shelter's here."

"We enter," agreed Kratos. "Be on your guards."

As one, they carefully moved into the town, Kratos, Mash, and Avenger with their weapons at the ready.

The inside looked little better than the gates. Some buildings tottered dangerously, creaking in the wind. Others had been completely shattered, little more than a collection of broken timbers. Signs of battle were everywhere. But…

"No bodies," whispered the El-Melloi. "It looks as though a bomb went off here, but for all the damage, I don't see any dead."

"Hopefully they're not walking around like they were in France," said Mash, her body tense.

"Unless they've got Vlad - or that bitch Carmilla walking around here, they shouldn't," said Avenger, glancing around sharply, as though she expected the mere mention of the hated woman would cause her to appear - upon which she'd immediately get kicked in the face.

"There's more than a few ways to raise the Dead," said the El-Melloi, his voice still quiet. "That being said, there's more than a few uses for human corpses - or live humans." His face twisted in distaste as he said this.

Kratos stilled, his ears straining.

"Mr. Kratos," whispered Mash. "What is it?"

There - again, louder this time. "Sounds of movement."

Slowly, they began to appear, crawling out of the rubble, squirming through the shattered doors and windows of the buildings, multiple limbs slithering across the muddy ground. Rubbery skin glistening in the rain, a mouth in the center of their bodies, surrounded by yellowed teeth. The green tendrils lining their many arms waved in the air, almost reaching out in the direction of the Chaldeans.

Avenger's spine was ramrod straight. "Gilles' creepy little pets? The hells are they doing here?"

"Sea Devils, or Demons, depending on the translation," corrected the El-Melloi. "But you are otherwise correct, these are the same things Gilles de Rais summons - I saw more than enough of them in my War. Though, given our location, it's possible they're merely naturally occurring here - or have been drawn here for some reason."

"We are surrounded," rumbled Kratos. "Fujimaru…"

"Already moving!" said the girl, slipping into the center of their formation, so that there was a Servant, or a god, between her and the horde.

The things had circled them in a loose cordon, but were making no further moves forward. "The hell aren't they charging us?" Avenger's hand was tight around the haft of her flag, the metal fingers of her free hand clenching and unclenching. "Gilles' pets would have already been trying to eat us whole by now." Her eyes swept across the tide of creatures. "Not holding back like this."

"I do not know," replied Kratos, almost shoulder to shoulder with Mash and Avenger by this point. Were these things more than mere beasts?

The tavern door across from them creaked open, and out stepped a horror.

It had been human, once. It still stood upright, and tatters of what had previously been sailor's clothing hung in rags on its form. But that is where the similarities ended.

It's skin was darkening, turning a nauseating shade of purple - and it was thin enough that the veins and blood vessels were clearly visible to onlookers. The texture of the skin was all wrong, as well - somewhere halfway between the soft flesh of a man, and the cartilaginous skin of a cephalopod. Only a few fingers remained on the thing's hands, the rest having been supplanted by short, suckered tentacles that were tipped with wicked barbs. A ridge of green tendrils flowed down its back like a mane, writhing uncontrollably. Barnacles clung to its body, and were they closer, they would have smelled the reek of brine surrounding it. Its belly was distended, and Fujimaru could swear she saw the outline of a tiny, human hand pressed up against the bloated flesh of its gut, from within.

But the worst thing, the thing that made Fujimaru and Mash gag and choke back bile, that had Avenger, the El-Melloi, and even Kratos, to an extent, gritting their teeth, was its face.

Or what was left of its face.

One eye socket was a ruin, a long stalk having erupted from within, upon which a madly rolling eye, slitted like a cat's, perched. The other eye was still human, but rows of teeth lined the socket, and it did not look like it was capable of closing anymore. The skull had swelled obscenely, and small proto-tentacles had begun to burst from beneath the flesh, poking their way out into the air. The nose had collapsed, the cartilage rotting away and sinking into the skull, the flesh around the cavity where it had been almost gangrenous. Its mouth was a maw of razor teeth, ill-fitted to the jaw holding them, to the point that they had cut up the thing's lips like ribbons. Even now, fresh blood dripped down from its bulging chin, and drool leaked from its open mouth, as it wheezed breaths into its lungs.

The two eyes, human and inhuman, sane and mad, looked over at the Chaldeans. And then, in a voice that was the dying gurgle of a drowning man, it spoke.

"Chaldeans." Its tongue was a wet, pink tendril, covered in suckers. It raised a shaky arm. "Kill. Feast. But leave the god alive. It is necessary alive. You may consume his limbs."

And, as one, the tide descended upon them.

"My fire's not going to do much in all this fucking rain!" bellowed Avenger, as the tip of her flag, glowing white hot, raindrops hissing off of it, sank into the first creature to get within her range. She seized the flag in both hands, planted her feet, and ripped it through the thing's body, causing it to wail as its foul blood mixed with the pouring rain. Another creature was skewered by a rain of blackened spears from the sky, forcing the charging monsters back for a second.

Mash's shield swept before her, knocking a handful of creatures back into the crowd, but they barely seemed hurt as they flowed back to an upright position. "And their skin seems to absorb the blows of my shield! If they're like octopi or squid, they won't have any bones to break!" A shrieking horror launched itself at her, only to ricochet off her shield. Before it could leap up again, Mash reared back and kicked it away, the creature sailing off into the ruined town.

"Use the edge of your shield if you must!" bellowed Kratos, his axe screaming down to chop a Sea Devil neatly in two. "But your focus is survival, that of yourself and Fujimaru." Raindrops were beginning to turn into hail as they touched his axe, which was beginning to weep frost. "We shall thin these creatures out!"

"Easier said than done!" yelled the Clock Tower Lord, magic circles winking in and out over his shoulders, as wind, boulders, and ice assailed the mob surging towards him. "These things appear to have some amount of magic resistance! I can slow them, but they're going to overwhelm me soon - Kongming is saying inside of two minutes, at this rate!"

The man yelped as he was suddenly seized by the collar, from behind. "When you land, get your back to a wall." Kratos then hurled the Clock Tower lord skyward. "Mash! Grab Fujimaru and jump! Avenger, follow them, keep them safe!"

Fujimaru had wasted no time in leaping onto Mash's back, her arms looping around her neck as the girl sprang high into the air. With one last sweep of her flag, Avenger sprang forward, planted her flag into the snapping maw of a creature, then threw her weight forward. The flag bent, then snapped back, hurling her into the air, laughing wildly.

The ground was clear of allies.

The Leviathan Axe spun in Kratos' hand, as he held it high. For a moment, the battlefield echoed with the cries of frost trolls, as the rain around the Spartan froze solid.

Then he drove his axe into the ground, and frost erupted, turning the muddy soil into an icy wasteland.

The ground froze solid. And the creatures fared little better, their damp, slick skin quickly becoming coated in a thick layer of ice. Hissing, screeching, they fought to free themselves.

Despite the frigid cold, Kratos held onto his axe, releasing two more waves of polar chill that washed over the demons. Some - the closest, could not withstand the sudden drop in temperatures and slumped in their crystalline prisons, dead. Others, at the edges of his range, had only a light coating of frost over their bodies, and were even now advancing. But he had stopped most of them.

Crunching ice was his only warning, and he spun, his shield flying up. Barbed tentacles scratched off it, leaving foul fluid clotting on its surface.

Poison, by the smell of it. Or something worse.

"Kill. Feast. Gnaw on your bones. Bring you to them," warbled the thing, shoving against the shield, trying to push Kratos back. It gagged, and then vomited a stream of acidic bile, forcing Kratos to duck and roll, the corrosive fluid passing over his head. Droplets pattered against his back, searing into his flesh.

They burned like hot coals.

Roaring, Kratos surged up from his roll, his axe slicing up in a vicious upward cut. Sluggishly, the abomination leaned backwards, but too slowly, the edge of the Levithan Axe cutting into the flesh of its chest, and narrowly missing the head, only causing a hairline cut. Polluted blood spilled out, a foul, briny reek washing over Kratos.

Mash, Fujimaru, and the El-Melloi had landed, and had put their backs to a narrow alley. Mash had waded into the still-frozen Sea Devils, and was smashing them as fast as she could, all while El-Melloi split his attention between driving back the ones moving towards his Master, and blasting those closing in on Mash.

Where was Avenger?

Her flag, glowing with heat, almost too bright to look upon, fell from the sky like a bolt of thunder, easily parting the hybrid's flesh, and driving itself deep into the ground. Avenger's rough, mad laughter followed it down, right up until the woman realized the position she was in after throwing the flag left her no way to land cleanly. "Shit."

She impacted face-first into the frozen mud.

The thing was pinned, skewered straight through from its shoulder to its groin. And still, it was trying to push itself forward, arms reaching for Kratos. "Feeeeed…" It rasped.

Kratos' axe swept around, removing its head from its shoulders, and ending its threat. A ripple went through the surviving creatures, and those that could began slinking off, towards the gates of the town.

A second later, the thing's body began to dissolve, flesh melting, and every part of it falling apart on a component level. Avenger's spear quickly vanished, disappearing into particles, the woman dismissing it before it could be damaged.

"Ok," said Avenger, from where she was still lying in the mud. "What the exact FUCK was that?"

"It looked like someone had tried to cross a person with one of those Sea Devil things," said Fujimaru, peeking her head out of the alley, carefully watching the retreating monsters, her finger pointed at them, ready to call forth a Gandr shot at a moment's notice. "Was it possession, like what that Servant did to me?"

She glanced over to Avenger, who shook her head, wiping mud from her face. "Didn't feel like it. Even when that thing was bursting out of you, Red, it felt more….invasive, or some shit. Something that was clearly WRONG mixed up with you." She spat, clearing the dirt from her mouth. "I ain't no expert at understanding these 'me' bits I have in my head, but that thing felt more natural…..as fucked up as that is to say. Like there wasn't any of the man there at all, just the demon. But don't ask me how that makes any sense or what that means."

"At least it answers the questions of where the inhabitants of this town went. Turned into those hybrids, or eaten by the Sea Devils." The El-Melloi gestured to the tavern. "Should we get Master inside? That building at least looks like it has an intact roof and a chimney." He glanced over to Fujimaru. "We could get a fire going, and warm her up, while the rest of us search the town for clues."

"And make sure there aren't any more of those things lurking around," muttered Avenger.

Kratos saw little reason not to. In moments, they were within, a fire blazing in the hearth, and Fujimaru vigorously toweling herself dry. Fou was wrapped up in a self-heating blanket, and quite pleased with the state of things, from the chirps coming from within his warm cocoon.

"So, what's the plan from here?" she asked.

"I'll stay with Red," said Avenger. "Squeaks and Twiggy aren't the best for killing those things, and it'd be a waste for Kratos to be back here on baby-sitting duty. And he reads better than I do, now, so he won't need a tagalong like I will."

The woman rolled her eyes at Kratos' stare. "I won't use my fire and burn the building down with Red in it. Give me SOME credit. I DO happen to like her, you know."

"Very well," rumbled Kratos. "If there is any sign of trouble, I wish to hear. Fujimaru, inform Romani of our situation."

"Roger," said the girl, flipping the communicator on. As they walked back into the rain, he could hear Romani's voice as the girl began outlining things to the doctor.

Both Mash and the Clock Tower Lord looked less than pleased to be back in the downpour, after a few moments respite from it, but neither complained. "Should we split up, Mr. Kratos? Cover more ground?"

"You two explore the east side of town. I will check the west, around the gate. If any of the creatures are attempting to slip back into the town, I will deal with them." A grunt. "If there is anything of note, I will contact Avenger, who will have Fujimaru relay it to you."

"And we will do the opposite should we find anything, or if there's anything that looks like it would be too much for us to handle," said the El-Melloi. "It isn't a comparatively large town, and most of the buildings aren't in any shape for us to be entering them, so this shouldn't take long."

"Be careful, Mr. Kratos!" Mash waved, and then followed the other Servant off into the town.

After a few minutes of his own search, Kratos began to think there would be nothing of value to be found in Nassau. Most of the buildings were simple one-room homes, somehow meaner and more squalid than his simple cabin in Midgard, and they contained little more than the rude furniture within. Nor did his quick jog along the walls find any traces of the Sea Devils - it appeared, to his eyes at least, that their retreat was genuine, and not a feint.

He remained on his guard regardless.

It was as he was leaving another rickety home, he felt Avenger's string in his mind flare to life. 'Hey, Grumps, they found something.'

'Where?'

'There's apparently a small gate at the northwest corner, leads to a hill. They're up there.' A pause. 'Any sign of those things trying to crawl up our backsides?'

'None,' sent Kratos. 'But keep your focus.'

He crossed the ramshackle town quickly. The gate in question wasn't hard to find, even though it was tucked in behind a building. There was a runny paint arrow, and a 'Mr. Kratos!' directing him to it, obviously left by Mash with one of the cans of bottled paint that was part of their supplies. In moments, he was through the gate, and up the hill.

He spotted the two of them almost immediately, both of them standing over what appeared to be a grave.

"Kratos," said the El-Melloi, as he drew up to them. "I only detected it when we got close - a magical beacon. It feels like it was set to react to a Servant signature, and then only from proximity. We followed it, and it led us to this."

He gestured, and Kratos squinted at the headstone. Again, as with the sign above the town, he carefully sounded out the words in his head before speaking.

"Here lies Sir Francis Drake. The woman who felled the sun."

"That's what it says," said Romani, from Mash's wrist. "But we did a sonar reading of the ground, and while there is a coffin there, there's no body in it. Someone clearly wanted to get our, or someone else's attention, but why an empty coffin?"

"Then we will have to dig it up."

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: For Kratos' new armor, just imagine one of the dragonslaying sets from either of the Norse God of Wars, just with Da Vinci flairs.

I have no idea what the regulations would be for American military in Japan living off-base and their very, very strict gun laws. Write up any inaccuracies to my complete ignorance.

Fever gone but itchy. Hungry and eat doggy food. Itchy itchy Scott came. Ugly face so killed him. Tasty.

Itchy. Tasty.

(Your author has a cold and is miserable. Braaaaaains.)

Chapter 41: Okeanos 2

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 41​

Even as soft as the ground was from the pounding rain, digging the coffin up was exhausting, tedious work. Wet mud was continually sliding into the hole, forcing them, in the end, to do almost double the work it would have normally required.

So it was, when their shovels finally hit something solid, that the majority of them looked ready to cheer (none more so than a muddy, messy El-Melloi).

They did not bother fully clearing the coffin. Kratos simply sank his hands into the mud, grasped, and pulled it from the slick earth.

Mud, however, splattered everywhere as he wrenched it from the ground, a fact that made none of the onlookers happy.

"Should we open it here?" asked the El-Melloi, wiping muck from his face. "Or take it back to the tavern, in case whatever is inside would not react well to the rainfall?"

"It could be some form of a trap," muttered Kratos, still holding the coffin above his head. Truly, it seemed a rather circuitous way to set up a trap, but the possibility always existed. As Tanya often put it 'It wasn't paranoia when they were actively out to get you'.

"I can do a suite of tests inside - and we can make sure Fujimaru is safely behind Mash's shield when we open it," replied the El-Melloi. "There's risk either way, but we would regret it greatly if our caution caused us to lose a valuable piece of intel, or some other boon."

Kratos grunted. The man's words largely matched his thinking, but caution was always warranted. "We shall bring it in." If nothing else, it would allow everyone to get out of the rain.

Just because he could tolerate the wet, did not necessarily mean he liked it.

Other than a bit of difficulty in fitting something as large and unwieldy as a coffin through the narrow, hidden gate, they encountered no difficulties. Thankfully, the door to the tavern was larger, meant to accommodate large parties of rowdy sailors, either entering, or being ejected, so it was simple to carry the coffin in.

Avenger and Fujimaru had already cleared a space for them to set it down in.

"Metal?" asked Avenger, rapping her knuckles on the surface of the coffin. "Aren't coffins usually wood?"

"You usually didn't even get one for a burial at sea back then….or I guess it's now, I suppose. Time travel…." said Fujimaru, with a shrug. "Best case, you'd get your body washed, wrapped, and you'd be tipped into the sea after a service of some kind. Assuming your death wasn't due to any of the number of diseases that could happen on a ship. Or you didn't die in a battle, which could leave your ship with too few people to manage even that little. Can't have a mound of rotting bodies on a ship, so….." She shrugged. "But this is kind of odd. I'd have expected this more for a sea burial for someone like Drake, to make sure the thing went to the bottom, and to keep the fish from disfiguring their captain."

She paused. "Who I guess is a woman? After Nero, and what you told me about King Arthur, it's not as much of a surprise anymore."

"It does seem to be becoming something of a trend," said Romani, from over on the table where a communicator had been set, to give him a good view of the coffin's opening. "So, how are we doing this?"

"Stand back," rumbled Kratos. The metal bands sealing the lid of the coffin shut proved unable to withstand his strength, and were easily snapped by his hands, and tossed aside. In a few moments, he was done.

"Doing a quick scan, now that those bands are out of the way. Probably won't change anything, but better safe than sorry," muttered Romani. "And yeah, still no sign of a body inside. But no signs of any signals or signatures, either. Magical, electrical, or otherwise." He held his hands up. "It looks safe to open, if nothing else."

Kratos seized the lid of the coffin and pulled.

Sealed. And more strongly than he had anticipated.

With a grunt of effort, he tore the coffin lid open, and shoved it aside, sending it crashing to the tavern floor. His arm tensed, his shield ready to slide into place.

Stale air wafted out of the coffin, but otherwise, the metal box was silent. Kratos peered into it.

Empty - at least of that thing that coffins were constructed to hold. No body, not of the woman supposed to be Francis Drake, or anyone else. Nothing inside, save a simple leather-bound volume.

He picked it, and turned it over in his hands. By all appearances, nothing more than a book. He could at least read what was written on the front - 'Ship's Log' - but the contents inside quickly outstripped his ability to read English.

Wordlessly, he held it out to the Caster.

The El-Melloi nodded as he took it. "Yes, something like this is probably beyond you, if you're still learning English." He frowned as he flipped through it. "And logs were sometimes coded as well - though that was a more common practice with the rutters - the navigational logs - rather than the more simple notations of the day-to-day shipboard activity. It looks like these, at least, aren't encrypted."

"So, what do we have there, Lord?" asked Fujimaru.

He held up a finger. "One moment." His eyes moved furiously as he flipped through the pages. "If this is genuine, it purports to be the ship's log for the Golden Hind herself, written by none other than Francis Drake." His eyes narrowed as he read. "Supposedly, they drifted into this area approximately two weeks ago, upon which they were unable to leave."

His eyes widened, and he flipped back a handful of pages. "......correction. They drifted into this area while they were fleeing a ruined city that had been heaved up from the depths." He nearly choked on the words as he continued. "A ruined city they plundered, and apparently a ruined city that was inhabited by Poseiden, who Drake defeated, and took a Holy Grail from."

Kratos felt his blood turn to ice, spreading out from Medusa's string in his mind, then, through the rest of his body. Despite the distance of time between them, he felt her shock as though it was his own - and his own was not inconsiderable.

Poseidon.

"Impossible." And there, the woman herself, appearing on what was likely Da Vinci's screen. "Gods cannot exist here - the Mysteries won't support it. Even with a Grail, the best state he could have been in would have been a shade of some sort."

She was as agitated as Kratos could ever recall seeing her. "He can't be here. He just….can't."

"The log claims the city sank behind them as they fled, so hopefully whatever it is she took the Grail from went down with it." He reached up and adjusted his glasses. "More relevantly, do we think this Grail is the cause of the distortion in History?"

"I don't think so," said Romani. "In both the previous Singularities, the Grail came directly from Lev Lainur - or the organization he belongs to. Giving a Grail to Gilles de Rais, and then him personally having a Grail and agitating against Rome in the last one. Unless somehow Poseidon is working with Lev, but….that just doesn't seem to track. The Greek gods were petty, yes, but not actively malicious - not to the point of wanting to wipe out all of humanity. At least, not the ones here."

Medusa was nodding, and even Kratos could not find it in him to disagree. The gods of Olympus had been monsters, yes, but they had enjoyed their mortal toys too much to destroy all of them in such a manner.

"Well, if we can find this Grail, we can at least see if laying hands on it resolves everything," said Fujimaru. "If Mashie securing it doesn't, then I guess we just give it back to her."

"There's no historical record of any of this, but there's also no historical record of her being a her," said Da Vinci. "So who knows! Uncharted waters, friends, pun very much intended."

"Continue reading," rumbled Kratos.

The man appeared not to hear, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed.

"Did you find something, Lord?" asked Fujimaru.

The El-Melloi blinked, almost seeming to rejoin them. "I don't know. Let me continue with this." A few seconds of quiet, then… "They apparently spent their two weeks exploring the cluster of islands that makes up this place. They describe quite the diverse set of flora and fauna - including an island that is the nesting ground for a rather large flight of wyverns, among other things. But there's a sense of tension that begins to leak into the words here. While they never saw anything, they felt like they were being watched."

He sighed. "Then, a few days later, the writing ends. Or, I should say, is ended." He turned the book around to show them.

A gap, where pages had clearly been torn from the log. And then nothing but blank sheets afterwards.

"Well, that's not ominous or anything," muttered Da Vinci.

"More strangely, they even nearly tore out the last page, the one where they spoke of being certain that there was another ship - or ships, around, dated maybe a week ago, but left it in the log." He grinned. "Easily explainable as a mistake in haste, if I hadn't noticed the scribbles in the corners of other pages."

Almost mechanically, he flipped through the book, tearing select corners from the log, and setting them on the table. "Doctor Romani, do you possibly have the equivalent of satellite for the island we're on?"

"I think so….yes, one second." A few shouts across the room, and then the image changed to a hazy outline of an island. "That's the best we can mock up without a solid leyline connection, but it should be at least mostly accurate."

"It should more than suffice. Now, let me see…." He fiddled with the scraps of paper for a few minutes, moving them around, muttering under his breath. At last, he pushed a pair of scraps aside, and sat back. "Miss Kyrielight, do you happen to have something I could use to magnify this in that shield of yours?"

"Yes!" She reached into the shield, and pulled out a small kit. "It's not standard Chaldean issue, but I packed it myself, just in case." The girl's cheeks were taking on a decidedly pink tone.

The Caster opened the lid, and then, with a smile, pulled out a magnifying glass. "How…..classic. But this serves my needs well enough." He traced his finger over the glass, whispering under his breath, then held the glass over the scraps of paper. The lens glowed, then, an image was projected out, onto the ceiling.

Kratos saw it at once - it was obvious, with what Chaldea was also displaying for them. "A map."

"Clever, for pirates. They even thought to throw in some false scribbles that didn't fit. Without the map from Chaldea to work with, it might have fooled me - or just made it take longer to piece together." He shook his head. "While the myths of buried pirate treasure are largely thought to be just that, myths, this begins to feel like something from Treasure Island."

"So, what are we looking at here?" asked Romani, squinting his eyes to try to make out the image on the ceiling.

The El-Melloi began pointing. "They were nice enough to mark our current position - I assume the cross here is the coffin. The only other thing of note would be, well, the 'x marks the spot', there."

"It's probably not a buried chest of doubloons." Despite her words, Fujimaru's eyes were sparkling. "That's along the coast, too. What's the land like there?"

"From our scans, a bunch of cliffs and bluffs," said Romani. "Some real jagged terrain. That side of the island is a good bit above sea level compared to where you landed."

"Which would make it a good place to hide something….or someone," said Da Vinci. "This was clearly meant for someone to find, possibly members of her crew that were separated when whatever hit this town scattered them. That X there might be their regroup point, or have more coded directions to it."

"It's more than we had a few minutes ago," said Fujimaru. "Should we go now, or wait for the rain to stop?"

Avenger had poked her head out the door, and was frowning. "Red, it don't look like it's even thinking about stopping anytime in the next freakin' decade."

"We go now," said Kratos, rising. "The Singularity is unstable, and we have little time to waste. And the creatures that fled may return, in greater numbers."

"Or tell whomever summoned them - and made that hybrid - about us," muttered the El-Melloi. "All excellent reasons to not be here should they return."

"Yay. Back into the ugly yellow raincoat," whined Avenger, though she still donned the thing - likely happy for the heat it provided.

"We were able to scan the map you put together, Lord, so we should be able to guide you from here," said Romani, eyes flickering between screens. "It is going to be a bit of a hike until you get there, unfortunately."

"And we do not know what it is we seek," rumbled Kratos.

"Guess we'll just have to keep our eyes open, then," said Fujimaru.

---

 

NORTHEASTERN CLIFFS OF NASSAU ISLAND

ONE HOUR LATER​

Ritsuka Fujimaru was bent over double, hands on her knees, desperately drawing breath into her lungs. "That……was a bit more than just a 'bit of a hike', Roman!" She groaned. "Oh, my poor thighs are going to HATE me tonight!"

Somehow, despite being a Servant, the Clock Tower Lord looked almost as weary as his Master. "If nothing else, we're here." He glanced about. "Whatever is here won't be so obvious that it could be easily spotted - and certainly not if they're letting those Sea Devils loose over the islands. They'd want to remain well-hidden."

"And from the other ships they thought were in these waters," said Mash, her eyes darting about, almost as if she expected a crew of buccaneers to appear at any moment.

"Could be a hidden cove," said Fujimaru, finally getting her wind back. "Cliffs like this would be perfect for something like that. You have to stow a ship somewhere, after all."

"It's what I was thinking once Doctor Romani described the terrain here," said the El-Melloi. "Though, whoever left the note showed they were clever enough to attempt blinds and double-blinds. The obvious answer may, in this case, be incorrect."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Avenger. "I'll still keep my eye out for cave entrances, all the same."

They began to slowly pick their way across the edges of the cliffs, eyes open and alert for anything unusual. A task that was made more difficult by the continued downpour, the rain having, if anything, intensified since they set out from the wrecked town.

"Nothing," said Avenger, two hours later. "And it's starting to get dark. Or darker, really. Should we head back to town and try to let Red have a roof over her head for the night, then try this again tomorrow?"

Kratos frowned, considering. A cave would suffice for himself and the Servants, but he still had concerns for Fujimaru in that area. There would be greater security in a cave, as their location would be unknown, should the creatures return. But that was balanced against keeping the sole human in their ranks healthy.

Before he could complete his thoughts, the decision was taken from him, as Fou sniffed the air, then began to wiggle in Mash's arms. "Fou, what are you…?" Mash never got to finish her question, as Fou squirmed free from her arms, and darted off into the deepening gloom.

"Control the creature!" barked Kratos, his temper frayed from the long, fruitless search, and the miserable weather.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kratos!" stuttered Mash. "He doesn't usually do this! Fou, come BACK here!" Mash darted after him, calling out to Fou all the way.

"He's heading back for that cave we just checked," said Fujimaru, rushing after her Shielder. "What could he possibly want there? That thing wasn't even big enough for us to make camp in, not without everyone getting way too close to each other."

Growling low in his throat, Kratos trudged after them. The animal had behaved itself on the past two Singularities, true, but it should never have been allowed to come along in the first place. It was only a matter of time before it did something like this, or, worse yet, got itself hurt. He should have put his foot down sooner.

(Really, it was his son and the wolves all over again. And every other creature the boy had tried to aid - and then adopt, during Fimbulwinter. And he had been too indulgent there, as well. At least the wolves had largely been useful and well-behaved.)

Mash was still calling out to the creature, though her cries had turned from gentle requests to 'dire' promises of withholding scraps from her plate if Fou did not get back to her right now, when Kratos ducked into the cave, just in time to see Fou running straight at a wall.

A wall he appeared to pass straight through.

Mash stuttered to a halt, with Fujimaru running face-first into her. She pushed herself off her Shielder's back, and glanced over her shoulder at the rest of them. "Did…..did I just see that?"

"I don't feel anything like illusion magics," said the Clock Tower Lord. He slowly edged towards the wall, hand outstretched. His palm flattened on the wall, and he began to carefully run it across the rock face. Then, he stopped, as his hand slipped forward. "It's….an optical illusion of some kind, I think." He tilted his head this way and that. "It makes it appear like it's a solid wall, but in actuality…." He strode forward, and seemed to vanish into the rock.

A second later, his voice came from behind the wall. "You can just stride straight through. I think we'd have needed to be deeper in the cave to see through it - which perfectly works in its favor to help conceal it. Most, like we did, would only give a shallow cave like this a cursory glance, and move on, since you can see from the entrance how small it is."

Mash carefully followed in the Caster's footsteps, and almost immediately, there was an exclamation from the girl. "Fou! There you are!"

The rest followed her through, though not without some grumbling about this feeling 'unnatural' from Avenger, a sentiment that Kratos somewhat shared in, though he held his tongue. It was somewhat akin to walking on the bridges of light in the Alfheim temple - vaguely unsettling, to know that a thin sheet of light was all that was keeping you from plummeting to your death.

The chamber behind the hidden passage was large, and sloped downwards. Fujimaru was peering into the darkness. "This looks like it leads down, and in the right direction to the shore." There was an excited gleam in the girl's eye. "Worth checking out, don't you think?"

A grunt. "I will lead. You stay behind Mash." Who was distributing flashlights to the group, though Avenger just summoned a ball of fire in her hand to light her way. "We do not know what is down there. This feels…unlike a trap, but still. Caution is warranted."

"This feels like a shit-ton of trouble to go through for a trap," said Avenger, flicking a tongue of flame down the incline. Nothing but stone as far as any of them could see. "But it'd be a bitch-ass way to go, so yeah, better be careful. You want me watching our flank, Grumps?"

He nodded. "Take care with your flames. Do not block our path out, should we need to retreat."

She rolled her eyes, but nodded back. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful. This is my ass on the line here, too, after all."

As one, they descended into the depths of the cave. The only sounds were those of their footfalls, water dripping from the ceiling, and the crackle of Avenger's flames.

"I think I can hear the sound of waves," whispered Mash.

"Starting to smell salt, too," said Fujimaru, just as quietly.

At last, they entered a great chamber. It was still deep enough in the cliffs that they could not see the sky, but they could see the waters of the ocean.

As well as the boat resting there, at anchor.

"A sloop," muttered Fujimaru. "Small, fast, doesn't require much crew." She held her finger up to her lips, her brow furrowed. "Great for getting in and out of places quietly. If the owners aren't here, we can probably figure out how to sail it between the lot of us."

"Kratos," Avenger motioned. "Over here."

Kratos turned from the boat and followed Avenger's pointing finger. There, in the shadow of an overhang, was the remnants of a campfire, the embers still glowing.

"Someone is here," he rumbled, at the exact same time as another voice echoed through the cavern.

".........FREE BIRD!" The shout was accompanied by a deafening crack. Something screamed over their heads, sailing off into the dark. Behind his shield, Kratos froze - what were they aiming at?

His instincts SCREAMED at him, and he was moving before his ears had time to register the sound of a ricochet. Had he waited on that, the shot would have torn straight through his gut.

Instead, it blew through his right knee.

He roared in pain as his leg buckled underneath him, and he crashed to the floor. He attempted to rise, to push himself upright, but his leg was on fire - he felt the familiar sensation of broken bones, and knew it would not hold his weight.

There was another crack, another sound of metal on stone, and then, suddenly, there was a wall of purple and gray in front of him. Something heavy rang off of Mash's shield, and she was pushed back a step, then, with a roar, she swatted the thing aside.

It thudded to the ground next to Kratos. A metallic ball, now with a solid dent in it from the collision with Mash's shield.

"Are you alright, Mr. Kratos?" The girl's eyes were worried as she briefly glanced down at him, before returning her eyes frontward, head darting from side to side as she attempted to locate the next attack.

Kratos probed his knee, none too gently. "My knee is broken. I cannot rise." Gingerly, he adjusted himself so that he was kneeling, a position that would at least afford him some modicum of mobility. "Go, and protect Fujimaru. She is in more danger from this attack, whatever it is, than I am." Unless one of those steel balls managed to hit his head or his heart, he would live. Even then, he might yet survive.

"But…" she began.

"Go on, Squeaks," said Avenger, shoving the girl in the direction of Fujimaru and the El-Melloi. "There isn't just the sniper to worry about, either. There's another one, some tiny bitch that came at me out of the shadows and tried to carve me up. She'd have taken my arm off if she hadn't tried that on the Murder Arm - whatever that crazy woman made it from, she made it tough. She just dented it." Fires flickered around Avenger. "Still pissed as shit, though."

She glanced at him. "You want a hand up? Maybe a shoulder to lean on?"

"Guard yourself," he barked. "They are reflecting shots off of the walls, to strike from unexpected angles."

"Great…." she muttered, sarcastically. "Trick shots and some sort of fucking wannabe assassin. It's fucking Christmas."

They waited, tense, for the next shot, but it never came. Instead, a voice called out from the darkness.

"You're not taking us alive! We're ready to die here, and we will! We'll bite our own tongues off and bleed to death before we lead you back to our camp!" There was the sound of metal scraping over rock. "So wherever that prick summoned you from, get ready to go back there!"

"Parrot One…" Another voice, this one from high up. "I think we might have shot too quickly. The big one, the one we thought was that Berserker…..he's still down." There was the sound of swallowing. "If it was him, he'd have been up already - my Noble Phantasm wouldn't have hurt him that much. And it looks like there's a human down there - and not what the humans have been twisted into, either."

"Why are you still using those stupid names that that damn pervert came up with??" There was a sigh that echoed around them, then the voice called out again. "So, maybe we should have asked first and shot second, but you wouldn't happen to be the Chaldeans, would you?"

"Fuck YES we are!" bellowed Avenger. "Who the exact hell are you, and why are you fucking shooting at us?"

A pause. Then the first voice replied. "Let's just say we might be a little trigger happy after the last few days, and when we felt you coming, we miiiiiight have jumped the gun a little bit. That's the god we shot, right?"

'They know what you are, Grumps,' Avenger's voice sounded in his mind. 'Someone warned them we were coming, it sounds like.'

He sent a feeling of agreement back to her - they were openly referring to him as a god, in stark contrast to the previous Singularities, where the Servants they encountered had been almost unable to believe their eyes once they had gotten their first look at Kratos. "I am Kratos. And I am a god. Who are you?"

Another pause, then the second voice responded, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "If we come out to talk, what kind of promise can we get that you won't just tear us in two?"

"We really are sorry for the mistake! But Parrot One didn't want to take chances, and you kind of do have the same sort of aura as something really, really scary that's been hunting us……" The second voice at least sounded genuine in her regret.

"We will not raise our hands against you, save in defense," called Kratos. "Is that acceptable?"

"Probably will have to be. Give Stork Two a minute to get down from her perch, and we'll come to you."

There was the sound of scrabbling, of someone rapidly descending from on high. As one, Mash, Fujimaru, and a harried Clock Tower Lord made their way over to them.

Fujimaru grimaced as she looked at the mess of Kratos' knee. "Shit. A through and through. Broken bones?" she asked.

At his nod, she held out her hand, dangling it over his knee. "Want a shot of my Mystic Code? I know you heal quick and all, but I also figure you'd rather be standing for this."

Truthfully, he would prefer she reserve her healing magics for another that might need it more - his injury would hinder him, yes, but it was hardly life-threatening. But her words were correct - should this meeting once more turn into a fight, he would need to be able to stand on his own two feet. And while he could muster up some of his own reserves to force the wound to mend, those were a much more limited resource than the magics of her Mystic Code.

At his grunt, she gently laid her hands on his leg, and green energies washed over the wound.

It was different, felt very different than the healing stones that were scattered across the Nine Realms. More precise, or refined - while he could still feel his bones knitting, as with the healing stones, there was a greater sense of numbness while the magics put his body back together. In a few moments, the wound was much less ragged, and he felt as if he could stand again.

"You'll probably want something to replenish the blood you lost, Mr. Kratos," said Mash, already pulling a medical kit from her shield, as well as a flask of some liquid, which she handed to him. "Drink this, and let Senpai and me bandage your leg."

It was unnecessary, his leg would probably be fully healed by the next morning. But he simply let them bind his leg, and merely drank the drink (the same kind of fruit juice that was served at first meal in Chaldea) they had handed him, then pushed himself to his feet once they were done.

His balance was wobbly, at best. But it would be enough to fight, if necessary.

The second voice called out. "We're coming out with our weapons lowered, we'd appreciate it if you did the same!" A few seconds later, two forms shuffled into the light.

Women, both of them - from the voices, it had seemed like that is what their attackers had been, but here there was confirmation. And they were an odd pair.

One was small - as tiny as Nero, who Kratos had towered over. Unlike Nero, this woman was covered almost head to toe in a dark coat, with even her face covered by the jacket's collar. A narrow, and suspicious pair of eyes framed by bone-white hair flicked from Chaldean to Chaldean, weighing each of them one by one. They paused momentarily on Kratos, likely seeing whatever it was in himself that verified his divinity to a Servant - something that had not been fully explained to him by any of the Servants in Chaldea's current employ.

A large, curved sword was in her hands, though it was, as she had said before coming out of the shadows, lowered, but not sheathed.

The other woman had a foot of height on her companion, if not more. And was much more obviously a woman - as her open jacket, and the views it gave them attested to. Blonde hair, tied into two tails, spilled down her back, fluttering in the winds coming in from the sea, in the same manner as the tails of the flowing red coat she wore. She looked far more apologetic than her companion, frowning and wincing as she laid eyes on the bandages around Kratos' knee.

She was obviously the sniper, then, as she carried a weapon - likely some type of primitive (at least compared to the modern examples Da Vinci had shown him) firearm, one that was longer than she was tall. But she made no move to point it at them, so it seemed their truce held.

For now.

The smaller one drew herself up straight, staring up at Kratos. "So, you found the journal, then? I assume that's how you found this place." She gestured around. "We did choose it for how well-hidden it was, so we didn't expect anyone to stumble onto it by accident."

"That's right," said Fujimaru. At a nod from her, Mash pulled the journal out from her shield. "Dug it up, and the Lord here decoded it. You guys were the ones who left it?"

The taller one shook her head. "Not us. Was our captain's idea. We were just sticking around here to see if anyone found it and came looking." She hung her head. "I really am so sorry for shooting you, Mr. god. We just felt something really dangerous approaching, and, well, after the last few days we've had, we got spooked." She clasped her hands in front of her, and bowed her head. "Please please please don't hold it against us - we WERE waiting on you."

"Who told you we were coming?" The El-Melloi's brow was furrowed. "Even we only found this Singularity this morning."

The two women exchanged a glance. "It's honestly a long story," said the shorter one. "And we don't know all the details - most, but not all. And you'd probably have questions, and we'd probably have questions, and then we'd have to do all this again once you met the captain."

She sighed at their expressions. "Yeah, I get it, we're asking you to take a lot on faith here. We can give you a few things - I'm Mary Reade. This is Anne Bonney. We're a Rider-class Servant."

"Wait," interrupted Fujimaru. " 'We'?"

Anne smiled and nodded. "Oh yes. We're two bodies in one Servant container! I know it's a bit unusual and all, but that's just how it worked out for us."

"Actually," began Fujimaru. "We have a Rider back at Chaldea who's in the same situation as you are. So, maybe not that unusual, considering this is the second time in a week I've met a double Servant like that."

"Huh," Mary shrugged. "Well, the less explanations the better, I guess. We're part of what's left of a group that tried to take out the ruler of these seas. It…..didn't go well."

Anne fidgeted. "Which is Mary's way of saying we got our butts kicked. We've been running and hiding ever since."

"The Captain was at least smart enough to prepare some shelters in case things went badly, so we've been ducking from one to another whenever our enemies get close to us. All while we've been waiting for you guys to show up."

She looked up at them, and a pleading note entered her voice. "So, you willing to trust us enough to let us take you to the Captain?"

"Who is the master of these seas, and why do you fear him so?" rumbled Kratos.

"And who's your captain?" asked Fujimaru, a touch eagerly, that same sparkle in her eye as when she had been discussing pirates earlier. There was also an excited grin on her face, one that had been growing ever since the paired Servants had introduced themselves.

Mary was hesitating, but Anne nudged her in the shoulder. "It shouldn't hurt anything to tell them, Mary. At least they can know what they're getting into. And it'll answer at least some of their questions."

Mary sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I just hate having to go over things twice." She shook her head, and turned back to them. "Firstly, our Captain - and it's only because of how bad things are that I'm calling him by that title instead of one of a baker's dozen of others, is Blackbeard."

There was a sound akin to the noise the kettle in Da Vinci's workshop made when the water inside was boiling. All eyes turned to Fujimaru, who turned a bright red as she realized she was the source of the odd sound. "Sorry! But……you mean Edward Teach? THE pirate of pirates, right?"

There was a look of long-standing suffering on Mary's face. And even Anne was frowning. "Unfortunately, yes. Just, please don't get your hopes up about him. Even if he's been….different the last few days, he's still….." She struggled for words, then threw her hands up in the air. "You'll see it when you meet him. Just don't say we didn't warn you."

Anne continued. "For your other question, we're fighting the Argonauts, or at least some of them. It's Jason, Medea, and Herakles - I know, it doesn't SOUND like much, but…."

Kratos heard little else of the woman's words after that.

Herakles. His half-brother.

He came back to himself, as he felt Avenger's elbow dig itself none too gently into his side, and her worried eyes met his.

"Is he a slave?" He didn't care that he had interrupted them, he had to know.

Mary snapped her fingers. "That's right, you're a Greek god, aren't you? You must have known him or something back in your world, didn't you?" She shook her head. "No, Herakles has always been super loyal to Jason - and in the little blonde bastard's meager defense, he's always been the big guy's biggest fan, too." Her voice suddenly pitched lower, though taking on a whiny tone. " 'Herakles is the strongest!' And other things like that, nothing short of complete confidence in the big monster. No, there's no slavery here, Herakles is just honestly totally devoted to Jason, for some reason."

Mash was frowning. "We fought Herakles once before, in the first Singularity. But there, he was barely a Servant anymore….the Saber there had killed them all and brought them back wrong."

Fujimaru had gone pale. "She's not wrong. I got an up-close and personal view of one of them when he tried to possess me, even after Kratos killed him." She swallowed heavily. "Not some of my favorite memories."

Mash was staring up at him. "Did….did you know him, Mr. Kratos?"

He took a deep breath. "He….was my half-brother."

Communicators activated, and a plethora of faces appeared. "Wait, does that mean your father was….." Romani eyes were as wide as dinner plates. And Da Vinci had a similar expression on her face. And Medusa and Chiron's faces were both crowding into the views.

"....Zeus," his voice was barely above a whisper. "Though I did not know this until I was a man grown….and had sat in Ares' throne for many years."

"Explains why you didn't want to fight him in Fuyuki," came Cu's muttered voice. "You never want to fight family, if you can help it. I tried like the devil to avoid having to fight Ferdiad and Uncle Fergus. He was at least reasonable about it, but Ferdiad…." The man shook his head bitterly. "Worst part of a stupid war. Fucking Medb." There was the sound of him spitting.

Mary had a worried look on her face. "Is this going to be a problem? There's not a lot of point taking you to the Captain if you're not going to help us fight this."

"No," Kratos shook his head. "If Jason is the cause of this Singularity, and Herakles chooses to defend him…..then I will fight him. He leaves us no choice." Much as the ragged shade in the burning city had not left him any choice - and much as his true half-brother had not, the day he had stormed Olympus, too blind to see how the gods were using him as a pawn against Kratos, much as they had used Kratos as a pawn against Ares.

(Kratos knew he had been a bad choice to sit in the throne of the God of War. But Herakles would have been far, far worse.)

"Ok," said Mary, mollified. "Then we should probably head out immediately. Night's about to fall, and it'll be a ton easier to slip away from here and to the current hideout in the dark." She grimaced. "Not much moonlight OR starlight of late to reveal us, thankfully, though it makes navigating the reefs a real joy."

"At least we'll have more people to push with the poles, Mary," said Anne. "It was hard when it was just me doing it, with you on the rudder."

Romani waved his hand, grabbing their attention. "So, is it safe to assume you're going with them?"

Both Kratos and Fujimaru nodded. "It's our best lead," said the El-Melloi. "And it gets us off this island, too. Which is doubly beneficial, since there might be a leyline near their hideout, and lets us NOT be here if those things return."

Mary and Anne stiffened. "Those things were here?"

"They were all over that town, what was it called, 'Nassau'?" Avenger sniffed. "We ran them off, and killed some fucking hybrid thing, but some of them got away." She jerked a thumb at Kratos. "Grumps there figured they were probably coming back later, with friends."

"That's exactly what they're going to do," said Mary. "Anne…"

"Already on it, Mary!" said the taller woman, darting off to the ship.

"Get on board," said Mary, untying the ship from where it had been bound to a stalagmite. "Depending on where the Argo is right now, those things might have already reported back to their mistress, and the God of Strength could be bearing down on us right now. We need to be gone."

In no time at all, they were all on board, and the two women were rapidly getting the ship ready to sail. "Grab a pole, all of you - except the girl. We'll need you to help shove us through the reefs that surround this little cove. Thankfully the current's enough to get us out of here."

The ship began to slowly edge out of the cave as the two women finished preparing the ship. There was a groan from both Fujimaru and Avenger as the rain once again began falling on them, but Mary quickly began barking orders, directing each person to a spot along the railing - and Fujimaru to stand beside Mary, out of the way of everyone else, as she put it. "If you won't go below deck where it's dry, then here's the best place for you," she snapped, eyes watching the waterline like a hawk. "Portside, front! I should be able to steer us around the first patch, but be on your toes just in case!"

---

To the women's credit, they had guided them through the reef perfectly, and into the open seas. The frantic energy that had seized them had slowly drained away as they had put the island behind him, and now, they were more relaxed. Anne was shifting the sails at Mary's cues, neither of them speaking, their rapport wordless.

Then again, they were two Servants combined into one. It was possible they shared a mental link in the same manner as a Master did with their Servants, and simply did not need to speak to one another.

Mash had joined Fujimaru by the wheel, and both were speaking to Mary - Fujimaru more than Mash, though Mash was far from silent. Matching Fujimaru's enthusiasm would have been difficult for anyone, though. The El-Melloi had willingly retreated below decks, happy to get out of the rain.

And Kratos found himself without anything to do. Even were he more well versed in seamanship (the ship given to him by the gods had largely piloted itself - taking him where they wanted him, when they wanted him there), the paired Servants ran this ship like it was an extension of their own bodies. So, as with the other times he had traveled by ship, there was little else for him to do but wait until they arrived at their destination.

"So, Zeus was your daddy?" Avenger settled next to him on the rails. "Did you know that before or after you'd started on your rampage?"

She slowly, deliberately rolled her eyes at the glare he leveled at her. "Fucking humor me a little bit here, you big lug, I'm not asking JUST to be a pain in your ass, I've got my reasons."

Amazingly, through all the sarcasm and disdain, the woman actually sounded sincere. "I had no father, growing up, and my mother did not speak of him - whether she would not, or could not, I do not know." His hands tightened on the rails. "In all my time serving the gods, whether it was as Ares' dog, or as one besworn to all of them, he never spoke of our connection. Nor did that change when I walked the halls of Olympus. It was only after he had stripped me of my powers, cast me from Olympus, and took my life that I learned he was my father, and even then, it was not from his lips."

"Athena told me, as she died, that Zeus was my father."

Avenger was tapping her metal fingers on the railing. "She one of the ones you offed?"

"It….was not my intent to kill her. She threw herself between Zeus and I, to try to stop us from fighting, and lost her life in the process." Avenger was opening her mouth to say something, but Kratos shook her head. "Do not think well of her. That sacrifice, my every action, even the death of the gods of Olympus was all her plot to establish her own rule over Greece. Even her dying words, I suspect, were chosen to drive me into the actions I took."

"So then, you finished the job, even knowing he was your father?" He nodded, and Avenger sighed. "Probably a stupid question, but I assume you regret it? All that stuff you told me about 'revenge bad' and 'I have walked the path you are on' is starting to sound like you weren't blowing smoke up my ass, after hearing you talk about all this shit."

"The gods were….corrupted. Opening Pandora's Box, which gave me the power to defeat Ares also infected them with the evils sealed in the box. But, even before that, they were cruel, and cared little for the lives of the mortals in Greece." He growled, low in his throat. "I knew the consequences my actions could have, and I took them, regardless. So, yes. I do regret what I did."

"Did you really have another fucking choice, though?" There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Avenger, for once, sounded deadly serious. "I mean, yeah, you said you could have walked away, but what does that leave the people of your Greece? Yeah, you killed it by killing the gods, but that doesn't stop people from someday rebuilding. If you'd have just left things as they were, how bad would those fucksticks of gods have gotten, in the end? For all you know they'd have ended up wiping everyone out anyways, except anyone who tried to start over would have had them still squatting up in their little mountain to deal with."

She rolled her eyes. "And there's no guarantee that they'd have left you alone, either. Maybe after they wiped out all their worshippers, they need a scapegoat to keep them from turning on each other. And who's name would come up but their old buddy Kratos? And you can bet your ass they wouldn't give two shits about collateral damage when they came knocking, either."

Kratos blinked, surprised. That was, truthfully, more insightful than he would have expected from the woman. His thoughts must have shown on his face, as she scoffed. "Come on. I'm not JUST a bundle of rage and revenge fantasies at the end of the day. I have been paying at least a LITTLE attention to you and what you've said, even if I still don't know if I agree with you. I still think you were completely justified in what you did back then. Sometimes, the only way to make people stop pushing you is to push back, HARD." Her eyes smoldered.

"Anyways, you can probably guess why I asked about your dad." He could not, but the woman continued talking regardless. "No secret I have some complicated feelings regarding 'me'. You know, the real Jeanne."

Avenger loudly snorted, and spat out into the waters of the sea. "What the fuck am I? A copy of her, yeah, but I ain't her, either. We're more like fucked up sisters or something - and if you EVER tell anyone I called her that I'll tear your throat out with my teeth!" She glared at him. He remained impassive. "But when I finally tracked down that traitorous bitch Carmilla, and saw 'me' getting the shit kicked out of her by d'Eon, I was sorely fucking tempted to wait just a little longer in case the little weenie lost. But then Carmilla started winding up her Noble Phantasm, so I knew I had to make my move then, or deal with her when she was all hopped up on blood, which let me tell you would have been a fucking hassle."

"But even when we were working together, there was times I wanted to just stab the self-righteous little cheerleader, even when she was being so fucking genuine about it all. True fucking believers." She shook her head in disgust. "Now…..I dunno. If she gave me a free shot, I don't know if I'd take it. I don't LIKE her, but I don't hate her as much as I did. And then there's Gilles, who……is kind of my dad, as fucked up as that is to think. But I ain't ready to try to unravel that knotted hell yet, or talk about it with ANYONE. But I thought maybe hearing about what you were thinking with regards to your unwanted family might help me straighten some things out in my head."

"And did it?"

She shrugged. "Fuck if I know. I'll tell you when and if I figure anything out." She bumped her shoulder into his. "Thanks, at least, for humoring me and answering my question. You didn't have to - I know you don't care much for me. Not that I've given you much reason to."

Her response from him was a simple grunt. She was not the only one with 'complicated feelings' - Avenger was more tolerable in recent days, but he still saw far too much of his younger self in the woman, at times. For all that her foolish behavior hid it, she was still a Servant ruled by revenge, by the very nature of the class she found herself in.

Maybe she was learning to overcome that, would avoid the mistakes he had once made. Maybe not.

A call from the back of the ship had them moving again. "We're coming up on another reef, get to the poles you lubbers! Same positions as last time!"

---

"That was a pretty tiny cove," said Fujimaru. "No way the Queen Anne's Revenge could fit there, that thing was a 40-cannon frigate. Do you have it stowed somewhere else?"

They were making their way inland - the cove they had docked in was far smaller, and less hidden than the one they had departed from. The two pirates had thrown netting, woven with plants and rubble over their ship to conceal it - it would not fool a close inspection, but from a distance, it would likely suffice.

That they had these things already prepared spoke of how they had already considered these issues.

"No. Teach can summon it when he needs it." Mary was leading the way, picking her way through the thick jungle, and did not look back at them as she answered. "He says there aren't a whole lot of coves that could keep a ship like her hidden, in any event. But this lets us use any beach as an escape point in a rush. Problem is, it needs a TON of time to get up to speed, so without a lot of warning, we're pretty much dead."

"It's why we're trying to lay as low as possible, and why he has the two of us doing most of the group's movements since everything blew up." Anne was trailing just behind her partner, her larger frame parting some of the thick underbrush for the smaller and slighter members of the group - mainly Fujimaru, Mash, and the El-Melloi. (Kratos was large enough to not care about it, and Avenger simply followed in his wake - she'd have cut, or burnt her way through, but their guides had been firm about leaving as few signs of their passing as possible.)

"So what happens if you do get taken by surprise?" asked Mash.

The two women's shoulders slumped. "Someone has to delay Herakles, then. At least until the ship's up to speed. Then, they hope they can break off and join us. But….."

Mary picked up where Anne had left off. "It's almost certainly a suicide mission. We don't have any real heavy hitters left. Holding off Herakles? That's pretty much a fever dream at this point. Whoever volunteers for that is selling their life so the rest of us can get away, IF they can even hold out that long." She glanced back, her eyes playing across Kratos' form. "At least, it was. Might be that there's some reason to hope, now."

They reached a small clearing, and Mary began stamping her feet, listening carefully, until there was an echoing sound. She knelt down, and unearthed a hidden rope that she tossed to Anne. Together, the two of them pulled, and dirt shifted, as a wooden hatch shifted open.

"Oh!" said Fujimaru. "Is this an old rum-runner's stash?"

"Same idea," said Mary, settling the hatch onto the ground. "But a bit larger. We dug it out some, since people are supposed to live here for some period of time."

"It's still pretty cramped," said Anne, with a frown. "It's one reason we didn't mind being the ones chosen for the scouting missions. Even with the danger of moving about on the seas, it got us out of there. Everyone did what they could, but there's pretty much no privacy down there."

"And this is one of our larger shelters, too," muttered Mary, leading them below. "The first one we used, after we lost, everyone was stacked like cordwood. It was……pretty bad." She sighed. "And tempers were short enough then anyways, after the drubbing we took." Anne nodded in agreement, pulling the hatch closed behind them.

As he descended the ladder, Kratos began to get an inkling of what the woman was speaking of. The air down here was stale, and while not rank yet, it had a stuffiness and weight to it that spoke of too many bodies in an enclosed space, for far too long - akin to their cabin for some periods of Fimbulwinter, when blizzards had raged strongly enough to make venturing out for long too risky a proposition, even for him.

The ground sloped down, gradually, in a short hall, before coming to a crude, wooden door, both of which showed signs of recent construction. A man, dressed in a green tunic and white leggings that put Kratos in mind of a military uniform, was standing before the door, a spear pointed at the approaching party - though when he saw Mary and Anne, he gave a sigh of relief, and lowered his weapon.

"This them, then?" The man's eyes were tired, but still very, very alert. His right arm, encased in a metal gauntlet, reached up to scratch at his greasy brown hair. "Please tell me this is them. We could do with some good news."

Anne gave the man a bright smile. "Yep! Hektor, meet the people from Chaldea!"

Kratos blinked. That name……

Hektor groaned, though it was a happy noise. "You people are a sight for sore eyes. When I heard someone opening the hatch, I was worried it might be Herakles - though I suppose he wouldn't have done it so delicately." He offered a hand. "Hektor, of Troy, and I suppose the door guard and last line of defense for our ragtag little band right now." He gave a lopsided grin to them, as he noticed Kratos' stare. "You're Greek, right? Please tell me you didn't kill me in your world, and this is going to be all awkward now."

Kratos clasped the man's wrist. "No. I fought against Troy in my world, but you fell to Achilles, there, the same as this world." A grunt. "On the battlefield, our paths never crossed."

Hektor looked Kratos up and down. "I have to say, from the size of you, I think my counterpart is probably happy about that. I was fairly tall for my day, but you……was everything bigger and scarier in your world, or was it just you? 'Cause you're a pretty big guy."

"You can talk about the good old days later, Hektor," said Mary, interrupting. "We don't think we were spotted, but better we get these guys inside and they meet the Captain, sooner rather than later." She glanced over her shoulder, at the ladder, and the sealed hatch. "Just in case."

Hektor sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right." He pushed the door open, and waved them in. "Though, if you could bring me some coffee or something, I'd appreciate it. I could use a pick-me-up or something after being on watch so long. And my back's aching, too from leaning against this wall."

Anne patted him on the shoulder. "I'll see what I can scrounge up. If nothing else, the people from Chaldea might have some better fare than the dirt grounds we've been surviving on for the past few days."

"I do have some packed - though none of us really drinks it," said Mash. "Neither Senpai or I like the taste, and Kratos….well, it was kind of mutually decided that stimulants might not agree with him. But I can certainly let you have some of our stock."

Hektor gave her a weary, but grateful smile. "Little lady, you are a godsend." His wave followed them into the main area of the underground hideout.

Inside was, as Mary had said, cramped. Kratos' head was not scraping the ceiling, but it was a near thing. A small table, and a handful of rickety chairs dominated the space - with bedrolls strewn about the floor, and hollows carved into the walls to hold hammocks, it appeared as if this carried dual purposes as both the eating and sleeping area. Three passageways led off into other areas.

"That way's to the infirmary, or what's passing for it," said Mary, pointing to the right passage. Her face grew grim. "We've got someone who's pretty badly hurt in there, so you're not going in there until the Captain gives the ok. The other way is where we store what few supplies we have left - and it doubles as the kitchen, since we bored some holes to let smoke out." She glanced at Mash. "If you want to give that coffee to Anne, she can probably get something going."

Mash reached into her shield and pulled out the can of coffee grounds, and handed it over to Anne. Fou also stuck his head out, and quickly hopped free while the girl was distracted. The animal sniffed the air, then let out a very displeased noise.

"Fou, don't wander," chided Mash, reaching down and picking the animal up. "We're guests here, and have to behave ourselves."

"Fou!" chirped the creature, but it allowed itself to be placed on Mash's shoulder, where, to its credit, it stayed.

Mary was staring at the curtains covering the pathway to the center passage. "That's the Captain's area, but……" She sighed. "Well, I told you not to get your hopes up. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

She pushed through the curtains, and they followed behind.

If the main area had been cramped, this room was positively tiny. There was barely enough space for them to all stand in it (though, Kratos noticed that the ceiling in here was much higher, something he appreciated). The walls were covered in papers that had been nailed in place - maps of the surroundings, and more detailed ones of the individual islands, scrawled pictures of what Kratos took to be Jason and his crew (only two other people, and he recognized Herakles - the other he could only assume was Medea, though it bore only a passing resemblance to the woman he had met in the previous Singularity), with copious notes pinned below them, and various other pages, crammed with text. Some had thread linking one to another, while for others, the threads had been cut, and hung limply in the stale air.

And the walls weren't the only thing covered in papers. They were strewn about the floor in a chaotic mess. And squatting in the middle of them was a man who could only be this 'Blackbeard'.

If nothing else, his hair, and yes, his beard, were as black as reputed. More wiry of build than bulky, but even seated, he looked to be of a sizeable frame - Kratos judged that, when standing, he would tower over everyone in the room. For such a legendary pirate, he was dressed simply - wearing only a simple pair of pants, and otherwise bare from the waist up save for some strips of metal that protected his shoulders. There was little about him that spoke of the wealth or fearsome reputation that Fujimaru had said this man had been famous for.

Though the strange glasses he wore, green lenses, and then only a single lens that covered both his eyes, were….unusual.

The man raised his hand in greetings, and, in a voice that both rumbled deeply, but was slightly higher pitched than his appearance would have led one to expect, he spoke.

"Hoi, chummers."

Silence.

Blackbeard frowned. "What, no fans of the Sixth World here?" His frown turned into what could only be called a pout. "And here I thought you'd get it, being from a near-future where you've blended science and magic. Oh well."

He reached up, removed the glasses, and tossed them over his shoulder. "So much for that bit."

Then, placing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself up from the ground.

Kratos had been correct - the man did tower over all of them.

"Edward Teach, or Blackbeard, I'll answer to both," said the man, looking over all of them. "You must be the bunch from Chaldea that we heard about. And my god!" His gaze had stopped on Mash and Fujimaru. "Just look at the two of you! Just my types, too - oh, if things weren't so dire, I'd be perving the hell out of you lovelies. But, sadly, love can die on the battlefield just as soon as it can bloom - particularly when there's a big, nasty Berserker breathing down all our necks, so there's no time for that." He shook his head. "Damn shame."

Fujimaru blinked. Then blinked again. Then forced her mind to process what she'd heard. Then she rubbed her eyes, just to make sure she was seeing right. A glance over at her Kohai proved that, yes, she'd heard all of that correctly.

This was Blackbeard. The most feared pirate ever. The man, the myth, the legend.

Her mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was one of Gordy's favorite sayings, used when life itself seemed to be conspiring to confound the man.

"Wat."

Mary gave what was possibly the most long-suffering sigh anyone in the room had ever heard. "Yep. That's our Captain. In all his horrific glory." She glared at the man. "I'd threaten to hit you if you don't behave yourself, but you'd enjoy that too much."

"The abuse is just one of the many reasons I keep you around, Mary!" said Blackbeard, with a grin. Then his face fell. "But as much as I'd like to keep fooling around, it just isn't the time and place for that these days." He looked down at Kratos. "Going by the way the hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention, and trying to be anywhere but here, I'm going to assume you're Kratos - the god?"

At Kratos' nod, and grunt, he continued. "And these, then, are your Servants - and the other Master, though details were light about the rest of you. Either because they didn't know, or they were just keeping mum on it. Ok, how much have the Yuri Pirates told you?"

Yuri….pirates? Wait, did that mean…..no, don't think about it, Fujimaru. Focus. "Very little. Mary didn't want to have to go over details twice, all she told us that Jason, and the Argonauts were the cause of the distortion here?"

The pirate looked to Mary, who nodded. "She's technically right, but that explanation's missing a ton of details….but it works for what she was going for." He waved his arm around. "This whole endless ocean is here because Francis Drake got her hands on a Grail. This place is kind of her dream playground - adventure everywhere, uncharted islands to explore, and loot aplenty. A pirate's paradise - or a privateer's paradise, in her case."

He put his hands on his hips. "So, enter into that equation myself and the Yuri Pirates. I had a Grail of my own, and was putting together some tentative plans of trying to get my hands on the hag's Grail, when this actual antique suddenly appears off our stern. Normally, I'd have shot first, shot second, and shot third, and blasted that thing to the bottom of the sea - the intimidation game I played as a human doesn't really work on Servants - but before I could even give the orders, this aura just washes over us, and I see this big thing hunched right at the bow of the ship slowly heading our way, and those orders die in my throat."

"It was huge, it was gray, had skin like concrete, and I swear it was all but DARING me to take a shot - God's blood, to fire every cannon I had. So I stood down." He grimaced. "Because I just needed one look at that thing to know any cannonballs I send over there are going to be returned to me, and I'm going to have to eat them. Possibly backwards."

"So we sit and wait like the whipped dogs we are, until this cocky blonde bastard struts over the boarding plank and introduces himself as Jason, captain of the Argo, and informs us all that we're now working for him."

Mash's hand poked into the air, and Blackbeard blinked. "Question - and can I possibly get your name? Otherwise I'm going to keep calling you 'Lovely Eggplant-chan' like I am in my head."

Mash's expression twisted into something very complicated, and VERY conflicted. "It's…..Mash Kyrielight, Mr. Blackbeard. And, you said something about having a Grail?"

"Mash? Oh, fate is just robbing me of the nicknames I could come up with for you….." The man groaned. "But to answer your question, when I was first summoned, there was a Grail just laying there in front of me. Being, well, a scurvy pirate with a lust for treasure, I snatched it up. Wasn't until later that I figured out what was going on, but that's skipping ahead. Let me finish the story, and that should answer at least some of your questions, Mashuuuuuu….." His voice took on a singsong quality as he drew out Mash's name.

The girl's eyes narrowed, but Blackbeard continued. "To get back to where we were, Jason informs us all that we're working for him, now, and if there were any complaints, to direct them to his good friend Herakles - the aforementioned giant slab of meat that had been giving all of us death glares, both across the ocean, and now, up close and personal. Us being rather fond of being alive, or at least manifested as Servants, we keep quiet and nod at the appropriate times."

"At this point, Jason tells me that he's 'generously' " Blackbeard's index and middle fingers wiggled up and down. "Allowing me to keep the Grail I had, but he's sending one of his men to keep an eye on me, in the spirit of cooperation. You met Hektor at the door - that's who was riding herd on me."

"Anyways, that's when Jason starts outlining his big plan." Blackbeard raised one of his fingers. "Firstly, he tells us, there's a goddess somewhere on these islands. If possible, we're to capture her, and bring her back to him." A second finger raised. "Because apparently, there's some artifact also around here that he's going to sacrifice this goddess to, which will make him king shit of all these oceans." Blackbeard shrugged. "He wasn't the most clear on this part - probably keeping it need-to-know so we didn't get any ideas once we'd grabbed this goddess he was having us search for. It's what I would have done, anyways."

A third finger was raised. "And then, here came the real kicker. There were two problems that were going to get in our way. Francis Drake, who also had a Grail, and was already causing issues. Not something that should be too much trouble, even with a Grail, a human isn't any match for a Servant, much less three, or four of them, however you're counting Mary and Anne."

The curtain parted, and Anne ducked into the room. Wordlessly, she handed a chipped cup to Blackbeard, who noisily slurped down the coffee. "Ah, that's the stuff. Yuri Pirate #2, I am once again offering you the reward of stepping on me in reward for your leal service."

"Denied. Don't make me regret not dying to Herakles, Teach," said Anne.

"You'll say yes someday, I just know it!" Blackbeard threw back the rest of the coffee, then belched. "Just as I'm starting to feel, well, not good, but less bad about this whole collab that's being forced on us, Jason's little waifu drops the bomb. The OTHER thing we have to worry about is a group of Servants coming from the future, led by an actual freakin' god. And not a Divine Spirit, she's clear as a glass-bottomed ship on this, but a full on god, who's out to stop them, and by association, us. And joy of joys, that means it's us who gets to be the first line of defense when they get there. And if we can't find that little goddess he's after, well then, we're to bring him the physical god instead. Or else. Then he marches back to his ship, tells us 'happy hunting', and sails off, without a care in the world."

Blackbeard rolled his eyes. "As you can imagine, no one's happy about this. It's even a surprise to Hektor - apparently they never bothered to tell him about any of this before offloading him to us. And he seems about as thrilled about the possibility of having to fight a god as the rest of us are."

He cracked his knuckles. "So, I stewed in my cabin for the better part of a day, letting the Yuri Pirates run the ship - like they did for old Calico Jack. I spent that time thinking. Looking at this problem from every angle. And, I won't lie, at least some of it was spent rolling around on the floor with the realization of just how utterly fucking screwed we all were. Some manly crying might have been involved, but I can neither confirm nor deny. And at the end of it, I kicked the door open, and strode out to the deck of my ship, with a plan."

"First thing was to have a conference with the Yuri Pirates - without Hektor around. Thankfully, they come in a pair, so I was able to chat up one of them while the other kept Hektor distracted. Unsurprisingly, they were of a mind with me - they didn't like this job we'd been handed, not one bit. So, using the excuse of having them scout out the islands, so to double the amount of boots on the ground we could throw at this problem, I had them take their sloop and split off from us."

Another hand went up, this time Fujimaru's. "Ok, and I'm going to need a name for you too, otherwise you're going to get the same course of nicknaming as Mashuu there, you soulless ginger." His grin widened. "Not that I'm adverse to that lack of a soul."

Fujimaru's expression was bleak. "Ritsuka Fujimaru, and you are just RUINING my image of the Golden Age of Piracy. RUINING IT!" She took a deep breath, and got herself back under control. "But, two men to run the Queen Anne's Revenge? I could see it with three, or four, if they're Servants, but, two?"

"Oh," Blackbeard waved his hand dismissively. "My ship comes with a crew when I summon it. They're not real people, but they aren't exactly ghosts, either. Partly memories, partly real, but they keep it running, and with enough juice, I can keep replenishing the numbers endlessly. Why I wasn't really afraid of running into Drake. I'd win a war of attrition against humans, but anything stronger than that, like Servant, and it's a hard-counter to my main trick." He shrugged. "I could have thrown bodies at Herakles until he was drowning in them, but they couldn't have done so much as scratched his skin. No, I knew when I was beat."

His grin turned calculating. "So I had to change the rules of the game."

"Once my ship was a bastion of masculinity again, I started feeling out Hektor. Seeing which way he felt the wind was blowing, what with him just finding out that he'd probably have to fight a god - and asking him if he had any tips to share, since he ended his life fighting a demigod in the form of Achilles." Blackbeard blew out a long breath. "It was a LOT more subtle than I'm used to being - I've always rolled with the big flashy displays, the better to get a ship or town to strike their colors and avoid an ugly fight. But I worked Hektor with the slow game, always making sure I was there to lend him an ear if he wanted one, sitting with him at meal times, the works. And eventually, I wore him down enough that he admitted that he was in the same boat as the rest of us - Jason had his big Berserker bestie hanging over his head just like it was Damoclesing above ours. And that he'd only signed on with them to avoid having to fight Herkales."

"And now, he finds out either way, he's still going to probably have to fight a god," said the El-Melloi.

Blackbeard snapped his fingers, and pointed at the Clock Tower Lord. "Got it in one………you? Sorry, we really haven't done a round of introductions yet, and my nicknaming neurons are mostly occupied with the ladies. Apologies for not being on my game."

Kratos' patience with the strange man was rapidly thinning. "El-Melloi," said Kratos, pointing at the Caster. "Avenger." The Servant thumped her chest with her mechanical arm, smug.

"And you're Kratos," said Blackbeard, interrupting. "That was the one name they knew, seemed like the only one they cared about. And they made sure we knew it, too, along with a description of you, so we'd know it when we saw you - as if our Servant lizard brains wouldn't be screaming 'GOD!' the second we locked eyes on you."

He turned to Avenger. "Also, an Avenger? And you're dressing in black, and you have a pointy metal arm? Going for first place in the annual Liefeld Edge-lypics? Because if you are, you need some more unnecessary pouches. Still, if you can do a rocket punch with that thing, all's forgiven."

Avenger's eyes narrowed. "No, but I can burn dumbasses until they're ash. Want a demonstration?"

Blackbeard gave a mock shiver. "Oooooo, scary. Hurt me more, dommy mommy. But I think I'll pass on that. You want to melt me, save it until after we've won. Might not even be that bad of a way to go out - better than how I died in real life, if nothing else."

Avenger's mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. Unable to figure out what to do next, she just turned and stared at Kratos, her expression asking an obvious question, but one that Kratos did not have an answer to, as he could not make sense of this strange man any more than she could.

(He had known his fair share of…..unique personalities in his time. Brok was blunt, rude, and crude - but honest to a fault. Sindri, before he had changed, had been fussy almost to the point of parody. Mimir, for all that he was like a brother to Kratos, was in love with the sound of his voice - at times, it would do the Smartest Head Alive good to learn to shut up and listen, rather than fill the air with speech. A quality Da Vinci shared with Kratos' brother. And those were a very small sample of recent acquaintance - his life had been long, and filled with many, many experiences. But Blackbeard…….)

(Despite the man's antics, he had yet to not have at least one hand within a few spaces of a weapon - either one of the ones on his belt, or the handful scattered around the room - on the walls, or carelessly lying across the ground or one of the tables - in all the time he'd been speaking to them.)

"Anyways, once I'd wormed my way into Hektor's confidence, it wasn't hard to get him turned around to our side. Helps that he was as creeped out by Jason's yandere little waifu as I was. Something is really, REALLY not right with that one. But we put our heads together and started to scheme. Killing Herakles wasn't on the table, so we had to work around that……and I see we've got another question."

"I have fought, and killed this Herakles before," stated Kratos. "He was powerful, but no more than other Servants."

"So why can't we, who have numbers on him, manage it?" Not quite how Kratos would have worded but, but the essentials were there.

The communicator on their wrists activated, and Da Vinci's face winked into existence. "Hi, everyone. To prevent myself from getting some sort of degenerate nickname, I'm going to go ahead and introduce myself first, this is Leonardo Da Vinci, the Uomo Universale. And I'll mention, for the record, that I designed that metal arm of Avenger's, and may or may not be able to control it remotely. And that the crushing grip strength of it is enough to shatter an iron bar - much less the throat of someone who gets on my bad side." She gave a sunny grin. "But to answer your question, Kratos, the Servants you fought in Fuyuki were barely Servants any more. Whatever Saber did to bring them back, it stripped most of them of a good number of their skills and abilities - as well as a good amount of their intelligence, to hear Cu talk."

"For Herakles, that made him incapable of using his Noble Phantasm, and why you were able to defeat him so easily - or comparatively easily." Her lips thinned. "It's called God Hand, and essentially, it lets him revive 11 times, giving him one life for each of his labors."

"And he gains some amount of resistance to whatever has killed him already," muttered Blackbeard. "So no one-tricking him, either. And he's already got pretty high resistance to damage to start with, which means you're going to need A-ranked Noble Phantasms, at least, to take a life off of him. Something that's in short supply in the crew I had put together. So you can see why fighting him straight up was a pipe dream, at best."

"So what'd you do?" Avenger's arms were crossed over her chest. "Clearly you tried something, even if it didn't work."

Blackbeard sighed, his face falling. "Yeah, it didn't work, you aren't wrong about that." Another sigh. "First thing I did, since I had a Grail, was summon some help. A buddy of mine from the Throne, Eric Bloodaxe, the Bloodaxe King. A good listener, and good in a fight. He'd probably be able to hang with Herakles for at least a little - give us time to do what we needed to do."

The El-Melloi was nodding. "I think I see. If you cannot kill the soldiers, kill the general. You were looking to take out Jason."

"Exactly," said Blackbeard. "The HOPE was, if we take him out, the Argo goes with him, as does its crew. Which means bye-bye Medea, and good riddance Herakles. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see if that theory held."

"With Hektor on board with the plan, it meant we didn't have to skulk around as much. And it was about this time that Drake drifted into the seas. I pointed my bow straight at her, and made a BIG show of antagonizing her - not hard, since the two of us get along like cats and dogs. But while all eyes were on the two of us exchanging pleasantries, Hektor snuck over to her ship and hid. Then, after I threw the fight and retreated, shaking my fist about 'next time, Joes, next time!', he gave her the downlow on what was going on in this messed up patch of ocean, and made my pitch for me."

He rolled his eyes. "Needless to say, she was game for fighting a god, since she'd apparently just gotten done throwing hands with Poseidon. But she was willing to try it my way. So, while the Yuri Pirates kept searching the islands, she and I put on a show. Exchanging wins and losses, narrow misses, and epic battles so that Jason would think I'm trying to live up to my end of the bargain. And it looked like it was working, since he had nothing but praise for me in how I'd divided my forces whenever he sailed up to get a status report from me. Thank every god of the sea that he was arrogant enough that he didn't feel any rush, and was content to just sit back and watch the fireworks."

"That boy….." A face replaced Da Vinci's in the image. Chiron. "He always did his poorest whenever he felt like he had the upper hand. All his worst traits surfaced, and more than once I saw him snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, when by all odds he should have won, easily." His expression turned grim. "Master, if I may make a request, I would like to be on the field when we encounter them. I have a few choice words for my students."

Blackbeard's eyes were wide. "Wait, students? Plural?" His head swung about to stare directly at Fujimaru. "Ginger Girl, please, please, PLEASE tell me that's Chiron there." At her nod, he whooped. "Ok, we'd already put all our hopes on you guys from the future, but having Chiron in tow? That's the gatcha pull of gatcha pulls, when you're down to your last drop of paid currency. We might actually have a chance of pulling this thing off."

Then he groaned. "If I'd have only waited a few days…….well, hindsight and that jazz." He began moving for the curtained door. "Walk with me, you'll want to see the rest of this."

Slowly, they shuffled along behind him. "It was about this time Mary and Anne returned with some additional help - turns out they'd found exactly the goddess we'd been tasked to find. And, she didn't come alone."

He paused before the passage to what they had been told was the medical area. "Fair warning, it's not a pretty sight in there." Then he ducked his head through the curtain.

It was larger than the room Blackbeard had claimed for his own personal use, but only just. And even then, it felt far more cramped than that cluttered room had.

The reason why was lying on a few simple blankets on the floor.

A massive man - if it was a man at all. Standing upright, he might have been taller than Tyr - and at a glance, he looked to have the bulk and width of Thor, without any of the extra weight the God of Thunder had carried, either. A mane of wild, unkempt white hair completely surrounded his head - and, more interestingly, a pair of bull's horns poked out from that mass of snowy hair.

The man did not stir at their entrance, and Kratos did not believe he would be waking anytime soon, for the man seemed to be at death's door.

Bandages wrapped around nearly every inch of his skin, and both legs and arms were sheathed in crude casts. What little flesh they could see was covered in ugly bruises and livid weals, as well as more than a few scratches and gouges that still wept blood. The stink of infection and pus was thick in the air - merely entering the room was like taking a blow to the face.

Mash gagged, and stumbled back out of the room. Dimly, they heard her retching, and mumbled words from Anne.

"Asterios, the Minotaur," said Blackbeard, very, very quietly. "Or what's left of him, after Herakles got done with him."

Carefully, the man began to kneel down, and Kratos realized there was another person in the room. A small woman - their head resting across the Minotaur's (THIS was the Minotaur of this world? He looked almost human - then again, Chiron held little in common with the brutish centaurs that Kratos had known, and battled, in his time.) broad chest. Gently, almost gingerly, he touched her shoulder. "Euryale…..I hate to have to wake you, since this is probably the first sleep you've gotten in days, but you'll need to see this."

Slowly, the woman began to stir, lifting her head as though it weighed a ton, and groggily blinking her eyes. "Teach……are we under attack?" She groped about, and a bow formed in her hands. "Do….do I need to fight?"

She was the splitting image of Stheno. But Blackbeard had called her….

Kratos' communicator activated, and Medusa's face filled the screen. "Sister! Is…..what happened?"

Wearily, sleep still clinging to her, Euryale blinked slowly. "Is…..is that my giant little sister? Have you come to save me, or am I still dreaming?" A single tear began to streak down her face. "Please…..if I'm dreaming, don't let me wake up. There's no hope in the waking world these days……I don't….I don't want to watch him die….."

"Sister….I'm here. WE'RE here. I won't let anything else happen to you….." Medusa was reaching for her sister, despite the distance of ages between them.

"Maybe we should let them talk," said Blackbeard, his expression solemn. "They can fill each other in on what's happened while we do the same."

Wordlessly, Kratos nodded. Detaching the communicator from his wrist, he handed it to Euryale, who barely seemed to see him, or anyone else in the room - she had eyes only for her sister, her once-protector.

Moments later, they were gathered in the main area. Blackbeard sank into a chair, one that seemed ill-suited to holding a man of his size. "So, the plan was to have the two Berserkers tie up Herakles, while everyone else rushed Jason. And with Euryale, we'd hoped that her Noble Phantasm would be able to help with that - it's supposed to be able to bewitch men, so we hoped it would buy us time." He shook his head. "It did all of nothing. But Erik and Asterios were holding him back, barely, and we were already committed by that point, so we went for Jason. One Saber, and one Caster, against two Riders, a Lancer, an Archer, and a Grail-toting Drake - it should have been an overwhelming victory."

"You underestimated Medea, didn't you?" asked Da Vinci. "She was briefly a part of our team in the last Singularity, and she was impressive, to say the least. But at the end of the day, she's a Caster from the Age of the Gods."

"It burns my ass to admit it, but you're right. She had all of us fooled - between all that devotion to Jason, and how tiny and young she looked, it just slipped our minds that she learned magic from Circe herself." He groaned. "Right up until she started throwing us around effortlessly, while Jason sat back and made snide remarks."

Fujimaru blinked. "Wait, devoted to Jason? The Medea we met hated him - Kratos had to promise her a memory of the Jason of his world dying to get her to help us out." She frowned. "Is this an imposter or something?"

"It might be a younger version of her," said Da Vinci, who had moved over to Romani's station, having been displaced from her own station by Medusa. "Recorded before their falling out - while the one you met in Rome was quite obviously from after."

"It's possible," came Cu's voice, from somewhere off-screen. "I mean, I was never a druid in my lifetime, yet here I am as a stupid Caster. And I've said, more than once, if there's a Saber of me recorded on the Throne, it's probably when I was still a runt." There was the sound of a knife running over something. "Quick way to clear this up would be to show the pirate a capture of the Medea we met."

"Just about to do that," said Da Vinci. "One second…..there." An image of Medea, standing in the doorway of her cottage, appeared on the screen. "Is this her?"

Blackbeard shook his head, something that was mirrored by both Anne and Mary. "No. I mean, it is her, but you're right, this one's older. The one with Jason's younger, more petite, and has a crazier look in her eyes." He shuddered. "Normally, she'd tick EVERY one of my boxes - my wife was much shorter than me, after all. But there is something about her that puts goosebumps on my goosebumps."

"So, by that point, we all pretty much knew we were screwed. Our Berserkers were getting thrashed, we couldn't even get close to Jason, and my brilliant plan was falling apart around us. We were making an attempt at a fighting retreat when Herakles finally dropped our brute squad, and charged right for us. We all thought we were dead."

He hung his head. "So Drake charged him." His grin was rueful. "Yeah, I know, human being, even with a Grail, charging Herakles himself. It was never going to work, but that's how the hag lived her life, zero regrets, full-tilt. He snatched her up before she could even get close to him, and she fired every pistol she had right down his throat - it was a defiant gesture, and nothing more. But it gave our two Berserkers time to pick themselves up off the deck, and bull rush Herakles, and Drake with him, though the railing and off into the sea. And Jason wasn't about to chase us without his big stick, so it let us run, and live to fight another day."

He laid his head on his arms. "We were in our first shelter when Asterios washed up on the beach - I don't know if it was pure luck, or the red string that connects those two - he was protecting her in his Labyrinth when the Yuri Pirates stumbled on it, and therefore, the two of them. They managed to coax them out of there, and we had them hidden below decks when we sprang our surprise attack on Jason. Best I can tell, Eric's probably dead. He'd have found his way back to me, otherwise. He's a bro like that."

"And Drake?" asked Fujimaru.

"Still alive. She's probably locked up in the brig of the Argo - since this whole ocean is hers, sort of, it can't exist without her. So Jason's keeping her alive until he gets his hand on Euryale, or Kratos, so the whole thing doesn't fall apart around his ears."

Romani's face nudged Da Vinci's out of the screen. "And her Grail?"

Blackbeard reached into a pocket and pulled out a golden cup - a familiar one. "Right here. She and I swapped Grails before the fight, just in case. This way, if I went down, she'd still be around to sustain the Singularity, and they'd get their hands on a Grail that wasn't much use to them. And if she went down, I'd have her Grail, and it would let me act as a placeholder, hopefully until you arrived. It's why Nassau's there, sitting on top of what was just a base camp that Drake made when she first arrived here. Some parts of my life are mixing into this endless ocean."

Avenger frowned. "Not to be a bitch about this, but if the whole point is to resolve this Singularity, couldn't you just have shot Drake or something?"

Blackbeard laughed. "Oh, believe you me, we discussed that very thing. But somehow, neither of us figured it would be that easy. The difference between the history that happened and this place didn't start with her finding the Grail, it started when she drifted into here. Whatever this strip of ocean is, it's not JUST her that made it - something else at least helped cause it. And neither of us thought they'd let it end with her death, either."

He settled back into his chair. "So that's the whole story, Chadleans. Blackbeard's grand failure - that cost me the life of my buddy, and has had us ducking and hiding and praying for the past few days." He looked at each of them in turn. "So, what say you? Think we can work together to turn this thing around?"

Kratos exchanged a glance with Fujimaru, who nodded. It was what they were here for, in the end - to recover the Holy Grail, and to set history back onto its proper course. And while some of these allies were…unusual, they were allies.

And they seemed to have more than enough motivation to fight.

Kratos held out his hand. "Yes."

Blackbeard reached out and seized Kratos' hand, so quickly that his movements were a blur. His hand still squeezing Kratos', he sprang to his feet. "Then, I hereby declare the Alliance to End Herkamania a go!"

There were popping sounds from all around them, and shredded bits of paper shot out from every direction. A banner fell from the ceiling, one depicting an illustration of Herakles, with a circle drawn over him, and a line cutting through both the circle and the god.

There was a long, long pause. Then, Fujimaru.

"Wat."

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: He would have punched straight through the lid of the coffin, but didn't want to risk damaging the contents, or triggering a possible trap.

Deadly serious (mostly) Blackbeard? Deadly serious (mostly) Blackbeard.

Chapter 42: Okeanos 3

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 42

ARGO

THE BRIG​

The walls of her prison were still echoing with the sounds of her favorite sea shanties when the hatch was tugged back, and sunlight streamed into the inky blackness that was her world, and her captors descended.

Hmm. Earlier than her usual feeding time. A touch unusual.

She didn't stop singing, though.

The little blonde weasel, his chest, as ever, puffed out with the self-importance that came from thinking he had all the best cards in the current hand, was saying something, or trying to say something to her.

She just kept singing, louder.

His neck did that thing where it started getting red, and the red crept up to the rest of his face, as he got madder and madder as she pointedly ignored him, moving on from 'Lowlands Away' to 'The Sailboat Malarkey'. She was in the chorus of that one, and wondering which shanty to pick next (maybe 'Billy Riley'), when an invisible hand closed itself around her neck, and her (lovely) singing voice was brutally cut off.

"My Jason was asking you a question." The hand Medea was using to cast the spell was twitching, as if she wished it was that hand, and not a spell, that was around Drake's neck. "You should be respectful, and listen to him when he's talking." The hand began to lift her up, until she was on her tiptoes - the warning obvious.

She just grinned at the pair of them. "If you had a request for a song, all you had to do was ask," she choked out, her tone mirthful, despite the present situation.

Something very, very dangerous flashed in the girl's eyes, and Jason quickly moved to soothe her, laying an arm across her shoulders. "Medea, careful. We do still need her alive….for now. She's just trying to bait us. But you…no, we're both smarter than that, aren't we?"

For a split second, she didn't think the girl would listen to him. Beneath the anger, there was something……but it was gone before Drake could identify it, and the girl simpered like one of the many (MANY) girls Bombe had waiting on him in the ports across Europe. "Of, course, Lord Jason!"

The invisible hand around her neck didn't lessen one bit, though. But the girl did take a step back, letting Jason step in front of her and eye her up.

(As ever, his eyes might have dipped low at certain parts. But never for long - the lustful gaze was almost perfunctory. Whatever flaws this little man had, he seemed honestly devoted to the girl by his side, and she, to him.)

"Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, I'm here to once again offer you the chance to get out of this depressing little hole." He grinned, flashing what he probably thought was his best lady-killer's grin - probably the one he'd used on the girl by his side. "Just tell us where what's left of your little band is holed up, and you can have a place on my ship, as one of the Argonauts. The woman who sailed around the world is certainly enough of a legendary hero to stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Caenis, the Dioscuri, Atlanta, and the rest." His grin widened. "But not Herakles. He's the only one great enough to stand at my side."

Jason didn't see it, Jason COULDN'T see it, with the girl standing behind him, but Drake did. Medea's face…twitched at that statement, and something very, very unsettling washed over her eyes. And it was aimed directly at Jason, too, or she'd eat her hat.

Oblivious, the man rambled on. "Well, what say you? Do we have an accord?"

She laughed in his face.

"Is that your best pitch?" Despite the constriction around her throat, she managed to fill the dank chamber with her chuckles. "Serve on this ancient ship as a glorified cabin boy? Swabbing the decks, and doing all the grunt work?" Her laughter cut off. "Did you forget who you're talking to? I'm CAPTAIN Francis Drake, greatest sailor to ever stride this world, the one who felled the sun itself, who sent the Invincible Armada to the Locker, and, as I told you, bested POSEIDON himself, mere weeks back!"

She spat at his feet. "I LEAD, boy, and everyone follows in my wake. Even…..or especially brats like you!"

Whatever else she'd planned to say was cut off as her voice was once again gagged. "Fine then," said Jason, over her struggle to breathe. "I didn't want to have to get ugly with you, since that doesn't befit a hero like the Argo's captain, but let's see how you like half-rations for a few days. Maybe hunger, and thirst, will loosen your tongue, and make you reconsider my generous offer."

He turned, and began stomping out. "Medea dear, drop her, please. No point in you sullying your hands with a trollop like her any longer."

For a split second, Drake felt her feet leave the ground. But then the pressure released her, and she was roughly tossed against the wall.

Medea stared at her prone form for a long, long moment before she turned and followed Jason up the ladder. Their footsteps receded, then the hatch slamming shut left her in the cold and dark, alone.

Gingerly, she picked herself up from the decking, and settled herself back against the wall.

Dammit Teach. Hurry up. Or else she was going to have to bust out here on her own.

---

 

BLACKBEARD GROUP SHELTER #2

ALLIANCE TO END HERKAMANIA SHELTER #2​

"So, what's our first step?"

Everyone was still shaking the shredded paper off themselves. Romani, who had not been showered with the annoying, clingy things, was able to ask the question.

"Well, first I suppose I should ask if there's anything you guys need to get up to speed," said Blackbeard, the wide grin still on his face. "If we're going to do this, we're probably only going to get one shot at it. And we don't have the element of surprise at all anymore - we already blew our chance to take them out, and they knew you were coming."

"And despite them not sharing information on the rest of our group, I have to imagine they know our capabilities as well - Kratos is formidable, yes, but he is not everything, either." The El-Melloi was still picking paper from his long hair, occasionally muttering about 'Gray' something.

"A Leyline," said Da Vinci. "A connection to one is paramount - without it, we can't resupply in the field, or switch out any of the Servants we have on standby in the base. As useful as a Clock Tower Lord is, either of Fujimaru's Servants would be better against Herakles." She gave the El-Melloi a sheepish grin. "No offense meant, Lord."

"None taken," said the man. "I am well aware of my shortcomings in a situation like this, and both I and Kongming agree. Either Chiron or the Rider duo would fare better than I."

Blackbeard blew out a long breath. "Leylines are…..complicated. Medea's got eyes on all of them, so the second you connect, she'll know." He grimaced. "And she's also been swarming them with copious amounts of those starfish demons, as well as other things." He chewed on his lower lip. "It's not impossible, but it's going to draw eyes to us. So if we do this, we'd need to get in and out like a cheap whore, or else it'd get ugly fast."

He turned to the El-Melloi. "Also, did I hear you right? Kongming? Are you sharing headspace with him or something?" At the man's nod, Blackbeard's eyes grew bright.

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Think he can get me Eiko-chan's autograph?"

The Clock Tower Lord's face twisted in puzzlement, and he opened his mouth….only to close it, and his eyes took on a vacant stare. After a moment, he blinked, and focus returned to him. "Kongming says that if we survive this, and you hold up your end of the bargain, he'll see what he can do." The confused expression was still there, as if the El-Melloi couldn't quite understand what his other self was saying.

The man cheered, while everyone else, including the one had asked the favor from, just stared with an utter lack of comprehension (or, in Fujimaru's case, abject despair as her image of one of her childhood idols continued to fracture). "That's some serious wind in my sails, then." He cracked his knuckles. "Ok, Operation Leyline. I think we can probably figure something else out. What else do you need from us to be at full clip?"

"Some more allies wouldn't hurt," said Da Vinci. "Like you said, if we're going to take lives off Herakles, we're going to need A-ranked Noble Phantasms, or their equivalent. Hektor's Durandal is about all you have that fits the bill." Blackbeard nodded, conceding the point. "For us, we're a bit better stocked. Medusa, Chiron, and Sakamoto for certain. Cu…."

The man in question's voice spoke from off-screen. "I MIGHT be able to use my runes to boost it high enough to take a life off him. A partial release was enough to beat the scraps of that Berserker back in Fuyuki, so that's at least a little promising. But it'd suck for all of us if I expended all that energy and he just laughed it off - especially as we're going to have to husband our Noble Phantasms VEEEERY carefully for this."

"Agreed," said Da Vinci, with a nod. "Mash and the Lord's Noble Phantasms are purely defensive in nature, so they're not relevant to this discussion. And then there's Avenger….."

"Yeah, I got no fuckin' clue," said Avenger, with a shrug. "My Murder Arm did well enough in that Reality Marble, and it chopped that thing Lev transformed into into two parts pretty nice, so, maybe?" Another shrug, as Blackbeard (looking as if Christmas had come early for him) mouthed 'Murder Arm?'. "I'd be game for giving it a try, if nothing else."

Da Vinci's face was an odd mix between agreeing with the woman, and irritation (likely due to the implication that any of her work was anything but EX-ranked). "Let's pencil that one in as a last resort. Given what we've gone over in our sessions about Noble Phantasms, Kratos, what do you feel of your war chest would measure up to an A-ranker?"

Kratos considered - he had only partially followed the woman's explanations of what the criteria were for in the ranking system that Noble Phantasms had. But he could be certain about a few things. "The Blades. They were forged by Hephastus, and imbued with the primordial fires. Of all the weapons I carry, they are the strongest." And least loved, but, as he had told his son, even hateful things have their uses.

"My wife's axe…I am less certain of. It was forged by mortals…..but in my world, it was made to be able to stand against Mjölnir."

"And that thing was the single greatest weapon in Norse mythology," said Fujimaru. "I'd say it's probably got the oomph to do the job."

"Agreed," said Da Vinci. "While I haven't gotten a chance to really inspect your axe, Kratos, it's a fantastic piece of work, and it certainly doesn't lack for power. I'd second Fujimaru's opinion here."

"The spear isn't going to cut it, though," chimed in Cu. "Take it from someone who carried around the best spear under the sun for most of his short life - your Draupnir's nice, and it isn't that far behind my girl, but it IS far enough behind her that I don't think it'll do much more than tickle that monster."

A grunt. Cu's opinion largely mirrored his own. Loathe as he was to speak ill of Brok's final creation, but it simply did not have the weight of time - or accumulated 'Mysteries' that the Mages of this world so swore by to elevate it in the same manner as his other weapons. It was still possible it was powerful enough, but there was considerable risk here.

They would need to kill his half-brother of this world in 12 different ways. For even one of their chosen ways to fail would doom them all. Because to find 12 different, uniquely powerful ways to kill a single being was difficult enough. It was unlikely they would have any to spare, in the event one of their weapons failed to pass muster.

"We can put that one in the 'maybe' pile with Cu's Wicker Man." Da Vinci's brow furrowed, as she thought. "What of your Mana Burst, Kratos? Or the new trick you picked up in the last Singularity?"

"I…." He turned the question over in his mind. "I do not know."

Spartan Rage…..it had always been with him, as much a part of his as his arms, or legs. But, it was a tool like any other - though thinking of it in the dry, scholarly terms Da Vinci had used when describing Noble Phantasms (A, B, EX, C ranks, Anti-Army, Anti-Unit, Anti-World…..and the terminology had gone on and on) was frankly, very, very odd for him.

Still, even Thor had been…..excited impressed by it, catching a glimpse of the God of War he'd yearned to fight when the red had surged forth from Kratos' body.

"My….'Mana Burst', as you call it, may be able to harm him. But I am not certain." A grunt. "I am equally uncertain of my other powers." The runic powers he had collected over the course of three years were more limited in scope, and in power than the abilities he had commanded in Greece. And they often failed to slay mere Draugr, to boot.

"So we'll put those smaller magic tricks you have, and the Spartan Army into the maybe pile with a heap of other things, then," said Da Vinci. "Overall, that gives us six things we feel confident should be able to take a life, and five more that we're less sanguine about." She glanced around the room. "Does that sound about right to everyone?"

A round of nods. "Asterios' Noble Phantasm is just trapping people in the Labyrinth," said Blackbeard. "Great for stalling, but not so much for killing, unfortunately. At least not what we're looking to kill. Euryale is the one that really baffles me. Her Love-Love Arrow SHOULD have worked - she's Divine enough that it should have bypassed some of his resistances, but he completely no-sold that thing when she fired it."

"Trying to mentally influence a Berserker can be a difficult affair, depending on the level of Madness Enhancement they have," said the El-Melloi. "But you are correct, a Divine Spirit, even one as weak as one of the older Gorgon Sisters, should have had more of an effect."

No one has anything much to say to that.

"Problems for tomorrow," says Blackbeard, waving his hand through the air. "Not like she's going anywhere anytime soon, not until her bull is back on his feet, anyways." Another wince from Fujimaru. "But on the subject of allies, that's something we haven't been able to do much about ever since we lost."

His eyes narrow. "But there have been signs there's other Servants lurking around these waters. I'm guessing my little song and dance of working for Jason was effective enough that I scared them off - why we didn't see hide nor hair of them. And after, we didn't want to risk moving around too much. I had the Yuri Pirates hunker down and wait for you guys, hoping that your first port of call would be Nassau." He chuckled. "Not often that I'm lucky like that. I should probably buy some Dogecoin or something."

"But that's something you can keep an eye out for out there while you're making a play for that Leyline you need. The way I see it, we've got three objectives right now." He began ticking off fingers. "Firstly, get that Leyline so you can restock on future tech and rotate your lineups. Secondly, see if we can find some reinforcements on the islands. And thirdly……locate whatever that artifact that Jason wants to do the big sacrifice on. We deny him that, and we open up our options."

The man straightened up in his chair, and began gesturing. "If we can destroy it, that completely fucks his big plan. Even if he's good at thinking on his feet, that still puts him back to square one."

"He was - it was honestly one of his greatest virtues. For as badly as he does when he has an advantage, he's the polar opposite when everything is falling apart around him," Chiron was shaking his head in exasperation. "The boy shined his brightest when adversity forced him to."

Blackbeard was frowning. "Noted. Means we have to take him out fast once we pull the rug out from under him, before he can turn the tables on us. But in the event we can't destroy the artifact he needs, finding it at least lets us decide where, and WHEN we'll fight him - and by him, I mean his pet Berserker. And that can mean a whole damn lot."

"And speaking of which, which Leyline were you guys eyeballing?"

In a heartbeat, Romani had called up a map, and zoomed in on a larger island to the north. "This one here. It was the closest one to the island Nassau was on - since we couldn't really pack a boat, we were looking at having to make one, and then row there, so we chose the nearest Leyline we could find."

"The big island," muttered Blackbeard. "Never set foot on it myself, but the Yuri Pirates did during their scouting missions, while I was playing with Drake. What can you two tell us about it?"

"Well, I mean, it's big," said Anne.

At the twin rolled eyes of Blackbeard and Avenger, she flushed. "She means that in that there's a lot of places to hide things there," said Mary. "It's easily the largest of the islands in this weird chain, but it's oddly….empty, for all that. Not a ton of wildlife there, and what was there was oddly…..cagey?"

"It's like what the hunters in the town I grew up in used to talk about when they'd be in the woods, and it would get all quiet," added Anne. "The animals sensing there's a big predator about, and they're hiding. And this was before those starfish things started showing up, too."

"And you saw nothing out of the ordinary?" asked Da Vinci. Two heads shook in response to her question. "Could be a Servant, or a Phantasmal, or something else. Really not enough data to go on. There's no shortage of things that could spook animals like that, and not all of them supernatural, either."

"An unhealthy Leyline could also cause issues, but thankfully, this one doesn't look corrupted like the ones in France," said Romani. "Either Medea can't do that, or more likely, simply isn't."

"Baldur did need the Grail to pull that trick," added Cu. "Which they didn't have….either of them, up until a little while ago. And on that subject, should we check out the one WE do have access to? If that resolves this thing, it'd be a nice change of pace from the previous Singularities."

Blackbeard shrugged, and pushed the golden cup across the table. "Shoot. But in my experience, my life's never that easy."

Mash carefully picked the Grail up (looking like she was trying to touch as little of something that Blackbeard himself had handled as possible), then frowned. "No reaction. With the other ones I could feel it, the second I laid hands on them. With this one….there's nothing."

She set the Grail back on the table with almost indecent haste. "You can take it back Mr. Blackbeard."

Blackbeard tucked the Grail away, almost looking hurt as Fujimaru immediately handed Mash some disinfecting wipes, which the girl took gratefully.

Romani's hand raised. "A question. You said Francis Drake is probably in the Argo's brig?"

Blackbeard nodded, as he stuffed the Grail into one of the pockets of his pants. "Yeah? What of it?"

"She's still a living human at this time, not a Servant. And a rather important one, too. What sort of priority should we give to rescuing her?" Romani frowned. "It really wouldn't do for us to cause a bigger distortion in the process of resolving this Singularity."

Blackbeard was nodding. "If it was twenty years later, I'd tell you not to worry so much, but you're right. The hag's still got a lot to accomplish before she kicks it and gets buried at sea, only for it to turn out she faked her death to hide El Dorado, only to have that Nathan Drake guy track it all down centuries later - and get nothing out of it but some stories. Can't have my big screw up messing up history."

Kratos blinked.

He knew that name. Had competed against someone with that name, at the same time he had battled against others….such as History's Greatest Musician.

How did Blackbeard, of all people, know this same man - if it was the same man?

Blackbeard was still talking. "Still can't take the Revenge out - the summon alone would be like ringing the dinner bell for all of Medea's critters, and knowing my luck they'd be quick enough to swarm us that we wouldn't be able to get away before Herakles came knocking." He shrugged. "It's why we reserve my lady for getaways - can't really tip them off when they already know where we are."

Mary pushed herself up from the chair. "Guess that means we're up again, then."

Anne was frowning as she followed Mary up. "This many trips in a short time is a bit dangerous, but….."

"No part of any of this is safe," said Blackbeard, his voice weary. "Plague and perish, simply being called as a Servant is more dangerous than our chosen professions in life, since we're, at BEST, dropped into a no-holds-barred war with six other monsters from history that usually have us outclassed and outgunned. Then, sometimes, you get this!"

His arm waved round in a circle, indicating either their current situation, the Singularity, or the entire Incineration of Humanity to be the 'this' he was speaking of. "I just wanted my harem…….but complaining about it won't change anything." He ran his hands over his face. "There should be a few hours of darkness left. Do you want to set out now, Chaldea, or rest up and start moving once the sun dips below the horizon tomorrow?"

Kratos, personally, would be happy to get out of this cramped shelter and to be moving towards a defined goal - but, as Da Vinci had said of him, he did not 'idle well'. And he had reserves of stamina much greater than the other Master of Chaldea. "Fujimaru," he rumbled, the girl's name a question.

"I can keep going!" she said, almost too quickly. "Please, don't let me hold us back. If need be I can sleep on the ship, I may not be the old hand at it that my dad is, but the apple didn't fall too far from the tree." She grimaced. "And it would be better to get my Sensei in here, if we really are going to be running into two of his students at some point here."

"Sounds like we're going then," said Avenger. "What's that mean for me, Grumps? I know Red wants to swap out Servants, but you keeping me here, or sending me to the bench?"

Medusa was the only one of allies who could harm Herakles in any permanent fashion. However…. "She is like her sister. If taken…."

"They could substitute her for Euryale-chan," finished Blackbeard. "But that's also a risk you'd be possibly be taking with Chiron on the field, even though he's not a god at all, but he's divine through his parents. Though, maybe Herakles would hesitate to sacrifice his teacher, maybe not. Cu Chulainn, if that's who the druid of your party is, might have the same risk without that sentimentality pro that Chiron could have." His head tilted. "Sakamoto's not a name I'm familiar with, though, so I can't comment on that one."

"His wife's a floating dragon-woman who likes to wear a schoolgirl outfit," said Avenger, ignoring Fujimaru's frantic shushing motions.

Blackbeard's jaw dropped. "Really?" At Avenger's nod (and Mash and Fujimaru's more resigned ones), he smacked his lips. "Huh. Monstergirls and furries aren't really my thing, but go him for living the dream. He's an inspiration to all of us, in the end." His face twisted in a frown. "No idea if a dragon would work for Jason's little scheme, though. They're probably a safer pick than some of the others, if nothing else."

He pointed to Mary and Anne. "Also, you said 'them'? Did you also get a two-for-one Servant?"

Fujimaru laughed. "Yeah. It was kind of surprising, really. Here I was thinking that they were this unique thing, and then the first Servant we run into here has the same deal as them, bound together in life and death and all that jazz."

"AND he gets to have his waifu with him, to boot! No justice in the world, I tell you!" Blackbeard threw his hands to the ceiling, every movement exaggerated, then he slumped back into his chair. "Well, I can sing 'death to normies' later. We've got a leyline to plunder."

Mary began heading to the tunnel that led outside. "I'll go make sure the path's clear. We shouldn't have attracted any eyes, but there's always the possibility that there's a patrol of those things nearby."

Blackbeard groaned, but nodded his head. "And if there are, depending on where they are and how close they are, we might be bailing on this shelter." His eyes tracked over to Kratos. "And that might mean we'd be getting an early preview of how well you'll stack up against Herakles, which would be both good and bad. Good because it would let us gauge what of your arsenal might be able to shave a life off that monster. Bad…..because it would be letting Medea and Jason see that same thing."

He knocked his head on the table. "And the last thing we want to do is let that psycho Caster have time to analyze one of our big trump cards and create countermeasures. I underestimated her once - and shame on me for doing that. I'm not about to get pantsed by her again."

His fingers drummed an unsteady, nervous beat on the table as they waited. Finally, after what felt like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes, Mary was ducking back into the shelter. "Looks clear. If we're going while there's still some dark, we should get moving."

Kratos pushed himself up from the chair, the rest following. Anne nudged herself off the wall, and quickly fell in step behind Mary, chattering away at her partner. From behind them, Blackbeard waved, still sprawled in his chair.

"Have fun plundering the Leyline! And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

The footsteps faded as they moved away, down the tunnel, and Blackbeard was left there, alone. For a long moment, he just sat there, before wearily sighing.

"Back to the grind. This fight isn't going to win itself."

Tiredly, he pushed himself up, and slouched back to the mess of his room.

---

THE HIGH SEAS

A FEW HOURS LATER​

"So, I probably should have asked this while we were waiting, but where exactly is this Leyline?"

Fujimaru was huddled up at the front of the ship, with Mash and Lord El-Melloi II also in the general area. The rain had finally stopped for a bit as dawn approached - not that you could really tell, as the skies were still horribly overcast.

"Not on which island - I know that," she quickly clarified, as Roman began to open his mouth. "But where on it, specifically. I'm going to need to check in Mashie's shield for one of those helmets with a light on it if it's somewhere deep beneath the earth."

Roman hit a couple of keys, and then an image of the island in question pushed his face from the communicator's display. "Southern beach of the island - at least as near as we can tell. If you were approaching from the south, you could probably link up with it without ever setting foot on land, but as you're coming from the north…."

Fujimaru nodded. "Means we have a decision to make. Do we hike across the island, or do we sail around it?"

"MARY?" Fujimaru's shout got the attention of the smaller woman. "Got a question! Can Anne take the wheel, or should I come over to you?"

Mary didn't reply, merely motioned with her hand, so Fujimaru (with an offered hand assist from Mashie) got to her feet and weaved across the deck of the ship to where Mary was.

(And she did it with style AND grace. Good to know she still had her sea-legs. Unlike Avenger and Lord El-Melloi II, who were both little better than cows on skates while aboard a ship in motion.)

"What is it?" asked Mary as Fujimaru drew near, never taking her eyes off the rapidly brightening horizon.

Fujimaru pointed to the map displayed on her communicator - specifically, the area marked as being right over the Leyline. "Doctor Roman says the Leyline's there - just around the south beach. Since you're the experts of that place, figured we should ask you what's the better approach - sailing to it, or crossing the island?"

Mary blew out a long breath, considering. "Doing it by sea would let us, essentially, do a smash and grab on the Leyline, but the longer we're at sea, the greater the risk we're spotted. Either by one of those creatures, Medea's scrying, or just the pure bad luck of running into the Argo." Her eyes narrowed as the clouds began to lighten. "And we're going to have to put into dock first chance we get - moving around by daylight, even with that cloud cover is just too much risk."

"And the closest dock would be on the north side of the Big Island," said Fujimaru.

"Pretty much," said Mary, turning the wheel a touch. "The question then becomes time. We'd lose a day waiting for night to come, then probably….half a day to get to the beach, assuming fair winds."

Fujimaru's finger traced across the image of the island, north to south. "And trekking over the island would mean we could move during the day…..how long does it take to go from wherever your dock would be to the Leyline?"

"Depends on which path you take - I'd assume you'd want to stick inland since it would keep you out of sight of the Argo, should it pass by, or a school of those things." Another minute turn of the wheel, and Mary's fingers tapped on the spokes. "Assuming nothing decides to get in your way, it's probably about a third of a day on the quickest path. Maybe a bit slower on the return trip, since that's more uphill on the way back."

Fujimaru gave a dry chuckle. "Nothing getting in our way - that'll be the day." Especially, she desperately tried not to think, with how smooth their two sea voyages had gone so far.

Mary gave a similar laugh in response. "But yeah, that's about the shape of your two choices. Spend a day waiting for night, then hopefully quickly touch down on the Leyline and speed off before Medea notices - or we get swarmed by those creatures. Or go on foot, and then have to rush back to the dock, since the second you connect to the Leyline, Medea will know, and will come running."

Mary glanced about. "Also, where's Kratos? Shouldn't he be the one asking me about this?"

Fujimaru blinked, and winced, though she hid it with a lifetime of practice. "He's below decks, resting. Probably what I should be doing - and probably will do after we get done here. But I'm completely capable of making big decisions myself - even did so during the last Singularity."

Anne's voice came from behind Fujimaru. "That's not what Mary meant. We don't really have any idea of what sort of pecking order you have at Chaldea - we kind of just assumed the god was the one calling all the shots."

"More or less," confirmed Mary, a bit sheepishly. "I didn't mean any offense. Just watching you guys, it kind of seemed like everyone was deferring to him, so I assumed." She shrugged. "Sorry if that was wrong of me. Gods were nothing more than myths and legends by our times. And even as Servants, the most we've ever seen is minor deities like Euryale, or demigods - they're pretty common on the Throne. The real deal is….." Another shrug.

"Hierarchy always was something the two of us had to be careful of. Even on the ships with captains that didn't hold to that old superstition of women being bad luck on a voyage, girl pirates like us had to still be very, very careful, even when we were pretending to be men." Anne's mouth was a grim line. "The only ship we really ever felt safe on was Jack's, and even then, when we were pretty much running it, it was only because the crew thought we were both his women that kept them from entertaining ideas about us, and not how much competence we were showing in running things. Jack's reputation was enough, despite his myriad personal flaws, to dissuade any of them from trying anything."

"It's different, now that we're Servants, but still, old habits die hard and all that," finished Mary. "And even as Servants, we're not the most impressive examples of them. A single Mage from the Age of the Gods handled us just a few days ago, and we were backed up by a few other Servants, too." She grimaced. "Mind, one of those was the Captain, and he's in the same boat we are, and Euryale's…..not exactly tipping the power scales, either. Hektor's the strongest of all of us, now that Erik's gone and Asterios is hurt, and even he couldn't even scratch Medea. Though Jason did help a bit with that, at least."

Fujimaru blinked, and considered. There had never really been any sort of conversation about which of them was taking the lead in the Singularities - like they'd observed, she'd always just deferred to Kratos. Even before she'd known he was once a God of War, it was pretty obvious he had buckets more experience than she did - both in life, and in fighting.

But at the same time, he'd listened to her - and not just her, the other Servants as well - whenever one of them had input to share. So the question of who outranked who hadn't come up - they were just sort of both sharing what her father would have called 'the weight of knowing the buck stops with you'.

Not that she'd made many decisions like that so far. Yeah, when they'd split up in Rome, she'd been the one in charge of her half of the equation (to a point - there was still the Nero-phant in the room, who was actually calling the shots for the overall army), but once Kratos had linked back up with them, she'd kind of faded into the background a bit. Mind, in that one, they were all kind of dancing to Nero's tune, her being the Emperor and all - and it wasn't like she'd done NOTHING from the time they freed Iskandar and driven towards the United Roman capital - she'd ended most of her days arms-deep in a Homunculus corpse, trying to figure out exactly how Lev had engineered their loyalty - and what failsafes he'd had in the event they turned on him.

But still, it made her think. After waking up, she'd made a promise to herself - no more running. And she wasn't running - she was right on here on the front lines, fighting - or at least as well as she could given she was a puny human surrounded by superhuman ghosts from Humanity's past and a very, very powerful tourist from another universe. But should she - could she be doing more?

Then again, she could just be overthinking things. Stuff was working out so far - and she really was still playing catch-up in a lot of subjects - Magecraft, wilderness survival, basic combat training….

War.

Internally, she sighed, and resolved to think on this later. If nothing else, it would give her something to think about while she was trying to drift off to sleep. Which probably should be soon, in all honesty.

"We'll go overland," she said, putting an end to the discussion. "Fairly certain Kratos will agree with me - and I'll run it by him whenever he wakes up, or if he's up when I go to catch some Zs. But from what I've seen, he's usually about doing things in the most direct way possible, so this time shouldn't be any different."

"Alright," said Mary. "Doesn't really change our immediate plans in any meaningful way - we were heading for the north dock no matter what you chose."

"And you do look like you could use some sleep," said Anne, as Fujimaru attempted, and failed to stifle a yawn.

"Yeah, on my way there now," said Fujimaru, throwing a wave over her shoulder as she began moving towards the stairs that led below decks. "Wake us when we get to the dock - or if something suitably horrible happens, though Mashie and the Lord will probably have me up before you ever get down there."

---

 

THE BIG ISLAND

EARLY MORNING THE NEXT DAY​

She was right - Kratos had agreed with her. She'd gotten a fairly approving grunt and a simple "We will set out once we reach shore," before he'd laid back on the floor of the small cabin and had promptly fallen back asleep (seriously - her dad had told her that long-time soldiers developed the ability to sleep anywhere, and anytime, and Kratos' ability to do just that just hammered home how much he'd probably seen in his life.).

He'd left the hammock for her - though she'd had to kick Avenger out of it first. Even if it was big enough for two (and given Blackbeard's nickname of the 'Yuri Pirates' for the ship's owners, she could guess why), she wasn't about to be snuggling up to Avenger and her cold metal arm and all it's hard edges and points anytime soon.

And she snored. Strike two.

She'd sent the woman topside to keep an eye out and to message Kratos if something happened, and Avenger had complied, complaining all the way out of the room. And if the glare, accompanied with pointed fingers, first at Avenger's eyes, then directly at Fujimaru herself, was any indication, Fujimaru's bed in Chaldea was probably getting short-sheeted, or something even worse, in the near future.

Problems for another day. She'd quickly curled up in the hammock and had let the rocking of the ship lull her to sleep. She'd known nothing else until Mash had butted into her dreams to let her know they'd arrived.

Now, here she was, bringing up the rear with her Caster, while Kratos and Mash, by virtue of their larger forms (or Mashie's huge shield) made a path through the underbrush for them. While they weren't constrained by the need to leave as little signs of their passing as possible, Avenger had still been forbidden to use fire to clear a path.

"Something has occurred to me," said a sweaty Lord El-Melloi II, the first words he'd spoken in hours. "Assuming we make the connection to the Leyline we need, but the Argo is close. Would the plan be to stand and fight, or to flee across the island back to the ship?" He pushed his sodden hair back from his face - Fujimaru had lent him one of her hair ties a few minutes into the trek, and Avenger had offered to braid his hair (as the man had no idea how to do that - apparently his assistant, the one who could fight Servants straight-up, also took care of his hair for him), but he'd simply tied his hair back with a resolute look on his face - one that hadn't lasted long.

He was probably regretting not letting Avenger braid his hair. It was so fine that, even tied back, it was still managing to get in his face.

"I ask because I would not be suited for such a marathon. But to swap me out would reveal at least some of our other Servants to our enemies - while Rider would be able to remain anonymous, there is little chance Jason, and Herakles, if he retains any vestiges of his mind, would not recognize my Master's Archer."

"You can say the same fucking thing about Kratos' Rider, too," muttered Avenger. "Even if their paths didn't cross in life, I'd bet my front teeth they could figure it out if she shows them too much. The Medea we met put shit together scary quick, after all, and this one is her, just a few years younger, but probably every bit as smart."

Kratos was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he used his axe to hack through a thick cluster of vines. "Battle does not favor us at this time. As the…." He somehow managed to make a grunt seem like a groan. "Captain stated, when we strike, it must be decisive. With the nature of our enemies…..and Herakles' Noble Phantasm, we may not get a second chance."

Another grunt. "Should we be pursued, Rider's mount would be the best way to escape, as in the French campaign. Even in showing it, you are correct that they would likely identify her easily, with either enough time, or enough information."

"Probably the best of what are a handful of bad options," said Lord El-Melloi II. "We give away the least we can, while preserving as much of our arsenal as possible."

"Lev knew a fair amount about us, too," said Mash. "But we don't know if whoever has taken over for him is sharing information with Jason like Lev was with Baldur - or the Servants from the Roman Singularity."

"If they're even working with Jason, or just threw a Grail into this place and sat back to watch." Avenger groaned. "To many damn unknowns. Just like the last time."

"I would say that it would be beyond one of my students to ever work with the kind of monsters that would wipe out Humanity, but…." Chiron frowned. "As Servants, our choices are often limited - if not taken from us entirely. If he was summoned by Lev's replacement, he, and all those on the Argo may have as little choice as Romulus and the rest did."

It was low, and quiet, but they all heard Kratos' growl, even over the sounds of the group pushing through the underbrush. Chiron's words being just another reminder of how little the man cared for the Servant system - from what Mash and the others had told her, he accepted it as something of a necessary evil, but it still rubbed him the wrong way - given his backstory with the Greek gods, where he'd been pretty much their Servant, in a sense, it wasn't shocking.

According to Cu, he'd had to be heavily cajoled (Cu had used the term 'guilted') into even summoning a Servant in the first place, and that had almost gone horribly wrong when Medusa had seen a god in front of her and had jumped to conclusions - probably reasonable ones given the reputation the Greek Pantheon had - but incorrect ones in this specific circumstance. And that was the only Servant he'd summoned - his other two were tagalongs, Cu, a welcomed one from their first operation, and Avenger.

(Not unwelcome these days, but she still tried the man's patience at times.)

"Guess you'll get to ask him that when you see him," muttered Avenger. "Assuming he doesn't run for the hills at the sight of you, given some of the stories of what you put him through."

There came echoing laughter from off-screen. "Just the sign of a good teacher, Avenger," said Cu, still chuckling. "If we ever meet my teacher, I'd probably do the same thing, but I won't ever say I'm not grateful to the old woman for making me into the man I am. Jason probably feels the same…….somewhere deep, deep down."

Kratos stopped, and held up a hand. "We are close," he said, sniffing the air - an action Fujimaru immediately mimicked.

Yep, there it was, salt on the air.

"It'll be nice to get out of these damn woods," griped Avenger, glancing around. "It's too fucking quiet…."

Fujimaru couldn't find it in herself to disagree. She was a city girl - born, bred, and raised in Tokyo, for the most part, but every other summer or so had been spent in the wilds of Germany, for at least a part of her month-long break from school. And she'd never once heard the woods be this quiet - even accounting for the differences between a German Schwartzvald and a tropical island jungle.

There had been a hush in the air from the moment they'd left the cove where Mary and Anne had docked, quiet broken only by the sounds of their passing, and what little conversation they'd made. And Lord El-Melloi II, or Kongming, to be specific, had been convinced they were being watched, though even he hadn't been able to pinpoint their observer.

Needless to say, they were all on their guards.

"You're probably going to have to be in the shallows to connect," whispered Roman, having gotten caught up in the eerie vibe surrounding their group. "The Leyline doesn't really touch this island at all, it just passes it by under the sea. Or well, under the ground under the sea. Point is, the beach probably won't be close enough." He glanced to the side. "Hopefully it'll only be the shallows. But if not, well…..I did teach Mash to swim. And I assume the rest of you know how."

A round of nods, except for Avenger, who, after a moment of staring inward, murmured "I don't actually know if I can or can't……."

"Guess I'll need to build some floatation devices into your arm, then." Avenger stared at Da Vinci's screen with something approaching a look of horror.

Then, they came out from underneath the jungle canopy, and the somewhat lighthearted mood of the group plummeted, as they got their first look at the beach.

"That…..that is a whole lot of them," said Fujimaru, with a heavy swallow.

It was a Sea Devil convention on the beach. As far as her eyes could see, the starfish-like creatures were wandering, almost aimlessly over the sands, or splashing out of the waters with their tentacles wrapped around a few struggling fish. Fish that didn't struggle for long, as they almost immediately were tossed down into the toothy gullet of the thing - assuming one of its fellows didn't ram into it, tentacles attempting to prize the catch away from its pack (school? - no idea what a group of those things was supposed to be called) mate. As they looked on the tide of rubbery flesh, there were at least three or four fights still ongoing.

Lord El-Melloi II's eyes were sweeping over the beach. "Kongming counts 43 - and I can second that. And ten hybrids, as well, though that doesn't account for any that might be under the water or otherwise out of sight." Indeed, there was an obvious grouping of the hybrids, easily apparent given they walked upright. Though that wouldn't have been necessary to spot them - as they were sat around a crude table, seemingly fashioned from driftwood and other scraps, with stones serving as their seats.

Mash was squinting at the hybrids. "Are they……drinking?" As she reached into her shield for the binoculars, Fujimaru carefully pushed a touch of Reinforcement into her eyes - something she and the Clock Tower Lord had been working on in recent days, and privately celebrated when her vision sharpened (and she didn't go temporarily blind, which was only happening 3 out of every 10 times lately - go her!).

"They….are and they aren't," she said. "They've got cups and things, but, they're just sort of sitting there. Like they don't really know what to do next…."

Mash, who had been peering through her binoculars, lowered them with a shudder. "Blackbeard said Jason captured Sir Francis Drake…….but, what happened to the crews of her ships……"

"Medea must be using them as raw material to make these hybrids," said the Clock Tower Lord, a familiar distaste in his mouth. "Whatever she's done to them must strip them of most of their humanity - but not all of it." He gestured at the table of hybrids. "When unattended, or without any orders to follow, some vestiges of who they once were must surface."

"So, they're trying to sit around and drink in a tavern, like they once did…..but they don't know how, or why they're doing that?" Mash seemed to teetering between bursting into tears, and getting really, really mad. "She took what made them human from them?" Oh, and there we go, it looked like mad was starting to win out.

"Then all we can do is offer them what mercy we can," rumbled Kratos, who seemed to be marching in lockstep with her Kohai's anger.

And Avenger didn't seem too happy, either - there was a smell of char starting to emanate from her general direction. "So what's the plan? When we took out the one hybrid the last time, the rest of them ran like little bitches." She raised her left arm and sighted down it. "Dunno about the range on the Murder Arm, but I could try to snipe them from here."

"Probably better that you don't," said Lord El-Melloi II. "We want to reveal as few of our cards as possible in this fight - and any combats before what will likely be our one and only attempt to kill Herakles. Using a Noble Phantasm like that runs counter to that, unless the situation is much more dire than this one is."

And, thought Fujimaru, she'd seen Avenger trying to play first-person shooters in the rec room. She wouldn't say that the woman couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a nuke, but it was close. Expecting her to hit a target from this distance with pinpoint accuracy was….well, let's just say she wouldn't hold her breath.

Kratos reached up and freed his axe from his harness. "Then we go in, hard and fast." Avenger sighed and lowered her arm, but nodded, as Kratos turned to them, his brow furrowed. "One of us - myself or Avenger, will need to fight to the hybrids and eliminate them, while the other protects the group. If our enemies are observing us, we cannot afford the time it will take to kill them all."

"Take out the head, hope the body dies," The Clock Tower Lord nodded. "Momentum alone could possibly carry us close enough to link up to the Leyline, but the numbers present would present a problem with escape after that. Enough so that the momentary loss of our members from swapping could also be an issue. Losing my combat capabilities for a few seconds would not be overly dire, but Avenger is much more capable than I am in that regard. And we would likely have to switch her for Rider to break out quickly."

"But we're going to have to cross the beach, at least somewhat to make contact with the Leyline. If we're trying to do this as fast as possibly, then drawing them to us isn't the most efficient plan," said Mash, staring at a display on her wrist communicator.

"The hard way, then," grumbled Avenger. "It's always the hard way. But fuck it, I'm hardcore. Let's do it." She glanced over to Kratos. "I could play bodyguard for Red and Twiggy here, or go headhunting, either/or. You got a preference, Grumps?"

Kratos considered. Avenger was, frankly, ill-suited for the task of protection. She had yet to indiscriminately hurt an ally (save that initial encounter where she burnt Jeanne - but they were also far from being allies at that time), but she was much more suited to a destructive role.

Like this.

"Once the initial momentum of our charge has spent itself, I will deliver you the hybrids." He met her eyes. "End them as quickly as possible."

Avenger noisily cracked her knuckles. "Orders fucking received."

"I will be the tip of our spear. When I call, come to me," His eyes fell on Mash. "Keep them safe - I will bolster you once Avenger is on her way."

Mash, if it was possible, managed to stand up even straighter. "Yes sir!"

"Caster and I will provide what covering fire we can," said Fujimaru. "While staying as clear as possible. If nothing else, his winds and the 'rocks fall, everyone dies' stuff he can do should be able to either block them off or blow them back some, even if it doesn't drop them." She grimaced, and patted the gun resting on her hip. "Worst case, we can see if regular bullets will do anything to these things, but let's really, REALLY hope it doesn't get to that. I'll stick to good old Gandr otherwise."

With a grunt, Kratos began to move, breaking out from the cover of the trees, the rest of the group close on his heels.

It did not take long for the creatures to notice their approach. They had only crossed a small amount of ground when one of the things let out a guttural sound, and a ripple seemed to pass through the entire group, and the greater whole turned to them, and the beach echoed with the sound of their cries.

"Here we go," muttered Avenger, right before they crashed into the first wave of the creatures.

The Leviathan Axe was a blur before Kratos as he hewed and cut, knocking bodies aside - those that weren't nearly cut in two, and then lifted and hurled aside, as he didn't have time to dislodge the bodies that his axe became stuck in.

For they were assailed on all sides.

Mash was batting entire groups of the creatures aside, her shield, again, ill-suited to damaging the largely boneless creatures and their pliant flesh. Avenger was faring better, presenting a whirling flurry of steel to any of the Sea Devils that stepped to her fore, spear and sword working in concert, leaving them a torn and bleeding wreck.

And, with the rain having stopped, she was taking full advantage of her fire being at full effectiveness. Some of the group's fast movement might have been to leave the rancid smell of burnt Sea Devil flesh behind them.

Red bolts of energy were hissing between the three in the lead, stunning creatures just long enough to be slain, though Fujimaru was being careful to conserve her energy, and picking her shots. The El-Melloi was nowhere near as conservative. Fire, Wind, Rocks, Ice, all the elements at the man's command were being unleashed, though mainly against the ranks that had yet to close. The Caster's face was the picture of concentration - no doubt both of his minds hard at work as he sought to stymie and slow the press of creatures that were seeking to overwhelm them.

Still, they were slowing. Were it just Mash, Avenger, and himself, they could have possibly pressed on, but the El-Melloi, and more importantly Fujimaru were not warriors - not of the caliber needed to fight on all sides against much greater numbers like this.

(It was only the possible necessity for a quick departure that had led him to attempt this as a group - otherwise, he would have left Fujimaru, the Caster, and possibly Mash back in the jungle. But, should the worst happen, even the pause of landing to let them mount on Pegasus could end badly.)

"On my mark, fall to the ground," he yelled, as he kicked a flailing monstrosity away, and slid the Leviathan Axe back into its harness, the Blades of Chaos almost leaping into his hands, their hilts already hot to the touch.

His legs tensed, and with a shout of "NOW!", he took to the air. The Blades of Chaos swept through the area around them, low enough to the ground that avoidance by the creatures was almost impossible. Yet this swing was wild, uncontrolled. Kratos wasn't looking to slay the lot of them, simply to maim - to cause enough disruption in the lines to buy him a few, precious moments.

The Blades flew back to his hands as he landed, and he knew he would need to be quick. His shield was already snapping into place on his arm. "AVENGER!" he called, an image in his head screaming across the string that connected their minds.

Avenger was leaping through the air even as he got his feet set, her body twisting around so that her feet landed on his shield. He took a step back, absorbing the momentum of her weight.

And then his arm snapped forward, launching her at the cluster of hybrids like an arrow from a bow.

(Some part of him recalled her landing the previous day, and hoped she too recalled this, and would manage a better landing. But there was no time to even track her flight, there was only the continual press of scuttling monstrosities.)

Avenger had, on some level, known Kratos was strong. For fuck's sake, she saw him rip the gates of Orleans clean off like he'd been opening a can of beans - y'know, if he did that. And Squeaks had said they hadn't been able to measure just how strong he was when he first arrived. Yeah, she'd gotten it, or thought she had.

But as she screamed through the air, feeling like the skin was about to shear right off her face, she realized she might not have really grasped it.

Still, it was a fucking rush. She was laughing, her blood on fire as she crossed the distance between them and the sad excuse for a bar that had been set up down the beach in what felt like the blink of an eye. She had just enough time to cross her arms (and her weapons) in front of her before she was almost face-to-face with a ruined face that had once been human. Then her arms scissored up, and the thing's head went flying.

And she went face-first into the table.

Wood went flying in all directions, the nine surviving hybrids flinching back a step as they were showered with splinters.

As Avenger picked herself up, pieces of the shattered table sliding off her form, she SWORE the second she got back to Chaldea, she was working on this landing nonsense. Eating shit like this was damaging her cool cred.

Flames flickered across the edge of her spear as she swept it before her, eyeballing each warped face that was surrounding her. "Ok you malformed freaks? What's it going to be? One at a time, or all at once?"

It looks like it was all at once, as the lot of them charged her, sounds coming out of their ruined throats that fucking nothing should be making. She put her spear through the Adam's Apple of the closest one, even through the ring of tentacles that were sprouting from its neck.

Motherfucking thing didn't drop - it even tried to push itself up the length of her spear to get at her. Which meant her spear was stuck, and she had eight and a half (because that one WAS feeling that spear through its windpipe, even if it was still coming) mutants bearing down on her.

She dropped her spear, leg snapping up to knock the haft down into the sand - it would pin the skewered one for a couple of seconds if nothing else, and hopefully give her more time to whittle the others down. Left her down a weapon, though.

The Murder Arm and her sword would have to be enough.

Well, and her fire. She chopped the Murder Arm through the air and a wave of fire washed over the three trying to crawl up her ass. They didn't like that, going by the noises they made (neither did her nose - those things smelled like foul-ass shit normally, roasting them only made it worse) - she had to hope, like with her spear, the wall of fire would keep her rear safe for a few seconds.

Two to her left, two to her right. Where to start?

Before the ones to either side of her could make the decision for her, she darted to the right, her sword leading. It took a few tentacle-fingers off the nearest one, as it had its hand out reaching for her like a dumbass, but like all the other ones she'd wounded, it only managed to piss it off. The other one lunged, hands that were nothing more than toothy maws filling her vision before she ducked her head and felt spittle raining down on her hair.

Fucking gross.

She surged up with a Murder Arm uppercut, the force in the blow enough to lift the thing off its feet. Before it got too far into the air, her metal arm flew forward, grabbing it by the throat. Her fingers squeezed, and she expected to hear the sound of snapping bones any second.

Except it didn't feel like there were any bones to snap.

Octopi and squid don't have bones. These things must not either. Oh hellfire.

She wound up, spun around, and hurled the gurgling thing (which was STILL reaching for her even as she tried to throttle it!) into its two buddies coming at her from the left. They all went down in a heap, which let her go straight at the one she'd taken some digits off of. It was tough, and unsettling as all get out to look at, and could probably handle a few dozen humans easy.

She wasn't a human. And as hard as it was to look at, she'd cut her teeth doing atrocities in France with Gilles at her side.

Her sword cut down, taking the arm it tried to block with off as easily as if she was slicing a cake in the cafeteria. Before it could even process the loss, she drew her arm up to her chest, and even though it wasn't exactly suited for it, she speared the thing right through an eye like Berserk Saber would have done it with their rapier. Just for good measure, she cleaved though whatever was serving as its braincase, and the thing went down.

Hopefully for good.

She'd already started patting herself on the back when a wet rope of flesh wrapped itself around her left arm and squeezed - she stumbled as she was tugged in a circle, then began to move in the direction of the monster that had her tied up.

It was a tongue, a long, prehensile tongue that one of the back three had shot out of her mouth, and was trying to yank her off her feet. The thing even kind of looked like a frog, what with its bulging, bloodshot eyes - but she didn't think Red's new dragon-lady would want to eat this frog.

Which she didn't have time to worry about right now. The three that she'd knocked down were slithering their way up to their feet, and Frogface had two buddies that were trying to flank her while he pitted his strength against hers, essentially immobilizing her.

So these things could think a bit. Should have chosen a better plan than trying to overpower a Servant, dumbfuck.

Her metal arm closed around the tongue (and she was immediately glad she only got the merest sensations of touch though it - not that she'd ever cop to that) and CLENCHED, her sharp fingers digging in. There was a tearing sound, and she tore the thing apart.

And then her arm BURNED.

As the thing wailed, she shook the limp tongue off her arm like it was on fire - which it felt like given how her arm was screaming. Even though she couldn't spare the time, she still stole a glance at her left arm once it was free of the thing's embrace.

Holes. There were hissing holes in her armor, and her skin looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to it.

Acid motherfucking blood. This thing had acid motherfucking blood - or caustic blood at least. And it had released it along the length of the tongue when she'd torn it off. Whoever had put these things together had some INCREDIBLE sadistic tendencies - and she would know, given what she'd gotten her start as a Servant doing. Like recognized like, after all.

And those tendencies surged to the front as she called down her shadowy spears. The intelligent thing to do would be to rain them down on the three that were closest, take them out of the fight.

So, of course, she put EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM into the one who had seared her arm. Dumb, yes, but three down.

Which meant she got swarmed by five of them at once for her stupidity (she could already imagine the lecture she'd be getting after all this was over from Grumps).

She fell back, ducking and weaving between a flurry of clawed hands, suckered tentacles, arms topped with multiple crab claws, and even a couple of snapping, toothy maws that tried to tear chunks out of her. Bastards weren't on a Servant's level, but they were still dangerous - as her aching arm could attest to. And they were working like a damn pack, harrying her from all sides - which made sense, after all. Gilles creepy little pets had almost seemed to have some kind of hive mind going on back in France.

She got her licks in, though, sword slashing out to parry attacks and draw blood where it could - though the ones with the beginnings of a chitinous shell were tough enough that their rudimentary armor only cracked when it met her blade, rather than bleeding the things.

Still, she had a plan - really.

A Servant could somewhat feel their weapon, even when it wasn't in their hands, so she was falling back to where her spear was. When her foot contacted it, her left arm did a backwards grab, and she spun, whacking the leading pair of abominations with their mostly-limp buddy. Quick as a flash, she released the haft, spinning around (with her sword out, just in case the other three decided to use that moment to rush her - sadly, they didn't - would have made things easier if one of them had decided to shove their faces into the path of her sword).

But at least now she was facing the same direction as the business end of her spear.

She channeled mana through the haft of her spear, and the nearly dead thing impaled on it went all the way to full dead, as it speed ran the life cycle of things that got her on bad side, going from 'alive' to 'alive but on fire' to 'ash'.

Four down.

Which still left five standing for her to handle.

She swept her spear horizontally in front of her, the air shimmering around the point, which was glowing white-hot by now. One of them stepped into its path, thinking that, like with her sword, her spear would bounce off the crab-shell he was growing.

Ha! Wrong, loser. All he got for himself was a few moments of seeing what life was like when you were in two equally sized pieces, before another summoned spear from the sky put him down for good.

She stepped into the void where that one had been standing and shoulder-checked one creature into its buddy - she might not have Grumps' sheer mass, but had power aplenty packed into her slender body - and that was ignoring that she put her metal elbow into the thing's gut, too for extra emphasis.

In hindsight, it was good she both knocked it back, and that she used her Murder Arm for the job, because as the thing toppled back and fell to the ground in a tangle with one of the others, a drooling maw opened in its stomach, and just BARELY managed to miss latching onto her metal arm.

Maybe it'd have just grabbed hold - or maybe it's drool was acidic as the one's blood was, and she'd get another earful from the Crazy Lady about damaging her handiwork. But either way, she dodged a bullet.

Unlike the two things that had fallen to the ground, who couldn't dodge the pillar of fire she dropped on them. She didn't know if that did it for them, but it'd keep them out of her hair for a second or two more while they rolled around and screeched.

That left her with two on one odds standing. Not even remotely close to a fair fight.

Not that this had ever been a fair fight, but she could admit that she could have done this a bit smarter.

One of the last two was gagging - probably attempting to coat her in something vile and toxic - her spear took that one in the throat, putting a quick end to that bullshit. Her spear sliced through its rubbery flesh and took the top of the other one's head off before it could blink - clearly, it thought her weapon would have been stuck in the throat of its friend, or would have melted entirely.

Like she said. Dumbass!

She turned to the last two that she'd almost glassed the beach around. One of them wasn't moving, but where the fuck was the other one? It was the only thing standing between her and doing a victory pose.

She cast her eyes about the beach (and noticed that Kratos was keeping the tide of gribblies off of Red, Squeaks, and Twiggy - not that the three of them weren't chipping in every chance they got, to their credit), looking for the last hybrid, and spotted it, slowly limping into the surf.

"Where do you think YOU'RE going?" she yelled, beginning to wade into the shallows after it - Grumps told her to take them ALL out, and dammit, she wasn't going to leave this only partially done. The water was just beginning to lap at her ankles when the parts of her brain that were 'me' began to shriek at her. It was as she shrieked back, wincing from the incipient headache, that she noticed the tide was going out.

Which was not at all right for the time of day, even in this weird-ass waterlogged Singularity.

She grabbed onto the connection she had with her Master and shouted down its length. 'Kratos, we might have a problem!' Because while she didn't know what the real-deal Jeanne parts of her gray matter were throwing a fit about, she DID know that when they started raising Hell, it was usually for something very, very bad - the only two times that part of her had made noise previously was when Red was possessed, and when Lev shed his human skin. And both of those times sucked ass.

She got the equivalent of a questioning grunt through their connection - and the red haze that always coating his mind when he was in the middle of dismembering things didn't help communicating with the big guy, either - but she couldn't really convey exactly what she was getting from her brain - she had just began to explain 'it's the parts of Jeanne in my head going crazy', when the surf pulled way back, and three misshapen heads poked out from the water.

Three more hybrids, kneeling in the deeper water, and….bowing and chanting.

Oh hell no. This can't be good.

The one that was stumbling through the surf, its skin almost seared black, raised its hands in…..supplication? Or entreatment? Spat out something in a garbled voice that couldn't possibly be any human language, and then collapsed in between the triangle of three kneeling hybrids.

One of them raised a jagged knife - it looked like it had been made from a large piece of coral, and then she was handing her eyes over to Kratos, her legs unconsciously backing her out of the water, as the Jeanne-part of her brain began REALLY sounding the alarm.

The knife fell, foul blood spilled, and, through her link with Kratos, she heard the Doc yelling.

"Massive signature detected! It's not a Servant, but….."

And then whatever else he was saying was drowned out by the sudden displacement of gallons and gallons of water, as something titanic lurched its way into the air.

Avenger just…..stopped, the motion of her legs ceasing as her brain tried to take in what she was seeing.

It had been a whale, once, she thought. That was one of the only things in the ocean (to human knowledge, at least) that could have gotten that large - and the shape was all wrong for it to have been a giant squid. And the skin was more akin to that of a cetacean - though parts of it (and by parts, she meant areas large enough to hold a kid's playground) were turning scabrous and mottled.

Splotches of skin on it were still a pristine blue, almost uncorrupted, but the rest of its skin was…..she couldn't even say what color that was. All attempts to describe it made words slide like noodles out from her brain.

The barnacles clinging to it had been similarly….affected. Because barnacles didn't have a gnashing set of teeth. Over the splashing, as this crime against nature beached itself, she could hear a chorus of teeth grinding together, over and over again.

There were eyes everywhere on it, ones of all different sizes, all of them madly rolling - but the two largest, approximately in the right places for a living, wholesome whale, were locked onto their little group. As it lifted itself from the waves, she could see that one of its frontal flippers was less a flipper, and more a giant, webbed hand - one shot through with black veins, and tipped with sharp nails. It pushed itself up into the sea air and bellowed with a mouth filled with chipped, yellow teeth, sounding an un-noise across the beach that was like daggers straight into the most tender parts of her brain.

What. The. FUCK was going on in this Singularity?

She didn't even realize she'd turned around and had started carving through the Sea Devils until she was standing at Kratos' side, and even the comfort she'd have usually gotten from having a badass god between her and that thing was less than it would usually be, because Jesus Jumped Up Christ, that thing was HUGE. She could bury her spear, arm and all, up to her shoulder, and she didn't think she'd hit anything but blubber.

As it pushed itself up the shore, it neared the three hybrids, still bowing and scraping before it. It didn't even pause, simply dipping its head and inhaling. Its worshippers vanished down its throat, still croaking out praises, even as they were devoured.

Red's face was white as a damn sheet as she peered up (and up and up) at the horror. "That……that is really, really big. I don't think I have anything in my arsenal that that thing will even notice." She swallowed. "If anyone's got a brilliant idea, now would be the time."

Kratos was beginning to say something when the abomination reached the shallows, and again dipped its head.

And began vomiting out a damn Sea Devil army.

"Fuck me," groaned Avenger. "It's a damn breeder for those things!"

Kratos took both Blades into his left hand, as his spear formed in his right. "I will clear us a path. Avenger, once we reach it, we split, and hit it from both sides." His eyes were flickering all over the creature's body. "I would say to take out the eyes, but…."

Yeah - it had eyes to spare.

"Give a signal if you're getting overwhelmed. I can try to trap it in Unreturning Formation," said a very serious El-Melloi. "If nothing else, that should immobilize it for a time, and let you deal with the swarm. Otherwise…." His mouth was a grim line. "Like my Master, I do not know how much actual damage I will be able to do to something that large."

"Keep the smaller ones off of us as best you can," rumbled Kratos, his spear beginning to glow. "And keep Fujimaru safe." He turned to their Shielder. "Mash, where do you feel you will do the most good? In defense of Fujimaru, or with us?"

"I think…." The girl swallowed slowly. "I think you're going to need all the help you can get. The Lord can trap any creatures who get too close - Kongming's formation was all about keeping enemies trapped. And those things are probably not as smart as the soldiers of Wei."

"It's an option," agreed the Clock Tower Lord. "I can fully manifest Kongming's Stone Sentinel Maze if need be, though it would be a heavy drain on Master."

"Lord, if it keeps those things away from me, then by all means, take every drop I have to spare." Fujimaru's hand was resting on her pistol. "Not like I'm going to be good for much else against something like that. Might as well be the best battery I can be. Thankfully, Mashie isn't much of a draw on my reserves."

The tide of suckered death was getting closer, and the whale-thing was almost out of the shallows. Kratos grunted, hefting his spear. "We move. Follow close."

The tip of his spear glowed white, though with power, and not heat, like Avengers did - and then he almost seemed to teleport straight through the first few rows of the oncoming Sea Devils.

Though, from the shredded bodies he left in his wake, it wasn't teleportation so much as 'just plowing straight through them.'

Avenger was so gobsmacked that she was a few steps behind Mash, who hadn't hesitated in following Kratos at all.

Kratos slid to a stop, an explosion of wind clearing the ground around him, and he drew back, his arm cocked, Draupnir pointed at the sky. A moment later he released the spear, flinging it high into the air.

And a literal rain of spears descended upon the army of Sea Devils surrounding them, left, right, and center falling under the shower of death.

Fuckin' A. She NEEDED to learn how to do that.

"MOVE!" yelled Kratos, a Blade now in each hand, as he thundered directly at the whale, spears still falling all around him. THIS time, Avenger was right behind him, Mash keeping pace with her.

The second before they fully squared up with the thing, Kratos' chain-blades were already flying through the air to sink into the monster's face, and, with a yank, he was following them, impacting, yanking his weapons free, and starting to carve.

From behind them, she felt a surge of mana - probably Twiggy putting up his maze, but Avenger only had eyes for the thing in front of her, her spear glowing so hot it was almost painful to look at as she buried it into the left flipper (the actual flipper, not the almost hand) of the creature. She had to put her back into it, because fuck me, that thing had dense fucking skin. Still, she wasn't about to not carry her end, and ripped the weapon through - though she wasn't sure if the thing even felt it, given the fact that she was pretty much the size of an insect to it.

She put some fire into the wound in any event - just to show it that even bug bites could hurt - fuckface.

Mash was battering at the other flipper, having broken off a few of the battered nails, but otherwise seeming to have had as little overall effect in hurting the mammoth thing as Avenger had.

Something that couldn't be said for Kratos.

He was practically carving patterns into the thing's face - something that it really, REALLY didn't seem to appreciate, given the angry shrieks it was making. It flailed, a shudder running through its body, its flesh quaking in such an unnatural, and unexpected manner (the damn thing almost seemed like it was causing certain areas to spasm on command - it was fucked up!) that Kratos was caught off guard and bucked off as he raised his blades to plunge them into the whale's snout. He tumbled in the air, already aiming his weapons at the creature, seeking to arrest his fall and pull himself back to where he'd been ginzuing the thing, when it inhaled.

And a putrid stench rolled over them, flowing out from the thing's back - a second before liquid began pattering down on the beach wholesale.

If the acid-blood of that thing's tongue had been painful, this was sheer fucking AGONY. She didn't know if it was acid, or just something that damn toxic, but it felt like she was standing right in the spillage of an active volcano - every drop that touched her felt MOLTEN. She heard a voice screaming in pain, and it took her a second to realize it was hers.

Through the haze of pain, she saw Mash sheltering under her shield - some part of her, a part that wasn't reliving the immediate moments when her arm had been ripped off, hoped that Red was out of the range of this, because the girl, not having the toughness of a Servant, would MELT in this shit.

Small comfort - it seemed the Sea Devils were every bit as vulnerable as they were - the ones around them were gagging and dying as the spray fell on them from above. But that did nothing for the incredible amounts of pain that she was dealing with here.

Her brain was shuddering in her skull, input seeming to take an eternity to get from her eyes to her mind, and she watched in slow motion as the whalebomination (yeah, she was settling on that name) braced itself on its two twisted flippers, and lifted itself off the ground, thrusting its rear at them.

Oh. It didn't have that tail fin thing (hell's that called - a juke, or something?) like the whales God designed, no, it had a mess of tentacles, because of COURSE it did. Tentacles that were coming straight for the lot of them.

Mash, by virtue of being under her shield, and thus not bathing in the shower of caustic shit Avenger was, was able to avoid them, darting back until she was out of range. Avenger tried, she did, but her arms felt like they were made of lead, as she tried to get her weapons up to fend the grasping protrusions off. She managed to split one tentacle straight down the middle with her spear, but she was far too slow. Before she could pull her weapon back, another tentacle was coiling around her.

Kratos descended from the sky, his skin smoking, and he carved straight through the tentacle, sending up a splash of sand as he landed. His foot lashed out, knocking Avenger back, out of the reach of the monster's grasp.

Before he could turn and bring his weapons to bear, a tide of rubbery flesh flowed over him, and quick as a flash, he was engulfed.

She still heard his roars as she flew back - for a second - before the thing opened its maw and tossed Kratos into it, and down its throat.

Avenger's mind screeched to a halt.

Oh.

Hell.

No.

The pain she was feeling suddenly felt like it was a million miles away. Her arm began hissing, the fires from within her seeked to escape, even though she hadn't released the seals on it - the thing was hooked up to her nerves (or whatever passed as them in a Servant), so it was reading just how fucking dead that thing was - it just didn't know it yet.

Kratos was alive - she could still feel him through their link - but even a diluted dose of that thing's digestive juices had fucked her up. He'd be getting that shit straight from the source. Durable as he was, no fucking way he lasted long against that.

So she'd fucking carve him a path out.

The whalebomination was sliding its ass back behind it, aware enough to realize she and Mash were out of its snatching range, and it would need to slither closer to try to do to them what it did to Kratos. She heard the clicks from her Murder Arm, her hand getting ready to slide out of the way, when the giant freak suddenly froze, and, for the first time in the fight, made what sounded like a noise of…..pain?

Then, its jaws began to tremble.

Avenger's jaw dropped, her incandescent rage forgotten, as the things' jaws began trembling. Then, inch by torturous inch, they began to open.

Revealing Kratos.

He was wedged in the thing's mouth, his skin covered in ugly patches, most of them oozing red. He'd somehow managed to loop one of the chains that bound the Blades to him around a large snaggletooth in the creature's jaw, and had then plunged the Blade itself into the roof of its mouth. It was that arm, and his legs that were applying the pressure that were prizing the jaws wide. With his other hand, he was sending the Blade's mate out to tear into the throat - and into the Sea Devils that were slowly, but steadily crawling up the gullet of the beast to attack the irritant that was harming their mother (host? Nest??). Insanely, he was keeping them back, all while pitting his strength against that of the monster's jaws, and was winning on both fucking fronts.

But more and more of the fucked up starfish monsters were showing up every second.

She'd already started running, bound and fucking determined that no way was she letting him do this by his lonesome. And, to her chagrin, Mash had started running before it had occurred to Avenger to do so, so she was trailing SQUEAKS in this (TWICE IN ONE FUCKING DAY) - she didn't know whether to be annoyed with herself or proud of the girl, really. But both of them were beating feet, legs tensing as they got ready to vault themselves up into the thing's mouth.

They didn't make it, but only because something else beat them there.

Out of the jungle came a damn artillery barrage of arrows, every single one of them aimed with pinpoint accuracy. Some fell from on high, arcing down to puncture the many, many eyes of the whalebomination - its two eyes, after a few seconds, were doing good impressions of pincushions, though pincushions that leaked a thick, viscous fluid when stabbed. The rest of the arrows flew like they had a mind of their own, right into the creature's maw. She didn't have the best angle, as she was nearing the thing, but she could see that every arrow that flew into that mouth hit one of those Sea Devils. Between Kratos and whomever was sniping for them, the tide of reinforcements was being pushed back.

Time to get up there.

She flew through the air with grace and beauty, and FINALLY stuck a damn landing (partially because she drove her spear in between two of the beast's teeth, but she didn't eat shit on the landing so fuck you whaleface!). She anchored her feet as best as she could, because the owner of the mouth they were all in was thrashing like crazy, trying to dislodge them (and she really, really hoped it couldn't force the shit it drenched them in up from its throat like it did from its blowhole), and turned to Kratos, who was using both hands, pushing against the roof of the monster's mouth.

Mash saw the problem in an instant. Kratos just wasn't tall enough. You could have had a Kratos on his shoulders, and then another one like that, and it still wouldn't have been tall enough to force the jaws fully open. They needed something bigger.

Suddenly, she had an idea. A crazy idea.

'Mashie, you are pondering the very same thing I am!' Senpai's voice suddenly filled her mind, and her body flooded with warmth, as her Master began diverting mana to her. 'Do it!'

The base of her shield slammed down into soft flesh, some of which splattered onto her arm (which began to sizzle, but she resolutely ignored it). "NOBLE PHANTASM DEPLOY! LORD…."

Light began to unfold from her shield in a growing spiderweb, as she pushed her will into her ultimate ability. The thing that had once been a whale made a single bleat of confusion.

"CHALDEAS!"

Before a literal towering set of walls manifested in its mouth, and, with cracking that sounded like a forest falling, its jaws were wrenched apart, far, far beyond what even this unwholesome thing should have ever been able to manage.

[Huh. Clever girl.]

Kratos had dropped his hands to his sides, his palms hissing. He glanced up at Avenger, and said two simple words.

"Burn it."

Avenger's grin could have cut glass. "With fucking PLEASURE!"

Her hand snapped up, and the banked fires within her whipped into a frenzy, as she dumped the emotional equivalent of a truckload of nitro into them. The pain as her flesh burned from this thing's spew. Having to be saved from its tentacles by Kratos. Kratos getting fucking EATEN. And the trio of hybrids who had hidden underwater, and the one she hadn't killed being the sacrifice that had called this fucking thing up. Because this fucking thing being here was likely at least partially her fault, for not finishing off the hybrids quicker.

Yeah. Avenger was PISSED.

"THIS IS THE HOWL OF SOMEONE ERASING A GODDAMN ABOMINATION FROM THE WORLD! I don't know where your brain is, but I'm cooking it! LA GRONDEMENT DU HAINE - MARK FUCK OFF AND DIE!"

The recoil nearly blew her off her feet, and sent her flying from the whalebomination's mouth. But she gritted her teeth and held onto her spear for dear life.

Because there was no way she was going to miss watching this thing die.

The soft flesh of the thing's throat vaporized when her beam got anywhere close to it. She felt it hit home when it finally reached the back of the monster's throat, and there was no resistance. A second later, her laser was sailing into the sky, and her arm was whining as it vented steam.

Avenger wheezed a ragged breath into her lungs as her hand slid back into place. While, as she said, she didn't know where a fucked-up thing like this kept its brain, she was pretty sure she'd got it, at least if it was anywhere in the head area.

Because from the size of the exit wound, she'd blown out most of its skull. She could have driven at least a pair of trucks through the hole she'd made.

It almost made up for her almost falling flat on her face as her legs threw in the towel on keeping her upright - thankfully, Kratos caught her before she got a facefull of whatever foul shit this thing used for saliva.

"Yeah, I might have put a bit too much into that shot," she said, to the man's raised eyebrow. "But fuck ME if it wasn't badass. And I burned the thing, just like you asked."

She laughed all the way to the ground, nevermind that she had to keep one arm slung around Grumps' shoulder under her until her legs got some of their vigor back (like hell if she was getting bridal carried by him - or slung over his shoulder like he'd carried Squeaks back when they were running from Fafnir and that jackass Baldur). The size of the notch she had just put on her belt had her too euphoric to care.

Red and her Caster were waiting on them when they landed, Red with an extended fist, which Avenger bumped with a triumphant laugh. And then, once she was sure her legs would hold her up, grabbed Squeaks' arm and gave her the same, because the girl had done them a pretty big assist there.

It was only as the high started to fade that she remembered the arrows, and looked around.

Yep, the handful of Sea Devils that hadn't been melted by the acid rain had a bunch of arrows sticking out of them. So, probably not an enemy - arrows weren't really Jason or Medea's thing, and this Herakles was a Berserker, not an Archer.

Kratos apparently wasn't taking chances, though (and he still looked a fucking state, though she could see his skin slowly beginning to heal - the red bits where his flesh had been burned away turning a less angry color), as he gestured to Mash. "Go and connect to the Leyline. This took longer than anticipated…..we do not know what else may be coming for us."

"Plus, there's whoever was providing fire support to consider," said Red, eyes on the treeline as Mash waded out into the shallows. "They're not firing on us, so…..that's good, right?"

"Romani," rumbled Kratos, an unspoken question in the man's name, one that the Doc got immediately.

"Checking now, beginning scan out from your position on the beach….." He muttered to himself for a few seconds, then nodded. "Servant signature detected - and it's heading your way, too." He gave a whistle. "Fast."

Her eyes just caught movement in the trees, and then someone was landing right in front of them.

A very familiar someone.

"Berserk Archer," she spat, easily recognizing one of her lackeys from France. One that she hadn't gotten to pay back, either - even if 'me' had done her for her.

Mash, who was just returning from syncing with the Leyline, also narrowed her eyes - and, more importantly, raised her shield, rushing to place herself between her Master and the Archer. And despite the pain he was likely in, Kratos' axe appeared in his hands as if it had leapt out from its harness.

"Atalanta," he growled.

Her hands shot up, her bow nowhere in sight. "Wait, wait!" She took a step back, legs tensing. "I know, I was an Argonaut, but I'm not with them! I bailed on Jason the first chance I got!" Her voice was plaintive. "You're here to stop him, right?"

At their nods, she continued. "Then please, let me help!"

Whatever the Chaldeans might have been about to say was halted, as a wave of bloodlust - of fury that made Avenger's most blinding rage seem like a toddler's temper tantrum washed over them.

Atalanta paled. "Herakles…….he's coming."

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Lowlands away best Shanty in Black Flag. Fite me.

Of course Kratos was going to get eaten and shank his way out. "Never one that was not trying to eat me." to the Boi in response to 'have you ever been in a giant's belly, dad?'

Fixed the lines at the start of Okeanos where Ryouma was talking about revolvers, now that I've been educated a bit more on them. Minor change, but one I wanted to mention here.

Also added another section to the LostBelts 'What If?'. A short one.

Roundabout did some heavy lifting in getting this chapter out.

Chapter 43: Okeanos 4

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 43​

They didn't panic, but it was only because Kratos began barking instructions - orders really - that kept them moving. All while Romani did the panicking for them.

"That signature….it CAN'T be right!" He said something in another language that both Kratos' armband and the translation spells failed to decipher. "And this speed……how is he moving over water this fast?"

"He's probably hopscotching across the waves," said Atalanta, grimly. "Impossible…..for anyone but Herakles, who's entire legend is doing things everyone said was impossible." Her bow had appeared in her hand, and her ears were standing straight up. "Even he can't do it for long, though. Which means the Argo is near - or near enough for that Jason thinks he'll make it before he has to start swimming."

Behind her, her tail twitched in what could only be agitation. "Not that that would slow him down much."

The El-Melloi had finished fading out, and had been replaced by Chiron - whose appearance made Atalanta blink in recognition. "Sensei's here!" yelled Fujimaru. "Are you swapping Avenger out for Rider, so we can try to fly away?"

"No time!" said Romani and Atalanta, their voices overlapping, though Atalanta continued speaking. "Whatever plan you have to flee, he'll be here before you can summon a new Servant - however you're doing that, and they get whatever mount they have ready."

Atalanta's words were highlighted by a pressure that was beginning to bear down on all of them. Kratos and Mash, the two who had faced Herakles in that burning city, recognized it. But compared to this, the pressure then had been a weak and pitiful thing.

So then. This was Herakles - truly, and not the fragments of him left after the Saber had finished killing him.

It felt nothing like his half-brother from his Greece. This rage - this incredible fury - the Herakles he had known had possessed those in no small measure, true, but this…..

Some part of Kratos wondered, would the Servant Herakles had become still emanate this sheer bloodthirst were he in another class? A question for another day, for they had but moments to act.

"Archer!" Two heads turned to him, and he was forced to clarify. "Fujimaru's Archer! Avenger! Vanish! If we are to flee, the fewer of us that are visible, the better. And if we are forced to fight…."

"Then an ambush is our best tactic," said Chiron, his form fading out.

"I'll get my wind back - call me when you need me," said Avenger, following in his footsteps - though she didn't depart without a raised digit in the direction of the sea - whether it was directed at the corpse of the monstrous whale, or the oncoming Herakles, he did not know or care.

He turned to Atalanta. He did not trust her - did not even KNOW her, but of their few choices, she was the best of a bad lot. "You know this island. Is there anywhere we might find shelter?" It rankled - he was not one to hide from a foe. But it was worse, far worse, to fight a foe that was utterly beyond you, when there existed the possibility of victory in battle on another day.

He could almost hear the wheels of her mind turning - frantically fast. "There's a system of caves……they're pretty big, and winding. The best chance we would have would be to lose him in those. Or just drop them on him. He'd dig his way out - he'll always dig his way out, but it would give us time to escape." She was already turning to move. "If you have some means of escape, a boat or something else. But they're not close, and we'll have to move very, very fast."

Fujimaru gave a sudden yelp as she found herself unceremoniously slung over Kratos' shoulder. Ignoring her, his eyes turned to Mash, who was already in a runner's stance.

"You've had me running everyday, Mr. Kratos." There was no uncertainty in her eyes. "I can….no, I WILL keep up."

Atalanta gave them no time for any further speech. "We have to move, NOW!" Without another word, she took off.

Kratos and Mash followed, hot on her heels.

They flew up the hill, and had just ducked into the cover of the jungle when there came the sound of an incredible impact, behind them.

And the entire island shook.

A roar - one he had heard before - but now so much MORE than that, rattled the trees around them. If pure rage could be given a sound, this was it.

They ran faster.

Moments later, a massive chunk of rock sailed through the canopy and tore through the trees just ahead of them.

"He's figuring out his range!" yelled Atalanta, with the familiarity of someone who had seen this before. "Maybe only one or two shots before…."

Another piece of the earth, torn from the ground, screamed in, this one just behind them.

"He figures it out," she said bleakly.

From behind them, they could hear thunderous footsteps, and the crashing and tearing of trees. And the sounds were getting ever louder.

"KRATOS!" He was turning before he had fully registered Fujimaru's yell. His axe sailed through the air and shattered the rock that was heading straight for them - him specifically. He tucked Fujimaru around his chest and sheltered her from the rain of rubble as best he could, his free hand snatching his axe from the air as it returned to him.

And his legs never stopped moving.

"How much farther?" shouted Mash, in between gasps of air.

"A bit more!" yelled Atalanta, not even seeming to be out of breath. Her bow formed in her hand, and she fired off a handful of arrows, not even looking back - but ones that all struck another incoming boulder center-mass and fractured it before it could get any closer to them. "Once we're underground he won't be able to attack us like this, but we won't be able to move as fast - it's not exactly spacious down there!" Her face was very, very pale. "If we get away, it's going to be by the narrowest of margins."

Kratos sent his axe flying out again - then was forced to leap and tumble to the side, as another, comparatively smaller rock came arching in from the left. He braced Fujimaru as best as he could, but she would likely have bruises. But she merely raised a hand, her thumb pointed upwards, forestalling any queries he might have had about if she was well.

Good, because he did not have breath for words, as hard as he was pushing his body, straining every drop of speed he could from his legs.

And despite the speed at which they were moving, the sounds were only drawing closer to them.

"Here!" shouted Atalanta, pointing.

It was little more than a thin opening - more than a crack in the earth, but not by much. Mash, Atalanta, and Fujimaru would fit without issue, but for him, it would be a much tighter fit. And Herakles?

He would not fit, but he would make an opening. It would stall him a moment, if that.

But a moment of respite, to put some ground between themselves and him, would be better than nothing.

Atalanta was already kicking into a slide, grass and dirt flying as she dove into the opening. Mash surged ahead and, with a glance back at him, followed Atalanta - though she slid in on her back, her meaning having been communicated to Kratos in the momentary meeting of their eyes.

"Tuck your arms in - Mash will catch you."

"Wait…wha….AAAAAAAAA!"

Kratos flung Fujimaru like a javelin, though he held back as much of his strength as he felt he could - and it seemed he had judged right.

The girl did not end up digging a trench through the ground with her body, after all. Hopefully he had given Mash enough time to land and catch her Master.

An inhuman cry sounded, almost from right behind him. The sheer volume and force of it felt like it pushed - or more correctly knocked him forward.

He rode it, leaping forward, body slicing through the air, trying to compact his form as much as possible.

He made it through, but only barely. His skin, some of it still raw and bleeding from the damage the twisted whale had inflicted, scraped against the stone of the opening, but he made it into the cave.

And fell into the darkness.

He twisted as he fell, landing hard on his back, but he was on his feet in an instant, the light at his waist flickering to life. Atlanta was there, already beginning to edge towards one of the subterranean passages. Mash, it seemed, had been given enough time, for Fujimaru was being carried by her, the red-haired girl's arms linked around Mash's neck.

The entrance above them rocked with the sound of a massive impact, and splinters of stone rained down on them.

No time to transfer Fujimaru, with a grunt, he motioned Atalanta forward, and sent Mash to follow in her wake. He would be the first, and possibly only line of defense, should Herakles close.

They ran into the blackness of the cave.

Atalanta had not been wrong - it was a tight fit. Again, not for the other members of their group, but he was caroming off spurs of rock and the walls that made up the passages. His body, as it had been since the fight with the whale, protested.

He ignored it. The pain would pass. He had to keep moving.

Behind them, there was a loud noise akin to an explosion, and the sound of many stones hitting the ground, from above.

And a pressure, a wave of pure slaughter filled the caves.

Atalanta spun about and fired her bow, once, twice, thrice, the arrows flying off into the shadows behind them. A pair of eyes, glowing red, flared, and in that small slice of light, Kratos saw an arrow slice through a rope, and then, the eyes vanished as a rain of stones fell from the ceiling, sealing off the path.

For all of a second, as Herakles simply plowed through the obstruction.

In the dim light, he saw what he could. The wild hair, the slate-gray skin, the impossibly sharp teeth. But despite his class, and the madness that was the curse of the Berserker, there was intelligence in those eyes - Chiron had warned them, in the sternest possible terms, to never, EVER underestimate Herakles, ESPECIALLY as a Berserker - that he retained FAR more of his mind that should be possible.

Were he anyone but Herakles.

In the space of a breath, the giant had leapt across the space between them, despite the narrow confines, and was reaching for Kratos.

The Leviathan Axe screamed through the air, the edge slicing into Herakles' hand and slapping it aside. Again, as it was in the burning city, the man's skin was as hard as the armor worn by the Travellers. The Leviathan Axe should have cut the hand in two - but while it had drawn blood, it had not managed to cut deep enough to hit any of the vital bones or tendons.

The force of the blow was enough to knock Herakles himself aside, just enough, so that he rebounded off a wall and stumbled, briefly. Oddly, he did not immediately resume pursuit - their light was receding from the Berserker, but before it did, Kratos saw Herakles raise his hand up to his face - staring at the wound.

He could not be sure of what he saw next. Even his eyes could not completely penetrate the dark. But before Herakles was swallowed by the darkness, he would have SWORN he saw his face turn up in a grin…..one that almost seemed pleased.

And a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air around him travelled up his spine.

Then a roar, deafening in such an enclosed space, echoed around them.

Fujimaru was shuddering in Mash's arms, biting down on her lip so hard that a trickle of blood was oozing down her chin. Her hands were shaking as she pulled her weapon from its holster and dumped the rounds onto the floor of the cave. She reached into one of her pouches, and carefully, her face creased in concentration, began reloading the gun.

"In a couple of minutes, we'll be coming up on one of the larger areas!" shouted Atalanta. "It has a few different paths - it's probably our best chance to lose him." She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wild. 'But we'll have to drop the entire ceiling on him - the traps I set up here won't do anything to him."

In demonstration, she sliced through a hanging rope, and, behind them, a sharpened stake of wood - a tree, practically, suspended on a network of ropes, shot down into the space behind them.

From the sounds that followed them, Herakles had run straight through it, without slowing. "I was expecting Blackbeard's crew - maybe Hektor, as he would be the most dangerous of them, when I set these up. Not….him. They won't stop him, not nearly long enough. A second or two won't cut it here."

She met his eyes. "Can you manage that?"

Kratos' mind raced. Before he could respond, a barrage of projectiles flew out at them.

Kratos had his shield out and was swatting the object aside before his mind had even processed that he was moving. Mash, with a single hand, managed the same, though she more sheltered behind her shield than knocked the thrown object away. Atalanta merely leapt, a spear of rock screaming through the space she had occupied a moment ago.

Stalagmites. He was throwing stalagmites at them - and they were rotating as they flew, like drills. None of the attacks had come close to harming them - but they were forced to slow their flight, momentarily, to block or avoid them.

It was time they could not afford.

More spinning chunks of rock flew at them. Mash simply held her shield across her back and absorbed the impacts, though they nearly knocked her from her feet. Atalanta weaved between the ones that made it to her, the only one of them to not lose any speed - though she was forced to slow in order to not outpace the rest of them.

Enough of this.

Kratos growled low in his throat, and slid into the middle of the tunnel. Dimly, he could see two more spikes coming straight down the corridor.

The moment before they impacted, his thumb pressed a button on his shield, and a blue dome bubbled into being around him. The hurled stalagmites hit home, the dome flaring red momentarily, before they shot back down the corridor, at twice the speed they had come.

There were two impacts, and a crash. Hopefully that had inconvenienced their pursuer at least a bit.

His shield gave an ugly whine, and the dome vanished.

Overloaded, with only two hits. He had felt the strength of this world's Herakles in Fuyuki, or thought he had. How much lesser had that shade been, after falling to Saber? In comparison to this one, it seemed to be barely a fraction of a fraction of the whole of a Servant.

Strong. Fast. And dangerously intelligent, through all that fury.

But any foe could be defeated.

"We're almost there!" Atalanta's call was laced with a trace of panic. "Please tell me you can buy us some time here, or we're going to be in some serious trouble!"

"I can." At least, he had an idea of how to.

Fujimaru had finally finished loading her gun, and snapped the chamber closed with a click. "I might be able to help with that. Just…..keep your fingers crossed, and your eyes forward." There was a sheen of sweat on the girl's forehead, and her lower lip was a ruin, but her eyes were steady - at least, where there wasn't a wild, crazy light in them.

She shifted in Mash's arms. "Mash! Drop back! You cover us and let Kratos do his thing!"

"Yes!" Mash slowed, just a touch, allowing Kratos to pass her by. As he did, Fujimaru leapt from Mash's arms, and landed on Kratos' back. Her arms slid around his neck as she crashed into him.

"She needs both hands for that shield," yelled Fujimaru. "Just let me know if you can't do your thing with me here - I can probably Reinforce my legs long enough so that I won't get left behind……" He felt her fidget. "Maybe."

"You will not be any hindrance," grunted Kratos, already focusing power into his wife's axe. Ice began to coat the blade, and the already cold cave air around him grew even more frigid. His hands began to ache from frostbite, yet he hung on, concentrating more and more power into the weapon.

Distantly, as if it was from a great distance, he heard Mash's cries as she battered the projectiles Herakles continued to hurl at them aside. He ducked under a near-wall of stalactites, absently, on instinct alone.

And then, they were in a vast, open chamber.

From ahead of them, there came the sound of stone and metal, and a light flared. A second later, an arrow streaked up to the roof of the chamber, a rope, tied around it, burning. Then, the arrow buried itself into the ceiling, almost up to its neck.

Light flickered around them from above, and Kratos was immediately aware of the danger they were in. In this open space, free of obstructions, and as close as he was, Herakles would be on them in an instant - a single great leap and he could cut them off - or simply overbear the lot of them.

"That's where the ceiling is weakest!" shouted Atalanta, seconds before a massive form crashed straight through the entrance they had ducked under. "Whatever you're going to do, do it FAST!"

Kratos was already flinging his axe through the air, putting every drop of strength he can muster into the throw. The axe practically teleported from his hands to the dome of the chamber - but he did not miss. Ice and frost poured out of the Leviathan Axe - the hanging rock above them all blanketed before the blade had fully sunken into the stone.

Stone pattered off of Herakles' form, the ruin of the 'door' he had crashed through still being shed from his body, when he leapt, and flew at them, possibly faster than Kratos' axe had moved moments ago. A massive weapon, blunt, crude, and jagged, formed in his hands.

He raised it above his head.

Kratos felt one of Fujimaru's arms slide off his neck, and her body shifted, her hip digging into his back.

Six loud cracks sounded, from just behind him.

And Fujimaru's arm, still holding her gun, wrapped across his face - blinding him.

A second later, the cave lit up, so bright that he could see it even through the arm draped across his eyes.

And Herakles bellowed.

Fujimaru's arm dropped back down to his neck, and he darted his head around, just in time to see Mash leap into the air, holding her shield by the base, and slap Herakles from the air.

Normally, she'd have never come close. But one of the Berserker's hands had flown up to his eyes, and his flight had become erratic - in the very, very brief second where he was stunned, Mash took her shot, and made it count.

Herakles flew back, and crashed to the ground, where his body cratered into the stone floor - more from the sheer weight of his body than the power of Mash's strike. Before the ground had stopped shaking, he was already beginning to rise.

"NOW!" bellowed Atalanta, swerving suddenly towards an exit.

Draupnir formed in his right hand, even as his left called the Leviathan Axe back to him. The ceiling groaned and shuddered, but held.

Until, for the second time in an hour, a forest of spears flew from Kratos' hand and drove themselves into the roof above them. He reached behind him, grasping with his left hand - he wasn't sure where the Leviathan Axe was, simply that it was not in his hand anymore - and seized Mash around the waist.

Then, with his right hand, he slammed the butt of Draupnir into the ground, and vaulted them forward.

A chain of detonations rained down on them - detonations that were drowned out as tons of rock showered down onto them.

Kratos made it through the opening just ahead of the falling stones. He twisted his body, landing hard on his back as he braced the two girls against himself, cushioning their fall with himself.

The rumbling, as the ceiling continued to fall, was still ongoing as he pushed himself up from the ground. Rock dust swirled around them - both of the girls clinging to him were coughing, and he could feel it choking his lungs, as well.

Mash was staring at him, worriedly, as he released her, and she dropped to the ground. "Are you ok, Mr. Kratos? You landed pretty hard on your back…."

"My back is fine." He considered for a moment, then dropped his hand to her head - a gesture he had seen Fujimaru make to the girl on occasion. "Your blow was well struck."

Mash's face reddened, but she held her head high. "Senpai told me what she was planning - since you didn't know, I thought I had to be the one to knock him down."

"Sorry," said Fujimaru. "I didn't want to risk him overhearing - it's freakin' Herakles, after all. I told Mash with our mental link, but I just had to hope I could cover your eyes in time." Her left hand dangled his axe in front of him. "You tried to put this back into its harness, I think on reflex, and kind of ended up handing it to me. You can have it back - it's way too heavy for me."

"Both of you…," Kratos couldn't help it, he huffed out a small, pleased laugh - though one that bore more than a passing resemblance to a grunt. "A good plan, given how quickly you put it together. But you executed it well."

"We need to move," said Atalanta. "That will buy us some time as he digs his way out, but we shouldn't take even a second for granted. Thankfully, the path from here has a lot of twists and turns. We should be able to lose him, if we're quick."

---

It was an hour later when they emerged into the daylight - such that it was in this Singularity.

Fujimaru gave a pleased sigh from her position against Kratos' back. "It wasn't long, but if I never see another cave….."

"You have a ship, I assume?" said Atalanta, casting her eyes about the depression that held the opening they had used to exit the cave. "He's probably dug his way out of the cave-in by now - I don't know how long he'll try to search for us down there before he just shatters his way out of the cave system - going straight up." She glanced back at the cave entrance. "Probably not long."

Kratos could only grunt at her comment - for she was not wrong. While this Herakles was not his half-brother, and his mind was clouded by the Servant container he was forced into, his actions had been very, very direct. He did not see that Herakles would wander in the dark for long before choosing to escape the maze he had found himself in. "Romani," he muttered, his communicator activating. "How far to the ship?"

Romani's hair was frazzled, and there were streaks of sweat still drying on his face - but the man took a calming breath, and a moment later, a map overlaid itself on the display. "You're actually pretty close. For all the winding paths you took down there, it deposited you just a short ways away." He flopped back into his chair. "Serendipity, but I'll take it after the past few hours."

The ground shook. Then, after a second, again. Harder.

"Roman……," Da Vinci groaned. "What have I told you about TEMPTING FATE?"

"MOVE!" bellowed Kratos, already taking the lead.

The quakes became ever more frequent as they neared their destination. And, as the hidden cove began to come into sight, Kratos thought he heard roars over the sound of the earth shuddering.

Mary and Anne, at least, already had the ship prepared to sail, and were finishing the last preparations as they arrived. "What did you DO?" shouted Mary, where she was waiting on the shore, by where the ship was tied up. "And who is this?"

Atalanta had drawn up, her tailing lashing behind her in agitation. "Wait….these are two of the Servants who were working with Blackbeard?" She turned a disbelieving gaze on them all. "What's going on here?"

There was an ear-splitting crack, and then, a bellow of rage - audible, Kratos thought, to the ends of this Singularity.

"We have no time." Kratos thundered onto the boat, allowing Fujimaru to finally slip off his back. "We have what we needed, but Herakles is here. We delayed him, but we must fall back." He growled. "We do not have the means to slay him, not now."

Mary was already slicing through the rope tying the boat to the makeshift dock - with the mention of the Berserker, she appeared to be of the mindset that every second was as valuable as gold. "ANNE!"

"Raising the sails now!" replied Anne. "Everyone grab a pole - any kind of boost you can give us will be appreciated!"

Despite her misgivings, Atalanta had joined them on the deck of the ship. She had even grabbed one of the poles. Anything was better than staying to face Herakles - or at least, that was what Kratos assumed she was thinking. "When we're safe……IF we're safe, I'm going to want an explanation," she said, meeting Kratos' eyes - with the unspoken declaration that she would not be taking no for an answer.

The ship began to inch out into the open waters, but it felt like they were crawling. And every one of them could feel the pressure again - crushing down across their shoulders.

If Herakles had not freed himself from the depths of the Earth, he was almost there.

They needed to move - and faster. But they were at the mercy of the winds.

The kernel of an idea formed in his mind.

Draupnir formed in his hand, and for a second, he second-guessed himself.

This was not precise, what he was about to do. If he was off by the slightest of margins, he could well damage the ship - or more specifically, the sails - so that they would be dead in the waters.

But it was their best option.

Draupnir began to shudder in his hand, the power within beginning to swirl. "Take cover!" he yelled. "And be ready to move the sails at a moment's notice!"

He set his eyes at a point, far up the shore. He had never truly tried to aim this - it was best suited for cluttered battlefields, where foes far outnumbered allies. There, he could simply unleash it, and let chaos do what it will.

The pressure bearing down on them all increased, and he knew it was now or never.

Concentrating, trying to focus his will into the spear, he spun in a circle, Draupnir sweeping around at the level of his waist, and he released his hold on the blustering energies within Brok's creation.

On the shore, a cluster of cyclones rippled into being. A heartbeat later, the winds they had created hit the ship with the force of a hurricane.

"Holy shit!" Mary's exclamation was barely over the sound of the winds. Her hands were gripping the ship's wheel so tightly they were bone-white. Anne, for her part, was twisting the sail this way and that, expertly anticipating the changing winds.

Their tiny sloop shot out of the cove like it had been fired from a cannon.

Mary was laughing wildly as they hit the open seas, the tension beginning to drain from her shoulders. "Hell of a trick you had there, Kratos! I can think of a time or two in our lives when we could have used something like that!" She glanced at the Chaldeans, all of whom were gathered on the rails, staring backwards. "What?" she asked, finally glancing back.

On the shore, where they had been but a few moments ago, was Herakles. Staring after them, eyes narrowed.

Then, he leapt, and skipped himself off the surface of the waters.

"This guy doesn't know when to quit!" shouted Fujimaru. She turned to Atalanta. "How long can he do that for?"

"Like I said, not long." The Archer had abandoned the pole, and had once again formed her bow. "But with a large enough leap on his last jump, and he could land right on the deck…."

"If he doesn't just turn our boat into so many flinders!" bellowed Mary.

Kratos had already drawn the Blades of Chaos. Reflecting an attack and knocking Herakles away was out of the question, as his shield was still recharging, even now, from the attack it had absorbed earlier. He had to break his momentum - it was possible he could bind a limb in the chains, and hurl him away.

Because if Herakles reached the boat, it was over - they could not fight him without solid ground, be it dirt, or the planks of the ship, beneath their feet. And he was certain that under the waters, Medea's creatures were already following in the Berserker's wake. Any who fell into the water would be ripped apart like a man in waters filled with hungry sharks.

He moved to the back of the boat, Blades warming in his hand.

Herakles was nearing them, but his jumps were becoming less and less controlled. As he flew through the air, Kratos saw his legs tensing, likely in preparation for one, last, massive leap.

He raised the Blades of Chaos, and began to spin them through the air, fires beginning to flicker within the metal of his oldest weapons.

There was a crack, a boom that echoed around them all like thunder. Something - it was moving too fast for him to even make a guess as to what it was, tore across the waves, kicking up a furrow in the waters as it skimmed over the ocean's surface.

Herakles saw it coming - of course he did. But descending through the air, his leaps walking the razor's edge between the iron control needed to leap off of water, and the uncontrolled power of a Berserker - he had no ability to dodge.

He got that stone blade in the way, and then, only just.

The sound of the impact was DEAFENING. Winds sliced into Kratos' skin, as the air around Herakles was simply blasted away at impossible speeds. Again, their ship was shoved forward, faster than its builders had ever anticipated the sloop moving.

And Herakles was sent flying off, back to the island - roaring in rage all the way.

In the wake of the sound, water washed over the sloop, the salt stinging the many open wounds still covering Kratos' body. And a handful of other things rained down on them, blasted up from the waters by the impact. Some driftwood, a sprinkling of sand, chips of stone.

"What the heck was that?" shouted Fujimaru, water dripping from her hair.

"No clue," muttered Romani, his eyes flicking between his various screen. "It was a massive shot of.....something. But it originated from outside our scanning range, we can't even tell you where it came from, much less what it was."

"Could be a Rogue Servant," said Da Vinci, her eyes also in rapid motion. "Blackbeard did say that he thought there were more than a couple in these waters - though that's only a guess." Her lips thinned. "To have the kind of power and accuracy to make a shot like that from outside our range - and to blast Herakles back....."

"I would struggle to manage the same," said Atalanta, an impressed look on her face. "Assuming that they WERE accurate, and Herakles was their target. He was close when the shot hit, and the boat was within the margin of error....."

Meanwhile, Fujimaru had knelt down on the decks, and was staring at something that had been blasted onto the deck.

"Wait, a teddy bear?" Fuijmaru picked up the object. "It's kind of cute, but what's something like this doing in the 1500s……ocean - whichever one we're in?"

Indeed. As Kratos strode over to the girl, he saw what she held in her hand. It was a soft toy, like what one would give to a very young child. As she said, it was in the form of a bear, the head overlarge, and dressed in a simple yellow garment. The only part of it that stood out was three stars that girded the toy's waist. Though…

"'Teddy' bear?"

"It's named after a President of the United States, Mr. Kratos," said Mash. "Theodore Roosevelt, though he was nicknamed 'Teddy'. He was an avid hunter, and supposedly, one time while he was competing in a bear hunting competition, he refused to shoot a bear that had been subdued and tied to a tree, saying that would be unsportsmanlike. That story made its way through the country, and there were political cartoons - humorous ways of gently mocking the leaders, I suppose is the best way of describing them - made of it. That inspired someone to create a stuffed bear as a thing to be sold to children, and he called it a 'Teddy' Bear after the President." Mash had a small smile. "The name stuck, and now they're everywhere."

"Did you have one as a kid, Mashie?" asked Fujimaru.

"No." Mash's face fell a little. "I didn't have toys growing up - by the time I met Doctor Roman, I was too old for things like that, or so the books I read said." The corners of her mouth turned up a little. "But he said that was nonsense, and sowed me something - a stuffed golem. He said no kid shouldn't have at least one stuffed friend they remember for all their lives."

Her lips finally turned up into a soft smile. "The eyes on it weren't lined up, and the legs and arms didn't match at all. But still, it was the first thing anyone had ever given me. Even if I was too old for it, I couldn't say no."

Fujimaru gave her a sly grin. "And I bet you still sleep with it, don't you?"

As Mash's face turned red and she began to stammer denials, Mary motioned Kratos over. "We can't go straight back to our hideout." At his furrowed brow, she began to explain. "Captain calls it the Teach Protocol. If we think the Argo, or any of Medea's creatures are anywhere around, none of us ever, EVER goes back to where our base is. We can't afford to lead them back there - so we lie low somewhere else for as long as we think we have to in order to lose them."

"Jason probably won't go anywhere until he retrieves Herakles," said Anne, from where she was manning the sails. "But….."

Mary finished her partner's thought. "Trust it to be the one time we disregard orders that he chooses to act differently. So we won't chance it."

"And your…..Captain?" rumbled Kratos.

Mary shrugged. "He knows this was supposed to be a quick trip, but he also knows how fast things can go wrong on a sea voyage. He'll stay put, at least until he's certain we aren't coming back, then he'll do…..something." She frowned. "But it'll take more than a few days for him to get worried enough to do that. So things should be fine, at least on the 'Blackbeard staying put' front."

Kratos grunted. Truthfully, he could not blame their caution. And, in the end, they were the masters of this ship - it would go only where they would steer it.

'I'm going to take a nap, Grumps. Bellow if you need me.' Avenger's voice sounded in his head, and then her string in his mind quieted, at least as much as it could.

Atalanta padded over to him. "I would like that explanation, now. Who are you people? Why are you working with Blackbeard's people - people I avoided once I saw they were working with Jason?" She looked him up and down. "And where did something like you come from, anyways? You're no god I recognize, at least - even ignoring that a god walking this side of the world should be impossible."

She blinked her eyes, as if remembering something. "And what happened to Jeanne? I only saw her for a second, but…..that did not fit the hazy memories I have of the Maid of Orleans. And why did she call me 'Berserk Archer', anyways?"

Kratos sighed. Many questions, and he was already weary from the day. But.. "You know Jeanne?"

"Not…..really?" Atalanta's face twisted in a hesitant expression. "I have some scraps of memories of Ruler - that was how I remember referring to her - in what felt like a very complicated Grail War. Nothing more than that - beyond some feelings of very strong dislike for her in my heart. I assume we fought, for some reason or another. As it was a Grail War, it's not surprising." She looked up, meeting Kratos' eyes. "Now, please answer my questions."

Where to begin? "We have met you before, in another land." Her eyebrows went up minutely. "You are aware this ocean is a Singularity?"

Atalanta nodded, and Kratos continued. "We are here to resolve it - we have moved back through time to do so."

"We're from Chaldea, an organization from about 500 years in the future." Fujimaru had wandered over to them, probably to save Kratos from having to give a lengthy explanation. "There's a really long story behind it all, but in the simplest terms, we saw this whole disaster coming, and we were trying to stop it."

Her face fell. "We failed - got stabbed in the back, really, but we're still trying to fix things. It's the whole point of why we're here. We stop Jason's plan, get the Holy Grail from him, and we're one step closer to fixing everything."

The girl held her hand out. "And if you really meant what you said back on the beach, we'd love it. Because we could really use your help - the more Servants we have to throw at Herakles, the better, since…..I mean, it's HERAKLES."

Atalanta was staring at the offered hand when a form shimmered into being behind Fujimaru. "They are trustworthy, Atalanta. I would not be here, otherwise." He laid a hand on Fujimaru's shoulder. "This girl has even been learning from me in the short time we've been together."

"Just like you do with all your Masters - or at least all the ones willing to learn from you." Atalanta shook her head fondly. "But you wouldn't have offered if she wasn't worthy. Very well, girl. You have my bow."

She reached out and took Fujimaru's hand, and the Command Seals on the back of her hand flared. The contract, then, was sealed.

She dropped Fujimaru's hand, and turned her head to regard Kratos once again. "Now, where did you find something like him?"

"I am not from this world. I was hurled to here from mine." A wave of weariness washed over him, and he settled some of his weight against the railing. "I aid Chaldea while seeking a path back to my home."

Atalanta blinked. "That…..is quite an unusual story. But it explains your presence here, in violation of all things I know about deities." She stared harder at him. "And it's unusually decent of a god to offer aid like that. Most of the other Greek deities would have demanded to be sent back….and raged when they couldn't be. Or caused problems in other ways when they didn't get their way."

She glanced at Fujimaru, and Mash, who had now joined them (the toy had been set down on the deck, where Fou was sniffing it suspiciously). "And there's no indication that either of these girls are afraid of you. You even praised them." She sniffed. "I devoted my life to Artemis, and she never spoke to me, in the end." A complicated emotion crossed her face. "One of her fellows even meddled in my life…." Her voice dropped, and she muttered something - Kratos did not need to guess at what it was.

The tale of the Huntress of the Argonauts was well known - as well as the tale of her marriage - and Aphrodite's hand in it.

He felt a hand on his arm. Mash. "We should put some antibiotic gel on your wounds, Mr. Kratos." Her eyes narrowed at his expression. "I know you heal fast, but you were in that….thing's mouth. And who knows what sort of germs were in it." Her nose wrinkled. "Or in the stuff it shot out of its blowhole. Honestly, both you and Senpai should sit down, rest, and let Chiron check you over." She looked up at him. "Please?"

---

 

BELOW DECKS OF THE SLOOP

A SHORT TIME LATER​

Truthfully, it was not a battle he ever expected to win. He did not need the attentions of a healer, but, if it would put their minds at ease - it was the same as the time in that burning city, where Olga-Marie had insisted he stop and allow her to bandage his wounds.

If nothing else, it was providing instructive to Fujjimaru.

"A simple, thin layer of Chaldea's salve should be enough," said Chiron, watching over Fujimaru's shoulder. "I know Kratos is not, nor should he be the standard - truthfully, he likely does not need these measures, given his constitution, but were you applying this to a human, that is how you would do it. The gel Chaldea developed does not need to be applied thickly to work at its best."

Fujimaru glanced back at her teacher. "And bandages?"

"On a regular person, yes, to help keep the ointment there." He smiled, wryly. "As you can see, Kratos is mending quickly enough that they shouldn't be necessary. You would want them tight, but with enough freedom to breathe a bit. Circulation of blood is necessary for healing, so you do not want to cut that off."

Atalanta was watching the proceedings with an amused look on her face. "Truly, you're not like any god I've ever heard about. To submit to the attentions of a mortal girl like that…."

Kratos grunted. "Their worries about infection have some weight. I do not fall ill…..but such a creature as we fought…." The thing was unnatural enough, and the rules of this world different enough from his that it was not worth leaving to chance. And even in his own world, he had not been immune to poisons - such as that from Revenants or Tatzelwurms. Even the worry of expending resources, ones that might be better used on another, were mitigated now that they had established a supply line to Chaldea.

"I'm glad you agreed, Mr. Kratos," said Mash, with a smile. She was carrying the toy of the bear - as they had begun to head below decks, Fou had picked it up and attempted to toss it from the boat. Mash had only just managed to save it before it had been returned to the seas. "If nothing else, it's better safe than sorry."

Sentiments he had expressed to the girl in his time training her - so he could not find it in himself to object.

"Still, an Avenger?" Atalanta shook her head. "And not just that, but a copy of Ruler, one created by Gilles de Rais? And I served her - unwillingly, at least, under induced Madness Enhancement, until she somehow summoned a Servant - an enemy of yours from your world, and I turned on her, and willingly worked with him? I would call it unbelievable, if my eyes could not see you and know you for what you are."

She leaned back against the wall of the room, still shaking her head. "What a long, strange road you have walked in these other Singularities, Chaldea."

"She is sincere in her desire to resolve the crisis facing Chaldea, if nothing else," muttered Kratos. "She lacks discipline - but despite that, she has value in battle."

"I saw that," said Atalanta, her expression wry. "So what exactly is the plan here? You've told me Blackbeard turned on Jason - and that his attempt to defeat him failed, and that you were on that island to connect to one of the Leylines in the area. Now what?"

"Everything begins and ends with Herakles," said Chiron, as Fujimaru dusted herself off and stood. "While I am hopeful that I may be able to reach my students, I am realistic enough to acknowledge that my hopes that I will be able to convince them to abandon this course may be in vain. And a decapitating strike, with both Medea and Herakles defending him…."

"Medea, as we learned in Rome, lives up to her reputation as a Mage from the Age of the Gods," said Da Vinci. "She's probably turned the Argo into her workshop, and assaulting a Mage of that caliber, on their home ground - and head on, to boot, is something only fools and madmen would do." Her lips thinned. "So that's probably right out - even if Blackbeard hadn't already tried it and failed."

"And Jason's probably not about to leave the Argo until he thinks he's won," said Atalanta. "Not with Herakles to send out to do his dirty work - and not with Medea protecting him in what is essentially a fortress. No, he'll bunker down there until he's personally seen all your dead bodies."

"I would have to agree," Chiron was frowning. "Jason always looked for the easiest means to accomplish his goals - and the one that posed the least risk to himself. Drawing him off the Argo, I fear, will not be possible."

"Not without sinking it," muttered Kratos. "And if Medea has strengthened it, as you say…."

"We could hurl you and it and let you try, Kratos," said Da Vinci, her eyes twinkling. "But there's no way Herakles would stand back and let you just have your way, so it comes back to the same sticking point."

Kratos nodded, for she was right.

"The other things we were looking for on this expedition were allies, which, hey, we've already made a start on that," said Fujimaru, gesturing at Atalanta. "The other was trying to locate the artifact Jason's looking for. We find that…."

Atalanta nodded. "And maybe you can use that to lure him in. But even then, if you can keep it from him, then he can't win."

"That's the working plan." Fujimaru grimaced. "At least, one of them. Blackbeard looks like he's working half a dozen schemes right now….if not more." She stifled a yawn. "But he hasn't shared any of those - probably because that one's the best chance we have of cracking the nut that is the Argo, where's Jason's huddling."

"Careful." Chiron raised a finger. "I can see the look in your eyes, my student. Do NOT underestimate Jason. He is much, much more than just the hand holding Herakles' leash - truly, he is not even that. Herakles chooses to follow Jason, out of friendship, and respect. Do not let how he is acting blind yourself to the fact that he endured my training - all of it, and graduated. Even if we deprive him of Herakles, and Medea, defeating him will not be a victory that comes easily."

He smiled as she nodded. "But for now, you should get some rest. Sea travel being what it is, we probably have a few hours before we arrive. And it has been a long enough day for us all, between the battle with those creatures, and the subsequent flight from Herakles." He turned to the door. "I am the freshest of us all, so I will go and check with our captain about our destination - and sync with Romani, if you would lend me your communicator."

Kratos had thought to do that himself, but a look from Mash, her eyes wide and pleading, had him settling back against the walls of the cabin.

Chiron was more than competent. And rest should be taken where it can be found on a campaign.

The rocking of the boat in the ocean waters was the last thing he noticed, before sleep took him.

---

It felt like it was some hours later when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open.

Mash was staring down at him, her arm still outstretched. "We're almost there, Mr. Kratos. Chiron woke Senpai up, and said I should wake you too."

Kratos rose and stretched, throwing off the haze of sleep, and checking his body's reactions as he moved.

The pain was far less than it had been - he felt the familiar sensation of new skin stretching and pulling as his body tested its range of motion. Mostly healed then - and his injuries had been largely superficial, as well. Nothing that would have hindered him, at least.

"Your skin does look a lot better, Mr. Kratos," said Mash, her face beaming.

"I'd say it was due to my expert medical care, but I'd be lying." Fujimaru was still wiping the sleep from her eyes, and her voice was slurring a little. "You'd probably look about the same if we had left you as were, but hey, at least I learned a little."

"Here," said Mash, handing them both a metal flask. "We can't really cook something until we get to the shore, but you both should get some nutrients in you, since it's been awhile since you both ate."

He took the flask, and drained it in a single pull. It was another one of the juices made of fruits that had been unknown to him in his world - the tart one of the 'cranberry', that was his favorite - at least of the many new drinks he had been exposed to in his time in this world.

Chiron, standing by Mary, raised a hand as they wandered up to the decks. "Did you sleep well, Master?"

"Could have gone for a couple more hours," said Fujimaru, stifling a yawn, and accepting her communicator back from Chiron. "But it is what it is."

"Where are we?" rumbled Kratos.

"Approximately here," said Romani, a glowing point appearing on the map that was sharing space on the communicator screen. "Mary said that it's a small island - not much more than a caldera, really."

"But it's remote," said Mary. "And far from our main base, which is what we're going for here." She gave the wheel a couple of turns. "If they're smart enough to realize we're leading them on a wild goose chase, it still leaves them without any leads to where the Captain is. So whatever they choose, it benefits us in some way. They lie low and try to wait us out, and it gives us a chance to slip around them and get back to base. They chase us, it keeps them away from Euryale, and, again, we have a chance to hide out and lose them."

"Worst thing would be if they just start searching the other islands," chimed in Anne. "But there's so many, and they haven't found us yet - it's not quite the needle in a haystack thing, but it's close enough. Though Teach will probably suggest we move bases again when we get back."

"Going to ground is fine, for a time, but you never want to be stationary for long," commented Chiron. "I would tend to agree with your Captain, it is probably time you switched bases, if only to muddy your trail."

Kratos, meanwhile, had cast his gaze over to the prow…..where Avenger and Atalanta were glaring at each other. "What…." he began.

There was a collective sigh from both the pirates, and Chiron. "Atalanta has become aware of what took place during the French Singularity - not just the broad strokes, but all the gory details." He shook his head at Kratos' glare. "It was not any of us, or anyone back at Chaldea who told her. She asked Avenger, and Avenger answered." Another sigh. "Sparing nothing. It….devolved after that."

Kratos felt a throb of pain in his skull. Growling under his breath, he stomped over to where the two women were standing.

Atalanta was the first to notice him coming - though Avenger may have noticed through their bond and not cared - or not have been willing to take her eyes off the Archer. "How can you work with…..this?" Disgust dripped from the huntresses' words. "She killed innocent men, women……children." She practically spat the last word. "All for no greater crime than merely existing. And worse, she enslaved others - myself among them, and forced them to do the same!"

"Yeah, I fucking did." Avenger's eyes were boring holes through the Archer. "I was lied to about what I was and what was done to me - not that that absolves me of shit." Avenger spat off the side of the boat. "But I was set up to fail from day one, to be nothing more than Gilles' little murder fantasy come to life, and all at the whims of the people behind all this shit we're going through now."

Avenger took a step forward, her eyes smouldering, and jabbed Atalanta in the chest with a finger. "Where the FUCK do you get off judging me, lady? How well do you think you'd have done if you'd have been fucked with like that? Like you were any better, anyways. You were FINE backing up Baldur, despite him being no better than I was. Crazy bastard wanted to murder his own mother, and was killing France in the meantime until he could get his hands on Kratos, too."

Another step. "And I notice you leave out how I behaved myself once I knew the truth." A metal finger pointed at Kratos. "Grumps here told me to mind my shit, and I MINDED my shit. And I haven't snapped and gone fucking postal since then. And I've PAID for my sins - maybe not all of them, but having my damn arm torn off at least got me out of a few years in Purgatory. Or is there no concept of forgiveness, or atonement with you, bitch?"

"My hands are not clean," muttered Kratos. Atalanta, who had seemed like she had been about to lunge at Avenger, stopped, and stared at him. "In my world, for many years, I served Ares - there was a blood pact between us." He met the Archer's eyes. "He had me commit atrocities that Avengers' pale in comparison to."

Atalanta was staring at him - Kratos could see her mind re-evaluating him as he spoke. And Avenger's face was a study in disbelief. "I am not that man anymore….will NEVER be that man again." A touch of red flickered across Kratos' vision, Spartan Rage howling, before he seized the reins of that tide of fury and reasserted his control over it. "But my crimes remain. As do Avenger's. But I believe that she does not want to be the woman she was - or at least the one who attempted to burn France to the ground."

He looked at each of them, in turn. "She is still reckless, undisciplined, and annoying. But I would not tolerate her if she was determined to remain a monster."

There was a long moment, one that seemed to stretch into eternity, as Atalanta stared at them both. "I need to think…….AWAY from the two of you." Her tail swishing behind her, Atalanta stalked over to where Fujimaru, Mash, and the others were anxiously watching.

Avenger leaned back against the railing. "Well, that went well."

Her attitude was flippant - but her eyes kept stealing glances at Kratos. It seemed she had not expected him to speak up for her as he had. "You told her…..everything." His brow furrowed. "Why?"

She shrugged. "You told us about all your shit - and it's not like I've been making any secret about what I am or what I did. And maybe I felt like I owed it to her. Most of my Servants back then were real pieces of work - Carmilla, Vlad, that Black Knight, Phantom. Even Charlie was an executioner, so he was plenty dirty, even if I still did him wrong. But most of them would have been on board with what I was planning without me needing to mindfuck them with Madness Enhancement."

Her expression fell, turning almost pensive. "But not all of them. And you just know with my fucking luck that if I tried to hide what happened in France, it'd all come out at the worst possible time. No, fuck that, I tell her now and we get all this shit out of the way now, so it doesn't screw us over in the endgame."

Like his secrets almost had, with Atreus. Or the secrets Atreus had begun to keep, during the long years of Fimbulwinter. It had taken the disaster that was Garm to get them to both to be honest with each other - to talk and begin to mend the rift that had been growing - that had driven Atreus to Odin's side.

Even if it had been to save Kratos from the death-omen scribed in the Jötunn prophecies that had caused the boy to flee to Asgard.

Amazingly, it seemed Avenger was in some ways wiser than Kratos had been - or she was actually learning from his example. "Your past is your own - I do not have the right to tell you how you choose to reveal it to others. Should this jeopardize our alliance with Atalanta…."

Avenger tensed, clearly expecting a reprimand. "We will find a way." He huffed a breath at her astounded expression. "I cannot say I am pleased at the difficulty this is causing, but you are correct. Buried secrets have a habit of revealing themselves when it would be worst for all."

"If nothing else, she doesn't seem to be glaring at Red or Squeaks," said Avenger, looking over to the aforementioned people. "So this could just be like Boudica in Rome. Hates Nero's guts, hates all of Rome, really, but willing to work with us regardless." She rolled her eyes, but was grinning. "And largely because those two are too damn cute to hate. Even a badass like me just wants to pinch their adorable little cheeks sometimes."

"I mistrusted Freya, early on, when I learned she was a god," muttered Kratos. "Her door was closed to us after - until my son fell ill, and she aided us….for him. She was not the ally she has since become, not back then. And even when she swore vengeance on me, for taking Baldur from her, she never attempted to harm Atreus."

"He even visited her - alone - in an attempt to speak to her, and win her to our side. He failed, then, but she let him leave unharmed." He rolled his shoulders, stretching. "I think some part of her later decision to forgive me - or at least to forgo her revenge - was based on her fondness for my son." Though their interactions were much more cordial these days - a far cry from the tension, and sarcastic biting that had been their journey in Vanaheim.

Avenger was giving him a look. "You sure it isn't because of how she might have felt once she actually got to know you?" He stared, and she continued. "I mean, you sound more fond of her than you do of anyone else you talk about who isn't your kid - anyone LIVING at least - not any secret you loved your wife. It's almost fucking sappy to hear you talk about her." She flapped her hand through the air. "But Freya made that thing for you that lets you understand all of us - and vice versa. And you're much less of a Grumpy Gus the few times you've talked about her - or that Mimir guy."

Her look turned very pointed. "Sure there isn't something going on between the two of you?"

It took him a moment to pierce her wording, but then, it was clear as day. "No." His tone brooked no disagreement. "At least, not on my part. I have made no secret that I still mourn Faye. But for Freya….." He let out a long breath. "After her marriage to Odin, and the abuses and indignities she suffered, I think the only thing she seeks is to explore the freedom she now has."

Avenger's head was cocked, a question on her face. "When he cast her aside, he bound her - in more than one way. She was forbidden from leaving Midgard - barring her from her home of Vanaheim. And he stripped her of her warrior spirit. She had been the Queen of the Valkyries, and he cursed her to be unable to harm another. Even in the defense of herself - or another."

The air around Avenger was shimmering from rising heat, and he could smell ashes, where there had been no such scent before. "Petty fucking bastard. Tell me you put his ass in the ground when Ragnarök happened."

"I did not." A grunt. "We bested him, but did not kill him. My son sealed him away in a marble - like the one that houses Olga-Marie's soul. But Sindri shattered it…..taking revenge for Odin slaying his brother."

Something cold and uncomfortable crept up his spine, as it always did when his thoughts turned to Sindri. It had been at Sindri's request that he had been on the branches of the World Tree that day, when he had been ambushed, and cast from his world. Had it been a coincidence, or had Sindri been involved? He still was not sure - and if Sindri had been involved, had his participation been forced?

He growled, low in his throat. Nothing to be done about it now - it would still be waiting on him when he finally returned to his home. There were more immediate problems facing them now.

"We're drawing near!" called Mary, from the wheel. "Probably best to try to find somewhere more to the open ocean side of the island to weigh anchor - if nothing else, it will give them fewer ways to sneak up on us." Her eyes were casting about, as though she expected the Argo to appear at any moment. "If we're really lucky, we can find a cave with enough concealment to suit our needs - but we might end up having to just carry the boat inland and hiding it." Her eyes fell on Kratos. "You can probably manage that, I'd expect."

Kratos' reply was stopped before it could even begin by a sudden exclamation from Romani. "We've got a Servant signal that just popped up! It's….." His face wrinkled in confusion. "...it's flying? And coming straight at you, from the direction of the island!"

Kratos had only just freed his axe from his harness when it sped by him, a crack hitting his ears as the air was displaced by the sheer speed of the object. It descended from the sky at a fearsome speed, flying directly for the stern of the ship.

And then immediately seized Atalanta around the neck, and crushed her to her (ample) chest.

"Aty!!!!!!!!" The Servant rubbed her face on Atalanta's hair, nuzzling the Archer with obvious affection.

Atalanta had gone stiff as a board, and was desperately trying to free herself from the woman's grasp - with little success. The woman's grasp would not be broken. Even Atalanta's shouts and demands to be let go were muffled, given how she was being manhandled.

Fujimaru - and Mash as well, had looks of disbelief on their faces. "Miss O?"

The Servant (Miss O - the Servant who had helped them in the fragments of France?) looked over at the sound of Fujimaru's voice, and her face lit up. "Fujimaru! And Mash? What are the two of you doing here?" Without waiting for an answer, or releasing her hold on Atalanta, she snatched the two girls up and proceeded to tightly embrace the lot of them - going by the squawks of surprise, neither of them saw that coming.

"I wandered here after what was left of France fell apart," said, heedless of anything being said by (or the flailing arms of) the three women she had a grip on. "I felt like the thing I was looking for was here, and it WAS!"

She frowned. "But then, I got the feeling my Aty was in trouble, and when I checked, she was. So my Darling volunteered to go save her!" She glanced around. "Where is he, by the way?"

There was a sigh from behind Kratos, and then, an unfamiliar voice.

"I swear, ALL the islands in this place and you end up taking me right back to THIS one, where she's waiting." Another sigh. "Almost makes me think she's onto something with all this 'connected by the Red String' stuff she's picked up lately."

Kratos span around, axe at the ready.

There was no one there - but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avenger, who was looking…down.

His eyes dropped.

The toy was standing there - under its own power. And with an expression that, on a human being, Kratos would call exasperation - or maybe weary resignation.

The bear raised a hand, staring up at the two of them. "Yo."

Kratos blinked. It was that moment of delay that allowed Avenger to ask the question he was already thinking, though in language different than his.

"What the FUCK is going on here?" The tip of her spear, beginning to bloom with heat, snapped up to point right between the bear's eyes.

"DARRRRRLING! THERE YOU ARE!" Mash, Fujimaru, and Atalanta (at least one of whom had been choking out something that had sounded like 'can't breathe!') were unceremoniously tossed aside and the woman rocketed over to the toy and scooped it up, where it promptly received the same treatment the three women had been receiving.

Avenger blinked. Opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "I want to repeat my fucking question."

The bear was wriggling in the woman's grasp, where she was rubbing her entire cheek against his body. "Arty? ARTY! I wasn't gone THAT long! And we really should do some introductions - after all, isn't that guy one of the ones you were talking about wanting to meet?"

The bear's paw had been pointing, vaguely, in the direction of Kratos as he said this. "I suppose….but I'm not setting you down. I missed you so much while you were gone!"

She turned to face them, her arms wrapped tightly around the bear, who at least was not attempting to escape from her grasp. "Hello!" she said, cheerfully, looking Kratos up and down. "So you're Kratos? I heard about you from Fujimaru, though I wasn't expecting us to meet this soon."

His intent would have been to ask her for her name, but her next words made that question pointless. "I'm Artemis!" She held up the bear. "And this is my Darling Orion!"

The bear once again held up a paw, and repeated its earlier greeting. "Yo."

The full force of the goddess' attention bore down on Kratos, as his mind struggled to process the name he had just heard. "Now, tell me ALL about yourself, my new brother from another world!"

---

 

Notes:

AUTHOR'S NOTES: A teaser of what's waiting when the real fight with Herc comes.

Degenerate headpats.

I don't even play a doctorb on TV, and watching House isn't exactly terribly factual, so correct me if I'm wildly off on any of Chiron's instructions.

Going by the Boi's reaction to the Lemnian wine, I vaguely assumed Kratos liked tart/somewhat bitter stuff. Hence, cranberry juice.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animals. I probably won't be writing much over the next two weeks, since I'm taking my usual time off of work, where I'm going to laze, about, watch the Bowl Games (go Texas), do my yearly viewing of the Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings, play a fair amount of Genshin Impact and LostBelt 7, until Wrestle Kingdom. So the next chapter might take a bit, as a warning.

Chapter 44: Okeanos 5

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 44

THE ARGO

MEDEA'S WORKSHOP​

Medea blinked, unsure of what she was hearing. "Herakles failed?"

Jason nodded, his expression far calmer than she would have expected. A pout - or an oncoming tantrum was what she would have thought would be his reaction to Herakles returning to the ship without a broken god in his hands. Not this oddly pensive look on his face. "They're far cleverer than we anticipated. Given what you told me about how this 'Kratos' is….or was a war god - and one that replaced Ares, no less, I expected them to stand their ground and fight……and die." The beginnings of the smug grin that had been spreading across his face died. "But they chose flight instead of fight. It seems we may be dealing with someone more akin to Athena than Ares."

Medea frowned. "And they've no doubt had their head filled with tales of Herakles' power from that traitor Blackbeard, and whatever of his crew is still alive."

Something black and dangerous stirred in Jason's eyes. "Not JUST him. Herakles said that Atalanta was in their company as well."

He hid it well, but she could hear the hurt in his voice. Her Jason was good at his playacting, at presenting JUST the face that was needed, when it was needed - at least, when he bothered with it, but no one knew her Jason like she did. He'd been angry and confused when Atalanta had slipped away from the Argo - without even so much as a farewell, either.

He'd let it pass, because they were crewmates of the greatest collection of heroes ever - but now, to find out that she was actively opposing him?

Yes, he was going to funnel the sting of that betrayal into action, and she would do everything in her power to help him.

No one hurt her Jason but her.

Jason continued. "And that's not all. Despite all that, Herakles still almost got his hands on them when they were trying to flee by ship - he spotted Mary Reade and Anne Bonny, so we at least know the two of them are alive. But something else intervened."

She tilted her head, and he shrugged. "It happened almost too fast for him to tell - something shot him from far enough away that he couldn't even see the shooter. But it had enough power behind it to knock him back, away from them long enough for them to get away." He fidgeted. "That kind of power, enough to halt Herakles, the greatest feet to tread the deck of the Argo, even temporarily, is troubling."

It hurt. It always did, everytime he sang Herakles' praises, everytime he acted like the stupid brute was closer to him than anyone else - was the one above all the other Argonauts who was his equal, who was worthy.

She'd moved heaven and earth for him, had even sacrificed her family - her own brother for him! She'd given him EVERYTHING, and she was still second to some musclebound thug who hadn't sacrificed anything for Jason. It BURNED.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Jason surely didn't mean anything by it - he loved her, after all. He chose her, in the end.

"It couldn't have been any of Blackbeard's crew," was how she chose to answer. "None of them have the power to pull off something like that. Hektor….maybe, with Durandal, but Herakles would have seen him - his Noble Phantasm isn't one with a range like that."

"And Euryale doesn't have that kind of power - her Noble Phantasm is more notable in its ability to fog the mind." Jason gave a derisive sniff. "Though we saw for ourselves how little that worked on Herakles." He shook his head. "And Herakles didn't think it was these 'Chaldeans' that did it, either. They were moving to try to stop him from shattering their boat when the shot hit him - they seemed as surprised by it as he was."

"A Rogue, then." It was the only logical conclusion. Singularities - being affronts to Proper Human History always had Rogues, summoned by the land itself to try to correct the blemish. Some wouldn't care, would see to their own ends in the brief time they were manifested. But most took their title of 'Heroic Spirit' seriously enough to do their jobs. It seemed they had one of those on their hands. "We don't know the full power of Chaldea's arsenal - if they can do actual damage to Herakles, or somehow thwart my Magecraft. Their pet god is a War God - so he shouldn't be able to counter me, but…."

"He might be able to stand on an even field with Herakles longer than Blackbeard's two Berserkers did. And the information you have on them is, as you said, incomplete."

For a moment, he looked unsure. "Medea, my love…..where did you get that information? Is….is there any chance you could get more? I have faith in Herakles….and you, as well. But Grail Wars are won on information, and now that they've linked up with Blackbeard and his fellow traitors - one of which is Atalanta, we're at a disadvantage on that front."

Medea's mind blanked. Tall. Red hair. Dusky skin. Power - so much power. He'd bested her, BROKEN her effortlessly. Then, he'd began speaking. "No, I don't think that's possible." She gave him her brightest, most loving smile. "You'll just have to trust me on this."

His disappointed frown was like a dagger through her heart, and his words only twisted the knife. "A shame - I expected better from you. But if you say it can't be done, then that's all it is."

Something twisted inside her, something dark and ugly, and she had to bite down on her tongue to get it back under control. It was, frankly, a minor miracle none of it showed in her voice when she replied. "There's another option - one we haven't been considering because we haven't NEEDED to up until now."

His eyebrow quirked up, but he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded for her to continue. She said nothing, merely let her gaze walk across the room to one of her workbenches.

Where the Grail they had confiscated from Drake sat, in a Bounded Field of her own construction.

"Herakles is great, but he's only one man," she said, as comprehension began to dawn on her love's face. "And Blackbeard has shown he's willing to divide his forces where necessary - it is how he managed to round up Euryale, by sending those two pirates out under the guise of doing our work. While Herakles was distracted by them at the Leyline, who knows what the rest of his group was up to?"

"And their numbers are only growing. At best, they've only added Atalanta to their roster. Worst - they've linked up with whomever took that shot at Herakles." A frown was growing on his face. "And the two of us cannot leave the Argo, not while we hold a Grail and a prisoner, both of which they'd love to take from us."

And the defenses she had set up on and around the Argo, while formidable, needed her to be here to use them to their full potential. She could automate some of them, but it would still leave Jason vulnerable - and would be stupid, to boot, to have a Caster leave her workshop.

And Jason wasn't about to leave to wander the seas alone. So both of them were stuck here for the foreseeable future.

"My thinking exactly. So, if they're adding to their numbers, then maybe it's time we did the same."

---

 

THE SEAS AROUND CALDERA ISLAND​

Kratos stared. The bear in the goddess' hands stared back - the goddess herself beaming too hard to notice, or care about the painful silence that was stretching on into the distance. His mind tried to make sense of it.

It failed.

The goddess' lips were starting to form in the shape of a pout, and her eyes, somehow, were growing larger and wider. "Don't you at least have SOMETHING to say? It's not everyday you meet a long-lost transdimensional sister you didn't know you had!"

He took a breath, then asked. "What is happening?"

There was a sigh from the bear. "Arty, maybe you should take a step back. Just because you're all fired up about this thought of having new family, he might not be so crazy about the idea." The animal shook its head. "I mean, your family was kind of dysfunctional at times, even if they made it work. There's no promise things were the same there - could be they were worse."

"I'm still stuck on the fact that an actual DIVINE SPIRIT is here, as a Servant!" Romani, drawing the attention, both of those around them, and the goddess (Artemis, it was Artemis - though nothing like the one he had known, once) away from Kratos - something he was thankful to the man for. "Demigods and weaker deities like Medusa and her sisters, that's possible. But a full on Divine Spirit shouldn't be possible - not without some VERY extraordinary circumstances!"

There was a disgruntled noise from the bear. "That's because she HIJACKED my Servant container and summons just because she wanted to follow me around!" The animal raised its arms, looking down at them. "So here I am, greatest hunter to ever walk the Earth, stuck like THIS!"

He rolled his eyes. "Why do you think I ran when I was first summoned and saw the body I was stuck in?"

Artemis' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you SURE you weren't just letting that wandering eye of yours lead you where it would….Daaaarling?"

"NO!" A sheen of sweat was beginning to cover Orion's forehead. "You turned me into….THIS, all because you couldn't be away from me! I love you, Arty, but I just couldn't look at you right then!"

The goddess had no response to that, growing uncharacteristically quiet. Her head bowed, and her grip on Orion loosened, allowing him to slide from her hands. "But…..I missed you."

The diminutive bear landed on his feet, turning to stare up at Artemis. "And I get that, I really do. But even a goddess shouldn't mess with the Servant system like that. Even beyond the fact that the land summoned me, for whatever reason - and not you, there's the consequences to think about. Two Servants aren't meant to be crammed into one like this!"

"Actually," Fujimaru raised her hand, the expression on her face looking like the last place she wished to be was stepping into the middle of the squabbling couple. "Anne and Mary there are a two-in-one. And we have one of those back at Chaldea. Miss O….I mean, Artemis, met them back when she and I first met." She gave a nervous laugh. "Remember when we thought paired Servants like that were a rare thing, Mashie?"

At Mash's nod, Orion waved his paws through the air. "Yeah, but they're MEANT to be like that. The Throne took that into account when it invited them. Me, I was supposed to look more like him!" A miniature talon pointed straight at Kratos. "And not like THAT!" The talon then sliced through the air to point at Fou, who was giving Orion a narrow look from behind Mash's legs.

His arm dropped to his side. "All I'm saying is that you're messing with some pretty powerful forces, Arty." He sighed. "Not that that's really unusual for you or the rest of your family."

Artemis hung her head. "I'm sorry, Darling. I didn't think…..I just really wanted to see you again." Her voice dropped in volume. "Forgive me?"

Orion leapt up to the goddess' shoulder in a single bound, and gently placed his paw on her hair. "Always, Arty, always. I'm used to your impulsive actions by now - it's one reason I love you, after all. I'm just worried, is all, that before this is all over, we're going to regret them."

The two of them leaned their heads together for a minute, eyes closed. Then Artemis' eyes snapped open, and they refocused on Kratos.

"Why the glare, Kraty? You should be happier - meeting family is a HAPPY occasion!" She grinned sunnily. "Both a sister and a brother-in-law!"

Kratos felt a growl, uncontrolled, leave his throat. "You are NOT any family of mine." He took a step back, away from her, almost unconsciously. "Whatever ties I had with Olympus, they were broken long ago." A grunt. "And good riddance."

He turned to walk away, and in a flash, the goddess had floated to block his way. "But, I'm not them." There was a plaintive look on her face. "Whatever happened between you and them, it has nothing to do with me. And…"

"NO." The planks of the ship rattled with Kratos' voice.

Artemis' eyes looked like they were filling with tears, due to begin spilling down her face any second, and Kratos, for his part, did NOT care. (He had allies - friends even, but family……that word held weight and meaning for him. It was not to be used as lightly as it was being used, here and now.)

There was a crack, a gunshot, and everyone's heads jerked around.

Mary was holding a smoking pistol, held above her head, pointed at the sky. "That is QUITE enough of that! The deck of MY ship isn't the time OR the place for this! Not while Jason, and gods knows what else is still hunting us!"

She turned her gaze on Artemis. "In light of you saving said ship from becoming so much driftwood, I'm going to give you some leeway here, but I AM going to have to ask you to back off, and give the man some space, goddess."

Orion was tugging at the hem of her dress. "You are coming on pretty strong…..kind of like you always do when you get an idea in your head, dear." He didn't flinch in the face of the glare she turned on him. "Look, it's a lot to spring on a guy, give him some time to process it."

Gently, his voice never losing its coaxing tone, he managed to shuffle the floating deity away from Kratos, until, at last, he felt he could breathe again.

Mary blew out a breath, and slid her pistol back under her clothes. "Ok, now, what's going to happen is I'm going to beach the boat, and we're going to drag it inland, since we just don't have time to circle round and hope there's a good cave to drop anchor in."

Her gaze flicked to Kratos. "Unless you think you can just pick the boat up and carry it inland?"

Her tone indicated she was half convinced he could - and in this, she was right, which he indicated with a grunt and a nod, earning him a wry chuckle from her. "Never thought I'd be saying this, but it's damn handy to have a god around. Between that trick of yours with the tornadoes, and this, you'd have been one hell of a crewman in the Caribbean. We could have made quite the pirate out of you." She gave the wheel a sharp turn. "Ok, Anne, be ready to trim the sails down once we're aground - don't want them getting torn up while the whole kit and kaboodle is carried inland. Everyone else, I want some of you erasing signs of our passing - the rest of you, see if you can find us a suitable place to lay low for a bit."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Something tells me we're going to be here for a while."

---

The entire time he had been carrying the boat inland, the goddess' eyes had been on him. Watching him, even as she chattered with her 'Darling' or Mash and Fujimaru. Chiron, before he had set out ahead of them to scout for a place to hide the boat, had greeted both Artemis (VERY respectfully) and Orion (with some level of amusement at the man's predicament) in a familiar fashion, before setting out ahead of them.

(Atalanta had joined him, with almost undue haste. She had been….shaken, to see the goddess she had devoted her life to in the flesh.

Avenger was stalking somewhere to the rear of the group - 'watching their backsides for them', as she had put it, though the woman had been oddly muted when she had said it.

Mary and Anne were leading, flanking both sides of his front - more the front of the boat, acting as spotters and calling out any upcoming obstructions. Unnecessary, he felt, as the boat was not large enough to hinder his vision overmuch, but he could not find it in himself to gainsay them. It was their boat, in the end - and their only way of making it across the seas. An overabundance of caution, in this case, was warranted.

Especially given the terrain of the caldera. There was little in the way of wood or other materials that would be needed to repair the boat, should it sustain damages. Receiving supplies from Chaldea was an option, but even Chaldea's resources were not inexhaustible. Timber used to mend damages the boat incurred from an avoidable mistake might well be direly needed somewhere in a future Singularity.

So he chose his steps carefully, and heeded the words of the pirates ahead of him.

"That scar…..it goes all the way through you, front to back."

Artemis. She was right behind him - his attention had been so focused on his movements that his awareness of her location had waned.

"What kind of weapon could have done that……" He felt motion behind him, a hand reaching out. "And how did you survive it?"

There was the sound of flesh on flesh, a smack, and a yelp from the moon goddess. And a wash of heat flowed across his back.

"Hands to yourself," snapped Avenger. "He ain't your family, so don't go getting familiar with him - least not until he asks you to, and not when he's fucking carrying our damn ride!"

"Sorry….," Artemis, for the first time since meeting her, almost sounded truly chastised. Though it didn't last long. "I'm just SOOOOO curious though! Can you blame me? Wouldn't you be, if you suddenly found out you had family you didn't know about?"

Given what Avenger had said recently, speaking of the man who was the closest thing to what she could call a father, and her very, very conflicted feelings on her 'twin', Kratos could only imagine what expression had crossed the woman's face.

"Don't fucking care," snapped Avenger, sounding as exasperated as Kratos felt. "Not while he's carrying the boat - the rest of us can't fly like you can." There was the sound of something cutting through the air. "Go back over there and bother Red and Squeaks, or find your disciple and terrorize her. Grumps is off-limits until he sets this thing down."

There was a moment of awkward silence, then a muttered assent, and Kratos felt the presence of the goddess retreat, followed by a disgruntled sniff from Avenger. "It won't last, but that'll keep her off your back - literally and figuratively, for a bit, if nothing else."

She was still standing there, between himself and the goddess. Almost like she had appointed herself some sort of guard dog, determined to keep Artemis away from him. (He had a moment where the wolves his son had rescued flashed across his mind's eyes, joined by another, smaller…..grayer wolf. Its hair puffed up, as if to offset its smaller size with a display that demonstrated to all just how dangerous and ferocious it was.) A grunt of what could almost be called laughter escaped his lips. "Avenger…."

"Bitch doesn't know how to take a hint." Avenger, uncaring of her interruption, spat. "Like she can't see how you tense up whenever she gets near you. Least she hasn't grabbed you like she did Atalanta, or those two, but damn if she isn't thinking about it. At least you'd probably react better than I would if 'me' suddenly started calling me her 'little sister' and tried to latch onto me like that." A snicker. "But then again, you're a hell of a lot calmer than I am."

"Keep hauling, Grumps," she muttered. "I'll keep your back clear."

---

It had not taken too long to find a suitable place to hide the boat. Da Vinci had even come through with what she called 'optic camouflage', some sort of learning cloth that could be draped over the ship and would match its patterns to that of the surrounding terrain. Not quite true invisibility, but it would hide the ship better - and more conveniently - than covering it in rocks and soil.

"It's also largely scientific, so no magical signature to detect - anything we can do to make it harder for Medea helps," said Da Vinci. "Hopefully our brief tapping into the leyline to send you a supply drop wasn't enough for her to trace you - but this is a Caster from the Age of the Gods, so be on the lookout, just in case!"

"Thankfully, our communicators don't need the leylines to function," added Romani. "A connection can stabilize it, but as long as there isn't any major interference, we can connect without them." His image flickered for a moment, and the doctor frowned. "Though, as you can see, not without the occasional blip."

In addition to the shroud, the supplies sent had largely consisted of food - the caldera having little in the way of game, though they could supplement their provisions by fishing, and a handful of rounds to replace the ones Fujimaru had used - as well as a few rune-scribed ones that Cu had completed in the time they had been deployed.

"Still slow, precise work, making these things," griped the Caster. "So I won't ever be rolling them out quickly. But I threw in a bonus - that one there has one of my Ansuz runes - and the fire spells they call already primed in there."

"Sure would be a shame if an old, wooden ship like the Argo had a run-in with one of these," said Fujimaru, a grin beginning to spread across her face.

Cu's grin matched hers, if not surpassing it, growing so wide that his sharp canines were firmly on display. "Fujimaru, you mad lass you, you sound like you're turning into a pyromaniac like Avenger….." He thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "And I guess me, too. I always did take to the fire spells easier than the rest of the stuff Teacher tried to drum into my thick skull."

She had laughed along with the Irishman. It had been a moment of levity - one of the few since they had made landfall. Small as the caldera was, there was simply little to do, for any of them. It had taken less than half a day to explore it - finding nothing unexpected - and then, all they were left with was the need to wait.

Fishing was about the only activity they could pursue - and even then, they had to be watchful of the horizon and the waters as much so, if not more so than the lines they had dipped into the waters. The Argo was out there, and Medea's Sea Devils (and whatever other fell beasts the woman had created) patrolled the waters of this Singularity.

Otherwise, when not procuring food, they were relegated to the cave near to where they had hidden the ship. He understood the need to remain out of sight - the whole purpose of retreating to this island was to lay low, to lose any trace of pursuit from the Argo.

But the cave, while at least relatively large, made it impossible to avoid the goddess. And she was unrelenting in her desire to get to know her new 'brother'.

The most difficult part of it all was that Kratos did not think there was any malice in her actions. Not like the Olympians he had known - both before, and after they had been corrupted by the evils sealed in Pandora's Box. The willfulness, THAT was familiar to him. Gods (at least in his experience) frequently were used to getting their own way, regardless of anyone, or anything else.

Artemis had decided he was now part of her family, and thus, she would be getting to know him better, whether he wanted such a thing or not.

It was infuriating, and suffocating, and eventually was enough that he had been forced to leave the cave, lest his temper get the best of him.

He at least had been able to control his ire until the sun had sank below the horizon - dusk would at least make him harder to spot by any of the sea-borne abominations hunting them beneath the waves. He had stalked across the small island, until he had found a spot, a small cliff, and he had merely sat, and let the cool night air, and the crash of the waves wash over him, until the red had crept away from his vision, and he felt his slipping control return.

Then, he just breathed, and was.

He did not exactly lose track of time - he was aware of the night deepening around him, of the tides changing. So he immediately was on his guard when a noise sounded behind him.

"Easy." The moon was barely a sliver, but it cast enough glow to let him see a small form, standing in a pool of the light.

Orion chuckled. "Even with her gone to the Other Side of the World, her gaze is still always on me." The bear shook his head, then looked up to Kratos.

"You can lower that thing," he said, gesturing to the Leviathan Axe, which Kratos was still clutching in his hands. "Made the sound so you knew I was here - figured you wouldn't like me startling you, and you wouldn't have heard me coming otherwise. Not that you weren't paying attention but…." The bear's paw pointed at his chest. "Greatest hunter to ever walk the face of the Earth, even when I'm like this."

Kratos settled back down onto the ground. "What do you want?" he asked, with a sigh, as he laid his wife's axe across his legs.

Orion padded over to him. "Mainly wanted to thank you for being so patient with Arty. I know she's a lot to take in….and she's not making it easy, either. When she gets her mind set on something, she doesn't know any way to approach it any ways but with the full-bore approach." A small, pleased smile crossed his ursine face. "It's how she caught me after all."

The little bear-man gave a huff that was almost a tiny roar, shaking his head. "But either way, I appreciate you humoring her as much as you have." He shrugged at the expression on Kratos' face. "I know, I know, you've barely done that, but you've been civil to her while she's got this harebrained idea in her head, and you deserve some thanks for that, for not biting the woman I love's head off, even when she probably deserves a bit of it, for deciding someone she's just met is her new little brother."

"Should it not be the job of her beloved to correct one's behavior, when it begins to stray from the correct path?" Kratos snorting out a grunt that was half a laugh, remembering many, many conversations with Faye. "It is what my wife did for me, in the years we had."

Orion rolled his eyes. "Believe me buddy, I've been TRYING. But you try changing the mind of a deity who has her mind set on something."

Orion gave him a considering look. "Then again, that's something your wife might be able to commiserate with me on. Assuming she was mortal, at least, and that you're as stubborn as the Olympians I knew in my time."

"She was." Kratos thought for a moment, then grunted, ceding the point to Orion. "And it has been said I can be….stubborn. By both her, and my son." That word had been a particular favorite of Atreus' during Fimbulwinter, particularly as the boy had wanted more and more to do something besides a daily litany of hunting and training. Kratos suspected that had been what had driven him to begin sneaking out (with Sindri as his accomplice) to examine the murals - first the one in the Wildwoods, then the others, much farther afield from their cabin.

"Yeah, I can see it. Must be something about being a god - comes with the territory." Orion looked him up and down. "Just to check, you aren't the son of Pallas and Nyx, right?"

"No," rumbled Kratos. "I was born a mortal…a Spartan."

Orion's eyebrows raised. "Really now? Never had much to do with them in my life, but they had a hell of a reputation." His paw reached up to cup his chin. "So then, which one?"

At Kratos' raised eyebrow, Orion continued. "You said you were born a mortal, but that only means one of your parents was an honest-to-goodness human. And….you kind of feel like me." Orion rolled his eyes. "And it's not like the gods didn't mingle……frequently and often. It's how I came about, after all. So I'm figuring half the equation that made you was one of the residents of Mt. Olympus, unless Hades managed to sire you. Could be why you're so pale, not a lot of sunlight in Tartarus - neither Hades or his wife managed to have anything but a pallor to them. But then again, he wasn't the type to cheat, either."

"Not saying that you couldn't be 100% pure human, but to ascend to godhood in Greece, well, being a demigod wasn't strictly necessary, but it sure helped - just look at Herakles, got to be the god of strength, while all I got was to be remembered as a constellation." Orion laughed. "Or, I suppose, be the woman Zeus is boinking. I can only imagine the fit Hera threw when he ascended Europa. But no, I'm not bitter or anything…..he gets to have his side-piece around while Apollo throws a fit about his sister taking a fancy to me."

Orion continued to grumble for a moment, until Kratos spoke. "You are…correct. My father was Zeus."

Orion let out a low whistle. "The big man himself? Explains why the pressure you give off is almost crushing me into the ground - have I mentioned how much I hate this stupid body I'm stuck in? It'd be a whole different story if I was whole, and not sharing space with Arty." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Is the Artemis from your side this impulsive, too?" His expression turned into an expression that could only be described with a term he had heard both Fujimaru and Avenger using - 'dopey'. "I don't need to ask if she was the most beautiful woman in the land, already know she had to be that."

"I saw little of Artemis….or her brother. They kept themselves apart from Olympus. I saw her once, only, while I was still just a man." She and her brother had been noticeably absent on that final day, when Olympus had fallen. Sometimes, he wondered what had become of them. Had they fled the destruction, as he had? Had the fall of Zeus somehow caused their deaths as well? Or had they returned, once the fires consuming Greece had burned out and taken the empty seat of Zeus for their own - ruling as a pair, where once there had been a King of Olympus.

He did not know. Perhaps Tyr did, but Kratos had not found it in himself to ask the former god of war.

"She was….focused," said Kratos, shaking off his memories. "Much more so than this Artemis."

"Yeah, I bet," Orion heaved a heavy sigh. "Arty was too when she was a god, and not just a Servant. I can see the question on your face, so I'll answer it as best I can. She was flighty, sure, but not this bad. You know Servants are incomplete, right?" Kratos nodded, and he continued. "Just fragments of what we were in life - I don't know if even True Magic could manage to take everything someone once was and manifest it in a container as small as a Servant's is. So, when you take me, already missing a ton of bits of what Orion was, and then try to cram in a whole goddess on top of that well….."

Orion shrugged again. "Ten pounds of mud in a five pound bag, as the saying goes. So, some things got lost. And the fact she pulled this whole stunt to be with me has to be affecting HOW she's manifesting more than a little. So, less the distant virgin goddess of the hunt, and more the woman who was drunk on love when I managed to catch her eye. Probably why she's so fixated on you being 'family' - love again, but more familial than what she's feeling for me."

Orion shuddered. "At least I DEARLY hope so. I've heard enough stories about the whole Isis-Osiris-Set thing to make me realize as messed up as the Olympians were, in some ways, they could have been worse in others."

Kratos suppressed a growl, though it still managed to tinge his words. "You have nothing to fear there. I still belong to my wife. And….I know what it is to be gazed upon in that manner by a goddess." Not that Aphrodite had been particularly choosy in her bedmates - but her interest had been clear enough on that day in Olympus. And, to his shame (how far had he been gone by that time?), he had indulged - both herself, and himself. "She seems to desire me only as an addition to her family." No matter how little he wished it.

"That's a load off my mind - not that I think Arty would go that way, but I'm still figuring out this Servant Artemis. She's still the woman I fell for, but a lot more unpredictable than I remember. It's an adventure, let me tell you." Orion flopped down onto his haunches….then turned an appraising gaze onto Kratos. "But 'been gazed upon in that manner by a goddess'? Which one of them was it? Couldn't have been Hera - she probably hated you like she hated all the other proofs of Zeus' indiscretions. You said you only saw Artemis once - I really hope it wasn't her, otherwise that'd make this whole conversation really weird, especially you calling her 'focused'." Orion shuddered. "No, bad thoughts, think of the rest of the bombshells on Olympus. Athena, Aphrodite, Demeter, Hestia…."

Orion trailed off as he noticed Kratos' look, one that was bordering on a glare. He threw his paws up into the air. "What can I say, Arty isn't wrong when she says I have a wandering eye - always did. Just like dad - the apple dropped from the tree like it had a rock tied to it, at least in that case. He didn't get around as much as Zeus did, but he wasn't wanting for partners, either. Amphitrite, Aethra, my mother Euryale - and not the one related to Medusa, which would make it even stranger considering she was another one of his conquests. And those were just some of the willing ones." A black look crossed the bear's face. "Caenis is only the most well-known of his victims on the other side. Really not proud to be his son, some days. Something you can probably empathize with, given Zeus was no angel either."

"No, he was not." Kratos only somewhat understood what an angel was - Da Vinci's explanation had made him think of the Valkyries of Odin, but the woman had moved on before he had thought to ask questions, Da Vinci feeling that it was unlikely they would run across such a being in their campaigns. "And I have heard much of Poseidon's transgressions, from one who he wronged. Medusa is among those back at Chaldea."

Orion blinked. "You. Summoned Medusa? And she didn't rip your head off? Or make a very buff statue out of you?" One of Orion's talons began tapping on a stone. "Or, you know, TRY to? Because she really, REALLY doesn't care for gods - Olympians especially. Not that I can really blame her for that."

"She was…..not pleased to see me, at first. Expected that I had summoned her merely to use her as had Poseidon." Truly, she probably had been about to strike, before Cu Chulainn had managed to talk her down. "But her issues with me have been settled. She is an ally….a trusted ally." The word friend was unspoken, but it was there - and given the bond of trust between them, could she be anything else?

"Starting to sound like I maybe should have wandered over to this 'Chaldea' instead of wherever here is," muttered Orion. "Between those two cuties you have following you around, and the other one, who is both literally and figuratively smoking hot, and then legs-for-days Medusa's also lurking at your base? And that Da Vinci wasn't hard on the eyes, either."

Kratos almost felt bad dashing the bear's dreams. Almost. "Artemis came to Chaldea before she made her way here. You would not have been able to hide from her there."

Orion pounded the ground, a frustrated noise bursting from within him. "Just ruin ALL of my dreams, why don't you?" But he was laughing as he said it.

Orion was shaking his head, his laughter dying out, when his ears twitched, and he leapt to his feet, alertness surging through his diminutive frame.

"Do you hear that?"

---

 

BACK IN THE CAVE​

Atalanta was staring - particularly, at the goddess who she had devoted her life to.

The goddess who was sitting by the cave entrance, and, every few moments, sighing dramatically, with all the weight and gravitas of someone who thought the world was ending - imminently.

The huntress shuddered, and took another pull from the bottle in her hands - Cu had apparently snuck some 'beer rations' into the supplies Chaldea had sent them, and both Atalanta and their pirate allies had quickly cracked them open. Anne and Mary because, well, PIRATES. Atalanta, because…..

"A lifetime of devotion, to the Goddess of the Hunt….." Atalanta hiccuped. "Who's….."

"Mooning like a lovesick schoolgirl over her man?" asked Avenger, who actually wasn't drinking, but was making sure Fujimaru 'stayed on the straight and narrow and didn't turn into a delinquent like her'.

(Spoilsport. Big meanie. No, Ritsuka Fujimaru wasn't pouting or anything. It was only the knowledge that the retaliation would be, well, biblical that was keeping her from setting up a booby-trap prank in Avenger's room.)

"Acting like she got ghosted on a booty call? Acting all hot and bothered and anxious for her stud to arrive?" continued Avenger.

Atalanta made a noise halfway between a sob and a groan, as Fujimaru patted her on the back in sympathy.

"At least you know how I feel, seeing Blackbeard." Both Mash and Fujimaru shivered. "Most feared pirate, ever - scourge of the Caribbean, took so much killing to put him down that he probably inspired Rasputin……and then we meet him, and he's talking about waifus and asking one of my teachers if he can get him an idol's signature…..not to mention how he eyed both me and Mashie up."

"And how he keeps asking me to step on him," chimed in Mary.

Mash had a look of muted disgust on her face. "Doctor Roman always told me to be careful, that traveling through time like this, I'd be disappointed when I met my heroes. He was right, even if I never looked up to Mr. Blackbeard like you, Senpai."

Atalanta gave another sigh, seized her bottle and drained it in one go, then began casting around for another.

Fujimaru gave her another pat on the back, and, exchanging glances with Mash, she rose to her feet and walked over to where Artemis was floating, near the entrance to the cave. "Miss O…." she began, hesitantly.

The Greek Goddess turned from the cave entrance, which was slowly beginning to lighten as day approached, and gave her a broad smile. "You can call me Artemis, sweetie! Though, Miss O might be better when we're out and about - I seem to recall Servants like to keep their True Names hidden."

"Ok, Artemis." And she didn't know why saying that name made her nervous - yes, so she was a Greek God - Ritsuka Fujimaru had breakfast with a more real Greek God most days, and she had gotten over benign intimidated by Kratos (mostly - the man was still huge and swole and had a glare that pierced right through you, for all that he rarely uncorked it - there was a big difference between him being disappointed and his resting Kratos face) weeks ago.

Not to mention she'd experienced a faceful of this Greek God's cleavage (along with Mashie and Atalanta) - unwillingly, but still - not that long ago. So she summoned up the same reserves of courage she had when she'd managed to speak her first words to a living god, and found her voice. "Are you ok? You know there's nothing on this island that should be any danger to a Servant, right?"

Artemis sighed again. "I know. But, I miss him when he's not here." She licked her lips. "We didn't have that much time together, before my brother convinced me to……well, you know." Her face fell. "And then he was gone, and I was so full of regrets about what I'd been talked into. And by the time I had the thought to bring him back, Hades had already made his plea to Zeus about Asclepius, and that was that. No chance of my Darling coming back to me." She sniffled. "Even seeing his belt in the skies didn't do anything to numb the pain, if anything, it only made it worse."

She hung her head. "I don't remember much after that, not for a long while. I might have gone a little crazy then. That Caligula, the one that we met a little while ago? I don't think that I did that to him….but I can't say for sure. I really wasn't in my right mind for far too long."

"And then you, and all the other gods had to go to the Other Side of the World," said Fujimaru.

"It's so close to this side, but it's so far away, at the same time. The sky's not the same - not really. I couldn't even see my Darling in the stars anymore." Artemis had wrapped her arms around her body, as though she was trying to warm herself from a sudden chill. "So, when I felt he was being summoned as a Servant, I didn't think, I just….acted. I wanted to see him again SOOOOO badly."

"And here we are." Fujimaru's deadpan was perfect. She'd been working on it for years - a little side effect of the years of disinterest she'd had to develop to keep her sister from realizing she was interested in something, and then ruining it, usually by showing her up at it.

"And here we are," echoed Artemis. "And Darling is….well, he's a bit upset with me." Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I can't really blame him too much for that. And now I've managed to drive both him and Kraty outside to get away from me."

"You are coming on a bit strong, in both cases. Orion at least seems to like it." Weird as it is seeing what looked like a stuffed animal cozying up to an actual goddess, it was no different than a man who had apparently captured the heart of an actual dragon. And while the dynamic between the two couples (or maybe three - she still wasn't quite sure about Anne and Mary) was different, she could tell that they both did love each other, in the end. Oryou was just….Oryou, and you had to learn to decipher her non-emotiveness to read the emotions in it - shut up, it made sense in context.

And for Artemis and Orion, well, rough patches happened to every couple (or so she had heard - not that she had a lot, and by that she meant ANY - practical experience for her to base this on), and the two of them just so happened to be in the middle of one of those rough patches.

"But Kratos - not so much," she continued. "He hasn't talked a ton about his past - though that is changing recently, even if he's still really, REALLY private, but I do know that he lost his wife recently, and his son left on a journey."

Artemis was listening raptly - Fujimaru had her attention (though she suspected she could be telling her about her 'new baby brother's' eating habits and she'd be just as enthralled). "I think family's pretty important to him - it's really not my story to tell, but he hasn't had the easiest of times where that's concerned. So, maybe dial it back a notch? Give him some time to adjust?"

Artemis sighed. "Darling's been telling me more or less the same things, just in different words." She huffed, face welling up into a pout. "There's just so much time to make up for…..and not much time to do it in, either. Servants don't last long in the first place, and once we leave this cave, we'll be back to fighting in this war." The pout twisted into something complicated. "Where I'm going to have to fight my OTHER baby brother, too. So, I just wanted to spend some time getting to know my new family."

"I get it, I do. I've got a family friend who's essentially a brother in everything but blood - when Dad first introduced us to him and his family, I think I spent that entire summer bugging him, following him everywhere." She smiled. "It's a wonder Gordy didn't toss me off a German cliff. But credit to him for putting up with me, as much of a pest as I know I was being, looking back on it."

"Not that I think he's going to chuck you off the nearest cliff - not that that'd do anything, considering you fly!" said Fujimaru, waving her hands about. "Just….if you really want this family thing to work, let him come to you. It took him a while to open up to us, too, but he's started to….a little bit, at least." Not that she thought Kratos was ever going to call Artemis 'big sis', but there were better odds of it than if Artemis kept hovering over his shoulder.

Artemis sighed. "With so many people telling me that - and people like Darling, who always got mortals better than I did." She huffed. "Maybe you're right." She paused, thinking, brow furrowed. "And Kratos doesn't seem that much like my family was. He's really a lot more like a mortal than a god, in some ways. It makes me wonder if they came from the same place we did…."

Fujimaru blinked. Wait, what? She had just begun opening her mouth to ask a question when Atalanta's voice echoed through the cave.

"Is that……cannon fire?"

The huntress had shot upright, her ears twitching, and her back almost arched like a, well, cat. What conversation had been going in the cave immediately died, as everyone tilted their heads and strained to hear.

"I don't hear shit," spat Avenger. "But my ears aren't as big as hers, either." Her nose wrinkled, and her hand fell to the pommel of her sword. "No fucking way Kratos would ever be playing around with the cannon on those two's ship. It'd be stupid, for one, and he ain't stupid. And, fuck, I don't even know if he knows how to fire one of those things."

"Darling wouldn't touch it either," said Artemis, with conviction. "He might be foolish in some ways - like how eager he is to chase any woman, even when I'm RIGHT HERE and willing, but he wouldn't expose us like that. And he'd never fool with a cannon, anyways, he's VERY much a bow and arrow man."

"Then what…?" began Mash.

"We'll just have to find out," said Fujimaru, pushing herself to her feet. "Come on, I've already sent a call to Sensei - he said he'll follow the sounds and meet up with us."

"You can just follow me," said Avenger, as she pushed her way to the front. "Grumps is hearing them too - this way."

The one saving grace to the run was that it was at least starting to get light out, so Fujimaru and her merely human reflexes and night vision didn't have to watch her steps like a hawk, to keep from tripping over some loose stones and falling flat on her face. And no one had to carry her, either, which she wasn't sure was a net gain or not. (Mashie would have at least princess carried her - unlike Kratos, who was firmly stuck in the caveman era where you slung a woman over your shoulder - not her thing at ALL.)

They were almost there, and DEFINITELY starting to hear the booms, when Chiron linked up with them. "It's coming from the seas - Blackbeard is the only thing I can think of, but who could he be fighting? His cannons wouldn't work on Herakles, he said as much himself."

No one had an answer for him as they crested the cliff, and came upon Kratos and Orion - who was perched on Kratos' shoulder, squinting out to sea.

"It's a big ship," he called, paw shading his eyes from the sun, which was just beginning to break over the horizon. "A REALLY big ship, being harassed by a fleet of smaller ships. The big one's got guns for days, but it can only really fire in the two directions, and they're taking bites out of it like a pack of wolves wearing down a lion." He glanced over his shoulder at them as they arrived. "Atalanta, can you verify the name on the big ship for me? I've still got the Archer eyes in this form, but they aren't as sharp as they were."

"No need, I know that ship - and I can see our captains do too," The Archer's mouth was a grim line. "That's the Queen Anne's Revenge. I saw it enough while I was hiding from Jason."

As the two pirates nodded, Fujimaru spoke. "What about the other ships? Can either of you tell what flag they're flying?"

The two of them peered off into the distance. "Looks like……there, one of them caught the wind just right. Two crossed sabers, and something above them…….is that a wheel of cheese with a nail through it?"

"It's a coin," said Atalanta. "Growing a horn….I think."

The blood had drained from Fujimaru's face. "Oh hell."

As one, Anne and Mary spat, noisily and angrily.

"Could someone who isn't a scurvy fucking pirate or a damn pirate fangirl explain to the rest of the fucking class?" yelled Avenger.

"That flag, it's Benjamin Hornigold's flag," said Fujimaru. She swallowed heavily. "He was a pirate - Blackbeard even served under him for a time, before he took the King's Pardon and became a pirate hunter."

"Which means he probably has at least something of a conceptual advantage over Blackbeard, or pirates in general," said Mash, the light of understanding dawning in her eyes.

Avenger, as ever, summed it up best. "FUUUUUCK."

"Even without a conceptual advantage, he's deploying his ships in just the right way to hamstring the Revenge," Chiron wet his finger, and held it up to the air. "And the wind's working against us from where we are - they're too far out at sea for us to be able to hit them with any kind of accuracy."

"And even Servant bows will only do so much against Servant boats." Atalanta's tail was lashing behind her. "Our shots are powerful, but we'd need something heavier to sink those things, at least in one or two blows."

"Well, we have to do SOMETHING!" shouted Fujimaru.

"Wait." Kratos, pointing. "Something is happening."

They all could barely make out a form at the back of the Revenge, gesturing wildly - seconds before a hail of explosions issued from the front of the boat.

"The mortars?" Mary sounded baffled. "Tell me he isn't doing what I think he's doing?"

"He IS!" shouted Anne.

The payload fired from the ship arced through the sky, screaming, and then detonated, covering the battlefield in a thick, clogging smoke.

Orion blinked. "Ok, but….why? That kind of trick is great for making a try at an escape, but there's no way he can slip that juggernaut of his away without them noticing - and not all of the fleet's covered in that smoke, either."

"HE'S not trying to escape at all, look there." Mary pointed, and everyone followed the line of her finger.

To where a rowboat was making its way to the caldera, painfully slowly.

"The smoke's keeping the boats from seeing it - the ones in the smoke are blinded, and it's drawn a curtain between the ones outside of it and the rowboat." Mary's expression was somewhere between a smirk, and a worried frown. "He's getting Euryale away so she doesn't get captured."

"But…." Anne's eyes were wide. "You know what plan he's executing! He said if we were ever cornered like this, he'd try to get her away, and then….."

"Blow the Revenge sky-high, and try to take them down with him," finished Mary, grimly.

"Nuh uh!" Fujimaru stamped her foot. "That'd be all fine and good if it was the Argo - maybe he takes Jason or Medea out that way, or he sinks their ship, but doing that now means he might get some of the fleet, but I'd bet Hornigold himself isn't in range. It won't accomplish anything!"

"We must aid him," rumbled Kratos. "He does not know we are here - we may be able to turn the tide of this battle."

"And quickly, at that." Chiron's eyes were narrowed. "If Hornigold was summoned by Medea, then the Argo cannot be far behind. If I am to address my students, I would have this distraction removed beforehand."

Mary clapped her hands together. "Ok, then we need someone to intercept that rowboat, we need to get OUR boat into the waters, and we need to get someone to Teach before he blows himself to Kingdom Come!"

Chiron's form shimmered, as he shifted into his more equine state. "I will meet the boat with Master. That should reassure them, since they have not yet met me."

Fujimaru wasted no time in swinging herself onto Chiron's back. "Sounds good to me. Let's go."

"I can fly someone to the Revenge," said Artemis, raising her hand. "But just like with who we're sending to meet the rowboat, it should probably be someone he knows. Especially if he's about to light a fuse that'll turn his ship into a bomb."

She was staring straight at one person - the same person who everyone's eyes turned to.

Internally, Kratos groaned - but she was right, they all were. Fujimaru could not go - she was far too vulnerable - and important, to be delivered into the middle of a battle between ships. And, in a way, it was similar to the strategy he and Medusa had used on the seas of Rome - utilize the ability to fly to deliver Kratos directly to enemy ships, and allow him to cripple them while their flier harassed the others, then, repeat.

And add to that, should Teach detonate his ship before they arrived, Kratos had the best odds of surviving. He had weathered worse, in the end.

"I will go," he said.

Mary groaned. "It's the only option, but that means we have to carry the boat out to the waters." She glanced at Mash and Avenger. "Hope you two have strong backs."

---

In his life, Kratos had flown many times. On the back of Pegasus - both the one of his world, and the one native to this one. Using the wings of Icarus. Even in a flying boat - the first time lifted by the heat of underworld fires, and the second time in a canoe magically able to sail the skies as easily as the rivers of Vanaheim. And Da Vinci had shown him machines of metal that were apparently able to cross the heavens - and even some, able to go beyond the heavens - the creations of humankind in this world he found himself in would have amazed even Mimir.

But this was the first time he had been borne into battle like….this.

"Almost there!" chirped Artemis.

Her arms had slid under his, and wrapped around his chest, holding him tightly to her chest as she bore him through the air. At least she did not seem to be struggling with his weight at all - but he could do little more than dangle in the air, as helpless as a child, held aloft by a parent.

It was far from the most dignified way to head into battle, he felt.

"Looks like the rowboat's made the shore," said Orion, looking backwards from where he was perched on Artemis' shoulder. "And there's Archer and Fujimaru receiving them - man, Asterios still looks like he's in bad shape. He's going to be a load to carry."

"I probably have the lightest load to carry, Darling," said Artemis, cheerily. "You don't weigh much, and Kratos isn't that heavy, considering. Guess that's just another way you're different from us - flesh is so much lighter than metal, after all."

Kratos' mind stalled for a moment, as he replayed the words he had just heard. But before he could find his voice, they were swooping down, and Artemis was calling out "Ok, here you are, Kraty! I'll try to keep them off your back while you talk to the pirate!"

And then he was falling.

Thankfully, it was not too far. The impact of his landing was such that he barely had to roll to absorb it - but chose to do so to lessen the damage to the deck of Blackbeard's ship. It would do him no good if he bored a hole straight through into the lower decks - or into the sea itself.

His entrance did not go unnoticed. Blackbeard, who had been laying out a line of black powder (gunpowder, his mind supplied, in Da Vinci's voice, directly from their lessons) that would have eventually led into the bowels of the ship, looked up, bafflement on his face.

"Kratos?" He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. "Where did you…..no, wait." He snapped his fingers. "I KNEW it! The Yuri Pirates did run this direction!"

He straightened up, tossing aside the barrel he had been carrying. "When you didn't come back in a day, I thought something might have happened, and you might have had to follow the Teach Protocol - and I was willing to bet half my doujin collection that those two would head for somewhere really, really remote." He preened, a wide grin on his face. "And I was spot on, it seems."

He glanced around. "Though, speaking of short and tall, where are they? Or anyone else, for that matter?" His head tilted to the side. "And what's with the bear?"

There was movement on Kratos' shoulder, and he turned his head. Orion, from where he was perched on Kratos' shoulder guard, shrugged. "Like I was going to stay there while she was zipping through the air at ludicrous speeds. No, it's safer for everyone if I'm on the ground - deck of a ship counts better than nothing at all. And I can help fire cannons if need be." Orion made a face. "Even if I don't care for the stupid things. No grace or artistry at all, really."

"He is an ally," said Kratos, somewhat tiredly. "Why are you here?" The unspoken question of 'what happened' not needing to be said.

"HE happened," said Blackbeard, venom coating his every word, as he spat, in a manner similar to Anne and Mary. "Crept up on us yesterday like the snake he is, and blew our hatch in before we knew he was there. We barely managed to bar the second door before they were hammering on it. But that bought us enough time to head through the escape tunnel I had dug just in case. We got to the shore just ahead of them, but, well, like I told you, the Revenge needs time to get up to speed. Enough time that they were able to catch up, and they've been on our ass ever since."

"Hornigold?" asked Orion. "We saw the flags from the shore, and Fujimaru recognized it."

"TEACH!" A voice, deep, dripping with authority….and contempt, boomed across the waters. "Whatever you're planning, I have you outgunned, outnumbered, and outmanned! Come out of that smoke, and I can promise you a more pleasant end than you found in life!"

Blackbeard swore, violently. "Yes, it's him. Benjamin backstabbing Hornigold himself."

Teeth gritted, Blackbeard snatched a pistol from one of the many holsters on his body. "Want to help me kill his traitorous ass?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As someone who played Uncharted 4, where the personal flags/crests of the pirates came up more than a few times, I looked everywhere to try to find out if Hornigold had a unique flag, but all I could ever find was the one from Black Sails - which was just a crossed pair of cutlasses. So I jazzed it up a little bit. Blame One Piece and Uncharted.

This chapter brought to you by It Has To Be This Way.

Wasn't sure on a good stopping point for this chapter, so I chose this one, right before everything hits the fan. Next chapter is going to be interesting - I've had a few plans for Okeanos that will finally start coming to light there.

Chapter 45: Okeanos 6

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 45​

"So, what do we have to work with here?" Blackbeard was checking each of the pistols secreted around his person, making sure they were all loaded and primed. "And, back to the question - who's the bear?"

"Orion." Blackbeard blinked, and made a gesture that seemed to indicate equal parts disbelief, and that he should continue. Orion sighed. "It's a long story - my summons got hijacked by my girl - she's who dropped the two of us off. She's heading over to provide air support while we talk you out of blowing yourself up."

"No worries about that last bit - the Bolshevik Muppet bit was an end of my rope thing - now that you bunch have showed up with a lifeline, we can shelve that for the foreseeable future." He paused, holding up a finger. "Wait, wait a damn minute. 'Your girl'? Are we talking about who I think we're talking about - capital G god who fights evil by moonlight?"

"That would be one way of putting it," said Orion, his voice entirely deadpan.

Blackbeard shook his head. "Seriously, Servants like you were hiding around here, right under my nose. Stupid Teach - maybe if I had waited a bit longer, I wouldn't have gone into a fistfight with Herakles with a handful of pirates and not much else." He slapped his face with both hands. "But regrets are for later - preferably after we've won and I can pour one out for my buddy Eric. What else do we have?"

"We lost no one, and we were able to connect to the Leyline," rumbled Kratos.

"Good, good, means you've got your full rotation on call, that'll help." Blackbeard glanced over to the Caldera. "I assume the rest of your merry band is receiving my lifeboat?"

At Kratos' nod, he continued. "I also assume the Yuri Pirates beached the boat - not really anywhere good to hide it except to take in inland. If I know them, they're probably trying to get it back in the water now - it won't add much, but if they can sneak up on that bastard's flagship, they can put a hurting on him." He crossed his arms, nodding. "So, who's your on-fields, and are there any other surprises?"

"We also found Atalanta," Orion shrugged at the look on Blackbeard's face. "Don't give me that, Herakles was about to smash her and the boat she was on when Arty intervened and saved everyone. I'm pretty sure she's fully bailed on Jason. And didn't you manage to turn one of his against him, anyways? Not really one to throw stones here, Teach - and it ain't it the time either."

"She could have left us to him, when Herakles came upon us," said Kratos. "She did not. Our escape was at least partially due to her cunning."

Blackbeard rolled his eyes. "Fiiiiiine. I guess having one of the actual Argonauts join our team is no more sus than me trusting Hektor to watch my back - he could have paddled right to that bastard Hornigold when I put them on that boat, and he didn't."

There was the sound of an explosion, and something - a cannonball, likely, sailed high over their heads. "You can't stall forever, Teach! We're not fool enough to stumble into there and fall into whatever clever trap you have for us - we'll happily wait until that smoke disperses to send you to the deeps! My offer still stands - lay down your arms and surrender and I'll give you as quick and painless a death as I can manage!"

Blackbeard's eyes blazed with anger. "Oh, just like you offered to Woodall, or Auger? And then convened a court to try them yourself? I'm pretty sure the Inquisition, or Salem would have looked at your show trials and been 'DAMN SON!'."

There was the sound of contemptuous, mocking laughter. "He speaks! There's my one-time lieutenant - the scourge of the Caribbean, Edward Teach! And those two took the pardon, same as I did - they just couldn't manage a life of honest work. They chose the crimes they committed, I merely carried out the sentence, as I was ordered to."

Blackbeard spat, loudly. "So says the pirate who was too afraid to BE a pirate! Did it hurt your fee-fees when your men got sick of you avoiding British ships and mutined on you? Is that when you lost your nerve, you backstabbing traitor? Or was it when I managed to take the Revenge and my legend started to overshadow yours?"

"It was Nassau, if you must know." The smoke was beginning to part, and through the hazy remnants, the three of them were able to locate the speaker. Standing at the bow of the ship farthest from them, some sort of device - likely whatever was projecting his voice across the distance, held in his hands.

He was dressed well - far more so than the other pirates Kratos had met - either in this Singularity, or in his world (the Reavers that had looted Fafnir's hoard and made off with the whetstone Sindri had coveted jumped to mind). He was wearing a uniform for one, unlike the mismash of gear the other pirates seemed to favor, and it was clean, and well-maintained, and his boots looked like they had been polished until one could see their reflection in them. It fit the hard, severe lines of his face - a face that seemed as if it had never relaxed in a smile. The silver trim on his outfit, and the golden thread dangling from his shoulders had Blackbeard scoffing. "Bastard really thinks he's been knighted by her Majesty, and isn't just a dog on a leash. Pathetic. I'm shocked he isn't wearing an Admiral's hat to go with that getup."

"We had a chance to do something with that place," continued Hornigold, heedless - or ignorant of Blackbeard's words. His hand reached up to stroke the thick, but short beard that framed his face. "But we pissed it all away - that's the pirate way, as I've come to realize. Living for nothing but the next day, the next ship, all to spend it on wine, women, and song before the wreckage has settled at the bottom of the ocean."

"Wreckage." The man laughed, bitterly. "That's all Nassau was by the time we all left. You, Vane, Rackham, and the rest - gone to plunder where you would. And me, to seek greener - and safer pastures elsewhere." He sneered. "We all made the same choice - only where you all found the gallows - and worse, in your case, I found stability, prosperity, and success."

Blackbeard, who had been holding up one hand and thumping his palms into his fingers in a mocking display that seemed to be mimicking lips speaking, made a rude, scoffing noise. "And where'd that get you in the end? A one-way ticket to Davy Jones, when you got caught in a hurricane - and not in the middle of some fierce battle, either." Blackbeard rolled his eyes. "Noooooooo, the dread pirate hunter Benjamin Hornigold died running a damn ERRAND!"

"What happened? Did GOVERNOR," Blackbeard somehow made this title into a pejorative beyond comparison. "Woodes Rodgers want to show off his new toy, his shiny little tin sailor that jumped when he said jump, so he sent you on a trading mission, thinking it would cow the big bad Spanish into giving him a discount, if they saw big scary Ben Hornigold there?"

Blackbeard inhaled, loudly, then spat a thick gob of mucus. "At least I went out spitting my hate at the whoresons who were taking me apart, a few gobbets of flesh at a time. Yeah, my head might have hung at the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay in the end, but at least I died fighting, and I left a hell of a legend behind, too. You? You died a mealy-mouthed death after living a mealy-mouthed life, and you want to lecture ME?"

Blackbeard gestured with his hand, a single digit raised. "Screw you and the boat you floated in on, you gobshite! I'm Edward Teach, BLACKBEARD! And I may be a degenerate and a pervert, but at least I'm not ashamed to call myself a PIRATE!" His hand jerked twice towards himself, inviting Hornigold onwards. "So you want my blood? Well, Benny, like I said to the men who had me surrounded at my last stand - don't sing it, BRING IT!"

Hornigold shook his head. "As crude and foul as ever. If that's the way you want it to be, then so be it." He turned to a man standing behind him. "Sound the orders, all ships advance. No prisoners, save the two Lord Jason has indicated must live. All others die, in whatever manner and fashion you deem suitable."

Blackbeard snorted as the ships began to slowly approach them. "So, despite my big impressive speech there, I don't actually have a plan here." He shrugged at their expressions. "I'm working on a few, but this feels like we're going to be playing this one by ear. The good news is, I - or more correctly, the Revenge gets stronger based on the quality of the crew I have here - and a full-fledged god and the greatest hunter of Greek myth - even if he looks like he came out of a crane game - treading the decks has my stats looking like we're on New Game+ here. The first line of Ben's ships aren't going to know what hit them."

His manic grin drooped. "Problem is he's got ships for days after that."

"Arty's up high - you two probably can't see her, but I can. And she can see us just fine. Honestly, the Archer eyes are almost a downgrade for her, considering the ranges she normally took shots at." A wooden club, not even as thick as Kratos' arm, had materialized in Orion's hand. "Just tell me when, and I'll signal her to start raining fire down on them."

"Air cav…..going to have to think in three dimensions, then," muttered Blackbeard. "Just to ask, but are you going to need a bodyguard for this thing? You're kind of small, after all - if this is an escort mission as well it's going to complicate things."

Orion's glare at the pirate was made far less effective given the face he was stuck with. He made his point much more effectively by springing from Kratos' shoulder and slamming his tiny club down onto the deck - which splintered under the blow. "Don't underestimate me just because I happen to be stuck looking like this." Effortlessly, he leapt back up onto Kratos' shoulder. "I'm still Orion - Arty didn't fire me at Herakles because she didn't have any other arrows to use. She did it because that was the best chance we had at stopping him, even for a second, from getting to Atalanta. I may not look like much, but I've still got it where it counts."

He leaned his head from side to side, his neck cracking. "Just let me at the first wave of boarders. You'll see."

"Noted," said Blackbeard, with a grin. "So a lot of this will be me making assumptions about what our allies are doing - but since you'll be something of a two-way radio on that front, Kratos, so it'll take some of the guesswork out." He peered across the waves. "So, since we're about a heartbeat away from go time, I'll keep this short and sweet. Tell your goddess waifu to open fire once the smoke clears from my first barrage - she can use her best judgement, but focusing on the ships in the second wave is my advice. Any crippled but still floating ones in the first wave will act as double duty of visual blinds and roadblocks, and any still operable in the first wave should be easy enough to send off if they close." He licked his lips, his eyes narrowing. "But again, best judgement."

"And that's all the time we have. Pucker up and brace yourselves, boys." Blackbeard's arm slashed through the salt air. "OPEN FIRE YOU SCRAGS!"

The cannons of the Revenge thundered, and Kratos got his first experience of the war of a more modern time.

It was certainly loud, and in a manner different than the battles he had taken part in. There, the din had been from the clash of arms, and the cries of men, those dying, and those killing. Here, it was from the roar of the weaponry, as the two sides attempted to slay each other at range.

The closest ships almost disintegrated under the barrage - cannonballs shattering through the wooden hulls of the ships like they were mere paper. At least one ship erupted in flames - Blackbeard crowing about hitting the 'powder store' with a lucky shot. Men - though they were little more than solid ghosts, like the crew of Blackbeard's ship, were tossed high into the air as the ship broke into three parts, all of them burning and sinking.

Not that Hornigold's fleet merely sat there and took it. Fire was returned almost immediately, the Revenge shuddering as it began absorbing impacts. Teach howled at a contingent of ghostly crewmen to get below and handle the bilge, as he exhorted those manning the cannons to reload as though hell itself was drawing close. Thankfully, a number of the shots fired at them fell short, splashing into the ocean.

"Horny would be chewing his hat if he wore one, right now. He wasn't expecting the range boost I got from my crew power-up, thought his fleet would be almost equal in range to me - or if nothing else, that he'd be able to close a bit more before I started firing. First blood to me, though last blood counts the most." Teach cracked his knuckles. "Turn the sails - we won't get much distance, but every scrap of a knot of speed we can get might be the difference between taking a round directly in our broadside, and a miss!"

He tapped a pistol on his shoulder. "So, Ben, what's your move?"

If the remaining ships were at all cowed by the pounding they had taken, it did not show (though Kratos wondered how much will or personality the crews - either here or opposing them, even had. Was there any identity present, or were they merely facets of the Servant who called them?). They rushed forward, one even plowing through the wreckage of the ship that had exploded in their haste to bring them to grips.

"Sending in the second wave already, Benny? You're usually more cautious than this." Blackbeard's face was scrunched up in thought, his hand stroking his beard. "Why're you rushing things?"

"Want me to signal to Arty to open fire?" asked Orion, tapping his club against his shoulder.

Blackbeard thought for a moment. "No, let the second wave get closer. My crew should have the cannons about ready for a second barrage by then - them getting hit from two directions at once should really throw them for a loop…"

His voice was drowned out as the cannons of the trailing ships BOOMED, and, incredibly, screamed across the distance, closing the gap between them and the Revenge in the blink of an eye. Teach watched the trajectory, and cursed, his body already starting to move.

"Take cover! Those things are….."

He was already beginning to lunge to the side when a form interposed itself between him and the incoming fire. There was the sound of metal on metal, and a grunt of effort, and then, Kratos was swatting the cannonball aside, sending it spinning away to splash into the ocean.

"....or you could do that," said Blackbeard, deflating a bit.

Kratos grunted, shaking his arm out. He'd felt the impact, even through his shield. Not as heavy a blow as he had blocked in his time, but far more considerable than he had expected - even having seen recordings of these weapons (and Da Vinci having explained the general concepts to him) he'd thought them more similar in power to a catapult, or some other siege weapon.

No - they were far more powerful. And these were the weapons of a Servant, which only added to that. Again, nothing he could not handle, but it was becoming clear that he had not quite given the proper level of respect to this weaponry that was so far beyond what his world had developed - at least technologically. (Da Vinci was still amazed that automata - or as she called them 'robots', were known to Kratos.)

"He's got more powerful cannons on the ships in the back - he's even got some of them arched up to try to hit the forecastle and the decks, rather than hole us at the waterline. Benny knew the first wave would get chewed up and sent them in anyways - hoping I'd think they all had the same loadout and stats. Clever boy."

Blackbeard pointed with his pistols at the ships, which were frantically reloading, all while maintaining their distance. "Let's return the favor. GIVE THEM HELL!"

The cannons of the Revenge responded, and, in sync with them, arrows of light began showering down on the ships of Hornigold's fleet from the clouds. Artemis, adding her weight of fire to the barrage. Some of the cannonballs fell short, the ships able to tack out of the range of the Revenge's cannons,

Teach grinned. "That'll give them something to think about, if nothing else. RELOAD, DOUBLE-TIME!" His head swept about, taking in the battlefield. "And it's probably time for you two to earn your keep."

Metal hooks began clattering onto the deck of the Revenge, catching in the railing, ropes trailing from them. "Boarders ahoy!" cried Blackbeard, levelling his pistol and firing a shot that caught a man who was midway through swinging himself onto the deck of the ship. The man bellowed in pain and fell back, a splash following his departure.

Blackbeard was already dropping a wad of cloth and powder into the weapon. "If you could go keep the scurvy dregs of Benny's fleet off our erstwhile captain's back, while he coordinates all the techery that is necessary in a naval brawl like this, said captain would greatly appreciate it!"

Kratos did not need to be asked twice - he was quickly beginning to realize how little this type of combat sat with him - two forces battling at such a range where you could not even truly see your foe (that he was also poorly suited to it likely also played at least some factor in his burgeoning dislike). In moments, he was by the railing of the ship, where men were already gaining their footing - some even beginning to level weaponry at the charging Spartan.

They did not get to fire. Kratos' axe cut through them as if they were not even there - and by the lack of blood and other wreckage left in his blade's wake, they perhaps were not. Ghosts - or magical constructs - but, as he had thought, not truly people at all.

Bodies fell around him, the jagged rents cut in them leaking soul-stuff, or magical energy, as he stepped into the area where they had been standing. His axe chopped down, severing a rope, and there were cries as men plummeted into the sea. He turned to the other boarding hook, but before he could reach it, a small form spun through the air, and caved in the skull of a man attempting to gain purchase on the railing.

"Meteor HAMMER!" cried Orion, as he kicked the dissolving spirit away. Then, feeling Kratos' eyes on him, shrugged. "The pirate said to yell it, and I figured, why not? Maybe it's some battle-cry from his time that'll strike fear into their hearts." He reached down and bent the prong holding the hook to the rail until it snapped and the hook tumbled away. "Gods know I'll need it - no one's going to take me seriously like this."

Shots, smaller bullets, whizzed by the bear, as Orion huffed. "So, should we stay here, or hop down there and take them out at the source? Or split up - one of us plays offense, the other defense? I could go either way." He darted his way out of a projectile that would have bored straight through his head. "Because we can't leave them to snipe at us, or crawl in through one of the cannon ports and burn us out from beneath."

Kratos' shield unfolded, and a flurry of shots pinged off it. These did not carry nearly as much force as the cannons, he noted. "Can you return to this ship without assistance?"

Orion glared, for a second, then deflated. "Probably - but I'd sure hate to be wrong about that and miss. I'm probably better here, honestly, where I'll mostly have the high ground." He waved his free hand. "Go on, I'll hold down the fort and keep the captain in one piece, since from the way he's talking, if he goes, our ride goes."

Kratos gave the bear a nod, and then stepped over the railing, and off the decks of the Revenge.

Before he'd fallen but a short distance, he'd slid the handle of his axe around a rope that had just been thrown up to catch on the railing, and was sliding down. His feet extended, and crashed into the pair of men who had been shimming their way up the rope - seconds later, they were falling, his weight and momentum blasting them aside as though they weren't even there.

He hit the deck a moment later, his axe flashing behind him to sever the rope. The sailors - constructs, memories, whatever they were, were capable soldiers - they wasted no time in swarming him in the eyeblink's worth of time his back was turned. Moreover, they attacked in a coordinated fashion, rather than as an undisciplined mob - it gave weight to his thoughts that they were merely reflections of the Servant that had given them form (it did not escape his notice that the sailors that crewed Blackbeard's ship were uniformly unkempt and slovenly, all dressed in a mismatch of ragged clothes).

It did not help them in the slightest.

Kratos' shield was already formed by the time they were descending upon him. Blades rained down on it, and were soundly repelled, then the blunt edge of it swept through them, and men were sent flying - most to the decks, but a couple joined their fellows in the waters below. There was a crack, and a bullet creased his cheek, drawing a line of blood on his face. Higher, a man, wearing an ornate hat, still by the wheel of the ship. Likely the captain - though it seemed the shot had been a hasty one.

Kratos' response to that was not rushed - for all that it arrived in an instant, the Leviathan Axe making a ruin of both the man's hat, and the head beneath it.

In two steps, he was by the main mast, and then his arms were digging into the wood, pulling. The ship itself seemed to groan, as timbers splintered, and Kratos tore the mast free. The boat shuddered, and the handful of crew who had begun to rise were knocked back to the decking.

Then Kratos leapt.

The mast spun in his arms, rotating, as he drove it into the deck, and deeper. The lookout station ('crow's nest', Fujimaru had said), and the spars the sails hung from snapped off, flying off in every direction as the mast pierced the hull of the ship, and water began shooting up, and the ship listed, as its depths began filling with brine.

Kratos grunted. The ship was finished - and it seemed the crew, whatever they were, had enough of a survival instinct in them still. They were leaping over the side in droves, those that could still walk. For himself, it was a simple affair to loop the Blades of Chaos around a rail, and jerk himself back up to the Revenge.

As he flew through the air, he noticed the other ship that had closed with Teach's ship was a blazing inferno.

He landed on the decking, just as Orion kicked another barrel off the side, one that exploded with some potency when it impacted the ship Kratos had just departed. "Actual Greek Fire!" crowed Blackbeard. "Beats the hell out of napalm - not that I know how to make that, but still. Hektor, you are Credit To Team."

Despite their success at seeing off the first wave of ships - and his glee in getting to use a new weapon against a foe that he seemed to truly despise, Blackbeard was frowning, something that both Orion and Kratos took notice of.

"What's bothering you?" Orion hopped onto the railing, gazing off into the distance. "This is going about as well as you could ask for."

"That's the problem," muttered Blackbeard. He gestured at the field of battle. "Benny was never the most imaginative pirate - but for as much shit as I give him for selling out, he WAS effective in both his roles. He wasn't Woodes Rodgers prize cutthroat because of how well he danced the Hornpipe. He might have been too cautious for my tastes when I was alive, but this weak mess?"

He shook his head. "It's like he's not even trying. He went harder at me when I was still alive and he was chasing me with a writ for my arrest - which was going to be a field execution, we all knew it - tucked in his belt."

Avenger's string in Kratos' mind flared. 'We're in the water, coming up on their flank. Scruffy's crew is safe in the cave - Hektor's standing watch. ETA……the wenches say five to ten, if the wind cooperates.'

"They are coming," rumbled Kratos, casting his eyes over to Hornigold's flagship.

"That's another thing," began Blackbeard. "Not that he's hanging back - he wasn't above doing that if he was more valuable coordinating things with an eye to the greater battlefield than he was getting his cutlass bloody, but he usually kept at least a ship or two to act as a buffer or a screen for his flagship." Teach pointed. "He's all by his lonesome out there, like he's just inviting us to……"

Two things happened at once. First, the sloop eased itself out from behind the island, its prow pointed directly at Hornigold's flagship.

And secondly, in the distance, several lengths away from Hornigold's ship, the air wavered, and another boat shimmered into existence - a more archaic one, and one of a recognizable style to Kratos. And a familiar pressure washed over them all.

"Shite," muttered Blackbeard, which was mild, compared to the litany of curses (creative ones) that were flowing into his mind from his connection to Avenger. "The goddamn Argo and goddamn Herakles. He's going to tear them apart."

Even across the distance, they could all see the form standing on the Argo's bow. Pacing like a caged animal - waiting, they had to assume, for the Argo to close the distance.

"Arty's inbound," shouted Orion. "But there's no way she gets you there before Herakles gets there!"

'Yeah, Red's deploying her secret weapon.' Avenger's voice in his head was on the cusp of panic. 'No point keeping her Teacher secret if she's dead. Hopefully that'll give you enough time to get here. If not…..' Avenger paused. 'That big fucker will only get to Red and Squeaks over my dead body. I promise you that.'

Kratos could see a form in the sky - Artemis - screaming towards him. As he moved to the railing, a voice thundered across the battlefield, cracking like a whip.

"JASON!"

The Argo flinched. Kratos could not describe it any other way - the ship seemed to almost sink beneath the waves for a moment.

"And you too, Herakles. Explain yourselves!" At the bow of Anne and Mary's sloop, a man stepped forward - on four legs. Chiron, clearly, was making sure his students saw him in full.
"Hold!" Some of Hornigold's ships continued to press forward, at least until Jason shouted again - louder, and likely with magical assistance to make his voice carry. "I SAID HOLD!"

The greater whole of Hornigold fleet (which had been severely reduced, it must be said), almost froze in their tracks. A single ship, which persisted in advancing, suddenly had a ring of magical symbols appear underneath it, and it stopped as surely as if it had been seized by a giant hand.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the creaking of ships, and the crash of the waves against their hulls. Then, his voice much quieter, and much less steady than before….

"Teacher. What…." There was the sound of a deep swallow. "What are you doing here?" Respect, or maybe fear (or both) tinged Jason's voice.

Artemis was upon him in an instant. Once again, he was seized under the arms and hauled into the sky. Only this time, there was a bear perched on him, clinging to his shoulder guard for dear life.

"Going to need every ounce of firepower you can get," muttered Orion. "So I'm along for the ride - no matter how much I DON'T want to be here. Herakles was way out of my weight class when I was alive. I don't even want to imagine the gap now that I'm like this."

Across the waters, Chiron was replying. "Where else, perchance, would I be, my student? I'm a Heroic Spirit, just as much as you are. I'm here, the same as the rest of the Servants on this boat, to try to fix the mess Humanity's found themselves in." A very dangerous note entered his voice. "A mess, I might add, that I find you ACTIVELY aiding in."

There was a long pause. "What…..what are you talking about, Teacher?" Jason sounded legitimately confused. "This is a Singularity, certainly - Medea told me as much. But it's no real threat. Certainly not to Humanity itself." His voice was growing stronger, as he found his courage, the shock of being confronted with his teacher wearing off - or perhaps he was just growing numb to it. "And I'm merely doing what you taught me - and all those who learned at your knee to do. To become heroes - and then, to go beyond that."

Jason gestured to a woman standing behind him - even at this distance, Kratos recognized her as Medea, but, like Blackbeard and the others had said, she was younger - painfully younger. She barely looked older than either of Kratos' children, the last time he had seen either of them.

Something twisted painfully in his gut. (He knew she was already dead - was a ghost, merely wearing the face of her living self, and that 'death' for her merely meant a return to the Throne. He still found it distasteful - he had killed enough children in his time. His skin, forever pale and bleached, stood in testament to that, and as a monument to the last one that had died by his hand.)

"I'm sure you've already heard about it from Teach, but there's an artifact somewhere in these seas that would give me dominion over them all." Jason swept his arm before him. "I'd be so much more than just a man, even more than a King, teacher. I'd be a god - or close enough to it that there'd be no real difference!"

"And by my OWN hand, too!" He threw his arms into the air. "Not based on the caprice of the gods of Olympus, who elevated mortals based on little more than whims! Yes, they aided me in my voyage, but I was an exception! Herakles was worthy, certainly, of the godhood he was rewarded with. But others were, too, even if they fell short of his high standard, but they were ignored! Why was Europa blessed with divinity when Theseus, for example, was not? What were her heroic deeds, other than sharing the bed of Zeus?"

Jason was pacing, his voice growing louder, and more determined. "And that doesn't even touch such as Asclepius - a student of your own, Teacher! - struck down by Zeus because he became a 'threat' to them. Or Bellerophon, who dared to try to tread the halls of Olympus, and was similarly struck down, and died alone, after years of wallowing in misery and despair! Even Orion was slain by the very goddess who was said to love him, not for any transgression he committed, but for reasons incomprehensible to we mere mortals! The greatest hunter of our times, his thread cut early for no good reason!"

Kratos felt Artemis wince. Heedless of the speeds they were travelling, Orion scampered up her arms, and gently laid a hand on her cheek. "Water under the bridge, babe. I don't hold a grudge, you know that. So don't let his words bother you."

Her answering nod was sensed more than seen by Kratos.

"This is what you trained me to do, Teacher!" Jason halted in his tracks, and turned to stare across the distance separating the two men. When he resumed speaking, there was a plaintive note in his voice. "So, why, then, are you standing in my way? Am I really that much of a disappointment, compared to the rest of my fellows?"

"You….are not wrong, my student. In any other circumstances, I would have nothing but words of praise for what you're seeking." Chiron held up a finger. "However! In order to achieve your apotheosis, you are seeking to kidnap and sacrifice another person on the altar of your ambitions. That is most assuredly not what I meant when I taught you that some sacrifices will be inevitable on your journey."

"And furthermore…" And here, true anger began to creep into Chiron's voice. "By standing in our way, you have aligned yourself with the enemies of Humanity itself! This Singularity is no threat to Humanity? A Singularity, by its very NATURE threatens Humanity! You know this as well as I do - why else would the land summon Servants to resolve it!"

Chiron crossed his arms over his chest, as he brought one hoof down with a sound like a thunderclap. "And this Singularity is worse than that - it's one of what were once 8, all linchpins that keep Humanity in the state that it is in right now." Chiron looked out to the Argo, and, somehow, met Jason's eyes, despite the leagues between them. "Ash, my student. Outside the bounds of this Singularity, Humanity has been reduced to nothingness. Only by resolving these Singularities can we fix this."

"Im….impossible!" Chiron's declaration had caused Jason to flinch as though he had been struck. "Minor Singularities can - and do - resolve themselves at times with only minor intervention from the Throne, and sometimes without any intervention at all! And you are greatly overstating this Singularity - a patch of nowhere in the middle of the ocean, if you call it anything but a minor Singularity. And as to Humanity, Medea would have told me if this was some great threat to it we were existing within, and she said nothing of the sort!" His face twisted. "Teacher…….what madness has come over you?"

"Lord Jason…." Medea laid a hand on his shoulder. "I am sensing strong magics around your teacher - as well as the other Servants there. While I cannot be certain, I think we both know what the likely meaning of this is…."

Jason's face twisted in a scowl. "Command Seals. He can't see the truth because they got him all twisted up and blind." Jason straightened up, a look of resolve hardending on his visage. "Fear not, Teacher. I will free you from this servitude - then you will see that my path is right."

"Shit…" muttered Orion. "We're out of time. Sweetie, if you've got any extra speed you can squeeze out, now would be the time!"

Jason turned to the giant standing just behind him. "Herakles, my friend. Kill them, but do not harm our teacher. Once his Master is dead, he should wake up, and understand what we are doing here. You don't need to be gentle, though. Euryale isn't on that ship - they wouldn't be foolish enough to bring her close like this. We can search that island at our leisure once they are dead."

Herakles bellowed, the waves shaking with the power of his roar.

And then he leapt.

"We're not going to make it!" shrieked Artemis. "If I throw you, can your chain-thingies reach him if I don't have enough oomph to get you there?"

Kratos nodded. Close as he was being held, she could not fail to feel it. "Do it," he snapped.

The Blades would reach, or they would not - but he would run atop of the sea if he had to, to stop Herakles before he reached the people on that boat.

Kratos felt himself being heaved up, then two hands closed around his ankles. "I don't have time to be gentle about this, Kraty. I'm going to use something another goddess taught me on the Other Side of the World. HERE WE GO!"

Then, she began to spin.

Revolution after revolution battered Kratos, as Artemis built up momentum - incredibly, while still flying forward. Until he felt the speed at which he was moving reach a peak, and he braced himself.

"GIANT……SWING!" cried Artemis, through gritted teeth, and, with every ounce of power she could muster up, hurled Kratos.

There was a crack, then a sound like thunder as Kratos shot through the air.

His arms had shot up to his back even while Artemis had been preparing to catapult him through the air. The moment he had been released, the Blades were in his hands, and he was squinting through the sheer winds slicing at his face.

He was closing on the ship, impossibly fast.

But Herakles was almost there.

The Blades flared to life in his hands, and he flung them through the air. Not at Herakles, he was too far. The sloop of Anne and Mary was similarly out of his reach. No, his aim was one of Hornigold's fleet, a boat near the back of the second line of ships that had been hit by a lucky (or unlucky) shot, and had their rudder snapped in two. Now it floundered.

Within range for Kratos.

The Blades thunked into the mast, wood parting (and burning) around the Blades as they sank into it, hilt-deep. Power surged into his arms, and he pulled, with every drop of the might that had flipped the Temple of Tyr.

There was another crack of thunder, this one louder.

Herakles was almost at the sloop, his body descending, his hand outstretched. Avenger, her lips drawn back in a snarl, had shoved Fujimaru to the back of the boat, behind Mash, and both her weapons were beginning to flare white-hot, as she set her feet. The massive hand of the demigod was inches from her face when it stopped, suddenly, as two jagged hunks of metal drove themselves into his arm.

And, a second later, Kratos collided with him with the force of a mountain collapsing.

"Motherfuc…." Avenger's words were drowned out as she was knocked back by the sheer force of the impact - Anne and Mary only barely catching her before she was pitched off the side of the sloop.

As one, Kratos and Herakles hit the deck, and the planks splintered and cracked under their weight. Herakles howled in rage and pain, and dealt a blow, a little more than a ragged slap, to Kratos, right across his face, snapping his head back.

Kratos ground his teeth, and dug the Blades deeper into Herakles' arm - then rocketed his head forward, impacting directly on the Berserker's nose. There was a crack - though whether from the Servant's nose, or Kratos' skull, none could tell.

Kratos snarled, and attempted to saw Herakles' arm clean off, but, as in the burning city, the Servant's flesh was dense, and durable. The sheer force of his arrival had made it no obstacle to drive them into his arm, but now, bereft of that, it was resisting. The Blades were still cutting - flesh charring under their assault, but his arms, and his guard was down, and Herakles WOULD retaliate, sooner rather than later.

So Kratos kicked off from the giant's chest, ripping the Blades free in a gout of blood, and leapt to his feet.

Herakles was up, and charging him before the soles of his boots had touched down.

A massive, jagged hunk of stone - the weapon that Kratos was becoming familiar with, now that this was his third encounter with the god of strength, formed in Herakles' hands as he bore down on Kratos, the ship shuddering under every footfall. The weapon descended, and Kratos punched up, his shield already formed.

He felt the impact all the way up his arm, but he managed to divert the thing by just enough, knocking it up and away, despite the sheer momentum and brute force behind it. Lightning quick, his foot lashed out, aimed at the knee of Herakles' planted leg. Almost as quickly, the Berserker slid his leg back, Kratos' boot impacting harmlessly on his shin.

That was the feint. Quick as a thought, the Blades of Chaos were loosed, straight at the Servant's throat, arcing through the air. His arm out of position, Herakles bent backwards at the waist, going almost horizontal as the Blades hissed above him. As he dodged, he also kicked out, his foot aimed directly at Kratos' jaw, and now it was the Spartan who was forced back.

The decking shattered underfoot as they planted, and threw themselves back at one another.

The stone blade cut the air where Kratos' torso had been, only the Spartan had leapt over it, Blades leading. This time, it was Herakles' head that shot forward, narrowly avoiding the burning tips of the Blades as they drew a searing line on his forehead, and barreling straight into Kratos' chest.

Kratos flew backwards, his spine meeting the deck.

And Herakles pounced.

Kratos got his feet up, ramming them into Herakles' gut, though that only just kept the immense bulk of the Servant back. A meaty paw gouged straight at Kratos' eyes, and he barely got his head out of the way - Herakles' hand burying itself in the planks of the deck up to his wrist. Kratos flipped the Blades and buried them in Herakles' gut - in close, their size was working for them, instead of against them, as was the case for the Berserker's oversized weapon.

Herakles roared, but leaned in, pressing his full weight on the Spartan. Worse, his hands were in danger of becoming trapped.

And Herakles had a hand free - which was reaching for the god of war's face.

He couldn't move his head - Herakles' other arm was acting as a fleshy wall. And even if he did, it would leave the giant in the perfect position to wrap his massive arms around Kratos.

Kratos was drawing his legs up to his chest, about to add the strength of his lower half to that of his arms - to attempt to throw, or roll Herakles' bulk away, when there was a sharp noise, and something shattered on the hand reaching towards his eyes. Kratos flinched as shards of metal peppered his face, and the Berserker winced at the impact to his hand.

Heat washed over the two combatants, as a rainstorm's worth of burning spears showered down on them. Kratos was in no danger - the body above him easily sheltered him from it. Herakles, however, had nothing between himself and the shimmering metal, and howled as spear after spear dug itself into his back. An arrow threaded the needle of Avenger's spears, forcing Herakles to jerk his head out of the way.

Putting it in the perfect position, as weaving in between the falling steel, Mash charged, rearing back with her shield, and struck Herakles with a blow that snapped his head back.

The weight atop Kratos shifted, for a split second, and the Spartan pressed his spine against the deck and pushed up with his legs. The wood underneath him cracked and shattered, but he managed to throw the Servant off of him. Almost immediately, he rolled, avoiding the twin dangers of the collapsing floor, and the spears - which had continued to fall even as he sent Herakles flying.

"Shit!" swore Avenger. "Sorry!"

Herakles' flight had taken him into, and through the decking. His hand shot out, seizing the edge of the ship, and halted his fall. Wood splintered as his hand clenched, and he heaved himself up, stone blade flashing in front of him as he deflected another shot from Anne.

"Stop that!" shrieked Anne.

"And stop tearing holes in our ship!" shouted Mary, cutlass drawn, but holding back, her slight form interposed between Herakles and her fellow pirate.

Whatever unintelligible response Herakles was about to make was silenced, as Kratos plummeted in from above, the chains of the Blades of Chaos hooked in the rigging. His legs crashed into Herakles as swung his full weight into the Servant, trying to knock him overboard, and the mast groaned dangerously. Herakles staggered back a step, but no further.

Then his hand slashed up, seizing Kratos out of the air, and hurled him down to the decks, which proved incapable of stopping the Spartan's form. The mast, which was still entangled by the chains, shuddered, and snapped. Pieces of it followed Kratos as he plummeted down to the lower decks.

"Oh for the…." Mary made a sound halfway between disgust, and despair. "That's it for our boat, get to the lifeboat!"

"Somehow, I don't think he's going to just sit back and let us," replied Avenger, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Mash, both of them putting themselves between the Berserker and Fujimaru.

"We can't swim!" yelled Fujimaru. "I can see the water's full of those Sea Devils! We'd have better luck skinny-dipping in the Amazon!" Her gun was in her hand, her grip around it so tight that her knuckles had whitened. "We've got to…"

She never got to finish her thought. There was a cry, from below, and an explosion of red light.

Then, in an eruption of wood, as the ship almost parted around him, Kratos burst from the lower decks.

His fist struck Herakles with an uppercut that was made all the more vicious by the momentum following it. The sound it made as it connected with his lower jaw would have drowned out an earthquake. Before Herakles' head had finished rocking back, Kratos had buried a left into the Servant's gut, and followed with another strike.

Then another, and another, and another. A continual battle cry echoed from the Ghost of Sparta's lungs as he battered Herakles back, one strike at a time.

Right up until Herakles moved, almost on instinct, and caught Kratos' hand.

And squeezed.

Bones were grinding in his hand - Kratos, on some level, knew that - felt that.

He did not care. Spartan Rage did not care.

He lowered his shoulder, took one massive step, and rammed straight into the Berserker, sending them both toppling into the sea.

Avenger was at the edge of the ship in an instant, staring down, at a sea that now seemed to be boiling - either from the energies Kratos was giving off, or from the battle that seemed to be continuing, still, beneath the waves. "Jesus FUCK!"

She took a thready breath, and forced her hands to stop shaking. She could still feel him through their link - though she wasn't getting much other than some unholy mix of steely determination and pure RIP AND TEAR, just like every other time she'd felt him use that Mana Burst of his. Fuck all she could do for him right now, not on this rapidly sinking boat. So….

"Get your ass to the lifeboat, Red!" she snapped. "We aren't going to get a better chance than this to bail!"

Anne and Mary were already beginning to lower the boat into the waters. Mash blinked at her, the girl's eyes big and wide and worried. "What about Mr. Kratos?"

"You got a scuba suit in that shield of yours, Squeaks?" Something shot up from the boiling waters, and thudded onto the broken decking. It was a Sea Devil - one that looked like it had been torn in half. Avenger looked back over her shoulder, meeting Mash's eyes. "More to the fucking point, do you REALLY want to get in the middle of THAT?"

The Sea Devil lying on the deck made a ragged noise, and twitched spasmodically. "You make a good point," said Mash, already beginning to push her Master away from the thing. "To the boat, Senpai, double time."

Something small, and furry dropped onto Fujimaru's shoulder - initially, she thought it was just Fou, until she remembered they had left the small creature with Hektor and the rest. She jerked her head to the side.

"Yo." Orion raised a hand in greeting. "And man, now that I see you up close, you're going to be a KNOCKOUT in a few years, aren't you?"

Fujimaru managed to avoid shrieking and tossing the bear into the ocean, but only just. "Where did YOU come from?"

Orion pointed up, to where Artemis was hovering over the boat. "Special delivery - who do you think threw Kratos here just in time to start the war that's still going on down there?" He huffed. "Since I can't really back him up, I told her to drop me off so I could keep you guys safe, while my girl gives you cover - and keeps an eye out to snatch up Kratos if she gets a chance."

Atalanta and Chiron leaned over the railing and sent a flurry of arrows into the water, which quickly began to darken. "That should clear the waves, for a moment. Drop the boat, I'll remain on overwatch until the last possible moment, then enter Spirit Form, and follow in that manner." He gave a wry grin. "Such a small boat will be crowded even without my bulk there."

Anne didn't bother lowering the boat gently, quickly slicing through the ropes tying it to the side of the ruined sloop. Mary was already aboard as it dropped into the waters. Before it had even settled, a many-tentacled thing was trying to climb out of the sea onto it - something that was quickly halted, as Orion followed the boat's descent, and nearly pulped the creature.

"Disgusting," muttered the bear, as he kicked the thing back into the waters. "Glad I held back - it'd be hell trying to get that thing's goop out of my fur." He waved at those still standing on the sloop. "Come on, time's a wasting!"

Fujimaru yelped as Mash scooped her up. "No time to be gentle about this, Senpai. Here we go!" Her Master cradled against her chest, the Shielder abandoned ship, following in the wake of Anne and Atalanta, who had already jumped down.

Avenger gave one last look at the waters where Kratos and Herakles had fallen. "Hope you're giving him hell, Kratos," mumbled the woman, before she stepped off the side.

She landed at the lifeboat's rear, and immediately had to turn and rip her sword through a handful of tentacles that were gripping the boat, attempting to capsize it.

"Everyone grab an oar and ROW!" shouted Mary, herself hacking away at one of the creatures.

"Screw that noise. All of you, hold onto your asses," She braced her feet, and her hand slid up.

Fujimaru's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Avenger, no!"

Every single one of the darkened Jeanne's teeth was on display. "Avenger, yes! LA GRONDEMENT DU HAINE - MINOR RELEASE!"

It was nowhere near as powerful as her Noble Phantasm's typical fare - to her credit, Avenger appeared to be trying to throttle the power back as much as possible.

They still practically flew across the waters, running aground on the caldera in what seemed to be an instant, and not stopping once they hit land. In as much time as it took them to cross the oceans, they were out of sight.

Avenger had cackled for every brief second of their journey - and by the echoes, was still doing so.

For a moment, there was silence across the battlefield, as if everyone, Servant, summoned construct, and deep-sea abomination were pausing and trying to register just what they had seen.

And then, one of the ships began to shudder.

It was the crippled ship that Kratos had used to vault himself to Anne and Mary's sloop. Where it had been previously becalmed, it was now shaking violently. The cries of alarm of its ghostly crew were drowned out by the sound of shattering wood. Then, seconds later, an explosion, as a form was thrown up, through the ship, and high into the sky.

Kratos. Planks of the ship still clinging to his form, as he had been shot into the air with enough force to split the ship in twain. And even had it still been intact, the form that leapt up from the ocean would have finished the job.

Roaring, Herakles rocketed into the sky in pursuit of his enemy.

The ship made a noise of distress, and began to sink into the deep.

At the apex, hanging in the air, Kratos' eyes snapped open. Red still outlined his form as he hurled the Blades of Chaos down. The winds seemed to scream aloud as they sliced through the salt air, plunging into Herakles' shoulders. With a roar of effort, he heaved Herakles up, gravity, and his own strength pulling him down.

The two met, Kratos' feet crashing full force into the Servant's chest, and he felt, even though the soles of his boots, flesh giving, and bone cracking. He drove the fall as best he could, putting both of them through one of the ruined sections of the ship again, before they hit the waters and, somehow, skipped off the surface.

Once, twice, and then they were in the air again, both of them tumbling so badly they were barely in control - and still taking whatever chances they could to attack one another. Herakles' knee shot up, aimed at Kratos' gut, but was stopped by the Spartan crossing his feet and blocking the blow with them, riding it upwards into an uppercut, one that only just missed Herakles as the Berserker jerked his head back, Kratos' knuckles just grazing his chin. Herakles retaliated by lunging forward, hand aimed directly at the Spartan's throat - foiled at the last moment by Kratos snapping his hands up and tangling the hand in the chains that connected him to the Blades.

Incredibly, impossibly, he twisted his body around, both hands seizing the outstretched arm of Herakles, and managing to pull off a shoulder throw, while still screaming through the air. The form was barely passable - a rank amateur in any martial art could have fended it off, were on it on the ground. But for where it was, it was good enough.

And it did not lack for power.

Connected by the Blades still buried in Herakles' shoulder, the two gods holed another ship at the waterline, before once again bouncing off the waters, and then, crashing hard into the earth of the caldera. Somewhere in their uncontrolled flight, the Blades had worked themselves free, and upon their reintroduction to terra firma, they shot apart, each landing apart with a thud.

Rocks and dirt shifted off his form as Kratos rose, Spartan Rage still thrumming through his veins - though it was the last dregs of it. As evidenced from the twinge of pain he felt in his right leg - Herakles had managed to seize and twist that leg at some point while they had been beneath the ocean. It would hold his weight, still, but that he could feel the injury through Spartan Rage spoke of a considerable amount of damage.

And the wounds Herakles had inflicted burned, as well. Beyond the pain of bruised and torn flesh - there was an ache that accompanied them that was…..unusual. Again, it did not, would not hinder him in this fight - he would not allow it. But in the back of his mind, he was aware of it all the same.

Not that Herakles was unscathed. It was not quite hanging limply, but the Berserker's left arm was compromised - Kratos could clearly see bones jutting out from the skin - and the wound on his left shoulder was also much larger and more ragged than the one on his right - it seemed the Blades had been drug through the muscles some before they had been pulled free.

Kratos took a deep breath, then another.

He could kill Herakles. It would be close, as it had been in his world, against another Herakles, but it could be done.

But then what?

He knew, once slain, this Herakles' would heal of all his wounds, God Hand restoring him to full capacity in moments. Meanwhile, all the injuries Kratos had suffered would linger - if he curtailed Spartan Rage now, he had enough in his reserves to mend his form once - possibly.

Their options were few, and all equally poor. Attempt to finish Herakles here, stand and fight, and hope they had enough to put him down for good? By his count, they did not have enough weapons to do the job.

Flee - attempt to get to the Revenge and outpace the Argo, and Hornigold's fleet? Possible. But they WOULD be pursued. The Argo, at minimum, had to be crippled. Or in some way halted.

Which led to the plan that was beginning to form in his mind - slay Herakles. Take a life from him, and throw him as far into the ocean as he could while his body was stitching itself back together. Make their way to the Revenge, and attempt to get away. Between the cannons on the ship, and their trio of Archers, they could likely see off what was left of Hornigold's fleet - possibly even end the threat of the Servant entirely. Jason would not pursue without his greatest weapon - Teach had been adamant on this point.

It was as good a plan as any, given their options and their situation.

All this and more flashed through Kratos' mind in an instant. Growling, and with an effort of will, he suppressed Spartan Rage, restraining it once more - and with its departure, came the pain from his injuries, which was also put aside.

He would acknowledge them once his task was done.

Roaring, Herakles bore down on him, and Kratos met him halfway.

Just before they met, Kratos tucked and dove into a roll, the stone blade of the Berserker coming nowhere close to the Spartan. He hit the ground and sprang up, sliding around the left side of the demigod, Herakles a second too slow to react, his hindered arm just unable to close around the Spartan's ankles.

Kratos rammed the Blades of Chaos together as he rose, the flames contained within surging. Herakles was turning, spinning to face Kratos, as the Blades drove themselves into his shoulder - the left one, again. Kratos twisted the Blades, then tore them free, then leapt back, the wind from Herakles' retaliatory backhand grazing his face.

As he landed, the Berserker's flesh glowed red, then exploded.

The arm remained attached - though only just. A massive chunk of flesh had been blown off by the attack - revealing the bones underneath, blackened from the heat. Herakles' arm now hung limply, and yet, it seemed the Berserker was beyond pain. Heedless of the damage done, he set his feet, and once more raised his jagged weapon, bellowing loud enough to shake the world itself.

Kratos raised the Blades of Chaos, and braced himself.

Herakles was tensing, about to leap, when another, louder explosion echoed across the waves. Both Kratos and Herakles, and every other combatant jerked their heads, following the sound of the detonation.

The Argo was in flames.

And standing at the rear of the ship, framed in the crackling flames, was a woman. Laughing uproariously.

Jason was staring up at her, his expression livid. "What did you DO?"

"Teach was right!" Sir Francis Drake's smile was one of victory. "You arrogant bastards never even thought to search the poor little human, because what could she do to a Servant? Well, maybe I can't so much as scratch you, but I can certainly hurt your SHIP!" She cracked her knuckles. "A little gunpowder, and some flint and steel, and we've got ourselves a bonfire!" She laughed more. "My life for your precious ship, I'd say that's a worthwhile trade!"

And with that, she stepped backwards off the ship, a single digit raised, pointed in the direction of Jason, as she plummeted into the sea.

She never hit.

Artemis was there, already diving down to catch the woman, but something else intervened first. A cushion of wind swelled up beneath Drake, halting her fall, and sweeping her up into the air.

And then, just as with the Argo, the air shimmered, and, for the second time this day, another boat popped into existence.

This one, at least, was of a familiar style to Kratos. Indeed, it could have easily come from his home in Midgard - shields lined the hull, each one with an oar dangling into the waters below. The prow was decorated with a draconic figurehead. A single massive sail towered over the boat, above which flew a simple flag, upon which was blazoned a sword, and the words 'Eric Rex'.

Herakles' eyes narrowed and, with a last look at Kratos, he took off. Leaping across the waves, heading towards the listing Argo.

"That's Eric's ship!" Kratos' head jerked around. Mary, Anne, and the rest were sliding down a hill. Anne's arm was pointing at the new ship, her eyes wide. "He survived! The captain's going to be beside himself!"

"But who's that with him?" asked Mary.

Indeed, Drake was being set down on the decks next to another person - a woman. Slight, her blonde hair tied into two long braids, and a blue-gray cloak, lined with gold, draped over her white dress. A large bow was tied into the odd, kerchief-like head covering she wore. Numerous bracelets jangled together as she waved her arms, magic circles flaring as she manipulated the winds that had carried Drake from the Argo to the longship.

"My thanks," said Drake, as she landed. "Wasn't really expecting to live beyond my little sabotage, but it's a nice bonus, even unexpected."

The woman sniffed in derision. "I didn't do it for you - and cover yourself, you brazen trollop. I'll not have my Eric staring at your…..décolletage - not while he needs to keep his eyes on the waters. Not that he should EVER be staring at such a display!" Her voice, originally soft and melodious, began to take on the characteristics of a hiss as she continued speaking.

She cast her eyes up to the wheel of the ship, where a mountain of a man was gripping the wheel. Covered in thick, brown hair, both on his head, and his exposed chest, which was bare to the winds. Unlike the rest of him, which was girded in thick, black armor. Strangely enough, what looked like the broken off nubs of horns sprouted from both sides of his head. At the woman's glance, he grinned savagely.

"Get us out of here, Eric! That monster's coming, and this wench has already done what we came here to do!" She sighed, something that seemed to rattle her to her bones. "I SUPPOSE we can pick up your friend on the way!"

The man bellowed a stream of gibberish, and spun the wheel, the oars lining the ship beginning to rise and fall at a rapid pace.

Light flashed from the Argo, and a small form shot into the air, their cloak flared up into a pair of wings. Medea. A dizzying array of magical circles erupted around her, fireballs screaming across the void, rocking Eric's ship.

The woman sniffed. "Not going to let us get away, are you? Then avaunt, homewrecker!" She reached down to her waist and yanked a knife free from her belt. "Normally, I'd be no match for such as you. But there's two problems - my Workshop is intact, while yours burns - and you've left it, too." She dug the tip of the knife into her hand, and sliced it open. Her eyes flashed with pain, and ANGER.

"And secondly, you HURT my Eric, hussy! And now, you're trying to do it again! That WILL not stand!"

She flicked her wrist, and a spray of blood flew out, impacting the air, and twisting into a series of runes that pulsed with power. "A POX upon your house for that crime!"

There was a shriek of pain from Medea, and her flight was arrested, as immediately as if she had flown into a brick wall. Her magical circles winked out, and she toppled from the sky. Her skin rippled, boils sprouting into being all over her flesh.

Herakles caught her before she had fallen far. Seconds later, he was setting her down on the Argo.

The woman's grin was savage as Eric's ship put them in its rear. "Try to come near him again, and you'll get more of the same, you harridan." Her head tilted up, as Artemis came swooping down. "And who might you be?" Her eyes narrowed. "And why are you also dressed like a streetwalker?"

"I'm a friend….I think." Artemis' eyes were focused inward for a second. "Though the sacred prostitution thing was more my sister's thing than mine, but it's an easy enough mistake to make." She shook her head. "Anyways, is that the Eric we've heard about? We thought he was dead."

"I nearly was," growled the man, very deliberately not letting his eyes fall on Artemis' form. "But I found someone who helped patch me up, and….well, it's a long story. Let me get my friend, and then we can talk." He blew out a long breath, a smile cracking the corners of his mouth. "I feel Teach will have his own stories to tell, to boot, if he's found allies like you."

"Oh. Ok! I guess I'll cover you from up high," said Artemis, fidgeting under the looks the woman will still giving her. She hovered up to the crow's nest, and took up a position there.

She did not have long to wait - or much to do in the time it took them to draw up alongside the Revenge. The pitiful remnants of Hornigold's fleet were withdrawing into a screen around his flagship, their forms beginning to waver, while the flagship itself was making its way to the Argo - ghostly crew leaping to the older ship as they neared, and beginning to fight the raging inferno. Herakles was merely standing at the bow, his eyes firmly fixed on the longboat, shoulders heaving. Desperately wanting to go after them, but held in check by Jason, who was continually demanding the Berserker stay and protect both him and Medea.

As they reached the Revenge, a high-pitched noise of glee could be heard from the decks of the frigate. They had barely pulled up beside the ship when there was the sound of running feet, and then, Blackbeard dove from the decks, tears flowing from his eyes.

"BRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Eric caught the man with ease, setting him down on the deck, Blackbeard beaming up at him.

"You're alive!" Blackbeard wiped at his eyes, his words coming through sniffles. "How?"

Eric grunted. "It's a long story - like I told them." He gestured at Drake, and vaguely at Artemis, who was even now ferrying a Mash carrying Fujimaru to the boat. "Once everyone gets here, and we're on our way, I'll explain."

"And that's the other thing, you're talking! You don't do that because…." Blackbeard trailed off, and the color drained from his face. ".....she's here, isn't she?"

He spun about, eyes landing on the blonde woman, who was glaring at Teach like she would a particularly foul bug. He waved. "Hello, Gunnhild."

She turned her nose up into the air. "As deplorably foul a ruffian as ever. If it wasn't for the effect you have of keeping loose women away from my Eric, I'd never let him associate with you." She huffed, and turned away, watching as Atalanta set down on the decks, having leaped from the shore.

Teach blinked. "Eric….my buddy. Why is your wife talking like she's out of a Victorian-era bodice ripper?"

Eric gave a sigh, but it was a fond one. "It's what she's been reading lately. Her book club got her interested in them." He double-checked, making sure his wife's back was turned, then dropped his head down to Teach's level, and lowered his voice. "It was mainly the librarian who recommended them. You know, the one with the big…."

Teach was eagerly nodding his head, a lascivious grin on his face. "I know the one! The reason why I always make sure to return my books in person!"

Eric shrugged. "And then that other one, the one in the pink hood who usually stays in her room also recommended them, so that's all she's been reading lately. It's certainly a change from how roughly she used to speak, if nothing else."

A hand gripped the deck, and Kratos heaved himself up, the massive form of Asterios limply clinging to his back, Euryale right behind them.

Both Eric and Gunnhild blinked, very slowly, as they took in the Spartan. "That's him, then?" asked Eric.

"Yep!" Blackbeard motioned Kratos over. "Eric Bloodaxe, Viking King. Meet Kratos. God."

The two similar sized men took each other's measure (Kratos, for the first time in a long while, able to look eye to eye with a Berserker Servant). Then, Eric nodded. "Nice axe you have there."

He extended his hand, which Kratos took by the wrist, and they both squeezed.

"There's someone who wants to meet all of you - it's the someone who you were sort of looking for, Teach." Blackbeard's eyebrows shot up. "It's who found me and nursed me back to health. He's hopeful that with your help, we can solve this Singularity."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Blackbeard made 'hurrying' motions with his hands. "Get us the hell out of here!"

---

As the longboat began to pull away, Jason stood on the deck of the Argo, watching. "How?" he asked. "How did this happen? The plan was perfect - we had everything, including the greatest hero ever! How did they beat us?"

Herakles turned, and seemed to be considering Jason for a moment - before his hand shot out, and seized the man by his head, and lifted.

"PERHAPS YOUR LEADERSHIP WAS INADEQUATE, LITTLE GHOST."

Jason flailed weakly, hands scrabbling at the iron grip around his skull. "What…..what in the hells?" Ineffectually, he prized at the fingers holding him.

The Servant's skin darkened, and then, eyes began to open all across his flesh. Down his arms. Up his legs. And all over his torso. Each one bloodred. Each one with a four-pointed star as its pupil.

Jason stiffened. "Possession…..that's….that's impossible!"

"YOUR WORDS HOLD TRUTH. TO A GHOST, OR EVEN A POWERFUL DEMON, A SERVANT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE TO POSSESS. BUT TO OUR LORD, A SERVANT IS MERELY A COLLECTION OF MAGICAL FORMULAE. SIMPLE TO UNDERSTAND - TO DISSECT." Herakles' head tilted to the side, as he considered Jason. "AND WE ARE AS FAR BEYOND DEMONS AS SERVANTS ARE BEYOND INSIGNIFICANT MORTALS."

'Me…Medea!" choked out Jason. "Exorcise this thing!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Lord Jason. He serves the one who I met before you, the one who showed me the truth of things." She sank to her knees, head bowed. "I am yours, Lord Forneus."

"GOOD. OUR LORD WAS RIGHT, IN HIS INFINITE WISDOM, TO SPARE YOU. I WAS CONTENT TO ALLOW EVENTS TO UNFOLD, BUT NO MORE. NOW, THE OBSERVATORY HAS WATCHED LONG ENOUGH. I AM ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL OF THIS SINGULARITY."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There's actually official art of Gunnhild. Done by Helena's artist.

This chapter brought to you by Lamentation et Triomphe. Soon, the girlfailure (Furina) will be mine.

Some myths of Bellerophon have him surviving the fall, being blinded in the crash, and living the rest of his days 'devouring his own soul' in misery until he died. I'm going with that one, as I can't find any solid mention of him himself in any of the Type Moon wikis.

Kuku went to PIIIIITTTTTTY. And early on, there was a damned BRADAMANTE spook, my THIRD! Why couldn't it have been an Ozzy, or a Man of Clay, or someone I don't have like Galatea or Batty? I swear, it's good she doesn't show up for a long while, because I cannot promise I'd be kind to her after this.

Had just started writing Herakles/Kratos the day before the Kuku debacle, switched music to the Jojos playlist because I needed a pick me up after that.

Chapter 46: Okeanos 7

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 46

THE DECK OF THE ARGO​

For a long moment, the thing inside of Herakles considered the man dangling from its hand. Then, almost casually, he tossed him to the deck. For as little power was behind it, Jason still bounced hard, and painfully.

He didn't rise, choosing to glare up at Forneus. "Sparing me? Why?"

"YOUR METHOD OF CONVEYANCE REMAINS NECESSARY. THE WITCH HAS INVESTED MUCH INTO IT AS A WORKSHOP. TO START OVER NOW WOULD BE INEFFICIENT." Forneus was not even looking at Jason's huddled form, his many eyes all fixed on the retreating longboat. "AND TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. THE NEXT CONFRONTATION WILL BE THE LAST. WE WILL MAKE SURE OF IT."

Jason swallowed heavily, his eyes darting from the Berserker, to Medea, then back to the Berserker. "You'll regret leaving me alive. Particularly when Herakles kicks you out, and makes you pay for what you've done to both of us."

"THAT WILL NOT BE HAPPENING, LITTLE GHOST. YOUR ALLY IS BOUND IN A CAGE THAT HE WILL NOT BE ESCAPING FROM." Forneus knelt down, looming over Jason. "DO NOT TAKE MY SPARING YOU AS WEAKNESS. I SAID THAT REBUILDING THE WITCH'S WORKSHOP FROM NOTHING WOULD BE INEFFICIENT. NOWHERE WAS IT SAID THAT I WOULD NOT CHOOSE THAT OUTCOME, WERE IT TO BECOME NECESSARY." He reached out one massive hand, and laid it on Jason's shoulder. "WE ARE WILLING TO ACCEPT SACRIFICES BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION TO ADVANCE OUR GOALS. IN THE FACE OF THAT, A SMALL AMOUNT OF INEFFICIENCY IS NOTHING."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Jason's face twisted in sudden pain.

"NOW CHOOSE. WILL YOU GO TO FIGHT THE FIRES CONSUMING YOUR SHIP, OR WILL I END THIS DISCUSSION? PERMANENTLY."

"And then what?" For all that it was choked with pain, there was no hesitance, or fear, in the man's voice. "Once you're done with me I die all the same!"

Forneus released his shoulder, and shoved him to the deck. "IN THAT YOU ARE INCORRECT. WE REWARD SERVICE." Forneus rose to his feet, and stretched a hand out. "BOW DOWN, AND ASSIST IN SLAYING THESE CHALDEANS, AND YOU MAY HAVE THE REWARD YOU SOUGHT. YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO SACRIFICE DIVINITY ON THE ALTAR OF THE ARK OF THE COVENANT." The Berserker's face split into a smile. "AND WHAT YOU DESERVE WILL BE YOURS."

Jason took a shuddering breath. "I choose to live. If only because I want to be there when you get what YOU deserve." He pointedly ignored the outstretched hand as he rose. "I'll go see to the fire."

"A WISE CHOICE."

Jason stalked off, without so much as a glance at the woman still kneeling before Forneus. Within seconds, his voice began echoing around the deck of the Argo, ordering the sailors Hornigold had dispatched in the best manner to douse the flames.

Forneus turned to Medea, whose head was still bowed. "WHAT IS THE EXTENT OF THE DAMAGE? AND WHAT OF THE GRAIL?"

Medea's head slumped. "The damage is…..extensive. I placed my Workshop directly above the brig, anticipating that proximity would help us in containing whichever of the gods we captured to use as the sacrifice. We never expected problems from a mere human."

She reached into her cloak, and pulled something out. "The Grail, at least, is secure. The Bounded Field it was in protected it. And Drake would not have been able to breach it to steal the Grail, either."

"ACCEPTABLE." It raised a hand, as if to wave the girl off, but halfway through the motion, the hand spasmed, and shot out, directly at Medea's throat, stopped only at the last moment by the Servant's other hand seizing it by the wrist.

Medea's eyes were wide, and the blood had drained from her face. "Lord….Forneus?" She took a thready breath. "Have….have I displeased you?"

"NO." The arm shuddered, twisting in place, before it finally settled down. "THIS ONE'S WILL IS STRONGER THAN ANTICIPATED. THE BOY'S FAITH IS LESS MISPLACED THAN WE MAY HAVE BELIEVED. THE VESSEL FIGHTS, DESPITE THE FACT THAT IT CANNOT WIN." Carefully, Forneus released his rebellious arm. "IT SOUGHT TO REMOVE YOU, FOR BETRAYING HIS FRIEND."

Medea licked her lips. "Do we need to reinforce the spells binding you?"

"UNNECESSARY. IT WAS A LAST GASP OF A BEATEN DOG, FUELLED BY DESPERATION." The arm waved around Medea's form, painfully close, but with all the precision of a machine - none of the shaky movements of before in evidence. "CONTROL HAS BEEN RE-ESTABLISHED NOW. IT WILL NOT SLIP AGAIN."

"GO. REBUILD YOUR WORKSHOP. I WILL OBSERVE THE BOY, AND ENSURE HE REMAINS COMPLIANT."

As Medea floated off, Forneus turned most of his eyes to the deck below, watching as, slowly but steadily, the fires were brought under control.

And, in the back of his mind, he heard his brother, berating him for the delay. Anxious, as ever, to see Kratos breathe his last.

"SOON, BROTHER. SOON."

---

 

THE DECKS OF ERIC'S LONGBOAT

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

Only a few of them had seen it happen, the Argo having been far enough away that only the Archers among them had been able to get the full picture of what was occurring on the Argo's decks.

But, even without that, they had other means to observe.

"It's the same." Romani's voice was flat and toneless. And his expression would have been more fitting for someone who had just been told their forces had been wiped out, to a man, rather than one who had been informed they had escaped, and with yet more allies.

"As Lev?" Fujimaru asked, her mouth a grim line.

"It's not identical, but…….it's close enough." Whatever Romani's eyes were looking at, it did not seem to be the screen in front of him. "He claimed over and over again that he was part of a group that was behind this. This is probably another one of them."

"You heard what he fuckin' said, Doc." Avenger's arms were crossed over her chest, as she stared daggers off at the Argo, which was shrinking in the distance. "Forneus. I may not be the best student of biblical shit or anything, but the 'me' parts of my head recognize that name, just like they recognized 'Flauros'." She practically growled that last word, as she winced in pain. "And those same parts of my brain are trying to bust out and go the exact anywhere BUT where that fucking THING is, either - just like last time."

"It just…….it can't be. I can't believe it." Romani's hands were fisted in his hair.

"This is twice now, Roman." Da Vinci was having none of it from Romani, the same as she hadn't previously. "And moreover, to apparently possess a Servant like that? That's beyond something a mundane demon could manage, even on its best day, against the weakest of Servants." She gestured across the waters, to where the Argo was now a tiny speck on the horizon. "And that's no mean Servant - it's Herakles that thing is squatting in."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt with the sound of a booted, but delicate heel slamming down on the deck. "What, praytell, is going ON here!" Gunnhild's fists were clenched at her sides, her cheeks puffed out in annoyance. She turned her ire on Blackbeard. "What have YOU gotten me and my husband wrapped up in, you wretched degenerate? Explain! EXPLAAAAAIN!"

She rapidly advanced on the man, and began (ineffectually) beating her fists on the parts of Blackbeard she could reach - mostly his stomach and lower arms. "Tell me, or I swear, I'll see to it you're even MORE of an exile from polite and proper society than you already are! You….you….blackguard!"

Blackbeard yelped under the sudden assault. "Why are you hitting MEEEEEEE? I'm as much in the dark as you are!"

The physical battering of the pirate captain was halted when Gunnhild was seized by the scruff of her neck and hauled into the air, away from Blackbeard - though her fists continued swinging for a moment. "Now, my dear, despite your low opinion of him, Teach doesn't get me into all that much trouble." Gunnhild huffed, though she ceased flailing, turning to look up at her husband. "Perhaps we should let the people from Chaldea explain, rather than making my friend a scapegoat…..again."

"Fine." She harumphed as she was set back down on the deck. "But I reserve my wifely prerogative to resume this discussion - and tell you 'I told you so' - if it turns out I'm right about this."

"And I've never begrudged you that, my little Valkyrie." Eric turned to the Chaldeans, and his eyes narrowed. "Now, explain. I'm a dullard when it comes to magic and its assorted subtleties, unlike my wife, but I felt something nasty from the Argo just now. You all seem to have some familiarity with this. Please, enlighten us."

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Mary, from where she was standing by Anne - who was manning the wheel, having been handed the duties of steering the ship when Eric moved to save his friend from his wife's attacks. "Herakles was bad enough - but whatever that was feels like it's about a million times worse."

"They claim to be Demons. Capital letter ones - and Named ones, at that." There was none of Da Vinci's usual whimsy or playfulness in her voice. "And, notably famous ones at that. This one's claiming to be Forneus. The last one we ran into said it was Flauros."

Romani chose this moment to interrupt. "Which ISN'T possible. For one, they were sealed by the greatest Mage the world's ever seen. And even if they could…."

Romani's building tirade was cut off by something bouncing off his head - which caused him to yelp.

"Doc, shut it," Avenger's tone brooked no argument. "Let the crazy lady talk. It doesn't matter shit if it's impossible or not, that's what's facing us on that boat." She glared, and Romani wilted under her gaze. "Also, thanks for the assist there, Cu."

"Anytime. Sometimes a man needs a good stiff knock to the skull like that to get them thinking right." He paused. "Or, at least, that's what the old hag believed, and I wasn't about to argue with her."

Avenger's grin was that of a razor blade. "If he keeps it up, use the stick next time. That might get through his thick-ass skull."

"This is a plan I heartily endorse," chimed in Da Vinci. "But, to continue, the names they're using are from the Ars Goetia - or the Key of Solomon, to use a translation."

Gunnhild had gone very, very still. "I know those names. It wasn't information that I was privy to in my lifetime, but as a Caster, I am familiar enough to feel as though I'm getting the vapors." She shuddered, and sagged against Eric. "Merlin, Morgan, Medea, Circe….even deities like Hecate or Thoth….or ones that we revered in our lives, such as Odin or Loki. Solomon supposedly stands above all of them, untouched, uncontested as the Caster of Casters."

Blackbeard's jaw was hanging open. "So…..one of his PETS is standing on the deck of the Argo, using Herakles as a meatsuit? Is that what you're telling us?"

"We don't know." Da Vinci sounded like she'd rather crawl over broken glass than utter those words. "This is only our second time running into one of them, and the first time, we were taken by surprise so badly that what readings we got off it were….inconclusive." She glanced off-screen, undoubtedly at Romani. "To everyone's frustration, since the rules of a Holy Grail War apply as much to these Singularities as ever - information is the most valuable commodity."

She threw her hands up in the air. "All I can tell you is the thing calling itself Flauros was powerful - we threw EVERYTHING we had at it, and only barely came out on top."

"And that 'everything' included the likes of Iskandar, Hannibal, and Romulus, to name a few," added Cu. "Even the ones we had who were comparative lightweights weren't anything to sneeze at - Spartacus, Lu Bu, Jing Ke. Shit, even that damn Red Archer carried his weight in the end, despite being a little more than half a man by then."

Blackbeard's face had gone pale - an aliment shared by more than a few people on the decks of the ship. "Old Blackbeard is suddenly feeling very, very inadequate."

A hand clapped onto his shoulder. "So, it's like every other day for you, then." Blackbeard's eyes narrowed as he turned to glare at Drake's grinning face. "And is our situation all that much worse than it already was? Whatever this thing calls itself, Demon, God, or something else entirely, it isn't in my nature to back down." Her lips thinned, and the mirth left her eyes. "And certainly not after what that witch did to my men."

"They have ceded the element of surprise," rumbled Kratos. "Unlike in the previous campaign, now they cannot catch us unaware." A grunt. "A foolish choice."

"Well, it's not like they aren't arrogant," said Fujimaru with a shrug. "Lev loved the sound of his own voice, particularly when he was telling us puny mortals how insignificant we were, and how great he was. Guess it runs in the family."

"And furthermore, they've left Jason alive." Chiron's brow was furrowed in thought. "The Argo would have dissipated with his death - not even Medea would be able to keep it anchored in reality without access to his Spirit Origin in a relatively healthy state. This may end up being another mistake on their part, for Jason was loyal to Herakles above anyone else in his life - even his family never inspired such devotion in him."

"And the big guy repaid every inch of that, and then some," muttered Atalanta. "Not that any of the rest of us wouldn't have done the same. He wasn't perfect, but every single person on the Argo was there because they chose to be. So Herakles is probably fighting tooth and nail against that thing that's stolen his body."

Mash raised a hand. "Could we maybe exorcise it? Like we did to Senpai?"

"Unless we can somehow get Romani there - in person, because I don't think exorcising something of that magnitude over comms is feasible - that's probably a wash." She dragged her eyes over to a certain pale-haired Servant. "Unless Avenger's willing to give those Jeanne parts of her brain a workout."

Avenger shook her head. "Like I told you when we got that demon out of Red, I'm probably the WORST possible choice you could make for that." She shivered. "Even if the Big Guy might be meddling in my life these days, I'm no Saint - closer to the fucking opposite, really."

Blackbeard held up a finger, his other hand clutching around a vial of bluish liquid. "Wait, wait. Can we get back to the part where the ginger was possessed? How often are you people re-enacting Paranormal Activity here?" His finger tracked across the air to point at Avenger. "And 'the Big Guy'? How many capital G Gods do you people have on your side?"

Da Vinci sighed. "Just the one, despite Avenger's paranoia. And the possession that Fujimaru went through wasn't related to these Ars Goetia Demons, it was purely a Servant thing….."

---

 

MUCH LATER​

Blackbeard's jaw was hanging open as Da Vinci finished outlining exactly how Fujimaru had gotten possessed - which had dovetailed into explaining the first Singularity, and how catastrophically it had gone. Which had then led into the question of the second, and third ones. Needless to say, she had been talking for a while - not something the woman was adverse to. And if nothing else, it passed the time as the ship sailed on into the night.

Though Mash and Fujimaru, both, were drifting off, as Da Vinci had spoken, long into the night. Finally, as dawn was beginning to break, she wrapped up the tale.

Blackbeard, unsurprisingly, was the first to speak. "Jaysus." He blew out a long exhalation of breath. "Legendary dragons, enemies from other worlds, evil clones, demons, and gods. You people have seen some shit. Old Blackbeard is STILL feeling inadequate." He flopped back into the decks. "And you say there's four more of these after this one? I can only imagine the OP bullshit that's waiting for you towards the end. That shit will probably have MULTIPLE life bars."

"It must be done," rumbled Kratos.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it's a worthy cause and all that. And if you manage to rustle up Missus Teach's baby boy on one of your summons after this, I'll do everything I can to help. The scope is just…." He waved his hand in an indistinct motion. "I'm used to my biggest worries being keeping a crew of motley degenerates happy so they don't start getting ideas about being in charge, and making me take the old short walk with a long, wet drop waiting at the end. That, or a Grail War where I'm ONLY outclassed by 6 other Servants that I'm going to have to scheme and cheat my best at to have a chance of not dying quickly. Not this end of the world stuff. No, that's usually reserved for my escapist pastimes, not my damn reality."

Drake nudged him with the toe of her boot, and not gently, either. "Eh, you play the hand you're dealt, Teach. You know that as well as I do. No point bitching about things now, when we're smack dab in the middle of this mess." She grinned, savagely. "You're better off using that devious brain of yours to think of how we kill that thing."

"If I know the Captain, he's been doing that since you first explained what it is that's commandeered Herakles' body." Anne, and Mary alongside her were leaning against the mast, having relinquished the wheel back to Eric, as he alone knew the direction they needed to take.

"You're not wrong, Yuri Pirate #2. But there's too many unknowns, and my poor brain is still spinning with everything I've heard so far." He snorted, then spat a wad of phlegm off the side of the boat. "Give me a few hours, and I'll see what I can come up with, and we can work things out from there."

He glanced up at Kratos. "Just to check, did you take any lives off him?"

"No," rumbled Kratos. "Though I believe I could have. It was the plan, until this ship appeared."

"Ok, 12 life bars to deplete, still, but no extra phase mechanics, yet." His face twisted in thought, before it froze. "Actually, relevant question. Eric, my buddy, my pal, my brochacho - where exactly ARE we going?"

"To the south," answered the Berserker. He shrugged at the worried looks on the pirate's (and the privateer's) faces. "Yes, that means we'll have to go through that patch of violently stormy seas. But this boat's already weathered the trip once - it shouldn't have any further surprises for me."

"And beyond there is an archipelago. It's where Eric floated to after you got him mauled by that Herakles, Teach." Gunnhild was attempting to bore a hole through Teach with her eyes. "I was just trying to get him as far away from THAT….and you, as possible. Protecting him all the way through that patch of rough ocean was dodgy, but the bones indicated it was his best chance."

She glanced back at her husband, standing at the wheel. "Imagine my surprise when there was someone there who could patch my Eric up. It was everything I had hoped for….right up until he declared his oath to go back and save you. To face such a brute again, even after what happened the first time." She reached down to her waist, and began fingering the handle of her knife. "What kind of wife would I be if I let my one and only walk into that alone. Before I knew what was happening, I was standing beside him on the shores."

"Chain summoning." Da Vinci and Romani shared a look, as their voices overlapped. The Renaissance Woman waved her hand, ceding the floor to Romani. "Exactly what happened with Darius in the last Singularity. He wanted to fight Alexander the Great so badly he forced the World to summon him - or followed in his wake, if you will. She wanted to protect her husband, and the same thing happened."

"And it's good that she did. Another Caster to help us counter Medea is just what we needed, given of the two Casters we have, one is completely modern," Da Vinci glanced off-screen. "And the other is, well…."

"A mad Irishman?" suggested Cu. "And isn't much with magic, other than a couple of Ansuz spells and a nasty Noble Phantasm, and who is better off whacking folks with a stick than casting spells?"

Fujimaru scoffed. "You're not THAT bad at Magecraft, Cu! I'M bad at Magecraft. You, on the other hand, just would rather hit things instead of going through the hassle of using magic."

Cu laughed. "Guilty as charged!"

Chiron was shaking his head. "One day, Child of Light, we are going to encounter your teacher, and she is going to see how little you are using what she taught you. And on that day, you will rue many things, I feel."

The blood drained from Cu's face. "Don't even JOKE about that." Furtively, his image glanced around the room, before he let out a relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing. "Anyways, she CAN'T die, so there's no way she can become a Servant - she was proper, all the way immortal. Half the reason she trained any of us idiots was so that maybe one of us could get good enough to kill her. And, as my rotten luck would have it, she saw the most promise for that in yours truly, so IF I ever run into her again, she's going to be expecting me to pay her back for the hell she put me through, by finally letting her die."

He shrugged. "Moot point, anyways. She can't die, and I'm not ABOUT to go anywhere near the Isle of Shadows anytime soon, so I've got nothing to worry about. Her showing up would be impossible."

His smug grin deflated as he took in the sea of faces around him, all of whom were looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "What?"

Mash licked her lips. "Mr. Cu……I'm standing next to a god from another world - in the past, while Humanity outside the walls of Chaldea have been turned into ash. In France, we fought an Alter Ego Servant made up from a collection of people and gods from both our world and Mr. Kratos'- and that's a Servant class Chaldea's never even heard of. We also ran into a Ruler and an Avenger in that Singularity, classes that are supposed to be spectacularly rare. The Avenger even followed us back to Chaldea, where Da Vinci built her a metal arm. My Senpai was possessed by another Servant. Lev Lainur turned into….whatever he turned into, and one of his fellows has now possessed Herakles. In a couple of months, I've met some of history's greatest legends and heroes. The impossible is happening with regularity, these days."

"And even BEYOND that, have you not heard of tripping flags, man?" Blackbeard looked like he couldn't believe what he had heard come out of the Irish Servant's mouth. "You've somehow tripped Death Flags and set up Chekhov's Gun in a single statement! You've practically guaranteed that your teacher's going to show up, now!"

Kratos grunted. "Indeed. You assume far too much."

Cu had a look of betrayal on his face. "How could you, Kratos? I expect it from these bunch, but you…." He paused. "Ok, fine, I expect it from you too, but still!"

He threw up his hands and stomped out of the view of the screen. They could still hear him grumbling as he departed, to the tune of 'No chance she shows up. Not going to happen….'

It was then that the first drops of rain began to hit the decks of the ship, and a thunderous boom split the skies.

"We're nearing the maelstrom," muttered Eric. "My dear, I'll again ask you to take shelter in the hold - though I know you won't." The woman's glare was all the answer he needed, and he nodded. "To the rest of you, I'd certainly welcome any experienced hands on-deck, but I will have to insist the rest of you head to the hold. Thankfully, this is a dreki, so there's some room there."

---

The hold, despite Eric's assurances, was not terribly large. Even with the pirates staying on deck to assist in the running of the ship, it was a tight fit for them all - Asterios taking up a good amount of the available area. Chiron, at least, had retreated into Spirit Form, sparing them his bulk, as, even in his human form, he was a fairly sizable man.

Mash and Fujimaru hadn't taken long to drift off - Atalanta and Artemis had quickly claimed one girl each and had pillowed their heads in their laps - a gesture that was marred only somewhat (to Atalana) by Artemis musing about how she had 'never gotten to do this for Arty when she was little'. Fou, snuggled up to Mash, was also dead to the world.

Even Kratos was sleeping, taking, as old soldiers did, any chance to gain even a moment of rest. Especially when it was unknown when the next opportunity would come. None of them were affected by the violent shaking of the ship as it maneuvered through the stormy waters - Kratos, because he had slept through much worse in his time, and sheer exhaustion for the girls. Even Atalanta and Artemis had eventually succumbed, despite wanting to watch the girls sleep, and were both breathing deeply and evenly - with an occasional snore coming from Artemis' shoulder, where Orion had curled up.

All in all, there was no one left awake.

Perfect for Avenger.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos." She growled under her breath, and shook her head. "Sorry Doc, but I'm not getting anything. If That Guy, or one of his minions is squatting on my shoulder, they're not giving me anything but a deuce here. The words don't sound, or feel like anything but words to me - or the parts of my head that sort of remember having a connection to that sort of shit. There's no power in them."

Romani sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "It was probably a longshot, anyways. Honestly, I'm more surprised you agreed to try."

Avenger rolled her eyes. "I still think having me attempt to kick the demon that's in Herakles out would be about the worst possible idea you chucklefucks have had since this shit started, but we aren't exactly swimming in better options, either." She flopped back against the wood of the hold. "Better I know HOW to do it, and test it out beforehand so we at least know if there's any chance of it working."

Romani made a vague noise of assent, before falling quiet. "And, not to badger you about this, but you're certain that whatever was in Herakles felt just like Lev?"

Avenger's eyes glanced around the hold. "How secure is this line?"

"It's the one reserved for the Director - no one, not even Da Vinci, is able to listen in on what we're saying here. And I'm in my room, so my wards here should keep things hidden, and give you a measure of that protection as well. It won't hide you, but it will scramble what you're saying so it sounds innocuous." His voice dropped to a whisper. "How secure is it there?"

Avenger waved her arm. "Everyone's asleep except for Red's teacher, and he's on the other side of the hold with the rest of them. And he knows I'm working on this exorcism shit. No way I could hide it from him in this cramped place."

She rolled her neck around. "So, to answer your question, yeah, I'm certain. It was from a distance, and not up close and personal like I got with Lev, and it was muddied up from being mixed in with what I was feeling with Herakles, but it's the same. Now that I know to look for it, I feel kind of stupid for missing it, but the fucking pressure that Berserker gives off will give you the willies and then some when it first hits you. Really sends the old fight or flight instincts into overdrive. Probably why it slipped my notice in the first place."

She trailed off, as she noticed the look on Romani's face. "Starting to actually believe that those things might be what they're claiming to be, Doc?"

"It just….." Romani took a long breath. "I don't see HOW it can be. That seal should have outlasted the Sun itself. Even working together, they didn't have the power to break it from within."

"And what about without?" She tapped the screen, approximately where Romani's forehead was - or tried to, and only ended up scrambling the projected image. "I get it, you were the Grand High Poobah of Casters, the fucking Great Gazoo of Mages in your time - a title no one's been able to take from you since. But maybe instead of denying that it's possible so fucking much, maybe you should start thinking about what could have broken the Seal and let those things out."

Romani opened his mouth, and Avenger cut him off. "Monkeys and typewriters, Doc. You give someone enough time and they will figure a way through things." She grimaced. "And to hear how that Lev bastard liked to talk, these things were operating on Throne time, not human time. They've been working on this and planning it for a long-ass time. And you fucking Mages are all about passing the shit you don't finish onto your kids."

She made a rude gesture. "Maybe some dumbass Mage found your Seal, and thought it had the path to the Root - and then made it their life's work to crack it, since the thought of that thing makes Mages cream their pants. And then it became the life's work of their kid, and the kid's kid, and so fucking on."

"....and after enough generations, they succeeded," said Romani, glumly. "And ended up releasing a plague of very, very powerful Demons on the world." He sighed. "I wish I could say it's outside the realms of possibility, but, given some of the incredibly stupid things I know Clock Tower families have done….."

"It's not as far-fetched a theory as it first sounds, sadly," he concluded.

Avenger grinned, pleased with herself, for a moment, before her face fell. "So, hypothetically, if that did happen, which one of your old pets would be the one in charge?"

"None of them," Romani's eyes were staring off into the distance, not even seeing Avenger anymore. "They were a hive mind, of sorts. They each had their domains, and those domains each had a hierarchy unique to the domain, but there wasn't any single one of them that ruled over the others. That was always me, once I'd bound them into the seal."

He continued. "There's two possibilities here. IF - and I'm still not willing to concede that these really are the Demons from the Ars Goetia, not yet - they were broken out of my Seal, then either they've all collectively decided on this plan together. Or….whomever, or whatever broke them out managed to reverse-engineer enough of the seal to maintain control when he released them, and they're doing his, or her, bidding."

"So where's that leave us?" asked Avenger.

Romani groaned. "With FAR too many suspects. Mage families alone would be bad enough - and worse, given how Eurocentric the Clock Tower is, they pay only the barest of attention to the part of the world where I buried the Seal." He lowered his head to his desk. "Fujimaru wasn't wrong when she said the Musiks travelling to Japan wouldn't garner even the barest of notice. If it isn't happening in Europe, then the Clock Tower can't be bothered noticing."

"And that's not even touching whatever else it could be. Defrocked Executors with an axe to grind who have made up their own Book of Rage to quote from. Vampires or worse - a True Ancestor who stumbled on it and had, quite literally, an eternity to work on it. Really, we don't lack for options here."

"Well, before you dive face first into research, your ass should get some sleep, Doc." Avenger's finger jabbed up, silencing his protests. "Take a cue from Grumps and get it when you can. Something in my gut tells me that once this break ends, we're not going to see another one for a while."

---

It took them the better part of the day to navigate the maelstrom. By the time Teach banged on the door of the hold and told them it was safe to come up, the sun was already dipping low on the horizon.

Fujimaru was yawning as she left the hold. "I can't believe we slept through all of that."

Mash was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, a groggy Fou slumped on her shoulder. "I guess we must have been more worn out than we thought."

"Still, as light as a sleeper as I usually am, not waking up once when we were going through what you said was a particularly rough patch of seas is notable." Her voice dropped an octave, and took on a distinct rumbling characteristic. " 'Sleep when you can, for you must be rested to be at your best - and you never know when the chance will come when you are at war.' " One hand each reached up to point at both Kratos and Chiron. "Not like I didn't have the both of you telling me that constantly in the last Singularity."

Kratos grunted. "The words remain true. Too many young soldiers become caught up in thoughts of the glory awaiting them in their first battle - and are ground down by the march. By the time they must fight, they are unfit to do so." Another grunt. "The results are then….predictable."

"As you saw first-hand, Master, in the last Singularity, much of war is periods of frantic activity - short periods, that break up the many, many hours of drudgery and preparation that are necessary so that large groups of men can kill each other." Chiron smiled, though it was a sad one. "The legends tend to gloss over the mundanity in favor of the fantastic. They sang few tales of needing to scrape barnacles off the side of the Argo, daily, after all."

"Yeah. He never saw active combat, but dad always said that being in the military was a constant state of 'hurry up and wait'." She yawned and stretched. "And I got to see that first hand marching with the Romans that he was dead on."

Orion hopped down from Artemis' shoulder, peering off into the distance. "I see someone standing on the beach." He turned to look up at Eric. "Is this your mysterious savior?"

Eric nodded. "It is. Just give me a moment and….."

The boat shuddered as it ran aground on the sandy beach, the oars pushing it inland. After a moment, its movement stopped, the boat wholly beached.

Eric nodded his head. "There. Thankfully we won't have to carry it overland, and I can simply leave it here. Everyone off!"

Atalanta had already leapt off, Artemis (with Orion in tow) floating just behind her. Mash once again scooped her Master up and hopped down onto the beach with her - an action that was mirrored by Eric, with his wife. The similarity drug a smirk out of Avenger, and an elbow into Fujimaru's ribs from the woman, which had the Last Master of Humanity rolling her eyes (and a very brief blush from Mash).

They likely should have been moving to the side, as Kratos' landing sprayed them with a wave of displaced sand. As the three women gagged and shook sand from their hair, a much smaller form dropped down from the ship, landing next to Kratos, though she had eyes only for the massive form draped across his back.

"Asterios…….." Eurayle's eyes were worried as she looked up at the minotaur of legend. "Are you sure you shouldn't stay on the boat and rest?"

"Can….stand now." Some color had come back into the giant's face, and medical attention, both from Fujimaru's Mystic Code, and the more conventional from Chaldea's supplies had seen him mend, some, in the time since. He made to push off of Kratos' back, but, as he attempted a step, his knees buckled.

Euryale and Kratos caught him, one on each arm, and prevented him from collapsing completely. "IDIOT!" screeched Euryale. "You're still healing! You need to take it easy!"

"Have to….protect you. Protect Euryale." He was still attempting to rise. "Herakles coming. No….worse Herakles coming."

"And you're in no shape to fight him! Dummy! Lug! Moron!" Each of these insults was accompanied by a small fist pounding into Asterios' massive chest. Eventually, her outburst slowed, and sniffles could be heard from beneath the bulk of his arm.

"He did this to you when you were in the best shape you could BE!" Her voice choked on a sob. "What do you think he's going to do to you if you try to fight him in the shape you're in now?"

"Actually," a new voice would have caused the both of them to jump, were one not too injured to do so, and the other weighed down by the first's arm. "I might be able to help with that."

The man who had been waiting for them stood over them. Little could be seen of his features, as a simple, woolen cloak with a hood was obscuring both his face and body. Without waiting for a reply, he simply reached under his cloak, and produced a harp, and then began to play.

And the music washed over them all.

As he watched, Kratos saw the many wounds on the minotaur's body begin to heal - the minor scratches and cuts vanishing almost immediately, while new, healthy flesh began to grow where ragged injuries had been. And his own right leg, which had been persistently aching since the last fight with Herakles suddenly felt worlds better. And, to a man, they all felt the fatigue clinging to their shoulders - the sailors and pirates, who had been fighting the storm all night, more than those who had been in the hold - evaporate.

(The music drowned it out, but there was a startled, shocked noise from the communicator - one that was quickly bitten off, then, a second later, the sound of something falling, and then, sparks and static.)

The music trailed off, and there was a round of applause - then a much louder outpouring, as Asterios, a look of wonder on his face, stood under his own power, for the first time in days. Gingerly, he moved his arms, his legs, seeming almost unable to believe that he was doing so without wracking pain accompanying even the smallest of movements.

"What WAS that?" Fujimaru's eyes were wide. "I feel like a million yen!"

"Thank you, thank you," said the man, with a bow. He reached up and pulled the hood back, revealing a head of green hair, held back by a white hairband, and a smiling face. "Though if you have any of that million yen, tipping some of it wouldn't go unappreciated. Never miss a chance to grow your bank account, after all."

When none was forthcoming, he cast his eyes around, receiving only a barrage of shrugs in response. "Oh well. I suppose the middle of a Singularity like this isn't a place where money has much value. I will just have to be satisfied with the deed itself - for the hands of a king are the hands of a healer." His smile turned sheepish. "Or, in this case, the music of a king."

He pushed the cloak back, off his shoulders, and nodded to them. "Servant, Archer. My True Name is King David."

"THE King David?" asked Mash. "From the Bible - and David and Goliath?"

"None other, lovely maiden," He bowed over her hand, kissing her knuckles. "I don't suppose you would be in the market for a husband, would you?

There was an ugly squeal of noise from the communicators, then an image popped up - a black screen that showed only the words 'Doctor Romani Archaman - Interim Director'. "Mash is YEARS away from marriage! Now get your hands off of her you…." There was a garbled sound, and whatever the doctor had been saying was cut off…..not that he had been the easiest to understand, as there was a distortion to his voice that had not previously been present.

Fujimaru blinked (though it didn't stop her from disengaging Mash's hand from the king's grasp). "Roman……what happened?"

Da Vinci's head winked into existence, an exasperated look on her face. "He spilled coffee on his workstation - it's fine, but he managed to damage the camera and microphone, hence the lack of image, and how fritzy his voice is being." She grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Roman's Jewish, and I think hearing about the identity of this new Servant startled him a bit - or has him a bit star-struck."

"I'm NOT star-struck, Da Vinci. It was a simple accident." It was hard to tell, with the feedback they were getting, but despite his words, Romani certainly seemed annoyed.

"Well, I hope I am living up to your expectations, my likely descendant." David looked around at the group of people gathered on the beach. "And I must say, Eric, when you said you were going to retrieve your friends, I did not expect so many." His eyes trailed across Fujimaru, Atalanta, Artemis, Mary, Anne, and Drake, each in turn. "Or that so many of them would be such visions of loveliness."

Orion seemed to puff up, his fur almost standing on end. "Look all you like, bud. But just remember what happened to the folks who got on Arty's bad side in the myths." He laid a hand on the back of her neck, gently. "For better or worse, she and I are in this for the long haul, so keep that in mind."

Artemis' coo of "Darling….." was almost inaudible over Atalanta's groan.

Romani's distorted voice had its own two cents to add. "And Mash and Fujimaru are OFF LIMITS, you hear me! If you even look at them sideways…." There was a hiss, and the doctor's voice broke up.

"Noted," said David. He turned, and gave a nod to Orion and Artemis. "Treasure what you have, the both of you, before it's too late. As it was for me." He trailed off, muttering something to himself that sounded like a name…..one that started with an 'A'.

(At his desk, Romani's eye twitched.)

David shook his head, banishing the thoughts that were plaguing him. "In any case, we have far more weighty matters to consider." At last, his eyes fell on Kratos. "So, this is the god Eric said they were warned was coming."

For a long moment, he seemed to almost stare through Kratos, his expression pensive. "Certainly a god. But not THE God." The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "But it is a wonder to see - to know that the Lord of Hosts made not just this world, but many others."

He extended a hand. "Welcome, Foreign god. It is good to have you on our side in this, the fight for Humanity."

Kratos grasped his wrist, with a grunt. "You speak of the Abrahamic God? The one Jeanne follows?"

David released Kratos' wrist with a shrug. "The One True God, the Lord of Hosts, Yahweh, The Most High, Almighty God - many names for one being. But yes, that would be correct." He tilted his head, a question on his face. "I don't suppose you've heard of Him in your world, have you?"

As Kratos shook his head, David shrugged. "I suppose that's not surprising - from the few bits Eric had been told about you from Jason, you were Old Greek. Not really the correct area, at least not until the Roman times. Despite the persecutions we faced then, that was when our message truly began to spread around the known world."

He glanced about. "Though, speaking of Jeanne, there is one among you who I haven't seen yet, who I have been interested in meeting. Where is….ah!" As he shifted, he finally spied Avenger, who had been standing almost directly behind Kratos, almost as if she had been hiding.

David's grin was wide as he looked her up and down, finally settling on her face. "I did not believe it when I first heard it, but I see I owe our Maid of Orleans an apology. Truly, her new sister is her splitting image."

There was a pause, a brief one, that was not quiet, as there was the sound of more than a few people suddenly drawing in a breath. Then….

"What the FUCK did you just call me?"

David seemed unconcerned with the woman who was suddenly standing almost nose to nose with him - and appeared to be of a similar mind about the fact that the air around her was wavering with heat. "Was I mistaken, or informed wrong? After one of our recent joint services, she had the most interesting tale to tell us all. And the most fascinating thing was how she had discovered a new little sister, one that was aiding in resolving the Incineration of Humanity, alongside a Foreign God, of all things. She was so proud of you, to hear her speak."

Avenger's mouth hung open for a span of heartbeats, her eyes wide. "I ain't……" Her mouth moved soundlessly for a second, as she tried to organize her thoughts. "Where in the blazing hells did she get THAT idea? I ain't her sister any more than this big lug," She nudged Kratos with her shoulder. "Is my goddamn father! Did she somehow get into the fucking communion wine?"

David shook his head. "Oh no, she was quite sober. And Jeanne wouldn't do such - and isn't one to overindulge, in any event. Not that she is a lightweight - she is French, after all, and wine, or alcohol was sometimes safer to drink than water in her day."

"She had to be on SOMETHING for her to get this…….." Words, again, failed Avenger. "....IDEA in her stupid head. We aren't sisters, I'm not her damn family, and I'm not a Jeanne clone, either! I might have been copied from her, but I'm ME! ME, DAMMIT! Nobody else! Understand?"

There was a twinkle in David's eye. "That would mean then, she could have no familial objection if…."

Avenger snarled. "If the next words out of your damn mouth involve the word 'marriage' or anything similar I'm going to fucking ROAST you and take my chances with the Big Guy being sour at me for cooking one of his chosen Kings, when and fucking IF I meet him whenever I cash out."

David held his hands up, but he was smiling. "Just something to keep in mind, is all."

There was a noise from Romani's image, one that, even through the static, sounded oddly familiar to the same sorts of sounds that came from Atalanta whenever Artemis was mooning over Orion.

"While I enjoy the comedy routine as much as the next guy, we still have a big, pissed off - and possessed - demigod Berserker breathing down our necks." Teach's finger sprang up, pointing directly at David. "If you're here, and my buddy Eric says you're who I was looking for, then that probably means the artifact Jason was also looking for is here….." He trailed off, and the blood drained from his face. "....and I've suddenly put two and two together and am now wishing I was anywhere but here. Like ServantFest, or even back at my last stand."

"It's better I show you - some of you might not believe it without seeing it with your own eyes." He began walking away, with a motion for them to follow him.

As they walked, Mash glanced over to Blackbeard, a worried look on her face. "Mr. Teach….is the artifact….." She trailed off, biting at her lower lip.

"I think so, Mashuu." Blackbeard groaned. "Which turns this whole shitshow into a completely different kettle of fish." He scratched at his nose, his mouth a thin line. "But it does give us a ton of options, if it is."

After walking for several minutes, David directed them into a cave, one that was much more of a tunnel than anything. And not a long one, either. Almost as soon as they entered it, they were walking out into a massive clearing, one surrounded by high rock walls all around it, akin to a stadium, one open to the sky.

Or an enormous crater.

In the center of it all, rested a wooden container, cased in gold, with two long rods attached to its sides, the means by which it could be carried and borne over distances. And it seemed to glow, from within - indeed, there was a palpable aura of power around the whole thing.

Romani made a choked noise, and exclaimed something in a language none of them but David (and Kratos, through his armband) could understand. "The Ark of the Covenant. How?"

"It's summoned when I am - but it cannot be moved from its spot, and I have no control as to where it is placed, either." Lightning quick, a staff formed in his hands, and he rapped Anne on the knuckles, as she was beginning to reach for it. "Do NOT touch it! Whatever you do!"

He met each of their eyes, one by one. "Unless you are allowed, the power of the Lord will strike you down - on the spot." He licked his lips, nervously. "Human, Servant….or even Foreign God - the only distinction it recognizes if you have been permitted to lay hands on it. Even I dare not touch it, given how I fell from the Lord's favor for my sins."

In some ways, it reminded Kratos of Pandora's Box. In both cases, they were mere containers, though, as with Pandora's Box, Kratos could feel the sheer power contained within the Ark. "Jason believed if he sacrificed a god upon this Ark, then he would gain power." He met David's eyes. "That it would give him mastery of these seas…..and more."

"He's wrong…..fatally wrong." David shook his head. "Doing that would destroy this era, at the least. It possibly could damage other eras, as well. The damage would be incalculable."

"Medea," Hektor had his head in his hands. "I never liked that girl. At times, when his back was turned, she'd turn this cold, dead look on Jason. It was the same look Achilles gave me after I killed Patroclus. I always wondered why Herakles never did anything about it, considering how loyal he was supposed to be to Jason, because I saw him noticing it. But now that we know what we know, that explains it."

"She was leading him along the entire way," muttered Atalanta, hints of actual anger in her voice. "And with it being a younger Medea, the one that was before their falling out, he let himself be led by the nose."

Chiron expelled a very, very tired sigh from deep within himself. "Even though he knows that Servants, barring some very specific examples, remember everything of their lives, he let himself get overconfident." His hand reached up to cup his chin. "Though, with Herakles by his side, possibly he believed that he had a countermeasure in the event of treachery….but I doubt he was thinking that far forward."

He groaned, and his head drooped. "I have never had a student as frustrating as that boy. And I believe I never will again."

Atalanta patted him on the back. "He had all the makings of a great Captain, but then he'd go and say or do something that would make half of us wonder why we were following him in the first place. Then, a few minutes later, he'd demonstrate why and we'd wonder why we'd ever questioned him. I understand where your frustration is coming from."

Anne and Mary exchanged a look. "This conversation feels familiar," whispered Anne.

Mary's eyes had strayed over to Blackbeard. "It really does, doesn't it?"

David tapped the end of his staff against the ground. "Perhaps you could bring me up to speed. Eric mentioned that Jason was being supported by both Medea and Herakles, but from what you are saying, they have turned on him?"

"I don't think they were ever on his side in the first place," said Fujimaru. "There's something possessing Herakles - Medea's bowing and scraping to it and saying it works for someone that she met before Jason, the one that got her on board with the plan to vaporize humanity."

David was already opening his mouth, words of protest on his lips, when Avenger cut him off.

"It says it's Forneus."

David's response was immediate. "Impossible!"

"THANK YOU!" came Romani's garbled response.

"For that to happen, someone would have to have unlocked my son's greatest work. And, as someone who saw his talent with their own eyes, that beggars belief." His staff began tapping on the ground, almost rhythmically. "But….at the same time, for something to possess a Servant, it would have to be exceptionally potent. As little as I want to entertain the idea, it would be foolish not to."

He shrugged. "The stakes are entirely too high to discount anything. It also would explain the corruption I sensed on Eric's wounds - and more recently, the wounds some of you were carrying." His eyes fell on Kratos. "Some of the demon's power is leaking through Herakles' Servant container, and causing infected - for the lack of a better term - wounds."

Avenger raised her hand (the metal one, of course). "So, I'm going to ask the same thing I asked Scruffy earlier about Drake - why don't we just whack you right here and now? Wouldn't that solve the problem of who the fuck ever getting their hand on God's nuke there and using it to wipe us out?"

David shook his head, sadly. "It cannot be returned to Spirit Form - it can't really even be moved. Should I die, it will remain here, physically, so long as someone possesses it. Would that our solution be so easy."

"And that rules out dropping it somewhere and letting it sink to the bottom of the ocean, then," said Fujimaru. "Which would have been my next suggestion."

"Never a top-secret government warehouse when you need it," lamented Blackbeard.

"Then we cannot fall back any further," rumbled Kratos. "We must fight. And win. Here."

"You know, this might solve our exorcist problem, though," commented Da Vinci. "King David is about as good of a Servant as we could ask for in that regard, short of Solomon himself."

"I could certainly try. But keep in mind I was always more of a warrior than a scholar - or a Mage." David frowned. "And there's also the issue of God's favor. Nathan said I had been forgiven. And I was greatly punished for my transgression. But we should have a backup plan, just in case."

"Well, there's always the 'kill him until he's completely dead' plan we've been working on this entire Singularity," said Fujimaru. "Though is there any difference between Jason's plan of sacrificing a god on the Ark, and us just throwing Herakles on it and hoping that would wipe him out?"

"Mainly one of intent." David shrugged. "To use it as a weapon against another is far more acceptable in the eyes of the Lord. After all, it was at least some of the powers contained within it that brought down the walls of Jericho." He looked out to the seas. "And, I suspect, at least some of its powers are behind the wild seas that surround this archipelago. An attempt to dissuade the foolish and unworthy from seeking it."

"The problem is, we're not dealing with a nearly-mindless Berserker," warbled Romani's voice. "Regardless of if it is Forneus or not, that thing inside of Herakles clearly knows the Ark is here, and it knows what the Ark is capable of, as well. If he's smart, he won't get anywhere near it."

"Then we kill him, and throw his body on the Ark while it is healing," growled Kratos.

There was a long silence, one that was broken by Blackbeard. "As plans go, I've heard worse."

---

 

LATER THAT EVENING​

That, of course, had not been the end of the discussion. Chaldea - or possibly Mages, Kratos had realized, preferred to examine a plan in far more detail than Kratos was used to. Though, having three minds as intelligent and labyrinthine as Da Vinci, Chiron, and the El-Melloi (which possibly brought the tally up to four minds, considering he was sharing his consciousness with another), perhaps that was inevitable. And the pirate, Teach, while not as brilliant as the other three, did possess a startling amount of cunning - it was he who continually attempted to poke holes in their ideas, wanting the plan refined to the smallest margin of error.

So it was that, when they finally broke to prepare a meal for the evening, most of them were mentally drained from the hours of debate. For his part, the promise of warm food was doing much to soothe the headache that had been building behind Kratos' eyes as the discussion, he felt, had dragged on beyond its purpose.

(In the end, the thought of an exorcism was reserved for later in the battle, once Herakles had been weakened some - and, should they be able to force him to touch the Ark, it would be wholly unneeded.)

Mash, Fujimaru, and Artemis - who had insisted on helping - were stirring a mixture in a pot (with both Orion and Atalanta worriedly muttering amongst themselves), when a massive shadow fell over Kratos.

Asterios - the Minotaur. And, perched on his shoulder was Euryale, who was staring down at Kratos like he was a puzzle she hadn't quite figured out - though, at least, he did not see any sign of the naked contempt that had been in the eyes of her identical sister.

"You are Kratos….the one my sister spoke of," she began. "Her Master."

"I am a 'Master' only by necessity," he growled, that term, as ever, sitting poorly with him. "She is an ally, a willing ally - not a slave."

Euryale nodded. "Yes. She said that too. I didn't believe it myself, honestly. That my giant little sister would ever willingly agree to serve a god. Certainly not after the experiences we all had with them." She stared at him for a long moment. "But after watching you, and now speaking with you, I think I can see a little bit of why."

"You're not like them…..or us, really." She gave a sigh that was tinged with bitterness. "For all that we hid on the Shapeless Isle to escape the gods - and the men who sought to capture myself and me, we really were, in some ways, just as arrogant as any Olympian. Dismissive of mortals, for one, and entitled."

She continued. "But you're far better to those two girls trailing behind you than we would have ever been to them, had they ever washed up on the Shapeless Isle. And you speak of my sister like she's a person, and not a tool, or a weapon, like most Mages who have summoned her - or any of us, really, have."

She paused, thinking. "Perhaps that's why she seems happier than either of us have seen her in a long, long while."

"You….." Kratos considered his words. "You are unlike what I expected." Truly, given Medusa's stories, he expected another Stheno, and all the tension that would bring. Tension they could ill afford at this time, with the enemies assembled against them.

"You've met Stheno, haven't you? And by the look on your face, I assume it didn't go well, did it?" At his nod, she continued. "Had we encountered each other before I was pulled into this hell of a Singularity, you would have been correct. But days of being hunted by something like Herakles leaves someone with few illusions. For all the superiority my sister and I clung to, we truly are pitifully weak. Normally, to compress a Divine Spirit into a Servant Container weakens the Divine Spirit greatly. For the two of us, it's actually an improvement."

"But even though heroes plagued the Shapeless Isle with their presence, trying to 'save' the two goddesses from the horrible monster that held them captive, neither of us was truly in any danger from them. We simply made Medusa fight them because she was better suited for it." She shivered. "Not like the danger I have been in here, from the Argonauts. Those were days of true helplessness. If Asterios hadn't found me, and hidden me…."

"He is your protector," rumbled Kratos - for though she hadn't said it, the 'and protected me' hung over and pressed down upon all their shoulders as obviously as the sky did upon those of Atlas.

Euryale turned away from him, but not before he noticed a slight flush appear on her cheeks. "He's nowhere near as effective as my brute of a sister, but given all the things working against him, I suppose he did passably. Even if he had no idea how carefully he has to treat someone as delicate as me." Her tiny fist began striking her mount on his head - to no appreciable effect. "When he grabbed me and hauled me off to his Labyrinth, he left BRUISES. And on my porcelain skin no less!"

"Said…..I was sorry," growled the man-beast, almost seeming happy every time the goddess seated on his shoulder made contact with his skull.

Euryale huffed. "I suppose you HAVE learned how to handle me since then. And I SUPPOSE, given the situation at the time, you didn't have time to be gentle, but still!" She ceased her assault, and crossed her arms over her chest, her nose in the air. "At least you're starting to get some idea of how to treat a lady."

"Eric says……skulls of your enemies as presents." By the frown on his face, Asterios wasn't sure he agreed with that idea. "Pirate man says flowers and chocolates…..and a marathon session of Toradora." He appeared baffled at the latter parts of that piece of advice, though he seemed to at least understand the idea of flowers - in concept.

If anything, the flush on the tiny goddess' face grew brighter. "Why are you listening to HIM?! That frightful witch of a woman that married that Berserker allowed that……degenerate around him because he was actively REPELLANT to women!" She shook her head violently, her two tails of hair flying through the air. "No, no, no! Do not take his advice, and what even is Toradora?"

She tilted her head back to stare at the night sky. "What I have to deal with, by the gods…..I can only hope, for my sister's sake, that you're less of a lost cause than Asterios, Kratos."

"We. Are. NOT."

She waved her hand, interrupting his snarled words. "I know, I know. Medusa said the same thing when I asked her about it - told me all about your wife and how attached you were to her, and how you're mourning her death. And as her sister, I am exercising my sisterly right to disbelieve that, at least on HER part." Her finger sprang up to point directly between Kratos' eyes. "My titan of a sister doesn't particularly even LIKE men - beyond all the heroes who were constantly trying to kill her, there's also everything that happened with Poseidon. So to hear her talk so well of a man - and not JUST a man, but a god?"

She shook her head, her finger never wavering. "No, Kratos of some Foreign Greece. Medusa CARES for you, and she can't hide it from me any more than she can hide her towering stature. I'm not saying it's anything more than platonic, or that it will ever be, but it IS there. And you'd have to be thicker than this lug to not realize it!" Her finger jabbed one of Asterios' horns, not that Kratos needed the visual aid to know of whom she was speaking.

Her nose wrinkled. "Then again, maybe you are. But you listen, and listen good!" She stood up on Asterios' shoulder, glaring down at Kratos. "If you hurt her, then my twin and I will have Asterios here hold you down while the two of us drain you dry of EVERY drop of blood in your body. Understand?"

As threats go, it was far from the most effective. And it was undermined by Asterios' softly muttered 'Euryale…..don't…..want to fight.' So he merely crossed his arms, and met her furious glare, not giving the diminutive goddess an inch.

There was nothing between him and Medusa besides the bond of comrades. And even if there was, there was no room in his heart for another. Not now, and not for a long, long time.

Whatever Euryale saw in his eyes must have appeased her, at least somewhat, because she gave a derisive sniff, and turned away from Kratos. "I've said my piece, and you've been warned!" She nudged Asterios. "Now take me over there, I'm getting hungry."

Asterios waved one of his massive hands through the air. "Want to…..ask the god….something."

She sighed, but reached over and patted him on his head. "Do what you want. If I'm feeling generous, I might make sure there's a portion left for you." She hopped down from his shoulder, and padded over to the cookfire - very deliberately not looking over her shoulder at him.

Asterios, in contrast, watched her the whole way, before turning back to Kratos. "In your world…..was I….monster?"

Kratos had not had any expectations of what the Minotaur could have wanted to ask him (again, as with Medusa, he was taken aback by how much more human he was in this world, not just in appearance, but in bearing and personality, as well), but this…. "Yes, you were," he answered simply.

Something, either in his tone and words, or in his body language, must have given it away to Asterios. "Killed….me?" he asked, his tone barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he muttered. "Though there was not just one Minotaur in my Greece, but many. I do not know if I ever faced the first…..though I was forced to explore the Labyrinth." A spark of interest flared to light in Asterios' eyes. "It was not constructed to hold the Minotaur of my world, but Pandora's Box."

"Oh." Asterios seemed to deflate. "Was….kept in there. Fed….people. Didn't know….was wrong to eat…them." He hung his head. "Was….so hungry. Hoped…..maybe somewhere else….wasn't monster."

He turned and began to shuffle off, in the direction of Euryale, but Kratos' voice stopped him. "I killed the Medusa of my world as well. And Euryale, when she sought me out for revenge. And they too were monsters……inhuman, cruel. And unlike the Medusa of this world." He looked up and met the red pupils and black eyes of the Minotaur - no, of Asterios. "As you are very unlike the Minotaurs of my world."

"I was a monster, once. I may still be one." He sighed. "For years, I have tried to be something else….to be better than I once was. But to be a monster is a choice. Medusa….she too, thinks she is a monster, even as she does not act as one."

Asterios was staring at him with confusion on his face. "You think….I could not be….monster?"

Kratos shook his head. "What I think holds no meaning. It is only what you think." And, Kratos suspected, what a certain goddess might think. (Faye had at least as much credit in the man Kratos was these days as his own choices did, after all.)

"Not….so simple," rumbled Asterios. "But….will think on it." He looked down at Kratos, and almost smiled. "You are…..strange god. But….thank you."

"Asterios!" Euryale's voice cut through the night. "Your food is getting cold! Get over here before I think better of saving it for you and start helping myself!"

---

 

A BIT AWAYS FROM THE CAMP​

Avenger could hear them from where she was sitting. Hell, she could still see the glow of the fire - she wasn't THAT far away. And normally, she'd be right over there, teasing Squeaks and giving Red hell - and counting the number of grunts or disgusted sighs she managed to drag out of Kratos. But tonight, her heart just wasn't in it.

Demon God Pillars. Romani - fucking Solomon - being in denial. And now, the damn Ark of the fucking Covenant and King David, and his revelation that the real Jeanne thought they were fucking sisters all of a sudden. Like, really, where exactly the HELL did that come from?

And then there was the shit with her getting nothing out of trying the exorcism chant. That threw a big old wrench into her belief that God was screwing with her. On the one hand, her life being saved back in that church by a falling cross, then her tagging along back to Chaldea, despite her doing nothing of the sort that would have caused that was suspicious as hell. But then, absolutely nothing when she recited after the Doc, and according to him, she should have felt something - IF God was actively stalking her, at least.

So she was tired, confused, and just DONE with people for the moment. Even a badass Avenger needed some quiet and time to think once in a while, so she was taking that time now. And the quiet was kind of nice, even if it was boring. Really not her usual thing - she needed noise.

But, not the noise she was hearing, that of sandaled feet on the rocky ground, and a voice she really didn't want to hear right now.

"Not hungry?" David stepped around a large rock, just barely visible in the light that was reaching them both from the campfire. "Your friends from Chaldea….and that goddess have put the finishing touches on dinner. I know Servants don't HAVE to eat, but I assumed you'd take the chance to eat. Every little bit of magical energy we can replenish before battle, after all."

A sly grin started to form on his stupid face. "Unless, of course, you were hoping that I might notice you were gone, and come over here so the two of us could have a private conversation?"

Avenger groaned, no small amount of ire leaking into her voice. "Could you just……FUCKING stop?" She flopped back onto the rock she was sitting on. "I am so fucking NOT in the mood for it right now. Any other night, I'd have already made six different threats about how dead I was going to kill you. But not tonight."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him hold up his hands. "Truthfully, it was meant as a joke. I could see your mood from all the way over at the camp, and hoped it might lighten things."

She rolled her eyes so hard she thought they would fall out of her head, and, while she was doing that, she heard rustling to the side. She halted the circling of her eyes to see the jackass settling down on that rock he had just walked around, making himself comfortable.

Because that was JUST what she needed right now. And the glare she fired at him didn't do a damn thing, either.

Nothing other than make him grin at her. "Would it help to have a fresh set of ears to listen?" Withering. That was the level her glare evolved to, but he didn't flinch at all in the face of it. "I WAS King of Israel once. Hearing the problems of my people was one of my many, many jobs."

Her disbelieving look didn't shift him an inch. "I'm serious. No flirtations, no offers of marriage. I'll even dispense with any economic advice, since it sounds like there's little use to your Chaldea for currency in the state the world is in - though if you do run across any in the eras you're visiting, you should recover it as a nest egg for when Humanity is restored. You can never start saving too early. But in this case, I'll just be a neutral, and open minded ear, and you'll have the wisdom of a king at your disposal."

He gave her a grin that might someday have gotten into the neighborhood of charming. "Even if that wisdom does pale in comparison to my son's, I'm still no slouch in that department."

She just stared at him, her brain screeching to a halt. Part of her wasn't sure if this wasn't a Certain Someone fucking with her again - sending one of His Chosen Kings to try to give her life advice. And the hell of it was, even if it was that, part of her was actually thinking of taking him up on it - not like she had any better options at the immediate moment.

But mostly, she was just struck by the resemblance. You had to look for it, but it was there - mostly, they had the same damn green eyes. Old ones, too. And despite being fucking dorks, when they got serious, they MEANT it. (She only had the vaguest memories of when she'd pinned the man to the wall and demanded he explain himself, and then just how cold and dead his eyes went, and the fucking bombs he dropped on her. She'd mostly come to when she was back in her room, still struggling to comprehend just who the fuck it was she'd threatened in her sheer ignorance.)

Yeah, this was the Doc's dad. No fucking question.

Y'know? What the hell.

"What's it feel like when God is actively taking an interest in your life?"

He blinked, then titled his head. "That….is not the question I was expecting. Considering everything with yourself and your…." Her eyes narrowed, and she SAW him change his words on the fly. "....opposite number, I would have thought you'd want nothing to do with the Almighty."

She groaned. "I really don't. But it doesn't look like I'm getting much in the way of choices in my life." She dragged herself upright. "How much did the Teacher's Pet tell you about me?"

"Less than you might think." David began ticking things off his fingers. "You were apparently made by Gilles de Rais - the Caster one, the one that's rather mad, using a Holy Grail. He made you to take revenge on France for what he saw as the crimes they committed against the actual Jeanne. Then, a Servant you summoned turned on you, forcing you to work with Chaldea, and Jeanne, who was aiding Chaldea. She wasn't especially glowing about why you were helping, but given your class, she " He shrugged. "Truthfully, she wasn't sure what happened to you after that - she didn't see you fade out as Servants do, so she thought you might have accompanied them back to their time, but she thought it was equally as likely you just…..stopped existing, given what a unique creature you are."

"I will add that she did hope that that hadn't happened. Despite how little the two of you got along, she saw you as one of God's creations, and deserving of a chance, the same as anything else." He gave her a wry smile. "She hoped it would be for redemption - and thought that Kratos would help you along that path - if that was where you were looking to go."

"Of fucking COURSE she did." Keep on topic, bitch about 'me' later. "But that's pretty much the broad strokes of it. And yeah, I did end up following the big grumpy guy back, but it wasn't due to anything I did - or anything they did, to hear them tell it. What she didn't know was when I was fighting Charlie, he had me dead to rights. I shanked him, but he was already making to take my head off, and I wasn't in any shape to stop him from doing that, either. Church we were fighting in fell on us about that time. I only survived because the cross that was hanging in the church fell and took the shot that was meant for me."

His eyes widened at that. "So, between that improbable shit, and then me hitching a ride back to Chaldea that shouldn't have happened, you can probably see why I started thinking that a certain Someone was meddling in my life. One of those coincidences is stretching it far enough, but two, right after each other? Fuck no."

"And that bothers you?" David quirked an eyebrow at her expression. "God watches over all of His children, no matter who they are - or how they come into being."

"Even if the two of us were on speaking terms - and we aren't, and I don't see that changing anytime soon, yeah, it'd fucking bother me." She pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. "I'm pretty much a kludge of a Servant. Calling me Gilles' revenge porn isn't too far off the fucking mark. He was pretty much puppeting me from day one, telling me I was actually 'Jeanne', and winding me up so I could be his tool for murdering France. Not that I was too opposed to that, because even if I don't want to be within a damn mile of 'me', France still fucked her over. They kind of had something coming for that."

Just….probably not what she did. She flip flopped on it - some days she just wanted to torch them again, and again, to crack the earth open and let lava take the entire damn country. Then other days, she knew damn well she'd done some truly depraved, unforgivable shit, and was only slightly less responsible because of how badly she'd been lied to. Those were the days she spent a lot of time in the Simulator hitting things - usually fight-happy Irishmen.

Anyway, continuing. "But when he shoved his core into my chest, and I ran like I was the one on fire away from Orleans while he bought me some time with his life, that was probably the first time I'd truly been free to choose anything for myself in my entire existence. And even then, I wasn't really free to do anything but lay down on a cave floor and try to ignore the pain as my body tried to patch itself back together, all while my brain was making the shift from me being the corrupted 'Ruler' Gilles had me as to an Avenger. Being stuck like that while your head is doing an endless replay of every bad thing that's happened to you, even in a short-ass life like mine is hell, let me tell you."

"Stalking Carmilla and Vlad after they split off from everyone else, and then hooking up Kratos was just me doing the revenge thing, only for actual shit done to me, instead of the imagined shit Gilles had me doing. But, well, fucking Avenger Class, so it worked." She sighed. "And then everything at the end of all that happened, and I have to wonder how much of anything have I been fucking choosing, if Someone's got Their finger on the damn scale."

David was quiet for several breaths, as he considered her. "That's not all, is it?"

"No. Did anyone mention that Red was possessed, once?"

At that, his eyes widened a lot, and he shook his head. "Nothing to do with these Demon Pillars, or whatever they are - and I'm absolutely in the camp that they are what they say they are, by the way," she said. "But whatever happened to Red has to do with the clusterfuck that was the first Singularity those guys did - they got sabotaged and only barely managed to scrape their way out of it, but a Servant there, one that was already possessed or something managed to sneak itself out of there in her body - it disguised the symptoms as poisoning, and left her in a coma."

She tapped her skull. "Gilles put JUST enough of the 'Maid of Orleans' in me that I have what passes for some of her Saint shit, so when I saw her in the infirmary after I got pulled to Chaldea, I asked them why they had a possessed girl. Of course, all hell broke loose then. The Doc had to exorcise her - he was the best option we had." A better option than any of them had known, at the time.

This part wasn't going to be easy to say. Best to just rip the damn band-aid off. "On the boat ride over here, he worked with me on the exorcism ritual, and….I didn't feel NOTHING. Not when I was doing them. So now I'm starting to wonder if they really were just coincidences, and I've been paranoid over nothing."

David hmmmmmed. "And, just to ask, are you more bothered that you didn't feel anything….or that you were expecting to?"

"I don't fucking know. I mainly went along with the Doc because I thought it might give me something of an answer. Well, that, and any extra weapons we can have in the tank for fighting a damn demon-possessed Herakles. But mainly the first thing, and now I'm even more confused than I was." She flopped back down onto the rock she was using as a seat. "Isn't He supposed to give you a sign or some shit?"

"He frequently does, yes, but oftentimes, it isn't what you expect." She turned her head to see a very rueful look on his face. "I didn't even know I'd lost his favor for what I did with Bathsheba. It took the Prophet Nathan and his parable to make me realize how badly I'd sinned - and the punishment that was coming." His face fell. "I'd have rather taken the full brunt of the punishment, rather than having that fall on two of my sons."

"But, to answer your question, there's no concrete way to know….and, it's different for everyone." He shrugged. "Not everyone experiences the surety that they're being guided by the Lord like Jeanne does. Saint Martha is mostly following the teachings of Jesus, and his example, seeing as how she met him in her lifetime, as one example. In my case - and possibly my son's case, we were just blessed with an abundance of wisdom. Him more so than me, but despite my missteps, I was a good ruler. Mostly. But I also had the fact that he had anointed me when Saul strayed off the correct path to help when I wasn't sure if I was making the right choices."

He peered down at her. "If you were anyone else, I'd say to have faith - the same faith that led me to challenge a giant with nothing more than a sling and a few smooth stones. But somehow, I don't think that would do much in your case, would it?"

"No, it really wouldn't. I'm not about to start singing hymns here anytime soon, or acting like my blonde mirror image. That just ain't me. Not now, not ever." She might have some questions about who she was, but she knew for damn sure that wasn't her, if nothing else.

"Then, I suppose you'll just have to wait until an answer crosses your path. And, in the meantime, I will pray for you." He met her smouldering glare with a peaceful smile. "Trite, yes, I know. And, truly, I'd be doing it for Jeanne as much as you - whatever your feelings for her, she truly is hoping for the best for you."

She rolled her eyes again - at this rate, her eyes were going to go on strike and demand better working conditions for her constantly putting them through the damn hamster wheel routine. "Good luck with that, chief."

---

 

THE ARGO

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

He had been crouched on the bow of the Argo for hours, motionless - like his true body, a Servant body did not tire easily, did not require rest, or sustenance. And his mind was eternal, it had weathered the eternity of unbroken void that had been their lot when they had been sealed away. A few hours, while the Argo was repaired was nothing - though the delay did gall some. Kratos, and the other goddess had been right there, for the taking, but he had been forced to protect the Witch, and, more importantly, the vessel. And the gnats had flown away again - a fact one of his brothers was far from pleased with.

But, now that she had seen them, the Witch would be able to track them by their Magical Circuits. So, they had nowhere left to run. And, if his suspicions were true, there was only one place they could have headed.

And it would lead them right to the artifact that would see this miserable remnant of flawed humanity wiped from existence.

A tired, filthy, and rather disheveled Jason separated from the ghostly sailors, and walked up to stand behind him. His fingers twitched, and, for a second, Forneus wondered if the boy was working up his nerve to attack him, but it seemed not.

He wasn't about to try to slip his leash. The boy seemed cowed, for now. But that well could change. Flauros thought he had the ants completely beneath his boot too, before they had turned everything on its head.

"IS THE ARGO PREPARED TO SAIL?"

Jason flinched at the sound of Forneus' true voice coming out of his friend's mouth, as he had every time Forneus had spoken. "After working me like a dog, yes, yes it is. She could honestly use some time in a dry dock, but I doubt there's one around here - or that you'd even allow that. So we fixed as much as we could given the circumstances." And as much as he tried to hide it, the hatred simmered in his eyes, though, to his credit, it didn't touch his voice.

"TAKE YOUR POSITION THEN. WE TURN TO THE SOUTH."

His tone left no room for argument, but the boy still thought to raise his voice to him. "You can't mean…..that wall of storms? There's no way the Argo can survive that, not with the patchwork repairs we did!" For a brief moment, he almost seemed to forget his anger at Forneus. "We'll die, all of us!"

Forneus laughed - though to mortal ears, it probably sounded like something else entirely. "THE STORMS WILL PROVE NO OBSTACLE. YOU STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND JUST WHAT IT IS RESIDES WITHIN THIS SERVANT'S BODY."

His many eyes narrowed, and his will focused. "BEFORE ME, THE SEAS WILL PART, AND RUN AS BLOOD. NOW GO. IT IS TIME WE END THIS."

---

AUTHORS NOTES: Poor JAlter. Soon, it'll be time to cue the shorks.

Full Moon Full Life gets the credit for this chapter. It came up on the playlist when I was doing the Kratos/Euryale/Asterios and JAlter/David stuff, and it just hit spots, so it went on infinite loop.

Go Eagles - simply because I'm sick of the favorable calls the Chiefs are getting.

Chapter 47: Okeanos 8

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 47​

The first sign was when the wind and thunder, which had been a constant since they had landed in the archipelago, suddenly ceased.

David stared out across the becalmed seas for a long moment, before he spoke. "They're coming."

His expression was grim as he turned back to look at all of them. "No matter what we think has taken over Herakles, it is the only thing in this Singularity that could quiet the skies like that."

"Given what you've told us about how powerful the Ark is, shouldn't it have put up a bit more of a fight?" asked Blackbeard.

David shook his head. "No. The storms are more of a warning sign than a true barrier. And a trial, for those who might be worthy." He glanced back at the horizon. "But in this case, the thing that is coming could not, will not ever be worthy, and, moreover, will not be deterred by a simple bit of bad weather."

"I will ask the sailors here, how long do we have?"

Teach, Eric, and Drake all shared a look. "By my count, it took us about 16 hours to get through there, but we had to go around water spouts, too, so we weren't flying straight as an arrow." Drake whetted a finger and held it up to the sky. "Wind's in their favor."

Blackbeard was tapping the tips of his fingers with his thumbs, counting under his breath. "If they end up getting becalmed, it could buy us some time, but when have I ever gotten that lucky? And Medea can probably summon up some wind if that happens, anyways." His hands clenched into fists. "The two of you double-check me on this, but I'd say best case we've got twelve hours before they're here. Worst case……four, or less."

"I'd say you're being overly pessimistic with that worst case, Teach - they'd practically need to fly to make that kind of time over that kind of distance, but…." Drake's hand was resting on one of her pistols. "If anyone could do it, it would be that witch."

"She's not coming alone," muttered Eric. "There was Hornigold as well."

"And however many of her creatures she has coming with," said Fujimaru. "Those things have been something of a constant since we first arrived in this place. If she thinks this is going to be the final battle, I don't think she'd stop with them now."

"Probably too much for even a Mage from the Age of the Gods to handle." Da Vinci's eyes looked distant - likely she was also doing some calculations of her own. "At least, not if she wants to arrive in any shape to also fight. Carrying two ships and however many abominations through the air would burn through her mana fast."

"On the one hand, it gets Fornakles here faster," mumbled Blackbeard. "On the other, it probably leaves the rest of their forces well behind them. But from what you've told me, these things are confident enough to think that's all they'd need to take us down, and that was before they did the Fusion Dance with a Servant, too." He frowned. "But you guys won the last battle, when they thought they had all the cards. So we're probably going to see every motherless one of them they can throw at us."

Drake kicked him in the shin, causing him to yelp. "Those 'motherless ones' were my MEN, Teach!"

"And?" He rubbed at his shin. "Your men were probably bastard scrapings off the dockyards, same as mine were. I didn't mean anything by it. If anything, it was a complement. I'd take one of those bully boys to ten of the likes of Hornigold's proper navy men. As they are, 'bout all we can do for them is give them a better death than the lives they're living right now."

Drake's ire dissipated almost immediately, like the air let out of a balloon. "You're right," she said, mollified. "I hate it, but you're right. So what do we do?"

There was a tired voice from behind them. "First thing you should do is fortify the coastline."

As one they turned. Hektor was gesturing at the ocean waters. "Now, while I'm not the most well-versed on modern warfare, Teach has talked to me about things you call 'mines'. From the sound of things, those won't do anything to the Sea Devils, but they'll make life hell for the ships - since I think we can assume Hornigold will be throwing his entire fleet at us again. Fortifying the beach will let us hold them there, for a time, and bleed them while they try to land, either by smaller boats or just by swimming. But we won't be able to completely stop them from making it to the shore. We just don't have the numbers for that."

His grin turned vicious. "Though, if we have the time and materials, there might be a few more tricks we can play..."

He looked at the group staring at him, and shrugged. "I held the walls of Troy against armies the likes of which the world hadn't seen before for almost a decade. This may be a bit atypical, but it's a siege all the same. And I know sieges, and the dirty tricks you have to pull to survive them." He ran a hand through his hair. "And it's like the big god said, we don't have anywhere left to run, so I'm going to have to fight. Much as my poor back wishes otherwise."

He cracked his knuckles. "So let's get to work."

---

The sun was just sinking below the horizon as the Argo drew into sight of what lay beyond the wild seas. But Forneus did not need to see the islands to know. He could feel it, all the way down to his core. Feel the hateful energies, even contained as they were, leaking into the surroundings.

The Ark was here, as calculated. And with it, his victory, and the end of these Chaldeans.

"BEGIN THE ATTACK."

Magical light flared in the seas around the Argo, as the pirate hunter unleashed his Noble Phantasm, and ghost ships began to populate the waves. They would be of little use in investing the islands, true, as the ghosts could not stray far from their ships, but they would effectively corral the rats, and prevent them from leaving. While the Ark could not be moved, his brother had underestimated his enemies, to his detriment, and eventual defeat.

The Observatory would allow them no means to somehow extend this Singularity's life span. This ended, here and now.

(If only to shut up his brother's incessant demands for the Foreign God's head.)

Hornigold was barking out orders, directing the fragmentary ships to their positions, when there was a deafening explosion, and one of the ships closest to the island was almost lifted into the air, a massive, gaping hole visible in its hull.

---

Oryou shot out from the water, and descended to the beach. She shook her damp hair back from her face, spraying a shower of water around her - and all over the rest of them. "Next?"

Hektor peered down at the diagram before him, heedless of the water dripping from his face. "I would say…..place the next one somewhat to the left of the one you just set, but a little closer to shore, as well. If Teach is right, and Hornigold will largely be used to pen us in, then we'll want our first hits to take out as many of his ships as possible. It'll sow chaos in the ranks, for one. And even though they know we can't move the Ark, it'll put the seed of doubt in their minds about that. By making a hole in their lines, they'll either have to redeploy ships to redress that, or leave a gaping hole in their ranks." He nodded. "Either way, it benefits us."

Oryou gave him a look. "Watch this one, Ryouma. He reminds Oryou-san too much of Shinsaku. They even have the same squinty eyes."

Ryouma laughed. "Now, now. You can't blame someone for the eyes they're born with."

Oryou shook her head. "Don't blame Oryou-san when he tries to take over with a giant robot." She seized the chain that was attached to the next mine and effortlessly dragged it out into the ocean, still muttering to herself.

"Someday, I'm going to get used to you two name-dropping major Japanese historical figures like it's nothing." Fujimaru laughed. "But not today, apparently, since I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the father of the Japanese Navy is calling me 'Master'." She placed her hands on her hips. "And on vaguely that subject, why did you make all of our mines look like they're right out of one of the two World Wars, Da Vinci?"

Her arm waved out to the field of mines that were littering the beach - all of which looked like massive, spiky metal balls.

"Largely because, given the time we have to work with, it was the easiest to machine these up. These needed to be effective, and little else, so we went with crude as the aesthetic." Da Vinci was frowning like she had been personally insulted. "Give me more time, and I'd give you functionally beautiful weapons of mass destruction, but Hektor wanted these in an hour. So you get these, instead."

"Long as they work, I don't care what they look like - they could be the statues that decorated Troy for all I care." Hektor's eyes were still glued to the projected diagram in front of him. "The more of Hornigold's ships they keep away from us, the better."

"We're still going to have to deal with the Sea Devils, though," said Mash, as she watched Kratos lugging a bushel of trees to the shoreline, Artemis just behind him, carrying a load of her own - and Orion just behind THEM, with a load far larger than anyone would have thought him capable of carrying. "The barricades we're putting together won't be much of an obstacle to those things, given all the suckers they're covered with. I remember watching videos of octopi climbing out of things in aquariums - the Sea Devils will probably do the same to our barricades, even with us attacking them while they do so."

"About that….." Fujimaru had a hesitant smile on her face. "I might have an idea."

---

Forneus, and the rest of the crew of the Argo watched as the ghostly ship tumbled through the air, burning, before it hit the waters with an ugly crunch of timbers, and began to sink.

"MINES. THEY CHOOSE TO BATTLE US WITH MORE MODERN WEAPONS." Not beyond his expectations, though simulations had only shown them resorting to this in less than 23% of the futures they had outlined. So, while not completely unexpected, it was a bit of an outlier.

The witch's cloak flared like wings around her. "I can take to the air, spot the mines from above, and mark them magically."

"NO," he intoned. "THAT MAY BE THEIR PLAN. DRAW YOU AWAY FROM YOUR WORKSHOP, AND HAVE THEIR ARCHERS FELL YOU. THE GODDESS OR THE CENTAUR WOULD BE CAPABLE OF IT."

He crossed his arms over his chest. An odd, mortal gesture, but one that he found he had come to appreciate in his time inhabiting this Servant's flesh. "THE LOST ARE MERELY GHOSTS. FINITE AND REPLACEABLE." He turned to the boy. "SIGNAL TO HORNIGOLD TO CONTINUE SENDING IN THE SHIPS. HE WILL SWEEP THE SEAS CLEAR OF THESE MINES WITH THE HULLS OF HIS SHIPS."

Jason's hands were clenching and unclenching, frustrated powerlessness simmering in his eyes. "And if he runs out of ships?"

"THEN HE WILL SUMMON MORE WITH HIS NOBLE PHANTASM. ULTIMATELY, HIS PHANTOMS ARE EXPENDABLE. THEY EXIST MERELY TO EXHAUST OUR ENEMIES' RESOURCES." He turned to the witch. "SEND IN THE CREATURES."

She nodded, and raised her hands, magical circles flaring around them. Within moments, the waters under and around the Argo were churning, as the twisted humans the witch had worked her changes on began surging towards the shore, hungry for human flesh.

This was why it was unnecessary for Hornigold's ghosts to land; they had ample bodies to throw at the shores. From here he could see that they had done what they could to build defenses for the shore - crude wooden barriers, bristling with spikes had been erected. And behind them he could sense Servants - and one Foreign God. It would slow the mindless beasts some, true. But with the numbers they had, those pitiful defenses would be overwhelmed in no time at all.

Even a Servant could only be in one place at a time.

And their numbers were Legion.

It was as if a living wave was cresting towards the shore. Arrows began streaking from behind the barricades, their Archers attempting to do what little they could to stem the oncoming tide of monstrosities. It would account for little, in the grand scheme of things. As with the pirate hunter's ships, they had the numbers to spare. A few lives expended was nothing.

Then, from the shore, he felt it. A flare of burning magical energy, one that flowed into the seas. And then, beneath the waters, there was light.

And the seas turned red with blood.

---

"Beaches in Japan aren't open all the time, only during certain months during the summer." Fujimaru was kneeling in the sand, drawing with her finger. "You can go to them and even swim around at any time, but if they're not open, there's no lifeguard, no food stands or restrooms nearby." She pushed back from her sand picture. "And they haven't put up the nets to keep out jellyfish and sharks and other things."

Hektor peered down at it. "A net, beneath the waves." He glanced at the girl. "You think this would keep those monsters away from the beaches?"

She shook her head. "Not the standard fare stuff Japan uses, those things would rip right through that. But I bet Da Vinci could get us something much nastier." Her eyes hardened. "I was thinking something more along the lines of barbed wire."

Da Vinci's grin was wide and manic. "Oh, Fujimaru, I can do SO much better than that."

---

Avenger was holding a thin bundle of wires in her metal hand, fire shimmering from within it, as she pumped mana into the nets they had erected offshore.

"Monofilament wires that you can channel mana through - and are just out of phase with reality until you do, so they're damn fucking near impossible to spot." She glanced over at the projection of Da Vinci. "Why in the name of sanity would you have shit like this just laying around?"

"At first, it was just to see if it could be done. A genius, universal or not, always must push the boundaries of the possible." Something flickered behind her eyes. "Then, later, it was insurance - just in case I needed it for something. And you should be glad I made so much of it. It isn't really safe for combat - I made it too sharp, and it'd be impossible, and frankly, dangerous to handle in a battle. But like this - and with an arm I specifically made to be tough enough to not be cut by it?"

"Hey, I ain't complaining too much! This shit's going through them like butter!" cackled Avenger.

Aboard the Argo, Forneus was staring down at the bloody waves. "A NET. THIS WAS NOT IN ANY OF OUR SCENARIOS. THEY SEEM DETERMINED TO KEEP US FROM REACHING THE SHORE."

There was a sheen of magic around Medea's eyes. "I can see it, now. It seems to only exist in a physical state when it's fed mana." She blinked, and her eyes returned to normal. "I've pulled back the Sea Devils - I can probably destroy the net, but it will take me some time. It may be modern, but it's a complicated enough work that I won't be able to simply overwhelm it with pure mana and power. I'd need to deconstruct it - carefully."

Forneus shook his head. "NO. WHILE THE PARTICULARS WERE NOT FORESEEN, IT WAS EXPECTED THEY MIGHT TO BAR OUR WAY LIKE THIS." He held out a massive hand. "THAT IS WHY I BID YOU TO CREATE THE WEAPON. PRODUCE IT NOW."

The witch waved her hand, and a massive construct of wood and sinew fell into his hands.

Yes. This would do.

He planted his feet, drawing the bow back, an arrow materializing in the string. One set of his eyes was tracking the wind patterns, another, watching for any magical interference from the shore. A third set was watching the Chaldeans on the shore, as his main pair - the eyes of his Servant body, were lining up the shot.

Then, he fired.

The bolt ripped through the air, nearly splitting the sound barrier as it crossed the space between the Argo and the shore. The sheer force and momentum behind it carved a furrow in the ocean waters - and tore a hole in the netting below them. The barricades on the shore fared no better, disintegrating before the projectile's wrath had even truly touched them.

The Servants, at least, had been quick enough to dive for cover. Mash had thrown her Master to the ground, sheltering her with her body, and her shield. And Kratos?

His shield had only just finished locking into place when the arrow had arrived. For a split second, he thought he was too late.

Then, the arrow flew by, missing him by the thinnest of margins - but missing him all the same. There was the sound of stone shattering, as the bolt continued on, through the crater holding the Ark, and then it was gone, continuing on into the horizon, its momentum still not spent.

Fujimaru was spitting sand as she pushed Mash off her. "What WAS that?"

"The demon possessing Herakles fired at you, from the bow of the Argo," said Chiron, his image appearing on the communicator. "With a bow."

"It was NOT his bow, from his legend!" shouted Chiron, as voices began to be raised. "If that was truly his bow, it would have done more than shatter a few barricades. And he would not have missed. It must be a replica, created by Medea. Without a doubt powerful, but not the weapon ideally suited for his hands."

A large mound of sand resolved itself into Avenger. "It's still strong enough to put fucking HOLES through us!" she yelled, as she pushed herself back up.

"It nearly put a hole through Anne," muttered Mary, who was standing protectively over her partner, who was whimpering, and had yet to rise. "It barely grazed her, and it almost tore her arm off!"

"I can still fire one-handed!" cried Anne, her voice heavy with pain. "You need every body you can get here!"

"No," rumbled Kratos. "Fall back to David. Let him mend what he can of your injury. If the creatures make landfall, support us from there."

He turned to Fujimaru. "Go with them. Now that they have such a weapon, we cannot risk you being here."

"Already on my way!" The girl slid one of Anne's arms over her shoulder, and began, with Mary, to help her fall back to the crater. Kratos and Mash slid into the wake, covering them until they had made it farther inland.

"The net's still intact, but it's got a gaping hole in it now!" barked Avenger. "It'll keep them from gang-swarming us, but there's still a wide swinging door for them to get through now." Booms began echoing through the air. "And they're opening up with the fucking cannons, too!"

On the Argo, Forneus was staring at the bow in his hands.

He had missed. All the calculations had been perfect, the god had been in his sights, and yet, he had missed. Narrowly, yes. But he had still missed, for, at the last second, before he had loosed his hold on the string, his fingers had twitched, and the shot had been fired a moment before it should have been, causing it to go just off-course by enough.

(From deep within him, in the pit it had been buried in, something roared, and the cage it was in rattled dangerously.)

Continued resistance from the vessel. Even with being bound as completely as it was, it still fought - and, more impressively, it was choosing its battles well. Still, it had only limited the damage this time. While Kratos still lived, he could see the human Master, and the two pirates falling back. One shot had forced three of them back, reducing the numbers that would hold back the oncoming hordes.

He raised the bow again - this time with at least some of his senses dedicated to watching his prisoner for any further insolence.

And fired.

Kratos was forced to duck and roll out of the way, as the arrow screamed through the space he had occupied mere moments ago. This arrow burrowed its way into the sand, turning it molten in its wake. Seconds later, seawater began filling the glass crater.

"He's going to pick us apart!" yelled Hektor, his spear in his hand, his attention split between the massive figure on the bow of the Argo, and the misshapen forms just beginning to peek out from the shallow waters. "We can't let him just sit back and fire at us as he wills!"

---

"So, not to be a downer here, but I notice most of what we're planning is focused around keeping them away from us." Blackbeard looked up from where he was lashing trees together to form one of the many barricades they were building. "What if they have a way to rain fire down on us?"

He gestured. "And with something nastier than Benny's cannons? Because those things have shit for accuracy - they probably wouldn't even be particularly good at pinning us down, even if I hadn't seen Kratos do that whole 'return to sender' bit last fight."

Artemis floated down from the sky, depositing another load of trees. "I mean, I was able to get him where he needed to be last time." She grinned. "If I have to, I can always carry - or throw, my baby brother again!"

"No. Absolutely not! No no no!" Blackbeard leapt to his feet, his hands on his hips. "You've already done that trick once - this is Fornakles - a supposed Demon inhabiting the body of Greece's greatest hero. He's every bullshit shonen villain, who, after he sees an attack, immediately figures out how to counter it and it will never work on him again." He shook his head emphatically. "No, if you try that again, it'll go all kind of bad for you. At least, that's what my gut is telling me!"

"And," said Drake. "If he really does have some sort of attack that's more accurate than cannonballs, flying straight at him is just asking to get blown out of the sky. Nothing any good captain loves more than a big target coming right down the barrels of their guns."

Blackbeard nodded. "That too. Thankfully, you didn't show him too much of your arsenal last time, but I'd be very, VERY leery of going to the well a second time with anything you used previously." He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but do you really want to take your chances with these stakes, and what we're facing here?"

"Then, what do you suggest?" asked Orion, dropping a load of trees on top of the ones Artemis had delivered. "Kratos isn't light enough to run on the water like Atalanta, and he obviously can't fly. How do we get him from here," the bear stomped his feet in the sand. "To there?" He raised a paw, indicating some indistinct point in the waters offshore.

Teach flopped back into the sand, his hands resuming their work on the barricade - but his eyes were somewhere else. Everyone around could almost hear his mind working on the problem. Turning it over and over again, examining it from every side. After a few minutes, he spoke up.

"What if Kratos isn't on the beach at all?"

---

Two more arrows had been fired into the beach, and each time, the prisoner had fought him. Not enough to hinder him, but the resistance was not ceasing. If anything, it was growing in magnitude. It was slight, but it was just enough to alter the trajectory of his shots so that his targets were able to evade them, if only just. Somewhere within himself, he began to feel a touch of something that, someday, might be called an emotion.

Annoyance, tinged with anger.

It was not helped by the boy's comments, from his position at the wheel of the ship.

"Herkales wouldn't have missed that shot, either." His smirk had been growing wider with every shot that had veered off-target. "That many arrows, and the beach would be strewn with torn bodies and little else, but Archer is his best Class, after all. But even as a Berserker, if he was allowed his bow, he'd have left that bunch in ruin." His smirk grew somehow even more irritatingly smug. "Not like this sad performance happening on my ship."

They were just words - meaningless words from a powerless ghost. And they carried less weight than the fool realized - for all that the prisoner was raging with greater ferocity by the second, he was adapting just as quickly. Soon, he would be able to fully bind the mad dog, and fully assume control of this vessel. He knew all that.

But still, he found himself turning (with a roar from the prisoner that almost sounded as though it was a proud laugh), words on his lips for the boy, when the Argo began shaking violently.

Behind them, water exploded upwards in a geyser.

And the Queen Anne's Revenge, its form shimmering with the energies of a fresh manifestation, breached the surface. For a second, it leapt off the waters, and all could see a massive black form, draconic, pushing it from underneath.

From his position behind the wheel, Blackbeard laughed. "DYNAMIC ENTRY!"

Beside him, Kratos spat out the 'rebreather' that Da Vinci had provided, and shook the water from his eyes. In his hands, the Blades of Chaos simmered, steam hissing from their surfaces.

Forneus' many eyes blinked, and he spun, his focus shooting to the beach, where the Kratos there tore a runestone from his neck, where it had been hanging on a cord, and his form wavered - then resolved into that of the Viking King.

So, a deception. And now their rear was threatened.

These mortals were full of surprises.

Whatever it was that pushed the Revenge to the surface suddenly shrank, and a moment later, a pair of forms set down on its deck. Sakamoto, shaking water from his hat, and an Oryou whose hair was almost another layer of clothing, considering how it was damply clinging to her form. "There. Oryou-san delivered your ship to the surface." She peered out at Teach from between the curtain of her hair. "Much praise and exotic frogs will be expected in return."

"And you'll get them!" crowed Blackbeard. "Even if you're a white dress away from cosplaying Sadako right now, I ALWAYS pay my debts!"

As Oryou tilted her head in confusion, Teach turned to Kratos. "Ready to get stuck in, big guy?"

Kratos grunted, and Blackbeard began barking orders. "Sails to full! Get us as close as possible - even if we tank a few shots in the process, having a full on god and the founder of an entire nation's navy should give me the juice to sustain the Revenge long enough for you to get to grips with….."

Laugher - obscene, inhuman laughter began echoing across the gap.

"CLEVER. IN ONLY A FRACTION OF OUR SCENARIOS DID THE OBSERVATORY FORESEE YOU STRUGGLING WITH THIS LEVEL OF TENACITY. TRULY, I CAN SEE WHY MY BROTHER HAD SO MUCH TROUBLE WITH YOU."

"BUT THIS HAS ALL BEEN WITHIN EXPECTATIONS. NOT ONCE HAS THIS BATTLE LEFT THE PALM OF MY HAND." Forneus turned to Medea. "NOW, WITCH."

Medea gestured.

And reality tore.

Above the archipelago, just between the shallow waters that separated the islands, a jagged cleft ripped itself into being, from which leaked the stuff between worlds.

A screech that was only vaguely of this world bellowed from the tear, and a THING fell from it, crashing down into the shallows.

It was massive, in a different way than the twisted whale had been. Where that thing had been bulky, it's form swollen by blubber and mass, this creature was long. An almost slender, rubbery body rested partially in the waters, though it was far too lengthy to fully submerge, and that was further hindered by the actions of the thing itself. Ten veiny, suckered tentacles lashed at the shore, affixing themselves to whatever they could grasp and pulling the main body ponderously onto the land. Beady red eyes stared hatefully at the small forms before it, as a beak, razor-sharp, snapped at the air, sounding for all the world like a gargantuan pair of shears, mechanically slicing at nothing, as though it was eagerly anticipating the flesh it would soon taste.

"Jaysus….." whispered Blackbeard. "They unleashed the damn Kraken."

Before his words had died out, the thing managed to get the greater whole of its body onto land, and suddenly, began shaking violently.

And from within, dozens upon dozens of segmented legs burst forth, spraying ichor across the sands. The legs braced, and heaved…..and slowly, but inexorably lifted the thing into the air.

And, one step at a time, it began to advance.

Blackbeard turned to Kratos, and motioned frantically. "Go. GO! Fornakles is the conductor of all of this - the sooner you kill him, the sooner we can end this!" A jagged hook materialized over his right arm. "Me and the dragon couple will hold down the fort here - and do our level best to put down Benny while we're at it! But you HAVE to at least distract the one pulling all the strings here!"

He glanced to the island, where the kraken was beginning to be pelted with arrows - few of which it even seemed to notice. "We'll just have to hope the guys on land can hold that thing off long enough for you to enact operation Shank and Toss!"

Kratos was already running. Power surged through his legs, as he pushed his body to build up every iota of speed it could muster, in the short time he had. Teach's words were still echoing around the deck of the Revenge by the time Kratos reached the farthest edge of its bow.

And he leaped.

He saw it, in slow motion. Forneus tracked his form, as it hurtled through the air. But, instead of attempting to line up a shot, he cast the bow aside, almost contemptuously, and he set his feet firmly on the deck of the Argo.

And then, a wave of foulness surged from within the possessed Servant, and its form swelled with power.

And stature.

An arm, suddenly much longer than it had previously been, shot up and seized Kratos by the throat, snatching him from the air. "NOW, SPARTAN. NO MORE PLANS. NO MORE SCHEMES." He drew him close to his face, which was beginning to take on a purple hue, the Berserker's teeth becoming even more long and jagged than before. "ONLY YOUR DEATH, AND OUR ULTIMATE VICTORY."

Kratos wasted no time in struggling for breath. He merely brought up the Blades, and sliced deep into the arm holding him, sparks flying from where the Blades cut into the possessed flesh. The Demon roared, and flung Kratos aside, who rolled, and came up in a crouch, the Blades of Chaos held at the ready.

Forneus reached out and, rather than summoning a weapon as did a Servant, seemed to seize something unseen, and tear it into existence.

It was a sword - more of one than the crude chunk of stone that Herakles had wielded in the past. The blade alone was longer than the Servant was tall - even taking into account the size it had suddenly gained. Jagged spurs and spikes sprouted from it at chaotic angles and intervals, as if it had been forged by the hands of a blacksmith who had long ago lost what remained of their sanity. A black, unwholesome liquid dripped from the protrusions, hissing as it touched the planks of the Argo. The hilt and crosspiece were shaped in the fashion of a grinning, snapping maw - and Kratos was not certain that he was not witnessing the thing itself moving - a weapon of sorts in its own right. The grip was almost half again as long as it needed to be, the pommel a half-moon crescent - and from the gleam, razor sharp.

The whole thing dripped with some translucent fluid, which was rapidly burning off as it was exposed to the reality it had been brought into. As it did, Kratos could see sigils, or runes, glowing across the length of the weapon, writhing ones that seemed to stab deeply into his brain if he stared at them for more than a moment.

Forneus hefted the massive weapon with little effort, slicing it through the air almost experimentally. As it moved, the weapon wailed, screams that would have been at home in the lowest depths of Tartarus.

"NOW, LET US…" Forneus' sword flashed up, barely deflecting one of the Blades as it shot through the air. "INSOLEN…" The chains of the Blades wrapped around the sword, entangling it, and like that, Kratos was inside the weapon's guard.

With the other Blade gripped tight in his hand, screaming towards the Demon-Servant's face.

Forneus grasped his sword by the handle, heedless of the spikes that pierced his flesh, and forced the weapon to turn. His strength wrenched against that of Kratos, only just getting the pommel around in time to deflect Kratos' attack, sparks flying as metal forged by Hephastus himself met whatever foul ores had created this blade, and both weapons seemed to cry out at the contact. Not in pain, but in rage - in eagerness for the kill.

The Berserker roared and forced the hilt down, the twisted mouth hissing, then spitting a stream of what could only be acid at Kratos, who jerked his head out of the way - though a few droplets seared onto his shoulder and sizzled as they ate away at his flesh. Ignoring the pain, Kratos felt as the demon shifted its bulk forward, dangerously close to being off-balance, and he threw his weight backwards, bringing his feet up to drive them into its knees.

Bones cracked, and Forneus stumbled forward, its footing compromised, and then, it was flying through the air, as Kratos' legs hurled it skyward.

Before it had even reached the apex of the throw, Kratos had sprang up from the ground, and, arms surging with power, jerked it from the air, sending it crashing to the deck. Wood splintered, and Forneus bounced.

He was already lunging forward, the Blades raised, fire flickering around their edges, when fire scored into his back, and he was forced to abort his charge and spin round, his shield locking into place. Another score of magical bolts splashed into it, the metal heating alarmingly.

Medea hovered above him, her cloak whipping around her, unremarkable in the face of the sheer wall of magical circles that were in evidence behind her, each and every one of them pulsing with power.

"Attacking a Caster in the heart of her workshop? You're as foolish as that pirate! Or maybe just mad." Kratos, for his part, could only see the thinnest threads of sanity in the girl's eyes - he felt she had little cause to throw stones in this case.

He heard Forneus shifting, and was forced to untangle the chains of the left Blade, snatching it back to his hand, lest he be pulled off his feet while his attention was divided. Growling, he took a step back, trying to keep them both within his field of vision - though well aware of how untenable his position was becoming. Forneus was enough of a foe without factoring in Medea's contributions.

"Actually…"

There was the sound of rope tightening, and wood creaking.

As one, Medea and Forneus shifted their heads to see Jason, winding back the crank on one of the catapults that lined the sides of the Argo. When the bucket was level with the decks, he squinted off into the distance, then nodded his head.

And stepped into the bucket of the catapult.

He cast a look over the Argo, almost sadly, before he settled his eyes on the three of them. "I'm afraid this is as far as the Argo goes." His hands sprang up, a single finger each pointing at Medea and Forneus. "I invited the two of you onto my ship, and you both abused the laws of hospitality far beyond their bounds. The lies, to start with, but then you threatened me with bodily harm, and stole the body of my best friend. No, I'm afraid the both of you have lost whatever right you had to be called Argonauts….though, if you can hear me, Herakles, that doesn't apply to you. Just that thing that's currently sharing space with you. Once you've kicked it out and torn it apart, come find me on the shore. I'll be waiting."

Jason's right hand slid across the air to point at Kratos. "And you….I don't know you. Not even sure I want to know you. But you're against whatever it is that's hurting my friend, so I suppose you might not be so bad, even if you did invade my ship. So, if the two of you are going to kill each other, I'm going to have to insist you do it somewhere else."

A sword formed in his right hand, as he gave a flippant wave with his left. "I'll see you on the shore - or maybe not. But either way, Medea, you're not going to use my ship to do whatever it is you're doing anymore." And, with a simple swing of his sword, he severed the rope that was holding the arm of the catapult taut.

Setting off a chain reaction.

Jason simply vanished, the catapult sending him cartwheeling through the air (and shrieking in a decidedly unbecoming manner). But, before he had even left the bucket of the catapult, every other catapult on the Argo also triggered the release of their payloads.

Only with far less success.

The wooden siege engines strained, groaned, and attempted to hurl the barrels of sloshing fluid, but, with an almost collective whine, every one of them collapsed in on themselves, screws, bolts, and other critical parts fracturing under the strain.

And sending their would-be projectiles to crash onto the Argo's decks.

In seconds, the entirety of the ship was awash in flame, flame that was spreading with an almost virulent speed.

And in that brilliant flash of explosions, Kratos MOVED.

The Leviathan Axe flew through the air, only to ricochet off a barrier that formed in front of Medea - though it cracked alarmingly. The Blades of Chaos fell victim to the same fate, though the barrier was now run through with a spiderweb's worth of cracks.

Kratos' fist shattered the whole thing completely, losing almost none of its momentum as it blasted into Medea's face, throwing her to the ground. Her cry of pain was cut off as Kratos seized her by the hair and spun about once, before hurling her off, into the distance.

And then he whipped his arms up, the Leviathan Axe smacking back into his hands mere moments before the black blade of Forneus caressed his neck. Kratos could feel the wood of his wife's axe pressing against his throat, as it kept the rune-scarred metal away. Kratos could see the flames around them reflected in both the blade, and the eyes of his enemy, as Forneus bore down on him, seeking to force Kratos to his knees.

"IT TOOK AN ARMY FOR YOU TO FELL MY BROTHER ONCE, SPARTAN." Forneus growled, and pushed Kratos back a step. "AND YOU BELIEVE YOU WILL BE ABLE TO ACCOMPLISH THE SAME, TWELVE TIMES, BY YOURSELF?"

Kratos planted his back foot and set his spine, and began to push back against the possessed Servant's incredible strength. "I will kill you as many times as I must, demon, until you finally die."

Power flooded his arms, and he shoved with all his might, throwing Forneus back a step. The demon swept his blade through the air, forestalling any follow ups Kratos might have made, and both settled back, bodies tense. Ash, from the burning sails, began to gently fall onto both their forms.

"VERY WELL THEN. COME KRATOS, GOD OF WAR. BUT KNOW THAT YOUR CAPABILITIES HAVE BEEN EXTRAPOLATED AND UNDERSTOOD." Forneus raised his sword, holding it horizontally, just below his eye level. "YOU WILL DIE LONG BEFORE THIS BODY RUNS OUT OF LIVES."

Kratos did not dignify that with a response, at least, no verbal response. The Leviathan Axe spinning for the thing's eye, he felt got his point across.

Forneus slapped it from the air with arrogant ease, but damage had never been that attack's purpose. The demon had been forced to move his weapon up, even by a fraction, to do so, and that gave Kratos an opening. Once again, he lowered his head, and flew in, under the weapon's guard.

He did not bother retrieving the Leviathan Axe - it would return when he called for it, after all - instead, once more filling his hands with the Blades. This, he felt, would be where the fight would be won, or lost. In close, Kratos had the advantage, the demon's massive blade unable to bring its full threat to bear. And, though he typically used them at a much greater range, the Blades were ideally suited to terminally close encounters, such as this.

He feinted high, Blades screaming at the eyes of Forneus. The second the sword began to move upward, he pulled back, and hurled the Blades straight down at the Servant's feet, seeking to nail them to the deck. Forneus stumbled backwards, and Kratos planted his right leg, and swung his body in a circle, the chains tied to his arms letting him drive his motion faster, quicker.

The Leviathan Axe leapt up from where it was resting on the deck, spinning back into his hands, a second before he completed his rotation, and buried the axe deep into the side of Forneus. Ice erupted from the edge, creeping over the hard, purple flesh of the thing - before some force or resistance was met, and its spread was halted.

Though Forneus' foot surging up, and cracking into Kratos' jaw and blasting him back, the Axe slipping from his hands, may have also played a part in that.

Kratos flew through the air, but before had even crested, his arms jerked on the chains, and, using the Blades as a fulcrum, from where they were still driven into the deck, sent himself shooting back at Forneus.

Who had already adjusted his stance, and was swinging his sword, set to cleave the Spartan in two.

Without conscious thought, Kratos pulled even harder on the chains, sending his body low, almost skimming off the decking, a risk, but the window was small.

And he managed it, threading the needle, though just barely, as some of the blade's spikes tore through his back - an area already wounded by Medea. Though the burning, he felt blood beginning to well up on his back.

And then, he was flying through the legs of the Berserker, something possible only because of the wide stance that had been necessary for the gigantic swing Forneus had been attempting. The moment he was clear, his palms slapped down to the ground, halting his momentum, and his feet touched down, then he sprang upwards.

Forneus was attempting to turn, awkwardly, with the chains fouling his legs, when Kratos grasped a handful of the wild hair sprouting from his head, and used that to hoist himself upwards. One knee slid over Forneus' shoulder, while another dug into the back of his neck, and Kratos threw the chains forward, looping them around Forneus' neck, twisting them around.

Roaring, Kratos pulled back, every ounce of the Ghost of Sparta's considerable strength being brought to bear. Against any other foe, he might have attempted the choke he used on Baldur - but this possessed Servant was too large. Simply falling backwards, bearing all of his weight upon Kratos would be an attack in and of itself. And Servants did not need to breathe, either. So, nothing as gentle as a strangle hold here - he was simply trying to break the thing's neck.

The chains were almost molten in his hands, and he could smell the reek of burning flesh - his, or the demon's, he did not know - as he wrenched back and held on with everything in himself. Forneus' hands scrabbled behind him, trying to seize Kratos and hurl him off, but Kratos weaved his body away from the grasping paws as best he could. The one time Forneus made solid contact, his hand slid off Kratos, his grip fouled by the blood coating the Spartan's back.

And yet, the thing's neck would NOT break. It was as though he was vying against Asgardian Steel - no, something harder and stronger. Bellowing, Kratos doubled his efforts.

The deck gave way before Forneus' neck did, the boards the Blades were in splintering and flying free. Immediately, before any of this had even registered, Forneus was charging forward, his head dipping down. He rammed headfirst into the main mast of the Argo.

But Kratos hit first.

The blow, coupled with the sheer force of Forneus' charge was enough to dislodge Kratos, sending him tumbling forward into the forecastle of the ship. The wheel disintegrated under the Spartan's body, and he continued to bounce off the deck.

He finally stopped when he hit the railing at the stern of the Argo, and rolled to his feet, scraps of what had once been the wheel of the Argo sliding off his form. His hand shot up, and the Leviathan Axe tore free from Forneus' side, seconds before the demon's hand would have closed around the handle.

The inhuman roar of the demonic Servant almost drowned out the noises of the mast, as it toppled to the side. Its hand shot out, seizing the falling spar of wood, and hurled it at Kratos.

It was though the thing was moving in slow motion. Kratos took one step forward, and swung upwards with the axe, his eyes expertly tracking his target. The axe's head connected with the approximate midpoint of the mast, and sheared straight through it. Splinters rained down on the decking as the two halves of the mast flew by Kratos, spinning out into the sea.

Forneus was gone.

And in his place was a massive hole.

Kratos' legs had tensed, and he had just begun to leave the surface of the deck when two hands sprang out from beneath him, seized his ankles, and roughly dragged him through the deck, sending him crashing to the lower areas.

His back hit hard, and he interposed the Leviathan Axe on sheer reflex, as the wailing blade of Forneus descended, screaming for the Spartan's soul. Sizzling spittle dripped from the drooling maw that was the weapon's guard, bubbling as it touched Kratos' flesh. Forneus leaned forward, levering every iota of his mass into overpowering Kratos' guard, pushing down, forcing Kratos' axe back.

This position was untenable.

With a burst of speed, Kratos slid the demon's sword down the handle of his axe, hooking the head around the misshapen blade, and threw his body to the side, while he jerked the axe down. Both weapons sank into the flooring, and Kratos shot up.

He led with his forearm, and it cracked into the jaw of Forneus, snapping his head to the side. Still rising, he threw his weight forward, and cannoned his skull into that of the Servant, THIS blow managing to knock the thing backwards, if only by a step. The arm holding the sword twitched, beginning to raise the weapon, and Kratos stepped in, driving his elbow down into the joint with a sound like a falling tree, and forcing the arm down. While the impact was still ringing in the enclosed space, he wrapped his arm around the demon's arm, his fingers digging into the thing's steel-hair skin, the Spartan determined to not let that blade rise.

A flick of the chain tied to his other hand's wrist summoned one of the Blades, and he planted his back foot and leapt forward, the point of the Blade screaming towards Forneus' throat.

Forneus stumbled back, tearing through the wall of this cabin, then jerked his body backwards, leaning his head back, back, Kratos' attack missing, though it drew a line of black blood as it scraped the demon's neck. Kratos flipped the Blade over in his hand and gouged down, reversing his momentum, and this time, Forneus could not adequately dodge.

Instead, he shifted to the side, accepting the Blade into his shoulder, and retaliating by driving his elbow into Kratos' gut. Kratos' breath was blasted out of his lungs from the force of the blow. Despite himself, his grip upon Forneus' arm slipped, and he was knocked back, away.

The blade began to rise, as Forneus began to right himself.

Kratos tasted blood in his mouth. His hand shot up, seizing the dangling chain that connected him to Forneus, and he once more flew back at his enemy.

But, despite his position, Forneus was already slicing upwards with his sword.

Time slowed.

The blade was coming. He could evade it, still, alter his flight around it.

But in that moment, he could see - the demon was wide open.

Forneus' blade carved into his side, and Kratos' side erupted in agony. He'd managed to turn, just enough to blunt a fraction of the sword's momentum, so that it merely tore deeply into him, rather than slicing straight through.

And, red EXPLODED from within, and, in a moment of perfect clarity, Spartan Rage howled around him, and guided his hand.

Everything was put into that one blow - all his strength, all his rage, every last drop of his discipline. The Blades of Chaos, weapons that had tasted the blood of gods of two different lands, erupted in flames.

And carved straight through Forneus' neck.

The head of the demon and Kratos hit the ground at the same time. His side felt as though it was on fire, but through the pain, he could see Forneus' form already beginning to glow violently red, from within, God Hand already beginning to activate.

He had seconds, maybe less.

He forced himself up from the ground, legs pushing him forward. The Servant's arms were beginning to twitch spasmodically as he seized it around the waist, and leapt.

Once more, the decking of the Argo splintered around them as Kratos sprang from the lower floors to the deck. The ship, now little more than a listing ruin, shuddered alarmingly as he landed.

He paid it no mind, for he had no time.

Fighting through the pain, he summoned up the depths of his reserves.

And heaved.

Forneus careened through the air, the light of God Hand beginning to die as his stolen body finished patching itself back together. But he was adrift, at the whims of momentum and gravity, and had no way to arrest his flight.

Seconds later, the demon landed on the island with a crash.

And Kratos sank to his knees, his breaths coming hard, and fast.

He was wounded. Not fatally, but badly - the demon's sword had nearly opened his guts from the side, and his lower body was awash in blood. Ribs were cracked, and others were outright broken. And worse, he could feel the corrupting miasma of the weapon eating away at him.

And the fight must continue. He could see them, from here, small forms still dancing around the kraken, battering it, but it still lived. And, at sea, the Revenge was still exchanging fire with the fleet of Hornigold. No, until the other foes were dealt with, he had to hold the line against Herakles.

But he had succeeded, at least, in the first part of the plan. Forneus was now one step closer to the Ark.

Carefully, he reached into the pouch at his waist, his fingers seeking and finding a small glass vial. It was still intact, proving Da Vinci's faith that the glass had been tempered to withstand anything - even a battle between Kratos and Forneus. He tore the cork free, and shook out the vial's contents into his palm.

And jabbed one of the 'nano-darts' that had been provided to Fujimaru into his arm.

---

"Here."

Kratos stared down at the girl, who was holding out one of the medical darts in her hand.

"You're going to be fighting that thing mano a mano right?" At his nod, she then pushed the item forward. "Then you should take this, just in case. David will be over here, and we both want to save our Command Seals for our Servants to throw the biggest Noble Phantasms they can manage at Forneus, so no go on using all that magical energy to fix yourself up."

She took a step forward, her eyes determined. "Mashie tells me you have some trick that would do the same thing, but given how you didn't use it when we fought Lev, I assume it's either limited like my Mystic Code, or it's somehow tied to your Mana Burst. And I assume you'd rather use that to go to town on Forneus, rather than putting yourself back together."

Her comparatively tiny fist thudded into his abdomen. "So here, take this. Just in case. Take the medic with you, if you can't be where the medic is."

---

Energy flooded his form, his fatigue vanishing in an instant. And he could feel the gaping hole in his side, and the wounds in his back mending - it was wholly different than the magical healing he was familiar with. His body felt as though a million ants were crawling over his form, converging on his injuries, and swarming.

But the pain was receding, and, piece by piece, his wounds were closing.

He could still fight.

He took a single step, then another, then burst into a run.

And leapt.

His legs kicked the air, propelling him forward. For a moment, he thought he would fall short - his flight beginning to slow. But then he crashed down into the surf, and rolled, the water barely coming up to his waist.

Forneus was there, already bearing down on him, the wounds Kratos had inflicted nowhere to be seen.

One life down, then.

Water splashed around the Spartan as he met the demon's charge, the two of them crashing together. Forneus lashed out, a savage backhand meant to return the favor, and remove the Ghost of Sparta's head, but Kratos hesitated for a split second, and the massive arm slashed through the air just in front of him, the wind from its passing blasting the shallow water back, for a second, reversing the very tides.

Almost as an afterthought, he threw the Blades forward, but was unsurprised as they scraped against Forneus' arm, barely even breaking the skin. He jerked the Blades back to his hands, and slid them back into their harness.

It was as they said, then. God Hand did truly give resistance against whatever means was used to take a life from the Servant. The Blades would likely do little as a weapon, from this point, then.

But Kratos had more than one weapon.

The Leviathan Axe thumped into his outstretched hand, as, across from him, Forneus once again reached into the void and ripped his odious weapon free.

"AS I SAID BEFORE, I SEE WHY MY BROTHER LOST TO YOU, SPARTAN. EVEN KNOWING YOUR EFFORTS ARE DOOMED, YOU WILL NOT BREAK, WILL YOU?" The demon laughed, mockery clear in every abominable note of what passed for its amusement (though, within him, the prisoner was roaring in something that almost passed for approval). "HOW LIKE THE HUMANS YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO CHAMPION ARE YOU. NO WONDER YOU HAVE MADE YOUR CAUSE WITH THEM. THEIR POINTLESS, MEANINGLESS LIVES ARE EVERY BIT AS DOOMED AND POINTLESS AS YOUR STRUGGLE HERE."

Kratos raised the Leviathan Axe and glared at the demon over the blade of his wife's axe. "And for all your boasts, you still have not killed me, demon."

"ALL IN THE FULLNESS OF TIME, KRATOS." Forneus reached out and ripped his sword into being once again, as reality shuddered around the weapon. "ALL THE ENERGY YOU HAVE EXPENDED, ALL THE BLOOD YOU HAVE LOST, IN THE END, ONLY FOR A SINGLE LIFE TAKEN." Forneus spread his hand out. "THE DAMAGE OF WHICH HAS HEALED LIKE IT NEVER WAS. BUT YOUR DAMAGE, YOUR FATIGUE REMAINS. AND WILL ONLY BUILD. YOU CANNOT WIN."

He stared down at his arm, where the shallow scratches Kratos had made with the Blades were already beginning to vanish. "AND NOW YOUR GOD-FORGED WEAPON IS USELESS AGAINST THE FLESH OF THIS VESSEL. IT WILL NOT BE LONG, NOW."

Kratos snarled. "I am more than my weapons, demon." This arrogance, this disdain - it was familiar. For a second, his vision flickered, and instead of the possessed Herakles of this world, it was his half-brother standing before him, rotting Legionaries flanking him, Hera's slurred taunts echoing down from the heights of the arena.

Yes, in a way, these demons - be they of the Ars Goetia or not - shared many traits with the Olympians of his world.

"I have been stripped of my weapons before. My divinity. My allies. Even my home." His hands tightened on the handle of his wife's axe. "It did NOT stop me. Tartarus did not stop me. Hel did not stop me. Olympus DID NOT STOP ME." His eyes met the blood-red eyes of the thing within Herakles. "YOU will NOT stop me, demon."

Forneus uttered more of his un-laughter. "THEN COME, KRATOS OF SPARTA. COME AND DIE."

Kratos obliged him, at least in part of his request.

He slid around the thunderous overhand swing of Forneus' sword, sand spraying up, scratching at his body. His shield was already slashing up, meeting the chambered punch that he knew was waiting on him - an obvious down swinging attack against a charging opponent could have been nothing but a feint. His shield rang from the impact of the blow, but he managed to deflect it just enough with his own strength, knocking the demon's fist up, and away.

Then he retaliated.

In close, the Leviathan Axe had far less of an advantage than the Blades did - an axe, by its very nature, needed room to swing, to build up the momentum that allowed for its fearsome cutting attacks. He would need to pick his opportunities carefully.

And, as he said to Forneus. He was more than just his weapons.

His left arm hooked and buried itself in the demon's ribs, and he heard the sound of bones cracking, though, as often was the case against this monstrosity, he could not be certain to whom the bones in question belonged to. Forneus' knee shot up, seeking to knock Kratos inward, towards the jagged blade, to force him to either block it, and be trapped between the Scylla and the Charibdis, or to have to evade - either way, it would break his momentum.

Kratos did neither.

He simply leapt.

One of his feet planted on the Servant's knee, for a split second, using that as a base to drive himself higher. He raised the Leviathan Axe high above his head, and, with gravity pulling him earthward, he chopped down, burying the axe in the left shoulder of Forneus. Flesh, even bone parted before the head of the axe, but he tore it free, planting, and throwing himself back, just before Forneus' sword swept through the spot where he had been.

He hit the sand, rolled backwards, and as his feet touched down, sent the Leviathan Axe spinning at Forneus' gut. A lightning-fast shift of the sword deflected the axe, but Kratos angled his body, and the weapon tore strips from the demon's arm as it returned to its owner's hand. Still, Forneus was ready as Kratos reached him, and their weapons rang off of one another, both combatants being forced back.

As one, they took a single step right back into the melee, and swung their weapons again.

This time, it was Forneus who left the ground, vaulting straight over Kratos. Before he could turn, two tree-trunk-like legs hammered into the Spartan's back, knocking him forward, off his feet, and into the ground. Sand flooded his mouth, and stung at his eyes, but he surged upward, blinking back tears as his eyes watered from the irritants under their lids.

Through blurry vision, he saw Forneus charging, blade leading in a thrust. Still shaking off the sand that was clinging to his face, he sent the Leviathan Axe screaming down, forcing the blade of the sword into the ground.

Only to receive a forearm to his face, one that momentarily caused his vision to darken. He stumbled back a step, axe rising to block whatever follow-up the demon had - but it could do little when Forneus merely ripped his arms up, using the sword as a makeshift shovel, and again covering Kratos in sand.

He got his eyes closed in time, so no more sand invaded his eyes, but for a heartbeat, he was effectively blind - even if he had kept his eyes open, the wave of sand was a visual block all its own.

He could hear Forneus' movements - something that large could not normally erase all signs of its presence, and his battle sense was screaming at him. And, the sword was far from silent - beyond the noises it made normally, the thing screamed continually. Unnerving to a lesser opponent, maybe, but the Ghost of Sparta had seen fair, far worse, so it was self-defeating in this case, where the demon was hoping to surprise him while his sight was impaired.

His shield was up, right where it needed to be, and the blade crashed into it.

…….lightly, with barely any force behind it.

Kratos had enough time to register the sword bouncing off his shield and flying back, dropping to the ground, when a blow that felt like it could have come from Thor himself exploded into his midsection. The breath didn't leave his lungs - it was blasted from them.

And then he was flying into the air, his body spinning uncontrollably.

As he was shot into the sky, his mind was screaming. Forneus had thrown the sword, using Kratos' own expectations against him. And, as he reached the apex of his flight, he could see it below him.

Forneus, his sword raised, ready to cleave Kratos in two when he descended, with no way to control his fall.

As his momentum arrested, he hurled the Leviathan Axe down, simply to free his hands up.

And summoned Draupnir.

---

"Kratos? May I inquire about something?"

Kratos looked up from the Leviathan Axe, which he had been running a whetstone across, as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

It was the Israeli King.

With a grunt, he indicated the man should continue.

"In our discussions about ways to take lives from Herakles, it has been mentioned to me you possess three weapons, but one of them you feel is inadequate for the job." He stared down at the axe that was laying across Kratos' legs. "Clearly not that axe, I can feel the power from it - in the same fashion as I can feel the power in those shortblades you carry. Might I be permitted to see the other weapon?"

Kratos felt his brow furrowing - and David must have taken his expression for displeasure, as he held his hands up placatingly. "Please, humor me. I have something of a thought, but I would like to appraise your weapon first."

In truth, Kratos did not see the harm in it. So, with a grunt, he set the Leviathan Axe aside, and levered himself up. Once he was standing, he raised his right hand, and called forth Draupnir from the ring.

David's eyebrows shot up. "That's quite a trick……it came from the ring on your finger, yes? And given you're Norse, or at least Norse-residing, then that must be Draupnir." His hand cupped his chin. "It can replicate, then?"

"Infinitely. Or so I am told." And nothing he had seen in his time wielding Draupnir had led him to believe the dwarves had been anything but truthful in that.

"My…." He reached out a hand, silently asking permission, and Kratos nodded. Carefully, David ran his fingers along the haft of the spear. "Were you able to create permanent copies of it, you would single-handedly corner the spear market, and make a killing - but I feel you have little interest in a such business venture, much less one with myself."

"In any event, it is a powerful weapon." He nodded his head. "But my appraisal does tend to match yours - I do not think it would be quite powerful enough, as is, to take a life from Herakles."

He looked up at Kratos. "But what if we could change that?"

Kratos felt one of his eyebrows creeping up, and David took that as an indication to continue. "Would you allow me to bless your spear?"

Kratos found himself speaking before he was fully aware of it. "The spear was blessed once, by the smith who forged it." Inwardly, he bristled. The spear was Brok's last work. While he found Abrahamic God less offensive than some, he did not like the thought of that God's touch overwriting the blessing that Brok had laid upon the spear.

"And I'm not looking to supplant that, believe me." David shook his head. "This would be more of a temporary thing, for a single battle."

He began pacing. "This operates off the assumption that whatever has possessed Herakles is demonic in nature, but having seen the wounds of Eric and the rest of you were carrying, and the taint that was clinging to them, I don't feel it's much of a stretch. It doesn't even need to be the named demon of the Ars Goetia it's claiming to be - that it's one of Satan's creatures is enough."

He stopped pacing, and turned his head to regard the far horizon. "On paper, it's a brilliant move on their part. Melding the power and Noble Phantasm of Herakles with a demon. But, it also brought with him all the weaknesses of a demon, as well." He grinned. "And nothing burns away the demonic like the power of the Almighty. Even its claim of being a demon might give a Servant a conceptual weakness to God's power, once their energies have been intertwined."

There was a light in the Servant's eyes, a confidence….no, a faith. An unshakeable one, and one that was placed in something greater than himself. And it was a faith he had seen before, during the French campaign, from Jeanne.

"And regardless of which it is, a faker claiming the title of one of the most powerful demons to ever be named, or one of things my son sealed away, I can think of few better to bless your weapon than one of God's chosen kings."

---

He wasted no time - assuming David was right, the thing would be able to sense the touch of its antithesis on his weapon. He had to strike, now, before it did.

Two copies of Draupnir screamed down at Forneus, impossibly fast. But Forneus saw them - and was unconcerned. It had wondered when the Spartan would attempt to harm with the weakest weapon in his arsenal - truly, he had expected this at the onset of the fight, not now. Contemptuously, he did not even begin to move to block them. They had run the numbers on that weapon from the data Flauros had brought them - it fell short of the necessary power to breach God Hand.

It was only as the attacks had nearly arrived that his senses caught up to him and began SCREAMING at him.

And by then, it was too late.

Each of his hands was pierced by one of the Spartan's spears, carving through them as if they weren't there, and burrowing into the soft ground. Pinning him there.

It burned. He howled, feeling the hateful touch of the White God, the Enemy, coating the weapons, chewing away at his very being - and within himself, the bars of the prisoner's cage cracked alarmingly. He was forced to devote far more cycles than he could spare to shoring up its stability, lest Herakles use this moment of weakness to break free.

And, as such, when he came back to himself - after what was only a moment in reality, but an eternity within, he could not believe his many eyes.

It had been just him and the Foreign God on the sands of the beach, but now, he was surrounded. An army of Spartan soldiers, their forms transparent and insubstantial, had formed a ring around him. He recognized this - it was the trick the god used against his brother in the last Singularity.

But worse than that, was that every single one of them held a copy of the spears that were trapping his arms.

As one, they charged.

His eyes flared with power, beams of thrumming magical energy carving into their ranks, but there were too many. This was no mere army, this was a city's worth of soldiers, and even his might could only stem the tide so much.

A Spartan leapt over the dissolving body of one of his fellows, and with a battlecry, drove his spear into one of the eyes that covered Forneus' body, and the weapon continued on, straight through him. The Demon God howled, a cry that was cut off as another one transfixed his lungs. Spear after spear penetrated his flesh, until his world was naught but pain and the accursed light.

And then Kratos descended from the sky, his blow splitting Forneus' skull in two.

And, for a second, it was though the dawn itself had come to the shores of this beach.

---

Kratos heaved himself up from the sands, his breath coming shallowly - and painfully, his ribs protesting every breath. And his body burned, from the inside, the exhaustion of calling forth so many of his brothers beating down across his shoulders.

But, it had worked. Forneus was inert - looking for all the world like a statue that was mere moments from toppling, large chunks of his form just….missing. But it was not over - even now, Kratos could see God Hand beginning to activate. He forced his legs to move, until he was there, once more lifting the regenerating Servant's body, and sending it through the sky.

This time, he was on the mark. Forneus' body shattered through the crater that surrounded the Ark, and, before the rocks had settled, Kratos could see the light of God Hand reflecting up, and out of the crater.

And Kratos was a mere moment behind him.

As he entered the crater, he could see that it was far less intact than it had been mere hours ago. Beyond the damage he had caused when he had hurled Forneus into it, there were now two massive openings in the surrounding walls, as if something titanic had plowed straight through. And there were large pools of sticky, stinking purple blood all around - and the walls were also liberally coated with the same substance.

But the Ark still rested in the center. Untouched, and seemingly unconcerned with the battle raging around it. And standing by it, her eyes wide, was Mash.

"Mr. Kratos!" She tore her eyes away from Forneus to look at him. "We've dealt with that…."

Whatever she had been about to say never made it past her lips. Forneus howled, the sound like needles in their brains, and the creature's form shuddered.

And changed.

It gained even more mass, and more height. Two spindly arms, unnaturally long, burst from its back. And a tail, long, and whiplike, tipped with a cruel spike, coiled on the ground, lashing in fury.

It was howling something, but what, Kratos could not tell. It was no language of the world, his or this one, for even Freya's bracelet could not decipher the black speech that was falling from Forneus' lips. It smashed Mash aside with sheer bulk, the girl unable to get her shield up in time, and, towering over Kratos, crashed its sword down.

Kratos, on pure instinct, thrust up with Draupnir, seeking to divert the weapon, to knock it aside.

Instead, at the touch of his spear, the sword shattered like so much glass.

And a multitude of cruel, fiery thongs burst forth from within the blade.

They lashed around Kratos, coiling around his body, restraining him. His flesh burned where the things touched him, their temperature that of Helios, that of the sun itself.

(Or, perhaps, they were the fires of somewhere else entirely.)

Mash crashed against Forneus' flank, to almost no effect, and the demon bellowed, flinging Kratos aside, sending him to crash into Mash. Kratos shielded Mash with his body as they tumbled, and, when they finally slid to rest against one of the remaining rock walls of the crater, Mash was the first to her feet, already trying to raise her shield, to stop the burning scourge that was clutched in Forneus' hand.

Again, as with Kratos, the multitude of thongs made blocking nigh-impossible. Mash's shield was seized at all four points, and torn from her grasp. The girl froze, for a split second, then attempted to leap back, to put distance between herself and Forneus, and retrieve her shield.

She did not make it.

Forneus drove a fist into her face, so hard that she hit the ground and bounced. Mash cried out in pain, then went limp.

Forneus raised his cruel weapon.

Kratos lunged, putting his body between the demon and Mash, snatching her up from the ground.. The lashes tore into his back, ripping through his armor, his flesh. He bellowed in pain, then flew through the air, as Forneus lowered his shoulder and crashed into Kratos, blasting him across the crater.

Kratos' blood rained down upon the ground as he pinwheeled through the air, Mash cradled in his arms. They flew over her shield, lying fallen on the ground, finally touching down near one of the gaping holes in the crater wall. Forneus took one step, then another, firmly placing itself between them and the Ark.

TWO LIVES. The god's trick had taken TWO lives from him. And worse, the blessing was not something God Hand could block - not with Herakles' flesh housing his spirit. No, no more. No more toying with the godling. This ended now.

Then, there was the sound of metal on metal.

As something landed on Mash's shield. Something small, metallic, and vibrantly colored.

The shield shuddered, and suddenly, a summoning circle burst forth.

Kratos' hand flew to his pouch - only to find it torn open.

Power burst from the summoning circle, the winds it was calling forth blowing both god and demon back from the sheer force that was unleashed. The orbs flashed gold, pulsing with magical energy, and then there was a burst of light that was nothing but blinding.

And from somewhere, came the sound of many, many horses, and over even that, a horde of voices, crying out.

When Kratos' could see again, he found himself lying on his back - Mash still curled against his form, the girl breathing shallowly.

And another stood above him.

She stared down at him, her red eyes oddly vacant. Bone-white hair, under a shawl that hung down to her feet rustled as she tilted her head this way and that, staring at Kratos - even leaning down to sniff at him.

And in her hand, she pointed a weapon at him that seemed to be the aurora itself.

Finally, she straightened, and spoke.

"You, who feel like Ares, and yet, who are not. I am Servant, Saber. Altera. I come in response to the world's cry."

She peered down at him, and at the girl he was holding. "I ask of you this question? Do you call me to defend good civilization? Or to destroy the bad?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Next chapter probably finishes off Okeanos. Shorter than Septem, but we had an entire war to deal with there, which made things bigger. Deleting the Blackbeard false flag conflict here shortened things, as it got us right to the Argonauts.

The Soul-Kraken is a creature of Ravenloft, shamelessly borrowed for the fight here. Or, more correctly, next chapter. That's where we'll see that fight, and Blackbeard vs Hornigold.

Got a Bride (NP3) on tickets this morning. So it's a good day. UMU.

Chapter 48: Okeanos 9

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 48​

Blackbeard saw as the Argo went up in a sudden gout of flames, and watched as it pitched in the waters, as the two monsters didn't let that stop them from teeing off on each other. It was rapidly becoming a legitimate question of what was damaging the Argo more, the fires Jason had started, or the fight that was taking place.

Gods of the sea, he was glad he wasn't over there.

Then, from the island, there was a roar that he felt certain was causing him sanity damage, and as he turned to see that mutant Kraken….thing scuttling its way inland, arrows peppering its form, and he was equally glad he wasn't THERE either.

"Ok," he said, his voice wavering only a little bit. "We're going to have to help out on one of those two fronts eventually…..and I'm going to guess you'd rather it be the abominable sea creature, rather than getting in the middle of….that."

The Argo's mast was toppling - then flying through the air at Kratos, who cleaved in two. A second later, he vanished below the decks.

The dragon waifu was cracking her knuckles. "Oryou-san can take them." A look from her husbando made her shrug, a bit sheepishly. "But he seems to be doing well enough for himself. The human probably needs Oryou-san's skills and Ryouma's guidance more than the god."

Sakamoto was adjusting his hat on top of his waterlogged hair. "But first, we have to deal with your former friend, don't we?"

The Revenge rocked under their feet, as a slew of cannonballs battered into its sides, which, really, perfectly illustrated the man's point better than anything Teach felt he could say.

But he did anyways. "He won't ever stop hunting any of us pirates. So long as there's one of us still alive here, nothing's going to make him back off. Not the Argo being in flames, not Kratos possibly taking out his bosses. Nothing." Teach shook his head. "Hellfire, he's probably labelled all of you with the same brand, just for associating with us, so I wouldn't put it past him to harass you all the way back to your future time."

He pointed with the hook that was sheathing his right hand. "No, we kill him now, or you'll never be rid of him."

"Alright, but how do we go about doing that?" Sakamoto peered out to the line of ships arrayed against them. "You were facing about the same odds earlier, and as I understand it, things weren't going well for you. Pirate Hunter vs Pirate, after all."

"Damn conceptual advantages, but you're right." Ship to ship, on an even playing field, there was little way he could beat Benny - much as it stuck in his craw to admit that, even to himself.

Which is why he'd done everything possible to make this as uneven a playing field as he could manage. Missus Teach's Baby Boy wasn't much of a Servant - especially compared to even some of the mid-level hitters on the Throne. If he got into a fair fight, something had gone horribly, HORRIBLY wrong for him.

"I chose the spot for our snorkeling excursion VERY carefully - we've got a good ring of that mad scientist's bombs all around us. So he can't approach us carelessly. And my guns outrange and outpower most of the guns on his ships - though with Kratos over there wailing on Fornakles, the Revenge has lost a bit of her oomph." He glanced over to Oryou, who was prodding at one of the cannonballs on deck with her finger. "How long can you pull off your henshin?"

"Not long." Sakamoto flicked a few drops of water off the brim of his hat. "A dragon like Oryou isn't meant to be on this side of the World, so it shuts her down fast. And, we'd rather save as much mana as we can for Forneus, and not expend it on a mere Servant, if possible."

Given the sounds coming from the Argo, Teach really couldn't find it in himself to disagree with them on that score, even if he did want every single advantage he could hoard for himself. So he made lemonade. "Alright. In that case, you two get out of here." Two pairs of blinking eyes stared at him. "That soulless ginger of a Master of yours probably needs you two more than I do. Benjamin wasn't anything to me in life - he won't beat me in death, either."

He shooed them away. "Go, go, fast like a ninja. I'll take care of everything here."

There was a long, shared look between the husband and wife duo, before Sakamoto nodded. "If you're sure you'll be fine on your own, then….." His woman scooped him up, bridal style, but hesitated one more time as they made ready to fly back to the island where the rest of their forces were playing the part of the JSDF against the latest kaiju to slither out of the Pacific.

"Really, I got this! Just save some for me after I'm done showing Benny why he always lost to me in life!" That finally seemed to convince them, and they finally departed.

Ok, great boasts, now, how to make it happen? By his count, Hornigold had…..six ships left to his name, counting his flagship, but at least two of them seemed to have sustained some damage. One had enough of a list that it looked like the bilges were barely keeping ahead of the incoming water, while the other was responding sluggishly to the captain's turns on the wheel. Rudder damage, if he was any judge. They were trailing behind the other three ships that were advancing on him - less of an immediate priority.

Though they still had teeth, a fact that was proven as their gun decks roared, and a fresh salvo of cannonballs tore into his girl. Naturally, the two ships that were hurt and had to hang back as a screen for Benny's flagship would be the ones with the better guns.

His rotten luck, never taking a day off as usual.

Fine. He'd planned for that.

"Reverse tack!" he barked, spinning the wheel. "I'm turning us about! The SECOND our cannons are aligned, I don't want to see a cold barrel on the Revenge! Extra rum rations to any man who holes one of that bastard's ships at the waterline!" Nevermind that his ghost crew couldn't really drink, it was the thought that counted. In this case, the memories of rum they'd be feeding on, his memories.

Edward Teach PAID his debts, dammit.

Wind filled the sails, and his girl began the ponderous motions of wheeling about. He loved the Revenge almost as much as he did his wife (and waifus), but she was a cow on skates sometimes.

But, oh, did she have a BITE, something that was proven as she edged herself around and they caught one of Hornigold's screen napping - or, possibly rushing to get one last shot off before they were caught in the full curtain of his threat radius. Either way, it didn't matter - one of his gun crews showed some initiative and fired early - against orders yes, but it worked like gangbusters. The shot went right through the ship's front mast, causing it to topple backwards and tangle in the main one - seriously hampering the ship's ability to maneuver.

Then, while the crew of that doomed ship were running around like headless chickens, they fell into the sights of his sharpshooter crew, who had the bright idea to take a pot shot at them. NOT against orders this time, since they had long since proven themselves to be trusted to pick their own shots, whenever, however, WHYEVER they wanted. And they continued to demonstrate why he had such faith in them, as they put a shot right into the mine just off the port bow of the ship, the explosion from that doing many times the damage a single cannonball could have done.

When the smoke cleared, it was as though the greater bow of the ship had just….stopped existing. The ship made the sad, groaning sound of wood giving up the ghost, and began to slide into the deeps.

"Crack shooting, lads!" A whoop went up from the gun crews at his words, his sea dogs celebrating at sending another ship to see old Davy Jones. "But any of you lot who don't have your cannons ready to go by the time we're fully swung 'round will be stuck on ship duty during the next ServantFest! So I recommend you DOUBLE-TIME it!"

THAT certainly lit a fire under them - no man on his crew wanted to miss out on the opening of the dealer's hall on the first day. He didn't even HAVE to keep his ship manifested (dock fees were ALWAYS a bitch), but he did, just so he had the threat of confining them to the Revenge in the event they got a little too unruly. (Didn't want to cause so much damage that the event stopped happening, after all. He did have SOME standards.)

Meanwhile, as his fat lady was still rotating about, getting ready to bring her guns to bear, Benny's ships were…..

Wait a consarned minute.

They were plowing straight at him.

That…..that made no sense.

For a moment, he just clutched at the wheel, not entirely sure what madness had seized old Benny. Because the cow-uddered bane of his existence hadn't been wrong when she'd said there was nothing a captain liked more than to see a ship coming straight at the barrels of their guns. Naval combat in his day had been all about minimizing the amount of time you spent with loaded cannons pointed at you, while maximizing the time you kept the other ship in that same area. The only time you ever went straight at someone was when you were much, much bigger than them.

Which those ships were not. Even the nasty looking rams they were sporting wouldn't do much in the grand scheme of things - though, if they both made contact in about the same area, it could cause some problems. And, they'd be close enough to make boarding attempts, too.

But, still. To come RIGHT at him? What the hell was Benny THINKING?

Well, it wouldn't matter in a minute. His arm slashed forward, as his voice boomed over the decks. "Send those fools to meet their friends!"

A rowdy cry met his proclamation, and the full array of cannons on the Revenge's starboard opened up. Gods of the seas, it was always a jaw-dropping sight to see. And what was even better was what followed that, seeing a salvo like that ripping into your enemies.

Cannonballs ripped into the leading ship….which promptly exploded, nearly cartwheeling out of the water. Teach blinked - did they hit the powder store?

No - because the second ship went up in the exact same manner as the first, and the odds of making a million-to-one shot like that, twice, was ludicrous. He flatly did NOT have that kind of luck, which meant…..

Shit.

"FIRESHIPS!" he screamed (and whatever his crew of scalawags might tell you, his voice did NOT crack there!). "He's rigged them to blow with the slightest contact!"

He cast his eyes about, trying to pierce the smoke that was blanketing the nearby waters from two ships going up in such a cataclysmic fashion in two shakes of a mutt's tail, but visibility was about as shit as the clipping plane in Silent Hill games. He flatly could not see SHIT.

Because there was no way Benjamin Hornigold would run two fireships directly at him, knowing they'd get torn to pieces without that being part of his plan. Truthfully, he'd bet his prized doujin collection that the bastard had expected them to get blown to kingdom come - probably cobbled together something that would crap out this oily smoke that was covering everything when they went up too. "Get eyes on the rest of his fleet - and the rest of you reload! We have to know where the next attack is coming…."

It lunged out of the haze, heading straight for the Revenge - but it didn't make it much farther than that. His sharpshooter crew was on point, putting a round straight through the ship lengthwise. Like its two sister ships, that was all she wrote for it, as it joined them in doing the kaboom gymnastics routine.

Which was why it was such a surprise when the last of Hornigold's ships barrelled straight at him, following directly in the wake of the last ship. The thing didn't even try to avoid the still tumbling wreck that his bully boys had just created - somehow, it managed to slide right under it, only losing a few spars from the masts as it threaded the needle. Honestly, an almost impossible feat of seamanship - credit where credit was due.

Now if only it wasn't going to suck for him.

"KILL THAT THING!" he bellowed, not even bothering to try to turn the wheel - there was no way they'd be able to get out of the way in time.

"Guns aren't ready yet, Cap'n!" A variety of other shouts all saying the same thing echoed around him, and that was about the moment he realized how badly he'd been played. This kind of play was reckless - far too reckless, he'd have said, for old Benjamin Hornigold. Which, he supposed, was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Nothing else left to say but "BRACE FOR IMPACT!" and tuck his head between his legs.

He knew she didn't actually have a voice, but he would swear, hand on the Bible, that his girl SCREAMED when that fireship rammed into her and went up like so much dynamite. Wood flew, his men were tossed about - some into the ocean, and even he took a nasty spill.

As he stumbled to his feet, he was wiping blood out of his eyes - he'd cracked his skull pretty badly there, and head wounds bled like crazy. "How bad is it?"

It took a couple of seconds for the crewman game of telephone to get back to him. "Bad, Cap'n! She's taking on water fast! We can't keep up!"

Ok, bad. But not necessarily game-ending. By his count, Benny had used up every one of his ships except his flagship to get close enough to hurt the Revenge this badly. If they could keep his girl floating for just a bit longer, and if this cursed smoke could clear, he might be able to take one last shot to put Hornigold at the bottom of the ocean. The sails weren't too badly mauled, and the rudder was intact, so he had at least some maneuverability left to him…..

The unmistakable sound of boarding hooks brought his scheming to a screeching halt.

His pistol had cleared its holster before he'd even realized it, and he'd already drawn a bead on the first man to start climbing over the deck railing. One shot, and he'd sent him tumbling back down, but he had buddies.

A LOT of buddies.

"Repel boarders!" he cried, all while he was frantically reloading the pistol in his hand. Yes, he had a few more, primed and ready, secreted about his person, but something in his gut was telling him he'd need every single shot he could muster before all this was over. Thankfully, he was a sure hand at this, and he'd just finished by the time the first of Hornigold's marines made it to him. He slammed his pistol back into its holder, and got stuck in.

He made short work of them - gutting one of them with his hook, then kicking him into the others, and making a ruin of their skulls while they were slipping in their buddy's intestines, but they were just memory-ghosts. Even against a weak Servant like himself, they weren't much in comparison.

Which, unfortunately, the same could be said for his crew, as he saw them going down left, right, and center as they threw themselves as Hornigold, who was striding down from the bow, cool as you please, heading straight for Teach. The bastard was barely even pausing as he cut down Blackbeard's men.

Fine. Not like this was ever going to be settled without one of them seeing the other dead.

With a bellow that he hoped was at least channeling some of the god of prime beef that was, right now, fighting Fornakles, he leapt down from the forecastle and charged. His men got out of the way, making a path with no obstacles between him and Hornigold. Hopefully there were enough left to keep the interruptions from Hornigold's men to a minimum.

Because this wasn't going to be easy.

His hook met Benny's saber full on, sparks flying up as the metal of their respective weapons grated against each other. His other hand caught Benny's at the wrist - he hadn't forgotten the man had liked to fight with a dagger in his other hand, but from the twist of Benny's face, it seemed like he had been hoping that fact had slipped old Blackbeard's mind.

He grinned his most infuriating grin at the scowl on Benny's face. "You know, if you'd wanted to come over for a play date, you could have just called and asked." He let his eyes flick out to the sea around them, where the remains of Hornigold's once-proud fleet was vanishing beneath the waves.

Hornigold spat over their locked weapons. "You slipped away from me far too many times before, Teach. Not this time."

Teach felt his grin grow even wider, though it didn't touch his eyes. "And that's ANOTHER thing!" He leaned in, using his superior height to force Benny back a step. "Since when did Mr. Prim and Proper Benjamin Hornigold, Naval Man and Feared Pirate Hunter, act so gosh-darned RECKLESS? Blowing up your own ships to get to me - using most of them as distractions so you could push that last one right up into my broadside, and also using THAT one to hide the fact that you were all on boarding canoes, paddling your little hearts out to get here before we noticed?"

He attempted to twist the man's left arm, trying to get him to drop the dagger, but Benny did a cute little twirl with the weapon, and managed to nick Teach's wrist just enough that his grip faltered, and he was forced to jump back, breaking the lock.

Tricksy little hobbit.

Hornigold flipped the dagger back around, and began slowly circling Teach. "From the moment my Master theorized you'd be lying in wait for us. I knew the only way I'd be sure I'm rid of you is if I saw you die with my own two eyes." He leveled his saber at Blackbeard. "No more running, no more of your incomprehensible gibberish, no more games. Just you, the one pirate I was never able to bring to justice, and me. Right here, right now."

He didn't even give Teach a chance for any more witty repartee, charging in with a slash right at his throat, but one that only nicked the knuckle guard of Blackbeard's big hook. Teach snapped his foot out, aiming square for Benny's family jewels (and idly curious to see if the man actually had any, or if Woodes Rodgers had collected them and kept them in a jar somewhere), but Benny leapt back - but almost didn't jump far enough, as the toe of Blackbeard's boot grazed off the front of Benny's cod.

Yeah, these long legs of his were good for more than just the mad dash to the opening of the dealer's hall.

And since Benny was on the back foot, better he keep him that way - the man was a much, much better swordsman than Teach had ever been (he was first and foremost a brawler - there was a reason he didn't have a sword as a Servant, despite how modern media always depicted pirates of his age with the ubiquitous cutlass). He took one massive step and got right into Benny's face, punching out with his hook, his sheer size forcing the man to duck under the blow.

Which meant his head was right in line to catch one of Teach's knees right between the eyes, and THAT rocked him good - he felt the impact of skull on kneecap all the way up his leg, and he was sure he'd rattled the little sellout's brain something fierce.

He saw the man's legs try to turn to noodles, but he gutted through it and didn't topple. But there was a moment of distraction there that Blackbeard pounced on like a starving man - the faster he could end this, the better. He lunged with his hook - then had to abort his attack with a yelp as Benny flicked his dagger at him. It was a wobbly throw, but it would have still taken his eye out if he hadn't ducked back when he did.

As it was, it severed the long, thin strand of his namesake beard, the thick, matted hairs fluttering to the deck.

Ok. NOW it's personal.

Hornigold was drawing a second dagger as Teach bore down on him - at this point, he was just going to assume he always had one more dagger than he expected him to have. Teach, for his part, didn't even bother fighting fair, just drew a pistol and fired, almost at point blank range. Hornigold moved to get out of the way, but wasn't quite fast enough, the bullet digging into his hip, rather than blowing his guts out his back.

Teach moved to club him across the head. Hornigold somehow got his saber up in time to stop it, but his leg buckled underneath him, and he went down to one knee. So, denied that avenue, Blackbeard just hit him with his pistol.

The quip he had on his lips about early onset CTE died as pain erupted in his belly. His eyes tracked down to see Hornigold's dagger sticking out of his stomach.

"Lose the battle," rasped Hornigold, his eyes unfocused. "To win the war."

He twisted the dagger, then ripped it out, and it hurt like the damn blazes. Teach staggered back, now the one with legs that were refusing to cooperate. Luckily for him, Hornigold looked like his bell was still ringing, so Teach had a moment to steady himself before the fight was on again.

His midsection was on fire as he parried Hornigold's saber. Having to jerk his waist back, to avoid that damn dagger again didn't help things, but he wasn't going to get played again like that - one of his eyeballs was firmly locked on the dagger in his opponent's off-hand. He swung down his his pistol, looking to break a few of the man's fingers and prevent him from holding said dagger, but he was a second off, and missed. Thankfully, he still had the height and strength advantage, and once again forced a weapon lock and shoved Benny back with his hook, buying himself a bit of space.

He punched out with his hook, trying to keep Benny at (his) arm's length. His one-time friend got his head out of the way - and then managed to keep it out of the way, as Teach attempted to snag him with the hook on the return. Unfettered, he brought his weapon up in a guard as he retracted it, and Benny's saber carved a line into it - but better the metal of his weapon than his pale, pasty flesh. His pistol didn't fare as well, as his awkward parry of Benny's dagger carved some important bits off of it, so he just threw the thing at him, and drew another one - and grinned inwardly as Benny's entire posture changed.

Yeah, a loaded gun would do that. This close, he wouldn't even really have to worry about the poor accuracy flintlocks had.

And he had more where this one came from, too.

Still, he needed to finish this sooner rather than later. He was losing energy with every drop of blood that leaked out of him, while Benny was starting to shake off the two blows to the head he'd taken. What he'd thought earlier remained true - the longer this went on, the less it favored him.

He swiped at Benny's chest with a nasty backhand, enough power behind the blow to knock the man back even through his block. That pushed him dangerously close to the railing of the deck, which was fine by Blackbeard. Gave him less room to maneuver, which was something Benny's style needed to perform its best.

Teach feigned lining up a shot - even made a gun noise and jerked the pistol up, and got Benny to flinch for just a second, then went in low, trying to return the favor and air out his one-time captain's guts, but the bastard leapt up, Teach's attack sailing under him.

Feth.

Hornigold's foot stomped down on his wrist, not actually impacting his bones through the gauntlet of his hook, but it still forced his arm down. The saber flashed, and suddenly, his hook was reduced to a glorified cestus. And that damn dagger darted in while he was trying to extricate himself. He tried to parry with his pistol - because the alternative would have been to let the bastard put some more holes in him, but Benny dragged the dagger down, and sliced his fingers to the bone. He kept his grip on the pistol, but only just.

And, even worse, his feet got tangled up in some rope (why wasn't that secured? Someone was going on half rations after this was all over!), and he went ass over teakettle, his back hitting the deck. Frantically, he scrabbled back as Benny advanced on him, eyes cold and dead.

"Edward Teach." He hacked down, and Blackbeard rolled out of the way, the saber sending up a spray of splinters as it sliced into the wood. "The Legendary Blackbeard. Scourge of the Caribbean. The most feared pirate - ever." A booted foot lashed out at him, and Teach was forced to take it on his left shoulder. Thankfully, the metal strips he wore there blunted the blow a bit - enough so that it felt like it only bruised, and didn't break bones.

Teach skidded back, getting to his knees, but Hornigold rushed him, saber whickering out with the intention of carving the top of his skull off, and he was forced to duck his head and roll under the cut. Hornigold planted his foot and pivoted, the saber following Teach, and preventing him from getting back to a vertical base. "My former second in command. The one all my men picked to succeed me after they mutinied." Again, he sent that boot out, and this time, Teach was ready for it. He drove the jagged remains of his hook right into the sole of the ponce's boot, and Hornigold gagged in pain.

Just out of spite, he twisted the hook as he tore it free.

"You KNEW the men weren't happy with you, letting English ships just pass us by! Those things were so FAT with plunder the waves were almost level with the decks! You brought that mutiny on yourself, you stubborn fool!" Teach now DID take a shot at Hornigold, but his aim was fouled by Hornigold flicking that dagger at him, and the bullet flew wide. Irritated, he threw THAT gun at Benny as well, and had the pleasure of seeing it snap his head back.

There was a pause in the battle as they both caught their breaths, both snatching a fresh weapon from where they were secreted on their persons. The top of Teach's pants were starting to get sticky with blood, and Benny, for his part, was leaving a splotch of crimson everywhere his right foot touched the deck.

"Yes, how dare I act with any sort of code or morals?" spat Hornigold, rage simmering in his eyes. "How dare I try to turn Nassau into something other than a slum, a ghetto? A festering hive where men wallow in filth and disease, until the whole godsforsaken thing collapses?" He shook his head. "No, you'd all rather fritter your days away, instead of trying to raise yourself to a better life - to be better MEN!"

He punctuated that last bit with a thrust that seemed to come out of nowhere - Teach only barely got out of the way of it, but Hornigold was quick as a hiccup, turning the thrust into a sweeping side-slash that rang off the metal strips that were serving Teach as armor, but not before the blade also managed to tickle his ribs a bit.

Once more, Teach felt his legs get a bit wobbly, and he was again forced to fall back, his shortened hook waving about, trying to get in line to intercept the next attack. Now he was the one being cornered, as his mental map of his girl showed he was being pushed back towards the stairs near the bow that led belowdecks.

"Mate, I think you never quite grasped what being a pirate really is." He snapped off a shot just to keep Benny back for a second, long enough for his legs to steady, and again hurled the pistol after the bullet, drawing another pistol (his second to last). "I may not agree with Bart about a lot of things - particularly that bangs fetish he has, but he wasn't wrong about that whole 'a merry life but a short one' thing of his." He wiped blood from his eyes - his thrice-bedamned head wound still hadn't closed up. "That I nearly made it to my fourth decade made me a geezer in pirate years."

Hornigold sneered. "And even then, despite your so-called retirement, you just couldn't stay quiet and keep your head down. And look where that led you…."

Teach spat. "Yeah, yeah, twenty cuts, eleven bullets, and my head above the Chesapeake Bay. Buddy, it HAPPENED to me. Don't need to remind me about it." And a hell of an honor guard preceding him, too. He made them EARN his death, in the end.

Something really, REALLY ugly flashed in the depths of Hornigold's eyes, and suddenly, he was right in his face, saber flashing left, right, up, down, so fast it was a blur - and one Teach was barely keeping up with.

And the yelling Benny was doing wasn't helping. "And you deserved WORSE!" His blade forced Teach's gauntlet up high, then he punched out, the shell guard of his saber crashing into the pirate's face, rattling his teeth in their sockets. "When it all began to fall apart, you all LEFT!"

"Rackham!" That dagger stabbed out, coming dangerously close to his breastbone.

"Vane!" His foot stomped down onto Teach's instep, and he felt bones giving way.

"Barrow!" Another slash at Blackbeard's head, one that took hairs off the top of his head as he narrowly ducked.

"And of course, YOU!" Teach's gauntlet interposed itself, and the two men stared at each other across their weapons. "You all left ME to pick up the pieces of the ruin you ALL left of Nassau! Left ME to face Woodes Rodgers! What choice did ANY of you leave me but to take the King's Pardon?"

The dagger flashed high, over his saber, and Teach flinched down, breaking the lock, getting an elbow to his already screaming gut for his trouble. He tumbled, back hitting the deck, and desperately rolled away, hearing Hornigold's boots thudding on the deck as he stomped after Teach.

The blade hissed low, and Teach flattened himself out, the blade missing, though Hornigold viciously kicked him in the side as he tried to push himself up. He rode the blow, rolling up to his knees, his arm shooting up to catch what would have been a skull-caving attack from Hornigold's sword on his gauntlet.

Their eyes met again. "And that's when it came to me." Teach felt his spine turn to ice. There was no sign of the too-cool-for-school, calm, collected, proper Navy man Benjamin Hornigold in his enemy's eyes. No, he was looking at someone else - this was a Benjamin Hornigold who had been hiding underneath all of that, for years, maybe, as every one of these slights, imagined or not, piled up. "The way I would get back at ALL of you! Every last one of your BACKSTABBING WHORESONS! I'd track you down, DRAG YOU BACK TO THE GALLOWS MYSELF AND WATCH AS YOU DIED!"

Distracted by the fact that he was possibly finally meeting the real Benjamin Hornigold, Blackbeard was a second slow in catching the flash of the dagger. He got his other arm up in time, but only to stop the thing from opening up his throat by taking it in his forearm.

"But before that," he rasped, digging the dagger in deeper. "I'd get you to all admit that I had been right all along. Right before you danced the jig in the air, so you could take that with you to your graves. You died at my hands, the man you all left behind. The one who was correct about everything, but you never LISTENED!"
Teach forced his arm up - with a metal blade damn near in his elbow joint, it redefined 'excruciating', but it was a warm summer's day compared to his first death. Still, he couldn't get the pistol all the way up to Benny's black heart.

So he shot him in the knee instead.

The sound of the gun discharging blended in with the crack of Benny's kneecap shattering in a noise that he wasn't sure was delightful or disgusting. But it let him push himself up and shove Benny off him, so he'd take it. For good measure, he hurled the smoking pistol at Benny's knee, and heard the man gasp in pain when it connected.

And then, his energy spent, and his Spirit Origin nearing the end of its rope, he slumped back down to sprawl across the stairs leading below decks. Fortunately for him, Benny's leg buckled under him, and he fell on his ass, giving Teach enough time to tear the dagger out of his arm.

Then, they both lay there like the broken old remnants of the Golden Age of Piracy that they were, wheezing breaths into their lungs, both of their lifebloods staining the deck of the Revenge.

Still, Hornigold was the first to make it to his feet. Limping, his leg barely able to hold him up, he began to inch his way over to Teach. "Normally, the pirates I captured got to say last words before they were hung by their necks, until death. But ALL I want from your cankerous lips is your admission that I was right!"

His form loomed over Teach, sunlight glinting off of his saber, one leg of his pants turned red from the knee down. Teach stared up at him, and grinned. "Sorry, all out of that. All we've got left is me being right about how bad your tunnel-vision still is."

A slight form burst from the waters off the bow of Hornigold's flagship, a mine in each hand, grasped by the chains, whirling them around like they were a pair of yo-yos.

"DORYAAAAAAAA!" The first mine cracked into the bow, the resulting explosion practically disintegrating it. The ship rocked backwards, almost going completely vertical.

Oryou hurled the second mine right into the bottom of the hull - she'd have possibly cored the ship, if the mine had been the flail she had been using it as. But instead of tearing straight through it, the mine 'merely' blew it into two, burning halves.

Hornigold flinched as though he'd been struck. "You…you sent them away!"

Teach, no, BLACKBEARD laughed. "Yeah, about that. I LIED!" He pushed himself back up to a sitting position. "I knew you'd lock in on killing me and ignore everything else - after all, you tried to catch me so many times in life and never managed it after you started licking Woodes Rodgers' boots. But, honestly, I didn't think you'd fall for it so badly."

Hornigold turned, murder in his eyes - then froze, the blood draining from his face, as he beheld Blackbeard pointing his last pistol down into the hold.

Right at the powder store, where an abundance of gunpowder barrels had been stacked.

His body tensed, wanting to rush forward, but knowing he wouldn't make it in time. "You'll DIE, Teach!"

"Taking you off the board was always the point, Benny." Blackbeard shrugged. "Well, your ship, and you. I didn't think there was any way I could beat you in a straight up fight, not with you being the Ghostbusters to my Ghost. Maybe if that crazy yandere hadn't dropped that monstrosity on the rest of them, but none of us expected that. So it means I needed to do whatever it takes to keep you from living to get to the shore - you'd rip right through the Yuri Pirates and Drake with your anti-pirate bullshit. Hells bells, you might even be able to classify Jason as one now that he's turned on you bunch. And they can't afford to have to deal with you when they've got their hands full with bigger problems right now."

Blackbeard smiled, a little wistfully. "Living through it would have been nice - I'd have lobbied hard to go back with them and get my hands on all that wonderful media they have in the future. Not to mention the collection of wenches they seem to have on hand. They're not Euryale-chan, but eye candy's eye candy." He shrugged. "But it's not to be."

He saw the desperation mounting in Hornigold's eyes, and knew he had seconds before the man made a last charge, caring only that he took Teach's head before he was blown to kingdom come. Thus, he made his last barb count. "So, I'll just have to be content with the knowledge that I beat you once again, Benny."

And there came the charge, saber held high, rage almost consuming the man. But as fast as he was, he wasn't faster than a bullet.

The barrels went up, and the fires that erupted from them penetrated the powder store, which proceeded to rip the already damaged Revenge completely apart.

He was lucky - he got to see Hornigold vaporize first, a look of utter and complete defeat on his face. Then, he felt his Spirit Origin starting to fracture, so, if he was going out like this, then there was only one way to go.

He channeled his best Rie Takahashi, and yelled out to all who could hear.

"EXPLOSION!"

---

Ritsuka Fujimaru looked up. Then looked up some more. Then craned her head back even further.

It was hideous, but in a different fashion than the changed whale they had fought what seemed like ages ago. It was the legs - she wasn't thalassophobic, but spiders creeped her out. Its skin wasn't helping things, either. Rather than the sickly, veined skin of the whale, the kraken's flesh seemed to continually be rippling, as though something large was constantly moving beneath it. And, as sections bulged and swelled, she could see patterns on the skin.

Patterns that looked like skulls.

"Ok, guys," she muttered, as she took in the sight of the THING scuttling directly towards them. "I'm officially open to suggestions."

"Rubbery skin like that thing's got, arrows aren't going to do much," muttered Orion, having jumped onto Artemis' shoulder to squint at the rapidly-approaching abomination. "Even with a Servant firing them, denarii to doughnuts Medea's reinforced it. Beyond……that!" His paw waved at the multiple spider-like legs that were propelling it forward.

David cupped his chin, his eyes flicking over every inch of the mutated kraken's form. "It's big enough to qualify as a giant. My Noble Phantasm could probably hurt it greatly, but I'd need to be very, very precise with my shot. Even empowered, it's still a sling hurling stones, at the end of the day. If I'm wrong about my guess, I don't think I'd get a second chance."

"And you're our sawbones right now," said Mary, helping a recovered Anne back to her feet. "Odds of us killing that thing without so much as a scratch seem pretty low. Be nice to have you still around to patch us up before the main event."

"The Captain does always insist that you kill the medic first - and protect yours, when you have one. I don't think he was thinking of this SPECIFICALLY," said Anne, gently testing out her healed arm. "But……"

Fujimaru activated her communicator. "Roman - I think I'm going to need you to overclock things for a bit. Send me Sensei - Sakamoto's still off with Blackbeard, and we're going to need some extra firepower for this."

Romani's hands flew across his station. "He's heading down now. You've got maybe ten minutes to play with here before the generators hit the redline." His worried eyes met hers. "Normally, I'd have insisted you save this for whatever's possessing Herakles…..our power resources are tight enough as is. But….."

"But if we don't deal with that thing NOW, before Kratos gets back here with him, we're up shit creek. Every plan we made never had him fighting that thing one on one the entire way." She paused, thinking. "How's that going, anyways?"

"He's on the deck of the Argo now," said Da Vinci. "And…."

Whatever she was about to say was cut off, as the Argo suddenly exploded.

Everyone's eyes widened. "Getting the party started?" suggested Fujimaru.

"No," said Atalanta, her voice almost a whisper. When she spoke again, her voice began to rise in volume. "That wasn't Kratos at all - the two of them have barely crossed blades yet."

She shook her head, as Chiron finished fading into existence. "No, it was Jason. He just caused all the catapults to malfunction - after he used one to fling himself off the Argo."

"THERE'S the boy I trained." Chiron chuckled. Some of the tension that had been obvious in his form since they had first heard of the Argonauts' involvement in this Singularity evaporated. "Late in appearing, but better late than never."

Fujimaru clapped her hands to her face, leaving red marks on her cheeks. "Ok, we're on a time limit here. David!" She jerked her head around to meet the eyes of the Israeli King. "You feel pretty good about your Noble Phantasm being able to kill that thing?"

"Yes," he said. "I can't give you absolute certainty, but I'd be willing to stake my life on it. Though, I'd want a shot at its heart, or brain for the best odds."

"That's a lot of tentacles to get through," murmured Orion. "You'd want to take your shot from the flanks, reduce the number of those things that can get in the way…."

"Flank…." whispered Fujimaru. "Or above!"

Her hand shot out, pointing to the crater that surrounded the Ark of the Covenant.

"Miss O…Artemis!" The goddess in question jumped to attention. "Can you get him up there?"

David shook his head. "No need. I was a shepherd long before I was a king. And sometimes, my lost lambs would stray far - the hills of my birthplace weren't Mt. Sinai, but I'm surefooted enough to be able to climb that crater without needing assistance."

"Alright, we'll try to lure it in close." The thing was almost upon them. "I'll leave it up to your best judgement - when you think you have the shot, take it."

David took off, and, to his credit, he shot up the side of the crater like it was a flat plain, so Fujimaru guessed his words weren't just empty boasts. But she only had a second to track his progress.

Because the thing was nearly here.

"Fall back!" she yelled, sliding herself behind Mash (and her big, big shield). "Let's try a volley - see if we can piss this thing off and get it to chase us!"

The twangs of the bows of their trio of Greek Archers melded with the crack of Anne's blunderbuss, but to little effect. The shots hit, certainly, and even penetrated. But they seemed to be not much more than pinpricks to the massive creature.

"Surface level impacts!" yelled Orion, from where he was perched on Artemis' shoulder. "The bullet, of all things, drove the deepest, but I don't think it hit anything but skin. Certainly nothing vital!"

"On the other hand," murmured Mary, her tone entirely deadpan. "We got it's attention."

With a shriek that sounded far, far too alien for this world, the kraken-thing doubled its pace, smashing trees aside with its bulk as it charged straight at them, tentacles waving eagerly.

"Master, run," Chiron didn't even look back at her, loosing another arrow at the kraken. "We will continue to bait it back, but we won't be able to adequately protect you while doing so." Another arrow sailed perilously close to the thing's eye, only to be swatted aside by a tentacle. "At this point, distance is your best defense."

The ground was shaking underfoot as the wickedly sharp legs of the monster were spearing into the ground, accelerating the abomination forward at an increasing pace. "Yeah, c'mon Mashie, let's get out of here."

As the girls ran (Mash faster than Fujimaru, but she held back, keeping herself between the battle and her Master), Fujimaru activated her communicator. After a second, a messy head of silver hair responded. "What, Red?" Albeit, curtly.

"Just wondering how things are going on the shore?" Fujimaru swerved her body around a large chunk of rock, seeing one of the tunnels that led into the crater looming ahead. "We've got…..well, it might be a plan to deal with the big kraken-thing. Oh, and apparently Jason blew up the Argo and yeeted himself our way, so keep an eye out for him - he might not actually be an enemy."

"Was wondering what happened - we all saw the thing go up." Avenger's head spun around, and there was the sound of heated metal meeting something fleshy, then, a gurgling wail. "But it's going as well as you could fucking expect here. Between the two Berserkers, that crazy wife of Eric's, Hektor coordinating all of this shit, Drake giving us fire support, and, of course, my bad-ass self, we're holding them….."

There was the sound of a loud explosion, and the communicator's image turned into pure static.

"Avenger?" No response. "Hey, Avenger? What the hell happened?"

After a tense couple of seconds, the image returned, showing Avenger pushing herself up from the beach. "Medea happened." The woman spat out a mouthful of sand. "She just rose up from the water and obliterated our barricades…and it feels like she did it for the mad scientists' razor floss, too." Avenger tossed the wires she had been holding to the ground.

There was the sound of a voice in the background, yelling something, though their connection was spotty enough that she couldn't resolve exactly what. "Hektor's having us fall back to the second line. But now that the net's down, they're going to come at us like fucking locusts. Don't know how long we'll be able to hold them." Her image on the screen began jumping up and down as the Servant began running. "So you might be seeing us sooner rather than later."

Wonderful. She hoped Kratos was having better luck than the rest of them were. "Ok, got it." She ducked into the tunnel, her pace slowing for a second as her eyes adjusted to the sudden drop in light. "We're trying to make our stand in the crater, so that's where we'll be." They darted out of the tunnel, and ran face-first into the sheer magical pressure that surrounded the Ark - it still wasn't something she was used to, akin to opening a can of soda that had been shaken up and having it blow up in your face. "Assuming nothing ELSE goes wrong, of course."

"Don't fucking jinx it, Red." Avenger's image winked out.

The crater was empty, safe for Euryale, who had offered to act as something of a rearguard for them - though it had been somewhat obvious to everyone she was deathly afraid of coming face to face with Herakles - or 'Fornakles', as Blackbeard was calling their enemy. As they drew close to the ark, Medusa's sister looked up at them. "Is it going so badly, then?" Her eyes slipped up to the lip of the crater. "I noticed the king creeping along the crest a few moments ago."

"Could be going better," admitted Fujimaru. "Medea dropped one of her messed-up experiments on us, our long-range group is trying to draw it back here so David can snipe it." She grimaced. "And speaking of Medea, she just crashed our front lines. So it might get real crowded in here soon. So you might have to do some fighting."

She hid it well, but Fujimaru could see the fear in her eyes. "And….is….he coming?"

"No idea. We think Kratos is fighting him right now, but…." She shrugged. "I'm not about to ring him and ask for a status update while they're probably doing their level best to kill each other right now. I assume Avenger would have had a conniption if something had happened to him - or I'd be hearing from Cu or your sister."

Further conversation was cut off as the ground began shaking, and, a split second after a warning buzzed through her mind in the area where her Teacher resided, the north crater wall shattered, and the kraken-thing stormed through.

One of its many legs was dragging behind it, the joint clearly fractured - probably Anne's handiwork, if she had to guess. And the thing's tentacles were all doing their best impressions of porcupines - none more so than the two arms that had the larger pads on the ends. There were also more than a few arrows embedded around the monster's eyes - it looked as though the Archer crew had gotten close a few times, but hadn't landed the bulls-eye, as it were.

And the thing was PISSED. The eyes were rolling madly in their sockets, pure animal HATE evident in them. And the sound of that beak scissoring through the air - yeah, her nightmares of Fuyuki were possibly going to be guest-starring this thing for a while.

"Stay behind me, Senpai!" cried Mash, already rushing out to place herself firmly between the monster and her Master, the girl's head twitching from side to side as the tentacles sliced through the air above her. One of the massive arms rang off Mash's shield, pushing the Shielder back, but she gave a cry and shoved back, knocking the arm away, holding her ground.

Two more arms shot in.

In a blur of green, Atalanta seemed to streak though the stamping legs of the kraken, weaving in and around them, then falling to her knees and angling her body back, her motion never ceasing. Her body was kicking up rocks and gravel as she skidded forward, a look of utter concentration on her face. Her bowstring quivered once, twice, four times in total, and four arrows were loosed in the space of a thought.

All of them were directly on-point, each hitting one of the thing's suckers dead center, and pushing the undulating tentacles aside just enough that they crashed down around Mash, missing her by inches - if not less.

The Mash of Fuyuki would have flinched, possibly, unsure of herself, and too inexperienced to know what to do, a mess of instincts and memories that weren't hers, in a body that felt stronger, and yet, at the same time, almost alien to her.

That was not the Mash that had survived three Singularities now, and had been trained by the Ghost of Sparta and Scathach's prized pupil. This Mash planted her feet, yelled, and cracked her shield into the nearest tentacle.

[Good girl. Even if a blunt weapon like ours isn't much use against a blighted thing like that, never pass up a chance to cause damage. And every ounce of pain you cause this thing keeps its eyes focused on you - and NOT your Master.]

She hit the thing again, this time deliberately aiming at one of Atalanta's arrows, driving the wooden shaft deeper into the monstrosity's rubbery flesh.

The thing hissed in pain and rumbled its two tentacles forward, attempting to crush the girl between them, but she was already gone, vaulting up into the air, the two walls of cartilaginous flesh slamming together just under her airborne form.

She landed on one of the tentacles, and, without so much as a pausing, charged straight up it, her shield raised, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"......she's doing the thing she did with the giant skeleton again." Roman's voice sounded like he was somewhere between proud enough to burst, and terrified out of his mind. "He was right, there WERE going to future times like that." It was leaning more towards the latter, and it sounded like his beloved virtual idol might be entertaining a Roman who would be drinking heavily in the immediate future, once this Singularity was resolved.

"SUPPORTING FIRE!" bellowed Fujimaru. "Give her as clear a path as you can!"

Artemis streaked over the kraken, bow firing as fast as she could form arrows. In front of Fujimaru, Atalanta dropped to one knee, eyes narrowing, and she too opened up.

The tentacles flying in from the right to swat Mash away were diverted, just enough, by the barrage of Artemis. The ones from the left met the same fate at the hands of Atalanta. Artemis was cooing as she shot by them, body already beginning to pivot about and turn for another strafing run (and Fujimaru swore she heard the goddess yelling about a Arty-lanta combo!....and also heard the Archer in front of her groan).

One of the two larger tentacles reared up above Mash, the large pad poised to smash down on her, but there was a loud crack, and a bullet ricocheted off the ground, spearing upwards, and burying itself deep into the pad, drawing a shriek of pain (or rage) from the horror.

A grappling hook flew upwards and looped around the spasming tentacle, and, insanely, Anne swung through the forest of swinging appendages. The blonde woman torqued her body this way and that, threading the needle until she was just over Mash, then, she released her hold on the rope, and plummeted down.

The butt of her blunderbuss struck the tentacle with a nauseating squelch, and the woman visibly shuddered. "Eeeeeeewww!" She raised the weapon again and brought it down, then repeated the action. "Down! Down! Stay down!"

Fujimaru could see Mary towards the back of the kraken, hacking away at its many legs, weaving in and out of the rising and falling limbs, as each in turn tried to stomp (or skewer, given how sharp the ends of those legs looked) her into the ground. She didn't seem to be doing much in the way of damage, but she was forcing it to divide its attention, if nothing else.

There were the sounds of hooves on stone, and Chiron bolted through the same space as Mary, firing upwards as he ran. A moment later, he was rearing to a halt by Fujimaru, some of the gravel kicked up by his hooves pattering off the two women, all three of them watching as Mash drew close.

The girl vaulted over a tentacle that whipped in, cracking like a whip, only to have the girl drive the point of her shield into the limb, and use it to propel her upwards.

Straight at the thing's beak.

She was spinning, rotation adding to her momentum, and yelling a battlecry, as her shield slammed into the beak, and there was a gut-churning crack, the sound of something splitting.

Then Mash was falling back.

'Sensei!' Fujimaru didn't waste time with words, sending her worry, her intentions, and her instructions straight at the part of her brain where she was connected with her Servant. And Chiron was moving even before she'd even began thinking at him, so he was there, arms outstretched, when Mash descended.

"If you are to be doing that on a regular basis, Miss Kyrielight, I will have to insist Kratos teach you how to make a landing." He favored her with a grin as he galloped back to Fujimaru. "While you are easily the most durable Servant we have, it would do you - and him, truly, good to learn that one does not have to always tumble in an uncontrolled fashion away after attacking such a large creature."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Chiron," said Mash, as he set her back down onto the ground, and proceeded to receive a very enthusiastic slap on the back from her Master.

"Even if you didn't stick the landing, you really got it mad, Mashie!" Fujimaru wasn't wrong - the kraken's beak hadn't been snapped clean off, but it was clearly misshapen, a clear, viscous fluid seeping from it. The thing's legs were crashing into the ground so fast the sound of their impacts was almost a single, continuous noise. And it was waving its tentacles in an unmistakable show of agitation.

Yet, for some reason, it wasn't fully entering the crater.

"Come on!" yelled Fujimaru, her arms spread wide. "We're right here! Come and get us! Fresh meat, and all that!"

The thing shrieked with hate, its voice garbled, but still, it remained in place.

"Why?" Mash was gripping her shield tightly, her body tense, ready to react to any aggressive movement from the thing. "Why isn't it getting any closer?"

"That would be because I am holding its reins."

A young, childlike voice echoed around the crater, and a tiny form descended from the sky, alighting on the creature's body.

"And I'm not about to let one of my creations stumble into your obvious trap," sneered Medea, as she stared down at them. "I see David up there, just waiting for his chance. I'm no fool."

There was the sound of a snicker. "What happened, Medea? That's quite the mark you're sporting on your face." Euryale's face was twisted in amusement as she pointed up to indicate the ugly yellow-purple bruise that was discoloring the left side of Medea's face.

The sister of Medusa drew a finger up to her pursed lips. "Did you happen to run afoul of Kratos, perchance?" Medea's silence spoke volumes, and Euryale laughed, mockingly. "Oh, now I feel even more comforted letting him orbit around my very big little sister, if he can do that to someone like you."

"You…." hissed Medea. "You've led us on quite the chase, goddess, but there's nowhere left to run." Her face turned up in a manic grin. "You've even seen fit to deliver yourself right to the Ark, as well. As soon as your pitiful little protectors are all dead, we can put an end to this Singularity."

Something very, very unsettling flashed behind her eyes. "To everything….."

"Why?" Chiron's voice boomed around the crater, despite him not raising it at all. (A quality all her teachers in Chaldea seemed to have, she noted.) "Why do….this? Aid these things?"

Chiron's posture was open, beginning for understand. "As a Heroic Spirit, we should be opposing creatures like Forneus, not working alongside them!" His shoulders slumped. "I understand everything that happened between you and Jason, but…"

Medea's shrill laughter cut him off. "Jason? You think I did all this, simply because of what HE did to me?" She laughed harder. "Oh, the EGO! I see where he got it from!"

She spat down on them. "I was the first Servant here, you know. Long before Drake found her Grail, before the land summoned the likes of Blackbeard and the other pirates, before the Ark settled down into this crater - it was just me, and the ocean. And one other."

The blood seemed to drain from her face, even while a look of euphoria washed over it. "He broke me. ME, who learned from Circe herself! With less effort than I would use in stepping on an ant!" Her hands snaked up to comb erratically through her long ponytail. "Then, he showed me. How there was nothing left. No Humanity. The Counter Force reduced to an afterthought. And I understood……I joined him in the pursuit of the purity of oblivion."

"We used my connection to chain-summon Jason to here, told him of a way he could become invincible…." She laughed, a sound that sent chills up and down Fujimaru's spine. "Because once you've been obliterated, nothing CAN harm you, after all! The fool called Herakles here, as we expected, since he only knows the one trick. And it gave Lord Forneus the perfect vessel, for when the Foreign God came, as we knew he would."

"And you fooled me, completely. Shame on me for that."

Jason strode out of one of the tunnels, looking distinctly worse for wear. Scuffs and scratches covered every part of him, and his clothes were one step away from falling off his form. Sand fell from his hair with every movement - from the size of the lump on his skull, he must have come down headfirst.

He strode up to them. "Your forces are holding the line, but they're buckling. They'll probably have to fall back shortly." He turned from Fujimaru, nodding at Chiron as he neared them. "Teacher."

"My student." Chiron regarded the man, a half-smirk playing across his face at his condition. "Have you come to your senses?"

"I stand by everything I said to you, teacher. I don't think my end goal was wrong," he grimaced. "Even if I allowed myself to be led around by my nose."

Jason sighed. "But I can tell this will be a long discussion between us……or a lecture. But later."

He stared up at his one-time lover and ally, and what seemed like a purposefully irritating grin sprouted on his face. "But I see the little goddess wasn't wrong. He got you good, didn't he, Medea?"

"But it delivered me to here - where the goddess and the Ark are," She was staring daggers through Jason, an oddly vacant smile on her face. "And you to me, as a bonus. Before everything goes, I'll get to watch you die."

She didn't even allow Jason a retort, her heel clicking on the body of the kraken, spurring it into motion. The creature's multitude of arms snaked out, gripping sections of the crater walls, and tearing chunks free.

Chunks that it began hurling at them.

"Senpai, MOVE!" Fujimaru found herself hurled behind Mash, who raised her shield and swatted a particularly large piece of rubble aside moments before it would have crushed them both.

And it wasn't just rocks they had to worry about. From her position on top of the creature, magical circles flared around Medea, and fire and lightning began to rain down upon them. Everyone scattered, Artemis taking back to the air, Chiron and Atalanta breaking to either side, all of them opening up with their bows.

Fujimaru found herself with an escort, Anne shadowing her and Euryale (and using the butt of her gun to handle any rocks that slipped past Mash) As well as…

"Why are you here?" asked Fujimaru, half-glaring at a Jason who was almost but not quite crowding her out of the space behind Mash.

The Argo's captain gave her an incredulous look. "Have you SEEN the size of her shield? And you're her Master, so there's no safer place to be!"

A crackling jet of lightning passed just over his head, causing him to yelp. His hair began lifting up in the wake of the attack's passing, ozone thick in the air.

Anne gave him a wry look. "You sure about that, bud? Seems like she might have it out for you in particular. Couldn't imagine why…."

"Truly, a mystery," snarked Euryale.

"And what are you bunch doing about it?" yelled Jason, hands trying to pat his hair back down. "She's got the perfect platform to snipe us from, and it's not like that monster of hers is going to run out of ammunition anytime soon!" One of his hands spun in a circle. "It would have to reduce this entire crater to nothing, and if this fight lasts that long, we're all dead."

He ducked his head down, as a shower of rubble bounced off Mash's shield. "She IS going to be weaker, though - her workshop went up in flames when I torched the Argo. Feel free to thank me at any time for that."

"Best way would be to get someone up in her face to engage her - Casters, a certain crazy Irishman notwithstanding, don't particularly seem to care for having to fight up close and personal." Her other teacher certainly didn't. Lord El-Melloi at times didn't even seem like he knew how to properly throw a punch. "But no way she just sits still and lets someone climb that thing."

There was a pause, and Jason sighed. "Fine." He moved to break off from their group, but not before pivoting and pointing directly at Fujimaru. "Figure out SOMETHING before that crazy woman kills me, or Herakles is going to be furious with you when he gets here!"

Their expressions must have shown something he didn't like, because he shook his head at all of them. "Mark my words - before this is all said and done, he'll surprise you all. Demonic possession or no demonic possession, at the end of the day, he's Herakles. And he believes in me, so I have to believe in him."

He lowered his head, and darted away from them - almost immediately coming under fire from Medea. Credit to the man, he ducked, darted, and dodged with skill, staying just a hair ahead of the attacks screaming his way. He even had time to fire a few shots of his own, though they were purely verbal.

"Really, Medea? You call this trying to kill me? The Argo, half falling apart, was better at it than you are! Or is it only family members you can manage to murder?"

Medea shrieked in rage and sent a torrent of fire Jason's way, forcing the man to run for his life.

Ok, Fujimaru, think. Have to get a fighter up there, but you've really only got Mash, and she's our defense. Artemis could ferry pretty much anyone right into Medea's face, but all you really have is Archers, and they're best at range. Think. Think. THINK!

Jason was yelping and whooping as he rolled under another of Medea's attacks, but his margin of error was getting narrower and narrower.

Her communicator crackled. "Hey, Red - we're inbound. The second line fell. We're going to come in through the west tunnel, and have the two big fuckers drop the tunnel on them. Hopefully it'll buy us some time."

Fighters! Praise the Root! "Keep your eyes peeled when you come in, the kraken's tossing around boulders like it's going out of style - make sure you don't get clipped." Thunder boomed in the crater. "And Medea's here, too."

There was a loud crash, and static washed over the communicator's image. "Wonderful," drawled Avenger, sarcastically. "I was going to say we're bringing the party to you, but it sounds like you're already up to your eyeballs in fun. Anyways, here we fucking come."

A small band of people emerged from the western tunnel - prompting an almost immediate response from the kraken, as it sent a massive chunk of rubble their way.

Moments before it hit, Eric put on a burst of speed, making a small hop, then a much larger one, springing into the air. The Bloodaxe sang, and the hunk of rock was cleaved neatly in two. Seconds later, he landed by Fujimaru.

And he did it all with his wife cradled in one of his arms, too.

A wife who shot a finger up to point at the creature. "Retribution for your calumny!" she howled, dragging the point of her dagger along her arm, the blood flaring with light. A haze of purple surrounded the kraken, and, a second later, one of its arms began to wither.

Eric was smiling as he set his wife down. "Well done, dear."

Gunnhilde sniffed as one of the halves of the boulder her husband had split flew over the group's head, being returned to the kraken by the arms of Asterios, only for the stone projectile to be slapped away by one of the thing's larger arms.

"Fuck me, Red, you weren't kidding." Avenger skidded to a stop, taking in the chaos unfolding in the crater. Chiron and Atalanta were blurs of motion on the ground, arrows streaking up from their forms, while Artemis continued to play tag with the tentacles, high above them. "Where do you need us?"

"We have to get someone up there to punch Medea in her face," said Fujimaru. "I was originally thinking of having Artemis do her ferrying thing, but now that we've got two Berserkers, the old fastball special is an option." She glanced over the group. "Any takers?"

Gunnhilde straightened up. "I can do it."

Frankly, not at all who Fujimaru expected to volunteer. She'd have bet her front teeth that it would have been Avenger - truthfully, it looked like Gunnhilde had just beaten her to the punch on it, too, and she was already opening her mouth to protest, it looked like.

Gunnhilde didn't even allow her to get started. "I OWE that harridan for what she did to my Eric! And you're going to need every able-bodied fighter you have when those scuttling horrors get through the tunnels." She cracked her knuckles. "I'm a Viking as much as my husband. That pampered little princess won't know what hit her, especially with her workshop gone."

Inhuman howls began echoing from the west tunnel. Fujimaru slashed her hand through the air. "No time to argue. Eric, I assume you're going to be our delivery system?"

"Who else?" He gently picked his wife up, his head ducking low to brush her lips with his. "Fight gloriously, my little Valkyrie."

Gunnhilde's eyes were beginning to cloud over with battle-lust - and possibly regular lust as well. "I expect to descend in victory to see you've bathed your axe in the blood of scores of those creatures, husband. That creature's heart as a present would also not be unwelcome upon my return."

"MAKE US A PATH!" yelled Fujimaru, as Eric hefted his wife into his arms.

It was as though all the Archers collectively took a breath, then, suddenly, a focused storm of fire ripped through the air. Even Euryale, from where she was standing on Asterios' shoulders, pitched in.

The sheer weight of fire opened a hole, and Eric sent his wife straight through it - though her lips were moving, likely calling winds to shape and speed her flight.

Medea, incredibly, never saw her coming, too focused on trying to wipe Jason from existence. But even as intent as she was on her former lover, she hadn't neglected her defenses. Gunnhilde's knife scraped off a barrier, drawing jagged lines on it, but failing to penetrate. Eric's wife sprang back a breath before the shield reacted, lines of power streaking through where she had been.

She landed atop the kraken, Medea whirling to face her. "You…." she hissed.

Gunnhilde's grin was all teeth, feral and eager. "Did you think yourself rid of me, slattern?" She twirled her knife in her hand, her stance loose and ready. "Ne-me-sis!" She hissed out each syllable of the word. "I name myself this to you, for your crimes against my Eric! No peace shall you have of me, not until one of us lies dead at the other's hands!"

Medea sneered. "Come on, then. I'll show you just what the difference is between your clumsy blood magic, and what a Caster from the Age of the Gods can do!"

Magic circles flared, and battle was joined, atop a thrashing monstrosity.

"Ok, that should keep her busy." Fujimaru couldn't tell who was winning, the flaring lights of magic being unleashed too thick and bright for her to see much detail. Frankly, she hoped Gunnhilde was curb-stomping her, but she didn't think it would be that easy. "And maybe she won't be able to keep as tight a reign on that thing, so that we can get it close to David. Or him close to it."

It was at that moment that the remaining Sea Devils began spilling out of the tunnel, shrieking their inhuman cries.

Eric turned towards them. "I'll do what I can to thin their numbers." He grunted, though a smile was cracking his face. "My wife expects a large tally from me, after all."

"I'll keep you covered," said Drake, hefting her pistols. "Now that I've gotten that Grail back from Teach, I'm at least able to keep up against those things." She stared up at the writhing abomination. "Much as I'd like to mount that thing's head on the bow of my ship, I know where I'm most needed." Her grin turned somber. "And those were my men, as well. S'the job of the captain to see them off, in the end."

Eric nodded, seemingly in approval, and raised his axe. "Let's go, then."

Bellowing a war cry, he tore into them like a force of nature, sending bodies flying in his wake, leaving Drake with little to do but watch. Though, at the rate they were pouring out of the tunnel, she wouldn't be bored for long.

"Ok, now how do we get that thing mad enough to make it ignore Medea and chase us?" She glanced up at the lip of the crater, barely able to spot David up there, crouched and waiting. "I mean, we could try to creep David close, but even with Medea busy with Gunnhilde, I'd rather bring them to us, rather than us go to them."

Anne licked her lips. "I bet if I put a bullet in its eye, that'll piss it off enough that it'll see red and stop listening to that witch." Her eyes flicked from flailing tentacle to flailing tentacle. "Only problem is, I don't know if I'd be able to sneak a shot through all that. The thing's skin really won't work for my ricochets, too good at absorbing impacts. Means I'm going to have to do this point-blank."

Mash blinked. "Are….are you sure?"

Anne groaned. "No. I don't want to be anywhere near that disgusting thing. But unless anyone has a better idea - and a quick one, before that blonde idiot gets squashed like a bug."

No one did. And they could all see that Jason was running out of room to dodge - slowly, but surely, he was being cornered.

Asterios reached up and plucked Euryale from his shoulders, setting her down next to Fujimaru. "Euryale…..stay here. Will go…..fight monster…..with little pirate."

The miniature goddess seemed like she was getting ready to protest, but Asterios silenced her by dropping one of his massive paws atop her head. "Can't let…..witch get…you. So….stay here."

"You come back. I am COMMANDING you to come back in one piece, do you understand?" Her nose turned up into the air, and she averted her eyes from the minotaur. "If my brute of a sister has a protector, then I should have one too - you're not perfect, but you'll do."

The face of the man-beast turned up in a bright, childlike smile. "Will….try."

He pawed the ground twice, then, head lowered, he charged.

"Guess I should pitch in too," Avenger twirled her spear in her hand, and grabbed Hektor by the scruff of his neck. "Come on, old man, let's you and I go get stuck in."

"Making me work," grumbled Hektor, though he allowed himself to be dragged along.

Atop the creature, Gunnhilde ducked low, a stream of fire singing the ends of her twin braids. She flicked her hand out, a spray of blood splattering across one of Medea's shields, which immediately heated, causing the blood to evaporate.

"You don't even try to dodge," sneered Gunnhilde. "It must be so nice, to be a Mage from the Age of the Gods - so confident in your power that you can just huddle behind your barriers like a queen in their castle. Inviolable. Pristine." She gestured, and winds whipped up around her, diverting a second wave of fire, twisting it around, and sending it back at Medea - though it too splashed off the shield with little effect.

"The least amount of effort for the most effect," returned Medea, almost sounding bored. "As a Caster, we will always be at an inherent disadvantage in a fight against other Servants. So I maximize my defenses, and take the openings when they present themselves." A magic circle flared to life in an instant, a beam screaming into Gunnhilde.

At the last second, the woman got her hand up, a blood-rune writhing into being, and there was an explosion of light.

When it finally faded, Gunnhilde was still standing, intact. She dropped her scorched hand, and laughed at the expression on Medea's face. "Surely you can do better, witch? My husband is rougher with me in the marital bed."

Medea's eyes narrowed. "No one calls me a WITCH. NO ONE!" She began to rise off the back of the kraken, her hair whipping in the winds kicked up by her unleashed power. "I'm going to flay you alive!"

"Promises, promises," taunted Gunnhilde, before she threw herself back at Medea.

On the ground, one of Asterios' axes cracked into a segmented leg, the chitin buckling, then completely giving, as the Berserker swung his second axe, and cleaved straight through the limb."

The monster stumbled, readjusting its weight. Long, ropey limbs snaked down, seeking the irritants that were stinging its legs.

Avenger's eyes gleamed. She jumped back, then bolted straight at Hektor. "Launch me!"

Sighing, Hektor extended Durandal, holding it steady, right up until Avenger's feet settled on the crosspiece, just below the blade of the spear. Then, his arms tightened, and he fell backwards, snapping the spear upwards.

And sending Avenger straight at the right flank of the kraken.

Her metal arm shot out, clenching the air in front of her, and, behind her, a forest of flaming spears rained down in her wake, shooting straight through the arms that had dropped to be low to the ground. Stone split, and melted around them, as they pinned the limbs to the ground - it would only be for a moment, as the crater floor would not be able to resist the strength of the beast for long.

But it would be enough.

Almost as the cherry on top, Avenger then crashed into the pad of the larger tentacle, nailing it to one of the crater walls. Again, it would not hold long, but she had bought them a window.

"Light it UP!"

The Archers, as one, focused their fire on the left side of the kraken. Its remaining, free arms flailed wildly, the thing on the edge of panic. Its other large arm shot through the air, aimed directly for Avenger - and the arm she had trapped. Either to smash her, knock her away, or to free the arm, it was unknown.

Nor would it matter.

Anne's grappling hook flew through the air, striking true, and hooking into the flesh of the arm. She leapt from the wall, where she'd been perched, and swung her body in an arc, skimming just barely over the ground, before her momentum swung her upwards, flying free.

Gravity caught up to her body swiftly, and, for a moment, she floated in the air.

Right in front of the right eye of the thing.

Her blunderbuss snapped up, almost resting flush against the aqueous humor.

"At this distance, I don't really need to, but……TAKING AIM, AND….FIRE! CARIBBEAN FREE BIRD!"

The sound of her gun's retort was drowned out by the thick, liquid squelch as the bullet ripped into the eye. Amazingly, despite making the shot while suspended in mid-air, she had still managed to calculate the angle to get it to ricochet.

Repeatedly.

Stinking, purple ooze rained down on the crater floor, as the eye was torn to shreds.

Anne had a moment to pump her fist and shout her victory.

Before the arm she had grappled shot down, and drove her into the floor.

"ANNE!" A slight form rushed out from underneath the kraken, cutlass hacking away at the tentacle that was crushing Anne into the ground. "GET OFF OF HER!"

The kraken had gone berserk, ululating in pain. The crater floor shattered like glass as it tore its limbs free from Avenger's spears, agony fuelling its every movement. Avenger tore her spear free and dropped to the ground, mere seconds before the other large arm freed itself from the wall, hitting the ground and rolling, then running, as the arm snaked after her.

The kraken's eye was little more than the shredded remains of the orb it had once been. Medea's voice was screaming, berating the creature, demanding it listen, but whatever control she had held over it had snapped completely. Foam and spittle leaked from its beak as it howled in hate, its entire being focused on the tiny creature that had caused it so much pain. The pad of the tentacle ground down on Anne, even as Mary screamed and wept, her blade ineffectually lashing out again and again at the rubbery flesh smothering her other half.

There was a flash of red, and suddenly, the Bloodaxe was flying past, the pad of the tentacle hanging on by a ragged thread of flesh. It cleaved through a pair of legs, and then, Asterios was there, his hand outstretched.

The Bloodaxe thumped into his hand, and he reared back, and flung it back from whence it came.

Eric backhanded a Sea Devil, laughing all the while. "Nice receive!" he yelled, covered in blood, both his own, and that of his enemies, as the Bloodaxe returned to him, severing the pad as it did so.

Mash was there in an instant, using the edge of her shield to pry the severed pad up, and heaved it off of Anne. As the woman was revealed, Mash felt her stomach churn, and she had to take deep breaths to keep her gorge down. Anne's limbs were twisted in ways that limbs did not naturally go, and, in more than one place, Mash saw white bone having punctured the skin.

But her Spirit Origin was intact - heavily damaged, yes, but not completely destroyed.

"Get her up!" shouted Mash, Mary already moving to comply. "I'll cover you while you get her out of here!"

Mash deflected one whipping arm, then swatted another away as Mary slung Anne across her shoulders, wincing at every pained cry that slipped from her partner's lips. "Hold on, Anne. Hold on," whispered Mary, as she darted away from Mash, struggling under her partner's weight.

The sole remaining eye of the kraken locked onto the two women, and the foul thing roared in insane rage. Ignoring the armored form of the girl attempting to defend them, the enormous creature barreled forward, smashing Mash aside with barely a thought, though she tried to dig her heels in, the sheer weight of the thing was too much.

She tumbled through the air, hitting the wall hard, and slid down to the floor.

Mary was running full out, her legs smacking into the ground at a rapid pace, pushing her body as hard as it could go. But for every ten steps she took, a single thunderous footfall of the kraken matched it - and more, even dragging one of its withered arms behind it. Even with its chitinous legs reduced and injured.

It caught up to her in an instant, its remaining arms coiling down to seize them, but, the ground shattering under his feet, his head lowered, Asterios charged through the web of tentacles, twin axes flashing.

"Not…..touch THEM!" His labryses whirled and sliced, buying the two pirates a moment to escape. The thing shrieked in frustration, its tentacles slamming to the ground, anchoring it, and lunged its head forward, beak snapping.

Asterios got his weapons up, crossed in front of him, blocking the cruel points of the thing's mandible. His head snapped forward, horns butting into the damaged upper beak, and he could feel the monstrosity shudder in pain. Hissing, the thing heaved, and bowled Asterios aside. Tearing its tentacles from the ground, it heaved itself back into pursuit.

But the two pirates had made good use of the moment Asterios had bought them. Even now, they had reached the crater wall, and were beginning to duck into one of the tunnels.

"Go! GO!" yelled Fujimaru, making shooing motions with her hands, as the kraken thundered after them.

To Medea's increasing frustration.

"No…..listen to me, DAMN you!" The Witch of Colchis' attention was being dangerously split, her defenses keeping her safe only through the vast difference in power between them - that, and her defenses largely being automated. "Heel! I COMMAND you to HEEL! I am the Master here! I created you! You MUST obey me!"

Her cries were falling on the deaf ears of the creature, as it plowed into the crater wall, and began to push through. Rock shattered, tumbling to the ground, far below, as it bulled its way through the obstruction, consumed by a singular need - to hurt the thing that had hurt it so, to tear it limb from limb, to grind it into the ground - to consume it, body and soul.

It did not see the form that leaped from high above it, so focused on its revenge it was. But Medea did. She was moving, reacting to it, trying to defend her creation, when, suddenly, there were three Gunnhildes encircling her - and from the ringing against her shields, each one was as every bit as real as the other two. Despite herself, her attention wavered.

Medea saw it in an instant - the woman's twin braids had been severed. "Using parts of yourself to create copies? Multiply yourself a hundredfold, you'll still never so much as scratch me!"

"I don't have to," said the three Gunnhildes, all in eerie synchronicity. "Just distract you for one moment, one pivotal second." Three wicked grins grew on three nordic faces. "So he can do this!"

Green light washed over them, and through it, there was the sound of leather whipping through the air at an almost supersonic pace.

"Can't even say I gave you every chance to back off…..since you're just a beast in the end. But you're an evil giant either way…….." The light became, for a second, so bright it was almost painful. "Whatever you are or were, I hope He takes pity on you for the circumstances that led you here. Because they've led you to death."

His arm snapped back, the whirling reaching a fever pitch. "HAMESH AVANIM!"

And he took his shot.

Five lights screamed out from his sling, almost as one. And yet, none arrived at the same time. Four stones buried themselves into the head of the kraken, driving deep into the pliable flesh, their momentum eventually halting - and certainly not deep enough to cause serious damage.

But even beneath the flesh, they glowed. Four points, equidistant from a center point, akin to a square.

Or an 'X'....marking a spot.

The fifth, and final stone hit that point between the four, and tore through the monster's head, its flight not slowing in the slightest. The stone hit the crater floor and shattered, having bored a hole straight through the kraken.

"Yes!" David's fist pumped in the air as he tumbled, Artemis swooping in a second later to snatch him from the air. "Bull's-eye!"

A wheeze, an oddly pitiful sound, considering the source, gusted from the kraken's mouth, and it slumped, wobbling. Thick, stinking ichor began to pool on the crater floor, oozing from the massive, gaping wound David had driven into the monster.

But it did not topple, somehow, remaining on its many feet.

"Come ON!" shrieked Fujimaru. "Fall over! You're dead! He hit your brain! Realize you're dead and FALL OVER already!"

The thing wavered, shuddering…..and then, impossibly, found its footing, and straightened.

"Yes, little girl, in this, you are correct." Medea's voice boomed down from above them. "It is dead. But that is no excuse for one of my creations to stop doing as I bid." Medea's grin widened. "If anything, I should thank you. Now it has no more wayward thoughts, no more conflicting desires - nothing exists within it but MY WILL."

The thing's remaining eye, now glassy and unfocused, rolled about in its head, eventually seeming to swivel in the general direction of Fujimaru. It took one, tremulous step in her direction, almost hesitantly. As though it were trying to remember the motion of movement.

Then, a second, this one more steady, though still jerky and unsettling.

"And it is my will that you die now, little Mage," hissed Medea. "Jason can wait….I can see I was letting my own desires blind me to the mission I have been given. That of ending this…of ending everything. Once you're gone, this whole house of cards will topple."

"Fucking zombie kraken. WONDERFUL!" moaned Avenger. Fujimaru yelped as she suddenly found herself thrown over the Servant's shoulders. "Clench up Red, ain't got time to be gentle here. Not when that fucking witch has finally gotten her head on straight."

She took off running, Fujimaru jostling on her shoulder. "CLEAR ME A FUCKING PATH!" yelled Avenger, as tentacles began to slash through the air, just behind her.

Asterios slammed into the thing's side, wrapping himself bodily around one of its legs, veins and bulging on his arms and neck as he attempted to arrest its movement. And to his credit, he managed it - for a second. But the sheer size of the thing was working against him - eventually, it managed to lift its leg and take a step forward.

At which point the Minotaur merely dug his feet in again, and the process repeated. He was slowing it, by a fraction only, but every fraction mattered.

And Medea wasn't having everything her own way, either. She'd managed to grasp the last fleeting strings of her monster's life, but controlling - animating something this massive, it was a far cry from her dragon's teeth warriors. Sweat began to bead on her brow as the first, distant pangs of strain finally began to tell on her.

For she was not merely animating the corpse of an abomination, she was, at the same time, locked in a battle of her own.

Tornadoes of fire spiraled into being under the feet of the three Gunnhildes. Two leapt to the side a second before the burning winds touched their skin. The third was a second too slow, screaming as her flesh cracked and blackened - then, a second later, fell in on itself, until it was nothing but a few bloodstained locks of hair, before they too, were turned to ash.

"Fake," spat Medea, frustration evident in her voice. "For such a weakling, you've managed to hide your signature well enough that I can't tell the difference between you and your copies."

Gunnhilde was breathing heavily, for the first time in this battle, not immediately launching herself back at Medea. "And yet, this weakling still stands, witch." She bared her teeth in what could only charitably be called a grin. "Does that not say more about you, than it does about me?"

She made a dismissive gesture - again, flicking blood onto Medea's shields, which reacted immediately, boiling it away. "A Caster from the Age of the Gods, who learned at the knees of one of the greatest Mages ever…..and cannot even deal with one little Viking hedge witch….to say nothing of how your former paramour is still breathing air - air he uses to mock your every being."

It was faint, but Jason's bellowed "You tell her!" managed to reach them, even on their perch atop the creature.

Gunnhilde's eyes narrowed. "Despite all your advantages, all your boons, all your plans, you're losing this fight. Losing to a bunch of pirates, children, and a Caster who was born with only a fraction of the power that was your birthright." She raised her knife, having caught her breath. "Truly, it is to laugh."

Medea heaved a breath into her lungs and concentrated, forcing herself to process both the view before her, and that of her pet. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die….bitch!"

Avenger ducked, almost folding herself in half as a tentacle sailed overhead. "Not that I'm complaining, but where's Squeaks? Some more defensive support would be REALLY NICE right about now!"

Her free hand shot out and twisted, sending a plethora of flaming spears rocketing out behind her, diverting a pair of tentacles just enough that they fell short.

Fujimaru frowned - though Avenger couldn't see it. "She might have a concussion from hitting that wall, if Servants can even get those. The thoughts I'm getting from her over our link aren't…..they're kind of jumbled. LEFT!"

Avenger was leaping to the side before she had fully registered the girl's words. Even then, she almost didn't make it, as the remaining pad nearly clipped her as her body flew to the side.

"Fuck YOU in particular!" snarled Avenger, sending a flurry of burning metal into the thing. It wouldn't pin it long, but she'd take whatever she could get, at this point. "Red, we need to take this outside!" She juked right, then ducked, as the thing hurled more rubble their way, all the while still pursuing them.

"They brought down the tunnel we used to get in here, and Eric's still fighting there to boot. There's the hole it made to get in here, but that's a ton of open ground." Her head was darting around. "There's the one that Mary used to get Anne away, but it's almost squatting right on top of that!" She licked her lips. "We'd have to run the gauntlet to get through, and that's if it hasn't collapsed as well. If we're wrong, we'll be trapped."

A twitching limb flew at them, then, there was a flash of deep red, and the tip went flying away, raggedly severed. Eric's massive form loomed over them.

"I can get you out, through the tunnel we collapsed." He hefted the Bloodaxe onto his shoulder. "My beloved says to keep this up, make the thing pursue." His eyes twinkled. "And then she will handle the rest."

"We're in your hands, then." Fujimaru smacked Avenger on the back. "Giddiup!"

"You're PAYING for that one later, Red," warned Avenger, but she took off, following in Eric's wake.

And it was quite a wake. The Sea Devils had been hanging back, possibly cowed by the ferocity of the Berserker - or possibly regrouping for another surge - but Eric brought the fight back to them. He hit them, quite literally, like a wrecking ball. Torn and broken bodies were thrown aside as he tore into them, axe dancing in his hands like it weighed nothing.

But it was not without cost, for he had completely abandoned any pretense of defense. And the things were hurling themselves at him with a fervor to match his own mad charge.

One monstrosity, its body nearly cut in half, still rode the momentum of its leap and dug its teeth into the Viking King's leg, biting down hard. Eric did not even break strike, merely reaching down and tearing the thing free, strips of his flesh still hanging from its teeth - at least, the teeth that did not shatter clean off and were left in his leg. Another managed to attach itself to his back, and haltingly began to scale the towering form of the Servant - before the crack of a pistol ripped a gaping hole into it, and it slumped, dead - but still attached, dead weight clinging to the Berserker's back.

It did not slow him down at all.

Avenger was hopping and skipping over twitching body parts - some of which still reached for her, even in their ruined state - as she pushed her legs to their limits, trying to keep up with the insane charge of the Bloodaxe King.

They entered the tunnel a few footsteps behind Eric, so they were spared the brilliant burst of red light that coursed from the Servant's form.

"A bloody crown for me!" he howled. "And DEATH FOR YOU! BLOODBATH CROWN!" He reared back, then took a single step forward, putting every ounce of power he could muster into this one swing of his axe.

Metal rang on stone, and then, the fallen rocks that had blocked the tunnel vaporized under the sheer force of the strike. A path opened, but the tunnel ceiling groaned, and the parts that had been held up by the rubble began to collapse once again. And deeper in the tunnel, more Sea Devils awaited.

"GYAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!" Eric vanished, leaving only his laughter behind. But the rocks falling from above were being turned to powder before they had even reached Avenger's eye level, and the waiting Sea Devils….

They were being shredded like they were trapped in a blender. For a second, Avenger hesitated - before another smack rang off her back.

"He's leaving us a path!" yelled Fujimaru - as there was the sound of titanic footfalls behind them. "Go before we get stepped on!"

Avenger ran.

She exited the tunnel a hair's breadth before it completely collapsed, as the kraken barreled through it. Arrows, and sling stones continued to rain down on it, as Artemis and David (who had climbed up to cling to her back) buzzed around it, continually harassing the thing, Orion spotting for both of them.

"Where we going, Red?" asked Avenger, as they hit the sunlight. "Not a lot of places to run on this tiny-ass island."

"Other side of it," answered Fujimaru. "Dunno how well Kratos is doing, but we don't want to get in the middle of that, so the more distance the better - especially if he ends up heaving a regenerating Servant corpse onto the beach while we're still fighting that thing."

She blinked, and her gaze turned inward, as Avenger pivoted, and began heading parallel to the crater. "Mash is starting to come to - I'm getting her to get Hektor and Asterios to dig Eric out - if he even needs it. But I'm going to have her hold back until her head stops ringing."

"Got it," muttered Avenger. "Grumps is…….well, he's fucking pissed, or in the mother of all battle rages. 'Bout all I can tell you right now - not about to try to touch that ball of anger while he's fighting. But it feels like he's giving at least as good as he's getting."

A green blur darted out of the crater, and then slowed, resolving itself into Atalanta. "Euryale's staying with Asterios, and I don't know where Jason vanished to. What's the plan, Fujimaru?"

Fujimaru shrugged. "Eric just said to make it run - that his wife would handle the rest. So…."

"Understood," said Atalanta, pivoting, and beginning to run backwards. "Then I will resume harassment."

"Try to target Medea when you can," suggested Fujimaru. "I don't even know how much we can hurt that thing since it's already dead. But any pressure we can put on her might give Gunnhilde the window to do whatever she's planning."

Atalanta cracked a vicious smile. "I think I can manage that." She kicked off from the ground, separating from them, already sighting down her bow.

Medea's hair was drenched in sweat now, her movements coming sharper and sharper as the seconds passed. Why? Why wasn't this Caster, inferior to her in EVERY way, not dead yet? Why was this pitiful little human girl still fighting? Didn't they see, all of them, how futile, how pointless it was?

"You've all already lost!" she shrieked, finally managing to call down a stroke of lightning, and destroy the hedge-witch's other copy. "Humanity is dead! And the one who did it, he's as far beyond me as I am beyond you, little human! Why? Why don't you see the pointlessness of it all? WHY IS SOMETHING AS WEAK AS YOU ARE STILL FIGHTING?"

Rage took her then, and she called to her last reserves, commanding them - all while she pumped as much mana as she could muster into her form, preparing to incinerate this pretender once and for all. Once she was dead, then, then she could focus fully on killing this human. After that, Euryale would follow, and then, then it would all be over, and she could rest in the bliss of glorious oblivion.

Avenger skidded to a halt, as the beaches boiled and a wave of Sea Devils poured onto the beach. "Fuck - she had MORE of these things?" Her spear swept across at eye level, as the half circle around them began to compress. Cutting through these things would be nothing, normally, but while she was carrying Red? No, she didn't like those odds.

Odds that only got worse as the ground shook, and the kraken drew closer.

"Now…." Medea heaved breaths into her lungs, her body burning from the sheer amount of mana she was channeling. The circles she had summoned moved as one, angling themselves so that the jumped-up little Caster would have nowhere to run. "We END this!"

Gunnhilde, despite being surrounded, and about to die, showed no fear - and that simply drove Medea's rage to heights she didn't know she'd been capable of. As did the mocking little nod the Caster gave her, as she confidently strode up to Medea.

"Yes, I would say this farce has reached its conclusion." She raised her knife, and, almost nonchalantly, rapped the handle on one of Medea's shields.

Which shattered like glass, setting off a chain reaction that rippled through her other shields, leaving her defenseless.

"WHAT?" Disbelief coursed through the Witch of Colchis' body. She urged her magic circles to unleash their accumulated might, to erase this woman from the world, but she was suddenly distracted by the feel of wetness on her face.

Her hand shot up, touching just under her nose, and coming back covered in red.

Blood. Her blood.

Her fingers twitched, then began convulsing, as she felt her mana slipping out of her control, pouring out of her like water through a sieve.

What….what was happening?

Instinctively, her hand darted to her belt, reaching for Pain Breaker, but Gunnhilde's knife shot in, impaling her hand, and twisting it away. She tried to make her other arm reach, but it was spasming, no longer obeying her commands. Her knees shook, and she toppled, collapsing to her side.

Underneath her, the kraken let out a sigh, and slumped, the unnatural life she had bestowed upon it departing.

She heard Gunnhilde's voice, as is from a great distance. "Servants don't need to breathe, but we still do despite that, out of sheer reflex. It's the very rare specimen that manages to break that habit - especially in the stress of combat."

Purple lines were beginning to creep into the edges of her vision, as Gunnhilde leaned down, right in her face.

"You kept breathing in air, while we fought. Air that was laced with the blood, my blood, that you kept evaporating every time I coated one of your shields with it. And little by little, it poisoned you." She grinned, cruelly, at the look of dawning comprehension on Medea's face. "Yes. Unless it's an obvious miasma, most Casters only make their shields keep out the obvious things - big flashy magical attacks, or physical objects. Not things like light or sound or air. Why devote the energy where it isn't necessary, after all? 'The least amount of effort, for the most effect', I believe you said."

She laughed, victoriously. "It seems I was right about my assumptions about you, witch."

Medea tried to call on her mana, tried to croak something defiant, but her body was seizing, was completely beyond her control.

Gunnhilde considered her for a second. "And, much as I'm enjoying your suffering, considering what you did to my Eric, we can't take the chance of you having some trump card that turns this around. So, as you said, it's time to end this."

Roughly, Gunnhilde seized her face, and jerked her head back, and then there was a line of fire at her throat.

The last thing she saw was the woman looking on, almost rapturously, as Medea drowned in her own blood.

---

Fujimaru slipped off of Avenger's shoulders as Gunnhilde hopped down from the kraken's settling corpse. She was honestly a little jealous - she was moving like she was part mountain goat, or something.

The rest of their group was just catching up to them, as well. Artemis setting David down on the ground, Atalanta already having arrived (Chiron having departed, to spare the generators), and Asterios and Hektor approaching.

With Eric trailing behind them, limping, but keeping up all the same.

The Viking King put on a burst of speed, arms shooting up to catch his wife as she leapt off the kraken's corpse, snatching her from the air, and clasping her close. Their lips crashed together, hungry, passionate.

Gunnhilde pushed herself back from her husband, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes ablaze. "I am victorious, my husband."

He rested his forehead on hers. "As expected, my little Valkyrie."

"Any idea where Jason is?" asked Fujimaru. "I don't think he's going to be an issue, but I'd still like to know where he got to."

A cavalcade of shaking heads was her answer. "Lost sight of him in all the chaos," muttered Hektor. "Once Medea stopped targeting him, he kind of vanished."

"Alright….well, keep an eye out." Fujimaru looked up as Mary, Anne still slung over her shoulders, joined them.

"She's alive," muttered Mary, carefully setting her partner down. "But she's in bad shape."

Fujimaru was already rummaging in one of her pouches. "Here," she said, tossing one of her nano-darts to the pirate. "Stick her with that - it should at least take care of the worst of it, but I don't know if it'll get her back on her feet or not." She glanced around. "Does anyone else need one? I've got two left - and my Mystic Code's healing spell, though I'd rather save that one if I can, since it's a bunch more effective."

No one got to reply, for the simple fact that a massive roar washed over them, the sound of an explosion.

Mary's face had gone as white as a ghost's. "That……that was the Revenge."

Fujimaru's eyes had once again gone inward. "Hold on…..Sakamoto's contacting me."

Her frown grew. "Yeah…..that was Teach. Sounds like he took Hornigold with him."

"Just like he thought it would go," said Drake. "That just leaves that possessed Herakles. We should get…."

For the second time in as many minutes, the group was interrupted - this time by a light that washed over them all, causing them, one and all, to wince and cover their eyes.

They were all still rubbing spots out of their eyes, when Avenger found her voice. "What the FUCK was that?"

"Has to be Kratos," David was cupping his chin, his mind working furiously. "Possibly he finally used the blessing I put on his spear. If that's the case, then Forneus should be incapacitated, at least for a short while. We should…."

It was at that time that Artemis suddenly began screaming.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 40+ damn pages on Google Docs. This thing got too damn long, and I had to split it up, for fears of the chapter getting too damn bloated for a single sitting.

Next chapter will finish the fight with Forneus - it might be shorter (considerably) than the previous finale chapters, but this one was getting really, REALLY long as it is with Blackbeard/Hornigold and Soul-Kraken + Medea/everyone else.

Chapter 49: Okeanos Finale

 

A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 49​

Kratos stared up at the strange woman - the Servant, the lights of her weapon flickering over his skin. And yet…..

What kind of question was it that she had posed to him? 'Good civilization'.....this was a conundrum for a philosopher of Athens. Not himself - he was a Spartan warrior.

He was roused from his contemplations by the crackling of his communicator as it activated.

"Kratos," said Cu, none of his usual mirth present. Indeed, the Irish hero looked more serious than Kratos had ever seen him. "If you've EVER had a reason to trust me, trust me now. Say yes."

He waved his hand. "Or 'good civilization', or whatever. Just, whatever you do, don't give that Servant a reason to see you as an enemy. Not when you've got enough on your plate as it is."

Kratos began to rise, a question already on his tongue, but he never got to speak it. There was a crack as something, moving almost impossibly fast, barreled into his side, hitting him hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs.

"KRATOS!" It was the…..Artemis of this world, staring up at him, worry written all over her features, even as she clung to him - and deliberately placed herself between Kratos and the Servant. "Did she hurt you?"

Kratos blinked, his mind stuttering for a moment. " 'She' has done nothing to me. Save to ask me a question." What was this Servant, to draw such a reaction from these two?

Artemis stared at him, her face going through various expressions. Relief first, then an utter lack of comprehension, before finally settling on carefully controlled panic.

"You…..did you summon THAT?" A finger was extended, pointing directly at the Saber.

Who was watching Artemis with a hint of familiarity in her otherwise expressionless eyes.

"Not by intent," growled Kratos. "But yes."

"Then…." began Artemis.

"Yes, Goddess of the Moon. I am here by the will of this not-Mars."

Artemis shuddered, the sound of the Servant's voice seeming to hit her like a physical blow. "Ok….ok." She took several deep breaths, seeming in an effort to calm herself, then turned back to face him (though she angled herself so that the Servant was still in her peripheral vision.)

"That Servant there is Altera, baby brother. It isn't human."

Her hands shot up to rest on the sides of his face, forestalling the words he had been about to say. "It isn't a god, either. It's a remnant of the White Titan, the thing that killed all of us - forced us to abandon our original bodies and take on these forms. All of us, every single Olympian! It even took Ares' sword as a trophy!"

She had floated up so that she was at eye level with him, and was beginning to rock his head in her hands, back and forth, almost unconsciously. "When I felt it…..I thought it was here for you, baby brother, so I rushed over to protect you! Even if it killed me once, I couldn't let it hurt my family again!"

"Bonds of family," mused the Saber, finally lowering her blade. "Good civilization, yes."

More gently than he would have liked, Kratos reached up and removed Artemis' hands from his face. "Now is not the time for panic. There is still an enemy. And this….Altera…whatever she is, has done nothing to show she is one."

"SHE WAS MEANT TO BE." Forneus' voice washed over them, an unsettling echo now present in his vocalizations. "MY BROTHER'S TRUMP CARD AGAINST YOU, KRATOS. NOW TURNED AGAINST ITS WOULD-BE MASTERS." The demonic Servant's arm raised up, then shot down, cracking its fiery scourge against the ground. "IT WILL NOT BE ENOUGH."

The Saber snorted out a breath. "Not-Mars, I do not believe I will need your answer. I can tell for myself. That…" Her sword snapped up to point at Forneus. "Stinks of bad civilization." The light playing across her sword began to ripple, up and down its length. "The worst of civilizations."

She moved, body moving with a grace and precision that Kratos had only seen in the greatest of warriors. There was no wasted motion, just a fluidness that all who had ever picked up a blade aspired to. She slid around, then under the lashing coils of Forneus' weapon almost effortlessly, then, was inside his guard.

Her brilliant weapon swung up.

At the last second, fire blossomed in Forneus' hand, taking on the shape of a crude, cleaver-like blade. Insubstantial weapon of flame met that of scintillating light, and they rebounded off one another.

Forneus rang his weapon off Altera's, then forced their blades into a lock. "IT WILL NOT BE THAT EASY, FRAGMENT." With a snarl, he took a step forward, knocking the Saber backwards.

Altera rolled, coming up with her sword in a guard position, body tense and ready, as Forneus charged - only to abort his motion, whip and blade flashing as it knocked away a storm of arrows, all of them aimed at his face.

"And YOU!" Rage was pouring out of Artemis, her usual grin nowhere to be found. "That's my OTHER baby brother you…..horrible THING! Get OUT OF HIM before I drag you out by somewhere painful!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And then I'll see if you have parts that can properly be destroyed by that kitsune's special technique!"

As Forneus rolled to the side, projectiles following closed behind him, Altera looked over at the goddess, and huffed. "Strange allies. Odd civilization."

Then, she leapt back into the fray.

Carefully, Kratos set Mash against one of the still-standing crater walls. The girl stirred groggily. "Mr. Kratos?"

"Mash." Blood matted the girl's hair - her skin having split from the force of the blow she had taken from Forneus. But, to his eyes, the bones of her skull were intact - thankfully, as, in his time, head wounds had often been a certain death sentence. "What are your injuries?"

"I'm ok, I can still fight!" She attempted to push herself up, but her legs wobbled, and even bracing herself against the crater wall, she was unable to stand.

Gently, but firmly, Kratos pushed her back down. "Take a moment to recover." Mash's eyes brimmed with frustration - but Kratos could see that despite her determination, her pupils were unfocused, her head likely still ringing from the strike she had endured. "Before this battle is finished, you will be needed. Regain your strength before that moment arrives."

She slumped back, but nodded her head. "Yes, sir." Carefully, she began to take slow, measured breaths, almost willing her world to stop spinning, biting down on her lower lip.

Across the crater the air cracked, as Forneus sent the burning lashes of his scourge at Altera, who snapped her weapon up, swatting the thongs aside. A twist of Forneus' wrist, and their course altered, coiling like living things around the blade, binding it.

Jagged teeth bared, Forneus planted his feet and pulled, yanking Altera towards him - for a second, before she was able to get her feet down, and begin to resist. But his strength was greater, and slowly, inevitably, she was being forced closer.

At least until the demon was forced to move, arrows flying in to sting the ground where his feet had been.

"I said LET HIM GO!" yelled Artemis, her eyes tracking the demon's every move.

As Forneus growled in irritation, it was Altera's turn to turn her wrist, and the blade of her weapon suddenly lengthened, becoming slender, pliable - and easily able to slip free from the molten strips binding it. She tore it free, snapping it behind her, then sending it streaking towards the Berserker's face. Forneus stopped, jerking his head back, the whip-sword missing by inches. A half-jump, then a larger one, his blade flashing as it deflected another stream of arrows from Artemis, driving him closer to the Ark.

Forneus landed, the ground shattering around his feet as he planted, far too aware of his proximity to the holy relic. He shifted his weight, intending to leap away, but his senses blared alarms, and he was forced to pivot, bringing his weapons up, and dodging to the side.

He wasn't completely able to avoid Kratos, but the point of Draupnir merely ripped through his midsection shallowly, instead of gutting him.

Pain. Agonizing, wracking pain, even from such a minor wound as that. This could not be allowed to continue.

He reached into himself, and touched his Authority - that which was bestowed upon him by his Lord, that which marked him as the Master of the Observatory, and sent out a call.

And he opened his being up wide.

There was a moment of disorientation - even for such as he. His senses scrambled, his vision blurred, as his entire sense of self and consciousness attempted to adjust - all while keeping hold on the vessel's owner, who was still throwing himself against the bars of his prison.

For a second - an ETERNITY in battle - his body froze. And Kratos had been lunging even before.

But he was a Demon Pillar, chosen by his Lord to be one of his Heralds.

His hands, the ones sprouting from his back, were moving even before he felt his body settle and return to his control. The claw-like hands seized the haft of the spear, even as the tip grazed his flesh. Smoke hissed up from where his flesh touched the blessed weapon, and the pain lanced through him - but he disregarded it. This was all in service of his eventual victory.

There was the sound of meat, wetly tearing, and a second mouth, toothless, with a long, rasp-like tongue, opened in Forneus' gut.

And spewed a stream of stinking fluid over Kratos.

Growling, Kratos tore the spear free of the demon's grasp, and sprang back. Voices - unfamiliar ones, washed over him as he backpedaled, and in his hands, Draupnir trembled.

And the soft glow that had clung to it ever since it had been blessed by the Israeli King dimmed, almost to the point of vanishing outright.

Kratos snapped his eyes up.

Forneus had grown again, perhaps by half as much again. Two more mouths, smaller, but lined with needle-like teeth, had grown in his shoulders - both of which were mouthing a repeating chant.

"DEFILE! DEBASE! DEGRADE!" cackled the mouth in the demon's gut - in a voice different from that of Forneus' own.

"MAINTAIN THE CHANT, BROTHERS. IT IS THE ENTIRE REASON I CALLED YOU HERE. THE TOUCH OF THE WHITE GOD MUST BE SUPPRESSED - HAAGENTI, MARBAS, YOU ARE AWARE OF THE PUNISHMENTS THAT AWAIT SHOULD YOU WAVER." Forneus swung his blade through the air, almost experimentally, gauging the speed and power of his changed form, then he locked his eyes on Kratos.

"I WILL KILL THE GOD."

Snarling, Kratos hurled Draupnir at him. As he expected, now, with the blessing's power muted by the profane chant of the demon, Forneus was easily able to swat it aside. Another one of his arsenal rendered useless, then.

His wife's axe filled his hands, if not the most familiar of the weapons he carried, certainly the one dearest to him.

This battle would end with it in his hands, as had so many of his other battles.

Behind him, he felt the presence of the strange Artemis, her entire being as tense as a cord drawn right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Saber circling around to Forneus' flank.

Her eyes flicked to him, briefly. "How many eras of bad civilization must we raze?"

It took him a moment to pierce her idiom. "I have killed him twice."

If the knowledge that ten lives remained for the Servant bothered Altera, it did not show on her face, which remained impassive. "Much work remains, then. But the bad civilization of Rome did not fall in a day."

Before her lips had stopped moving, her arm flew up, a beam erupting from her sword, searing into Forneus' chest, drawing a smoking line there. Even as the demon-Servant bellowed in pain, she was launching herself at him, sword drawn back, her body angling to thrust it straight through his neck.

Kratos was mere footsteps behind her.

He drug the Leviathan Axe through the ground, concentrating its power, and lashing upwards with a shower of ice that washed over the burning lashes of the scourge. Steam filled the air, but, for a second, the tendrils were halted, frozen stiff, their momentum interrupted, and Kratos was around them even as the inferno within fought back against the frost binding them.

Blade was ringing off blade, Forneus hacking down with his weapon, forcing Altera's sword low, his misshapen hands raking at the Saber's face. Altera jerked her head back, then down, the demon's nails hissing narrowly close to her flesh. As she ducked, a massive form leapt over her, axe screaming down. Forneus was forced to interpose his own blade, freeing Altera's own. A fact the Saber quickly took advantage of, swiping at the demon's legs.

Forneus gave way, the blow of Kratos' axe upon his blade, and Altera's attack forcing him back, but only for a breath. He snapped his leg up, just above Altera's blade, and connected. The woman gave a grunt, and then was sent rocketing away, colliding with the crater wall, rubble raining down on her form.

Even as the demon's eyes were moving to Kratos, intent on finishing Kratos before his new ally could rejoin, there was the jangling of chains, and his still outstretched leg was bound. Forneus felt himself being pulled off-balance, the Spartan's strength dangerously close to toppling him - though the Blades themselves had bounced off his flesh, and though the burning chains felt, to him, though God Hand, as though they were as cool as a winter's breeze, they were more than just weapons.

Truly, this one deserved his title as a god of war.

Forneus stumbled forward, unable to catch himself completely. Kratos planted his feet, and pivoted, the Leviathan Axe howling as it raced towards his side. Riding the stumble, Forneus managed to turn himself so that the head of the axe impacted his ribs - a lesser wound than if it had been allowed to drive itself deep into his gut.

A minor discomfort, compared to the pain of the blessed spear.

He stepped into the blow, feeling his ribs cracking. His burning blade swept down from the other side, Kratos unable to defend, not with his axe, as it was buried in the demon's flesh, and his shield-arm was similarly occupied.

He made the only move he could, disentangling the Blades, and sweeping them up with his right hand, barely interposing them in time. Hellish fires rang against the chaotic flames that coated the Blades, and sparks flew, as Kratos was driven in a circle, Forneus pivoting with him. Rocks flew up around the Spatan's feet as he dug his heels in, trying to push back in the parry that he was locked into.

There was a snapping sound, then a crack, as Forneus brought his scourge down. With both his arms occupied, he could not disengage in time. Once more, the barbed lashes tore at Kratos, wrapping around him. He was violently ripped from the ground, suspended in the air for a heartbeat, then slammed back down. The demon's blade raised, but a storm of arrows forced him to weave it in a defensive pattern, knocking them aside. Snarling in frustration, he hurled Kratos aside, sending him crashing into Altera, who had just begun to dig herself out.

Forneus swept his blade before him, knocking aside another barrage. "MORE IS NEEDED. SHAX, OBEY MY COMMANDS."

Forneus' back writhed, and there was a sickening crack as his skin split. Blood and torn strips of flesh sloughed onto the crater floor.

Wet, raw, and bloody, they emerged from his spine. Two hollow frames, the bare skeleton of wings, without feathers or strips of leather between them, each 'finger' topped with a wicked talon. The bones shuddered, and, at the connecting joints, an eye each opened, gazing around madly.

There was a sudden stench of sulfur, and then, the wings were suddenly not so bare. A skin of pure magical energy, vibrant, sickly red, stretched itself from the bones, as they raised themselves out behind Forneus.

The demon rumbled something that almost could be taken for approval. "NOW."

His legs tensed, and then, like a flash, he was in the air.

Directly in front of Artemis.

She got her bow up in time - that was the only thing that saved her life, the weapon managing to absorb enough of the blow that she was merely knocked down into the rock floor, body digging a trench as the momentum of the strike bled out.

Her world was spinning as a shadow fell over her, and the thing that was wearing one of her baby brother's faces loomed over her, its blade descending.

It never reached her.

A small form, dwarfed by the Berserker, darted between them. Impossibly, though it was nearly sheared in two, the tiny club in its hands managed to knock the blow away.

His shoulders heaving, his fur matted, pain shooting up and down his arms, Orion stared up at Forneus, planting himself between the demon and his goddess. "Nuh-uh, bro." He raised his broken weapon defiantly. "I don't care if that is your body this thing's hijacked, nobody touches her while I'm still upright."

Forneus laughed. "THE HUNTER OF THE STARS. REDUCED TO THIS. WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY DO TO STOP ME, LITTLE DEMIGOD? YOU WERE LESS THAN HERAKLES IN YOUR LIFE. AND NOW, YOU ARE BARELY DESERVING OF BEING CALLED A SERVANT, WHILE HERAKLES…..HAS BECOME SO MUCH MORE."

Forneus took a step forward. "WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY DO, ALONE AS YOU ARE?"

'This' didn't take a single step back in the face of the demon. "Since when did I ever say I was going to be stopping you alone?"

There was a noise like a jet engine, and two forms came right through the crater wall, spears leading. Hektor, fire erupting from his elbow, screaming straight at Forneus, his form practiced, perfect.

And Avenger, following in his wake, much less gracefully, her metal arm extended behind her, magical fire flaring from the wrist. But, despite her flight being almost uncontrolled, she struck almost as one with Hektor, their spears flying down, though, only scoring the floor, as Forneus leapt back, and their attacks missed.

"Shit," swore Avenger, springing back to her feet. "Knew it wouldn't be that easy. Still, you're right old man - that is a fucking rush!"

Hektor - who was looking somewhat green as he squinted at Forneus - just groaned. "Oh, to be young and stupid and to have a body that won't complain tonight about the ringer it's being put through." He slid one foot back, Durandal cradled in his hands. "Then again, I'd take it, just so long as there's going to be a tonight for the bunch of us."

"Yeah, yeah. Less talky, more stabby of the demon!" Without waiting for an answer, Avenger launched herself forward, sword materializing in her free hand.

As Avenger struck, and Hektor began to circle around to Forneus' flanks, Orion gently cradled Artemis' head. "Hey, babe? How bad did he tag you?"

"Darling…..I'm ok…..my bow took the worst of it." She shook her head woozily, almost forcing her eyes to focus. "But he hits hard….so much harder than Herakles did."

"Don't have to tell me that," said Orion, his arms still screaming. "He's fast too," muttered the hunter, as he watched the Berserker weave under one of Avenger's attacks, his arm snapping up to backhand the woman away.

Avenger bounced once, then was caught, the Minotaur gently bracing her form as she rammed into his chest. Around him, the rest of the Fujimaru's group began to filter into the crater.

"Holy……" Fujimaru's eyes were wide as she got her first glimpse of the changed Forneus. She took a deep, thready breath, and clenched her (shaking) hands. Hektor was fighting for his life, but giving ground fast - until a reprieve was granted in the forms of Kratos and Altera. A beam fired from Altera's sword cut through the wild hair atop the Servant's head, filling the crater with the stink of burning hair.

Meanwhile, the Leviathan Axe spun end over end, aimed directly at the thing's wings. With a grunt, Forneus leapt, taking to the air, and the weapon sailed harmlessly beneath him.

As the axe returned to Kratos' hand, Fujimaru swallowed heavily. "Doc…..are you getting this? He's got wings now, and extra arms and……"

"Fujimaru, breathe." Romani's image was still damaged, but, from the sound of his voice, even though the distortion, it almost seemed as if that was advice he himself could be partaking of. "But yes, we're reading….everything. There's now multiple signatures inside of Herakles, instead of just the one additional one there was previously." He licked his lips, which were suddenly very, VERY dry. "That must be how those things, whatever they are, haven't fractured Herakles' Spirit Origin into shards. Something - one of them, probably, must be stabilizing it, while the others possessing it are warping the container."

"More demons will make any exorcism that much harder," muttered David. "Expelling one is difficult enough. A group, particularly one coordinating together, will be a narrow thing." He closed his eyes, stilling his breath for a second. "That chant……it's something blasphemous. Probably meant to suppress the blessing I put on Kratos' spear."

Chiron was watching the battle intently - possibly hoping to see some sign his former student was still fighting from within, or possibly merely analyzing the demon's movements for any weaknesses, tells, or any other valuable information. "And if they can manage that, a counterspell, or countercurse, to hinder an exorcism isn't outside the realm of possibility."

David cracked his knuckles. "I'll stay on my toes in the event we decide to proceed with an exorcism, then." He turned to Fujimaru. "Your orders, my lady?"

Fujimaru was biting her lower lip. "Archers, spread out and take any shots you can - they might not be anything more than mosquito bites in the grand scheme of things, but we want to force him to keep his head on a swivel - or heads, if there's really a whole demon convention inside of Herakles right now."

Eric set his wife down. "I believe I know what you're going to ask of me, girl. Despite how badly it went for me the first time, I am EAGER for a rematch." He hefted the Bloodaxe, the battle lust beginning to surge in his eyes.

"Me….too…." rumbled Asterios, hefting his twin labryses. "Only way…..to….protect Euryale."

"You could do that by staying back here with me," whispered the goddess. "But I can't stop you……." She gently tugged at the red fabric flowing off the Minotaur's waist. "All I can do is to tell you again you MUST come back alive! You don't get a choice in this, understand?"

The soft, childlike face of the Mintoaur split into a genuine smile. "Of course."

As he took off, roaring a battle cry (Avenger right behind him, also yelling her lungs out), Fujimaru looked to the last of her group. "Drake, Euryale, I'm going to have to insist the two of you stay way back with me. You're both kind of linchpins - can't have either of you dying, or letting him get his hands on you."

Forneus stomped one foot down, rupturing a section of the crater floor, and turning it into a slope, angled towards himself. Eric was thrown forward, the slab of ground catapulting him forward. The Bloodaxe flashed, meeting the flaming sword of Forneus, but it still knocked him upwards. Almost like a living thing, the thongs of his scourge wrapped themselves around Eric's legs, and then, he was flying in a circle, as Forneus whipped him around the crater. Avenger and Hektor were knocked to the ground, and even Asterios was staggered as Forneus' impromptu bludgeon collided with him. The demon was even managing to interpose Eric in the way of the Archer's fire - the Viking King was managing to parry the shots, but Fujimaru figured the demon had meant for Eric to absorb the fire in a more painful manner.

"And," she said. "I'd guess you don't want to be in the thick of that any more than I do."

Drake was staring almost longingly at the unfolding brawl. "Hell of a scrap, but you're right, much as I hate to admit it." She sighed. "So, I'll hang back, and do what I can from here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Sakamoto's almost here, too. Once he's here, we'll have everything we can throw at him, short of overclocking the generators again."

Across the room, Altera leapt through the air, her long hair billowing behind her. Her sword flashed, and Eric tumbled free, the lashes of Forneus' scourge severed cleanly - yet, they did not release the Berserker from their grasp. If anything, they began to wind tighter around his legs. And, with a sound that was almost a scream, new lengths of burning rope sprouted from the ends of Forneus' scourge, and the demon was quick to bring them to bear on Altera.

A burst of light and power from her sword sent them flying back, but before she could even lower her weapon, Forneus' wings flexed, and he crossed the space between them in an instant. Altera folded up around his knee, the blow lifting her from the ground.

Forneus' blade slashed upwards.

Altera rotated her body in a full circle, sword flying down to slap the edge of Forneus' weapon aside. Riding the momentum from the parry upwards, she kicked out with both feet, crunching into Forneus' face, then, kicking off, flipping away, just ahead of the demon's wicked counter.

Her body flew just over the charging forms of Kratos and Asterios, who rushed into the gap. Kratos leapt high, ice and frost weeping from the head of his axe. Meanwhile, Asterios lunged in low, his horns leading, his arms drawn back, scissoring in with his weapons. Forneus' blade flipped over in his hand, driving it in the ground, meeting the three attacks of Asterios head-on. The blade dug a furrow in the ground, but held, steel, and steely horns rebounding from it. The demon's spindly extra hands rushed out, seizing Kratos' forearms, and attempting to forestall the descending blow, but their strength was not enough. The Leviathan Axe sank into Forneus' shoulder, though, more shallowly than it might have, due to the arm's interference.

Forneus snarled, and bulled forward, sweeping upwards with his sword. Asterios jerked his head back, his labryses crossing before him. The blazing cleaver swept through them, knocking them aside, blasting his arms out wide. Asterios had managed to turn the weapon enough, though, so that when it reached Kratos, it was the flat that impacted him, and not the edge.

It still sent him tumbling. Reflexively, Asterios' eyes snapped away from his enemy for an instant. When he turned back, the jagged edge of Forneus' wings were sweeping in.

One wing struck him full in the face, rocking his head to the side. The other speared forward, skewering him through the shoulder, then flinging him high into the air.

The scourge cracked against the crater floor, but before he could send it after the Servant, arrows screamed in from both sides. He swatted away the first few, but was forced to leap into the air, then blur away, as Chiron and Atalanta expertly tracked his form, even through his unnatural bursts of speed.

A stone, whistling from the sheer speed it had reached, cracked Forneus in the back of the head, causing him to spin in the air. Before he could right himself, chains rattled, and twined themselves around his legs. Worse, Altera's sword, once again changed into something more akin to a whip, knotted itself around his neck.

It will be the effort of a moment to escape, but, as he began to exert his power, Shax's mind within their collective began screaming at him, and, assuming control over his fellow's eyes, he saw.

Above him, the fallen dragon. She had caught the Minotaur's body, preventing it from falling to harm.

"You dropped this, ugly. Oryou-san thinks she should return it." She hefted the Berserker above her head, almost effortless, then, heedless of the creature's yelps, flung it downwards.

There was a surge of power from below.

The Trojan was crouched beneath him, his arm drawn back, his weapon surging with mana.

"Target confirmed. Position…" He smirked. "About to be coming straight at me."

Forneus thrashed. His hand shot up, tearing at the thing around his neck, and managing to dislodge it - but not in time.

Asterios plummeted into his back, hooves first. And Kratos pulled down, adding his strength to the sheer weight driving Forneus to the earth.

Where Hektor waited.

"Blow 'em away……DURINDANA!"

He could have avoided it, used his wings to juke out of the way. If not for the chains around his ankles. If not for the massive form of the Berserker, riding him to the ground. If not, if not….

It blew right past God Hand, shattering his core, and stripping one more life from him. He had time for a single thought before darkness took him.

The Blades of Chaos snapped back into Kratos' hands as the dust from Forneus' impact settled. He was already moving - he had to get to the thing before it revived, to hurl it at the Ark.

End this.

Asterios was rolling away from the inert body of Forneus as Kratos reached them - Hektor had managed to angle his attack so that it had missed the Berserker (though by a thin margin, as the fur on the entire left side of the Minotaur's body was badly singed). He was crouching down, reaching out for the demon, when light flared.

And two arms, their grip crushingly tight, seized his wrists. Forneus' head twisted up, almost bonelessly, the demon's eyes alert.

And filled with rage.

He had revived - so much faster than before.

"MORE." Rasped the demon. "MORE POWER IS NEEDED. CROCELL." A stream of blood ran down the demon-Servant's face, and an eye - a familiar eye, a mirror image of the ones that had covered Flauros' body flowered on Forneus' forehead.

And fired a beam directly into Kratos' face.

Kratos managed to turn his head at the last second, so his eyes, and the other most vulnerable parts of his face were spared the brunt of the beam's fury. But still, it was as though the left side of his head was bathed in molten lava - the same as it was when Flauros had subjected him to this attack. Despite himself, he bellowed in pain.

"GET OFF OF HIM!"

The cry came from two throats. Artemis, sending a torrent of arrows at the demon. And Avenger, flying in from the side, the point of her spear driving itself into Forneus' left wrist. Incandescent with rage, Avenger twisted the weapon, trying to wrench Kratos free. Snarling, Forneus tossed Kratos aside, using the weapon embedded in his flesh to jerk Avenger closer.

Where the cruel points of his wings slashed down.

Only to rebound off a metal wall that had interposed itself between the ashen-haired woman and the demon's attack. Over the lip of her shield, Mash Kyrielight met the eyes of Forneus fearlessly, her face a crimson mask, but her eyes twin orbs of determination.

"No more. Whoever you are, whatever you are, no more!" Roaring, the demi-Servant shoved back, actually managing to force the demon back a step. "You don't get to hurt anyone else!"

Forneus' face cracked in a rictus grin. "THE FAILED EXPERIMENT. COME THEN. COME AND SPEND WHAT LITTLE LIFE YOU HAVE LEFT IN THIS FUTILE EFFORT."

Fetid, black blood was dripping onto the crater floor as eye after misshapen eye was tearing itself free from the demon's flesh, each one locking itself onto one of the . "DEVASTATE."

And destruction spread across the crater.

The Archers scattered, suddenly finding themselves being the ones targeted. Lines of molten stone were carved into the walls and floors, and the Servants desperately evaded. Farther back, Fujjmaru was jerked to the ground by Drake, a beam scorching through the space where the girl had been standing.

"Damn," muttered Drake. "How many more tricks does this thing have?"

The eye that was focused on them narrowed, an almost humanlike expression of annoyance, and, in its depths, light flared once more. But this beam was stopped before it could even flare, as a solid wall of metal battered into it.

"I told you, no more! Not my Master!" Mash pushed back, then slashed upwards with the edge of her shield, slicing into the eye. As with Forneus, it was only a temporary delay - she could see the torn humors already bubbling with horrid growth, beginning to mend, but for those few seconds, it could not attack.

"Not Mr. Kratos!" She jerked her body to the side, intercepting another beam that was aimed directly at a charging Kratos, who vaulted over her body, knee flying out and snapping Forneus' head upward, causing the the beam emitted from its forehead eye to miss, breaking apart harmlessly in the sky above.

Forneus took a step back, then fell, as something sinuous wrapped itself around his legs, and jerked them together. His face hit the ground, but Shax's eyes on his wings passed the information to him - it was the dragon, who had used her hair to trip him.

His wings flexed, preparing to launch him into the air, but they were suddenly compressed, and bent to the side, as the girl dove bodily onto his back, shield-first. "We're stopping you! For this world!"

Power flooded Forneus' stolen form. He planted his hands on the stone and pushed up, bucking the girl off. His hands flew down, grasping at the hair entangling his legs and viciously tore it free. Before the dragon in a woman's form could withdraw, he had seized her by the hair and swung her about, over his head, tossing her into the tumbling Shielder. Then, he was airborne, his body leaving the ground mere seconds before the arrival of Kratos and Altera.

He flared his wings, his multitude of eyes already beginning to track the rats, scurrying down below him, but two things zipped by his head, so fast, that the sound of their passage trailed in their wake. Pain radiated through his wings, as something tore through them, the momentum of the twin impacts sending him flying across the room, his body impacting on the crater wall.

He was pinned there - nailed to the stone through the two arrows that had pierced his wings.

And there was a swell of mana, filling the crater.

"Mash is right." Artemis was floating just above him, her eyes dead and cold. "You may be using the body of my other baby brother, but he wouldn't want you to use it to hurt people like you are. He HATED how he lost himself to rage and killed his family in that madness. What you're doing to him……it's probably the stuff of his nightmares."

Her mouth turned up in a smile, but it was an empty one, bereft of any of the warmth that the goddess had seemed to so naturally possess. Her voice, when she next spoke, was similarly void of anything human, seeming almost mechanical - robotic. "I am Artemis, goddess of the hunt and of the moon. And my Authorities bypass God Hand's protection. So, I'm sorry Herakles, that I can't do more for you. But…...THIS ENDS NOW."

She drew her bow back, light blossoming on the tip of the arrow - the only light in the crater, as everything had suddenly gone dark - save for a single beam of moonlight that was framing the body of the goddess. "FACE MY JUDGEMENT. TRI-STAR AMORE MIO!"

Everyone, human, demon, and Servant winced and shielded their eyes as light filled the crater.

When the light receded, it revealed a sight that none of them could believe.

Artemis' arrow was suspended in the air, a hair's breadth from Forneus' chest, the tip having been stopped just before it would have drawn blood.

Clutched in Forneus' hand - who had caught it, while it was still in flight.

Artemis' eyes were wide. "....how? You shouldn't be able to do that!"

"You're NOT Artemis!" From far below her, on the ground, Orion was shouting. "Not right now - not as The World sees you, because you're in MY Spirit Origin!" He groaned. "And Orion isn't nearly powerful enough to ignore God Hand! I told you! I told you this would cause issues!"

Forneus laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that seemed to wrap cold fingers around their hearts. "AND THAT IS WHY YOU FAIL, LITTLE GHOSTS. YOUR EMOTIONS, YOUR CONNECTIONS. THEY ALL CAUSE YOU TO MAKE FOOLISH, ILL-CONCEIVED DECISIONS." Forneus flexed his wings, and tore himself free from the crater wall. "OUR CHOICES, OUR PLAN, ALL WERE MADE WITH COLD LOGIC - ALL FOR THE CULMINATION OF A PLAN THAT WOULD SEE THE EARTH WIPED CLEAN OF YOUR SCRABBLING RACE. A PLAN MILLENIA IN THE MAKING - THAT HAS FINALLY COME TO FRUITION."

"And yet, we're still here. Still fighting. What does that say about your big, great plan?"

Fujimaru had stood up from where she had been crouching, her eyes burning as she stared up at Forneus. "Can't even kill a bunch of what you called 'jumped-up ghosts', and one little girl."

A silence fell over the battlefield, one that seemed to stretch out for ages, pressing down upon all of them.

It was Forneus who finally broke that silence. "THIS, I BELIEVE, IS YOURS, GODDESS." He flicked his wrist, and there was a crack as something shot through the air. Artemis gagged, as the arrow she had shot drove itself into her belly. Then, she was gone, her body blasted off into the distance.

"Artemis!" Orion was turning - to chase after her, or to throw himself at Forneus, but he never completed the turn. In the blink of an eye, Forneus was on the ground, charging. He kicked Orion aside, almost as an afterthought, sending the bear-man spinning away, as he flew straight at Fujimaru, his fist drawn back.

Gunmetal gray and purple was there, the fist ramming into her shield. "AND YOU," hissed Forneus, as he stared down at Mash. "FIGHTING SO HARD FOR A WORLD YOU WILL NOT LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE. EVEN WHEN GROWN IN A TUBE, HUMANS ARE UNABLE TO ESCAPE THE FOOLISHNESS THAT IS THEIR BIRTHRIGHT."

He unclenched his fist, presenting his palm - where another eye was beginning to blink wetly. There was a flash of light, and Mash was sent rocketing back, colliding with Fujimaru.

And sending them both straight at the Ark.

"RED!" In an instant, Avenger was there, driving her spear into the ground and using it to vault herself across the crater.

She almost didn't make it.

The Ark was right there, so close she could feel its aura, like a million buzzing bees, as she collided bodily with them. With one arm, she reached out, and pulled the two girls close. With her other, metal arm, she reached out - she had but a fraction of a second to call the power, and then, release it, sending the three of them tumbling away from the Ark in a tangle of limbs.

(Lost in the din of battle, of Avenger's body colliding with that of Mash and Fujimaru, was a single sound, that of metal on wood, brief, barely the sliver of a moment of time.)

Mash was the first to rise, planting her shield between her charges and Forneus, who, at least, was not pursuing, as Eric and Asterios had rushed him, and were raining down haymaker blows onto the demon, which was returning them in kind.

"Everyone ok?" Fujimaru's eyes leapt from Mash to Avenger, then back to Mash. "No one touched it, right?"

"I'm ok, Senpai!" cried Mash.

Avenger was staring at her metal hand - then shook her head. "I'm fine, Red. You worry more about yourself, given you're backtalking fucking DEMONS, you little lunatic!" She reached out, intending to run her knuckles across Fujimaru's scalp, but before she could, the hurled body of Asterios collided with hers, knocking them both to the ground.

The Minotaur struggled to rise, but then slumped, his strength failing him.

The Bloodaxe was everywhere, left, right, center, somehow fending off both the blade and scourge of Forneus, but his moves were getting increasingly sloppy and frantic. Kratos tensed, preparing to charge back in, when he felt a hand on his arm.

Altera. "Not-Mars," she said, staring up at him. "If a god's Authority is needed, then I can provide that - my Noble Phantasm utilizes Mars' power."

Kratos felt something ugly crawl up his spine - and yet, what choice did he have? (And, his thoughts reminded him, the Artemis of this world was vastly different than the one he had known - and she was far from the only example of such.) "What do you need?" he rumbled.

"An opening. It will take a moment - possibly longer, for the call to go out - and then, the response will have to return." Her eyes narrowed. "And that thing is fast. It could avoid the attack altogether - escape the radius. It knows me, so it will know what is coming."

As Kratos watched, Forneus slapped Eric into the air with the flat of his blade, then fired a torrent of beams into his form. A shield, hastily cast by Gunnhild protected him - for about a second, before it shattered, the blowback washing over her, causing the Caster to scream and collapse. But, she had saved her husband - his form was battered, but intact, as he hit the floor.

Though, like Asterios, he too, did not rise.

"I will buy you the time you need." Kratos raised his axe, and activated the communicator. "And provide the opening. Romani. Send them."

"They're on their way!"

Two forms shimmered into being by Kratos' side. Medusa's nails were already in her hands, her body crouched, ready to spring as she appeared. Something she shared with Cu, whose eyes were alight with battle-lust, grinning so wide it threatened to split his face.

"About damn TIME!" crowed the Caster, spinning his staff in his hands. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to watch a throwdown like this and just sit and WAIT?" His eyes flicked to the side, to the Servant flanking Kratos. "Though, I never thought I'd be fighting alongside something like that!"

"Kratos," said Medusa, her body tense, her hair already beginning to float under its own accord. Her blindfold had already been discarded, likely prior to arriving on the battlefield. "What is the plan?"

"I will be the tip of the spear. Take the openings that present themselves. Cu…."

The Caster laughed. "I'll be RIGHT next to you the whole way! Kirei didn't let me really get to test myself against the real Herakles back in Fuyuki. Not about to miss the chance now - even if it's a messed-up one like this."

"I will find my place," said Altera, tearing her eyes away from the two Servants - having been staring particularly hard at Cu. "Battle, I understand."

"FINALLY," intoned Forneus. "I WILL CRUSH YOUR SERVANTS, AND YOU ALONG WITH THEM, AND THE LAST REMNANTS OF THIS CHALDEAN RESISTANCE SHALL BE SNUFFED OUT, TO JOIN THE REST OF HUMANITY." He raised a hand, and beckoned. "COME. COME AND DIE."

"We shall see who dies, demon."

And with that, they charged.

As Kratos had said, he led the assault. The cruel lashes were there, waiting on him, but a blur shot past him, and the burning thongs were jerked to the side, Medusa's chains entangling them. It was only for a moment, the demon's greater strength quickly telling, but the Rider had already disengaged.

And that moment was all Kratos needed.

He leapt, power screaming from the Leviathan Axe in frigid waves. Before the demon could bring his sword to bear, Kratos was already plummeting down, his target not the demon itself, but the ground it was standing on. Ice erupted from the stone, crawling up Forneus' legs - though it was already cracking, even as it encased him.

Kratos left the axe in the ground, pushing off it, vaulting himself into the air. With a thought, the Leviathan Axe returned to his grasp.

And THIS time, he chopped down, into the flesh of the demon.

Once more, ice erupted, coating the upper body of the thing, but it would have lasted longer in the fires of some areas of Tartarus. That burning blade screamed in, Kratos' shield flying up to block. Metal rang (and burned - Kratos could feel the heat of Forneus' weapon even behind his shield) and Kratos was knocked back - unable to plant his feet against the force of the blow. As he hit the ground and sprang back to his feet, Cu vaulted over his crouched form.

And then, a second later, Cu was past Forneus, the eye in the middle of the demon's forehead exploding like an overripe fruit, and the head of Cu's staff wet with the blood-stuff of said eye.

Runes flared all across the Hound's form, and he pivoted, and blurred again. Forneus swept his sword before him, seeking to bisect the Caster, but Cu made an almost casual half-leap over it, driving a forearm into Forneus' jaw, then following with a pair of snapping kicks. His sandaled feet slapped down, touching the sword for a heartbeat, before using it to spring even higher into the air.

There was a sound like a tree being struck by lightning, as Cu whacked Forneus with his staff, right between the eyes, with every ounce of strength and momentum he could muster. The demon took a step back.

Then his spindly arms shot forward, wrapping their taloned fingers around the Hound's throat.

"BOOSTING YOUR PARAMETERS WITH RUNES. CLEVER." His mouth opened wide, and belched a torrent of flame over the Caster. "NOT CLEVER ENOUGH, CHILD OF LUGH."

Altera slid under the dangling feet of Cu and slashed upwards, severing one of the demon's secondary arms. Despite the fact that he was burning, Cu wrapped his hands around the wrists of the single arm still holding him, and jerked his body up, wrapping his legs around the arm, and pulling with all his might - ripping the arm from the demon's body - and freeing himself in the process.

Though, despite the fact that they had been cut away from the body of Forneus, the hands did not release their hold on the neck of Cu Chulainn.

Cu hit the ground, rolling about, attempting to extinguish the flames still clinging to himself, while tearing at the hands attempting to crush his throat. A hand seized his shoulder, halting his motion.

"Hold very still," said Chiron, rearing up.

His hooves shot down, shattering the wrists of the severed arms. With an expression of disgust, he prized the now limp fingers from Cu's neck, and tossed the arms aside - where they melted into goo. Finally able to breathe, Cu traced a rune before himself, which pulsed with power - then sucked up the flames into itself.

Altera's sword swung up, meeting the blade of Forneus, and both weapons were knocked back. The tips of his wings stabbed in, only to rebound off Kratos' shield, as he rushed his arm in to block. Altera reached up with her free hand, fingers seizing Kratos' meaty forearm, and using it to throw herself high, over the lip of Kratos' shield. Her sword stabbed straight out, Forneus jerking his head out of the way - then ducked, as she shot a foot back, planting it on Kratos' chest, and using it to spin her body in a circle, her sword sweeping around.

Forneus bellowed, and, his head already lowered, simply shoulder-charged straight into Kratos, who dug his feet into the ground and matched his might against that of the demon's. The Spartan was pushed back one step, two, three…..then the demon's charge ground to a halt. But before Kratos could retaliate, arms shot around his waist, and began to crush the Spartan - and the Servant with him, to the demon's chest.

Kratos roared, feeling his ribs creak, feeling the toothy maw in Forneus' gut beginning to open wide, but then it was the demon's turn to bellow, his wings suddenly unfolding entirely outside of his volition, as a pair of nails had been driven into them, and, braced on the crater wall, her arms swelling with power, Medusa was attempting to tear the wings from the demon's back.

With a howl of rage, Forneus took a step backwards, then swiveled his body, hurling Kratos and Altera at Medusa, who hesitated for a second, then chose to attempt to catch the two, rather than avoiding them - something she was only mildly successful in, given the weight of the two-person projectile, and the sheer force they were travelling at. So it was that it was a three person jumble that fell to the floor together.

Forneus took a step towards them, then spun about, a crack splitting the air as he lashed out with his scourge, but Atalanta stopped just outside the range of the thongs, then sprang into the air, raining down shots on Forneus' head, forcing his blade to flash above him, shattering the arrows - leaving his midsection wide open.

Oryou shot down from the sky, fist extended, burying it deep into Forneus' chest, bones cracking under the blow. She bounced back, fists up like a boxer, and weaved to the side, unloading a flurry of rabbit punches into the thing's ribs. She jerked her body backwards, almost horizontally, the blade passing just over her, then she snapped herself back to a vertical base, a vicious palm strike impacting on Forneus' chin, rocking the demon's head back.

The woman used the impact to push herself back, creating distance, then flew forward, her arm outstretched. And from behind, Sakamoto dashed in, his sword slashing low. The blade cut deep into the hamstrings of the demon, while Oryou's arm careened into the throat of the demon, hitting the thing both high and low at once. The two darted back, out of the demon's reach, clearing space.

From the crater wall, Hektor leaped, a jet of flame at his elbow speeding him downward. Forneus' wings flared out, the eyes at the joints gleaming with unholy light. Two streaks of energy, almost as thin as needles, shot out, shredding the armor on the Trojan's arm, and causing his flight to gutter out.

Forneus leapt, slicing up with his sword. It met Durandal, and knocked the weapon aside - then, before Hektor could bring the spear back in line, Forneus pivoted his body, his leg slashing out in a thunderous sweeping strike. The blow hit Hektor, full on, and sent him flying into, then through the crater wall.

The demon growled in approval, but before he could land, Medusa was there, body turning end over end as she snapped a scything kick at Forneus' face. The eyes around his body all turned to pinpoint the Gorgon, but her eyes flared with energy, and, before the light had stopped reflecting off the demon's body, over half of the orbs on it were nothing more than rocks, inert.

For now - as they began to quiver, stone flaking away in bits and pieces.

Medusa threw her weight down, plummeting to the ground, just ahead of Forneus' counter attack, the blade not even managing to touch her hair as it billowed behind her. Forneus dove after her, but her chains shot out, ahead of her, seizing another body, and yanking it forward.

And Medusa switched places with Kratos.

Roaring, Kratos buried the Leviathan Axe in Forneus' side, hands clenching around the handle of the axe, and triggering the release of the axe's powers. Forneus' head shot forward, heedless of the frost creeping up his body, and cannoned into Kratos' chest, driving the breath from his lungs. Together, they hit the ground, bouncing apart.

Again, Atalanta charged, a wave of arrows preceding her. Shaft after shaft buried itself into Forneus as the demon surged to its feet, its sword raised.

The attack was merely a feint. Before the blade had even begun to fall, Atlanta was already dodging, and the second she committed, Forneus' wings beat, and he was there, blocking her path.

Atalanta stepped inward - it was the only thing that saved her life. Instead of the jagged edge of the cleaver like blade, it was the handle that hit her. One of her arms bent unnaturally, the legendary huntress screaming in pain.

Then, Forneus' elbow cannoned down, directly into Atalanta's skull, and the Archer dropped like a puppet that had just had its strings cut.

The demon raised a foot, intent on finishing the Servant off, but Mash slid in low, her shield covering the wounded woman - Forneus' stomp rang off the shield, but that was all it did. Kratos, Altera alongside him, rammed into the demon's side, their arms wrapping around his swollen waist.

Together, they lifted, and, arching their backs, drove Forneus head-first into the crater floor, the ground shaking from the impact.

As his back and neck hit the ground, Forneus bucked, shaking off the arms restraining him, and rolled backwards, coming back up to his feet. Kratos and Altera, too, sprang back upwards, rushing the thing, hoping to take it before it could regain its footing. The crack of pistols, and the sound of leather in the air split the air, as bullets and sling stones flew just over the shoulders of the two charging avatars of war, Drake and David providing what covering fire they could, always targeting the eyes of the demon.

Forneus leapt, right over the two of them. Before they could turn, he kicked out, backwards, with both his feet, hitting them in the back and sending them sprawling. The mouth in his chest seemed to inhale, and spewed a massive torrent of flame at them.

Before it could touch them, a rune flared to life in the air, and the flames were drawn to it - an eyeblink, and they had vanished, as though they had never been there in the first place.

Though, it did not seem to affect the flames of Oryou, who flipped upside down and spat a gout of noxious breath directly into the many eyes of Forneus. As the demon bellowed, Sakamoto slid into its flank, blade slashing a deep line into the thing's spine. Blindly, Forneus lashed out with his blade, and Ryouma was a second too slow at disengaging.

He got his katana up, was even able to partially parry the attack - but the sheer brute force behind it sent his weapon spinning from his hand. Desperately, he crossed his arms across his chest, moments before the blazing thongs hit home.

Flesh tore, and Sakamoto Ryouma fell to his knees.

"RYOUMA!" Oryou went berserk. A haymaker, fueled with rage and terror, shattered some of Forneus' teeth. A second hit him so hard that one of the two original eyes in his head was torn straight from the socket.

There would not be a third.

Moving like a striking snake, Forneus' hand shot up, seizing Oryou by the skull. "NOW I HAVE YOU, FALLEN DRAGON." He whipped her down, once, twice, thrice, right onto Ryouma, then kicked them both away.

Chiron darted into their path, catching them, but they were no longer of any concern to Forneus. He turned, sensing Kratos approaching….

When the ground shook underneath him, and a hand of wood shot up from the ground, seizing him, constricting him in its grasp.

He pushed back, already hearing the wooden fingers groan as his strength began to tell, but then, he froze, as a rune, shuddering violently with the power contained within, shimmered into being in front of him.

"Let's see how you like a taste of your own medicine, ugly!" Cu's hand slashed through the air. "ANSUZ OVERLOAD!"

Fire, that of the Caster's runic magic, and that of his own power, stolen, and turned back on him, consumed Forneus. God Hand fought back, resisting it, and he lived, but for a long moment, his world was nothing but flames and agony.

When his eyes had regenerated, they beheld a sight that made him, Demon God, feel fear.

The fragment was standing there, head bowed, as if….praying. Then, her eyes snapped open, and locked on to Forneus.

"I treasure life, but I will destroy that civilization."

Her voice echoed, seeming to reach the heavens themselves. In her hands, the light of her blade rippled erratically. And from within her, a beam of power, violently, vibrantly red, shot up into the sky. High above them, the clouds parted, and three magic circles, miles long, if not longer, opened up in the heavens.

Then, suddenly, it was as if another presence had joined them, all, human, god, demon, and Servant, in the crater. Altera raised her sword, then slashed it down.

"PHOTON RAY!"

It came from even higher up than the circles rotating in the sky. A beam, so powerful that even at this range, they could feel it - the mana so thick around it that it was almost suffocating. It hit the center circle, which flared, channeling, focusing the beam.

Directly at Forneus.

God Hand rose up, resisting…..for about a second. The beam tore through it, through Forneus, burning life after life away. The demon that had stolen Herakles' body screamed, his voice joining a chorus as his fellows screamed with him. Hurricane force winds whipped up, Mash having to dive on Fujimaru's body to keep her from being picked up by them and thrown into the distance. Rocks tore through the air, battering against the walls, against the combatants, as they one and all ducked their heads, shielding their eyes.

All except Altera, who watched, steely eyed, as the beam continued to hail down on Forneus, as immovable and as still as a statue.

After what seemed like an eternity, the beam receded, the magical circles faded, and the winds died down. Slowly, the vision began to return to their eyes, as they blinked rapidly, and rubbed the grit from them.

In the center of the crater was another crater. In the center of that, was a statue. Motionless.

"Is…..is it dead?" asked Fujimaru, breaking the silence.

"Give us a second…..," Da Vinci bellowed something across the room. "All our monitoring equipment is scrambled after the sheer amount of mana that was just released…."

"REACTION!" yelled Romani.

Gold flooded the still form of Forneus, brighter than the sun. The flesh of the Servant began to run like wax, its form unstable, flowing uncontrollably.

Words were spilling from its mouth - when it had a mouth. But even without, they could hear the voice of Forneus in their heads - spitting phases in a language that was not familiar to any of them, un-words that were echoing violently, sickeningly in all their minds.

Kratos rose, his axe at the ready, Medusa and Cu flanking him - then suddenly, they were gone.

An alarm began to squeal from their communicators. "A reactor just BLEW!" Da Vinci's image began to flicker perilously. "The Servants made it to Chaldea in one piece, but we can't send them back!" She shouted something, something unintelligible off-screen. "We're barely managing to verify your existences as it is!" She turned away, and began shouting orders. "I"M GOING - GET A REPAIR TEAM DOWN THERE WITH ME, NOW!"

Her image winked out.

"The exorcism ritual!" David's head jerked up at Kratos' shout. "It has been weakened! I will distract it!"

David jerked his head in a quick, terse nod, then, taking a deep breath, began to chant.

The moment the first syllable had been uttered, Forneus darted straight for David, almost seeming to flow across the ground.

Kratos and Altera met it.

The Leviathan Axe rang off of Forneus' sword, the demon's face, even more twisted now than it had ever been hissing wordless hate at Kratos.

"ONE…..LIFE. THAT IS ALL…..WE HAVE LEFT. BUT ALL WE WILL NEED TO….ERASE YOU….GOD-KILLER!"

Kratos snarled, and stepped back, letting the sword fall, crashing into the crater floor. He leapt forward, foot and axe pressing the blade down, while his free hand shot out, seizing the wrist of the hand holding the scourge, trapping it.

Altera's blade took the thing in the gut-mouth.

David's voice began to gain in strength and power, and the demon began to shudder violently. It fell to its knees, Kratos and Altera still restraining it.

There was a hissing sound, then, impossibly fast, one of the secondary arms regenerated, flying down. The cleaver blade dropped, Forneus' hands releasing it, allowing it to be snatched up by the secondary arm.

And then hurled across the room.

"Oh…." David's body slid into two parts, toppling to the floor - and becoming a shower of gold dust before he hit the ground.

Forneus snapped his free arm up, rocking Kratos with an uppercut, then driving a clubbing elbow into Altera's head. The Saber went flying away, tumbling, but landing on her feet. She attempted to rise, then staggered, her balance momentarily gone.

Forneus rose, taking a single shaky step. "NOW SPARTAN, NOW THIS…."

A rock bounced off his skull.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jason stood there, hands on his hips. "You're Herakles - the greatest hero of the Argo! I've watched as these bunch have thrown everything they have at this thief. Isn't it about time you showed those demons just whose body it is they've tried to steal?"

A dead silence fell over the crater. Then, Forneus laughed, a nightmarish sound that had no human relation to amusement, turning to face Jason.

"AND THAT IS WHY WE CHOSE YOU TO BE OUR PAWN IN THIS SINGULARITY, BOY. YOUR FOOLISH, BLIND FAITH IN ANOTHER."

Jason scoffed. "It's not blind faith - it was never blind faith. You talked a big game about logic earlier - well it's the coldest logic on Earth that made me believe in Herakles. He does the impossible. And he's never once let me down."

Jason's words echoed around the crater.

Then, they were answered.

From a roar, one that seemed to come from deep within Forneus - but not with his voice.

"NO!"

The wings shrank, sinking back into the body of Forneus - and there was a cry, quickly dwindling in volume, as though something had been rapidly expelled, and was flying far, far away. The mouth in his stomach closed, with another shrinking cry to accompany it. The eyes closed, a shrieking voice adding to the cacophony, for the handful of seconds it was audible. The two second arms withered and died, and another voice was silenced.

Then, the Servant's body seemed to split in two.

Part of it was Herakles - uncorrupted, roaring, fighting the demon with every ounce of power and determination in him. And there, hanging onto the Berserker by tendrils, was the other half - a massive pillar of flesh, the twin of the thing that Lev Lainur transformed into. Beams of energy poured from its multitude of eyes, driving into Herakles, trying to weaken him, trying to win this struggle for dominance, to regain control over the body it had stolen.

Kratos felt a hand on his arm.

Mash. "Mr. Kratos. I think…..I think I can stop this. Save him."

Kratos blinked. "How?"

She looked up at him, eyes filled with determination. "Just….trust me? I can't explain it, but I just…..know."

Her eyes flew over to where Fujimaru was watching her, her expression worried - but then, the girl nodded, and shot Mash a thumbs up.

None of which went unnoticed by Kratos. He took a deep breath, then released it. "Do it."

"Yes sir!" Mash took a step forward, moving towards the war being waged in front of her.

And reached down, and grasped the hilt of the sword at her side.

[I'll try to shield you as much as I can, girl, but this….you aren't READY for this. But I don't see any other way. Unless we break them of this idea of possessing Servants, things will be much worse the next time. Instead of one, we'll face an army. And they almost won with one.]

The blade of the sword scraped on the scabbard as Mash pulled it from its sheath.

[...so, here goes.]

Had there been anyone still alive outside of this Singularity, the first pulse of power from the sword would have registered all across the globe. The Clock Tower, the Vatican, the Altas Institute, the Wandering Sea - and others. All would have sat up and taken notice.

As it was, it was only the eyes of a handful of Servants, a Foreign God, and the Last Master of Humanity who bore witness, as Mash raised the blade above her head.

Light poured from the steel, painfully bright. As the onlookers squinted through the glare, it was as though there was another form, standing by Mash. Taller than her, with the same color hair, and wearing armor in the same style of the girl, his hand on her shoulder.

The power peaked, and Mash spoke.

C̷̙̝͔̣͋̉̍̅ȕ̶̧͎̍ṱ̷̛̛̝͍̌͝ ̶̫̯̕a̴̮̼͋̈͋w̷̲͓̯͊͋̊͜ä̷̞͔̟́͆͗͝y̷̡̯̝̰͒̑̅ ̶̝̍͑̎̑t̸̲̦̓̋̾ẖ̴̱̣̱̌̎̃̒ȇ̶͎̻͋̚͜͝ ̶̙̳͗͌͆̔͜ų̵̘̮̹̃͝n̵̙̼͎̤͆̏c̸͇͌͜l̶͙̎͠e̷̤̐͆͑̄ą̷̤͆̉͝n̶͚̣̣̈́͊.̸̤̙̩̩̈́
̸̲͉̲̌B̵͈̦̣̊̓͗͊ư̶̡̌͆r̵̨̰̣͚͋̇̄̾ṇ̴̺͋̈́́ͅ ̷̖̺̭̠͗͐̉͝ā̴̻̬͂w̴̡̍͝a̶̰̙̔̀̊͝y̷̢̯͍̪͒͘͝ ̶͉͂̊̋̋ť̷͎h̶͓̗͑̀͝e̶̬͚̩̭̔͆̿ ̶̰̪̝͐̉͛͜í̴̫m̶̳͌͜p̴͈̒u̷͉̯̘͂̐̄ř̷̨̳̙̊̏͒e̷͈̣̫̳̓͊̌̒.̷͖̥͎̀͝
̸̳͑͂̑̈́L̵̛̩̻͇̻̃̍e̴͎̝͚̋̾t̶̨̩̭̓͂́́ ̴̡̈͐ṯ̴̨͇͊ͅh̵̥̫̞̣͊̈́̚e̷̖̞̻̽̊̊͠ẙ̴̯͙̈͝ ̷̻̱̅̊̅͝ẅ̵̡̖̖͖ḩ̶̳̠̮̓̕o̸̺͓̣͌͆ ̵̡͖͔̲̉̈́͆̓ä̸̢͕͕͚́͆̈͝r̶̼͕̻̄̎e̸̺̒̌̓̕ ̷͙͈͚̩̆̓w̷̪͕̤̪͗i̸̡̫̦͔͆́̓t̴̳̙͒̑͛̏ȟ̸̖́̓ȍ̸̡̳̻͉̐͐͂ũ̵̺̳̓t̴̼͒ ̴̧͚́s̴̱̰͚̦̿̋ī̵̗͕ņ̴̙͔̈́̕ͅ ̴͉͐ͅc̶̪̟̼͊̍a̵̱̥̎͘s̶̫͒͗t̴̥͎̘̀͒ ̶͇͖̫̻̈́̎̎ṫ̶̝̐̔̎h̴̪̰̖͒̓̈́ḙ̷͔̺̾ ̶̯̞̳̐͒f̸̖̣̂͜i̸̛͚̇ȑ̷͈͍́͜s̶͙̆͜t̴͓̫̅̆̕͝ ̷̞̯͓̉̈́͌ṣ̷̲̳͆t̴̡͈͙͎̄o̷̦̾͆n̴̝̈́̒ę̷͑̀̈́͠!̶̺̞̳̾͂ ̵̛̝̞̩̒̉͝
S̵̫͛͆͜W̵̪̖͚͕̍̏̌̊O̷͈̽̇Ř̸̨͖̝͍͆̀D̴̖̽̀̈̔ ̶̙̈́̇͌Ǫ̶̙̱̋̃̈F̶̧̧̟̞́̍͘ ̸̭̝́̈́̏T̷͙̩̼̼̐̍H̴̢͎̹̩͐́È̸͇̒ ̵̝̖̔̽̈́̿Š̶͔̳͔̖̌̊̈́T̷̫̅̾ͅŘ̴̨̯̄́̓Á̵͉͋N̶̘̣̅̽G̴͕̝̬͆̍̐Ë̵̞͔́̀̔ ̴͕͓͐H̵̱̾̆̌̕À̶̛͙N̶͖͉̚͝G̵͙̹̩͚̐̔I̷̖͇̘̿̎̐̕N̸̳̠̾̐͋͠G̴̡͉̝̖͗S̷͈͎̦̓̔͂!̸̨̋̕ ̷̡͍̐͒

And she brought the blade down.

It sliced through the tendrils still connecting Forneus to Herakles as though they weren't even there. Where the blade touched the demon's flesh, it incinerated it.

And it did not stop there.

The reaction spread, flowing up the tendrils, burning them away, leaving not even ash behind, reaching the body, where lines of the purest white began to flow up and down the demon's, eating away at Forneus' flesh.

Forneus was screaming, a high, desperate wail of pure and utter distress and torment. It tried to call power to its eyes, to obliterate the girl, but any energy it gathered quickly sputtered out and dissipated. Quickly, inch by inch, foot by foot, Forneus was being seared away into nothingness.

Then, with a final shriek of pain, it was over.

Forneus was gone. And the light dimmed.

A gentle breeze passed through the crater, and all was quiet.

And, standing there, a look of almost awe on his face, was Herakles.

The Berserker made a low rumble in his throat, one that was drowned out by Jason's cry.

"I KNEW IT!" The captain of the Argo hurled himself at his friend, wrapping his arms around the giant's waist. "I knew no demon could hold you!"

He grinned up at the Berserker, who huffed out a breath, and dropped one massive hand onto Jason's head.

Those from Chaldea, on the other hand, were much more interested in something else - that being one Mash Kyrielight.

"Mashie….what WAS that?" Fujimaru was staring at the sword in Mash's hands, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"I….I don't know, Senpai." Carefully, Mash slid the blade back into its scabbard. "I just….I got a feeling that that sword could…fix things. Stop that demon." She flushed, almost seeming to shrink into herself, as she noticed the sheer number of people clustered around her. "Maybe…..maybe it was something from the Servant who gave me their powers?"

"Whatever it was, that was BAD-ASS, Squeaks!" Avenger's arm thumped into Mash's back, repeatedly.

"Indeed," said Chiron, a tired smile on his face. "Though…the sheer power of that thing….and the fact that we could not understand your Noble Phantasm's chant is…..concerning."

"It is something we will have to work to understand," grunted Kratos. "But…another day." He flicked his eyes to his communicator. "Romani, what is your status?"

"Da Vinci's got the generators stabilized, but it's touch and go." Though they could still not see the man's face, his voice gave an idea of how haggard the situation must be. "You need to find the Grail and get home, as soon as possible."

A shadow loomed over the group. "I think this is what you're looking for."

Kratos turned, to see Herakles looming over them - a golden cup in his outstretched hand.

Jason, standing beside the Berserker, shrugged. "Now that I know Medea's story about becoming a god is just so much bullshit, there's no reason for me to keep it. And I owe you lot - you gave some minor assistance to my friend here, in the end."

Herakles rumbled something, and Jason shrugged. "And he wants you to have it, too. I'd be a pretty poor friend if I ignored him after all he's been through in the past few weeks."

Carefully, Kratos reached out and took the Grail, exchanging a simple nod, and a grunt, with Herakles as he did so.

"So, you're leaving then?" Artemis floated over to them, her movements careful and pained, a bandage wrapped around her midsection. "But I barely got to spend any time at all with my two baby brothers!"

Orion patted Artemis on her hair. "They've got a mission, love. Though I suppose this is the part where you insist on going home with them so you can have more quality time with your family?"

Artemis seemed to consider for a moment, but, shockingly, shook her head. "No. I'd love that, but, no." She picked up Orion and held him in front of her face. "You, mister, and me, are going to have that honeymoon we never got to have due to my brother's meddling. I'll just have to be content with stopping by from time to time to check in on Kraty."

Kratos blinked. "Kraty?"

Orion shrugged, even as golden particles began to fall off his form, and that of his lady love. "She's given you a nickname, buddy. Means you're well and truly adopted, now. No point in fighting it."

"Be seeing you soon, Kraty!" called Artemis, as her body broke apart.

There was a snicker from behind him - Avenger. He chose to ignore it.

"A second honeymoon sounds nice," said Gunnhild, leaning heavily on Eric.

"Indeed, my little Valkyrie." Eric grinned. "After such a wondrous battle, I think we could both use some relaxation." Though, from the glint in both of their eyes, no one thought they would be 'relaxing' much.

Eric reached out and clasped Kratos' wrist, then repeated the process with every person still standing. "You were fine allies, Chaldeans. Should you call in the future, I would be honored to answer that call."

Gunnhild's finger sprang up, pointing directly between Kratos' eyes - then shooting over to give Fujimaru the same treatment. "So long as you don't let any brazen women near my Eric! Otherwise, I suppose you have my permission to borrow him for a bit!"

With that threat, the Viking couple followed in Orion and Artemis' wake.

Altera held out a hand. "Here, Not-Mars."

She dropped the sliver of metal into Kratos' hand - the object that Lev had carried - the catalyst that had summoned Altera. Now that he looked at it, it was clearly a piece of her sword. "Am I to return with you?"

Kratos turned his eyes to his communicator screen.

"Power's holding steady….for now," said Romani. "Thankfully, you can handle a much heavier load than Fujimaru when it comes to Servants, Kratos." There was the sound of a sigh. "Though, she's a whopper of a Servant. Almost as big as one as…."

Herakles gave a low rumble, and Jason laughed. "Yeah, they don't get much bigger than my friend here." He nudged Herakles in the side.

"We should go, then," said Fujimaru. "Don't want to risk us getting stranded here."

"Say goodbye to everyone for us, please," said Mash, bowing low.

"Chaldea," said Altera, moving to stand by Kratos. "Hopefully it is good civilization."

"Alright," said Romani. "Beginning Rayshift…..now!"

Kratos, as he did every time, felt the jerk as he was pulled into the blue corridor, the one beyond time and space.

And then they were gone.

---

Jason looked around - the Ark was still there, but he had no interest in the thing anymore. Stupid lying Medea - see if he ever trusted her again - no matter WHAT her class was.

At his side, Herakles was staring at the place the Chaldeans - Kratos particularly, had been standing, and made a small noise - it could have been called a sigh, if it had come from anyone but Herakles.

"Wait," said Jason, blinking. "You WANTED to go with them?" He stared up at his friend. "I mean, I get it, undoing the Incineration of Humanity is the kind of thing you're built for, but you'd really leave me all by myself?"

Herakles growled something, then thumped Jason on his head (and almost driving him into the ground like a stake). "I mean, yeah, I CAN take care of myself without you, but…..look, fine! If we hear them call again, somewhere down the road, we'll both go to help them? That work for you?"

Herakles nodded, and Jason let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Given the number of Servants on the Throne, the odds that either of them would end up getting the call from those lunatics was a million to one. He had nothing to worry about.

"That's all fine and dandy for you bunch, but I don't just fade out into the ether when things are over!" A hand seized him by the collar, and a pair of annoyed blue eyes stared into his own. "And I don't even have my ship anymore, either!"

Francis Drake stared daggers at Jason. "So, given it's your fault, what are you going to do to make it up to me?"

Jason's eyes flicked up to Herakles. "Little help?" The Berserker just huffed something under his breath, and very deliberately took a step back.

Traitor. Though, the both of them weren't necessarily WRONG, after all. "Fine, fine," he said. "Let's see what we can scrounge up, and I'll see about getting you back to your ship."

The woman's eyes widened, and he sighed. "We didn't end up sinking it - you do remember that I was trying to turn you to my side, right? No point having a legendary pirate if she doesn't have her ship."

He stared down at his hand, which was starting to fade a little bit. "We'll have to work quick, though. This thing's probably going to break apart before long, and that means we're working against the clock."

Imminent deadline, no one but himself and his best friend to rely on - and MAYBE the pirate woman, he supposed. And barely any resources to speak of.

Yeah, he could work with this.

"Let's get to work, then."

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM​

Cheers were raining down on them as they pulled themselves out of the coffins. Mash had barely been able to set her feet on the floor before a very anxious Cu was in her face, asking for the Grail. No sooner had she handed it over than he took off like a shot, heading in the direction of the generator room - probably to hand it over to Da Vinci to further stabilize Chaldea's power situation.

Senpai was worriedly asking Doctor Roman about Sakamoto and Oryou - apparently they'd been in rough shape when they'd returned, and she was worried about them - just like her, really.

And Mr. Kratos…..well, he was watching the new Servant - Altera, who was looking around the command room with a look that Mash couldn't decipher - but the Saber didn't seem like the most emotive of people. At least, not from what little Mash had seen, so far.

"Hell of a job there at the end, Squeaks!" Avenger's hand thumped into Mash's back again - only this time, it caused her body to erupt in a shuddering wave of pain.

Something that Avenger noticed. "Hey, you alright?"

Mash shook her head. "I think I'm probably tired, and a bit battered from the fight - I need to wash all this blood out of my hair, and let Doctor Roman check me over," she said, running her hands across her face. "But I'm….."

When she looked down at her hand, she saw it was covered with blood. Fresh blood.

"Squeaks……hey, MASH!"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And now we are done with Okeanos. This was supposed to be the send-off for the last chapter, but then it got LONG. So here we are.

The uncorrupted text for this version of the release for the Sword of Strange Hangings is:
Cut away the unclean.
Burn away the impure.
Let they who are without sin cast the first stone!
SWORD OF THE STRANGE HANGINGS!

Someone in a previous chapter mentioned Forneus turning into a Balrog - despite my love for Tolkien being as deep as the sea, I was honestly more thinking a Tanar'ri. And I say this with the Mines of Moria being my absolute favorite part of both the Jackson films and the books.

Modified Artemis' somewhat dippy Noble Phantasm chant to better fit the scene. Mind, I have no issue with it as it normally is, but it really would have jarred here.

Originally, it was going to be Herakles going with Kratos - but the more I considered it, having a Servant who can't really speak, at all, felt like it would be entirely too difficult to write for me. So I changed it while writing this to Altera. That, and I couldn't come up with a good justification for Altera NOT coming with them when Kratos summoned her, however unintentionally.

Chapter 50: Post-Okeanos 1

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 50

OUTSIDE OF SPACE AND TIME​

The ocean Singularity had barely finished with its death throes when they gathered. Barbados was the first to speak.

"WHERE IS OUR BROTHER? WHERE IS FORNEUS? HIS REVIVAL SHOULD HAVE COMPLETED BY NOW."

There was a silence - one that was far too long for what they were, and the means of communication they shared.

Zepar - as ever, was the first to break the silence. "HIS RESURRECTION HAS SEEN…..SETBACKS."

"SETBACKS?" Phenex, somehow, managed to fill his words with the disbelief of a dozen of them. "IMPOSSIBLE. OUR LORD IS PERFECT. HIS PLAN IS PERFECT. ERGO, WE ARE PERFECT." They all could feel what passed for annoyance among them through their link. "WHAT POSSIBLE 'SETBACK' COULD HAVE HINDERED OUR BROTHER'S RETURN?"

"THE SWORD THE DEMI-SERVANT USED. THE POWER….DAMAGED HIM." Amon paused, considering. "OUR LORD IS HAVING TO RECONSTRUCT HIM MORE….CAREFULLY, LEST THE DAMAGED PARTS BE LOST FOREVER. Truly, an outcome not foreseen by any of us."

A ripple of unease passed through their connection. "HOW?" asked Asmodeus. "ARS PAULINA MAKES US IMMORTAL."

The impression of a sneer radiated from Zepar. "THE WHITE GOD. WE ALL FELT THE HATEFUL POWER, EVEN IN THE TEMPLE HERE. FORNEUS WAS OUTSIDE ITS PROTECTION, THUS, VULNERABLE TO THE DEMI-SERVANT'S NOBLE PHANTASM." A pause. "OUR LORD WAS FORCED TO CUT FORNEUS OFF FROM OUR COLLECTIVE TO PREVENT IT FROM SPREADING. HE WILL REJOIN OUR UNION ONCE HE HAS BEEN RESTORED."

"HAD WE NOT BEEN….EXPELLED, AS WE WERE, BY THE HOST BODY, WE TOO WOULD HAVE BEEN SUBJECT TO THE RAVAGES OF THE ATTACK." Shax's voice was subdued - it was almost as if he was muttering. "THE CASCADE FROM SEVERAL PILLARS BEING AFFECTED AT ONCE COULD HAVE BEEN FAR MORE CATASTROPHIC."

There was the sensation of searching, emanating from the edges of their collective. "WHERE IS FLAUROS?" asked Zagan. "WE DO NOT SENSE HIM HERE."

"WE, THE INFORMATION CENTER, DO NOT SENSE THE HEAD AT ALL," added Andras.

Barbados gave what could only be translated as a scoff. "FLAUROS HAS BEEN….DETAINED, BY OUR LORD."

A ripple passed through their collective consciousness. Once it had subsided, Barbados continued. "OUR LORD CONCLUDED THAT THE SHEER AMOUNT OF TIME HE SPENT IN HIS HUMAN GUISE HAS HAD DELETERIOUS EFFECTS UPON HIM - THAT, AND TWICE BEING BESTED BY THE FOREIGN GOD. HE WAS SHOWING SIGNS OF OBSESSION THAT WERE AFFECTING HIS PERFORMANCE. OUR LORD HAS TEMPORARILY SEVERED HIM FROM OUR COLLECTIVE, TO GIVE HIM TIME TO MEDITATE UPON HIS FAILURES - AND THE PLAN GOING FORWARD."

"WHAT IS THE PLAN?" asked Amon. "THE FOURTH SINGULARITY FALLS UNDER YOUR JURISDICTION, BROTHER - ALL FORECASTS SHOW THEY WILL LIKELY DISCOVER IT NEXT, AND THUS, COME FOR YOU. We would be very interested in knowing what your counter-strategy is for the weapon they have unveiled."

"Yes, Barbados. Enlighten us as to what these 'Chaldeans' have awaiting them."

Suddenly, He was there. Perhaps He had been there all along, observing them, listening in - all of them unaware, or simply unable to comprehend his Presence without him making it explicit.

Their Lord.

"LORD!" The space they were all sharing was not a physical space, it was one for the mind and the soul - or whatever passed as such for things like them. It was not a place where one could kneel.

And yet they did, as one, falling to their knees.

They could feel their Lord's eyes upon them, each one shivering as they felt that terrible focus brush against them, before finally settling upon the collective branch that was the Observatory. "Forneus is resting and recuperating. I have restored him, as he was. But it will take time for him to regain his full splendor. In the interim, Zangan, you shall fulfill his duties."

"YES, LORD," said Zangan, managing to bow even lower.

Then, Goetia's gaze was fully upon Barbados, and he felt himself tremble.

"Now, Barbados. Tell me how you plan to thwart the White God's attentions?"

---

The heart monitor filled the room with a continual, monotonous drone. But Ritsuka Fujimaru wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Because it was the only other thing, beside the rise and fall of her Kohai's chest, that gave any sign that Mash Kyrielight was still alive.

Her skin was so pale she could have been a ghost. And, despite it being one of the two things she was clinging to as a sign that her first Servant WOULD wake up, her breaths were so shallow that she had to squint to see the movement - or to hear the intake of air.

She'd been lying there, like this, for a day and a half now.

And Fujimaru had barely been away from her side in all that time.

She wasn't the only one - there was a ball of white fur, curled up next to Mash's head - one that had lodged itself there once they had finally gotten the girl stabilized, and refused to budge. All attempts to shoo Fou out of the infirmary had resulted in a cold look of disdain from the animal. And attempting to physically remove him hadn't gone much better - no sooner had they deposited him somewhere else, be that Mash's room, Fujimaru's room, or even a cage (which had been the result of a VERY frustrated Rebecca, clearly at the end of her rope), then, upon return to the infirmary, there the animal was, right next to his mistress, a determined, if smug, look on his face.

Eventually, Roman had been forced to throw up his hands and had given Fou free reign to do what he will (which the animal already seemed to have - Kratos, and his bacon, specifically, being the only exception to that where Chaldea's mascot was concerned - but Roman having to admit that seemed to have pleased the creature), despite his concerns about having an animal in what was supposed to be a clean environment.

And Fou had just continued on as he had been, watching over the girl he was almost inseparable from.

Fujimaru gave Mash's hand a squeeze, and continued talking, because she'd heard somewhere that talking to someone in a coma was supposed to help - for once, she hoped, her tragic disease of run-on-at-the-mouth would come in handy. "Power's still on crisis levels - at least for the time being, until Da Vinci finishes the overhaul of the generators she's working on. Most everyone's navigating the dark halls with magic, but yours truly has to use a flashlight - or have Lord El-Melloi II act like a lantern for me." She gave a little smile. "Kratos, of course, has that trinket of his he wears on his waist, the one he says his smiths back home made for him, so he's getting around fine."

She snickered. "Though his armor got trashed, again - so he's been forced back to the casual fit. The current fit a T-shirt advertising some New Zealand protein powder - I nearly cracked up seeing him wearing a shirt with the brand of Omega Protein Powders." She snickered harder. "That tagline of 'MAX YOUR GAINS, BRO!' nearly had me in stitches. I swear, Jay being about the only person on base that's his size and a complete gym rat is almost too perfect."

Too quickly, her mirth faded, draining away like it was bleeding out of her, as it had every single time she'd managed to raise her spirits since her Kohai had collapsed.

Since…..

There was the sound of the infirmary door hissing open - it was one of the few in the base that was still on automatic, what with the infirmary still receiving its full allotment of power. A second later, the smell of what could be called food - if you were charitable, hit her nostrils.

Oh - was it lunchtime already?

"Here, Red," muttered Avenger, dropping a tray on Fujimaru's lap. "Your grub."

As Fujimaru stared down at the mystery meal (they were all on the backup emergency rations for the time being - power was, in order, being prioritized to the base's wards, keeping the Servants maintained, Sheba, and medical, so the cafeteria - and hot meals that didn't taste like cardboard were off the menu for the foreseeable future), Avenger dragged a chair over to Mash's bed, and plopped herself into it.

She reached out and ran a finger down Fou's spine, but her eyes never left the sleeping girl. "Any change?" she finally asked.

Fuijmaru set her fork down (not that that was any great loss, she thought that this thing was trying to be spaghetti and meatballs, but the pasta had the consistency of yarn, and the meatballs - well, she had her doubts of what kind of meat they were, if they were meat at all. The sauce was the best part, which wasn't saying much - she much preferred a sweeter, rather than a more tart sauce) and shook her head. "She hasn't gotten any worse, so that's something, but….there hasn't been any sign that she's getting close to waking up, either. Or responding to things - Fou, me talking to her, whomever else has been visiting her while I've been sleeping."

Avenger stared down at the girl. "But the Doc did say she would wake up, though. We just have to wait on her."

"Yeah, but then…."

---

 

MAIN CHALDEAN CONFERENCE ROOM

APPROXIMATELY THREE HOURS AFTER THE CONCLUSION OF THE OCEAN SINGULARITY​

"She's going to pull through," said Romani, collapsing into a chair.

He gratefully took the thermos of coffee Da Vinci handed him and nearly downed the thing in one go, then, set it down, nodding his thanks to the woman, who was settling back into her seat.

"What's the prognosis?" she asked, once she was settled - for certain values of the word. A nervous energy seemed to be thrumming through the Universal Genius' frame - which was more heavily on display than ever, what with her outfit being a pair of plain work slacks, some sturdy, unornamented boots, and what was essentially a sports bra. And she was far from immaculate, too - sweat and oil and grease stained both her clothes and her body - Da Vinci had been hard at work in the generator room when Romani had sent out his summons. And from how twitchy she was, she was anxious to get back to there.

"She's very, very weak," sighed Romani. "Whatever that Noble Phantasm was, it was almost too much for her body to handle. The blowback was…..immense. It's not a one-to-one, but the best way I can describe it is as if she had both a grand mal seizure and a massive heart attack, all at once - with some severe hemorrhaging of some major blood vessels on top of it all."

He leaned forward, resting his head on his steepled hands. "We were able to repair most of the major damage, and now, it's just going to take time."

There was a collective sigh of relief in the room. Avenger and Cu were high-fiving each other, when Kratos' voice cut through the celebratory din.

"This is good news," he rumbled. "But your face suggests there is more you have to say."

Romani's shoulders slumped, and, for a long while, he was silent - they could see him trying to find the words. Then, he began speaking.

"Mash is dying."

"She always has been - dying, isn't the best word I could have chosen," he said, quickly, cutting through the sudden gasps. "Mash is what you would call a 'designer baby', almost an improved form of the homunculi from the Roman Singularity, to give you a point of reference, Kratos. Engineered humans grown in a lab, specifically for the Animusphere Demi-Servant project, where a Heroic Spirit would be bound to a living being."

"All this happened long before Romani and I joined Chaldea," said Da Vinci, interjecting as expressions of disgust crossed the faces of most of those gathered in the room. "That doesn't absolve us of anything, mind. Had the project still been going, we would have fought tooth and nail to stop it, but it had long since been abandoned as a failure. Mash was the only one of her siblings to survive, and it had been believed that the binding that was attempted on her failed as well."

"I joined Chaldea while she was still very, very young," said Romani, staring down at the table. "Nearly everyone had lost interest in her, by then, so I was at least able to give her something of a childhood. But what influence I did have wasn't enough to stop them trying to bind a Heroic Spirit to her when she was deemed old enough - and strong enough to likely survive the procedure."

"Is this a thing Mages of this world do?" asked Kratos, his expression thunderous. "Create life, only to make it suffer?"

Romani paled, but another voice cut into the conversation. "Yes," said the Clock Tower lord, his tone unflinching. "That, and worse, is rampant in the halls of the Clock Tower. I have seen them with my own eyes - a Lord who attempted to turn his family home into a receptacle for his spirit, so that he could live forever - study forever, to reach the Root. Another forced Mystic Eyes upon his son so that he could be a tool for his workshop, on top of getting involved with the Fae. And those are only some of what I have seen in my time."

"My family doesn't really bother with that kind of stuff - our Spiritualism isn't really geared towards it, and dad's side of the family has been too focused on just surviving for generations, but, if you go back far enough, you'd probably find some pretty horrible things." She frowned. "And Gordy's family, even if they're better about how they treat their homunculi than most….they had to learn how to create them from somewhere. So that probably meant a lot of mistakes….and a lot of suffering."

The Lord's eyes were steel. "Mage society runs, I feel, on classism, egocentrism, and, oftentimes, pure sociopathy. But we are all not like that. Most of my students are good people - almost too good for the Society they belong to."

There seemed to be a pall over the room. For a long moment, Kratos stared at them…

…and then sank into his seat.

"You have treated me….more than fairly. Despite that I kept things of my past hidden…." he let out a deep breath. "And despite that my past is hardly free from sins." He made a gesture. "Continue your tale."

Romani nodded, taking a long pull from the water bottle that had materialized at his side. "To elaborate on what Da Vinci was saying, I don't believe the Director knew about what was being done here either. Her father didn't involve her in any of this - and why would he? He was still in the prime of his power, he had no need to brief his Heir." He sighed. "It's why she was so ill-prepared to take over. I wonder if that was the point, forcing her to rely on Lev so heavily…."

He set the water bottle down. "But that's neither here nor there. The point I'm trying to get to is that when Mash and her siblings were grown, they were given a limited life span. No more than 18 years, at best. Eventually….her body will just…..stop working."

Avenger's fist left a dent in the surface of the table as she surged to her feet. "Fuck that! No fucking WAY you're letting Squeaks go out like that! What have you done to fix it?"

Romani's head drooped. "There's nothing I CAN do. And I've tried….WE'VE tried."

"Believe me, we've tried," said Da Vinci, her eyes pained. "Nothing's worked. And we've tried everything that has come to mind - and if you know me at all, you know my mind is capable of coming up with a lot." She shook her head, sadly. "In the end, it's all come to naught."

"We've both tried to protect her as much as we can, and to give her as much of a life as possible." Romani's head was still drooped, staring at the table.

Everyone took a moment, digesting all of this. Eventually, Chiron spoke. "What, then, has unleashing that Noble Phantasm done to her remaining lifespan, then?"

"Shortened it," said Romani. "By how much, we don't know. On top of whatever she's lost from finally successfully fusing with the Servant that was bonded to her, and all this strenuous combat over the past few months…."

"Are…." Fujimaru swallowed, thickly. "Are we going to retire her from being on the active roster?" The girl looked torn - unsure which she preferred - her first Servant staying by her side, or trying to preserve as much of her lifespan as possible.

"I asked her that question in the aftermath of sabotage and that first Singularity," said Romani. "She said then that she was going to fight - with everything she had."

"But…" began Fujimaru.

"From a completely cold-blooded perspective, Mash is also entirely too vital to our field operations to bench," commented Da Vinci. "Her shield allows us to establish links with the Ley Lines, and facilitates summoning on-site in the past. I hate that that's the case, however."

She tapped a fingernail on the surface of the table. "But, if she truly decided she didn't want to fight anymore, we would honor that. We'd figure out a way without her."

Cu scoffed. "She won't - that girl's a fighter the equal of any Ulster lass. Even if she's only got a week left, she'll be there, right beside the bunch of us, 'till the bitter end."

Romani nodded. "I'll pose the question to her again when she wakes up, but….I feel you're correct. She will want to continue."

"It is her life," said Kratos, softly, his eyes distant. "It is her choice."

---

They'd gone back and forth like that for a while, but by that point, they'd been running out of steam - Fujimaru's eyes had been drooping, and she'd wanted to get to Mash's side before she'd conked out. Even the Servants had started to look a bit haggard - well, all the Servants save for Da Vinci, who double-timed it back to the generator room as soon as they adjourned.

Kratos was among the last to leave the room. And she hadn't seen him in the time since. But her living in the infirmary might have had something to do with that.

"The little eggplant human is strong," said Oryou, floating above Sakamoto's bed - it had proven impossible to convince her to stay in bed and heal, so Romani (as he was having to do more and more these days) was forced to make exceptions. "Though Oryou-san doesn't understand this other business. Humans barely live any amount of time at all - what's a few less years?"

Sakamoto looked up at her. "Mmmmm, think how you felt when I died. Wouldn't you have given anything for a bit more time, in the end?"

Oryou's erratic motions came to an abrupt halt, as she almost froze in the air. "....yes. Oryou-san thinks she gets it better, now." She floated over to where Fujimaru was, and roughly dropped a hand to her head. "Oryou-san is sorry, human."

"She's not dead yet," replied Fujimaru, a bit more curtly than she would have liked. "And, if I have anything to say about it, she won't be dying anytime in the near future, either." She seemed to deflate a bit. "But, thank you."

"It's like Cu said, girl's a fighter," said Avenger. "She'll be up and at 'em before you know it…."

"But then what," whispered Fujimaru. "Am I going to be able to look at her the same way….or…." she licked her suddenly dry lips. "Send her into battle, knowing doing so is shaving days, maybe even months off her life?"

Avenger's fist (thankfully not the metal one) thumped Fujimaru on the head. "And you think treating her like she's made of glass is going to make her happy?" As Fujimaru rubbed her head and pouted, Avenger settled back into her chair, drawing her legs up to her chest. "I mean, it's not like our two situations are all that different. I've got a ticking clock myself - when all this shit is finally done and everything's back to normal, that's it for me."

She met an uncomprehending Fujimaru's eyes and sighed. "You know I was made - ironically like Squeaks was, now that I have it shoved in my face. But I'm not some person who lived and was recorded on the Throne. When I die……or get released from my contract…..I don't know what's waiting for me next." She puffed out a long breath, her long tendril of hair fluttering from the exhale. "Maybe nothing."

"Just to give my two koku - or I suppose pounds, since this is a British facility," began Sakamoto. "But you're actively working to undo the Incineration of Humanity, and you've helped resolve three different Singularities already."

He held up a finger as he noticed her mouth beginning to open. "Yes, you played some part in the first, as I understand it. But it's not like a single black mark, even a large one, plays against the Throne's evaluation of you. After all, weren't Vlad Tepes and Carmilla two of the Servants you summoned there?" He shrugged. "It might be called the Throne of Heroes, but its criteria for what qualifies you as a 'Hero' are very, very loose. If it was only looking for shining examples, people like Nobunaga, or Izo wouldn't have gotten in."

"Oryou-san would miss Izo if he wasn't around." Though from the lazy grin on her face, it was obvious she might have actually meant she would have missed picking on the man in question. "Tiny loud shooty woman Oryou-san could do without, however."

As Fujimaru's brain blanked at the description of Nobunaga, Sakamoto continued. "All I'm saying is, the outlook for you might not be as bleak as you're thinking." He smirked. "We make it to the end of this, and the Throne might have a busload of new arrivals."

"That…." Avenger paused, thinking. "Actually, that is a bit of a comfort. Thanks."

She laid her chin on her knees. "But even if they're wrong and I'm right and all I've got waiting on me in the end is a big old nothing, Kratos isn't treating me with kid gloves. He's throwing me out there just like the snake and the dog. And he knows, just like I do, that the end of the line might be very different for me than those two. And I fucking appreciate that." The ends of her mouth turned up in a sneer. "I'd kick his ass if he tried to baby me just because my circumstances were different."

"If you are truly attempting to 'Be Better', then I would be insulting you by treating you in such a manner."

Avenger nearly hit the ceiling, yelping like a cat that had just fallen in a tub of water. Fujimaru's response, in comparison, was more subdued. She simply fell out of her chair in a tangle of legs and arms.

"HOW does something as big as you move so fucking QUIETLY?" Avenger's eyes were wide, her shoulders heaving.

Kratos gave what sounded like an amused grunt. "I did not move any more or less quietly than normal. You just did not notice." Fujimaru could hear the silent 'because you lack discipline' hovering over both their heads - mainly Avenger's. Though, she'd SWEAR that one corner of Kratos' mouth was almost trying to turn up into a smile. Maybe. If you squinted at it. HARD.

While the two of them were trying to get their hearts to stop hammering on their chests, Kratos moved to stand over Mash's sleeping form. Fou stirred, sleepy eyes staring up at Kratos, before giving a sniff, and curling back up next to Mash.

He stared down at the girl with shadowed eyes. "There is no change?"

"None," said Fujimaru. "Roman says that she just needs time to heal, but…..I hate this. Not knowing - not being able to do anything about it."

For several minutes, no one spoke - the only sound was that of the heart monitor. Then….

"I….your feelings are known to me. Familiar to me." Kratos gave what was as close to a sigh as she thought he was capable of. "My son - Atreus - when he was young, he was frequently ill….." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Something he shared with my first child, Calliope."

"In Sparta, that was not tolerated. To spare her life, I defied the fate written for her and sought out the Ambrosia, to heal her of her ailment." He paused. "There was no such solution for Atreus. Nothing I could do but hope."

"But, you've said he's off on his own journey now, so he did get better, right?" asked Fujimaru.

"Yes….eventually." It almost seemed as if there was more he wished to say, but he shook his head. "Mash will recover. And when she does, she will have a choice. You cannot take that choice from her." His voice dropped, again, to that low whisper. "Even if you wish to protect her. Your fears for her are….not wrong. But you cannot allow them to consume you."

"Oryou-san thinks you are speaking from experience," said a certain dragon-woman, who had floated over to hover over Mash's bed - Fou lazily batting at the trailing strands of her hair.

Kratos' only response was a grunt.

"I'm not going to let her die, whatever she chooses," said Fujimaru, when it became apparent Kratos was not going to elaborate. "There's got to be some way to save her." She scrunched her face up in a look of determination. "And if it's not here, it might be somewhere in the wild places of the past history we're going to."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I refuse to let someone like Mashie die before she's really lived."

"She may die in a completely different manner, before this is all over," rumbled Kratos. "Any of us may. We have suffered losses already. Both before my arrival, and in our campaigns to the past. Though none of our losses on campaign have come from those at Chaldea….we have lost allies all the same."

"Yeah," she said, her tone very subdued. It reminded her of something she'd asked of Lord El-Melloi II - once Mashie was awake and on the mend, she had somewhere in the base to visit. "But if there's something I can do to stop her - or anyone else from dying, I'm going to do it."

Whatever Kratos was about to say was preempted by a small, yet powerful sneeze.

"Gesundheit," muttered Avenger, glancing at Fujimaru.

"That wasn't me." Her eyes darted up to Oryou, who looked almost vaguely insulted at the implication she would do something like sneeze - then, her eyes trailed downward, following the cascade of Oryou's hair.

Which had fluttered over Mash's nose (aided and abetted by a certain white-furred creature's antics).

Who was beginning to stir.

Fujimaru was by the girl's side in an instant (gently nudging Oryou aside with a mental prod - she didn't want her Kohai to wake up with a facefull of dragon hair). "Mashie…..are you there?" She swallowed heavily. "Can….can you hear me?"

Mash's eyelids began to flutter. "Sen….pai?" She took a deep breath, then, slowly, carefully, began to open her eyes - then winced, as the light hit them. She blinked rapidly, her eyes slowly adjusting. "Where……" Her head gingerly turned from side to side, taking in the collection of faces staring down at her. "Why am I in the infirmary?"

"MASH!" Fujimaru managed to restrain herself from glomping the girl, but only just. So, she contented herself with seizing one of her Kohai's hands with a deathgrip. "You scared the LIFE out of me!"

"Out of damn near all of us, Squeaks," said Avenger, her hand mussing up the girl's hair. "But I'm sure as shit glad to see you awake."

"Yes," rumbled Kratos. "It is a welcome sight."

"I've had Miss Rebecca call Doctor Romani," said Sakamoto, from his bed. "Knowing him, he'll be here before you know it - so you might want to let the girl breathe a bit. Otherwise, he might end up copying Oryou's fire-breathing trick."

Reluctantly, the two of them backed off, but not before Fujimaru ducked in to briefly hug her Kohai - as predicted, right before Romani arrived.

"And how are you feeling?" he asked, as he shined a light into her eyes, steadily running through the checklist of basic tests. "Any lingering pain - physical, or otherwise?"

"No," she said. "I feel fine - a little stiff and weak, but if I've been out for a day and a half, that's to be expected." She took a deep breath, as Romani pressed a stethoscope to her chest. "But otherwise, I feel normal. I could probably get up and walk back to my room without any problem."

Romani marked something on the chart in his hands. "And your…passenger? Given you were able to utilize an entirely separate Noble Phantasm from your shield, have there been any new revelations on that front?"

Mash furrowed her brow. "I don't……think so? Nothing feels any different, at least."

"And, just for the record, can you tell me the name of the Noble Phantasm you used to destroy that demon?" he asked.

Mash opened her mouth to answer…..then paused. Her mouth slowly closed, as the wrinkles on her brow increased in both number and intensity. "I….I can't. It's like it's on the tip of my tongue, but I just……can't verbalize it."

"Ok." Romani sighed. "That's….not entirely unexpected, given that no one, either the team in the field, or our sensors back here could decipher any part of the chant or the True Name of it."

He sank back into his chair, turning to the onlookers. "The remaining tests - and there are going to be quite a few of them, so don't think you're getting out of here anytime soon - will require privacy for - Doctor - Patient confidentiality. So I'm going to have to ask you all to clear the room." His head turned around to regard Sakamoto and Oryou. "You two should be clear to go as well - all your readings look good after a day and some change in the denser medical mana field we keep here."

"FINALLY!" exclaimed Oryou, already nudging Sakamoto to hurry. "Oryou-san was about to lose her mind from boredom."

"The rest of the base isn't super interesting right now," commented Fujimaru. "Not with us running on emergency power." She laughed bitterly. "You're going to miss actual light pretty quick - or, maybe not, depending on how your eyes work."

She reached out and gave Mash's hand a final squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as Roman's done poking and prodding you, Mashie. In the meantime…" Her eyes turned inward. "I guess I should go do something I've been putting off."

As the door hissed shut behind them, they could still hear Romani's voice, speaking to Mash.

"The first thing I should tell you is that they all know…."

---

 

CHALDEA GENERATOR ROOM​

"So, she's woken up?" Da Vinci grinned. "That's wonderful news, Roman. I'll spread it around here - it'll be a big morale boost for the crew."

Not that morale was a factor for any of them - she didn't play favorites among the Chaldea staff, she had to work closely with almost every single one of them, due to her position as the Technical Advisor - but IF she did, the Engineering Team would have a special place in her heart. The unsung heroes of Chaldea base - despite, or maybe because of the fact that they were largely mundanes - they did the lion's share of the unseen, thankless work that kept the base running.

She appreciated that.

But now that they had a big, visible project to do, they were throwing themselves into it with a fervor and gusto that, at times, threatened to even leave her behind in its wake. And she was loving EVERY minute of it - there's nothing a Universal Genius loves more than an appreciative staff of minions hard-working men and women, ready to make her vision a reality.

And the base's power situation NEEDED her loving touch. They'd been lucky to weather Lev's bombs without being completely crippled - she'd spent almost the entirety of that first, chaotic Singularity right here in the generator room, patching things back together as fast as (in)humanly possible. But the problem with that is that the time crunch they had been under had necessitated the repairs having been quick and very, very dirty. Additional Grails had helped - allowing them to get more and more systems back online, and eliminating the need for power rationing that had been so prevalent in the early days when they were still finding their feet.

But a lot of the base was still held together with little more than duct tape, bubble gum, spit, and a copious amount of elbow grease.

A generator blowing during the last Singularity (and during the fight with Forneus, no less - the absolute WORST possible time), and two others hitting the redline was a wake-up call for her. Now that she had the chance - and the excuse, to take the generators offline for a bit, she was going to give them the complete and total overhaul they needed. Yessiree, by the time she was done, they were going to practically be humming Beethoven's 5th.

And, if she had anything to say about it, they'd see about expanding the amount of Servants that could be available in the field at one time.

Because things were only getting more dangerous for their two Masters - never mind that one of them was a god. She'd seen the wretched state the armor she'd made for him came back in. At least it was intact - unlike his previous set. But she was going to do everything she could with this upgrade to see that the two of them had every advantage she should give them.

As she'd expected, the news of Mash's recovery spread through the room like a ripple of almost visible good cheer. There were high-fives, fist AND chest bumps, and all manner of more esoteric celebration, as the entire room paused for a brief moment before throwing themselves back into the work.

"The little girl's up and at 'em?" Jay's face turned up in a vicious grin. "I knew she wouldn't stay down long. That girl's a scrappy one. She never hit the gym much, so I didn't really get to know her, but watching her train with Kratos…" He shook his head fondly. "She pushes herself. Always aiming for a higher goal."

His eyes twinkled. "Kind of like what we're doing here, eh, guv?"

Da Vinci couldn't help it. In the presence of such a good #1 henchman worker, she just had to indulge herself in some good old-fashioned maniacal laughter. "Jay, my good man, when we're all said and done here, you'll have participated in creating the Mona Lisa of electrical engineering and power distribution. Future generations will sing songs about it - or, they would, if everything we're doing here wasn't so far beyond classified it isn't even funny. But your children's children will know, dimly, SOMEHOW, that their mothers and fathers helped to create a once-in-a-lifetime wonder!"

And that was the best part about this bunch, they had just the right mix of appropriate 'huzzahs' and lackey salt-of-the-earth blue collar laughter and chortles to fit the mood to a T. It really got her creative juices flowing.

"Don't know about all that," said Jay, as the laughter died down. "I think most of us are just happy to be able to REALLY get our hands dirty, for a change." He grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulling it upwards to wipe a smear of oil out of his eyes (and giving Da Vinci a nice view of his chiseled abs, in the process). "It's been nothing but putting out fires, day and night, since we got ourselves blown up. Important stuff, sure, but nothing to really sink your teeth into, y'know?"

He cracked his knuckles, taking a long swing from a bottle of water - clearly labelled as his. "But this?" His grin got wider. "This is some good fucking food, at last."

"A man after my own heart," she crowed.

---

 

THE HALLS OF CHALDEA​

Kratos paused outside the door, his hand raised, fist ready to knock on the door. With Mash's recovery, it was not until they had been ushered from the medical ward that something had been brought to his attention - by accident. As she had been departing for the business she said she needed to attend to, Fujimaru had asked him how the new Servant - his new Servant (he still despised that term) - Altera, was settling in.

It was at that point that Kratos had been forced to admit he did not know the answer to that question - with his concerns over Mash, and the revelations about her….creation - and the implications that had for her remaining lifespan, the strange woman who he had summoned in the last campaign had entirely slipped his mind.

Something that he was not proud of. Intentional or not, he had summoned this soul to fight by his side - she was a soldier under his command, and her well-being was at least somewhat his responsibility.

So he had set out to rectify his error.

A quick call to Da Vinci had confirmed the Saber's location (having barely exchanged more than a handful of words with her, he was loathe to forcibly touch her mind - while he had accepted the necessity of the use of Heroic Spirits in the war they found themselves in, and the mental link they shared was a valuable asset in combat - they were not in combat. He would not broach the privacy of her mind without first clearing it with her - else, he would be worse than a hypocrite, given how tightly he clung to his own privacy). But what Da Vinci had told him only made him chastise himself further.

It seemed Altera had not so much as left the room that had been provided her since she had been shown to it. Indeed, if Da Vinci was correct, she had barely moved from the spot she had stopped in, within it.

(If he was to be a General, then he would do it to the best of his ability.)

He raised his fist and rapped it on the metal door, twice, sound echoing through the hallway. "Altera," his voice sounded.

It took a moment, but then, a reply came. "Not-Mars." Her string in his mind, which, now that they were not locked in combat, felt….almost dull - a sharp contrast from the sheer razor focus it had radiated when they had been battling Forneus - vibrated, faintly. "Am I needed?"

"No," began Kratos, searching for words. (His son was much better at this than he. Mimir was worlds better than the both of them put together - at least when he did not allow himself to carry on endlessly. But neither of them were here - one made do with the army they had, not the one of their desires.) "I wish to speak with you."

There was an indecipherable noise from within, then, her voice. "Enter, then."

Carefully, moderating his strength, Kratos grasped the edge of the metal door and slid it open.

The room was pitch black within. Not even the weak lighting that was permitted in their emergency status. At his waist, his source of light flared to life, illuminating the room. What there was of it.

It was as bare as his quarters - if not more so. Not even a table, to take meals at, or to sit and read (either with a proper book, or the 'tablets' Kratos had yet to utilize). Simply a bed, one that did not look like it had even been touched, and a few chairs, which looked as though they had been similarly ignored. Even the room's shower seemed to show no signs of lingering condensation or stray droplets of water. (Baffling, to Kratos. These showers were one of his favorite things of this strange world.)

Altera was seated on the floor, her legs folded under her, staring up at him. "What is it you wish, Not-Mars?"

Kratos felt his guts twist at….that name. At the time, in the heat of battle, it hadn't been the time or place to deal with that. But now…. "First, my name is Kratos. Not….'Not-Mars'."

She stared at him so long it almost became uncomfortable. "Kr-a-tos," she said, almost rolling the word around on her tongue. "Very well." Her head tilted to the side. "But you have some connection to him, do you not? I called you that because you have a similar air to the Mars I knew. And yet, you are not - the curiosity of it is why I was willing to accept you as my Master."

Kratos bit back a growl. From what Artemis had told him - and from what Cu had elaborated on, later, this Heroic Spirit, despite its human form - was nothing human in any way. Carefully, he settled himself on the ground, across from her. "I served him, once. Long ago."

As always, when he thought back to those days, shame burned inside of him - shame, and disgust. "Blind with a reckless need for victory, I sold my soul to him. In return, he granted me the victory I wanted - and in return, took from me my freedom." A grunt. "Freedom that I had willingly bartered away," he said, his tone making it clear that as much loathing as he held for Ares, in this case, the blame fell squarely upon his own shoulders. "It is why I dislike the term 'Master', having been a slave myself, once."

Again, that long, penetrating look. "You freed yourself from him." A statement, not a question. "You speak of your service in the past - and the thing that sits in front of me is no man. Not anymore."

"Yes," said Kratos, simply. "It was not my intent to summon you - but I did. While you are here, you are no slave, but an ally. As I have told to the others that have chosen to follow me - obey my orders only so long as they are just."

Confusion was written all over her face. "Just?" Her eyes peered up to the ceiling. "I have little experience with….'just'. I destroy bad civilization, while sparing good civilization. Just has little to do with it." She shrugged. "But if your enemies are more of the things we faced, I feel I shall have little issue with your orders. Those things are most definitely bad civilization."

Not for the first time, Kratos wished Mimir was here. His brother was far more adept at interacting and connecting with people than Kratos. Perhaps he would be able to understand this strange Heroic Spirit's talk of good and bad civilization, and render it into a form that could be understood by Kratos. But, for the time being, he supposed this would suffice.

At least until he could better understand the strange Saber that was now bound to him.

"Why do you huddle in the dark?" he asked, changing the subject.

Altera shrugged. "Should I not? Until I am needed, there is little for me here. I am a destroyer. I do not think, or feel. I simply kill and destroy." Her voice was blunt, matter-of-fact. "It is all I am capable of."

Now it was Kratos' turn to stare at her for a long moment. "I thought that way myself, once." Until Faye. Until Atreus. "I have learned that it is possible for anyone, no matter their past, to be something else. Something better." He thought again of Thor, here. So convinced by Odin that he could be nothing else - and yet, Kratos had been able to get through to him, in the end.

(Even though it had been all for nothing, thanks to Odin.)

He fought down the resentment curdling in his gut at the thought of the All-Father, and the many, many crimes that could be laid at his feet. "But one has to try. It is not a labor that can be done in a single day….it may take years, or even lifetimes."

Altera blinked, the first sparks of what might be interest kindling in her eyes. "You are a strange god. Particularly for one who served under Mars." Her lips pursed. "But I do not know where I would even begin with your words."

The silence that followed that stretched. How, wondered Kratos, had this fallen to him? Raising his son, without Faye, had been hard enough. To teach this woman - a fragment of a great calamity, a weapon, as he understood it - to be more than a weapon…..he was ill-suited for it.

(But then, he had been ill-suited to raise his son without Faye - to even be a father, he had thought. And the boy had turned out well - so well he could not find the words for how proud he was of his son.)

It was at that moment the base seemed to almost take a deep breath, then, the lights flickered, and, with a humming sound that seemed to come from everywhere, all around them, the room was bathed in light.

And Chaldea base began to wake up, as power once again flowed through its veins.

Kratos pushed himself up from the ground with a grunt. "Food. We will start by finding you a meal, and I will show you this base that will be your home, for the future." His nose wrinkled. "Though I would suggest a shower, first. The people of this time do not seem to have the tolerance for the musk of battle that those of my home have." Though, truthfully, part of him was growing used to a daily shower. He believed he would miss that, more than all the other magical technology of this world, when he returned to his home.

Altera's head tilted in confusion. "Shower?"

---

 

A DIFFERENT PART OF CHALDEA'S HALLS

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

Fujimaru didn't know whose idea it had been. By the time she woke up from her extra-long nap, it had already long been an established thing. A section of the hallways that crisscrossed the base, one that had once been the rooms for a great many of the staff. Now completely empty - all thanks to the hand of a single man.

At some point in the days after Lev's sabotage, someone (no one knew who - and whomever had been the first wasn't copping to it) had taped the picture of a handful of staff on the walls of this deserted hallway, and painted some words on the wall, underneath a giant banner of 'In Memoriam'. As she understood it, it had sat, undisturbed and unnoticed for a time (for most everyone, there was too much work that prevented anyone from wandering the halls - and the wounds were still too raw and fresh for most people to even consider going into the now-deserted sections of the base), until someone else had stumbled on it.

And who had then added to the wall.

After that, word of mouth had spread, and slowly but surely, the Chaldea Remembrance Wall had grown steadily - anyone and everyone who had something to say, to remember, or to mourn about someone lost adding to the thing.

Fujimaru herself had never really visited it before - she'd been a last-second addition to Chaldea, barely passing through the base's security in time to make the Director's initial briefing (and promptly dozing off in the middle of it - blasted aftereffects from the trip and the security check), so she didn't really know anyone well enough to mourn them. By the time she'd found herself in Fuyuki City of the past, she'd exchanged words with all of four people in Chaldea, Mashie, Roman, the Director, and Lev (and the jury was still out on if he even counted as 'people' - he certainly didn't count as a Chaldean, at least. You wouldn't be finding his picture anywhere but on dartboards or voodoo dolls - and certainly not in this place).

But she was here now.

The flashlight on the headband she was wearing (because she wanted both hands for this) flickered through the gloom as she swept her head from side to side. As a section officially labeled as currently abandoned, these halls weren't even getting the emergency lights the occupied sections were, so it was pitch black here - or would be, if someone hadn't figured out the trick to making smokeless, eternal candles. So, even without her headlamp, she'd have had enough light to see, rows and rows of candles casting dancing shadows across the hallway.

Well, that, and the Bounded Field that was around her.

"I'm really, REALLY glad I asked you to accompany me on this, Lord El-Melloi II," said Fujimaru, with a shudder. "If I had come by myself…..well, it might not have gone particularly well. The Veil's thin here….kinda like I suspected."

"I would say you are fortunate I know - and am capable of casting such a specific Bounded Field, but I suppose you have been listening." His dour expression turned up into a fond smile. "I have mentioned my assistant, and her affinity for ghosts often enough. Though she does not share your vulnerability to spirits and such. She owns a Mystic Code that can handle them quite well without needing my intervention."

"Why'd you learn this, then?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. If I had come down here without this, I'd probably be neck deep in ghosts right now, even as weak of a Spiritualist as I am."

"It was mostly as a precaution, should she be incapacitated and unable to defend herself." His smile turned wry. "Though, it turned out that it was more often me being the one in that situation. Rail Zeppelin as only one such example. Still, I wanted to be able to protect her if need be - especially since it was so often her protecting me."

They drew up to a separate section, one both part, and yet apart from the endless swathe of faces of Chaldea staff. This segment of the memorial also boasted its own description - 'Allies who fell, defending this world alongside us.'

It was dominated by the image of a large, dusky-skinned man, his hair blazing red. A wide, happy grin split his face, as he posed, a short blade in his hands, raised high.

Iskandar.

Beneath his picture was a simple epitaph, written in tiny, almost microscopic script. 'My King'. Fujimaru didn't even need to recognize the hand of her other teacher to know who had penned this - from the moment they had met the Clock Tower Lord, his devotion to the King of Conquerors had been obvious.

Carefully, Fujimaru reached into the messenger bag (it was more a purse, really, but she'd never been much for purses, so…) and pulled out a handful of other photographs, and, after a moment's consideration, affixed them to the wall, underneath the picture of Iskandar, one by one.

Lu Bu, the Flying General.

David, King of Israel.

Edward 'Blackbeard' Teach.

Medea, Princess of Colchis (the older one).

And even that nameless Archer they had met at the end of the Roman Singularity - she hadn't had a picture of him - his appearance on the cusp of their final battle had precluded her getting a photo of him, but when she'd mentioned it, Cu, of all people, had managed to sketch up a reasonable likeness of him.

(The Hound was rolling his eyes as he handed her the sketch. "He might be an annoying bastard that gets under my skin like no one else not named Medb, but he saved our bacon in Rome, and that's worth honoring. Let me know when you've placed that, and I'll see about finding a bit of proper Irish spirits to place as an offering." Cu snorted. "Though, it'll be a small offering. He's still an annoying bastard, at the end of the day.")

As she worked, Lord El-Melloi II spoke up. "Did you not have this problem with ghosts growing up? I would have figured you'd have learned how to cast this particular Bounded Field yourself, given your family's specialty."

Fujimaru shook her head. "No. I don't really stand out all that much - especially compared to my big sister and mother. To put it in really, really simple terms, if the two of them are bonfires, I'm a candle - one that's burnt down to a nub." She considered the wall for a second, then chose where to place David's photo. "On my best day, I might be a lantern, but even then, it's one that's down to only a few drops of oil. No, the ghosts in my home almost never noticed me, not with my mother and big sis Susumu around to catch their attention, not to mention any relatives that might have been visiting."

She knelt down and affixed Blackbeard's photo close to the ground. "That, and most of the local ghosts knew not to mess with anyone in our family unless they really wanted to suffer. They were pretty good about passing that message along to any new spirits that showed up in the area but…..well, ghosts aren't always rational or sane. But the bad ones always made a beeline right for someone else, so I was spared that bit of ugliness."

Probably one reason why both her and Susumu had been in a private elevator academy from the time they'd started school - it kept her big sister around to run interference for any ghosts that might have noticed the runt little sister who would have had trouble fending them off.

She pushed herself up, and ran her eyes over her handiwork. Passable. She'd have to think of proper gravestone inscriptions for them in the coming days - she'd been so distracted with Mashie's convalescence that she hadn't given them much thought since returning. Though she'd probably have to ask Kratos for something for Medea - she hadn't interacted with the woman much at all.

As she was brushing her legs off, Lord El-Melloi II reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a framed photo, setting it directly below Blackbeard's picture. It was that of a girl about Fujimaru's age, her blonde hair tied into two braided pigtails. She seemed to have been on stage when the picture was taken, the photo having captured her in mid-leap, a microphone clutched in her hand, her pink, yellow, and blue jacket flaring out around her. And it was signed, too - 'To Edward. Always glad to hear about another fan! Hope to see you at one of my concerts! Love, Eiko!'.

Fujimaru still couldn't wrap her head around it. "How did you get your hands on that - and more appropriately, where?"

Lord El-Melloi II shrugged. "I've long ago stopped trying to figure out just HOW Kongming does some of the things he does - and why he knows some of the things he knows. But he was VERY insistent on this. Blackbeard, in his eyes, MORE than earned this autograph."

She must have made a noise, because the Clock Tower Lord gave her a look. "Is something bothering you, Master?"

She sighed. "Just……Teach originally told us he had a plan to take on Hornigold, after we used Oryou to get him and Kratos close to the Argo. But he hid the fact that it was a sacrifice play from me." She sighed again, heavier. "I HATE losing people. And I hate it even more when it's like that, someone throwing their life away to take someone else with them."

"Surely you realize this won't be the first time this happens," said Lord El-Melloi II. "You've already seen us suffer setbacks, even losses, in the short time I've known you."

"I know, I know," she muttered. "And I get I'm being naive. But still…..I don't want to lose anyone else if I can help it. Seeing Lu Bu, David, and Iskandar get taken out like that was bad enough. But knowing someone else sacrificed themselves for us….for me. It…it just doesn't sit right with me." She bit her bottom lip. "I only agree to that Archer's suicide play because he was already starting to fade - and even then I'm still second-guessing myself over it."

"And you don't have to say it," she said, quickly, before he had begun to open his mouth, because there was no WAY she was going to interrupt a Clock Tower Lord, regardless of whether he was her Servant or not. "Sensei - Chiron, and Kratos have already told me as much. And I got it from both my mother and my sister while I was growing up, always chastising me because I didn't have the proper temperament for a Mage." On top of her sister convincing her of things that flatly weren't true - like the fact that Mages worshipped the Root, and she'd learn all about that when she was older. She still caught herself praising the damn thing from time to time, since Susumu had let her go on doing that for four damn years before she'd done so, out loud, in a family gathering, and had been promptly laughed out of the room.

Stupid habits being hard to break.

"But I'm still going to try to keep everyone I can alive," she said, continuing. "I saw first hand how badly death affects people growing up - both those still living, and those who were moving on to the other side. And it's not hard to see all the haunted eyes in the hallways, in the cafeteria - pretty much everywhere in Chaldea. Nearly everyone still alive lost someone that was important to them in the explosions, and that's still fresh - most of them probably haven't even had time to mourn properly, with everything else going on."

And yes, that probably included you too, Lord. Even taking into account the fact that Iskandar was probably waiting for you on the Throne, watching your exploits and laughing his ass off with how proud he was of you. But as much as she wanted to say that, she didn't.

The Lord sighed. "Your family isn't necessarily wrong. Mage Society is…..cruel. Cutthroat on the best of days. Those who succeed have developed - or been bred to have a thick skin and a certain level of callousness."

"Even you, Lord?"

He laughed. "Oh no. Goodness no. My family is not nearly as well-established in the Moonlit World." He met her eyes, his expression sheepish. "I'm not even originally an El-Melloi. In my world, my bungling in the Grail War I took part in caused the death of the current head of the family. Afterwards, his younger sister tracked me down."

He shuddered. "She wanted to know what happened - and put me on a clock to tell her by stringing me up, upside down. Then, once I had told my story, she offered me a deal. She was too young, and too untested to take up the mantle of the head of the family. I could live - so long as I agreed to serve her for the rest of my life, and hold the seat awaiting her until she was ready to take it."

He nodded at the expression on her face. "Yes, I was a decoy. She also saddled me with the enormous debts that had been incurred by Lord Kayneth. I was thrown headfirst into the shark-filled waters that was the elite of the Clock Tower." He shook his head. "I think I was the most surprised of any of them that I survived. Especially given the poor impression they had of the boy who I had previously been."

He rolled his eyes, elaborating. "While you've never been to the Clock Tower, as I can understand it, I believe you can imagine the reaction if a student stood up and gave a report on how Mage Society should value hard work over the length of a bloodline and the inheritance of said bloodlines."

Fujimaru blinked. Blinked again. Then ran that sentence through her mind. There was no way he said that in a Clock Tower classroom, to a Lord no less. No one was that stupid - were they?

Aaaaaaand by the look on his face, she said that out loud, didn't she? "....my mouth did the thing where it moves without me knowing, didn't it?" She fell into a bow, 90 degrees at the waist - and she was ready to go full dogeza if she had to. "I'm SO SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!"

He actually laughed - and didn't sound like he was going to just delete her, or turn her into something unnatural. "Master, I keep telling you that you shouldn't be so caught up in protocol where I'm concerned. Yes, I am a Clock Tower Lord….but you are my Master. The usual power dynamics are a bit…skewed, here." His grin morphed into a frown. "Though I would agree that you should never, EVER be so familiar - or flippant with the real me, or any Clock Tower Lord should you have the misfortune to meet them."

"But yes, I DID stand up in Lord Kayneth El-Melloi's classroom and propose exactly that - that we should ignore one of the most hallowed traditions of Mage Society." He rolled his eyes. "I was lucky that I was only laughed out of the classroom, with my teacher's mockery chasing after me. I was ignorant, as only a naive third generation Mage - and the first of my family to even attend the Clock Tower, could be."

A shrug. "I was naive, as you are now. The Grail War - and then being forced to take up the mantle my adopted sister forced upon me made me have to face reality. As I expect this Grand Order we are all wrapped up in will do the same for you." He gave a bitter sniff. "Hopefully you will manage to not be ground down by that, as I was."

Whatever else she was going to say was precluded as there was a buzz that grew in intensity around them, and, then, with a bit of flickering that was rather thready, the lights came on, and the base powered up.

"Oh! Power's back on!" exclaimed Fujimaru, excited at the thought of the properly long, hot shower waiting on her - they'd all had to ration water, as well, while Da Vinci was patching things up.

She was about to bow her head, and say the traditional prayers she had been taught to say for the dead - and then double-time it back to her room for some much-needed pampering, when the nearby loudspeakers crackled.

"Ritsuka Fujimaru. Please report to the Summoning Chamber."

---

 

CHALDEA SUMMONING CHAMBER

TEN MINUTES LATER​

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Fujimaru ran her hands up and down her arms, feeling the raised gooseflesh there - and cursing that she'd rushed to there instead of stopping by her room for a sweater - or a damn space heater. "Like, immediately after getting power back up? Shouldn't you run some more tests?"

Da Vinci shook her head. "Nope. We already did some smaller tests for the grid and most of our systems while we were doing the repairs. Everything is performing well within guidelines - or exceeding it." A VERY pleased grin broke out on her face. "The only thing we couldn't properly test was the summoning matrix, since we quite obviously need a Master for it."

"And with Mash unconscious, the other necessary component was also unavailable," stated Roman. "Not that we'd have even considered so much as attempting a summon with the base on emergency power. Way too much risk."

"But now that everything's humming along, this is the last box we need to check before I can let the boys and girls in Engineering cash in the three-day leave passes I've handed out to them." Da Vinci made shooing motions with her hands. "So, go on. We don't even really need to do a full attempt. We can power it up, make sure everything looks good, have you do the chant, and, if the power doesn't blow from that, we can shut it all down and call it a day. Do a real summoning attempt once we've let the generators sit for a few days to make sure there's no hidden bugs waiting on us."

"Alright," she said. Mash had already wheeled herself to the center of the chamber and set her shield down, and was wheeling herself back behind Fujimaru (Roman, mother hen that he was, had insisted Mash stay on one more day's worth of bed rest - he'd only consented to this under the conditions that Mash remain in a wheelchair, conserving her strength. And from the way Mash's cheeks were puffed out, she was at least mildly aggravated by all this), unless she was needed to defend Fujimaru. So the only thing any of them were waiting on was yours truly.

Though…. "Where's your sign?" she asked Avenger, who had tagged along for this.

The ashen haired woman rolled her eyes VERY exaggeratedly. "You heard what that guy said. My….." She bit off whatever she was going to say. " 'Me' is apparently telling everyone on the damn Throne that she's got a new little sister, so I'm expecting anyone who arrives, or who we bump into in the future to know who I am. Damn thing's pretty superfluous now."

"Ah, ok." Well, nothing for it then. She took a deep breath, and started the chant.

She wasn't even thinking of a message to the Throne, this time, not like she had the last two times she'd put in a call. She was largely on auto-pilot, most of her brain cells still thinking about the hot shower still waiting on her. She'd even allowed her eyes to glaze over a bit.

Which is why she missed when the orbs, which had been lying dormant, suddenly sparked with brilliant gold.

"Well, there's a reaction," said Roman, entirely deadpan. "Just like I said would happen. This is why I wanted to wait, Da Vinci!"

The woman groaned. "You can tell me 'I told you so' later, Roman! Let me keep an eye on the power readouts for now! Everyone else, put on your happy faces, we're about to have visitors!"

The gold rings thrummed, then exploded with power, but instead of a blinding light, a purple haze, thick and sticky and cloying, washed over the room. It smelled……sweet.

When the smoke (mist?) cleared, there was a form standing in the center of the circle. Tiny, petite (a part of her cheered) - something that was obvious, as, despite a purple kimono being draped across her form, she was wearing it name only, as it was wide open, giving everyone an eyeful (and then some!) of her slender body (which was at least covered a little by some black…underwear? Something, at least). One of her hands held a bowl of fruit, while the other grasped a drinking cup - one with liquid sloshing around the edges. Liquid that probably came from one of the three different gourds strapped to her back. Her hair was purple, cut boyishly short, and…..

There were two horns poking out from her forehead.

Fujimaru's mind went white. "ONI!" she screeched, feet scrabbling backwards.

The oni's (WHY WAS AN ONI HERE?) laughter followed her back. "Oh, such a welcome. It's good to see my legend has persisted, after all these years." The oni's voice was deep, husky - it was what she thought syrup would sound like, if it could talk. She stared up at Fujimaru - somehow making it seem like she was looming over the girl, and smiled a lazy smile. "Assassin Class - Shuten Douji. I am grateful to you for summoning me." Her grin grew even wider as Fujimaru's face paled. "And, since it seems you recognize my name, I suppose you'll have no problem with me doing as I please?"

Fujimaru forced her heart to slow the heck down, telling herself over and over again she'd backtalked an actual demon just a few days ago - never mind that both her mother and her gramma had told her horror stories of oni from the crib. Gory ones, at that, which was why they'd stuck with her. "Shuten…..one of the Three Calamities of Japan?" Her voice wavered, which made her want to kick herself.

"In the flesh," she said, widening her arms to give them an even more uninhibited view of her body. "So to speak. May I have the name of the Master who has summoned me?"

Fujimaru swallowed, her throat bone-dry for a variety of reasons. "Ritsuka Fujimaru."

The oni (Shuten FREAKING Douji) blinked. "Fujimaru, you say? I wonder…."

Then she vanished.

There was a burning line on Fujimaru's cheek. And, suddenly, an oni standing right next to her - blood on one of her long, sharp, nails. Languidly, she licked the blood off her finger.

Fujimaru felt a line of wetness dripping down her chin.

The temperature around Fujimaru spiked, and she could smell ash, as Avenger leveled a spear right at the oni's throat. "Step AWAY from the ginger, or I'll see how hot the fires have to get to make oni Flambé!"

"Yhes!" bellowed Mash, her armor forming around her as she leapt up from her wheelchair, moving to support Avenger. "No licking Shen….Senpai!"

She then hiccuped, and wobbled a bit on her feet.

Was……was Mash drunk?

Shuten raked her eyes over the two of them, then lazily raised her hands, and took two deliberate steps back from Fujimaru. "So very high strung. It was only a little blood, to verify something." She popped the cork off one of the gourds on her back and threw it back, drinking deeply from the vessel, then exhaling in obvious pleasure.

"Girl - Fujimaru. Your family speak to the dead, don't they?"

A chill ran down, then up, her spine. "How do you know that?"

Deep, throaty laughter rebounded off the Summoning Chamber's walls. "I knew your family back in my time. One of your ancestors, to be precise. She did me a minor service, and I owed her a boon." Something ugly flickered across the oni's face. "But that cow Raikou prevented me from ever fulfilling it."

She stared at Fujimaru in a manner the girl wasn't entirely sure she liked. "It seems that I'll be able to repay that boon, after all this time."

---

 

HALLS OF CHALDEA

A FEW MINUTES LATER​

It took a few minutes, and A LOT of yelling from both Roman and Da Vinci to get everyone calmed down - and to get Mash back into her wheelchair, something the girl desperately needed. (Apparently Mash was capable of getting drunk off mere atmosphere - who knew? But in this case, the fumes that seemed to surround Shuten had gotten Mash good, she'd merely smelled what she thought was sake, and her imagination had done the rest.) Once the oni had retreated to the other side of the room, and she'd confirmed - for the fifth time, that she was fine (the wound on her cheek really was little more than a scratch - but Roman had put a bandage on it, regardless), they'd taken stock of the situation.

The first thing they'd done had given Fujimaru the silent signal asking if she wanted them to sever the connection between herself and the Servant. And gods, had it been tempting to nod back. But……

Shuten Douji was a nightmare given flesh. Part of her didn't even want to be on the same CONTINENT as her - at least, if half the stories told about her were anywhere within the neighborhood of true. But….

They were up against some pretty big nightmares of their own. And another nightmare, one just as nasty as them might be the perfect thing to throw at them.

So, she'd swallowed the part of her that wanted to run and hide under her bed and call every shrine maiden and exorcist she could get the phone numbers for, and signaled 'no' to Roman. Just like with Kratos and his new Saber, she hadn't meant to summon this….thing. But she had. So she was going to take responsibility, and use her the best she could.

(She really, REALLY hoped she didn't end up regretting this decision.)

"All of humanity, just….gone?" Shuten actually sounded distressed by this. "What a waste. Humans are so much…….fun."

Her tongue slithered over her lips, but the hell of it was, Fujimaru still wasn't exactly sure what kind of 'fun' she meant. Eating them was probably the frontrunner - oni were oni, after all. But tormenting them, or……bedroom activities were also on the table.

(What had she gotten herself into?)

"All of them, all across history," said Fujimaru, pushing her doubts aside. "We're all that's left, at least that we know of." She grimaced. "And we're a skeleton crew as it is," she said, her mind going back to the memorial hall she had been standing in not an hour ago. "But we're halfway done. There were eight Singularities to start, and we've resolved four of them. Four more, and we can bring Humanity back."

"An oni working to save Humanity. The irony of it all…." She laughed again, and Fujimaru still couldn't suppress her shiver. "It almost makes me wish that Raikou was here, to rub it in her face. Though, if I had my pick, I'd prefer her son over her."

Shuten sniffed the air. "Though, I do feel quite a few presences in these halls. Strong ones." She looked back at Fujimaru, her eyes half-lidded. "So it seems I will not be lacking for playmates here, will I, Master?"

"We'll do what we can to keep you from being bored," she said, mustering up her courage. Best nip this in the bud. "Just to check, you don't actually NEED to eat people, do you? Because that won't go over well - not with any of us. And there's one person in particular who you probably really, REALLY don't want to piss off."

Shuten's eyes turned considering, for a hard moment, before the amusement returned to them. "No - as a Servant, I am getting all the…..nourishment I need from you, Master." A note of steel came into her voice. "I said I owed your line a boon, and I agreed to aid you in this quest. Consuming a human, regardless of the pleasure or satisfaction it might give me, would hardly constitute 'aid', if you truly are as short on manpower as you say you are."

Her eyes narrowed. "I gave my word - Ritsuka Fujimaru. Oni are capricious, and none more so than myself, but I, at least, keep my word, WHEN it is given."

There was a warning there - it was delivered lightly, but for a second, Fujimaru felt the pressure, like a blade pressed against her neck - before it vanished. "Un…understood. Just wanted to make that clear, is all."

Shuten was quiet for a minute. "Very well. Just see that you don't forget it." Lazily, she waved her hand. "Now, continue showing me the wonders of this fascinating home of yours."

As Fujimaru's feet began moving again, Shuten's voice washed over her once more. "And while you do so, maybe you can tell me of this fearsome person I should be cautious of."

Fujimaru couldn't stop a small smile from breaking out on her face. This was one of the more entertaining parts of her job. "His name is Kratos - he's the other Master here. But don't call him that, he hates the term." She paused, taking a deep breath. "He's a god from another world."

The click of Shuten's toenails against the metal floors of Chaldea stopped. Then she began laughing. "Oh….my. If you aren't lying….and I hope you wouldn't lie to me, Maaaaster….then this boon will be far less boring to repay than I could have ever imagined."

Probably best to get the meeting of the two of them out of the way, then. "If you want to meet him, I think he's in the cafeteria right now - it's where I was leading you, in any case."

"Where we were heading too, girl," came a familiar voice. She turned to see Cu, walking alongside Sakamoto, Oryou floating idly behind them. "Now that the power's back on, we were looking to get some chow….." His voice trailed off, as he noticed the diminutive woman standing next to Fujimaru. "New Servant?"

"Oryou-san would recognize those horns anywhere," muttered Oryou, her chin resting on Sakamoto's hat. "Human, tell Oryou-san this isn't your doing."

Before Fujimaru could get her mouth open to reply, Shuten was already talking. "My…..the fallen child of the sun. How did you ever get free of that spear that had you trapped?" Her eyes walked up and down Sakamoto's form. "Did you do it, human?"

"Guilty as charged," said Sakamoto, with a shrug.

Shuten's head tilted to the side. "And what did she promise you? Riches? Power? Sex?"

Sakamoto snorted. "Not a thing. I just saw a creature trapped, and thought how much I'd hate that if it was me. So I did what I thought was right."

"Truly?" At his nod, she laughed uproariously. "That must be why she didn't eat you whole - and why the two of you are here, as one Servant, then."

"Oryou-san can see about eating you whole," grumbled Oryou.

"Can someone please explain things for the one person here who ISN'T from the damn Land of the Rising Sun?" griped Cu.

"Cu Chulainn, Shuten Douji," said Fujimaru, making a 'tah dah' gesture at her newest Servant.

Cu's eyes went blank for a heartbeat in the fashion of a Servant getting a download from the Throne, then he whistled, long and low. "That is an actual monster you've got there, girl - but I suppose you don't need me to tell you that, do I?" At her shaken head, and the grim line of her mouth, he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess not. I'd ask if you know what you're doing, but you've had a pretty good head on your shoulders so far. So I'll keep trusting your judgement - though I'm kind of glad you're not my Master right now."

Shuten, for her part, was giving Cu a calculating look. "The fabled Child of Light?" There was a sly grin on her face, as she reached behind her to grasp one of the gourds dangling from her back. "I've heard your people have quite the tolerance for spirits."

She proffered the gourd. "Care to join me?"

Cu's smile was all teeth - especially and including those extra sharp canines of his. "Lady, you had me at drinking!"

---

 

RITSUKA FUJIMARU'S ROOM

MUCH, MUCH LATER​

Their tour had ground to a halt at the cafeteria. Kratos hadn't been there - according to Tanya, they'd just missed him, he'd apparently gotten a meal with his new Servant, then they'd departed. But Shuten, despite her disappointment in missing out on seeing the god, hadn't let that stop her.

She and Cu had promptly claimed a table for themselves, and had proceeded to tie one on. Only, it wasn't just limited to one. All three of Shuten's gourds had seen use, as well as some of the Irish spirits Cu had managed to dredge up - he'd apparently bumped into Sakamoto while coming back from leaving his offering to the nameless Archer - and a not inconsiderable amount of the base's alcohol stock, as there was already something of a party going on, with the Engineering crew celebrating a job well done.

Whatever was in those gourds, it was potent. She'd seen some of the biggest, burliest guys she'd ever seen in her life asking for a sample - then, after taking a single sip, keel right over, out cold. Alive, but passed out drunk - with a dopey smile on their faces, too.

Cu had LOVED every minute of it.

In between shots, they'd been swapping war stories - the bloodier the better - and by the time Fujimaru thought to look at a clock, it was well past her bedtime, and the two of them were still going strong.

Both Cu and Shuten had waved her off when she'd tried to apologize for not being able to stay, or for not having shown Shuten where her quarters were. Cu had laughingly said he'd make sure she found her way to a bed tonight (and part of her quailed as she realized he said 'a' bed, not 'her' bed), and told her to go get some rest.

She wasn't the best at taking a hint, but that one was LOUD and CLEAR, so she'd taken her leave, and prayed the base would still be standing in the morning.

Even so, as tired as she was (and STILL not having gotten that hot shower yet!), she made a detour to poke her head into medical before heading to her room, just to check on Mashie. The girl was sleeping soundly, Fou snuggled into her arms like a stuffed animal, so all was well there. She'd smoothed her Kohai's hair back, before leaving her to her rest, and FINALLY heading for her room.

And that HOT SHOWER.

Only, when the door to her room hissed open, and the lights powered on, there was already someone in her bed.

Or, possibly more accurately, something.

Fujimaru blinked. "Shuten……why….why are you here?"

The oni sighed. "And he was doing so well, too. So, I offered that boy some of my most prized stock. Premium Ogre Killer." She sighed, even deeper. "But one sip, and he was just like those humans, snoring blissfully away."

She huffed out a breath. "Kintoki could have handled it. But, I suppose he did better than most, considering."

Fujimaru's throat was dry again. "That still doesn't answer why you're here, though."

Shuten looked at her like she was a particularly slow child. "Well, I still needed someone to show me to the quarters that had been prepared for me." She slid her legs off Fujimaru's bed, and stood up.

"But also, I wanted to speak with you."

The oni turned to regard the small photograph that rested on the nightstand, next to Fujmaru's bed. "Do you know what your ancestor did for me, Ritsuka Fujimaru?"

Fujimaru badly wanted to sit down, but she was so wired with adrenaline right now that she knew, much as she wanted to, there was no way she could sit still. "Not a clue. This is the first I've even heard of any of this."

"Mmmmm……since I died, it's possible it was considered to be irrelevant - one cannot collect on a boon held by a dead oni, after all." She picked up the photo, eyes flickering over it. "But I think it's more likely your ancestor simply never spoke of it at all."

"I tricked her, originally. It was one night that Ibaraki and the rest of the oni were rampaging through Kyoto. I tagged along, because it suited me to do so - and to make sure Ibaraki didn't get in too far over her head. But Raikou and her children were ready for us - much more so than usual, and we scattered. I had hoped to play with Kintoki for a bit, but that horrible bitch of a woman wouldn't let me get near him - even took it upon herself to chase me throughout the city, hurling arrows and lighting after me, every step I took."

"Your ancestor, Neya, was a minor functionary in the palace. I managed to steal a hood, and convinced her I was merely a regular woman, fleeing from the dreadful oni that were rampaging through the city." She grinned. "She offered me sanctuary in her home - it was just her there, until the danger had passed."

Shuten's grin turned into a frown. "I hadn't known she was a Mage - as soon as I crossed the threshold, her expression turned into one of terror - it was clear she knew exactly what, and possibly who, I was. And yet…..she didn't turn me out, or raise the alarm, or attack me. She merely bowed, and, though she was trembling like a leaf, offered me the hospitality of her home."

"She kept her word," Fujimaru heard herself saying the words, as if from a great distance.

"She kept her word," agreed Shuten. "I had been planning on eating her, then setting her home ablaze - the fire, I felt, would distract Raikou long enough for me to slip out. But in respect for her bravery, even in the face of what I'm sure she thought was certain death, I didn't. I even snuck out of the city in the early hours of the morning without causing the citizens of Kyoto any further harm."

Shuten set the photo down, and sank back onto the bed. "After that, I occasionally found myself slipping back into the city, by myself, merely to check up on her. And sometimes, to talk to her."

Fujimaru blinked. Her mind was having a hard time wrapping itself around all of this. "Why?" she asked.

"Do you know much about oni, girl?"

"Just what the myths and legends say," Fujimaru shrugged. "If there are still oni in Japan these days, I never saw any - or heard of anyone who saw one, outside of really obvious hoaxes."

Shuten flopped back onto the bed. "Oni are creatures of desire - emotion, need, naked will……..there was this mind-doctor I met on the Throne who described us as pure Id - and I tend to agree, once he explained what he meant by that."

"Especially when they are young, most oni don't think much beyond their immediate needs, and those are almost entirely the most primal ones. Meat and drink, sleeping when they're tired - and breeding. Oni are VERY fond of that last one, particularly with human women." That tongue again peeked out from between her lips. "Some of them never grow out of it. Most die at the hands of another oni, or other yokai, or the blades of the like of Raikou and her children before they can - never managing to gain the wisdom to look beyond their desires."

She chuckled. "Even Ibaraki was very….childish, at times. Had she taken him seriously from the start, she would never have lost her arm like she did. But she was so convinced of the superiority of oni over humans, that it took her running into Tsuna to learn some humility. And even then, she was still very, very direct in her assaults on Kyoto. I had to work hard to keep her from biting off more than she could chew, or stirring up too much trouble."

Shuten shrugged. "I found that…..for a brief time, it was…nice to just speak to another person. Even if she was terrified of me, she was…different than dealing with the oni of Mt. Ooe. Not as fulfilling as playing with Kintoki, but still……I enjoyed it, when the mood was on me."

Shuten's head tilted up, and she could see those inhuman teeth peeking through the smile on the oni's face. "So that is why I am here, Master - the origin of the boon I owe your family."

"I hope you will prove as amusing as your ancestor."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And Fujimaru gets a new Servant. This one, however, isn't going to be anywhere as easy to handle as her other three.

They've never outright STATED who Oryou is the child of, but I tend to favor that it's Amaterasu. Hence Shuten's 'child of the sun' line.

More than a couple things I just couldn't fit in here, so next chapter will deal with them.

Chapter 51: Post-Okeanos 2

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 51

QUARTERS OF ROMANI ARCHAMAN​

Romani Archaman, for once, hadn't needed to be dragged from his station by Da Vinci when his shift was over. After a trying three days that had consisted of - in order - the final battle of the ocean Singularity, Mash's sudden collapse - and the terror-filled hours he and the rest of the medical team spent repairing the damage done to her - then, the day and a half of just….waiting, and praying, that she would wake up, he was officially worn out.

Her coming out of the healing coma they had her in had seemed like it would signal the end of the tension and stress (or, at least, a decrease of it - the cat was out of the bag on Mash's secrets, and there were going to be some uncomfortable conversations in the coming days - neither Kratos or Fujimaru had taken the news well, to say nothing of some of the rest of the Servants), and would give him some time to recharge his severely drained batteries.

Only for Fujimaru to summon what could charitably be called a very, very dangerous Servant, during what was supposed to be just a test of the power grid for the Summoning Chamber. Really, it kind of tracked for their luck, considering their other Master brought home a shard of the White Titan - which he had also accidentally summoned.

To the girl's credit, she seemed to have some measure of control over the oni - IF the thing was telling the truth about owing one of Fujimaru's ancestors a favor, and not just playing along for her own amusement. But, at least, the rest of the day had passed without incident, other than a handful of men (and one Irish Servant) who would probably have one hell of a hangover the next day.

He had no idea what tomorrow would bring. But his eyes were blurring enough to let him know he'd need at least a few hours of sleep to face it. So he'd signed off, and headed back to his room - passing by a Da Vinci who had obviously been heading to the Command Room to drag him out of his chair - and who had just stared at him as he passed her by with a wave.

(Point to him - it was one of the few times he'd gotten one over on her.)

His feet had been dragging on the metal floors by the time he'd made it back to his room, and keyed his code into the door. His bed was singing to him like Magi*Mari doing one of her singles.

Only problem, there was already someone in it.

And worse, Avenger had only barely looked up as he'd come into the room, absently throwing a wave his way as she huddled over a tablet, staring at it like it held the answers to the secrets of the universe.

His brain, still begging to be put out of its misery for at least 8 hours, struggled to function. When he finally remembered how to speak, he was far from eloquent. "How the hell do you still keep getting in here?"

Avenger snorted. "Memorized your room code," she replied, still not looking up.

Ok that was….not what he was expecting. For a second, he'd been worried that his wards had been weakening, but no, she just got in the mundane (and sneaky) way. His brain sluggishly began to wake up, and he asked the next pertinent question. "Then WHY are you here?"

"Needed your room's secure connection," she muttered, staring particularly hard at something - before groaning and swearing, fingers jabbing at the screen of the tablet.

He blinked. "For….?"

Her finger paused mid-jab, her head finally looking up at him. "Fuck, Doc - you look like shit."

His temper frayed, just a bit. "That would be because I've been up almost 48 hours straight…..and SOMEONE is in my bed!"

She looked down at herself, and almost seemed to realize where she was sitting. "Oh, well, here." She rose from the bed, her metal hand waving towards it. "All yours, Doc."

He barely managed to kick off his shoes before he was collapsing into his bed, arms gathering his extra-soft pillows under his head. He took a deep breath, then let it out, feeling his body FINALLY starting to relax.

Though the sound of a body settling to the floor of his room prevented him from fully relaxing. Groaning internally, he rolled over, peering off the edge of the bed - and over Avenger's shoulder. "So, what are you looking at?" he asked, his voice starting to slur a bit as his brain fought to stay awake.

"What you eggheads captured of the final fight," answered Avenger, her back resting against the bed frame, the tablet against her upraised knees.

He was drawing a blank. "Any particular reason why? Or why you have to do that here? It's not like those things are under lock and key - pretty much anyone can view them through their personal tablets. I know Chiron uses them as part of his lessons with Fujimaru, for one example."

"One, because I wanted your super-secure Director connection to do this on so I could be sure no one else is spying on me over the network. Two, because I wanted your super-secure…..you know who wards to make sure no one else is spying on me though more spooky means." She sighed, and tilted the thing so he could see better.

He adjusted his head, and squinted - it seemed to be the part of the fight where she'd caught Mash and Fujimaru.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because she took a deep breath, and then said seven words that sent a chill down his spine.

"I think I touched the Ark, Doc."

His mind went blank - then he woke up fully, as the brain of the man who was once renowned as the greatest Mage to ever walk the Earth fully took that statement in. "But…..you're still here." Ok, maybe not his most eloquent, but he was still waking up.

The look Avenger gave him was OOZING with sarcasm - and her voice wasn't far behind it. "Thanks, oh great Mage. I didn't fucking notice."

He took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm really not at my best right now." He forced himself to wake up a bit more, and watched as she replayed the fight, from a few different angles.

It was then he got it. "You're trying to confirm it."

"Ring a ding ding, Doc. Finally showing why you're the returning fucking champion." She scrolled past the part where she presumably touched one of the most sacred objects in Christendom/Judaism, and growled. "Only none of the damn eyes you had on this fight can give me a good angle on if I did or didn't! FUUUUUCK!"

She managed to restrain from hurling the tablet into the opposite wall - but only just, he judged, given how badly her shoulders were shaking with what he could tell was frustration.

"That would explain why you wanted the security of my wards to do this, then," he said, his voice placating. "If….you really did touch the Ark, and weren't smote on the spot, then….that's a big deal." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "And something we wouldn't want to advertise - not with how many eyes are on us."

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. "This isn't something that's common knowledge, but when Kratos nearly died in Rome, he met……someone….or something, when he was hovering between life and death. Whatever that thing is or was, it said it had been watching Kratos, and it wasn't the only one."

He wiggled an arm out from under his pillow, and slid it out off the bed - next to Avenger's head. "Our enemy was one of the ones he named, which isn't surprising at all. The demons of the Ars Goetia are clearly communicating with each other - and watching our progress and adjusting their plans with each encounter."

"Wait," said Avenger, holding up a hand. "You just admitted they were the demons of your seal - you didn't try to deny it, or find some way to downplay it, or any of the other denial-ridden shit you've been pushing since we put Lev in the ground."

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "After what we just saw in the last Singularity - possessing a Servant the caliber of Herakles, and then, inviting MORE of them into his body…..no, COMMANDING them? All while they appeared to be communicating with a kind of hive consciousness?" He shook his head. "There was a hierarchy amongst the demons of the Ars Goetia - each of them had their areas, and each area had the one that dominated the others in those spheres. No…..I don't know how it happened, but I can't deny what I'm seeing with my own two eyes anymore."

"Somehow, someone cracked my seal. And it's led to all………this…."

"Doc, you BETTER not be blaming yourself for this. Best I can fucking understand, you did the best you could to make sure the world would be safe from those things after your death." Her right hand reached up and roughly thumped him on the head - she was pulling her strength enough that he thought she might have been trying to be comforting. "No matter how wise you were, you couldn't see every damn thing that was coming. This, all of this shit, it ain't your fault."

"I can't help but feel at least a little responsible," he muttered - which got him a sharp jab in the side from his guest.

"Doc, don't make me hit you." He felt her hand balling up into a fist. "I don't fucking care if the road to hell is paved with good intentions, gold bricks, or fucking candy bars. Don't carry any more shit than you have to - because your ass is already carrying the weight of the damn world as it is. I'm guilty for the shit I did in France. Kratos is responsible for the shit he did in his past - just like the Snake, that Irish loon, and all the rest of our merry band of dysfunctional Heroic Spirits are answerable for the things they got up to in life."

She fidgeted around, dropping her chin onto the edge of his bed and staring straight into his eyes. "But you are NOT responsible for what some fuckstick did with your Seal, not after you died and they got their hands on it and didn't know to leave well fucking enough alone. Got it?"

"Got it," he said, partially because he wasn't looking to get hit, but only partially. "That….thanks. I think I've been in something of a spiral since I accepted it, but it's only really hit me since Mash woke up and I really allowed myself to think about it."

She snorted, turning back around to lean against his bed frame again. "Doc, I told you, even if I'm shit at it, I'll listen if you need to talk. You can't keep this kind of stuff bottled up, not when you're under as much pressure as you already are. We need your stupid ass functional - which you WON'T be if you keep finding things to guilt trip yourself over."

Her elbow flashed out and nudged the bed - from how much it shook, he thought he should be glad she wasn't on a level to dig it into his ribs. "Anyways, you were telling me about how Grumps had some near-death experience and met the boogeyman?"

"As I said, the presence mentioned that our enemies were watching us. But it didn't stop with them." Again he stuck out a hand, and began raising fingers. "It admitted to keeping an eye on us, and listed a handful of other names. From what Kratos recalled, he specifically also named 'The Golden King', 'He Who Claims the Mantle of the Sun', and 'The Mage of Flowers'."

Unnoticed by both of them, Romani's laptop dinged - a signal he had set up to chime when Magi*Mari was online and streaming.

"Cryptic-ass motherfucker," muttered Avenger. "Why do these sorts always have to talk like they get off on stringing us along with all their spooky-ass double talk?" His bed rattled, as she thumped her metal arm into the frame. "So, you got any idea who that chucklefuck was talking about? Or who the hells he is?"

"Kratos didn't even SEE whoever it was that was talking to him. He only had impressions to go on - big, carried a massive sword, and has some affiliation with death itself. Kratos originally thought it was Thanatos - the one from our world, come for him."

He saw the back of her head tilt to the side. "Wait, not Hades?"

Romani gave a tired chuckle. "No, Hades was the god of the Underworld - and wealth and some other things, but only the dead, not death." He waved a hand. "But that's beside the point. We don't have enough clues to go on to identify the speaker, but the other names are a bit more obvious." His mouth flattened into a thin line. "The Golden King can't be anyone but Gilgamesh."

Avenger started, her spine going ramrod straight. "Ok…..that pinged a part of my brain that wasn't living 'me', but Ruler 'me'.....don't ask me how Gilles crammed that in - probably Holy Grail bullshit. It's BARELY a sliver of a sliver, not like the Saint stuff he bolted onto my brain, but that name…." She shuddered. "The feeling I got is that he is one person she never EVER wanted to have to deal with, either as a moderator, or otherwise."

"He's probably the most powerful Servant on the Throne - he was the first, after all. And he has an ego to match. I can imagine why she wouldn't have wanted to deal with him - I can only hope we don't cross paths with him in the process of trying to restore Humanity." He rolled over onto his back. "The 'one who claims the mantle of the sun' is less clear. That could be any number of people or gods from throughout history - Helios, Amaterasu, Huitzilopochtil, Ra, to name a few. Or, to branch from that, the Pharaohs claimed to be Ra incarnate, so….throw a dart at a dartboard." He chuckled. "Heck, even Louis XIV from your homeland could be on the table - he styled himself as the Sun King, after all."

"Yeah, seems like we'd have a better chance of shitting in a swinging bucket than guessing that one," muttered Avenger. "What about that last one?"

"The Mage of Flowers? That's Merlin." He grimaced. "That's another one I hope we don't run into."

"You don't sound particularly fond of him," observed Avenger. "You two not see eye to eye or something?"

"I never met him - other than the people who knew him in life, no one has. He's supposedly sealed in the stone tower in the heart of Avalon, thus, he can't die. Which also means he can't become a Servant." He shifted on the bed, getting comfortable. "But I heard stories about him. He's not human, and I don't mean that in the same manner as how Servants aren't human. Heroic Spirits are at least the records of humans - mostly, though exceptions seem to be popping up more and more."

"In Merlin's case, he's not and never was human - he's an incubus, a demon. So trying to understand him, or expecting his morals and values to resemble a human scale is….futile, at best. He's at least an ally of Humanity, as far as I could ever tell, but he's….unpredictable. Easily as unknowable as that oni Fujimaru just summoned, or a proper deity like Artemis." He shrugged. "He's incredibly powerful, he could probably rival my Magecraft back when I was a Servant, but he'd be almost impossible to control."

He huffed out a breath. "But it's all moot, anyways. Like I said, he's trapped in Avalon, so the odds of us running into him should be this side of impossible."

There was a whisper-quiet snicker from Romani's laptop that, again, went unheard by the occupants of the room.

"Doc……you DO remember what both that pirate and our own little Squeaks told the Irish lunatic, right, when he said it'd be 'impossible' for him to meet his slavedriver of a teacher, right?" Avenger's tone was dry as a bone. "About how the impossible was becoming almost fucking mundane, with how often it was happening these days?"

Romani shuddered. "Point taken."

They were quiet for a bit, just letting the silence and the darkness of the room bear down on them.

"Anyways, we've gotten way off track," began Romani. "Do you really, honestly, think you touched the Ark?"

He saw Avenger's shoulders hunch up in a shrug. "I honestly don't fucking know. Everything was going so crazy at the damn time, and all I was thinking was that I had to get between Red and Squeaks and keep THEM from touching it. I was flailing around with my Murder Arm, grabbing onto the two of them with my other arm, and we were all tumbling like we were in the spin cycle…..but I swear I felt my left hand touch SOMETHING. But I ain't sure - and it's not like I get much in the way of touch feelings from the Murder Arm, anyways."

"I'd hoped I could get a clear view from the replays, but……well, so fucking much for that idea," she muttered.

"Does it really change anything?" he ventured.

Her head twisted about, and a pair of confused yellow eyes peered at him. "I mean, if you had confirmation that God was really taking an interest in your life, would you really be doing anything different with that knowledge? Everyone had their misgivings about having you on the roster after what you did in the French Singularity, but, you've been an asset. Whether you're doing it for revenge, or actually because you want to Be Better, you've fought for Humanity. If you knew that God put you on that path, would you just suddenly try to hop off of it?"

She was quiet for a long, long time. "I don't know," she eventually admitted. "I hate Lev and the rest of his fuckhead buddies who toyed with Gilles, with me like that. I haven't NEARLY gotten my pound of flesh from them. At the same time, it's hard to differentiate 'Humanity' from the people who roasted 'me'. Knowing that I was never Jeanne all along makes it easier to tune those voices out, but they're still THERE."

She made a grumbling noise. "But even if I don't like people, there's individuals I like. Red, and Squeaks, for two. Grumps….isn't bad." Her eyes turned upwards, and a very faint blush tinged pale skin at that admission. "Even you're not bad company, Doc. So even if I possibly couldn't give two shits about most of the people in the world, there's a few I'd hate it if they weren't around anymore."

She twisted around, flopping back against the bed frame again. "I just wish I fucking KNEW! If I don't have any choice in….anything, much less the path my life's taking, this isn't a BAD place to be, but I just want to fucking know!"

Before he could think better of it (and silently praying he didn't pull back a stump), he reached out and patted her on the head. "Back in my day, when God was a lot more….present and vocal, actual Signs were rare. You heard how my father said that God worked through a prophet to let him know he'd sinned. Even in the Old Testament, God worked subtly more often than you think. It wasn't non-stop Burning Bushes and Pillars of Salt, despite those being the things most people remember."

He chuckled. "To say nothing of the Ten Plagues of Egypt."

He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "My father was probably right in the advice he gave you, you're just going to have to wait for a sign - though I agree with him in that just telling you to 'have faith' is entirely the wrong answer for you."

She groaned, and her shoulders slumped, but he could see her accept it in the line of her body. In some way, he could understand - he'd sell just about anything he had, just short of his soul, to have an answer to the whole Demon Pillar question.

"How are you holding up, Doc?" she asked, changing the subject. "In the span of a couple days, we ran into your old man, you seem like you've accepted what everyone else has about these Demons, and then everything with Squeaks." She reached up to awkwardly jab him in the side. "Where's your head at?"

"Honestly, seeing him again wasn't that bad. Even if he did make me want to tear my hair out at times." He loved his father, he did, but….. "The other two things…..I could be doing better. The thing with Mash, especially. Fujimaru was on pins and needles with her - I'm really worried how she's going to handle things with Mash, going forward."

He swallowed. "And I'm feeling some of that myself, given what an incredible weapon that Noble Phantasm is. I want to absolutely forbid her from ever using it again - but knowing what it is and what it can do to our enemies….I don't know that I'll be able to hold to that restriction, if things get dire enough."

Avenger started. "Wait, you know what that thing is? How?" Her head tilted back. "Some super secret spell you used to decipher the gibberish we all heard when she was saying its name?"

He shook his head. "No, I recognized it. It's the Sword of Strange Hangings - it was MY sword, once, and before that, my father's. If he had still been alive when she drew it, he'd have recognized it in an instant, just like I did."

He could hear Avenger fidgeting. "Should….should we tell her?"

Romani lolled his head back into the pillow - before cramming another pillow over his face. "I honestly don't know. On the one hand, telling her might allow her to use it more effectively - or lessen the backlash when she does. But how do we test that when there's the possibility that doing so might take even more of her lifespan away - or possibly kill her outright?"

"On the other hand, how do we tell her and explain where we got this information from?" he continued. "And…..maybe there's a reason the Heroic Spirit bonded to her - and I have a pretty good idea of who it is, now - hasn't fully disclosed the information she should have gotten when the bond was first made. As powerful as a Noble Phantasm as that is, maybe she needs time to adjust to its power, to make her body stronger before he'll finally reveal himself to her…..I don't know. There's the possibility that telling her, rather than letting her discover these things on her own, will do more harm than good."

"It doesn't seem like there's any right choice here," he muttered.

"Shit."

---

 

CHALDEA LIBRARY​

Cerejeira Elron was up bright and early today - like every day. The records room - or library, if you wanted to be simple about it, was her domain - but an understaffed one. Almost everyone of the library staff who had survived the bombs had been reassigned to more critical areas of the base. It was just her and a few other people left to oversee the records room, in the end.

If they had anyone else as the head of Records, it would have been a nightmare. But she had been blessed with a picture perfect memory, and, honestly, she loved the work she was doing here. So, like clockwork, she was here, every day, no days off, to relieve one of her staff from their turn on the night shift.

Most days, it wasn't demanding work. The most taxing thing she might have to do is track down a loaned out tablet that someone wandered off with, or pinging someone about returning a restricted file (one that hadn't been digitized) because someone else needed it. Tedious, at times, but nothing too terrible.

No, her real busy days were the days right after a Singularity. When the official reports of what went down in them had to be filed - and she had to 'creatively alter' the story that was being entered as 'official'.

Because she'd signed the Geas Scroll, the same as everyone else in Chaldea had - and then had found out that the huge, muscled man who had saved them was a god - and one from another world, at that.

Yes, there was no way they could allow the Clock Tower to find out about that.

And even beyond that, they had already summoned - or adopted, she supposed - more Servants than they had ever had the clearance for. Not by much, but they were only halfway through the Singularities - and even ignoring that they were split between two Masters, no single person was ever supposed to command so many. So that was another looming disaster for when this was all over.

At least the large number of Servants was playing right into the plan she'd suggested to Director Romani to help explain how a backwater Mage from a land the Clock Tower put zero stock in was managing to fight, and win against an enemy that had obliterated Humanity in one fell swoop. Write her off as merely a battery, one that hung back and let the Servants do everything, all while omitting the foreign god who could not be spoken of.

It was just plausible enough to pass scrutiny - so long as the reader had the expected amount of arrogance. And given it would be looked over by the elites of the Clock Tower, that was likely a given.

So that was what she found herself doing this morning, hunched over her workstation, searching for the words necessary to paint the plausible fiction she was writing of the latest Singularity in the light of something that actually happened. Typically, she had mornings to herself - unless someone was pulling an all-nighter for some reason, she didn't usually see any visitors until it got closer to noon.

Though there were exceptions - one notable one in particular.

She didn't even look up as she heard the door hiss open. Medusa was as predictable as the tides off the home she grew up in in Portugal. Any day she wasn't deployed to the field, or on watch in the Command Room, she showed up in the records room around 9 AM, like clockwork. "I already set the tablet you were using at your usual place, Medusa." she muttered, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

Her reply was liquid, unfamiliar laughter. "My, this is certainly a new experience. It has been centuries since anyone referred to me as a god….even mistakenly."

Cerejeira's heart sped up, and she froze, stock-still, for a second. Inch by painful inch, her eyes moved upwards.

Standing before her was the subject of the all hands memo that had gone out yesterday - the oni that their human master had accidentally summoned. Her perfect memory immediately started calling up pertinent (as she saw them) sections of the memo.

'The oni has agreed to not harm any of Chaldea's staff, due to an obligation she owes Fujimaru's ancestors. Even with this being said, we caution ALL staff to be EXTREMELY wary in dealing with the oni (Shuten Douji). Oni lie. If you at any time feel you are in jeopardy, do not hesitate to use the issued panic buttons you are all expected to have on you at all times. If you must interact with her, the recommendation from the Technical Director/Vice Director is to make sure the oni is entertained, and to be respectful. Whatever you do, under NO circumstances are you to provoke her. Even if it does not cause a situation, directly provoking Shuten Douji could be the grounds for a court-martial. See the attached list of activities that are STRICTLY forbidden where Shuten Douji is concerned.

ADDENDUM: After the events of last evening, it has been concluded that drinking with the oni is not a restricted activity. It seems she will not attempt to poison, accidentally or on purpose, any of Chaldea's staff. Be aware that in the event of any drinking contests, wagers are expected to be paid promptly and immediately. And in the event of overindulgence - 'I was drinking with the oni' will not be accepted as an excuse for being late to or missing a shift, or for poor performance while on the clock.'

She recalled all of that - could see it in her mind's eye as if it was sitting on the desk right in front of her. But, even with that information available to her, she still felt her mouth opening, and heard herself saying: "Food and drink are prohibited in the Records Room."

Oh God. Oh GOD! She was going to die!

The oni blinked. "Is that so?" She ran a finger across one of the gourds strapped to her back. "And if I don't, are you going to deny me access to this room…..human?"

Cerejeira's heart, which had already been racing, sped up even more. "Yes." Her voice trembled as she said it, but she forged ahead. "Beyond the possibility of a spill damaging one of the tablets - which we can't easily replace given our isolation, there's also numerous rare texts - from the Late Lord's personal collection - that are barely holding themselves together despite the stasis spells on them. Whatever you might do to me isn't worse than whatever WILL happen to me if I let so much as a page of those works get so much as a crease in them."

"Boooooring," sighed Shuten. Those inhuman eyes looked, really looked at Cerejeira, and sharp fangs peeked through her grin. "You seem to be terrified of risk - but what fun is life without it?"

"I'll drag you out of here myself if you end up getting this place shut down, even temporarily," came a voice from the doorway.

Shuten lolled her head back, then upwards a bit, as she took in the woman standing in the doorway. "Hmmmmmmm…..and you must be who I was mistaken for…..the fearsome Gorgon herself?" She sniffed. "I don't see the resemblance."

Medusa didn't react. "This is when I usually arrive. Miss Elron just has that memorized. She simply wasn't expecting anyone else this early." She seemed to glare down at the oni. "Now, are you going to comply with her demands, or will I have to remove you?"

Cerejeira's hands shot up. "Ladies, please……"

Shuten ignored her. "You seem fairly tame for such a famed monster." Her head tilted to the side, as she considered Medusa. "But you're not one of my Master's Servants, so you must be with the Foreign God. What an influence he must have, if he's made you so…..mundane, instead of monstrous."

"Think of me what you will," said Medusa, a few strands of her hair starting to move of its own accord. "But either behave yourself, and put away those gourds, or go somewhere else and leave us in peace."

For a second, it almost seemed like the oni was about to take her up on that offer. There was a sudden spike of mad bloodlust, and her body seemed to tense. Then it was gone, and she shrugged, the gourds vanishing. "As much fun as that might be, I DID make a promise to my Master. And destruction for its own sake doesn't sound amusing right now. So I'll play nice….this time."

"Good," said Medusa, brushing by the oni without a second glance.

Though Cerejeria saw that she wasn't going to be so easily rid of her - as, once Shuten had selected a tablet, she quickly settled herself at the same table Medusa was using, to the Rider's ire, if the continued animation of her hair was any sign.

"Such fascinating technology," said Shuten, her sharp nails clicking against the glass of the tablet. "So much information contained in something the size of a mere scroll. It's one thing to hear of it when we're summoned, but another to hold in your hands and see it for yourself." Her smile grew wider as she lazily thumbed through the display on her screen. "And I see the works of Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon have survived to this modern age."

Despite herself (and despite TRYING to focus on the report she was doctoring), Cerejeira couldn't help herself. "Did….you happen to know them?"

Shuten's head swiveled around to regard her. "Not personally. Esteemed Court Ladies like them were rarely on the streets in the times I normally visited Kyoto. And their homes were far too well-guarded for me to pay them a personal visit. But Neya occasionally had dealings with them, though she mostly only saw them from a distance - and mentioned that they were both acclaimed for their writing."

She shrugged. "I might have managed to….acquire….some of their works, out of curiosity." Her nails made a series of staccato noises as they drummed on the table's surface. "I found the Murasaki one's writings a touch…..dry, for my tastes. The Pillow Book was far more entertaining."

Medusa made a noncommittal noise. "I haven't read them. Perhaps I should."

Shuten laughed. "Don't do so on my recommendation. It's rare that I could muster the interest to make it through a book. Too many other pleasurable distractions." Her fangs were showing again. "Or heads to crack, when the oni on Mt. Ooe were getting unruly, and they needed a reminder of why Ibaraki was the one in charge."

Medusa was quiet for a long time. "We didn't even have a city nearby. We chose the Shapeless Isle because it was remote. Far from humans. It was….necessary….but I missed books."

"Yes, but even then, they didn't leave you alone, did they?" Shuten leaned back in her chair. "At least the humans were nice enough to deliver themselves to you. We had to hunt when we wanted fresh meat."

Cerejeira heard Medusa take a quick, sharp breath. "What I did….all of it, was only to defend my sisters."

Shuten scoffed. "Maybe at first, but it didn't stay that way, did it? I know your legend, the same as you know mine. I don't know why you're pretending to be something you're not."

There was a distinct hiss in Medusa's voice when she replied. "Maybe because I do not like where my choices led me." Carefully, she set her tablet down. "My sisters dead, and my head cut off by some 'hero'. Is that not the same place your story ended, Shuten Douji?"

"Yes," she agreed, a bright smile on her face. "And I wouldn't have had it any other way. The only regret I could say I have is drinking that poisoned brew. Without it, I could have gotten to have the most wonderful battle with Kintoki before the end - but either way, I died as myself, having been true to myself." She stared straight at Medusa. "Why deny yourself - deny what you are? It makes no sense to me."

Medusa's voice was whisper-quiet. "Maybe because I have found someone who believes I can be better…..more than I was. And not a monster, anymore."

"This Kratos?" asked Shuten. "It seems that I must meet this Foreign God, then. He will either be very, very entertaining……or drearily boring."

"He trains Mash - one of your Master's other Servants, every evening in the Simulator," said Medusa. "You're welcome to watch."

Cerejeira couldn't suppress a shudder at the look of glee on the oni's face.

---

 

HALLS OF CHALDEA

OUTSIDE MASH KYRIELIGHT'S ROOM​

Ritsuka Fujimaru took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, raised her hand……

….and let it drop back down to her side. For the third time.

Why was this so HARD? It was just Mashie - just the two of them having a talk before they both began their day. Her Kohai had been released from the infirmary earlier this morning, and she was probably cleaning herself up - trying to get the antiseptic smell that clung to you after any time in medical scrubbed off. So here Fujimaru was. She'd even gotten up early and snagged some pastries from the cafeteria - so they'd have something to chew on while they talked……talked about how Mashie was dying.

And what that meant going forward.

Only, what DID it mean, going forward? Everyone had been telling her that Mashie wouldn't want to stop fighting - that she shouldn't treat her any differently. But to her, that sounded way too much like 'just let her die'. Like hell she was letting Mash die. Like HELL.

Mash Kyrielight was, to turn a phrase 'too good for this sinful Earth'. But she couldn't give a fig about that, she was going to do everything in and beyond her power to make sure her Kohai kept walking this world for many, many more revolutions of the planet. The only question was - how?

So deep was she in her thoughts, hemming and hawing, that she didn't notice the door hissing open - nor the pair of purple eyes that stared out at her from the open portal.

"Senpai?"

Fujimaru started - almost losing her hold on the bag of pastries in the process. "Mash? Sorry, I….uh…." Her stammering was brought to a screeching halt as she finally took in the appearance of her Kohai.

Hair still dripping wet, feet bare, and with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

Despite herself, Fujimaru felt the blood rushing to her face. "Mash? Why are you answering the door in a TOWEL?"

Mash blinked. "Fou was barking at the door - insistently, when I got out of the shower." She looked down at a certain white-furred creature, whose tail was twitching as he stared at the bag in Fujimaru's hands like he was trying to bore a hole in it. "I was worried that someone might need help, or something, so I thought I'd take a peek to make sure…."

Fujimaru didn't let her finish. She took two steps forward, placing her hands on Mash's shoulders….

And immediately spun her around, and began pushing her into the room. "Nuh-uh. You do not answer the door like that! What if it had been Cu…..or Shuten? A proper young lady doesn't give people an eyeful like that - especially not of those two Mashmallows there! No, you get dried off and dressed right now!"

(And maybe I can forget how my blood pressure shot up, and figure out what I'm going to say to you, while you do so.)

While Mash was getting dressed - Fujimaru with her back VERY firmly turned, bag of treats in her lap with both hands wrapped around it (and Fou perched at her feet, drooling) - both girls struggled for something to say.

Because they both knew what this was about - Mash had been expecting it from the moment Dr. Roman had informed her yesterday that the secret of her life's limited span wasn't a secret anymore.

So it was that she was the first one to break the uncomfortable silence. "Senpai……this is about what you heard while I was unconscious, isn't it?"

Fujimaru started - then deflated. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

She sighed. "Only, I don't really know what to say. I've thought about it all night, and…..I've still got nothing."

"Roman, Kratos, and a bunch of other people have told me that I shouldn't treat you any differently…..but I don't know if I can!" She began to curl herself up around the bag in her lap. "I'm not really afraid of death….my family's speciality being what it is you can't really grow up like I did and still be squeamish about all that."

Carefully, she set the bag of pastries on a nearby table, reaching down to pick up Fou. "That doesn't mean I WANT to die or anything - just that, when it's my time, I won't kick and scream like most people will. I'll still fight tooth and nail to stay alive until that moment, but when the old man with the scythe says it's time, well, I'll know it's time, and that's all there is for that."

She stared down at the animal on her lap, who was staring back with his big, soft eyes. "But……I've seen what death does to people - on both sides of the Veil. How badly it tears them up to be separated from each other - even members of my family have lost it despite our upbringings - both after losing someone suddenly, and when they knew it was coming and thought they'd accepted it."

She swallowed thickly, then thundered ahead. "I don't want to lose you, Mash. I don't want to lose ANYONE if I can help it, but……especially not you."

She fidgeted. "I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. We weren't exactly….encouraged to mix with the non-magical kids much to begin with. And Mom's family already had something of a spooky reputation, as well. It didn't mean as much to the adults, though we'd get some scorn from the people who grew up with no real connection to all the mystical roots of Japan - as the Mysteries are growing weaker, more and more people in Japan are just becoming completely secular and dead to all the old traditions."

"But kids….they'd hear about how your family made their living by doing things like seances and exorcisms, and suddenly you'd be the 'weird' kid, the one who got picked on all the time, or chosen last in recess. It never bothered Susumu much - she got all of mom's Ojou genes, while I…..well, didn't. Her being top of the class and a track star didn't hurt."

"Senpai." Mash's voice was very soft. "Are you saying I'm the only friend you've had in a long time? Because…..I don't know if you should be putting that burden on me, if you are. I'm your friend, absolutely, but……"

"No," said Fujimaru. "Back home, I had friends…..they were only a few, but I did have some. They weren't anyone I was really close to, just people I'd sometimes hang out with, but….I wasn't a complete loner or anything. There's always a few social outcasts who will drift together out of sheer necessity."

"You're just the first person in a long time to see me - not my family, or my big sister, or anything else. New school years were always the worst - the teachers who had taught my big sister, and had all these expectations for me based on that. I could always see it in their eyes when the lights went out and their interest in me plummeted, because I wasn't some super-talented genius like Susumu." She'd been too young to understand it at the time, but looking back on it, she'd seen that same thing happen with her mother. When that realization had belatedly hit, she'd been almost completely mute for a week, just….drifting through the days without really being aware of…anything.

That was probably when she'd shattered. Stopped trying, just kept her head down and settled for 'good enough' and tried to not draw any attention to herself.

"You're important to me, Mashie, because you're YOU!" Fujimaru took a deep breath. "I won't lie, having a friend like you is an absolute balm for my soul after so long more or less on my own, so yeah, that's playing some part in how much trouble I'm having with all of this. But at the same time, I don't want you to die because, again, you're you." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You've barely lived……been trapped in this base all this time. You deserve better…..deserve more."

"And I don't know if I can put you at risk, now, knowing what I know."

Mash didn't reply immediately. When she finally did, her voice was every bit as soft as Fujimaru's had been. "And if I want to keep fighting? Until the end? What then Sen….no, Fujimaru?" She could almost hear the girl steadying her nerves. "If you can't do that….with me, then….should I ask Doctor Roman to transfer my Contract back to Mr. Kratos?"

Fujimaru's lips were moving before she realized it. "I think I'd hate that worse than you dying. Both ways I'd lose you, but that way…..would be my own damn fault."

Mash sighed. "I don't want either of those things either, Fujimaru. But this can't be all about what you want….I DO want to keep fighting. This is important to me….and not just because it's what I was raised to do. I hate having to fight, but seeing all these places, meeting all these people, I wouldn't trade that for the world, even with all the ugliness that we've seen along with it."

There was movement behind her, and Mash's hand laid itself on Fujimaru's shoulder. "I've lived more in these few months than I did in all the years before them. Setting foot outside of Chaldea, meeting all these Heroic Spirits, Mr. Kratos….and you. Please don't ask me to give that up."

"Even if it means you die?" asked Fujimaru, her voice trembling.

"Yes," said Mash, carefully. "I've had to live with the knowledge that I have a limited time for most of my life. I've…..made my peace with it, I think. I know it's a lot to ask of you in such a short time - to accept it like I have. It's not fair of me, and not fair to you…..but nothing about the situation we're in is fair."

"No, it isn't." In a fair world, none of this catastrophe would have happened. In a fair world, the entire weight of saving humanity wouldn't be resting on the shoulders of a fourth-rate mage like her - even with someone like Kratos backing her up. This supposedly formidable Team A would be leading the charge, and she'd be safely on backup, ready to step in if she was needed - and not the only human Master they had.

If. If. If.

She sighed, one that felt like it rattled her soul. "I can try, Mashie. I can't promise that I'm not going to struggle with this, but I can try."

The hand on her shoulder gave it a squeeze. "That's all I want from you….Senpai."

Fujimaru reached up and laid a hand on Mash's. "But….I'm going to do everything in my power, turn over every rock I can to try to give you more time, Mashie. We're only halfway through this journey - maybe somewhere out there is a miracle, just waiting for us to find it."

"Maybe. But….just don't get your hopes up. It'll be enough of a miracle for us to save Humanity. I don't think there'll be anything left over for me, when we're done." Another squeeze. "But thank you, for caring…for trying."

Fujimaru shuddered in her seat, exhaustion hitting her like she'd just run a marathon. "Always Mashie, always."

Fou was standing on his hind legs, tongue lapping at her face - unsurprisingly, the waterworks had started at some point during this conversation. Gently, she ran a hand down the animal's spine. "Are we ok, Mashie?"

"We will be, if we aren't quite there yet," answered the girl. "Just…I'll be there to pick you up when you stumble. Because none of this is easy - for either of us."

Fujimaru gave a shaky laugh. "One step at a time…..right now….how about you help me eat these pastries - before they get any colder."

---

 

HALLS OF CHALDEA

LATER IN THE EVENING​

"Kratos?"

It was far from the first time his name had been sounded this day. Now that she was freed from the confines of her room, this Altera was, at least for the moment, his constant companion. Following him. Watching him.

And asking questions.

"What are the purpose of these decorations?"

Questions he often did not have the answers for. Like this one. He had seen people taking time to put up streams of paper across the doors - ones decorated with the shapes of things such as pumpkins and bats, as well as other shapes he was not as familiar with. And the colors of orange and black were starting to show in abundance, as well.

Fortunately, at this time, he was not alone.

"Ah, those are Halloween decorations," said Cu, turning back to look at the two of them, as he loped along ahead, eager to get to their destination of the Simulator.

"Halloween?" came her voice, a question laden in the word.

Cu scoffed. "It's what they've turned Samhain into these days." His hand reached up and waved around at the decorations lining the hallway. "It used to be a harvest festival, back in my day, signalling the start of winter. It was when the borders between the worlds would get thin, and you'd have to keep an eye out for visitors, the aos sí and other, stranger things."

He gave a sigh, his eyes growing distant. "It was when we'd light the bonfires and leave offerings for the wee folk, so they wouldn't get up to mischief - at least not on OUR lands. And it was when we'd honor the dead - since that was the one night of the year they could return home. You'd set a place for them at the table, an honored place at that."

His face twisted into a frown. "But that's what it was. Nowadays, it's nothing like. It's still got the connection to the supernatural that it had, but it's a weak, tenuous thing. Modern folk think of it as a time to dress up in costumes and pretend, for a night, to be something you're not. No clue when that came about, mumming wasn't a thing until way after I had landed on the Throne, but I guess it got passed down, somehow." He shrugged. "The offerings thing got passed down too, but it's….weird. Now parents take their brats from house to house, and you're expected to give out candy to the little costumed terrors, them shouting 'Trick or Treat' - the 'treat' being what keeps you from getting a 'trick'."

Kratos grunted. That explained some of the paper decorations - the bats and the skulls, at least. But… "There are no children here." Save Mash and Fujimaru, but despite their youth, both were at least battle-tested soldiers now - then again, given how excited Mash had been for the previous festival, the one that had been interrupted by the theft of the traditional food, she was likely also looking forward to this celebration.

Cu was grinning. "Probably just folks looking forward to blowing off some steam. Close enough to us finishing off that last Singularity to combine the two into a big bash for everyone."

"The Huns liked to do that," mused Altera. "After sacking a city, they would revel in the spoils. The wine, the captured women, the riches. I never understood it." Her head tilted to the side. "Why pause when there was so much more bad civilization to tear down?"

Cu laughed. "Man, it sounds like you missed out on the second best part of a battle. Nothing beats the fight itself, but the victory party afterwards, when the wine was flowing and you were boasting about how big your tally got with your battle brothers…and pouring a few back for those who didn't make it." He laughed louder. "All that death made the food taste better, the booze sweeter, and the women more beautiful."

Altera was staring at Cu, her expression blank. "Perhaps I will observe this celebration, then. Determine if it is good civilization." Her head swiveled to look at Kratos. "Where are we going?"

By this point in the day, Kratos was no longer taken aback by how quickly Altera's attention could pivot. She was….focused, but only for so long. Her attention would be captured by something, only to wither and die once she had examined it and made her judgments of it - so far, nothing had managed to interest her past that initial moment of curiosity. She had chosen her food in the cafeteria almost at random, uncaring of what it was, and while her eyes had flicked around the base as they had walked through it this day, they had rarely lingered. The more time he spent around her, the more he understood the things Artemis, and later Cu, had told him about this Heroic Spirit.

She truly was not human - her mind and viewpoints were even more alien to that of humans than the gods, who, while separate from mortals, often shared at least some of their viewpoints, passions….and flaws.

He hoped, at least for the purposes of building some kind of understanding with Altera, that their destination would be at least of some interest to her, beyond in passing. "The Simulator," he rumbled. "When we are not deployed, we train. Both ourselves," he said, indicating himself and the Caster in front of them, who was almost skipping in restrained glee at this point. "And others. We have been instructing Mash in our time here."

"Mash," Altera appeared to think for a moment. "The one who killed the demon? I would think she does not need instruction, with access to a Noble Phantasm with such power."

"Yeah…..that one was new to us," Cu's shoulders hunched, his back a tense line. "A lot of things we're suddenly learning about the lass, these past few days."

Kratos' low growl echoed off the walls of the hallway. Yes. There had been many revelations in the recent days. Few of them pleasant.

"Was she damaged by her summon? A Servant should have the full breadth of their power from the first moments they manifest," stated Altera - flatly, as though she was reciting from a manual of instructions.

"Mash's circumstances are….unique," rumbled Kratos. "There is much we do not know about her powers. The training was intended to help her master them."

"But I don't think either of us thought she had a sword with that kind of power up her sleeve," muttered Cu, his arms linked behind his head. "Worse, neither of us has any idea what to do with that. Or even if we should."

"A power one cannot control is dangerous," rumbled Kratos. "Without understanding it - mastering it, it can control you, rather than you controlling it." His son's shapeshifting was only one such example. "But using the power once caused great damage, both in the moment and……more permanently."

"She just ain't strong enough to use it as she is right now. Normally, I'd just emulate my hag of a Teacher and have her start scaling a few mountains with her pinkies - all while I throw big rocks at her." Cu had a faint grin on his face - possibly from the thought of being the one doing the training in that scenario. "But the kind of power I felt from that sword, and everything else we learned about the girl, I dunno if even SHE could get her strong enough to absorb the backlash of that thing."

He looked back at them and shrugged. "I mean, if anyone COULD do it, it would be her! But her training methods aren't for the faint of heart - and she's not above killing a prospective student, either. By working them to death, or just going a bit too far in what was supposed to be a friendly spar. Or as friendly of a spar as you can have with Scathach."

Another shrug, this one halfway between sheepish and proud. "I mean, it's what all the husbands and fathers and brothers of Ulster thought would happen to me when I went off to train with her, in order to win Emer's hand. Not a one of them thought they'd see me again, given the reputation the lady of the Isle of Shadows had." He chuckled. "You should have seen their faces when I strode back into my Uncle Fergus' keep, still kicking and about a million times more dangerous than I was when I left, and I was already one of the most dangerous things kicking around the isle before all that." His grin was wide, proud, and self-satisfied.

"Spartans were made in such a manner, as well," said Kratos. "Many fell, never to rise again, during the training. Often, mornings rose with fewer alive than the evening before. But I would not train Mash that way, even were her body…." He struggled for the words here. 'Stronger' fit yet….it felt like an insult to the girl to say it. "...even were she well, and not faced with a lifespan so limited that such training would shave it away even faster."

Something ominous curdled in Kratos' gut. He had been warned, many times, that the Mages of this organization Chaldea belonged to, this 'Clock Tower', were dangerous, and often cruel, but that had not been reflected in the people around him at Chaldea. They were somewhat distant from Kratos (he would say more in awe of him - or his divinity - if he was being truthful - an emotion he did not appreciate being directed at himself), but even from afar, he could tell they were all fighting, every bit as hard as himself and the others who did battle on the front lines of this war.

It had lulled him into, if not a false sense of security, then a limited blindness as to how these people were atypical of their kind - or willing to bury that side of themselves until the crisis had passed.

(His secrets, at least, were safe. Da Vinci had told him of the measures they had taken to hide him from the Clock Tower.)

But the man who had assembled all these people - and more, given the many, many empty halls that this base held - for the purpose of saving Humanity had, at the bare minimum, given his blessing for these 'experiments'. Had heard that these children would be created with a mere sliver of a lifespan, and had not objected - but had instead approved of this.

It was monstrous.

(Some part of him was glad that he had met the man's daughter, rather than the Lord Animusphere when he had arrived in this world. The girl was, to hear Da Vinci tell it, blameless in what had been done to Mash. But had he found himself sitting across from the man himself when those revelations had been made manifest……)

"No amount of training will allow a human to best death," said Altera, bluntly.

"No," rumbled Kratos. "But it can make him work harder to earn you, when he comes."

Cu was grinning. "Or she, in my neck of the woods - met her once myself, scary wench. But that's a sentiment after my own heart, Kratos! When it's your time to go, go out in a way that leaves them talking for YEARS afterwards!"

He spun around, fist raised, and Kratos shook his head, but still knocked his fist against that of the Hound's.

Altera was staring at them in confusion. "A gesture of respect, between comrades," said Kratos, repeating what he had been told. Altera stared for a bit more, then Kratos sighed, and held his fist out to the Saber.

Her balled up hand collided with his in a movement that was more akin to a punch. Pain flared up his arms, and he felt his bones rattle - though he let none of this show on his face. "Moderate your strength better. This is not an attack - and you would injure one who is not as durable as I am."

Altera glanced down at her hand, then nodded. "Understood."

Cu was nearly vibrating as they drew up to the doors of the Simulator. "I don't know about you, Kratos, but I've been needing this. After the past day and a half, a good scrap is the perfect thing to blow off some….."

The doors hissed open, and a wave of pink unfolded before their eyes, along with a heavy floral scent."

".....steam?"

Kratos blinked. This was not the simple training field he was used to. Trees, their pink leaves in full bloom, covered the grounds. Off in the distance, he could see large wooden palisades, from behind which he could see vapors rising into the air. There was still a cleared space in the center, so it could still serve their purposes, but….

"This is a strange place to train," said Altera, her head looking this way and that. "Many trees. The leaves in the air could do to simulate a battlefield that is shrouded in smoke, though."

"This is not where we usually train," rumbled Kratos.

Cu groaned. "I think I see the problem." His arm shot up, finger pointing.

Right at a spot by one of the larger trees, where a blanket had been spread out on the grassy floor. A large parasol had been driven into the ground, and sitting in its shadows, sheltering themselves from the sun, were a few familiar forms.

Avenger was there, waving at him as his eyes settled on her, an eager grin on her face (and a flush on her cheeks). Fujimaru, sitting next to her, looked almost queasy - and Mash shared her ill-at-ease demeanor.

Both their eyes were locked on the fourth member of their party, who was slowly rising to her feet, and turning to face Kratos. Small - at least a head or more shorter than Atreus, though the massive horns that sprouted from her forehead would have made up some of that distance. She wore little more than a light robe - and that, barely, as it was only loosely draped on her slight form. Purple hair, cut short, but still somehow undeniably feminine, swished around her head as she titled it this way and that, looking from one of them to the other, before finally settling on Kratos.

"My, Maaaaaaaaster. You weren't kidding. He is big." The Servant's voice was soft and breathy, easily audible, despite seeming to be spoken in tones barely above a whisper.

(Kratos saw fangs in the Servant's mouth as she neared - ones she was making no effort to hide, either as she spoke, or as she grinned, widely.)

"A very impressive specimen," she continued, drawing closer, very deliberately putting one bare foot in front of the other. Her nose wrinkled. "Though entirely too rugged for my tastes. My preferences run more to beautiful boys and men….and women…." Her gaze trailed over Cu, which drew a snort of laughter from her. "Like the Hound there. Or dear Kintoki. Still, even if you're unsuitable for that, you do look like you'd be fun to fight." Her tongue darted out, and trailed over her lips.

"Sorry, Kratos," came Fujimaru's voice, apologetic. "She wanted to watch tonight's training - meet my new Servant…..Shuten Douji. The oni."

"The field," rumbled Kratos. "This is your doing?"

"Of course!" chirped Shuten. "When I first saw it, it was so…plain. If I'm to sit and watch strapping men battle, I should be able to relax in comfort, while I drink." Again, her fangs were on display, but unlike an animal, it did not seem to be a threat display. At least…..not entirely, or so he thought. "So I convinced that little blonde woman who controls this wonderful illusionary room to alter it a bit, to my specifications. Sake tastes better with cherry blossoms, after all."

"It really does!" said Avenger, a drunken hiccup accompanying her words.

Her arm trailed across the field, indicating the wooden palisades. "There's even a hot spring to relax in afterwards." She gave a dismissive sniff. "Much better than the simple, booooring field you were using."

"Training is not meant to be….enjoyed," said Kratos, almost automatically. "Nor is it fodder for spectators. It is an important, serious task, for both the instructor, and the one being trained." A grunt. "More so than ever, now, for Mash."

The oni's laughter was musical, but……there was a discordant note in it that set him on edge. "As dour as your appearance would suggest. I wonder who has a stiffer, more inflexible spine, you, or that horrible cow Raikou. Still, that doesn't stop me from wanting to fight you."

"Hey!" Cu's fingers snapped in front of Shuten's face. "We might be drinking buddies, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you cut the line - no matter how good your booze is. You want to tangle with Kratos, you do it AFTER me."

"Indeed," stated Altera. "A queue has formed already, small calamity of Japan. "I too wish to test myself against my…." Her mouth had been about to form the word 'Master', when she stopped, and thought. "Against Kratos."

"IF there is time, I will entertain your requests," growled Kratos. "But NOW is for my student, before anything else."

Altera and Cu nodded (and Kratos would have been displeased with the Caster if he had objected, as he was at least as much one of Mash's teachers as was Kratos), but the oni pouted. "Where's the fun in that?"

"This is not 'fun'. It is what must be done, to finish this campaign - and hopefully, to survive it," replied Kratos.

The oni rolled her eyes, deliberately and obviously. "As I said, boring." She turned and began sulking back to where Fujimaru was sitting. "But I can see my Master about to panic, so I'll behave myself, for now."

Her head turned, and for a second a pair of mad, inhuman eyes attempted to pierce straight through Kratos, as she stared back at him over his shoulder. "But we WILL be fighting, Kratos of the scowling face, at some point - if only so my curiosity can be….sated."

Kratos blew a breath out through his nose, dismissing the Servant - for now. Mash was waiting.

She had already risen from the blanket, and was standing before him, armor already summoned, her shield resting in her hands. Her eyes were wide, looking up at him with an emotion that could not be anything but determination, mingled with a generous helping of hope. "Mr. Kratos," she said, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders squared off - almost like a soldier standing at attention.

"Mash." His voice was a soft rumble. The girl couldn't suppress a small start at the sound of her name. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Mr. Kratos!" It was deeply buried, but he saw it - because he knew to look for it. Just a hint, a flicker, before it was gone, but it was there. Desperation. The same sort of desperate need to prove oneself that had dogged Arteus' every step for much of their journey together - back when they had only the barest fragments of understanding of one another.

(When his son had thought he had been believed to be a disappointment, that his father thought he was weak - a failure.)

He stared down at her, knowing he would have to be cautious with his words, choose them carefully. "I had no doubts that you would be here, and I have no reservations in continuing to train you." The girl's face brightened, like the sun rising over the horizon. "But…." he said, his hand raised, and Mash's face began to fall. "You will be honest with me about your condition. If you feel pain that is unusual, or feel ill, or in any way unnatural, you WILL tell me."

Carefully, his movements stiff and awkward, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Knowing what I now do about you, I will not risk causing you harm through this. I will do what I can to make you stronger - that is the responsibility I have chosen to take on, willingly." He heaved out a deep breath. "But along with that responsibility comes another one - that of your well-being. You have been placed into my care, so I must take care with you."

His hand tightened on her shoulder for the briefest of seconds. "But that does NOT mean I will stop pushing you. Merely that we now must be more conscious of your condition." He met the girl's eyes. "These are the rules you will have to follow. Are they acceptable?"

Mash nodded, furiously, her eyes bright. "Yes sir!"

Kratos grunted. "Then begin your warm-up exercises."

As the girl began a series of stretches, limbering her body up, another form joined their group. "And why are you just sitting there, my student?"

Fujimaru leapt up like she'd suddenly been shocked. "Sensei!" she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

If Chiron's grin was meant to be reassuring, it had the opposite effect on the girl. "I'm here as another pair of eyes to monitor Miss Kyrielight, just in case, while we all form new baselines for her, given….everything that we were told."

He tossed a set of clothes to Fujimaru, then raised a hand, a pair of shoes dangling from them. "But, while I am here, I figured that I should multi-task. If I am to be here, and my student is to be here, then we should make the most of it."

His smile was the polar opposite of the expression on Fujimaru's face, which almost looked like that of a woman about to march to her execution. "I believe we will start with laps. Get changed, my student."

"And after that," crowed Cu, a bucket filled with tennis balls in his arms. "I get to throw things at you!"

There was a whisper of silk, and the oni was suddenly beside Cu, staring down at the basket in his hands. "Can I help?"

---

 

ELSEWHERE​

She'd been up all night, making the invitations. Doing them and redoing them, until they were just right. This was a BIG deal, after all! It wasn't her debut, or anything like that, but it was still important. To her, and to a few other people, too.

For reasons.

She'd already dispatched most of them - she'd have to thank Batty for recommending that Amazoness.com site - it seemed they were willing to do deliveries in addition to being a shop-till-you-drop repository, and their reputation was flawless. So if she'd had any worries about the invitations getting lost in the mail, or arriving late, those were long gone by now.

But this last invitation was still unsent - still uncompleted. This one, more than all the others, she'd wanted to get PERFECT. And she just hadn't been able to manage that, despite her best efforts.

Half a dozen previous attempts littered the floor around her table, tossed aside when they just HADN'T been living up to her high standards and she'd hurled them away in frustration, the windows of the room shaking as she'd shrieked in annoyance (the last one had been loud and high enough to cause a few cracks in them - she'd have to get those replaced before the party).

This one, this last one HAD to be just right, because he was the Guest of Honor - part of the entire reason she was doing this whole thing. She'd even tracked down the little glowing shard all so she could stage this crazy party - and give him his surprise.

But all that was nothing if she couldn't get the blasted invitation RIGHT!

She cast her eyes over her table, which was littered with the various crafting supplies she had gathered to hand-make the various invitations. Scissors, magic markers, colored paper of every shade and hue. Ribbons in at least as many colors, and stickers, SO MANY STICKERS - most of which had already been plastered all over the invitations and the envelopes they had been destined for, but she still had more than enough for this last project.

If she could only get it RIGHT!

As her eyes narrowed in irritation, they fell on the one thing she hadn't used, in all her time at this table. Small little tubes, filled with a substance she had heard described as 'the black plague of crafting'. And yet - what was in those tubes was so SHINY and caught the light in such a wonderful way.

That was when she had an idea. A brilliant, wonderful idea.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know Elron appears later on in Ordeal Call, but since I'm NA, I don't know much about her personality. So any inaccuracies there can be written off to that.

Shuten's 145 cm (4.7 feet) is a foot shorter than the estimated 5.7 feet Atreus has - though we don't have an official height for him, just best guesses. Kintoki's 190 cm gets him to 6.2, so he's a bit shorter than Kratos' 6.4 (officially from Sony Santa Monica).

Chapter 52: It's the Great Liz-oween, Ghost of Sparta 1

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 52

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM​

Romani Archaman stared at his console, his brain struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. He gave it a few seconds, hoping his monitor would magically correct himself, and go back to normal, proving that this was all a temporary psychotic break or fit of madness. But no, it remained the same, no matter how hard he glared at it.

"I am afraid that no matter what you wish, Doctor, that screen will not be changing any time in the future." Chiron's voice sounded from behind him. "Because I see it, the same as you do. As well as the other things we have here."

Romani's eyes finally broke from his one-sided staring contest with his monitor, and slowly, inch by inch, dropped down to the surface of his work desk.

Upon which rested an envelope.

It had his name on the front of it, written in what appeared to be pink ink, in a loopy cursive script.

It was unopened, as of yet.

As was the one lying in front of Chiron.

"I'm not detecting any malign spells on it, Roman," said Da Vinci, from her workstation - where a third envelope was sitting, inside several different Bounded Fields. "Just a bit of residual magic from whatever was used to get them here…" There was a ping from her computer, and she rolled her eyes. "....aaaand it looks like my suspicions were right. It's faint, but there's definitely traces of the specific mana given off by a Holy Grail on these babies."

Romani groaned, and forced his eyes to look at his monitor, any hope he had that this was some mass delusion long since dashed. And yes, it was still there, the red dot, steadily pulsing in the center of his screen.

Indicating that a Singularity had been found.

As he moused over it and began scanning the readout, he could see it barely qualified to be called a proper Singularity. The previous ones they had dealt with had been entire cities - or nations. Fuyuki City, France, the Roman Empire itself. This….

This was little more than a single castle, the surrounding town, and some of the nearby woods.

"So, what do we have, Roman?" asked Da Vinci - the tone of her voice letting him know she knew exactly what they were dealing with already.

"It's a Singularity," he said. "But a very, very small one. Centered in Hungary, of all places."

"I suspect - as I assume you also do, that this new Singularity is somehow connected to the letters we've all suddenly received," said Chiron, his finger tapping the envelope sitting in front of him on the table.

"It does seem far too much to be a coincidence, these arriving just as we discover it," admitted Romani. "But something feels off about all this."

"It's a departure from the usual modus operandi that we've seen previously," said Da Vinci, eyeballing the envelope that was still resting within her dizzying array of Bounded Fields. "All the previous ones, save Fuyuki, we had to search for. And while Lev and Forneus were quite happy to taunt us within the Singularity, just advertising their position just doesn't seem like something they'd do."

"Agreed," said Chiron. "Which is why, as we need more information on this anomaly, I shall do this."

And, with that, he picked up the envelope, and prepared to break the seal on it.

He held a hand up to silence their protests. "I am the most expendable of the three of us that have received one of these mysterious letters, and I consider the risk minimal, given the scans you completed on yours, Lady Da Vinci. But just in case, could you surround me with a Bounded Field - to contain the damage, in the event I have judged incorrectly?"

She frowned, clearly unhappy, but still acquiesced, a flare of power from her staff and a circle of pulsing runes appeared under Chiron's feet, surrounding him.

He nodded. "Very good. I will proceed." Carefully, he broke the seal on the letter, and pulled the flap open. He held it there for a few breaths, not doing anything further. "No explosions, and I do not feel any different - not physically, nor do I feel the tell-tale signs of mana or Magecraft." He cocked his head to the side. "I feel it is safe to conclude that there were no traps, poisons, curses, or anything else malign that was triggered from opening it."

Da Vinci was staring at a readout that was projecting itself in front of her. "My diagnostic suite is telling me more or less the same things, but in more excruciating detail. But the long and the short of it is, it hasn't detected any changes, subtle or blatant, in your Spirit Origin, so I'd have to agree with your conclusions."

"Proceeding to the next step, then." Chiron reached into the envelope and pulled the letter from within. He carefully set the envelope to the side, and unfolded the letter.

His eyes scanned over the contents and then, almost against his will, a small snicker escaped his lips, and the corners of his mouth began to inch up into a smile. "My…..it seems we've been invited to a Halloween party."

Romani blinked, his mind not comprehending what he'd heard - and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Da Vinci's expression was a mirror to what he knew was on his face. An uncharacteristically wide grin on his face, Chiron simply turned the letter around so that they could both read it for themselves.

It was written in the same hand that had addressed the letters - but instead of a pen, it looked like it had been done in magic marker. The handwriting was the same loopy cursive, but, if anything, it seemed even more….exuberant. As if the writer had barely been containing her excitement.

HEY HEY HEY PARTY PEOPLE!

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO DRAGON COUNTESS ELI-CHAN'S ONE NIGHT SHOW AND HALLOWEEN PARTY!

COSTUMES NOT NECESSARY, THOUGH YOU'LL MAKE THIS IDOL WEEP A BIT ON ON THE INSIDE IF YOU'RE NOT FULLY EMBRACING THE SEASON!

NO NEED TO RSVP, IF YOU HAVE AN INVITE, YOUR PLACE IS SECURE!

AND INVITATIONS ALSO ENTITLE YOU TO ONE HANDSHAKE FROM YOUR FAVORITE IDOL - ME! THERE WILL ALSO BE DOOR PRIZES, LOTTERIES, AND OTHER GAMES THAT CAN WIN YOU EVEN SWEETER THINGS - LIKE A PHOTO OP WITH YOUR FAVORITE IDOL, OR, THE HOLIEST OF HOLIES, A COPY OF MY UPCOMING DEBUT ALBUM!

SO COME ONE, ONE COME ALL* TO CASTLE CSEJTE, HALLOWEEN NIGHT, FOR FUN, MUSIC, AND GAMES!

SIGNED,
THE #1 IDOL IN THE UNIVERSE
DRAGON COUNTESS ELI-CHAN!

*Gatecrashers will be expelled from the premises by 'Siggy-Woogy', or will spend the night in the dungeons, so Amazoness.com must issue this warning for our client's sake - 'all' should not come to this event, only the invited and their +1s. Ignore this warning at your own peril.​

They stared at it. Then stared at it some more. Then, Romani finally managed to close his mouth, which had been hanging open, and, after a few minutes, discovered his ability to speak again.

"Wat."

"Elizabeth," said Da Vinci, with a groan. "She did attach herself pretty strongly to Avenger in France. You don't suppose…."

"Caligula somehow got his hands on a fragment of a Grail," muttered Romani. "From what you detected on these envelopes, it would seem she managed the same. It's the only thing that explains how she's managed….this!" His hand waved out, indicating the flashing red dot on his monitor.

"I suppose it's something we can ask her when we get there," said Da Vinci, as she opened her invitation. Her eyes flicked over the paper, and she nodded. "Pretty much the exact same text as the one you opened, Chiron. I can see some minor differences in the handwriting, but it looks like she was just writing out one boilerplate message, rather than personalized ones." A small smile cracked her face. "I'm almost sad I can't take her up on the invitation - it would be nice to get out into the field for a change of pace."

"It's a safe assumption then, that we shall be taking her up on this invitation?" asked Chiron.

Romani's response was a few seconds in coming. "We have to. I don't think this is a trap - it REALLY doesn't fit the profile of our enemies, at ALL. But we can't let even minor Singularities persist. Even if this is Liz, and she has the most innocuous reasons for making this one, there's still the possibility it could stabilize, and blossom into a full Singularity." His mouth was a grim line. "I don't assume our enemies would let such a thing pass. They could invade, turn it into another linchpin in the incineration of Humanity."

"Something that would be harder to resolve than if we just go there now and give the girl a good talking to," said Chiron, with a nod. "Logic I cannot find any fault with. No sense in us adding more labors to our plate, given what we're already dealing with."

"I've already sent out the call to everyone." Da Vinci's eyes were occupied tracking what likely was the locations of their two Masters and their Servants on one of the many screens that were surrounding her. "They're on their way - oddly, except Kratos, who is still in his room. Avenger and Cu are swinging by to pick him up now - and I suppose also Altera, who hasn't really moved from her room, either."

It was a few minutes before their first group arrived - Fujimaru in the lead, with Mash, Sakamoto, Oryou, and Shuten trailing behind. All of them carrying envelopes that were the twins (of a sort - each one had a pattern of stickers decorating it that was unique to itself) of the three that had been delivered to the three of them in the Command Room.

Fujimaru's eyes dropped to the table, where the three invitations in question were sitting, and groaned. "I take it these things have something to do with why you raised the alarm?"

"They do." Da Vinci's eyes trailed over the lot of them. "Have you opened yours?"

"Not a chance!" Fujimaru held up the hand holding her envelope, which was encased in a glove. "I just wish I'd had my gloves with me for the weird scrolls that were showing up on my bed back in Rome - no offense meant, Lord, but my mother drummed at least some paranoia into my head growing up."

"None taken," said Lord El-Melloi II. "A mysterious note showing up while you're in the middle of a war? I'm honestly pleased you showed more common sense than SOME of my other students, who would have torn the thing open without a second thought."

"Mmmm, that's just what I did." Shuten held up a sheet of paper. "Though I do feel I'm missing some context here. Who is this Liz, and why is she inviting us to some party?" Her lazy smile grew wider. "Not that I'm adverse to a party, mind you."

"Liz?" Mash blinked, startled, and Fou, who had hopped onto the table to sniff the envelopes, shuddered, his fur bristling. "She….invited us to a party?"

"She's a Servant we met during our first proper Singularity, the French one. The 'Liz' is short for Elizabeth Bathory," said Romani, for the benefit of Fujimaru's group, none of which (save Mash) had even been on Chaldea's roster for that Singularity. "She assisted us - we actually took shelter in her castle for a bit - and she stayed behind to be a decoy while the rest of our group slipped out and attacked their main base."

"She also wanted Avenger to join her band - or group or something," said Mash. "Because she ended up killing Liz's older self, Carmilla." The purple haired girl felt everyone's eyes on her, and shrugged. "I didn't really understand it too well, but Liz was very adamant about not turning into her older self."

Shuten snickered, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter. "The absurdity…." She giggled more, amusement radiating almost visibly from her.

"How does that even work, Ryouma?" whispered Oryou, who had cracked open her invitation while the explanations had been happening, and was now reading it.

"I don't think it does," he replied with a shrug. "But we've certainly seen and experienced stranger in our time on the Throne."

Oryou nodded. "The tea golem was delicious, at least. Do you think there will be frogs at this party?"

As Oryou dangled the letter in front of Sakamoto's face, allowing him to read it, Romani continued. "In any event, she's somehow managed to form a small Singularity - probably around Castle Csejte, for the purposes of this party. Once Kratos and his Servants get here, we'll….."

He trailed off, as the door to the Command Room hissed open.

And he STARED.

Kratos stalked in, Avenger, Cu, Medusa, and Altera behind him, the first two of those who looked like they were desperately holding back laughter, while the last simply looked blankly confused. Medusa's face was calm, carefully composed, but her hair was shaking of its own accord, almost as if it too was holding back laughter. As for Kratos……

His face was twisted in a scowl more vicious than Romani could ever recall seeing on the man's face. Annoyance - no, anger was pooling around him so thickly one could almost see it, or touch it (if someone was foolish enough to get close to the man at the center of that roiling anger).

As he moved, his form sparkled in the light - because he was covered in glitter, almost head to toe.

Da Vinci was the first to find her voice - and despite the amusement in her eyes, none of it made its way into her voice, only honest concern. "Kratos? What happened?"

"THIS happened." He seemed to be barely holding himself back from snarling, as he tossed an envelope onto the table, glitter falling from its form. "I was sleeping, when there was a noise. Then, the object dropped onto me…..and exploded with this…..substance."

"And he got BEDAZZLED!" said Avenger, before she began laughing uncontrollably.

Mash tilted her head to the side. "Couldn't you have just hopped in the shower to wash them off?"

Kratos' mood seemed to blacken further. "They do NOT come off."

Avenger fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Cu too, lost his battle with his amusement and began cackling, soon joining Avenger in rolling around on the floor.

Kratos sent a smouldering glare at the two of them - which had the unfortunate effect of making them laugh harder. And despite herself, a smile was growing on Medusa's face.

Carefully, her movements slow and obvious, Da Vinci walked up next to Kratos, and ran a hand through the air - her fingers hovering just over his skin. "It's the same energy as what I detected on the envelopes, Grail energy." She frowned. "The glitter must have been bathed in it, and now it's adhered itself to you - mingling with that curse that you carry, on top of everything."

She looked up at him. "We could probably remove it, but that would involve us trying to break your curse, and you've already made your feelings on that very clear."

Altera was staring at Kratos. "You are cursed? Why not be rid of it? That makes no sense."

"I was wondering that myself, when I first noticed the tell-tale signs of a curse clinging to you," said Lord El-Melloi II. "It is beyond me to shatter it, but it's possible I could break it down with enough study, facilitate a way to end its hold on you."

"It is a legacy of my sins," growled Kratos, his tone soft, despite the anger still coloring his voice. "A reminder…and a penance. I earned this curse, with my actions, and I shall continue to bear it."

The Clock Tower Lord blinked, then shrugged. "Very well, it is your choice, after all. But my offer stands, should you change your mind. If nothing else, examining a curse from another world would be an interesting challenge."

"So if we can't get the curse off, what do we do?" asked Fujimaru.

"We go to the source," replied Da Vinci. "If we can get our hands on the Grail, or Grail Fragment that Liz used to create this mess, we can probably use a touch of its power to get the glitter off of Kratos."

Kratos stared at the Caster. "Liz? From the French Campaign?" His eyes narrowed. "This….is her doing?"

"You haven't opened your letter yet, have you?" asked Chiron. At the shake of Kratos' head, he continued. "I do not believe that she meant any harm - these letters seem to be simple invitations to a Halloween party for all of us. She probably just had no idea that the explosion of glitter she put on your invitation would react with you as it did." He frowned. "Though she has managed to somehow create a Singularity - a minor one - to host this celebration."

Kratos snatched up the envelope, his movements sharp and forceful, quickly tearing it open and unfolding the letter. His eyes scanned the contents - carefully tracing over every line.

Then he sighed (almost more of a groan), and held the letter out. Nearly everyone's heads leaned in to see (save those still snickering on the ground).

FUZZY!

YOUR FAVORITE IDOL IS THROWING A PARTY, AND YOU'RE THE GUEST OF HONOR!

HALLOWEEN NIGHT, I EXPECT YOU ON THE DOORSTEP OF MY CASTLE CSEJTE!

I'VE GOT A SURPRISE JUST FOR YOU - ABOVE AND BEYOND THE CHANCE FOR YOU TO HAVE A FRONT-ROW SEAT TO ONE OF MY CONCERTS!

SO BE THERE OR BE SQUARE - AND HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU MADE ELI-CHAN CRY! UGLY CRY! YOU WOULDN'T BREAK A FAIR MAIDEN'S HEART LIKE THAT, WOULD YOU?

PS. BRING AVENGER WITH YOU! WE NEVER GOT TO HAVE A PROPER SLUMBER PARTY, AND WE STILL NEED TO GO OVER IDEAS FOR OUR SUPERGROUP!

LIZ!!!!!!!!!!​

"Sorry, can't go," said Avenger, still lying on the floor, the blood having drained from her face. "I think I'm coming down with a sudden case of the Borneo Jungle Fungus. Life-threatening, won't be able to leave my bed."

"YOU," rumbled Kratos, his tone brooking no arguments. "Are coming along."

"Actually," began Romani. "Our options look to be actually limited, here." His fingers flew over the keyboard, his eyes flickering between screens, checking various readouts against one another. "The Singularity itself apparently has some sort of compatibility screen around it that's limiting what Servants we can Rayshift."

He swiveled around in his chair. "For Kratos, Medusa and Avenger have high enough compatibility ratings to successfully Rayshift without risking some sort of issue. For Fujimaru, it's Mash, Sakamoto and Oryou, and Shuten." His finger pointed at each one of them in turn. "Given the holiday in question, it looks like it's limiting Servants who are…..spooky, or monstrous - or inhuman, if you'd prefer." He shrugged. "Though Mash is likely because of her unique status as a Demi-Servant, and the Singularity sees her as more 'human' than 'Servant'."

Chiron was frowning. "That does not make sense, given we were all issued invitations, indicating that she wished for all of us to attend. Though I am unsure if I should feel complimented, or insulted, that a centaur is not judged sufficiently inhuman - if that is the criteria being used here."

"In my world, it would be a compliment, that you are nothing like them," rumbled Kratos. He had always hated fighting the centaur - and the Stalkers of Midgard had been worse, as impossible as that might have once sounded.

"And what about me?" said a pouting Avenger, from where she was sitting on the floor, her legs folded underneath her. "I might have been put together with a bunch of scraps and crazy, but fucking STILL!"

"As to you, Avenger, it's probably because Liz asked for you by name." Da Vinci was grinning down at the sulking woman, before her expression turned more serious. "As to Chiron's question - that is a bit more troubling. It's possible that the invasion scenario Roman brought up has already happened, and we'll be facing much worse than an excited idol when you touch down there."

"Liz always did seem very exuberant," said Mash. "She jumped right into calling Avenger her Best Friend Ever on their first meeting. If she's gotten her hands on a Holy Grail, even a piece of one, she could have lost control of it."

"So we have no clue what sort of nonsense will be waiting for us?" said Cu, who then shrugged. "Business as usual, then."

Kratos grunted, though it was much more akin to a growl. "The sooner this is solved, the better." The look on his face was promising dire things for Liz, when he finally found her.

Da Vinci clapped her hands together. "Then everyone go get suited up - Kratos, I've got a spare set of the armor I made for you back in my workshop, since I imagine you don't want to go into the field wearing nothing more than a T-shirt. I can bring it here, or you can come with me and put it on there."

"I will accompany you," rumbled Kratos. His eyes flicked down to Avenger. "Make what preparations you need."

He turned to Medusa, who held up her hands. "Oh no - I am quite happy to be missing out on whatever nonsense that girl has planned. I'll be ready to switch in should you need me, of course, but no apologies are needed if it turns out I never set foot in her castle again." She reached out and patted him on his shoulder. "Don't be too hard on the girl, however. I don't think she meant any real harm with all this. She's just…..young."

The glower on Kratos' face was making no promises of that, but he nodded as he departed with Da Vinci.

Fujimaru glanced between her two Servants. "I should go suit up - I'll be back in a flash. If you need to grab anything, do it." A wry smirk sprouted on her face. "I don't think Kratos will be in the mood to wait on anyone today."

---

Fujimaru had jogged the entire way back to her room, changed like someone was timing her (and given her Sensei, it was entirely possible he WAS doing just that), grabbed her knives from where they were resting on the table, then double-timed it back to the Command Room. Yes, she was still huffing and puffing and out of breath when she got there, but….not as much as she would have been a few months ago. She might have hated the laps her Sensei was having her do, but she couldn't deny that they were having a positive effect.

The door, thankfully, slid open ahead of her, and she skidded to a halt, her shoulders heaving, her hands on her legs, bent almost ninety degrees. "I'm here!"

"A reasonable time, considering where you are in your training," said Chiron, with a nod. "And you have not been forcing us to wait, my student - Kratos and Da Vinci have not yet returned."

"That's good - I don't want to catch any of that ire he's projecting - Liz can have ALL of that fun stuff." She took a deep breath, feeling her heart starting to resume a more normal rhythm, and pushed herself back upright.

And stared for a moment, as her brain struggled to process what she was seeing. "Oryou…..why?"

"The invitation said to dress up. Oryou-san is a bunny." Indeed, there was a pair of black bunny ears resting on the woman's head - and Fujimaru could see that she had on the requisite cuffs and bow tie on as well - despite still wearing her schoolgirl outfit. No heels, but her stockings had been changed from her usual dark red-purple to black fishnets. She raised her hands up to each side of her head and turned them downwards, so that the backs of her hands were facing Fujimaru. "Dragon-bunny. The terror of all frogs. Pyon-Rawr-Pyon!"

Her mouth was moving before her brain could tell it to stop. "PLEASE tell me you're not wearing the rest of the outfit underneath."

There was a sparkle in Sakamoto's eyes, something that was decidedly not there in his usual placid smile. "I can neither confirm nor deny anything, Master."

HOO BOY. She just hoped the bed in their room was reinforced. With titanium. Desperately trying to put that image out of her head, she focused her attention on her other Servants. "Normally, I'd want one of you two with me to start," she said, addressing her pair of teachers. "You're much better at the investigation and thinking stuff than I am, but well, things being what they are…."

"We will have our eyes peeled, Fujimaru," said Lord El-Melloi II. "Should we spot anything of relevance, we will let you know. While we will be hindered somewhat by the second-hand nature of it all, we will do what we can with the situation."

"At best, this will be a simple celebration," said Chiron. "And relatively straightforward. Find Liz, get the Grail from her, and undo Kratos' condition. Even at the worst, I would hope it would not surpass the last Singularity."

"Be kind of hard for it to do that, but well, I expect the next real Singularity will give it the old college try." Finally, she turned to Shuten, who was looking at her expectantly. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. "I assume the next words out of your mouth will be something along the lines of a declaration that you're coming with?"

Shuten, she felt, was making sure to show her every inch of her fangs with the grin she was suddenly sporting. "Mou…..you read my mind. It's so pleasing to have such an understanding Master….."

Yeah, about what she expected. But it was probably better to rip the band-aid off and see what Shuten would be like in the field now, rather than when the chips were down. Maybe having a more grumpy than normal Kratos along for the ride would help keep her under control.

Maybe. She wouldn't bet on it, though.

Kratos stomped in a few minutes later, armored up, his weapons strapped to his back. Da Vinci followed in his wake, a case in her hands. "I brought your gun, Fujimaru - as well as a restock of some of the bullets you used up in the last Singularity. Sadly, we've only been able to machine up one of the nano-darts given the time frame."

"And I haven't had the time to carve the runes for any of the ones Da Vinci commissioned me to do, what with all the baby-sitting I've been having to do," said Cu, with a glance at an impassive Altera.

"So I've mostly got the leftovers from the last one, regular bullets, and flashbangs?" Fujimaru shrugged as she punched her code into the case containing her gun, and picked it up. "Well, hopefully this will just be a milk run, and I won't need them."

Avenger - still sitting on the floor - groaned. "It's NEVER a milk run, Red."

"Indeed," rumbled Kratos. "Do not let the….." He paused. "Unusual circumstances….and a letter from what claims to be a former ally allow you to relax your guard. Maintain focus - this still could be a trap." He inclined his head in Roman's direction. "I do agree that this seems…..far from normal for our enemies. But that could be part of their plan."

Fujimaru snapped off a sloppy salute in his direction. "Understood." At his scowl, she attempted to sound more genuine. "I mean it. I'll be careful, keep my head on a swivel."

"Alright," said Romani, pushing himself up from his chair. "Your orders are the same as they always are - infiltrate the Singularity, and recover the Holy Grail - or the fragment of it if that's all Liz managed to get her hands on. As more than a few of you have said, on the surface, this seems like just a simple invitation to a party." His mouth thinned into a grim line. "As others have said, it could be a trap. Even if it isn't, there's every possibility that this minor Singularity could draw the eyes of our real enemies, so, above all else, be careful."

He looked around the room at all of them. "Any questions?"

Unsurprisingly, there were none. "Then get to the coffins, and we'll prep for Rayshift."

"Actually," said Da Vinci, raising her hand. "This will also be a test for the new power grid upgrades. So, for this Singularity, we're going to attempt to send one more Servant than usual, to see how the generators handle things - both as a stress test, and to see if the bigger updates we have will be ready for deployment with the next major Singularity." She looked around to a handful of vaguely skeptical looks. "We'll be ready to withdraw the extra body at a moment's notice, in the event we see a readout going a hair in the wrong direction, so the risk should be minimal - I won't say non-existent, since there's no such thing, but it'll be well within guidelines."

She settled her hands on her hips. "So, who wants to be my guinea pig?"

"Pass," said Medusa, deadpan. "And if you are walking into a trap, Sakamoto and Oryou are two more bodies to defend Fujimaru with in the event of trouble. Kratos does not need my protection as much as she needs theirs."

"Party." said Oryou, her fingers shooting up in a pair of Vs. "Yaaaaaaay."

"Just remember," said Sakamoto, taking her hand as they began to walk (or float, in Oryou's case) down to the Coffins. "Work first, frogs later."

Fujimaru was just settling herself into the Coffin - the lid having sealed itself shut a few moments ago, when the lights dimmed, and the countdown started. She had time for a few, heavy breaths to calm her nerves before that giant hand found her, scooped her up, and tossed her into the corridor of blue.

And then it felt as though she ran into a solid brick wall. For a second, it was as though she was being crushed against it, the pressure of the Rayshift momentum vying against the hardness of whatever barrier had suddenly sprung up, then, suddenly, it gave, and she was through, every inch of her tingling.

And, right before her senses went black, she heard the sound of leaves and chirping insects.

---

The first thing to come back to Kratos after the Rayshift was his hearing, though, possibly, because that was because his allies were making so much racket. When his sight followed his hearing, he beheld his fellows staring at each other in bafflement - in their defense, the sight before their eyes was baffling.

"Mashie……what ARE you wearing?" asked Fujimaru, who was staring at Mash - whose armor had been replaced with a heavy dress of some kind, black in color, with a white apron that was being worn over it. The entire thing was covered with the kind of frills and ruffles that resembled the first dress that Liz had been wearing when they first met her. Some kind of headdress, also white and ruffled, was resting on Mash's head.

"Senpai….I could ask you the same thing…." said a blushing Mash, who was struggling to meet Fujimaru's eyes. The red-haired girl's Chaldea uniform was nowhere to be seen - it had been changed into a striped shirt, a pair of brief shorts, and a bright red wrap that had been tied around her head - and an eyepatch was resting over her left eye. Hanging from the belt wrapped around her waist were her weapons - the twin knives, and her gun - as well as one other addition, a curved sword in a familiar style (at least after the last campaign).

The blood rushed to Fujimaru's face when she looked down at herself. "This……this is my old pirate costume from when I was a kid!" she stammered, hands shooting down to hide her suddenly exposed midriff. "Except it used to COVER a lot more when I was smaller!"

"And you're not the only one to see some changes to their clothes." Sakamoto had his arms outstretched, as he was peering down at himself. His formerly white suit was now a soft looking purple jacket in the same style of his former outfit, but much more finely made - and expensive looking. His pants were now jet black - and similarly as finely tailored as his jacket. His hat was gone, and his hair, once tied back, was loose and rakishly disheveled. He huffed out half of a laugh as he inspected himself. "At least this is very comfortable, if nothing else."

"Oryou-san likes it, Ryouma. Though she misses your hat." Apparently, as Fujimaru had alluded to, the dragon woman was wearing the rest of her 'outfit' underneath her usual dress - which had vanished, leaving her in a tight black bodysuit - and little else. She, at least, did not seem in any way affected by the sudden changes that had been inflicted upon them.

There was a snort from behind Kratos. "Looks like I got the best deal of the bunch of us." Avenger strode out from behind him, hands on her hips, a smug look on her face. Her silver hair was now standing straight up, in something of a similar fashion to what Atreus had worn when younger - but in her case her hair had been styled into stiff spikes. A shredded shirt had replaced her armor - a similarly tattered pair of pants encasing her legs. Heavy, gaudy boots left prints in the soft ground, and a variety of charms and chains hanging from her form jangled with every movement, no matter how minor. There was something hanging off her back, from a strap that wrapped around her body - it seemed to be a musical instrument of some kind, a larger lute.

"I don't have a mirror, but I bet if I did it'd just confirm what I already know, I look bad-ass!" The woman's face, normally pale, was ghost white due to a coating of makeup - and the area around her eyes had been darkened, with lines radiating out from the tops and bottoms of the eyes, in a similar manner to what Kratos had seen in the desert land he had visited, after Greece, but before the Nine Realms. Her lips, too, had been similarly blackened.

Fujimaru bit back a snicker. "Except, I've read the reports of Orleans. She wanted you in her band, didn't she, Avenger?" Her finger sprang up to point at the woman. "Looking like that, it's going to be REALLY hard for you to say no."

Avenger's deflated 'Ah, shit….' was drowned out by Kratos' voice. "Focus!" His eyes cast about to each one of them in order. "Beyond appearance, have you been changed further? Does anything feel amiss, and can you still fight, if need be?"

There was a second of silence, then weapons began shimmering into existence. "My katana and revolver are still here," said Sakamoto. "I don't have anywhere to sheathe the blade, but that shouldn't be a problem. My version of Itto-Ryu didn't do a ton with Iai, so that shouldn't hinder me overmuch." He patted his jacket, around his right rib cage. "My gun's holstered there, underneath the suit. That's going to be more of a problem. Easier to hide it, but harder to draw, since I'm used to having it somewhere on my hip. My reflexes are going to be off."

Mash and Avenger were holding their weapons in hand. "No issues here, Mr. Kratos. At least not with my weapon. But fighting in a skirt this long….."

"Allow me, Squeaks." Avenger knelt down, seized the hem of Mash's skirt, and ripped. In the blink of an eye, she had taken several inches off the skirt's length - only for the damage to repair itself almost instantaneously.

Avenger stared down at the torn fabric in her hands. "Well, so much for that."

"It feels like I've still got the spells from my Mystic Code…..even if I'm not wearing it," said Fujimaru, hands still covering her stomach. "I guess those invitations lied - costumes are mandatory, not recommended. Though why isn't Kratos affected?" Her head turned to regard Shuten, who was watching them all with a grin of amusement on her face. "Or you, Shuten?"

"Mmmmmmmm…." Shuten brought one of her talons up to her mouth, which proceeded to tap on her lips. "For Kratos, it may be that he is considered to be 'dressed up' with what has been done to him. Or that, as the Guest of Honor, special accommodations and exceptions are his. But as for me?"

Her grin turned predatory, and while her voice did not change, Kratos felt an undercurrent of malice seep from the oni. "I think I'm probably scary enough as I am, so that I don't need some simple change of clothes to be enforced upon me to fit the dress code. Not like you, Masssster."

Mash was doing a few simple drills, slowly, at half-speed. Finally, she stopped, a frown on her face. "I am going to be slowed down like this. I can feel the fabric all around my legs, and I have to take extra care not to get tangled up."

She met Kratos' eyes, and he understood the problem immediately. She was their greatest defensive tool - if she was a second late in moving, that could be the difference between life and death - quite literally.

"Stay closer than usual to Fujimaru," rumbled Kratos, after a moment. "We do not know if the changes to your gear retain their protective qualities." The uniform Fujimaru had been issued was far from armor, but it did have some defensive qualities. Mash, however, HAD previously been wearing armor - perhaps the dress she was in now shared that armor's potency.

But perhaps not. In times of uncertainty, it was better served to be cautious.

And there could be more malign changes in this change of clothes, hidden, waiting for the correct moment to spring themselves upon them all.

Kratos reached down to his wrist and activated his communicator. Thankfully, after a brief period of static, it connected - it seemed there would be no repeat of the communication blackout that had plagued them once before. "Kratos? We're reading you loud and clear - what's the situation?"

In answer, Kratos simply panned his arm around the night air, allowing Romani, and the rest of the Command Room to see what had befallen them.

There was a pause, then a snicker, one that exploded into a torrent of laughter. "Looking GOOD Fujimaru!" From over Romani's shoulder, Kratos could see the Caster thrusting out his fist, thumb extended straight upwards. "Though that's not taking anything away from any of the makeovers our other ladies got."

"I'm going to assume you came to looking like this, immediately post the Rayshift, and didn't suddenly decide to change clothes as soon as you arrived there?" asked Romani, in what was an obviously rhetorical question. Kratos did not dignify that with a response, not even one of his customary grunts - but it seemed that was all that Romani needed. "Probably related to the obstruction that hit you all, towards the end of the Rayshift. Beginning scans. Da Vinci, let me know what you find from your avenues."

"I'm not reading anything beyond the surface level changes to your outfits," said Da Vinci. "If there's any curses or other hidden Magecraft, they're VERY well hidden. I'll do a deeper dive in a few, but at first glance, it looks like some simple Illusionary magics, mixed with a bit of……" Her nose wrinkled. "Not really Projection, but similar. It used the illusion as the base to change your clothes, then warped them, rather than creating them from nothing."

"They mend like motherfuckers, too," said Avenger, jabbing a thumb into one of the holes in her shirt, tearing down, ripping the thing in two (and giving everyone an eyeful of the black lace bra underneath), before it immediately repaired itself. "I tried to give Squeaks less of that thing around her legs, but it patched itself back up in the blink of an eye."

"In such a small Singularity, it's possible Liz traded size - and possibly length of manifestation, if she's serious about this Singularity only existing for a single night - for the power to keep people in-costume, whether they want to be or not." The El-Melloi was twirling one of his cigars in his hands. "The only truly outlandish thing about the Magecraft you seem to be affected with is its ability to self-repair. We COULD experiment, see if there's an upper limit to how many times it can do that, but there's a multitude of problems with that."

"If it's truly powered by a Grail, even a fragment, there won't BE an upper limit," mused Da Vinci. "Or if there is, not one we could reach anytime soon."

The El-Melloi nodded. "Exactly. And these are still their original clothes, just…altered. For the Servants, they could fight as well in tattered rags as they could in their usual fare - more or less. But shredding Fujimaru's Mystic Code would, at minimum, leave her without the spells woven into it. Those are the two major issues - there's any number of other, less possible ones - such as the chance that there's some kind of penalty clause that would be activated by trying to skirt the rules Liz has imposed upon this Singularity." He frowned. "A clause you would be subject to by virtue of having accepted the invitation - regardless of anything else."

Fujimaru groaned. "Wonderful."

"The good news is that we're having no trouble verifying your existences, and Da Vinci's generator upgrades are holding steady." Romani was grinning. "Better than steady - if it wasn't for the Servant restrictions, I'd say we should attempt a brief test to see how it handles a few more bodies on the ground, but that will have to wait for another day." His eyes slid to the side, as his hands began striking keys rapidly. "You're just on the southern border of the Singularity - if you head north through those woods, you should see the castle in about fifteen minutes to a half an hour."

"Barring anything lurking in the forests," said Sakamoto, with a wry grin on his face - undoubtedly remembering the last time they had wandered through a dark forest.

"Barring anything lurking in the forests," agreed Romani. "I'd like to believe that Liz would have been smart enough to make sure the forests were monster free for her guests but, well……this is Halloween, after all. She might think they add to the atmosphere."

Kratos could not find it in himself to disagree. Liz had made a largely favorable impression with the Spartan - anyone who bravely sacrificed themselves for a worthy cause would - but forethought had not been something the girl had seemed to be blessed with an abundance of. One had to look no further than her stated desire to not turn into her future self (an impossibility, yet she clung to it with determined vigor). "We advance through the forest, but carefully." His mind catalogued the forces available to him. "Fujimaru in the center, with Mash by her side. I will lead."

"I'll bring up the rear. My new outfit is dark enough that I'll blend in somewhat - might let me get the jump on anything trying to sneak up on us," said Sakamoto. "Oryou can float above and hopefully spot anything coming - though she won't be able to get too high with all those trees. But it's better than nothing."

"I got Red's left," said Avenger, already moving to flank the girl.

The oni was suddenly by Kratos, almost if she had suddenly appeared there. "And I will lead, as well." Kratos felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in warning, as all of his instincts suddenly screamed at the sense of threat that was pouring out of Shuten. "Anything that is willing to approach us through the malice I'm projecting will certainly be a fun distraction."

She began striding into the forest, her soft titter echoing back to them.

---

The forest was, unsurprisingly, pitch black, the canopy thick overhead, blocking out what little light there had been from the moon and stars. It was not a major issue, the dwarves' light source providing enough illumination for Kratos, but their progress through the woods was slowed, both by the dim lights, and just how bad the overgrowth was.

"Careful, Senpai," said Mash, hands catching Fujimaru as she stumbled over a large root - again. "Do you need a flashlight?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "No, I can see fine……I just feel…..off." She reached up to wipe sweat off her brow - her face far more flushed than it should have been for the short amount of walking they had done. "Something about this forest is giving me a really, REALLY bad feeling. Kind of like the one and only time I ever went near Aokigahara, when my mother really wanted to hammer home to her kids that there were places our family should never EVER go near."

The question must have shown on his face, because Fujimaru continued. "It's a place in Japan, a forest, one that has a really bad reputation. Beyond that it's supposed to be extremely haunted, it's also supposedly the most popular site in Japan for….suicides." She shuddered. "Which doesn't help its reputation at all. This place is giving me similar vibes."

Truthfully, Kratos felt it too, or felt something. Despite the noises of night insects all around them, there still seemed to be a quiet hush surrounding them. The trees seemed to loom closely, somehow both towering over them, and pressing in at the same time. And the wind through the branches was almost….rhythmic. Too regular to be nature itself. Were he of a poetic mindset, he may have described it as breathing. Hungry breathing.

He was not of a poetic mindset, so it only raised his guard further. He held up a hand, and everyone halted - though the oni took a few steps further into the gloom before stopping, her posture blithely unconcerned. "Anything?" he rumbled.

"Oryou-san doesn't see anything," muttered Oryou. "But she feels something. But Oryou-san can't pinpoint where."

"I've thought I heard something creeping up behind us once or twice, but whenever I tried to focus on it…..nothing," said Sakamoto, with a shrug.

"We're not alone," whispered Shuten. "And whatever it is isn't cowed by the killing intent I'm putting out." She licked her lips. "Promising."

"So what do we do?" whispered Avenger. "Should Squeaks hike up her skirt, and I pick up Red - but if you 'giddiup' me again I'm dropping your ass, Red - and we book it out of here?" There was a flicker of flame on her fingertips. "Or do we stand and fight?"

Shuten sniffed the air, frowned, and then inhaled more deeply. "Hmmmm…..manflesh. Approximately somewhere to the right of us…..and it's not whatever may or may not be stalking us. I only caught a whiff of it, when the wind shifted." Another languid sniff. "And something else…..a chemical smell." Her nose wrinkled. "A very unpleasant one, almost enough to overpower the human scent. Though…."

"If there's someone else in this place, we have to help them," said Fujimaru. "If nothing else, it would let us ask them what's going on here, get the lay of the land. Figure out if Liz has lost control of this thing or not."

Kratos grunted. It was not an unreasonable plan - and they did need information. A local would be ideal for that - assuming they would be willing to speak to them. "We go."

As one, they altered their course, following the oni's nose. "Not quite what I was expecting - I was going to suggest leaving them there to distract whatever might be lurking in the forests, but I suppose that's the kind of Master I'm serving." Her lithe form was easily darting through the thick underbrush. "At least this way I'll get a bit of fun out of the fight, so that's acceptable too."

Kratos, for his part, was nowhere near as amused as the oni. The trees seemed to be pressing in even closer, branches catching on them, trunks thickly clustered, almost like the forest had a mind of its own, and was now actively attempting to prevent them from reaching their goal. It was no hindrance to him, Kratos' frame was large enough that he was shattering through the grasping branches with little effort (though he was accumulating a plethora of minor scratches in the process) - but he could not simply barrel through the trees themselves. Were he alone, possibly, but it would serve those behind him ill were he to simply block their path with falling trees.

So he weaved through the multitude of trees, his movements more…..graceful than was the norm for himself, the rest of the group following in his wake. Or floating along with them, in the case of Oryou.

"Bad trees!" snapped the woman in question, her hand viciously chopping through a tangle of branches, the shattered wood raining down on them. "There are Oryou-san's ears! Not for you!"

"We're closing in," said Shuten, her soft voice carrying even over the din of their movement. She flexed her hands, and they could all hear sharp popping noises. "So exciting….."

Kratos, later, would have sworn he saw the trees in front of him moving - subtly crowding even closer together to shrink the gaps between their trunks - as though there was a sentience, a will to this forest.

It did not matter. His shield in hand, he shattered straight through them, splinters flying up around him. The trees groaned, and began to topple, but before gravity could fully seize them, he was through, Fujimaru, Mash, and the rest hot on his heels.

The area they burst into could barely be called a clearing. True, the trees were less thick here, but that spoke more to how dense the woods had been up until this point. This place was still cramped, but there was at least room to move - though not as freely as Kratos would have liked.

And they were far from alone in this space.

Men and women - and even some children, their bodies hazy and translucent, were all crowding around a truly massive tree that dominated the clearing, at the feet of which was slumped an unmoving figure. Kratos could not see their face - a large, wide brimmed hat hid it, but, by their manner of garb - a billowy orange and black dress - he assumed them to be a woman. He had time for only a glance, for, even as they entered the clearing, one of the figures surrounding her was extending its hand.

There was a flash of sparks, and the hand was repelled with a shriek of pain and a discordant noise, a Bounded Field flaring protectively around the unconscious woman. But its light was weak - duller than the ones Kratos was used to seeing Da Vinci utilize, and, to his eyes, it seemed as if some of the runes and magical script that made it up were fading, even in the split second it was visible.

If this was what had shielded the woman (a Servant, he realized) for however long she had been lying on the ground of this forest, it was running out of power. The spirits crowded in closer, another one already stretching out its hand, hungry for the warmth of the living.

The Leviathan Axe tore through what passed for its skull. It wobbled, eerily like a living person would when their head had been so suddenly, and brutally destroyed, then exploded into a shower of misty shards. Kratos saw pieces of its body spasming, fingers twitching as it broke apart like a puzzle that had been viciously thrown to the ground.

Every other thing in the clearing stilled, then, as one, their heads turned almost completely around on their bodies, hollow, empty eye sockets staring at the Chaldeans.

Then they bent their heads back, and SCREAMED.

And changed.

They gained height, their forms swelling - though some of that might have been from how their legs disappeared into their forms, their bodies levitating off the ground. The ghostly flesh melted from their faces, peeling back to reveal grinning, bloated skulls, their corpse grins displaying a mouthful of teeth too sharp to be human. Arms elongated, gaining maybe half again their length, and their hands went through a similar transformation, fingers sprouting sets of wicked, massive talons. What clothing they had been wearing faded into indistinctness, until they were all robed in shrouds - their death shrouds, as likely as not.

Again they moved, once more in unsettling synchrony, their lower halves pivoting around until their bodies matched the orientation of their heads. Razor nails sparked against each other, as their mouths creaked open, and they hissed.

Fujimaru winced, sinking to her knees.

"Senpai?" Mash was already interposing herself between her Master and the ghosts before Kratos had even begun to move to do the same. As his bulk blocked the dead's view of the two, he saw Mash's eyes flicker back, for just as second, to the girl.

Fujimaru's eyes were closed, her hands cradling her head, as though she was in pain. "I can hear them……it's too much! Regrets, anger, madness, despair…..it's all flowing into me!" One of her eyes cracked open, and Kratos saw it - her normally amber eyes had clouded over with a gray film.

She shuddered, and crumpled further, and a ripple seemed to pass through the ghostly horde - their eyes firmly locked on Fujimaru.

Kratos moved. The Leviathan Axe returned to his hand, tearing through the back of one of the ghosts as it did, and with a leap, he dived into their midst.

His axe screamed as it cleaved into the closest ghost, its incorporeal body easily yielding before the edge of the weapon. He spun, shield forming around his arm, and he backhanded the thing away. "Mash - protect Fujimaru! Everyone else, defend yourselves!"

A hissing ghost raked its talons across his shield, thin slivers of metal falling to the forest floor. He shoved it away, then chopped out with his axe, splitting its overly large skull in two. As with the one earlier, it shattered, screaming pieces of the whole shooting out across the clearing. From above, two more descended, but he planted his feet and swept the Leviathan Axe over his head in a half-circle, disemboweling them. They hit the ground and wailed, but did not explode.

And, as Kratos watched, their misty forms began to flow back together.

There was an angry, rasping noise from behind.

One that died, turning into a strangled gasp even as Kratos spun around. The ghost - the very one he had first struck, had apparently recovered enough to rise, and attack - but it had been halted in its tracks - by an arm being thrust straight through its chest.

"Hmmmmm," purred Shuten, looking at the spirit writhing on her arm. "Unusually resilient for a ghost." She tore her arm free of the thing, and watched, her head tilted, as the hole she had torn in its gut slowly began to fill. "It seems crippling injuries just won't…..do. A shame."

Her hand shot out, seizing the spirit by the throat. "So I suppose I'll have to be more….direct." Her other hand fisted in the things scraggly hair, and she viciously tore the head from its body, throwing the trunk aside like so much garbage.

The head….'lived' for a few seconds more, its jaws creaking open, a sepulcher voice croaking from within. "Once upon a midnight dreary……"

Then it, like the others that had 'died', exploded, drowning out Shuten's gleeful laughter.

When the fragments of the misty dead had finished washing over Kratos, he raised his voice, sounding it across the battlefield. "They heal from injuries - only lethal blows can put them down!"

"Head or the heart, then," replied Sakamoto, his katana a blur of flashing steel. "Explains why my gun wasn't doing too much."

Oryou snatched a reaching arm by the wrist, and spinning about, hurled the thing back into a pack, causing them to tumble. An inhale, and her caustic breath washed over them, but they rose up, flesh flowing back into place like wax, melting in reverse. "Annoying human spirits."

She cracked her knuckles. "Take this then……Oryou-san Super Bunny….KICK!"

Her stockinged foot touched down on the dirt for a split second, and then, she vanished. By the time the ghosts had even thought to react, she was already among them. Her leg swept up, almost glowing red from the sheer speed and air friction. It caught one of the ghosts in the chest and pulped it, then sent it streaking through the trees, and into the nighttime sky.

"To the MOON!" cried Oryou, as she pivoted, her leg scissoring down and her body spinning up, her other leg slashing through the crowd, horizontally. Two heads were struck from their respective necks, but a third ghost managed to get an arm up and block the strike, though its arm visibly shattered from the impact.

But even as they shattered, the translucent bones were already mending.

The ghost brought its other arm into play, the claws slashing at Oryou, who continued her motion, flipping around so that she was facing downwards. The talons sliced through the air, just under Oryou's body, and, once the arm passed, she plummeted down. Her feet touched the ground, her body bent at the waist. Her legs tensed, and she leapt, flipping head over heels, and cannoned her feet into the thing's torso. Once more, spectral bones were turned to dust, and the thing, like its fellow, was blasted away, flying through the trees. The sound of a shriek, cut off by a detonation, echoed back from the darkness.

Fires were crackling around Avenger, her spear and sword whistling through the darkness. "Burning them seems to keep the fuckers from healing - at least for a bit." She jerked her head out of the way of a set of lunging talons, then scissored the arm off at the elbow. She planted her foot, stepping forward, and slashed through the ghost, sword taking off the top of its head, spear carving through its chest cavity. Her foot shot up, kicking the thing away just before it exploded in death.

She snarled at the remaining dead, her teeth bared. "You jackasses aren't that tough - you can take a beating, but that's it? So who's next?" Her sword flashed, beckoning them on. "If one at a time isn't good enough for you, we can do groups of ten - it doesn't matter to me, in the end. Not like any of you are going to lay a finger on Red."

The ghosts circling them hesitated, their eyes still hungrily roving over Fujimaru. Then, almost as if a signal had been given, they began floating away - retreating.

"Should we pursue?" Sakamoto had his gun leveled at the retreating spirits, his eyes tracking them carefully.

Kratos considered it for a moment, before replying. "No. Fujimaru is….affected. And there is another we must see to, as well." A grunt. "But stay on your guards - their retreat may only be temporary."

He turned, trusting at least that Sakamoto at least would remain on guard - the oni and Avenger he had somewhat less faith in, given their natures. Fujimaru was slowly rising to her feet, leaning heavily on Mash. "Ow ow ow ow." Her hands were massaging her temples, her face twisted in pain. She blinked rapidly, and Kratos could see some of the film that had been over her eyes receding. "I'm ok……something about this place….or those ghosts just forcefully activated my Sight." She grimaced, shaking her head as if to try to clear it. "And I can't completely shut it off, either. I'm hearing whispers and groans from the Veil……which probably means I'm lit up like a beacon to every single spirit within a few miles."

"So much for stealth," griped Avenger. "But it's not like we were ever going with that anyways. Walk up and knock on the front door until that little miscreant comes down and fixes this shit ain't exactly keeping it quiet."

"Can you continue?" asked Kratos.

Fujimaru nodded. "It just took me by surprise, that's all. Disoriented me. Give me a minute or two to catch my breath, adjust, and I'll be ok." She swallowed heavily, a determined expression on her face. "I won't slow us down."

Kratos' only response was a grunt. She knew her powers better than any of the rest of their group, and she had been largely level-headed so far. He would trust her judgement - but would watch her all the same.

Shuten was crouched down by the unconscious woman. "Whatever Servant this is, they're not showing any sign of waking." She reached out and carefully poked the Bounded Field with a talon. "Though this field is about to fall. Had we been a few moments later….."

She trailed off, and with a shrug, Shuten pressed her palm against the edge of the Bounded Field. The Field barely responded, its light weak and stuttering, and with a snarl of effort, Shuten shattered it.

"There," she said, a moment before a chemical reek washed over them, causing each and every one of the group to cough, gagging on the stench.

"Ryouma…..Oryou-san doesn't like this," moaned the dragon-woman, her hand pinching her nose closed, her body wobbling in the air.

As Sakamoto commiserated with her, Kratos attempted to shake off the effects of…whatever it had been that had just hit them. Everyone - save Mash and Fujimaru, he noted - seemed a bit paler, less steady on their feet. "The smell…." he began.

"Probably whatever they used to knock her out," finished Shuten, her nose wrinkled in distaste. She reached down and picked up something from the ground, something that had been resting just beside the woman, and held it up. "This, maybe?"

It was two items, a rag, and a clear bottle that contained some green liquid. Written on the side was a simple word 'Naptime'.

A groggy groan drew all their attention away from what Shuten was holding. The woman was slowly beginning to stir, her head tilting upwards. As she roused, and the brim of her hat rose, revealing her face, Kratos recognized her - and realized the two pink horns that he had thought were part of the hat itself were, in fact, not that at all.

But rather, a pair of familiar horns, ones that were attached to a familiar head and face.

Elizabeth Bathory blinked wearily, her eyes struggling to focus as she came back to herself. Then, there was a sudden intake of breath, and she blinked her eyes furiously, as if she was trying to ensure that what she was seeing was truly there.

Then, in the next second she had shot up from the ground, her hands fisted in the collar of Kratos' armor. Her eyes grew impossibly wide, brimming with tears, her cheeks puffed out, her mouth a trembling line.

"Fuzzy!" she wailed. "I screwed up! Someone's stolen my castle!"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And so, it begins. I hope the image of bedazzled Kratos scars your mind's eye like it has mine since I first thought of it.

Dammit, Liz.

Medusa: I want no part of this nonsense. I will disguise it with logic and reason, but my GUDAGUDA sense is tingling, and I am going to hide under my bed until it passes.

Chapter 53: It's the Great Liz-oween, Ghost of Sparta 2

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 53​

Kratos took a deep breath. Then another one. And, as gently as he was capable of being at this moment, he reached down, seized Liz by the scruff of her neck, and detached her from her death grip on his neck, easily lifting her from the ground, and holding her out at arm's length.

Her eyes, somehow, got even bigger as she took in the expression on his face - and, belatedly, it seemed - appeared to notice the….changes to what she thought was his skin. Her mouth shot open, and was beginning to speak, when her voice was drowned out.

By his.

"Elizabeth." He wasn't fully able to temper his anger, his annoyance with the girl, and what she had done to him (intended or not), but when he spoke, the nearby trees did not shake with the force of his voice. That was something. "What. Have. You. DONE?"

The girl flinched like she'd been struck, and began speaking. "IwantedtoseeyouandAvengeragainandhaveaparty!" Words tumbled out of her mouth like water from a broken dam. "AndthenIfoundthisglowingshardthatgavemeenoughmanatopullitoffanddoanextrasurpriseontopofit,butsomeonesnuckupbehindmeandstoleit,thenstuffedthatragovermyface!"

"Slow down," growled Kratos, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be. "Speak clearly."

Liz took a trembling breath, and loudly cleared her nose. "I just wanted to throw you guys a party, let you unwind a bit. I saw how hard you're all working, and Jeanne's always talking about all the good you're going, both in trying to save Humanity, and being such a good example for her sister/My Bestie! So, when I found that glowing shard, I thought it was the Heavens saying 'Yes, Liz, you should ABSOLUTELY do this thing!' "

There was a low groan from Avenger - he ignored it, the narrowing of his eyes showing Liz exactly what he thought of her logic. The girl in question swallowed heavily, and continued. "So I summoned my castle, prepared a surprise for you, hired people to get everything ready, and sent out invitations. It was all going so well - I even managed a change to my Class to fit the spooky party. I was putting the finishing touches on everything in the Throne Room when I heard someone come in - I didn't look, because I thought it was just one of the work crews I had running around."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Romani. "I must have misheard. You CHANGED your class? How? And WHY?"

"Oh yeah!" said Liz, almost casually. She raised her arms - possibly intending to do a spin to show off her outfit, but dropped them back to her sides when she realized she was prevented from doing so - as Kratos was still holding her off of the ground. With a shrug, she summoned a trident to her hand, and began waving it about. "An idol needs an appropriately themed outfit for a holiday show, and Halloween means witches! So I'm a Caster now. You can just call me Witchy Eli-chan!"

She appeared to regret that as soon as the words left her mouth. "Or…maybe not. I'm still workshopping the name."

"But…..how?" asked Romani. "Servants can't just…..CHANGE their class like that!"

Liz sniffed derisively. "Not with that attitude you can't. If I was going to dress up like a witch for my special Halloween concert, then I had to be a Caster. That's just basic logic!"

"But," began Da Vinci, sounding like her definition of logic and the one being used by this girl had very little in common. "Elizabeth Bathory had no real connection to the Mysteries in her life…..you shouldn't be ABLE to qualify for that class." Her voice was growing in volume with every word she spoke. "It's not like just changing clothes or something, there ARE rules set in place for these things!"

Liz grinned widely. "That's just the power of positive thinking and belief!"

Da Vinci groaned. "For the sake of my sanity, I think we're going to have to stick a pin in this one." From the pressure building in his skull, the signs of an incipient headache, Kratos found himself in agreement with her. Somehow, every one of the girl's answers left them with more questions. "You were saying?"

Liz's hands anxiously fiddled with her trident. "ANYWAYS, there I was, adding some appropriate decorations to my throne, when someone came up behind me and stuffed a rag over my face. I dropped like a rock. The last thing I recalled before I blacked out was them taking the shard from me."

Her shoulders slumped. "The next thing I knew, I was waking up here and you all were hovering over me. I could feel it as soon as I woke up, someone's taken Castle Csejte from me - I don't have any control over it anymore."

She ran her eyes up and down Kratos. "What happened to you, anyways? I don't remember you being so sparkly. I know Batty told me glitter is craft herpes, but I didn't think opening a tube would spawn sparkle ghosts - tell me I didn't spawn sparkle ghosts. Please?"

The growl that slipped from his mouth caused her to flinch again, and he tried to remember Medusa's words to him. (It was a struggle.) "You happened….Elizabeth." He took a deep breath, and managed to stop biting off his words. "The invitation was covered in this….substance. And it has stuck to me."

"Wait, what? It shouldn't have done that! It was only supposed to be there for an explosion of wow-factor when you got it!" She leaned forward, peering at him. "Wait……is that…..Grail energy?"

She paled, her eyes widening. "And it's stuck to a curse…..WHY ARE YOU CURSED, FUZZY?" Her head flailed about, and she thrashed in Kratos' grip. "Crap crap crap crap crap! I AM SO SORRY!"

Somehow, she managed to kneel and bow her head, despite having nothing to plant her feet on. Kratos felt the weight of her body suddenly vanish - it seemed she could fly, or hover, and either had been unaware of this ability….or had just forgotten about it until now.

"I can fix this!" she almost shouted, her words again in danger of running together. "Just get me that shard back, and I'll uncurse you, lickety split! Oooooh, I screwed UPPPPPPP so baaaad!"

"Elizabeth," he rumbled, silencing her babbling. "The curse is not your doing." Her face brightened, relief dawning - before his next words shattered it. "But the….glitter….IS your fault. And you will be undoing it. But only it - not the curse." He glared down at her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied, with a sigh. "I really wasn't looking to cause problems like this, I just wanted to do something nice for you guys." Her head drooped. "But things just…..got out of control."

"Did you send out invites to every cemetery in the surrounding area, too?" asked Fujimaru, who had edged up beside Kratos.

Liz blinked. "Who's this sassy lost ginger?" she blinked, one of her long, pink talons firing up to point at the girl, before it wavered. "Wait, you're not a Servant? Fuzzy, where'd you find a human at, and a Master too? I thought they were all gone?"

"Ritsuka Fujimaru, Last Master of Humanity," said the girl. "And also a Spiritualist - something that this Singularity is playing merry hell with."

"And where did you come from? I remember Mash there, and my Bestie, but when did Fuzzy pick you up?" Liz waved her arms in some indistinct pattern. "It's not like he can just summon you like those two Servants hanging back there I don't know."

"I was in a coma……and possessed." She shook her head as an excited gleam grew in Liz's eyes. "Not the point, answer the question!"

"Of course!" She was staring at Fujimaru like she wanted to ask if she'd been dropped on her head, repeatedly, as a child. "It's HALLOWEEN! You can't have a Halloween party without all the traditional things - ghosts, werewolves, vampires, bats, and everything else! So I made sure that the area was chock-full of all of those things so my guests would have the time of their lives!"

She was wiggling in Kratos' grasp, her face beaming with excitement. "I even invited Uncle Vlad to be a floor boss for you all - no point in having a creepyfun castle party and just letting you just WALK up to see me, after all!" Her shoulders slumped, and her frantic energy seemed to leak away. "I hope he's ok. Hopefully he's still sitting on the throne I had made for him and just waiting for me to get things back under control. Or knitting some party favors. He loves knitting…."

"Seems pretty freaking straightforward," said Avenger. "Climb the castle, kick the shit out of whoever stole the shard, fix Grumps there, go home. Easy peasy."

Liz's hands were on her hips. "You forgot 'Experience the pure bliss that is Liz's concert', but I'll forgive you since it's you, BESTIE!" She held her arms out wide. "I'm so happy to see you again, and looking great, too! Bring it in!"

Avenger shook her head. "Pass."

Despite what might have been his better judgment, Kratos dropped the girl. He may as well have thrown her directly at Avenger - her feet had barely touched the dirt before she was practically launching herself at Avenger, her arms outstretched.

"You don't have to play hard to get, Bestie - though that tsundere thing will work wonders in our group, good contrast to me!" Liz had grappled Avenger in one of the more effective body-locks Kratos thought he had ever seen in his time. "I'm the super-approachable center of our group, while you lurk on the shadows, being all scary and grumpy, oh, it'll be SO GOOD!"

Kratos decided to take pity on Avenger, and spoke up, pulling Liz's attention away from her current victim fixation. "What can you tell us of the castle?" She blinked, and he elaborated. "What did your plans entail?"

She (reluctantly) released Avenger and knelt down, her long, pink talons drawing in the dirt. "I had a few different things planned. For the guests, there was a kind of obstacle course crossed with a test of courage or a haunted house. Jump scares, spooky noises, and some of those kinds of escape room puzzles that are all the rage these days. Nothing TOO dangerous, really, and some prizes for the fastest times at the end of the night."

She flicked a wad of soil off her nails, and continued. "But for you guys, I was going to go all out. Besides Uncle Vlad, I had a couple of gig workers - temps really - who sounded promising. They were all supposed to keep it reasonable, bruises, maybe some cuts a little worse than flesh wounds, but no maiming or killing. I like you all too much for that, after all." Her cheeks puffed out. "Good clean fun, in the end, to get everyone's blood pumping before the big finale. Which was supposed to be the debut of Halloween Eli-chan! And now that's RUIIIIIINEED!"

She shifted back from the drawing of Castle Csejte, and began pointing. "Everything starts from the main ballroom - that's the main area that all the party goers would have access to. Food, dancing, some simple games y'know, bobbing for apples and the other traditional stuff, and then the stairways that led to the upper levels. The second floor was for the commoners, while a new staircase would have taken you guys straight to the third floor for the REAL fun. I'd have been waiting at the top to test you myself, and show off my new Class in the process. I was even thinking of Live Streaming it on ServantTube, but now……"

"Are there secret passages?" All eyes turned to Shuten, and she shrugged. "Neya was always convinced that the palace she worked in was riddled with secret passages, to let the Emperor and his retinue get around more easily. An old castle like this - particularly one that saw such……" Her expression turned wistful. "....bloodletting - could have them as well. The better to hide your activities from the peasants."

"Nothing like that was going to happen here," said Liz, a bit sharply - then she sighed, deflating. "But you're right. My stupid older self had quite a few things like that, for exactly the reasons you mentioned. If we're lucky, we could use them to sneak right up to the throne room."

"Your tone suggests you don't think that will be the case." Sakamoto was staring intently at the diagram of the castle, his mind, Kratos felt, already peeling back the layers of everything he had been told and beginning to plot.

Liz nodded. "The diagram I was using to plot out the obstacle course was right there on my table when I got knocked out. And it also had all the secret passages outlined, so security could watch them and make sure no one used them to get anywhere they shouldn't be. If whoever stole my castle noticed that….."

She didn't have to elaborate. They could be sealed by now - or trapped. Or both.

"Oh no," said Shuten, the tone of her voice, and the eager look on her face, at complete odds with her words. "I suppose we'll just have to take the direct route, then."

"Just to ask," said Mash. "But do you have any idea who might have knocked you out?"

Liz's face scrunched up in thought. "No idea. There were a TON of workers renovating everything, and delivery folks from Amazoness in and out all day. It wouldn't have been hard for one to slip upstairs in all the bustle. Security was more about keeping guests out before it was partytime."

"And Vlad?" rumbled Kratos.

Liz shook her head, her arms firmly crossed. "No way. Uncle Vlad wouldn't do that to me." Her words were emphatic, containing zero doubt whatsoever. "And anyways, knocking me out from behind isn't his style at all. No, if he was looking to take over, he'd have come at me straight on."

Kratos conceded her words with a soft grunt. He'd only had two brief encounters with the…..man, and he had been tainted with Madness Enhancement at the time (though, being a Berserker, that would have been the case even without Avenger's meddling), but he had possessed a touch of a warrior's honor, despite the fact that of what he was - both a Berserker, and a vampire on top of that. While he had been willing to fight dirty in combat, the way Liz had been deposed did seem out of character for him, at least from Kratos' judgment.

"Then it could be literally anyone," said Fujimaru. "You have any relevant names out of the folks you hired?"

"Nope!" chirped Liz. "I mean, there was Siggy-Woogy and his frenemy to head up security, but there's more chance of me playing second fiddle to that Roman menace than him stabbing me in the back." Her lips pursed as she thought. "The guy I got to head up the kitchens and the waitstaff seemed a bit sketchy….and he felt familiar too, though I couldn't put a claw on exactly why. Could have been nothing, but….." She shrugged.

"And then there were just a metric ton of faceless peons in and out all day and night - I was head down working on the party plans, so I didn't catch their names - I barely got faces. I mostly only dealt with their bosses - I told them what I wanted to happen, they told me how things were going." Her expression said it all - the list of possible suspects was long.

"Is there a Service Entrance?" asked Sakamoto, still staring at her drawing of the castle. "Or did everything always have to come in through the front gates?"

"There is," confirmed Liz. "It connects right to the kitchens, was where all the servants, at least the ones who didn't live in the castle, entered from back in the day." Her eyes peered up at the Rider. "What are you thinking?"

"Splitting up is an option. Send Kratos in the front way, with Liz with him, draw eyes. Fujimaru's group is a bit more suited to the quiet approach, with an Assassin and myself here." A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And Mash is dressed to blend in. Unintentionally, but we could make use of it. Depending on how you had your staff dressed, she might be able to infiltrate and not have anyone bat an eye."

"No, she'd match." Liz's eyes walked up and down a blushing Mash's form. "The differences are mild enough that you'd really have to be paying attention to catch them. If she was wearing one of the sexy variants, she'd stand out more, but the plain Jane maid outfit? She probably won't draw a second glance."

"I could try," said Mash. "It'd be like being a spy. Go in, figure out the lay of the land, and report back to you."

"We might not have time for that," Romani's voice issued from the communicator. "If this Singularity's a limited-time thing, we need to resolve it sooner rather than later. Or before any gate-crashers arrive."

"Assuming whomever is causing problems isn't associated with Lev's people," said Da Vinci. "But I somehow feel that they probably wouldn't have left Liz alive. Or, if they did, they'd have brainwashed her or somehow turned her against us." There was an ugly scowl on the Universal Genius' face. "They do seem to be really fond of that one."

"Splitting up might still have merit, though," said Sakamoto. "Mash could be our advance scout once we get through the kitchens." He glanced over to Kratos. "What do you think?"

"Let us see the state of the castle," he replied. "We can decide then."

---

The woods remained eerie, but despite all that - the trees looming far too close, the branches seeming to grasp at them - they made it out without further incident. By the time they were able to see the sky again, the moon was high overhead - and full, because of course.

Fujimaru welcomed the light it was casting, though. She was getting a real aversion to pitch-dark forests in the dead of night.

Less settling for her nerves were the tendrils of mist that had begun rising from the ground as they reached the edges of the woods. The things were practically coiling around their legs - no substance to them, but it was keeping up the sense of claustrophobia that the woods had, even as they moved into a more open area.

And her head was pounding, as the ghosts in the area continued to scream and badger at her. After this was over, she'd need to sit down and talk with her Teacher - if her Sight could be forcefully activated like this, then she couldn't put off working on it anymore. She'd been….well, way more than hesitant to even touch it given the mass extinction of humanity and what that had to have done to the Veil. But if Lev and his buddies figured out it could be used against her like this?

Yeah. She saw some late nights in her future - that was the best time for seances, after all.

She was wondering if Da Vinci had the correct kind of chalk and candles as they crested the small hill that Liz said would lead straight to the main path to Castle Csejte's main gate, when Liz's shriek of dismay cut through the night air, and almost made her jump ten feet into the air.

"What's happened to MY CASTLE?!!!?????!!?"

She thought she could sort of understand Liz's distress. The castle only barely looked like a castle anymore. It was still massive, big enough that it looked like it was in danger of scraping at the moon (which was doing its part and bathing the whole thing in an eerie, white light), but that was where the similarities mostly ended. The walls, for one, were wood now, instead of stone, and on the subject of walls, the entire outer wall that Liz had mentioned was entirely gone, replaced with an iron fence that looked like it was tipped with some really wicked points. A gate house that looked like it had seen better days squatted next to the gate itself. The thing was the picture definition of 'ramshackle' - it seemed like the only thing that was keeping it from toppling over was the large boulder behind it. Overall, it looked more like a manor house than a castle - albeit a very, VERY big one, and one with some very classic buttresses and towers jutting out of it. Possibly lingering traces of the castle it had once been, before the hostile takeover.

And the whole thing looked, as Avenger might say 'gothic as hell'. The mist that was blanketing the ground and wrapping around their feet almost seemed to be spilling from the doors and windows of the house in a steady trickle. The wooden planks of walls seemed old, pitted with age, and the eaves loomed over the nearby fields. Shadows seemed to cling to the windows, though, here and there, a weak light flickered behind one or two - an ember flaring, before going suddenly dark. Black birds - she was too far away to tell if they were crows or ravens - seemed to have turned up in droves, and were assembled on the rooftop, just…..watching. Much quieter than she would have ever expected of either breed, too, which only added to the creep factor.

But the night wasn't quiet - despite the uncharacteristic silence from the avian contingent. A line of people was queued up from just in front of the wrought-iron gates, milling about, waiting to be allowed entry. Every few minutes, the gate would creak open, and a few people would be ushered through, before the thing would screech closed, and the next group would draw up to the sullen little gatehouse. The trail to the house was lined with torches, a pathway of dancing flames - and the only spots of light that could be seen inside the grounds of the estate, besides the irregular illumination behind the windows.

And that was only the living guests. She didn't think the rest of their party could see them, but the dead appeared to be just as eager to get into the house as the living were. They were packed five deep - at least - around the fence, crowding in, but apparently unable to make it past the barrier. And if they were thick at the fence, they were something else entirely around the line of guests. There was an almost frenetic energy in the throng of spirits, each and every one of them hungry for what the guests had, and they did not.

Fortunately for the guests, it seemed that there were at least some protections - the ghosts couldn't enter the beaten path they were on any more than they could breach the perimeter of the manor house. But, either the ones admitting the guests past the fences were unaware of the ghosts, or just negligent, because each time the gate swung open, a few ghosts managed to slip in. They were still barred from the path, but the house itself seemed to have no such restrictions. As she watched, a handful floated upwards, and slipped between the tiles of the roof, and into the house itself. Then, her eyes had trailed back to the hordes crowding around the estate, and she felt a spike of pain lance through her skull, as her Sight fritzed again.

"These changes," Kratos was saying, she sort of heard through the pain. "The doing of the one who knocked you out?"

"Has to be. I might not remember a ton, but I do remember them taking the fragment from me." Liz's face was a picture of ire. "They weren't handsy when they did it, but STILL. THE NERVE. Manhandling and groping an idol like that." Her tail was slapping the ground behind her, whiplike, kicking up dirt. "But, if they have it, they certainly could have done that tacky remodel of my castle. It had enough power to make this Singularity, after all."

"Do any of you see the ghosts?" A bunch of shaking heads was her reply. Oh joy. "Well they're there, in numbers, and I mean NUMBERS. Think the United Roman Legion numbers. All around the fence there, and trying to get at the guests. There's some kind of field around the fence and the path, so they can't, but they're slipping in when the guests get admitted."

"So the house is compromised," said Sakamoto - who continued with a sheepish shrug. "Well, more so than it already was, at least."

"We saw how eager the ghosts were for my Master," purred Shuten, leaning into Mash's space. "You'll need to keep your eyes peeled, girl."

Mash's eyes were narrowed, her brow furrowed. "I can…..see them. A little bit."

Fujimaru blinked. "Wait, really?"

Mash nodded. "They're indistinct but……yes. I think….."

"It's possible some of your powers are bleeding through the connection you two have," stated Romani. "Especially with them being a bit uncontrollable right now. It's not unheard of for Masters and Servants to experience flashes of each other's lives - usually through dreams. Something like the Sight isn't completely out of the question."

"On that subject," began Da Vinci. "Kratos, still no strange dreams?"

"Nothing," replied Kratos.

"Plenty of fire and rage in my dreams," said Avenger. "But that's not different than the norm, so I couldn't tell you if those are coming from my side of things or his."

"Alright. I'll make a note of it - as we don't have any idea what, if any differences there are when a god is one half of the Master-Servant contract, it's good to document these things." Da Vinci's eyes had slid away from them as she trailed off, her mind probably already going down twelve different paths - probably at least half of them terrifying.

"So….." began Avenger, pointing. "Are we just going to go wait in line? Cause that's going to take for fucking EVER."

Her gesture wasn't even really needed - the queue of prospective partygoers was long enough to, in Fujimaru's estimation, possibly stretch around the manor fence at least twice - she wasn't sure exactly HOW all those people would fit into the manor's ballroom, even as big as the house was. Possibly someone had expanded the space - like she was pretty sure Da Vinci had done to her workshop, or that saying Gordy had brought back from the Clock Tower - 'Bigger on the inside.'

Liz stomped her foot down. "Nope, not happening. And not necessary. You guys have the VIP invitation, or you should." One of her pink talons shot up, pointing directly at Kratos. "He's the guest of honor, which means he gets to cut right to the front of the line. AND you've got your hostess RIGHT here, if anyone wants to complain!" Fujimaru thought she could almost see steam shooting out of the girl's ears, so she pitied anyone who was stupid enough to get in her way.

Liz reached out and seized Kratos' hand, and began stomping forward, dragging the man along behind her. "C'mon Fuzzy! We're getting my castle back!"

The crowd was at first unyielding, unwilling to budge an inch, but, after a moment, it began parting before them with almost undue haste. Possibly it was because of Kratos' sheer size and presence (more the latter than the former - he was big and imposing, but there were a lot of Servants taller or wider than he was) - but if she was a betting girl, it she'd put her money on Liz putting the fear of god (or an angry would-be idol) into the guests. Even if they didn't know she was no longer the one hosting this party, they had to know her - and that meant they'd recognize her on the spot. And pissing off the hostess is a quick way to getting yourself uninvited, so they started making way for her, leaving the rest of them to follow in her wake.

In a matter of moments, they were at the front of the line. Liz's pace had been accelerating as she'd drawn nearer and nearer to the gate, so, by the time she'd reached the last set of guests, the ones waiting for the current bunch to be admitted (or turned away, though no one, as of yet, had been turned away), she'd just barreled right through them without waiting for them to move aside. As the various people began to raise their voices in complaint, Liz's foot stomped down into the packed dirt of the road, and her voice cracked through the night air.

"Siggy-Woogy!" Liz propelled herself off the ground, her free arm waving wildly. "Get your butt over here!"

One of the crowd standing before the gates held up a hand and, with what seemed like an excessive number of apologies, each with a bowed head (and this was coming from Fujimaru, who was Japanese, and thus culturally indisposed towards a certain level of formality and apologies), a man began making his way over to them. He was pretty tall - broad too - with a shock of silver hair that tumbled down his back. And his kind of butler's outfit (or maybe it was more of a suit) was wide open, showing off a chest that was easy on the eyes - though it would have been easier on the eyes if not for the glowing sigil there. Still, she wasn't complaining at ALL (she was a HEALTHY girl, with appetites for eye candy!).

A grin was growing on the man's face as he drew up to them. "Kratos!" Then he saw who was clutching at Kratos' hand, and started. "And….Miss Elizabeth? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be…." His eyes flicked backwards to the manor-castle.

"Someone's castlejacked me, Siggy-Woggy!" Liz's voice was starting to reach levels where it would only be heard by dogs. "I hired you to be my security, didn't you think something was wrong when the thing changed into…..THAT?!???!?"

A sheepish look grew on the man's face (Siegfried - she'd watched the replays of France with her Sensei, so she recognized him now that he was standing right in front of her). "Truthfully……I simply believed you had decided to, as you put it 'change it up a bit'." He met her irate gaze unflinchingly. "I do recall how often your plans for your debut show in France changed, after all."

Liz deflated. "Ok, you've got me there. But still! Someone carted me out of the castle and dumped me in the forest and you never noticed?"

Siegfried sighed. "Miss Elizabeth……we have had our hands full with the sheer number of guests you invited. It was all we could do to keep them out before the scheduled admission time - at last count we were up to twenty who had tried to blend in with a group of delivery men and sneak in, or attempted to attach themselves to a work crew returning after lunch." He shrugged. "We've had to be so alert with the incoming things that we just haven't paid the same level of attention to anything coming out."

"Wait, we?" Avenger's head swept about. "Unless you've got some imaginary friends that we can't see, who's this 'we' you're speaking of?"

Siegfried did a double-take. "....Avenger? Is that you?" At her nod, a smile grew on his face. "So you did accompany Kratos, then, as Jeanne hoped? She'll be happy to hear that."

Avenger exaggeratedly rolled her eyes. "We already met one of her church buddies in the last Singularity, so I'm sure she's ALREADY gotten the skinny on my recent life choices from him. Your shit's going to be old news by the time you bump into her."

Liz was wiggling. "See, Siggy-Woogy, I told you she'd show up! She even dressed the part - I KNEW she couldn't wait to share a stage with me!"

Avenger groaned. "While I appreciate my new threads more than some of the rest of us do, this is all your doing." Liz blinked, confusedly, and Avenger continued. "I was just wearing my usual armor when we left the base, same as Squeaks and Mash were. Out of all of us, only Kratos and that oni didn't get a makeover."

Liz glanced at each of them, her lips pursing. "....costumes shouldn't have been mandatory. At least, I don't think they should have been." She fidgeted. "I'm still not entirely sure on this whole Caster thing - it's a lot more complicated than Casko made it look. Then again, she made it look stupid easy." She threw her hands up into the hair. "Eh, experience for next time."

Fujimaru was almost certain that she saw more than a couple of people shudder at the mention of a 'next time'. Mash and Avenger for sure, Siegfried maybe. There was a split second where the line of Kratos' spine changed just a touch - there and gone again fast enough that you could tell yourself you imagined it.

"Anyways," continued Liz. "It could be either because I messed up when I was setting the rules as to who would be allowed into this place, or because something went haywire when my shard was stolen. Fastest way to find out would be for you to hurry up and LET US IN!"

Liz's voice had been growing in volume, until, by the end of her would-be tirade, and she was outright shouting - and loudly. There was a loud rumble that seemed to come from everywhere at once, and what Fujimaru had thought was a large boulder, behind the gatehouse, uncoiled itself, rising up, and up.

And up.

It was a dragon - and one that, like Siegfried, Fujimaru recognized. Serpentine, and massive - she wasn't sure how it had managed to disguise itself as a boulder, much less compact itself into such a tiny form - but this was Fafnir - the recordings from France had been much shakier where this thing had been concerned, but still, it was unmistakable. Even with the oversized security cap resting on its misshapen head.

"Faffy!" Liz held her hands out, palms facing the dragon, almost like she was asking for high-fives. "Did I wake you? Were you on break?" Her eyes narrowed. "I hope you weren't slacking off - I'm not paying you to nap the night away and leave this guy to do everything on his own!"

The dragon's eyes narrowed, and a low growl started, before it was abruptly cut off.

"Behave yourself, monster," snapped Siegfried, no hint of the man's typically congenial tone. "Bad enough that you were summoned here with me, but you agreed to help Miss Elizabeth in return for a handful, or a clawful, of the castle's treasures. If you cause any damages, fatalities, or problems of any sort, that voids the agreement." There was a shimmer, wavering light on his back, in the vague form of a greatsword. "And then, that also breaks the part of my agreement that is protecting you from me."

Fafnir's growl was louder this time, almost a snarl, and seething hatred colored the thing's eyes for a moment. But, with a snort that reeked of insolence, it settled back down - though it continued to glare dangerously at Siegfried.

Avenger was staring at the two of them. "THAT'S your co-worker? But you two HATE each other!" She shook her head. "Shit, I could barely control him myself back in France!"

Siegfried rubbed at his temples. "And, in normal times, one, or both of us, would be dead by now. But when Liz summoned me, he came along, as he ALWAYS does, and she wouldn't hear of the two of us fighting and possibly depriving her of the head of security she wanted. So she bargained with him." He shook his head in disbelief. "And somehow managed to get him to agree to behave himself, and even assist in keeping unwanted guests out."

"The power of an idol!" proclaimed Liz, hands on her hips, preening.

"The power of his greed," countered Siegfried, but quietly. "In any event, there is no reason to bar the person who hired me from her own castle….even if it does not look like much of a castle anymore."

He waved his arm, parting the group of guests that had been waiting throughout, though the man at the head of their little group took a moment to before he moved. His features, already aristocratic and pointed, seemed to sharpen even further in response to being told to move aside. For a second, she thought he might have been about to object more physically - she could see his impeccably tailored clothing was straining to contain his well-built form, his body tense with annoyance, but the woman behind him laid a hand on his shoulder, and with some whispered words, managed to calm him - a bit. Enough to dispel the immediate threat of violence, at least.

Liz just stomped through without a second glance, her mind obviously locked onto a single-overriding thought - that she was going to get her castle back, Kratos still being dragged along in her wake (and she was surprised he was playing along as much as he was). But she met the woman's eyes and gave her a thankful nod, which garnered her a nod back - and an appraising glance in return.

And when she said an appraising glance, she meant it - the woman walked her eyes up and down Fujimaru, head to toe, slowly and deliberately. She felt herself flush - she couldn't imagine why she of all people was getting that treatment - the woman was, to put it MILDLY, an absolute knockout - then again, maybe that particular party goer was just a tease. She was certainly dressed for it, wearing little more than a black bodysuit that, by its snug fit and laughable coverage, made it clear she wasn't wearing so much as a stitch underneath. She'd have thought the woman was, like Oryou, going for the classic bunny girl, if not for the bat wings sprouting from her back and peeking out of the sides of her head, a break in the cascade of lush green hair that spilled down her back.

As they passed by, she saw the woman giving Shuten the same appraisal, and the oni tipped her head a fraction in what might pass for a respectful bow from her.

"Calamity," came the woman's voice, accented in a similar, but different manner than Cu's.

"Makai Noble," said Shuten, a playful note to her voice, though it was tinged with approval.

At that moment, the wind shifted, and she heard a muttered comment from another one of the group, who was hidden beneath a hood - but Fujimaru could see the points of what could only be ears, and not human ones, sticking up from underneath the hood. "....and that's what happens when you don't get a new release in decades."

Her companion, also hooded, gave a gruff snort - hot breath steaming from the canine snout that was sticking out of the front of his hood.

Siegfried had reached the gate by this point, and he reached into a pocket, drawing an ornate key from within its depths. Carefully, he slid the key into the rusty lock that was keeping the gate sealed, and quickly turned it. There was a heavy, metallic noise, and the lock turned, the bolt sliding back. Siegfried seized the edges of the gate, and with a shove (and giving Fujimaru a nice look at the lines of his back, she was appreciating the tight fit of his suit, yes siree), he pushed the gates open - though they creaked in protest as he did.

"There," he said, as he turned back to them. "You may enter - though it does seem a bit silly to be granting entrance to the master of the castle, but I did agree to take my duties seriously."

"And that's just one of the many reasons I hired you, Siggy Woogy!" said Liz, beaming at the man. Her finger shot up, pointing right between the man's eyes. "You stay out here, keep doing what you're doing. But keep your eyes and ears peeled - if you hear the signal, I want the BOTH of you to come running!" Her head spun around to regard Fafnir. "Or flying, in your case Faffy!"

Fafnir snorted, but that seemed to placate Liz, as she nodded. "Otherwise, keep looking for someone trying to run away from my castle - whoever this jerk is, I don't want them getting away. You see something like that, you SIT on him until I get here, got it?"

Siegfried nodded. "Understood, Miss Elizabeth. We will remain on our toes. Kratos, it is good to see you again."

He extended a hand (his left, since Kratos' right hand was still trapped in the Lizabethian Death Grip, distant relative to the Tongan Death Grip), and Kratos reached out and clasped his wrist. If he'd meant to say anything, he didn't get out more than a grunt, as Liz insistently dragged him past the gates.

Fujimaru sent him a nod of appreciation as well as she passed into the manor grounds, both for how helpful he'd been, and, more privately, how lucky a woman his wife was/had been.

---

The gate had barely groaned closed behind them, the lock sliding closed again, when Liz was attempting to fly directly at the former castle. Kratos was finally forced to put his foot down, and pulled Liz back to the ground.

"Calm yourself," he muttered.

"But……I need to get my castle back!" shrieked the girl, at a pitch that made Kratos' ears wince.

"Rushing into your enemy's domain without a plan is foolish, and reckless." His words were met with a pout, but Kratos had weathered years of far more effective ones from his son, so it did little. "We have only assumptions that the halls of your castle have not been changed as completely as the exterior has been. Or that your enemy does not already know we are here."

Another ineffective pout, but the girl settled down. "Ok, what then?"

Fujimaru glanced around to her oni, who nodded. "I can slip around to the back of the building, see if there's still a servant's entrance." Slowly, she began to fade from sight. "Don't do anything fun without me…..Master…."

There was little to do but wait until what passed for a scout for them returned. Thankfully, she did not make them wait long. "There does appear to be a door towards the back." Shuten's breathy voice issued from the night, a second before she faded back into sight. "I didn't see anyone entering or exiting, but it was much more plain than those doors, or any of the facing of this building. It seems the perfect place for the peons to enter and exit, out of the sight of the nobility."

Fujimaru looked up at him. "Should we split off then, like we discussed?"

After a moment, Kratos nodded. Fujimaru would likely be safe, surrounded by four other Servants, and it was not like the girl hadn't shown she was capable, outside of Kratos' sight, on previous occasions. "Learn what you can, but be wary. We do not know what awaits us."

She tapped the communicator on her wrist. "I'll ring if we turn up anything interesting. Are you going to mingle in the ballroom some, or just head straight to the top?"

"Mingling for a bit will give us more time to poke around and see what we can discover," interjected Sakamoto. "And it'll do double duty in hopefully drawing the eyes of the castle's current master. You being what you are, you'll cause a stir when you walk in, right next to the castle's old master."

"Even before the light catches you," added Oryou.

Kratos frowned. It was more passive than he wished to be - his skin crawled everytime he caught a glimpse at what was stuck to himself, but the man had a point. "We will give you some time. But if an opportunity appears…."

Sakamoto nodded. "Don't have to tell me. You see an opening, you take it. Just let us know that things are about to get loud, so we're not taken by surprise."

Kratos grunted - that much, he could easily agree to.

"Give us……about five minutes or so before you put in your grand entrance," said Fujimaru. "We'll wait a little longer, then try the back door. Hopefully everyone will be so invested in the new arrivals that we won't be noticed."

With a wave from the girl, they were off, circling around the edges of the building, the four Servants surrounding Fujimaru in a tight diamond - both Oryou and Shuten pausing every so often to hiss at something he himself could not see, but could guess at. Thankfully, they managed to slip behind the house without being attacked.

After a handful of minutes (each and every second of which Liz seemed like she was in danger of pacing so hard that she'd leave a trench in the ground), Avenger nodded. "Five minutes. Red should be in position by now."

A grunt. "Then let us enter."

A small flight of stairs led up to the main doorway. Kratos found he did not care for how it was decorated - sculpted heads of ravens, thick, metal hinges held in their beaks - obviously meant to be slammed against the wood as a means of announcing one's presence. (Odin and his spies…..and the tree in Niflheim had given the Spartan a strong antipathy to ravens.) With a grunt, he seized one of the hinges, and rapped it, none too gently against the door.

For a breath, there was only the sound of the knock, echoing around them, (and Liz's huffed 'be more gentle with my castle, Fuzzy!') then, the doors creaked open, seemingly of their own accord.

There was no one waiting to admit them. It was dark inside the house, a persistent gloom seeming to seep out from the opened portal.

"Inviting," muttered Avenger, sarcastically (as ever). Fire blossomed in her hand. "Guess I'll get to be the torch."

"Come," said Kratos, already moving over the threshold of the door.

No sooner were they past it than the doors slammed shut behind them, the wood crashing closed with a heavy noise. Darkness pressed in around them, chased back by the Avenger's crackling flames, and the needle of light emanating from the object hanging on Kratos' belt.

In the seconds after the crash of the doors was dying out, Kratos thought he could sense a sound, coming from the house itself. Steady, rhythmic, almost like the structure was breathing, yet…..heavier. Thumps, rather than a series of whispers in between the timbers that made up the walls of the house.

Then, one by one, pinpoints of light began to wink into life around them. Lining the walls. In sconces, atop metal stands. And high in the ceiling, held in some ornate fixture. The suddenness of it all causing the three of them to wince as their eyes adjusted.

Once his eyes had found their focus again, he looked around.

It was lavishly appointed, of that much he could be certain. Be it the elite of Sparta, the halls of Olympus, or the glories of Rome, the homes of nobility held a certain level of self-importance that was unmistakable to his eyes, even if the surroundings might differ from one another.

Paintings of what Kratos assumed were the forebears of this family peered down at the group from the walls, their eyes seeming to judge them one and all, and, by the dour expressions the painter had rendered, it was to a scale that the onlooker could never hope to meet. The carpeting his booted feet were standing in was thick, plush, and deep - he could feel strands poking through the holes in his footwear to tickle at his skin. And beyond the obvious displays of wealth, it was clear in other ways - the construction of even the simplest of things, such as the sconces holding the candles, or the handful of chairs that rested against the walls was of the highest quality.

And yet…..

There was a subtle aura of….decay, that seemed to cling persistently to everything. Not the abandonment that he had seen in other places, such as the depths of Tyr's temple, but more….neglect. The ends of the tapestries on the walls were showing the first signs of becoming a bit threadbare, and at least one was hanging unevenly, as whatever means that had been used to secure it to the wall was reaching its last legs. Spots of wax from where the candles had overflowed dotted the floor - old enough that the formerly white drippings had begun to yellow. Old enough that it should have long ago been cleaned away. That it had not….

And that was not the only place to show signs of dilapidation. A layer of dust lined the chairs, and even a spot or two of it clung to the paintings - one corner of one far in the back might have something that could have been mold.

Liz made a scornful noise as she looked around. "Just look at this place? Don't they have maids for this sort of thing? It's a disgrace, especially after I did all that work getting my castle spic and span for the party, only for this to be the first thing you see as you enter?" She laughed contemptuously. "Amateurs!"

Avenger's eyes were flicking about, trying to peer down the halls. "So, which way to the party?" There were three different halls that led away from the entrance, each heading in one of the cardinal directions, and a massive, wide staircase as well, leading to the second floor of the manor. "Or do we just pick a direction and hope?"

No sooner had the words left her lips than the trick that had been performed upon their entrance repeated itself, this time in the largest of the three hallways that led out from the main entrance plaza. Slowly, two by two, a series of candles flared up. And while they could not see past the bend of the hallway, the glow of light from the other side of the curve made it clear that the show that was being put on for their benefit had not ceased.

Avenger rolled her eyes. "Making it pretty obvious, aren't they?"

"Yes," rumbled Kratos, already beginning to move to the hallway. They were here to draw eyes - it made little sense to keep the eyes waiting.

The hall was of a style with the rest of the house. More scions of the family stared down at them as they navigated it, the disdain evident on their staid faces. "Cheerful bunch," muttered Avenger.

A low grunt was the only reply she received. He had received enough glares during the Agoge to largely become immune to them. Renditions such as those that lined the walls here barely registered.

Noise, different than the steady beat that seemed to permeate the house, was growing steadily louder as they proceeded down the hall. As they turned the corner, Kratos could see that the hallway itself was widening, finally terminating in a large set of doors. Light, much more than the dim, flickering embers cast by the candles, was spilling out from beneath it, and, even through the thick wood, they could all hear sounds, a susurrus at first, now, as they stood before the doors, it was a loud murmur, if not more.

Kratos placed one hand on each of the doors, and, with a moment of exertion, shoved them open.

Light, and sound washed over them.

The hall they looked upon was massive. The ceiling towered over them, many, many times the height of even a man of a more massive stature, such as Thor or Tyr. A dizzying number of fixtures hung from the ceilings, hundreds, maybe even thousands of candles sending dancing shadows across the walls. The fixtures themselves had been wrought in the form of the decorations Kratos had seen affixed to the walls of Chaldea - bats, spiders, webs, pumpkins. And the walls themselves were festooned with the same kind of adornments. Tables were scattered haphazardly throughout the hall - long tables that were groaning under tray after tray of foods - roasted meats, bubbling soups, breads - both whole loaves and other smaller biscuits and rolls filled bowls to overflowing. And whole other tables were given way to drinks - a dizzying array of multicolored bottles, ones that he recognized from Chaldea, all filled with the 'soda' he had briefly tried, before finding them far too sweet for his tastes, as well as massive bowls filled with some other libation, cups scattered all around their circumference. Possibly spirits, possibly not - as he saw a few barrels sitting atop the beverage tables - a more familiar sight to him.

Smaller tables, meant for brief moments of respite from standing, he assumed, were pushed up against the walls, out of the way of the general press of bodies in the room. Few of them were occupied, as most of the room's occupants were on their feet.

And staring directly at the most recent group to enter the chamber.

Them.

Kratos felt the weight of eyes upon him (in a few, select cases, more than two eyes per skull - or fewer). Silence had fallen as they had entered, the scattered conversations hushing, and the music dying out. Despite, or maybe because of the quiet, he could hear the low whispers.

"A god….here? What an….interesting development."

"This will certainly make this party the talk of the town……if only for the scuttlebutt as to how he managed to slip away from the Other Side of the World to attend. That's a secret almost worth killing over."

"Which pantheon is he? Those tattoos aren't ringing any bells - honestly, nothing about him is. Strange….."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Tish, but isn't that our esteemed hostess by his side? Daring of her to enter in the same fashion as the guests - but it's a smashing change of pace! And if she wanted everyone to see who she's got on her arm, she's certainly accomplished that!"

"Mmmmm, yes. He is very large, isn't he? Quite a specimen." The pale, delicate woman ran a hand along her man's arm. "By the look in your eyes, I'm assuming you remembered to pack your rapier, and are hoping for a spot of fun?"

Avenger snickered. "Well, looks like part one of the plan is working like a charm." Her elbow dug into Kratos' side. "You're a hit, Grumps. Now why don't you take your 'date' there and go mingle?"

Liz's retort managed to come out faster than his. "He's not my DATE, Avenger - you know as well as I do idols have a strict no-dating policy!"

Avenger rolled her eyes. "Then go clear that up. We need to give Red and her crew some time, after all. I'll go slink about and see what I can pick up in the meantime."

Kratos felt a hand seize him by the elbow. "C'mon Fuzzy, we have to nip this rumor in the bud before it torpedoes my career!"

---

 

THE BACK OF THE MANOR HOUSE

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

Ritsuka Fujimaru was peering over Sakamoto's shoulder - and she wasn't alone, Mash was also watching somewhat intently, as the Rider knelt and continued to fiddle with the door's lock. And then, with a twist, and the careful movement of the thin metal sticks in his hand, and the door clicked open.

"I might have to ask you to teach me how to do that, Sakamoto," she said, as the man rose to his feet. "Knowing our luck, it'll probably come in handy somewhere down the road."

"It won't be as useful as you think," replied Sakamoto, sliding the picks back into his pocket. "I'm mostly only good with the older stuff - any of these new electronic locks I wouldn't even know where to start with, but even a more simple, but modern lock would probably give me trouble." He shrugged. "It's only a few hundred years, but it's shocking how far even something as simple as locks have advanced in that time."

He patted her on the head. "Give me a little while to practice and I could probably figure it out, though. But I don't mind teaching you - and you can come along if you want, Mash."

Mash's lips were pursed. "I think Senpai is right, it probably would come in handy. Though we haven't really had too much call to be quiet like this so far. And I don't think most doors would hold up to a determined Servant - much less Mr. Kratos. Especially after seeing him pull Orleans' gate off the walls with his bare hands."

"Better to know it and not need it than not know it and need it," mused Fujimaru. "Especially if we get split up somehow, or just can't have you on the field for some reason. We're not especially heavy on sneaky types. Kratos is heavy on the loud ones, and even my Assassin is well…."

Shuten's grin was sickly sweet. "You're just fortunate you got me, instead of Ibaraki, Master. She never quite got the concept of 'doors' - she'd be as likely to tear one off its hinges, or kick a hole in the wall before she'd use a door in the way it was meant to be." She tapped a nail on the thick wood of the servant entrance. "Then again, these doors are a bit more sturdy than the ones in Kyoto. Still not enough to withstand an oni, though."

"The more you tell me about her, the more I count my blessings." The thing of it was, she wasn't even being sarcastic. Terrified as she was of Shuten, at times, she at least had the favor her ancestor did as some form of insurance that her newest Servant would at least think about listening to her. And, from what Shuten said, her friend/protegee was even more blunt and direct than Avenger at her worst. No, she'd take Shuten any day of the week.

Shuten's fangs were visible. "Such a flatterer you are, Master."

"We should probably get a move on," said Sakamoto. "I'm sure they'll give us as long as they can, but the thought of Kratos in a social setting, with Liz and Avenger by his side…..it doesn't inspire confidence."

Fujimaru shuddered. He was right. "Let's go then. Mash, you stay in front - if someone asks, you can always say we got lost and you're leading us back to the party."

"Yes Senp…." Mash stopped, then shook her head. "No. I need to stay in character." Her features softened, becoming more demure, more placid, and she gave a dainty little curtsey. "Yes, Mistress Fujimaru. Let me get you back to the ballroom."

As Sakamoto levered the heavy door open, and they ducked inside, Fujimaru was glad it was still dark out - it prevented anyone from noticing how the blood had risen to her cheeks.

Or maybe not. 'My, Master….you're blushing. Am I going to have to make sure you don't make a complete fool of yourself when you knock on that girl's door some evening?'

Somehow, Fujimaru felt herself blushing harder. 'It's not like that.' She could feel disbelief dripping from the brain cells where Shuten had taken up residence (brain cells that felt like they were in a constant state of inebriation). 'It just took me by surprise, that's all. That kind of deference is usually reserved for my sister and not…..me.'

'Did you not grow up with servants to see to your every need, Master?' Fujimaru sent the equivalent of a shaken head through their link - they'd been wealthy enough that they probably could have afforded them, but her mother had been a firm believer in children earning their keep through chores. Once they'd grown old enough to start magical training, those chores had lessened some - at least until Fujimaru had begun struggling. Then, her training lessened, while her chores doubled.

'Ah, well. I SUPPOSE that could explain it, then.' Shuten wasn't even trying to hide her sarcasm. 'But, in the event you ARE curious, I could give you more than a few suggestions.' She didn't know how the oni was managing it, but she could almost feel those aforementioned brian cells stretching, languidly, like a cat in a patch of sunlight. 'I've seen….and done, quite a lot in my time. I would be very educational for you, I feel.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' replied Fujimaru, silently swearing that she would take that offer this side of NEVER, Shuten's mental laughter pattering down their link.

"Light up ahead," whispered Sakamoto. The hallway they'd been creeping down hadn't had so much as a candle - thankfully for her it was largely empty, without anything for her to trip over. But she could see tendrils of light farther down the hallway.

Oryou sniffed the air. "Oryou-san smells food." Another, longer sniff. "Lots of different foods."

"Wild boar……" whispered Shuten, the white of her fangs visible even in the dark. "Something this Chaldea is dearly lacking in."

"Kitchens?" said Sakamoto, the word a question. "This kind of building isn't one I'm familiar with - homes in my time had the kitchen centrally located, around the fire pit."

"We should have asked Gunnhilde when she was around," mused Fujimaru. "If Eric was right about what she'd been reading, at least. But your guess is probably right."

"A party this large, it'll be busy. Easier to stick to the edges and slip through unnoticed, if that's what we want." Sakamoto's head turned to regard Fujimaru, his eyes keen, despite the gloom. "But this is also supposed to be a scouting mission - how do you want to play this, Master? We could always double back and try one of the other passages we skipped over."

Fujimaru thought for a minute. "We could, but there's no guarantee they'll lead us anywhere. If we want info, the kitchen might not be the beating heart of a place like this, but it's at least the stomach….or the spleen or something." She shrugged. "Let's give it a try."

She turned around to Shuten, who still had a smug grin on her face. "Hang back and vanish, just in case. If we get into trouble - and I mean actual fighting - come in like a house of fire."

Shuten made a noise of assent, and slipped back into the shadows. Fujimaru took a couple of deep breaths, then nodded. "Ok, let's go. You lead, Mashie."

"Yes ma'am." Mash's head was bowed, her eyes averted. Slowly, making sure to not set a pace that the guests couldn't keep up with, she set off down the hall, leading them to the ends of the hallway. As they drew nearer, Fujimaru began to catch the scents of food, and her stomach grumbled softly. Maybe she'd see if she could snatch a bite or two while they slipped through.

By the time they'd drawn up to the doorway, the hallway's former quiet was a thing of the past. Even from outside, she could hear the sizzle of cooking meals, the clink of utensils, the sound of bowls being loaded onto trays. On the threshold of the doorway, Mash paused, glancing back at her, and Fujimaru nodded.

Then, together, they stepped through.

It was bedlam inside. An absolute madhouse. Uniformed staff were in an out in a steady stream, dropping off used dishes to one side (where a crew of men were huddled around a soapy tub, their sleeves rolled up, arms sunk into the warm water), or scooping up plates of food and hustling them back out to the ballroom. It was barely controlled chaos, bodies weaving around each other in a packed space.

And all of it was being orchestrated by, incredibly enough, one man.

The man was bent down, peering into an oven when she first caught sight of him. Despite his attention being taken up by whatever he was staring at, he was still calling orders as fast as he could draw breath. Then, after a second, his head bobbed in a nod, and he reached in and withdrew a sizzling roast. He peered down at a meat thermometer that was protruding from the roast, then, with a grunt of approval, yanked the thing free.

"Cat! Stir the soup while I put the finishing touches on this!"

"On it, woof!" A woman, dressed in a striped uniform that set her apart, detached from the churn of wait staff, moving so quickly it was like she had wheels on - and, on second glance, Fujimaru realized she in fact, did, as she was balancing on a pair of roller skates. Despite how ill-advised that might be given the environment, she didn't so much as wobble as she slid into the kitchen and took up a large ladle. Rotating in place, she began to do loops around the cauldron that held the soup, humming to herself - and her ears bouncing in time with her movements.

"Margaretha!" called the man, taking a step back from the roast. "Service please!"

"Coming boss!" came a cheerful cry from down the hallway that she assumed led to the ballroom.

Fujimaru blinked. She'd have recognized that voice even without seeing the man - that voice had been the one to jerk her out of her own head back during the final battle with Lev. Deep, and rough - and she might have had a few nightmares where she failed to hear that voice, and everything had gone wrong from that point, hence why she remembered it. But in this case, she didn't have to rely solely on auditory cues, since the person in question was standing (and cooking) right in front of her.

It was that Archer from Rome - and Fuyuki.

Though……

He was certainly dressed differently.

He'd traded out the more utilitarian pants he'd been wearing in the replays of Fuyuki she'd watched for a more formal set - more formal, and very, very tight. As for his upper half, well, other than a layer of sweat (that circumscribed the planes of his back very, very nicely, a part of her brain said), an apron, and a black bow tie was all he had on. Hard, sculpted muscles were on full display, and she was very much a fan of this.

She felt wetness on her lips, and it took her a second to realize it was her tongue.

'Mmmmmmmmm……' Shuten's purr was low enough that Fujimaru could feel it in her bones, even without the things that were being sent over their mental link, things she was entirely certain she was FAR too young for - and would be far too young for if she lived a century.

As if he felt their eyes on him, the man stiffened, turning to where they were standing in the door. His brow furrowed, as a pair of suspicious eyes bore into them.

"Who the hell are you guys?" A blink of her eyes, and there was a pair of short blades in his hands, pointed directly at them. "And what are you doing in my kitchen?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ah, Liz. Such a chaotic little gremlin.

Yes, that is Siegfried's summer outfit. No, EMIYA does not get off that easy. His Harem Protagonist EX has to be unleashed on both Mash and Fujimaru. And Avenger, and Shuten. And every other woman within a country mile.

It's also a silly Lizoween event, so I'm letting Siegfried keep some memories of France.

Do I love the parts in Castlevania where the candles/other light sources light up, giving you a path to Dracula? Yes I fucking do.

Chapter 54: It's the Great Liz-oween, Ghost of Sparta 3

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 54​

She'd seen that Projection Magecraft before, back in Rome, but while the user was in what had to be considerable pain and duress. It had been impressive then, but now, it was as smooth as silk, those paired blades appearing in his hands.

'Is it time for me to come in?' asked Shuten, her voice so eager, Fujimaru thought she could almost feel her pulling on her leash. 'I'd very much like to play with that one for a bit.'

Oh Lord. 'Before you do….that, let me try something.'

Fujimaru's hands shot up. "We just got a bit lost! We were wandering around, looking at the place, but we got turned around." Ok, you were in the theater troupe for a couple of semesters, you can do this! She dug down, channeling her mother - the haughty disdain that seemed to come effortlessly to the family head - and, with a mental apology to Mashie, aimed it directly at the girl. "Thankfully, we stumbled across some of the help," Disdain dripped from her voice, here. "Who was quick to surmise that she should lead us back to the main areas. It's what they're there for, after all."

The Archer's eyes narrowed, though his weapons did lower a fraction of an inch. "Assuming that's the case, then you wouldn't mind providing your invitations?"

She sniffed derisively, straightening her back until it was as stiff as a board. "I don't see why we should have to present our papers a SECOND time - we were already delayed FAR too long waiting out in the cold to be admitted."

She leveled the best glare she could manage at him, holding right up until she saw him start to speak, then she rolled her eyes, and reached for the pouch on her back. "But I suppose if one must." She pulled an envelope out, then snapped one of her fingers.

"Here, you insufferable man. I'm sure you'll see everything is in order."

He snatched her invitation from her hands with almost undue haste, and he was just blunt with Sakamoto's papers - though she thought there was a microsecond of a pause when he looked at the man.

'You're not wrong, Master. I don't know what it was, but he did hesitate there.' Shuten's voice gently caressed her mind. 'I'm not the best at reading human emotions, but it almost seemed like….recognition.'

'Maybe they know each other. We've never gotten a name out of that Archer - for all we know he was one of Sakamoto's contemporaries.' Shinsaku maybe - or someone from the Kaientai.

While she and Shuten had been mentally conversing, the Archer had quickly flicked open the envelopes and scanned the contents of the invitations. "Sakamoto Ryouma - and Oryou-san. And Ritsuka Fujimaru." His eyes jumped from one of them to the other, each in turn. "Everything seems to be in order….."

Fujimaru felt a part of her, a part that had been a balled up mass of nerves, relaxing at those words.

"If not for the fact that I've never seen that so-called 'maid' you have there before. I familiarized myself with every single member of the staff when I was summoned here, and that girl isn't one of them."

Shit.

The invitations had been dropped to the floor, and the swords had returned to their previous position - pointed right between Fujimaru's eyes. "Who the hell are you people, and why are you trying to sneak in the backdoor when you have valid invitations?"

The catgirl in the roller skates (Fujimaru had made note of those ears upon first seeing her - and while it could have been a costume, her oversized paws were far too prehensile to be a pair of cosplay gloves) had left the bubbling soup to back the Archer up. "We got gatecrashers, Nameless?" She flicked her wrist, and those oversized paws were suddenly tipped with some very sharp claws.

"I keep telling you that isn't my name. I don't know who this person you think I am is," said the Archer, with the cadence of someone who had repeated this exact same argument more times than they cared to count. "But I almost wish they'd show up so they could take you off my hands."

The catgirl scoffed. "Pfffft. I'm too good in the kitchen for you to get tired of me this quickly, playboy. And if you don't want us calling you that, then you should hurry up and actually TELL us what your name is….Nameless." She did what was almost a moonwalk, on skates, in a circle, around the man. "Anyways, we giving them the bum's rush or not?"

"What's going on here?"

The newcomer cut through the press of wait staff with an ease that was almost magical, her slender body slipping past bodies like she was more liquid than solid (and given how much some parts of her were…..moving unrestrictedly, there might be some merit to that line of thought).

If the woman (or whatever she'd been) that had eyed up Fujimaru outside had been wearing next to nothing, this one was wearing even less than that. Little more than a brief orange bikini top on her upper half - though one with some really poofy shoulders. Long yellow scarves were attached to the shoulders - but not anywhere else, flowing freely around her body - and joining the ones that floated around her long (supple - a part of her mind provided, before she shut it down through the application of blunt force), bare legs. There were a pair of large, red flowers set in her thick brown hair, hair that framed a face that was staring at the two groups with a wary expression.

"Are you about to fight?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Is now really the time for a brawl when we're as busy as we are?"

The Archer was opening his mouth to reply when he was cut off by the woman. "And when that pasta is about to burn?"

Whatever retort the man had died, as he almost seemed to freeze in place. His head darted around, and then, it was like he'd vanished. One second he'd been standing there, blades still directed menacingly their way, then, the next, he was frantically pouring the contents of a pot into a strainer, cursing under his breath.

The catgirl's snicker was cut off as the woman turned her attention to her. "And I do think I heard our head chef asking you to mind the soup? Cat….are you minding the soup?"

"Minding the soup, Margaretha, woof!" With a sloppy salute, the woman (Cat? Are we not even trying with names here?) returned to her previous station.

'She defused that confrontation easily……almost too easily.' She could feel Sakamoto's hackles rising through their connection.

'Pheromones.' Shuten's voice cut into their conversation, almost sounding impressed. 'Look at the glazed eyes of the humans near her - she's putting out some sort of musk that makes you want to trust her. It's much more subtle than what I use…..and maybe more potent. Combined with her obvious charms, it's an effective combination.'

'Obvious charms' - that was one way of saying the woman could have caused car accidents by merely walking down the street. Especially dressed like THAT, with a figure that would make an hourglass green with envy.

Well, if nothing else, hopefully her continual issues of inadequacy - especially in her self-image, when she compared herself to…..THAT, would provide some level of buffer from this woman's tricks. Because now that it had been brought up, she could feel it, scratching at the edges of her awareness. The gentlest of nudges, not even a suggestion, just the first, so gradual step on a slippery slope, telling her this lady was on her side, and that she should trust her.

The woman's smile was soft, gentle, and completely guileless. "Now that I've got the scary head chef distracted, and the Cat focused on something else, do you mind telling me why he was pointing his swords at you?"

"It was just a misunderstanding, is all," began Fujimaru. "We have invitations and everything."

"Hmm, yes, I can see that," said the woman, having knelt down to retrieve the dropped invitations - and giving all of them what Fujimaru suspected was a VERY deliberate look down her cleavage while she did so.

'Yes, it was deliberate,' Sakamoto's voice was only sort of audible over Oryou's hissing - which was not coming through the link in anything that sounded remotely human.

'And just on the line between blatant and naturally done, too. This one knows how to disarm people, make them dance to her tune.' There was a note of pique in Shuten's voice. 'She's had training of some kind - you don't come by this naturally, not without some very unique experiences during your life.'

"These invitations do seem like the real thing," said the woman, as she slowly rose to her feet. Her hand extended, offering the envelopes back, and Fujimaru reached out to take them - only to have the woman place them in her hands, fingers running across her skin for a heated moment.

Fujimaru's heart skipped a beat, and Shuten cackled in her mind. 'Like I said, she's GOOD, Master. Every bit the equal of some of the most highly priced oirans of Kyoto. She's gauging our reactions - seeing what she can infer in them about us. I think the modern term is 'reading the room'? And you just gave her a treasure trove of information.'

'Shut up. It just took me by surprise, is all.' Even she knew how unconvincing her voice sounded, but it was Shuten - there probably wasn't anything she could have said that would have done the trick. "So, then, can we go?"

The woman peered at them. "Are you sure you don't want to tell us why you're sneaking in the back way, with a girl pretending to be one of the house's maids leading you - one you're obviously protective of, given your body language?"

Fujimaru only barely managed to keep the shock off her face.

"Because I don't think you're bad people, or have ill intentions for this party," continued the woman. "I'm pretty good at reading people - I mean," she snickered. " 'Nameless' over there is too, but he's suspicious to the point of paranoia."

"It's not paranoia when they're actually out to get you!" muttered the man in question, having transferred the pasta to a pan with a mixture of cheese, and pepper - some form of meat (possibly the roast boar Shuten had been smelling) resting to the side, waiting to be added at the appropriate time.

"And even if they're actually out to get you, it can STILL be paranoia," replied the woman, playfully, sparing the Archer a glance over her shoulder. "But back to my point, I would like to hear what your intentions are. We aren't here to provide security - and I'm not really meant for fighting, so I'd prefer to avoid it if at all possible."

"But we will if we have to," chimed in Cat, dipping a spoon into the mixture and tasting it. She met eyes with the Archer, and something wordless passed between them in the blink of an eye, then he nodded. The woman jammed her hands into the pocket at the front of her striped apron (farther than they should have been able to go), and, after rummaging for a bit, extracted a ladle from its depths. Lickety split, she began filling bowl after bowl with the contents of the cauldron, firing them across the table to the rows of loitering waitstaff, who began loading up their trays and, one by one, shuffled out to the ballroom with their cargo.

Cat, meanwhile, never took her eyes off of Ritsuka and the rest. "Just because we took this contract to work the kitchens doesn't mean we can't throw down if we have to. Some of us learned in some very violent kitchens, after all. A brawl in the middle of dinner service while the most terrifying head chef on either side of the world critiques both your dishes and your combat form, in between chirping disdainfully at you is second nature after that." She tossed a pair of bowls through the air, not even sliding them this time, but they landed neat as you please on a tray - it didn't even spill a drop.

While the bowls were in flight, she briefly extended a set of retractable claws from her oversized, fluffy hands, before sheathing them, and resuming her serving motions. "Least she doesn't call us a donkey, or a muppet. But if you ARE up to no good, then a spot of roughhousing would just fire my cooking engine up that much more. It'd be like old times, woof!"

"Speak for yourselves," muttered the Archer, currently plating the pasta dish he had been working on - another set of noodles already beginning to boil. "I'm enjoying not having to fight for a change."

"Ignoring Mr. Broody over there," said the other Servant, a smirk on her face - and completely disregarding his bark of 'It's Head Chef Broody!'. "But we really can't let you go any further in unless you explain yourselves, at least a little."

Before she could think better of it, Fujimaru was already speaking. "When you say you were hired, can we ask who it is that hired you?"

A trio of blinks was the reply she got. The woman's head turned to glance at Cat, then the Archer, in turn. "Elizabeth Bathory." Her head tilted to the side, puzzled. "That's who invited you, after all - just look at the name on the invitations. Who else did you think hired us - and is throwing such a completely over the top party?"

"And just to confirm, we mean the young one, right? Lots of pink hair, thinks she's an idol," Fujimaru extended her index fingers and pressed them to her head, pointing upwards. "Horns - that one, right? Not the older one who goes by 'Carmilla'?"

"The one and only," chimed in Cat. "I think she was looking for my Caster tail when she sent out the kitchen contract, but it's still too soon for her to show up, so I poached the job offer before she could barge in here. It also makes up for me getting pushed to the side for a more serious bit awhile back, so, here I am!"

Fujimaru took a deep breath - she was going with her gut here, but, nothing ventured, nothing gained. 'Be ready, Shuten - if they react badly, or there's some compulsion laid over them when management changed, come in hard and fast and don't take prisoners.'

The Assassin's gleeful nod of assent was still tingling in her brain cells when she started talking. "That's the thing, someone stole the whole castle out from under her. You didn't think it was odd when Castle Csejte turned into something out of a gothic horror novel?"

Another series of blinks and cautious looks were exchanged between the trio of kitchen workers. "I haven't seen the outside of this castle in the better part of a day," rasped the Archer. At their stares, he shrugged. "I saw the guest list she had for this - the three of us have been cooking pretty much since we arrived, with barely a second for a break. We'd never have everything ready otherwise - not if we wanted to keep everything to an acceptable level of quality."

"And that's why I'm willing to defer to you, Nameless, even if you haven't endured Jigoku's Kitchen like I have!" crowed Cat. "You have standards just as high as her."

"Anyways," began Archer (dismissing Cat's words, probably for the sake of his sanity). "It's the younger Elizabeth Bathory. About the only coherent thought she can keep in her head for more than a minute is her desire to be an idol. She's attempted to change the planned menu at least five times since we arrived here, and each time she popped down here she was in a different outfit."

"The fairy tale dress was really pretty though," interjected Margaretha. "Though the chainmail bikini might have been a bit too much."

Archer raised an eyebrow, but made no comment on that - Fujimaru imagined his thoughts were going somewhat like hers, this woman, of all people, critiquing how much (or how little, to be correct) someone else was wearing was RICH. "Be that as it may, even if we had been outside to see this makeover you said has happened, we'd have just assumed our hostess had had yet another change of heart on some other facet of her big party." He shrugged. "It's a nice story, but do you have anything to back it up?"

Fujimaru tried to think how long they'd been here - Kratos and Liz should have made their grand entrance by now. She could confirm it, but it'd probably be safer if it didn't look like she was coordinating anything - might lend credibility to her story in the three suspicious sets of eyes that were watching her like a hawk. "She should be in the ballroom now - if she didn't storm straight to the top to try to take her throne back, but that wasn't the plan."

"She should be right next to a really big guy - pale, red tattoos, though he's covered in glitter right now thanks to her," Here goes, she thought. This always gets a reaction. "And he's a god."

The room seemed to shudder. It started from the three Servants, and undulated outwards, through the assembled wait staff. "Margaretha…" began Archer.

The woman in question was halfway through the door by the time he had begun to speak. "Already on my way to check."

It was a tense few moments as they waited, though it was broken up by Archer continuing to send out food - he even press-ganged them into filling in for the departed Margaretha, though the only thing he let them do was bring food he'd finished plating to the pass, where it would be snatched up by one waiter or another. Oryou, of course, simply ignored him and proceeded to hover over his head, asking about the lack of frog dishes, and insisting he add some, despite his protests that he'd never been trained in French cuisine.

Fujimaru had just struggled to carry an entire roast chicken to the table when Margaretha slid back into the kitchen area, weaving sinuously through the press of bodies, her cheeks flushed. Archer looked up from the array of pans he was simultaneously tending, and she met his eyes, nodding.

"They're telling the truth. Elizabeth, the one that hired us, is out there working the crowd, and she has a god by her side. The scuttlebutt has that she came in with him and one other, and from the guest entrance no less." She shrugged. "It could all be an elaborate con, still, but…..my instincts are telling me that they're telling the truth."

Archer groaned. "Why does it never go smooth?" His shoulders slumped tiredly, though his hands never ceased tending to the various pots and pans in front of him. He shook his head, and his back stiffened. "Ok, then, back to my first question - who are you people?"

"Ritsuka Fujimaru, from the Chaldea Security Organization." She turned her hand around, displaying her Command Seals. "We actually WERE invited to this thing. Kratos - that's the god's name - met her in a previous Singularity, and she got attached to both him and Avenger. But when we arrived here, we found Liz out there, out cold on the ground. She filled us in from there."

Cat and Margaretha seemed somewhat unsettled at the mention of a Singularity (and they had another, smaller twitch when she mentioned 'Avenger' - they probably thought she was talking about the class, rather than a person's name, though they were right in both instances in this case) - a stark contrast to the Archer, who didn't even bat an eyelid at it. "So you're here to get the dragon girl's castle back for her?"

"That wasn't the original idea, but yeah, that's the working plan." Fujimaru rolled her shoulders. "We've got enough enemies as it is, so we can't let a Singularity, even one like this, persist. Dr. Roman's worried that if we do, it could turn into a proper one, or someone could invade it - we've already resolved four full-blown Singularities full of Servants, wyverns, homunculi, eldritch fish things, and full-on Demons - adding another one to the list when we could just nip it in the bud would just be stupid."

"Don't go looking for problems when you're already up to your eyes in them," muttered Archer. "Ok, fine. For the moment, let's say I believe you. Why are you here and not with the rest of your group?"

"Originally, we were hoping that we might pick up something in passing while we were sneaking through here - but you noticed us right away. Not that you apparently knew anything, anyways," began Fujimaru.

"But these are the servant areas - certainly there must be some way to access the upper levels without having to go through the dining areas, yes?" The voice sounded from just behind Archer, who immediately twisted about in a spin, short sword forming in his hand.

It cut nothing but air. Shuten's laughter materialized from behind the man, followed almost immediately by the oni herself. She dipped a claw into one of the pans and quickly scooped some of the food into her mouth, a purr of pleasure escaping her lips. "This is certainly not how we cooked rice in my days. It's quite good, though."

Archer was glaring at her, to little effect. "That's not SANITARY! You've ruined that batch of risotto……why didn't you use one of the tasting spoons?" Groaning, he snatched the pan from the fire and handed it to Shuten. "It's yours now - I can't serve that after someone's stuck their finger in it. Enjoy - and get OUT of my kitchen before I do something I regret." His scowl intensified. "Or maybe something I WOULDN'T regret."

"Fufuuuuu…." Shuten's mocking titter only seemed to infuriate the man more. "This one's quite uptight - but he certainly seems like he can cook. Master, can you bring him back to Chaldea when we depart? Good sake should be paired with good food, after all."

The Archer was glaring at Fujimaru. "This is yours, then?"

Fujimaru nodded. "She was supposed to be using Presence Concealment back in the hall, just in case things went badly here, but I suppose she decided that things are going well enough…..or she just got bored."

"Mmmmm, it could be either. Or both, Master," purred Shuten, in between taking bites out of the risotto - still using her hands (Oryou had at least picked up a spoon, and was battling Shuten for what was left of the dish - and Mash was slowly edging closer to the feeding frenzy as well, a spoon also clutched in her hands). "Or maybe the food smelled so good I just couldn't help myself."

"Are there going to be any other unpleasant surprises, or can I return my attention to the stove?" asked Archer, still watching Shuten out of the corner of his eye.

"No, that's all," said Fujimaru. "You've seen everyone we could bring to this Singularity now." Though not by my choice, she complained mentally.

"Alright." The man was quiet for a few minutes, his attention fully on the array of pots and pans before him, and Fujimaru could see the ire leaving the (so very well-sculpted - yes, she was watching him carefully, but it was only in case he changed his mind about them, really!) lines of his back, albeit slowly.

"There's no way to get straight to the top levels - or there wasn't given how the castle was previously configured," he began. "Not defensible at all, not for a place built in the 13th century. But given that things have changed, that might not be true about the current layout."

"What Mr. Paranoid is EVENTUALLY getting to - at least, I assume that's what he's getting to, is that there's a hidden door a little ways down the hall you came up that leads to some of the higher levels. Where and which ones, we don't know - it wasn't there before, and we haven't had the time or need to explore it, beyond seeing that it ends in a flight of stairs."

"Nameless only noticed it because he felt a gust of wind that wasn't there before, and he actually left the kitchen to make sure someone hadn't left the back door open," added Cat.

"So says the person who DID leave it open - TWICE!" sniped Archer. "And I only felt the breeze because you stoked the fires too high, and caught my shirt on fire!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Cat, waving her paws dismissively. "You're lucky you're pretty, Nameless, because your personality is the pits. Nobody likes a fussbudget who can't ever turn it off, you know?"

"Can you show us?" asked Fujimaru, turning to Margaretha, as Archer and Cat began to bicker in earnest.

Margaretha nodded. "It'll be a moment before the next batch of food's ready to go out, I should have time to show you." She detached from the kitchen proper, and began to head in the direction of the back hallway. "Come on."

Fujimaru fell in behind her, her Servants in tow (Shuten dropping the empty pan in the tub none too gently as they passed it by, sudsy water splashing up and over the men who were on dishwashing duties).

"One second," Fujimaru paused, glancing over her shoulder at Archer. "Can I borrow the two of them for a second?" He gestured with the spoon in his hands at Sakamoto and Oryou.

Fujimaru blinked. "Sure but…..I mean, what do you need them for?"

"One, I have some questions about food during their time." Ok, reasonable enough. "And two, I've been wanting to do an experiment of cooking a dish over dragon's fire," he finished, completely deadpan.

"Wait, what?" It took her a second to realize it was her voice that had said that.

"I got the download on those two when I read the invitations. Given the…..unique clientele that Elizabeth invited, there'd probably be someone who would want to try one of my crazier creations." He snickered. "Probably about the safest bunch to experiment with in creation - the things that go bump in the night aren't exactly picky eaters - or easy to kill. Most of them would gulp down things that would, at best, make even Servants nauseous. So no matter how it comes out, I can serve it without any weight on my conscience."

Fujimaru paused for a second, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess. We'll wait at the door for you to catch up - just don't keep them too long."

"I'll be brief," muttered Archer, already having turned back to the stove.

"I'll make sure it is," said Sakamoto, heading over to where the man was standing. "I don't like leaving your side in hostile territory, but you should be safe for the length of a hallway, and the span of a quick conversation. And you'll have two of your Servants with you, as well as a third who I hope would do her best to keep you safe." He waved his hand. "Go on, we'll catch up in a second."

---

The man who had once been called something else, instead of just a title, waited until the Master had gone far enough down the hall before he called Cat over. "Start plating these, then get them out to the dining room. Once I've got my experiment started, I'll come back over and we can start on the racks of boar ribs for the next course. If I take too long, you can start glazing them."

"Got it, woof!" With another one of her maybe-serious, maybe-mocking salutes, she turned into a blur of motion, flipping food out of pans and pots so quickly it was almost haphazard, if not for the fact that the food landed perfectly, every time.

That was the only thing that kept him from clocking her with a specially Projected ladle - reckless as she was being with the food he'd prepared, she was, in the end, just trying to make sure it got out to their hungry guests as fast as possible.

Good for them - less good for him. He wanted her good and distracted while he had his chat.

He made his way over to a less cluttered space in the kitchen - one that had enough space for what he was planning. It was probably a fire hazard to Project a more traditional pre-Meiji firepit there, but Cat alone was a violation of probably ten different fire codes, so what was one more?

"If you could light that for me, I'd appreciate it," he muttered. The woman inhaled, then spat fire, and the heat in the kitchen alone jumped several degrees - closer to the roaring fire it was even worse. For a second, he was almost glad that Cat had had that accident with his shirt.

Still, it was exactly what he was looking for. "Perfect," he admitted. "Now, why's the Counter Force have you two deployed to that girl's side?"

Credit to the pair of them, they didn't give a single thing away in any aspect of their body language. The half-smirk and knowing nod he got from Sakamoto was entirely deliberate - but for all that they'd rarely worked together, when they had, they'd done so well, a pair of professionals down to their very bones. "I thought you'd guessed it when you first saw us, guess I was right."

"Truthfully, I'm more curious as to HOW the Counter Force managed to send you out." He grimaced. "We both know what the state of Humanity is, and how badly that's crippled the Counter Force - in a lot of ways. I'm pretty sure it was trying to send someone out earlier - but couldn't. What changed that made it send you out?"

Oryou gave a bark of laughter. "You did, steel human."

Despite himself, he must have let something show on his face, because Sakamoto's low chuckle joined his wife's, and he explained. "Apparently those in charge of the Incineration wanted more information on the Foreign God that's been assisting in resolving it, so they summoned you two Singularities ago. It was before my time, but your ability to trace the history of his weapons was enough. Once you were back on the Throne, and reported what you had learned, it was decided that some insurance was necessary, just in case the Foreign God turned out to be less benevolent than he was claiming."

Archer - no, Emiya blinked. He didn't remember any of this, but that wasn't shocking, particularly in his current manifestation, which had been summoned as a regular Servant - there were entire stretches of his past manifestations that were massive blanks for him, at least right now. "Ok, then…..why you?"

"And why not you?"

Archer shrugged, midway through setting a pot over the blazing fire to start warming. Not really what he was wondering, but it was a valid question - Unlimited Blade Works was almost unsurpassed in its versatility. And if you were thinking about possibly needing to kill a god……well, a runty version of himself had beaten no less than Gilgamesh himself, straight up, once.

Sakamoto met his shrug with one of his own. "Far be it from me to second guess our bosses, but apparently that was your second run-in with this group - and the first time you were on the opposing side of them - something to do with Grail corruption in their first Singularity. So it was believed it was wiser to send someone they had no previous experience with. Since she's Japanese, her summoning us is explainable by affinity."

"Makes sense. But…." The soup stock was beginning to simmer, and he met his fellow's eyes over the rising steam. "You, kill a god? That seems like a bit much to ask. You're a good swordsman, and she's got power for days, but, still….."

Sakamoto raised his hands in a disarming gesture. "More or less what we said. So we got a little extra when we were sent out here." His eyes flicked downwards. "Analyze my sword."

Emiya blinked. He'd done that ages ago, lifetimes ago, even. It was a perfectly serviceable katana, but one without a name, or much of a Legend. Why would he…..

His eyes Traced the weapon, and his mouth was moving before he could think better of it. "Ama…."

A hand, Oryou's, clapped over his mouth before he could finish that. "Careful, steel human. Oryou-san thinks some words shouldn't be spoken so loudly." She sniffed. "Especially given who you're cooking next to."

The damnable thing about it was, she was right. Cat might be a complete ditz, but she was still part of Tamamo-no-Mae at the end of the day - and all the connections that name entailed. And she was a hell of a lot more clever than she let on.

He met the woman's eyes, finally realizing that this was the actual Oryou, and not just the projection of her soul that he'd previously dealt with. In his head, he ticked their chances at completing their assignment up a few notches.

"And anyways," began Sakamoto. "It might not even be necessary. Kratos……he's got his fair share of sins and errors in his past, but he does seem to have made a concentrated effort to move past that. He's honestly been better with my Master than a lot of gods would have been - and he's not demanding Chaldea worship him or anything."

"Oryou-san thinks he might actually tear the base down if they started doing that," commented the woman, having released Emiya from her grasp.

Sakamoto was giving him that easy smile of his. "The way things feel right now, I might not even be needed for 'insurance', in the end."

Emiya gave a noncommittal grunt to that, as he began adding the first bits of seasonings to the broth. Yes, it would be nice if everything worked out in the end, happy endings for all. His life - and afterlife had shown him that things rarely were that nice.

Sakamoto looks like he knew exactly what he was thinking - and was suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at him. Oryou showed no such restraint, and her put-upon groan just added to it all. "Can we go now, Ryouma? I don't trust that oni not to drag the human into trouble while we're not there to stop it."

Sakamoto reached up to take his lover's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Is there anything else? We really should be catching up with them by now. Oryou's worries aren't unfounded, after all."

Emiya waved them off, he had all the answers he needed, for now, at least. Though apparently they had one for him - as Sakamoto paused right before he left the room. "What are you making, if I can ask?"

Emiya huffed. "Shark fin soup. Though it'll be a variant - I'm using Bake-kujira bits. I have no idea where our hostess got her hands on them, but they just don't cook under normal temperatures. Too durable." A rare grin stretched the corners of his mouth. "So, when I saw you saunter in, I thought, 'serendipity', and just decided to run with it."

---

They hadn't been waiting long when Sakamoto came jogging down the hall to join them. "We all good?" she called, as he drew up to them.

"Yes, Master," said Sakamoto. "Just a couple of questions, and he wanted to make sure the fire would persist - no good having Oryou start it only for it to gutter out after she left."

"Alright." She turned to the woman who had led them to this point in the hall, who had been waiting more patiently than any of the rest of them (though Shuten had been oddly docile during the wait, conversing with Margaretha quietly - the subject light and almost nothing, but Fujimaru couldn't shake the feeling that there was a layer to the entire thing she was missing). "Can you show us how to open this hidden door, then, now that everyone's here?"

"Certainly," she said, turning to the wall. "It's actually surprisingly easy, given how otherwise cunningly the door itself is hidden." She reached up, wrapping her fingers around the metal of a candle holder, and twisted. The object turned like it was on hinges - and maybe it was. A second later, there was a click, and a section of the wall shifted forward.

"Really?" Fujimaru couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. "That much of a cliche?"

"That much of a cliche," agreed Margaretha, amusement in her voice. "As I said, surprising, given how none of us noticed the door otherwise."

Mash, excitement almost filling her eyes, insisted on being the first to step into the secret passageway. Ostensibly, her reason was she was the most durable of them all - and her shield would block anything the most fearsome of incoming fire, but Fujimaru could guess her other reason. While not quite something right out of the Sherlock Holmes stories her kohai was so fond of, this was close enough to get the girl wound up.

So she let her take the lead, and hoped her Shielder wasn't too distracted in looking for Moriartys in every shadowed recess of the hall.

"It actually goes pretty deep - or so Archer told us when he got back from checking it out." Margaretha was just in front of Fujimaru, between her and Mash. "Neither Cat or myself stuck our heads in - we just couldn't be spared. But we should be coming up on…."

And then, almost impossibly quick, they were there, the stairs thrusting themselves out of the gloom.

"Like I said, none of us knows how far up it goes," continued Margaretha. "Or even where it leads to. But given we know Elizabeth set up the second floor as one giant game for the guests, and no one's wandered into the kitchen - other than you guys, there's only a couple conclusions. It either does lead to the second floor, but it's hidden behind another secret door, or…."

"It leads somewhere higher - where the guests don't have access to," finished Fujimaru.

"Or that," agreed Margaretha.

"Well, it looks sturdy enough, at least," said Sakamoto, having glanced up and down as much of the stairs as he can see in the dim light, and she largely agreed with him. The stairs were solid stone - not wood like most of the rest of this manor house. Possibly a remnant of the castle that hadn't fully shifted yet, or maybe just a part of the original manor house all along - either way, it was their path forward.

"Well, nothing left to do but climb it." She turned to Margaretha. "Thank you for showing us the way, but you can head back now. I'd hate to get you in trouble with your head chef there by keeping you too long."

The woman snickered. "Oh, he'll be fine without me for a short time more. And I am a bit curious as to where this leads." She turned a pair of doe eyes on Fujimaru. "That is, if you don't mind me accompanying you for a bit longer."

GAH! Those things were lethal - Fujimaru had no defenses whatsoever in the face of an assault like that. "It's fine with me - but I can't promise it'll be safe wherever we come out."

"Oh, I'm not looking to follow along the entire way, just for a bit," she said, matter-of-factly.

Fujimaru supposed that was that, then. She sent a nod Mash's way, and, carefully, the girl began ascending the stairs.

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of their feet on the cold stones underfoot. And then, when they'd gone up about a floor and a half (by her estimation), Shuten suddenly stiffened.

"Don't!" she hissed, but not in time. Mash's foot came down on the next stair, and the stone sank down under her weight.

And the entire flight crumbled beneath them.

She's screaming, she thinks - Mash might be as well, but she can't tell over the terror gripping her heart at the sudden weightlessness of free-falling. She hears a shouted name, HER name, and Oryou is spearing through the falling rubble, directly at her - before an especially large fragment of the stairs struck the woman right on her skull, and she faltered, cartwheeling in the air.

And then the darkness swallowed them all as they tumble down, down, down.

---

 

MANOR BALLROOM

APPROXIMATELY THE SAME TIME​

Kratos suppressed a growl. This…..this was not an arena he was comfortable in. Not an arena he had EVER been comfortable in. Add to that that it had been a long, long time since the victory parties after a successful campaign in his homeland of Sparta, and the end result was a man who felt very out of place.

Never mind that someone had been ferrying him around the room as something akin to a breakneck pace. Faces had blurred together, one after another, almost all of them with a keen, almost predatory interest as they took him in.

Fortunately, he had been precluded from having to do much talking at all - Liz had more than covered that area herself, chattering away at each new group with an easy familiarity that, he supposed, proved beyond a shadow of any doubt that, beneath her…..oddities, the girl was nobility.

Still, it hadn't stopped Kratos from being (he felt) bombarded with questions in the sparing moments Liz let someone else get a word in edgewise. In the time they'd been careening from group to group, he'd received several inquiries about his name, pantheon, how he was able to manifest himself on this Side of the World, and at least a handful of…..offers. Mostly for spars, though the green-haired woman - the one they had seen by the gates - her offer had REEKED of innuendo, in a manner that reminded him of Aphrodite at her absolute worst.

(And worse, his growl that he was married - for he still considered himself such - had not deterred the woman at all. Merely said that his wife was free to join in as well. Thankfully for all of them, Liz had extracted them from that conversation almost immediately after that.)

Of them all, the man in the striped suit and his wife had been the most tolerable. While they'd been interested in the walking, talking deity as much as every other partygoer Liz had paraded him in front of, there had been less of the awe - or naked interest that others had displayed. He had been a curiosity, yes, but one that they had just accepted in stride. Truthfully, it had reminded him somewhat of Chaldea, at least, certain members of the organization.

Though they were not without their own oddities - and demands.

"Are you certain you're not up for a quick bit of fun?" asked the tall, rail-thin man, his neat mustache twitching, almost in time with the excitement in his eyes. "I'm sure a little bit of bloodletting would get the crowd in a fantastic mood before the band kicks off the dancing. And I won't pretend I'm not interested in seeing what you can do - though I don't know which of those beauties I'd like to test myself against more. That axe is a killer, but those short blades." He raised his fingers to his lips, and made a loud, smacking noise. "Magnifique! Look, they're already starting to unconsciously make a ring for us in anticipation!"

"No," he said, somewhat less harshly than he intended (and ignoring that the man was right, a makeshift dueling ring WAS starting to form in the middle of the room). "Were circumstances different…."

The pale woman on his arm nodded. "Business?" she asked, the word a question - but her tone making it obvious that she knew the answer already. "We did wonder why the famed Castle Csejte had been reworked so. We were so looking forward to a tour of the dungeons, and seeing if there was anything new and interesting the Countess came up with in the area of torture implements." Her smile turned razor-edged. "Or in their application."

"Oh Tish," simpered the man, adoration (and lust) for his wife written all over his face. "But you're right. And you showing up as you did, with our hostess by your side was all the odder. Not surprising to find that a delightful bit of skullduggery is afoot!"

He shrugged. "Nothing to be done about it. And from the size of you, I doubt it'll whatever problem that's decided to devil you will be quick or easy to fix. Shame." His hand reached up to cup his chin. "Just have to take a rain check on that tussle. When you get all this taken care of, and have a spot of time to yourself, you MUST pay us a visit!"

"0001 Cemetery Lane," said the woman, an amused half-smile on her face. "You can't miss it."

"And bring your friends - like that fiery woman that came in with you. I think our children would love her!"

And that, abruptly enough, was that. Liz detached the two of them from that group shortly after.

Avenger found them a moment later, slouching up to Kratos' free side (possibly because it kept the Spartan as a buffer between herself and her self-proclaimed 'best friend in the entire world'). "Enjoying yourself, Grumps?"

He held back far less of his growl than he had a few moments ago - not that it phased Avenger at all. The woman just laughed. "Yeah, I don't think I'd like being dragged around like a circus exhibit, either. I'd tell you your sacrifice wasn't in vain, and I managed to pick up some information, but I'd be lying."

She shrugged at the two of them. "Most everyone's taking the same line your security was, they just thought you had a last-second change of plans. They were more interested in you entering with Grumps there - chalked it up to you being all about the shocking reveals tonight."

Liz made a frustrated noise. "That's exactly what everyone we talked to said, too. I had to spend so much time telling people he was just here as my friend and not….something else." Her foot petulantly stomped down on the floor. "At least I think I've headed the rumors off, for now."

"So, what next?" asked Avenger, her words mirroring his thoughts. "I don't think there's any blood to get out of this stone - we both tried, but it doesn't seem like anyone knows anything about who or what the fuck ever stole the castle from the pink terror. They're either talking about you, or just having too much fun."

"We go up," said Kratos. If they had exhausted their options here, then it was the logical - and only next step. Though….

He reached down and activated his communicator. "Romani."

The Doctor's voice, muffled, his image hidden for the moment, responded almost immediately. "Kratos. Something to report?"

"Not at this time," he replied. "We are about to head up. What news of Fujimaru?"

He could hear the frown in the Doctor's voice. "Nothing. We know she went in the back a bit ago, but she hasn't updated us since. I know they say 'no news is good news', but I've never believed that." He sighed. "Especially with what we're doing. Even with something supposedly less dangerous like this…."

A grunt. In this he was of a like mind with the doctor. He would have given much - possibly more than was wise, to be able to hand his son one of Chaldea's marvelous communicators before he departed the Nine Realms. He trusted his son - had trained him to be able to take care of himself. But still…..

(A father worried.)

"Red can take care of herself," interjected Avenger. "And it's not like she doesn't have some heavyweights with her, either. Any monster that tries to jump out of the shadows at her is going to get to choose between the belly of a dragon or the claws of a pissed-off oni." She snickered. "Or being bludgeoned to death by an overprotective Squeaks."

Kratos snorted out a breath. Crude, as ever, but her sentiments were not wrong. Mash and Sakamoto were both capable warriors. And the oni……well, she was dangerous, there was no question of that, despite her many other flaws.

"We will keep an eye out for her," rumbled Kratos, which got an appreciative noise from Romani, before they signed off. Kratos looked to Liz. "We move out. Lead us."

"Gotcha, Fuzzy!" chirped the girl. She was practically skipping as she navigated the crowd, heading off offers to socialize with apologies and excuses of needing to see to something. Nervous energy was practically making her vibrate in place during the times she had to pause and offer more than a quick, cursory dismissal - clearly, she was anxious to finally take more proactive steps in reclaiming her castle.

In what felt like no time at all, Liz had maneuvered them to the foot of a massive flight of stairs, ones that had a set of thick ropes strung across the bannisters. "This should be it - you can see that there's no line, or anyone to take tickets, or a prize counter." She stared up the flight. "Assuming at least something's the same, it's where Uncle Vlad should be. He might have some more details for us - you probably won't even have to fight him with me here."

Kratos was not as certain of that as the girl sounded. It was far too rare of an occurrence for Kratos to solve something without it coming to blows. (He had tried, honestly, with Baldur - before he had known the man's name. And even if he had been able to talk Thor down, in the end, it had required shed blood and cracked bones from both of them before it had gotten to that point.)

Liz extended a single talon and tapped it on the ropes. Nothing happened.

"Fishsticks," she muttered, her lips turned up into a pout. "I thought it'd be the case, but it does seem like I really don't have the clearance to open this up anymore." The rest of her talons came out at that, and, raising her arm, she raggedly slashed through the ropes.

She kicked the limply hanging strands aside, and took a single step up the stairs. "C'mon, Fuzzy, Bestie. Time to get my castle back!" Then, she began confidently stomping up the long corridor of stairs.

Kratos, and the others, saw it out of the corner of their eyes. Moments after Avenger had passed fully into the stairway, the ropes began mending themselves behind them. In seconds, it was as if they had never been cut in the first place.

"What should we expect?" asked Kratos, as they continued to ascend.

"Since it was Uncle Vlad's floor, I went with the classic movie monsters," replied Liz. "Hunchbacks, werewolves, bats - all the old standbys. Since's he's Dracula - even if he HATES that title so much, and I can kinda understand him on that - and it's Halloween, why mess with what works?"

A massive pair of heavy wooden doors loomed before them. Liz didn't even pause, simply snapping a booted foot up and kicking the doors open. "It shouldn't be anything we can't handle, between the….."

Liz trailed off, her jaw dropping.

The hallway bore no resemblance to the rest of the manor. Gone was the weathered, aged wood, the worn furniture, the faded portraits. The concourse was red, and glistening. Veins stretched out from the doorway, into the darkness, crisscrossing the ceiling and floors. A damp, thick heat slapped them in the face, a metallic scent arriving moments later.

And, as they watched, it moved. Rhythmically. Steadily. Pulsating.

"What the hell?" Liz's voice was a whisper - the quietest he can ever recall the girl being.

The sounds of her voice had barely faded when there was a deep noise, almost a snort.

And then the three of them were picked up off their feet and catapulted forward, as winds shoved them from behind, seizing them in their grasp.

It was only for a moment, a heartbeat, before they were crashing down to the soft, yielding ground.

The doors slammed shut behind them, the lock clicking with a noise of finality.

"EwewewEWWWWWWW," Liz shot up off the ground like she was on fire, hands batting at her clothes. "There's GUNK all over my dress now! It's ruined!"

"PRIORITIES!" snarled Avenger, fire guttering to life in her metal palm, chasing the darkness that had crowded in around them away.

"Quiet!" hissed Kratos, holding up a hand.

The both of them stilled at that, even Liz snapping her jaws shut - and weapons formed in both of their hands. They stared into the darkness, on edge, straining to detect what it was that had raised Kratos' guard.

And then they heard it.

Just as it was in the foyer of the manor, there was a soft, periodic thumping that reverberated through the fleshy corridor. But it was louder - closer - than it had been on the ground floor. There, it had been a distant, whispery thing.

Here, it seemed as if it was at once all around them.

"Fuck," spat Avenger. "It's like being back inside that messed-up whale's mouth again."

Liz blinked. "Wait, back up. You were inside a WHALE? Like, all Jonah and stuff? What HAVE you two been getting up to without me?"

Kratos grunted. "Avenger is right. This is like the times I have been in the belly of such creatures." Another grunt. "Usually while they were trying to eat me. Be wary - we may not be alone here."

"At least someone's an old fucking hand at this shit," muttered Avenger, raising her spear. "Only one way to go here, so let's do this thing."

He took point, the light hanging from his waist weakly cutting into the gloom. Avenger flanked his right side, the crackle of her flames a steady wash of noise in his ears. Liz took his left, her proximity painfully close.

"Floating jack-o-lanterns, really?" asked Avenger, when she noticed the items that Liz had summoned to float above their group.

"They do directional lighting better than anything the two of you have," retorted Liz. "And I can point them different directions, just in case we come to a fork or something." The girl's eyes were narrowed, squinting into the murky depths of the concourse. "And it's something else for Uncle Vlad to see and recognize if he's here. He's probably fine, but I am NOT. Body horror is not my type of horror, thank you very much."

She was not wrong - the light emanated by her floating pumpkins was more akin to the flashlights that Chaldea possessed. But even the beams of light put out by her creations struggled against the shadows, making it only a short distance before they were swallowed up - consumed by the stygian depths they found themselves in.

Still, it was quiet. Aside from the sound of their footfalls, muffled as they were by the fleshy surface beneath them, the only sound was the steady throb that surrounds them, sounding as regularly as the tides.

They had been walking for a few minutes when they came to something not biological at all. An arch, made of pitted stone, that the flesh of the corridor both seemed to be growing around, and, at the same time, repulsed by. Letters were carved into the crumbling curve.

"Beyond is the monument to all your sins…." Kratos' voice shattered the oppressive quiet as he read the inscription aloud - and his voice mixed with Avenger's, who had also taken it upon herself to sound out the words (she started, glancing over at him, but he did not notice, his mind already turning the words he had read over in his mind).

"Whoever took my castle from me, I don't like their remodel," whined Liz. "Or their ideas! This was supposed to be a fun distraction for you guys! I'd have never done the psychological horror stuff if I was trying to let you relax!"

"Sins…" muttered Avenger. "Wonder-fucking-ful. Not like between the three of us we aren't drowning in that shit."

Her hand shot up, silencing Liz before she could begin speaking. "And don't give me that line about how all that's your future self's cross to bear - you're both Elizabeth Bathory at the end of the fucking day. Even if you're trying to change……whatever's waiting for us across that damn boundary might not CARE."

Annoyance flared in Liz's eyes, before she slumped. "Remind me to kick that old crone in the shin next time I see her, " she bit out, sulkily.

"Come," said Kratos, his voice reduced to a whisper, as the gloom seemed to reach out and muffle it before it had passed his lips. The Blades of Chaos were in his hands, the fires within them flaring, just a touch, as they passed through the arch.

They had barely made it a handful of steps past the stone structure when Avenger's pace slowed. "PLEASE tell me you hear that."

Kratos stopped. "I hear nothing - nothing new."

She must have heard the question in his voice, because her reply was quick in coming. "Screaming," she rasped. "A bunch of fucking voices. From France."

Her words, quiet as they had been, had barely faded when Liz's voice was raised. "Squirrel?" There was a note of something, half hope, half fear, in her voice.

Then, around them, the hallways ROILED.

Slick tissue undulated, and the steady beat sped up, hammering in their ears. Wet, tearing sounds filled the passageway, and, in the dim lights, Kratos saw three humanoid forms rip themselves free of the walls.

They held the forms of men, tall, broad, and muscular - that is, if men lacked any trace of their skin. Bone, gristle, and thick muscle moved before their eyes as the things rose to their feet, faces that were featureless, save for mouths of too-white teeth turned to regard them.

And then Kratos heard it.

A voice he had only heard at one time in his life, and yet, he could not, would not, forget it.

"Kratos. Ghost of Sparta. Bane of Olympus. Destroyer of Fate. Cruel Striker. Bringer of War. Weapon of the gods, turned against his creators."

And the things barreled forward.

When they had started their charge, the three things had been the skinned monstrosities that had birthed themselves from the very walls surrounding them. By the time they reached Kratos, they were…..not.

The blade that rang off his shield was Freya's, and the face that snarled at him from a handbreadth away was that of the goddess, gaunt and twisted - streaked with black as it had been during her ceaseless hunt for him during Fimbulwinter.

"Monster!" she shrieked, pushing back against his shield, metal scraping on metal.

He lowered a shoulder and shoved, throwing the thing - whatever it was - back. Before Kratos had even settled his feet, it was lunging forward, coming in low, the weapon in its hand now a mirror of the axe that rested upon his back.

The Blades of Chaos stabbed down, halting the edge of the Leviathan Axe. His eyes met those of his wife's…..of Faye's.

"You were supposed to keep him SAFE!" she roared, the fury that had laid dormant in her on full display, here and now.

Red was beginning to creep into the edges of Kratos' vision, as something twisted in his gut. "You are NOT her!"

Behind him, Liz was backtracking from the thing that was directing slash after slash at her - and yet, her eyes were locked at something just over the shoulder of her attacker. "Squirrel, please……call off Saber. I'm better, I'm TRYING to be better, like you showed me!"

Her trident snapped up, barely in time to deflect a spinning slash, one with enough power behind it to send her flying away. "Stop looking at me like that! I'm not HER! I don't WANT to be HER! I'm trying everything to NOT grow up into HER!"

The thing continued to advance.

Avenger's arms had dropped to her side, hanging limply. Her eyes were darting here and there, so fast they did not have time to settle in one place. "Every one of you managed to make it here, huh?" She gave a bitter laugh. "And I see the Big Man himself is here to pass judgement - just like all my nightmares. Before you condemn me, can you tell me if it was all just a game? Were you keeping me around just until you got bored of watching me dance?"

Kratos flicked the Blades of Chaos out, sending them cutting through the air, and the thing wearing his wife's face slid around them, its movements a mirror of hers, during their first fight - their first meeting. But this was not her - it did not have her speed, her skill, or her experience. Whatever it was, it was a pale copy at best. At worst - it was a mockery, one he would NOT tolerate.

And Kratos was far from the ragged shell of himself that he had been, back then.

The Blades sank into the fleshy wall, and Kratos flew forward, his shoulder lowered. The thing was blasted from its feet, the weapon flying from its hand - becoming nothing more than a shank of sharpened bone as it did.

Its back hit the ground, and it was already starting to heave itself up even as the soft ground rippled around its impact. But its body was met with the solid wall that was Kratos' shield, slamming the thing back down into the ground, pinning it there.

The Blades of Chaos were raised into the air. Underneath him, the thing shifted one last time.

Pandora's face stared up at him, horror painted across her features. Its mouth opened, possibly to plead for its life.

He almost hesitated - his strike very nearly faltered. If not for the fact that, out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Liz still desperately pleading with something she could only see, could see the resigned slump of Avenger's shoulders. And he could see the forms of the creatures menacing them.

The Blades of Chaos cleaved the thing's stolen face in two.

Whatever sorcery the thing was using unravelled in an instant,the girl's form melting away. Then, the body of muscle and fibers followed in the image's wake, and fell apart, seeping back into the fleshy ground.

The pulsating sound around them sped up, for a moment.

And muscle and bone, already forming itself into bodies, tore itself free from the walls. Three this time. Turning to face Kratos even as slick fluids dripped from their forms.

As he rose, Kratos seized Avenger's thread in his mind, none too gently, and called to her. 'These things shroud their forms in illusions. LOOK!' Fumblingly, he shoved his vision onto the link, and threw it at Avenger.

The woman blinked, once, twice, then her spine stiffened, as her glazed eyes gained focus. "You fucking SON OF A BITCH!"

Fire erupted from beneath the thing stalking her, so bright that Kratos was forced to shield his eyes. When the white had faded from his sight, there was no sign of the thing - not even ashes remained.

As it had with him, the death of her tormenter triggered a response - more began to slither their way free from the walls - but before they could even do so, burning spears, their tips white-hot, impaled the things, pinning them in place. Avenger turned, her golden eyes almost glowing, and the three things bearing down on Kratos were immolated in an instant.

"Help Liz," rasped Avenger, the words spat out through a curtain of rage, the air around her beginning to shimmer with rising heat. "These bastards are MINE."

Liz could retreat no further, her back having hit a wall. "Please….." she was beginning to say, as the thing raised its weapon.

Kratos' shoulder barreled into it, blasting it away. It was knocked upward, ricocheting off the ceiling, then hitting the floor, bouncing twice. Its hands touched the ground, and began to push itself inexorably upwards.

Liz's eyes fluttered slowly, sluggishly. She looked in his direction, but did not seem to see Kratos - she was staring straight through him, as though he was not there. His hand seized her by the shoulder and shook her, not roughly, but firmly.

"Liz!" She still did not seem to register his presence. "Elizabeth!" Another shake, possibly less restrained this time, and his voice was raised to greater levels. The thing had made it back to its feet, and was advancing again.

He did not know if it was the volume, or the swaying of her body in Kratos' grasp that got through to her, but her eyes cleared, for a moment, and she finally saw him. "Fuzzy? Where did you come from? I was…."

"It is a trick," he snarled, his fury leashed, but only just. The Fates of two different realms had thought to torment him with visions such as this. Such tricks never failed to stoke the fires of his rage. "Gather yourself!"

"But…..it's so real…." Then her brows drew together, and focus returned to her eyes. "And that's not playing FAIR!"

Her trident took the thing right in its gut, flying from her hands and crossing the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye. The thing staggered, but its feet continued to move, advancing another step closer.

The pumpkins that had been hovering over Liz's shoulders screamed in, surrounding the thing, even as it raised its foot for another step. Their eyes flashed, and thrumming beams of magic bored into it, carving into sections.

There were a series of wet thumps as the pieces of creature hit the floor, and were quickly reabsorbed.

There was an uncharacteristically serious snarl on Liz's face. "Ok, I'm back, Fuzzy. And I'm PISSED. This reminds me of some of the stuff from the Moon Cell……there was someone there who liked to torment people with things like this - though it was only one of the tricks she kept up her sleeves." Her face twitched. "Everyone hated her. And if whoever's doing this to us……I can only imagine how bad it is for Uncle Vlad."

"He hated me slapping him with even more Madness Enhancement than he already had," rasped Avenger, as she sent a tidal wave of flame down the corridor. "Though he didn't really do the regrets thing. Best I could tell, he thought everything he did was justified in defending his fucking kingdom. So what would this horror show do to him?"

"Probably make him relive every single time he got summoned by some Mage looking to use Dracula as an attack dog," replied Liz, a dangerous note in her voice. "Do it over and over again, until he's worn out." Her voice dropped, and her voice took on a tone familiar to Kratos (it was the tone his voice took on when he spoke of his past). "It's what I would have done, if I was trying to break him. Make him into some sort of monster - like that one Master of his did in that one really messy Grail War he almost never talks about, the one he shared with Siggy-Woogy."

"Then let's fucking MOVE," snarled Avenger, already beginning to stride forward. "Leave these jokers to me," she said, as another flurry of burning spears obliterated the latest round of rippling humanoids.

Little hindered them as they stormed down the halls. Avenger saw personally to nearly every creature that burst from the walls, attempting to stop them. Her thread in Kratos' mind felt like it was screaming aloud, the sensations garbled and indistinct - and yet, there was a core of focus at its heart. It seemed, for once, Avenger was not letting her rage master her.

'I lose control, I'm not going to get to take strips out of the hide of whoever screwed with my head.' Her voice, low and thick, echoed in his mind. 'Nobody, not NOBODY screws with my head. Not anymore. Not after Gilles lied to me.'

Kratos could not find it in himself to disagree with the woman's sentiment. However…. 'Maintain focus. Vlad may not be our enemy here. And Liz is….attached to him. She would not wish for us to kill him - not unless there is no other choice.' A moment, and another thought occurred to him. 'And pace yourself. This is far from the end of our troubles.'

If she had had the moment to spare, could have diverted her attention away from the enemies attempting to approach them, he was certain she would have thrown him a mocking salute. As it was, something akin to agreement vibrated down their connection.

But the potency, and frequency of her fires did not lessen in the slightest.

At least it kept their path free. Kratos found himself in the rare position of watching as another did the work of combat, while he followed in their wake. Avenger, if nothing else, was thorough - she was leaving nothing for their surroundings to reclaim of the fallen creatures.

Though that did not stop the living halls from continuing to throw obstacle after obstacle in their way.

"Left!" cried Liz, as they reached a fork. "It smells like Uncle Vlad down that way, at least, what little I can smell over the blood and all the char."

"Got it," snapped Avenger, body pivoting to stomp down the path, her eyes flicking from side to side, almost eager for something else to try to stop her.

Kratos could not smell whatever it was that led Liz to choose this corridor, but he felt she had chosen correctly. The sound that still echoed around them was getting stronger - louder, as they headed down this arcade.

Avenger, the blazing torch at the top of their spear, paused for a second. "They haven't thrown any cannon fodder at me for like, a minute." Her tone was wary, the rage banked, but still present. "Think they've wised up?"

"Or they are marshalling their forces for the end," muttered Kratos. "To attempt to overwhelm us with sheer numbers."

"Bring them the FUCK on!" There was a brittleness to Avenger's laugh hidden underneath her bluster. As if she was aware of it, the fires in her hand flared up brighter, higher, for a second. A display that fooled no one.

"You tell 'em, Bestie!" Well, maybe it fooled Liz, who had floated ahead to clap Avenger on the back (foregoing a fist bump, as both of Avenger's hands were coated in flames at immediate.)

They had continued down the path for a few moments, when the ceiling began to slope upwards. Despite the added space, the steady beat was almost deafening in their ears, in their heads. And the air was thick around them, almost solid enough that they had to push through it to advance, step by step.

It was mere moments later (though it felt like hours) that they came to what must have once been a grander chamber. A high ceiling, walls that seemed to be leagues from one another, and, dominating the center, a throne of wrought-iron, black as the deepest night, highlighted with vibrant reds. But it was a far cry from that, anymore.

The walls, the ceiling, even the chandelier that hung from the ceiling was covered with unwholesome flesh that seemed wetter…..fresher than what had covered the passageways they had taken to arrive here. It had even grown to cover the sconces on the walls that, once, had been intended to hold torches, or candles - now, they resembled nothing more than withered hands, each finger of which held a flickering light. And the chandelier above was even more grotesque - it was two palms, spread out and held up like a blooming flower - but they were palms that had more fingers than any human hand. Pale green light flickered on the twisted, misshapen tips of the fingers, casting the room in an eerie luster.

And the throne itself was toppled, knocked to the side, toppled, and in two large pieces, the backrest having been torn free and hurled, or knocked, across the room.

All that, and more, they took in in a single glance, for they did not have time for more.

For a more immediate thing grabbed their attentions, and that thing was Vlad.

He looked….exhausted, despite his status as both a Heroic Spirit and a vampire - two things that did not tire easily (Kratos noted that the sweat that lined his brow was tinged red). And yet, his features were tight and drawn. His frame, thin (at least compared to the standards of such as Spartacus and Iskandar), seemed almost wasted now - his cheekbones standing out even more prominently in his face, and his fingers seemed more like withered claws, skin tightly stretched over knobby bone.

As they watched, he lunged through the air, talons slashing through nothing. His teeth were bared, the fangs on full display and his eyes…..his eyes were almost pools of red, little of his natural grey left in them.

"DARNIC!" he bellowed, feet finding purchase on the ruined seat of the throne, perching, and springing forward. His hands blurred as they slashed, over and over again, carving up the space before him. "DIE!" he spat. "For your crimes against me, DIE!"

The Berserker flew forward so recklessly that he careened into the wall. The room shook around them, and Kratos heard the wood crack, even though the padding of the muscle and gristle covering it. Vlad heaved himself off the wall, his head cutting from side to side as he sought whatever phantom was tormenting him.

"I think that's the Master I was talking about, the one who really abused him - but it's only a guess," began Liz. "He REALLY doesn't talk about it - and he and Siggy only have fragments of memories of it in the first place, but……"

Whatever else the girl had been about to say was drowned out, as the chamber shuddered around them. A two-tone beat, louder than even Gjallarhorn had been, thundered around them.

And the world shifted.

And Kratos was alone - in a familiar vista.

The sounds of combat (if such slaughter could be called such), crackling fires, and screams sounded from all around him. Dry winds caressed his skin, ones that carried flickers of dying embers. The pillars of a temple surrounded him, though most were damaged - or shattered outright.

Before him - huddled before a statue of Athena, were his first wife, and his daughter.

And between them were copies of the man Kratos had once been, in numbers beyond counting, their eyes alight with a mad rage.

THIS again. The same thing Ares had thought to torment him with, all those many years ago. Another trick - another lie.

Uncaring of him in the slightest, the shades of a younger Kratos all moved as one, darting, or leaping towards the cowered forms of Lysandra and Calliope.

They made it barely the length of their bodies before they were, as one, pierced through by a rain of spears from the sky. Winds surrounding their points, a shower of Draupnirs obliterated the shades, momentarily washing away the charnel smell of the burning village. Trapped by the spears pinning them to the ground, the shades struggled, for a moment, before slumping, and breaking apart into mists.

Kratos strode through the space, empty now of enemies, and stood before the two people he had failed so greatly.

"You are not real." His wife, his daughter, they were within the Elysian Fields - he KNEW this, beyond the shadow of any doubt. "None of this is real."

He lowered his form, making himself smaller - bringing himself down to Calliope's eye level. "But…..I still carry the shame of my actions to this day. There is much I would say to you, were you more than mere illusions."

Neither of them said anything - nor did their expressions change from the frozen looks of terror that were plastered across their visages. Perhaps they saw him in the same light as the shades that, even now, were creeping across the rubble to menace them again, or perhaps they were not given the ability to express anything but fear. In the end, did it matter?

"But……I have spent a lifetime trying to atone for my actions that day. If there is any part of you that is them, then, know that." His head sank. "And, that I miss you both. Though there are others that have found places close to me…in my heart…….you are never far from my thoughts."

No reaction. He supposed he expected as much.

He rose from his crouch, turning to face the legions of himself that were steadily approaching, their weapons raised. "This is not real," he stated. "None of this is. And I reject this pitiful attempt to torture me. I have been tortured by the gods themselves, the Fates of two Realms…..and by myself. This? This is nothing."

Time…..stopped.

And the world shattered around him, like so much glass.

Returning him to the broken throne room.

Vlad was still howling, striking, charging at the contents of his mind. Liz was rolling around on the ground, her hands over her ears, a low, keening wail escaping her lips. Avenger was at the heart of a firestorm, a blazing tornado swirling around her as she screamed. He was already reaching for her thread in his mind, when he noticed something that made him stop.

As Vlad skittered across the room, he stumbled for a quick second, a patch of uneven floor fouling his footing. The flesh covering it seemed almost like it had been torn up, pulled back in places.

Two large steps and Kratos was there, the Blades of Chaos in his hands, fire licking around their edges. He drove them downwards, into the throbbing meat of the floor, then, pulling in opposite directions, began to part the tissue.

It fought him. He could see the wet, bloody muscles tensing, constricting, trying to stiffen up and resist. Around him, the drone sped up even further, the sound echoing in his ears faster and faster as he pulled the layers covering the ground away. With a roar, he pushed his arms out to their fullest extension, finally exposing what was beneath.

When he saw it, only then did it make sense.

A heart. Massive, cankerous, pulsing with horrid life. Somehow, it almost seemed to be aware of him, and as his eyes fell upon it, there came a pulse of magic, washing over him.

For a second, his vision blurred, and he was back in the temple - before his will hardened, and the illusion died.

And his hands shot down, the Blades of Chaos driving deep into the organ.

The entire floor seemed to shriek, a mewling cry that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Blood erupted from the heart, spraying up to coat the ceiling. Everything, the heart, the walls, the floors, the ceiling, was pulsating faster and faster, spasmodic twitches that built to a furious pace, before slowing.

And dying.

The growth covering the surfaces around them began to wither, slowly turning gray and falling to the ground, or simply retreating, flowing in a dying wave back to the ruptured heart.

In seconds, the throne room had been restored, if not to its former glory, then at least the living corruption that had been covering it was no more.

And around them, the maddened heartbeat stilled, and then fell silent.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, I do watch Hell's Kitchen.

Obviously, true Gomez to me is and always will be Raul 'M.Bison' Julia. Accept no substitutes. God bless that man for taking that last role to give his kids something, and giving us the beyond legendary 'But for me, it was Tuesday' speech. Sasuga, Raul Julia. Sasuga.

Chapter 55: It's the Great Liz-oween, Ghost of Sparta 4

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 55​

Ritsuka Fujimaru wasn't an especially light sleeper, which was a nice way of saying when she slept, it was like she was dead to the world. Her brain was……loud enough that it probably burned a lot of calories and energy (and probably why she remained relatively thin despite her sweet tooth and general lack of athletic activities, at least, previously) which meant when she finally conked out for the day, she went down HARD, and slept like she was going for a gold medal. Random noises in the night, changes in temperature - those things usually wouldn't even get her to stir a little bit.

However, hearing "Master, if you don't respond soon, I'm going to think you've gone and died on me, and then I'll have no choice but to eat you." somehow pierced right through her sleep-fuzz and got her up in a FLASH.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Her hand may or may not have shot down to grasp at the hilt of the cutlass she'd been gifted with her costume - she didn't know if it was actual steel or just a prop, but it was sitting on the hip where she usually kept her gun, so that's where her hand went.

She blinked, her eyes focusing, until they took in the sight of a grinning oni, crouched down so that they were at eye level.

"Shuten?" She had to quell her urge to scramble backwards, as her brain decided now was the time to replay the words that had woken her up, since she'd not been conscious enough to really process them at the time. But now…..

"Oh, just a jest, Master." Her grin grew wider, as she rose from her crouch. "I used to have to wake Ibaraki in the same manner, only different in that it was tailored for her. There is a reason I always carried a few baskets of sweets back from our raids of Kyoto." Her soft, husky laughter echoed around them. "They made effective bribes."

The mirth faded as quickly as it had appeared. A hand was extended "Now get up, Master. This place isn't safe."

"Where are we?" asked Fujimaru as she took the offered hand and was yanked to her feet. "And more to the point, what happened? I remember falling, and Oryou was coming for me, but a chunk of rock hit her, then….."

"Yes. That was my fault - I should have spotted the trapped stair sooner." Shuten, for a split second, almost sounded apologetic. "When the dragon failed to reach you, I had to take things into my own hands. Thankfully, your Shielder gave me a perfect platform to propel myself from."

Mashie! Her head darted around, looking for her other two and a half Servants, but they were nowhere to be found.

Shuten continued. "I managed to reach you, and halt our fall by driving my sword into the wall, but the impact knocked you out - unfortunately, I didn't have time to be gentle."

That explained the pain in her skull that was just now starting to hit her. "Where's the others?"

Shuten frowned. "That, I don't know. They fell farther than I could see into the darkness, and hanging there on the wall wasn't doing anything to improve our situation. So, I gathered you up, and took the plunge into whatever lay beneath."

Her nose twitched. "It was only after I'd fallen a bit that I saw that below us turned into a set of chutes - designed to separate us. It was like some kind of festival game. I picked one at random, and thus, here we are."

"The others must have gone down different ones, then," said Fujimaru. "Give me a second."

She reached into her head and found the parts of her brain that her Servants were renting. Obviously, Mashie's area was the first one she poked. 'Mash? Are you there? Can you hear me?'

'Senpai!' Mash's response came at almost undue speed. 'I've been calling you and calling you, but you weren't responding!' Through their link, she almost could feel her first Servant taking a steadying breath to slow her heart. 'Are you alright? And……is anyone with you?'

"Mash on the line," whispered Fujimaru, before dragging Shuten into the mental conversation. 'No, Shuten's here. She caught me when I was falling, but didn't know there was another trick below to separate us like this.'

'Have no fears, girl. Nothing will happen to our Master as long as I'm here. Whatever tricks our host may have for us in these depths, they're not scarier than me.'

'What about you, Mashie?' asked Fujimaru. 'What's your status?'

'It's just me here. I don't know what happened to the others.' At least she seemed calmer than Fujimaru would have been if she'd woken up to find herself all by her lonesome in….wherever they were. 'I've been slowly exploring, hoping I'd stumble across one of you, but no luck so far.'

'Well, now that I'm up, I can hopefully make things a bit easier.' There were two sections of her brain to poke now, sections that were so closely entwined that they were practically one. 'Sakamoto - or Oryou, if he can't talk for some reason, are you two ok?'

Sakamoto's reply didn't come as quickly as Mash's did, but he sounded just as relieved to hear her calling out for him. 'We're fine, Master. The rubble that hit Oryou blasted her in my direction, I managed to catch her before we got knocked too far apart. A good thing, too, given the surprise that was waiting for us a bit lower.'

'That's good.' she thought. 'Less good that we're all split up. Oh, anyone have eyes on Margaretha? I'd really prefer it if we didn't lose one of that Archer's staff while she was on loan to us.'

'She's with us, Master.' Sakamoto nudged his vision into the link for a second, and she got a momentary glimpse of a slightly bedraggled, but alive, Margaretha standing and watching Sakamoto as he had a conversation she couldn't really participate in. Then she perked up for a second, and waved, before the vision link went dark. 'She's not particularly happy about being down here, but she's otherwise alright.'

'Ok, that's some good news, at least.' Fujimaru looked around. Dusty, cold stone surrounded them on all sides. 'Where are we, anyways? Does our guest have any information on what we fell into?'

There was a brief pause. 'She says she has no idea. Didn't even know that this was here. Which, given how hard they say they've been working since they were summoned, seems to fit.'

Mash's voice interjected here. 'A wine cellar, maybe? It kind of fits with the manor.'

'I'm not seeing….or smelling, much in the way of wine here.' Shuten, unsurprisingly, sounded disappointed by that. 'Just the stale air of a place that hasn't seen much beyond rats and other vermin for a long, long time.'

'The little oni is correct, human. This place smells like it's been forgotten for a good long while.' There was the mental equivalent of a dismissive sniff. 'Oryou-san thinks we shouldn't linger here.'

'I couldn't agree more,' said Fujimaru. 'I guess we just start walking?'

'It's probably the best plan we have right now. Oryou could probably fly back up the chute we came down, but, as many of them as there were, I don't like her chances of finding the rest of you.' She could almost see Sakamoto cupping his chin and thinking, hard. 'And that's assuming whoever set all this up didn't rig more traps in case someone tried to fly, or climb back up. Oryou could probably handle them, but…..'

'What if she can't?' Finished Fujimaru. 'And we're already split up - seems like we'd be asking for trouble to split the party further.'

'My thoughts exactly.' replied Sakamoto. 'The risk doesn't seem to outweigh the gain. Better we try to link up instead - we might get lucky and find a way out while we're looking.'

'We can stay in contact, if nothing else. It's a bit better than fumbling about in the dark.' And she had an oni to watch her back, to boot. She might have a laundry list of Servants she'd rather have by her side, but none of them was scarier than her Assassin, at the end of the day. Pity the thing that jumped out at her from the shadows thinking she was a typical horror movie victim.

'I'll leave a mark on any forks we come to, my sword should be able to carve something into the walls.' Sakamoto paused. 'Do the two of you have anything to do the same with?'

Fujimaru considered. 'I've got my knives - I haven't checked to see if the sword is a real one or a fake……and, nevermind. Shuten just pulled out her sword - if that thing can't make a dent in the walls, nothing can.'

'There's my sword, but…..something's telling me I really shouldn't use it for this. More than just the fact that Doctor Roman has expressly forbidden me from using it until we understand it better.' Mash's voice was quiet, and very, very subdued. 'But there should be some chalk stored in my shield…..yes, there it is. So I can use that.'

Fujimaru shook her head. At times it seemed like the question was more of what DIDN'T her Kohai have hidden away in her shield? It was a good thing, at least, that Mashie was a bit of a worrywart about prepping for Singularities. 'Ok. Stay in contact, and be careful. And if you see anything out of the ordinary, make some noise. We don't know what's waiting for us down here.'

A pair of assents flowed through the mental link she shared with her Servants, and that was the end of the conference. Picking a direction at random (they only had the two to pick from, at least), Fujimaru set off, with Shuten traipsing along, slightly ahead of her.

"Still no sign of wine," she said, in a singsong voice. "I think little Mash's theory of this being a wine cellar is hopelessly incorrect."

Fujimaru was starting to come to the same conclusion, just in different words. "Lot of dust and cobwebs down here. And no sign of any tracks in all the stuff covering the floor, either. If anyone was storing wine down here for the party, someone would have had to come fetch it. But there's no evidence of that."

Shuten made a humming noise. "The dragon girl, the one that caused this Singularity - did say that she had people delivering all manner of things - I assume delicacies, and spirits, were at least some of that." She glanced back over her shoulder at Fujimaru, her horns, and teeth glinting in the beam of Fujimaru's flashlight. "After all, this wasn't the original form of the castle. And the basements……or dungeons of Castle Csejte weren't used to hold wine, but something else entirely."

Fujimaru nodded, even as a chill ran down her spine. "Good point."

"Speaking of, Master," began Shuten. "Are there any spirits of the less enjoyable kind hovering around us?"

Fujimaru almost stopped right in her tracks. Outside, she had seen ghosts aplenty slipping into the house, but….. Stupid. She held up a hand, and did stop. Then, taking a deep breath, prodded some very rusty magical circuits around her eyes.

And turned her Sight on.

It ached, like using a muscle that had been allowed to atrophy, but it turned on, and a thin film slipped over her vision. She darted her head around, then quickly shut her Sight off, sighing as the pressure eased. It still took her a couple of breaths before she could answer Shuten. "Nothing in the immediate area. And……" Shuten was staring at her, an odd expression on her face. "What?"

"Just a bit of curiosity. That seemed to take quite a bit of effort on your part." Her lips pursed. "It's the frame of reference of one, but I do recall Neya having a much easier time of using her Sight." She paused for a moment. "Though, the Mysteries were much stronger back then than they are now, so there's that."

"It's mostly rust," admitted Fujimaru. "My mom and my big sister don't have any problem with their Sight - Susumu was, to hear both my parents and a few of my relatives tell it, activating it way back when she was still in the crib. They had to ward her stroller pretty heavily whenever they took her out, so she didn't attract attention, either by letting the ghosts in the area know she could see them, or by seeing one of the more grotesque ones and getting scared, and then throwing a fit."

Though any ghosts who might have been stupid enough to approach Susumu with her mother there would have been making one of the WORST mistakes they could have ever made, in either their lives or their afterlives. But then again, like she'd told everyone, ghosts aren't always the most rational of things. Especially very new ones.

(There was a non-zero chance that baby Susumu had seen their mother rip a ghost in two at least once.)

"But with as weak a Spiritualist as I am, activating it was tempting fate. Mom drummed it into my head that ghosts always want things from the living, and people like us who can see them? Once they figure that out, they'll never leave you alone. And ghosts talk to each other - they're worse than bored housewives." And if the words hadn't been enough, she'd taken her warded daughters out one day and turned a specially crafted homunculus loose. Not a human, but little more than a few scraps of flesh stitched onto a clay body - but with a paste made of her mother's blood smeared over its eyes, so that it could see beyond the Veil.

And they'd all three watched as ghosts had SWARMED the thing, begging, pleading with it for things: to speak with relatives, to settle scores, or to just pay attention to them - before one especially violent spirit had tired of the lack of response, and snatched the thing up, intending on….something. She didn't quite know what. But that had been the spark in the dry kindling that had set off the rest of the ghosts.

The homunculus had been torn apart in short order after that, and eventually forgotten, as the ghosts took out their ire on each other - anger both at not being able to resolve their affairs, and at the ghosts who had deprived them of what they had thought was their chance to settle unfinished business.

As a lesson, it had been blunt, and crude by her mother's standards (though the woman was nothing but serious as a heart attack when it came to explaining to her daughters the dangers of dealing with the dead). But it had worked.

Shuten sniffed. "Foolish of her. Now, when you may need it, you're hardly in any condition to defend yourself from hostile ghosts. She should have allowed you to toughen yourself up through experience."

Despite herself, Fujimaru felt the need to defend her mother. "I don't think she anticipated something like the Incineration of Humanity coming…..much less her disappointment of a second daughter being on the front lines of a fight like that." She sighed. "But, you are kind of right. Once we get done with all of this, I'm going to have to talk to Lord El-Melloi II and see if he can't do something about my glaring weakness with what's supposed to be my family's speciality."

Especially, she thought, when she was neck-deep in a Singularity where the dead seemed to outnumber the living, and her Sight was forcibly activating itself. As messed up as the Veil probably was, this was just asking for trouble. She couldn't put this on the backburner any longer.

They walked for a bit longer in silence. During that time, they came upon a couple of forks in the path, but neither had any marks, chalk, or otherwise, scribed there, so it didn't appear that they were any closer to finding the rest of their party. Still, Shuten quickly carved a surprisingly artistic note into the wall indicating which path they'd taken, and they continued on.

Though the next dusty corridor quickly pushed any thoughts about Shuten's calligraphy talents from her mind. "These alcoves." Fujimaru licked her suddenly dry lips. "This is starting to resemble catacombs."

Because if not a wine cellar, what else would you expect to find beneath a gothic manor? Wonderful. She flicked her Sight back on (and was privately glad that it was marginally easier this time, though still left her face feeling sore), but still, no ghosts.

"You would think, given how many shades you said you saw, that a place like this….if these truly are catacombs, would be overrun with the spirits of the dead," mused Shuten. "Such places are magnets for them - graveyards, battlefields and the like. Their complete absence is….odd."

"You're not wrong," said Fujimaru, very very quietly. There were a few possible explanations. A - these weren't catacombs. The best outcome for everyone. B - something in another part of the house was more interesting to the ghosts, or was actively drawing them there. Not great, not great at all. C - something down here had scared off - or killed, all the ghosts that should have been.

Needless to say, that was the scenario that had the hairs on the back of Fujimaru's head standing on end. Ghosts weren't exactly impossible to kill - a halfway decent Mage (and one didn't even have to be a Necromancer or Spiritualist, either) could find all sorts of uses for them, most of them unsavory - but they were fairly durable. Something that could scatter them away from a prime haunting ground - or possibly somewhere where their mortal remains (which was very likely to be a fetter) had been laid to rest?

Very, very bad.

A handful of similarly quiet minutes passed, then Shuten slowed, and paused, something to the side having caught her eye. A quick pair of bounding steps had her standing by one of the empty alcoves, peering intently at….something.

Thankfully, Shuten wasn't terribly tall (unlike a ton of the rest of the everyone Fujimaru had to deal with around Chaldea - she was average height for a Japanese girl, but damn if she didn't feel like a midget when you were rubbing elbows with people like Kratos or Medusa or Blackbeard, or absolute titans like any of the Berserkers they'd run into - it said something that two of the few people she had to look down on to meet their eyes were a Roman Emperor or one of the most terrifying oni in Japan's history), so Fujimaru didn't have to ask her to move to see whatever it was that had captured her interest.

"That looks like a family crest," began Fujimaru.

"Indeed," replied Shuten. "Different in style than the ones used during my time, but this isn't the home of a Kyoto noble." One of her talons traced the thing, a foot (that may have once been gilded in gold, before time and neglect had taken their toll) crushing a snake underfoot - a snake that was even now burying its fangs in the foot that was killing it.

"Not one I'm familiar with, but for all we know it's completely made up, like all of this place." She activated her communicator. "Roman, you there?"

Static. Both over the audio portions, and in the visual window.

She sighed. "Of course. Because why drop us down here when we can just call for help?"

Shuten's head was tilted to the side. "It reminds me of this symbol you mages have, something about a snake representing eternity?"

Fujimaru blinked, then her brain caught it. "The Ouroboros? Kind of…." She shrugged. "It's less 'eternity' and more a cycle - life, death, rebirth. It's a pretty important concept in alchemy." And no, she didn't know that ONLY because of Fullmetal Alchemist, thank you very much. Gordy came from a long line of alchemists, after all, so she had at least a grounding in that thanks to their summers together. "But I can kind of see it - the heel killing the snake, which is also killing the foot - it kind of has that same vibe to it."

"If this manor house does belong to an alchemist, this could be where their workshop was." She grimaced. "Or…..where they disposed of failed experiments." Which was just asking for trouble, in her opinion, but given some of the stories Lord El-Melloi II had told her of what he'd had to deal with at the Clock Tower, it was ENTIRELY in line with Mage thinking, also in her opinion.

There was a distinct note of glee in Shuten's voice when she replied. "Sounds like there could certainly be some…novel experiences down here…." She trailed off into a light set of titters.

At least one of them was enjoying themselves, she supposed.

For her part, Fujimaru was as tense as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, to use one of her father's favorite turns of phrase, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, that when it did, she didn't immediately realize it.

'I hear something - movement.' Mash's voice suddenly sounded in Fujimaru's head. 'Coming from just in front of me……oh. Senpai, it's you!'

Fujimaru's brain stuttered to a halt, as she jerked her head around, and strained her ears. She'd heard nothing other than Shuten's whisper-quiet footfalls (she thought the oni was deliberately making noise so that her Master could hear her - or possibly as bait to draw out anything that might be lurking in the dark - or both) - and there was no sign of Mash anywhere.

Her spine turned to ice. 'Mash! Whatever you're seeing, that isn't me!'

She felt the message flow down the connection she had with her Shielder, felt it leave her headspace….and felt it hit some kind of wall. Not a solid wall, but something that tore her Sending to shreds, ripping and scrambling it - and ensuring that it didn't reach Mash. Or, if it did, it wasn't anywhere remotely close to the same message.

But whatever it was, it was leaving their link wide open, so she could hear everything Mash was saying - without being able to do a damn thing about it.

'Shuten's found the way out? That's good news, then. Now all we have to do is find Mr. Sakamoto and we can get out of this place.'

Fujimaru sent another warning - one that never made it - to Mash, before cursing internally, and seizing hold of the other two parts of her brain that were currently buzzing with Servant activity. 'Something's got Mash - it's pretending to be me, and worse, it's somehow scrambling our connection.' With Shuten right there, she probably could have just told her out loud, but this way was quicker. 'If you see what you think is me, don't trust it - or, hell, just be suspicious of anything you see down here.'

'Understood, Master.' There was a second where she could feel him relaying all that to Margaretha, before his attention returned to their link. 'Two things - one, this means we're going to have to stop creeping about slowly and carefully. And two - you do realize this is a trap, right?'

Her reply was immediate. 'Yes. And I don't care! I said I'm not losing anyone if I can help it, and it goes double for my Servants - and maybe triple for Mash.'

She turned her attention to Shuten, who had stopped to regard her Master. "No time to be quiet about this. And there's no way I can keep up with you, so….you're going to have to carry me."

Shuten's eyes were overflowing with amusement. "Like how Kusanagi-hime was carried off, after the great hero slew the dread beast that was terrorizing her family?" Despite her tone, there was something…not quite off in Shuten's grin, but there was an edge there that she hadn't seen before.

Whatever it was, she didn't have time to worry about it. "No, I want your arms free to tear the head off of whatever's messing with my Kohai. So I'll be clinging to your back for dear life while I expect you to break the sound barrier to get us to Mash before whatever that is does something to her."

A single fang poked out from between Shuten's lips as her grin widened. "My, so bloodthirsty, Master." The other fang put in an appearance. "I like it."

She turned, offering her back to Fujimaru, and she wasted no time in climbing on.

Despite her appearance, Shuten was hard, wiry muscle underneath Fujimaru's hands and legs, where they were wrapped around the oni's body. But even before she'd become a Servant, she'd had considerable power despite her slight body - just another reminder that oni weren't remotely human, and couldn't be measured by a human scale.

Shuten gave her a second to adjust before she took off, winds from their passing battering themselves against Fujimaru's face (she hastily Reinforced her eyes - they were moving fast enough that the space of a single blink could miss a lot - like one of Mash's markers) as they tore down the darkened corridors.

Still, as fast as they were going, Shuten always managed to leave a mark, dragging her talons across the walls of the path they'd taken as they sped by. Just in case.

Fujimaru was starting to wonder just how big this place was - and debating if they were going in circles (they hadn't seen one of their markers repeat themselves, not yet, so that was something) when, finally, she noticed something scrawled onto one of the walls they were approaching.

It was something of a crude drawing, but it was recognizably Fou, one of his paws pointing at the corridor her Kohai had taken. Unmistakably Mash's work, even if Fujimaru hadn't sneaked a few glances at some of her Shielder's notebooks, and seen the doodles that occupied the linings.

"There!" she cried out, her hand shooting out to point. Shuten was already turning, heading straight for that hallway, so her yell had been unnecessary, but she wasn't taking any chances. She pointed out the markers at the next three forks, too, just in case.

And all the while, she kept hearing Mash's side of the conversation with whoever was impersonating Fujimaru. 'Senpai, we've been walking for a bit. Didn't you say the exit was really close? Shouldn't we have gotten there by now?'

Silence, save for the air whipping past Fujimaru's ears. Then….

'Just a little further? Alright. It'll be nice to be out of here. This place gives me a bad feeling.' A pause, then a few seconds later. 'I'm glad I found you, though, Senpai. I was worried that something would happen to you when we get separated like that, even with Shuten there to protect you.'

If this thing, whatever it was, had internal organs, Ritsuka Fujimaru was going to carve them out with a rusty shank and FEED them to it.

"Faster," she muttered, and Shuten took that cue to increase her speed, enough that the skin of Fujimaru's face was starting to get blasted back from the sheer force.

It was uncomfortable, but she'd endure it if it got them to Mash faster.

'You're probably right, Senpai. It's really dry down here….and cold. So if you say you have something warm in that thermos, I'll have a sip.'

Fujimaru was screaming at Mash through their link, to no avail, when suddenly, the sensations she was receiving from Mash became distinctly blurry.

'Goodnessh……whatever was in that certainly chased the cold away….' A short hiccup vibrated down their connection. '.....can I have another sip?'

Was…..was that thing getting Mash DRUNK, to make her easier to…..

Fujimaru's mind blanked out here, as innumerable scenarios, each of them worse than the last, flashed before her mind's eye. Her heart leaped into her throat.

"Get us there, NOW!" Her voice, when she realized that was what was sounding in her ears, sounded very, very shrill, worry and fear raising its pitch to an almost painful level.

'Senpai……can you slow down….I feel…..the room's spinning.' The space of a few breaths and. 'Oh, yes! I see it….but why would there be a nice chair like that in a tiny little nook like that? But it's handy…..I think….think I'll just sit down for a second. Wait for my head to feel better.'

Then, a second later. 'Shenpai…..what…what are you doing?' There was a note of confusion in Mash's voice now. 'I'm not about to topple over, even if I feel a bit ill, you don't need to…..Senpai, what are you doing?'

Fear. It lanced through their connection - followed by the sensations of exertions, then the fear spiked.

'You're not Ritsuka Fujimaru, are you?'

No answer, at least, not as far as Fujimaru could tell - Mash's terror was a steady tide, without another ugly spike until…..

Shuten sped around a corner, following yet another chalk-drawing of Fou, and she vaguely heard Sakamoto in her head, saying that they'd just spotted one of Shuten's marks, and they were on their way. But that was nearly drowned out as another series of sounds that were faintly echoing down the dank corridors.

It sounded like metal scraping on stone, staccato taps and longer, continual abrasive noises, before a pause, then a brief moment of stone on stone, before the metallic scratching resumed.

And above even that, she could hear Mash's voice - both in her head, and out loud, growing stronger with every second. And behind that, the sound of struggles, and……chains.

At last, they burst into an area that was at least a touch wider and more spacious than the halls they had been navigating. While the passageway continued down into the gloom, the feature that immediately grabbed Fujimaru's attention was a little alcove off to the side, a cul de sac that dead ended after only a handful of paces.

Within it was Mash - shackled, chained to the wall, with both her arms and legs restrained. Her Shielder was fighting, desperately trying to tear the shackles from the walls - or just shatter the chains entirely, but runes, a sickly yellow color, flared along the manacles, almost in time with the girl's movements.

Though, she could only see up to about Mash's waist, in truth, because a brick wall, half-constructed, was cutting off her view of her Kohai. As she watched, a very familiar head of red hair scraped a line of cement across the rising foundation, and set another brick there. Then, the figure turned to face them.

And Ritsuka Fujimaru found herself staring into her own face.

In every respect, it was identical. It had even found itself stuck in the same pirate costume, but where it felt ill-fitting on her, her doppelganger wore it with none of Fujimaru's painful self awareness. The thing even cocked a hip out to the side, sexily jauntily, every inch as aggressive as the sneer that crossed its face as it took in the two arrivals.

"Not even giving me enough time to finish the job?" It sighed. "Always such a little worrywart, aren't you?"

Fujimaru had slid off of Shuten's back by now, and her gun cleared its holster fast enough that she liked to believe it would have impressed Wyatt Earp - if she ever met him. "Whatever you are, you are already on my shit list for stealing my face. But trying to bury my Mashie alive? You are SO dead that they haven't even made WORDS for it!"

It stared at her, and if the expression on its face wasn't as much of a lie as everything else about it, it almost seemed….confused. "Why? I'm just doing what you wanted, after all."

Fujimaru sputtered. "In what twisted world do I want to bury Mash ALIVE?"

The thing's outline shuddered, like a tv picture with bad reception, for a second. A smile that was so sharp and ugly that it seemed alien on her face spread across the thing's visage. "She'll be safe back there. Nothing can hurt her once she's behind that wall. Not monsters, not Servants, not Demons, not anything. She'll be able to live the rest of what she has left of a life, safe."

Her doppelganger preened. "And even better, I won't have to live with the guilt when I screw up and get her killed. So it's a win for both of us."

Her mirror image's finger shot up. "Don't try to deny it - and don't think I don't see you angling to rush me, Shuten." From between the cracks in the floor, the walls - even the ceiling, things began to ooze out from the crevices.

They were largely, if only vaguely, humanoid. More blob-people than anything, with only the upper half resembling the human form - from the waist down, they were just sloshing goo. Droplets fell from their bodies, splattering on the floor - only for the liquid to slowly flow back into their constituent bodies.

Weirdly enough, they almost had a pleasant aroma to them. Almost fruity - and given some earlier conversations she'd had upon waking up here, she had a pretty good idea of what they were made from.

"Wine golems?" She couldn't manage to keep the incredulity from her voice. "Really?"

"You work with what you have." Her doppelganger shrugged. "I've had to do a lot of that since you all tumbled down here. I'm supposed to feed off grudges and vengeance to do my thing." A pointing finger directed their attention to an inscription just above the alcove that Mash was partially interred in.

'Nemo me impune lacessit.'

"But when someone finally falls down the trap that we set up, what do we get?" Her finger pointed right between Shuten's eyes. "An oni - normally, that would be perfect grist for my mill, but this one wasn't even angry about how it died." It threw its hands up in the air. "Useless!"

There was the sound of rapid footfalls behind them, and the copy's finger slid through the air to point over Fujimaru's shoulder. "And then there's these two - the Hero of Meiji and his inhuman lover. One's too easy going to ever hold onto any grudges, and the other, well, she might have ONCE been useful for what I need, but instead of reaping a bloody toll from the humans who took her man from her, she just sank down into the bottom of the sea and gave up. So, no, no worthwhile fodder there."

There was a derisive sniff from the thing. "And forget getting anything good out of the little Servant who's too terrified to even fight for a Holy Grail. Her wish is even so mundane it makes me sick. So, no luck there."

Those eyes then focused entirely on Fujimaru. "But you…..oh, there's some prime bitterness there, or there would be, if it was focused outward instead of inward! But what should I expect from a teenager?" It rolled its eyes. "But then, I looked again, and there was this worry for poor little Mash - not quite overprotectiveness, but….just close enough for my purposes. Close enough that I could recreate the more important points of this sordid little tale and reap the power boost from doing so, even if the WHYS weren't exactly the same."

"Congrats! I'm so happy for you." Fujimaru could almost feel her eyes trying to develop Mystic Eyes of Instant Death, and kill the thing on the spot. "But if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you finish your construction project, you've got another thing coming."

It scoffed. "Deny it all you want, but this is what you're craving, deep inside yourself. Servants are expendable in a way Mash isn't. You lose a Servant, they just go back to the Throne. You'll beat yourself up about it, cry into your pillow, blame yourself for days, but eventually, you'll get over it. You might even luck out and resummon them someday, or bump into them in a Singularity. Death's a swinging cat door for Servants, in the end - and you know it, despite how much you try to treat them as irreplaceable people."

The eyes of her clone narrowed. "But Mash is different, isn't she? Actually unique, and she won't come back, someday, if….no, when she dies." A sneer. "She's already lost time, because of you and your choices. It's better this way. Cleaner."

The thing's shape flickered again, and when its form settled, the grin on its stolen face was far too wide to be human. "You won't even have to hear her cries for help, not once the last brick is in place."

"And you'll just let us walk out of here?" Fujimaru shook her head. "When you're all full of the power boost you'd get from fulfilling one of the conditions of whatever story you're trying to mimic?" Her eyes narrowed. "Next you'll tell me you've got warm, sunny, beachfront property to sell me in Hokkaido. No, there's places in this cellar with our names on them too, aren't there?"

The thing opened its mouth, but Fujimaru was DONE. Done with all of this. "Shuten, Sakamoto." Her voice was as cold as the air around them. "Save Mash. Kill it."

"Mmmmm……with pleasure!" As fast as Shuten moved, it might have been her afterimage that was saying those words. By the time the words had hit Fujimaru's ear, Shuten's massive sword was slicing through a pair of the burgundy colored golems. One of their upper halves was carved free, toppling uncontrollably to the ground, and losing all cohesion as it hit the stone tiles. The other was simply splattered, Shuten having turned her blade so that the flat of it caught the thing flush, and promptly painted the walls with the liquid that constituted it.

Oryou was quick to follow the oni's wake, the (bunny) dragon-woman cracking her knuckles as her body skimmed low to the ground. A flurry of punches thundered into the wall of golems that had slithered to block her, the closest ones almost evaporating under the blows. Even the ones farther back had holes punched in them, holes that were, unfortunately, mended far too quickly for Fujimaru's liking. There was a crack of gunfire, and a handful of bullets streaked over Oryou's shoulders, thudding into the heads and hearts (approximately where they'd be on a human, at least) of the still-standing golems - to little effect. The bullets streaked through the liquid with almost no resistance, continuing their flight as they burst free from the creature's backs.

Sakamoto groaned, shaking his head. "So much for that. Even if it's doing damage, too much danger to Mash from a through and through." His pistol slid back into its holster, as he switched to a two-handed grip on his katana, the blade raised to eye level. "Just like the second time in Yamatai-koku, then," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he waded in, Fujimaru stared past him, at the thing wearing her appearance - and how it had immediately gone back to adding bricks to the wall. For all its speed, it wasn't doing a sloppy job at all - it was making sure the construction was solid, and would blend in with the rest of the cellar walls.

And with every brick it placed, the magical energy around it seemed to get bigger…..denser.

They couldn't let it complete the wall.

She didn't trust her aim enough yet to hit it at this distance.

"Oryou!" she shouted, causing the woman's head to jerk about, hair fluttering about her like some sort of cloak (and causing her ridiculous rabbit ears to bounce with the motion). "You're my wedge! Either break that wall down, or get me close enough to try it myself!" She had already snapped the chamber of her revolver open, dumping the unspent bullets to the floor, and quickly (and only dropping the one) slamming six of Cu's Ansuz specials into place.

A blade flashed, painfully close to Fujimaru's head (and a few strands of her side ponytail might have gone fluttering to the ground), then, there were two sounds that resembled nothing more than overfull water balloons popping.

Shuten appeared in the space she'd created behind her Master's flank, idly running a claw down the length of her sword, then popping that claw into her mouth. "Careful Master - these things aren't terribly strong, but they're….persistent." Her face twisted into something of a pout. "And the alcohol isn't of a terribly good quality, either. I'm not sure which would be more demeaning, losing you to such weak monsters, or that they're made up of such a poor vintage."

Then, with a little half-skipping motion, she vanished, materializing in the middle of a cluster of wine golems, her sword, claws, and even feet (and fangs) lashing out in all directions at once.

Oryou was hovering just over her shoulder, arm moving in a circle, loosening up. "Ready, human?"

She glanced over and exchanged a nod with Sakamoto, who looked to be ready to both cover their backs, and act as something of a buffer between the things and Margaretha, who so far had thrown out a few magical blasts, but ones that hadn't done much of anything to the golems - they had damaged them, certainly, but compared to the other three Servants in the fight, the difference was night and day. "Let's go."

Oryou took a deep breath, then lowered her head, and shot right into the wall of the things that were standing between themselves and the one person determinedly doing construction. It just also happened to be the thickest concentration of them, too.

Stockinged feet reduced the lumpen facsimiles of heads of the front row to so much ruin, as Oryou drove her right leg in a complete circle, the air screaming as the limb sliced through the motion - and the thing's heads. It made quite a mess, but the golems didn't seem to really notice that they had just been deprived of everything above their necks. They just gurgled a bit, and crowded in closer, arms reaching for Oryou as the liquid that formed their bodies slowly trickled across the floor and back into themselves, their heads already starting to regrow.

Oryou simply buried a fist, one each, into the bodies of the two closest, which did reduce them to little more than their component parts - all over the walls and nearby other golems. But, again, the scattered wine slowly, inexorably, began to flow back together, like there was an invisible sort of magnetism drawing them to a central point.

Two grasping limbs thudded down, and Oryou jerked her head back, leg scissoring up to take one of the arms right off, then doing the same to the other as her leg slashed back down. Riding the momentum of the snapping kick, she pivoted her body in an arc, a slashing knife edged backhand neatly bisecting the armless golem, diagonally. Its reduced trunk managed to hold itself consistent for a second, before it collapsed to the floor, the puddle reaching out to its other scattered parts, yearning for the lost wholeness of itself.

There was a flash from one of the golems in the back, and a thin, concentrated beam of liquid erupted from its chest. Oryou snapped her right arm up, hissing as the ray impacted, leaving a raw, angry red abrasion there.

She inhaled, then squawked, as, showing regeneration faster than they had previously demonstrated, an arm shot up from the puddles on the floor - one much thicker than the other golems - and seized her by the ankle.

And it was quickly followed by a body that matched it in size and bulk.

Oryou attempted to tear her leg free, but the golem jerked her through the air, shaking her wildly - and not allowing her the chance to either free herself, or direct a focused enough attack at the thing to give her said chance to free herself. Its arm was out wide, the rest of its body nearly reformed (and large enough now that its was at least half a body length bigger than the other golems), looking like it was winding up to smash the woman into one of the nearby walls, when a thin, short blade stabbed right through the bend in the arm where, on a human, an elbow would be.

Fujimaru's knife wasn't long enough to sever the thing outright - truthfully, as big as the thing was, even the cutlass on her hip - assuming the thing was actual steel, and enchanted in some way - probably wouldn't have done the trick.

But it weakened the arm enough for Oryou to finally tear herself free - the hand still closed around her leg, but her body no longer at the mercy of the thing's strength.

With a warbling noise that could have done a stand-in for a drowning man, the golem chopped its remaining arm at the girl, who frantically tucked her head in, just getting it out of the way of what would have been a clubbing - and possibly bone-breaking - blow. The arm had barely passed her by when she lunged upwards, knife held in a reverse grip, and stabbed it, point first, into the thing's side.

Her form was, frankly, abysmal, at least compared to the displays of martial prowess she saw on a regular basis. But it was just good enough (even if she still expected to have the myriad mistakes she'd made dissected by her Sensei once this was all over) to score a hit. Releasing the weapon, she leapt as far back as she could - and as high as she could.

A second later, the lightning spell Da Vinci had worked into the metal of her knife triggered, and the thing HOWLED. She had no idea if wine was as conductive as water was, but it looked like it either didn't matter when it was magic, or Da Vinci had just gone overboard (probably the more likely explanation) when she'd made Fujimaru's knives. The thing was still crackling when the spell finally died - and then it just slumped - then fell apart at the seams.

And didn't rise.

The puddle spreading underneath Fujimaru's landing zone was still sparking though. She braced herself - then slammed to a halt, her feet just above the still electrified liquid.

"Not bad, human," said Oryou, having snatched Fujimaru by the scruff of her costume, just before she'd have touched down, and was dangling her in the air, as the last of the charge flowed through the puddle.

"Electricity!" began Fujimaru. "Which…..isn't as useful as it sounds, given who we've got here! But that seems to keep them down!"

"And your knife will take time to recharge, which means you can only do that one more time!" came Sakamoto's response, as he darted back and forth between a trio of wine golems that were attempting to slither around him and corner Margaretha. "Don't suppose you have any electrical bullets in your pouch, do you?"

"Just the Irish bunker busters….," admitted Fujimaru, as Oryou dropped her gently, but unceremoniously to the ground, the floating woman's fists already rising into a boxer's stance, as more golems pressed into the void left by the giant's fall. "Which is a problem to address….but later!"

The brick wall was almost up to Mash's eye level. Despite their enemies being so weak, they were effectively stalling them out, while the real threat did what it wanted - needed - to do.

In a blur of sharp edges, Shuten was suddenly in front of them, driving the golems back for a moment. "Pick her up again, and get her back," she said, eyes flicking over her shoulder to Oryou. "It would be as bad as allowing my Master to die to one of these things to let her die from being caught in this…."

As Oryou snatched Fujimaru up, the thick, cloying scent that surrounded Shuten thickened, and her mana spiked. A truly wicked grin on her face, Shuten dismissed her sword, and raised her ever-present drinking cup.

"It would please me if you died……" Her arm tilted forward, tipping the barest hints of what was in her cup out to drip onto the cellar floor.

Not sake - sake didn't cause quarried stone blocks to sizzle and dissolve just from a touch. Nor did it smell like that. Sake was pungent, sure, but whatever that stuff was, it was flat out noxious.

And it grew. The thin spider web of liquid trickling out of Shuten's cup couldn't turn the floor into a literal sea of dark purple fluid, certainly not that fast.

But whatever it was, it had one HELL of a reaction on the golems.

Purple liquid flowed up their forms, eerily like veins - sickly, throbbing, invasive veins. The things shuddered, twisted mouths tearing open in their faces as they attempted to scream, but only managed to flail wordlessly, as whatever voices they had were stolen away.

"Multicolored Poison - Shinpen Kidoku." Gleeful titters flowed out of Shuten, as the things shook like leaves in the heart of a massive hurricane, their bodies succumbing one by one - either weakly sagging to the ground, or outright exploding.

Shuten's tongue darted out from between her lips, slowly, sensuously, then she drank deeply from the cup. A silky, satisfied breath escaped her lips. "Now you're mine…..down to the marrow of your bones."

The way was cleared - there was nothing between them, the brick wall, and the thing that was trying to seal Mash there for the rest of her life.

"GO!" yelled Fujimaru, even as Oryou shot forward.

'If you can hear this, close your eyes, Mash!' Fujimaru's arm shot up, taking aim.

She fired as fast as she could squeeze the trigger, six shots almost blending into one.

She wasn't going to win a marksmanship award any time soon - only one of the shots hit anywhere that could be considered center of mass. If she was shooting regular bullets, that might have been a problem. But she hadn't been exaggerating when she'd referred to these ones as 'bunker busters'. Cu's favorite spell didn't lack for kick at ALL, especially when compressed into the comparatively tiny volume of a bullet's casing.

The wall exploded, a series of six staccato detonations. Dust, and jagged shards of brick flew in all directions - it largely bounced off the Servants, and her pirate costume apparently had retained at least some of her Chaldea Uniform's protective qualities, as nothing managed to penetrate the places it would have normally protected (like her anything but taut stomach, for example), but that meant her arms got cut up. Thankfully, she managed to get a hand in front of her face, so she was able to protect her most vulnerable area - though her hand took a beating in the process.

The amount of brick dust she kicked up made vision pretty much a lost cause - probably even for Servant eyeballs, but she didn't need to see, her ears worked just fine.

And the shriek of rage that filled the grimy corridors told her that she'd succeeded in tearing down that wall.

And, as the bricklayer suddenly lunged from the swirling grit, she realized she'd also managed to seriously piss the thing off.

It still sort of had her face, in places - where the flesh hadn't peeled - or rotted off, exposing cracked, aged bone, old enough that it had begun to yellow, but the remaining skin was twisted and deformed - and she could see pulsing veins sticking up from beneath the insubstantial flesh. The pirate costume was mostly gone, having turned into tattered, bloodstained rags that might have once been a kimono - though there were still a remnant or two of what was once a swashbuckling outfit, but those bits were hazy and distinct, as though they couldn't hold their form very well. Not in comparison to the tatters that, she assumed, was what the thing had always been wearing. Unlike the ghosts they'd dealt with outside in the forest, this thing still had legs, instead of a nebulous, misty, lower-half.

It still floated like it and gravity weren't on speaking terms, however - just like every other ghost she'd had the occasion to meet in her life. It had grown, too - at least doubling in size, so that it loomed over them, and had added at least as much in girth, its shoulders now wide enough to block the entirety of the passageway, which would be a problem for movement, if it wasn't a incorporeal spirit, and could ignore such trivial things like solid stone walls.

And somehow, it had kept at least one hand on the trowel it had been using to spread the concrete (or whatever it was pasting between the bricks), and was now brandishing it with a definite inclination towards violence.

The hissing, screeching curses it was throwing their way was just the cherry on top. "DAMN YOU! All that work, finding the loophole that would allow me to begin to rebuild my power, tricking the stupid girl, building the wall, and it's NOTHING NOW!" Spitting in wordless rage, the thing sent the sharp edge of the trowel right at Fujimaru's eye - which, given how massive the tool was now, would pulp her skull outright.

Thankfully, it never hit.

Shuten flew over Oryou's head in a graceful leap, her massive blade swinging down. Sword met trowel, and the tool was forced down, but Shuten was knocked back, the clawed nails of her bare feet digging thin furrows into the ground as she touched down, and skidded back.

Despite being knocked back, Fujimaru could see Shuten perking up, the line of her shoulders going from lazy disinterest to something much, much more dangerous. "Strong, for a ghost, aren't you?" Shuten spun her blade in a lazy twirl, as her back hardened. "Such fun……"

She crossed the space between them in an instant, ducking under the ghost's swiping hand almost as an afterthought, her blade already beginning to slice through the air - and then into the translucent flesh of the ghost. Her foot planted down as she landed behind the ghost, which was already starting to turn, and, then, a blink later, she was back in front of it, her blade having torn yet another helping of ectoplasmic matter from the thing.

In the space of the three blinks Fujimaru's eyes managed, Shuten had crisscrossed the between its fore and rear multiple times, her weapon carving yet another deep line to the ghost each time she moved. At least one of the wounds would have hamstrung it, but ghosts didn't really care much about things like important muscle groups. It just roared in anger, and brought the trowel down. Shuten skittered backwards, and the only victim of the vicious downswing was the slabs that made up the floor, a good portion of which were blasted up into the air from the force of the impact.

Shuten was still in the air when the ghost's withered hand shot through the flying debris. She managed to get her sword between herself and the ghost, but the specter didn't even seem to care, willingly allowing its hand to be impaled in order to wrap its spindly fingers around Shuten. The oni hissed, flailing in the thing's grasp, and even managing to sink her teeth into the hand (rather deeply too, it looked like), but the ghost spat out something guttural, and slammed Shuten headfirst into the ceiling.

Fujimaru reached up and tapped the side of Oryou's head. "Drop me, and get in there! I'll fall back to where Sakamoto is."

She was already falling before she'd finished her sentence, though she'd expected about as much. So she took off in a sprint the second her feet touched down, weaving and dodging (look, Sensei, all those bruises I got from your training are paying off!) through the few remaining wine golems' ponderous attempts to bludgeon her.

The ghost was dragging Shuten's head through the stones of the ceiling, cackling spitefully, when its head was snapped to the side by a double-fisted blow from Oryou, who had slid low across the ground, then fired upward once she closed.

"BUNNY-PERCUT!" Her fingers still linked, Oryou swung down, snapping the ghost's head the other direction. The ghost, its face twisting into something less and less human with each blow, shrieked, and hurled Shuten bodily at Oryou, who twisted out of the way. Her eyes tracked the oni's tumbling form for a split second - an eternity in a fight.

By the time she had turned back to her opponent, the ghost had already reared its head back. Somehow, despite it being dead, its chest still swelled, as though the thing was taking in a deep breath, then it shot its face forward.

And SCREAMED.

It was deafening in the closed confines of the underground. Fujimaru only got the reverberations of it, the sound bouncing off the walls and reflecting back to her, and even that was borderline agony (though she took some solace in the fact that the keen was disruptive to whatever magic that was animating the wine golems - one by one, they shuddered violent and collapsed to the floor). For Oryou, right in the teeth of it, she could only imagine how bad it was.

Then again, from how Oryou was holding her ears, and appeared to be moaning in pain (not that she could hear anything but the ghost, at this point), she didn't have to imagine, she could see. Still screeching, the thing raised its trowel and swatted Oryou like a fly. Like Shuten before, the dragon-woman was sent rocketing back into the alcove.

The ghost's wail died out, as it slowly, deliberately, turned to face Fujimaru. "No more games, girl. I drew this out, to try to harvest the maximum amount of power that I could from you little pests, but no more." Thick, purplish veins were beginning to bulge upwards in the thing's neck, and its formerly red hair was now sporting streaks of bristling black locks.

A dagger of pain shot through Fujimaru's head, as the ghost's magical energy spiked. Fujimaru stumbled, as a massive weight seemed to press down across her shoulders. "Have to secure you, first. Then, I'll tear the limbs off your Servants." The ghost's desiccated hand was reaching for Fujimaru, black, corrosive mana coating its sharp nails. "Then, you'll go in the alcove I have set aside for you. Or, maybe I'll just let you share one with the girl you're so desperate to save. You can be together, in the end."

Its fingers paused, for a second, mere inches away from Fujimaru. "Yes, I like that. It's almost poetic. Then, it'll be your Servants' turn - though I'll have to bind them to the walls, since they won't have limbs to shackle."

Sakamoto was being crushed down by the same pressure as her - though he was still trying to put one foot in front of the other, his teeth gritted so hard there was blood running down his jaw. Margaretha, on the other hand, was crushed almost into the floor, on her knees, her back bent.

The spirit didn't even spare them a glance. Its hand dominated Fujimaru's field of vision, the fingers spreading out to wrap around her.

From behind them, there was the sound of metal shattering - four distinct sounds, one after another.

And then, right before the hand would have closed around Fujimaru, Mash shot out from what would have been her tomb.

She made it in the nick of time. Her shield, when it interposed itself between Fujimaru and the ghost's grasping palm, was still shimmering from its materialization. But it was as impenetrable a wall as ever - Mash swung it up, and sent the threat reeling back.

"No." she said - a bit of a slur still somewhat present in her words, but whatever tipsiness had been inflicted upon her had been burnt away by the fiery determination that was pouring from the girl's eyes.

Shackles still hung from her form. The ones dangling from her wrists looked to have been severed cleanly, with a single neat cut. The chains dragging on the ground behind her ankles, on the other hand, displayed links that had been brutally crushed.

Though her links with them, Shuten's low, throaty laughter, and Oryou's much more unrestrained chuckles flooded her mind.

"WHY?" bellowed the ghost, bringing the trowel down for another strike, one that bounced fruitlessly off Mash's shield. "I'm just trying to HELP you! Both of you!"

"No," said Mash, deflecting blow after blow without taking so much as a single step back. "Even if you were right, even if I did make the choice to try to extend my life as much as I could…..if I stepped away from fighting, I wouldn't do it by hiding myself away. I'd help with analysis, or try to join the maintenance team - something. I wouldn't just GIVE up like that!"

[Nor would I let you, girl. I gave you my powers for a reason - despite my distaste at how they were acquired. But…..you're more worthy than any other I've seen - worthy enough to draw my blade.]

The thing howled, and the pressure that was trying to fold Fujimaru in half increased again. Mash flinched, but her back didn't bend in the slightest. "But you're wrong," she continued. "I chose to keep fighting. And Senpai….Fujimaru KNOWS that. If she had tried to wall me up like that, I'd have just broken the wall down myself. But she didn't. Because she trusts me."

Mash turned her head, minute, just enough for her to meet Fujimaru's eyes for a split second, before she turned her attention back to the towering, raging ghost.

Fujimaru's heart skipped a beat - but it was enough for her spine to straighten, just a bit and for her to find her voice. "You're not completely wrong - whatever you are. There's part of me that wants to tuck Mash away where nothing can hurt her - but I know that if I did that, I'd lose her while she was still alive. And as terrified I am of her dying, I'm MORE terrified of that."

Her head managed to make it up to an angle where she could meet the thing's eyes. "You just don't seem to understand that. So you can take your claims about how you're doing this for us, how it's what's best for Mashie, and everything else, and shove them."

Her eyes hardened. "And you, yourself, can go back to hell, or wherever you dragged yourself from."

Mash's shield slammed into the ground, and fingers of light began to stretch themselves out from its core. "NOBLE PHANTASM, DEPLOY….."

Despite everything, she wasn't yelling her Noble Phantasm's name this time. Her voice was calm, and measured.

"LORD CHALDEAS!"

A wall, white, pristine, and immaculate, filled the dark halls. Immediately, the pressure on Fujimaru vanished, and she was able to stand, tears almost filling her eyes with the sudden cessation of the weight that had been dragging her down.

Frenzied, any hint of its former polite demeanor gone, the ghost hammered at the wall dividing itself from its prey. "You can't keep this up forever! And when this pitiful wall crumbles…"

"This wall isn't about protecting you from us," said Fujimaru, her eyes glaring holes through the ghost. "It's about making sure you can't run."

In the darkness of the alcove behind the ghost, two gargantuan red eyes opened.

"CAN I EAT IT?"

"Bon Appétit," said Fuijmaru, with Sakamoto grimly nodding along.

Oryou's head, in her true, massive, scaly, draconic form surged forward, jaws open wide. Shuten was perched on the ridge of her forehead, laughing and whooping loudly and uproariously, her eyes bright with excitement.

The ghost didn't even have time to scream before those jaws snapped shut around it. Fujimaru was momentarily grateful for Mash's wall, as…..substances, ones that she very much didn't want to know exactly what they were, splattered the white stone, and began slowly trickling down to the floor.

Even if she had wanted to know the answer to that question, all her brain cells were currently being occupied by the horrible crunching sounds that were coming from Oryou's jaws, which were pretty much right in front of her.

(The thing had deserved it, for what it had tried to do to all of them, Mash in particular, but still……the sounds she was hearing as Oryou ate the thing…..sort of alive, were gut-churning.)

Finally, with one last effort of mastication, Oryou swallowed, peristaltic motions all too visible as whatever was left of the ghost slid down the dragon's throat. Then, her form wavered, and shrank, the drake giving way to the woman, the World forcing her back into a shape that it found more agreeable.

Oryou licked her lips, then belched. "Oryou-san thinks she'll be hungry again in an hour." She sniffed, and trailed her eyes upward - to where Shuten was still balanced on her head. "And why is the oni still on Oryou-san's head?"

Shuten's laugh filled the hallways. "Partially because I hoped you had left me a bone to gnaw on." Fujimaru saw Oryou's cheek bulge, as though her tongue was attempting to dislodge something that was stuck between her teeth, then, a moment later, the woman spat out a femur (that by all odds should NOT have been able to fit in her mouth but, well, Servant, and dragon), which was quickly tossed up to Shuten, who caught it with a pleased grin.

"And the other reason," said Shuten, as she inspected the hazy, flickering leg bone. "Is the hope that you'll transform again. Riding atop your brow was quite a rush…."

Oryou scoffed, then tossed her head, dislodging Shuten, who was at least laughing good naturedly (or at least, what Fujimaru hoped was her version of that) as she landed.

The wall of Lord Chaldeas dissolved as Mash exhaled a deep breath. "Enemy has been defeated…..and it looks like the rest are down as well." The wine golems had lost their animating force with the ghost's death - as one they had splattered down across the floor once Oryou had taken her first bite.

Fujimaru glanced over her shoulder at Sakamoto and Margaretha, who were straightening up (or making it fully back to their feet, in Margaretha's case). "You two ok?"

"Fine, Master," said Sakamoto, sliding his katana back into its sheath.

"I'll live." Margaretha was very pale, a few hairline cracks showing in her composure. "And, if it's not too much trouble, I think I'd very much like to not be here anymore."

Fujimaru nodded. "That is something I can agree with. Come on, there has to be some way out of these cellars."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Because why should Kratos' side of the equation get to enjoy all the mind-screwy fun? There's plenty to go around.

I vaguely headcanon that the 'Learning with Manga' drawings are Mash's doing.

I don't recall any instance where a Command Seal was used to immediately summon Mash - in theory, it should be able to do that, but, then again, in something like LB6 that would have immediately solved the 'where's Mash' plot that dominated the first part of the story arc there, and it never came up. So I somewhat assume she can't be summoned by that, given she has a meat body, instead of the particle body of normal Servants. I do recall them immediately Swimsuiting her up with one in the Void Sea event, though.

This chapter brought to you by Traitor's Requiem. Slept on that OP simply because it had the problem of following my absolute favorite, Fighting Gold (all hail coda), but it's been an ear worm in the past week or so.

Next chapter probably will finish off Liz-oween. Then, we'll be on to London sooner rather than later.

Chapter 56: It's the Great Liz-oween, Ghost of Sparta Finale

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 56​

Once upon a midnight dreary, while a man pondered - no longer weak and weary, having long since exhausted what quaint and curious tomes were available to him (not of forgotten lore - the former master of this castle's reading taste was……deplorable).

A man stood, waiting. Not napping, almost or fully, but waiting.

For all the pieces to be in place.

---

In the wake of the heart's death, an uneasy silence had descended upon the halls - the only sound was their breathing, and the soft, slithery noises as the flesh withered off all the surfaces it had been clinging to. Liz was picking herself up off the floor, her legs still wobbling and unsteady, and Avenger was still gasping for breath, her eyes barely focused, the floor charred black in a wide radius around her.

Strangely, despite his haggard appearance, Vlad seemed the most stable of them all. His body, his muscles still twitched with nervous energy, and his face was far closer to a beast than a man, but when he finally managed to straighten himself and address them, his voice was level and composed.

"Elizabeth." His voice, a note of danger, only barely leashed and lurking under the cultured tones of his usual cadence - and the girl heard it, loud and clear, by the way she immediately paled, and snapped to attention. "You will explain. And should I find out that you were in any way responsible…."

"NO!" The girl's outburst rushed out of her mouth before she'd had time to think about it, from the look on her face - and the quirked eyebrow on Vlad's face indicated that he thought something similar. But that reaction from the man must have been a good sign, for the girl relaxed minutely, and continued speaking, her words spilling out as fast as she could form them.

"I would NEVER! Not to you, Uncle Vlad! I know how much the whole vampire thing bothers you. As much as the whole……old hag thing bothers me. I wouldn't!" Liz's eyes were big and pleading, as she stared up at the man. "Not intentionally, not accidentally, not NEVER!"

"Then what has happened?" Vlad's arms slid up to cross over his chest, as he turned his eye to the two people accompanying Liz. "I was waiting for your guests to arrive, to test them, as per our agreement, when……" His eyes flicked around, lighting on some of the rotting flesh that had not yet fully vanished. "....everything changed around me. And then, I began hearing that sound…."

Despite his measured tone, the noble's eyes could not help but stray to the damaged tiles of the floor, where Kratos had stabbed the heart that had been responsible for the illusions that had assailed them all. Despite the organ itself vanishing, the ground was still stained red with the blood that had poured out of it when it had been torn open.

The corner of Vlad's mouth turned up in a snarl as he tore his eyes away from the drying blood. "Then, one after another, I was confronted with things. Nightmares. Visions. Things that seemed to be designed to enrage me, from memories of the Grand Holy Grail War, to being confronted with that damnable Irishman who so sullied my name….."

Vlad's words trailed off into a vicious snarl, as his shoulders began shaking in wordless rage.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and reigned his emotions in. "Then, I came back to myself, and saw you three there…..and you, stranger." His eyes found Kratos. "With your blades buried into the thing that, I assume, was the cause of all this….madness."

His head tipped in a bow. "It would seem I owe you a boon of gratitude, for freeing me."

Kratos gave a short grunt of assent. Though his actions had not been for any sort of compensation, he understood, from what he had been told of the nobility of Vlad's time, that they lived their lives in a complicated web of prestation that bound the other nobles to one another. Thus, the man could not fail to acknowledge what Kratos had done - regardless of the Spartan's motivations.

Liz took this moment to interject herself into the conversation. "Someone stole my castle from me." Vlad blinked, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know who, but that's why everything is so messed up. That's why we're here - to try to take it back."

"Then it would seem I have found the means in which I can repay my debt." A spear, familiar to Kratos from their battle in France, formed in his hands, and the Berserker bowed, low and formally, to all of them. "Vlad Tepes, Voivode of Wallachia. My spear will be yours, until it has plunged itself into the body of the wretch who dared subject me to this……obscenity."

"Kratos," said the Spartan, of decidedly two minds about all this. Allies were valuable in battle, and Vlad was powerful - he still remembered how much it had taken to put him down back in France. And it would not be the first time he had worked alongside one who had been an enemy in that land. While he had only briefly seen her in person during the French campaign, Atalanta had been one of Baldur's confidants there, actively aiding the mad god in his bid to return to his world and avenge himself upon Freya. And she had been nothing but reliable in their recent campaign - even turning against Jason early on when she objected to his ambitions.

Would that she could have found it in herself to do the same to Baldur - but her mind had been affected by the Madness Enhancement that Avenger had afflicted upon her. Something that also held true for the Servant now offering his services to them.

Vlad though…..was a Berserker, which meant his mind was already warped and altered, merely by the simple fact of the Servant class he carried. And he was further….changed, by the Legend that had been attached to him - a Legend that the man rejected - for all the good it did him. Both of these things could make him unpredictable.

Though, if he was being honest with himself, at least some of his unease was rooted in the fact that Vlad had been an enemy once, and, from appearances, a more willing one than Atalanta. But despite it being the same person, in a sense, this Vlad was different than the one he had fought. Did not even remember Kratos, from their past encounter.

(A smaller, quieter part of Kratos could admit his unease was more rooted in the similarities he saw between his younger self and the Berserkers he had encountered. Both of them, slaves to a rage that had been bound to them, weaved into their very beings.)

In the end, it was a moot point. Another Servant was not something they could turn away. And the Berserkers that had been their shield brothers in past campaigns had been valuable assets. (Even Kiyohime, as her Legend had been overtaking her, had managed enough sanity to lay down her life to ensure their eventual victory.) Whatever misgivings he might have about Vlad, or Berserkers in general - they were not enough for him to refuse help, when it was offered.

Much less from one to whom it would be a grave offense to, should he refuse. They had enough enemies these days without making another. Particularly in such an avoidable manner.

A hand was extended, and the vampire clasped the wrist of the Ghost of Sparta. A nod was exchanged.

"Who is this last who accompanies you?" asked Vlad, his eyes sliding to Avenger, who was watching him carefully. "She reminds me of another who experienced the Great Holy Grail War with me." His head tilted in a considering manner. "Though…..not."

Avenger blinks. "What, 'me' was also part of that clusterfuck?" Vlad's eye twitches at the vulgarity - Kratos assumes that if he did truly know Jeanne in some capacity, hearing such crudity from what appeared to be her face must have been jarring.

Oblivious to this, Avenger just laughed, bitterly. "Because of COURSE she was - whatever the fuck your Great Holy Grail War even was, since none of you remember it well enough to say anything about it other than it was a goddamn mess." She threw her hands up in the air. "But I ain't her. You don't even remember it, but this ain't the first time we've met - you worked for me, and not terribly willingly, in the past, until I got beaten to my senses and changed directions."

Her shoulder butted into Kratos. "Now I've got this big lug hauling me around, trying to help me make up for my past fuckups." She looked Vlad straight in the eyes. "Avenger. Class and name, since none of these people will use any of the names I come up with."

(Hel would be a much warmer place before Kratos would ever be calling the woman the 'Servant of Eisen and Feuer', her latest attempt to find a name for herself. Beyond the sheer ridiculousness of it, it was unwieldy, far too much of a mouthful to say.)

Vlad's look at her was calculating. "Her opposite in more than just your appearances, then." He gave a snort that, somehow, managed to sound dignified. "And your choice of wording."

"And I don't shit rainbows like her, either," said Avenger, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Vlad shook his head. "This will be an adjustment, but war makes for strange bedfellows." He turned to Liz. "What else might bar our path to the upper levels?"

Liz shrugged. "I don't know. Like I told them, I had a couple of temp workers who were supposed to also provide them with some fun before they got to me, but…." She was chewing on her lower lip. "This level was never supposed to be like this! So whatever info I might have had about the levels above us is probably worse than useless."

She moved to run a hand through her hair, frustration marring her features. "The people I hired might even be dead, which….." She trailed off, Vlad nodding along.

Hospitality again - and Kratos could understand it. She had invited those workers in, in a different manner than the guests below, but she was responsible for them all the same. And if something had happened to them…..

"We waste time," rumbled Kratos, after a moment.

"Agreed," said Vlad, dismissing his spear. "The stairs should be a short distance away, assuming the layout of this floor has not seen alterations to that effect." He turned, and began striding forward. "Let us see - and Heaven help anything that tries to impede us."

As he followed in the Berserker's wake, Kratos found he could not disagree with the sentiment (minus the mention of the Abrahamic afterlife - he had no quarrel with that God, but still, he would rather there be no divine interference whatsoever). Whatever, whomever had done this had much to answer for. Beyond the theft of Liz's castle and the threats to their beings, it had toyed with their minds.

Kratos' fury at that, though firmly reigned and controlled, was a bonfire to match the one that Avenger had unleashed.

Nothing else hindered them as they navigated the dark corridors that headed away from where Vlad's throne had been situated. The Berserker led them through the winding passages with the same confidence and surety of a man striding through their own domain - and possibly that is what this place had been, before it had been changed, when Liz was deposed. Or possibly it was just the darkness around him that let him set each foot down with such firm assertiveness - vampires, as he had been informed, were predators of the night, the rays of the sun one of their greatest banes.

Whatever the reason, he moved quickly enough that it seemed to be mere moments after their departure that they were standing before a pair of heavy, metal doors. One that was sealed shut by an intricate lock that glowed softly in the darkness, mana humming around its edges.

"Well, at least that much is the same," commented Liz. "Do you still have the key?"

"Yes." Vlad noticed their stares, and produced a pale, white key from somewhere. "According to the….script, I was to award this to you once you had passed whatever test I had set before you." His lip curled up, slightly, and the faintest hint of a fang peeked through. "Seeing as how that plan is so much ruin, we will dispense with that."

He seized the lock and slid the key into it, then glanced over his shoulder. "Stand back. IF this is trapped, my accursed body should be durable enough to weather it."

Liz looked like she wanted to say something, but just nodded, her eyes radiating worry. Thankfully, her worry was for naught, as the lock clicked open without any unpleasant surprises. Vlad tossed it aside, and the sound of it bouncing off the floor was still ringing in their ears when the Servant placed his hands on the doors, and shoved them open, none too gently, sending them slamming into the walls - it was something of a minor miracle that they weren't torn completely from their moorings, Kratos thought.

In the settling dust, he could see a pair of blazing torches. And stairs, spiraling up.

"Good," hissed Vlad, as he straightened. "This, too remains the same."

"Still could be trapped," muttered Avenger. "Let us think we're in the clear, then pull the rug out from under us."

Liz floated forward, hovering just over the first step. "I can go first, give everything a good eyeballing. After all the trapping I did to keep Baldur out, I think I might have picked up a thing or two."

"I can assist. My eyes are sharper in the gloom." He strode up to the wall of the tower, and placed one foot on it, then another, until he was standing, perpendicular to the floor. "And I have no need to set foot upon the stairs, not when the walls will serve just as well."

"Unnecessary," said Kratos, drawing the Blades of Chaos. "Make your way up, we will follow."

"Wait, 'we'?" Avenger's voice degenerated into a yelp, as Kratos seized her by the scruff of her neck and tossed her, rather unceremoniously, over his shoulder. "What the HELL? I swear to fucking God I will BITE you!"

"Do NOT bite," rumbled Kratos, moments before he hurled one of the Blades into the wall of the stairway, high above them. He waited until the Blade had settled into the stone, the length of the pause almost instinctive at this point, before his muscles surged, and his body was flying through the air (Avenger leaving a trail of curses in their wake). He twisted mid-flight, knees and elbow slamming into the stone of the wall, his eyes already searching for the next anchor point, even before the vibrations of his impact had finished shaking both the wall, and the man.

Then, the Blades were sailing out once more, piercing the wall, and their flight resumed.

At least Avenger settled down quickly enough. The yelling, so close to his ear, was distracting. And unpleasant.

Thankfully (for the both of them), the trip was quick. His feet had barely touched down on the landing before Avenger began squirming, pushing herself off his shoulder. The glare she leveled at him was diminished somewhat by her flushed cheeks, and the spark of excitement that was still simmering in those yellow orbs. "A little fucking WARNING?"

Whatever was showing on his face only caused her to glare harder. "I at least gave Red one before I did that to her! If you're falling behind ME in common fucking courtesy…."

She had a point. "I will warn you, next time."

"Mr. Kratos?"

Mash's head of purple hair (still topped with that odd headdress) had poked around the edge of the open door that led away from the landing. She turned away, and then, after some muffled words, she was joined by the rest of their party.

All of whom looked glad to see them.

"Please tell me you had an easier time than we did," groaned Fujimaru. "Between the stairs falling out from underneath us, then the ghost that was planning to entomb us alive, the wine golems….." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"There was a heart," began Kratos. "It showed us visions. Attempted to trick us with our past regrets." A grunt, a more irritated one than usual. "It failed."

"My……" began Shuten, from behind Fujimaru. "Who is this?"

Vlad had just detached himself from the wall and landed, knees barely bending from the force of his leap, Liz just behind him. His eyes flicked over to Kratos. "Allies of yours?"

At Kratos' nod, the Servant straightened, before offering a bow, in the same painfully formal fashion that he had done to the three of them not moments ago. "Vlad Tepes III. Kratos freed me from a nightmare, and I have chosen to accompany him to repay that debt."

Mash did not react to the name - she had, after all, battled this very same Servant alongside Kratos in France. But the eyes of the rest of them widened in shock (save Oryou - but the dragon in a woman's form showed little emotions, or reactions at all. She was unemotive even at the best of times, but in a different manner than the Spartan stoicism that Kratos had such a source of amusement to Faye).

"You don't mean Dra…."

Mash's hand clamped over Fujimaru's mouth, cutting her off, as the Shielder frantically shook her head.

Vlad's visage had thinned, the lines of his face standing out much more prominently….more pointedly. "Do NOT speak that name." Anger, a roiling undercurrent of it, tainted the aristocratic tones of his voice. He took a deep breath, and his features softened somewhat, losing their jagged edge.

"I've met you before, sir," muttered Mash, still holding onto Fujimaru's mouth for dear life.

"The same time as Avenger, I would assume?" At the girl's nod, Vlad inclined his head minutely. "Then, if nothing else, I appreciate that, even though our last encounter was as enemies, you have enough respect for me to stifle that accursed name before it can be spoken by one less respectful - or just ignorant of the circumstances I find myself shackled with. Thank you…"

Again, that eyebrow quirked up, pointedly. Combined with the pause, it was rather obvious what the nobleman was asking for.

"Mash Kyrielight, your grace. This is my Master, Ritsuka Fujimaru." Carefully, she released her hold on the girl.

"Sorry!" Fujimaru's body dipped in a bow. "I didn't mean to offend, I just….heard that name and all the Castlevania I've played jumped to the front of my brain. Won't happen again." She held the bow as she continued to babble. "Ritsuka Fujimaru, and this is Sakamoto and Oryou, Shuten, and…"

"Mata Hari?" Liz's baffled voice abruptly cut off the girl. "What are you doing here? I didn't think that Archer I hired to be my head chef would let you, or any of the rest of his staff out of his sight, given how much complaining he was doing about the amount of work he had to do!"

The Servants all blinked, turning to the woman in question with a new comprehension in their eyes. A look Fujimaru shares. "Wait….THE Mata Hari, the…."

"Spy?" began the woman. "Exotic Dancer? I do hope 'whore' wasn't one of the words you were about to say." Despite her easy tone, and the still pleasant look on her face, there was just the faintest hint of brittleness in her voice. "But yes, that is the name I'm better known as, but the head chef you mentioned felt it was easier to refer to me by my given name."

"But you're right about something, at least, Miss Elizabeth, I'm NOT supposed to be here." She sighed, in a put-upon manner. "I was just curious about where the hidden passageway behind down the one hallway went - wasn't planning on doing more than taking a peek, but then we collapsed the stairway, and I found myself in the basement, fighting off things I wasn't made to fight, and just completely out of my element."

She sighed again, and glanced over to Kratos - and suddenly, he felt as though his skin was being peeled back, layer by layer, until the core of his being was naked and exposed before the woman (oddly, it was very similar to how his confrontations with Odin had always made him feel - like the manipulative All-Father could see right through him). Something grew in her eyes, and then she was looking past him - possibly not liking whatever she had seen in the Spartan, and the feeling passed.

"As one of your hired staff, you'll keep me safe, won't you Miss Elizabeth?" A plaintive note had entered the woman's voice, and her eyes widened in an obvious attempt to garner sympathy.

Liz being Liz, it worked. "Of course I will! The way's clear back the direction we came from, you should be fine to head back to the kitchens if you want!"

The woman's face fell, and Liz continued. "Or, you could stick close to the human Master in the back, if you don't want to risk the run back. Between Fuzzy, Uncle Vlad, myself, and everyone else here, we should be able to wrap this up quickly!"

"I think I will do that. Just because the halls were safe, doesn't mean they stayed that way." Her nose wrinkled. "And as there was no way back for us from the cellars, I suppose I'd already gotten used to the idea of seeing this through to the end."

"As she said, the stairs collapsed underneath us," said Sakamoto. "We could have tried to climb up, but Master thought it would be better to stick together - and we were already separated as part of the second part of the trap." His hand reached up to fiddle with his missing hat, and ended up having to just brush through his hair. "Then, after all the trouble we went through to find each other, she wasn't about to split us up again, just in case there were more surprises waiting."

"Cellars….those were supposed to be completely OFF-LIMITS!" raged Liz, stomping her feet. "Fuzzy, when we finally track down whoever stole my castle from me, don't kill him until I get to punch him at least once!" Her cheeks puffed out, and her feet continued to beat an annoyed rhythm into the floor. "Maybe twice. Possibly three times!"

"Well, we aren't doing ANY of that right now, not by just standing around like this," whined the oni. "And I'm booooored. Can we go do something more interesting, Maaaster?"

Vexing as it was, Kratos agreed with the thing (not helping with that vexation was the agreement he felt from Avenger, though their mental link) - not in the protestations of boredom, but in that they were wasting time here. "Come," he rumbled, feet propelling him forward.

The open door on the landing led to another of the same kind of long hallways that typified this place. This one was more in the style of the ground floor - wood instead of stone, thick carpets covering the floors, and judgemental paintings staring down upon them as they passed. But….

The decay and rot that had only been hinted at on the lower levels was far more present here. Large patches had been torn, or gnawed away from the carpeting, and even the images of the forebears of this house had seen better days. Dust hung in the air, thick enough, it seemed, to touch, kicked up by their passing, and cobwebs dangled from every surface. And Kratos smelled mold, and possibly other, even more unpleasant odors with every intake of breath.

If the ground floor had been the pleasant facade, hiding the decay within, then this floor was the mask finally discarded. It did not bode well for whatever awaited them at the end, he felt.

"We got another sideshow to go through before we get to the top?" asked Avenger, from where she was trailing behind Kratos. "I could do without another bunch of bullshit like the giant heart and the visions."

Liz's face scrunched up in thought, then she blew out a long, annoyed, breath. "According to the plan, this floor should have had some of the temps I hired to scuffle with you before the big finale. But…." She glanced around. "I'm not seeing any signs of them. This place looks like no one has been here for….ages! And that's not even considering that the guests were supposed to be kept AWAY from the stupid dun…cellars!"

She reached up and pulled her floppy hat down across her face, muffling a scream of frustration. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE NICE THINGS?"

Mash and Fujimaru were patting the girl on her back, trying to soothe her. Avenger, on the other hand, just laughed. "Look on the bright side, Pinkie, at least you'll get to beat up whoever fucked your party up at the end of all this."

"Right," muttered Liz, shaking her head. "So, assuming my temps aren't here, and, again, this place doesn't look like anyone's been here in FOREVER, then we might be on a straight shot to the end."

"Mmmmm, exciting," singsonged Shuten. "I do hope whoever is waiting on us proves to be as entertaining as the rest of this little jaunt has been."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Mata Hari, almost too quietly to be heard.

"Well," began Fujimaru, as the hallway finally terminated. "Those are looking like some final boss doors there."

The paired set of doors were…..as garish and overly decorated as everything in this manor. Massive, just like the ones at the entrance, and decorated, this time, with a chaotic array of carvings that seemed wholly unrelated to one another. The edges of the doors were mirrored, so that when closed, they completed the image of a massive, bladed pendulum, looming ominously over…..something, out of frame below the bottom edge of the door. On the left side of the door, a gaunt figure, shrouded in a red robe (one of the spots of paint that hadn't chipped away or faded), its face hidden by a rigid mask. On the right, a raven stared at them all, ruby eyes glittering in the light thrown by Liz's pumpkins. The thing looked almost lifelike enough that Kratos half expected it to leap from the image and take flight, cawing all the way.

But the predominant them seemed to be women, and the loss of them. On both of the doors, men knelt, crying out to the heavens over still, feminine forms.

(Some part of Kratos twisted. The images……there was a familiarity to them that he did not care for.)

Mash was reaching her hand out, to either touch one of the carvings, or to begin to push it open, when, in another mirror of the entrance, the doors cracked open, apparently of their own volition, and slowly began to slide apart. As the wooden portal yawned wide, a thin, wispy mist began to creep across the floor,

"Well, come in, then." There was the sound of movement, shuffling from within the room. "Early, but not too early. Still, it's almost time to begin, so that can be forgiven…."

Kratos felt his hackles rise. There was….something in the voice. A distracted tone, as though the speaker was having to remind himself to speak, as if they were only somewhat aware of the conversation they were beginning - or even of what was occurring around them.

It reminded Kratos, in a way, of Daedalus. Strung up within the Labyrinth by the gods. Mad - his mind having long since broken, the man had, for a time, thought Kratos was his dead son. There had been a similar disconnect from reality in that man's voice, as well.

"Be wary," his voice, even lowered, still hung over their heads as they step into the chamber.

For being the place that, he assumed, had replaced Castle Csejte's throne room, it was surprisingly small. Not cramped by any means - the ceiling was high enough that Oryou could hover above their heads as was her wont, with room to spare, and the walls were far enough from one another that their party was not pressed into close quarters.

But…..

It was akin to a 'study', he thought. The more modern word for a room that was meant for business, be that of the household, or an occupation. A large, cluttered desk rested against the far wall, beneath a massive window that looked out upon the manor grounds. The moon had risen, probably was at its peak, and its light was what was illuminating the room, allowing them to see without the aid of Liz's pumpkins.

A table, overly large for the room, sat between them and the room's occupant. Like the desk, it was similarly disorganized. One could barely see the surface of it through the piles and piles of paper covering it - or by the many, many empty bottles strewn across its surface. Even from a distance, Kratos could smell the reek of old, stale spirits - and from the look that crossed the faces of the rest of the group, he was not alone in that realization.

(Shuten's glare was pronounced - and a single, whispered word, drenched in contempt, passed her lips. 'Rotgut'.)

The mess was not contained to the surfaces of the furniture. Papers had slipped from atop the desk, the table, or had been blown there by stray gusts to land where they may. Bottles - some not entirely empty, had been allowed to topple from their perches, as well, and spill their contents upon the floor, to the detriment of the once deep-red carpet, which was now sporting numerous stains where spilled fluids had been allowed to dry. Books, some half open, others with numerous objects sticking out from their pages, showing where a place had been marked, were piled high in the few chairs within the room.

Otherwise, the room was far less…opulent, in contrast to the rest of the manor that they had seen. The desk, the table, the chairs, all were more plain, even crude, at least in comparison to the finely crafted (if timeworn and neglected) fixtures that Kratos had seen in other parts of the domicile. Certainly not the possessions of a nobleman, one accustomed to wealth - these were more akin to what graced Kratos' home in the Wildwoods - serviceable, sturdy, and without frills.

The only real ornamentation in the room's bare walls was something it had in common with the rest of the manor - paintings. But instead of dour, aged men, or bleak landscapes, the subjects of the images were women. Two of them seemed older, past the prime of their lives, while the third seemed to be barely out of childhood. It was her rendering that hung in the place of honor, dominating the room, seeming to loom over the entire space. So large was the painting that, even at a distance and despite the murky light, Kratos could read the inscription below it.

'Virginia'.

It was this image upon which their host was gazing as they entered the room.

He, like the furnishings, was plain, almost forgettable. Not terribly tall or broad - for a Servant, he certainly did not look like much of a fighter. Atreus, half a man and half a boy still, and with at least one growth spurt (if not more) still to come, managed to look like more of a threat than this man.

And that was not helped by the pallor of his skin, which looked waxy and pale…..with just the barest hints of a yellowish tinge that was beginning to leak into it. A mop of untidy, greasy black hair rested atop his head. His clothes were in a similar state, rumpled, as though he had slept in them (fitting the dark circles under his eyes)….for many days, and somewhat threadbare, at least in comparison to the more fantastical costumes that Servants materialized in (then again, how long had this man been planning the theft of the castle? The clothing of Servants, Kratos had observed, were no more immune to the build up of dirt and grime than the Servants themselves were - see Liz's fit about soiling her dress with the muck of the floor below).

Oddly enough, it put him in the mind of Eric, or, more correctly, his wife - when he had inquired to Da Vinci about just what 'Victorian literature' was. That had sent her on a tangent that had firmly derailed the woman's planned lessons for that day, turning what had supposed to have been a more grounded explanation of firearms (since, after the pirates, she had felt it was likely they'd be running into more modern weaponry in the future, despite Servants largely being firmly in what she described as the more medieval mindset - with a dismissive snort, of course) into an overly detailed discussion (lecture) about Victorian literature, spanning more than one century of information.

Dark waistcoat, only partially buttoned, over a shirt that had once been white. Thin ribbon tied around his neck, serving as some sort of tie. Similarly dark pants, his hands resting in their pockets. Finally, as their eyes landed upon him, the man turned.

Lips turned up in a wan smile, beneath his thin mustache, as he noticed the irate girl standing by Kratos' side. "Ah…." he began.

Though he was not allowed to speak further, as a hand shot up, pointing directly at the man. "Edgar Allen Poe!" Mash's eyes were wide, the pointing finger trembling slightly. "I thought the thing in the basement was familiar, and then when we heard what Mr. Kratos had to go through, it made me even more suspicious….." Her face twisted in a frown, almost like the man had personally betrayed her in some fashion. "How could you do all this?"

A tentative smile, one that seemed unfamiliar from lack of use, began to form on the man's face. "A fan, then? I am given to understand my works managed a level of fame in my death that escaped me in life." He nodded, briefly. "Yes, young lady, that is my name."

He straightened somewhat, eyes raking across the group assembled opposite him. "And as to why I 'did it', as you so put it - condensing a plan that began with my appropriating this castle for my own means into a mere pair of words…..why else does man do anything?"

He gave a sigh, and his eyes once again strayed to the large portrait on the walls. "For love, of course. A lost love."

He turned to them, a desperate longing in his eyes. "I'm going to bring them back. All of them."

"Impossible." Fujimaru's voice was cold, and hard. "Dead is dead. I know that better than anyone. Unless you somehow cling to the world after you die, you can't come back, and that's just a kind of half-life on the best of days. Heroic Spirits notwithstanding…..but I'm pretty sure they didn't qualify. And they're just ghosts, too. Fancy super powerful ghosts, but still ghosts, in the end." Her eyes narrowed. "And they'd say the same - or at least, my two teachers feel that way."

"No, Master, that is all we are," said Sakamoto. "We're a bit more….alive than most ghosts are, but even the most crazed Berserker knows that, at the end of the day, we're dead, and the world's passed us by."

Poe was beginning to open his mouth in a retort, when a wicked lance, dripping crimson, shot across the room, directly at him. He yelped, flinching back, despite the attack bouncing off a livid red shield that sprang up between the man and the spear. He caught himself on the edge of the desk, shoulders heaving as he gulped breaths into his lungs.

"Spare me your dissembling," spat Vlad, spear raised. "You, with your violation of my mind, and subjecting me to the torments of my past….you have trespassed greatly!" His features were sharpening, the man giving way to what lurked beneath. "And I do not tolerate trespass upon that which I consider MINE - as the Turks can attest!"

The man was still breathing heavily, though he no longer needed to lean upon his desk. "The shield held. Good."

He continued muttering to himself in that fashion, ignoring them, his eyes unfocused, for long enough that Liz nudged her way forward. "Want me to take a crack at it, Fuzzy? This guy doesn't seem like much of a Caster, even if those shields are strong enough to take a hit from a pissed-off Uncle Vlad, so I might be able to bring them down."

"No, Elizabeth, you will not be able to breach them." The man seemed to have finally snapped back to reality. "You are correct in that I am not a terribly potent Caster. But this is my workshop…." He looked around, and shrugged. "Such as it is."

A tremulous, fragile smile cracked his face wide open. "And I've learned to….supplement power from other sources to cover my shortcomings."

"Just like that onryō wannabe in the basement…." muttered Fujimaru, her brow furrowed.

"Servants can gain power by re-enacting portions of their legend," said Mash, nodding. "But you had us acting out your stories - The Cask of Amontillado for us, and The Tell-Tale Heart for Mr. Kratos." She paused, then the blood drained from her face. "Wait, then…..you can't mean to…"

"Yes," said Poe, simply. He reached back, behind him, and drew something off the desk, and held it up. It was a mask, shaped in the visage of a corpse, but one with ugly red splotches all over it, as though the consistency of the skin itself had…ruptured, and blood had poured forth.

And then, from the ceiling, one by one, they began to filter in.

Ghosts. Hundreds passed them by….maybe thousands, sinking through the floor without so much as a glance at any of them. Their bodies a dull ruddy color, instead of the hazy white of the ghosts that had attacked them outside. And each and every one of them wore a mask that was identical to the one in Poe's hands. "The Masque of the Red Death. And Elizabeth had already provided the guests, and the venue to host a ball. It being Halloween meant that it would count for a masquerade for the purposes of the ritual, though I had to make sure to enforce that."

"A plague is sweeping the land," said Mash, looking over to Kratos. "A nobleman and his friends seal themselves in his home to hide from it, to ride out it while everyone outside dies, only, something visits them the night of a masquerade ball and infects them all with the disease."

"All those people," continued the girl, turning her glare on Poe. "And you're going to use them for what?"

"It's the Grail, isn't it?" said Fujimaru. "It always comes back to those things - they're the only things stabilizing the actual Singularities, and even if those ones we've been recovering aren't on the same level as the omnipotent wish granters the proper one is, they've still got power for days."

"But he does not have a Grail, not a full one," rumbled Kratos, his mind working furiously.

Poe nodded, sadly. "Only a fragment. Enough for this tiny Singularity. But even complete, it would be useless for what I needed it for. I needed more power. Enough to turn this fragment into a proper Grail."

He cast his gaze down to the floor, but he wasn't even really looking at that. His eyes had gone unfocused again, as though he was peering straight through the wooden slats. "But there are enough souls below to suffice for that."

Vlad's eyes were pools of red. "It is not enough that you violate our minds with your games, but now, you seek to spit on the oaths of hospitality that protect these guests?" His voice steadily dropped, until it was a low, dangerous, hiss. "Your death will make those that earned me my title PALE in comparison!"

"NOTHING good comes from trying to raise the dead," spat Fujimaru. "You either end up going full on stereotypical necromancer, or you end up creating an abomination! There's a reason the Veil exists - the two worlds aren't supposed to mingle!"

Kratos, who had fought his way out of Tartarus on three separate occasions, and who's brother had also been brought back, felt that his agreement was a touch hypocritical, but……how much damage could have been prevented had Kratos just stayed dead? And Mimir……he was animate. But alive?

There was a reason Mimir had been certain Freya would not bring her son back in such a manner, condemning him to a half-life that was almost akin to a curse. The only reason Mimir had agreed to it in the first place was that it was marginally better than the imprisonment Odin had trapped him in.

What would he have given, to see Lysandra, Calliope, or Faye, again? Even knowing what the Light of Alfheim showed - that it wasn't real, he had been……tempted, that second time, to walk into it again.

To see a glimpse of Faye. To hear her voice again.

But whatever he would have done, he would not have done….THIS.

"You will not be allowed to infect those below," rumbled Kratos. "Their lives are not baubles, for you to toy with. Nor are they sacrifices for your ambitions."

Poe blinked. "Infect? My good man…..I already infected everyone in this manor the moment they crossed the threshold."

The air in the study suddenly….thickened. And suddenly, Kratos' chest BURNED.

Coughs, a rapid burst from each of them, echoed around him. And his voice added to the cacophony, as he suddenly struggled to draw breath into his lungs. And his joints ACHED - his entire body felt wracked with pain.

"Aches, the first symptom, along with dizziness, and shortness of breath," said Poe's voice, detached, and muffled - Kratos forced his eyes to focus, and saw that the Caster had donned the mask that he had picked up off his desk. "All told, it takes less than a half an hour to run its course. Once your blood begins seeping from your pores, the end shall be nigh."

He ignored the pain, the struggle to breathe, put that all aside. The Leviathan Axe screamed across the distance, only to strike the Caster's shields and rebound - though not without leaving a latticework of cracks behind, at the point of its impact.

The Servant flinched, again, though he recovered more quickly. "But, I suppose I should thank you for delivering such a bounty to me. Servant souls - in the proper ritual, they are meant to empower the Grail. And between the ones you have brought me, and the ones Elizabeth has already provided, it should be more than enough…..but if not, the soul of a god will certainly fill the lack."

A new noise began to fill the room, drowning the sounds of their struggles to breathe. Flooding in from the window, which had clicked open and yawned wide. Caws, and the sound of flock upon flock of feathered wings.

As if called, ravens poured in from the opening, clustering, swarming together. One moment, they were merely a knot of jabbering birds, weaving close in something that almost seemed like a pattern, and then, in the blink of an eye, there was a solid core. Squirming digits rippled out from the mass, slowly coalescing into actual limbs. Arms, feathers sprouting along their length, feathers that gleamed with a razor's edge. Spindly legs touched down on the floor, wicked talons digging into the carpet. And on their necks, a formless lump of flesh writhed, before erupting into a beaked head that somehow straddled the divide between human, and animal.

"Fucking REALLY?" He could hear the roll of Avenger's eyes in her voice, despite the wheeze as she struggled to form the words.

"It was my most well-known work," said Poe, almost sheepishly. "Most of the common folk of the future cannot even name a second that bears my name. These things should be able to give you an easier death than that promised by the disease." He shrugged, settling back down into his seat. "Or, barring that, they will be able to occupy you until it runs its course."

He turned away from them again, his attention wandering inward, and the silence that was left was quickly filled by the angry shrieks from the things that now filled the room, things that were already tensing, readying themselves to spring at them.

"Plan?" hissed Avenger, before another coughing fit stole her voice temporarily.

"Speed," growled Kratos, his voice lower, rougher, from discomfort. "Time is not our ally here. Liz…..hold back, try to break his wards. We must breach them to…."

Whatever else he had been about to was cut off, as the raven-men finally made their move.

Cawing, shrieking, jabbering in voices that almost seemed human, they descended, most having taken to the sky, but more than a few, their wings malformed, and not capable of bearing their weight, were forced to scrabble across the ground, backs hunched, as they hurled themselves at their prey.

Talons raked across Kratos' shield, throwing up sparks as the metal warred against the claws. Kratos shoved back, hurling the creature away - and was mildly alarmed with how much of his strength he had to use to do so. The monsters were either stronger than they appeared, or, more likely, the disease was rapidly sapping his strength and stamina.

For his limbs felt like they were bound in chains, each one dragging the weight of Tyr's Temple. His chest continued to burn, and his breathing was labored, for all that he had barely even exchanged blows with his foes. The Leviathan Axe sliced through the air, seeking to take the head off a creature that thought to lunge under his guard, and he missed, the thing leaping back with an alarmed series of noises. Two more descended, and he was forced to duck his head, the winds of their passing brushing his skin.

The things wheeled about, their flight having taken them back into the hallway, but a dark form shot out to meet them before they could return.

Oryou's body was drenched in sweat, her hair practically soaked in it, as she pistoned a fist forward, her usual battle cry less vibrant, almost dull and muted. One of the hybrids weaved out of the way, its movements liquid and graceful, but the other wasn't as quick. It got an arm up in an attempt to block, for all the good it did. Hollow bones shattered, and the thing was sent spiraling away, keening in agony. Oryou wheezed as she drew her fist back, then bellowed in pain, as strips were torn from her back by the other, angry squawks issuing from its mouth.

The woman's foot shot up in a reversed kick, driving the thing away, but failing to connect. As it fluttered backwards, the thing barked out a cry that almost seemed mocking. Her leg still extended up, Oryou twisted her ankle, tossing off her heeled shoe, then seizing it between her toes.

And hurled it into the thing's face, pointed heel first.

It sputtered, flailing its arms, distracted.

Oryou rocketed into it, foot leading. The thing's body folded around the blow, breath and bloody froth erupting from its beak. With a grunt of effort, her foot still buried in the thing's gut, Oryou kicked upwards, flattening the monstrosity against the ceiling with an impact that shook the entire floor.

Oryou tore her foot free, snatching the heeled shoe from the air with a sniff. "Oryou-san will take that back, now."

Her respite was short-lived. The windows in the hall clicked open, and more masses of ravens fluttered in, once more ramming together to form another wave of half-men, half-corvid abominations, ones that surged forward, even as their forms still dripped with the wet slick of their afterbirth.

Oryou tossed her head, and raised her fists as the things charged - though she wavered, slightly unsteady, in the air.

Avenger was back to back with Vlad, of all people, spears sweeping side to side in front of them as they attempted to keep the raven-men off them. Both of them hampered by the close quarters - given the amount of paper in the room, Avenger's fire was as much of a danger to herself (to a degree, while she wasn't fireproof, she wasn't exactly flammable, either) and her allies as it would be to her enemies - particularly if the room itself was set ablaze. And Vlad's ability to produce spears was indiscriminate at the best of times.

Not that it stopped him from forcing a spike to erupt from the floor, from the ceiling, from the walls, whenever he found a moment of respite in the battle, and sending all of them at the Caster huddled at the end of the room. None yet had breached his shields - it was to the point that Poe had even stopped flinching. Indeed, he was barely paying attention to the battle in the room, merely muttering to himself, continually checking either a pocket watch that he clutched in his hands, or staring intently at the Grail fragment, which he had set on the desk, where his mask had previously been resting.

Waiting, impatiently.

"Are you trying to accomplish something with that?" snarled Avenger, the haft of her spear shoved into a hybrid's beak, keeping it, and, more pertinently, its talons, off of her. "Instead of, I dunno, skewering the things trying to EAT us?"

"A Caster's mana is not infinite," spat Vlad, sidestepping a warbling monstrosity, its claws cutting nothing but air. His riposte was quick, and brutal, his spear sliding easily into its skull. Contemptuously, he tossed it aside. "Even in what I expect is his workshop, it takes energy to repel our attacks. So we must keep up the pressure, when and where we can. Eventually, his defenses will break."

Avenger's foot lashed out, knocking a ground bound monstrosity away. "Yeah, but before we keel over?" Her metal hand wiped at her lips, coming away stained with red. "You haven't so much as made a fucking dent." Growling, she dismissed her spear and snatched her sword from its sheath, shearing a grasping arm off at the joint, then following with a vicious punch that sent the hybrid into a knot of its fellows - before she was overcome with another coughing fit. "YOU might not need to breathe what with all the Dracula shit you're carrying - unwillingly, I know - but the rest of us don't have it so easy!"

"On that, you are wrong." Avenger, despite the continual press of talons, beaks, and feathers, darted her eyes to the side. Vlad was still moving like a flowing river, the creatures' attacks never coming close to touching him, and his counters were as vicious, and as final as ever, but….

The margin of error for his dodges was getting thinner. And his brow, his face, was beginning to show spots of red.

She blinked, her brain stuttering to a halt - something that nearly got her stomach torn wide open, but a gun cracked, and an erratic pattern of holes opened in the raven-man's wings, and it tumbled to the ground, its flight suddenly unbalanced. She stomped down, breaking its neck, unable to spare a glance to see who had just saved her bacon, Red, or the samurai.

And she had other concerns. "Are you sweating fucking BLOOD?"

Vlad spat - fluid that looked entirely too red to be just phlegm. "Whatever this petty little curse is, it IS affecting me." He took a step back, bracing himself as another cluster of screeching monsters circled about and prepared to dive, and Avenger saw his leg wobble, for a split second.

Vlad grimaced. "Perhaps more than others here. The tale, as I understand it, is believed to be an allegory of the inevitability of death - and the impossibility of hiding from it, as the characters in it tried to do." He leaned his head back, allowing the raking feet of one creature to sail overhead, before he sprang upward, fingers that were more akin to claws extended, ramming them straight through the thing's chest.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop, then he was falling back, a wet, tearing sound echoing through the room, as he tore the creature's heart from its body. Vlad stared down at the bloody organ, still twitching in his hands. "And if, in that story, the Red Death was sent to punish those humans for their attempt to flee from death, then how much more avid would its hatred be for one who died, but yet escaped its grasp." Something ugly crossed his face, and he tossed the heart away, a shudder passing through his form.

Mentally, Avenger groaned. "You're burning out faster than the rest of us….that's why you're trying to bring him down yesterday." Her groan increased in volume. "Fucking WONDERFUL!" With two purposeful steps, she stormed up to the Berserker's side.

"Go hog wild, then. I'll keep them off your back." She raised her sword, her Murder Arm cocked back, in a ready position. "Even I have to start braining them with this damn guitar…."

Kratos, for his part, was cursing the teeming confines he found himself in. The Blades of Chaos were ideal for a battle like this - but they were as like to cleave the flesh of his allies as they were his enemies. As he blocked a snapping beak with the head of the Leviathan Axe, then wheeled it's haft into the thing's head, his mind struggled through the disease-ridden fog, scenario after scenario being picked up, examined, then discarded.

Have the others fall back, fully unleash the Blades? Possibly viable. But no matter how many of the creatures they felled, more and more darted in through the windows, replacing their losses with obscene speed. And he had heard Vlad's comments to Avenger, and agreed with them. The constant pressure on Poe might be doing nothing, but his resources could NOT be infinite. Not if he was trying to muster more power to turn the fragment into a True Grail. He would hoard that energy, Kratos felt, not expend it in his defenses, lest he risk falling short of his goal.

Call upon Spartan Rage? Use the power, the speed, the focus it granted to clear the room of enemies, then expend its fury upon the Caster's shields? As viable as the previous plan - but how much faster would that exhaust him? He felt the disease that had been unleashed upon them all burning inside of him, worse than the poisonous fog that had blanketed Ivaldi's maze in Niflheim. Pain may have been an old friend to him, but this weariness, cloying and thick, sapping his strength and endurance, was not. In some ways, it reminded him of when his powers had been stolen by Zeus, so long ago - the god suddenly reduced to a mortal.

Almost instinctively, unconsciously, he began to reach for it, but something held him back. He would not feel the pains, the aches, while enveloped in the thrumming red of Spartan Rage - more than once, over the last three winters, he had shrugged off fires, poisons, and worse with its aid. But it did not make him invulnerable. Indeed, if need be, it would devote its energies to his defense, as it had done against Lev Lainur, to cite a recent example.

This weakness, this disease that had been inflicted upon him was unnatural, the product of magic. Would Spartan Rage see it as a foe to battle, an attack to shield him from, expending itself fruitlessly against an unyielding wall? He did not know. And that uncertainty was GALLING.

No, best to keep it in reserve.

In lieu of any better plans, he sent the Leviathan Axe hurtling towards Poe, Draupnir already forming in his hands before the axe had traveled more than its length. He planted a foot in the ground, and brought the spear up, slicing through the air. The air rippled, and a line of wind, as sharp as a newly-forged blade, screamed through the air. The raven-men it touched stilled, their movements grinding to a halt, then they came apart, arms, legs, torsos neatly carved away.

Kratos swept Draupnir down, sending out another torrent of focused wind, then sent it up again, sending the final cleaving gust out.

The creatures that had stood in its way fell to the ground, little more than carved meat. But each attack still washed over Poe's defenses without visible effect.

Growling, his head beginning to throb, Kratos sent out a torrent of spears, a literal rain, pounding on Poe's shields.

They were running out of time.

---

 

THE BALLROOM​

At first, when the ghosts had descended, the guests had thought it was the beginning of some new entertainment their hostess had planned for them. She'd already surprised them, what with coming in the guest entrance like that, and with a god of all things accompanying her. So there had been a sense of anticipation, excitement even, for this latest revelation.

Right up until the first ghost had torn ribbons from one of the waitstaff's chest, and the air had thickened around them.

And everyone had begun gasping for breath.

Their shock and surprise hadn't lasted long, however. They might have been wearing genteel masks this evening, might have been comporting themselves with all the dignity and grace of old world nobility, but at the end of the day, Liz's guest list had been monsters, from start to finish.

And monsters weren't about to just lie down and die, not for anything.

So, the advantage the plague-ghosts had gained from surprise didn't last long. The assembled guests fought back, viciously, unwilling to let the spirits have it entirely their way.

A man in a pinstriped suit wiped a line of blood away from his forehead - he'd been careless on that last lunge, yes, but one of those ghosts had been about to make a move on a child, of all things. And while his wonderful brood were certainly well-versed in the supernatural and imminently capable of handling a gaggle of nasty ghosts like this, time (and more than a few…..shall we say misunderstandings with the neighbors) had helped him understand that all children weren't as……durable as his two little adorable monsters.

So he'd thrown himself between that ghost and the little ashen-haired girl with the scarred face, tip of his rapier white-hot, and if he'd taken a scrape for his trouble, well, he'd found that well-worth the cost.

He was just straightening up, when he felt a tug on the leg of his pants.

"You didn't have to do that, mister." The little moppet he'd saved was staring at him curiously, her head tilted.

"Oh, but I did!" he crowed, despite the ache that was settling into his bones - bad magic of some sort, made him wish for his Mother-in-Law right about now, she could probably see it off without too much fuss, but she was watching the children so…. "You're about the age of one of my own, and then, my body was just moving on its own!"

"And it was very dashing, my love, but I don't think that's what she means." His lady love was sidling up to him, her dress showing a few rents from where she'd had a close call or two of her own - he simply couldn't believe he'd forgotten to bring the spare dagger in his boot tonight. Thankfully, Tish had worn her special garters.

"That Mommy is right," said the girl, nodding. "Because I can do this."

The girl….vanished. From the way his wife's eyes widened, she'd failed to track the girl's movements just as completely as he had. But their ears still worked, and over the sounds of the fracas unfolding on the ballroom floor, he heard the familiar sounds of violence - specifically, two daggers (well-used ones, if he was any judge, going by the penetrative sounds they made) plunging into ethereal flesh.

In the space of an eyeblink, the girl had leapt into the air, crossed the space of half the ballroom, and eviscerated at least five ghosts in the process (and splattered her nice little blue dress with some ectoplasm, but that stuff came out easily enough), before landing on the shoulders of that large man wearing the old-style diving suit.

(Yes, the one that also had a drill on one of his hands. He'd been FASCINATED by the thing - dearly wanted one for the house, but hadn't managed to get it out of anyone just WHERE it had come from.)

The girl settled on the armored brute's shoulders, gently tapping it on the head. "Go, Mommy Bubbles!" Glee was evident on her face. "Kill!"

With a low, groaning cry, the thing lowered its head and barrelled into the melee, the little girl giggling with delight.

He felt his eyebrows raised. "By jove, we might just have to have her over to play with Wednesday sometime."

"First, we'll need to survive whatever this is." The dire words were offset by his wife's eager purr - they hadn't had a night like this in QUITE awhile.

"Indeed!" He glanced about the ballroom - they were holding their own, for now, but there certainly were RATHER a lot of ghosts still. "The Makai Nobles look to be reaping a bloody toll, but Sir Dan there seems a bit sorely pressed." His rapier waggled through the air, pointing to where an armored skeleton with a rather…..memorable skull was surrounded - laying about himself with a blade and a fair amount of vigor, but still rather hemmed in.

He swept his rapier up in a duelist's challenge. "Let's go offer him a helping hand!"

---

 

OUTSIDE​

It had all changed in an instant. One second, it had been an orderly queue (or as orderly as you could get from Miss Elizabeth's guests), one that had dwindled down to its last few members. He was almost done, and could take a moment to just catch his breath and rest.

It had been a long night, and despite how much enjoyment he took in helping others, he wasn't inexhaustible. And that wasn't even taking into account how he had to keep at least one eye on his nemesis.

Just in case.

When he'd heard commotion as he'd been checking the latest party's invitations, he'd thought 'oh, it's finally starting', and turned, the stress of the previous hours of having to wait for Fafnir's inevitable attack melting away, as his body began to fall into that odd dream-state that all dragonslayers could only vaguely describe as what it felt like to battle a true dragon.

But when he'd finished his turn, Balmung already settled into his hands, he found it wasn't Fafnir that was at fault.

Indeed, the dragon-shaped disaster was only just raising his head, looking for all the world (despite everything, the image almost made him laugh) like a cat, one that had just been awoken from a nap, and was affronted at the temerity of the universe to do such a thing to him.

Despite reality not living up to his expectations, Siegfried was a warrior renowned enough to have made it to the Throne of Heroes, so he just continued his turn, looking for whatever threat had descended upon them.

It was then that he saw the ghosts - hundreds of them, somehow having made it past the wards that surrounded the path to the ca…manor. All of them attacking the guests.

Not on his watch. While this probably wasn't exactly the 'security' Miss Elizabeth had hired him to provide, he felt it fell within his purview. So, over the next few minutes, he put Balmung to very good use.

Not that he'd been fighting alone. The invited guests had given as good, if not better, than they'd taken, some of them almost certainly taking their boredom and frustration at the wait out on the spirits. Still, there was no shortage of foes, and it had been touch and go for several frantic minutes, before they'd finally seen off the last of them.

There had been a minute where his back, and more importantly, his ONE vulnerable spot had been exposed, and he'd felt spectral teeth just beginning to break skin - before the ghost had been ripped apart so spectacularly that Siegfried had been thrown to the side from merely being within proximity of the sheer force deployed to kill it.

When he'd rolled to his feet, Fafnir had been looming over him, claws dripping with incorporeal matter, a look that was unquestionably a sneer on his enemy's face.

The dragon couldn't really talk anymore - but he didn't need to speak for Siegfried to be able to hear the implied 'if you're going to die, it's going to be by MY claws, and nothing else - and certainly not these pitiful little human ghosts' in the disgusted snort that was directed his way, right before Fafnir settled back down into the place he'd been dozing all night.

(The WORST part about all of this is that chivalry DEMANDED he thank the thing for saving him. Even if it hadn't quite saved his life, then it had at least prevented a serious injury. Odd bedfellows and unique experiences - association with Miss Elizabeth seemed to bring those things in great quantity.)

With the immediate threat taken care of, and the guests at least settled, he turned his gaze to the manor. Kratos, Miss Elizabeth, and the rest had been going there to try to reclaim it for the lady - and then this happened. It didn't take a tactical genius to see the two were connected.

He was reaching for the gate, to undo the lock, when a hand reached out and seized his wrist, stopping him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

It was a man - a Servant, dressed in white robes, the hood pulled low over his face - though it didn't stop numerous silvery-lavender locks from peeking out from underneath the hood's edges. Despite that, he could see a wide grin on the man's face.

"There's a nasty spell over the manor grounds - if you so much as set foot there, it'll activate, and infect you with a disease. And yes, it's potent enough to even kill Servants - even an otherwise invulnerable Saber like yourself, Siegfried. It would even be enough to take down Fafnir - charging in, at this point, will do more harm than good."

Siegfried wanted to tear his arm from the man's grasp, but now that he had been forced to stop for a second, he sensed it too. A miasma, for lack of a better word, hanging over the grounds. A Saber like himself could only feel it in the most vague of fashions - but it was there. "What do you suggest I do, then?" he asked, fighting the urge to rush up there anyways - beyond the fact that a woman he'd sworn to serve for this night was in danger, there were both innocent guests and individuals he'd come to think of as friends there as well. "I cannot just stand here while they fight for their lives!"

"You might try having a little faith in them." Despite the situation, the man's tone was almost….amused. As if he was entertained by everything going on around them. "Your friends seem plenty capable - and you have people here to protect as well. Yes, they're also quite a handful, but if you go haring off like Wart, my one-time charge, was wont to do, won't that just be leaving THEM vulnerable?" His grin only grew wider. "After all, it doesn't seem like your co-worker was terribly concerned with their well-being during that attack."

…..he was right. He hated it, but he was right. The man must have felt the tension leave his body, because he finally released his wrist.

"Nothing to do at this point but wait - and stay on your guard for another wave. Don't worry!" The Servant patted him on his shoulder in a manner that Siegfried supposed he thought was comforting. "If things get too bad, I'll almost CERTAINLY lend a hand - but until then…."

A paper bucket formed in the man's other hand, filled with some sort of white puffs - ones that smelled heavily of butter and salt. His new ally(?) popped one into his mouth, biting down with a crunch, then offered the bowl to him.

"Popcorn?"

---

 

THE KITCHENS​

It had been a long, long time since he had been called - or even called himself 'Shirou Emiya'. Since making that damnable contract, he'd seen hell. And the worst part of it all was that he'd walked into it straight of his own accord.

In the time since, he'd killed, and killed, and killed, and killed. So much so that it all ran together. Always cleaning up yet another one of Humanity's messes, reduced to little more than a weapon in the Counter Force's hands.

Was it any shock that, when he'd finally been summoned as an actual Heroic Spirit, and to his own past as well, he'd quickly put together that plan to break his former self, to try to stop him from making the same deal he did?

(Shame that the boy had been even more stubborn than he had anticipated, EMIYA's resolve shattering before the boy's ideals had. Nothing else of note happened there, other than the plan not working out.)

And to hear Sakamoto tell it, the last two times he'd been summoned as a Heroic Spirit hadn't gone terribly well either - being forced to serve Humanity's enemies. Honestly, even without his memories of what sounded like two absolute debacles, he was RELISHING his current summoning.

No life or death struggle. No annoying past selves. No pile of bodies. No Rin - ok, that was almost certainly a negative (he DID love that girl, after all), but still. And despite his employer's rather erratic nature, that was overshadowed by the fact that he was getting to cook.

He had always loved the kitchen. With Sakura helping, or without, feeding himself, feeding an army, it didn't matter. It was his sanctuary.

So, to say he was a touch displeased when the mana in the manor twisted in an ugly way, and mask wearing ghosts poured through the ceiling of the kitchen and began menacing HIS fellow chefs and waitstaff?

An understatement.

Bad enough they were ruining one of the few bits of happiness he'd had in a long, long while. But they were also trying to kill people, in HIS sight (yes, they were also trying to kill him, but he'd never put the greatest amount of worth on his life - something Rin had always BERATED him about).

Not happening.

"SO, AS I PRAY."

"UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!"

A field of brown, a garden of swords, the gears overhead, eternally turning, unfolded.

---

 

POE'S STUDY​

"This could be going BETTER!"

Avenger's words, shouted out over the din of combat, were not incorrect.

His barrage, for all its fury, had not breached the Caster's shield. And the monsters he'd slain had been quickly replaced - Poe seemed to have no lack of ravens willing to undergo a transformation, and then throw themselves between the Servant and those trying to stop him.

Vlad was still sending spear after spear at Poe, bending his entire will towards breaking down the wall that was preventing him from enacting his vengeance on the man who had tormented him so. Avenger, and now Kratos, as well, were buying him the space he needed. Sakamoto had been forced to fall back to the hallway, Oryou in danger of being overrun before he had gone to relieve her.

Mata Hari was huddled close to Kratos' back, the woman's health having failed even faster than the rest of theirs. She'd done what she could to assist them, but now, she was almost too weak to stand. Blood was leaking from her nose, her eyes - nearly every crevice and place it could be. Liz was covering her, her animated pumpkins lancing out with beams of magical energy, but the girl was also flagging - to be brutally honest, they all were.

He did not know where Mash and Fujimaru had gotten to. He had lost sight of them early on, the room having been divided into several tightly knit brawls in the initial rush of the raven-men, but the two girls had not surfaced since. If he was to venture a guess, he suspected they were at the extreme other side of the room, against the wall, Mash using that surface to cut off at least one avenue of approach to her Master.

The oni was everywhere - cackling wildly the entire time. But in the past few minutes, even her laughter had begun to take on a strained edge, and she was no longer as frivolous with her strikes. No longer akin to a cat toying with its prey, her every blow was now direct, and utterly lethal.

It still was not enough. For all their might, the outpouring of ravens into the room was unceasing. And the Caster's shields still held strong.

And the disease was taking its toll.

They were faltering. And, even beyond that, their time was running out. They had to break through, and soon.

So focused was he on the enemies before him that it was only out the corner of his eye that he noticed - somehow, Fujimaru had managed to slide along the wall, Mash fighting furiously in front of her, until she was standing right in front of the Caster, separated by nothing more than his magical wards.

"So, since I have about as much chance of taking down these barriers on my own as I do of punching down the walls of Jericho with my bare hands, can I ask a question?"

Kratos blinked, his mind going blank for a whole second.

What was the girl doing?

Apparently, the Caster was as baffled as Kratos was - that, or he just wasn't expecting to hear anyone addressing him, because it snapped him out of whatever fugue he was in as his plan neared completion. But he still stared at the girl, uncomprehending.

"A last request, if you're going to make me play that card." She shrugged. "Since our time's almost up, and you're about to win."

No, truthfully - WHAT was the girl doing?

Something shifted behind the Caster's eyes, and he finally nodded. "I suppose it is the least I can do for you, in the end. Ask away, girl."

"So, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the entirety of your plan," she began, almost casually, despite Mash flying from point to point, fending off ghost after ghost as they attempted to slide around the Shielder to get at her Master. "You're going to kill everyone here - including us to…..bring your wife - and possibly these other women, back to life?"

"Yes!" Poe sounded….desperate. A familiar desperation to Kratos - it would be familiar to anyone who had ever lost someone, no matter the reason. "Virginia….." The sorrow in the man's voice was palpable. "My mother…..both were taken far, far too soon. I don't even have memories of the woman who bore me into this world. And my foster mother…..illness took her in the same abrupt manner….but it perhaps was a blessing. She did not have to see the results of his…….adultery. When I bring her back, she can have the rest of her life, without that shadow hanging over her head."

"And then what?" The girl's question made the man start, as though he had been stabbed. Even through the mask, Kratos could feel the confused look the Caster was turning on her.

Somehow (he suspected it was due to far too long of an association with Avenger) he felt the girl suppress a desire to roll her eyes. "You bring them back to life, but……you're a Heroic Spirit. You don't age….and you don't die. They do. What happens when their finite mortal lifespans run out?"

Fujimaru's voice dropped in volume, yet, somehow, everyone could still hear it over the noises of combat that were filling the corners of the room. "Are you just going to do this all over again - gather a bunch of people, and use their lives to bring your loved ones back from the dead? Because, beyond just how wrong that is, Humanity's not in the best state right now. For one, you're only going to be able to do that so many times before you run out of materials."

Poe was staring at her like she was speaking some foreign language, one he simply did not understand. Finally, he found his tongue. "Then…..I'll just have the Grail make them immortal. Then we won't ever have to be parted from each other!"

"Ok," said Fujimaru, nodding. "Probably doable - omnipotent wish granter, after all, though you're asking it to bring back three different people from the dead - which is a big ask on its own, so you'd better hope you don't run out of juice. So then, the next question is, what happens to you? You're not immortal - you can't really PERMANENTLY die, since you're a Servant, but what happens if something sends you back to the Throne? THEY won't be dead, but you'll be separated from them all the same - and your odds of being summoned back to see them again aren't good - see what I said before about the state of Humanity."

Another long stare from the Servant. His hand moved, a half-aborted attempt to, it seemed, to rake his hand through his hair, before he caught himself. Still, it was telling. "Then…..then….." He lost the battle, and the hand in question did reach his head, though the hair it was seeking was hidden, stuffed under the mask Poe was wearing. "Then, I'll just have them become Heroic Spirits as well. That way, we can all be together on the Throne. Forever."

"That's…..probably a bigger ask than your last one, but then again, the entire mechanics behind that have never been the clearest to me. Even the True Grail might not have enough power to do that - then again, maybe it does." She threw her hands up in the air. "For the sake of argument, let's just say you can pull it off, and you all go back to the Throne of Heroes, one big happy family. Two questions. What if they actually don't want that?"

Something was starting to come out of Poe's mouth, but Fujimaru just talked over it. "These women who you're so desperate to have back in your life weren't legendary warriors, great writers, or heroes of any sort - not the kind of people who get admitted to the Throne of Heroes. And, moreover, you know what you're signing those ordinary people up for, right?"

Fujimaru was staring right into Poe's eyes. "An eternity of being called up by Mages for their little projects - for the Grail Wars across time and space. Or being summoned by the land itself when things have gotten bad enough that it starts spawning Heroic Spirits like some sort of immune response. Do you really think that's something they WANT?"

"They're ordinary - not spectacular. If they weren't associated with you, they'd have lived and died and their names would already be forgotten by the world. Ordinary people like them," she paused here, for a second, before continuing. "They might enjoy reading stories about being the hero, but they don't really understand what it takes to do that. How long before they resent you for what you've thrown them into? After all, it's not like they chose this - or there wasn't any other option BUT for them to step up? This is entirely because of you - what you want. Not them."

"How long before they can't stand the sight of you?"

Poe rocked back like he'd been slapped right across the face. "They would never - COULD never! Once they realize what I've given them…."

"But are you willing to risk it?" interrupted Fujimaru. "What's worse - having them be dead, and unable to be with them, or having them be alive, but wanting nothing to do with you?"

Before Poe could muster a response, Fujimaru continued. "And there's other things to consider, too. Let's just assume you're jerking them out of Heaven for this - I don't know them, but I'll cede that they were good enough to warrant admission just to keep the conversation going. How do you think that will feel, to be ripped away from some place like that for the world of the living - or the Throne, if you end up going with the whole 'make them Heroic Spirits' plan."

Poe was very, very still.

"And then, there's everything you're doing to bring them back." She tilted her head. "Were your mothers, or your wife the kinds of people who are going to be happy you sacrificed so many lives for them?"

Poe's response was a few seconds in coming. "They….they would understand the need…."

"Mr. Poe….that just sounds like a fancy way of saying 'no'," commented Mash, as she swatted a howling ghost away.

"Poe…..Edgar," began Fujimaru, her voice soft and careful. "There's really no way this ends the way you want it to. Your mother, your foster mother, your wife…they're all dead. Just like you are. You all had your chances, but….your time passed."

She took a half step forward. "Yes, you got a second lease on life - sort of - but Heroic Spirits aren't supposed to linger, aren't supposed to affect the world like this. From what my two teachers have told me, you're only supposed to be…what was the term, 'shadows of times long past'? 'Fleeting existences'? Something like that."

Another half step. "The dead and the living aren't supposed to mingle - that's the whole reason the Veil's there. Brief visits don't cause too much trouble, but….the longer the dead stay in the world of the living, the worse it gets. For everyone."

She stopped, so close to the barrier that Kratos could see it flickering, in and out of existence, reacting to the girl's proximity. "Losing people hurts. I don't really speak from personal experience here, just as someone whose family has had to deal with a lot of ghosts in our time. Ghosts, and more than a few people dealing with recent losses. But I've seen it time and time again…..clinging, hard enough that it forms an attachment….one that's more of a chain, wrapped around both of your necks. So heavy that it's dragging you both down."

"Whatever comes after - wherever the people you love are now, they're at peace. And you're not - you're here. Still going. And you miss them, and it hurts, and you'd do anything to have them back. But…..'anything' will just make things worse. And Heroic Spirits have enough regrets already - do you really want to be adding more to the ones you already have?"

Poe was breathing heavily, his arms limp at his sides. When he spoke, his voice was soft, and very, very weak. "No. I could not bear that."

"Then please, Mr. Poe," said Mash, turning from her battle to face the man, the ghosts having paused in their attacks, misty forms hanging in the air. "Please, stop this. Before you can't."

Kratos' heart was thundering in his chest, his skin slick with blood that was slowly leaking out from beneath his skin. He felt it hammer against his ribs once, twice, thrice, before Poe nodded.

"I really have gone too far, haven't I?"

He tore the mask from his face, tossing it away in disgust. His other hand reached into his waistcoat, seizing a knife.

One that, with no hesitation, was driven into his chest.

It was like a bubble bursting. The ghosts, almost as one, vanished, soft little wails hissing from their throats as they disappeared. And the pain that had wrapped Kratos in a tight embrace, the burning in his chest, the weakness, all of it flowed from him like water through a sieve.

"NO!" Spitting in rage, Vlad wiped blood from his face, and stormed up to the fallen Caster. "You would deny yourself the just punishment you have earned?"

Poe laughed, but weakly. "The spell, the ritual, was all tied to my life. To me. This was the only way to stop it." His head raised up from where it was resting on the floor, but only for a second. All too quickly his strength left him, and his head fell back with a soft thud. "And, just as before…in my living days, I once again find that the weight of life….of my mistakes, has become more than I can bear."

His eyes closed, and with a sigh, and one last exhale, he was gone.

Kratos felt his strength returning, a vast river that had finally been released from its confines. He glanced around the room, assessing his allies' state. "Injuries?"

"Scrapes and bruises," said Avenger, shaking her hair out, trying to rid it of the blood that had seeped through her scalp - likely before it clotted. "Red, what the hell was that?"

Fujimaru had slumped down to the floor, her back resting against the wall. "A complete shot in the dark," she admitted. "But…..a lot of the stuff he was saying was familiar. Things I'd heard my mother, or other relatives talking about." She raised a hand, which was trembling, to push sweat-slicked hair out of her face. "Because grief…..the kind you get from losing someone…..everyone experiences it differently, everyone reacts to it differently, but……it's not super different, for all that. In the end, everyone just wants to see someone else again, after they can't see them anymore."

She let out a shuddering breath. "So, I thought I would take a chance at talking him down. And it worked - and no one's more surprised at that fact than me."

Kratos huffed out a breath (oddly pleased at how easily it came, now). "Fujimaru." He extended a hand. "Well done."

"Thanks." Her voice might have wobbled a bit, as Kratos heaved her to her feet. "Just….don't let that color your expectations for me or anything. Like I said, it was a total shot in the dark."

"You sell yourself a bit short, Master," purred Shuten, staring at the girl. "Accidental, unplanned, or otherwise, you did stop him. That, I feel, is worthy of praise…..and perhaps, a drink?"

Mash pushed the offered gourd away, glaring at the oni. "Senpai isn't old enough - just like the last time you offered, Shuten."

Liz, for her part, had flown over to the desk the moment she had been able to, and quickly snatched the Grail fragment up. "There you are! Now, let's see……"

Her eyes closed, and everyone, within the room, the ballroom, and even those standing outside the gate, felt it, as the mana surrounding the building rippled, and changed.

The last few ravens fled, their caws trailing after them, as the aged wood and dusty, rumor-shadowed halls of the manor house gave way to the brick and mortar of Castle Csejte.

---

"My castle's BAAAAAACK!"

Liz was flying in circles around the throne room, while also managing to spin in place. It was, honestly, a rather impressive bit of flying. Though, had he not known her, Kratos might have wondered where she had found the energy - but it was Liz.

Eventually, the girl's jubilation died out, and she skidded to a halt in front of Kratos, Grail shard raised. "Hold still, Fuzzy."

He did not even have time for a grunt before the girl reached out and tapped the shard on his chest. There was a jolt, almost like lightning - and then the….substance that had been clinging to him fell from his form, pattering to the floor around him.

"There! Glitter handled!" Liz's gaze dropped to the floor. ".....and now I'm seeing why it's called 'craft herpes'. I'm never going to get that stuff out from between the bricks……" She groaned.

Then, she spun in place, and advanced on Fujimaru. "And you! You saved our bacon, and got my castle back! You're not half bad, Spooky!"

Fujimaru blinked - something that was mirrored by Mash. (Shuten and Avenger both snickered.) "Spooky?" asked the girl in question.

Liz nodded. "Yeah - you see ghosts, after all. Talk to them, all that jazz. So you get to be Spooky, just like he's Fuzzy." A talon scraped through the air to point at Fuzzy. "And that's Bestie!" Said talon was now indicating Avenger - who was trying to slide to the side, and leave the talon pointing at air, but it kept following her, as though it was locked onto the woman's very signature.

"Liz." The rumble of Kratos' voice had the girl spinning around again.

His hand was outstretched, palm open. "The shard."

Her eyes got big and watery, as she stared up at him. "Can I PLEASE keep it for just a little while longer? Until the party ends?" Her eyes got, somehow, even wider. "PLEEEEASSSE? I went to all this trouble to give everyone a fun night, and now…..well, even if it's ruined, I'd like a chance to save what I can…."

She blinked, and suddenly, the wheedling tone was gone from her voice. "And then, there's still your surprise. Hopefully that awful man didn't do anything to it."

"Speaking just entirely for myself….it wouldn't kill us to let her keep it for a bit." Sakamoto strode in, Oryou half-draped across his shoulders, the woman's eyelids half-lidded, weariness (or possibly just laziness) written across her form.

"Oryou-san could use a bit of a break before we head back," mumbled Oryou, sleepily.

"Mr. Kratos…." And now Mash was joining the offensive against him.

He sighed. "Very well. But we will be departing once this….party is over." He met Liz's eyes. "With the shard."

"Sure, sure!" The girl was beaming at him, already beginning to wiggle in place. "Let me fly downstairs and fill everyone in on what went down, then I can give you your surprise! C'mon, Uncle Vlad, you also explaining what happened will help them understand that none of this was my fault!"

Vlad barely stopped himself from growling at the girl. "I am in no mood - not after this….debacle!"

"Too bad!" She seized his hand, meeting his glare with one of her own. "You can go grump about not getting to skewer that guy AFTER! Right now, we have to go clear our good names!"

She took off, flying out of the throne room at speeds that, frankly, Kratos had not thought she was capable of, especially while dragging another behind her - he idly wondered what Cu would make of it, in comparison to his Lancer self's supposed quickness.

Fujimaru was standing over a kneeling Mata Hari. "Margaretha……or do you want us to call you Mata Hari?"

The woman tiredly smiled up at the girl. "Either is fine, really."

"Well, I wanted to thank you - and apologize, too, for getting you dragged into all of this." She shook her head, as the Servant began to wave the apology off. "All of this, it was a mess. And you didn't sign up for the whole cellar of death thing, much less the plague ghosts."

"They'd have found me either way, I feel - at least the plague ghosts." Mata Hari's grin was a bit lopsided. "Though something tells me I'd have been quite a bit safer with our head chef."

"And on that subject," continued Fujimaru. "Do you need to get back to the kitchens? If you're worried about being in trouble, I can come along, and kowtow to that Archer."

"I probably should……" She rose, apparently having judged her legs to be steady enough. "But the kowtowing shouldn't be necessary. I was the one who chose to follow you up those stairs - curiosity, as they say, nearly killed the cat in my case."

She took Fujimaru's hands in her own. "But I do want to say thank you…..I'm not really one of your group, but you protected me all the same. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate that - despite the fact that I wasn't much help at all in getting all of us out of this mess."

Fujimaru shook her head (and tried to ignore the blood she felt trying to crowd front and center in her cheeks). "Really, it's nothing. I might be familiar with death, but……I don't really like the dying part. Especially when it's right in front of me." She sighed. "Seen far too much of that already, and we're only about halfway, too……"

"So, you'd have done it for anyone, and I'm nothing special?" Margaretha (because Mata Hari was a mouthful, to say or think) giggled airily at Fujimaru's sputtering. "It's ok, really. I do understand what you meant. But I do insist on giving you a proper thanks."

The woman looked her up and down, and Fujimaru had the sudden, distinct feeling of how a mouse would feel, when a cat was sizing it up for a meal, or a bit of fun (or both). Finally, she nodded. "I'll make sure to save you a dance, before the party winds down."

Her brain ground to a halt. Wait, what?

"Oh, no need to fuss, Mash. You can have a dance too. I'll save one for all you brave warriors." Despite what she said, Margaretha still directed a wink Mash's way, which let her Kohai join her in the land of flabbergasted silence. "Or, if you're truly worried, we can all dance together."

Years later, Fujimaru would always lament her lack of camera here, at the moment she saw her Kohai's brain just….shut down with a nearly audible crash.

---

 

LATER​

Apparently, Liz had been correct in thinking that the word of Vlad would add weight to her own - in addition to her profuse apologies at how her guests had found themselves under attack.

Thankfully - or miraculously, there had been no casualties. Her guests had been able to hold the ghosts off until Poe had been dealt with (had dealt with himself, in truth) - not without injuries, some of them serious, but nothing worse than that.

To hear Liz tell it, they'd actually thanked her for the entertainment - despite it not having been at all planned. And he had overheard at least a few inquiring if next year's party would be up this level - or would surpass it. And could they possibly make early reservations for it?

The rest of their group had made their way down, following Liz, and had proceeded to join the festivities, where they had all been treated as well as any conquering army that had just returned to Sparta, flush with victory.

Shuten, of course, had made a direct course for the spirits, and had ensconced herself there. And, just as he had heard of her first night in Chaldea, had proceeded to drink everyone else under the table. When last he'd looked, there was a growing pile, both of empty flasks, and unconscious partygoers.

The others, he had lost sight of in the barely contained chaos. In truth, he had spent only a short time there - long enough to help himself to some food (he had lost a good amount of blood - and while his body would repair itself as it always did, food hastened its ability to replenish - and he was hungry), before he had tired of the continual stream of people, either looking to thank him for his actions against the Caster, or just interested in him.

He had never been much for large gatherings like this.

The music had been swelling when he had taken his leave, and couples (or more) had been heading out to the middle of the room to dance. Sakamoto and his lover had been one of the first ones there, and, when he had left, Mata Hari had been leading (or dragging) both Mash and Fujimaru out to the floor - and Liz had been doing the same to a grumbling Vlad.

Some part of him thought he had chosen the right time to depart. He had no intentions of joining any of them - particularly after he recalled the…..avaricious looks the one green-haired woman had given him, earlier in the night.

Thankfully, Liz's throne room was far enough away from the ballroom that none of the din could follow him up here. It was quiet here. And he was thankfully, alone.

He pulled a chair up to the table in the center of the room, one still strewn with the remnants of Liz's preparations for her celebration (though he made sure to keep a safe distance between himself and the tubes of….glitter), and for a moment, just leaned back into the chair and let his body rest.

It had been a long, and somewhat frustrating night. And for all the…..inanity that followed Liz around (and that she inflicted upon others), there had been true danger here. Nothing compared to the actual campaigns - the proper Singularities, but still……

Defeat had been close at hand, before they had managed to grasp victory - however narrowly.

Kratos sighed. He was tired.

Shaking his head, he reached behind him and set the Leviathan Axe on the table, reaching into his pouches for the cleaning oil he kept there (given to him by Da Vinci, of course), and carefully began the process of inspecting the weapon, as he did everytime it saw use.

He was engrossed in the familiar rotes of weapon maintenance, but not so distracted that he did not hear someone approaching - and he suspected who it was.

"I will not be rejoining the party," he rumbled, seeking to head off Liz's entreaties before they had a chance to even start.

The expected reply - begging and pleading with him to change his mind - did not come. Instead, he heard a voice.

A familiar voice.

"Kratos? Is that you?"

He spun around, body leaving the chair in a rush.

There, standing before him, was a slight form, green hair brushing the floor as she stared up at him.

Words failed him. "Kiyohime?" He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "How?"

From the hallway, despite the thick wooden doors, there came the sound of running feet. Something hit said doors with an impact akin to a hammer-blow, and they were flung open. Wood had barely finished echoing off stone before Liz was there. She took one look at the two of them, and threw her hands up in the air. "That's why I TOLD you to stay in your room, you infuriating……SEA SNAKE!" Her cheeks were puffed out in what seemed to preclude a tantrum for the ages. "Now you've gone and ruined the SURPRISE!"

Kiyohime looked as though she had a retort on her lips, but Liz never let her get it out. "But now that the snake's out of the bag, there she is Kratos. It's what I used a good chunk of this baby for." Liz produced the Grail fragment, by spinning it in a circle on one of her talons. "After I heard about how you and Kiyo parted, I figured it'd be a nice thing for you two to see each other again……only, without her Madness Enhancement in the way, and all her memories intact."

Something of his expression must have shown on his face, because the girl shrugged - but not before her face flushed. "What can I say? If I'm going to be a perfect idol, I can't shy away from my romantic side - and NOT LIKE THAT!" Her foot stomped into the ground. "You made it pretty clear how you feel about that stuff, but……you were friends, right? And she sacrificed herself for you. I just figured….you two might like to see each other again, and say goodbye without the whole her dying in your arms thing."

Kratos……words failed him. He had grown more….accustomed to kindness from those around him, both in the last few winters, and in the recent months in Chaldea. But still…..Liz had gone to great effort for him.

"Liz……thank you." Before he thought better of it, he reached out, and clasped the girl on the shoulder, trying, hoping, to impart with the gesture how much this meant to him.

Because she was right - Kiyohime had given her life to aid them, and in her last moments, had told him to never summon her, if he could help it - because the Kiyohime that would appear then would remember nothing of what they had experienced. And, given her nature, she would, like as not, become a danger to Chaldea - to him.

But now, to be able to see an ally - a friend again, in a manner he had been told would be impossible? She may have caused them a great deal of trouble, but, in the end, Liz had had only the best of intentions.

A sniffle from the girl was his only warning before he suddenly found himself with an armful of dragon girl. "FUZZZZZY! I was SO worried I'd ruined everything, but this makes this whole stupid night WORTH IT!"

After a few moments, the girl detached herself, still wiping furiously at her eyes. "Go on you two, sit and catch up. It's almost time for my big Halloween debut, so that'll distract people. Keep them from bothering the two of you."

She turned to go, but then paused, and sent a glare directly at Kiyohime. "And YOU behave yourself! You don't have the crazy to use as an excuse - I WILL bite you if you mess this up in any way!"

Kiyohime rolled her eyes, somehow managing to do so in a dignified manner. "After you made certain that my mind was clearer than it has been in a long, long time, you would think you'd have more faith in what was YOUR plan, wouldn't you, Elizabeth?" She sniffed, haughtily, then waved the girl away with her fan. "Go on, your adoring public awaits. If I were you, I'd be more worried about them still being adoring after they hear you sing…."

Liz scowled, ire turning her face an ugly shade of purple - but, in the end, she just sneered, and turned her nose up at her friend's comments. "Just you wait. They're going to be screaming in delight by the time I'm done." Then, she shot off, leaving as quickly as she'd arrived.

"So, Kratos," began Kiyohime, staring up at him, her eyes clearer than they ever had been during the French campaign. "I understand you've been busy since we parted?" Her nose wrinkled. "But, was that Avenger I saw still following you around? How exactly did that happen?"

Kratos nodded. "Sit….and I will tell you what has transpired."

---

 

JUST AT THE EDGES OF THE HUNGARIAN SINGULARITY​

The Singularity was beginning to die. It was not collapsing wholesale - whatever magics the little dragon girl had used to create it was seeing a more orderly dispersal of it than the fallen Singularities his brothers had been given oversight of. The 'guests' she had called to this place were taking their time in departing, and the girl, despite her dreadful reputation as an adult, was far too invested in her false compassion, and the ideals of 'hospitality' the nobility of her time had valued to allow any harm to come to her guests in such a manner. So it meant he had time as well, and did not need to leave immediately.

Sadly, he had arrived too late to truly make anything of this Singularity. His orders had been merely to observe - but to seize any opportunities that presented themselves, whether those be a chance to cull the forces assembled against them, or to invest into the Singularity itself and add another nail to Humanity's coffin - another linchpin in the seal that kept Humanity as nothing more than unlamented ash.

But, as noted, he had been far too late to do anything but watch. Still, every observation could have merit.

And he had seen some things here that were more interesting to him on a personal level, as well.

"RAVENS." mused Räum, as his body began to depart this plane, following the ever-present pull back to his Master's domain - nothing, not even they, could find their way to it without it being allowed. "AN INTERESTING CONCEPT."

They were clever birds - possibly more worthy of this word than the miserable humans.

Something to consider, when he found himself with idle cycles.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And that's it for Liz-oween. Maybe one chapter interlude, then, London. Or, just onto London.

Mata Hari: 'That god is big and built like a brick shithouse, maybe I can turn on the charm and have him protect me…..no, wait, I can feel him mourning for someone from the next county. NEVERMIND!'

Of course Mash, Sherlock fangirl that she is, would recognize the inventor of the modern detective fiction genre ON SIGHT.

The Tzimisce from VtM were always big on old-world hospitality, so I assume Vlad, and to a point, Liz, would hold to those things too since they're from that area - and the Tzimisce claim Dracula as part of their line, too.

Obviously I hold to the theory that EMIYA in FGO comes from the UBW route. And of the three heroines in FSN, I utterly favor Rin for Shirou.

No one knows exactly how Poe died. I tend to lean that it was just his poor self care and drinking catching up with him, but for the purposes of this story, I'm choosing the suicide theory.

Chapter 57: London 1

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 57

 

LONDON

1888 AD​

Steam filled the underground chamber, a consequence of his fellow Caster's mere presence, only amplified when he was at work. And he was constantly at work, these days. Both of them were.

"More modifications?" he asked, as he settled down at his table, already beginning to reach for the various vials he would need.

"Our….Master remains dissatisfied with my creations." Once, at the start of his summoning, the Servant's voice had managed some level of inflection, despite his voice issuing from deep within his clockwork armor, and it sounding completely artificial.

Those days were long past. Now, he sounded every bit the robot he appeared as. Cold, mechanical, and remote. "Despite them being pinnacles of engineering and steam, they fall short of his expectations. Some he finds fault with their combat performance…..and by the sheer number that return damaged, or completely destroyed, I cannot fault him on that."

Sparks flew as the Servant he shared the workshop with began to weld one piece of metal to another, the torch in his hands flaring. "Others……failed to contain and harness adequately. More reinforcement is needed."

He found his eyes drawn to the massive…..it would probably be properly termed a 'mace', leaning against a nearby wall. But for all intents and purposes, it was a 'club', an enormous one. And one of the ways his fellow stress-tested his creations. He anticipated it would see use soon, and the workshop would ring with the sound of metal on metal - the combat variety, rather than that that came with the forge.

Silence followed that, silence that stretched, as they worked on their individual projects. "What of your work?"

He was far too composed to start (unsteady hands for any alchemist were a quick route to disaster, scaling from vexing to catastrophic to incredibly fatal) at the sound of his fellow's voice, but it did take him by surprise. Once they were well and truly focused on their work, they did not talk much…..not anymore. Too much work to do - and their Master had a dim view of them socializing, when they could be focusing on their tasks.

(And he was not as…..opposed to the work as his colleague was. Every day brought new discoveries, after all, and the objective they were striving for was….remarkable. Really, he couldn't understand his fellow's growing truculence and resentment, not at all.)

He suppressed a smile with the practice of many years - but inside, he realized he had missed the conversations with his peer, even with their wildly different disciplines and areas. "More refinements to the formula," he said. "The mist being put out by Angrboða still cannot break through the Bounded Field that has been erected." His nose twitched as he added a few drops of something very caustic, and extremely virulent to the main vial, triggering a release of fumes - thankfully pointed far away from either of them (and into a filtration unit - he was taking no chances). "And our enemies continue to resist it with….alacrity. Our Master is rather wroth that it is not incapacitating them as it should."

Whatever else they might have been about to say was quashed, as the sound of footsteps began to echo down the stairs that led into the workshop.

Their Master was here.

---

 

MAIN CHALDEA CONFERENCE ROOM​

"So, did you all have fun?"

Da Vinci was grinning at them all as they slumped in their chairs, exhausted.

"Fuck no," groaned Avenger, her head laying on the table's surface. "All I want to do is crawl into my bed and sleep for a week. That girl is hell on wheels even without the dangerous magical plagues and ghosts and raven-things and every fucking thing else."

"It was certainly….lively," said Mash, through a yawn. "Certainly different from the parties Chaldea's had - even the Moon Festival was…"

"Less chaotic?" offered Fujimaru. "Even the outside interference on that one was a speed bump compared to this."

"I do not know what you are all complaining about," sniffed Shuten, only of the only two people who had survived the party and now had their heads upright, with little to no visible signs of fatigue. "I was certainly entertained for the entire night. A welcome change of pace."

Da Vinci was grinning ear to ear. "Well, if nothing else, since I couldn't attend, you brought me back a party favor, which is always appreciated!"

The Grail Fragment had been deposited in her hands almost as soon as they had stepped out of the Coffins, and she'd wasted no time in running her first experiment with it - seeing if it resonated with the other fragment.

It had - and had done more than that. Even while sealed in the containers she had manufactured for them, and both behind Bounded Fields, the two shards had exhibited an immediate, and undeniable attraction to one another - like magnets. The moment they had been in the same room, they'd both shattered their bonds and flown at one another, and proceeded to meld into a single object.

"So, are these fragments all from the same former whole?" began the El-Melloi. "It would explain how impossible it was to keep them apart."

"No way to know now," said Da Vinci. "They're joined so completely that any scans are reading them as a single object, rather than the combination of two separate ones."

Romani leveled a glare at his second in command. "Well, if you had done a full scan of it first, INSTEAD of rushing off to your workshop to do who knows WHAT with your new toys, we might be able to answer that question."

"All my best tools are in my workshop - I could have certainly done some surface level stuff out here, but for the really good data, I'd have had to be there," countered Da Vinci. "And the second I set foot in there, the same thing would have happened." She threw her hands up in the air. "Either way, what's done is done."

"Fair enough," muttered Romani. "Before I adjourn this and let you all get some rest, one last question - the same one I asked about the last minor Singularity. Based on your experiences there, do we still think the disturbance is unrelated to our greater enemy - whomever, or whatever they are?"

There was a long silence, as everyone within the room considered what they had seen. "No." Kratos was the first to speak. "Our enemies are fanatical in their beliefs - in their zeal. From what I have seen, they can not be reasoned with. Not as Fujimaru did."

He continued. "Forneus….and Lev Lainur would not have stopped their attacks with mere words. I do not believe they could even consider another path, or that their path could be wrong."

"You mirror my thoughts," said Chiron, with a nod. "Not to take away from my Master's feat, but I don't think you would have had such success with one of those demons."

"I keep telling you all that I just got lucky," muttered Fujimaru. "But on what you said, you're not wrong. They HATE us. You can hear it in their voices whenever they talk about Humanity."

"Red's right," mumbled Avenger. "It's what my Servant class is all about - well, vengeance, but that and hate go hand in fucking hand. And I can hear it when they talk - it's the same as the voices in my head, the ones that are always telling me to turn everything into a lump of carbon. Ain't no reasoning with them."

"Agreed," said Romani. "I know I seem a bit….paranoid about all this." Avenger muffled a snort that sounded far too knowing, one that no one really noticed. "But we've seen the lengths they'll go to in the Singularities we've handled so far. If there's even an outside chance that they had a hand in this, I don't want to miss it."

He sighed. "But, you're right, in that, just like the last minor disturbance, it doesn't really fit their pattern."

He cast his gaze around the table, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "With that, I think we can adjourn for now. Everyone get some rest - Servants will be off guard rotation for the next 24 hours, and Kratos and Fujimaru, you're free to spend that time however you see fit. Barring an emergency, you're both on the standard cooldown period post a Rayshift."

"Dismissed, and good work, everyone."

As they rose and began to shuffle out of the room, Kratos noticed two things. Firstly, Fujimaru had been quickly cornered by her two teachers before she could rise, and as the assembled Servants departed, she was still there. Secondly, he happened to be exiting the room at the same time as Doctor Romani.

"Kratos," began the man. "Just to check, but I assume there's no ill effects from Liz mistakenly binding something to your curse? Or any complications from the unbinding?" He held up a hand. "I won't reiterate our initial offer to break your curse. It doesn't seem to hinder you at all, and you've been very clear that you have your reasons to retain it. But where magic's concerned…." He grimaced. "Especially when it's strange, unexplainable stuff. You all came back covered in some kind of particle we've never seen before, apparently benign, but completely foreign." He groaned. "The Command Room staff have been calling them Eliza Particles, and…"

"Romani," interrupted Kratos, stopping him before he could truly start rambling. "I am fine." Had she not been so quick about it, Kratos might have had a moment of worry that her hasty attempt to undo her mistake would have interfered with - or worse - dispelled the curse he carried. But thankfully, whatever her flaws, the girl had been as good as her word. The glitter had fallen off without disturbing anything else of his being. "I am well."

"That's good." Romani's head slid to the side to regard Kratos as they walked, for the moment, in the same direction. "I'd prefer it if you could find time to stop by medical today so we could give you a clean bill of health - in fact, I'm going to have to insist, for everyone." He shrugged, somewhat sheepishly. "I know Poe said his death ended the disease he infected everyone in the manor with, but…..you told us that you don't GET sick, and it still affected you. Something that potent, it would help me sleep a bit better to make sure all traces of it are gone, for all of you."

He frowned. "And now that I think about it, that means I'm going to have to convince an oni to sit still long enough for me to take her temperature." His hand reached up and began to massage his forehead. "Never thought I'd see the day where we had a potentially worse patient than Avenger."

Kratos grunted. He was not wrong about that. And as to his request… "I will make time." He paused, recalling something he had been meaning to ask, before…..Liz, and all her chaos had descended upon Chaldea. "What news of our next campaign?"

Romani's eyes brightened. "We've got a few leads, actually. Breadcrumbs mostly, but they look promising. Russia, for one. A country like that with as much turmoil and conflict throughout its history would be perfect for a destabilizing Singularity. What if the Romanovs hadn't been deposed, what if either France or Germany hadn't been defeated by General Winter, what if Trotsky hadn't been essentially exiled by Stalin - lots of what ifs…..most of which probably don't mean much to you."

At Kratos' grunt, he shook his head good-naturedly. "Well, if we start seeing any tangible leads, I'll make sure to have Da Vinci give you a more detailed rundown about the time frame and location." He licked his lips. "The other place we're digging into is England. With an Empire that they could make the legitimate claim that the sun never set on, again, just like with Russia, there's any number of events they could have sent spiraling off course to create a Singularity. The French Singularity, for all that it didn't touch England's shores, did involve them as the other half of the conflict Jeanne fought in during her life."

Kratos had heard a bit more of this 'England' in Da Vinci's lessons. It was the land that the Clock Tower was centered in - hence why Da Vinci had focused a good bit of her lessons on the land in question, as it was inextricably tied to Chaldea itself - it had been founded, after all, by one of the so-called Clock Tower Lords. And now, just as then, he found it hard to comprehend the sheer scale of the empire that land had once claimed as its own.

Sparta - his Sparta, had once been the Empire his mind had compared all others to. Then, in the course of learning of the history of this world, he had seen the reach that Rome had extended their lands to, at its peak, a reach that had claimed the lands that Sparta had once claimed, as well as his homeland itself. Then, a few days later, Da Vinci had shown him the British Empire.

Somehow, knowing the shape of this world made his understanding of the magnitude of that feat that much more impressive. Even without Da Vinci's 'visual aid' - a map of the world, with the many territories and colonies, all of them with the nation's flag superimposed over them, stretching from one corner of the world to the other.

While Kratos had been musing, Romani continued to speak. "Most of that is much more modern than what we've been seeing, but there's no reason we can't see a Singularity closer to our time, rather than closer to the Age of the Gods." He frowned. "We can't afford to leave any stone unturned, after all."

A grunt, carrying the faint sound of approval was Kratos' only response.

"Anyways," began Romani. "If you're heading back to your room - or anywhere but the Command Room, this is where we part." He turned to consider Kratos. "Unless, of course, you want to get the trip to Medical out of the way now….?"

Kratos rolled his shoulders. Much as he was ready to rest, it probably would be better to take care of this now, rather than having it loom over his head. He felt fine, though - but he also understood that Romani, as the one in overall command, took his responsibility for their well-being seriously.

He still did not enjoy being subjected to the inspections that his visits to the Medical area always seemed to bring, no matter their necessity.

With a noise of assent, he indicated Romani should lead on.

---

 

THE NEXT DAY

AN UNUSED CONFERENCE ROOM, NEAR TO THE CHALDEA MEMORIAL HALL​

Ritsuka Fujimaru settled back into a chair, her stomach doing its level best to tie itself in knots. Across the table, her two teachers loomed. Chiron was at least smiling, while Lord El-Melloi II's face was severe - though that was kind of his default expression.

"Before we begin, for both of our benefits, if you could outline just how far your training with your family went," began Lord El-Melloi II. "No offense meant to my counterpart, but the stories of Chiron always spoke of his training in the more physical side of things, rather than that of the Moonlit World."

"None taken," said Chiron, with a smile. "There is a reason I do not qualify for the Caster class, after all. And for all that Ascelpius did attain a level with his medicinal arts that was magical, that was more his talent than mine. I am a fair hand at treating wounds, but he was a true genius in that field, able to take what I taught him well beyond any of my other students - at least in the area of healing."

"And for myself, while I have some knowledge of the dead though my assistant, I need to know what kind of base I'm working with here, to properly formulate a teaching plan." The thin line of his mouth softened into a smile - though it was a bit of a self-satisfied, proud one. "If there is one thing I am good at, it's breaking down and understanding Magecraft. Dissecting the symbolism of it, the sources of its power, what it can do and cannot do."

He met Fujimaru's eyes. "This, then, should allow me to teach you how to use it more effectively."

The part of Fujimaru who desperately wanted to believe him - especially given how it was coming from a Clock Tower Lord, of all things (despite his continued insistence both that he was barely worthy of that title, and that as his Master, the deference he would demand of fellow Clock Tower Mages did not, in the strictest sense, apply to her) warred against the part of her (that sounded exactly like her mother) that reminded her of her many, many….less than spectacular efforts to learn the family Magecraft.

But….she'd promised, after waking up from her coma those months ago, that she'd stop running, stop….just drifting through life, and would put in an honest effort again. And she had been - had the bruises from the physical training her Sensei put her through (aided and abetted by his cheerful assistants, Cu, Shuten, Avenger - even Mashie, sometimes, when the girl wasn't too wiped out from being put through her own paces her OWN demanding teachers). And she also didn't get winded from a short jog anymore either - Sensei hadn't quite run her into the ground yet with a command of 'run until I say stop', but when he told her to jog, he expected her to PUSH herself.

But she could see results, both in her performance, and when she looked in the mirror after a shower. (Still no proto-abs yet like her Kohai. She wasn't jealous. Really.)

The other half of the equation was that she simply couldn't keep ignoring the fact that she had the Sight, not after it had forcefully activated itself during Liz's little shindig. As long she couldn't control it - or, more to the point, how rusty she was with it, it was a liability. If they ran across something that could flick it on again, sometime in the future, she HAD to have a better handle on it.

Doubly so as it appeared there was some drift from her to Mash, her Shielder exhibiting the first vestiges of budding Sight herself. Which made what the Lord said doubly important - that foundation to teach her might get double duty when and if her Shielder ended up needing lessons as well, because the girl hadn't been traumatized trained by a mother who did everything in her power to impress upon her girls just how DANGEROUS ghosts were to those that could see them. Even considering she was a Servant and much more able to defend herself against the things than Fujimaru was, they still talked to each other, still wanted things from Mediums and Spirit Talkers and the rest of that small slice of humanity that could see them, could interact with them.

And there were a LOT of ghosts now. She hadn't confirmed it, but she'd bet years of her life that she was right.

"I can see ghosts mostly fine, so you probably won't need me to outline much of that, I hope." She looked up at him. "And you said your assistant could see them as well, so I'm assuming you've at least got some familiarity and grounding with the most basic of things - at least for my family, being able to see ghosts is always the first thing they look for to check if a kid's inherited the family Magecraft."

Lord El-Melloi II nodded. "Gray's situation is different than yours, but for the simple act of seeing ghosts, it's similar enough that I don't need further elaboration from you." He gestured. "Please continue."

She took a deep breath. "Ok……well, the most obvious thing my family's known for is contacting the dead. Like I told you, seances - it's my mother's 'official' job and what everyone thinks she does for a living. How she does it is in the traditional Japanese style - no Ouija boards or anything, but she could probably use any style to do it if she wanted." A shrug. "The Mysteries around talking to the dead are so muddled thanks to pop culture that even a toy like that could be a proper tool in a pinch. And, just about every culture around the world has its own way of contacting the dead, so there isn't one 'right' way that works better than any of the others. It all comes down to the mage in question, and what they prefer."

The Clock Tower Lord's eyes were focused on the tablet in his hands, where, going by the rapid pace of his fingers, he was likely furiously taking notes. "I will need more details on just what a 'traditional' Japanese seance would entail." He smirked. "I'm sure the database at Chaldea has that information, but, given how little esteem the Clock Tower places on your homeland, it's fairly likely to contain inaccuracies, or to just be missing information. But for today, that information can wait - I don't want us to get bogged down in too much minutiae while I'm still formulating a plan here."

Ok, that made sense. She'd need to wrack her brain for that 'minutiae' herself - there was a lot of ceremony involved in her mother's style of seances.

"A question, if I may?" At Lord El-Melloi II's nod, Chiron continued. "More a curiosity for me than any possible relevance, but, does a person have to have lingered as a ghost to be called back?"

"That really depends," she answered. "Someone who died and has gone on to…..whatever's waiting on them can be called back, so long as their soul's intact. If, for instance, we'd have gotten rendered down to make Poe's Super Grail, there'd probably been nothing left of any of us to bring back with a seance - at least the living ones of us. The Servants would have been ok….I think." She licked her lips. "But the longer the person's been dead, the harder it is to call them back. Mom had a rule of not accepting requests to do that for anyone who'd been gone for more than a decade - unless they were still hanging around."

"I would assume that rule didn't affect her business much," commented the Lord. "If I had to guess, I would think that most of the people who sought her out were those who had recently lost someone."

"From what I understand, you're right." She settled back into her chair. "Not that I ever saw many of her clients, but from comments she made, it's largely just people looking for closure. Though sometimes, it would be a family hoping she could tell them something they could give to a PI after the trail went cold and the police gave up on finding a murderer."

"Those, from what I understand, were pretty bad. As bad as the other ones, when someone had vanished, and their loved ones came hoping we could just give some answers." Her mouth had gotten really, really dry, all of a sudden, and she groped about for the water bottle her teachers had provided, and took a deep swig of it. "Those my mom never talked about to us, but I overheard her talking about them with dad once or twice. I don't know what sounded worse, confirming to people that, yes, that person was dead, or no, that you couldn't contact them, and they were probably alive……somewhere. But she couldn't help more than that."

Once or twice, there had been rents in the doors when she'd come home. Fist-sized holes. And the mask her mother wore of the matriarch of a long-established Japanese Mage family that could trace its lineage back to the Heian era had cracks in it - tiny ones, but Fujimaru had been able to see the tightness around her eyes on those days.

"But I don't know if that rule was a hard and fast one, or just one my mom had to discourage those kinds of clients. If she had something of theirs…." She half-grinned. "Kind of like a catalyst, honestly, she probably could call someone back who's been gone quite awhile, even without an active ghost. She was pretty good at all of that stuff. That's where my big sister got it from."

Lord El-Melloi II was continuing to type away on his tablet, eyes focused. "As to what else we can do, while we're not exactly professional exorcists, we can cover a lot of the same ground if we have to. We just usually don't…..in Japan, at least, that's usually handled by the temples." Buddhist or Shinto, though usually Shinto, but either had enough of a tradition to handle noisy ghosts. "Or the Church, in the few places where it's got a foothold and has assigned someone in the know to that area, instead of a regular priest."

"I know Tokyo, being, well, Tokyo, had a priest who knew what was going on under the surface. My mom even took us to meet him a few times, so we'd at least have something of a relationship with the man. Mages and the Church don't exactly see eye to eye, but she saw staying on terms with them as something of an unpleasant necessity." Her brow wrinkled, as something nagged at her, just outside the edges of her memory. "I want to say she mentioned another one in passing, who watched over the Fuyuki area, but I could be remembering wrong."

Her teacher had developed a bit of a twitch, just above one of his eyes. "Given that Fuyuki City is where my Grail War took place - and then was also the site of the Fifth one, a mere ten years later, I would imagine the priest in question was the overseer for the single one this world has seen."

"And given the state of the church you yourself found in the Fuyuki Singularity, and given what Cu Chulainn had to say about the Overseer of that war, your guess is likely correct," commented Chiron, with a smirk.

Lord El-Melloi II was frowning. "Yes, I've heard my fellow Caster's tales about Kotomine Kirei. He was actually a participant in the Grail War I experienced - with his father as the Overseer, of all things." He shook his head. "And that was only the most minor of the many irregularities of that war. The Fifth War, which Kirei oversaw after surviving the Fourth, saw even more of them. At least, according to the Tohsaka Heir, who fought in it."

He blew out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. "But to get us back on-topic, when you say your family 'can' do most of what Exorcists can do…?"

"We can ward a house against spirits, either a general sort of thing to keep wandering ghosts out, or a more specific one if there's an angry family member haunting the place. We can cleanse a place too, but you're much better off getting someone affiliated with an actual religion to do that. They get a power boost from that that we just can't match. Binding and trapping spirits is also in our wheelhouse, though there's really not much call for that. The only time would be if there's a really, really powerful ghost that can't be banished, or something. But we aren't really likely to get those sorts of jobs - something that bad shows up, as I said the temples get called."

Her fingers were drumming on the surface of the table. "And we can banish ghosts. Either temporarily, dispersing them enough so that they'd have to slink off and reconstitute themselves, or……permanently. While it never happened in front of me, I'm pretty sure mom had to teach one or two of them a lesson when they approached Susumu while she was really young. I may or may not have mentioned it, but she had the Sight pretty much from the time she was born, so she stood out like a beacon to the local ghosts. I can't see my mother letting her out of the house for her first day of school unless she had a ton of protections around her - and she'd made sure it was well known to all the local dearly departed what would happen to them if her daughter came home with so much as a hair out of place."

Or daughters, once Fujimaru had been born. But they hadn't had to be as cautious with her - she didn't register across the Veil nearly as strongly, and, she'd had her big sister to run interference for her while she was at school, at least until she was old enough to be able to hide herself - or know to run like hell to find her sister, or to get behind the wards that protected the family home. Still, her mother had worked overtime to instill a sense of caution in both of her children, regardless of how capable they were.

"What about object reading - psychometry?" asked the Lord, not looking up from his notes. "Is there any history of that in your family? Place spirits, or genius loci exist, after all, and certain Mystic Codes almost have an awareness of their own." A faint smirk spread across his face. "Like my adopted family's Volumen Hydrargyumum - or, as she prefers to be called these days, Trimmau. Given your family's speciality is talking to spirits, I am curious if there is any overlap there."

Fujimaru pursed her lips and wracked her brain, trying to remember. There were a LOT of distant cousins spread around the country, and she hadn't had a ton of contact with them - just the odd family reunion every few years. "I don't think so, but I couldn't swear to it or anything. If anyone did have it as more than some sort of weird mutation of the family Magecraft, neither mom or grandma ever mentioned it. Mom's side of the family wasn't as….unwelcoming of quirks like developing an odd affinity instead of the bloodline trait."

She shrugged. "That does happen more than standard in our family, I think. Mom married WAAAAAY outside the normal sort of bounds after all, picking an American, even if he was only a few generations removed from being native Japanese. But dad's water affinity had really nothing to do with with our Spiritualism - the Soothsaying would have been a better traditional fit, but given how no one's ever treated dad badly, as far as I can see, not even my super-traditional grandma, I kind of get the feeling that odd marriages are standard enough for the Fujimarus that that's the one place where we break with tradition pretty hard."

And they'd been subtly feeling her out to see if they could arrange a marriage between her and Gordy, she still believed. If her dad wasn't a traditional sort of partner for a Japanese Mage family, Gordy was even more out in left field. Though she'd have been marrying into his family, since he was the Heir, after all, so he'd be pretty well removed from being seen on a daily basis. Still, if they were considering that, once upon a time, and it was the current Family Head sussing her out about it, then the taboo against it (if any) must have been pretty weak.

"Have you ever tried?" Fujimaru blinked, looking up at Chiron. "It would allow us to cross it off as a possibility, if nothing else."

"Here," Lord El-Melloi II reached into his suit jacket, and drew out a small black box, sliding it across the table to Fujimaru.

She hesitated for a second, worried about handling something that was obviously important to her teacher (the box was well-worn, for one, and just by taking hold of it in preparation to open it, she could tell the hinges were oiled, and would slide open without any fuss at all) "I would not have handed it over if I did not trust you with it." He waved his hand. "Go ahead."

Taking a deep breath, she opened the box.

Nestled in a pillow of velvet (or some other material she expected to be highly valuable, and soft as a cloud) was a weathered scrap of red, one that seemed to radiate the weight of ages.

She'd seen material like this before, of this same vivid red (even if the scrap was faded, somewhat), flowing from the back of a titanic man, one that had been larger than life.

With a swallow, she very carefully wiped her hands dry on her shirt, before she gingerly picked the piece of fabric up, setting in her palms.

After a handful of moments, she shook her head. "Nothing. Mind, I don't even know where to begin with that sort of thing, but following my instincts like I would when I'm trying to track down where a ghost might be from my sixth sense……" She shrugged. "Nada. I don't feel anything out of the ordinary from this."

"At least we know, now," said Chiron, as she placed the scrap back in its box, and closed the lid. "Perhaps, when you are in a more protected environment, we can have you repeat the test with your Sight active, just to completely rule it out. But we can shelve it for the moment."

Lord El-Melloi II picked the box up, handling it with even more care than Fujimaru had, and slipped it back into his suit pocket. "As my fellow said, something for later." He straightened up, returning his gaze to his tablet. "Now, of all those things you listed, what have you been trained in?"

She blew out a long breath. "Not……much. I can manage a seance without too much difficulty, though I never managed to call up someone who wasn't lingering around, even the really, really recently departed. But that's as much as my mom trained me, just the real basics." She half-slumped into the chair. "She wouldn't let me so much as touch the Exorcism-adjacent stuff. Too much risk of that blowing up in my face if it goes wrong - given how much I struggled with the basics of the basics, I can kind of understand her not wanting me to throw hands with an angry ghost."

"While her concern as a parent is understandable," began Chiron, and Fujimaru had to stifle a laugh. Yes, some of was her mother knowing how dangerous ghosts were, and wanting to keep her kids safe, but a greater whole of it, she felt, was just the woman's disappointment in her, and not wanting to put in the extra effort and safeguards that would be needed to train her in the more advanced stuff. Much simpler to just….not, and lavish all that extra time on her genius big sister.

(No, she didn't have very complicated feelings about her family, not at all.)

While Fujimaru's issues reared their ugly heads again, her Sensei was still talking. "The previous Singularity has proven that we are going to have to find some way to train you more than your family did, if only to give you a means of defending yourself, should your Sight be forcefully activated again." A shadow fell over his face. "As you've noted, if you can see the dead, then that means they can see you. And you are not the only one affected by this."

"It's an exploitable weakness, if nothing else, and we cannot have that." The Lord's fingers were stroking his chin, as he stared at the tablet. "I think, for the moment, I have enough to start formulating a plan." He looked up at her, and his eyes glittered. "Though, I will need a few live examples of your Magecraft to better assist me with my understanding."

She drew herself up in her chair, and nodded. "Ok. Where do you want to begin?"

---

 

CHALDEA SIMULATOR​

Kratos jerked the Leviathan Axe up, just in the nick of time to block the blow. A sword, larger than its wielder, and impossibly dense, rang off his weapon, and, despite the block, he found himself skidding backwards.

He didn't pause - prior exchanges had taught him that he had no time for reactions that were not purely instinctive. His head slid down, sharp talons raking through the space his eyes had previously occupied. His shield snapped closed, his arm pistoning forward, aiming for Shuten's center of mass, as she hung suspended in the air.

Her feet slid up, feet tip-tapping on the metal of the shield, propelling her body backwards, keeping it just ahead of the strike, the wide grin on her face only growing wider. In the moments right before Kratos' momentum halted, she sprang upwards, vaulting forward.

Her body turned, end over end, descending in a scything, circular kick, falling from above like a boulder - a very slight, feral, boulder.

He rolled forward, Shuten's foot hammering into the ground. Dirt and small stones that were blasted up from the oni's miss showering his back. As he rose, he hurled the Leviathan Axe forward - Shuten was FAST, and every second he could delay her from recovering from her miss was a boon. She slid out of the way of the tumbling weapon, jerking her foot free from the ground at the same time. Possibly unconsciously, one of her eyes tracked the axe as it sailed away, well aware that it could return at a moment's notice.

But Kratos had already switched tactics.

Draupnir formed in his hands, the Spartan taking a two-handed grip on the spear, and swept it in front of him, the head cutting through the air, sweeping down at the oni. Shuten slid backwards, every inch of her liquid grace, the gleaming tip of Draupnir passing mere hair's breadths from her face. The savage light in her eyes was near to overflowing, as she readied to set her trailing foot back, and plant it, to spring straight back at Kratos.

She did not get the chance to.

His speed suddenly spiked, as he turned the spear about for a second strike, arms twisting to bring the butt up in an uppercut, aimed directly at the knee of Shuten's rear leg.

Again - she was far too agile for such a simple move to trip her up. Pirouetting to the side, the second strike, as with the first, came nowhere near to landing.

But the sudden increase in the Spartan's speed had forced her into a more hasty dodge than would have been the norm for her. And it forced her to focus solely on Kratos for a moment.

Which meant she was taken completely by surprise as two sounds blended together - something large, and heavy, flying through the air, and that object clunking into her skull.

Thankfully, it was the blunt end of the Leviathan Axe that collided with the back of her head, rather than the blade, but it still hurt - even as the Axe rebounded away, instead of returning to Kratos' hand as it should have. Wincing, her head ringing, Shuten stumbled forward.

The haft of Draupnir plowed into her side. She was tough, and dense enough that her bones held (and Kratos was still pulling his blows somewhat, even as she'd tauntingly informed him he could hit her harder, in the initial stages of the fight spar), but she was still blasted away.

Or would have been, if her arm hadn't snaked down and wrapped around Draupnir. Even as the weapon swept upwards, she clung to it, writhing her body around, until she was almost dangling upside down in the air. Gravity slid her body down the length of Draupnir, her feet lashing out at Kratos' face as she neared him.

She was at least using her heels, instead of the wickedly sharp nails that decorated her toe, he noticed, as he juked his head from side to side, barely ahead of the flurry of blows. And when one DID catch him, right on the forehead, with a foot that was angled more directly, it was with the sole - though said foot did twist a bit at the last second, and one of those talons nicked him, barely enough to even be called a wound, but drawing blood disproportionate to the severity of the injury (head wounds always did that, he knew from long experience).

Growling, he planted his feet, and spun in place, slicing Draupnir through the air, faster and faster with every revolution.

Shuten held on, doggedly, even attempting to lash out once or twice, but soon, the sheer force she was being buffeted with relegated her to merely attempting to hold on with all her considerable strength. Then, it just became a battle of wills - would her grip (and the centrifugal motion) give out before Kratos lost his balance amid the endless series of revolutions.

Kratos won.

Hissing in frustration, Shuten's hands slipped from the weapon, and she went sailing off into the air, body spiralling uncontrollably. She didn't quite touch the ceiling in her flight, but she came close.

Despite her annoyance at being detached, a low, throaty titter escaped her lips as she wrestled her body into controlling her trajectory. By the time she landed, feet touching down, her fangs were showing, her sword returning to her hands.

Just in time to intercept two burning daggers.

Cutting up, then down, Shuten swatted the Blades of Chaos aside, only to have them wrap around the blade of her weapon. She had but a moment to brace her legs before the massive form of the god crashed into her. Despite herself, she was forced back a step.

But her grin didn't slip an inch.

Kratos snatched the Blades from the air, and suddenly, the clench became a battle of simple brute strength, as they warred over control of the oni's sword, entangled in chains as it was.

Not that the battle was confined to only that. Despite the disadvantage it put her at (and she was already at a large disadvantage, just from the sheer height and bulk advantage Kratos had over her), Shuten willingly sacrificed her footing to send kick after kick at Kratos' feet and legs.

And her mouth was hardly idle, as well.

"Come on, Kratos! Stop holding back!" Her foot slid off his boot, the glancing impact failing to affect his stance, and he surged forward, nearly sending her to her knees, before she was able to push back and meet his strength. "I can see that little mark I left on you - that would have ENRAGED Raikou, made her fight all harder! Come on….get ANGRY! Show me what you keep chained up in there!"

Kratos' only reply was a growl, as he felt Spartan Rage responding to the oni's words, stretching its fingers outside the bounds of its cage, hungry.

Eager.

He tamped it back down, simply bearing down on his opponent harder.

And suddenly found himself overbalanced, as Shuten released her hold on the blade, vaulting herself straight into the Spartan's face, aided by the sudden weight that was pulling Kratos down, as he was forced, in an eyeblink, to carry the full weight of her abandoned weapon.

Before he was able to re-establish his balance and dart his form back, one of Shuten's hands grasped him by the shoulder, and pulled herself close, claws sinking into his flesh and drawing blood. His head snapped back, as a coiled fist rammed into his face, lights dancing before his eyes. Snarling, he shook his head, dismissing the pain, forcing his eyes to focus, only dimly aware of the sensation of a tiny, delicate foot touching down on his shoulder.

Then his head rocked back again, as Shuten pistoned her leg forward, smashing his face once more. Kratos tasted blood.

Shuten was laughing, wildly, dancing about his shoulders, drawing her foot back for another strike, when Kratos ROARED. Red rimmed his form for a split second, and time seemed to slow. His arms jerked forwards, upward, and Shuten's weapon, still attached to Kratos by the chains that were wrapped around it, moved with him.

It shot up from the ground like it had been fired from a cannon, so quickly that Shuten had no chance to react. The weapon careened into her back, knocking her into the air.

She spun once, twice, and was already beginning to regain control of herself, when, from beneath her, there came the sound of the earth cracking.

Those watching saw as Kratos crouched, then LEAPT. But all Shuten was aware of was the hand that suddenly seized her by the throat.

She had time for a single gasp, before she was suddenly plummeting to the ground, all of the Spartan's weight bearing down on her. The ground cratered as they finally contacted the earth. Shuten felt the air being driven from her lungs by the impact, and she gagged, both from the pain, and the sudden shock.

When she came back to herself, Kratos was looming over her, one of the Blades of Chaos leveled at her eye. "Do you yield?"

She laughed - she couldn't help it, then threw her hands up. "I yield. The victory is yours……this time."

Kratos pulled back, jerking the Blades back to his hands as Shuten dismissed her weapon, untangling them. He never took his eyes from his downed opponent as he slid the Blades back into their harness, then, after a moment of hesitation, offered a hand.

Something flashed through the oni's eyes, but she accepted his hand up. "Surprising," she said, once she was back to her feet. "I expected a chiding for crossing some sort of line, rather than a hand up."

Kratos grunted, something which sent a minor wave of pain through his face - particularly his nose, which still felt tender and overly sensitive after the blows it had absorbed. "You restrained yourself……." Another wave of pain as he began to speak, but it faded - or was simply dismissed. "Somewhat. And I am more than durable enough to absorb blows of such a nature - more durable than Mash or Fujimaru." Or some of the other Servants - the El-Melloi as one such example. The man was almost emaciated in comparison to the other Caster, Cu Chulainn - though he was far from the standard of the class, as the druid would readily admit.

He looked down on the Assassin, who was still watching him with that odd, curious light in her eyes. "And careful sparring can only do so much. It cannot simulate true combat." Another grunt. "Despite your lack of restraint, you did not cause any lasting harm."

She was showing her teeth, in a pleased grin. "Good. Because I am FAR from satisfied."

Kratos did not even dignify that with a grunt, instead moving over to where the bag of bottled water was hanging from a tree (despite everything, they had not been able to fully return the training fields to its previous configuration as a mostly empty plain - Shuten had insisted that the heated waters, and some of the pink blossomed trees, remain), and seizing a flask for himself. He did not bother to inquire if Shuten herself needed one - based on past experience, she would quench her thirst with the spirits that were never far from her side.

Drinking the water still hurt - though the pain was steadily receding. Whatever his thoughts on the oni's personality (and her lack of discipline), if nothing else, she hit HARD, fought viciously. A good opponent, if an unpredictable, and dangerous one.

The bottle emptied, he turned his eyes to the other areas of the field, where the rest of their group was also being put through their paces.

Mash, for the moment, was resting. She'd been completing the drills he'd set for her with no issue so far today, as she had every day they had trained together since her collapse. Whatever damage had been done to her by utilizing that sword, it did not seem to have affected her physically, at least, not in the long-term. Or at least, not as far as he could tell, and he was watching her carefully - and suspected that Romani and Da Vinci both were using the cameras within the chamber to also supervise.

(He could not blame them. This girl was as much their child as Atreus was his, despite her not being of their blood.)

Fujimaru was being put through a similar set of exercises by Chiron, though ones meant for building up a body's strength, rather than the combat drills Kratos had Mash doing. Much simpler ones than the Spartan might have had the girl doing, but, then, she had not lived the life he had. She was, in all regards, a non-combatant, just an ordinary girl until fate had thrown her into this path. She would need to strengthen herself, first - her description of her arms as resembling 'noodles' was apt.

(Though he did think that Chiron's suggestion, or threat, of having Tanya come down from the control room and sit on Fujimaru's back while she attempted to leverage her body up from the ground, repeatedly, had merit. The blonde woman was probably the lightest individual to be found within the walls of Chaldea. Servants were far too dense for their apparent mass for it to be anything but futile, and Kratos himself was much, much bigger than the girl.)

And as for the rest of those under his direct command?

He did not know where Avenger was. She only occasionally joined them in the training room, and today was not one of those days. And while he would have once been quick to blame it on her temperament and nature, these days, he was less inclined to do so. She had, from the moment of her arrival in Chaldea, never missed a reading lesson with Mash, not since requesting she be included. And she had applied herself with a genuine zeal, as well. It had been shocking to him back then, his opinion of the woman still poor, to see her trying so hard to make progress in her quest for literacy. But she had preserved, and now, according to Mash, could read at what she said was a 'fifth grade level'.

Whatever that was.

(Kratos himself was farther along, but he had already been literate - it was just the challenge of learning the language that had held him back, was still holding him back from full literacy of this infuriating new language.)

Medusa was likely in the library. It was where she spent most of her time when not actively charged with something, such as being on watch in the Command Room. Like Avenger, she did not often join them for sparring, though she was a more frequent sight than the other.

He understood it - as Heroic Spirits, their lives were largely consumed with combat, either through the Grail Wars these Mages sought to hold, or from being called by the land itself in its defense. And she had said, many times, that she had only fought those heroes who had invaded the Shapeless Isle in self-defense (at first). Medusa was not like himself, had not been steeped in combat from their earliest days. Even as tired of war as he was, he still found a sort of clarity in the heart of battle. It helped him think. And he enjoyed the honest burn of exertion, be it hunting, exercise, or, yes, combat.

(Some part of Kratos found himself…..disappointed that she did not join them more often. She was fast - fast in a manner that he had not faced often. Not as fast as say, Hermes, but quicker than the others he sparred with these days. The variety, he felt, would keep his skills sharp.)

And for his other two subordinates? They, of course, were fighting.

Altera stood in what seemed like the eye of a hurricane, as Cu Chulainn blurred around her, circling, his movements blindingly fast, kicking up dust with every movement. Runes flared on his limbs, boosting his speed to tremendous levels (though, still slower than his Lancer self - or so the main claimed) as he feinted continuously, drew close, only to immediately withdraw, trying to keep the Saber off-balance.

Altera, for her part, looked almost….bored. Or, her usually blank expression was as close to bored as Kratos had ever seen it. But that boredom (if it was that) did not filter down to any part of the rest of her body language. Her sword was raised into a ready position, held steady, not reacting to any of the Caster's feints or ploys. And Kratos could see her legs were tense, ready to spring in a direction at a moment's notice.

At last, Cu seemed to have tired of his endless feints (or he had just been enjoying the increased speed he was utilizing - the man's complaints about how slow he was as a Caster had not abated in the least, and they had been abundant since their first meeting), and he finally committed to an attack. He stepped in, into Altera's zone, just behind her, staff leading. Then, between one step and another, he blurred, his speed increasing sharply.

And then, he was in front of her, already pivoting to attack. His staff flashed low, seeking to entangle Altera's feet, vines already beginning to sprout from the weapon's head, as his back foot planted, and a kick screamed high.

Altera's head dipped as she moved. The kick never came close to her, as her counter came even faster than Cu's movements. With one hand, she swept her sword across, severing the vines that were seeking her legs, ending that threat.

Then, with her other hand, she simply pistoned a fist straight into Cu Chulainn's nose.

There was a crunching noise, one that was all too familiar to the Spartan, and Cu Chulainn was sent sprawling, rolling end over end into the dirt.

Altera lowered her fist, which was spattered with some of the Irishman's blood. "All that movement, what purpose did it serve?"

From his prone position, Cu groaned. "It was SUPPOSED to put you off-balance!" His hand reached up to probe his nose, and, after a moment, he swore. "Morrigan's frigid teats, woman, you hit like my damn TEACHER!"

Kratos grunted, a touch of amusement coloring his voice. "You failed to notice her eyes." Cu's head swivelled around to stare right at Kratos. "She never ceased to track you. Your feints were not fooling her."

"Yes," said Altera, with a nod. "Then, there was an opening so large that I believed you were simply asking me to take it." A shrug. "So I did. I assumed that was where the actual feint was. Apparently, I was wrong."

Cu flopped down to the ground. "Serves me right, for getting so caught up in the rush of being fast again." He reached up and roughly shoved his nose back into place, then snorted, coloring the front of his robes a messy mixture of red-yellow. His back planted against the ground, and he kipped up, effortlessly.

"Just means I need to keep practicing with this. When I learned this little trick from my teacher, I never thought I'd end up having to actually USE it." He rolled his shoulders in a little half-shrug. "I have access to all the runes as a Lancer, but I don't have much call to actually USE them like this. Mostly it's just a tracking or warding spell for my Lancer self, once in a blue moon. If I ended up trying to boost my already impressive as hell Lancer-speed, my Spirit Origin might not be able to handle it."

A grunt of agreement rumbled over the Caster, as Kratos idly looked over to where Fujimaru was……currently dangling from a bar, attempting to heave her body up over it. And failing miserably, from all appearances (her arms were wobbling dangerously), even with the added…..incentive - or motivation, being added by whatever Chiron was saying to her.

And the fact that Shuten was staring over at the girl with a calculating look on her face, so Kratos could only imagine what the oni might be speaking into the girl's mind as…….what she might consider 'encouragement'.

"So," began Cu, as he eyed them each in turn. "Who's next? I'm not about to let a broken nose keep me from getting my fill of fighting for the day."

Kratos was weighing in his mind if he trusted Altera to spar with Shuten without it devolving into something far more violent than mere sparring should be, when his communicator chimed, over from where he had hung it from a branch.

As he seized the object, Romani's image flickered into being. "Kratos," he began. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's been a development."

"Romani," he acknowledged. "Speak."

"We've found the next Singularity - we don't have an exact lock on the year, but we've got the location." Romani's eyes were fixated somewhere off to the side, and Kratos could hear voices in the background, despite the communicator's apparent ability to filter out extraneous noises. He assumed the Command Room was a hotbed of activity at the moment. "It's London, one of the two possibilities we discussed a few days ago."

"When do we depart?" asked Kratos, aware of how all the Heroic Spirits had stilled, each and every one of them no doubt listening intently to the conversation unfolding.

"Not today, that's for certain," answered Romani. "As I said, we still don't have the exact year, though we should have that, barring complications, before the night shift is done. But even if we had it right now, I'd be delaying the Rayshift until tomorrow morning. Better you set out once you're well-rested and recovered from tonight's training."

Fujimaru, who had given up her battle with the bar above her and collapsed to the ground, wheezed out something about Romani saying 'training', when the correct word was 'torture', but neither man paid any attention to her.

For his part, Kratos could understand the man's reasoning, even if he would have preferred to set out immediately, had that been an option. That all was not in place made it moot. "Very well," he rumbled, as Romani nodded, and ended the call, obviously anxious to get back to the still undone work that was demanding his attention.

Cu was frowning, though good-naturedly. "I guess that means that's it for tonight, then. Don't want to risk one of us being put on the shelf when we've got a Singularity looming." He shook his head. "Damn shame, but I suppose I'll get some action soon, if this one's like the last one."

"Promises promises, Hound," lilted Shuten, her eyes eager. "But I will admit to being….very curious to see what a proper battle to save Humanity looks like. The records you keep are…" Her lips pursed, as she thought. "Sparse. And dry. They do not do the telling any favors, not for such enemies as a combined Servant of Kratos' world, or these demons."

"We shall see," he muttered. Given the escalation they had seen so far, it was very possible that even the oni would get enough violence to quell her desires in the upcoming campaign. He glanced at them, though his attention was mostly directed at Mash. "Go, rest. It may be the last time we will be able to do so, without the fear of enemies looming."

"Yes sir," said Mash, as she dismissed her armor, and turned to look over at her Master.

Chiron gave a sigh that was just a touch theatrical, Kratos felt. "While I had a few hours left before I would release you for the evening, my student, our good doctor is right. It is best you get a light meal and then sleep as much as you can, before we once again walk the campaign trail."

"And thank all my hometown's kami for that," she groaned, extending a hand up. "Mash, can I get a hand up? I'm telling my body to move, but it's just asking me why it should, after I put it through all that abuse in such a short time frame."

"Come on, Senpai," said Mash, as she pulled the girl up. "Let's get you back to your room."

Slowly, they began shuffling out, all heading their separate ways, leaving Kratos alone with Altera - an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent, as the woman, at times, almost seemed to be studying him. Or at the least, simply curious about the man who she was bound to.

Like now, when she was staring directly at him. "Kratos. Will I be accompanying you for this battle? Or will I be remaining here?"

"I have not yet decided." His voice was quiet, his mind having been weighing options ever since Romani had confirmed that they had located a Singularity. "We do not know what, if any, restrictions we will be operating under. Nor do we know the conditions there." Not that they had ever had that information prior to a deployment, and he suspected this time would follow in the established pattern. It would be a pleasant surprise - something that was rare enough in the Spartan's life, if this time turned out to be different.

Altera's expression seemed to mirror some of his thoughts. "A lack of information is not Good Civilization. Even the Huns, for all that those that opposed them saw them as mere barbarians, knew that."

"Romani provides us as much as he can. Were it in his power, he would see it done." Kratos had heard more than one tirade from Da Vinci at how hard Romani was working himself - how she'd been forced to make the man eat and sleep at times, during their campaigns. And in the less hectic times between, as well. Perhaps it was because his first calling was that of a doctor, but Romani was carrying the burden of all their lives and well-being, and had shouldered it of his own accord.

Kratos hoped the weight would not crush him before this war ended. But that was the burden of Command.

He understood that, all too well.

"More would be better, but one cannot battle with the army they wish to have, only the force they have." Her head tilted. "What should I do now, then?"

"Rest." From somewhere within himself, deeply buried, he felt the very beginnings of the urge to roll his eyes, as Altera began to protest. (He blamed Avenger's influence on his mind.) "I am aware Heroic Spirits do not get tired, not as mortals do," he said, unsubtly reminding her that what he said about her also, in some way, applied to himself as well. "But as you noted, we do not know the situation we will be facing tomorrow. Take what time you have, now, to center yourself, and prepare for the coming battle."

When her face did not shift from the largely blank expression that was her default, some part of him groaned, deep inside his soul. His wife had been the one to rebuild him from a broken shell, from Olympus' shattered weapon, and even still, some days he barely felt like a complete person. And now, another looked to him for something similar?

The Fates of this world, be they the Norns or the Fates of his homeland, were laughing at him, he suspected.

"Eat," he began, choosing his words carefully. "Enjoy the food as more than just fuel for the body, for you may not get another chance for many days, or weeks. Shower - and be ready to greet the beginning of the campaign in as peak a condition as you can manage." He shrugged, words beginning to fail him. "If there is something you wish to do, something that will clear your mind, help you to focus, or…..just to help you relax, do it."

He thought back. "A Traveller I once met carved wooden figures before battles. He said it helped him hone his mind for the coming conflict. If there is something like that for yourself, now is the time for it."

Baldur. Lev Lainur. And the possessed Herakles - all of them flashed before his mind's eye in an instant. "Because I feel that whatever awaits us, it will be worse than the battle you saw at the end of the last campaign."

Altera's stare had only intensified as he had talked. "And what do you do, Kratos, to relax? When you are not here, sparring with us?"

The question took him off-guard. "I have little time that is my own." Which was the truth, even if he had said it in an effort to gather his thoughts. Between his lessons, training Mash, and taking his turn guarding the Command Room, Kratos found his time occupied. "But I have always preferred to be kept…active. What little remains…."

He shrugged. "I maintain my weapons. But, of late, now that I am beginning to understand the language, I have been….reading."

He had always enjoyed plays, once, long ago. But the 'movies' of the current day were far too removed from the style he was used to for him to properly enjoy them. At least if they were all similar to the one that Medusa had shown him. Written stories, at least, had changed little, despite the hundreds of years since Sparta's day, and that this was an entirely different world.

Altera seemed to be considering something. "I seem to recall enjoying the music, when the Huns would celebrate after a victory." Her nose wrinkled. "I chafed at the delay, as there was so much Bad Civilization left to destroy, but the music….." She whistled something - it sounded horribly off-key (or simply out of practice, or merely unpracticed) to Kratos' admittedly untalented ear, but it was done with a sense of familiarity. Through their link, he got a hazy flash of…something. Men (ones that put him in mind of the Barbarian King and his forces) drinking, howling to the skies, while around them, campfires crackled.

Altera was staring at the walls, but from her eyes, Kratos could tell she was not truly seeing them, was staring into her past. ".....I still recall it, clearly."

"Perhaps it is something to explore," he said. "Though, do not look to Avenger….or Shuten, for recommendations." A grunt, as she turned a perplexed look at him. "I am unsure if I would trust their….taste, in musical selections."

---

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM

THE NEXT MORNING​

"London." Fujimaru shook her head. "And here I thought if I ever saw that city, it would be as a guest of Gordy's. Mainly since there was no chance I'd ever be accepted by the Clock Tower as a student." She glanced over to their resident Clock Tower Lord. "Any advice you can give us, as a native, Lord El-Melloi II?"

"Bring layers," he began, his voice dry. "Most days, it is cold and wet. Miserably so. I hope that the timeframe will not land us in the winter months, which are even more intolerably frigid."

"Thankfully, it appears to be towards the end of spring," commented Romani. "Close enough to summer that you might miss out on some of the worst of the continual drizzle." He frowned. "Though, going by my time there, probably not."

"So, expect to give the umbrellas I'm having Mash pack a fair amount of use!" chirped Da Vinci.

"I lived through Fimbulwinter," rumbled Kratos. "Simple rain will not bother me."

Mash raised her hand. "I have a question. Given that we're Rayshifting to a population center in London, and it's right in the Victorian Era….."

She trailed off, biting her lower lip. "They were very…..prudish about showing skin back then. Shuten and Altera can astralize if need be, while the rest of us will be able to blend in, more or less. Some more than others." Her eyes slowly slid over to Sakamoto and the El-Melloi, who were covering the 'more' in that statement. As for the 'less'.... "But….what about Mr. Kratos?"

Da Vinci gave an awkward little laugh, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "Ah….about that….."

---

 

EARLIER

DA VINCI'S WORKSHOP​

"How are you finding the fit?"

Da Vinci's workshop had seen a bit of a change in the past few hours. A rolling rack, groaning under the weight of several outfits, had been wheeled in, and three curtained partitions had been set up, though, now, the Universal Genius was wondering what she had been thinking, given the three people in question had about as much modesty as your average stray cat.

Kratos, at least, despite his tendencies (and she still remembered, vividly, the show she had gotten when she'd first presented him with the set of wyvern-scale armor), had eventually utilized the privacy screens, more as a example to Altera, who'd been dully confused at the purpose of the cloth curtains. But she'd understood the explanation for them when it had been given, and had retreated behind them when Kratos had, following his example.

Shuten, on the other hand, had not, scoffing at all of them and their 'human peculiarities', and had proceeded to change right where she was standing. No more than Da Vinci should have expected, really, once she'd thought about it.

Her question hadn't been directed at any one of them, more generally at all of them, but by virtue of her standing right in her sight, Shuten was one she could make the most immediate judgements of. The dress she'd handed her was deep purple, a similar shade as the robes the oni usually wore (for certain values of the word 'wore'), but darker. The skirt, as fitting for the style of the times, ballooned around her legs in a bell shape - and was long enough to almost drag the floor, which would effectively hide that Shuten had outright disdained the wearing of shoes with this outfit. Long, elbow length gloves of the same hue would hide her sharp claws, and a bonnet that had slots for her horns would disguise the last obviously inhuman parts of her.

Shuten did a little spin, then slunk across the room, one end to the other, clearly testing her range of motion. "This……frippery. Certainly different from the robes and kimonos of my time." She raised a hand, considering each finger, sheathed in silk. "At once more and less confining than a proper kimono. So curious….."

Her head tilted to the side, then she frowned. "No. I don't believe I like it." She began sliding the gloves off her hands, tossing them aside, before she began to slither out of the dress itself. "It was an interesting curiosity, but I will not be hiding and attempting to pretend to be some mewling human, no matter the novelty."

Her lips pursed, and she paused, the dress hanging from her outstretched foot, frozen in the act of kicking it away. "Though….I do wonder what Kintoki would think if he saw me wearing it. Hmmm……" She nodded. "Yes, I do believe I will be keeping it, all the same."

As she slipped back into her usual robes, there came a shuffling from behind one of the screens, and a scowling Kratos stepped out into view.

The gentleman's suit fit him like a glove, if she said so herself, and she did. She'd long since figured out his measurements, as they were very necessary for crafting armor for the man. The jet black contrasted well against his pale skin, as she'd expected it to. If not for the vivid red tattoo decorating his face, there was the possibility he could have passed for just another titled Englishman, out to walk the streets, even (or maybe despite) how the suit did nothing to hide the sheer amount of bulk it was restraining.

(Some part of her brain was desperately restraining uncontrolled, girlish giggles at the sight of Kratos in a cravat and a top hat, because, going by the look on his face, he would not take kindly to it.)

He shook his head. "No."

She sighed, but honestly, she wasn't surprised. "Just for my own curiosity, do you mind explaining why? Beyond anything that's just personal preference, of course."

"It is tight. Uncomfortable." He grunted. "Armor is often uncomfortable, but that can be borne, knowing it provides a measure of protection in return for that. This….provides none of that, and is infinitely more complicated, and restrictive."

He twisted his body slightly, and Da Vinci thought she heard the material of the suit protesting. "And, it feels as though it will tear if I move with any sort of suddenness." He shook his head again. "No. This will not do."

"Does that mean I can forgo this outfit as well?" asked Altera, from behind the curtain. "I cannot figure out how to wear it. Overly complicated clothing is Bad Civilization."

"If you want," said Da Vinci, inwardly pouting a bit at not getting to see the woman in the outfit she'd designed (though, for the life of her, she couldn't actually remember making these outfits. Not completely unheard of - she'd come out of an inventing fugue more than once with a plethora of new toys that she could only vaguely recall dreaming up.), but knowing a losing battle when she saw one. "You'll draw eyes in London, but knowing our luck, things will get, or be, bad enough, that the people will have more important things to worry about than how you're dressed." A shrug. "Or not dressed, given the three of you."

As the three people went about the business of shedding the provided outfits, and redressing themselves, behind the door to Da Vinci's workshop, hidden from all their eyes (and the cameras), a crane pretending to be a woman resisted the urge to pull out her hair by the roots. Such DIFFICULT customers she had never had before! Completely impossible to satisfy, it was almost enough to make her give up. Never mind how the man-god had absolutely zero idol potential. Not cute at ALL!

But, at the end of the day, 'quit' simply wasn't a word she gave the time of day.

Back to the drawing board it was.

---

"We explored some options, but in the end, couldn't come up with something that worked to everyone's liking," continued Da Vinci. "So we'll just have to hope that no one notices."

Avenger's snicker, echoed, in turn, by Oryou, Fujimaru, and Cu told everyone what the general consensus was on that. And given the half-hearted glare Da Vinci sent at the lot of them, it was clear she agreed, at least somewhat.

"Anyways, Fujimaru, here's your reload of bullets for the Singularity. Given how frantic things got last time, we put a priority on the nano-darts, and managed to squeeze out five for you." She glanced over to Cu. "And I put a similar, ahem, emphasis on Cu to replenish your fire-shots, since you used an entire clip in one encounter in the manor basement."

"What she means is she threatened me with dire fates if I didn't at least carve out six new Ansuz rounds for you before we left today," drawled Cu, through a lazy grin. "Like that was supposed to do anything. Woman seems to forget that I've been threatened by the scariest hag this side of both worlds. Frequently and often."

He flicked a small box over to Fujimaru. "But I came through all the same. I'd say don't use them all at once, but you had plenty of good reasons last time, so I won't be bothered if you need to burn something down in a hurry again."

As Fujimaru secured her ammunition, Kratos turned to Romani. "What else can you tell us of our destination?" He paused, then asked another question. "And are there blocks on who can accompany us, as it was with Liz's Singularity?"

"No barriers to entry, thankfully," said Romani. "So it'll be entirely up to your discretion who you bring along for the initial Rayshift. As for the Servant load, the upgrades Da Vinci made after the last proper Singularity held during our last deployment, so you each should be able to take two Servants with you - in addition to Mash, who remains necessary for establishing connections with the Leylines."

"As to the when," continued Romani, as Da Vinci preened at the praise that had been directed her way. "It's London, 1888. Very much the Victorian Age. Given that London was the capital of what was probably the most powerful, and far-reaching empire in the world at that time, the possibilities for what they might have changed are, frankly, endless."

"As a tentative plan, we could consider making contact with the Clock Tower of the time," began the El-Melloi. "They would have access to a wealth of information we could utilize should we gain access. Though it would come with drawbacks, not the least of which is that we'd be interacting with the Clock Tower, and the various personalities of the current Lords." He sniffed. "And my status as a Lord, such as it is, would be less than useless given we will be jumping into a time hundreds of years before I'm abducted into my current situation." His frown grew more severe. "And, even if we manage to impress upon them the severity of the situation, we cannot rule out that, out of sheer blindness, or motivated self-interest, they still might choose to hinder us in some insane bid to reach the Root."

"Frankly, Twiggy, having my gums scraped sounds like a better plan," interjected Avenger. "It's not quite like we'd be serving ourselves up on a silver platter, but do we really want to risk some fuckwit Mage thinking if he dissects Grumps there he might learn something important, and throwing a wrench right into our plans at the worst possible fucking moment?"

"I don't disagree," said the El-Melloi. "But I felt I should broach the topic, all the same. I share your apprehension about making contact with the Clock Tower of the time, but our options may be so thin, or deteriorate to such a state that we are left no choice. And if we are forced to walk into such a situation, we are doing so with eyes fully open."

"Probably better to gain what information we can on the streets, first," said Chiron. "Take the lay of the land from the eyes of the regular people. Assuming our enemies are taking the same sort of approach they took in the previous Singularities, there will be some large disturbance that people will not fail to notice."

"Avenger trying to burn down France, and then an entire other Roman Empire were not subtle in the least," mumbled Medusa. "And the return of the Argonauts would have been widely noted in a more populated Singularity than the last."

Cu nodded. "And don't forget the burning city you pulled me out of, after Saber got corrupted, went crazy, and started killing everyone. I don't think we'll have to look long and hard before we figure out what we'll need to do to set history right."

"Then, that makes my choices for who's on my starting lineup easy," said Fujimaru. "Lord El-Melloi II, since you can blend in the best, and you've got experience figuring out mysteries and puzzles. And Chiron, so he can add his big brain to yours - and because we'll probably want some ranged punch to go with whatever beef Kratos is bringing along."

"Cu Chulainn," began Kratos. The man in question perked up, an excited light beginning to awaken in his eyes. The druid would have versatility they lacked - and would be additional ranged support should they need it. As for his other….. "Altera."

There were more than a few questioning looks being directed his way. "There has been little time since she was summoned, and she was unable to deploy to Liz's castle. If she is to fight as one of us, I must take her measure, the same as I did with Medusa, when she was still unknown to me."

And, somewhat, he was unsure how well she would do if left to her own devices. Most likely, she would merely sit in her room, the lights off, until she was called for. And, if he was truly serious about trying to teach her how to be more than just a tool, a weapon, that was not behavior he felt he should be encouraging.

Altera, for her part, merely nodded. "New Civilization. I am curious where it falls."

Romani looked at each of them in turn. "Are we all settled then?" A chorus of nods had him continue. "Then, for the fourth time now, your orders are to Rayshift to London in the year 1888, identify the distortion that has caused it to deviate into a Singularity, and resolve that, while retrieving the Holy Grail there." He licked his lips. "There are no secondary objectives to speak of, though, any information you can discover on our enemies would be a boon, but not one I'm expecting."

He ran a hand through his hair. "We're still operating at a massive information imbalance. Thanks to Lev, our enemies know almost everything about us, and as we've seen, they've been actively working to correct the few gaps in their knowledge, as Lev did with that Archer. I still can't believe that our enemies are the Demons of the Ars Goetia, but I can't deny it anymore, with all the evidence to the contrary piling up. So we need to know HOW that is possible. It could shine a light on the power controlling them that they've alluded to, and give us something to start on in the area of prospective countermeasures."

He shrugged. "Again, not something I'm expecting you to be able to discover over the course of this Singularity, but something to keep in mind."

He blew out a long breath. "And then, there's one final piece of business." He turned to Mash. "I am hereby forbidding the use of your sword, unless the situation is well and truly dire."

He waved a hand through the air, cutting off anything the girl might have been about to say. "The damage it did to you…..you're simply too vital to our ongoing operations to risk in such a manner. If it comes to the choice between death, or drawing it, you have my permission, but otherwise, I want it to stay in its sheath."

He laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I won't….can't tell you not to fight. But that sword….it's too much power for you, and far too fast. I saw what unleashing it did to your body. Until we understand it better, and can possibly devise a way for you to NOT shoulder the brunt of such a massive blowback, please…..don't use it."

[He isn't wrong, girl. I only allowed it because the situation against that….thing, and the future implications were untenable without drawing the Sword of Strange Hangings. But unless we get a repeat of that mess, I won't be allowing you to use the blade. So your doctor can stop worrying.]

"I agree," rumbled Kratos. "Power, all power, comes with a price. But shortcuts, like this blade, always ask for far too much. Perhaps you will be ready to wield that power, in the future. But not now."

"Alright," said Mash, a touch of frustration in her voice. "I understand."

"Ok." Romani's hands smacked together. "Then, if you'll get down to the Coffins, we'll begin the countdown to the Rayshift."

Within a few minutes, Kratos was once again crammed into the cold metal of the coffin, Axe resting on his chest, as the lid slid down and sealed him into the dark.

Counting his breaths, he closed his eyes, and waited, only dimly aware of the count echoing through the chamber.

It was only when he felt the sensation of pulling that his eyes jerked open, to behold that endless corridor of blue.

And then he was gone.

---

He smelled smoke. Charred wood. And ruin.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, as his sight slowly came back to him, Kratos felt the Leviathan Axe in his hand, some part of him already on the alert, even before he had fully come back to himself.

Then his vision fully returned, and he realized why.

They had arrived in what appeared to be a town square of some sort. Large buildings, of wood, mostly, but here and there were a few constructed of stone, towered over them, the eaves casting long shadows. It was sometime in the evening, though what time, he could not say, as the moon and the stars were shrouded by a thick fog, one that surrounded them, coiling around their bodies.

But it was not thick enough to disguise the damage to the surrounding buildings.

Here and there, doors hung from the jamb askew, shattered, if not torn completely off the hinges. More windows were broken, jagged panes of glass hanging in the frames, than not. A handful of buildings were burned out ruins, barely still standing. Thankfully, it seems the fire had not spread - a blessing given how clustered the structures were.

And in spots, on the cobblestone streets, leaked down a window, or across the threshold of the shattered doorsteps, there was blood. Old, dried blood.

And they were alone. Indeed, other than the sound of his companions, the night was silent. He could not even hear any of the animal sounds he would expect of a city, no barking dogs, the caws of a crow, nothing. It was a hungry, predatory silence, and likely the very thing that had put him on edge, before his senses had fully restored themselves.

"What….." Fujimaru was glancing around, her face puzzled. "What happened here?"

"This does not appear to be a city," stated Altera. "It appears more like what was left after the Huns were done with one, and had moved on."

Kratos opened his mouth, intending to warn them all to be on their guards, when his head suddenly spun. And he coughed.

"Kratos, you…" Cu, mid turn, stumbled, and had to catch himself. "What….what the hell…"

Mash had stiffened, and her shield was suddenly in her hands. "Are we under attack?"

The El-Melloi was wobbling on his feet, but his eyes were hard and alert. "No…..this feels like…." His breath caught in his throat, and he wheezed. "The fog….I think it's poisonous!"

Mash's eyes widened, and she immediately began rummaging around in her shield. With frantic haste, she pulled a box out from within its confines, and practically tore the top off of it. "Gas masks! They're part of the standard supplies I've been carrying, in case we encountered a hazardous environment! Everyone take one!"

She did not wait for them to take the objects, almost throwing them at each of them. The device was unfamiliar to Kratos, but he could guess at its function - and having others there to follow their example did not hurt. That, and the 'mask' in their title made their properties somewhat self-explanatory. Quickly, he settled the thing over his face, covering his mouth and nose, and took a careful breath.

The dizziness was passing. And he felt his breaths coming easier.

Something that seemed to be shared with the rest of the party. The El-Melloi and Cu both looked steadier than they had, and the color was returning to Chiron's face. Mash, for her part, was holding Fou, who was weakly hacking, by the scruff of his neck. "I'm sorry, but we don't have a mask your size, Fou. You're going to have to stay in the shield until we find somewhere where the air is safe to breathe." Worriedly, she gently placed the animal into her shield.

"Mash," began Fujimaru. "Why isn't the fog affecting you?" When the girl jerked her head up, blinking confusedly, Fujimaru continued. "In all the rush you did handing those things out, and getting Fou stowed away…..you never put your own mask on."

Mash's eyes widened. "And you're not showing any of the signs the rest of them were, either, when the fog started affecting them. No coughs, no stumbling….."

The girl shook her head. "I was so worried about you all I just….didn't think of myself. But…." She drew herself up, and took a deep breath, then took a few steps, her legs steady. "I feel fine."

"Romani has our vitals monitored," said Chiron. "We should make sure we can contact him anyways, to let him know we've successfully Rayshifted. He can tell us if the fog is affecting Mash in some other manner."

The grunt Kratos let out was muffled in an odd manner by the mask, but Chiron was right. Kratos quickly hit the button on his communicator that would connect them. A moment later, Romani's worried face sprang into being.

"Kratos! What happened? Nearly everyone's vitals just SPIKED alarmingly, before settling down!" The man craned his head around, as though he were trying to look around at all of them. "What's going on there?" He blinked, only just now taking in the mask on Kratos' face. "Wait….why are you…."

"The city appears abandoned," began Kratos. "There are signs of fighting, though I cannot say how recently. And we are surrounded by a thick fog - it appears to be poisonous, based on how it affected us."

"All of us but Mash," said Fujimaru. "She forgot to put on her own gas mask when she was handing them out, and she doesn't seem to be suffering any ill effects from it."

"That's the thing," said Romani. "When everyone else's vital signs did a nosedive, hers didn't change at all. From everything I can tell, she's fine. Both her, and you, Fujimaru."

There was a pause. "Wait, really?" The girl's forehead scrunched up in thought. "I didn't notice anything wrong before I put the mask on, but….I just thought that it was taking a bit more time to affect me." She stared at Romani. "You're saying I wasn't showing any signs of being poisoned, unlike everyone else?"

"None," said Romani. "We were losing our minds to see everyone's vitals go crazy so soon after a Rayshift, except for the two of you. We halfway thought that you two might have been separated, and dropped into a more stable situation, while everyone else was in some sort of peril, but…."

"Yeah, everyone's here." She let out a deep breath, one that rattled in her mask. "Ok, I'm going to try something that's possibly very stupid. Watch my vitals."

Carefully, she reached up to her mask, and pulled it away from her face, and took a single, deep breath. Inhale, exhale, then repeat.

After about a minute, she looked around. "I feel the same. What's my health monitor look like?"

"No change," said Romani. "Why would the two of you be immune?"

"It could have something to do with the Shielder class," chimed in Da Vinci. "It's a class we don't know much about, but it could be that a resistance to poisons is something inherent to the Shielder Class. And it can be passed on to their Master, like how Mash has gained some of Fujimaru's Sight. Just in reverse."

"Ok. That's something we're going to have to test, later, but for now…." He groaned. "Keep the masks on, both of you. Just in case. Better not to rely on this ability unless you have to. Not until we understand what limits it might have."

As Fujimaru slid her mask back onto her face, and Mash retrieved hers from the box, Romani turned to Kratos. "You said that there's signs of fighting?"

Kratos nodded. "Altera described it as though it had been sacked. It is an apt comparison. And we see no one. It is quiet. Almost completely silent."

"London should never be either of those things. Empty or quiet." Romani's hand reached up to cup his chin. "It might be that our worst-case scenario of having to throw ourselves on the mercy of the Clock Tower of this time has come far sooner than we'd like."

"But you'll need to find shelter, and fast. Those masks aren't meant to be worn constantly. They'll last for hours, but the filters will eventually degrade if they aren't cleaned. Da Vinci designed them for temporary use in a toxic environment, not 24/7 use." Romani's mouth was a thin line. "If nothing else, there should be some strong Bounded Fields in the Clock Tower that can hold back this fog. Or, if there aren't, they can be modified by our Casters to keep it out."

"Then that is where we shall go." Not a plan Kratos was terribly fond of, but in the absence of better options, it was likely to be the best they had. They would desperately need a safe ground to use as a base from which to strike out from, if the entire city was covered by this fog.

"I can lead you, though it shouldn't be too necessary," said the El-Melloi.  He gestured upwards.  "Even through the fog, you can still see Big Ben - the actual Clock Tower has a replica of it, and the halls of Parliament that they're based around.  It's to the north of here, not a long walk, but not close, either.  We'll find entrances as we get closer, some underground.  Though, if they are still occupied, and the city truly is as deserted as it appears, they will see us coming."

"We should move, then," said Chiron. "Even with my Master's apparent immunity to the poison, I would feel better once we have reliable shelter. Nothing about this situation sits well with me."

A feeling that Kratos shared.

Without another word, they set out, heading straight for the clock tower that they could faintly see through the fog. Or, as straight as they could, given the winding roads of this city.

"It's not on fire, but this is really reminding me of Fuyuki," muttered Fujimaru, from the center of their formation (Kratos leading, with Mash and Cu to either side of him, Fujimaru in the center, the El-Melloi walking beside her, with Chiron and Altera serving as rearguard). "And very much not in a good way. Not that I have any good memories of that place."

"You're not wrong, lass," hissed Cu, his head darting from side to side. "Something bad happened there, and I'm getting the same vibe from this place. Stay on your toes."

Kratos' low grunt of agreement rumbled over them all as they continued, deeper into the city. All around them it was the same. Abandoned buildings without the slightest sign of life, most, if not all of them, showing the scars of recent combat. Those that were still standing, at least, though truly gutted, or toppled buildings were uncommon, at best. Whatever had happened here, wanton destruction was not the end goal.

Nothing about this felt right.

The El-Melloi was looking around, his face twisted in concentration. "The landmarks are somewhat different, but I think we're coming up on what would be SoHo. From there, the Clock Tower should be due…"

"Wait." Chiron's voice was a whisper, but it cut through the fog like a knife. "Noises. Slightly ahead of us." His eyes narrowed, as he attempted to peer through the gloom. "And they do not sound human."

"On your guards," growled Kratos, raising the Leviathan Axe, his body tensing, his ears just starting to pick up the sounds that had altered Chiron.

It was a long few moments, but slowly, steadily, the noises drew closer. Metal on metal. Whirring sounds, almost like wheels, set to some kind of continual spinning. And hisses - not the sound an animal would make, but more artificial. And all of them were far too coordinated, too smooth to be from a living thing.

One by one, they melted out of the fog. At a glance, they almost seemed like humans, at least until one truly looked at how they moved - far too fluid, without any of the unnecessary, all too human movements that living creatures could not help but make. These things moved with an economy of motion that was purely unnatural, that would have raised the hackles of any who looked upon them, long before a better view could expose them for what they were.

"They're like…..dolls," came Fujimaru's whispered utterance. And Kratos could not help but agree with the girl.

Their bodies were white, predominantly, covered in a metal that seemed more akin to fired clay than steel. Arms, long enough to drag at the ground, dangled at their sides, fingers tipped with wicked claws. For a reason known only to whomever had forged them, they had been made to resemble females.

And their blank, empty faces were locked onto the group from Chaldea.

"More coming from behind," stated Altera, her sword beginning to glow dimly, pushing the gloom around them back, though only just a bit.

If the dolls were eerily close enough to humans to be off putting, these things bore only the most superficial resemblance to man. More humanoid than anything, they bore arms, legs, a head, and a torso, but that was where the resemblance ended. Their heads were thick, massively square things, more akin to a helmet than a human skull, nor was there anything that could even be called a face. Simply four holes that might be what passed for eyes for the creatures. The arms were thick, ending in massive paws that could easily wrap around Kratos' torso, possibly with room to spare. A massive blade, as long as their wielders were tall, was held in one hand, the edge of the thing jagged, like a saw.

And they did not raise their legs to move, instead, rolling forward, as though wheels had been hidden within the bounds of their feet.

As opposed to the dolls, and their almost complete lack of any noise, these things were the source of the hissing they had heard. Steam seemed to issue from the machines almost constantly, from the joints, out of their backs, in between their chest plates.

Where the dolls seemed more delicate, almost artistic, in a way, these machines were covered in thick metal plates, and seemed made for a much more brutal purpose.

There was a crack, almost like a plate splitting, and then, one of the dolls hinged open a square mouth, and began to speak in a cold, mechanical voice.

"SURVIVORS SPotTED. ANAlyZING…..AnaLYZYING…."

"NoT SURVIVORS……." One of the squat machines behind them spoke, it's voice every bit as dead and inhuman as the doll's. "SCaNNing…..SErVAnTS dETECTED. SERvants….AND…..Annnnd…"

A squeal of alarm issued from each and every one of the machines surrounding them. "DIVINITY DETEcted. dIvinity DETectED! ProtOCOL OMEGA actiVATED!"

The alarm shrieked louder, peaking into almost painful territories.

And the machines CHANGED.

Armored plates slid back, exposing a glowing mass at the hearts of the things, before their forms began to shift, their already abnormal bodies becoming even more bizarre.

Most of the dolls gained height, while losing mass, their already thin forms becoming almost knife-slender. Wires sprouted from their skulls, flowing down their backs in some sort of parody of human hair, while their features sharpened, becoming pointed and keen, their ears losing their roundness and tapering off into dagger's edges. Their hands slid apart, a thin, needle like blade shooting out from within their frames, before their hands slid back together, and fingers closed around the hilts.

Some of the hissing, steam-powered machines dropped to all fours, their bodies losing what little appearance of humanity they had possessed, instead, becoming something more bestial - more canine. Electricity crackled around them, as they pawed at the ground, their four eyes still fixed on the Chaldeans.

Others shrank, becoming even more squat, more dense, as their forms compressed. To Kratos, they looked almost like the Nokken, but thicker, more muscular, their feet shod in heavy, iron boots. They had something that passed for a face now, but an ugly, brutish one, a thick sloping brow hiding red eyes, and a bulbous, round nose.

And the last…..

It had been a doll, once, but gray, instead of white. Now, it was….

It had grown wings, and taken to the air. Many, many sets of wings. Almost as many as it had heads. Some of them human, others, animal - Kratos saw a lion amongst the menagerie, but a lion's head that bared teeth that were backwards at him. It was alien, incomprehensible.

Extraordinary.

With a voice that sounded like a horn, booming around them, it spoke.

"KILL THEM ALL."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And now we begin London.

Tokyo's priest is completely an invention of my own, but I assume Kirei wasn't the only priest assigned to the whole of Japan, even despite Japan having a tiny Christian population overall.

That catalyst is so important to Waver I always assumed, as a Servant, he came with it. Hence, the above.

I do wonder if Shuten could no-sell the attack that, so far, no demon/oni has no-sold in Demon Slayer, the Dread Tanjiro Kamodo Headbutt of Doom(™).

Don't recall if they gave a seasonal when for London - all the fog made it largely moot. But I chose late spring.

Re: Miss Crane - Given that she's the reason behind all the Spiritron Dresses, both before and after the Idol Collab Event, only everyone THOUGHT it was Da Vinci making them beforehand, given the bits in her Legend to where she MUST leave if she's seen working, but, at the same time, there's no way Chaldea would just TRUST some random clothes that appear out of nowhere, I assumed there had to be some kind of perception filter or mental magic going on to make them overlook this. Mind, admittedly, Roman was the one who gave her the LOSTROOM where she was holed up for Part 1, so there's also that.

Now, to try to pull me a Yae Miko, after I got Raiden's spear yesterday. If only Mauvika wasn't coming back soon, I'd try for more Raidens.

Chapter 58: London 2

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 58​

Chiron's intake of breath cut through the foggy night like a gunshot. "What in the world…."

Beside him, the El-Melloi had gone stiff. "Those things…..the ones that shifted into canine forms. They resemble Black Dogs." His eyes were hard, but carrying an underlying panic. "I've seen them before - fought them before. Be very, very careful."

For Kratos, the machines that had become the thin, graceful warriors immediately brought him back to Alfheim - the second trip, when the Light Elves had first raised their weapons against him. The doll-machines had looked fast, even before their transformation. Now, hollowed out, sharp and deadly in the same manner as a well-forged blade, Kratos somehow knew that they would be even faster.

Then there was the incomprehensible….thing, that hovered over them all, as its soldiers moved to attack.

Kratos ended up being right - the Machine Elves appeared to be just as fast as their Light Elf counterparts.

Skipping, dancing, cartwheeling, four of them descended upon him, their thin blades jabbing forward, at his eyes, at his joints, one even sweeping across in an attempt to gut him. Each attack perfectly in step with the others, a whirling, coordinated dance of death.

He'd already slid the Leviathan Axe back into its harness - it would be too slow, too ponderous to handle these things, even with his shield. The fog hissed around him, as, with a gust of swirling wind, Draupnir formed in his hands.

He moved quickly. Planting his feet, he swept Draupnir up, the tip catching the points screaming for his eyes, and sending them away. He angled the haft just so, to repel the disemboweling strike, metal bouncing off hardened wood.

And the last attack, the one targeting his shoulder, looking to cripple his left arm? It did not slip past his shield, as the metal snapped into place.

And Kratos was not still.

He stepped into the block, even as the tip of the blade scraped off his shield, the other three would-be elves already wheeling their blades about, bringing them back in line for another attack. The sword pressing against his shield was knocked aside, effortlessly, the weapon not having the weight to resist his push. His momentum carried him forward, his legs pumping, outpacing the machine, which was quickly trying to back away.

It failed.

To its credit, it twisted at the last second, before Kratos' shield careened into it, turning what would have been a full charge into the chest into a more glancing blow, one that merely clipped its shoulder as it dipped low and attempted to spring upwards and away. To Kratos, the impact felt like nothing, far lighter and less substantial than even he had expected - as he had suspected that in gaining speed, they had shed durability along with their bulk.

A spiderweb of cracks and dents bloomed from the center of his blow, as the thing tumbled backwards, riding the razor's edge between control and outright freefall.

Yes, they would not be able to weather his attacks well, not even the glancing blows.

He was stepping back, Draupnir brandished, seeking to keep his enemies outside the reach of his weapon, but the three remaining dolls simply leapt over the spear, their bodies flipping upside down as Draupnir passed below them.

A sword shot forward, and he was forced to lean his head back, his feet halting in their motion, as the strike narrowly passed him by. A hand shot out from a spinning body, closing around the extended blade, grasping it, then using it to vault its body forward, over Kratos' head.

The sword flashed down, scraping across his armor, throwing up sparks, but the wyvern scales held. He fired an elbow back, but the doll used the blade to push off of Kratos' back, sending it flying away from the counter. The third kicked its legs out, thumping them into Kratos' chest, the blow enough to stagger him back, but only a step. It flipped backwards as it fell away, one of its fellows rushing upwards, cupped hands providing a landing spot for its feet.

Mechanical legs tensed, coiling, then the automaton flew forward, its blade a blur of liquid silver.

Kratos threw his body to the side, but only just. A line of fire flared on his face, and he felt wetness begin to drip down his chin, his mask filled with the scent of blood. The thing had opened his cheek up to the bone, with a mere graze.

The two dolls to the front of him leapt forward, one jabbing its sword in the opening salvo of a flurry of lightning quick attacks, one that Kratos repelled with both the tip and the butt of Draupnir, the spear up to the task of defense. The other danced about the flanks, weaving and feinting, before it crouched, briefly, then took to the air.

A foot planted on its fellow's head, then it leapt again, body twisting horizontally, and its sword slashed down, the air itself crying out as it parted around the blade.

Kratos spun Draupnir in his hands, the head slashing across, just missing carving into the torso of the one before him, as he stepped forward, driving it back, and taking himself into the other's zone.

The attack sailed past him, as he brought Draupnir up in a vicious uppercut. At the last second, the doll adjusted its descending attack, its wrist crashing into Kratos' arm - an exchange that the doll took the worst of, as the sound of cracking pottery echoed across the battlefield. But the thing used the blow as a fulcrum, and rocketed itself into the air.

The sound of a mechanical body flying into the air was echoed from behind him, where another lithe form took to the sky.

Two slender hands shot out, grasping each other by the wrist as they met in the air, then, their blades outstretched, they fell. Spinning, faster and faster, tumbling from the sky like a bladed wheel.

Kratos lunged out of the way. He tucked and rolled, springing forward in a second leap, even as the two dolls hit the ground, carving a series of furrows into where the Spartan had been standing. Even as he rose, the other two dolls were already springing forward, dancing, skipping, as though they were as light as air.

At the back of their grouping, Altera stepped up, her sword beginning to thrum with multicolored light. "Behind me, human Master. There are very many of these things."

"We will cover you as best we can," said Chiron, drawing his bow back. "But we will need to remain close to our Master."

"Be careful," muttered Lord El-Melloi II, already starting to breathe heavily through his mask. "The Black Dogs I faced were fast, and cunning. We do not know how much of those traits these things have copied - but I fear their change is more than just for appearance."

Snarling, howling, the mechanical canines charged.

Altera met them head on.

Arrows sailed over her head, driving the dogs apart, and she met them, her blade a shimmering blur, as she lunged forward, her head lowered.

The dogs parted around her approaching form, springing to the side, half the pack beginning to wheel around to her flanks.

Altera jerked back, dodging around a mass of snapping teeth, something akin to oil oozing from their jaws. One dog pounced, and she ducked down, then ripped her sword upwards, the blade carving through the machine's gut - or where the gut would be on a more organic creature.

"Live or Die."

Fujimaru's head was torn away from the battle by the muttered voice. Behind the fray, slowly shuffling around, the iron-shod humanoids were chanting, in a deep, gravelly chorus, feet stomping the ground. What in the world?

Altera snapped a kick out, catching a lunging dog on the nose, causing it to utter a mechanical yelp that was somehow everything of a living dog's bleat of pain, and yet, nothing like it. Shaking its head, the thing pulled back, even as two more hounds slid into her blind spots, one raking at her legs, the other leaping forward, seeking to bear her to the ground.

The Saber swung her extended foot back, reversing its previous motion, and cracking the leaping dog on the jaw, and sending it spinning into the air. Her planted leg tensed, and then she leapt, the slavering maw of the second mechanical canine missing her flesh by inches. Her outstretched leg drew in, and, as she fell, her knee crashed into the machine's skull.

Metal squealed, then groaned, then broke. As it was crushed into the ground, a bark of static, blearing scrapcode, escaped from whatever passed for the machine's vocal systems, as it was mashed into the ground, limbs spasming as its circuits began to misfire.

Altera was already poised to leap away, when yet another dog rammed into her, knocking her to her back.

"Win or Lose."

The goblinoid machines were stomping faster now, their heavy feet causing tremors that Fujimaru could feel, even with the distance separating her from them. "Are they doing some sort of ritual or something?" She raised her gun, which was only loaded with regular bullets at the moment, which probably wouldn't do much to a machine, but she COULD get lucky and hit a vital spot - right?

Lord El-Melloi II was watching them more intently than she was, he'd barely taken his eyes off of them, despite the intense war going on in front of them. "I don't feel any buildup of mana. It could just be some pre-battle ritual - the sort a sporting team has." Despite his words, he didn't sound terribly convinced of them. "But I don't feel we should let them finish it, regardless."

His finger traced a circle in the air, Chinese characters flaring in the wake of the digit. From the yin-yang symbol at the heart, fire erupted, shooting out in a wave at the squat machines.

Who did not so much as move.

Their boots glowed dully, and the fire seemed to lose everything, its heat, its speed, its very will. Weakly, it guttered, sinking in the air, until it impacted those iron shoes, and lost consistency, what little was left of it flowing into the ground.

The Caster's eyes widened. "That's….."

As one, the machines turned their four eyes on the man. "Best beware…….our IRON SHOES!"

There was a whistling in the air that Fujimaru only just BARELY caught. Her reflexes kicked in, honed from her Sensei's many MANY sessions of teaching her to dodge (Avenger had had a few days of what she called 'the best entertainment EVER' from just whistling and watching as Fujimaru instinctively juked to the side. She still needed to figure out how to get her BACK for that. She might enlist Mash - or Shuten, if she was feeling really vindictive, as an accomplice. Either would make sure that the Servant's retribution fell only on her - Avenger would never so much as lay a hand on Mashie, and Shuten was…..terrifying. Then again, Avenger didn't exactly make smart life decisions….), and she leapt to the side, out of what she hoped was the blast zone.

Her teacher, unfortunately, was way too far away for her to shove out to safety. Her hand raised, as she reached out to her Mystic Code. "Emergency Evade!"

Lord El-Melloi II's form was wrapped in a hazy-purple black suit of mana, and he stepped back, body moving, probably like it had never moved before in life. He deftly skittered out of the way of the falling goblin-machine (which appeared to have left from atop one of the nearby buildings), and even weaved in and out of the flying dirt and shattered cobblestones, the man moving so quickly and efficiently it was like he was in Bullet-time. When the haze faded, the boost following in its wake, he didn't have so much as a single new speck of dirt on his suit.

But there was still a squatting brick of a machine right in their midst to deal with.

Chiron sent a stream of arrows into the dog perched over Altera, her head jerking from side to side, just ahead of its drooling jaws, before his form shimmered, and changed. Front legs planted, and he bucked out, hind legs thudding into the goblin-machine's side, with a sound like thunder.

It staggered back a single step. Then began to turn, its feet shaking the ground.

Chiron was already dismissing his bow. "It's IMPOSSIBLY dense!" His form shifted back to human as he ducked under a ponderous haymaker and threw a flurry of hooking punches into the thing's midsection. The metal dented, but the machine simply stepped forward and raised a foot, kicking out with all the slow inevitability of a falling boulder.

Chiron leapt over it, elbow snapping forward into the goblin's face, barely phasing it. A shovel-like hand swiped up, attempting to grasp Chiron around the waist, but he had already slid back, bow forming, arrows thudding into the machine's torso.

"Cover Altera!" he yelled, as the machine continued to advance, uncaring of the shafts quivering in its body. "I fear this will occupy me for a time!"

"Great, but, how?" asked Fujimaru, as Altera kicked the ruined body of the hound off of her, blade flashing a rainbow of colors as the rest of the pack leapt at her. "My gun's probably not going to do much against those things, and the rest of those hulks look like they're about to join in, and they just tanked your fire."

"Grounded." Her head spun around to regard her teacher. "They grounded it. It's something I can do, though I use my hair as the medium, instead of those boots of theirs. But it's going to be hard to affect any of those particular machines with pure magic."

"I don't think either of us is going to be beating those things in a hand-to-hand fight, not with how much trouble that one's giving Sensei." Fujimaru frowned. "Get the dogs down, then let the Saber do her thing with the homicidal gnomes?"

"Probably the best plan we have right now," muttered the Caster. "Aim carefully, though. They're all moving rather fast."

Cu and Mash stared up at the thing that was looming over them, watching the proceedings. It hadn't made a move yet, but neither of them expected that to last.

"Girlie, you ever seen something like that before?" Cu licked his lips, eagerly. "Cause I haven't, and I've fought and killed A LOT of things in my time."

"It looks like an angel," said Mash, her mouth dry. "At least, how they're described in the Bible - and not the winged humanoids people think of nowadays."

"Wonderful." Cu spun his staff around into a ready position. "Any of those things you read tell us how to kill one? Or are we just going with 'beat this thing until it stops moving?' "

The multiple, varied mouths on the thing hinged open, and a cacophony of voices boomed over them. "REPENT! KNEEL AND REPENT!"

Two runes shot over, affixing themselves to Mash's boots, as the winged machine began beating its wings, gaining height. "Those should boost your vertical leap, lass," said Cu, to Mash's questioning look. "You're our up-close fighter for this, and as one of your trainers - I know you can't get up to that thing without a boost. Not to say that I won't try to bludgeon it when I can, but probably better I try to give you some cover than both of us rushing at it headlong."

His teeth were fully bared. "Oh, and here it comes!"

It sounded somewhat like what she thought an airplane might sound like, if she'd ever have the chance to be around when one took off - or landed. Wings beating the air so hard it was vibrating, it descended, lion's paws, bird's talons, and human feet - but ones with hooves instead of toes, all reaching for them, swiping at them.

Cu darted out of the way, fast, but not as fast as she knew he could move. His staff twirled, and fire washed over the thing, but its wings beat faster, and the flames crackling over its form were blown out.

Mash set her feet, and braced herself. Mismatched feet battered against her shield, and her legs bowed, but she remained standing.

The thing was strong, though, and worse, it was big, and heavy. She didn't have the time to spare a glance, but she was almost certain she was sinking into the ground, despite the cobblestones that covered the road.

But her guard held. The machine, for all its terrible complexity, did not seem to think to do anything other than attempt to overpower her with sheer size and force. Had it been like the possessed Herakles, had it used its many limbs to grasp at the edges of her shield, and turn it aside, she could have been in a measure of trouble. But this, a simple conflict of her defense, her will to remain standing, to protect, against the bared wrath of this thing?

This, she could handle.

And, it kept the machine stationary.

His body flew through the air in a white, cackling, arc, as Cu Chulainn took off in a running start and leapt, straight at the thing. Or, more precisely, over it. His staff flashed, sweeping and jabbing as he twisted his body through the razor-maze that was the thing's beating wings. Metallic feathers bent and were knocked free as Cu threaded the needle, using his staff to push himself over a silvery swan's wing, tucking into a ball to barely scrape through the opening made in between the motions of a slim raven's wing that was beating in time with the span of a majestic eagle. And then, once, simply lowering his head and ripping straight through the thin, shimmeringly metal membrane of what could have only been modelled after a dragon's wing.

And then he was through, landing on the cobblestone streets. "Ow," he muttered, wiping a trickle of blood away from his forehead, where his skin had split when he'd headbutted the dragon-wing membrane. "Tough stuff for looking like it was paper-thin."

With an angry howl, the machine pushed back, away from its struggle with Mash, back into the air. "SACRILEGE!" it intoned, wings kicking up swirls of dirt as it gained height.

Cu scoffed. "Yeah, that's quite enough of THAT. So from my pagan, heretic self to you, GET DOWN HERE!"

Mana erupted, flowing from the Caster upwards, to the machine's wings, where vines and roots suddenly sprouted in a riot of growth, twisting around the multitude of pinions that were keeping the machine aloft, binding them together.

With an alarming creak, the thing began to topple from the air.

"Take its fore, girlie, I'll stay on its rea…"

Light, blinding, turning night into day, washed out from within the machine's core, and with the light, came heat, hot enough to cause the world to waver like a mirage. And Cu's plants, if anything, fared the worst, withering and burning in an instant.

The mechanical angel righted itself, once more stable in the air, staring down on them like a man would stare down at a particularly uppity ant.

"Well, so much for that," groaned Cu. "Guess we're going to have to pluck it like a damn chicken to get it to stay put where we both can hit it, then."

"Mr. Cu," whispered Mash. "It's doing something….."

Once more, with the clicking that reminded the girl of nothing more than a room full of mad typewriters, plates shifted, gears whirred, and the thing changed once more. One of the heads, human, though with a timeless androgyny that made it impossible to guess if it was meant to be a man or a woman's face, opened its mouth wide. It gave a single utterance that was far too rapturous for its expression, before the moan turned into gagging.

And the head of a dragon wriggled its way free from the head's throat.

"Oh, this is going to suck," muttered Cu - right before the dragon roared down at them, a roar that was quickly followed by a jet of flame.

Kratos thrust his spear forward, but the doll was gone before it could land, falling from its leap and touching the ground with no more than an extended toe, that miniscule contact enough for it once against vault high into the city skies. His shield flashed upwards, blocking a steam-shrouded knee, and his arm surged with power, throwing the thing upwards, seeking to crash it into its fellow.

Bodies twisting, the one took its thin blade into its hands, dangling it low. The other,
body spinning, managing to get a single hand on the blade, grasping it like some sort of bar. It spun around, once, twice, thrice, before it had bled off the momentum of Kratos' throw, and was now in control of its motions, tucking itself into a ball, and then flying back down at the Spartan.

Kratos moved back, just enough, and the doll's weapon bored a hole in the street. It was already moving, even as the pulverized stone-smoke was still rising up from the ruptured ground, but this time, it was not fast enough, slowed just momentarily by the need to retain its weapon - had it left it behind, sunken into the ground, it would have escaped.

Draupnir plunged into its side, metal screaming, sparks flying. A high pitched whine escaped from the doll, its mouth clattering open to release the cry. Kratos dug the head of the spear into the machine, tearing it upwards, and the doll, still screeching, twisted its body, moving in sync with the Spartan's motions.

It did not spare it from further injury, but it did manage to limit the damage. Instead of the spear ripping straight through its body, it instead just sheared its right arm off. Sparks flying, now able to abandon its weapon, it sprang away, single remaining arm planting on the ground as it retreated in a series of handsprings.

Kratos raised Draupnir, intending to send it screaming after the machine, but he was forced to grasp it in both hands, swinging the haft and butt up to deflect the other two dolls, which bounded forward, poking at him from both sides, drawing his attention away from their retreating sister. The third, only just now touching down, landed on all fours, and skittered forwards like some sort of overly large insect, blade jabbing low, forcing Kratos back.

Eyes narrowed, he raised his foot, the anticipated attack sliding just under his heel, before he snapped it down, shattering the blade in two.

The thing was still sharp enough to cut into his boot - before it broke, Kratos felt the edge sever through the sole, and cut into the bottom of his foot. His next step came with a feeling of wetness, as blood began to slowly fill the boot.

The doll scuttled back, clutching the remnants of its weapon, its movements less fluid, and almost hesitant, as though it was suddenly at a loss to what to do.

Kratos kicked it in the face.

He twisted, forcing the dolls flanking him to his fore, and caught their weapons on his spear, then shoved back, his strength easily greater than theirs, even combined.

Winds swirled around Draupnir as he drew it back, and the dolls tensed, scattering from their cluster, but they were not his target.

With a grunt, he pitched Draupnir across the divide, straight at the sinuous neck that had sprouted from one of the mouths of the flying machine.

Shockingly, his spear was late, by a second, as another weapon, hurled with incredible force, buried itself into the metal scales that made up the thing's neck.

It was a sword. Massive, the blade thick and heavy, all of it crackling with red-lightning.

And it had not come from any of them.

"A fight like this and you jerks didn't invite me?" As gouts of flame spurted free around the two weapons buried into the dragon's neck, the head thrashing aimlessly, heavy footfalls echoed around the suddenly-still battlefield, the assembled machines stiffening.

"PRImE irrItaNT SPotTED!" intoned one of the dolls, body angled to watch both Kratos, and the form walking out of the mists.

Whoever they were, they were armored head to toe in white plates of steel, accented with red. Something akin to a skirt, only half of such, flared around their waist (and dredging up memories, for Kratos, at least, of the corrupted Saber in the caves of that burning city), providing some extra layer of protection to their legs (maybe. Kratos himself had questions as to the practicality of it all). Their helmet was a fearsome, horned thing, the brow slanting down into two narrow slits that passed for the eyes. It was a heavy, brutish thing, the final piece, capping a picture that at least projected the image of the armor's owner as being a dangerous warrior.

And, if, as he suspected, this was a Servant, and probably a Saber, given the weapon that had been flung into the flying machine's neck, then the reality likely matched the image.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, the bane of your mechanical existences." The helmeted head tilted from side to side, and Kratos heard some distinct pops as the knight cracked their neck. "But you jerks have been holding out on me! I've been scrapping with you wimps almost as fast as you can roll off the old assembly line, but you never transformed to fight me. What've these dumbass survivors got that I don't?"

The voice lowered, dangerously. "I'm almost fucking insulted."

Red crackled around their form, and then, they were gone, leaping through the air to plant a metal-shod foot directly into the hilt of their sword. With a guttural yell, they tore it loose, metal screaming, shorn bits raining down to the streets below.

The detonation of the remnant of Draupnir, left behind when Kratos recalled the weapon, was almost an afterthought, drowned out as it was by the knight's raucous laughter, and the warbling cries that were slipping free from the dragon's mouth. The sinuous neck sagged dangerously, the two halves still connected, but only by the thinnest bits of wire and ruptured metal.

"Tough bastard, aren't you? And you bunch!" The knight's head glanced over their shoulder, regarding the Chaldeans. "Where the hell did you come from? I thought I had found all the survivors days ago……waitaminute."

The armored helmet tilted to the side. "You aren't humans, you're a bunch of Servants!" Air snorted through the holes in the helmet. "Bout TIME we got some more reinforcements here! It was getting boring having to do everything by myself!"

A mailed foot stomped down, cracking the stones of the street. "You just keep holding your own here. I'll have these rusty boxes of bolts scrapped in no time! Then I guess we'll talk about the state my Kingdom's in."

Then, in a wash of red, they were off, flying right into the midst of the iron-shod machines. The knight's sword scraped the ground, flying upwards, aimed directly at the neck of one of the squat machines, but an arm, jerked upwards, intercepted it. The blade bit into the metal, but only just, as the machine closed its other hand around the weapon, attempting to restrain it.

The knight laughed. "You bunch have REALLY been holding out on me, haven't you? What do these baby Servants have that made you take them seriously, after I've been kicking your asses for weeks now?" With a yell, they dug their feet into the ground, and redoubled their efforts. Iron and steel parted, and with a vicious cry, the knight sheared through both the arm, the grasping digits, and then, the machine's neck. It's head, wearing an expression that was transitioning from a mocking sneer to outright disbelief, bounced off the street, sparks flying from its severed, metal flesh.

The knight raised a hand, their fingers beckoning the other machines. "C'mon! One at a time, or groups of ten. I'll take you ALL on!"

Lord El-Melloi II snapped his fingers, sending a rain of boulders from the skies onto the dogs still clustered around Altera. "Certainly no lack of confidence in that one," he said, with a grimace, as they shoulder-checked one of the goblins back, then simply punched it in the face, denting the metal. "But it doesn't seem to be unfounded confidence. They're keeping those brutes occupied. Let's clear out the hounds while we have this reprieve, Master."

Squinting, Fujimaru lined up a Gandr and sent it rippling through the air, barely grazing the dog she was aiming at. The stupid things were FAST. But just enough of the shot landed to interfere with the mechanisms of the thing's legs, and it stumbled for a second, Altera driving in to take advantage. Her sword lengthened, coiling around the machine's midsection, and squeezing tight. The thing had time for a single, mechanical bark, before it was ripped from the ground and sent to crash into its fellows. And again, and again, Altera whipped it back up over her head, before bringing it down another time, bashing the machines to the ground, refusing to allow them to regroup. Then, finally, she retracted her blade, as the bound machine was still flying back to her.

The multicolored blade sang, and two halves of a machine went flying over Altera's back. One half flew oddly, eventually breaking through the window of a nearby home. The other, larger half, which constituted the head and trunk, landed just in front of Fujimaru and the Clock Tower Lord.

It was still alive. Or at least 'animate'. But both of its remaining legs were bent and twisted, flatly unable to bear its weight any more.

It still tried to drag itself forward, jaws open, snapping at them, despite several missing teeth. "Persistent," muttered Lord El-Melloi II. "Just like the real thing, in that respect."

His mouth set in a grim line, he extended a hand, and a thin beam pierced through the machine's skull.

It kept moving.

He hmmed. "Durable, too, just like that wild Saber said. If not your head, then your core must be lower…..maybe where a living creature would have their heart?"

A second beam cored the thing, and finally, it slumped down, stilling. Something, white like steam, but not steam, began slowly seeping from the crevasses of its body.

A stab of pain lanced through Fujimaru's head, and she stumbled. Dimly, she was aware of her Caster saying….something, as he caught her around the waist, but her head was pounding too hard for her to make it out. Eventually, the pain receded, and she was finally able to make out what the Lord was saying.

"Master? What happened?" Worried eyes behind a pair of glasses stared at her (and she realized how tightly he was holding her - she'd apparently done more than just stumble - and just how thin he was.)

"Just…..sudden headache." It was fading, now, but she could still feel her skull throbbing.

She could hear the frown in his voice. "Is your mask still secure? I know Da Vinci theorized you might have an immunity to the fog, but that was just a theory. If it's come loose, or malfunctioned…"

"Feels like it's secure," she muttered, reaching up to check the mask. "And it was just a headache, not any of the stuff you guys said you were feeling when the fog was affecting you." She took a deep breath, and got her legs under her. "I'm ok, really."

The Lord's eyebrows were scrunched together, and she could only imagine the grimace he was directing at her. "Chiron will be looking you over once this is settled," he stated, his tone brooking no argument. "Fortunately, it seems the Sabers do not need our help at this stage, so you will be spared from having to exert yourself further after…whatever that was."

"Yes sir," she said, watching as Altera finished off the last of the dogs (who had been in poor enough shape after being bludgeoned with their packmate they hadn't put up much of a fight). With an utter economy of motion, Altera stabbed the last one in the chest, the thing's whining howl cutting off, and, just like the other one, something thin and wispy seeped out from inside of the broken machine.

(Fujimaru's head throbbed again, but more faintly. Weak enough that it was lost in the remaining echoes of the first lance of agony that she had weathered.)

Kratos sent Draupnir out, the spear flying in an unwavering line at the clustered dolls. They danced apart, but the attack had never been intended to land.

The machines were fast, and incredibly agile, both things that had allowed them to score his body a handful of times. But they did not react well to unexpected situations. Their eerie coordination had faltered when he had taken the arm from the one, and it had fractured further when he had broken the other's blade.

And the appearance of this Servant had rattled them even more.

He rammed the butt of Draupnir against the street, causing the hollow remnant of his missed throw to detonate. Reacting to the stimuli, the dolls jerked their heads to the side, gauging the threat. It was only for a split second, less than that.

But it was all the time Kratos needed.

Even as Draupnir receded, he was already seizing his wife's axe, already calling to the power inside of it. The fog around him thickened, chill beginning to wash into the nearby haze. The runes on the Leviathan Axe flashed, the weapon held high. Then, he rammed it into the ground.

A wave of ice washed out from the impact point. Still in the air from their skittering leap away from his thrown spear, the dolls could not escape it. One of them, whose hop had been smaller and lighter than the others, touched down, and sprang back into the air, perhaps thinking that ascending, away from the hoarfrost, rather than descending into it, would spare it.

It did not.

Metal joints stiffened, then locked, as the cold robbed them of their ability to move. One after another, four dolls clattered to the ground, frozen almost completely solid.

Just in time for the next wave of ice to crash into them.

When Kratos ripped the Leviathan Axe free from the ground, the dolls more resembled ice sculptures than the machines they had been. He could hear the mechanism that allowed them motion groaning, fighting against the bitter cold that had encased them, was holding them in temporary stasis. Given time, they would free themselves.

Kratos did not give them time. His axe rose and fell like he was chopping wood, the keen edge parting the frost-rimmed metal with ease. At first, he merely removed their heads. Then, when the sounds of their struggles did not cease, he reduced them to even smaller pieces of themselves, until he was the only thing still standing, at the center of a frozen wasteland.

His enemies down, he glanced around at the rest of the battlefield. Altera had finished off the dogs that had been harrying her, and was now turning her attention to the machine that Chiron was battling. The Saber(?) that had appeared from the fog was still clashing with the rest of that group of machines, and enjoying themselves, at least from the sound of their yells and taunts.

Mash and Cu were not faring as well. Even dragging the barely functional head behind it, the gangrel creature was still able to keep its form high enough so that Mash could not easily reach it. And it seemed to be at least partially resistant to Cu's magic - or the fire, at least. The Hound was still flying through the air, and doing what he could to batter at the thing's wings, but it was a slower chiseling away at the machine than the Hound would have preferred - he'd sparred with the man enough to know that.

Time to put an end to this.

The Blades of Chaos were in his hands, already beginning to sizzle in the cold air, chasing the frost-laden fog away. He took a single step, then began running.

Then he was in the air, the Blades hurtling through the night air.

He expected it to evade, to move its ponderous bulk in reaction to his entry into its battle. With the sheer number of heads, and therefore, eyes, it possessed, he'd expected to be noticed.

But he was not.

The Blades dug into the back of the lion's head, the thin metal of its mane melting around the weapons. It roared, for the first time sounding like the animal it was modeled after, first in outrage, then panic, as Kratos' bulk battered into it. Looping the chains tightly around his wrists, he jerked them forward.

And dropped to the ground, dragging the winged machine behind him.

"About time you joined us!" barked Cu. "I was getting tired of stalling this thing, and was ready to try a little razor wing dance again." He glanced down at his druid's robes, which had been somewhat shredded. "Even if it didn't go so great the first time, I think I'd have the timing down now."

His grin grew. "But now we get to do this the FUN way!"

Mash sighed softly. "Mr. Cu…..none of this is particularly 'fun'."

"That, girlie, is where you're dead wrong!" Laughing, he took off. And despite herself, Mash was right behind him.

Kratos dug his heels into the ground, arms screaming, as the machine bucked and thrashed, attempting to break free, to gain altitude. The strength of the Ghost of Sparta warred against the sheer bulk and the many, many wings of the machine.

The machine was losing.

Finally, with a warbling shriek, it stopped fighting against the pull, and gave into it, twisting about, and letting itself be jerked downwards, legs beginning to stretch out, talons seeking the pest that was attempting to drag it to the earth.

Cu hit it, high, body rocketing down, staff ringing off one of the machine's wings, bending the metal bones, right as it neared Kratos. Its dive wobbled, as the wing struggled to beat properly. A job made only the more difficult as Cu was able to safely land on one of the bellowing heads, raining blows down on anything within reach.

Mash crashing into a different wing, her body angled forward as though she was diving into the ocean, her shield leading, only compounded the issue. That wing fared much worse, bending in such a fashion that it was flatly impossible for it to function as it should.

The machine dipped in the air, one side listing dangerously, the other wings redoubling their efforts, beating frantically, trying to keep the mechanical seraph aloft.

Kratos' wrists snapped, cracking the chains against the ground, the motion rippling up their lengths. The machine made a single, mournful sound, a chorus of mismatched voices all blended together, as it was torn from the air, and sent plowing into the street.

Cu rode with it, all the way to the ground. His fingers were extended, mana boiling around him, as he swept his staff in a perfect circle. "And now, let's see about keeping you there! PARTIAL RELEASE! WICKER HAND!"

The street cracked (or cracked further, given the massive form that had hit it mere moments ago) as a burning, wooden hand tore itself loose from the ground, fingers wrapping around the thrashing machine. The more delicate parts, the feathers, the mane of the lion, turned to slag from mere proximity to the crackling digits. And when the edges of those blunt, wooden fingers sank into the faces, they began to glow white and deform under the pressure and heat.

"Someone finish this thing off!" yelled Cu, eyes closed in concentration, body shifting from side to side as he attempted to maintain his footing. "And fast! Before this thing tosses me off and shatters my focus!"

Kratos was already moving. Two steps in, and he was no longer alone in his charge.

"Give me an opening, and I will destroy this thing," stated Altera. "Its armor is thick, its core buried, but my sword can pierce it. With assistance."

"Hang back," rumbled Kratos. "When I make the cut, you strike."

Altera nodded, and slowed, raising her sword, holding it out horizontally in front of her.

Kratos doubled his speed, feet thundering down upon the ground as he closed the distance. His charge was noticed, one of the faces, this one feminine in appearance, but with the square pupils of a goat, began to croak in alarm.

And then Kratos was upon it.

A half-leap had him bringing the Blades down, metal shearing before them. He landed, whipping the Blades out, behind him, then bringing them slashing up. More steel parted, the metal like soft clay before the unleashed Blades. A step forward, and he brought the Blades together, both of them extended to the far edges of the chains, and tore them down, fire exploding at the impact.

The face was silent now, having been cut into two ragged halves - and the damage did not stop there. A portion of the trunk was now little more than a gaping wound.

One that Altera was already moving towards, sword spinning in her hands.

Kratos leapt, clearing the path, sending the Blades into the side of a nearby building, his body quickly following. Below, glowing blade met machine body, and the machine body faltered, Altera's blade carving through the metal plates without even a pause. At the moment of impact, she leapt, adding to the force of the blow, body rocketing forward.

The numerous mouths had time for one, aborted gasp of "BLASPHE….." before Altera reached the thing's core. Cracks ran up and down the machine's body, as it was seized by tremors, contained power no longer contained, seeking release.

Altera pierced through its other side just ahead of the explosion, fire washing up behind her in a pillar that, for a moment, burned away the fog. Shards of metal rained down, shooting out to embed themselves in building walls, twisted scraps and jagged fragments littering the street.

Altera threw her body in a forward roll, vaulting herself just outside of the blast zone. Her sword flicked up as she sprang back to her feet, eyes flickering across the battlefield.

The dogs were down, unmoving. The flying machine was little more than broken pieces. The Archer had defeated the thicker combat machine, though it was not completely destroyed yet - something she could not say for the rest of its ilk, which were laying broken around the loud knight that had aided them.

Said knight was also complaining loudly about the machines having 'given up already', punctuating those complaints with the occasional kick to their unmoving bodies - usually their heads.

There was the sound of a large form landing behind her, the stones that made up the street groaning. Then, a grunt, and words in a voice that was becoming more……familiar? Regular?

"Well struck." rumbled Kratos, with a nod. His attention shifted to the rest of the group. "Injuries?"

"None here," stated Chiron, still watching the machine he had downed, it's body riddled with dents, but finally still. "Fortunately, these things were ponderous enough that staying ahead of their blows was child's play." He frowned. "Though it was just the one. A group like that would have been a task, at least for an Archer like myself. A single misstep would have opened me up for quite a bit of damage."

"Cuts and scrapes here - only for myself, and not our Shielder," said Cu. "But I was the one taking the stupid risks, so nothing more than I earned." He grinned at Kratos. "You look like you might have a new scar or two after this yourself."

Kratos made a dismissive noise. "Scratches. I will be fine." He could feel his body mending, in its fashion, already. For as sharp as the doll's weapons had been, and as viciously adept as they had been at exploiting his openings, the wounds they had inflicted had not been deep.

"Mr. Kratos…." began Mash. "Your foot is standing in a small pool of blood."

"....the boot will need mending. It will not hinder me." From the way the girl's eyes were flicking towards her shield, and, he suspected, the bandages contained within, he suspected she did not believe him, at least, not as his son did, when Kratos had downplayed given an accurate statement of his injuries.

"My Master was overcome with what she SAYS was just a 'headache', mid-battle," stated the El-Melloi.

Said Master was wearing an expression on her face that Kratos felt mirrored his own. "I'm fine! It wasn't anything, really!"

"I will be the judge of that, Master," said Chiron, his tone disbelieving. "But we have more immediate concerns."

Fujimaru seized on this like a drowning woman grasping for a thrown rope. "I could have sworn I heard our unexpected ally there refer to this as 'their Kingdom'. I was out before you guys bumped into King Arthur in Fuyuki, is that them?"

Four heads shook in response to her question. "That's not Saber," began Cu. "As someone who scouted her up close and personal, that ain't them. Colors are all wrong, for one thing, either before or after she was corrupted. And the armor's different, too."

"Their style is wilder. More uncontrolled," muttered Kratos. "Though still brutal, it lacks the cunning and efficiency of the Saber I faced."

"And that sword, whatever it is, is not Excalibur," whispered the El-Melloi, his face strained. "I have seen that blade, up close, far too many times in my life. Both in the fourth war, and in my own research." He reached up and began to massage his temples. "My assistant, through no fault of her own, was heavily entwined with machinations involving King Arthur in some form or another during her life."

"You bunch want to tell me why you're whispering about my father?" The knight stomped over to them, finally having worked out their irritation at (or on) the broken machines. Their helmet stared aggressively up at them, its severe face giving a good impression of glaring at the lot of them.

"Just trying to figure out who you are. As any Servant would do upon meeting another," stated Chiron, with an easy smile. "Given that you referred to King Arthur as your father, then, would you be…"

The knight held up a finger. "Hold on a second…..do I know you? I feel like I know you." The sword came up to tap on their shoulder, as a low growling noise issued from beneath the horned helmet. "Does the name 'Archer of Black' mean anything to you?"

Chiron blinked. Opened his mouth, then closed it again, his brow furrowing. "It sounds vaguely familiar. A very messy Grail War….a Master I do recall more strongly and….." A light bloomed in his eyes. "Saber…..of Red?"

The knight barked a laugh. "THAT'S ME!" In a second, they were next to Chiron, digging an elbow into his side (not in the manner of an attack - though Kratos had to stop Altera from responding as though it was). "So what are you doing here…..HOLY SHIT!"

The eye slits of the helmet had finally stopped on Kratos for more than a moment. "That's a GOD? I thought it was just some Pictish Servant who could have given Gawain gorilla competition!" The helmet swiveled around, taking a longer, less cursory look at all of them. "You've even got a human here! And……"

Their inspection had stopped on Mash. "Girl…..where'd you get that shield from? And, also, who the hell are you?"

Before Mash could reply, the sword slipped from where it had been resting on the knight's shoulder. "Eh, screw it. You're here to help, right?" At their nods, the Servant turned and began to move away. "Then we should talk on our way back to base. We linger around here too long and we'll just have another, probably bigger group of those toys to deal with. And, as much fun as that would be, whoever's running this shitshow is smart enough to send a force at the base while they know I'm tied up out here."

They began to walk away. "So either follow me or don't."

The communicator on Kratos' wrist crackled, Da Vinci's eager face appearing. "Before you do that, I want you to take a moment, for your wonderful Auntie, your Universal Genius you all love SO much, and gather as many intact pieces as you can from those robots - and I won't say no to some good pieces of scrap, either."

She looked over to the Saber, who had paused, their body language screaming impatience. "We'll be quick, Sir Mordred. But this is actually REALLY important for us, or, at least, a project I'm working on."

The Servant (Mordred?) groaned, but finally nodded. "Be freakin' quick about it. I wasn't joking when I said we're going to have company if we waste too much time standing around here.

"Thank you," said Da Vinci, her head bowing in what Kratos assumed was a curtsey. When that head raised back up, there was a light in her eyes. A….concerning one.

"Now, I want all of you to do EXACTLY what I say…."

---

 

SHORTLY LATER

THE STREETS OF LONDON​

"Ok, now that you're done looting, one of you want to tell me just what the hell is going on here? There's a whole lot of shit that isn't making sense, and as the current (uncrowned) King of these Isles, you'd BETTER have a good answer - and one that doesn't involve the words 'invasion', and does involve 'fealty' or 'we're here to help, your Majesty!' "

"I mean, we ARE here to help," said Cu, through snickers that had begun with the knight's assumption of Kratos' Pictish heritage. "But I dunno about the whole fealty thing. No Irishman of my time ever bent the knee to anyone on this island."

"We're from Chaldea……in the future," said Fujimaru. "We came back to correct the Singularity here." She shrugged. "It's kind of what we do."

She glanced around, at the abandoned, damaged buildings, the choking fog, and the numerous broken machines that had attacked them, shrinking in the distance as they moved. "What's going on here?"

A long breath rattled out from underneath the helmet. "Dunno how much I can tell you, since I wasn't here for the start. The String Bean probably knows more than I do since he was here from the word go, but here's what I know. About three weeks ago, this ugly fog showed up. First, people just thought it was the usual sort of stuff that's always making this place so damn dreary. But then, people started collapsing."

"It wasn't poisonous, at first. Or at least, it wasn't when I showed up. Just had a really high concentration of mana, and normal humans couldn't handle that, so they'd keel over. It couldn't get into the buildings for some reason. The brains of our little operation thought it might have something to do with thresholds, so folk started holing up and trying to wait it out. Meanwhile, I'd arrived, and I started scouting out from our little apartment to find out who was screwing with my future kingdom."

Somehow, the helmeted face suddenly gave the impression of scowling. "That's when those damn machines started showing up. Dunno where they're coming from, either. At first, they weren't actively hostile, they just seemed to be patrolling the streets, or looking for something. But that didn't last. Didn't take them a damn day before they started kicking down doors and dragging people out of their homes. I objected to them doing that to my subjects. VIOLENTLY."

"And their tactics changed then," rumbled Kratos.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Mordred nodded. "Pretty much. The machines stopped ignoring me and started going after me on sight. And once they figured out where I was squatting, they started hitting our building, which was really cramping my ability to look for their base, or to keep the people safe." A mailed fist smacked into an armored palm. "Don't think they were anything resembling a threat to me, I was scrapping them and piling the bodies up ten deep. But…..it was keeping me busy, letting them drag people off while I was beating the crap out of the distractions. So I had to do something else."

A shrug. "That's when we quit our base, started gathering people up and taking them to somewhere where I could keep an eye on all of them. As it so happens, that was right before the fog changed from just knocking you out to this poisonous crap that didn't give a shit about thresholds, or whatever was keeping the old stuff out of the houses. So we dodged a bullet there."

"String Bean has a little knowledge of magic, and we picked up a few Mages who couldn't make it to the Clock Tower before the fog turned nasty, so we managed to set up a decent Bounded Field that kept the stuff from killing us. Problem is, the rust buckets knew exactly where we were, so that meant fights for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." Mordred laughed. "And that was before they started making the fog more and more nasty, so we had to keep adapting to keep it out. It was rough even for the Uncrowned King here, so I won't lie and say it's not going to be nice to have some extra help around here."

Despite their words, filled with bravado and confidence, Kratos could see it. The Servant was tired. There was a subtle slump to their shoulders that spoke of a soldier that had pushed their limits for far, far too long.

"What is the status of the Clock Tower?" asked the El-Melloi.

Mordred shrugged. "Dunno. I've been trying to hoof it over there ever since we set up our base, since their Bounded Fields would be a hell of a lot better than ours, but I've never even made it close. Either I get jumped by those stupid toys or they launch an attack against our base when I get across the bridge. The jerkbots you bunch ran into were probably meant for me, honestly. So thanks for that."

There was a pause, then Mordred continued. "Though, we used to see some kind of a light show every day or so. The Mages in our camp thought it was the Clock Tower defending itself from attacks, and I don't know magic from potatoes, so I just took their word on it." A low noise escaped from beneath the helmet. "But we haven't seen those lights for a few days now."

The El-Melloi grimaced, biting back a curse, and it seemed the rest of them shared his unease. "It could be that they've been successful enough in repelling the attacks - assuming what you were seeing was their defenses, that your enemies have chosen to regroup and plan a different method of attack," began the Caster. "But….."

"It is more likely their defenses have been breached," finished Kratos. "And they have fallen."

"That's what the Mages, String Bean, and our Caster thinks, too." Mordred banged their sword on the ground, in annoyance. "Not sure if I'm more pissed at those stupid machines keeping me from either getting over there to see what the hell was going, or myself for letting those toys keep me away."

"I mean…..it is possible they're still there," began Fujimaru, but Mordred cut them off with a scoffed noise.

"I wouldn't count on it. These things haven't shown what any of the Round Table would call a 'mastery of tactics'. Fucking hell, Gawain could come up with better plans than these while he's making dinner. But these guys, they've been battering themselves on our Bounded Fields for a week or so now, and it's always the same thing. Nothing but them trying to overwhelm us with bodies, and never while I'm around." Mordred hmmmed for a second. "Though the transforming thing is new. Want to tell me what's going on there?"

"It was when they saw Kratos," stated Altera, her voice bland, the same tone she would use, he imagined, was someone to ask her the current weather. "They identified us as Servants, but the alarm was not triggered until they recognized Kratos as a god."

"Yeah, that's another question I need to have answered, mainly, what the HELL?" Mordred spun around, walking backwards, while peering up at Kratos, finger pointed directly at his broad chest. "Shit's bad here, but I didn't think it was bad enough that someone or something would pull a god out of their sleeve to do their fighting for them. Where'd you even GET him from?"

Kratos' low rumble of "This is not my world," overlapped with Fujimaru's "Kratos isn't local."

They could all see Mordred blinking in confusion, even behind their helmet. "Say that again? Because I could SWEAR you said something about this not being his world."

"You heard correctly. Kratos is indeed from another world," said the El-Melloi. "While I was not present for his arrival, I am given to understand it happened in another Singularity like this one."

"I was, and while I didn't see him touch down, though I might have seen something fall from the sky that was him. But things were so tits up in that burning city that I only sort of paid attention to it, so I didn't bump into him until shortly after." Cu nudged Fujimaru and Mash in turn. "Was more involved in stalking these two and their leader after they'd shown up in the city, and trying to make heads or tails of them. Stupid Command Seals that bastard had slapped on me wouldn't let me approach them until I was certain they'd help me 'Survive' - the Command he'd given me before he got himself killed by your daddy."

Cu spat to the side, his usual reaction to any mentions of his former Master. "The big guy stepped in before I could, when the three little ladies got themselves into a bind. Offered my services to them then and there, and that was the start of some of the best fights I've had in years!"

"Their cause is just," rumbled Kratos. "So I have chosen to aid them." True, they had an agreement that one of their Clock Tower would have the power to return him to his world. But even without that, he likely would have offered his aid. The foes that Chaldea faced were monstrous, and their goals equally so.

There had been a promise, between his son and himself, to keep one another's voices in their heads, to keep them walking on the correct paths. His son's voice in his head would have never forgiven him, had he abandoned these people to their fates.

And, if their pasts, or the pasts of those who had founded Chaldea were colored by deeds that, while not as black as those that colored his own, still made his skin crawl with distaste (Mash's story still caused red to leak into the edges of his vision, when it danced across his mind's eye), they were still trying to rise above that, even though their hands had not been the hands responsible for those crimes. To hold it against them, while still holding out for the hope that had been Faye's final gift to him, would have made him a hypocrite, or worse.

"Well, if nothing else, some more fighters will do wonders for the morale back at base. We had a few other Servants, but……"

Mordred trailed off, their words screeching to a halt, mirroring their movements. "Shit!" Their sword appeared in their hand as they spun about, head darting from side to side. "Bunch up, NOW! And grab onto someone!" As the Servant barked out orders, their free hand shot out behind them.

Mash might have been confused, but she'd heard orders given in that tone of voice often enough over the past few months that she reacted before she'd even thought of it, reaching out to snatch the outstretched hand. Only then did she ask her question. "What's going on?" Mirroring Mordred's actions, she peered into the fog, but didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. "Are we under attack?"

A growl was rattling Mordred's helmet. "Not directly, but the fog's thickened. And I missed it like a damn moron!" Red sparks began running up and down the length of their bared sword. "Besides the damn machines, there's something else lurking in the city. It always rolls up and snatches people under the cover of a really thick fog - and when you go in, you don't come out. Not alive, anyways. It got Nelson the other day, then Elizabeth a few days later. We didn't realize it was picking off the few Servants we had until we started buddying up, and even then it still snatched Liz out from under my damn nose!"

Mordred was hunching lower and lower, like an animal about to pounce. "Don't take your eyes off of each other, but give me a damn headcount, NOW!"

One by one, names were called out. Until the voices stopped, and there was a noticeable lack of two important people.

"Where the hell are Kratos and the girl?" spat Cu.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The rhyme of the Iron Shoes shamelessly lifted from Hellboy: The Chained Coffin and Others. All credit to Mike Mignola.

Some of the descriptions of the Angels for Heaven's Will in Dress-Up Darling did a lot of heavy lifting for the mechanical angel-thing.

It's a bit hard to write Mo as super different than JAlter, since both of them are kind of rude, brash, and foulmouthed. I hope I've managed to at least make Mo-san distinct, but it's really hard not to fall into the same headspace as when I write JAlter and make her too much of a copy.

Chapter 59: London 3

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 59

 

CHALDEA COMMAND ROOM​

"Still no sign of them!" The technician in charge of monitoring the life signs of their two Masters was seconds away from a full-blown panic. "Communication was difficult enough through that fog, but now we're getting nothing but static!"

"Are their existences verified?" snapped Romani, quelling his panic with the ease of two lifetimes of experience.

"No change in that," replied Da Vinci, who was at least as worried as him. "And whatever's blocking our communication with our Masters isn't doing so with Mash, we've at least got her on the line. Small things, I know, but…."

She didn't have to finish. Both of their Masters had vanished, as though something had dipped a hand into the foggy city and just scooped them up, spiriting them away. The projected map showed a layout of the city, with Mash and the rest of the Servants all indicated with red blips.

But no sign of Kratos or Fujimaru. If it wasn't for the line of their existences, the graph not having wavered at all, he'd have thought the worst.

Truthfully, he still might. He was fearing it, after hearing what Mordred had said.

"Breathe, Roman," said Da Vinci, her finger jabbing into his side. "Whatever that fog is, Fujimaru isn't alone in there. Kratos is almost certainly with her, and while that thing might be a match for a Servant, even someone like Horatio Nelson or Queen Elizabeth on their home grounds, Kratos is something else entirely."

"He can still be hurt - even die," said Romani, his guts twisting. "He's not invincible, we've all seen that by now." And this roving fog, as Mordred described it, had all the hallmarks of an Assassin. Kratos was fearsome when he was facing a foe, but a knife in the back?

He might never see it coming.

"I get that Roman, and we ARE trying everything we can to break through whatever's blocking us," said Da Vinci, with a sigh. "But until then, we're just going to have to have faith in our two Masters."

Her words would have been more reassuring if the alarms hadn't chosen THAT moment to blare.

---

STREETS OF LONDON

EARLIER​

Ritsuka Fujimaru looked around the foggy streets.

No sign of her Kohai. No sign of either of her teachers. No sign of Kratos, or any of his Servants. And no sign of Sir Mordred. That was concerning enough.

But the fact that she was pretty sure she was on a different street entirely (there'd been a row of stores to her left a second ago, but now, there was a bunch of burnt out tenements where they had been), having been transported, somehow, between the blinks of an eye were what had her hand shooting down for her gun, and yanking it out of its holster. Then, only once she had that somewhat reassuring weight in her grasp, did she try to activate her communicator.

Only to get a wash of static, and nothing else. Not even a blurry window that might have been Doctor Roman or Da Vinci's face, if she squinted hard enough.

Ok, blocked comms. Not the first time this had happened, and probably wouldn't be the last. Not the end of the world, she'd weathered this before.

But at least those times, she had a Servant or two with her - or a very large god backing her up. At the moment, it was just her.

So, options? Staying put sounded attractive at first glance. She'd already been separated from, well, everyone. Not moving from this spot, while the rest of their group searched for her was probably the smartest move - if nothing else, her connection with her Servants would lead them RIGHT to her.

At least, it would, if that wasn't also a complete wall of static as well.

Which made this seem even more like she'd been isolated for a certain reason - and all signs were pointing to that reason being bad. And probably by something really, REALLY out of her weight class.

So, moving, or finding somewhere to hole up. Pros of the latter is that it might be more defensible, but the con would be that anyone searching for her could easily miss her. And walling yourself in didn't give you a whole lot of options for escape, in case your sanctuary - as if barring the door in a home could be called that - was breached.

And even with some Reinforcement - which she was pants at if it wasn't being done directly to herself - a door wouldn't hold up for long against even a low-end Phantasmal, much less a Servant. Heck, their new tagalong had even said those machines had been kicking down doors for weeks, in their normal forms, so yeah.

Holing up somewhere, bad plan.

So that leaves wandering around the city, hoping to bump into something friendly before whatever separated her from the rest of the group finds her. Still bad, but the best of the bad options in front of her.

So, with that decided, which way to go?

Actually, before anything, time to swap out the regular bullets for the Cu specials. If worse comes to worse, setting a building on fire would get her noticed - either by her friends, or by the things creeping about in the fog. And make sure her daggers were loose in their sheaths. If something dropped down on her, she might not have more than a second to react.

Deep breaths, Fujimaru, you can do this.

She set off, slowly moving through the abandoned city, using every one of the skills she'd developed from the times she'd snuck through her family home, trying to avoid her mother, her big sister, or some relative for just a bit longer. She wasn't completely silent - she'd NEVER been that good, and cobblestone streets weren't something she was familiar with, but she still managed to keep the noise of her passage to a minimum.

Right up until the voice sounded, right in her ear.

"Why?"

She yelped, spinning around, knife already in her free hand and slashing out wildly.

Nothing there. At least, nothing she could see.

Her mind could be playing tricks on her, but…..

Before she could think better of it, she activated her Sight.

It was smoother than it had been when she'd first activated it a few days ago, at the start of her training with her teacher, but, at the end of the day, it was largely no different than a muscle. A bit atrophied from disuse, but slowly recovering as she stopped neglecting it.

As the world shifted, the colors draining away, there was nothing there - at least, no ghosts hovering over her shoulder. But there were traces. The thin wisps that spirits left behind after they moved, their footprints, if you will.

Wonderful.

She flicked her Sight off, because she still wasn't used to having it constantly on yet - it wasn't much of a drain on her mana reserves, but her head started aching if she kept it going for more than five minutes. And it would make her a beacon for the Dead, too, and knowing there were at least some of them wandering around the city (and muttering in her ear) meant she didn't want to attract more attention than she already had.

Just wonderful.

She wasn't the bonfire her two immediate female relatives were, thankfully, but she still reached down and tried to actively stifle her presence as much as she could. Might not matter in the end - whatever snatched her snatched HER specifically, so she was probably being watched by more than one pair of eyes. But she wasn't going to make it easy for them, not if she could help it.

When she resumed walking, it was much slower, and with her head on a swivel, and a white-knuckled grip on her gun.

She made it another block and a half before her pace began to slow, both because the terrain was getting increasingly crowded (and therefore difficult to maneuver through quietly), and because she couldn't help but stare a bit.

It had started out as a trickle. A few shavings of metal here and there, a screw or a bolt or a gear lying in the streets, as though they had just fallen off of something. Easy to explain away, unless you looked closer, and noted how the metal had been sheared off, laser precise, or how the other parts were neatly cut in two, no tearing or jagged edges at all.

Then the broken machines started piling up.

They could have been Mordred's handiwork. The knight hadn't been shy in boasting that they'd been fighting them, and winning, leaving them as so much scrap for weeks now. But, from her limited time watching said knight tear into the robots, she didn't think they'd have left them in such a clean state, much less one piece.

Or undented, since this Knight of the Round seemed to use their fists and feet as much as their sword. Something they had in common with Kratos and Cu, if nothing else - and while she hadn't seen Mordred headbutt anything, she somehow felt it was only a matter of time.

But the couple of robots she'd inspected were almost pristine. Certainly more intact than the ones that Mordred had beaten up. For most of them, the only signs of damage were a few, very precise, very thin holes on places that would directly translate to spots that hid vital areas on a human. Eyes, lungs, heart, hamstrings.

Groin (she noticed, with a sympathetic wince).

Wounds (if you could call them that) that were far too small to come from the big sword Mordred had been swinging around. These were knife - or dagger sized. She even slid one of her knives into the rent to compare - it fit, if not quite like a glove, then like a well-worn shoe.

Ok……Mordred had mentioned other Servants. Maybe this was their doing? But that didn't explain why she'd been abducted, or why whoever had snatched her was still playing coy.

If life had taught her anything, it was best to assume the worst. That way, you could be pleasantly surprised - like if she stumbled on Servant Winston Churchill in this fog and he DIDN'T try to kill her.

Happy thoughts.

She resumed her trek, now starting to have the distinct crawling sensation up and down her back that told her she was being watched. So when the next voice came, she didn't react quite as strongly as before.

"It hurts……hurts so much…."

Gray painted itself back over the world as her Sight reactivated, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of small feet as they ducked into an alley. Small, bare feet.

She rapidly escalated her estimation of how bad this was by several degrees. Children's ghosts had the possibility of being very, VERY bad. Most of them barely understood death on the most basic levels - when one of them died, suddenly or not, it usually went one of two ways. Either they kept on like they were still alive, either blocking out or just failing to comprehend all the things that were different - that pretty much screamed 'you're dead!', or….

Or they snapped. The wash of new experiences, the loss of so many sensations, combined with everything that happened when they died, all that could, and did, overwhelm adults as they continued to cling to existence on the other side of the Veil. For a kid, it could send them right over the deep end, their still-developing brains breaking in any number of horrible ways.

She was in trouble.

She needed to get out of here, NOW.

As her pace quickened, and she began to weave between larger and larger piles of inert machines, she was praying that the children's ghosts were just playing with her, thinking this was all some kind of game - and one that didn't end with her gutted and bleeding out in the streets, all so they could…..I dunno, use her blood as paint or something.

Yeah, Happy Thoughts, right?

Those lasted right up until she was half-sliding, half-tumbling (in a controlled sort of manner - she wasn't free-falling at all!) down a pile of still machines that were taller than she was, and something outright shrieked in her ear. It didn't sound human at all, it was just a formless wail, and almost….confused? Like it was the first…..and maybe last sound that those vocal cords had ever made.

Her controlled fall turned uncontrolled. Her foot caught on a limp metal arm, and she went head over heels, her back meeting the cobblestone streets, and her breath was blasted out of her lungs. But she knew how to fall now - along with dodging, it had been one of the first things her Sensei (and his eager assistants) had drilled her on - relentlessly. She was up in a flash.

And already swinging her knife around, reacting to a noise and a flicker of movement she'd spotted as she was falling. A wisp, the thinnest strands of blue mana gleamed on the knife's tip as she did so - the barest blossom of her now resumed crash course in Spiritualism.

It wouldn't KILL a ghost, she couldn't muster up the sheer force needed for that, heck, it wouldn't even dematerialize one, but it WOULD hurt them, and hopefully force them to back off.

And it would demonstrate to them that this particular human wasn't completely helpless, even if she had less of a sting, and more of an aggressive papercut ability right now. Gestures like that meant a lot when you were dealing with ghosts. Her mother had already stressed how half-measures frequently achieved nothing when dealing with the dearly departed.

Though all of this was moot, as her blow never landed. A hand, the pinky easily as thick as her thumb, easily caught her wrist and stopped her momentum like she'd crashed into a brick wall.

Her mind went blank, Fujimaru freezing up for a second. That….that wasn't supposed to happen! Sluggishly, her brain roared back to life, and she began to jerk her pistol up - she couldn't manage to enhance the bullets like she could the knife, but these were the Cu specials - they should work just fine.

It was about then that the voice cut through her panic, and, for the second time in so many seconds, she froze, stock-still.

"Fujimaru! Calm yourself!"

Her eyes finally managed to get a message to her brain, and she realized just who it was that had grabbed her wrist. Kratos, it was Kratos.

She slumped, half in relief, and half in utter shame and embarrassment - she'd just freaked out in front of someone who was her senpai (sort of), a terrifying badass, and a (retired) war god. It was like all the times she'd disappointed her mother all wrapped up in one. At the same time….

"Please, please, PLEASE tell me you're real, and you haven't died and aren't a ghost or something….." Her gun was stowed back into its holster, and she carefully placed a hand on his chest (and noting, as this was one of the only times she'd ever touched him, how FIRM those muscles were), carefully checking that he felt like flesh and blood, and not ectoplasmic material.

Her brain was still spinning up (and may or may not have been distracted by the hard material her hand was encountering), so she couldn't tell if his grunt was disgusted (with her) or not, but he did release her arm. "I still live. I have encountered nothing here." His eyes locked onto hers, and she could FEEL the unspoken questions.

"We're not alone. I mean, we aren't anymore since we found each other, but we weren't before." Her eyes flicked from side to side, nervously. "I've seen at least one ghost since we got dragged to…wherever this is. And I've seen traces of more. They haven't tried to harm me, not yet, but they've been whispering in my ear and playing peek a boo, or hide and seek, maybe."

She looked up at him. "You haven't gotten any of that?"

"No," he rumbled, his body suddenly tensing in that manner she'd learned to recognize from all the hardcore warriors she was spending time around these days, when they'd recognized a threat and were shifting to battle-mode. "I have seen nothing. Heard nothing." A note of contempt, seasoned with warniess entered his voice. "If there are spirits around, that is unlike them. Spirits are…..vexing. They want things."

"You and my mother would be kindred spirits. At least on that. She always warned us about how if ghosts figured out we could see them, we'd never know a moment of peace." She shook her head. "But you're a hell of a lot scarier looking than I am. They probably decided to pick on the weak little human instead of the god."

She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "And…….the one ghost I saw was a little kid, too. If they aren't hostile, I probably look a lot more approachable."

Kratos stared at her for a long moment, but whatever he was thinking, he didn't share. His next words were, to be expected, on-task. "Can you contact the others?"

"Nothing. Not Mash, my other Servants, or Romani or anyone back at Chaldea." She expected she already knew the answer, but she asked anyways. "You?"

A grunt that was borderline a growl. "Nothing. Something is blocking us." He half turned away from her, his head slowly surveying the area. "Do you believe the ghosts are hostile?"

Part of her brain stuttered at suddenly being put on the spot like this, but the rest of her brain quickly gang-beat that part of it back into line. Like it or not, she guessed she was the closest thing they had to an expert here - from what little she'd heard of Kratos' experience with ghosts, it mostly involved them bothering him for favors, and then, only rarely.

"It's really hard to say. If they're toying with us before they attack, that's not out of character for ghosts. Really bad ones get a charge out of people's emotions, especially fear…." Which meant, if that's what they wanted, it would be another reason why they were ignoring him and focusing on her. She was a buffet, at least compared to the other person here.

"Then you must not panic again." He gave her a knowing look, one that quelled any protests that she might have been about to raise before they could start. Well, that, and the fact that his tone was milder than she'd expected, given the rebuke (that she'd earned, what with the whole attempted stabbing, even if it was done somewhat reflexively - she HAD panicked). "You must make panic serve you. It does nothing but aid your enemies if you allow yourself to be controlled by it."

That weathered face stared down at her. "Do you understand?"

"Got it."

A grunt, and he glanced around again. "You came from that direction?" At her nod, he continued. "I found myself in a narrow street between these houses, when I realized I had been separated from our allies."

"A narrow alley, as big as you are? Fun." She looked back at the large pile of broken machines she had climbed over. "I woke up a couple of blocks down that direction. I could tell it wasn't the same place I'd been previously." She frowned. "It also wasn't covered in dead robots. The closer I got to here, the more they started piling up."

Kratos glanced at one of the piles, and she could tell he immediately recognized what she'd had to do a bit of a closer inspection to get. "Whatever felled these, it was not the knight we met earlier."

"Yeah. I dunno if there's some other Servants running around, or the Clock Tower had some scouts out, or….." She shrugged. "Whatever's going on, we don't have enough information. And whatever this is just snatched us up while leaving everyone else behind. But it hasn't made a directly hostile move yet, so……maybe the enemy of my enemy is our friend?"

Kratos made an indistinct noise. "Only if, once our common enemy is dealt with, they do not become a greater enemy. But we cannot remain here. One way or another, we must rejoin our allies."

She peered down the street. "Forward, then?"

Kratos nodded, his axe in hand. "Stay behind me." He took a half step, then stopped. "Your ability to see spirits....can it be maintained without harming yourself?"

"It drains me pretty quick - I'm really out of practice. But I can turn it on and off without too much issue, I wasn't doing it while I was walking because there's too much chance of me missing something in reality while my eyes are switching over." She took a deep breath. "But now that we've got another pair of eyes that's less of a drawback, so I'll try to keep a lookout for any ghosts trying to get the jump on us."

Kratos resumed walking. "Follow close."

If it had been either of her two teachers, she'd have immediately glued herself to their backs - even Lord El-Melloi II, despite how skinny the man was, he was still a Servant and exponentially more durable than she was. But she'd watched Kratos fight enough to know he needed space, especially if he was using the fire blades. So she kept herself a couple of steps behind him - enough distance so that she could leap back and get out of the danger zone if he needed to cut loose.

They made their way down the streets, considerably less quietly than she had while she'd been alone, but Kratos wasn't exactly stealthy at the best of times (even if he had snuck up on her and Avenger that one time). And around them was nothing but silence, and empty homes….

Wait a second.

"We've looped around," she said, her voice sounding painfully loud, despite her lowering it to just above a whisper.

Kratos glanced back at her, and she gestured to her right. "I recognize that shop, the bootblacks there. This is where I first arrived here." Her expression grew grim. "This whole thing might be a pocket dimension - or some kind of Reality Marble, like the one Iskandar had."

"And we're trapped in it."

Really, after circling back around to where she'd started from, she was already pretty sure of her guess. The giggling that erupted around them wasn't a confirmation she needed.

"Show yourselves." Despite not raising his voice, Kratos managed to still make it boom around them.

A hush fell over the foggy streets, for a minute, then two.

Then they started appearing.

In the windows, peering down at them. Crowded in the doorways, or sitting on the doorsteps. Shuffling out of the alleyways on all sides. Flooding the streets, both in front and behind them.

Children. So many children.

Most of them were wearing little more than rags, and tattered ones at that, and were uniformly disheveled, at best. At worst, they were utterly filthy, clothes barely hanging on thin frames, dirt streaked across their faces, hair grimy, mud (and possibly worse) caked on their shoes - those that had shoes.

A good number of them were showing visible injuries, too. Crutches, for legs that had turned ugly shades of bruise purple, or feet displaying what she could only assume was rampant gangrene….or just….missing legs, were in attendance. Eyepatches too. Even the children that didn't have visible injuries, even the more comparatively minor things like fresh bruises or a cut that was still not quite fully scabbed over had some very narrow faces and hollow cheeks. And those with shirts that didn't quite cover their midsections (or just no shirts at all) were displaying every single rib rather prominently.

Though, here and there, there was a child in better clothing. Not the ones that Fujimaru would have guessed were in what could pass for a middle class in Victorian England, with plainer, but less shoddy clothing that showed the signs of frequent repairs - though those were certainly here, but the ones in the dresses and miniature suits that looked like they cost more money than a gang of the other children would see in their lives.

A portion of that group wasn't even able to stand, just….lying where they'd appeared. Coughing, or just prone on the ground, faces almost bloodless, and seeming like they were too weak to rise.

For a second, Fujimaru recalled her high school history, and how rampant anemia was in the royal houses of Europe, due to the inbreeding. The Romanovs loomed especially tall in her mind's eye.

At least, the part of her mind that wasn't suddenly screaming in pain, the pressure of all these ghosts, hundreds and hundreds of them, crowding against her, staring at her, and otherwise making their presences known. Even with her eyes dialed down to as low a setting as possible (she couldn't shut them off….again, which would be more terrifying if this hadn't already happened recently) they still felt like they were two aqueous bags of blender-razors.

She felt wetness dripping down her cheeks, and wasn't sure if it was tears, or blood. And she couldn't manage to raise her arms to check, both from the pain, and how each limb felt like it weighed a ton, each. And beneath it all was a dim awareness of how this wasn't right, how the ghosts she'd dealt with in her life didn't FEEL like this, didn't hurt her just by existing in proximity to her, that there was something subtly WRONG about each and every one of them.

Then, the pain lifted, as the children, almost as one, faded out and vanished, and her Sight finally switched off.

She was somewhat vaguely aware of slumping - collapsing might have been a better verb, but Kratos caught her (with one hand), and was saying….something to her, his eyes split between her limp form and everywhere around them, trying and failing to see where the literal army of ghosts had gone.

Eventually, she felt a measure of her strength return, and her ears finally started processing Kratos' words. Her voice, when she managed to dredge it up from her throat, was little more than a croak. "I'm…..I'm ok. Just, give me a second."

Deep steady breaths got her heart moderately under control, and a long sample of her canteen helped soothe her throat enough so that she felt she could talk. "Ok, I think I can stand on my own now."

Kratos' eyes stopped for a moment, pausing on her. When he spoke, it seemed like he was choosing his words very carefully. "If you peer into the realm of the dead to confirm the spirits have left, will it harm you again?"

"I should be fine. Just looking shouldn't hurt."

"Fujimaru…." Kratos' brow was furrowed in what might pass for concern for him. "You were screaming."

Oh. ….that would explain her throat, then. "I'll be fine," she said, trying to sound confident. "And, we need to know."

Before she could second-guess herself, she told her eyes to shift over to the other side of the Veil.

No ghosts. Not a one.

"They're gone. It's just us," she whispered.

Finally, Kratos let her attempt to stand on her own, and, despite her legs wobbling a bit, she managed it. As she was taking another long drink of water, his voice rumbled over her. "Fujimaru…..what happened?"

Unspoken was the question 'Why did they do that - just show themselves, then leave?'. Or maybe 'How much danger are we, or maybe just specifically you, in?'.

"I don't know. Even accounting for how ghosts can act really irrationally, so many of them, all of them acting in unison like that…..that's not normal." She shuddered. "Then again, nothing about any of this is normal."

"The streets loop in on themselves. It is unlikely we will find an escape there." His eyes narrowed, Kratos' head turned to regard one of the nearby alleyways.

Probably one of the last places she wanted to go, but they'd already tried the streets once. She'd played enough video games to know that you didn't get out of looping areas by doing the same thing over and over again. "I'll be right behind you," she whispered, her throat still raw.

And right behind him was where she was, unlike when they'd been picking their way through the streets earlier. Kratos was still holding the axe, but the narrow confines of the alleyways meant he probably wasn't going to be busting out the chainblades anytime soon, so her proximity to a war god wasn't putting her in any more danger than normal.

They emerged from the alleway into a different street than the one they left, so that's at least some progress. There was a slight pause as they considered their options, before mutually deciding to continue on through the alleys. Unlike the streets, those hadn't shown to be an endless loop.

Yet.

They were about halfway through the latest alley when Kratos paused, his head shifting slightly to the side. "I hear something," he muttered, his voice quieter than she'd ever heard it.

She strained her ears to try to pick up whatever it was he'd heard- but nothing. A touch of mana channeled into her ears, Reinforcing them, and then, there it was. Very, very faint, but it was there.

"Is someone….fighting?" Because, to her Reinforced ears, it almost sounded like metal clashing against metal. Considering the robots that had attacked them - and that they'd both seen strewn around the streets, that was easily half this equation. The other half could be a Servant, or even one of the scouts from the Clock Tower, maybe.

A low noise escaped Kratos' throat. "No. It lacks the urgency of combat. It is too….calm."

"Only lead we've found so far." She looked up at him. "I assume we're checking it out?"

His head inclined slightly, and he resumed his stalk forward. "Stay alert."

They continued on, though they were held up momentarily in one spot where a building had partially collapsed, completely blocking the backstreet corridor. She might have been able to climb over it - it didn't look all that unnavigable, but Kratos simply had her climb onto his back, and then she got to live through the experience of flying through the air at high speeds as Kratos more or less ziplined them over the pieces of broken building.

Honestly, better than any rollercoaster she'd ever been on.

The landing rattled her teeth a bit, but she supposed Kratos was just used to landing with a massive thud like that, and letting his considerable bulk absorb the shock. She didn't have nearly as much to buffer her against it, even with his body buffering her against the worst of the landing. But as she dropped off his back after they'd touched down, her body wasn't complaining like it was going to be displaying bruises the next day, so the landing wasn't THAT bad, all things considered.

The noises were louder on the other side of the debris. And they could both hear a voice, as well. Young, and high-pitched.

"Another child's spirit?"

Fujimaru shrugged. "Can't tell with just the voice, but, going on what we've seen, probably a good bet."

The voice grew more audible as they picked their way forward, what were muffled maybe-words finally becoming clear enough to discern exact words.

"No, Mr. Robot. I won't go back into your boring underground lair. It's so much more fun out here!"

A pause, then the same voice came in reply to itself, but now pitched lower, and with an odd inflection to it, as well. "But, little girl. You must. You are an important part of our plan. You must see reason."

"No! It's cold and boring and there's nothing to eat there! And you and Mr. White won't play with me!" The voice, now back to the girl's voice, was halfway between defiant and a pout. "And I've found a friend out here who's fun, and there's all sorts of tasty food here, too! I won't go back!"

She had her suspicions, and the scene they entered pretty much confirmed that. It was the nexus of a handful of alleys, a kind of open space in the winding rat's nest they had been creeping through, and thankfully a bit more open. There were a handful of broken machines piled up here, though at least a few had been propped up against boxes, or each other.

They were facing what appeared to be a girl, at least from the back. Tiny, with a mop of messy ashen hair like Avenger had, and wearing what appeared to have been a cloak, once, in its pre-tattered days. Still, despite the thing's condition, it was large (or the girl was just that small) enough to hide most of the rest of her form - it hung down practically to her ankles, giving only a hint of bare feet peeking out from beneath its edges.

A girl (Servant!) who was squaring herself up against the lead machine, which had been propped up and set on a box to make it taller than the others. What appears to be a broken table leg had been kind of tied into one of its hands, giving it the appearance of holding a weapon - a club, maybe, though the head had been….ah, enhanced, by the simple measure of driving a number of knives and scissors through it, making into more of a morningstar or something.

Once more, the girl modified her voice, now obviously playing out both parts in this little play she was putting on, pretty much like any kid of Fujimaru's day would have done while playing with action figures. "Then you leave me no choice. Murder Machines, bring me the girl, but alive. Our Master still has uses for her."

The smaller robots began to vibrate in place at that command, somehow, despite the fact that they were obviously destroyed beyond any ability to still function. The girl cringed, flinching back at their sudden movement, but Fujimaru could see her neck stiffening. "No! I won't go back with you! If you're going to be big meanies…."

She straightened up, and suddenly, there was a pair of wicked looking knives in her hands. "Then I'll just have to dismember you all."

Then she vanished.

The scrape of knives tearing open the chestplate of a mech had Fujimaru's head spinning around, tracking the sound. She caught the tail end of a fluttering black cloak, and some flying sparks and metal shavings, but the main thing that held her attention was how the machine's entire front had been messily carved open.

Twin sounds of shearing metal had her jerking her head around again, and the arms of another robot clattered to the ground, severed raggedly at the shoulders. The girl was still there, feet perched on the machine's chest as she stabbed her daggers into what might pass for its stomach, machine-gun fast, before kicking off and disappearing again.

A mech's head went flying as the girl passed it in a blur, then another toppled forward as she practically walked up its back with her knives, like a man scaling a mountain with pitons, then rolling and leaping into the air even before the now more-broken machine had crashed into the muddy ground.

"Oh no! You are overwhelming my Murder Machines with your incredible stabbing ability!" The overly-deep voice echoed around them, the girl now once more donning the villain hat. "But you didn't think I would only rely on my Murder Machines, did you?"

"Giant God-Man, attack!"

Kratos got his shield up just in time. Paired daggers gouged into its metal, and a pair of green eyes peered at Kratos over the lip of the shield.

"Hello mister. Are you here to play with me too?"

Sparks flew, and the girl flew back from Kratos' shield. Mid-air, her eyes slid across the alley exit, and locked on to Fujimaru.

"And you've even brought me a mommy, too!"

It was a Servant - her Master eyes told her as much. But at the same time, it wasn't. Or it wasn't…..just a Servant.

"What in all the hells…." It took several seconds for her to recognize her voice, as her brain tried to process what it was seeing.

Heroic Spirits - Servants, they were human souls, or ghosts if you were being really pedantic about it. Super powerful ghosts, but still ghosts - incomplete records or fragments of the whole that a legendary figure was. She'd looked at Servants with her Sight before, both when it was fritzing out and as part of her recent training, and while they were…..denser than run of the mill ghosts, they didn't cause her eyes, or her brain, any issue.

That wasn't the case for this one.

So many souls. Hundreds, thousands maybe, all crammed into a single container. Too many. Far, far too many. As one, they turned their hungry eyes on her.

She felt the air leave her lungs in a rush, as her body reacted as though a large, and very solid fist had been driven into her gut. She didn't feel any of it, as she was too busy convulsing in pain, as her brain felt like someone had lopped the top of her head off, and then dumped liquid fire into her skull.

It was wrong. It was wrong. It was WRONG. Whatever she was looking at was horrifying and terrible and impossible. And so, so very wrong.

Those were the last thoughts her overstressed mind managed, before it turned out the lights, and sent her plummeting into darkness.

---

Kratos had only a second to register Fujimaru collapsing, before the Servant was underneath his guard, behind him, even, daggers seeking to hamstring him.

He leapt, just ahead and above the wicked points, axe crashing down as he twisted his body in the air. But the Servant merely sprang backwards, turning a cartwheel in the air as she threw her body out of the range of his attack.

Fast. Very fast. The kind of speed that would make this fight difficult, were he just on his own. Defending Fujimaru - who he could see out of the corner of his eye, crumpled to the ground, body seizing - would make this even more difficult. He had to slow her down.

He continued the strike, driving the Leviathan Axe into the ground, triggering a blooming patch of frost that covered the ground. The Servant landed, then continued leaping back, just ahead of the spreading ice.

Growling, Kratos dug the Leviathan Axe into the street, then ripped it out, sending a wave of frigid air and frozen earth at the retreating Servant. Icicles formed, growing from the ground at a rapid pace, points stabbing towards their falling body.

Blades flashed, and the strange girl weaved between the obstacles, taking the tops off the spears of ice as fast as they formed. She still touched down in the midst of the frost, but leapt, this time a much larger, and much longer jump, before the cold could do more than lightly caress her.

Still, her feet, and the edges of her cloak were dripping with moisture as she flew away, and her movements were just a touch slower, merely incredibly fast now, where previously she had been blindingly so. (Medusa, as opposed to Hermes, his mind provided.)

He charged.

His shield flew up, catching the dagger the girl jabbed out at him as she descended to the ground. His axe chopped down, diagonally, but the girl extended her arm, using the point of the dagger to push herself back, and away, making the space she would need to truly build up her fearsome speed. Up close, the advantage would be his, so long as he could keep her in front of him, his bulk and reach would allow him to overwhelm her. Either slowly, chipping away at her defenses a piece at a time, or all at once, in a single massive blow.

He kicked out, then turned the blow into a lunging step, jerking his leg down as his opponent attempted to drive a dagger under his kneecap. Foot planting, he drove himself forward, axe leading.

She attempted to parry with her knives, but he simply blasted them aside with the force of his blow. Her arms momentarily out of position, he stepped inward, and lowered his shoulder.

She got her knees up, managing to block at least some of the impact, but it still sent her flying back. She rode the momentum, Kratos thundering after her, as her body hurtled towards the wall.

Her feet touched against the wall, and, seconds before his axe reduced her perch to a gaping hole, she was flying through the air, knives slicing low, then upwards. Burning streaks raced up Kratos' shoulders, dangerously close to his throat. He tore the Leviathan Axe free, feeling what could only be blood welling up beneath his armor as he spun around - the girl had sliced straight through the wyvern's scales.

"You're fun, Mr. God!" The girl was giggling as she landed, and began to circle him, just barely setting the tips of her toes down on the cobblestones. "I've never sliced up something with such thick skin! Everyone else just dies after a few cuts, even the Murder Machines, and then they stop being fun…..but you're going to be a GREAT playmate!"

Her eyes gave it away, for all that she was addressing him, he saw them darting over to Fujimaru's limp body (the girl was at least quiet now, her convulsions having ceased….and she was still breathing). He was moving before he had registered it, the Leviathan Axe flying across the gap, forcing the Servant to abort her blurring run short of Fujimaru. She ducked, the axe sailing high, her legs tensing, watching both Kratos and Fujimaru, looking for an opening.

Though her eyes widened as Kratos reached behind him, bringing the Blades of Chaos forth. Chains rattled as he threw his body into a short leap, flames flickering along the metal of the Blades, as they rose high above his head. His teeth clenched, muscles along his arms tightening, as he jerked the Blades down.

One, the lead, cut through the foggy night, aimed directly at the Servant's neck. It was not expected to land. Given the speed this Servant had displayed, he expected her to have no trouble evading it. And indeed, that is what she did, leaping high enough that the weapon streaked under her, with room to spare.

Putting her right in line with the second Blade.

At the last second, her daggers slashed down, sparking off the burning metal that was just below her. Her body spun in the air, then she flattened, going almost completely horizontal, the second Blade just skimming over her back, cutting through some of her fluttering cloak.

Kratos was already driving his body in a circle, bringing one Blade around for another pass, while halting the other's path. He scissored them down, Blades crossing before him.

The Servant had already landed, and was already under them, her body sliding low to the ground as her daggers stabbed up. The Blades reached his hands a moment before the tips of the daggers would have punched into (and likely through) his armor. Metal rang off metal as he parried her twin daggers with his own paired weapons.

The girl's eyes were wide in awe as she struck at him, again and again, her arms working almost independently of each other, trying to pierce Kratos' guard. "Those are neat daggers, Mr. God! Can I play with them after I cut off your arms?"

His growl was her only answer, his knee flying up, driving her back, and forcing her away from Fujimaru - she had been angling herself, subtly, to his left, where the girl was laying, and he stepped into the space she had been been forced to vacate, firmly placing his body between the unconscious girl and the Servant.

She was giggling, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and excited as she touched down, already beginning to spring to the side, when one of the stones under her foot shifted, and sank. Whatever legendary figure she was, however childish she acted, her instincts were good, and she was already jerking her leg away.

Too late.

From beneath the ground, eight metal legs sprang up, sinking into her flesh, and the girl wailed as only a child could. She tugged at her leg, stabbed at the metal talons holding her in place, to no effect.

There was a burrowing sound, and a metal head, its bulbous eyes locked onto the girl, dug its way free from the street. And from within it, Kratos could hear a rhythmic clicking sound.

If anything, the girl's terror intensified at the sight, or sound, of this thing. And that terror only increased as mad laughter suddenly echoed down around them.

"Naughty child, naughty child. Running away to play in the city streets. Whatever shall we do with you….."

What little blood remained in her scarred face drained away. "I told you, Mephiclown! I'm NOT going back!"

Kratos darted his head from side to side, trying to locate this new figure. From the girl's reaction, he did not seem to be a friend to her, but the sheer terror his presence was causing…..no, something told him that whatever this was, it was not friend to himself, either.

For a second, atop one of the roofs, he thought he caught a glimpse of a humanoid shape. Tall, slender, and wearing something on its head, a hat, possibly, similar in size at least to the kind of hat Liz had been wearing in her castle, just days ago. But through the fog, he thought he could see…more.

As though the figure had horns.

Possibly they were merely an addition to the headwear, some affectation that would make the figure more intimidating, as warriors were wont to do to their armor. But something in Kratos' gut told him otherwise. There was a sense of menace, of danger that had pooled into the area that felt entirely unnatural.

And familiar. The oni that Fujimaru had summoned carried a similar aura with her, though it was more…..restrained. Possibly due to the boon she felt she owned Fujimaru's ancestor. In combat, some of that control would slip at times, and the bloodthirst, the appetite for carnage and destruction had leaked out.

Yes, it felt very similar to what was now filling the walls of this back alley space.

High tittering laughs rained down on them, and Kratos felt his hackles rise, his blood spiking at the sound. There was something unsettling in the laughter, something that set him on edge. It was within the voice itself, a lilt, a tone that was just simply……incorrect. Wrong. He had heard it before, in the voices of the gods of Olympus, whenever Baldur spoke, or even lurking beneath the surface of the younger Medea, before her mask had fallen away to reveal the broken woman behind it. And yes, at times, in his own voice, too, long ago.

Madness.

"Such a pity, such a pity. Little girls should do what they're told…..but then again, that would be boring, wouldn't it?" The voice paused, seeming to jump between positions from word to word. "But then, this has been an interesting diversion, tracking you across this city. No, not boring at ALL! I suppose I do owe you something for that, little runaway, little killer."

Quiet fell, the only sounds being that of the Servant as she continued to try to free her leg from the trap, to no avail. Kratos was balanced on the balls of his feet, tense, head moving from side to side as he tried to spot the speaker, above them, somewhere.

There came the sound of lips smacking, loudly, almost obscenely. "They told me to not worry about your condition when I brought you in, so long as you were intact…enough. But since this has been such a fascinating chase, I suppose I'll only take one leg."

The metal trapping the girl began to glow red, and the giggling increased in volume….and in sadism. Kratos moved.

He was not fast enough.

"BOOM!"

There was an explosion, and a scream. Kratos was thrown back, fire and debris washing over him.

He was pushing himself from the ground even before his vision had cleared, his ears still ringing. As his eyes adjusted, double images coalescing into one, he took in the now ruined street.

A crater had been dug into the cobblestones, oddly….compact for the sheer size and force of the detonation that had flung Kratos back. Small fires licked at some of the piles of rubbish and trash in the alcove, and all of the robots the girl had been using as makeshift toys had been knocked over in the blast.

Fujimaru, at least, was unharmed, or not further harmed. Kratos had shielded her from the majority of the explosion, thankfully, though he hadn't been able to fully throw his body over hers. Still, other than possibly a few scratches from flying shrapnel, she did not seem to have been greatly affected by the blast.

As for the other girl….

She was prone, thrashing wildly, and screaming at the top of her lungs. A pool of spreading blood was growing underneath her body. For a second, the familiar scent of dull iron wafted across his nostrils. The Servant's left leg was gone, from the knee down.

It descended from a rooftop, slim form cutting through the mists. It touched down soundlessly, and with almost no impact at all, its body slowing in the air just before it reached the ground, touching down without so much as a whisper.

Or perhaps, not touching down at all, as Kratos noticed its feet hovering just above the earth.

It was a man, or wore a man's form. Rail thin, clothing - in a riot of garish, contrasting colors, clung tightly to its form. Purple, curling hair, and a cloak made of the fur of some animal fluttered behind him. Fingers that seemed to be just a bit too long to be human were reaching for the shrieking girl, as he bent low. "Now now, needent fuss. It's only a leg, and only to keep you from running away again. And it'll grow back eventually. At least, if you're good, then our Master will give you all the sweetbreads you need to move around on two legs."

The head rotated around bonelessly, and a pair of pale blue eyes settled on him. "But, as much fun as it would be to toy with you, Mister Foreign God, my orders were simply to bring this one back. Our playtime will have to wait for later…."

The thing was still staring straight at Kratos, so he missed it. A darkening of the ground around where the girl was lying, and where he was floating, the earth itself softening, and beginning to churn.

The Servant must have sensed something, because he was moving even before his head had started the motion of turning away from Kratos, flying back, away from whatever was happening.

Even that reaction was not fast enough.

Blood flew, splattering across the walls, as chunks of flesh were torn from the inhuman Servant by….something even more inhuman. A dozen mouths, filled with square teeth, rounded heads with far too many things that might have been eyes, blackened flesh now spotted with crimson, all of them erupted from the ground, biting down, into the Servant, and ripping at him.

Detonations sounded, and the Servant tore himself free from the maws that had seized him, blood now running freely from a score of wounds on his body. His eyes widened, and his grin threatened to split his face wide, as he took in the sight before him. "Oh MYYYYYYYYYY…."

It was humanoid, but only just. Legs far too long planted on the ground, causing it to tower over both the men in the nexusway. One arm that seemed to be more blackened wood, treelike, rather than flesh, cradled the girl to its chest. Tendrils, or branches, maybe, extended from its body, each one topped with a mouth, the teeth of which were stained with fresh blood, and more than a few now scorched. A long, ropelike neck swayed in the fog - Kratos could see a head at the end of it, but little else - it was facing away from him, from both of them. Two braided tails of hair, tied with ribbons, dangled in the air.

The only thing that spoke to whatever humanity this thing might have once had was a frilly black dress, small enough that it could have only belonged to a child, that still adorned the proportionally tiny torso of whatever this creature was now.

It took one ponderous step forward, looming menacingly over the Servant. As one, the mouths opened, and began to sing.

"Ring around the rosie…..pocket full of posies……a tissue, a tissue we all jump up……"

Then, a single word, drawing out the nonsense rhyme.

"N̸͓̥͋̏̐̊̂̑̓͠͝Ơ̸͇͔͍͔̠̝͙̝̆̎͛̀̆̆̑̄̇͘͜͠ͅ.̴͎̜͍̺̘̭̞͍̝̟͙̟̮̲̺͋"

The force of the word knocked the Servant away, even forced Kratos back a single step. Before either of them could regain their footing, the massive being began to sink into the ground, vanishing.

And with the disappearance of the girl, the fog that had been so thick around them began to slowly dissipate. The walls of the alleyways, the buildings, the cobblestone streets also began to waver, losing cohesion.

"Oh what a pity, what a pity. I suppose we'll just have to do this again soon, Mister Foreign God!" The Servant pushed himself off of the wall, grinning at Kratos in a thoroughly unpleasant manner. "Not, of course, that you'll remember any of this. So our next meeting will also be our first meeting again. WHAT FUN!"

---

Kratos blinked, coming back to himself. For a moment, he ignored the shill chimes of the communicator on his wrist, and the two voices in his mind (Cu Chulainn, not worried, but concerned, and Altera…..her tone as blithely opposite of that of the Hound's as it was possible to be), and simply tried to gather his thoughts.

What…..had just happened to him? Where had he been? Fujimaru, he could see, was down, unconscious on the street, but without visible wounds. And he could feel it on his skin, the telltale signs that he had been burnt, and cut, recently.

But by what?

He remembered walking with the rest of the group through the abandoned city. He remembered a cry of alarm from Mordred. Then……nothing.

Nothing until now.

Something had toyed with his mind, stealing, or merely blocking memories.

With a growl of true anger, one that he pushed aside, he knelt by Fujimaru and checked her, quickly, with the practice born of many, many campaigns. It was just as his first glance had told him, no serious injuries, beyond a few scratches.

Which led him once more back to the question - what had just happened?

With no answers forthcoming, he finally reached down to answer the continual chiming of his communicator. Almost instantaneously, Romani's image appeared, the man seemingly on the edge of outright panic.

"KRATOS! Finally!" He took a deep breath, struggling for some measure of calm, then continued. "Please, give us an update on your condition, and that of Fujimaru. We lost all signs of you for nearly an hour…..and then, just a few minutes ago, Fujimaru's condition monitor went haywire…."

He swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was very small, and thready. "Kratos…..what happened?"

"I do not know." He struggled to keep the anger from his voice. "I have no memories of this time. Something has taken them."

Romani began to open his mouth, but Kratos interrupted - there were greater concerns at the moment. "Fujimaru is alive, but unconscious. She was in that state when I came to. I checked her, and did not find any obvious injuries."

Romani's mouth was a thin, worried line, and Kratos could almost hear the sound of the man grinding his teeth, despite the distance (both physically, and temporally) between them. "Ok……that's…..she doesn't seem to be in any immediate danger now, her vitals have, well, stabilized, but whatever put her down did a number on her." He blew out a long breath. "The group is on their way to you, and Mordred says there's a Caster back at the camp that might be able to do something for Fujimaru. They should be there any minute, so just, keep an eye out." Romani frowned. "Both for them, and any other unpleasant surprises London might have for you."

He sighed. "We'll deal with this whole memory loss thing once we're sure she's fully out of danger." His voice trailed off into a mutter, one that sounded distinctly like a lament of 'why can't it ever be simple?'.

Romani was correct, the rest of his allies were not long in finding him. And whatever relief they had in finally locating the two of them was tempered, if not utterly offset, by Fujimaru's condition.

"And you remember nothing?" asked the El-Melloi, as he examined Fujimaru, Chiron on the other side of the girl, doing his own inspection.

"Nothing," rumbled Kratos. "From the time I was separated from you, to the time I realized Romani, and Cu Chulainn and Altera, were trying to contact me, each in their own manner, it is….a blank."

"Just freakin' GREAT," griped Mordred. "First person to make it out alive from this wandering death fog, and you've got nothing you can tell us about whatever is picking folks off. Not that that's going to stop me from eventually barging into there to kick the ass of whatever's killing my people, but still…." The knight threw their hands up into the air. "It'd be nice to have at least SOME kind of idea of what I'll be picking a fight with."

Mash was hovering over Chiron's shoulder, her expression a study in thinly-veiled worry. "Will Senpai be alright?"

"Her breathing and heartbeat are steady, and, as Kratos said, she has no major wounds, visible or not," said Chiron, fingers on the girl's wrist, taking her pulse. "I can only speculate on internally - neither the Lord nor myself like the dried blood on her face, especially as it appears to have originated from her eyes. Her Sight caused her trouble in the recent past, combined with the headache and weakness she was displaying not an hour ago, it paints a worrying picture."

"And I can't add much to it, medical Magecraft was never something I put much time into," commented the El-Melloi rising. "And we shouldn't linger. Mordred's concerns about what might come upon us in the fog have been justified in a very real way. I would feel better, both for my Master and myself, if we were behind some solid Bounded Fields."

Cu glanced over to Mordred. "You said you had a Caster there who might be able to do something for the lass?"

Mordred's answer was a moment in coming, and when it did issue from beneath their helmet, it was more subdued than the knight had ever sounded. "She might be able to. If you can convince her. She's……not easy to deal with."

Altera's head was tilted almost completely to the side. "Who is this Caster, and why do you speak of her like she is Bad Civilization?"

A sigh rattled Mordred's helmet. "....you'll just have to see. That'll explain it better than anything." They shrugged as the knight took in the expressions on the Chaldean's faces. "I trust them, more or less, but…..well, it's damn complicated."

Shaking their head, the knight began to set off. "Come on. That nerd there is right, we shouldn't stick around here any longer."

Carefully, Chiron scooped Fujimaru up, into his arms, and together, they all set off.

"We originally thought about camping out in one of the parks, but the fog turned nasty before we could get close, and we had to pick something fast, or just watch everyone die." Mordred pointed east, as they marched across a bridge. "Thankfully, we stumbled on a shipyard in Southwark that's been working for us. Enough open space and warehouses to give folk a roof over their head, if nothing else. Can't say much about privacy though, but beggars can't be choosers. It's got a fence that we've turned into a proper wall, and we're otherwise surrounded by water on all the other sides. Keeps the machines off us, and only lets them come at us one way."

They could hear the frown forming on Mordred's face. "Or it did. Dunno if that'll keep now that I've seen those things transforming. Even beyond the flying one, those ones that looked like they were trying to be elves might be light and agile enough to skip across the Thames. Which is just another headache we can't afford right now. Hopefully, you bunch end up being just as much of a headache for whoever's screwing with my kingdom."

None of them had anything to say to that.

The rest of the short journey, as the entrance to the shipyards was only a short walk from the bridge, was made in silence, up until they crossed a threshold, and all of them felt a tingle as magic washed over them. Ahead of them, a wall loomed, one that looked like it had been partially constructed from the hulls of ships, and reinforced with metal strips. Peeking out above the summit, Kratos could see faces peering down at them.

"Should be safe to drop those masks," said Mordred, already pounding on a fortified gate with their gauntlet. "It's me, your fearless leader! I found some allies, but we've got a man down - open this gate up and get String Bean and….her out here, chop chop!"

With a groan, the gate began to slowly, ponderously slide to the side. When it had opened enough to admit a single person (maybe - the opening was very small) Mordred began to squeeze their body through. "That's as much as we ever open it - it's a bitch for regular people to open on its own, and even when I do it, it's not quick, so we don't risk it. So tuck in your guts and get in here."

The knight was correct, it was a tight fit, at least for Kratos. But he had managed his body through tighter openings in his time, so he managed this.

The other side of the wall was, perhaps unsurprisingly to Kratos, arranged in the vein of a military camp. Tents (that seemed to have been fashioned from the sails of ships) dotted the ground, and handfuls of men and women were drilling with spears, their movements clumsy, but dedicated. Others were firing arrows - somewhat shakily, his mind provided - at targets several paces from them. And even those that were not actively training were bustling about - some beginning to prepare meals, others hauling wood and metal to various destinations.

Mordred saw where he was looking, and shrugged. "I know they can't do much one-on-one to those machines, but when they're standing on top of the wall, and those things are trying to climb, they're not worthless. And it takes some of the burden off the Servants…..we can't be everywhere when we're attacked."

"You shouldn't sound so humble in this, Mordred. It was one of your better ideas."

The voice came from an unassuming man who had apparently been waiting on them. He had more the look of a scholar or a philosopher, to Kratos' eyes, than that of a warrior. Delicate in appearance, almost thin-boned, his features as sharp as the eyes which swept over the Chaldeans. He was dressed as one who lived in these times - Kratos recognizing the style and form of some of the clothing that Da Vinci had attempted to cajole Kratos into: a white shirt, grey vest, dark trousers, all finely made and detailed.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Mordred, before they gestured at the Chaldeans. "But break out the good absinthe, skinny, I brought help!"

"Oh?" The voice echoed over them, through them, and both Mordred and the unnamed man started, spines suddenly going stiff. "And who have you brought home today, Mordred?"

The woman who drew up, seemingly out of nowhere, to stand by the knight was tall, and inordinately pale. Hair as pale as her skin, and long enough to nearly touch the ground fluttered behind her, secured by a single, thick, black ribbon. Her dress was equally as dark as the woman herself was not, the only colors on it being a few blue ribbons, and flowing sleeves that, in contrast, were a matching white to the woman's skin. A staff rested in her hand, the object taller than her and topped with a crosspiece, then a spiked head that was surrounded by two arms that came to a point just above the point. She stared at Mordred, at all of them, with a cold, guarded expression.

Her face was that of Saber's. Identical in almost every way.

Mordred fidgeted on the spot. "Hello……mother."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Remember when I said I wouldn't bring in story characters before their time?

I may or may not have had a tiny change of heart when I was thinking up what to do with London. It started with the transforming robots and the more dangerous fog (partially because of the parallels, somewhat, to Nifelheim in the first Norse God of War), and then I thought of what and how would Mo do to shore up her defenses. She'd try to get a Caster, I thought. And what Caster does she know has power to spare, and enough of a connection to that she could possibly summon using her blood?

Alley is apparently from 14th century Middle English. The things I learn from writing this story.

I know, from the current Feet Pics Event (seriously, Baobhan Sidhe, SERIOUSLY?) Jack wears shoes, but for some reason I always see her as barefooted, probably because she's this little disheveled moppet made from the souls of innumerable disheveled moppets.

I'm not going to make a big deal about the Saberface thing unless it's actually an important plot point - like in the case of the resemblance between Mo, Artoria, and Morgan. Which is why it wasn't brought up for the UMU, despite Red Saber being a Saberface.

Chapter 60: London 4

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 60​

A ripple passed through the group. The Servants, to a one, all narrowed their eyes, and none more than the El-Melloi (though Mash was also frowning more severely than Kratos could ever recall from the girl).

"Morgan le Fay, I presume?" began the El-Melloi, his tone clipped. At the woman's dismissive nod, his tone dropped even further. "Which one are you, then?"

The merest corner of her mouth ticked up into what might have been a smirk, if an arrogant one, and the Clock Tower Lord continued. "Are we speaking to the sister of Artoria Pendragon, King of the Britons? Or are you Nimue right now, the Fae enchantress?" He swallowed deeply. "Or is this the personification of Britain itself that stands before us?"

The woman said nothing, merely regarding the Caster, that mocking half-smirk still there.

"Or," he finished, his voice steady, despite the trickle of sweat running down his brow. "Are you all three at once, as you were purported to be?"

Both sides of the woman's mouth were now edging upwards, her amusement plain, though barbed. "You are remarkably well-informed for a modern Servant."

The El-Melloi's face twisted in something approaching a sneer. "I should hope so. I've had to deal with the fallout of one of your schemes for much of my life." He reached into one of his suit's inner pockets, drawing out a square leather case of some sort, one that unfolded into two in his hands. His fingers picked through a collection of small, thin squares, before pulling one free, then turning it to face Morgan.

"My apprentice, you see, was raised in a small village in the British countryside," he began, his tone mild, if not for the anger that roiled beneath his every word.

As the square in his hand wavered a bit, Kratos caught a glimpse of what was on it. A girl, he thought, young, her features almost entirely hidden under the hood of a large, gray cloak, so that little above her nose was visible.

Still, the lines of her face looked eerily familiar.

The El-Melloi continued. "A common enough story, only her village was controlled by a cult that purported to worship King Arthur…..and was actively trying to engage the means of her return. For which they chose Gray to be the vessel of that. Over the course of her life, she was molded, both psychologically, and magically, to that end." His eyes had narrowed to slits. "I took her away from that, and spent years of both of our lives trying to explain WHY you did such a thing, for all my research told me that you were the genesis of this cult. And we spent further years to find a way to reverse it - or, failing that, to just stop it."

Morgan laughed, and there was actual mirth in it - none seemed more shocked than the El-Melloi to hear it, though from how they'd flinched at hearing it, Mordred might have competed with the man for that position, if they could see the knight's face. "Ah, that plan. Truly, I had almost forgotten about it. It was one of many I set into motion, almost doomed to failure until those three Mage families put together their ritual."

She stared at the other Caster. "My…..sister being summoned for that ritual finally allowed dormant plans to begin to move again."

The El-Melloi was trying to glare a hole through the woman, but to little effect. "Why?" he asked, almost spitting the word.

Morgan made a dismissive noise. "Do not think to question me, child. My reasons are for myself, and myself alone, to know. Content yourself with having played a part, however minor, in one of my plans, and be happy that my influence only brushed across your short life, however briefly."

Kratos felt himself bristle. The arrogance that dripped from the woman's words….it was familiar. But then…. "Why do you aid these people, then?"

That piercing gaze was turned on Kratos, and while he saw that spark of recognition he was beginning to identify, a Heroic Spirit seeing him for what he was, this time, it was free of any of the other accompanying emotions - fear, awe, anticipation, desire, or any of the others that the revelation of his divinity had brought about in the past. All he received was a measured look, as if she was weighing him against something in her mind, unknowable to all of them. "Can a mother not choose to aid her child, if it suits her?"

Cu snorted, loudly, rudely. "Try again - I really don't think any of us are drunk enough to believe that shite. The Legends were pretty clear how little you cared about any of your kids, lady."

She turned to the Irish Caster, and paused. Something passed behind her eyes, something identifiable, and it was a moment before she spoke. "And for what reason have I given the fabled Child of Light to distrust me so?" A knowing smile tugged at her lips. "If you cannot believe those words, then believe this - whichever Morgan you think I am right now, Britain is mine, to do with as I please. It was always to be mine. I was created to rule it, before it was taken from me by my sister, and the meddling of that half-incubus fool. I burned Camelot to the ground because of that."

Her smile turned into an ugly sneer. "But now, someone else seeks to take from me what is rightfully mine. To destroy what they have not earned. I would deny them this, simply to punish such temerity."

"And when this is all over, are we going to have to fight you?" Mash stared up at the woman fearlessly, her shield clutched in her hands, Fou having crawled out of it to curl up, warily, on her shoulder, his tail lashing behind him.

For the first time since she had appeared, something that might have been an honest emotion flickered across the woman's face. "Girl…..where did you get that….thing?"

Mash blinked. "You mean Fou?" She reached up to run a hand idly across the animal's head, fingers scratching momentarily behind his ears. "He's just….kind of always…."

"Not that! I assume Cath Palug was let loose from his prison for the amusement it would bring to his fellow prisoner." Her hand reached out, coming close enough to brush over Mash's shield, but stopping just short of touching it. "This! I know that shield - I know its owner, as does my child. And YOU are not that man."

Mash froze, her every movement ceasing, save that of her eyes, which had widened to an almost impossible degree. "Do….I mean….you know who the Heroic Spirit bonded to me is?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Morgan displayed true emotion, confusion, this time. "Bonded to you…..what are you speaking of, girl? Just what are you?" She took a step forward, a low noise of concentration escaping her lips, as her hands reached out to cup Mash's face in her hand.

Her left wrist was seized by a massive hand, halting it in its tracks. The right was stopped by a more slender, but still powerful hand, that strength likely augmented by the glinting rune that was hanging from the druid's bracelet.

"No way either of us is letting you put your hands on our cute little student there, lady," drawled Cu. Kratos said nothing, but his furrowed brow spoke volumes.

Morgan scoffed. "Two brutes such as the pair of you teaching someone who wields that shield? A more ill-suited set of teachers I could not imagine." She jerked her arms free. "But I don't need to touch you to see it, you're just like my daughter there, aren't you? Created." Morgan stared down at Mash. "Likely for the sole purpose of what you mentioned, binding a Servant to you."

There was a pause, one broken by Mash. "Wait….daughter?" Heads turned to Mordred, who made a rude noise, and then their helmet began to deconstruct itself, sliding back and away from the knight's face, before vanishing almost fully into the collar guard of their plate armor.

Indeed, Mordred was a woman. Facially, he could see the resemblance, from both her parents, the Saber he had battled in the caves, and this woman - Morgan, here. Combined, it was something both familiar and yet still uniquely theirs, their features rougher (or perhaps more unfinished) than either of their parents. Messy, straw-blonde hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, and damp with sweat, dangled limply behind her. Her face was screwed up in a glare, one that was being equally divided between the Chaldeans, and her mother.

"Don't call me a woman or I'll tear your throat out," spat Mordred, her voice a growl. "And what of it, anyways? You got some kind of problem with it?"

Cu snorted. "Do I have a….." His mirth bubbled over, and he laughed. "Girl, do you have ANY idea who I spent literal YEARS getting beaten into the ground by? The scariest she-bitch this side of either of the worlds, that's who! Your mother there might be terrifying, but compared to Scathach, she's the fuzzy white puppy that used to follow me around when I was a runt!" His mirth threatened to overwhelm him, turning into full belly laughs. "Do I have a problem……oh, my sides!"

He continued to chortle, his amusement still not having died out, as Kratos weighed in. "My wife was a warrior beyond compare. As is Freya. And I know Valkyries who fought as allies in Ragnarök. And you have fought to defend these people. Your being a woman does not diminish those accomplishments….nor does it make you any less of a warrior."

Mordred bristled. "I said not to call me a woman…." As quickly as it appeared, her ire dissipated. "But you recognizing how awesome I am isn't bad, so I'll give you a pass…..THIS time."

"If I can interrupt, we have a more pressing concern." Chiron stepped forward, Fujimaru still limp in his arms. "Lady Morgan, this is my Master, and, as you can see, she is injured. I would request your aid, for her."

"She, and the hulk there got picked up by that weird fog," interjected Mordred. "He made it out with a couple of cuts, but the girl's been out like a damn light since we found them."

Morgan was peering down at Fujimaru. "And why should I? I aid these…..humans, because they are the subjects of my daughter. You are not citizens of Britain, nor have you sworn oaths to serve her."

"Actually," began the El-Melloi. "I am British, or was. But regardless of that, we are here in direct opposition to the forces that are, how did you put it - 'here to destroy what they have not earned'? We have in fact come from the future itself to put a stop to them." The man smirked as he caught a flicker of interest in the woman's eyes. "So, with or without your aid, we are your allies in this, if nothing else. It is in your best interests - or those of your child's, to provide us aid and get that girl back on her feet."

"Please," said Chiron, his tone more conciliatory than the Clock Tower Lord's. "She is my student, and his as well. And whatever has happened to her, we were unable to protect her."

"Lady Morgan," the man who had greeted them earlier spoke up, his tone deferential. "I think it would behoove all of us if you would grant their request. We do need allies right now - and we have enough enemies without making more."

She stared at the man for a long moment. "Very well….my Master. Your arguments, all of them, have swayed me." She gestured at Chiron. "Bring the girl, and follow me to my workshop. I make no promises, but I will take a look at her."

Mash made to follow, but Morgan stopped her with a single raised finger. "You - and that beast of yours, stay here. You will just be in the way, in any event."

Divided between sulking and worry, Mash could do nothing but watch as Morgan strode away, Chiron and the El-Melloi following in her wake.

"She'll be alright," said the man. "She's…..difficult, but if there's one thing Morgan doesn't lack for, it's power in magic. She'll help your friend to the best of her ability, now that she's agreed to."

"And you're running HERD on that?" asked Cu, his tone disbelieving. "You're a braver man than I am, buddy."

"It was not my idea, but Mordred's, but well….." He shrugged helplessly. "The fog was just starting to grow actively virulent, and the handful of Mages we had gathered up weren't confident of their ability to make a Bounded Field strong enough to keep it out. We knew we'd need to try to summon a Caster, and Mordred…"

"If I was going to gamble on getting one, it had to be Mother. She might suck at being a parent, but I'll trust her with anything related to magic," chimed in Mordred. "But whoever we were going to summon, I didn't want to take the chance that we wouldn't have some sort of leash for them. So, Command Seals. Mainly meant it for Mother, but, hell, if for some reason we got Merlin because of my connection to the Round Table, I'd sleep just as well knowing we'd have some fucking means of controlling him, too."

"But I was the only one Mordred trusted enough to do the Summoning, considering they had been sleeping on my couch since shortly after themselves being summoned to this place." He gave a shrug, fingers running across the back of his right hand, though his black gloves. "As I said, we were running low on options at the time."

He gave a short bow. "Dr. Henry Jekyll, at your service."

Mash's eyes nearly doubled in size. "THE Dr. Jekyll? So then, your story must have been based on real events!"

Jekyll blinked, startled. "My…story? Goodness, are you telling me I am…famous, in some small way, that people so many years from now know who I am?" He frowned, something complicated, and heavily guarded dancing across his face. "I…am not entirely sure how to feel about that."

"There's a story, written by Robert Louis Stevenson, The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," began Mash, who noticed Jekyll's flinch out of the corner of her eye. "It was always thought to be a work of fiction, but I suppose not, as the main character is standing right here."

"I would almost ask you if the end of my tale is a happy one…" His frown grew deeper. "But I feel too much knowledge of the future is a dangerous thing to have. And that even assumes the story that was put to pen was not….embellished, as stories often are."

He sighed, and shook his head. "In any event, I assume you would all appreciate somewhere to rest, while Morgan does what she can with your friend?"

The communicator on Kratos' wrist chimed, and, a moment later, Romani's image winked into being. "We would appreciate that, Doctor Jekyll."

The man peered at the blue, flickering image. "My…..this is a fascinating bit of magic, whatever it is."

"Science actually," chimed in Da Vinci, from off-screen. "Melded with magic, but more the former than the latter, Doctor Jekyll." Her grinning face shoved itself into the image, dislodging Romani. "And might I say it's a pleasure to meet another scientist there. Leonardo Da Vinci, at your service!"

Groaning, Romani attempted to shove her away. "Before that, I assume you're situated on top of a Leyline there? If we could connect with that, it would make our lives much easier - we'd be able to resupply our team, as well as possibly provide some things for your people, in addition to stabilizing our communicators and a few other things. If we're going to be using your camp as a forward base for exploring what's become of London it's something we're almost going to have to have."

"Part of the reason I picked this place," said Mordred. "Our Clock Tower strays said there was a vaguely decent leyline here - something about how you can usually find one by major rivers. I don't have anything resembling a head for magic, but if that's going to be powering at least some of our defenses, we want to be as directly plugged in as possible."

She began meandering into the camp. "C'mon, follow me, and we'll get you set up."

As they walked, the knight slowed up, until she was walking almost side by side with Kratos. "Just to double-check, but you sure you don't remember anything that happened in that fog? Whatever was in there was nasty enough to take out two Servants who were getting a pretty sizable home ground bonus, so…..not saying that I won't kick its ass, but something about all of it makes me feel like we're about to tangle with that damn rabbit again."

Some part of him had questions, mainly centered around how a rabbit could be fearsome enough to give pause to someone who had seemed so uniformly brash and confident as Mordred (and, had he been paying attention, he would have wondered at the sneeze that Fou issued, one that almost sounded contemptuous), but the greater whole of his mind was dredging up his memories, trying to pierce the haze that surrounded his time in that bank of mists.

Slowly, as though they were fighting him every way, a scarce few memories began to resurface, a trickle, where it should have been a flood. "There was a Servant." Mordred perked up, and he could see he had her full attention. "I do not know what class, or who they were. I believe….we fought." His hand reached up to the twin lines on his shoulders, where his armor was still sticky with drying blood. "If I was forced to guess at their class, I would say Assassin."

Mordred was frowning, though it was more akin to scowling. "Something about that sounds damn familiar, and I don't know exactly why. But go on."

He grunted. "I recall little beyond that. Images…..or sensations, rather than anything more solid." His shoulders hunched. "Fujimaru…..was down before the first blows were struck….I think. What I can recall of my movements indicate I was attempting to protect her, in a different manner than if she was conscious and on her feet."

"That's worrying," muttered Cu, Romani, and Da Vinci, all at once. With a shrug, the two men indicated that the Universal Genius should continue. "Considering the issues she's had recently with her Sight, and everything else connected to it, I can't help but think that somehow, that's all related."

"Girl had a headache, or something, during the fight with those machines," commented Cu. "Something's going on with her, or something's agitating her in this place. Problem is, we don't know what, and Kratos only has fragments of whatever went on inside that fog."

".....I feel it was more than just us three in the fog," muttered Kratos, his voice low. "But I cannot say why I believe that others were there. I think….the Assassin had another enemy, and then, an ally who came to their aid." He growled, a noise of frustration. "There is more going on here than we know."

"That seems to be a recurring theme with these Singularities," said Romani, his voice very dry, and very, very tired.

"Still, even that little's given me something more to go on for when I finally have to clean up this roving deathtrap out there," said Mordred, gesturing in the general direction of the walls. "Thanks."

Kratos had little to say to that beyond a gruff nod.

A few minutes later, they came up to a space that had been very deliberately cleared. A foundation still remained, but the building itself had been torn down - possibly in battle, or possibly just to use as materials for another construction. Now, there was only a sort of tent-dwelling, one much more elaborate than the cruder sorts that dotted the grounds of the camp. A miasma of thrumming power surrounded it, strong enough to be almost choking.

That, he supposed, explained the amount of space the dwelling was being given. Despite the number of people, no tents were pitched anywhere close to the dwelling - indeed, no one seemed willing to venture even within sight of it.

Mordred nodded at the number of looks that were being directed at her. "Yes, it's Mother's. Casters want their workshops on the most prime territory, right on top of a leyline, if possible, so of course she set up shop right here. Even had us tear down a warehouse so there'd be room for her to put it RIGHT where she wanted."

She gestured. "You should be able to link up with the leyline here. It's close enough. Just…..don't get any closer. Mother probably senses us, but if she's working on that girl, better we don't disturb her."

Mordred's tone seemed to speak from experience, so Mash, not moving from her spot, simply laid her shield down on the ground, and stepped back. Romani, over the link, called out directions to the rest of the Command Room staff. After a few moments, lights flashed around the shield, and he turned back to them. "Connection made. Sir Mordred, if there's any sort of supplies your camp could use, if you could give us a list, we can see what we can do to provide them."

The knight was staring at the shield, as Mash picked it back up. "There's probably a bunch of stuff, but food's the big one. Even with what we've been able to scrounge up from the city, it's been a few weeks now, and the stuff laying around in the city is either starting to rot, or rotting. Even trail rations would be something, if you can't spare the good stuff."

Romani glanced to the side. "Da Vinci, you're the closest thing we have to a quartermaster, I'll leave it up to you to see what we can spare." There was the sound of words from the Caster, and Romani turned back to them. "We'll get back to you in a bit. In the meantime, I'd recommend you all get some rest - and take care of any injuries you have."

He grimaced. "I've had a bad feeling about all of this since you arrived there - and something snatching up our two Masters has only made it worse."

---

Mordred found them a relatively empty space in one of the warehouses to use as their own. It was a space they would have to share with some of the survivors of London, but Kratos had been a soldier, once. Truthfully, it was far more generous than he had ever had on any of his campaign trails.

"So, we've got a base, a leyline connection, and intel," said Da Vinci. "Truthfully, even with Fujimaru's injuries, we're ahead of the curve - at least compared to the last couple of Singularities."

"Allies are a bit questionable, though," commented Cu. "Or ally, I should say. Mordred has a hell of a reputation - you don't earn the nickname 'the Knight of Treachery' with your garden-variety betrayals, after all." He spat off to the side. "But at the same time, Camelot was a damn mess, at least by all the tales. A lot of big personalities that were mostly kept in check by a once in a bunch of lifetimes leader. And then there were at least two legendary mages working their schemes on it, pushing the thing in the directions they wanted it to go. Add onto that the whole Guenivere thing….." He threw his hands up in the air. "Truthfully, it's a wonder it didn't explode more dramatically than it did."

"Morgan is one of the mages you spoke of?" asked Kratos, already expecting the answer.

"Yes." Romani's mouth was a grim line. "As the Lord said, she was the sister of King Arthur - the Saber you fought in Fuyuki. Supposedly, she was born of the land itself to be it's perfect, or chosen ruler. And there's at least enough evidence to tie her to the identity of Nimue, the enchantress who locked Merlin in Avalon." His frown grew more severe. "As to which of them was the real identity of the woman, or, perhaps, which one was the dominant identity, if they all three existed within her at once, is anyone's guess."

"As is the question of which one of those identities is represented in the Servant we are dealing with."

Their heads turned, all recognizing the voice.

"Senpai….how is she?" blurted Mash.

The El-Melloi sighed, the lines of his face looking even more severe and drawn than usual. "She's resting, but she will recover. Morgan managed to repair most of the damage, and now she just needs rest."

Exhaustion seemed to cling to the man as he crossed the space, eventually slumping almost bonelessly into a chair. "The damage was mainly to her Magical Circuits, mainly around her eyes - they were dangerously overstressed. Her brain was swollen as well, which was worrying enough all on its own, but between Morgan and Chiron, she's in a much better state." He gave a mirthless laugh. "And she didn't even try anything underhanded either. I was tense as a coil, ready to spring - for what little it would have done, opposing a Mage of her caliber in the heart of her workshop. It's why I look and feel like I just ran a marathon. But she kept her word, and no one is more shocked than I am."

Wordlessly, he held out a hand, and Mash quickly provided a water bottle, which he drained, gulping the liquid. "Chiron is remaining with her to keep an eye on things - both our Master and Morgan, just in case."

"That's not a one-man, or horse, job," muttered Cu, pushing himself to his feet. "And if she's trying to slip something under our noses, I'm sadly the best man for the job, now that our other Caster's tapped himself out. Kratos and Altera might be able to break her in two quicker, but they won't notice if she gets sneaky with magic." He began to stride for the door. "So I'll go back up Chiron and make sure the lass is ok."

"Appreciated," muttered the El-Melloi, beginning to rise from his chair, before thinking better of it, and just slumping deeper into it.

As he crossed the threshold, Cu threw a wave back at them, over his shoulder. "Don't wait up!"

A pause hung over the room in the wake of Cu's departure, the various people struggling to pick back up the threads of the earlier conversation. Eventually, it was Romani who raised his voice.

"Da Vinci checked the gas masks you sent back, just to be certain, but she says they're holding up well, so they should be suitable for further treks into the fog." He rolled his neck, feeling the stiffness of being bound to a chair for now nearly twelve hours beginning to set in. "The question then becomes, to where?"

"Mordred has not mentioned any other signs of survivors," rumbled Kratos, his voice low. "Other than the Clock Tower."

The silence of those two words pressed down on the group. "That is a rat's nest I hoped we wouldn't have to untangle at any point in this Singularity, if I'm being honest," lamented Romani. "But with an abandoned, or dead city staring us right in the face, it's rapidly becoming our best, or maybe only, option."

"There would be information there, if nothing else," commented the El-Melloi. "Even if our worst fears are correct, and they have fallen, they can't have destroyed everything. There would be some troves of knowledge hidden there. Mordred said they hadn't seen any signs of life from the area of the Clock Tower for a few days - that isn't enough time for them to find every secret sequestered in those halls, not without a very, very powerful Caster Servant, or the equivalent."

He straightened up in his chair. "In the event they knew their defenses were about to be breached, they would have hid something, and hid it fiendishly. At least, that is what I would have done. Though this all presupposes that they were aware of Mordred's enclave here."

"They would have to be blind not to have not noticed it, given the sheer power of the Bounded Fields you're behind." Romani, and Da Vinci as well, were staring at something on their screens. They nodded, and Da Vinci continued. "From a tactical standpoint, this is looking increasingly like the best odds we have of accomplishing something, other than wandering blindly through a hostile city."

"You are correct," rumbled Kratos. "And we cannot delay. IF there they have fallen, every second gives our enemies time to find the things you are certain have been hidden there."

Mash frowned. "Hopefully Senpai will be up by then. You could probably make the trip just fine, Mr. Kratos, but…..if we're trying to uncover Clock Tower secrets, having a Clock Tower Lord there would be best."

"And Cu Chulainn won't be much help in deciphering any of the puzzles, locks, or other assorted Mysteries there," said the El-Melloi, with a wry laugh. "Were this like the previous Singularity, I would assume I would be rotated out at this juncture, but I feel I will be working for the foreseeable future."

"And there is the fog that stole Kratos from us," stated Altera. "Not a foe that can be felled with a blade."

"About that," began Da Vinci. "Kratos, has anything more come back?"

Kratos scowled. "Only fragments. We were attacked - of that I am certain. And then….they were attacked. The more I think upon it, the more certain I am of these facts. As for Fujimaru……I remember nothing solid. Yet."

"A Rogue Servant, then," said Romani. "Akin to Mordred, but not one that seems overly invested in the fate of London. Much like Medea in Rome, but more actively dangerous."

"To both sides," added Da Vinci. "Assuming that the Servant that attacked them was aligned with whoever is controlling those robots. All three of them were gone by the time we caught back up with you, Kratos. I'd like to think that if any of them were friendly, they'd have stuck around, instead of vanishing into the depths of the city."

"If they're actively hunting the Rogue, then that might keep them off our backs, at least long enough to make a run at the Clock Tower." Mash was gently running her hand down Fou's back, the animal making contented noises. "But……leaving it there isn't good. It snatched Mr. Kratos and Senpai up without any of us realizing. It was terrifying to turn my head have both of them be gone like that."

Kratos felt the tension in his skull of an oncoming headache. "And next time, it could just take Fujimaru, who would be defenseless, if whatever is behind that fog can incapacitate her so easily." He shook his head. "Whether they are a Rogue Servant or something else, they are a continued danger, one that will threaten us every time we set foot into the city itself."

"I'll see if I can manage to work up some body cams for you all," said Da Vinci, her eyes down, frantically writing notes on a pad in her hands. "I'll give them functionality to transmit back to here, but given we lost complete contact with Kratos and Fujimaru, there's little chance that will still work in the fog - but I'll also make sure to have a backup memory on the devices themselves. That way, if you make it out of the fog," her face fell. "Or, if the worst happens, we can hopefully at least recover some information about whatever is lurking in that particular bank."

Her image winked out, and they saw her flash behind Romani, for a second, as she departed, likely heading to her workshop to begin the project she had just been speaking of. "Probably better to wait on her to finish that," said Romani. "It will also give Fujimaru, hopefully, time to wake up so we can see what, if anything she remembers…..and what kind of shape she's in."

He looked them all over. "My recommendation for all of you is to get some food and some rest. We'll talk again in twelve hours." With that, his image winked out.

And Kratos, out of the corner of his eye, saw Mash beginning to rummage in her shield, then rise to her feet, heading his way, the box with the red cross emblazoned on the front in her hands (and Fou trailing after her, a roll of bandages in the animals' mouth), and a very determined gleam in her eyes.

He sighed, and began to remove his armor.

---

Cu was whistling as he meandered through the makeshift camp. To be fair, for having been thrown up so quickly, it was more than passable - makeshift was doing it a disservice. It was laid out decently well, aided by the decent number of pre-existing structures that could be easily repurposed as housing. Really, not too many of his fellows from his life could have done better with the same resources - but the Irish were always much better at the fighting part of wars, rather than the other parts.

(Case in point, himself - and how he EVER got picked for this ridiculous assignment by a freeloader who would remain nameless for the foreseeable future. There were probably a dozen or more Casters on the Throne better suited for this than him, and yet, here he was. His miserable Luck, once again putting in an appearance.)

The people were a sight calmer than he expected, as well, given the situation, but that was probably because Mordred wasn't giving them time to brood and worry. She had them all keeping busy - either drilling with weapons, or busy with one of the myriad of other tasks a camp like this demanded to continue functioning. Here and there, clusters of men and women were huddled together, needle and thread working as they mended clothes that would need to survive the length of this crisis. Elsewhere, large pots were beginning to bubble, as a group of mostly women began to make what Cu assumed was the evening meal.

(He wondered where they were getting their foodstuffs from. Hopefully not out of that foul river that the camp bordered. He'd taken a whiff of it as they crossed the nearby bridge, and Morrigan's frigid teats, he couldn't imagine eating ANYTHING that came out of that muck. No fishing for the Hound in this Singularity, he feared.)

All in all, it was a more than adequate showing from whoever was running the show here - likely Mordred, going by how the girl had kept calling herself the Uncrowned King of Britain, along with a litany of other boastful titles. The wench might be rough around the edges, but she was competent. And a hell of a vicious fighter.

Kind of like an Ulster woman in that regard, actually.

He ducked between two buildings, taking something of a shortcut to where the Caster's workshop was set up, and immediately felt his danger sense do its level best to emulate his famed Warp Spasm.

The shadows in between the two warehouses were blacker, and deeper than they had any right to be, even given the omnipresent fog that was reducing the sun's contributions to a weak gloom, rather than the first inklings of twilight before it began to sink below the horizon. And shadows weren't the only thing deeper in this narrow little passageway, the magic was also thick enough that you could probably pull out a knife, slice it, and watch it bleed. The sounds of the camp also sounded far more distant than they should have. Glancing over his shoulder, it seemed like there were suddenly leagues between the entrance to the alleyway and the cookfires he'd just passed.

Really, given all that, the humanoid form melting out of the walls was just expected at this point. He'd have almost thought he was back in the Land of Shadows, and the woman confronting him was his beloved/fearsome teacher, if he didn't know better - didn't have a sinking suspicion he knew exactly what this was about.

"Nice Bounded Field," he drawled, actually meaning it. "Way more subtle than any I could ever manage to put up, but it continues to be a bit of a miracle I can even qualify for Caster. Made my name cracking skulls and taking hearts." He grinned, devil-may-care, just like he had been while leaning against Clochafarmore, his life's blood draining out of him at a rapid pace. "Not really the case for you, was it?"

Morgan was at least smiling at him, but it wasn't comforting in the slightest - it reminded him of the times he'd had a run with the Morrigan herself. Fearless he might be, but IF he had nightmares, they might at least involve her in some fashion. Or some unholy fusion, or tag-team of her and his teacher. (And not in the manner he'd prefer a dream with two beautiful, dangerous women to go.) "Oh, I think you sell yourself far too short. After all, here you are, the chosen companion of a Foreign God, fighting to preserve Humanity. And you've gained that deity's trust, to boot. He's far more open and honest with you than any of the others - though that girl that carries Galahad's shield is close."

"Quite an accomplishment, wouldn't you say, Grimnr the Sage?"

Fuck. He HATED being right. E-rank Luck, it never lets him down.

"So the old meddler was right - the two of you did figure out some way to communicate. That's why what he saw changed so rapidly, from visions of a barren, uninhabited wasteland, to that of a Kingdom that at least appeared to be thriving, on the surface, almost overnight. Long as you ignore the thing rotting beneath it." His respect for the woman went up several notches.

Honest curiosity prompted his next question, because he'd been wondering this for awhile. "And that's why I got….well, drafted. How'd you manage that, anyways?"

She regarded him for long enough that he was on tenterhooks, expecting an attack at any moment - to the point that he nearly dodged to the side when it was words, and not a magical barrage, that came from her. "You need look only so far as the organization that shelters you, Grimnr. I simply adapted the Rayshift this Chaldea uses to travel through time for my own purposes."

Cu blinked. By the time his mind had made sense of that, he wasn't entirely sure his jaw wasn't hanging open. "You managed to dissect Rayshifting - and then hack it for your own ends? Damn woman, you ARE impressive."

The praise was like water off a duck's back to the other Caster, as was his rakish good looks - which, honestly, first time he could recall that happening in any of his lives. Her expression didn't change in the slightest, save for maybe a hardening of the eyes as she summoned her war-staff. "The more impressive thing will be if you somehow manage to walk out of this Bounded Field alive." Mana began to ripple around her, as she summoned her power - and it was an hell of a display, he had to give her that. "Because I can't see a good reason to let you live to become a thorn in my side in the future."

It probably wasn't wise, but he laughed anyway. "Won't matter." At her narrowing eyes, he threw his hands up in the air. "Me being here, like this, helping out with this crisis wasn't even the plan. I was supposed to fade out with that burning city, and then wait until the NEXT crisis reared its ugly head. That was how it was all drawn up. Kratos crashing into things here, and the girl getting injured kind of overturned all of that."

He grinned. "So, you kill me here - and you might well be able to pull that off, though I won't make it easy on you - and I'll just head back to the enforced timeout I'd have been stuck in had things gone more according to the scheme I got picked to be the tip of the spear for."

Morgan was glaring at him like she was trying to bore a hole straight through his skull. "Who ARE you? You're not Cu Chulainn, at least, not entirely. He never had any kind of prescience or foresight to be able to predict what's coming after this. And you've spoken of another intelligence, in passing, but spoken of it nonetheless, one that seems to be the one that is using you as its tool….." Her smile turned cruel. "Or, perhaps 'puppet' might be a more apt description."

"Don't poke that bear." Probably one of the few times in his life he'd ever given advice of that nature. "Really, you don't want to know. Strong as you are, they might be able to give you a run for your money, and while they aren't the same bastard as they were in Kratos' world, they're FAR from lily-white in this one." He met her glare, and gave her the look that had terrified warriors all across Ulster, once upon a time. "And he doesn't take kindly to folk meddling in his affairs, which is to say his plots. And I have the unfortunate honor of being smack-dab in the middle of one of them, so he'd probably look poorly on you trying to take me off the field."

His grin turned dangerous, and runes began flaring to life all over his person. He finally summoned his staff, if only to put him on something of an even footing with the woman. Fire flickered just at the precipice of readiness, frankly, a terrible weapon considering the two wooden buildings on each side of him, but it'd get this brawl noticed, if and when it kicked off. "Doesn't mean you can't do it - I'll fight like hell, but I can tell you're waaaay outside my weight class. But you'll know you've been in a fight after, I promise you that, manifestation of Britain or no manifestation of Britain. I'm Cu Chulainn, and I don't go down first or easy!"

Morgan hadn't noticeably ratcheted up the lethality oozing from her yet, so he decided to play his next, and probably best card. "And add to that, you whack me, even if my, ah, patron, doesn't take immediate offense, you'll still have to deal with Kratos after that." He grinned. "We haven't sliced each other's palms and mixed blood yet, but it's only a matter of time. That man's a blood brother as much as any of the rest of the bunch I fought alongside back in my day. Maybe you could beat him, maybe. But if you're really honest about doing all this, either for your feral daughter, or just out of pure spite because someone else is screwing with what you think is your property, then having to tangle with him will put a pretty massive cramp in your designs - whatever they might be."

He snorted, hoping that the possessiveness Morgan had displayed was the same kind that that damn Medb had had. It might let him push her buttons in just the right way to let him live through this. Medb might have been an airheaded, vicious sex maniac at the best of times, but she was canny enough to not let raw emotion rule her, not completely. Truthfully, her plot to attack Ulster that had seen his end had been something of a masterstroke. "Right now, do either of us need any more enemies than we can afford?"

Morgan's glare didn't lessen in the slightest, and Cu was watching her like a hawk, waiting for (and some part of him hoping he didn't see it - it really was another day of firsts) the moment in a fellow warrior's eyes when they finally committed to violence, and damn the consequences.

It never came. Like the sun breaking out after a horrible night, the deadly pressure that had been filling the narrow area dissipated, vanishing in much the same manner as the woman's war-staff, which she dismissed, though not without a sneer at him. "And here I had always thought of your people as barbarians - savages that harried us, eager for our gold and women. You're better with your tongue than I would have expected, given your legend."

"Eh, you're not wrong about my people. I mean, not entirely. Bunch of fight happy fools, the lot of us. I'm only a bit smarter because I HAVE to be, stuffed into this lousy Caster shell and forced to make do without my girl and most of my speed." His grin widened. "But I was always VERY good with my tongue, that at least hasn't changed."

It was a good line, at least, he thought so (had worked wonders more than once, in fact), but Morgan didn't even blink. "A truce then? We put our enmity on hold until we meet again, far in the future?" An unsettling smile defaced the bland porcelain of her face. "Upon which I will see all of your bodies hanging from the spires of my capital."

"Works for me," he said, willing to take what he could get here. Not that he wouldn't be keeping tabs on her all the same - her reputation was such that her word was only worth so much, though her being somewhat Fae might make him a bit safer - old supernatural things like the aos sí took giving your oath rather seriously. Like, life and death seriously.

Still, a tick in the column for this Morgan possibly being more of the human one, rather than the other two - Nimue or the embodiment of Britain. Nimue……was unbalanced, from all accounts, and probably would have attacked him rather than make a deal. And someone having been birthed by the land itself would be almost too alien to handle like this - kind of like the Saber that was following Kratos around these days. Morgan, here and now, was reacting more like a human than Altera was.

He stuck his hand out, because that's the way they did it in Ulster, and her slender hand grasped his rough palm, and they had an accord.

For now, at least. Given the way she was eyeing him, he suspected she'd be watching him almost as closely as he was watching her. Not that he had the reputation for it, but simply because when you'd betrayed as many people as she had, you just expected treachery from everyone.

Their deal made, Morgan stepped away from him, beginning to speak. "I assume you were coming to spell your other Caster." Her body began to melt back into the shadows. "You know where it is, and do not need this extra terminal to lead you to it."

A moment later, she was gone, and Cu let out a breath he'd been holding, and, more importantly, let the spell he'd had waiting, on the cusp of activation, break apart. Looks like he wouldn't need his own body swap trick today.

Good. That meant he got to keep it in his back pocket for when things went bad, sometime in the future. Knowing his luck, he'd need it, and probably sooner rather than later.

---

The first thing Ritsuka Fuijmaru realized was that her head was killing her. Possibly quite literally. It felt like what she had been told a hangover was like, only about a million times worse. Her head was screaming at her, her brain feeling like it had swollen up to be several times its size and was actively pressing against her skull, trying to burst out from the inside. And her eyes were complaining, rather loudly and insistently, that having to deal with all this light was not in their contracts, and they were, even now, sending complaints up the chain, to her already overstressed brain.

She might have whimpered. Hell, she probably did. That's probably what brought the blurry shape into her vision, the horrible, blurry shape that started talking, which caused another wave of pain and complaints, this time from her ears, as the sound trickled up the canals of her auditory nerves, right to that brain of hers that was having none of it.

"So, you're awake." She didn't recognize the voice. Or the face, really, but that could be excused by the fact that her eyes didn't seem to be up to focusing just yet, and all she was getting from them about the person above them was a lot of white - both the hair and skin were shades of pale she just didn't normally see.

Her first attempts at speech would have been laughable, if laughing hadn't sounded like a mistake right now. Her voice was little more than an ugly croak, and she was pretty sure that there were deserts less parched than how her throat was feeling.

The head floating above her sniffed in derision, and for a moment, Fujimaru was back home again. She'd weathered many different flavors of noises like that, growing up. "My child would already be shoving herself up from this bed, ready, and eager to fight whomever dared to injure her. But then, I suppose you are merely human, after all."

Her eyes were starting to boot up, and her brain was already there. She swallowed, a trickle of saliva wetting her dehydrated throat, and she finally managed words. "Just where am I? And who the hell exactly are you?"

The cold face above her didn't seem to be inclined to answer, but thankfully for her, a more welcome visage poked itself into her line of sight.

"Hello, Master," said Chiron, relief written on his face like the most open of books. "You gave all of us quite a scare."

Possibly even more welcoming to her sight was the water bottle he was holding in his hand. Her Sensei noticed the beeline her eyes made at the plastic container that was holding the thing that she, at this exact moment, wanted more than anything else in the world, and smiled (or maybe smirked, though her bruised gray matter struggled, as it always did, with the thought of someone like Chiron doing something as casual as smirking). "One moment, we'll help you up, and then you can have something to drink." He glanced across the room. "If you could assist?"

For a split second, she thought he was talking to the mystery woman, but then, a rough, calloused hand slid under her back, its mate bracing her neck, and then, she was being leveraged up, and then, there was water. Cool, delicious, wonderful water. She could have wept, really, but she didn't want to deplete her already fluid-deprived body's stores.

"Easy girl." And she recognized that unique drawl and accent. (The healthy teenage girl part of her was suddenly wiggling in glee at the fact that she was kind of leaning against Cu.) "There's more water where this came from. Don't choke yourself - it's hell getting stains out of these stupid white robes of mine."

After she had drained about half of the bottle, Chiron pulled it away, Fujimaru giving a sigh that was half contentment, and half a whine. She really could stand to have been able to drink a bit more.

"Let your body adjust to being awake, and we'll see about giving you some more," said Chiron, reading her mind. "How are you feeling, Master?"

"I feel like I've been through the wringer. Everything hurts, but my head feels like it's about to stage a full-on revolt." She swallowed, privately exulting in the fact that it didn't burn when she did that. Glorious water, she'd never say anything bad about you again. "What happened?"

She heard a snort from behind her. "Actually, we were just about to ask you that same question, girl."

She blinked, and Chiron took the thread of conversation from Cu. "You and Kratos were separated from the group by parties unknown. According to Mordred, there's someone or something that's wandering the streets, and killing people. Servants, humans…."

"Robots," interrupted Fujimaru, something flashing before her mind's eye. "There were some of those robots in….whatever that place was. They'd been busted up, but….." She chewed her lip. "Not like our crew would have done, or Mordred, given how they seem to fight. I can't say how or why I'm saying this, but….just a feeling."

While she couldn't see both of them, she was pretty sure Cu and her Sensei had just exchanged a Look, then Chiron turned his gaze back onto her. "What else do you recall?"

She licked her lips, and really thought about it. "I think…..ghosts? I don't know why, but something in my gut is telling me that there were ghosts there. Ghosts and a Servant." She tried, she really did, but nothing else was coming. "That's it. Anything else just….seems to slip away from me."

She gave a laugh that managed to not sound quite as bitter as she felt. "I guess whatever knocked me out must have really done a number on me, huh?" Kratos had probably given them a clipped, military style recounting of everything that happened from the time they got snatched until the time they got out of there, and here she was barely able to remember anything. Way to go, Fujimaru.

"Actually," began Chiron. "The memory loss appears to have something to do with the roving fog bank that abducted you two, or the Servant that it's tied to." He shrugged. "Kratos remembered as few details as you did, though some of them were different ones, so your information is allowing us to add a few more puzzle pieces to the overall picture."

"Some of it's coming back to him, as time passes," said Cu, his hand dropping down to ruffle her hair. "So, with any luck, you'll have a few more nuggets for us. Kratos couldn't recall anything immediately after we found him, so there's still hope for you."

She opened her mouth to ask a question, and was seized by a fit of coughing, one that made her throat flare up, painfully. But it got her another long drink of water, so it was worth it. When the bottle was empty, she tried again. "So, are we in Mordred's camp?" Her eyes flicked over to the woman, who was watching her with the same bland disdain she'd been directing towards her since she'd woken up. "And who's the scary lady?"

The woman's face twisted up into something sharp, and dangerous. "The only reason you are currently awake, and not a babbling simpleton, girl." Their voice cracked like a whip, especially on that last word, and Fujimaru couldn't keep herself from flinching. "Show proper respect to the one that did you a service, lest you draw their wrath upon your head."

Fujimaru felt the blood drain from her face, even as Chiron bristled.

"Cut her some slack, lady. She just woke up." From the tone of his voice, Cu seemed to be taking the woman's tone about as well as her Sensei.

Fujimaru, despite the fact that it made her brain tingle, shook her head. "No, if she did help me, I should apologize." A bow wasn't in the cards, at least not a properly formal one like she'd do back home, but she inclined her head as far as she could manage. "I was rude, and you did me a service. I beg your forgiveness."

The woman continued to glare, but the hostility lessened, somewhat. "Just do not let it happen again, child. I had to be convinced to aid you in the first place by your teachers. Your insolence made me begin to question my choice."

With a sneer that once more gave Fujimaru flashbacks to growing up, the woman strode (more like glided) out of the room, leaving everyone still within catching their breaths. Carefully, she turned her head, and caught Cu's eyes.

"Morgan le Fay, girl," he said, a resigned tone to his voice. "She's actually got a Master here, so there's that, but that's its own kettle of fish. She's the one keeping the magical walls up around this little camp. And, like she said, she's the one who fixed you up."

That was a name. A big one - big enough that she'd heard it more than a couple times growing up, both in games and anime, and from the lips of her mother and her relatives. She swallowed, a sudden lump growing in her throat. "Can….we trust her? All the stories I heard, and all the depictions of her in stuff never painted a great picture."

"We have little choice in the matter," said Chiron, tiredly. "The city is inhospitable at best, and this is the only spot of refuge we've been able to locate." A pause. "Though, that might change, depending."

She supposed the question was obvious as the nose on her face, because he laughed and continued. "Now that we've reinforced this camp, there's talk among our side of going to check out the Clock Tower, see if they're still holding the line. Or, in the event that they're not, scavenging through the wreckage for any information they might have on our enemies in this age."

"We were actually waiting to see if you'd wake up before tomorrow," chimed in Cu. "Since your other teacher's the one of us that's the most familiar with that bunch of stiffs, even if it's the one in the future, bringing him along is kind of necessary. But if you were still out of it, that'd complicate things."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," said Chiron, cutting off Cu. "Awake does not mean fit to travel, much less through a hostile city of deadly fog and transforming machines." He cracked his knuckles, and met Fujimaru's eyes. "Lie back, and relax. Whether or not you will be accompanying the Lord on tomorrow's expedition will be up to me, as I am the closest thing we have to a doctor while deployed."

The next several minutes passed in a blur, Chiron running her through a barrage of tests, doing pretty much everything but taking her blood and sending it off to Roman for analysis. At last, he settled back onto his heels, and nodded. "Well, you seem to be largely fine. Your reflexes are a touch slower than usual, but I would wager that is due to you having been unconscious for several hours. I can test you again before we set out," His finger sprang up, pointing directly between her eyes. "Assuming I judge you fit to go, of course."

"Stand, please." Shuffling about, she managed to sit up without too much effort, and then stand. She half-expected her legs to be a bit wobbly, but they held her weight up without issue.

"How do you feel?" he asked, watching her like a hawk. "Any weakness, dizziness?" From the tone of his voice, the serious mein he wore when he was teaching her, she knew he wanted complete honesty here.

So that's what she gave him. "I'm not 100%, I can feel that. But I'm not struggling to breathe or stand or anything. Even the pain in my head is starting to fade - I'm not dumb enough to think it was just dehydration, and a little more water will completely chase it away, but I do think that's at least a bit of it."

His eyes walked up and down her body. "Yes. I don't see any hints of your legs struggling, even minutely. Whatever one may or may not say about Morgan, she held to her end of the bargain, and restored you to the best of her ability." His roving eyes stopped on her face. "One last test. Please activate your Sight."

That one took her aback, for a second. While her brain was still trying to catch up, Chiron continued. "While we cannot rule out that the mysterious Servant lurking in the fog did something to you that caused you to black out, the drying blood on your face when we found you, and the fact that you do recall there being ghosts within that roving fog bank leads me to suspect that they are the more likely culprit."

Ok, that made sense. With a deep breath, she sent mana through her magical circuits, and activated her Sight.

It took a second longer than usual, but after that, her Sight came up like usual, the colors of the world draining away, leaving a grayscale world before her.

Except, for a second, things fritzed. The color returned, but the world she was seeing…..wasn't. It was still the same building, packed to the gills with shelves that were groaning with books and various magical materials, a worktable squeezed between two of the taller bookshelves, torches burning on the walls, but….

For a second, it looked like everything had been aged, by centuries. The only beacons of stability in her view were the two Servants, standing there, unchanged.

Then, monochrome reasserted itself, and her Sight straightened itself out, and the other side of the Veil returned to her vision.

Internally, she groaned. Of course something got screwed up when she went down. At least it was working - thank heaven for small favors.

She swiveled her head around, taking in the building where she'd been recovering, then, just to double-check, switched her Sight off and on a couple more times.

No issues this time - and it felt a bit smoother than normal, to boot, so she'd take it.

"Everything seems ok," she said, dismissing the oddity as just a glitch, her magical circuits having to realign themselves after the damage they'd taken. "I can turn it off and on, and the drain feels about the usual. No issues."

"That's good, but what happens if you run across that Servant again?" Cu shrugged at the look she gave him. "It's a glaring issue that we can't ignore, girl. We can't have you conking out whenever you bump into whatever's lurking in that bank of fog. Next time, it might just be you there - no Kratos, or any of the rest of us to get between you and whatever it is that's picking folk off." He grimaced, though there was a hint of mirth in it. "And somehow, I don't think putting a leash on you would help, either."

"Whatever it is managed to snatch both our Masters from right under our noses, so I do doubt something as simple as a length of rope around one, or both of them, would be much of an impediment," mused Chiron, taking the joke seriously. (At least, she hoped it was a joke. Cu was pretty, but she wasn't going to be barking for him anytime soon. Him, or anyone else, for that matter. And she didn't have the figure for the cat lingerie, either.)

"Do we have another choice, though?" She shrugged at the two looks she was receiving, one of them more wry and amused than the other. "Lord El-Melloi II needs me nearby to supply him mana - the Clock Tower's halfway across town, and I'd be transmitting through that fog, too. It'd be just our luck to have them update it and suddenly completely block the two of us off, or something, when we split up. And like you said, he's our best bet at finding something in the Clock Tower if it really has fallen."

Chiron's frown spoke volumes. "Unfortunately, you're right. We really don't have a better option. There's risks inherent with either choice, splitting up, or staying together. As your Servant, I would much prefer you to be here, safe behind these Bounded Fields, until we can figure out some means of protecting you from the Servant that's stalking the streets." He sighed. "But we really don't have that kind of time. Either the Clock Tower still stands, and we need to get to them as soon as possible, or they've fallen, and we're in a race to retrieve what information we can before it's completely destroyed. Neither gives us the choice of waiting to find a solution for you, my Master."

Her communicator chimed, and then activated itself, a horned visage filling the screen. Shuten appeared to have commandeered Roman's station, if only by the simple fact that she seemed to have draped herself across his lap. "If I may suggest something, Master? Why don't we set an Assassin to hunt an Assassin?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Because of course Waver, despite being a giant grump, would keep pictures of Gray (and Iskandar) in his wallet, Maes Hughes style.

I don't recall it ever being mentioned who the Servants for the single Holy Grail War of the FGO timeline being, other than Solomon as Caster. But since it took place in Fuyuki, I'm assuming Artoria was the Saber for that War. And now that I've made that choice, watch it get disproven in something in the immediate future on JP. Such is the life of writing for a not-completed work.

I wasn't around for the 'Da Vinci thirst' event that happened way early on, but I assume Jekyll would be very much to her tastes, in addition to the fact that he's a scientist on top of that.

Chapter 61: London 5

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 61​

Kratos stared across at where the oni was glaring upwards at Mordred, who, for her part, was returning the favor. Possibly with some added vigor.

He turned to Fujimaru. "Are you certain of this?"

The girl shrugged. "Shuten seemed to take it personally that another Servant abducted me and tried to do……something to me. Part of that's the whole favor thing with my ancestor, but…..she's oddly possessive. But then again, oni. That whole thing she told me about them being the Id unleashed makes a lot of sense, when I look at it like that. I'm her Master……or toy. Or both, I guess."

"Not that," rumbled Kratos. Despite her nature, the oni was probably the best suited for such a task. Most of the Heroic Spirits at Chaldea - and Kratos himself - were very….direct. Not ones to skulk about in the darkness, or to readily adopt underhanded methods. Shuten was not. She in fact made it a point to regularly laugh at their odd, human morals - honor (she called it 'bushido', though she said that term had not come into use until long after her death) especially. "Accompanying us. What happened previously could happen again."

"No," she admitted. "And I'm open to any better suggestions you might have."

And that was the infuriating thing - he did not have any better ideas. In the end, it was the same situation that he was faced with after Faye died. His son, still ill, and his ability to make the journey in question, but circumstances would not permit them to wait.

He grumbled, shaking his head. Things had worked out then. Perhaps they would in this instance, as well. But there was a feeling of foreboding that had seized him, and would not let go.

He put it out of his mind. They were decided, and there was nothing left to do but to accomplish their goal.

"It'll be a hike to the Clock Tower proper," commented the El-Melloi. "Probably wisest to cross the bridge we used to get here, and then head north from there. We should come across some underground entrances, if we wish to progress that way, or, we can continue overland from there."

He glanced over at Mordred, and raised his voice. "Though, I am speaking from a 21st century viewpoint and recollection of London, and that is of a London that was far more intact than this one. If you have any insights to make our trip safer, we would appreciate hearing them, Sir Mordred."

Her name, and his raised voice (and possibly the tone of it) snapped Mordred out of her glaring contest. "No, that should be the straightest route. But I don't know what those junkers might have done to the streets up that way. They've never let me get close, though. Anytime I start heading that way, they either jump me or they send a bunch over the other bridge to force me back."

She sneered. "At least if they do that this time, you bunch can keep going that way while I double back and take them in the rear."

"And THAT would be a perfect time for them to do the same to you," lilted Shuten. "Or, more likely, for the wandering Assassin to scoop you up as it did to my human."

Mordred's sneer became more pronounced. "And then I'll kick their teeth down their throats! No way I'm losing to some Assassin, not happening!"

Shuten, somewhat deliberately, ran her tongue across her pointed canines. "Oh, to be able to test that bravado. But you are not my prey, girl, not at this moment, at least. Perhaps…..later."

"And anyways, if your god is right, then it sounds like they're on the run from the main bad guys, too." Mordred's sword came up to tap on her armored shoulder. "So if we're lucky, they'll be too busy playing hide and seek with them and will leave us the hell alone."

Cu snorted. "Trust me, girl. We're NEVER that lucky. Or lucky at all, in fact."

"I do not believe in luck." Kratos shook his head. "A warrior makes their own fortune."

"Easy to say when you don't have a bottom rank in that stat," grumbled Cu.

"Alright," began Da Vinci's voice, breaking into their discussion. "Cameras are on their way, as well as a fresh set of filters for your masks. You shouldn't need them, based on what I saw from the ones I examined while you were resting, but, better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them."

Mash pulled the box off her shield, and began handing the masks out. She paused, then turned to Mordred. "Do you want one, Sir Mordred?"

Mordred waved her hand dismissively. "Don't need one. Mother did something to my helmet to keep that shit from killing me while I'm out there." She stared at Mash for a second, an odd expression on her face. "And drop the 'Sir', too. They kicked me out of the Round Table a long time ago. And it's weird hearing that from you."

Mash looked like she was working herself up to ask something, chewing on her lower lip, but before she could find her voice, the El-Melloi spoke. "We should head out now. Not that it'll make much difference, given the blanket of fog that covers the city, but I would rather be back behind these Bounded Fields before night falls." He glanced up at the fog-shrouded sky. "Not that we can really tell one from the other in this London."

"Then let us be off." Kratos affixed the mask to his face.

The plates of Mordred's helmet slid out from under her armor, encasing her head in a wall of steel. "Open the gates!" she bellowed, men and women moving to carry out her order. "I'll be back as soon as I can be, but keep your eyes peeled! Same deal as every time I leave - though we might end up kicking a hornet's nest this time and really piss them off, so DON'T slack off on patrols!"

As various voices shouted affirmatives, and the gate slid open, Mordred bent down to snatch up a white-furred creature. "And where do you think you're going, Cath Palug? Like hell I'm going to let you out there to terrorize my kingdom!"

His feet dangling beneath him, Fou chirped out a series of barks at the knight, a miniaturized gas mask tied around his neck, as of yet unsecured.

"Why do you call him that?" asked Mash, her brow furrowed. "Cath Palug was a fearsome giant cat in Welsh myth. Fou….." She gestured at the creature, who was thumping his paws on Mordred's gauntlet, to utterly no appreciable effect. And Kratos did not feel the occasional bites, ones that always fell short, would be any more effective.

" 'Cuz that's who he is." Mordred gave the animal a shake. "I'd recognize this little monster anywhere after all the trouble he gave us. Got to say, it's nice to be able to just pick him and toss him around like this for once, instead of it being the other way around."

Mash was, probably understandably, quick to rescue the animal from its predicament.

Cu and Fujimaru were both staring at Fou like he'd suddenly grown a second head. "THAT thing is Cath Palug?" exclaimed Cu. "We used to hear stories about that beast all the way over on our Isles, but….."

"Fou's only dangerous to the bacon on your plate," finished Fujimaru. "And for as quick as he is at snatching it, he's more likely to get some by looking pitiful and acting like he's never been fed, not once in his life, rather than outright theft. Though he isn't above that at all."

"Then you did what none of the Knights I knew thought was possible, you tamed the little terror," Mordred's helmet shook from side to side as she slipped through the opening in the gate, the Chaldeans following behind her, delayed a few seconds as they secured the masks over their faces. "How'd you bunch even find him? He just up and vanished one day, and let me tell you, we were happy about it!"

Mash paused. "Fou's just….always been at Chaldea. I think I recall him first following Doctor Roman into my room when I was very, very young. I didn't really know enough to question it, back then, and he's just always been there since."

"How old is 'young' for you, anyways?" Mash blinked, and Mordred made a vague gesture between the two of them. "I heard what my mother said about you - Created, right? So how fast did they make you grow up?"

Mash was staring - an expression mirrored by Fujimaru. For Kratos, though, Mordred's words dredged up the memories of a conversation, one had with Freya, in the early days of their truce - when the woman was still undecided of what she would do about the still raw enmity between herself and the Spartan once Odin's curse was dispelled, and she had no more use of him.

(The conversation had drifted into the specifics of how Spartans were made.)

"Your…..mother," he almost growled, moderating his tone only through an effort of will. "She raised you as a warrior?"

The scoff Mordred let out caused her helmet to rattle. "What world are you living in, where mothers raise kids? She barely paid attention to me, just let me run around wild, until I was big enough, and mean enough to defend myself." Kratos could FEEL the woman's vicious grin, even through their helmet. "Then, when I was finally useful to her - her words, not mine - that's when she showed me Father, and explained who and what I am. And what my destiny was." A shrug. "Well, sort of. At first, it was just 'oh, Mordred, King Arthur is your daddy'. The whole 'only you are fit to be Arthur's heir and rule Camelot' came later, after I'd made it to the Table and had a rep."

Everyone was staring. Mash, with something akin to horror, or disgust, which was mirrored by most of the rest of their group. Fujimaru, on the other hand, had a more complicated expression on her face.

Heedless of the looks being directed at her back, Mordred continued on. "Not that I didn't know I wasn't like other kids. Me growing to full height in half the time, or less, than the other brats that were around wasn't normal. Even an idiot like me could figure it out. That's what I was wondering about you, Shieldy, if you grew up fast like me, too."

"No I….." Mash fidgeted. "I grew up normally, at least…..as far as my aging. I…."

"Oh," said Mordred. "They fucked something up, didn't they, the bastards? I wonder how your tagalong feels about that?"

[Poorly. An emotion I assume you would share, Knight of Treachery, were you to hear of the death sentence hanging over this girl's head.]

"Sir Mordred……." began Mash. "You…..know who the Heroic Spirit that's bonded to me is, don't you? Your mother recognized this shield….so…."

"Yeah, I know." Mordred paused, still tromping forward. "Kind of shocked to hear you don't know it. But then again…..I guess it's not super surprising, the more I think about it. Guy was difficult at the best of times."

"Could….."

"Could I tell you? Yeah." A snort. "SHOULD I? I dunno." The knight's footfalls began to stomp into the cobblestones underfoot, the sound of that echoing around them. "How much do you really learn if you're just told something, if you don't discover it for yourself?"

"That's your mother talking, isn't it?" From the tone of Fujimaru's voice, it did not sound much like a question.

"Of course it is." Mordred sounded honestly confused. "You've met her, after all. You think she had any time for stupid little kid questions like 'why is the sky blue?', or 'how do birds fly', or 'why am I not like all the other kids?' " The helmeted head turned about to stare at the girl. "You trying to tell me it was different for you?"

Fujimaru sighed. "No, actually. A lot of what you're saying is kind of distressingly familiar. Though I wasn't allowed to run wild, the rest of it….." She frowned, and made a vague sort of half-shrug.

"Mothers," scoffed Mordred, who then turned to Mash. "Now, you REALLY want to know, Shieldy?"

Mash was quiet for a long moment, as they picked their way through the misty city. Finally, as they reached the bridge they had crossed the previous day, she spoke up. "I want to know, but…..at the same time, I kind of agree with what you're saying, Sir Mordred."

The girl managed to fidget while still maintaining her walking pace. "Everyone thought it was a failure when the Heroic Spirit they bound to me didn't manifest. I was still part of Team A, but it….I was almost an afterthought. Then….everything happened, and I could fight, but it was all so messy and terrifying and…..new." Her head drooped. "Then, I almost got Senpai killed."

"And I've told you, Mashie, not your fault." Fujimaru reached out to gently lay a hand on the girl's back. "We were all running around like chickens with their heads cut off that day. I was in WAY over my head, Olga was barely keeping it together, and you were trying to keep us both safe - the skeletons weren't so bad, even my Gandrs could knock them around, but an actual Servant?" Her hand, resting on Mash's shoulder, squeezed comfortingly.

"And it was an Assassin, too," sneered Cu. "For a green kid like you - and you were green, girlie, even with that Servant's instincts in your head - that's about the worst kind of matchup for someone like you, at that stage of things. Hell, it's bad for any of the straightforward types - me, Kratos, and yeah, that includes you too." His frown grew in magnitude. "Pretty sure there's at least one Grail War out there where I got myself killed by being baited in by one of those sneaky types and taken out in a way I wasn't expecting. Even when it seems like they're coming at you head-on, they're NEVER coming at you head on."

Shuten's low, throaty chuckles washed over them. "Guilty as charged, Hound. Though, in my case, it's likely more due to my nature as an oni, and just not thinking like you humans." Her amusement trailed off. "But he isn't wrong. You're a passable warrior, little girl, but you'd be easy meat for me, should you ever face me as an enemy."

She reached out, and trailed a finger through Mash's purple locks. "Your defenses are far too strong to risk a frontal assault with. For play, it would be fun. But if I was serious……it would start with a lost breath - not stolen, but just….lost. You might not even notice it, too worried about how your heart was speeding up, but that could just be explained by your body preparing to fight something as fearsome as an oni. Unnoticed, until your legs give out, and your vision starts to dim."

Her face broadened in what could only be a smile, and if they could see under her mask, they suspected those fangs would be peeking out. "It will be painless, as your consciousness fades, as you slip further and further away, until, at last, your eyes close for the last time, feeling like you're wrapped in a warm blanket."

Mash had grown noticeably paler - an affliction that was shared with Fujimaru, and the Clock Tower Lord. Cu was eying Shuten with an expression that Kratos could not decipher. And as for himself, his ire was not spiking as he might have once expected it to. As much glee as the Assassin was taking in scaring Mash, there WAS a lesson here, if delivered…..poorly. Not that he would have expected anything else from the oni.

Shuten's nails trailed down Mash's cheeks, featherlite. "Of course, there is your mysterious resistance to poison to take into account, which means that my main means of removing you from this world would be ineffective. Which means I might have to do this directly after all." Her index finger tapped Mash on the nose of her gas mask, and she pulled away, tittering softly, padding across the bridge, ahead of their group, making not so much as a whisper of other sound.

Cu's subsequent laugh was thready, as though the man could not decide how to feel. "Girl……that is one scary Servant you have there. And I say that as someone who has known his fair share of scary women over the course of his life."

"My nightmares completely agree with you, Cu," moaned Fujimaru. "But I do think she means well, or as well as she CAN mean."

"Her words had some merit," growled Kratos. "While many of my foes faced me in combat, others used deception, words, or trickery as their weapons." Odin, in the guise of Tyr. Zeus, claiming that by placing all of his power into a sword, Kratos could defeat the now-animated Colossus of Rhodes. The Fates - either of them, manipulators and schemers before anything else (despite the Norns not being openly antagonistic, they still shared traits with the Fates of his homeland). "Even our enemies, as powerful as they are, are not above deceit. Forneus hid himself until we forced his hand, and Lev Lainur lied to you from the beginning. For years he kept up his disguise, until it was time to strike."

Mash nodded, with a sigh. "To get back to my point, after that, Mr. Kratos and Mr. Cu have been training me to get stronger. And neither of them have just….given me anything." Her eyes sparkled with a hard light. "Everything I've gained since then….it's been through my efforts. Both of them have taught me so much, but they haven't just handed me anything."

Her hands knotted together, and her fidgeting resurfaced. "And….when I used their sword, we all saw what it did to me. The backlash. And I couldn't remember its name afterwards. As much as I WANT to know this……."

Fujimaru finished her thought for her. "You're worried about rushing things."

"Yes," agreed Mash. "I wasn't ready to use the sword, but….for whatever reason, the Heroic Spirit thought we had to. And we all saw how that went. If I tried to rush things now….."

Her unspoken question was obvious. "You fear the consequences," rumbled Kratos.

Mash's nod was overshadowed by the noise of sheer disbelief that was issued from beneath Mordred's helmet. "Wait. He LET you use that thing?" At an affirmative noise from Mash, the noise coming from the knight's mouth only increased in volume. "What. In. The. HELL are you people fighting, that that guy managed to pull the stick out of his holier-than-thou ass and actually ACT like a team player for a second?"

"Demons," interjected the El-Melloi. "At least, to hear them talk. Ones from the Ars Goetia." When the metal helmet turned to stare at him, disbelief radiating from between the plates of Mordred's armor, he gave a bitter laugh. "I've seen two of them with my own eyes. One at the top of a palace belonging to a second Roman Empire. The other I was not present for, but it had managed to possess Herakles himself. That one I only saw through sharing my Master's vision….and reliving her nightmares."

Mordred gave a low whistle. "Suddenly, I'm feeling a lot better about having Mother around. Even with all the headaches that brings." She leaned over and nudged Mash's shoulder with her own. "Let me know if you make up your mind, Shieldy. Offer stands as long as I'm still around to answer you. I can't promise Mother will be as accommodating as me." A snort. "She'd probably want something, and you do NOT want to get in her pocket. Trust me."

That massive, two-handed sword (not that that kept Mordred from wielding it with a single hand) materialized in her hand. "Now, we're about to be across the bridge, and that means anything could be crawling about. So keep your eyes peeled."

They moved out as quietly as they could, the empty city's silence pressing in around them, save for the sound of Shuten's low, amused laughter, as it faded in and out from around them, the oni ranging as she willed, hunting the supposed Assassin that was stalking the streets.

This part of the city was every bit as deserted, and as ruined, as the southern parts. If anything, the buildings seemed in worse shape. The area where they had arrived, and the parts in close proximity to Mordred's camp had at least been somewhat intact - damaged, but still structurally sound. These buildings looked as though a strong breeze could topple them, those that were standing, at least. And yet…..

There was less rubble than there should be, said a part of Kratos' mind. At least, less broken wood and shattered timbers than there should be, without the signs of fire, recent or otherwise.

Possibly it was a result of the Clock Tower defending itself. Powerful magic could be indiscriminate when unleashed, and if the Clock Tower truly was the bastion of the nation's - or world's - most powerful mages, Kratos could only guess at the scale of power that they would draw upon in protecting what they saw as theirs.

Chaldea was only a fragment, or a splinter of that organization, and the things they were capable of, had shown Kratos in his time there were impressive enough on their own (travelling through time, the province of the Fates of his land, and that was only one of the things Chaldea was capable of). What more could the greater whole of that collection of Mages do, when threatened, as they were now?

After winding their way through the streets for a time, Mordred's voice finally broke through the eerie quiet. "This is about when they usually hit me, the last few times I've tried to make my way up this direction. So be ready."

Their guards were up as they continued north. As of yet, Kratos could not see the supposed clock tower that designated their destination, but the fog, as he was coming to expect in this campaign, was thick.

"We're starting to come up on where, in theory, some of the tunnel entrances to the Clock Tower should be," whispered the El-Melloi. "Attempting to gain access through them is an option, but not one without risk. At the very least, they would be heavily warded and trapped. Probably more so than usual."

"If they're even still intact," spat Mordred. "Buncha possibilities. Maybe they're still intact and just waiting for us to use them. Maybe they've collapsed, collateral damage. But given the sheer amount of stupid machines they've been throwing at us, do you really think whoever's behind all this hasn't discovered those tunnels yet?"

"Breaking the Bounded Fields and traps and the other crap would probably take us some time, too," mused Cu. "I know the Clock Tower's a bunch of stuffy, tradition bound sticks in the damn mud, but even with a Lord of theirs from the future, it won't be easy to tear those things down. The Mysteries are probably a tad stronger than they were during his heyday, after all."

"And keep in mind, I'm barely mediocre as a Mage - and a placeholder Lord, at that." The Caster's voice was wry - probably a match for his expression, hidden behind his mask. "While I should be able to get us in, it possibly will not be within the timeframe we are expecting."

Mash frowned. "And if the robots find us, we could end up pinned. The robots on one side, while we're pressed against the Bounded Fields."

"If they are still alive behind those wards," began Fujimaru. "Would we be giving the robots a direct path in if we took the Bounded Fields down?"

The El-Melloi nodded. "That is also a concern. I know Mordred said there hasn't been any signs of conflict, or anything, from this direction in a few days, but it isn't conclusive that their defenses have been breached, either." He sighed. "As much as we've been speaking of how difficult they will be to deal with, they could be a potent ally, if we play our cards right."

"Tunnel fighting sucks, too," griped Mordred. "Especially if you need room to do your thing, like I do." She glanced over, the eye slits of her helmet lingering on Kratos and Altera in turn. "And, from what I saw, you two ain't exactly dainty when you're busting heads. Most of my experience with it was caves, but the idea's the same here."

"Then we stay above ground," rumbled Kratos. "We will see what the state of the stronghold is, and decide from there."

"Works for me," muttered Mordred, already beginning to stomp forward. "Let's go!"

They marched on, always heading north, sticking to the main streets, both as a concession to the size of their group, and, in some respects, a measure of caution. It would be easier to spot the fog thickening while out in the open.

Not that they had seen so much of a hint of that, so far.

"Shuten hasn't even sniffed so much as a hint of whatever jumped us," whispered Fujimaru, as they paused beneath the eaves of what may have been a respectable shop, once. "She's been darting all around us, and even up on the rooftops, trying to see if she could spot an odd bank of fog, moving against the wind or something, but no luck." She frowned. "Honestly, I think she's in danger of getting bored."

There was a soft, brief noise from the roof above them, then the oni's voice echoed around them. "On the other hand, Master, I think I've spotted the fabled Clock Tower in my rovings. We should be drawing close. Though I find myself wondering at the name, as I see no sign of any 'clock' on it."

The El-Melloi started, just a bit. "That….should not be the case." His hand reached up, fiddling with the glasses on his face. "The tower in particular should dominate the skyline in that part of the city, and the clock's face should be easily visible from any angle."

"Hmmm. Well, see for yourselves, then." There was a soft noise from above, bare feet kicking off the roof, as Shuten departed.

"Let's continue," whispered the El-Melloi. "If she's telling the truth - and she hasn't been anything but truthful about the important things since you summoned her, Master - then I need to see this with my own two eyes."

It wasn't long before a spire began to take shape in the skyline, slowly becoming visible through the haze.

Though the sparkling, crackling lighting that arced from its form might have had something to do with that.

"That…..is not the Clock Tower." The El-Melloi's voice was a hoarse whisper.

Almost silently, Shuten alighted in between them, her landing so soft that it barely seemed to displace the air itself. "Mou…..I did tell you."

"You kind of failed to mention the fact that it's acting like an active lightning rod, Shuten," said Fujimaru, with a shiver. "Something about that thing is giving me a really bad feeling."

"By the distance, it looks like it's right in the Clock Tower's courtyard." Eyes narrowed, the El-Melloi was staring up at the metal spire like it had personally offended him. "Which makes no sense, or, so I want to say. But if we take into account how the Clock Tower was being attacked, and its location, situated as it is at the nexus of powerful Leylines….."

"Let us get closer." It was the first time Altera had spoken since they had departed the camp. "Then we can determine if it is Bad Civilization, or just looks, and feels like it." In her hands, light flickered across the blade of her sword, a soft glow beginning to emanate from within.

"Shuten." At her Master's voice, the oni perked up. "Not that it's anything different than what you've already been doing, but mind ranging ahead of us and taking a look-see? Or just find us a path that doesn't get us noticed?"

"Of course, Maaaaster. One moment." In the blink of an eye, Shuten crossed the open streets, and vanished into the fog. Seconds later, Fujimaru motioned them forward.

"She says there's a path through some alleys just up ahead that look safe, and should let us climb up to a spot she found that will give us a good view of things." The girl's mouth was a thin line. "She sounds…..excited, so that probably doesn't bode well."

It was another handful of minutes as they squeezed themselves through the narrow alleyways before Fujimaru had them stop, indicating they had reached their destination. Perhaps a little surprisingly, they did not need to scale the walls of the building in question, Shuten had found one that provided access to the roof via a ladder within, on the top floors. A quieter, and less precarious approach, than scaling the walls, and one that drew a grunt of, if not appreciation, then acknowledgement from him as he emerged on the roof, Shuten already crouched and waiting for them (or possibly just her Master).

Then he saw the vista before him, and he had no time for any other thoughts.

The Clock Tower, as they had suspected, had fallen. The various structures that made it up, halls that surrounded what was once a grassy courtyard, the many-storied buildings that looked down on it, all of them showed heavy damage. Windows shattered, or simply cracked, glass, and the walls around them riddled with small holes. Larger holes had been blasted, or torn into the main buildings, the signs of heavy fighting evident all around the breaches. Here and there were wooden barricades, set up in the streets, where once battle lines had been drawn. A few were still standing, but most were little more than debris, large chunks having been torn from them, where they were not simply rent in two, or battered to the ground.

Even the clock tower itself had not been spared. One of the hands of the clock that faced them dangled limply, the metal twisted and melted. The other had been sheared neatly in two - as Kratos scanned his eyes across the grounds, he saw the other half, embedded in one of the roofs below.

For all the damage, the grounds were oddly clear of dead. The lack of broken machines, he felt, was not unexpected. For all the battling that Mordred claimed to have been doing, all across the city, there was little in the way her fallen foes left in the streets. But, as they were machines, they likely could be repaired, returned to the field in a way mortals could not be, or gods, for that matter (despite his experiences, and that of Mimir, even for gods, dead was dead.) It occurred to him that it was oddly similar in the fashion of the Einherjar, in a fashion. An endless, eternal army - in theory, at least.

The lack of dead humans was less surprising, almost expected, given what they had been told, of how the machines had begun breaking into homes and abducting those living within. Kratos suspected that those who had fallen in defense of the Clock Tower had been dragged away, in a similar fashion to the broken machines, but for a different end. What exactly, he could not say, but he doubted it was anything good.

The only dead that remained on what had been the last stand of the Clock Tower were clearly inhuman. Larger than a man, and with proportions that were off in many ways - long arms that nearly dragged the ground, a bloated, swollen torso, no head, save for a misshapen lump, devoid of facial features, bodies covered in thick, white hair. From their positioning, they seemed to have been on the same side as the Clock Tower - so…

"Homunculi," whispered Fujimaru. All eyes turned to her, but she barely seemed to register the sudden attention. "Really old timey ones - Gordy's family has pictures of them in books, but it's my first time ever actually seeing them. To hear him tell it, most Mages these days only use them when they're looking for grunts - laborers, soldiers, that kind of thing, but even that's dying out, since everyone and their uncle can manage more human-looking ones, even if the quality isn't always up to Musik or Einzbern levels."

Kratos nodded. "Then it is as the field shows. They were unleashed by the Mages to fight these machines."

"If it was their final stand, they likely fought with everything they had," stated Altera. "I have seen that desperation many times." Personally, her tone suggested.

"Kind of feel like you two are missing the forest for the trees," muttered Cu, pointing. "Or just missing the one really BIG tree, and all the damn ants scurrying around it."

The Irishman was not wrong, at least not in that respect. Whatever information might be gleaned from the warzone the streets around the Clock Tower had become, the true sight was that of the courtyard. From their elevated position, they could see just over the courtyard walls, where the enormous tower was.

It was a hive of activity. Machines, both the more humanoid ones, and the more squat versions, were working with a pace that could only be described as 'fevered'. And not just those ones - others, hulking brutes with arms that seemed to be purpose built for construction - hook hands, whirring mechanical saws, and even a unique few that seemed to emit pure, focused fire from their fingertips, hauled metal beams upwards, settling them on platforms that were then hoisted into the air by wires, or simply began to affix them to the tower. In other spots, all around the rising tower, smaller machines labored away on whirring constructs of gears and metal. Every so often, a massive, crackling jolt of lightning would erupt from one of the devices, playing up and down the sides of the tower, which seemed to absorb it, almost greedily.

"Those generators," began the El-Melloi. "They're positioned geometrically around the tower, every one of them. And if I had a chart of the Leylines, I assume their locations would be geomantically relevant as well."

Metal tapped on metal, as Mordred drummed her fingers on her armor. "Hey, oni." Shuten lazily slid her head around at the sound of her name. "Can you get us a look at the other side of that thing? I wanna know where those piles of dirt came from, and I think I've got an idea…."

Shuten held Mordred's gaze for a long moment, not moving until her eyes shifted minutely, and from the corner of her eye, the oni saw Fujimaru's nod, then she took off, skipping soundlessly over the rooftops.

Seconds later, Fujimaru blinked, then nodded, and her eyes glazed over. "Ok…..wow. Mordred, Shuten wants to know if them digging out….something, a chamber or something, under that tower was what you suspected."

"Dead on, girl," drawled Mordred. "Don't know much about building things or excavations, but there seemed like there were more piles of dirt there than they'd need, unless they were digging for gold or something. What's your Assassin see?"

There was a pause. "Some kind of….stairs leading down, then a big, nasty looking gate. One that looks like it could fit in in Mordor or something, kept closed with a bunch of heavy chains."

"Oh, wonderful." Cu rolled his eyes, but a grin was beginning to crack the corners of his mouth. "Now, do you think it's for keeping folk out, or keeping something IN? Personally, I'm hoping IN - probably get a better fight out of it."

"There's no sign of any movement behind it, or so Shuten says. In fact, it doesn't look like any of the robots are going anywhere near it, and there's no guards, so…." Fujimaru shrugged, then began blinking her eyes rapidly, as focus returned to them. "Shuten's on her way back now, she could probably see more if she got closer, but she didn't like her chances with that - no idea what sort of spectrums those things see at, or what kind of scans they might be doing in the area. No sense going loud before we have to."

"On that subject, now what?" Mordred's armored fingers slashed across the air, pointing directly at the tower. "While I don't know exactly what the hell that thing is, every part of me is screaming that it's bad news, and could do with some redecoration, by which I mean we tear the thing down and stomp on it."

"While I share your sentiments, we are here more for information - while we were hoping the Clock Tower was still standing, we had little hopes of that, and were realistically looking to gather whatever we could from the Clock Tower's observations on our enemies." The El-Melloi drew a cigar from its case, then stared at the object, his brows furrowing. With a sigh, he replaced it, and the case he had drawn it from. "We likely will get only one chance at this. If we attack, now, we risk damaging the buildings, or the underground, where said information might have been secured. Even if we do manage to defeat the enemies down there, that will likely kick up an alarm, wherever their base is."

"We could split up, but….." Mash frowned. "We still don't know where that roving Servant is."

"Or what their forces consist of," rumbled Kratos. "I do not believe that machines will be the extent of what we face."

"Be just our luck for one of our two groups to stumble across some nasty Servant that's working for the other side, wouldn't it?" Cu rolled his eyes. "As fun as that sounds, we really should be smart about this, shouldn't we?"

Fujimaru glanced back the way they came. "Ok, so, then…..tunnels?"

"Sneak in, get what we can, and then wreck that thing on the way out?" Mordred nodded. "Not really my style, I'm more about kicking the door down on the way in, but that just won't really work for this one, will it?"

"Gathering information is new to me as well, but Kratos insists I must try new things," stated Altera. She began moving to the opening in the roof. "Let us go do that."

As they crept through the building, Mordred nudged the El-Melloi in what was likely meant to be a friendly gesture, but with enough force behind it to cause the man to stumble. "Going to be your show from here on out, skinny. Hope you're up to it. Like I said, tunnel fighting stinks, so you'd better be able to get us in without setting off an alarm."

The Caster grimaced, though it was impossible to tell if it was from the jostling, or simply the knight's words. "I will endeavor to do my best, but, again, temper your expectations with me. I'm more of a teacher than any kind of outstanding mage."

"Still the best we've got," countered Mordred. "Unless you want to let your other Caster take a whack at it."

"I may well require his assistance," muttered the El-Melloi. "He has power that I lack. If I cannot break the Fields with finesse, then brute force may become necessary. Though I will do everything I can to avoid that outcome, as I feel it would be like firing up a flare into the sky, announcing our presence here."

"Where is the nearest entrance?" rumbled Kratos, his head darting from side to side, as they emerged from the house. Still no sign of alarm from the fallen Clock Tower, but that did not mean they had not been noticed.

"There should be one a few blocks back the way we came, in the basement of a building. Though that one has the risk of having been discovered by the machines, given how close it is - though that is a risk we run with all of them, given they now have the run of the Clock Tower." His hand was cupping his chin, through the gas mask, as he thought. "There's another, farther back, down in the sewers. Less risk, I would imagine, with that one, but it will take some time to get to."

"The closer." With a grunt, Kratos indicated that the El-Melloi should take the lead. "If we seek stealth, then we should limit the time we spend on the streets."

"Still no sign of that Assassin," whispered Shuten. "But otherwise, he is correct." She brushed up against Fujimaru, pushing herself up onto her tiptoes as she laid her head on the girl's shoulder. "For all your promises of a fight with a big, scary Assassin, my Maaaaster, that hasn't materialized, and I'm falling asleep on my feet here."

She leaned closer, her mask almost brushing the girl's ear. "Hopefully there will be something more exciting when we finally decide to tear that unsightly tower down. Bored oni are dangerous, after all……Master."

Fujimaru's shiver might have only been partially due to the close proximity of an oni (the other part being the feeling of the soft hiss of said oni's breath on her ear). "Knowing our luck, you'll get all the fighting you want, and then some."

"Girl's right," mused Cu. "It's never, ever easy. No reason to think this time will be any different."

There was little more to say to that, and silence ruled them for the handful of moments it took them to double back, the El-Melloi muttering under his breath as they did so. Eventually, the man raised a hand, halting them.

"It should be here, at least, I think." The Caster sighed. "Keep in mind that I am working with a century and more of distortion, and, as a Lord, even in name only, it was not done to have myself enter the grounds in such a manner." He pointed. "But, if my memories are correct, this building should allow us access. Its frame seems to closely resemble the one in my time that housed the entrance, even if the business has changed."

"Fish and chips," mused Fujimaru. "How utterly British."

"It is a sandwich shop now - and a rather unremarkable one, at that." The Caster snickered. "All the better to keep traffic low for those needing to slip in and out. I don't know if it was always Clock Tower owned, and they simply kept changing up the business they were using as the front, or they simply purchased it at some point when the actual owners went under, but in any case, it's moot." He pushed the door open. "Let's see if my memories of the future were correct."

As it turned out, they were. In the basement, behind some dusty shelves, the Clock Tower Lord drew a pattern on the stone wall, and, like a mirage peeling away, brick and mortar gave way to a solid looking door.

"The same ritual as in my day. The Clock Tower, traditionalist and unchanging as the tides." The sarcasm practically dripped from the El-Melloi's words. "And that should mean…."

A flare of mana, and the basement was suddenly filled with the sounds of locks turning. A second later, the door groaned open, stale air hissing out from the portal.

The El-Melloi nodded. "It recognizes me as a Lord, the head of the El-Melloi family, despite my being a Heroic Spirit, and displaced a century. That should help us, at least somewhat."

He began to stride forward. "Follow closely. In normal times, there shouldn't be traps, but this is the Clock Tower on a war-time footing. Shuten, Cu, I will need your assistance, or just your eyes, where my two and Kongming's two might not be enough."

The two Servants in question flanked the Caster as they entered the tunnels.

The underground was plain, and bare. Little more than a simple path, torches burning brightly along the walls. It was spacious, if nothing else, the ceiling towering far above even his head. Given how they had only descended a single flight of stairs to the basement, he wondered if there was nothing between them and the city streets other than that ceiling - but it was likely not the case. As paranoid as the Clock Tower had been described to him (by more than a single source), it was possible the space in here was expanded by magic. If nothing else, the surrounding stones were likely reinforced, so that the people of the city could not easily break into these tunnels. He imagined the Mages would take a dim view of their secret passageways being breached by some youths who had decided to dig a hole, for the reasons of the young - or possibly by criminals, seeking to break into a vault or a noble's house, only to stumble into a world they knew nothing about. Or even workers, seeking to repair, or expand a portion of the sewers, could potentially open a way into the tunnels.

Shuten sniffed the air. "I don't smell any of the fluids those things use for lubricant. Do not take it with any surety, but I believe we have these halls to ourselves."

"We should be swift, then." The El-Melloi gestured. "This way should take us to the Clock Tower proper. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled."

The next few minutes passed quickly, and quietly, as they wound their way through the man-made passageways.

"Really not much for decoration, are you bunch?" muttered Mordred, as they passed yet another fork in the tunnels, this one just as plain as the others.

"As ostentatious as Mages can be, these tunnels are purely for utility," said the El-Melloi. "And we aren't even on the grounds proper, either. I expect the decor should change once we arrive - even despite the damage that has likely been inflicted in the battle. The basements of the Clock Tower itself are for more than just mere storage, after all." He began ticking things off, one finger at the time. "Ritual rooms, repositories of records, laboratories, even some classrooms are kept deep beneath the earth, for a variety of reasons. And the Clock Tower, at least in my time, spared no expense in showing off their wealth and prestige in each and every area."

His steps began to slow, his eyes hardening. "There…..can you feel that?"

Cu nodded. "Bounded Field." He licked his finger and held it up to the air, sketching a rune in the musty atmosphere, then let out a low whistle. "Strong one, too. Or, it was. Now it kind of feels like it's lost a lot of its steam."

Fujimaru's brow was furrowed. "I can only sort of sense it, but still……if you're saying that's a weak one, I'd hate to see what it was like at full power."

The El-Melloi stared for a long moment, then reached out a hand, his palm eventually coming to rest against a shimmering barrier. "Hmmm. Very similar to the ones used in my time, as expected." He reached behind him and tugged a strand of hair free from his mane, then flicked it forward.

There was a flash of light, a brief sizzle, and the stink of burning hair washed over them.

The Caster nodded. "Still potent. And, sadly, it doesn't recognize me as the doors did. Unfortunate, but unsurprising. They would not have bothered tightening up security on every access point to the underground tunnels, instead concentrating their efforts on the Field that protects the facility itself. We'll have to do this the hard way."

Cu cracked his knuckles. "Just let me know if you need a hand. But until you do, I'll be keeping them to myself. Fiddly work like this isn't my best."

"Noted," said the other Caster, reaching his hand out again, this time coming in contact with the Field. Muttering under his breath, his eyes slipped closed.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, reality wavered, and, around the man's hand, magical symbols flared to life, slowly thrumming with power. The air began to heat, the visible portions of the barrier beginning to tinge an angry red.

They all heard the El-Melloi inhale a sudden breath. "Tricky….." Sweat was beading on his forehead, and a trickle ran down his brow, between his eyes, collecting on the nose of his mask. "Even degraded as it is, it's still an incredibly complex piece of Magecraft."

There was a whine of gathering energy, and then a crackling release. A bolt of something erupted from the Field, searing through the air at the Caster, who once more reached behind him and tore loose a strand of hair, flinging it into the path of the magical assault. The hair straightened as it was struck, then vibrated wildly. It began to fray at the edges, rapidly disintegrating, but not before it glowed, brilliantly, for a second, and the energies flowed through it, before sputtering into the stones below.

Cu's eyes widened, and he gave a low whistle. "He grounded it. Must be why he keeps his hair that long." His staff tapped against the ground. "That's a useful enough trick that I might have to bother him to teach me that, later." He leaned over, nudging Fujimaru. "Honestly, probably wouldn't be a bad thing for you to learn as well, girlie."

Fujimaru frowned. "I'd need to grow my hair out for that, and there's a reason I keep it short. Too much trouble to have it long like the two of you." Her face twisted in what was surely a frown under her mask. "And long hair was always my sister's thing, anyways."

If the twinkle in Cu's eye was any indication, he was likely giving Fujimaru a very cheeky grin. "Shame. Bet you'd look fetching with longer hair. But we Irish always had a ton of redheads in our mix…….for good reason."

Kratos sniffed. "You are forgetting how many times I have bested you in combat, Cu Chulainn, by snatching that long hair." A grunt. "Fujimaru has the right of it. In combat, long hair is a liability, something a canny opponent can exploit."

Cu scoffed. "Nothing but jealous talk from someone who probably hasn't had hair on the top of his head in the better part of a century….or longer."

"I know Mashie agrees with me, don't you?" A soft squeak escaped Mash's lips as Fujimaru reached over and linked her arm with the girl's. "And Shuten too! You can't go wrong with short hair if one of the Three Calamities of Japan is rocking it." Her head swiveled around, landing on Altera. "And there's Altera too. You're outnumbered here, Cu."

Altera blinked, confused, only somewhat following the conversation, and her bafflement only increased as her wrist was seized by a tiny, delicate-but-powerful hand, and dragged to stand by the two girls. Shuten grinned up at her, her fangs likely showing, behind her mask.

"Four to one," said Fujimaru. "The Short Hair Alliance is only growing in numbers." Her elbow slid out and dug into Altera's side. "Isn't that right?"

The Scourge of God blinked, then raised one palm. "I do not understand your words, little human Master, but you are correct. You are outnumbered, Hound of Chulainn."

Mordred was staring. "I'd ask if they're always this weird, but then again, they're practically normal next to the Knights of the Round Table, so I'm just going to assume your answer would be yes," she said, the question directed at Kratos.

"They are……different than those I am used to fighting with," rumbled Kratos, halfway ready to snap at the lot of them to focus. "As….irreverant as they can be, they are reliable allies. We would not have come this far otherwise."

"Yeah," mused Mordred. "And as bad as the Round Table was, I've heard stories about Charlemagne's Paladins that puts us to shame……and there's something niggling me at the back of my mind that tells me I know that personally, for some reason, that those bunch were lunatics even compared to us and how we self-destructed."

A grunt. "I have known two Pantheons of Gods in my time. Both fell apart, largely from their own doing….their own choices. It may be inevitable, for anything with so much power to end in ruin."

(And yet another reason he was hesitant, leery, even, of what Freya's hints, and Tyr's knowing looks - and even Mimir's occasional silences - spoke of. The seat of the God of War for the Nine Realms was empty, and all of them had a definite idea of who should fill that seat. He disagreed. As of yet, neither had openly broached the topic. But it was coming, he knew.)

Mordred snorted. "I'd call you a cynic, 'cept I halfway agree with you." Plates moved against plates as the knight shrugged. "Maybe more than halfway. Still, when I'm finally in charge, I'm going to do better than my Father, that's for damn sure."

A grunt was all Kratos could manage. It was, if nothing else, a familiar enough tale, the child wishing to surpass their parent, all while the parent hoped that their child would someday become better than they, themselves, were. (Atreus was on his way to that destination, Kratos felt. In that, if nothing else, he had succeeded where his own father had failed, choked by his own paranoia, and the curses of Pandora's box.)

He could not say if this child (for Mordred was a child - by her own words, aged faster, to a height and frame that spoke of a maturity that was merely physical) would accomplish that. He had met Saber - King Arthur - only briefly, and to hear Cu Chulainn tell it, she had been corrupted, and very far from the person that had been initially summoned in that war. Changed, he thought, in a fashion not dissimilar to what had been done to Zeus.

But that was only one half of the equation.

Morgan…….Kratos did not trust her. Did not like her. If the corrupted Saber from that burning city reminded him, even in such a thin manner, of one head of a Pantheon of Gods, then Morgan reminded him of another. Odin, and the way he saw all those around him, even his own children as mere tools to be exploited. And he felt certain that Morgan viewed them in the same manner. A windfall, in the unlikely event she was being honest about wishing to help her child, at best. At worst, she saw them as pawns in whatever plan she was enacting, parallel - at best - to the Chaldean's goal of stabilizing this period in history.

Mordred was peering at him. "Not much of a talker, are you? I always figured gods would be more full of themselves, what with the whole, y'know, being gods thing. Bit of a change of pace from the sort I'm used to hanging around." She laughed. "No small personalities around that Table. Father was always the quietest of the bunch, and even then, she wasn't exactly quiet. If you got her going on something, like a Saxon invasion, or Gawain's cooking, or some other crisis, she'd talk your ear off."

It was usually those around Kratos who filled the air with talk, was it not? Mimir alone could carry on both halves of a conversation by himself - something he shared with Da Vinci. But Freya, Atreus, Tyr……

Brok. Sindri.

Something cold and ugly twisted inside of Kratos, mixing with and polluting the emotions that had been pressing against his heart as he thought of those he had left behind, in his world. It was grief, still raw and bitter. Grief, and….uncertainty.

(How responsible was Sindri for Kratos' current situation? For being stranded in a world not his own. And then…..that had not been the plan of those who had ambushed him. They had wanted him dead. And if not for happenstance, a twist of fate, that is what would have happened to him…..assuming he had not fallen forever in the void between the realms.)

"Remain alert!" growled Kratos, some of his roiling emotions surging forth, slipping through his grasp. A ripple passed through the group, Mash and Fujimaru almost flinching as his voice washed over them. Cu merely rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. Altera did not react in the slightest, but she had barely been paying attention to the antics of the rest.

Shuten ignored him, to all appearances, but he had little illusions about holding any level of control over the oni. It had not caused issues…..yet, which was the only reason he was allowing it to pass.

The barrier in front of the Clock Tower Lord was shimmering between colors, angry red, to a cool blue, then mixing in a sickly looking violet, then back to the red. The Caster was breathing heavily, his hair now drenched in sweat. Muttering under his breath, the El-Melloi gestured, and a riot of circles, inscribed with unfamiliar characters flashed into being. With another gesture, they sank into the barrier, all centered around one point.

"There…" rasped the man, pointing, his eyes diverting from the spellwork before him for a second to catch the eyes of the other Caster in their group. "Strike there - and use only the barest minimum of magic you can manage."

Cu didn't hesitate. The end of his spear, sheathed in light, crashed into the indicated area. A spiderweb of cracks blossomed from the point of impact, the El-Melloi's circles writhing around it, flowing from area to area, almost seeming to….guide the growing fracture.

With a sound like shattering glass, the barrier broke, but only in one place, the El-Melloi's circles preventing it from spreading further.

Whether intentionally or coincidentally, the rupture looked almost exactly like a door.

"Go through, quickly," hissed the El-Melloi, his breathing labored. "I'll follow and close it behind us."

"I'll go first," whispered Shuten. "I'm smallest, and just in case there's something nasty waiting on the other side….." Her face widened in what could only be a baring of her fangs. "It will get to play with something nastier."

"Mash, follow," rumbled Kratos. "Cu Chulainn…."

The Irishman nodded. "I'll hang back for the last, just in case he needs me, then I'll drag him through. Long as you and that knight don't get stuck or anything."

His words were apt, at least, it was a tight fit for both of them, Kratos due to his sheer size, Mordred due to her armor. But they made it through, just barely able to avoid brushing the edges of the portal.

Cu was right behind them. As he reached the other side, he turned around, poking his staff back through the opening. Shakily, the El-Melloi reached out and grasped the staff in his free hand.

A second later, he was on the other side, Cu having yanked him right off his feet, and through the barrier.

Panting, the Caster raised a trembling hand, and snapped his fingers. The circles that had bored into the barrier faded, and the opening rapidly repaired itself.

With a ragged breath, the man slumped to the floor. "There. It was….much more difficult than I had anticipated to breach it, but now, I should be able to open a similar portal in that Bounded Field in the future." A sly smile grew on his face. "Which will be a nasty surprise, should we end up being pursued out of here."

Mordred glanced up, at the brick ceiling above them. "Might not do anything, since we're thinking of tearing down that tower before we leave, but still, it's sneaky. And kind of a last 'fuck you' from the Clock Tower to those machines." Her fist shot out, digging into the Caster's shoulder. "Not bad, skinny, not bad at all."

The El-Melloi winced, but accepted the hand that was (eventually) offered to help him to his feet. "While I cannot claim much pride in this organization, given how much of its dark underbelly I have seen in my time…." He shook his head. "Not everyone in the Clock Tower is a monster. Some of them, perhaps most of them, deserved a better fate than whatever our enemies planned for them. If I can make this Bounded Field take one last strip of flesh from them, then perhaps they can find a more peaceful rest."

"Is that your assistant, the gravekeeper, talking?" asked Fujimaru.

The Caster shrugged. "Possibly a little bit."

"Well, you're the only one who's ever been in this place, so it's your show from here on out," said Mordred, as she peered down the halls. "What are we looking for, and which way?"

The El-Melloi's eyes slid closed, and his mouth worked silently for a moment. Then, he pointed down a hallway. "There's a records room down one floor from here, or there should be. It's probably the best starting point. We can comb through anything recent there, see where that takes us."

"Would they have kept records, even in the midst of a siege?" rumbled Kratos, as they followed in the man's wake. "Or kept them in such an obvious place? You had believed we would need to search for hidden archives."

The Caster laughed. "The Clock Tower LOVES its bureaucracy, its red tape. It lessens as you ascend the ladder - the oversight I had for my Modern Magecraft class was due to my unusual status, and not helped by my unorthodox teaching methods. Thankfully, my students were successful enough that I could continue to justify carrying on as I was. But I can assure you, even as the doors were being brought down, someone here was documenting everything, right up until the pen was torn from his hand. Violently."

"You don't have to write the after-mission reports we do, Mr. Kratos," said Mash. "Partially because you're still trying to learn English, and partially because we're trying to keep any mention of you from making it back to the Clock Tower of our time. But even with Chaldea operating at reduced staff, and with more than a few of the usual protocols suspended for the duration…….we still have to fill out reports and other things."

Fujimaru groaned. "Homework, Mashie. Call it what it is. I thought I'd get a break from that stuff when I signed up for this gig, but no, I just got MORE. They even had me write out what little I recalled from Fuyuki, despite me getting dropped like, five minutes into the mission."

"The point is, even if this room doesn't contain records that are completely up-to-date, there will likely be at least something about the beginning of all this." He glanced over to Mordred. "You, as I recall, only were summoned by the land after the fog had first descended upon London."

"Yup," said Mordred. "Those toys were also roaming the streets by the time I showed up, too, so whatever was going on had been going on for a bit. String Bean had it at about a week and a half."

"And neither of you are Mages - you are a Saber, and he's a regular human, as far as I can tell. So if there had been signs, portents, or other indications of the building threat, he wouldn't have noticed them." The Caster paused. "Actually, did any of the Mages in your camp have any insight as to that? It occurs to me that I never asked."

"Nah." Mordred shook her head. "They're all grunts, or peons, or whatever fancy title you lot have for the lowest rungs of your ladder. They were all too wrapped up in, or worried about meeting the demands the guys above them had to even notice things were getting weird. It's why they were out in the town when things really got bad, and not behind the Clock Tower's wards. Too focused on fetching whatever they needed for experiments or projects or something to pay attention to anything else."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same," mused the El-Melloi, with a sigh. He held up a finger, counting as they passed by a series of doors, these ones much more ornate than the ones that had initially let them into the tunnels. "Here, this should be the stairs to the next floor down."

The door groaned open with little protest, and they quickly descended the stairs, Kratos' shoulder shoving the door at the bottom of the flight aside.

Altera blinked, her head twitching upwards. "Combat." There was a light in her eyes, the orbs animated as they flicked from side to side. Her sword appeared in her hands, the light already beginning to pulse in time with her breathing. "I can hear it….sense it…."

Fujimaru had cupped her hands around her ears. "You sure? Because I'm not hearing anything."

Kratos too was straining his ears. For a second, he heard something. It was faint, but it was unmistakable.

An explosion, metal and stone screeching as they were dented and deformed.

"She is right," he growled, tugging his axe out of its harness.

"Survivors?" Something stirred behind the El-Melloi's eyes. "Then we should hurry. Altera, which way?"

"Follow," she said, taking off like a shot.

As he had noted before, in the few times he had sparred with her, Altera was fast. Normally a trait worthy of praise, but in this instance…..she was ill-suited to lead. She gave little thought to moderating her pace so that the slower members of the group could keep up with her.

Fortunately, as fast as she was, there were those who could match her speed.

Almost seeming like she was skipping, rather than running, Shuten effortlessly stayed alongside the Saber. Cu Chulainn, as well, was keeping up, occasionally leaving the ground and planting off the wall, then springing off of it, using that momentum to bridge the gap in speed between himself and the Saber.

Behind them, Kratos thundered forward, his legs surging him forward with every step. Just to his side, Mordred was coated in red lightning, the sparks lending her a speed greater than she had previously demonstrated.

Mash was a bit farther behind them, the girl slowing, in an effort to at least remain within a reasonable distance of the final two members of their group.

"You're a Heroic Spirit," groaned Fujimaru, through her own gasps for air. "How are you worse at this than a puny little human like me?" She blinked, and stared at the final member of their group, who was lagging behind her. "And that's with whatever power-up you got from becoming a Servant…..how bad of shape were you in while you were alive?"

"Atrocious," wheezed the El-Melloi. "There is a reason I had my assistant, beyond whatever altruism motivated me to save her from the life her village had planned for her. She did the fighting, at least physically. I was never some two-fisted pulp hero, part teacher, part adventurer."

"I swear, I think Sensei might end up making you join me on my exercises after this."

As they flew through the basement halls, the sounds that Altera had only just been able to hear became audible to them, over the sounds of their running feet.

Combat. As she had said.

And, over that sound, voices.

"Truly, can you not HURRY UP? I am not made for valiant actions like this! I am a storyteller at heart, one who is meant to be in the background….not the leading role!" The voice had a noble timbre to it, a confidence, though one that seemed like it was wavering, if not on the verge of fully shattering. The sound of magic echoed through the air, followed by a series of explosions. "And certainly not against such an unappreciative audience!"

"You would say that about any audience." The second voice was deep, and carried with it the sound of bone-deep exhaustion. "Though in this case, you aren't necessarily wrong."

"Then go FASTER! Or assist me! These things are nothing if not persistent!"

A sigh,followed by the sound of something wooden running across a rough surface, then, crackling flames. "There. That's the limit of what I can do, if you wish for me to make this deadline."

"It is barely ANYTHING!" Whirring, and the sound of stone shattering. "Oh, cruel Fates! Can you not deliver unto this poor soul a protagonist? We poor fools are not made for such!"

"Are you quite certain you're not looking for an antagonist? Given your love of tragic endings?"

"Oh, you are one to aspersions…..AH!" There was a wet, meaty sound, as what could only be a body colliding with something - likely a wall. A series of weak coughs followed, and the sound of whatever magic these two had been using to defend themselves petered out.

"Well, shit." The second voice didn't even sound surprised - merely resigned to their fate, as the hallways filled with the noise of breaking wood and crumbling stone.

They rounded the final corner, and came upon a war zone. A swarm of machines, both kinds, crowded the halls, all pressing forward, attempting to breach a pair of ornate doors. Doors that already showed a great deal of wear and tear - singes, bullet holes, and worst, a large, gaping fissure where, even now, two of the heavier models were attempting to batter the door down with simple brute force, and well on their way to tearing the two halves of the portal from their hinges, and surging into the formerly barred room.

"Go!" barked Kratos, Fujimaru's "Shuten, get over there!" drowned out by his louder voice, but still likely audible to the oni, given how her legs tensed, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Her eyes met Kratos', and a grin spread across her face. Laughing, she leapt into the air, but not springing forward, merely up.

A low purr of "Shield!" was his only warning, before a pair of bare, taloned feet were shooting out at his face. His reflexes, however, were as honed as ever, and his shield was already locking into place before the oni's legs had extended even halfway.

Somehow, he heard every one of the oni's nails as they tapped on the metal of his shield, in the brief instant before she planted, and lunged forward, rocketing across the room.

The blade was materializing in her hand before she had even begun her leap. By the time she reached the knot of machines, it was already slicing through the air, carving through metal and wires, sending splatterings of dark fluid in oddly glittering trails across the walls. And her free hand wasn't idle, claws darting out left and right as her body sailed through the cluster of machines.

As her body flew through the opening the machines had torn in the doors, Kratos was almost certain he saw one of their heads grasped in the oni's hand. A second later, that belief was confirmed, as a doll's head sailed through the opening, leaving a sizable dent in the chestplate of the machine it struck.

"What is this?" The first voice, though weak, was steadily growing in volume. "A saviour, as the sun sets? And such an exotic mien, as well!"

"Don't pay any attention to him. If you're here to help, then keep these machines off us. I'm almost done here." The second voice sounded, if anything, more normal. Merely accepting the oni's sudden appearance as just another event in what was likely a string of unusual events.

Anything further was drowned out as Altera finally plowed into the rear of the formation, her shimmering blade already elongating, and lashing forward. The whip that her sword became severed arms, legs, and gouged deeply into the thicker metal of the rows of machines at the back. Reaching the limit of its elasticity, it wound itself around one of the bulky machines, metal squealing as it tightened.

The robot bleated out a high-pitched burst of scrapcode as its wheels dug into the floor, fighting against Altera's pull. With a grunt of effort, the Saber leapt into the hair, using the machine's body as an anchor to jerk herself even higher into the air. The tendrils of her weapon uncoiled, freeing its victim as it unwound, returning to its wielder.

Radiance gathered as Altera drew her arm back, the blade beginning to spin. With a cry, her arm shot forward, the sword releasing a beam of pure light directly into the crowd of machines, still in the process of turning to face the sudden onslaught that was enveloping them.

The robots at the terminus of the ray simply ceased to exist, the beam not halting until it had carved deep into the stones underfoot. Other machines, ones on the fringes of the attack, crumpled to the ground, their metal bubbling and running, melting from their proximity to the sheer heat of the attack.

Still, despite that they were reeling from the attack, a larger, more well-made doll began to intone orders. Light flared around it, and its chestplates began to open, a transformation beginning.

Kratos thundered into the gap left by Altera's attack, the Leviathan Axe leading. The keen edge of the blade hammered into the exposed mechanisms of the doll, meeting utterly no resistance. Roaring, Kratos chopped straight through its chest, sending the upper half of the torso spinning off into the throng. His momentum only building, Kratos battered aside the collapsing body of the doll, shoulder lowered, ramming into the squat torso of another machine that was already bringing a saw-edged blade to bear.

The sheer weight of the Spartan's charge knocked it back, into a pair of dolls that had been tensing, preparing for a leap. The heavier machine bowled through the lighter, more agile dolls, porcelain cracking as its treads rolled over thinner, more delicate limbs. Metal groaning, it brought its blade up in a defensive position, wheels digging in, scrabbling for purchase on the bodies of its fellows, attempting to counter-charge, to rush back at the Spartan.

The Leviathan Axe shattered the blade, effortlessly, continuing into the machine's body as though the metal was not even there. With a bellow, Kratos jerked the axe up, throwing the robot into the air, its body spinning uncontrollably. Frost was weeping off the Leviathan Axe as he raised it high, before bringing it down, every drop of his formidable strength brought to bear.

The robot shattered, its body freezing solid, moments before it was broken into so many scraps. The axe continued down, reducing first one, then a second doll to utter ruin.

Snarling, he tore the weapon free, standing alone in a slowly melting patch of ice.

Mordred's entry into the battlefield was no less disruptive, or chaotic. With a short leap, she barrelled into a doll, knee leading. The force of the blow pulverized the thing's head, the body collapsing.

Mordred rode it down. One foot planted, hard enough to crack the stones beneath, the other shooting up to blast into the chest of a machine that was wheeling itself forward, sword raised. There was a crack, and despite its weight, its momentum, its overall squat design, the machine was sent flying back, bowling through the crowd, toppling them one after another, until its body cracked into the doors.

The machine bleated out something in its warbling voice as it impacted the wall, its shrieks only increasing in volume as, from behind the door, a blade jabbed through its midsection, then flew from side to side, ravaging the mechanisms within the automaton, before finally shooting upwards, nearly bisecting the limp machine.

"Booooooring." Shuten's voice rang out from behind the door. "More. More!"

Mordred slammed her extended foot down, leg tensing as she hurled herself forward. A mailed fist careened into a doll's face, outright shattering the metal skull. Half-laughing, half-snarling, Mordred's hand closed around the broken stump of the doll's neck, and hefted the sparking body into the air - then brought it down on a cluster of machines.

"Stop!" Its limbs flailing wildly, the machine's body was whipped to the side, swatting a handful of its fellow dolls to the floor.

"Hitting!" Mordred brought the doll above her head, before smashing it down onto the fallen machines.

"Yourselves!" Spinning in a circle, Mordred turned the ruined machine into an impromptu flail, knocking another cluster of machines off-balance. Winding up, Mordred hurled the doll, now little more than a shattered torso, into the knot of automatons. Her shoulder, lowered, with all the weight and momentum she could muster, followed in its, and, once more, the door rattled as metallic bodies crashed into it. As before, Shuten's blade came darting through the hole, the oni's laughter following in its wake, but that was merely the prelude.

Her massive sword gripped in both hands, Mordred planted her feet, taking one, massive step forward. Her sword sparked off the ground as she stepped into the swing, red lightning crackling off the edges of her blade.

She cleaved through the pack of machines like they were made of thin cloth. Metal sheared and crumpled before the sword, as it tore through the machines in a furious arc. With a chorus of sad little whimpers, the robots fell to the ground in pieces.

"Sheesh," muttered Cu, bringing his staff down on a still-twitching machine that was, despite its twisted legs, was still trying to pull itself towards him. "You didn't leave me much to do here."

"A complaint I share, Hound," sing-songed Shuten's voice from behind the door.

"Ah," began the first voice. "My good fellow, my compatriot, could…."

"I'm not dragging you closer to me, and away from the scary little woman," answered the second voice. "And not simply because she reminds me of someone else, either. I need to collate all of this, document it in case something happens to me. Avoiding eggs in one basket and all of that, which is only sensible given how pitiful my stats are, and how dangerous everything in this rotten city is."

Mordred aimed a half-hearted kick at the pile of metal that was crowded in front of the door. "Wimps. Didn't even make me work for it." With her free hand, she reached up and rapped on the door, twice. "Hey, we're comin' in. Oni girl, you mind unbarring the door for us, so I don't have to kick it down?"

"We're friendly!" yelled Fujimaru, picking her way through the scrapped robots littering the floor. "Don't mind our Assassin there. She's only scary if you're an enemy…..or you're her Master…..or if she's bored."

"My good lady," began the first voice. "I distinctly recall her just complaining about the very ailment you describe!"

Shuten's throaty chuckle managed to be audible, even over the sound of something very large and solid being pulled away from the other side of the door, then unceremoniously dropped to the floor. "I AM bored. This trip has been such a disappointment, so far. But the way you are watching me, little human, is at least……mildly distracting. For the moment."

Mordred reached up to one of the doors, and, with Kratos shoving at the other, they cracked the portal open.

"Welcome to the main records room of the Clock Tower," muttered the El-Melloi, as they took in the sight.

It was a room that, at first glance, seemed much larger and more spacious than it should conceivably be - more magic, Kratos assumed. Ornate shelves, stretching all the way up to the high ceilings, each and every one of them groaning under the weight of mountains of books, scrolls, and even a handful of stone tablets, dominated one's first glance into the chamber. Ladders, attached to rails, with wheels attached to their feet, leaned against the walls, obviously there to allow access to the higher tiers of the shelves. Here and there, scattered throughout the room were tables and chairs, places where scholars once had gathered to study and peruse the myriad works of the room, but they were starkly reduced. Largely only chairs remained, the tables having been pulled up to the front of the room and tipped on their sides, forming barricades, more than a few showing signs of the wear and tear of battle. Others, from their positioning, had been propped directly against the door, forming a different kind of barricade, one that would have aided in keeping the entrance barred, though they had been pulled away - likely by Shuten, to allow them to open the portal.

The sole remaining table was farther back in the room, away from the areas where the siege had raged. Books, paper, and quills were piled high, all clustered around a single corner of the table. A single candle, burnt down to a nub, provided what little illumination the table had. As to whomever was sitting there, Kratos could not see them - the stack of books was too high, though Kratos could see a pair of feet, just below the lip of the table, dangling some distance from the ground, though the chair holding them was not overly large.

Against the wall, off to the right of the doors, a man was slumped on the ground, Shuten looming over him.

He had the look of a scholar, if nothing else. Fine clothes - a green suit coat, with golden buttons, over which an even more green jacket, with ruffled sleeves, rested, both secured with an orange ribbon that was tied around his neck. Though the clothes had seen better days, for they were rumpled and torn, and stained with fresh blood. The man himself peered at Kratos, intelligent eyes wide with an emotion Kratos could not pierce.

"Such a motley crew to be our timely liberators." A deep intake of breath, as he once again ran his eyes up and down Kratos' form. "But, do my eyes deceive me? Is this a god that stands before us?"

There was the sound of shuffling, and a head of blue hair poked itself above the mountain of books on the table. A pair of equally blue eyes, wide, but with an oddly cynical bent to them, glanced across the entrance. "No, I'm seeing it too, so you're not crazy. Or any more crazy than you were." The head ducked back behind the fortress of paper. "Now be quiet and let me finish here."

"A child?" muttered Kratos. For despite the deepness of the voice, the proportions of the body - the legs dangling above the chair, that their form was hidden by books that should not have veiled the body of an adult - could be nothing else.

"A Servant," snapped the boy. "And not a child, despite my appearance. Due to Servants being summoned in their prime, authors such as myself have an unfortunate tendency to have that being our childhoods……is what I want to say." Again, that head leveraged itself up into view. "But in my experience, it seems to be ONLY myself that is forced to suffer such an indignity." Sighing, the boy(?) shrugged. "As you can see with Shakespeare over there - he gets to be summoned in his full maturity, while I have to cast about for a stool if I want to reach anything above waist height for the rest of you people."

Both Mash's, and, to a lesser extent, Fujimaru's eyes had widened at the name. "William Shakespeare?" asked their Shielder, a note of almost awe in her voice.

"In the flesh," he laughed weakly. "So to speak. Caster Class, William Shakespeare, at your service." His voice began to take on something of a wheedling tone. "Perchance, would any of you have the means of mending the damage from the slings and arrows I weathered holding the line as I did? My life is in no danger, but it does hurt a not inconsiderable amount."

"Sure," said Fujimaru, waving her hand as she triggered one of the spells bound in her uniform. A second later, a wave of green washed over the Caster, and he sighed happily.

"Ah, a world of difference!" Gingerly at first, then, with more surety, the man (Shakespeare - Kratos had heard that name before. Da Vinci had mentioned it during their lessons. A playwright - a very famous playwright.) pushed himself to his feet, and once more raked his eyes across their group, before he bent at the waist, and gave a courtly bow. "And to our saviours, my most heartfelt thanks! We two are ill-suited to the role of protagonists! A weight has lifted from my heart, now that I see much more deserving sorts have come to take center stage!"

The man did not seem to be able to speak at anything but something just below a yell, his voice booming to even the farthest corners of the room. (Part of him flashed back to a meal, early in Avenger's time in Chaldea, when Tanya, who had been nursing a headache, had very sternly told the woman to 'use her inside voice, or ELSE'. It had worked.) And Kratos did not like how his eyes lingered on them all - particularly himself. "And to see a god, of all things, leading the charge? Truly magnificent!"

"Truthfully, when I heard something tearing into those robots, I had thought it might be some remnants of the Clock Tower. A god wasn't something I was expecting either." There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and the boy hopped down from his perch, striding around the table until his full body came into view.

Now that he could see all of him, Kratos' opinion did not change - he looked like a child, possibly as young as Atreus was when Faye died, if not younger, but the eyes gave it away. Old, far older than the eyes of any actual child could ever be, and with a weary, jaded weight to them (a weight that was familiar - Kratos had seen eyes like that in the mirror in his room, the one above the sink, often enough). His clothing matched his hair, blue pants, a blue vest, even a blue tie around his neck in the shape of a bow.

Like his ally, the man in a child's body took his time sizing each of them up. "But I suppose when an actual oni flies through the door, a giant sword in one hand, and a robot's head in her other hand - one she promptly uses as a projectile, the bar has already been set fairly high. High enough that seeing a god, of all things, is just the expected escalation of the narrative." He peered up at Kratos, and sighed. "But did you have to be so tall? My neck is typically sore from staring down at my manuscripts, doubly so from all the stress. Having to crane it so far back to look you in the eyes will only exacerbate that condition."

He shrugged. "Either way, the rescue is appreciated." He extended a tiny hand. "Hans Christian Andersen, also Caster Class."

Before Kratos could even begin to raise his hand, Mash was there, eagerly seizing the Caster's palm and shaking it.

Vigorously.

"Mr. Andersen!" The girl's eyes were wide, and shimmering with a frenzied light. "I'm HONORED to meet you!"

A wry smile cracked the man's dour countenance, though it was tempered by the line of sweat that was trickling down his brow. "A fan, then? Always nice to meet an admirer."

And then, like she'd been struck by lightning, Mash jerked, and just as quickly, she was pumping the other Caster's hand. "And I didn't mean to ignore you, either, Mr. Shakespeare! It's just as much of an honor to meet you!"

The Caster's smile, which had, for a second, seemed a touch brittle and jealous, brightened. "Ah, it is nice to know that one's fame precedes them."

"Not the Servants I would have expected to be holding the line, here at the last," muttered Cu. "What's you two's story, anyways?"

"We were summoned by Mages of the Clock Tower, shortly after the fog first appeared." Andersen glanced over to his fellow. "I was second - Shakespeare had already been summoned by the time I arrived."

Altera was staring at the two men. "I do not understand why they chose two writers. Warriors would have seemed to be a better choice, given what they were facing."

Shakespeare threw his hands into the air. "Alas, fair maiden, such are the whims of Fate! Lacking in time, and something that could be used as a solid catalyst, they had no choice but to trust in the roulette that is a catalyst-less summoning." He gestured at himself and the other Caster. "And, he and I are the results."

"And we're pushing that luck further by remaining here." Andersen held out a bundle of papers. "Someone take this and pack it away. It's all the information I managed to gather, both before, and during the siege. I'll summarize it later, when we're somewhere safe, but in the event I don't make it, you'll have it." He tilted his head. "You do have somewhere safe to retreat to, yes?"

Mordred nodded. "Got a camp to the south, across the river. Even got a few strays from the Clock Tower there."

Shakespeare nodded. "The Mages here thought they could detect Bounded Fields, rather formidable ones, through the mists, if but faintly. Your doing then, Lady Knight?"

There was a snarl, and Mordred kicked the Caster in the shin. "Don't call me a woman, or a lady - I ain't no lady!" As Shakespeare hopped on one leg, holding his shin, she shrugged. "But otherwise, you're right. Mother's keeping the walls up, at least the magical ones. It should be safe enough to talk there. Or, at least, safe from these guys."

Left unspoken was whether whatever they had to reveal would be safe within Morgan le Faye's domain, but their options for refuges were few and far between, here.

Fujimaru glanced at the ceiling. "This going to change the plans any, Kratos? I know we were planning to check out that weird tower on the way out." She grinned. "By which I assume is shorthand for 'tear it down and burn it'."

"It should not," rumbled Kratos. "While we do not know their plans, allowing them to complete this tower is foolish." A grunt. "If nothing else, it will hinder them, and buy us time."

"We make big enough nuisances of ourselves, might even draw out someone more important than this endless parade of puppets," trilled Shuten. "Someone more…..interesting…."

"Let's move, then." The El-Melloi gestured at the two Clock Tower Servants. "You two stay in the rear with myself and my Master - it should be the safest area, and you can supplement our less than impressive offensive output."

Mash raised her hand. "Actually……how are you two doing on Mana? When we looked at the Clock Tower from one of the nearby roofs, we didn't see any signs of survivors. Does that mean your Masters were……"

"Indeed." Shakespeare sighed. "Loathe as I am to admit it, but my reserves are a touch low. Being within the bounds of the Clock Tower allowed me to….ahem, leech off the abundant mana within these walls, but once outside, the need will become pressing."

"I'm fine, but I haven't had to stretch myself much," commented Andersen. "But I could use an anchor myself….particularly if we're about to do something monumentally unwise, and my meager skills might have to be mustered in my own self-defense." He looked around. "Dibs on the god."

Shakespeare looked as though his fellow writer had just betrayed him, in the most foul manner possible. Andersen was unmoved. "Between the two of us, my survival is more paramount." He tapped his temple. "The important information is here, after all. And I need something formidable standing between myself and these machines, in any event."

"Very well then. But you owe me," said Shakespeare, sounding resigned, as he turned to Fujimaru. "Then, that would mean that you and I will be collaborating together for the foreseeable future?"

Fujimaru's smile was just a touch jagged. "I'm not sure if I should be more worried about you and Mash sharing my headspace, or you and Shuten. But either way, Ritsuka Fujimaru, and welcome aboard."

As a flare of light signified the sealing of their contract, Andersen again held out his hand. "I know it's an imposition, but I do have my reasons."

Kratos said nothing, simply wrapped his hand around the writer's delicate wrist, as his Command Seals flared.

The string that wove itself through his mind felt very threadbare, as though it had been worn down to nearly nothing, the barest minimum before snapping. Even before it had finished unwinding itself, the Servant's deep voice was echoing through Kratos' mind.

'Shakespeare is……dangerous. Not actively, but he can get distracted, can see people as just parts in a story, and end up causing problems.' There was the mental equivalent of a shrug. 'I don't think he's lying about being Summoned before I was, since he could have turned on me at any time, and didn't, but still…..I figured it would be better to NOT give him access to your mind.' Another shrug. 'And you seem like something of a kindred spirit, anyways.'

'Is he a threat?' The Leviathan Axe suddenly felt a touch heavier in Kratos' hand, as he deliberately forced himself not to look over to where Shakespeare was rambling about something - one of his works, likely - to Mash and Fujimaru.

'No. Or, at least, I don't think so. He clearly had a Master while we were contracted to the Clock Tower, so evidence doesn't support him lying about being summoned by them. And he could have just stepped aside and let the door to the library be torn down - he WAS actually trying to keep those machines back.' They had begun to depart the room, Andersen falling in just behind Kratos, for the moment. 'He's just……weak-willed, or a slave to his desires. And his desires all center around seeing a fantastic story. One of the problems with that is that he doesn't like it when things go too smoothly. He's not above intervening to create more dramatic obstacles if need be.'

Kratos felt the child-Caster's eyes on his back. 'Hopefully, you should be an impressive enough specimen to distract him for the time being. Problem is, you have a ton more potential as a tragic lead than that girl does. Not to say that she doesn't, but you're something else. At least, that's my read on the pair of you, so far.'

'Either way, keep one eye on him, and I'll keep both of mine peeled. An ounce of prevention and all that.'

"Two things," began the El-Melloi, as they prepared to leave. "Firstly, what kind of response can we expect, given we just incapacitated a large force, and rather quickly at that?"

The two writers exchanged a look. "No idea," said Andersen. "Once they realized what our stats were, our Masters kept us off the frontlines - most of our duties were involved in reinforcing the Bounded Fields."

"Though we were forced to engage in combat when the situation became dire enough," commented Shakespeare. "Their numbers were prodigious, and even weak Servants are more potent than most of the collected Mages here. But once it became obvious the Fields could not hold, we quit the field, and attempted to hide ourselves."

"The hope would have been to slip out after they were done with the sack, but neither of us anticipated they had other plans for the grounds," muttered Andersen. "Once it became obvious their presence wasn't lessening, but in fact, increasing, we settled for trying to leave behind some sort of record, just in case those readings of another Bounded Field in the mists turned out to be true."

Fujimaru was nodding. "That's exactly what we came here to look for. Finding Servants wasn't expected, but we'll take it all the same."

"And then you found some tangent, and kept toiling away at whatever it was, forcing me to assume the role of Horatius, holding the bridge!" whined Shakespeare, finger stabbing downwards to point at the smaller Caster.

"It was good for you. Built character," deadpanned Andersen. "And it will make the next time you have to write one of your protagonists in a doomed final stand that much more real."

"Second question, then," interrupted the El-Melloi. "Assuming we are about to see reinforcements, sooner rather than later, are there any quicker passages to the ground floor? Having to fight our way up the stairwells would be murder - quite possibly in a very literal sense, given how agile some of those robots are. And that some of them can fly. I'll defer to your expertise on this, since my memories of the Clock Tower are a few centuries out of date."

Shakespeare stared at the El-Melloi with a considering expression, but it was Andersen who answered. "No passages that we'd trust to have remained undiscovered. These machines are terrifyingly efficient at ferreting out weak points in things - our battle lines, the Bounded Fields, human flesh." The man frowned. "I'd assume that includes secret tunnels."

"Then we go as straight as we can," rumbled Kratos. "And as fast as we can, to get above ground. Fighting in such a narrow area as the stairs would disadvantage us greatly."

Fujimaru laughs at that, a bit grimly. "And that sounds like it's time for your introduction to Kratos-style marching - or outright running." Her face twists more. "I hope you two are better at it than my teacher here."

---

As it turns out, they were not, in fact, better at physical activities than the El-Melloi.

"A break….." wheezed Shakespeare. "My kingdom……for a break….."

"Won't work," said Fujimaru, about half a flight below Kratos, herself winded, but not in the pitiful state of the other three. "But we're almost done with the stairs, so just hang on."

By the time Kratos had made the landing, Shuten already had her ear pressed against the wood of the door, her eyes closed. For a long moment, she didn't even breathe, did not seem to even be aware of his presence. Then, her eyes slid open.

"No sound of movement on the other side. While this level is unlikely to be as clear as the previous, it does seem that the immediate area is clear." Her eyes darkened. "For now, at least."

Kratos shouldered the door open, and noticed two things. Firstly, that Shuten was correct - the immediate area was deserted.

And secondly, there was a charge in the air that had been absent on the two lower levels.

"Mashie…..your hair!" Fujimaru was pointing as she slid through the open doorway.

"Mr. Cu's is more ridiculous," said the girl in question, with a bit of a pout.

Anyone with hair on their head currently had it floating around them, almost like a halo, or an aura. For those with shorter hair, it was a simple oddity, accompanied by the momentary discomfort of not having one's hair lying flat against one's skull (or so Kratos assumed. It had been many years since he could recall that sensation). For those with longer hair, however….

"It does not bode well for the ambient charge in the air to be this high," spat the El-Melloi, as he produced a tie from within his suit and bound his hair into a bun, leaving a short tail free to dangle (though it was more hovering, in this case) free. "What are they building here?"

"Nothing that we're going to let them complete," snarled Mordred. "Though, before we tear the thing down, I want a look at whatever's beneath it."

The El-Melloi states "The generators." at approximately the same time that Altera and Shuten both point and say "Those devices."

The Caster started at the sound of the other voices, while Altera just stared at the other two who had spoken as she did, and Shuten continued, as though the other two hadn't said a word. "They look……." A grin, the fangs almost certainly coming out. "Volatile. And important. We destroy one of them, before they know we're there, and it'll be chaos." She chuckled, deep and throaty. "No different than torching a shrine in Kyoto, to draw off the soldiers so we could have our fun, uninterrupted for a time."

"It might distract them, especially if the explosion, and all the ambient electricity in the air scrambles their circuits or something," began Mash. "But there's a lot of them, and they're dangerous even in their base forms. What if they all transform?"

She is right, thought Kratos. Individually, even in their changed forms, the machines were not that threatening. But he had seen them when they had stood atop that roof, gazing down on the courtyard of the fallen Clock Tower. It was akin to watching a colony of insects, so numerous were they.

And numbers could make up for a lack of individual quality. The Barbarian King had taught him that lesson, among others.

"If we're getting overwhelmed, I'm not against a retreat," mused Mordred. "It'll burn my ass to run from some wind-up toys, but this little mission's already been successful - intel and two new Servants, even if they're not exactly heavyweights, is a good day's work." Her sword tapped on her shoulder again, though more restrained, the knight being careful not to let it make any noise. "A good Noble Phantasm would probably damage the tower enough to delay them until we could regroup and make a better attempt at tearing it down next time, but……I want a look at whatever's under it. Dunno why, but something in my gut is telling me I have to."

"And how reliable are your gut feelings?" asked Andersen.

Mordred shrugged. "Eh……..60/40 to the good, I think. But I feel like something's pulling me there, and I ain't never felt anything like it before."

"Multiple generators, then," said the El-Melloi. "Between myself and our two new Casters, we can likely destroy one through sheer weight of fire. Shuten, Altera, Kratos, and Mordred could each likely handle one on their own."

"Kratos and Altera could probably get two at once, just by how wide a radius their attacks cover," commented Cu. "Something I share with them - delicate looking gadgets like those don't tend to like it when I set the field they're in on fire."

The El-Melloi produced paper from the same somewhere that he kept his many and varied accouterments (possibly he knew the same spell that Sindri had kept on his bag), and knelt in the floor, and began drawing, as they all gathered around. "If I've not gotten our position all turned around in my head, we should be here, and this should be the layout of the courtyard - Kongming is double-checking my memories with his own, so the accuracy is likely good."

He trailed a finger from the 'X' he had used to mark their location, up, straight through the halls, to the courtyard. "It is probably best we keep our Casters, all four of them, together. It will allow us to focus fire on problematic clusters, and make a potential retreat easier - it is a straight shot back to the stairs, and then into the tunnels, where I can open a way through the Bounded Field below, and leave them primed to tear any pursuers apart."

"It'd be a narrow thing, given how slow the bunch of you are, but it's not a bad idea for all that," said Cu. He gestured with his staff. "I can probably torch that generator, and that one if I stretch myself a bit. Once they're slag, I'll switch to defense, keep them back." He nudged Mash. "I assume you'll be our front lines of that, girlie."

"It's where I'd fit best," agreed their Shielder. "I don't have quite the same destructive capabilities of the others. And if we do have to fall back, my Noble Phantasm can stall them for a bit."

The El-Melloi's finger trailed across the outline of the structure they were in. If Kratos and Mordred take this path, that should put them out near to the entrance to the chamber underneath the tower. Whatever chains bar it, they shouldn't hold long against the two of them." He tapped two points on the circle of generators. "Altera can stay near us, and hit these generators, which would give us a more offensive guardian than Mash."

Shuten's bare foot shoved itself into the diagram. "I can take to the roofs, hit them from another angle. And my poison won't be as effective against things that aren't alive in the first place, so I'll be best at springing in, causing a stir, returning to the roof, and finding another point to hit. I'll stay…..reasonably close to your flanks, Master, just in case."

For as quickly as it was being put together, it was a serviceable plan. But the Heroic Spirit - this Kongming - that shared a mind with the Clock Tower Lord had a reputation as a fearsome strategist, at least, from what Kratos had been told (and had read. Mimir, he thought, would enjoy the story of the man waiting on the walls, the gates open, playing an instrument, and cowing a much larger force with his mere reputation and the threat of an unsprung trap). "Five minutes," he rumbled. "Assuming the halls are clear, we will be in position by then."

"Just let me know when you're ready, and we'll cut loose," said Cu, cracking his knuckles.

Kratos nodded, and they were off, picking their way through the winding halls. They were fortunate, no machines barred their path.

"Guy was right, his directions got us right in position to see right down that gate," whispered Mordred, as they peered around a column. The helmeted head glanced his way. "You ready to wreck these things?"

Kratos grunted. "Keep the machines back. I will deal with the chains." Whatever they might have been forged from, he doubted they would prove the equal of the Blades.

"Can do." Red crackled around the edges of Mordred's blade. "Let's have some fun here."

They hit the machines like a clenched fist, scattering them to either side with the force of their charge. The Blades were glowing red-hot in his hand as one of the larger construction machines whined an alarm, and began to change. As its chestplates began to slide apart, the Blades sank into each side of the opening, and a moment later, Kratos himself was flying through the breach, tearing out the back of the thing, and disrupting whatever energies had been building within.

He heard explosions as he landed, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Altera cleaving through one of the generators, barely clear before it went up, peppering the grounds with debris, the electrical charge in the air only increasing. A pair of changed dolls skipped into his path, thin needle blades bared.

Mordred's lowered shoulder slammed into the first, sending it stumbling into the legs of the other, both of them sprawling to the ground. The knight leaped, blade held over her head, and chopped down, straight through their narrow frames.

"Go!" bellowed Mordred, already turning to face another collection of changed automatons. "These wimps are MINE!"

She was already tearing into the things as Kratos thundered down the short flight of stairs, and stood before the gate.

It was an ugly thing, forged of dull, black steel, and the chains that bound it were a match for it. Their links were thick, each one as wide as Kratos' torso, if not wider. And there were at least three different sets of chains that bound the thing closed, too.

The Blades were glowing white hot as he swept them through the ground, slashing them upwards. The chains parted, edges running molten, Primordial Fires slashing through them with ease.

He reached into his mind, and seized two of the strings that resided there, ones that were thrumming with the sound of combat. 'We have breached the door! Is there time?'

'We're holding our own - between the girl's shield and my fire, they're being kept back.' Cu, unsurprisingly, sounded like he was having the time of his life. 'And Altera's not holding back at all, so….wait, she's moving up.'

'Get the knight into the chamber, Kratos.' Altera's voice, as ever, sounded as though she was speaking of the contents of her dinner, rather than battle. 'I will cover you for the time you need.'

"Saber of Red!" At the top of the stairs, Mordred's helmeted head spun about, reacting to the name the knight had chosen to be referred to, to keep their identity hidden while in combat. "The doors are open, come! Our other Saber will hold them back!"

"Got it!" Mordred hopped down the entire flight of stairs in one go, vacating her position mere moments before Altera arrived, her sword a riot of colors as it flashed, reducing anything it pointed at to so much scrap.

Kratos paid her no mind, instead placing one hand on each of the doors. Muscles knotted, and power surged through his arms, as he threw his weight, his might into shifting the heavy metal portals. Slowly, but inexorably, they gave way, and with one final shove, the doors flew away, ringing off the walls as they reached the limits of their motion.

Mordred was already stomping into the room, before the echoing clang had faded. "Sheesh…..it's freakin' cold in here," hissed the knight, a puff of breath escaping from beneath her helmet.

Kratos, too, felt his skin prickling, though it was only partially from the sudden chill. The air behind the doors had an unwholesome quality to it, something hanging in the atmosphere that had been sealed behind the jagged gates.

Whatever this chamber was, whatever it had seen, something had left a taint on the very ground itself.

Regardless of its purpose, the chamber WAS large. They had to descend another flight of stairs, this one twice as long as the previous one, before they reached level ground. All around the edges of the room were spikes of metal, extended from the tower above, and sunk into the ground - possibly to stabilize the structure, but Kratos did not think that was the case. Wires, some dead, others actively sparking with electricity, twined around the spars of black steel (if it was steel, and not something more magical in nature). At least a few dangled across the ceiling, extended into…..

"What the HELL is that thing?" Mordred was pointing with her sword, and Kratos could, in some fashion, understand the sentiment.

Suspended in the center of the excavated cavern, just above a circular slab of metal that seemed to be set in the floor, was a metal cross, more in the shape of an 'X' than the form used by the Christian religions.

There were straps at each of the ends of the device. And hanging from two of the ends was a helmet, though not one that looked like it was meant for a human head - far too wide for one thing. And there was something in the places where a helmet would rest against a man's ears that looked almost like the contact points on the 'batteries' Da Vinci had explained, in some of her earliest lessons to the Spartan. And there were more straps, fluttering loosely from the brow of the helmet, as though they were meant to restrain whomever was placed into the thing, but such straps would do nothing in that regard were it a human who was placed into that thing. They would not reach far enough to be secured under the chin - what were they for?

And above the entire thing was a rod, one that, somehow, Kratos knew, extended up, and up, through the entirety of the tower itself.

"Ok, if I didn't already want to tear this thing down and piss on the remains, now I'd REALLY want to!" Mordred was spitting her words, though a curtain of rage. "Have they been putting PEOPLE in that thing? MY people?"

"Hell with that! Back up, I'm Clarenting this bitch, right up through it's CORE!" Snarling, growling, Mordred's fist swept out, crunching down on a bank of keys and buttons, as her sword swept up.

There was a mechanical chime, and, suddenly, the ground began to shake.

Mordred stilled, head turning around, until she noticed her hand. And the button it had just depressed.

"Ooops."

Kratos had but a second to turn an annoyed glare on the knight, before steam began to fill the room, hissing up from the ground. With a grinding sound, the metal plate developed seams, and slowly, ponderously, the plate began to open, like a man peeling an orange.

Something alien, incomprehensible, began to leak out from behind the plate. A light hanging above the gate activated, and a strobing red began to wash over the room, moving in time with a pulsing alarm. Kratos heard the sound of chains, and pulleys, and inch by inch, something raised itself up from beneath the earth. The steam thickened, as the machines did their work.

With an ugly crunch, something settled into place, and the steam began to thin, though the alarm, and the warning light continued to blare.

It was a stone slab, covered almost entirely in runes and magical script, but none from any language or alphabet Kratos recognized.

And in the center, nailed to the slab itself, was a person, a woman, still clad in shards of black, jagged, plate mail.

Mordred gasped, and the person's head turned towards them, moving as though even that simple act was akin to the greatest feat of strength.

Yellow eyes took in the two of them, through a curtain of hair that, despite being soaked with blood, was so blonde that it was almost white.

When Mordred spoke, her voice was a tiny, quavering thing.

"Father?"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello Lancer Alter. Time for me to do what I can with you. And to ramp up the Pendragon family drama to 11.

Mo: Desperately repressing any memories to have to do with the menace that is Astolfo.

I can't hear Willy Shakes as anyone but Keith 'Zhongli' Silverstein, just because of how much I've used the Geo Archon, and he's one of my Better Half's two Dragon Grandpa Husbandos from that game. And I don't really use him much in FGO, so I'm used to his dub voice in Apoc. Unlike say, Mo, who I
more hear as her JP voice. Or Nero, who is Sakura Tenge, despite her dub voice being the MonaMona from Persona 5.

Willy Shakes is giving me FITS trying to get his voice right. If he seems off, it's because he's actively fighting me for every word. I also didn't read much Shakespeare in High School (my college was entirely math/science, so High School is all I got of the Bard), so the references to his works will be minimal. I always do poorly when his works are a Jeopardy category. I'm trying to keep his dialogue appropriately flowery without going into camp or parody, but…..as I said, struggling.

This chapter is a prime example of what I touched on back when the chapter length discussion was happening. I knew where I wanted to end this chapter, so it just grew until we got to that point. Most often, I know the points I want to hit in a chapter (interlude chapters sometimes are much more freeform, unless there's a summon in them, which I am not picking randomly there), and approximately where I want to end. In the previous London chapters, they were shorter, but not this one.

Mash, the giant book nerd: 'This is heaven, or at least as close to heaven as I can get while Senpai is wearing clothes.'

Lost the GSSR. Tried to avoid the one in four on the Saber Medusa, Durga, and Mother banner, hoping I wouldn't hit the Popess. Ended up with NP2 Johanna. Destiny Order was at least better, got the Useless Goddess, so I'm only lacking her summer version for all the Rinfaces.

Summer Baggie in a week.

Chapter 62: London 6

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 62​

Zolgen Makiri was a patient man, not one given to being ruled by his temper, or his emotions. It was this patience that had him exploring many different routes that could potentially lead to the Root - there had been a potential collaboration with two other Mage Families of Standing that had looked promising, prior to him getting this much better offer.

(And then there was his fallback plan. Ugly, distasteful, and hopefully never needed….unless it was. To be a Mage is to walk with Death - but that didn't mean you had to meekly bow your head and go with Death when he beckoned, not when that meeting could be……postponed. Possibly indefinitely.)

Add to that a Noble Magus' disdain for those beneath him - which Servants definitely qualified as, given they were little more than supercharged Familiars, at the end of the day - as casual indifference bordering on cruelty was the accepted norm when dealing with the help, or other lesser mages, and it added up to a simple fact that all those who were forced to endure his presence learned very quickly.

That if he was raising his voice to you, things were very, very bad.

For you, and anyone associated with you.

"The tower is under attack?"

The thing about it all, noted Paracelsus, some detached part of his mind unable to not just pause and not take notes on this, was that he wasn't actually raising his voice. There was just an.…..intonation, or a reverberation in their Master's voice that made it seem like it was filling the corners of the room, despite him still speaking at what sounded like, what SHOULD be a merely conversational tone.

The part of his brain that was still cataloging this new side of his Master became aware, dimly, that an answer was probably expected. Thankfully, his colleague was less distracted (or possibly more capable of multi-tasking in the face of Zolgen's displeasure.

"Alerts from the work crew began sounding a few minutes ago," intoned Babbage, in the buzzing, robotic voice he chose to project. "We immediately dispatched a warrior unit to reinforce our units there, and contacted you, Master."

Zolgen's eyes flashed, anger boiling just beneath the surface, and Paracelsus knew exactly what he was thinking - for it was the same thing both of them had thought when the alarm had first sounded - even at their top speeds, it would take a unit of machines time to reach the tower they were constructing.

Too much time.

"That tower is the linchpin of our plans," spat Zolgen. "Its destruction would be merely a setback, as this city is filled with materials that can be repurposed to that end." His eyes narrowed. "More important is what lies beneath it - what we ALL suffered to capture and bind there."

And that was the bit of bad news they had been both collectively dreading having to mention, but it would go so much worse for everyone if they kept silent on it.

Thankfully, this time, just as the last, Babbage stepped into the firing line. "A report from one of the construction units, before it shut down, showed the god and the knight that is behind the survivor's camp across the river starting to enter the chamber."

Paracelsus didn't have anything to monitor it, so he couldn't be certain, but it felt like the temperature in the workshop plummeted. Sharply.

"No." The word BOOMED, despite it being spoken at a whisper. "Too much rides on this, and the price of failure is…." Zolgen shook his head. "No. We cannot risk losing the head of the Wild Hunt, not now."

His next words held all the weight and weight of a Command Seal, despite that power not suddenly flooding through their connection.

No, it was directed somewhere different, to a different part of their stronghold.

And it sent a chill down their spines.


"Send him."

---

 

CHAMBER BENEATH THE TOWER
​

Golden eyes blinked, once, twice, and, in a movement that was a fractured mirror of a gesture, a motion Kratos had seen the knight who was standing beside him make, the battered, dark King Arthur tilted her head to the side. Dry, crackled lips parted, and a voice like a rasp, akin to wind scraping between two rocks, croaked from the woman's parched throat.

"Mordred…..a strange thing for my mind to dredge up, as I teeter on the precipice of madness, but, I suppose, as valid as anything else." The fingers on her right hand beckoned, though it was barely a twitch. "Come then. I suppose it's your turn, like it was for Kay and Merlin and all the rest who have come to say their piece while I've been bound here."

Her head thumped back onto the slab she was pinned to, and her eyes slipped closed. "Speak your mind. It will at least pass the time until my jailers decide it is time for more of their twisted experiments."

Mordred swore. Loudly, explosively, and very, very colorfully (some part of his mind dreaded the moment she and Avenger, who had a similarly foul disposition, met). Then, in a blink of an eye, she was down there, next to the slab, kneeling down beside this version of her Father.

"Shit…….shitshitshit….." Hesitantly, Mordred reached down and brushed the woman's blood-soaked hair back.

It was like a bolt of lightning had suddenly flowed through her. The battered King Arthur's entire body twitched, despite how painful any movements must have been for her, given the sheer number of wicked nails that were driven through her body, and two yellow eyes flew open, settling on Mordred.

"You're….." Whatever the woman had been about to say was interrupted by a fit of dry, racking coughs, the kind one made when it had been far too long since they had had water. With a wheezing intake of breath, she shook raggedly, and forced the words out. "....real?"

"Real as the spear you shoved right through me at Camlann." Mordred's head was darting this way and that, running up and down the form of her parent, a low hiss, one that quickly morphed into a full on growl as she noted the length and breadth of the….implements that had been used to affix the Servant to the stone slab.

Metal sounded against metal as Mordred's free hand clenched, her gauntlet groaning alarmingly. "Hells……how did those assholes ever plan to get you off of this thing?"

Despite her position, and her parched throat, the Servant laughed. "....I do not believe they had any intentions of ever letting me free." Weary orbs regarded the Knight of Treachery. "You are not foolish, my child, merely headstrong. You can see clearly that I was meant to die here, at the culmination of whatever vile plot these blackguards captured me to use in."

Mordred's rage seemed to vanish in an instant, and her frantic energy halted, as suddenly as if she had run full force into a wall. For a long moment, she was still, frozen, almost like she had been caught in a spell of stasis.

Kratos reached out and nudged her - then, when she didn't respond, did so again, this time more forcefully, adding his voice to his hand grasping her shoulder. "Mordred!"

The knight's entire body shook, and she nearly left the floor in a small, startled leap (and Kratos though he heard what could not have been anything but a yelp from underneath the helmet). "Sorry, won't happen again." The helmeted head stared down at the bound Servant. "What did you just call me?"

Those yellow eyes blinked, uncomprehendingly. "I called you my child. Why? Is this a world where my sister did not steal my material to craft you? Were that the case, I would assume you would look differently, unless our resemblance is more due to my sister's traits being dominant over mine."

Mordred shook her head. "No, no, shit happened the same way here it's just….." An odd noise issued from beneath the helmet. "You spend your entire life waiting to hear something, then you hear it in the weirdest fucking place, and at the absolutely shittiest time, and….." A shrug. "Forget about it. How the hell are we going to get you out?" The sounds of combat echoed down from above. "We ain't exactly got time to screw around here."

"Just tear them out." It was said so plainly that it took Mordred a second to actually process the words. Kratos moved to stop her outburst before it could begin.

"Are you certain?" It wasn't quite the same as Mimir asking him to cut his head off, to essentially kill him and hope the witch that they then did not know was Freya would be able to bring him back, but…. "You are gravely injured."

"This will not be enough to kill me." The woman barked out a bitter laugh. "I am Artoria Pendragon, the Wild Hunt itself, the huntress, the King of Storms. I am the vengeance that comes to the wicked and the impure….."

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice, already soft and thready, dropped to a menacing hiss. "And now, impossible as it is to imagine, but I possess a mighty grievance of my own that DEMANDS redress. No, I shall not pass from this world while that injustice remains unpunished."

Her head reclined, the remnants of her shattered helmet rang off the stone slab. "Do your work, Mordred. When you are done, I will still be here. Wounded, yes, but alive." Another bitter laugh. "And if I am wrong, well then, you get what you always wanted, in the end - to kill me, or I suppose kill me again, Camlann all over again."

Mordred's fist cannoned into the stone slab, just to the right of Artoria's head. Small shards scraped against the flesh of the King's face. She didn't flinch, didn't even react. "I don't WANT to kill you! Not like THIS, dammit! It's supposed to be the two of us facing off across a BATTLEFIELD, not you lying here, half-dead and…." Swearing, a bout just as profane and as….inventive as the last bit. Growling, Mordred reached down and grasped one of the larger nails, one that had been driven through the back of Artoria's left hand. "Godsfuckingdammit! You're going to live through this even if I have to fight off the damn old man with the scythe himself to KEEP you here!"

She gave her Father no warning, no time to brace herself for the oncoming pain, merely seizing the nail, and with a snarl of effort, tearing it free.

Artoria shuddered, minutely, but otherwise did not react to the sudden pain in the slightest.

Mordred tossed the ugly piece of metal (it was barbed, Kratos noted, something very, very dangerous rippling within him) aside, flecks of blood flying from the item as it clattered on the floor. "Don't just stand there gawking - no point dragging this…….shit….out. Get her other arm free."

Kratos was not, by nature, a gentle man. After his childhood, the Agoge, it was not something that came naturally to him, and the life that had followed him as he had reached adulthood - then godhood - had had little place for such. Becoming a father again….Atreus….in that time he had rediscovered some capacity for it (and now, being responsible, if only partially, for another child in Mash, and in some fashion Fujimaru, was shoring up those foundations), but it was still a struggle at times.

He tried to be gentle in freeing the woman, but, in the end, there was no way to spare her pain (the nails were BARBED, his mind shouted again, recalling some of the time he spent in Tartarus……and that hellish rotating wheel of spikes), only to limit it. To her credit, the woman weathered both his fumbling ministrations, and Mordred's rougher (but quicker) attention, without uttering so much as a single utterance of pain.

It was….impressive. He had known fellow Spartans who probably could not have managed the feat, if he was being truthful with himself.

They worked quickly. Whatever his desire to spare this tortured woman what pain he could, Kratos realized well enough that haste was needed - and would be the best in the long run. After a tense minute, Artoria's arms were free. Another pair of minutes, and Kratos had freed her legs, while Mordred was tearing the last of the nails away from her Father's torso. And then, while blood was still leaking from the many, many holes in her body, the Servant was already trying to push herself up.

And failing, but again, managing more ably than she should have been, given her circumstances.

Mordred caught her. "What the HELL are you trying to do?" Another stumble, as the woman's weight unbalanced her for a moment. "And when did you get so much bigger than me, anyways?"

"I am the King." Despite her raspy voice, the Servant made the proclamation ring with the surety of a statement of fact. "Twice over now, for the Lordship of the Wild Hunt is a title with weight among the Fae." Tendons on her neck stood out, a sign, along with several others (the labored breathing, the sweat dotting her forehead, that she still continued to lean heavily on Mordred….) of the agony she likely was still in - and just how exhausted she was from her captivity.

But for all that, her eyes were like two gemstones, hard and unflinching. "I will walk out of this…..prison, on my own power, and then….." Her voice gained strength here, some of the same tones of command and strength that he recalled from the caves under that burning city returning to the woman. "Then…..the skies will crack with the return of the King of Storms, and they will know how they have transgressed in their binding of me."

"Please, you can barely stand, much less walk." Mordred sighed, a sound that was quickly overshadowed by the outraged noise that erupted from deep with Artoria, as Mordred simply scooped her parent up in her arms, and began to carry her up the stairs.

"Mordred….." There was a dangerous tone in the King's voice. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Ignoring what you're saying," said Mordred, deadpan. "The usual. Being a disappointment, doing the opposite of what you're telling me, and generally being a pain in your ass, Father." While he could not see the knight's face, he could easily envision the eye roll that was accompanying the words (Atreus, during the fit of rebelliousness that had accompanied his discovery that he was a god, had been fond of that insolent gesture).

The woman protested the entire way up the stairs, for all the good it did her. Mordred simply put one foot in front of the other, and blithely dismissed the increasing volume of threats that were being leveled at her if she did not, as her Father demanded, 'put her down this instant!'.

For his part, Kratos merely shook his head, and followed in their wake, some part of him thankful that, as difficult at times as his relationships with his two families had been (he most certainly was NOT counting his fellowship with Olympus as one of those two), it was not as….strained as the tangled web between these three was.

Small mercies, he supposed.

Altera was waiting on them when they reached the top of the flight of stairs, the Saber absently kicking a twitching machine off the end of her sword, its body rolling into a pile that surrounded the entrance to the underground chamber. "Kratos, Red Saber, what did you…."

Her eyes finally noticed the squirming form (Artoria had, for a brief moment, resorted to beating her fists against Mordred's shoulders, but had quickly given up - though whether it was from her arms giving out on her, or simply a realization that the knight was barely registering the blows through her armor, Kratos did not know) Mordred was carrying, and her eyes widened.

"What is……what WAS something like THAT doing underneath that pillar?"

Artoria had stilled at the sight of the Saber, her tantrum against her child ceasing, for the moment. Carefully, her head inclined, respectfully, in Altera's direction. "Scourge of God. Fragment of Sefar. I did not expect to see you as one of my rescuers. I assume this means you seek no quarrel with me, at this time?"

"At this point in time, I follow Kratos, as he summoned me," stated Altera. "And his goals are Good Civilization." A frown. "Though I am, as of yet undecided about his insistence that I am more than just a weapon. That I can be more….or better. It makes little sense to me."

The King's eyes flickered over to Kratos for a moment, but did not linger. Kratos did not think that she had been entirely so distracted by her quarrel with her child that she had missed seeing Kratos for what he was, but, as of yet, she had not commented on it, making her a rarity among the Servants he had met.

"Well that you are not," began Artoria. "For I have been bound, against my will, imprisoned, and now, my wrath will not be contained any…."

Thunder, impossibly loud, so violently powerful that the ground beneath their feet shook with the force of it, split the skies, and very nearly, it felt like, the world itself.

In a brief moment, when the cacophony was still ringing in their ears, Artoria spoke up.

"That…..that was not me."

The rest of their group, Shuten just ahead of Mash, who was shepherding the Casters through the battlefield, had just reached them, when they all became aware of it. High in the sky, and visible, even through the fog, and moving at great speed, a pinpoint of light. One that rapidly became larger, and larger. The poisonous miasma seemed to part around the thing as it cut through the heavens, the air itself SCREAMING at the speed it was travelling.

When it had finally reached the haze-choked expanse above them, it plummeted down, crackling energies preceding its descent to the earth. The ground cracked as it touched down, charred grass and fused bits of dirt flying in all directions as it made landfall.

It took a moment for the dust and detritus of the explosive landing into the battlefield to clear, but when it did, they all got their first look at the thing that had made such a dramatic entrance.

It was a man, still kneeling, one fist driven into the earth. A voluminous, fur-trimmed coat shrouded his form, though, as he stood, it fell away from his body, whipping around him in the sudden winds that had kicked up, his expression dull, almost blank.

Truthfully, to Kratos' eyes, he looked like he would have fit in well enough in this era. Dark purple trousers and a fitted, collared shirt, with silver buttons running up each side. One of his hands, the left, was sheathed in a white glove - similar to the ones that had accompanied the 'suit' Da Vinci had attempted to bundle him into.

But it was the other hand that caught Kratos' attention.

Detailed, incredibly articulate (a familiar voice in Kratos' head INSISTED that it was not near to the level of her mechanical gauntlet - he dismissed it. Not the time.), lightning crackling around every inch of it, the man raised a metal palm, as his eyes tracked across each one of them, before finally setting on Artoria.

His voice, when he spoke, was deep, booming, and with a touch of an unfamiliar accent. "That….does not belong to you."

"That," snarled Mordred, rage infusing her words. "Is my goddamn FATHER! Father doesn't belong to anyone but themself!"

Artoria's response was more subdued, though, like her child, there was no shortage of anger in her voice, she was choosing to restrain it - for now. "Telsa. The one who brought me low."

Mash's eyes widened, and she was far from the only one. "Nikola Tesla?" At the man's nod, she continued. "Why…."

"Why does any Servant do anything, girl?" He sighed, and, for a second, Kratos saw a familiar, tell-tale flicker of red in the man's eyes. "Because we have orders that we must fulfill. No matter how distasteful."

A Command Spell, then. It fit. Lev Lainur had been incredibly fond of those distasteful things, it would follow that others in his fraternity would share that inclination. (Once more, Kratos felt a flare of regret surrounding the adult Medea. Beyond that she had fallen while in his service, that he had failed to protect her, her Rule Breaker would have been a path to freedom for many of these enemy Servants - the ones who opposed them unwillingly, at least.)

Mordred scoffed. "Catch, Shieldy."

Unceremoniously (and with a startled squeak from Mash), Artoria was tossed to the Shielder, Mordred stomping up to confront Tesla, even as her father was still flying through the air.

"Mordred," growled Kratos, a warning on his lips. The Heroic Spirit's capabilities were, as of yet, unknown - but he clearly possessed some measure of power, given the display that they had been subjected to.

"What?" The knight did not even turn back to acknowledge Kratos (or the invectives being thrown her way from her incensed Father). "This guy's barely more than a hundred years old! He's a runt like those two writers we found!" Her sword slid off her shoulder, her own red lightning beginning to play up and down the blade. She rolled her shoulders, even as she drew up in front of the Servant. "Just sit back and watch, I'll have this guy's lunch money in…."

The man's hand was very suddenly, right in Mordred's face. There was a crackle, overlapping with a mechanical whine, then a burst of light, so bright it was almost blinding.

Lightning erupted from Tesla's palm, crossing the very short distance between there, and Mordred's face, then exploding.

The knight didn't even have time to utter a sound, whether a startled roar or a pained moan. One second, she was standing in front of Tesla, and then, she was flying through the air, her body tumbling uncontrollably.

She flew directly into, then through, one of the walls of the Clock Tower, and continued going. Distantly, over the sound of bricks falling and dust settling, Kratos heard further impacts, Mordred continuing to be propelled through walls.

At last the crashes stopped, and then, there was silence.

"Modern I may be, but I am the man who gave LIGHTNING to humanity!" Thunder boomed around him, as Tesla lowered his hand. "I am Nikola Tesla, the genius. I have surpassed Thor, surpassed Indra, surpassed Zeus! I am the Modern Prometheus, and I warn you - do not underestimate me, Chaldea."

A grunt, more akin to a growl, slipped from between Kratos' clenched teeth. "You make an ignorant boast. I have known the owners of some of those names."

For the first time since his appearance, Tesla's eyes fully rested on Kratos. "Ah, yes. Kratos - son of Zeus. I was warned of you."

A veritable storm of lightning sprang into being around the man, wild and uncontrolled, so intense that Kratos found he had snapped his shield up, on pure reflex. For the first time, something akin to real emotion broke out on Tesla's face.

Excitement.

"I will confess, despite my somewhat unwilling service, I have been looking forward to this." He raised his armored fist, and lightning coalesced around it, so densely that, despite the distance between them, Kratos could feel his hair (little of it that there was) standing upright, almost completely rigid. The clenched fist was shaking, either from anticipation, or sheer effort at containing the power it was harnessing. "To test myself against the son of the King of the Gods, he who commanded the thunderbolt!"

In a single step, the man crossed the space between them, his fist screaming forward.

Kratos barely got his shield up in time. Metal rang against metal, and despite having blocked the attack, electricity still coursed through his body, flowing from the shield, and into his flesh.

Growling, Kratos threw it off, pushing back against Tesla, forcing his muscles into action, refusing to allow them to seize from the jolts of lightning that were using him as the most direct path to the ground.

If anything, the excitement in Tesla's eyes only grew. "Good, good!" He stepped back, leaning just out of the reach of a vicious return stroke from Kratos' axe. "My 'boasts', as you called them, would be nothing if you were nothing, but you resist my electricity - as you should!"

With a gesture, he formed a series of spinning, electrical blades in the air, and, with another gesture, sent them flying at Kratos. "Allow me to prove that I am more than just hot air - that I can back up my words!"

It was in the space of a breath, there, and gone, or so it would have been, but Kratos saw it, the instant where the discs lined up just so as they slashed forward.

He put the Leviathan Axe straight through them, ending their threat.

Eyes wide, Tesla was forced to dodge as the Leviathan Axe came within a hair's breadth of splitting his skull wide open. Forewarned - or somehow aware of the axe's trajectory, he ducked even lower, losing only a few hairs as the Leviathan Axe returned to its wielder.

"Fantastic!" A lance of pure lightning formed in the Servant's hands, and he tensed, crouching for a leap, when a voice rang out.

"Ansuz!" A series of runes tore themselves into being, just in front of Tesla, and fire exploded, hungrily flowing towards the Servant.

The second before it would have consumed him, something in the air changed, and the fire lost much of its vigor. What had been a raging conflagration weakened, until, by the time it reached Tesla, it was little more than errant sparks, sparks that pattered off the man's coat, which he had drawn about his form.

"The hell?" exclaimed Cu Chulainn, his jaw hanging open. "Seriously, what just happened?"

From the left, Altera descended, her sword a brilliant spike in the misty night. And she was not alone. From his flank, Shuten skittered out of the darkness, claws bared.

The lance of electricity met Altera's blade head on, the spear breaking into four smaller pieces just before it met the multicolored blade. Boxed in by the shards, Altera was just able to bring her arms up before her face, before energy crackled between the four fragments, and she found herself at ground zero of a detonation, and she was sent spinning to the ground, her form smoking.

Tesla had no time to crow his triumph - it had taken only a second to hurl the lance, but in that time, Shuten was on him. He spun around, the ends of his coat now in ribbons, pieces of it hanging from Shuten's claws. The oni sprang into the air, legs scissoring, her left leg slashing at Tesla's head, then, as Tesla ducked, managing to drive her body in the complete opposite direction, and her right leg snapped upwards, forcing the Servant to block with his armored gauntlet.

It held, and with a cry, he triggered a release of lightning from within the metal glove.

Shuten barely flinched. Indeed, she LAUGHED.

"Is that the best you've got, 'Modern Prometheus'?" Her leg hooked around Tesla's arm, and she twisted her body forward, cannoning a fist at his face, one he only just managed to avoid. And it did not improve his position, for he still had a tiny, vicious oni at terminal distances to himself.

"Resistance," he muttered, eyes considering, even as he desperately attempted to shake Shuten loose from the grip her legs had on his arm. "To electricity….no, lightning itself…."

Claws extended, Shuten stabbed for his eyes. Tesla's free hand caught her wrist at the last possible second and, using both arms to channel lightning through her body, he finally managed to detach Shuten from himself, and hurl her away.

She still landed on her feet. "Lightning and I are OLD friends, Pretender." A note of…nostalgia, of all things, seemed to enter her voice. "From playing with dear Kintoki on Mt. Ashigara, to fighting that hag later in life….you'll have to do much, much better to phase me, oh Boastful One." Her face twisted, and all watching could only imagine the grin that had split her face, behind her mask. "Kintoki hurt me worse than you have when he was barely a child. So far, I am NOT impressed."

Then she charged.

Kratos was hot on her heels as she did so.

Tesla crossed his arms, releasing a dome of pure electrical force, one that expanded out from himself as they neared, but Shuten simply plunged right through it, hissing at the contact, her charge unabated. Kratos, for his part, leapt, swinging the Blades up, into the dome, the brunt of the energy flowing into the burning metal of his weapons. Quickly, even as the Blades were breaching the wall, before the energy could arc through the weapons, and into his body, he was hurling them forward, a race to see if the Blades would reach their destination before the lightning would travel its way down the path laid out for it in the chains that attached the Blades of Chaos to Kratos' arms.

The man was falling back, putting distance between himself and Shuten, and right where Kratos had anticipated he would be (some part of Kratos' mind nodded - for all the power the Servant was demonstrating, he seemed, if not hesitant to engage in melee, simply more comfortable at range, so he had thrown the Blades with the assumption the man would retreat, rather than meet Shuten head-on). The man was between a rock and a hard place.

With a snarl, Tesla twisted his hand in the air, and….something, though not a barrier or some other construct of lightning, blurred the air just in the path of the Blades, and as they passed through it, Kratos felt…..an oddity. As though the Blades were suddenly affected by some force, one that was robbing them of their momentum, their forward motion. Not completely, but enough to slow them, for just a breath.

Tesla's left hand shot out and, incredibly, snatched the Blades from the air, grasping them by their hilts. The gathered lightning flowed back into his body, and Kratos saw it visibly flow down his arm, across his shoulders, back down his other arm, and into his fist.

Which was clenched, and flying forward, directly into Shuten's outstretched claws.

Armored fist met oni flesh and bone. Slivers of metal flew as her razor talons shaved flecks from his gauntlet, but Shuten took the worst of that encounter, as the reclaimed energy, combined with what Tesla had already gathered flowed into a narrow point, then, from there, into the rest of Shuten.

She jerked, body moving spasmodically, then she was torn away, sent cartwheeling into the distance from the sheer release of electricity. Snarling, Kratos jerked his arms back, intending to pull Tesla to himself, one way or another, but the man wisely chose not to fight Kratos in a contest of weight and strength, and immediately released the Blades.

A wave of magic arced over Kratos' shoulder, the writers, the El-Melloi, and even (he thought) Fujimaru opening fire. Again, the magical barrage seemed to weaken as it neared Tesla, drained enough that he was able to swat it aside with a simple sweep of his coat, the magic splashing against the material, but doing no visible damage.

'Fuck me, he's GALVANIZING our magic, and turning into electricity! Electricity that he immediately harnesses and turns against us! That's a HELL of a trick!' Cu's impressed voice sounded in his head. 'Combined with the Magic Resistance he already has, I'm going to be almost useless here - and the same can be said for the girl's teacher. Kratos, I think it's time for a swap!'

His communicator activated, though the image was scrambled - the signal struggling due to the sheer amount of lightning that was saturating the air. But Romani's voice came through, at least. "Both Rider and Avenger are….." A squeal of static. "...by! We can go…." Another whine, and the image cut out.

Altera was down, but slowly pushing herself up, singed, but still capable. He could not see Shuten from his position - not without turning - nor was there any sign of Mordred. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two writers continuing to bombard Tesla (to little effect), but Fujimaru was shouting something to the El-Melloi, while gesturing Mash forward, already having taken the wounded Artoria from the Shielder.

And Tesla had his arms held wide, lightning dancing from one palm to the other, its intensity growing with each leap.

'Do it!' Kratos did not have TIME to spare deciding which Heroic Spirit to swap places with Cu Chulainn - at this point, either would be more suited to the current battlefield.

Draupnir formed in his hands, and he charged, even as the sensation of two hands, stretching forward, formed in his mind, and Cu Chulainn's presence reached out, seizing one of them.

Behind him, the Hound's form began to fade out, another beginning to take its place, but he had not a moment to take it in.

Spears forming as fast as he could throw them, he sent a barrage of lances straight at Tesla, only partially aiming for the man. Whatever trick he had used to affect Blades, it either seemed to not work on the copy-spears of Draupnir - or the effect was so minor on them that it was akin to nothing - for Kratos did not see that their flight slowed as they neared him. Unwilling to cease whatever he was building up with the lightning in his hands, Tesla was forced to duck and weave through the flurry, his clothes and coat quickly gaining a few rents and tears from the near misses.

It was all for naught, as the one throw that Kratos had gauged and aimed more carefully than the rest hit true, piercing straight through the lightning the man had been juggling. Howling winds surrounded the tip of Draupnir, and, hungrily, it fed on the energies, drawing them into itself.

Tesla cried out, affronted, and yet, there was a note of intrigue in the shout. Hastily, he sank to his knees, palm pressed against the ground, and, a second later, the ground shattered - and he flew high into the air, body flying away a second ahead of the tip of Kratos' spear.

"Wind, fire, ice!" shouted the man, as he darted through the air, looking far too in control for someone at the whims of gravity itself. "And those are merely your weapons - truly, you are a worthy test for myself! Much more so than that fool I was compared to in life!"

He landed, almost without a sound, and snapped a finger, summoning a forest of small electrical stars that shot directly at Kratos, lightning arcing between them, creating a web of death.

Kratos braced himself, waiting, waiting, until they were nearly upon him. Then, finally, he deployed his shield, thumb depressing the button just below the handle.

A blue dome of energy, sectioned like a honeycomb, formed around him, mere instants before the stars would have hit home. One by one, they rammed into the dome, ripples spreading from each point of impact. As more and more crackling orbs battered the barrier, its color began to change, from blue, to an ugly, throbbing red.

In his hand, Kratos' shield began to heat, alarmingly.

A heartbeat before the dome would have given out (at least, based on the alarming whine the devices Da Vinci had built within his shield were making), the assault ceased, and the dome shimmered - then returned Tesla's attack to him.

A hundred fold.

Tesla's protections availed him just as well against his own attacks returned to him - perhaps even better, or more efficiently, since it was energy of his own making. But there were many, and they were potent - even before they were absorbed and sent back to their owner. And they were moving fast.

Tesla formed a web before him, hands moving almost as though he were knitting it from the ether itself. Tendrils grasped between the fingers of his gauntlet, he lashed out with the web, the strands catching star after star, wrapping around them. Once secured, the threads pulsed, and bit by bit, the stars shrank, their power draining back into the net, returning to the source. A few made it through, and, for the first time in the battle, Kratos saw the man take appreciable damage. One detonated on the side of his head, blistering the skin, and searing away a chunk of hair. He took a second on his left shoulder, and through the mess it made of his clothes, Kratos saw a hint of skin, once pink and healthy, left raw and red in the wake of the attack. A third would have hit him right in the center of his mass, but he jerked his armored hand down just in the nick of time, and the attack was nullified, the devices and Mysteries contained within that creation doing their work.

And quickly, too. Even as it swept down, the greater whole of the net was being withdrawn, sliding in between the plates of the gauntlet, the whirring hum it emitted growing only stronger with every inch that disappeared into its heart.

"Wonderful! With every exchange, you show me that there are pinnacles yet UNDREAMED of for my genius to ascend to!" There is a crack of thunder, and, for a second, Kratos could almost see a structure behind the man, some sort of tower of metal, akin to the one that had been being constructed in this courtyard, and yet, different. Less jagged, and with a more rounded top.

Tesla took a deep breath. "Now….." he began….

Only for a circle of fire to erupt around him. Shocked, for a second, he flinched back, eyes darting from side to side. "What?"

"Special delivery ASSHOLE!" Wicked black spears, burning along their entire length, shoot down from above, and while Tesla's protections once again stripped some of the might from the attack, this time, it is not without consequence, as his face twisted in pain. He punched upward, a wave of electrical force meeting the spears and turning them aside. But, just for a second, he faltered, staggering back on his heels for a breath.

Right as Avenger descended.

Tesla's stumble backwards saved him from death, or grievous injury. Avenger's spear was white hot as it buried itself in the ground, instantly turning the grass around it into ash. Grinning madly, she didn't even bother to tear it free, instead, cocking her left hand back, and rocketing it straight into Tesla's jaw.

His hand caught it, though his arm shook from the effort, and he found himself pushed back, close to the ring of fire. Still, despite his predicament, he could not take his eyes off her artificial arm. "That is quite the invention you sport there." His eyes trailed up and down the length of it, hungrily. "Truly impressive!"

"Yeah, I see you've got a metal hand too, don't you buddy?" She tore her arm free, and kicked at his knees. "Mine's better!"

He took to the sky in another burst of electricity, one that washed over Avenger, to minimal effect. "Quite a claim to make!" Again, his eyes traced what feels like every exposed inch of her arm. "But I see it is hardened against my electricity, if nothing else!"

Avenger laughs. "The mad scientist who made it made it TOUGH. Had to be to keep up with me!" Her face twisted, and Kratos could tell she was grinning underneath her mask. "Now, let's see how tough you are?"

Tesla scoffs, hovering above her. "How? I have the high ground - by the time you begin your ascent, my electricity will already be descending, ready to smite you aside!"

Avenger laughed. "Oh, I ain't THAT stupid. I already lost one arm, don't feel like losing the rest, even if my Murder Arm kicks ass." Her spear was jerked free, and, grasping it, she gestured skyward. "Going to have someone else see how much of an ass-kicking you can take before I get my ten rounds with you."

A slight form shot out of the fog, barely visible, her dark clothes, and darker hair having hidden her form almost completely. Fists twined together, Oryou smashed a hammer blow right into Tesla's back, even as he was turning, but far too late to avoid the descending strike.

There was a crack, partially of the dragon-woman's knotted fists driving into Tesla's flesh, and partially from a release of sparks, likely some hastily woven defensive measure, that lashed out at Oryou as her blow connected. Her hair jolted out, standing straight up, but that was her only reaction, beyond the most minute of flinches.

Tesla went flying, hitting the ground, and bouncing once, before he mastered his tumbling body, and twisted to his feet, still skidding backwards, a move that was fortuitous in more than one way.

Because he did not have time to slowly rise.

Altera's sword, extended into its whip-form, uncoiled, wrapping around the man's left arm, halting his backward slide. Tesla hissed as the supple rope twined tightly around his arm, the force increased as Altera jerked him this way and that, thwarting his attempts to tear his arm free.

Snarling, twisting his body to the side, he punched down with his gauntlet, narrowly blocking a vicious cut from Sakamoto, sparks - both from the impact, and from the crackling energies contained within the metal glove - flying. A tendril of lightning uncoiled from the point of impact, seeking, questing for the blade that had struck it, but Sakamoto was too fast, katana flying back, just ahead of the counter-energies.

His gun snapped up, and bullets flew, as fast as he could pull the trigger, but Tesla somehow seized the still lingering lightning and propelled it forward, fragments of a whole, tiny flecks that intercepted the bullets, and halted them, momentarily - spinning them about on their axis - before sending them back at Sakamoto, twice as fast.

Oryou's form screamed down from the sky, her hair a veritable forest as it snaked forward, seizing the projectiles, binding them, and crushing them, littering the ground with broken pieces of metal. A lone bullet threaded the needle of Oryou's raven locks, but it was met by a single, precision strike from Sakamoto. Two halves of the slug flew to either side of the man, even as he set his weapon into a ready stance.

Hissing - only some of it from the oni herself, as small fires still blazed at the edges of her robes - Shuten alighted behind Sakamoto, her massive blade in hand. "I take back what I said, old man. Your lightning is worthy of the death I'm about to hand you……very, VERY slowly."

Avenger and Kratos were circling around to Tesla's flank, and his arm was still bound by Altera. Farther back, Fujimaru and the writers were carefully tracking the man, Mash moving up, edging closer and closer to Tesla. He was surrounded, outnumbered, injured.

And yet, not so much as a flicker of apprehension, of fear, could be seen on Tesla's face. Only confidence.

And in his eyes, pure lightning.

"ENOUGH!" His voice boomed, as thunder split the sky, deafening, all-consuming. From far away there was a burst of light, visible even through the fog, and, a second later, the haze parted, as a coil of lightning, miles long, bored through the air, only to settle into Tesla's hand like a favored pet, before flowing into his form.

"NOBLE PHANTASM, RELEASE!" Shuten was already leaping for him, her blade diving towards the man's head, but her flight was halted, as a tower, transparent, but apparently solid, seemingly formed of pure light, erupted from the ground beneath her, ramming her directly in the gut with its peak. For a second, she was suspended beneath the rising tower, then, it pulsed with lightning, so bright as to make sight nearly impossible.

Shuten howled, spitting out slurred words in a language that Freya's bracelet could not translate, as she twitched and spasmed atop the tower, before the cascade of lightning ceased, and she slumped, boneless, to the ground. With an almost contemptuous gesture, Tesla sent a crackling wave of energy through the blade-rope constricting his arm, and Altera swiftly withdrew it, but not before she absorbed some of the jolt. A second later, she too was knocked aside, as a second tower sprouted from beneath her. By luck or by happenstance, she tumbled aside, avoiding being shoved aloft and fried like Shuten.

"FUCKING MOVE!" bellowed Avenger, leaping to the side, barely ahead of a third tower that was spearing upwards, aimed at her center. Kratos' shield rang against the one that was seeking his body, feeling as a charge coursed through the metal, into his body. But he had been subjected to the full, unbridled wrath of two different gods who commanded the lightning, and shook this off, but not without effort.

"EVERYONE GET BEHIND ME!" A web of light was spreading from Mash's shield, from the inner core of the metal, winds whipping around the girl - though they were nothing like the maelstrom that surrounded Tesla.

Around him, a tower formed, a mirror of the smaller ones that had attempted to blacken their flesh. Those ones had been barely wider than a man, well-constructed to their purpose, certainly, but lesser shades of something greater. The tower that now encased Tesla was that something greater. Thrumming with power, from the rounded peak, all around the coils that made up its base, the amount of lightning in the air spiked, becoming something painful.

And Tesla was the eye in the storm, standing atop it, as it continued to grow, reaching heights that scrape at the very heavens themselves.

"These numbers….." Romani's voice, warbling, broken up by static, only barely audible, broke through the din. "My God……whatever this Noble Phantasm is, it's in danger of blowing out the scales…..it's approaching a rank of A+, and isn't showing any signs of stopping! I don't know if even Mash can stop this thing!"

"She will HAVE to!" bellowed Kratos, one of Altera's arms slung around him, as they fell back to behind the hopeful refuge of Mash's own Noble Phantasm. Avenger, Shuten's slight form draped around her shoulders, was mere moments behind him.

Fujimaru was there, having abandoned the writers to stand by her Shielder - her friend - one hand laid on the girl's shoulder. Mash was trembling, half in awe, half in terror at the building energies, at the man harnessing them. (For all that she had been trained, for all that she had seen, at times, it was easy to forget that Mash was still a child by the reckoning of this world.) "Senpai……" whispered the girl, her voice trembling. "I don't know…."

Fujimaru cut her off. "Yes, you CAN." Her hand grasped Mash by the chin, turning her so she could look directly in the girl's eyes. "You're Mash Kyrielight, and you've never ONCE let any of us down! You can, and you WILL stop whatever that guy's about to throw at us - because I know you can." Fujimaru took a deep breath. "Because I believe in you."

'And because if Squeaks doesn't, we're all fucking dead.' At least Avenger was wise enough to keep her words limited to the mental link they shared, instead of voicing them aloud.

A shuffling footstep, and then, there was another standing by Mash. "I will do what I can to blunt the assault," said Artoria, a lance, black as her armor, with jagged, red spikes running up and down its length, forming in her arms. At their stares, she scoffed. "I am the King of Storms, and what this man is calling up is just another storm…..if a mighty one. And much of my strength is spent - but not all of it. And he has done grievous harm to both myself and my child."

Thunder boomed around them, a mewling cry in the face of the roar that had been summoned by Tesla, but defiant, all the same. "Shield us, girl," said, no, COMMANDED Artoria. "I will alleviate the burden on you in whatever way I can."

Laughter rained down on them from above, as the smaller towers began to feed lightning into the main structure. Power, so concentrated that its mere existence felt like a titanic weight across all of their shoulders, demanding that they fall to their knees, to lament in the few moments of life they had left, formed in the steel of his palm. "So much….unstable energy! With this….with this, I shall erase you ALL!"

What was a writhing globe expanded, flattening out until it was a disc, one of monstrous proportions. Large enough to blot out the sky, at least what of the sky they could see from the courtyard where they were huddled together.

"Mash, NOW!" screamed Fujimaru, her voice cracking.

Shield raised high, Mash set her feet, digging deep into the ground. "Releasing Noble Phantasm!" The edge of her shield slammed down, spraying dirt in all directions. "LORD….CHALDEAS!"

The tendrils of light that had been leaking from within her shield solidified, and before them a phantom wall rose. Barely a ghost, and yet, here and there there were hints of something gleaming, pristine. Inviolable.

Behind it, they all braced themselves.

Tesla was tensing, the fearsome energies he had gathered finally outstripping his ability to control them. His arm drew back, the pulsating disc moving with him.

Then he hurled it, not as a disc, but a continual, endless stream of lightning.

A blink of an eye, and it was upon them, a thunderbolt, death in the form of an uncontrollable storm ramming headlong into Mash's barrier.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

For once, Kratos could almost find himself agreeing with Avenger. Even behind the wall of Mash's will and resolve, they could feel the sheer power being unleashed, held back by a gossamer barrier that, to an observer, would seem inadequate to the task before it.

But it held.

Artoria was grasping her spear with both hands, teeth gritted. "What…..incredible power! His boasts may not have been mere boasts….." Sweat was pouring down her brow, as her eyes darted from side to side, tracking points on the bolt that only she could see. But Kratos noticed that, after her eyes lingered on an area, there would be an eruption of energy from within the lance of electricity, and the force straining against the wall would seem to lessen, if only minutely.

Mash's breathing was labored, the strain of holding Tesla's attack back beginning to accumulate at a rapid pace. Dimly, Kratos became aware of a voice yelling his name.

It was Romani. Sparks were flying in the background of his image on the communicator, but, for the first time in what seemed like hours, the image, and his voice, were stable.

"We've lost visual on your exact area, but our overall map of the city is showing a patch of fog moving directly for you!" It took Kratos a second to follow his words, but then, he grasped it. Romani must have seen the light of understanding in his eyes, because he continued. "You've GOT to get out of there! Most of your combat capable Servants are already injured, or down - you can't handle Tesla AND whatever's in that fog, not now!"

As Mash's feet dug even deeper into the ground, Kratos stared up into the sky, to where he thought he could see Tesla's form. "In what direction is this fog?"

Romani paused, then his eyes widened. "You can't be thinking….."

Da Vinci interrupted him. "Southwest! And if you haven't completely burnt it out, the dome I added to your shield might give you a few more seconds out there before things get really ugly."

"I understand." As gently as he could, he slid Altera's arm off of himself. He strode up to the edge of Mash's barrier, but a hand on his arm halted him.

Avenger glared at him. "Don't you fucking die out there, or else." Over her shoulder, Altera lingered, her expression blank as ever, but her eyes were watching Kratos carefully.

"I have battled Thor twice, and lived to tell the tale." A grunt. "I will survive this."

Then, he activated the dome of energy within his shield and plunged into the storm.

It was every bit as hellish as it had looked from the other side.

The dome lasted a second, maybe two, before it gave out, then he was at the mercy of the unleashed energies.

It burned. It was not Zeus atop Olympus. Nor was it the bared fury of Thor on the fields of Ragnarök. This display lacked the sheer divine power that had come naturally to those two gods. But, for all that, Kratos could still feel his skin blistering and cracking as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other, to reach the base. The Blades of Chaos were in his hands, their fires shimmering, despite the maelstrom they found themselves in.

He would have but moments to scale the tower, to topple Tesla from it, before his strength gave out.

Then, as he drew his arms back, preparing to leap into the air, from behind the Chaldeans, deep within the ruins of the Clock Tower, a lance of red stabbed through the roof, and pierced the heavens.

Faintly, their ears caught a voice, through the howling winds.

".....RENT……BLOOD….AR…."

The beam of energy cut down, carving through the brick and mortar of the Clock Tower. Tesla, atop his tower, flinched, but the beam of crimson fury came nowhere close to him. Perhaps by accident, it missed, or perhaps it was intentional.

Sweeping across, the beam battered into the tower itself. Whatever unearthly materials the thing had been woven from, they groaned, almost sounding as though they were in pain, surface warping, beginning to give under the assault.

And then, in the moments before it winked out, the ray flicked from side to side, finally having penetrated the tower's surface, finally having reached within.

Tesla stumbled as his perch shifted to the side, and then it, and he, began to fall. Yelling something unintelligible, he steadied his feet as best he could, snapping his arm up, and with that gesture, the endless stream of crackling death ceased.

His legs were bent, preparing to leap away, when Kratos appeared, flying through the haze, directly at Tesla, chains flying behind him, Blades flaring white-hot.

Tesla got a hand up, the one cased in metal, and it was the only thing that saved his life. Instead of cleaving his head in two, it simply plunged through the gauntlet, and the hand within, as though both were made of the thinnest cloth. Flame erupted, either from the Blades transferring their primordial fires into Tesla's flesh, or from the destruction of the mechanisms contained within the gauntlet - Kratos did not know. He did not have time to know.

Roaring, partially with effort, partially in pain, as every movement of his body caused his very being to flare up in agony, Kratos jerked the man's arm down, using the Blade embedded in Tesla's hand as a cruel lever. His other hand flew up, looking to take the Servant's head clean off.

Desperation lent the scientist strength, and haste. A coil of lightning, quickly gathered, and barely controlled, shot from the man's left hand, powerful enough to singe the man's fingertips as he released it. It crossed the short distance to the tips of the Blades, then arched through the metal, and into Kratos.

Despite himself, he felt his muscles seize, and the Blade slipped from his hand.

So it was his forearm, rather than the Blades themselves, that crashed into Tesla's face.

Tesla gagged, the sound of bones breaking clearly audible. Kratos' knee shot up, cannoning into the Servant's gut, and Tesla staggered - but his form began to glow, the man once more gathering the lightning he commanded. In seconds, it would lash out, would attempt to throw Kratos back.

He did NOT have time to finish him. So Kratos did the next best thing.

A second to orient himself, Da Vinci's voice in his ear, yelling about the approximate distance of the mobile bank of fog, and Kratos seized Tesla by the scruff of his neck, ignoring the defensive lightning being released by the man though sheer will. He planted his feet and spun, once, twice.

And released Tesla, the man's form tumbling through the mist.

Then, Kratos finally hit the ground.

Weariness, pain, and a myriad of other things crashed into Kratos at approximately the same time as his body met the earth, and yet, he still pushed them aside. Tesla had vanished, but unless he had been accurate, it would all be for nothing. He waited, ignoring the voices of Mash, Avenger, Fujimaru, all the rest, waiting to hear….

"Bulls-eye!" crowed Da Vinci. "You planted him right into that fog bank…….and it's going berserk! Get out of there, NOW, while they're both distracted with each other!"

Kratos pushed himself up, then felt his balance falter. He had taken more damage than he had expected - his body was already fighting to repair itself, but…

His thoughts were interrupted, as a form slid itself under his arm, and forcibly took a portion of his weight. "Lean on me, Grumps," snapped Avenger. "No way we're letting you walk back after a stunt like that."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thinking about it, FGO timeline only has the one Holy Grail War - but is it ever mentioned WHY there's the only one, around approximately the timeline of the Fifth in the orthodox Fate timeline? I'm assuming that the Makiri/Matou, Tohsaka, and Einzbern all came together at about the same year to create the ritual in the FGO timeline, but, for some reason, never managed to hold the Holy Grail War until the sole time it happened in FGO. As you needed contributions from all three of the Families to make it work, if they tried to put the ritual together closer to when the Fifth War happened, the Matou bloodline would have been decayed/degraded enough that they just wouldn't have been able to contribute as much. So I assume they had to create the ritual around when it was created in the standard timeline, otherwise it'd have never gotten off the ground.

So I'll probably, for the purposes of writing Zolgen, assume that there was some kink or hitch in the ritual that required fine-tuning until they finally got it ready for prime time, and hence the single, later ritual that was won by Olga's daddy.

Probably at least a bit of Queen Mab from Dresden Files leaking into my portrayal of LArtoria Alter here. Maybe a touch of Batman as well, given the Wild Hunt, depending on the portrayal, had a bit of being vengeance on horseback in them.

Playing the part of Vegeta today will be Mo-san.

Not a full release of System Keraumos, since it becomes a localized warping of space-time/reality. Saving that for the proper fight with Tesla.

Chapter 63: London 7

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 63​

Shockingly, they made it back to the camp without seeing any further sign of their enemies. Kratos had expected another wave of the machines to harry them, but either they were quick enough to depart the battlefield that they outpaced any pursuers they might have had, or their enemies had been confident enough in Tesla that they had not sent any other forces to confront them.

Either way, it was a welcome boon, as, as noted by Romani, were almost all of them sporting injuries of some degree. Shuten was still unconscious, and had been switched out for Chiron, allowing the oni to rest in Chaldea's medical ward until such time that she had recovered enough to return to the field. Altera, too, had been coaxed to return to Chaldea, despite the damage she had absorbed being less severe - which led to Kratos' current predicament.

"I am well enough to walk on my own," he rumbled.

As with his previous protests, they fell on deaf ears.

"You look like a damn boiled fucking LOBSTER, Grumps!" bellowed Avenger, from his left side. "Never fucking mind that you're slowly turning less fucking cooked while I watch, you're still torn up six ways from Sunday!"

"I have carried you before - after Rome," stated Medusa, from his right side. "I will do so again if I must - even if I have to use my Mystic Eyes on you to get you to behave yourself. God or not, you ARE injured, Kratos. However fast you heal, it is foolish to risk harming yourself further by refusing aid when it is freely offered."

Growling (though those who knew him from his world would have noted there was far less bite in the sound than if he had been truly, honestly aggravated), Kratos resigned himself to the continued presence of the two women, each one having taken some of his weight when they had claimed one of his arms.

From where she was walking alongside Chiron, Mordred laughed. "You could learn something from him, Father. A god's willing to lean on someone once in a blue moon, and he's a hell of a lot less damaged than you are."

Artoria sniffed, turning away from her child. "I allowed this…..not an indignity, I would not deign to insult you so, Lord Chiron. Imposition, perhaps, as you are far more than just a mere steed, and to have you carry me in such a manner demeans you somewhat. I acquiesced only because a lord should travel in a manner befitting them." She was currently leaning carefully on Chiron's back, the man having returned to his centaur form to more easily bear their most injured member back to camp.

Mordred, despite her armor being scorched and seared, insisted she was well enough to walk. (And that the two of them on a single horse was a recipe for disaster.)

"No offense taken, King Artoria," stated Chiron. "This is not something I usually do. While I am part horse, I am no beast of burden. But you are respectful enough to recognize that, and the need is great at the moment."

"Where is Dun Stallion, anyways?" asked Mordred. "That's Rhongomyniad you were holding when I caught back up with you guys, at least, an emo version of it. If you're a Lancer, I'd have figured you'd have come with your horse."

Artoria's face fell, her cold mask slipping for a moment. "Llamrei, not Dun Stallion was captured when I was. He is likely held somewhere……and far from where I was held." Her eyes blazed. "Assuming they did not kill him outright, in the interests of taking one more thing from me."

"I could see it," interjected Shakespeare. "What need have they of your steed when they have you? And, as you said, you were never meant to leave that chamber."

Hans sighed. "I'd accuse you of being addicted to tragedy if your logic wasn't sound. There's little to no point keeping a horse around - much less a hostile one that belongs to a powerful Servant that you've captured and imprisoned - and have no intentions of ever turning loose. So, as much as I don't want to give you credit, you're probably right."

Artoria said nothing, but if Kratos was any judge, she was adding another tally to the register in her mind of the injustices done to her.

"Could we try to summon him?" asked Fujimaru. All eyes turned to her, and Kratos saw her cheeks flush a bit. "I mean, if you made a contract with me, and I used a Command Seal to summon you, that would call him too…..right?"

Artoria stared. "Possibly, assuming he still lives. But that would be a frivolous waste of a valuable Command Seal, girl."

"But he's yours - your horse, and one you have to have a really strong bond with, if he's summoned alongside you. Kind of like how Iskandar felt about Bucephalus - when he fought Kratos, he sent him away when he got injured, rather than risk him getting permanently hurt."

"You've met THAT boor?" At Fujimaru's nod, Artoria sniffed derisively. "He is devoted to his steed, true. It is one of his few redeeming qualities. And…..regarding my feelings, I will neither confirm, nor deny if you are correct on that score. Merely reiterate what I have already said - it would be a waste to use a Command Seal, something that can turn the tide of battle, merely to comfort a single warrior - no matter who they might be."

"But…." Mash's voice was hesitant. Possibly she was somewhat intimidated by the woman she was addressing - or possibly it was the similarities to the other Artoria they had faced, and the memories of that battle that were causing her timidness. Still, she found her resolve, and continued. "Aren't you also weaker without your steed?" She fidgeted. "I know it's kind of strange for me to say it, given my own weapon, but that lance of yours doesn't look like it's easy to use on foot…."

Artoria blinked. (Mordred's muttered 'Ran me through with the damned thing well fucking enough without being on a horse," falling on deaf ears.) "Girl…….just WHO are you?"

She seemed to be about to say more, when an armored hand clapped over her mouth. "Don't finish that thought, Father. She and I have a deal - she wants to know more, she asks me. Don't blurt it out and add another bit of oathbreaking to my rap sheet." Annoyed amber eyes alighted on Mordred, who shrugged. "Yes, it's who you think it is, but no, it's more complicated than that. She's something called a Demi-Servant - some weird future science thingy."

Fujimaru, her brow furrowed, met Mash's eyes, who sported a similar look. And Kratos' thoughts were equally as troubled as what he saw in the two girls' eyes. A third person now who seemed to recognize the Heroic Spirit within Mash - and they all hailed from the same period of time……and essentially the same Legend. He was beginning to suspect, if not the exact identity of Mash's passenger, then at least a more general idea of who they were in life. And his gut told him that others were coming to the same conclusions that he was.

[Seriously, a THIRD person from Camelot, in one Singularity? What's next, is my father going to show up, and this time be more than the screaming madman he was in France, and have this girl assuming my mantle before she's ready? Why not have Sir Gawain and Sir Tristain show up? Hell's bells, just invite Gareth, Bors, Percival, and Agravain and ALL the rest as well - I'm sure we can find some contrivance to get Merlin here - he can't possibly make things any worse! And let's have the whole meeting be in Camelot, while we're at it! By all that is holy, I'm trying to be careful with this girl, but I suppose the saying is true. Man plans, and God laughs.]

Artoria reached up and seized Mordred's wrist, prizing it away from her mouth, though (possibly) a bit more gently than she would have done normally. "Demi-Servant? It seems there is much I am ignorant of, beyond where these Chaldeans have appeared from, and why they have a god following in their wake." She looked over Mash once more, and nodded. "But I will keep my peace. I would not make my child a liar when she has given her word."

She turned away, facing forward, the conversation apparently over, as far as she was concerned. "Now, are we there yet? I would see this fortress my child has constructed for the peoples of this city."

They nearly were, in fact. They had crossed the bridge while this conversation had been going on, and even now were drawing close to the walls of Mordred's encampment.

Something that was apparently beginning to dawn on Mordred, if the wide eye Kratos could see from behind her cracked helmet was any indication. Or, more correctly, that they were drawing close to the camp with one crucial piece of information as yet undisclosed.

"Actually…." began the knight, her pallor starting to become rather pale. "Father, there's something I should tell you before we get there…."

But, as they drew up to the gate, Artoria had stiffened, and almost seemed to be tasting the air, her tongue running across her lips, as her eyes hardened. "This Bounded Field…..this signature. I know it….." Her head whipped around, eyes boring holes through Mordred. "Mordred, what DID YOU…."

It was at that moment that the gates creaked open - not in the slow, gradual pace that they had moved at before, at their previous departures and arrivals. No, this time, the gate swung wide at a rapid pace, heavy metal and wood finally halting with a heavy, solid, thunk of a sound.

A lone, solitary figure stood in the shadow of the gate.

"Sister….." Hissed Artoria, as she laid eyes on Morgan.

Morgan's sneer was so pronounced it was almost audible - as audible as the contempt in her voice, when she spoke. "No sister of mine, I think." Her eyes took in the battered woman, still leaning on Chiron. "Thief of what was mine she might have been, but my sister was a bright beacon - all the more suitable to be the figurehead of Merlin's plot to steal my birthright. You…."

Morgan scoffed. "You reek of corruption - and more than that, the touch of the Fae." Her eyes narrowed. "I daresay you might be less human, and more of the Fair Folk than I am, at this point. No….." Her head shook. "Whatever, whoever you are, you are not the sister I knew….once."

Artoria pushed herself off Chiron's back, her legs wobbling, but finding some inner well of strength to keep her from toppling to the ground. "If you could not hold onto it, was it ever your birthright, Sister?" Morgan bristled, and Artoria continued. "But your insight is otherwise as piercing as it ever was - I am NOT the Artoria you knew, but another possible Artoria, one who carried Rhongomyniad closer than she should have, and was….affected. Eventually coming to accept the title of King of Storms, rather than King of Knights."

"The Wild Hunt," muttered Morgan, fingers tapping on the handle of her war-staff. "That explains the Fae half of you. And the corruption? Because you WILL explain that before you set a single foot in my child's bastion."

"YOUR child?" Artoria laughed. "Mordred was little more than a tool to you, just another piece in the puzzle that was your grand revenge against me. It is rather rich to hear you now laying claim."

Morgan rose to the implied challenge in her sister's words. "Who raised her? Certainly not you! You did not even know of her until she had served you for years and finally revealed her lineage to you." A haughty sneer marred Morgan's face. "Upon which you turned your back on her." She laughed, cruelly. "Some would say you got exactly what you deserved in the events that followed…."

A snarl escaped from between Artoria's lips, and she took a step forward. "All according to YOUR plans - YOUR design, Sister!" Rhongomyniad formed in her hands, and she rapped the butt against the cobblestones underfoot, the sound ringing around them. "Mordred was nothing more than a wedge you inserted into Camelot, into MY life to topple it sideways."

"While you used her as nothing more than a blunt instrument to enforce your will, knowing she was so desperate to earn your regard she would do any job, no matter how unpleasant." Morgan laughed. "And you DARE claim the moral high ground against me?"

Artoria took another step, the point of her lance starting to point in Morgan's direction - who, for her part, was already starting to call power to the ends of her war-staff, the mana in the air thickening like a clotting wound. Morgan took a step of her own, matching that of Artoria's, the two sisters drawing ever closer, violence imminent in the air.

At least until they were both halted. A large hand seized Morgan's wrist, jerking the arm, and the war-staff it held, down, and away from Artoria. At the same time, a pair of arms slipped around Artoria's shoulders, and pulled her back.

"Get your hands OFF me!" yelled Artoria, kicking backwards at Medusa, ineffectually.

Morgan seemed to be winding up to protest as well, but whatever she was about to say was silenced by a single word from Kratos.

"Enough." Despite that he did not shout, only barely raised his voice, it boomed all the same. He met Morgan's furious glare unflinchingly, and then, after a moment, turned and proceeded to stare down a similarly angry Artoria. "There are enemies enough without finding more! The very air itself has allied against us, and yet, you wish to fight one another? Now?"

"Our history is complicated…..and ugly," spat Artoria. "Who are you…."

"The only one who sees how precarious our situation is!" growled Kratos. "And how foolish you are both being. That is your child that you speak of like an object….or a tool, rather than a person!"

It was only then, perhaps, that the two women realized just how quiet Mordred (who was never quiet) had gotten. Indeed, the Knight of Treachery had almost shrunk in on herself, and there was something more than the anger or brash confidence showing in the one eye that was exposed through her cracked helmet. "Just……just stop it, both of you," rasped Mordred. "Stop fighting, and especially over me. I'm not worth….that."

There was a tense moment, as both women reacted to that sight. Artoria, for her part, slumped somewhat in Medusa's grasp, something akin to shame passing across her face before her expression flattened into a blank, lordly mask. Morgan merely glared harder, most of her ire still being directed at her sister, but a fair portion of it was aimed at Kratos. (And none of it, or any attention, was spared for Mordred, his mind supplied.)

But, after a moment, the mana in the air thinned, even if her displeasure did not, and the war-staff was lowered. "Explain the corruption I sense about you, now." It was delivered with the bark of a command, but in tones somewhat gentler (barely). "I cannot in good conscience bar you from this area based solely on your association with the Fae - I would be a hypocrite and worse to do such, given my own nature." Morgan's eyes narrowed. "But you WILL explain that, so I can be certain we have not invited a snake to nestle at our throats - whatever my child's feelings on you…..sister."

"Fine." Artoria glanced back, at the woman who was still restraining her. "If you could unhand me?"

Medusa glanced to Kratos, who nodded, and, as his hand released Morgan's wrist, she slid away from Artoria. The King of Storms made a show of dusting herself off, before she drew herself up to her full height. "Truthfully, my memories of being 'corrupted' as you say, are hazy at best. I am given to understand that you fought a version of myself on an earlier campaign - a Saber that fell to what you called mud that was oozing from a Holy Grail?"

There were nods all around, at least from the two people who had been present for that. "That's our understanding, at least," said Mash. "Senpai, Director Olga, and myself arrived long after everything had happened, but Mr. Cu was there from the start, and he saw it all happen."

"And you trust that….man?" asked Morgan, contempt in her voice.

"Yes," rumbled Kratos, some part of him confused by the question - and more confused by the smug, knowing look that spread across Morgan's face, as though she had information he did not.

"While it was Mr. Kratos who saved us from one of the Servants in that place, it was Mr. Cu who kept Senpai from dying….after," said Mash, her eyes momentarily downcast.

Fujimaru fidgeted, then yanked the top of her uniform up, exposing her stomach, and the scars there. "And that's just what the thing did to my stomach. He got me in other places, too. I was bleeding out at the time, my eyes drifting shut and what I thought were my last thoughts being about what I was going to say to my ancestors. Cu could have just let me die, and he didn't - he saved me just as much as Kratos did."

"He fought that corrupted Saber alongside us," rumbled Kratos. "And has fought countless other foes since."

Morgan sniffed, but did not otherwise deign to say anything more, and that mocking gleam still sat in her eyes. Haughtily, she motioned for her sister to speak.

Artoria glared, but did not rise to her sister's bait. "Most of my memories are hazy…..at times, I wonder if I am merely a dream given flesh, a potential 'Artoria' that never was, that only coalesced due to the Saber you encountered becoming corrupted as she did. What I do remember is that I carried Rhongomynaid…..longer than I should, and it began to affect me. To change me. To resist this, I embraced the corruption I felt gnawing at my core, that which I thought was born of my misgivings and doubts……but now I suspect was from my connection to this other, Saber of myself."

"And then, after everything was over, after Camelot was relegated to little more than a fallen, failed idea, the Wild Hunt was waiting. Free of my obligations, free of the restraint of the throne, of my morals, I could do what was right, without anything holding me back. No matter the cost."

She met Morgan's eyes fearlessly. "So that is the 'corruption' you sense, sister - and if it is enough to bar me from this fortress, then I shall sit here, outside the bounds of what you have claimed, and wait, until it is time to venture forth again." She cast her eyes over the foggy city. "For I still have a tally of wrongs against me to see blotted out, before all is said and done in this time."

Something ugly flickered across Morgan's face, for a heartbeat, and Kratos was certain that she was about to spitefully deny her sister entrance, then Mordred spoke up.

"Please…..they had Father nailed to a rock, with things that had goddamn BARBS coming off of them." Her voice was barely a whisper. "She needs to rest, somewhere safe. And there's nowhere safer in this city….."

Morgan's face showed no sign that her child's words had affected her - the hate was still as clear as day in her eyes, but, at last, she nodded. "Enter…..sister." She waved her hands, and Kratos saw Bounded Fields flicker for a second, before shimmering, going from angry red to a cooler shade of crimson. "I extend my hospitality to you, and promise that no harm shall come to you by my hand while you are my guest." She inclined her head, minutely. "On my name, Morgan le Faye."

Artoria bowed, lower than she had gotten from her sister. "I accept your invitation, with my thanks." She began striding forward, not sparing a look back at either of the members of her family. "Come, then. My child's words are correct, my strength is spent, and I must replenish it. With rest….and food, if there is food to spare."

"We can probably find you some grub, Father," said Mordred, trailing after her. "But not in the quantities you might want - we're already to the point of rationing. But if nothing else, it'll be hot…and better than anything Gawain could make."

Morgan watched them go, then strode off, simply walking into the wall surrounding the encampment, and vanishing, her expression never changing.

Fujimaru let out a long breath. "Why do I feel like we just dodged a really, really big bullet?"

Shakespeare shuddered. "Because, verily, we did. The Fae are not to be trifled with, and there are few names more fearsome in Arcadia than those of Morgan le Faye, or that of the Wild Hunt, regardless of who leads it at any point in history. To have averted a potential clash between them is, indeed, 'dodging a bullet', my Master."

"Let's get inside," muttered Medusa, once again taking one of Kratos' arms across her shoulders, despite the look the man levelled at her. "Kratos needs rest - you all do. That Artoria is right about food and time to recover after that fight."

"Something tells me we won't have much time, either," said Andersen, arms crossed over his chest. "We just stole something very, very valuable from our enemies. Valuable enough that they expended a very powerful Servant, one who could have been a trump card later on, to try to stop us in our tracks." He gazed back, over the fog-choked city. "Somehow, I don't think we'll be allowed much of a respite, regardless of whether Tesla makes it out of that fog bank or not."

"Vaguely on that subject," Romani's image winked into being. "The whole point of this little excursion was to see what information we could get from the Clock Tower on everything going on in London, which we didn't get to do, but mainly because we stumbled on the two of you, who were already in the midst of that exact thing."

"So, what do you have for us?" asked an eager Da Vinci.

Andersen made a dismissive gesture. "Rest and eat first. If I'm right about us being on the brink of a massive counter-stroke from our enemies, I'll need you lot in top condition, so I can still be alive to tell you." He sighed. "But, just in case, I'll make another copy of my findings, and give it to that girl. A backup for a backup. Just in case."

He reached up, and seized the tails of Shakespeare's coat. "In the interest of the ticking clock, you will be helping me with this."

Shakespeare, for his part, looked affronted. "But, my colleague, I took a dolorous blow in that fight - a fight you pressed me into, might I add!" He stared down at the smaller Servant. "Should I not be entitled to some of the respite you are insisting the others take for themselves?"

"You already got a healing spell from the girl." Andersen's eyes leapt from point to point on Shakespeare's frame. "You're fine to help us meet this deadline." A smug grin crossed his face. "And you weren't going to rest, you were going to go look over the camp, and observe the people there - see what stories, or inspiration you could find." Andersen sniffed. "That's the last thing these people need right now. So you're coming with me."

With that, the group from Chaldea was treated to the sight of the much smaller Servant dragging the larger away - despite the larger's protests.

"I feel like I should probably keep an eye on them……" mumbled Fujimaru, as she watched them go.

In a manner somewhat similar to what had just happened with the writers, Fujimaru was halted, by a pair of hands on her shoulders, ones that steered her back into the direction of the quarters that they had used previously.

"No, Senpai," said Mash, firmly. "You need rest as much as any of us - probably more, since you're not a Servant, and get tired more easily." A push, Fujimaru was forced to move with Mash - or take a tumble.

"I'll go keep an eye on them," said Avenger, a grin on her face. "I'm pretty fresh, and I'm not going to be much use in patching folks up. I can at least go terrorize those nerds, make sure they don't get up to any mischief."

Laughing, Avenger threw a wave behind her as she stalked off in the direction the two writers had gone.

"Now I'm thinking that I REALLY should be keeping an eye on them," croaked Fujimaru, whose forced march had come to an abrupt halt - Mash's expression showing that she was at least thinking something similar to her Master.

Chiron waved her concerns off. "I'm sure she won't frighten them too much. If they are looking to hurry their work along, then Avenger is…..well, she will be an effective motivator, without completely terrifying them to the point they would be unable to work." He nodded. "A very delicate balance to walk in training, as well - as I have learned."

"And yet, you keep using Shuten to motivate me, Sensei." Sarcasm dripped from Fujimaru's words.

"Because I know you can handle it," replied Chiron, with an easy smile. "Your history - and the stories you heard growing up - provokes just the right kind of fight or flight instinct in you when you look back and see an oni chasing you, even if you, on a rational level, know Shuten probably wouldn't ever harm you. Or at least, not much, and not intentionally. It helps you find reserves of stamina and willpower you didn't know you had." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And that is why I would not utilize her, or Kratos, to stand watch over those writers. While Andersen seems fairly grounded, Shakespeare seems more prone to becoming rattled by someone more intimidating looming over his shoulder."

Mash's muttered 'Mr. Kratos isn't intimidating' was met with a grunt from Kratos. "My son would disagree with you. On our journeys, as he grew, he often insisted that he do the talking when we met new people. He, too, felt I was…..intimidating - to those who did not know me."

He had added that last bit, as Mash's cheeks began to puff out in the signs of an oncoming pout. It was still an adjustment, having people getting outraged on his behalf. At least it seemed to pacify the girl, somewhat.

That only left him with one other……obstacle.

"Come on, Kratos. Let's get you off your feet." Medusa was already beginning to move him, somewhat in the same manner as Fujimaru was being guided by Mash.

He could protest - insist, yet again, that he was fully capable of moving the short distance to their quarters under his own power, but his experiences with Faye - and more recently Freya - had taught him that there was little point fighting it when a woman, be she your wife, or merely a friend and ally - took on a certain tone in their voice.

---

Avenger grinned, making sure to show some teeth (and she really had to thank Shuten sometime for showing her that trick - inadvertently, but never let it be said she was too stupid to follow a good example) to the two writers. Nevermind that both their heads were down, scribbling away on the notes the midget had taken - it was the thought that counted.

She kind of wished she'd brought her Game Boy with her, though - she was starting to get a little bored. Terrifying the nerds had sounded more interesting in her head, when she thought they'd actually be paying some attention to her, but no, once they'd gotten to work (and she had had to give Shakespeare a few glares to get that started. The other one hadn't even batted an eye at her, which was damn insulting - she made a note to give him a noogie later), they'd buckled down, well, like her and Kratos when Squeaks was teaching them how to read, honestly. The more time that passed, the less it seemed she was needed here.

Which was kind of annoying, because she could have been doing something else - like getting some grub and some shut eye. Because everything about this place had her hair (figuratively) standing on end.

It was that damn fog. Her 'Saint Sense', as she was calling the bits of the God's Little Blonde Cheerleader that Gilles had shoved into her brainpan was constantly tingling - not sending up alerts or anything (not like it did whenever they were standing toe to toe with one of Romani's former familiars, at least), but still……..

There was something bad in this city. Really, really bad.

And it was giving her a headache, too.

Enough of a headache that she missed the sound of metal, of armor plates shifting against each other, which meant the voice that suddenly sounded from right behind her caused her to jump (a little - ONLY a little. And there was no SHRIEKING!).

"What're you doing here?"

She'd turned the best glare in her arsenal on the knight, for all the nothing it did. (Then again, from the ugly fight that had been brewing between this one's parents - a fight that hadn't gotten past the foreplay stage, she kind of figured her best glare probably didn't rate in comparison.)

Instead of quailing in her boots at Avenger's unleashed badassery, Mordred just looked past her, to the two writers, who were either studiously ignoring them, or just that damn absorbed in their work. "Oh, THAT explains it. Making sure the pencil-necks are working, and not slacking off."

"More or less," grumbled Avenger, more interested in finally getting an eyeful of Mordred, now that she wasn't distracted by carrying half of Grumps' weight - and dealing with his whining about how he could walk perfectly well, thank you very much.

(Like she'd let just anyone lean on her like that - jerk should be happy she was willing to help.)

But really…. "Man, you look like shit." And she wasn't wrong about that - her armor wasn't hanging on by a prayer or anything, but it still looked like it had seen much, much better days, blackened and chipped - or outright cracked in some places. Frankly, Avenger was kind of shocked her fancy-ass helmet hadn't outright broken into pieces when it had done that disassembling trick before it slid back into her armor (which was cool as hell, she had to admit - be nice if her hand would do that, instead of just sliding up, before she fired off her Death Laser - something to talk to the crazy lady about after this Singularity was done). "Shouldn't you see about getting that shit fixed?"

"Probably," admitted Mordred. "But, lately, I don't like going around without it on, even when I'm behind Mother's Bounded Fields." A snarl twisted her face. "Something is really wrong with this damn city."

"Killer robots, poison fog, whatever is skulking around the back alleys shanking people, and a super-charged Nikola Tesla?" Avenger scoffed. "What was your first fucking clue?"

Mordred scowled at her. "Shut up." But there wasn't a ton of heat in it, and the scowl quickly vanished, replaced by a shrug. "But you're right. I should dismiss it and let it work on patching itself back together." Golden particles surrounded the knight, and, like that, her armor vanished.

"Huh," said Avenger, eying what Mordred had been left in - it less than she'd have expected, just a red band around her chest and some sort of armored belt (albeit one with a dangling sash….thing in both the front and the back) around her waist. Then again, she'd been watching when this one had nearly torn Grumps and the Irish loon's throats out for calling her a woman, so that, and the rest of her behavior tagged this one as a dyed-in-the-wool tomboy.

That, of course, wasn't what she said, because that might have been reasonably diplomatic. Instead, she said something else entirely.

"Guess you don't take after either of your parents, do you? Well, Red will be happy, one less chick she has to be jealous of."

Mordred blinked, then was leveling that big sword of hers at Avenger. "Do I NEED to kick your ass up around your ears, you damn doppleganger?"

Wat? Dopple….oh HELL NO. NO FUCKING WAY. "Why the shit are you calling me that?"

And, of course, Mordred said the ONE thing she didn't want to hear. " 'Cause I'm trying to figure out just who the hell you are, and why the fuck you look so much like Ruler."

Of FUCKING course. This was starting to become a pattern, one that she did NOT care for. "How do you know…..her?" Yeah, not her most eloquent, but she really couldn't see this one joining 'me' for Happy Christian Funtime and Hymns like David in the last Singularity. "Is it….?"

Mordred interrupted her. "Same messy Grail War I met Archer of Black in - I don't remember much, but I think it was such a cluster that she got herself summoned to try to establish some kind of order on the stupid thing." She laughed. "From the feelings I get when I try to remember bits of the disaster, it didn't go well."

"I can support Saber of Red's testimony here - it did not," said Shakespeare, looking up from the reams of paper in front of him. "But as a drama, no, a tragedy? It was MAGNIFICENT! And yes, I had been quite wondering myself why you resembled the golden-haired Ruler so strongly."

Huh. And the Horse-Teacher had never said word one about this, at least, not to her face. (Also, how fucking BIG was this fucked-up War 'me' had been a part of? Seems like they were stumbling over folk who had been in it left, right, and center lately.) Then again, from what she understood, Servants retaining memories of their past summons was dicey as fuck at best. Maybe he just hadn't remembered - or just had kept his mouth shut around her (not like it wasn't pretty well fucking known that she and 'me' had issues).

Mordred was staring at her expectantly. "But you look like her - well, sorta. She didn't have that cool arm of yours, or that fire you can call up, and she was a lot brighter, but if you ignore those things, you two could be twins." A shoulder butted up against hers, an obvious nudge, prodding her to talk. "So what's your deal?"

Oh well. Not like it was some big secret. "I'm her clone."

Mordred blinked. "You're shitting me."

"Nope," said Avenger, popping the 'p' as obnoxiously as she could. "Couple of Singularities back, I was the one causing the problems for Chaldea. Thought I was actually the real 'Maid of Orleans', only the extra-crispy version, cause that's what I was told when I woke up." She scowled. "Turns out it was Gilles gaslighting me - he'd actually used a Grail to make me after he'd gone bonkers when the real 'me' had been turned into a torch. Then he wound me up and turned me loose on France."

Mordred spat to the side. "Shit. And I thought my parents were bad. Why the hell are you still breathing, then? Kratos doesn't seem like the forgive and forget sort, kind of expect that if you were his enemy he'd have beat the tar out of you, then drop you off a cliff or something - before or after he tears you in two."

Avenger laughed. "It's 'cause of him, actually, but indirectly. The whole 'foreign god from another universe' thing took everyone by surprise, so the bastard who backstabbed Chaldea in the beginning showed up and told me about it, and offered me a way to beat him - a catalyst that would summon one of his enemies. Being ENTIRELY too full of myself - and smart enough to know the collection of Servants I had mindfucked to work for me weren't exactly up to fighting something like that, I took it."

Mordred spat something that sounded sort of like a name ('Hamakoosa', or something like that), and then laughed. "That's sounding awful familiar. And since you summoned him, you thought you had him under control, only for him to stick a knife in your back, huh? Dumbass." Mordred's eyes flicked over to her Murder Arm. "Bet that's where you lost your arm, huh? From what I can remember, most of the time, Command Seals are on the right arm, huh?"

"Shut up, before I show you just what my Murder Arm can do," snapped Avenger. "But you're essentially right. Thought the Command Seals would let me keep him in line - but he showed me how wrong I was. Barely got out of there alive - and Gilles sacrificed himself to let me escape." She did not let a morose sigh escape her lips, despite what any lying bastards might tell you later. "First thing and only thing he did for me in his life."

"And that explains the 'Avenger', then - name and class," said Mordred with a nod. "Honestly, put me in your shoes and I'd probably be calling myself MoVenger right now, or something like that." She grinned, showing off some extra sharp teeth. "Tell me you kicked their asses."

"I got two of 'em," replied Avenger, holding up a pair of fingers - the middle ones of each hand, of course. "Personally, at least. Carmilla and Charlie, though Charlie tore a few strips out of me - bastard had been holding back because he didn't care for my shit when I was forcing him to kill people. Got an assist on Vlad, along with 'me' and Kratos, so I suppose I get a third of that one. The rest of those traitors got done by Squeaks, Kratos, and the rest of our little crew."

"Nice!" Mordred extended a fist, and Avenger reciprocated the gesture, rapping her (metal, of course) knuckles against the knight's. "Serves them right - I mean, not that you didn't have it coming, what with all the rampaging and killing, but still."

The Knight of fucking Treachery outraged on her behalf because of…..the treachery of Avenger's minions. Make it make sense.

She just shook her head - it was far from the weirdest thing she'd had happen to her in the past month, much less in the entirety of her short, but eventful life so far. "Eh, you're right, I did have it coming. As leaders go, I sucked - even if I had known the truth about me, I'd have still sucked. The rampaging wasn't exactly called for, since I just was Gilles' little revenge fantasy all along, him projecting his grudges onto me." She snarled, some of the resentment, the constant voices in her head that never paused in their recital of all the slights and wrongs that had been done to her getting EXTRA loud in that moment. "These days, I've got plenty of my own - REAL damn ones to keep me going."

"That why you're tagging along with that bunch?" asked Mordred, and Avenger disguised a flinch (at least, she hoped she did - Mordred was fairly badass, and she wasn't about to look like a weenie in front of her).

"More or less." Yeah, dodging the question, but she's barely able to talk with the Doc about her…..God-related issues, and he was him. She's not about to bring it up here with Mordred - the Knights of the Round had sought out the Holy Grail, or so the stuff she'd watched had told her, but she somehow didn't think she'd get any sage advice about God from the Knight of Treachery like she did from David.

"How's that going for you?" Avenger blinked, and Mordred continued. "They seem to trust you well enough, despite the fact that you used to be an enemy. He might have bitched about it, but Kratos let you carry him back here, and Shieldy and her Master don't seem to be scared of you, little mice that they are." Mordred's expression turned thoughtful. "Actually, none of them seem to be holding much of a grudge. Well, beyond the other one that helped you carry Kratos back - she throws a few glares at you, but there's not a ton of ugly in them. I'd have thought it might be competition or something, but you don't look at him the same way she does."

Mordred shrugged at Avenger's look. "What? I had a front row seat for the whole…..thing….between my Father, Guinevere, and Lancelot. And I got to see how the rest of my siblings would look at Mother….or how Galahad would do the same thing to his daddy. And then there was everything else in the Round Table on top of all that." Another shrug. "The two of you don't stare at Kratos like he's JUST a Master, but you ain't looking at him the same way, either. Neither of you are really getting all mooney eyed over him, either, so who the fuck knows."

The FUCK she was! Before she could think better of it, her mouth was moving. "You sound like you have some experience with that yourself."

"Maybe." Mordred's response is kind of wishy-washy, and the hand gesture she makes is similarly middling. "That mess of a war with Ruler, I think I had a good Master there. I don't get a ton of good feelings from that thing, but whenever I try to remember my Master, I get the closest thing to something that isn't complete frustration and a desire to hit someone that I can get when I think of that disaster of a war. So I suppose, whoever I got paired with, he wasn't bad."

Not bad. Yeah, she supposed that's how she'd describe Grumps. She'd be a bit nicer about Red, but that was because Red had issues, and could have used someone telling her how awesome she was while she was growing up. Kratos KNEW he kicked ass, and was well and truly beyond having someone blow smoke up his ass like that (he still had issues, just different ones from Red).

Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her (stupid, traitorous) face, because Mordred grinned. "Yeah, that's the expression I get when I start trying to remember. Guess Kratos must be a good one too, huh?"

Dammit all. "He makes me think, and I'm not exactly much of a thinker." That at least got her a knowing nod - and yeah, Mordred seemed like a 'kick ass first, questions later' sort too. "He also doesn't take my shit, which I can respect. I'm not exactly the easiest to get along with."

And then there was the whole believing in her thing - and the putting up with her. Even without the possibility of…….someone else……having been behind her tagging along after France, she figured most people would have wanted nothing to do with an unstable mess like her. But he - and Chaldea, if she was being fair, had given her a chance - a sternly worded 'if you fuck up you're dead' chance, but still a fucking chance. And she took it, partially to get back at the people who screwed with her and Gilles, partially to clean her slate…..and partially because she was trying to delay….whatever would happen to her when she had to go to whatever was waiting on her as long as humanly possible.

Yeah, not thinking about that.

Looking for a distraction, she seized on the first thing that crossed her mind. "Where's your daddy, anyways? I wouldn't have thought you'd have left his side, given the piss-poor shape they were in."

Mordred snorts. "Out like a light, after tearing through some rations I got from Shieldy - she REALLY wanted a 'hamburger', whatever that is, but the stew and some of those crisp things in the bag that Shieldy had stowed away seemed to be good enough. I gave her my tent for the time being. Not like we thought about having quarters for hosting Royalty when we were setting this place up, even if Queen Elizabeth was here for a time, in Servant form."

"Huh. Kind of thought Miss 'I am the night, I am the Wild Hunt' would have been more uppity about her quarters." Then again, she'd rubbed shoulders with a handful of royalty on this journey so far, and most of them hadn't been too stuck-up, overall. Iskandar had been fine with a patch of dirt - honestly, his little buddy had been more fussy about where his King had been sleeping than the King himself. David has been similarly down-to-earth (then again, given who his son was…..) But then there was Nero, and well……she'd been Nero, and that was all that needed to be said about that. And while she hadn't done the whole 'campaign trail' thing with Liz, she imagined the little Pink Terror wouldn't have been all that different from her destined rival.

Mordred rolled her eyes. "That Father might be different than my Father in some ways, but it's still Father. We saw off enough invasions from the Picts and other barbarians that we were hardened campaigners. I swear, one time, she had to break up a fight between Tristain and Bors over a comfortable looking tree root both of them had laid claim to. She solved it by just claiming it for herself, since they couldn't, or, as she said, wouldn't be able to come to an agreement." Snickers slipped out from behind the knight's lips. "I think that might have been her plan all along. But you can't really do the whole Solomon cut the baby in half thing with a tree root - those two idiots would have been happy to take their half of their wooden pillow and think they won somehow."

Avenger's brain fritzed for a second, hearing THAT NAME (and blame the fucking Doc for that one - for terrifying her within an inch of her life with how BAD it would be if she ever let his name slip her lips outside the confines of his heavily warded room), so it took a second for her brain to spin back up. Calm the fuck DOWN, she told her hammering heart. That Guy was a major figure, and that story about the baby is pretty damn well known. Someone mentioning that name out of the blue doesn't mean they're onto you.

(Though, they were in trouble if this one had figured them out. Mordred wasn't dumb, but she wasn't going to be doing brain surgery anytime soon, either.)

"Sneaky," is what Avenger found herself saying, for lack of anything more witty - sue her, her brain was still shuddering in her skull.

"Yeah," agreed Mordred. "And smart - or smarter than I would have been in her place. If it was me, I'd have just started smacking those two idiots."

"Probably would have been my go-to as well." But then again, she had that Avenger temper. Even sharing headspace with a stoic rock like Grumps only does so much to abate that. She wasn't a barrel of nitro most of the time (except when she got excited, or in combat, or she was thinking about if Someone was using her as a puppet or…..ok, she had a lot of pet peeves. Sue her.), but she wasn't exactly the most stable, either. "And burnt the damn root on top of it."

"That'd have been a waste of a perfectly good root."

They both laughed, and the conversation kind of hit a natural lull. Mordred settled herself against the wall, taking a load off, and the only sound was the two writers scratching away on their paper (or parchment, or whatever they used back in this time).

"Wanna fight?"

The question took Avenger off-guard for a second. It clearly showed on her face, because Mordred scoffed. "Not like, now - that guy did a number on me, and having to use Clarent like that took its toll too. But later - you look like you're going to get bored just sitting around waiting for something to happen." She sniffed. "Or waiting on these two to get their masterpiece done."

The hell of it, but that did sound like fun. And it's not like she doesn't enjoy fighting - ahem, 'sparring' back at Chaldea. With Kratos around, just about everyone gets some practice in the evenings, but then again, most of the Servants around Chaldea have the same mind-set about that sort of thing. Even Red's Horse-Teacher, for all that he's occupied with teaching the girl, gets some reps in.

(Not her other teacher, but that guy's a nerd's nerd. She'd be shocked if he could manage a pull up, or even a push up. Wimp.)

"Sure, why not?" Knuckles meet metal knuckles, and it's a deal.

"About that…."

A pair of unimpressed eyes settled on Shakespeare, who didn't seem at all afraid to be the subject of their attentions. In fact, he looked more smug and self-satisfied than anything.

That shit-eating grin only grew wider, in fact, when he saw her eyes narrow. "Rejoice! For we have completed our work! And, despite it being a dry transcribing of facts, I can see why Sir Andersen was so insisting on making sure he had plumbed the depths of those texts - and forced me into the unenviable role of a soldier, one forced to desperately hold the line, nobly suffering wounds…."

A wadded piece of paper bounced off the back of the playwright's head. "Stop trying to make yourself sound more heroic than you are. You fought those things for the same reason you helped the Clock Tower - naked self-interest." The child-sized Caster pushed himself back from the table, and hopped down from the chair. "But he IS right. We're ready to present our findings."

---

 

CHALDEA'S TEMPORARY QUARTERS AT FORTRESS MORDRED​

While he would not admit it out loud, the rest, and food, had been something Kratos had needed, in the end. Walking into the heart of Tesla's storm had been…..painful. Taxing. Different, in a sense, than facing the lightning of the other two Thunder Gods he had fought. Theirs had been the unleashed power of the storm - wild, elemental…..Divine, in their overwhelming might.

Tesla's had not been, though it had not lacked for sheer power, being man-made (as he understood Tesla's Legend), as opposed to the birthright of a god. And regardless of the origins of his power, walking beyond Mash's barrier, into the heart of the assault battering against said barrier had HURT.

Fortunately, as had been noted by those who had taken it upon themselves to 'assist' him back to the camp, he did heal quickly. But the food, and the rest, they had helped.

Medusa, he felt, did not need to look so smug. He could have made it back under his own power. But she had just smirked, knowingly, when he had awoken, the pain having greatly receded, and handed him a bowl of some stew that had been cooked while he had been sleeping.

Stew that was under siege, at the moment.

Fou's eyes - and mouth - were watering as he crouched at Kratos' feet, the Spartan paying the creature no mind. Or, more correctly, paying him the barest minimum of attention to make sure the animal did not make a sudden assault on his food.

There was bacon in the stew, and the animal had a well-known desire for bacon.

(Kratos had discovered that he also liked bacon.)

"Fou, no." The animal barked out a series of complaints as Mash scooped it up and bore it away, its paws batting at the air as it was carried away from its chosen prey. "I've told you not to bother Mr. Kratos when he's eating."

From the increase in volume and frequency of the animal's complaints, it did not care, and wanted Mash to know its displeasure. It did not earn Fou his freedom, but it did manage to coax a piece of bacon from the girl's bowl, so it was mollified. Somewhat.

"Alright," said Da Vinci, glancing around the room. Nearly everyone was gathered for this, crammed into the warehouse that Chaldea had claimed for themselves. Thankfully, the space was large enough that they all had some space to themselves - it was more the size of the personalities fitting into the building that made it feel cramped. "What have you got for us?"

All of Chaldea was there, either in person, or attending through the communicator in some fashion. Mordred was there, trying and failing to hide the glances she was stealing at her father, who had shuffled in not a few minutes ago and sat down without a word.

The King of Storms at least looked somewhat healed - far more steady on her feet, if nothing else. She had barely been settled into her chair when she had turned a placid stare on Mash, her hand extended - a hand that was quickly filled with a small box, colored red. The king quickly tore the top off, and extricated a long stick from within it, one of many. From the crunching sounds that issued from her mouth, it seemed to be some sort of hard bread covered in a darker substance. (Kratos assumed chocolate. It was one of the things he was planning to bring back with him, when he returned. He believed the Valkyries would enjoy it - as would his son. Possibly also Freya.)

There was only one notable absence.

"Where's your mom?" asked Avenger, head darting around the room, as if she was expecting to see Morgan huddling in one of the shadowed corners.

Mordred shrugged, broken from her furtive staring at her Father by the question. "No idea. Maybe she's listening in - in fact, I'd bet she is. Not like Mother to let any kind of information pass her by. But if she is, and how she's doing it, I don't know, and I'm happy not to know. I sleep good not knowing."

"Then, can we begin?" Shakespeare, probably unsurprisingly, looked eager, in the manner of the playwrights Kratos remembered from Sparta - brimming with anticipation to unveil their latest work.

Romani waved a hand - the two communicators for Chaldea, displaying Da Vinci and his faces, had been placed on a table in the middle of the room, so that their observers could see and hear everything. "Whenever you're ready to begin."

Shakespeare opened his mouth, arms held out wide in an extravagant gesture, but whatever theatrics he had planned were slammed to a halt by Andersen's bland, tired voice.

"Near as we can tell, all of this started about two months ago - give or take." Andersen had procured a board from somewhere, similar in form to the ones Chaldea used, but its surface was black, instead of white, and it was made of a different material - as were the pieces of chalk he was using to noisily write upon the board (atop the stool that was necessary for him to to reach it).

He began to sketch a rough timeline on the board, beginning with the month of February. "The Clock Tower began noticing oddities around then. Small ones, rather than the more large-scale disturbances that preceded the poison fog, so I tend to agree with their conclusions."

"What kind of oddities?" asked Da Vinci.

"Something I'd normally write off as just….normal in this age." Andersen frowned. "As did most of those in the Clock Tower who were informed of it. Some of the lower ranks who were forced into running errands noticed some of the poor and homeless beginning to vanish."

Mordred frowned - closer to an outright scowl, an expression that was mirrored by her Father.

"Indeed!" began Shakespeare. "Hardly an uncommon occurrence in this day and age, and so, easily dismissed - especially by those in the halls of power, who rarely deign to walk the teeming streets themselves, and have little care for those poor, huddled masses that are beneath their notice."

If anything, Artoria's scowl had only deepened. "This London - and the people within, have changed greatly since my time."

"It does seem to indicate that they might have at least some familiarity with this time," mused Romani. "Lev and Forneus were hardly subtle with the Singularities they were overseeing."

"Lev was at least smart enough to fool Chaldea - and your Director especially, for years, though - at least from what you've told me," added Medusa. "And Forneus didn't find hiding in Herakles beneath him, so they aren't unwilling to play that card when necessary."

"And, I assume they needed some time to build up their resources - kind of like in Rome," added Cu. "Even with Romulus' ability to create an entire capital out of nothing, you still need people to populate it. And I assume the homunculi they were using as soldiers took some time to grow, too, though I'll defer to the girl on that area. Not something I ever dabbled in."

At Fujimaru's nod, he continued. "But all these robots they're throwing at us, well, you can't build them out of nothing. Even if they have access to a Caster with Item Construction, you still need to build the damn things! And to get the sheer numbers Mordred says they've been throwing around - and to overwhelm the Clock Tower?" He shook his head. "Definitely some ramp up time before they put their plan into motion."

"I'd wonder about why they were snatching hobos, but it's not like they haven't found uses for regular humans before," growled Avenger. "We had to carve through most of what Drake's crew had been turned into last time, so I imagine these sick fucks are doing something similarly shitty."

"There's the possibility they're MERELY eliminating anyone who stumbles onto their base, but I tend to agree." Andersen shrugged, then continued. "This next bit confirms your thoughts on resources, Cu Chulainn. Around the same time as the spike in the disappearances, some of the street gangs and the more powerful, and connected criminal elements began to step up what, on the surface, would look like just petty crime, if you didn't have the information we have. Specifically, that they were hijacking both ore shipments off the docks and trainyards, and refined metal from the smelteries."

Romani, Da Vinci, and Cu nodded as one. "The Hound was right," began Altera. "They were beginning to acquire the things any army requires to function." Her nose wrinkled. "I believe one of your modern generals described it as the three B's. Beans, bullets, and bandages."

"Though this particular army only has need of the one," mused Chiron. "Though depending on their power source, their fuel could substitute for the 'beans' in your analogy. And the 'bandages' are merely more of the same metal they used to construct the robots."

"Though, given that they have access to a Holy Grail, it does beg the question of why they need actual material to build their robots." Da Vinci grinned. "I can shed some light on that. After an analysis of the fog you sent back, I can confirm, it's practically brimming with Holy Grail energy."

Fujimaru's hand peeked upwards. "Then, is that why it's making us sick? I sort of remember you mentioning how you can only look so far back when you're scanning for Singularities, because the closer we get to the Age of the Gods, the higher the mana concentration in the air is, and, beyond Chaldeas having trouble looking that far back, even if you find one, the mana concentration there is just too much for a modern human - me - to withstand."

Romani is the one to shake his head. "Actually, no. The high concentration of mana would cause problems if you weren't Kratos, or insulated like you are, Fujimaru - we think the protections Mash is sharing with you would let you walk around in it without issue - but it would only be, at worst, fatigue or unconsciousness. Nothing lethal, not like the fog is now with whatever else they've spliced into it."

He frowned. "We're still trying to pin down exactly what poison or toxin they're using. I'm not exactly a biologist, but with Da Vinci otherwise wearing so many hats, and occupied with another project, it's fallen to me and Medical, and we haven't managed to untangle that knot yet."

"So, that explains why they needed materials, then. Same reason Baldur couldn't immediately heal Fafnir in France - the bulk of the Grail energy is being used for something else." Cu waved his arm in a circle above his head. "In this case, powering that nasty fog."

"We have a bit more information on that, actually," began Andersen. "Unfortunately, they were extremely careful - or paranoid - in their dealings with the various criminals. They always took delivery at neutral sites, and through proxies, at that." He scowled. "So we don't have any solid leads on where their base is. All we've been able to ferret out is a name. P, B, and M."

"A name?" asked Mash.

"Or names - a collaboration of three minds," speculated Shakespeare. "Or simply an acronym, or a nom de guerre, or any of a dozen other potential things." He reached down, and shuffled through a stack of papers. "But, from the research I myself have done into the interviews the Clock Tower did with the various criminal organizations, they seemed to favor the idea that these were names. Some of the flunkies that were sent to treat with the gangs and such referred to them in the singular, saying that 'P had sent them', or the like."

"Three heads to the serpent, then," rumbled Kratos.

"Plus Tesla," chimed in Fujimaru. "At least, if we're thinking those three names are Servants, but…..it is a very Servant thing to do. Hiding your identity like that. After all, we do the same thing, only using Class names when we're out in the field."

"And whatever jackass is pulling their strings," snarled Mordred. "Can't have a Servant without a Master, after all." She sniffed. "Ignoring Rogues like myself."

"And, behind them, whichever of the Demon Pillars has been given authority over this Singularity." Romani's voice is a hoarse whisper, but, for all that, it is clearly audible.

"All this is very diverting, but it fails to answer one important question." Artoria paused, turning the pink box in her hands upside down, as if trying to get the last crumbs out from its depths. When nothing falls into her hands, she sighs, and continues. "Do we have any idea where their base might be - or even a lead to that effect?"

Silence. Shakespeare, when he finally spoke up, was noticeably lacking his usual volume. "Unfortunately, madam, as we noted, they were very careful to cover their tracks. The Clock Tower had, at best, guesses where they might have been operating from."

"And then the fog descended, and they were forced to concentrate fully on the siege that had them surrounded," added Andersen, his dry voice interrupting. "What few leads they had dried up - or outright died on the vine, and the Clock Tower had neither the time nor the inclination to investigate further."

A silence descended upon the warehouse, as each of them digested that. Mordred is the one to break it. "So, we're at Square One on that?"

"Got to say, randomly pawing through this wreck of a city doesn't sound terribly great," griped Avenger. "Especially when we're still waiting to see how they retaliate for us stealing someone's Daddy like that."

Artoria frowned. "As determined as they were to capture me - and then keep me, I will admit to being surprised that they have not made another attempt." Her frown morphed into a scowl. "Though I am loath to admit it, it is possible that the spectre of my sister is enough to deter them for the time being. Whatever her faults, her reputation as a Mage was well-earned."

"We do have some additional information, though not related to the location of the enemy base." Andersen shrugged. "I would have led with that if we did, despite someone's love of 'saving the dramatic reveal for the end'."

Shakespeare's smirk was irritatingly wide, and aimed directly at his fellow writer - to little effect, as Andersen reached for another stack of notes. "The Clock Tower initially thought the attacks against them were simply that of an enemy attempting to erase a threat, but they quickly abandoned that thought process."

His eyes landed on Mordred, and the knight's face twisted up in confusion for a second, before her eyes widened. "Because they were mostly ignoring us?" She glanced about. "I mean, they'd send a force at the base if I started heading in the Clock Tower's area, but otherwise, they were kind of just sending token shit at us - just enough pressure to make it look like they were trying to tear down our walls, but nothing that would actually accomplish that."

"Exactly," agreed Andersen. "They could easily sense your Mother's Bounded Fields, even through the fog, and the familiars they dispatched to scout the place out didn't see the same level of aggression that they were experiencing. So, they began to suspect they wanted the Clock Tower grounds for something else."

"Which was borne out by that tower they were building," muttered the El-Melloi. "Right atop the main, and strongest, Ley Line running beneath the facilities. Tapping that would give them a fearsome amount of power for something, which they could add to that of the Grail, if they so chose."

Romani fidgeted. "Your Majesty, I understand it might be a difficult subject, but, during your captivity, did they let slip anything that might give us some sort of understanding of what they were building…..or why they needed you?"

Artoria's face was a carefully controlled blank, pale, cold, and pristine. "No, they did not." Her voice, like her face, was unwavering. It would have been more effective if her hand hadn't suddenly crumpled the empty box it was holding. "I was summoned from the fog itself. Someone - Tesla, I suspect, given he was waiting on me when I descended - had charged it with enough lightning that it somehow acted as some kind of summoning circle - or catalyst, to beckon me to this city."

"Meaning they wanted you in specific," said Da Vinci.

Artoria nodded. "Yes. What little they said, not to me, but ABOUT me made that much clear." Her brow furrowed. "It is mere speculation, fueled by a stray comment or two that I heard, but I think they wanted me for my connection to the Fae Realms."

"But…..what for?" The El-Melloi's pallor, usually very pale, had whitened even further. "I have had dealings with the Fae - at a distance, usually to clean up a mess left by one of my fellows at the Clock Tower - in my time. And while there are certainly worse things to get involved with, they are few and far between - things like True Ancestors, as an example." He shuddered. "Or Gilgamesh."

It had been bothering Kratos for a bit, a trace of familiarity that he had not been able to shake. "The automatons - the dolls. What they transformed into reminded me of the Light Elves of Alfheim - in essence, if not form. Their movements and weapons were….similar."

"Those were probably looking to mimic the Sidhe, or the High Sidhe, given the location, rather than the Elves of Norse myth and legend," began the El-Melloi. "And the dogs….as I said, they resembled Black Dogs I faced in one of the situations I was forced to resolve."

"And those squat things kind of looked like Red Caps," mused Cu. "Kind of sensing a theme here, along with the head of the damn Wild Hunt being present."

"Except for that big one," whispered Mash, with a shudder - one that did not come entirely from the girl herself, unbeknownst to her. "It kind of looked like an angel……a biblically accurate one - not the winged humanoids you see in the modern times."

"Save for the dragon head," muttered Romani. "Those sorts of things are typically associated more with the other side, but I wouldn't expect a group claiming to be the Demons from the Ars Goetia to care about getting those sorts of things right."

Da Vinci was frowning, bordering on an outright scowl. "It might have something to do with what was powering those things. From the handful I've disassembled in the limited time I've had, their basic functions are run on steam, off all the backwards things to choose….." She began muttering to herself, broken out of it only when a balled up piece of paper bounced off the side of her head.

"Focus, Da Vinci," said Romani, his tone one that spoke of a long history of suffering.

The Universal Genius hastily cleared her throat. "Aaaaanyways, all of the machines you sent back had a secondary power source, or core, that I believe was what was used to power their transformations. The problem is that they were bone-dry when I cracked them open - not even traces of whatever they were using was left for me to analyze. While there were still wisps of steam clinging to the mechanisms for their basic functionality, the transformation matrix is…..franky, terrifyingly efficient at consuming the fuel - it has to be, to leave no traces like that."

That scowl was back. "I've got a handful of guesses as to what, exactly, they could be using, but without more solid evidence, speculation could lead me down a dozen different rabbit holes, and I just don't have time for that."

Cu's scowl was, if possible, even more pronounced than hers. "You don't think those idiots have somehow punched a hole into one of the Fae Realms, and are siphoning some of the energy there? Arcadia….or Avalon….." He shook his head, almost violently. "I really, REALLY hope not. There's dumb, and then there's THAT!"

"Mere mortal Mages have done something similar," griped the El-Melloi. "See again my reference to the time I had to deal with Black Dogs personally. And our enemies, whomever, or whatever they are, have an arrogance to make the Clock Tower look humble in comparison."

A scoffing noise escaped Mordred's lips. "So, assuming they are doing that - and they're just using it to pump up their little robots?" She snorted. "It seems so basic-bitch to risk messing with the Fae just for something like stronger minions."

"There are layers we are not seeing," intoned Artoria. "We have a picture, but it is far from complete." She turned her gaze on the two writers. "What further information do you have?"

Shakespeare threw his hands up. "Alas, nothing more on the subject of our enemies - their plans, their lairs, or their identities."

"So, then, nothing relevant," concluded Artoria.

"I suppose," agreed Andersen. "At least, if you consider the true shape of the Holy Grail War to be irrelevant."

The silence that fell was deafening. Andersen had all of their attention - Da Vinci and Romani in particular were staring at the writer, their eyes wide. "The true……" Romani's voice broke off into sputtering. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"I was told this War was a ritual," rumbled Kratos. "Created specifically to manifest these 'Holy Grails' - more powerful versions of the ones that our enemies have used to create these Singularities."

"Are you saying the Grail War has another purpose?" asked the El-Melloi. "That there was more to the war that I, and one of my students after me, fought in?"

Andersen licked his lips. "More that the Holy Grail War, as you all are aware of it, is more a……shall we say stripped down copy of something much grander." He again hopped on the stool, and began sketching on the black slate. An image of a face, a woman's, harsh lines making it obvious that she was supposed to be threatening, took shape. (For some reason, she was also wearing some kind of hood - or veil, that shrouded most of her head.) The chalk in his hand tapped on the image. "When a threat, for our example, this, appears, one that's strong enough to endanger Humanity - in whole, or in part, appears, the World itself reacts. You've obviously seen some examples of this - Mordred was summoned as a Rogue Servant, after all, and I assume the Knight of Treachery isn't your first encounter with that phenomenon."

"Blackbeard, Anne and Mary, King David, Eric, and his wife in the last Singularity," began Fujimaru. Her head turned, and settled on Medusa. "And probably Euryale and Asterios, too."

"Quite a few in Rome as well," added Medusa. "Beyond someone like Darius, who was chain-summoned by Iskandar's presence, though he wasn't a Rogue, but an enemy summoned by Lev Lainur."

"And 'me' back in France, though that's probably as a counter-balance to me being there," growled Avenger. "Then the Pink Terror and the rest of her crew after. She could have been because Carmilla was there, and Siegfried for Fafnir, same deal. Kiyohime…..I got nothin', so she was probably a Rogue."

"Exactly," said Andersen, with a nod. "The Land itself attempts to fight back against the threat these Singularities pose, despite the damage you said has been done to Humanity. Were that not the case, I am certain we would be seeing the full deployment of the World's greatest countermeasure."

He paused, taking a breath. "Seven Servants - one from each of the classes in the Holy Grail War, but united in cause to stop this threat. By any means necessary."

His proclamation was met with a few intakes of breath, and at least one or two gasps (Da Vinci, Mash, and Fujimaru, he thought). Heedless of all that, Andersen continued. "And these would be the cream of the crop, too. No weaklings like myself or Shakespeare there, would be called to fight - it would be those who stood at the top, or close enough that there's little difference, of their respective classes."

"Grands," choked out Romani. "It was something the Director - not Olga Marie, but her father, mentioned once. Supposedly, there is a single Servant chosen to occupy the Throne of their Class. The Saber who stands above all Sabers, and so on for each Class." He waved a hand. "I don't think that, normally, we'd see all seven of them called for what you're describing….though, if anything would, it would be this."

"The Counter Force is pretty mauled right now, though," mumbled Sakamoto. "Without Humanity, it's a pale shadow of itself, so….."

"Those 'Grands' are probably right out," snarked Mordred. Her face twisted in thought. "Hey, you think…."

"From what little the Clock Tower was able to discover on Grands, your father is probably not the Grand Saber. They theorized that it simply isn't possible to summon them unless there's a massive enough threat present, either then and now, or imminently predicted to appear." He glanced around the room. "You all said you fought a corrupted version of the Saber Artoria in the past."

"Yep," commented Cu. "She was the Saber for the War I was part of. And the only major threat there ended up being herself, after she got corrupted."

"And she was the Saber of the War I fought in," added the El-Melloi. "As well as the one that followed it. And while both contained threats, nothing of the scale that would necessitate a Grand - if there is any truth to them."

Andersen fidgeted, a troubled expression on his face, something that drew a frown from Shakespeare. "That is not how I expected you to be acting, after you were presented with the chance to give such sweeping revelations! Hans, what grim specter haunts your thoughts?"

It took a handful of seconds for Andersen to answer. "This information seemed almost too easy to find." He glanced up at Shakespeare. "Everything about the Grands, the Holy Grail War being a cheap knockoff of the World's defensive measures - it was all lying on the first table in the room, as if it was waiting on us. One reason I was having you hold the door was that I was trying to find collaborating evidence in the other books in the stacks, but…" He shook his head. "Nothing. And despite the fact that the two of us were the only ones in and out of that room for days, it feels like someone had been through there just before we barricaded ourselves in there. Things had been moved, and these works were certainly not ones that either of us pulled off the shelves. More and more, it feels like someone prepared everything for us to find this very information."

Kratos felt a finger of ice run itself up his spine, a handful of memories running across his mind's eye. Odin's defacement of the mural featuring Tyr, one of the Aesir King's many attempts to hide and control information, so that he was the only one with all the facts and details….about everything. And then Groa, and how she in turn had misled Odin with the false prophecies, the true ones hidden so that only a Giant could find them.

He found himself speaking. "Do you believe this information to be false?" He shifted in his seat. "Falsehoods placed there by our enemies?"

"Finding this kind of information just….waiting for us is suspicious," mumbled Andersen. "But Romani's confirmation of the Grands is at least collaboration of some of it - unless you all suspect him of also being a sleeper agent for your enemies." The writer grinned. "But, going by your outraged expressions, I take it that he has your complete trust, so we can rule that out."

"Damn right," spat Avenger, arms crossed over her chest.

Andersen settled back onto the stool. "So, while I don't entirely trust what I've found here, there is the other possibility - that someone wanted us to find it to help us."

"Why the cloak and dagger approach, though?" asked Jekyll. "It seems……overly convoluted, especially given how we are now questioning what we've found - or been presented. If they wanted us to trust what they left for us, wouldn't it have been better for them to give it to us themselves?"

Fujimaru and the El-Melloi exchanged a look. "It…..could be an enemy Servant who's trying to work against whoever they're contracted with." She grinned. "The Lord here did that in Rome, he sent me a couple of scrolls warning me about things before eventually meeting with us and asking us to break him and his King free." She shrugged. "It's happened once before, so it's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Alternately," began Shakespeare. "It could be exactly the trap you all suspect. You have said that you faced foul treachery early on, from a trusted source. They could know that your Doctor Romani would verify SOME of the information planted here, so they sowed a seed of truth so that you would more easily accept the lies."

"Fucking hell," groaned Mordred. "Why can't it ever be simple? There's the bad guy, go punch the bad guy until they stop moving! Not this…..plans within plans shit!"

Avenger's hand thumped the knight on her back in a manner that was probably meant to be comforting, as Mash's hand again was raised into the air.

"So…..what is our next move?" she asked, alternately looking between Kratos, Fujimaru, and their two directors back at Chaldea, though it was none of them that answered, in the end.

"If nothing else, we have hindered their plans by depriving them of myself." Artoria pushed herself up from her chair. "At this stage, we have but two options. We can fortify our position here, and wait for their inevitable counter-stroke - for they WILL attempt to recapture me at some point. Or, we strike out into the city, and attempt to find their base, and slay them before they can muster their forces."

"A defensive strategy allows us to prepare the ground, to control the strike," rumbled Kratos, his mind already weighing the options. "It would allow our wounded more time to heal, as well, bolstering the amount of force we could bring to bear."

"I'm sensing a 'but' there," said Da Vinci.

"Telsa was powerful," stated Altera. "Not so overwhelmingly so that he could fight us all at once without issue, but still strong enough to require our full attention. We do not know what other allies would be supporting him in a siege of this place."

Mordred bristled. "My mother ain't exactly chopped liver here, if we're talking about powerhouses, though."

Altera nodded. "In that, you are correct. But our enemies have to at least be aware of the powerful Bounded Fields, and know that a Caster of some strength reinforces them, even if they are unaware of their identity." Her head tilted to the side. "If they attack here, they would have to at least have a plan to breach those, as well as one to handle the Caster maintaining them. Either through sheer brute force, or something more subtle - but I do not see them as being foolish enough to not take that into account when they finally make their move."

"If even one of 'P', 'B', or 'M' are on his level, or close, we could find ourselves in trouble," said Chiron. "If two, or all of them are, it becomes that much worse. Even with our full complement of Servants - and assuming they are fully healed……I would not wish to fight that battle."

Shuten's raspy voice broke into the conversation. "Doctor…..what of that fog bank?" A window appeared, and Shuten's drawn face winked into existence. From her surroundings, it appeared the oni was in medical - apparently Romani had managed to convince her to convalesce there. She still appeared battered, her porcelain skin showing the signs of the lightning that had flowed through her.

"We lost track of it after Kratos threw Tesla into it." His brow furrowed. "Why?"

She shrugged, settling back into her bed (Kratos noticed one of her gourds was there - and that it had been unstoppered). "Just a whim, really. I know I was originally there to hunt whatever was in it - the suspected Assassin. If it's dead, then that's no fun." She pursed her lips. "But while I am….choosing…..to remain in this bed, I have been thinking. Whatever is in there is clearly hostile to us, it attacked Mordred's allies, Kratos…..and my Master." Her voice dropped to a low hiss at that last, before returning to her usual lilt. "But it also does not seem to have any love or allegiance to our enemies, either." She let her eyes dance across the room, settling on Avenger, Kratos, and Altera, in turn. "My master already has one monster to her name, and we count among our forces an Avenger who was once our enemy, and the Scourge of God - as well as a god in their own right."

She licked her lips, slowly. "Perhaps…..and I realize it is strange for one such as myself to suggest this, but possibly my Master could try talking to whatever lurks in that mist?"

Fujimaru sputtered. "Shuten……you do realize what happened to me the last time I merely laid EYES on….whatever's in there, right?"

"Mmm…..yes." Shuten did not seem to be even feigning concern. "And you got stronger for it - and now that your body knows what to expect, the second time should go better, no?"

Fujimaru's mouth was hanging open. "I…..don't think that's how it works."

"Are you so sure?" asked Shuten, who then shrugged. "Well, you won't know unless you try!"

"Absolutely out of the question," stated Romani. "Beyond that, based on how Kratos and Fujimaru vanished last time - they were taken right out of the group - we have no way of being able to guarantee any kind of support for Fujimaru in there, there's so many other issues. The Servant in there could be just completely beyond reason, for one, which would mean Fujimaru would be trapped in there with the equivalent of a wild animal - or a superhuman serial killer. And that's assuming that whatever incapacitated her last time doesn't do the same." He shook his head, firmly. "No, not happening. The risk is just too great."

Shuten sulked. "You do her no good to baby her like that…..but as you will." Her interest clearly gone, the oni seized the gourd that Kratos had noticed earlier, and took a long drink from it, before her image vanished.

"I mean…." began Fujimaru.

"No." This time it was Da Vinci. "Roman's right, the risks are just too great, and the gains waaaay too uncertain." She frowned. "Shuten's not necessarily wrong that whatever Servant or Servant is in there is a bit of a wild card, and that, POTENTIALLY, is one we could bring over to our side - it does seem like the other side is actively hunting them for some reason, so we could present ourselves as a more attractive option, since any harm we've done to them has been in the interests of self defense but still……there's far too many unknowns to risk one of our Masters on this."

"And we have no idea where it is at the immediate moment," continued Romani. "We lost track of it in the mess of the end of your fight with Tesla." He sighed. "IF we can locate it, or IF any of you find yourselves abducted by it again…..Shuten's idea isn't a completely terrible one. At worst, you COULD try reasoning with the Servant in there - assuming they don't attack you immediately." He threw his hands up in the air. "I'm not saying that I think it will work, but it's something to consider. Worst case, you'll end up fighting anyways."

"And that diversion aside, we are left with our other plan - striking out," stated Artoria.

"If an attack is coming, dividing our forces leaves us vulnerable," rumbled Kratos. "At the same time, we cannot remain static….or idle." Scylla and Charybdis, his mind intoned. "We may have to risk an expedition into the city."

"Sir Mordred," began Romani. "If I could borrow you for a bit, get some idea of where you've encountered patrols during your runs through the city, it might give us some idea of where they're coming from. If nothing else, it would be more data to analyze, and that's never bad. Hopefully it could give us some leads."

"Sure," said the knight, pushing herself to her feet.

"In the meantime, I want everyone else to get what rest you can." Romani peered around behind himself. "Give us…..let's say four hours to go over the data we have from Mordred, the Clock Tower, and what we've observed ourselves, and we'll see if we can't land you a decent area to target."

"Can I borrow this?" asked Mordred, pointing at the communicator displaying Romani's image. "I'll go see if I can find Mother and get her input - if not, me and String Bean here will try to fill them in. He'll probably remember a thing or two I ranted about that I've forgotten, and you bunch can do whatever while we do that."

Fujimaru waved her off, and, communicator in two, Mordred stomped out of the room, Jekyll being towed along in the knight's wake.

Fujimaru stared after them for a second, then turned to the unexpected party who had remained behind. "Your….Majesty? Are you not going with them?"

Artoria scoffed. "I think it best to limit the amount of time I spend around my…..sister. Both for morale in the camp, and…..other reasons." She shifted in her seat. "The time of King Arthur has passed…..I am merely a ghost….or a dream who will soon fade. Best that the people of this time not get too used to my presence - in either of my identities."

"Great, except, your kid is pretty much shouting from the rooftops who she is and how she's the one taking care of London nowadays, as your heir and shit," commented Avenger.

Artoria did not roll her eyes, but Kratos believed she seriously considered doing so, for a second. "That is her prerogative. Whatever I might have had over her, once, as either her liege….or her father, she is a woman grown now, and she must make her own choices. For good or for ill." A hint of a wry smile broke out on her face. "And, for all her rough edges, she has done more to calm the people here than I, as I currently am, could. I hardly look like the King of Knights anymore."

"I guess it's fine - we aren't lacking for space here. Unless anyone has any objections?" Fujimaru glanced around the room, and was met by a gamut of nods (Chiron, Medusa, Mash) to shrugs (Avenger) or grunts (Kratos himself). "Then make yourself at home, Your Majesty."

"Artoria is fine, girl, at least in private. As I said, my time as King of the Britons has long since passed. And you are not one of the Wild Hunt, so I do not expect obeisance from you, or any of the rest who saved me." She turned to Mash. "Though I will request more of those 'snacks', if there are any to be had."

A moment after Mash had handed the King a handful of bags from her shield, she took a deep breath, then turned to face both Kratos and Fujimaru. "Mr. Kratos…..Senpai. Could I talk to both of you for a second?" She glanced to the door. "Outside?"

"I….suppose so." Fujimaru looked over to Kratos, who gave a minute nod. He had his suspicions……

A moment later, they were outside, Mash ducking into one of the alleys between the buildings. The girl was brimming over with nervous energy, barely able to stand still, a mess of fidgets.

"Mashie……" Carefully, Fujimaru laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "What's all this about?"

Mash was biting down on her lower lip. "I wanted to ask the two of you…….the offer that I have from Mordred…..about her telling me who the Heroic Spirit bonded with me is…..should I take it?"

Fujimaru looked like she was considering what to say, so, while she gathered her thoughts, Kratos spoke up. "First, Mash." He met the girl's eyes. "What do you think? Tell me your thoughts."

"I want to get stronger." Mash's spine was ramrod straight, her breathing coming quickly, her cheeks flushed. "I know that much. So I can protect you Mr. Kratos, and Senpai….and everyone." Her hands, unconsciously, clasped together in front of her. "And knowing the identity of the Heroic Spirit……it could do that. Make me stronger."

"But……there might be a price." Fujimaru's voice was a whisper, albeit one that carried well.

Mash nodded. "The sword…" Her hand drifted down to lightly run her fingers across the hilt of the sword that hung from her hip. "It's strong. Incredibly so. But it didn't come without a cost. I'm worried that finding out…..will come with another." She trembled, and seemed to shrink in on herself. "And…..that it'll be more than I can afford."

"At the same time…….I don't have a lot of time left. If it's me, or someone else….someone like you, Senpai, who has your whole life ahead of you, or you, Mr. Kratos, who has his son waiting on him….."

"No."

Fujimaru's voice was akin to a hammer through glass. "I told you, Mash. You're not dying. Not during this, and not after, due to what those……" The girl's mouth worked silently for a moment, true anger stealing her voice. "......people did to you when they made you. We're finding another way, one where you don't die. Everyone's going home after this is over. You, me, Kratos, Romani, every single one of the Servants we pick up along the way, all the survivors - EVERYONE."

Her hand slashed through the air, her eyes simmering. "I know, I know……this is a war. I can't….." Her shoulders slumped. "I can't MAKE that promise." Her eyes hardened. "Don't care. We're still all living through this."

"You are naive." Despite his words, there was a ghost of a smile on Kratos' face. "As my son was…..and still is." He looked at the girl, really looked at her for a moment, then continued speaking. "Though, you both have seen war. Seen it for what it truly is. Compassionate……..may be more correct than naive. Just…….prepare yourself, for when the reality does not match your hopes…..or plans." Very carefully, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Do not let it change you. But…..there must be a balance, one between feeling every death, and feeling none of them." His 'like myself' went unspoken.

The girl nodded, her eyes flinty.

"Senpai," began Mash. "Should I assume that you think I shouldn't take Mordred's offer?"

"Yeah." Fujimaru sighed, a shaky thing. "Everything you said about that sword, and all of Roman's worries, to the point he expressly forbade you from using it - all of that is spot on." She shuddered. "I remember you collapsing, after the last Singularity. I remember sitting and just…..watching you in Medical, not able to do anything but pray. And there's the risk that finding out like this could do the same to you."

Her lips were a narrow line. "We don't know why the Heroic Spirit bonded to you is doing……ANY….of what it's doing. Why it refused to manifest after it was bonded to you, and is still giving you the silent treatment. But it IS helping……it gave you access to its powers in Fuyuki, then the sword in France, and then a second Noble Phantasm just a few weeks ago."

"It does feel like he has his reasons," whispered Mash. "There always felt like there was a…..lock, or a chain, around the sword before. Keeping it in its scabbard. But that's gone now."

[....I do, though they're looking increasingly petty the more time passes. But you aren't wrong about the sword. Much as I wish I could, I can't keep you from drawing it like I used to. Some doors, once opened, don't close. Even if they should.]

"And drawing it….using it, before you even knew who the Heroic Spirit is, well, we all saw how that went." She sighed. "This feels like another instance of too much, too fast. And my Sensei and my Teacher are both always stressing patience - slow and steady wins the race, y'know?"

"Ok." Mash turned to Kratos. "And you, Mr. Kratos?"

"It is your choice," he rumbled. "But….power, any power, always comes with a price. And shortcuts…..whatever they might be, come with a steeper price yet." For a moment, his scars ached, and he only just managed to avoid reaching up to grasp at his forearms.

"That…..mostly goes in line with what I've been thinking myself," admitted Mash. "I want to know…..I want to know so badly. And I want to be able to fight better, too. But….." Her arms wrapped around herself. "I just don't know. I keep weighing both options in my mind, and I can't come to a decision." She glanced from one of them, to the other. "That's why I wanted to ask the two of you."

"And?"

Mash sighed. "You've both given me something to think about. You both think I shouldn't…..and I sort of agree, but….."

"I notice you haven't mentioned taking Morgan up on her offer - it's always Mordred," commented Fujimaru.

Mash sniffed. "I'm not stupid, Senpai. If I'm worried about what might be asked of me for learning the Heroic Spirit's name like this, instead of discovering it on my own, how much worse do you think it would be if I owed a favor to Morgan le Faye? So I'm going to assume you're being sarcastic there."

"Just…..saying, is all," said Fujimaru. "I think, despite your talk about self-sacrifice, about it being worth it if me and Kratos survive, you're more worried about that than you're letting yourself believe."

"Maybe," whispered Mash. "If it can save your lives - either of them, I still think it might be worth it. But…"

"I would give my life for my son's in an instant," mumbled Kratos. "To sacrifice yourself for another is not wrong…….but only if it is necessary." He grunted. "Be careful that you do not see that as your only option. This power you seek may not be what you need at this time."

Mash took a deep breath, held it for a second, then exhaled. "Ok. I've…..you've both given me a lot to consider. I think…."

Fujimaru patted the girl on her shoulder. "We'll give you some space, Mashie, so you can think." Her eyes grew larger, somehow. "Before you go, can I get a hug?"

"Oh…yes!" The girl eagerly wrapped her arms around her friend (Fujimaru's cheeks faintly pink). "I could use one right now….thank you, Senpai."

One of Fujimaru's eyes settled on Kratos. "You want in on this, big guy?" One of her arms slipped away from Mash, making an opening.

A noise escaped his lips - it was not a laugh, but it may have been tinged with at least a touch of fondness. "I am fine."

"Good," came a cold voice from behind him.

Kratos was moving before he had registered it, axe already out of its harness.

Morgan stood in the shadows of the alley, a bored look on her face. "You will not need that toy," she said, sparing a disdainful look at the Leviathan Axe. "At least, not for me. But you are needed at the gates."

The girls had broken apart behind him, Mash quickly putting her body between her Master and Morgan. "What's going on?"

The corner of Morgan's mouth quirked up. "We apparently have a visitor. One that may be related to the thing that has my…….contractor so worried." She turned, and walked into the shadows, her body becoming one with them. "You may wish to take a look."

---

They ran.

Thankfully, the gates were not far. And, despite Morgan's ominous words, when they arrived, everything seemed normal - at least, until one saw the agitation of those on the walls.

"What's going on here?" bellowed Mordred, who had torn around the corner at approximately the same time as Kratos and the others. The knight's head swiveled upwards, seeking out one person in particular atop the wall. "Sam - report, dammit!"

A man, a simple badge on his chest designating him as holding some kind of rank, turned, and raised his hands almost helplessly. "Sir Mordred……I can't explain it. It doesn't look like we're under attack, but….."

Mordred swore, and, with a burst of red lightning, simply leapt to the top of the walls. She had barely landed when her arms shot out, grasping the edge, as she peered down. "What the……"

They heard her take a gulp of breath, then…. "Get up here, you three. Now!"

Kratos took the path of simple expediency. One arm went around the waist of a girl, and, with a simple warning to 'Brace yourselves', they were then atop the wall.

"A little warning!" yelled Fujimaru, as she, and Mash, squirmed out of his grip, and got their legs under them. She seemed to be about to shout something else, when her eyes landed on the same thing that Kratos had seen, and her words died.

The outside of the gates were…..changed. Instead of wood and stone houses, cobblestone streets choked with fog, and the urban decay of the docks, it now resembled nothing less than a bright, sunny meadow. Almost too picturesque - too perfect. Sunlight shone down on green grass, which was blowing in a gentle wind, and, at the edges, trees could be seen, the branches creaking as they swayed.

And the centerpiece of it all was a table, a large one, with several chairs, all of them pulled back, as if it was merely awaiting guests. Kratos distinctly saw more than one teapot on the table, and a variety of foods, resting in the center (mostly sweets - things such as the cookies Da Vinci had introduced to him on his first day in Chaldea). And every place was set - there was a plate, utensils, and a cup and saucer at each.

"It's like something out of a storybook," whispered Mash.

Blue lines were flaring at the edges of Fujimaru's eyes. "The book there, in the middle…….that's Alice in Wonderland….."

"It's more than a simple book."

Fujimaru flinched - badly enough that Mash had to catch her by the collar to prevent her from falling headfirst off the wall. Once she was stable again, the girl turned a glare on the person who had startled her. "Could you STOP doing that?"

Morgan paid no attention to the girl, staring down at the scene below, as was everyone else on the wall.

Mordred sighed. "Mother……what's going on?" The knight's armor formed around her. "Do I need to go out there and fight?"

Morgan lazily slid her gaze over to her child. "I do not think so. While this is…..unusual, I believe it is more akin to a parley. One that is waiting on you to begin."

Mordred frowned, to which Mordred just waved her hand dismissively. "You should be safe enough. My powers can extend far enough from the wall that you, at least, should be in no danger. I will even deign to watch out for these Chaldeans as well, if you would have it of me."

"That good with you lot?" asked Mordred. At Kratos' grunt, and Fujimaru's nod, the knight hopped up to the top of crenulations. "Then let's go."

Fujimaru was already retreating from Kratos, as Mordred leapt down from the wall. "Mash can carry me, thanks. I think I've reached my limit for manhandling for the day - no offense."

A second later, they were down on the ground, Fujimaru slipping out from Mash's arms.

Mordred was already stomping up to the table. "Ok, we're here! You wanted us here! Get this show on the road! Who the hell are you, and are we talking or fighting?"

There was no immediate response. Mordred growled, and, from her body language, seemed to be considering cleaving the table itself in half, when the book Fujimaru had spotted began to move.

It shook from side to side, rattling the table, then sprang upwards - its every movement being tracked by both Mordred's sword and Kratos' axe, as well as Fujimaru pointing finger, a Gandr gathering on the tip. The spine cracked, and the pages turned, of their own accord, crudely drawn images spilling out from between the cover. Candies, animals, knights, flowers - things that could have easily been drawn by children.

Then the book changed.

Into a girl.

"Please!" she sobbed, tears flowing from her eyes. "They've cornered Jackie, and you aren't horrible like the robot-man or the clown - please, you've got to help her!"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Would you look at that, it's daughteru-o-clock. Hello Jackie, hello Fran, hello Nursery. See that big scary man? GET HIM.

At this point in the story, I'm assuming Kratos is around middle-school to early high-school literate in English, given it's been a few months, he's had daily lessons in the language, and I assume he'd apply himself with the single-minded determination that we know from the man. JAlter I assume is somewhere around grade-school level, as she's had less time to learn, and wasn't literate at all beforehand (unlike Kratos, who is, in at least Greek and the Norse Runes, at bare minimum from God of War canon), but is no less devoted, given how hard she worked to learn to read for Summer 3 (Best Summer, though Summer 5 comes close).

I figured, if anything could get Mo's complete self-confidence in herself to break, it would be her parents ugly fighting. Because no matter how difficult her relationship is with both of them, at the end of the day, they're still her parents, and she has some feelings for them - more positive ones for Artoria than Morgan, but I still believe she feels something for Morgan that isn't negative. (Not something I can really understand, both my parents were wonderful. I was extraordinarily lucky in that regard.)

I expected Mo and JAlter to fight more, but heaven help me, when I let them off their leashes, they BONDED. Truly this our darkest hour.Hellboy.jpg.

Apparently bacon originated in China (surprising, I'd have thought it was European, but a lot of stuff originated in China, so less surprising than it should be), and spread to the Roman Empire later - so I'm assuming (as I can't get a real solid timeline on it) that it would have existed during the Classical Greek era. So, it's new to Kratos - and is at least part of the reason for his ongoing feud with Primate Murder.

Writing slates, the precursor of the blackboard, dates back to 11th century India. Actual blackboards as a classroom staple date to around the 16th century.

Romani, obviously, is lying through his teeth about being uninformed about many things in this chapter - particularly re: the Grail War and Grands.

We still don't know who the Grand Saber is. Knowing Nasu, it'll probably be Artoria, which would somewhat explain why base Artoria hasn't shown up in anything story-related, though it still makes it weird given how she's still summonable in regular Grail Wars - but then again, that's a whole thing itself with her being summoned from Camlann over and over and over again. So it's a kludge - and watch the finale of Part 2 later this year completely overturn my 'no Mo, your daddy can't be the Grand Saber' from this chapter.

Chapter 64: London 8

 

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 64

 

EARLIER

SOMEWHERE BENEATH THE CITY​

Tesla was leaving a trail of crimson as he stalked down the stairs, steam still hissing from his overheated body.

Paracelsus and Babbage didn't look up from their work, didn't want to risk drawing the attention of their Master - which was focused entirely on Tesla.

In what could only be said was towering displeasure.

"So, you have failed."

There was emotion just roiling beneath the man's cultured tones, a blandness that was hiding what foretold to be a sheer tidal wave, an explosion of rage, whenever Zolgen finally stopped pretending.

Tesla, whatever else he had been in his life, was no coward. Paracelsus saw, out of the corner of his eye, how the scientist met the Makiri's glare without so much as a flinch. "You sent me to fight a god - and not one who stood alone. While the Casters were nothing to me, and the girl Master was only human, that was far from the entirety of the forces arrayed there."

He shoved a hand, the one that had been ripped almost in half by the god, directly into Zolgen's face, and, despite how much it must have pained him, began ticking off fingers. "The Fragment of Sefar alone would have been a sore test for me, given the tally of deaths she has to her name. Some of those names that I can only claim to have surpassed, she has met them in single combat, and overcome." A second finger, then a third. "The oni resists lightning, unsurprising once one knows her Legend. The man and the dragon are fearsome. And even that cloned Avenger is vicious, and much smarter than you made her out to be."

Tesla stepped up to his Master, towering over the man, and, despite their position underground, all within heard a boom of thunder from outside. "I fought them, and I fought them to a STANDSTILL! You should be praising me for managing that, instead of claiming I 'failed'."

"Oh, should I?" Zolgen's face twisted into a sneer. "You stand before me bleeding from a score of wounds, empty-handed, one of the key elements of our plan in the HANDS OF OUR ENEMIES!"

He took a deep breath, his voice smoothing out, returning to its previous level of volume. "And you think I should be…..praising you?"

It wasn't the shouting that got to Tesla, that finally made the blood drain from his face, nor was it the shift between tones and volumes, the flip between deadly calm, to enraged yelling, back to deadly calm.

No, it was Zolgen simply raising his right hand, displaying its back.

And the full set of Command Seals there - the one he had used on Tesla mere hours ago already having been replenished.

The twisted expression on Zolgen's face had taken a turn for the cruel, as he observed his Servant's reaction. "Would you care to restate that, Servant? Our plans have seen a setback - a massive one. There are other pieces, necessary ones in the city, that still must be retrieved, but they are minor…..in comparison to the King of the Wind Hunt, around which this ENTIRE PLAN WAS FORMED!"

Red began to flare from the back of Zolgen's hand, and his voice lowered to a hiss. "Do you have ANY idea of what the price of failure will be for all of us - not just you miserable ghosts, but myself….my ENTIRE line, if we do not accomplish our goals here?"

From behind them, no, all around them, there was a sudden pressure. The feeling of eyes, not just one set, but far too many to count, peering over their shoulders, peeling back the layers of their skin to see deep within them. And, distantly, the sound of something massive, slithering, just out of the corner of their eyes.

"Perhaps," began Zolgen, a quaver in his voice that he couldn't quite suppress. "You all need a reminder of the hell that awaits us if we should fail. It could be motivation……for all of you….."

Paracelsus was bracing himself, wondering if he could manage to imbibe one of his alchemical mixes, for fortification against the oncoming pain, and Babbage had stilled - to the point where even the hissing steam that accompanied his every motion had ceased, when Tesla spoke up.

"I never said that I returned empty-handed."

If anything, that only seemed to agitate their Master more. "Ah, so then I am blind?" He made a show of looking around the chamber. "You have the King of Storms here, but in some….pocket dimension, and were just waiting for the appropriate moment to present her?"

A pause, and the red around his hand, which had dimmed momentarily, flared almost to blinding. "No? Then…."

"I managed to run the little collection of souls you desire to the ground."

That managed to get Zolgen's attention, and, to the relief of all the Servants in the room, seemed to defuse the imminent explosion of his temper.

"And, I found the other - our confrontation crashed us right into a collection of Bounded Fields, ones that had been hiding an estate. After I managed to extricate myself from the fog, I noticed the unique equipment there." Something sparkled in his eyes, before that excitement dimmed. "And, I sensed another presence in the estate, deep underground - the Servant was fleeing to it, so it seems the theories we had about the three children working together have been borne out."

"And they are still there?" Zolgen had lowered his hand, and his tone was back to the detached, cultured tones of the Noble Mage he affected in better times.

"I left Mephistopheles there to watch the perimeter. Given my condition, I was in no shape to assist with a capture." Tesla grimaced, either from the admission he was forced to make, or simply the mention of demon's name. "I felt it would be more prudent to keep them corralled, while I reported back."

(Even Paracelsus found himself unsettled by Mephistopheles. Humans, he could understand, somewhat. Mephistopheles did not operate under anything resembling sane logic, and thus could not be easily quantified. Or understood - which meant he could not be predicted.)

Zolgen's hand had lowered, and the light had dimmed, as his eyes lost focus. "She is still there, or so Mephistopheles reports." He blinked, and his eyes refocused. "Paracelsus, take a team, but make sure you return here with both of them….ALIVE." His eyes narrowed. "Of the three of you, you are the only one with the medical, or magical knowledge to keep a wounded Servant alive long enough for them to serve our purposes. As you did with the King of Storms."

"As you wish," said Paracelsus, already beginning to catalogue what he had on hand. Healing tinctures, for certain - the Assassin would not come without a fight, based on her belligerence in the past…..

He was starting to rise from his seat, body already turning to head to the manufacturing area, where Babbage's robots were assembled and repaired, to see what was available, when his Master's voice broke into his thoughts.

"And, as for you Tesla…….SUFFER."

Paracelsus felt mana flood the room, unmistakable in its origins.

And Tesla screamed, and fell to the ground.

His body convulsed, as red energy coursed up and down his frame - likely causing him agony, from the way the man was twitching and screaming. (Somewhat clinically, his mind wondered if the pain was purely mental, or if Zolgen was so petty as to physically harm an already wounded Servant - but mostly, he was just glad that it wasn't him who was also being subjected to this. Again.)

"You still failed," hissed Zolgen, staring down at Tesla. "And your attempt to mollify me, and escape your due punishment has failed." Zolgen drew in a breath. "But, you are correct - you WERE outmatched in the fight earlier. And that is a problem, as you are…..or were, our trump card."

Zolgen's head turned, and landed on Babbage. "And so, Nikola Tesla, you shall have to be……improved."

---

 

NOW

GATES OF FORTRESS MORDRED​

Fujimaru was the first one to find her voice, in the wake of the girl's(?) desperate plea. "Jackie? Who's…..Jackie?" That name……her head was beginning to ache, and she felt as though there was something on the tip of her tongue…..just out of reach.

Kratos had a brow that had long since passed 'furrowed' and was well on its way to 'craggy', or 'thunderous', but for all that, the expression that was nosing its way though his usual stoicism looked very much like the one she was pretty sure was on her face at the moment, which meant…..

Wait…….this couldn't be related to….

"Jackie is Jackie," said the girl, with that innocent tone of 'this is obvious, and you're being an idiot' that only really little kids could manage perfectly. In adults, they always managed to let some disdain or biting sarcasm leak in - you just didn't keep that level of innocence past a certain age. "You two played with her before……before the evil clown showed up, and I had to save her."

Played with….evil clown……OH SHIT.

And, by the looks of things, Kratos had come to the same conclusions she had.

"Jackie……was whatever was in that fog?"

It took her a moment to recognize her own voice, and by that time, the little girl was nodding.

"Yep!" she said, brightly. "We hadn't seen you before, and Jackie wanted some new friends, so we invited Mr. God and the human there for a playdate! She was having so much fun…..at least until the evil clown man hurt her."

The girl's form flickered, and, for a split second, Fujimaru saw something……else. Tall, absolutely not human at all, with far too many eyes….and mouths…..and……tentacles….and…..

What looked like the same little girl's head, hanging from a neck that would give a giraffe pause…..upside down.

And then, it was gone, and there was just the same little girl standing there, in her frilly black dress and braided pigtails, looking for all the world like just another little moppet.

"Girl," rumbled Kratos, his axe in his hands, but not raised (yet). "What are you?"

The girl tilted her head to the side, and raised a finger to her lips. "I'm a lot of things, Mr. God. Sometimes, I'm Alice." Her hands dropped to her sides, and she gave a childish little curtsey. "Sometimes…….I have to be mean, and show people my scary face." Again, that….THING seemed to be superimposed over her, and Fujimaru flinched.

Heedless of Fujimaru's unease, the girl twirled in a circle. "But I'm always……" There was another explosion of childish scribbles, stars and flowers and candies, all of which obscured the girl's form (along with the smoke produced).

When it cleared, the book that had been resting on the table was back, floating where the girl had been standing. "Nursery Rhyme!" it singsonged, wobbling in the air with each syllable.

Wait…..a book. A book was a Servant. What…..how….

Fujimaru was spared from the rest of the standard questions her mind was screaming at her by her communicator activating. "Fujimaru….Kratos. The space you're in right now is reading similarly to Iskandar's Noble Phantasm."

She was just frazzled enough that it took her mind a second to catch up, and, by that time, Kratos was already speaking.

"We are in……" He paused, likely to dredge the unfamiliar term up. "...a Reality Marble?"

"That's what it looks like," said Da Vinci. "The sunny pastoral countryside you're standing in could have been an illusion, but once you crossed the borders, it didn't read like one - as near as we can tell, you actually ARE standing on real grass in somewhere that isn't the foggy streets of London."

"It's a story made manifest. How……fascinating."

Fujimaru's head jerked around, taking in a rather disheveled Andersen, slipping out from between the gate, which had been opened, but just a crack.

At her expression, he shrugged. "I saw what Kratos was seeing, for a brief moment, and, as a writer, I couldn't resist." He frowned. "Though, I had thought, given the title of the book, our guest might have been Carrol, and not this….anamoly."

"She is…a story?" Kratos' voice wasn't quite dripping with incredulousness, but it was clear he didn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"I'm all stories!" chimed in the Servant, as it floated over their heads. "All the stories of wicked witches and abused step-daughters, of brave knights and evil dragons, of slow tortoises and fast hares, faerie tales and bedtime stories - I'm all of them, and more!"

"How?" By the looks of things, Fujimaru only barely managed to beat Kratos to the same question. "I thought Heroic Spirits were supposed to be, y'know, people who actually lived and died and made their mark on history - Cu's always going on about how his terrifying teacher can't be one because she can't die. How….." She trailed off, as her brain began to overheat.

"How can a story be a Heroic Spirit?" rumbled Kratos, finishing her thought for her.

"It is not as though the vaunted Throne of Heroes is above stretching the borders of what it defines as a 'Hero'." Morgan's voice boomed down from atop the walls. "If it is capable of such flexibility on a moral standing, then why not also on the very concept of a 'human'? After all, there are Divine Spirits who reside on the Throne, and both myself and this so-called sister of mine you have rescued are at least somewhat of the Fae." She sniffed the air haughtily. "In truth, no such Artoria as the one you found ever existed, so, in that light, is she any more 'real' than the book there?"

"And there's animals on the Throne, too!" The book wiggled in the air. "There's a mean doggie that doesn't really come by much, since he doesn't get along with people - too bitey."

"Ok……" Romani sounded like he was taking slow, measured breaths. "We've met a Heroic Spirit cobbled together from two versions of the same god, one from our world, one from Kratos', a copy-Avenger of Jeanne d'Arc, a goddess hijacking another's summon so they were two in one, and a bunch of other oddities so far. A….conceptual Heroic Spirit isn't anything out of the ordinary, in comparison."

Andersen snickered. "There's also the persistent rumor of Phantom Spirits - Heroic Spirits who didn't actually exist, but the belief in them was so strong that they still managed to manifest on the Throne."

Fujimaru blinked. "You mean like that one Ghostbusters episode?" Blank stares. "Ah, nevermind, forgot who I was talking to. Thing I used to watch with my dad - point of it was, enough people believed in Sherlock Holmes that he, Watson, and Moriarty left behind ghosts, even though they were never alive or real."

Andersen nodded. "Not a bad parallel."

"So……" The book's voice became plaintive. "Does that mean you'll help Jackie?"

"Book….." Kratos made a rumbling noise in his throat, then started again. "Girl. Land, and hold still."

Amazingly, the book did exactly as he'd asked, quickly floating to the ground, and then returning to her humanoid form. Large eyes peered up at Kratos, hope, and just a touch of fear in them. Fujimaru wasn't even getting the brunt of them, and she still felt her resolve crumbling - those things were lethal.

Kratos, somewhat unsurprisingly, was more proof against them than she was - but she supposed he was used to it, given he'd already raised a couple of kids in his time. Though when he started speaking, his tone was a touch less gruff than usual. "What has happened that would make you come to us?"

Nursery's lips pursed, the girl clearly thinking back. "After the evil clown hurt Jackie, we were hiding with another friend. Her leg still wasn't fully healed, but there's not a lot of the food she likes left in the city, and we couldn't risk going out with the evil clown still looking for us." Despite being under Kratos' gaze, the girl began sashaying from side to side, almost unconsciously. "But then, we heard the thunder, and that made us poke our heads out of Mr. Victor's estate."

There was a gasp, from behind and above, and, again, Fujimaru found herself looking back over her shoulder. Jekyll was standing beside Morgan, though, even at this distance, she could see that his hands were gripping the edge of the wall, to the point that she was sure his knuckles were bone-white.

He swallowed thickly, then pried one of his hands free, and made a dismissive gesture. "It's……not nothing, but something that can wait. Please, continue."

Nursery blinked, then continued. "Anyways, with all the noise and fighting that was happening there, we thought we might have a chance to get some food for Jackie, so we crept out super sneaky. It was going so well until someone threw this sparky man at us." She shuddered. "He was really scary."

Once again, Fujimaru found herself envying Kratos for the sheer amount of stoicism he possessed - it translated into a hell of a poker face. There wasn't even so much as a twitch from him at the girl's frightened words. "What happened then?" he asked, his voice every bit as patient as it was when he was training Mash.

"We ran." The girl's head tilted to the side. "Jackie was hurt, and while the sparky man was too, she couldn't sneak up on him when he could make everything zappy. And my magic wasn't able to scare him much, it seemed like he was eating it like candy. So we ran away, like we did when the evil clown hurt Jackie." Her shoulders slumped. "But the evil clown followed us home. And the zappy man followed him."

"And you were trapped," stated Kratos, finishing the girl's thought for her.

Nursery nodded. "Mr. Victor's Bounded Fields were keeping them back, but they weren't going away! And there were those robots watching every inch of the streets, and we could hear them talking about 'reinfarcements'! So Jackie had me sneak out through the secret passage in the basement to go get help, and….."

Her eyes, if possible, got even larger as she stared up at them. "Please, Jackie had so much fun playing with you, and you don't seem to be horrible like everyone else in this place…..please….help her!"

Fujimaru's brain felt like it was moving a mile a minute - someone named 'Jackie', used knives (at least going by the wounds Kratos had after he and her got out of that fog), hid in a fog bank - given the time period, all her thoughts were leading her right down a single path.

'Verily, I think you are on the right track, Master.' Shakespeare's pompous tones rang in her head. 'This feels familiar - and I think your Archer of Black would say the same thing.'

'I would, in fact, as you have predicted.' confirmed Chiron.

Oh. 'So, this is someone ELSE from that ugly war, then?'

She could feel the two of them pausing to think, each in their respective parts of her brain that they had settled in (Shakespeare's came with a scent of old wood, a weight of ages and dusty tomes - and if she ended up keeping him around, she was halfway convinced she needed a CAT scan of her head to make sure that area of her brain hadn't been branded with the words 'Globe Theater'). 'We believe so, Master. While Shakespeare never met the Assassin in question, I believe I did - or that they threatened my Master during the course of that war.' Her brain shuddered in the pattern of a shrug - or at least a portion of it did. 'But other than that, I cannot recall much - be wary, in any event.'

In the time she had been holding a conference with some of her Servants, Kratos had been talking. "Your……friend attacked us. It was not 'play.' " Some of his usual gruffness began to bleed into his words, crowding out the calm patience he had been projecting. "Her very presence did something to Fujimaru, something that injured her badly."

"I know." The girl was eerily calm, and suddenly, her voice lost the childish lilt that had been so present. Again, her image flickered, and she seemed almost….taller, for a second. More akin to a young adult than a girl. Facially and structurally the same person, but….older, and the dress she was wearing bled its black away, becoming almost bone-white. "We thought you were more of the ones who had been chasing us, trying to capture Jack, so we acted. When our actual enemies presented themselves, we realized we were wrong."

The moment passed, and the young girl returned, her dress once more black as night. "We're very, very sorry, Mr. God. We…..know we've been bad." Her head bowed, hair shading her face. "And……we know we have to be punished. Send us to bed without supper, spank us…..don't let us have candy…..do all of that, and anything else, just…..please. Save Jackie."

In the time they had been talking, Jekyll had made his way down from the wall. Carefully, almost awkwardly, he laid a hand on Kratos' arm. "Lord Kratos, please - the man she speaks of, Victor Frankenstein - he is a friend of mine. One I've kept in contact with through radio since this crisis started - he was largely unconcerned with, well, everything, being more concerned with his work, and…."

"Victor Frankenstein," interrupted Kratos. "The man who created life?" A corner of Kratos' mouth began to curl downwards. "....artificially?"

Unspoken was the 'in the same way Mash was created' - Fujimaru could feel it, could hear it. If she had been horrified at what had been done to her Mashie, Kratos had been livid - rage that had only been controlled by the fact that the people who had sentenced the girl to a limited lifespan were no longer here. All those things ran through her head, but what her mouth ended up saying was "You've read Frankenstein?"

"I recommended it to him," said Medusa, appearing in a shower of gold. "After we learned about Mash - I thought he'd enjoy it, and it would provide a bit of perspective, even if it doesn't really touch on how Mages see that sort of thing."

Kratos made a noise. "Chaldea had it under the title of The Modern Prometheus. It was a good tale. One of tragedy…..and hubris."

And Ritsuka Fujimaru had the occasion to watch the dreaded, fearsome Medusa preen like a schoolgirl - if only for a second - before her smile relaxed into her usual more bland expression.

Jekyll's face, on the other hand, was troubled. "So……is that what this project of his that's had him so unconcerned with the city's fate is?" His head drooped. "Foolish, Victor."

He took a deep breath. "Still - I would ask you to aid him if you could. I…..cannot say that he is a good man, especially in light of these revelations. But he IS a friend…..and his knowledge may be a boon in these times."

"Speaking for myself," said Fujimaru. "If we could have whatever is in that fog aimed at our enemies - and not us, I think it's worth a shot." She shuddered, as a voice began ranting within the confines of her head. "And Shuten wants you to know she told you so."

That got her a grunt, one that sounded very much like 'Noted', at least to her ears.

More and more people were starting to slip through the gates, joining them outside. Mordred glanced at them, then at the girl who was still staring at them, hopefully. "So, if we're going to do this, we have to leave some kind of garrison here. Us galloping off into the night is just the kind of opening they'd be looking for to take Father back."

"Which will avail them little, as I will be coming with you all," stated Artoria.

Mordred's bellowed 'Not happening!' blended into Kratos' more quiet, but every bit as forceful 'No.'

Somewhat unsurprisingly, the King's ire was immediately directed at Mordred, who met it head-on. "You can still barely walk, Father. You don't have your horse, you're still only just holding yourself together - just no."

Artoria was opening her mouth to respond - and by the looks of it, angrily, when Kratos spoke over her burgeoning protest. "We cannot spare the focus to protect you. Would you deliver yourself back to your captors, out of stubborn pride?"

Fujimaru swore she could taste thunder in the air, as the woman glared daggers at both Kratos and Mordred. "You would leave me behind? With…." Her eyes darted to the side, landing on the pale form of Morgan, still atop of the walls, watching the proceedings.

"She gave her word, Father." Mordred's tone was soft, patient. "And if we're going to do this, we need to move fast. Honestly - can you really move fast right now?"

Her response was a long time in coming. "No. And certainly not without Llamrei, not in my condition." From her tone, it was obvious how much even this admission galled her.

"I know you want to get back at these guys, believe me, I get it, Father, but this isn't going to be the final battle or anything." Mordred grinned viciously. "This is a raid, at best, and I was good at raids. In, out, punch the jerkasses in the face, save the kids, get back to the castle." She hesitated for a moment, then laid a hand on her Father's shoulder. "You'll get your chance to fuck these guys up, trust me."

"And she will be in good company!" Shakespeare's voice boomed down from the walls - she didn't even have to look to know he'd struck a dramatic pose. "We shall valiantly remain behind to help fortify this resolute fortress!"

"By which he means that he also doesn't have the speed to keep up with a mission of this caliber," muttered Andersen. "Not that I do either, so I will be staying back as well - I don't think my Master would be terribly pleased by a request from myself to ride piggyback, as that is the only way my short legs could keep up."

From the huffed breath, half-grunt, half-snort, that came from Kratos' direction, it sounded like he was in agreement. "Do we split our forces further?"

His eyes landed on her, and she was quick to shake her head. "Nope - I'm going. Fighting Tesla took all of us - and I'm not going to let you go off there with just Medusa and Avenger, just in case whoever's waiting on us is as strong as he is. Morgan's Bounded Fields should hold up, as long as we're quick."

She glanced back at the woman in question, who was as still as a statue. "And it's not like it'll be just her here. Our writers said they'd help, and Artoria's Artoria, even hurt."

Artoria sniffed. "I can lead the defense of a siege well enough. It would allow me to keep my strength in reserve, should the walls fall."

"They shall not," said Morgan, her voice making the words a statement of fact. "If I did not know better, I would think you were throwing aspersions on my skill…..sister."

"I assume nothing in war," replied Artoria. "Doing so is the province of fools or madmen - of which I hope you are neither……sister." She glanced over her shoulder. "I know your proficiency in your craft, better than possibly no other, save Merlin himself. But I will not assume that you are infallible, your walls inviolable, because, if then, I am proven wrong, I shall have no plan for such a black day."

She began to limp back behind the walls. "I shall go to rest, then, since that is what you wish for me to do. But I shall have words with you, my child, should it turn out I would have been needed on your expedition."

Mordred just shook her head as her Father stalked away from them. "Well, at least that's consistent - she still hates losing. Doesn't matter if it's a joust or an argument." A half barked laugh escaped the knight's lips, before she turned back to them. "So, Me, Kratos, the girl, Shieldy and four more Servants? Archer of Black's fast, and Medusa's a Rider, so those two should be able to keep up. What about the rest of you?"

Sakamoto laughed. "I'm a Rider too, you know. But in the unlikely event I start to fall behind, I don't think Oryou would mind carrying me."

"Might have to carry the girl, Ryouma," said Oryou, who was lazily hovering over his shoulder. "She is only human, after all."

"Eh," Fujimaru shrugged. "If it comes to that, I've got my Uma-Avenger here."

Avenger shot her a look that could have killed. "I WILL bite you, Red."

"We'll keep up, Sir Mordred," said Mash. "All of us."

"Alright, then - no time like the present." She glanced over to the girl, who was watching them all, her eyes brimming. "Lead the way, girl - we've got a princess to rescue!"

---

Once again, they found themselves picking their way through the mist-choked streets of London. But, as before, they had a definite destination in mind.

"It's far away," said the floating book, as it hovered around Kratos. "Mr. Victor said he lived there because there were fewer nosy neighbors." Somehow, the book gave the impression of a sad frown. "It seemed lonely, though - no neighbors means no one to play with."

No one to investigate your……experiments. Kratos recalled how the man in the book had sought out secluded places in his attempts to create life, so as to not be noticed - and thus, punished for what he was attempting. In that, he had succeeded, he had escaped the punishment of the laws of man - but given the ruin his life had become in the wake of his….'success', it is possible the gods (most likely the Abrahamic God, given the time and place the novel was written) still levied their judgement against the man.

Hubris, and tragedy, as he had said. A worthy story - one he would have to remember to pass on to Mimir.

"But we're getting close," continued Nursery. The pages of the book fluttered. "I hope we're in time."

The communicator on Kratos' wrist activated. "Unfortunately, we're not reading any signs of Bounded Fields ahead." Romani's mouth was a grim line. "Normally, that could just be because they're, as a rule, hidden until they're needed, but…."

"This is an attack," he rumbled. "They would not be hidden. Not now." He strained his ears, but, as ever, the fog seemed to muffle all sound, save for that that occurred right next to him. If battle was joined, he could not tell. "We must hurry."

He glanced back, momentarily, at the group. Mordred and Medusa were easily pacing him - though the knight was clearly pushing herself to do so (that competitive nature that Mordred had mentioned in her father seemed to have been passed on). Avenger just behind them, her eyes rolling as she noticed his gaze, though it was directed ahead, at one, or both of the women in front of her. Sakamoto was apace with her, one hand held to his hat, keeping it from being torn away by the winds. As to his lover….

"I sent her up to scout ahead!" shouted Fujimaru, through gasps for breath. Lines of blue - the edges of which were beginning to verge into an angry red, ran up and down her legs. "She's the closest thing we have to a scout, with my Assassin injured. I'd rather keep Archer close, since he's our main source of ranged damage." She frowned. "But she hasn't spotted anything yet."

Said Archer was bringing up the rear, his attention split between their flanks, and his panting Master. Mash's steps were a touch slower than she could manage, but she was dividing her presence between the edge of the front of the pack, and her Master, who was keeping up - so far.

"Are you sure you don't need some water, Senpai?" Mash's eyes darted to her shield, where, undoubtedly, at least a few bottles were stored.

The girl shook her head, a motion that sent sweat flying from her already plastered hair. "I…..can keep going for a bit longer! And we're almost there……" Her eyes, with just a touch of pleading in them, locked onto the book. "Right?"

"Almost there, almost there!" chanted the book, which Fujimaru apparently took as some sort of confirmation.

"You are doing well, Master," said Chiron, with a pleased half-smile on his face. "It is good to know all the training I have been giving you is bearing fruit."

The girl didn't reply, her focus entirely on drawing in breath, then expelling it, and continuing to place one foot in front of the other. Truthfully, Kratos was a touch impressed. For a girl who had been just an ordinary specimen mere months ago, it was an adequate showing.

The thought had barely stilled in his mind when he began to hear the first strains of it - the sound that was now becoming familiar to him. The bursts of air, the whirring of the internal devices that moved these automatons.

Their enemies were close.

"Be ready," he rumbled, his voice washing over each of them, even as he reached back and freed the Leviathan Axe from its harness. Almost as one, weapons began forming in the hands of the Heroic Spirits alongside him.

It was, truthfully, a bit sudden how the massive estate suddenly loomed before them, as though it had chosen to thrust itself out of the fog, directly at them. A lavish thing, certainly, of a different make entirely than the more humble homes and shops that had surrounded them in London proper. A fence, akin to the one that had surrounded Nero's palace, or the manor that Liz's castle had been transformed into, encircled the place, topped with wicked spikes. And, as with Liz's changed home, an impressive gate, one displaying what Kratos assumed was the crest of the family Frankenstein, was the only way in or out. Just to the right of the estate, the river Thames flowed, the churning waters pushing a water-wheel, a new construction, it seemed, one that had been recently added to the edge of the mansion.

The estate itself was of a similar style to the Clock Tower buildings, though it was much more clearly a home, rather than a place constructed for education - and more closely resembled Liz's castle than the manors and mansions he had seen, in passing, in this city. A massive tower dominated the center of the structure, while two sprawling wings jutted out from said tower, akin to arms held open to welcome guests in. And yet……

Like the manor of Poe, there was an air of neglect that hung over the property. Less the weight of years and degeneration that had afflicted that manor house, and more…simple indifference to the necessary upkeep of the building. The grass and other foliage grew wild and untamed on the grounds, and the paint was, in spots on the estate, peeling. The only things that looked maintained were a series of spires and rods that jutted from the roofs of the estates. Wrought of iron - or steel, some of them cradled large glass orbs in their peaks, while others were ringed by spinning bits of metal, the purpose of which seemed unclear.

(Or would have been unclear, prior to his reading the book that Medusa had recommended.)

The tower itself was topped by a massive, jagged spike, one so large and unwieldy that it was a feat in and of itself that the tower did not topple from the thing's weight. Long enough that it seemed to pierce the heavens itself, the top of the thing was not visible to them, as it stretched up into the fog, which shrouded it from view.

Even now, it sparked with latent power - trace lightning still clinging to it.

In better times, the estate might have been an impressive sight. But it, like the Clock Tower, had been defaced by battle.

The gate was little more than a ruin, partially hanging off its hinges, the family crest little more than a melted lump of metal. Parts of the fence had been twisted to the side, creating openings wide enough to admit a man - or something with the proportions of a man. The windows had been hastily boarded up - or barred outright - barricades that were failing in their purpose, as automatons, both the dolls, and the more squat versions swarmed over them and, even now, were tearing the obstructions free. The door to the estate, at least, still held, though it creaked alarmingly on its hinges, as a massive automaton swung an even more massive club against the wooden barricade, and splinters flew.

"No sign of any Bounded Fields." Romani's voice crackled out, as Fujimaru's communicator activated. "Detecting…..at least two Servants, maybe more. We're having a hard time getting through the fog, and there's still some protections over the buildings that are messing with our scanners on top of that." His face, as it usually was during their campaigns, was worried. "Be care…"

A shriek, keening from above, cut him off. A slender, dark form dove down from out of the fog, wisps of it still clinging to her.

And Oryou was not alone.

A handful of similar forms darted down, hot in pursuit of the woman. Like her, they were slim and willowy, humanoid, and feminine, in shape and form, clad in simple shifts that hugged tight to their bodies. The difference between the two became obvious once one noticed the wings.

Impossibly thin and gossamer, so much so that, logically, it should have been impossible for them to fly - at least until one saw the bursts of fire that erupted from the edges of the wings. For a moment, Kratos was put in mind of the Dark Elves of Alfheim, but these things were not them - rather than the wasp wings of the Dark Elves, these things had wings that more closely resembled that of butterflies.

The rest of them, however, was not as harmless as those gentle insects.

Long claws - or talons, extended from their fingers, and from the flashes he got of their bare feet, they were similarly armed there as well. As Oryou jinked out of the way of one that had detached from the pack, slashing claws narrowlying missing the woman, it came close enough that he could see its face - and the mouthful of fangs it was displaying.

'Pixies.' Cu's voice sounded in his head. 'But not like any pixies I've ever seen! They were mischievous little sprites, but never actively hostile…..or outright feral like this bunch!' A low whistle thrummed across Cu Chulainn's string in his mind, as two more rocketed downward, limbs flashing, Oryou barely staying ahead of their attacks. 'And these things are faster than the ones I bumped into, as well - and that's without touching those jets they have in their wings.'

The air cracked with the sound of Sakamoto's revolver, as he fired upwards, attempting to screen some of the creatures away from his other half, to give her a moment to regroup. Most of his shots missed, but one managed to punch through the wing of a pixie that had allowed its bloodlust to cloud its vision to the point of distraction. Metal sounded against metal, and Kratos saw sparks, as the bullet tore through the wing.

'And they're machines, too - though I kind of suspected that with the jets and everything,' mused Cu. 'And just another instance of this weird Fae connection we're seeing everywhere in this misbegotten city.'

Oryou slithered under a crossing pair of arms, suddenly moving much faster than she had been, making a beeline for the injured machine. Fires burst from the thing's wings, as it backpedaled in the air, its motions jerky due to the damaged wing, but still very, very fast - but not fast enough. Oryou's fist crashed into the machine, and it was sent spinning away, damaged, but not out of the fight. Indeed, it was already beginning to regain control of its body, and was beginning what appeared to be an attempt to wheel itself around for a counter-charge…

When the Blades of Chaos, chains trailing behind them, thunked into its shoulders.

A noise escaped its lips, a split second before it was brutally torn from the air, and sent crashing into the ground. Rubble flew as its body impacted, hard.

And still, it was attempting to rise, seemingly not even stunned, or hindered by the damage it had taken.

Right up until Mordred barreled into it, sword leading. Clarent crackled as she cleaved into the machine's shoulder, the blade parting the metal like it was thin cloth, rather than forged plates. Right up until the blade stopped, partially through the body of the machine.

Mordred growled, lightning crackling around her form, and with a grunt of effort, she tore her blade through the remainder of the machine's body. "What the hell was that?" cursed the knight, aiming a kick at the machine's head. "It was like the stupid thing started actively fighting me halfway through me cutting it in two!"

"Look," said Medusa, her finger pointing at the downed machine. As they watched, thin tendrils of metal reached out from the two halves of the body, reaching for one another for an aching moment, before whatever force was animating them finally gave up, and the metallic fingers began to disintegrate.

"Was…..was that fucking thing trying to put itself back together?" asked Avenger.

"Possibly!" There was a gleam in Da Vinci's eyes, and, even with the span of centuries separating them, Kratos could sense the manic glee that had settled into the Universal Genius. "Kratos, do be a dear and get some samples of those things for Auntie Da Vinci, yes?" Her grin grew in leaps and bounds. "If those robots have been equipped with some kind of self-repairing nanomachines, then I desperately need to get a look at them!"

"If the situation permits," rumbled Kratos, already beginning to move again. The downed machine was not moving further, so it was likely….not dead, as it was never alive, but incapacitated.

"Go on!" shouted Sakamoto, continuing to fire skywards. "Oryou and I can handle these things - as long as they're occupied with us, they can't harry you. Go, save the kids!"

Kratos met the man's eyes, and nodded, then, with a grunt of effort, he took off. The last thing he saw before his head turned back to the fore was Sakamoto sliding out of the way of one of the metal pixies, his katana meeting the elongated nails of the thing head-on, and turning the attack aside, right before he stepped in, and separated one of the thing's wings from its body.

Oryou thundered down from the sky a second later, her feet piledriving the machine into the ground.

And then, his attention was entirely consumed by what was in front of it.

Almost as one, the machines that had been tearing at the last, meager defenses of the Frankenstein estate turned to face the force from Chaldea. A small handful continued to climb into the windows, and the large one hammering at the door maintained its motions, but the greater whole wheeled about to face their oncoming enemies.

And charged.

As they moved, they changed, becoming the now-familiar elven and goblinoid war-forms.

"Kratos." Medusa's voice sounded by his ear. "The far window there - I can make it, with a boost. As many machines as I've already seen gain entrance, they probably need some help inside."

Kratos hesitated for a long second - she was likely right, but there was no promise that this Jack would recognize her as an ally.

As if reading his thoughts, the book was suddenly right in his face. "It's ok, Mr. God! I can go with her - Jackie won't attack if I'm there, and she will listen to me." Its piece said, the book floated over and nestled itself into Medusa's arms. The purple-haired woman stared at it for a second, then turned her gaze to him, an eyebrow quirking upwards, over her blindfold.

So be it, then.

His shield snapped into place, and before the noise of it doing so had faded, Medusa was there, feet perched delicately upon it. His arm cocked back.

"Be wary," he rumbled. Her head jerked in a quick nod, then, she was gone, legs pushing herself off the edge of his shield, while, at the same time, his arm fired forward.

She was a needle of black and purple, slicing through the air in the blink of an eye. He'd scarcely drawn a breath into his lungs before she had vanished into the window she had indicated, Nursery's ecstatic "WHEEEEEEEEEEE!" still ringing in his ears.

And then their enemies were upon them.

A trio of capering elven-forms danced into his range, though they cartwheeled back, springing up and over the cut from the Leviathan Axe he sent their way. One, its body entirely inverted, landed on its hands, the arms braced as they absorbed the thing's weight, then, it was flying at his face, feet retracting, and a pair of blades sprang out. He jerked his head back, and the thing sailed by, close enough that he could see the intricate metalwork that passed for its skin.

And, as well, he could see the destruction that was wrought on its form when Mordred, trailing just behind him, leapt into the air, and swung her blade with every ounce of her strength behind it.

Time seemed to slow, as it often did in combat for him, and he saw the metal deform and tear, wires snapping as the blade tore through them, sparks flying as internal mechanisms were shattered.

And he saw, clearly, how the point of impact for Mordred's sword had already begun to seal itself shut by the time her blade finished ripping through the body of the machine.

'It is as Da Vinci suspects.' His mind seized the threads of all those bound to him. 'The machines can heal themselves. More effort will be required to destroy them.' A consideration crossed his mind. 'Inform Fujimaru and her Heroic Spirits.'

'I'm filling in Shakespeare now.' Andersen's dry voice sounded in his mind. 'He'll relay that information, and any other tidbits you come across - makes the most sense that we act as some kind of radio system that won't require you to talk - so your enemies can't hear. And it's better you save your focus for surviving.' Then his presence retreated, his actions following his words, removing a distraction from the focus he'd spoken of.

Focus that would be needed, for the two elf-forms were already bounding back at him, and, behind them, the thicker automations were drawing close, massive fists raised.

One doll leapt into the air, its thin blade slicing down, aimed at his shoulder. The second dropped to its knees, skidding across the ground, still moving forward, sweeping its blade horizontally, looking to take his legs - his knees specifically, out.

His counter was to simply still his motion, and slide to the side, allowing a thundering knight to take the lead.

The blades bit, then dug into the knight's armor, squealing against the metal. But not quickly, or forcefully, enough to penetrate to the flesh underneath, and, worse for them, Mordred's momentum wasn't slowed at all by absorbing the attacks. With a sound like shattering glass, the two blades bent, then broke, and Mordred crashed into the two machines, her shoulder lowered. Armored plate met the face of the one, and it was sent tumbling away. The other fared no better, as she simply trampled over it.

Despite its shattered frame, it was still reaching for the Knight of Treachery, pushing itself up, rising from the ground.

Kratos' axe hammered down, chopping the thing into two, straight through the torso. For good measure, he also removed its head - and one of those two measures was enough, for the thing finally stilled, the mending of its form ceasing.

'I'm inside with Nursery Rhyme, but the halls of the estate are overrun.' Medusa's voice sounded in his head. 'It's going to be slow going to pick my way through this place with how choked the halls are. Nothing I can't handle, but….'

'Do what you can, but do not rush.' Mordred was exchanging blows with another of the elven-dolls, but the larger machines were almost upon her - he was needed. 'Stay alive, and intact until we can join you.'

A feeling of understanding wafted across their link, before it went silent.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and, a second later, Mash was there. "What's the plan, Mr. Kratos?"

"Medusa is inside, but the weight of numbers have her stalled." He raised the Leviathan Axe, pointing directly at the main door to the estate. "We break through, hit the enemies impeding her from the back, and find the…." His mind stuttered for a second, before he decided on the word to us. "...child."

"And if she's pissed off and tries to ventilate us?" Unsurprisingly, sarcasm dripped from every one of Avenger's words.

"I will defend myself if attacked." Baldur striking him, repeatedly, upon their first meeting could be allowed to pass…..up to a point. It had hurt, but it had been lesser, in the face of his desire to not to have to kill the man, to coat his hands in blood again. This 'Jack' had slain at least two Servants so far, and had wounded both Kratos and Fujimaru. "Even if she is a child, she cannot be allowed to harm others, maliciously or otherwise." He paused, then continued. "But…I would not have her slain. If possible."

"Not really my area of expertise," muttered Avenger, who then grinned and clapped Mash on the back. "So it'll be up to you, Squeaks. Just smack her upside the head with that shield of yours until she's loopy, then we can have Grumps sit on her."

Mash gave Avenger a look. "I really don't think it will be that easy."

Mordred had removed both of the doll's arms by this point - possibly as a way to gauge their ability to repair themselves, but more likely simply her toying with it, until the greater whole of their enemies arrived. Warbling something, the doll planted one of its feet, then spun in a circle, a flying, slashing kick screaming for the joint in between Mordred's helmet and the armored gorget of her armor.

She caught the kick, hand clenching around the limb. "Nice try." Her hand tightened, and the limb began to creak alarmingly. "Here's your reward!"

She ripped the doll from the ground, hoisting it above her head, and twirled the flailing machine around once, twice, before whipping it down, into the face of the first of the bulky machines to reach her.

Which promptly exploded.

The detonation was deafening - more so given their close proximity. Heat washed over him, seconds before the force of the explosion hit him. Mordred was blown off her feet, and Kratos felt his body shifted backwards, despite his firm stance.

Mash, to her credit, was already moving. Her hand shot out and snatched Mordred from the air, seizing the collar of her armor and yanking her down, slamming her to the ground, roughly, but necessarily quickly, as the girl was racing the clock to interpose herself, and her shield, in the path of the oncoming explosion.

Fire, impact force, and flying shards of metal thudded off her shield, Kratos, Avenger, and Mordred in the eye of the storm created by the girl's bulwark.

Mordred was already picking herself up off the ground, even before the cacophony had ceased. "The fucking hell? These things EXPLODE now?"

Manic giggling echoed down around them, filling the courtyard, immediately raising Kratos' hackles.

It was unfamiliar - alien even, and yet, he would have sworn he had heard it before. The fog in his mind, that had clouded the memories of a portion of a few days ago began to part, and somehow, he knew it with surety.

This, then, was the other individual who had been with himself and Fujimaru in that bank of mist.

"Indeed, indeed!" The sound of the man's (if it was a man) voice caused Kratos' stomach to roil. Dimly, he felt a feeling of familiarity wash over him, knowing he had felt this selfsame emotion days ago.

Whatever, whoever this enemy was, he was insane. Mad - as mad as anything Kratos had ever faced - and cheerfully malevolent in the way that only one who had taken leave of their senses for sheer cruelty could be.

"But a warning is necessary, my dear Chaldeans!" There came the sound of something shifting on the roof tiles, but when Kratos moved his eyes up, whatever was there, or had been there, was gone. "We cannot have a game if you do not know the rules……or the dangers, and especially the PENALTIES!"

The other machines had held back, as the one primed to explode had stomped forward - at the time, Kratos hadn't noticed, hadn't given it any thought in the handful of seconds he'd had, but now he saw it to be deliberate - it had kept them out of the blast's radius.

"It's a wonderful game of roulette!" More crazed titters echoed down, then around them, as the voice's location kept changing, always precluded by the shuffling of feet. "In a MINEFIELD! And you will never know where the next BOOM will be coming from! Is this step the one, or the next? Is that robot moving oddly, or smoking, or throwing out sparks, or is it all an illusion!"

From behind him, Kratos heard the sounds of churning waters. His head turned, a fraction of an inch to the side - just in time to see a massive hand grip the edge of the river bank.

The thing that heaved itself up from the stinking, polluted waters was enormous - a giant in every aspect. It was humanoid, and more human in appearance than the Titans had been - legs like tree trunks, arms that rippled with knotted muscles - for all that they were formed of cold metal. Beyond its size, the only thing that spoke of any true inhumanity in its appearance was the goat's head that sprouted from its neck, horizontally slitted eyes gazing down hatefully at the Chaldeans.

And it was not alone.

Others, some nearly as tall as the first, began to form a loose mob behind it. They were joined by smaller examples of the breed - these somehow less human than the giants.

Missing limbs - not ones that had been severed or torn away, but simply ones that had never possessed a left arm, or a right leg, at all, were a common sight. Missing eyes were also in attendance, but again, not ones that had been gouged out or otherwise deadened, like the empty socket Odin kept behind his eyepatch. Neither were they in possession of the large, singular eye of the cyclopses that had squatted on Greece's islands - the ones that had only one eye had that eye in the place, left or right, that a human would have it, but the place where the twin would have rested on the opposite sides of their faces was a simple void, smooth flesh where an orb should have sat.

Not all of them were hideous, or deformed. A few were…..almost darkly beautiful. Smooth, supple limbs and sharp, chiseled features made these exceptions stand out from the field of monsters.

In his mind, Cu was cursing, swearing up a storm in what Kratos assumed was his native tongue. 'Formorians! Damned metal Formorians!' He felt, rather than heard Cu spit in time with him choking out an oath. 'They were Ireland's first settlers, until the Tuath De warred with them - I'm actually part Formorian on my daddy's side, all the way back to Balor himself. But they were monsters - really bad news.' The Hound's string in his mind began to vibrate with excitement. 'Hey, Avenger, you….'

The woman's answer was immediate, and utterly deadpan. 'Not a chance. You had your turn, now it's mine!' As Cu's disappointment permeated the link in Kratos' mind, Avenger continued, but with her voice. "If one of those big ones is rigged to blow, it's going to be ugly with a capital oog. I felt it when that little one went up, even behind Squeaks' shield."

"Indeed!" For a second, a thin, horned form alighted on the shoulder of one of the giants, and Kratos got a glimpse of a garishly clad….thing, before it skipped away into the night. "And that's the fun of it all! Oh, how will you play the game, Chaldea? I quiver with excitement!"

The next words that sounded around them dripped with anticipation. "So…..let us begin!" There was the sound of fingers snapping, and then, all the machines began to advance.

Fujimaru was already sprinting to place herself in the middle of their formation, as they were now effectively pinned between the two groups. Chiron followed, snapping off a couple of quick shots as he covered his Master. "The large ones are screening my arrows," he announced as he arrived, frowning at the handful of quivering shafts that had sunk into a giant's hand. "I don't know if that means those ones are not rigged to blow, or…."

"Spell could be dormant," muttered Fujimaru. "Like a light switch - flip it on when they want them to go kaboom!"

"Stay at range," growled Kratos, sliding the Leviathan Axe back into its harness. With a thought, he called Draupnir from the ring on his finger. "Mash, Avenger, handle the horde behind us. Mordred and I will deal with the giants. Fujimaru, Chiron……take what opportunities present themselves."

Mordred was already charging into the teeth of the advancing giants. Kratos wasted no time in catching up to her.

One of the actual giants kicked out at the knight as she approached, but Mordred simply ducked under the ponderous blow, blade flashing through the machine's ankle, cut angled in a manner that Kratos recognized as a would-be hamstringing blow. The blade bit deep, but the thing showed no real distress, either from pain, or from an inability to control that leg.

Machines, after all, were not constructed in the same manner as living things. And they had different weaknesses.

The giant staggered back, foot raised for a stomp, but Mordred was already darting past, blade raised, heading for the smaller Formorians. Before the giant could correct its balance, a spear, the tip surrounded by its own, personal whirlwind, thudded into its neck.

To as similarly little effect as Mordred's hamstringing efforts.

Kratos rang the butt of Draupnir against the ground, causing the spear sticking out of the giant's neck to explode, scraps of ragged metal raining down - but Kratos could see that the hole in the thing's neck was beginning to flow, and mend.

These ones, like the ones that had been besieging the estate, could heal, then. It would make killing them that much more difficult a task.

The huge creature took a step forward, its fist flying forward, and Kratos sent another spear hurtling through the air. It glanced off the knuckle, spinning end over end to lightly embed itself into the thing's chest. Kratos stepped to the side, his shield snapping into place as his vision was suddenly filled with a gnarled, massive fist.

The blow, so much more tremendous, carrying such sheer, incredible weight behind it, hammered into the Spartan's shield.

And stopped cold.

Kratos slid back, dirt and grass flying upwards as his feet dug into the ground, muscles in his shoulders and arms knotting, as they pushed back against the titanic blow. Then, with a roar, he slid his shield to the side, redirecting the strike into the ground. Dust and sod flew in every direction, pattering off everything nearby.

Everything but Kratos.

The Spartan had leapt into the air the second he had felt the pressure lessen on his shield. Chains rattled, and the Blades of Chaos sliced through the air. In an instant, they had plunged deep into the meat of the thing's thigh. He lowered his shoulder, and felt metal dent and buckle as he impacted. His arms surged, and, using the Blades as levers, he hurled himself upwards. His hands stretched out, grasping, and seizing the ghostly shaft of Draupnir that protruded from the machine's chest. He torqued his body around, pulling himself up, planting his feet on the makeshift platform, then LEAPT.

There wasn't time for him to draw a weapon, so he was already drawing his arm back, even as he was leaving his temporary perch. The giant's eyes were darting down, already tracking Kratos, arm moving to interpose, but it was too late. The Spartan's fist cracked into the machine's jaw, all of his momentum and power behind the blow, and metal didn't just shatter - it disintegrated.

The metallic giant's head snapped back, so violently that, had it been a living creature, its neck likely would have broken from the sheer weight of the blow - but, as Kratos had noted, this was not alive, not in any real sense.

So he tore the Leviathan Axe free of its harness, and drove it into the machine's face.

Dangling in the air, suspended by one arm, he swung his body downwards, into the hole he had blown in the machine's face. His feet cannoned into one end of the rent, while he shifted his body as best he could with his singular hand-hold, wedging his form into the gap. He could feel the jagged edges of the broken metal poking into his back, even through his armor.

He ignored it.

His legs pushed against their foothold, while his back did the same, only in the opposite direction. The metal squealed in protest, fighting him every step of the way, but slowly, it began to give. An inch, then another inch, then it was like the breaking of a dam, and his body was straightening so fast that he almost fell.

With an ear-splitting screech, the two halves of the machine's jaw were torn loose, and sent tumbling to the ground. From deep within whatever passed for its throat, it bleated something - possibly whatever these things used to communicate, possibly just a simple alarm - whichever, it did not matter.

Kratos once more grasped the Leviathan Axe and pulled himself into a leap, one that took him high into the air. From the apex, he could see right down the giant's throat.

Draupnir came at his call, and in the space of a thought, he'd sent a half-dozen spears down into the gaping maw of the thing.

By the time the last spear had been sent on its way, the Blades of Chaos were already flying upwards to settle in his palms - not that they were allowed to be there for more than a heartbeat. He flung them downwards, burying them up to their hilts into the sides of the creature's ruined face, and then, he was flying down, following in their wake.

If the thing's head had snapped violently from the first, rising blow, this made it seem like a gentle caress in comparison. Its head twisted back in an angle that no living human could hold and still draw breath, but that was dwarfed by the sound of Kratos slamming the butt of Draupnir directly between its eyes - and the series of explosions, muffled, but still audible, that sounded from within the giant's throat.

The thing staggered, taking a single, ponderous step backwards, then, a second wave of detonations rocked its internals. Kratos felt the head shift under him, then, it was toppling. The skull crunched beneath him as it hit the ground, the entire thing deforming under the Spartan's weight. Above him, the now headless body was collapsing, sparks weakly flying from the stump of its neck. It crashed into the dirt, half its form sliding into the river, kicking up a torrent of water.

But it did not move again. Kratos nodded to himself, as he hopped down from the severed head. Dead, or, more correctly, inanimate, then. Good.

Mordred paused in her motions, for a second - before her foot came crashing down. "Only counts for one!" Then, in a crackle of red, she flew across the battlefield, sword raised.

(Inside his own mind, Kratos scoffed. Did the knight see this as some kind of competition?)

"Do not….." Kratos' warning about maintaining focus was lost in the clamor of the Saber's frenzy. She slid low, under a hopping, unstable slash from a one-legged machine, her shoulder plowing into its midsection, and then, lifting. The knight hefted the thing, bodily, then hurled it across the battlefield, where it would have collided with a cluster of machines, but they easily dodged out of the way. Mordred laughed, taking a step forward.

There was a click.

Then, fire.

---

Ritsuka Fujimaru had her gun in her hand, the weight and solid feeling of the thing centering her - at least somewhat. To her back, Kratos and Mordred had waded into the parade of giants like they did it everyday - and given their histories, they might actually be rather close to the truth. To her front, Avenger and her Mashie were bracing for impact - the tide of goblin and elf machines about to reach her - as those two were probably her best friend and her kohai, she was naturally paying more strict attention to them (and given the fact that if something got through Kratos, she was completely and totally boned, so why worry about that?).

She'd only spared a glance when she'd felt the earth shake - twice. Once only really slightly, and the other time badly enough to cause her to stumble. Her head had jerked around at that, only to see Kratos hopping off a head he'd apparently torn off of a giant, and said giant's body lying half in a crater, half in the river, dust still settling. Business as usual - not just for him, but all of them. She even had a notch on the giant-slayer tally after that big messed up kraken-thing from the last Singularity.

So, she'd been turning back, ready to support her side of this little war, when the night had lit up like a summer festival back home - only with much, much more fire.

Something rammed into her side, and she tumbled into the dirt, right before fire washed over the battlefield. There was a form standing in front of her, shielding her with their own body, but even then, she felt her skin singe, wisps of the flames still sneaking past.

And then, it was over.

"Are you hurt, Master?" Chiron loomed above her, his clothes in tatters, and his hair a charred mess, and her heart leapt into her throat.

"Me? You look…."

"I'm fine, Master - hurt, yes, but not badly." He seized her by the scruff of her uniform, and hoisted her to her feet. "And save your Mystic Code's healing magic - I feel it may be needed by another, before this is all over."

By the time she had gotten her feet under her, he'd already sent at least three shots into the oncoming horde - the smoke and dust still hadn't cleared from their other flank. "They're tough." A scowl was marring her Sensei's otherwise classically handsome features. "Beyond the regenerative qualities, they've definitely seen some upgrades since our last clash with them."

His next words boomed over the battlefield. "Mash! Avenger! Do not hold back! Their armor seems thicker than previous - aim for the joints, if you can!"

Avenger spat something, already dashing ahead, flames crackling around the tip of her spear, licking up and down the edges of her sword. Mash hesitated for just a second, peeking back at her, but she waved her on. She had her Sensei here, and there were a LOT of robots - Avenger was hell on wheels, but she'd need the help. Mash stared, for just a second, but then dashed after Avenger.

Avenger looked like she was going to barrel right into the thick of them, but, just before she closed, she drew up short, sword sweeping out in front of her. A cresting wave of fire swept over the front line of the advancing machines - to little effect. She wasn't even sure the metal on their chestplates had begun to run at all - if it was, it was probably already fixing itself.

For her part, Avenger laughed, bracing on the heels of her feet. "Ha! First row should be safe to hit! Let's DO this!" Cackling, she sprang into the air. Her arm cocked backward, the air around her spear shimmering from heat-haze. It was like a meteor descending, as she drove the weapon straight through one of the fat machines, skewering it end-to-end.

Grinding noises issued from deep within the thing, as it continued to move forward, arms shooting up with a surprising quickness. One paw wrapped around the haft of the spear that was protruding from the machine's shoulder, giving it a shake - which shifted Avenger down just enough so that it could snatch her ankle with its other hand, and pull her closer.

Avenger's muffed shout, the beginning strains of "The fucking hell?" are cut off as one of the elven robots sprang high into the air, then dove - directly at the struggling woman.

Then exploded.

Both Mash AND Chiron blocked the flames from reaching her time, the girl's shield absorbing most of the blowback, so her Sensei didn't get any more damaged - this time. But that was, to her mind, a bit secondary, considering Avenger had been at ground zero of the detonation. Her mouth was already hinging open, a yell building, when a smoking form dropped out of the sky and landed next to her.

"Fucking kamikaze shit?" Avenger spat to the side. "Wonderful."

Her armor was dark enough that Fujimaru couldn't really tell how badly Avenger had been battered, but her pale skin was covered in soot and grit - and more than a few scratches - one just along her jawline that was deep enough to steadily drip blood down the woman's face. She must have noticed Fujimaru's stare, because she snorted. "I'm fine, Red. Superheated my sword and sliced that bastard's hand off." Fujimaru's eyes slid down, and saw that Avenger wasn't exaggerating - one of those massive hands was still loosely wrapped around her ankle. "Still got a little cooked, but better than eating that shit at close range."

With a growl, and some vigorous kicks of her leg, she managed to detach the disembodied hand from her limb, and plunged back in.

Mash was sliding between attacks, her shield flashing in all directions to interpose itself in the way of the clubbing blows that were raining down on her. Metal was ringing off metal, as each fist bounced off the solid bulwark that stood in their way - Mash skidding back a hair with every blow that she absorbed. Her Shielder wasn't staying in one place for long - increasingly attempting to divert the strikes, instead of taking them full on her shield, likely in case one of them chose that moment to go up in a bang. Add to that that she was almost certainly keeping a part of her awareness on the ones pressing in behind the front row, given what they'd just seen, and it was a recipe for, if not disaster, then her Mashie slowly but surely ending up overwhelmed.

In fact, as she watched, two more of the dolls kicked off the ground, running leaps that were aimed to take them at, or over Mash.

They never made it.

Avenger's flaming spears tore themselves into being, plummeting down to impale the left doll, pinning it to the ground. The other one found its flight halted quite suddenly, as Chiron opened up (with Fujimaru lending what dubious aid she could - a quickly fired Gandr that, as far as she could tell, was like water off a duck's back, but at least now she knew), the sheer weight of arrows he put into the machine's tumbling body enough to kill its momentum in its tracks, and send it spinning to the ground.

Avenger landed next to Mash, her sword having been flipped to her other hand, and hauled off and just clocked one of the red caps right in the face with her prosthetic. "What, no boom?" she asked, her eyes momentarily straying to the two machines they'd downed.

Giggling sounded, almost right behind her, and Fujimaru found herself spinning around, gun raised, even as her blood turned to ice - but no one was there. "You're quite good! Living up to your fearsome reputation, Chaldeans!" Fujimaru, for a split second, thought she saw something, a silhouette that didn't match the profiles of any of the machines, right in the middle of the crowd, before the shifting bodies blocked her view. "But a good game can't simply repeat the same tricks, no no no. Not against heroes of your caliber!"

More titters scraped across her ears, and Fujimaru couldn't quite suppress a shudder. Everything about that voice was reminding her of some of the Bad Ghosts that she'd seen, the ones that were too decayed from lingering so long, or simply damaged from the manner of their deaths that they barely resembled people anymore - more like mad, rabid animals. "Sensei….if you get a shot at whoever's talking, take it," she whispered.

Grimly, Chiron nodded - something in her gut telling her that he'd already decided to do just that before she'd spoken up.

"So, it's time to take this to the next level!"

The row of goblin-machines all took a step back, as one, and dropped their right arms down. Hands parted, dividing down the middle, as something slid out of their arms, falling into place.

Slings.

Slings that they'd already begun to twirl above their heads.

She was halfway towards yelling….something, while also throwing herself to the ground when the things let fly.

Mash caught the first couple on her shield. They exploded, because of course, and her kohai found herself knocked back, if only just. But she stayed on her feet. There were further clangs, as whatever projectiles the things hurled bounced off - and her mind suddenly wondered at that. Why weren't they exploding?

A question that was answered almost immediately, as the deflected objects hit the ground, and THEN detonated, churning up the ground, turning it into so many craters.

Mash stumbled, then fell, as the ground was torn up under her feet, ruining her footing. She was up in the blink of an eye, but the split second she hadn't been screening them was enough for a wave of stones to fly through.

Avenger slid around a barrage, but not all of them were aimed directly at her. In a similar manner to Mash, some of the shots thudded into the ground, the subsequent explosions blasting the ashen haired terror off her feet. Again, like Mash, she was pushing herself up almost immediately, but not fast enough.

A pair of stones cracked into her side, and Fujimaru saw her gasp for breath - right before Avenger's body was swallowed up in an eruption of flame.

Fujimaru coughed, smoke suddenly washing over her. Her hand was waving in front of her, wildly, but futilely trying to disperse the smoke, when something cut through the din.

The sound of something heavy landing, right next to her.

Avenger - her body blackened, and still.

"Senpai!"

Fujimaru jerked her head up, the smoke finally thinning enough to grant her at least some semblance of the battlefield again - just in time to see her Shielder being driven back - worse, away, off to the side, meaning the girl wasn't able to head off the handful of machines that broke off from the pack, and began charging straight at them.

"Damn." The whispered curse came from just behind her, and the barrage of arrows ceased, as Chiron moved to interpose himself in between herself and the wall of metal bearing down on them. His bow vanished into particles, his arms coming up, fists clenched, arm muscles taut. "Get back, Master!"

One of the metallic elves was the first to reach Chiron, and it didn't even bother to pull one of its needle-blades out from its arms - whatever its thought processes were, it believed that it could handle Chiron with just its bared claws.

A hand shot out at the Archer's eyes, talons extended, but Chiron easily slid his head out of the way, arm already cocked back. He cannoned his right fist into the machine's side, metal crumpling, but Fujimaru didn't miss the wince that briefly marred her Sensei's face, or the way his mouth moved - she was a good enough lip-reader (some ghosts flatly couldn't speak, so that had been one of her many lessons growing up) to decipher it.

'Tough'.

It didn't stop him from shifting his hips and putting his left into the machine's other side, unbalancing it, then dropping low and taking its legs out from underneath it in a beautiful sweep. The slender machine turned a flip, somehow making the fall controlled instead of uncontrolled, and landed on its hands. It was midway through the motions of surging upwards when Chiron took a single step forward, his elbow screaming through the air.

The plates that made up the thing's face outright shattered, and it was sent carwheeling into the oncoming mob. Unfortunately, it collided with the larger, goblinoid machines - who didn't even pause in their charge, callously trampling their thinner fellow in their haste to close with Chiron.

Possibly more unfortunately, none of them exploded, meaning there were three of the hulking brutes bearing down on him.

He slid around a lunging, ponderous kick with ease, the blow having been telegraphed so obviously that even she'd seen it coming. She thought he might have tried to slide inside the thing's arms, attempting to trip it, but instead, he snapped a pair of quick punches into the thing's gnarled face, glancing blows, barely enough to stun it - if you can even stun a machine.

Before the ringing of Servant flesh on metal had died down, he was already lunging backwards, just out of the reach of a pair of arms that were held wide, a goblin attempting to overbear him and crush the Archer to its chest - possibly so another one of the rigged machines could make a suicide run at him. But Chiron skipped backwards, slapping the hands down even as he called his bow to his hands. He barely seemed to aim as he fired, point blank, into the thick metal legs, and the machine toppled, its legs seizing up - Chiron must have hit a gear or something, locked whatever passed for motive functionality in the legs up.

As the robot toppled, Chiron touched down, then left the ground in a kind of half-leap, only going high enough to find a better place to plant his feet - right on the back of the toppling machine's head. His next jump took him higher into the air, firing over the heads of the two nearest machines, driving the two dolls that had been tensely tracking his movements back, and apart. His bow was vanishing back into particles, Chiron already preparing his defenses for when he landed, when one of the goblins crouched, and leapt to meet him.

Flames - jets - erupted from the thing's feet as it rocketed into the sky, right into Chiron's path. The Archer, unable to in any way change his trajectory, instead lashed out with a vicious kick, hoping to make contact, to use that contact to push himself aside.

The machine caught his leg. Caught his leg, then pulled him in, arm shooting up to brutally crunch into the man's throat. She heard Chiron gag, for a long second.

And then they were falling to the ground.

Chiron took the full brunt of the thing's weight as it drove him into the earth. She swore she heard sounds that could only be bones breaking.

And yet, her Sensei somehow managed to brace his back against the ground, and heave the thing off of him, a rolling backward throw with his legs that also got him back to his feet.

He was hurt, though - she could tell he was favoring his side - possibly his entire midsection. Without a second thought, she triggered her Mystic Code's healing spell, and a wave of green descended on Chiron, and he managed to stand a bit straighter - but he was clearly still injured. He was moving slower, less fluidly, as he began to weave between the heavy blows of the two machines that had moved to surround him, even as he'd been freeing himself from the clutches of the one that had nearly buried him in the ground. He ducked, a ham-sized fist sailing just over his head, but it just barely clipped his head, nicking his skull and drawing a trickle of blood - a microsecond too slow, his wounds hindering him. And, from the way that veins were standing out on his neck, he was gritting his teeth against the pain as he fired back, a straight right into the machine's gut that knocked it back a pace, but one he was unable to follow up on as the second one swung a hammer-blow at his back, fingers linked together, again, just barely missing.

The third machine was leveraging itself up, about to rejoin the fight.

It was the sight of that that finally snapped Fujimaru out of her stupor. Avenger was down, Chiron was hurt, and Mash was occupied - and she didn't know what was going on with Sakamoto and Oryou. SHE needed to do something - more than just standing there and gawking.

Nano-darts.

The thought had barely formed in her mind before she started kicking herself - her Sensei was hurt, and Avenger hadn't moved since she'd landed. She should have thought of that IMMEDIATELY! Growling to herself, she shoved the voice in her head, her old companion that had always been so keen to point out her failures aside, punctuating that action by emptying the chamber of her gun at the machine that was rising to its feet. The bullets did next to nothing, as far as she could tell, but she hadn't intended them to do any real damage - just hopefully distract it for a second, give her Sensei just a touch longer before it joined in and the double-team he was dealing with turned into a triple-team. One of her hands plunged into the pouch on her hip, while her other hand freed her gun's chamber, and she dumped spent brass to the ground.

She had just closed her hand around the speed loader that had a full set of her nano-darts, when her Sensei's voice cut through the misty air like a whip.

"Master! Look ou…."

Fujimaru's head jerked up in time to see a machine bury a fist into a distracted Chiron's gut, folding the Archer in half, and lifting him off the ground with the force of the blow. But, out of the corner of her eye, her peripheral vision caught movement.

One of the dolls, sliding past Mash, heading directly in her direction, arm retracted, one of those thin blades snapping into place.

She didn't know how she managed it - she felt like she was moving in slow motion, compared to the smooth, fluid agility of the doll - but somehow, she got a knife in the way, her arm flying up in a desperate block the second she felt the handle of the knife drop into her palm.

She flew backwards, her arm throbbing from the shock of the blow. The doll took a single step, then pirouted sideways, blade slashing at her neck, and she ducked, not wanting for her arm to absorb another strike like that. Foot planted, the doll continued its spin, rotating into a vicious roundhouse kick.

Fujimaru was out of position - she couldn't go backwards, not with her head tucked down like this, not without falling on her ass, so she did the only thing she could, and dove forward, just under the kick. She heard the whistle of the metal foot as it sailed, just over her tumbling body, but she tucked and braced, taking the fall like she'd been taught. It hurt, yes, but she was dead if she was on the ground - that had been a constant refrain from not just Chiron, but Kratos, Cu, Shuten, and everyone else.

She was already rolling to the side, even as she impacted the dirt, struggling to rise, just ahead of the machine, which had used the momentum of the spinning kick to transition into a leaping somersault, one that had ended with a double-stomp that would have crushed Fujimaru, if she hadn't rolled.

She still took a faceful of dirt, and she scrabbled backwards, trying to shake the muck from her eyes, trying to see where the next attack would come from, trying to ignore the sheer panic that was gripping her heart. Too many things, too much all at once.

Her feet tangled, and she fell, head cracking off the cobblestone street.

The world seemed to slow down for a second. She felt the pain shooting through her head in exquisite detail, felt a sudden wetness on the back of her skull. She saw the mist, overhead, around, thin fingers of haze, wrapping around everything. She heard the continued sounds of battle, but from far away - as if she had suddenly become detached from everything. And she saw the form of the doll as it towered above her, blade raised, point directly level with her eye.

Then, her vision fritzed again.

Time seemed to stop, and the world seemed to age a millennium in a second. The buildings around became rotted, decayed husks, worn down by the weight of ages. Her hand that she had raised what would have been a futile defense lost the blush of youth, trading it for the pallor of a corpse, withered and palsied and covered in spots. And the doll above her was suddenly corroded with rust, transforming from a pristine machine, fresh off the assembly line, to one at the end of its life. Her eyes lingered, drawn to the sight, as the thing bore down on her, tracing over the pitted lines of metal.

Then, time resumed, and her vision returned to normal - at the same time as a flaming spear erupted from the doll's chest.

"Hands…..OFF….the GINGER!" growled Avenger.

The fire that was surrounding the spear erupted, and with a pained snarl, Avenger tore the weapon upwards, carving though the chest to split its head in half. Before it could topple - likely onto Fujimaru herself - Avenger snapped a kick into the now-limp robot's side, sending it into an unceremonious crash to the side.

Before it had even hit the ground, Avenger was gingerly kneeling in front of her. "Oi, Red." Fingers snapped in front of her, something she only registered after a second had passed, and Avenger's scowl increased in magnitude. "Shit, you got your bell rung, didn't you?"

A hand shoved itself into her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

She blinked, slowly, as her brain struggled to process the question - because what kind of question was that? She felt her brow wrinkle as she puzzled it out - then decided she should just answer the question, because Avenger was getting increasingly more agitated (and this was Avenger, which was saying something) the longer she took to say something. "Four. Four fingers."

Avenger swore, which didn't really make a whole lot of sense to her. Why would her answer have brought that on?

Then Avenger was a heck of a lot closer to her than she usually got - which was kind of intimidating, since usually, if Avenger was getting into your face like that, it was like the thing animals did. Threat displays, that was the word.

"Good to see your motormouth is at least working like normal," muttered Avenger, her metal hand resting on the small of Fujimaru's back, holding her up. "But no, I ain't doing some alpha dominance display like I'm some sort of lion, I'm checking the back of your head. Doc's been giving me some first-aid lessons."

Fujimaru felt fingers gently brush the back of her head, and oh gods, it hurt. Her hiss of pained breath almost drowned out Avenger's whispered curse. "Shit." As Avenger pulled her hand back, Fujimaru saw red covering the tips of the woman's fingers, before Avenger hurriedly wiped it off on the front of her armor.

Was that HER blood?

"Yes it fucking is your blood, Red, which is why I'm so damn upset right now!" Belatedly, Fujimaru realized Avenger was pawing through her pouches. "Ok," said Avenger, one of the nano-darts clutched between her index finger and thumb. "I'm going to hope that the red cross on this thing still means first aid - so, grit your teeth, Red."

Then Avenger jabbed the dart directly into her neck.

And then Fujimaru felt really, REALLY good.

The fog that was currently blanketing her head was blown away like a typhoon had come through, and suddenly, she could think again. The pain also vanished, and while she didn't think she could feel the back of her head knitting itself back together, there was a feeling like….ants….crawling across her skin, especially noticeable where she'd hit the pavement with her head.

But most of all, it felt good. The fatigue of the run across the city was melting off her bones - in general, she suddenly felt like a million yen.

And then it hit her. Just how close she'd come to dying, and her legs wobbled, despite the energy and magical juice coursing through her veins.

"Hell - don't you go passing out on me, Red!" Fujimaru felt herself being seized, roughly, by the neck, and that, combined with the hand still on the small of her back sent a small shiver through her.

Then her brain finally caught up to everything, and she shook her head. "No, I'm ok, I can stand, just…..everything kind of hit me at once." Avenger's eyes narrowed - probably thought she was just trying to play tough, but it worked for what she was going for - in that it distracted Avenger just enough.

"What was it you said - 'grit my teeth'? Better take your own advice." And with that, she jabbed the dart she'd pulled out of her pouch into the back of Avenger's hand.

One deep breath, and the ashen-haired woman looked a lot better - and from the razor sharp grin on her face, was feeling a lot better as well. "Shit, I needed that."

She shoved Fujimaru back, finally releasing her hold on the girl, already calling her weapons to her. "You going to be ok on your own, Red?" Her foot reared back, and she directed a kick at the dead robot that had, moments ago, nearly killed Fujimaru. "I need to get stuck back in - Squeaks and your Archer are doing their best, but they need some help."

Fujimaru waved her on. "I'm fine - that one only got past Mashie because of how many there are - but I'll keep my eyes peeled, all the same." Mash was fending them off, but her shield flatly wasn't doing a ton of damage to the things - a problem Chiron's fists were also having. "Go help Chiron - sooner he can get back on fire support, the better."

As Avenger charged off, weapons already beginning to blaze with fire, neither of the girls noticed the flecks of rust falling off Avenger's greave - rust that had been clinging to her foot since it had impacted into the still machine. Or how the aforementioned robot groaned, the noise buried by the sounds of combat, as shards of corroded metal continued to crack and fall from its form, both from where it had been kicked, and elsewhere.

---

Kratos coughed, bounding backwards, distancing himself from the fires that were still raging across the streets. His movements were blind, his vision still muddled by the thick, clinging smoke that had been kicked up in the explosion. Little fires still lingered across his body - thankfully, the armor Da Vinci had constructed covered more of him than his usual leathers, but that hadn't protected him from the heat - or the byproducts of the heat. Mainly, how it had heated his armor. Fortunately, wyvern scales were more resistant to heat than metal would have been, so he was only lightly burned.

Which left him in far better shape than the knight who was stumbling out of the smoke, just behind him.

"Motherf…." Spitting ash and grit out of her mouth, Mordred dismissed her armor, then resummoned it, the metal now no longer glowing like it had just been pulled from a forge. But in that brief second Kratos could see that the Knight of Treachery was covered in burns. Mild ones, to his eyes, at least. He was more concerned with her legs - as the greaves had not reformed when the rest of her armor had - and the wounds on her legs seemed much more severe than the light burns that had marred the rest of her body.

The explosion that had started had begun right under Mordred's feet.

The voice's mines, then. So be it.

The earth shook under their footsteps, as the giant machines lunged out of the smoke.

Whatever damage her legs might have taken, whatever pain she might have been in, it did not slow Mordred down in any meaningful way. Her blade, bathed in red, slashed upwards at a grasping hand, taking the tips of the fingers as it passed, but if the machine even felt the blow, it was not deterred, and it leaned over further, attempting to snatch the woman up. Mordred left the ground before it could close its hand around her, rocketing up into the machine's face, shoulder lowered, a red comet that crashed into the horned face of the giant, and rocked its head back. Lightning quick, her arm flashed out, seizing one of the creature's horns as she tumbled by, allowing her to swing her body around.

Right back into the machine's face.

Her fist cracked into the thing's jaw, the impact rocking both of them backwards. A low, garbled roar issued from the machine's mouth as its hand shot up, seeking to pry the knight from its face. Seconds before the hand arrived, Mordred jerked herself upwards, the flat of her blade ringing off the back of the machine's hand, using the blow to propel herself higher into the air. The machine growled again, turning, setting its feet, arm shooting up in another attempt to catch, and squash this annoying fly that was buzzing around its head.

Kratos crashed into the back of its planted leg, shoulder lowered, and the machine staggered forward a step, teetering, but still with a firm grip on its balance. Its head shifted to the side, attention divided between the threat below, and the threat above.

Fatally divided.

The Blades of Chaos were glowing white-hot as Kratos plunged them into the back of the machine's leg, and, knowing that he had but moments before his own flank was endangered, dredged up every ounce of his formidable strength, and tore the Blades through the metallic flesh.

The giant DID stagger now, Kratos having nearly cut completely through the thing's leg. Whatever science or magic that allowed it to patch its wounds attempted to compensate, but it was too little, too late. It unbalanced, wildly, Kratos already thundering away, moving out of its shadow to crash into a knot of smaller machines that had been advancing upon him while he had been otherwise occupied.

The giant sank to one knee, attempting to steady itself, when Mordred, knees leading, plummeted directly into its face. The impact, the weight, the knight's momentum, all of them combined to finally topple the towering machine.

Mordred rode it down, blade hacking away at its face as they crashed to the ground.

Kratos had just torn his axe free from the ground, a wave of frost rushing towards a pair of hopping, one-legged machines, the explosion of crystals washing over their forms, when ground shook hard enough to nearly toss him from his feet.

That…..was not merely from a giant hitting the earth. For a split second, Kratos paused, his mind working furiously. It was as if it had come from beneath the ground…..

The thought had just formed when there was another quake, this one large enough to dwarf the previous one by orders of magnitude.

Then the estate exploded.

The shockwave hit him a moment later, throwing him to the ground - throwing every one of them, god, human, Servant, or machine, to the ground.

As Kratos pushed himself to his feet, the sight of the mansion, now consumed in flames, dominated his vision.

Medusa had been in there.

He reached out to their connection, seizing the string in his mind that bound them together, but received only silence. It still existed - it had not snapped, not as Medea's had when she had died in front of him, but the quiet, the lack of response caused his gut to twist into a knot. He seized the emotions that were verging on becoming panic and shoved them down, controlling them - they would do him no good otherwise.

As his senses began to normalize, he realized the ringing in his ears, that he had thought was from the deafening explosion was actually something else - high atop the now gutted estate was a form, holding a bell in its hands, one that it was banging what looked like a pair of scissors (an invention he was determined to bring back with him to the Nine Realms, if only to see Mimir's reaction to them) against them.

"Too late! Too late!" The thing (it was a not a man - no mere man had horns like that - but it was no creature that Kratos recognized) capered atop the twisted spire. "But then, you didn't know all the rules! Like the ticking clock!"

Cackling, heedless of how the metal spar was beginning to tilt to the side, the being shifted its form to the side, and brandished a limp body above its head.

And Kratos remembered.

This tiny thing, barely larger than a child, was the 'Jack' that Nursery Rhyme had begged them to save - and was the same thing that attacked them in the bank of fog. He had known this, yes, but now, seeing her, the shrouded memories came rushing back. And, from the choked gasp that scattered from her lips, he assumed something similar was happening to Fujimaru.

"Alas, it seems we had no choice but to destroy the second trinket here." The thing was pouting - staring down at the raging conflagration. "What a pity, what a pity."

The machines were pulling back - those that could still move. Even the giant he had effectively hamstrung was slowly limping away, its movements growing ever more steady and controlled by the moment.

"It is not so great of a setback, M." Another voice sounded, this one from deep in the fog. Kratos strained his eyes, only just able to make out a thin form, and little else, far behind the withdrawing machines. "We have Frankenstein's notes. Creating a substitute that we can utilize will be difficult, but not impossible."

The figure turned, and began moving away, into the mists. "We have achieved enough of our goals - we shouldn't risk our forces with further combat. Not at this time."

"Very well." The thing atop the spire crouched, and Kratos was certain it was staring right at him. "It isn't like we won't be seeing them again. After all…..they have something of ours that we want back…."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have to restrain myself from writing too much Palpatine into Zolgen. I don't know WHY I want to do this, but writing him just puts me into that mindset.

Better Half has become obsessed with Honse Grils, so Avenger gets slapped with a Uma. Better Half is even countering my 'UMU' attacks with 'yes, Uma!'. Send help. And all this despite me subjecting her to the superior Horse-related manga in Steel Ball Run. Send lots of help.

Da Vinki really is like a kid in a candy shop this Singularity.

This chapter brought to you by Rage Beneath the Mountains. Yelan upcoming means I've had to throw hands with Azdaha regularly, and his boss theme is a banger.

Chapter 65: London 9

GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 65​

As he tossed another piece of rubble to the side, Kratos felt his rage howling, to the point where he had to grit his teeth to retain control of himself.

Their enemies were fleeing, their objective in hand. He could pursue, wanted to pursue. Beyond that he had promised the book that he would save her friend, if possible, their enemies having access to something they had been seeking boded ill.

But Medusa was still not responding. She was somewhere, buried beneath the rubble of what had been the Frankenstein estate. Her string in his mind was still active, she was still alive, but the silence continued to gnaw at him.

"Why don't you just use a Command Seal?" yelled Avenger, over from where she was clearing her own patch of debris, searching, if anything, just as hard as he was. "Yank her right to you?"

"The book," rumbled Kratos, impatiently, as he heaved a crumbling beam aside. "She was with Medusa. Using a Seal would not call her as well." For all that, he was still sorely tempted. The only thing holding him back, or the main thing, was that Medusa's link was not sending any of the telltale signs of what he had come to recognize as a Heroic Spirit feeling pain. At the moment of the estate's explosion, there had been a sudden torrent of it, then, it had just…..stopped.

"They both could be burning up right now," spat Mordred, between using her ignited sword to both bat out patches of fire, and cleave straight through larger chunks of stone and wood. "It would suck to lose someone on this clusterfuck, but that's better than losing two someones."

Kratos was opening his mouth to explain, the irritation and impatience he was feeling almost certain to leak into his reply, when he heard the sound of movement, and not simply the wreckage of the estate shifting as it crumbled further. He held up a hand, and everyone stilled, listening.

Something creaked, and groaned, almost as if it was pushing against something unyielding, then, as quickly as it began, the noise ceased. Only to be replaced, a moment later, by a hard, rhythmic pounding - like a fist striking metal.

"Where…" began Kratos.

"Shhhhhh!" Fujimaru closed her eyes, cupping her ears, which suddenly glowed with a handful of blue lines. Her brow gathered a collection of wrinkles as she concentrated, then her finger flew up. "There - sounds like it's coming from right underneath where the main tower was!"

Kratos was there in an instant. The fires were thickest here, likely because that is where the heaviest concentrations of explosives had been unleashed. Kratos barreled through them, heedless of the flames licking at his skin. The Leviathan Axe was in his hand, held high, as he stopped, and drove it into the ground.

A swirling winter storm tore itself into being, centered around the axe. The sudden cold, by itself, was not enough to extinguish the fires - they had fuel aplenty to feed upon. But within seconds, the blazing heat and unrelenting cold had warred against each other enough to the point where the falling flakes of snow were now fat droplets of water. The fires began to shrink, weakening in the face of the sudden downpour.

Not that Kratos had waited for any of that. The second the axe had left his hands, he was already grabbing the largest piece of what had been the main tower, and was slowly, but steadily lifting it above his head. He'd gotten the chunk of rubble to eye-level when it suddenly got noticeably lighter.

"Fucking hell." Avenger's voice sounded from the other side of the hunk of rock. "How are you picking this thing up like it's nothing?"

"He's just making it look easy." Mordred was next to him, gauntlets wrapped around one edge of the debris, lifting with, it appeared, everything she had in her - an action that was being mirrored by Avenger. "He's having to work at it too."

Kratos did not reply, his entire focus centered around lifting, and removing the piece of wreckage. With a surge of effort (and a passing thought that it was easier - marginally so, but still easier - with the two women helping him), he hurled the broken tower aside. A second later, he heard it splash into the Thames, but he had ceased paying attention to it the moment it had left his hands. His eyes were immediately drawn to what had been under the rubble he had just removed.

A solid, metal trapdoor, from behind which he could still hear the sound of something striking it.

"Huh." Avenger promptly rapped the butt of her spear against the trapdoor, just in between the knocks that were coming from the other side. "It's clear - we got the shit that was blocking it moved - come out if you're friendly, or we'll come down there if you're not!"

There was a pause, as if whomever, or whatever was behind the trapdoor was considering Avenger's words, then, slowly, one of the doors was shoved to the side, and a form began to emerge from behind it.

It was a girl - or at least had the form of one. Dressed almost entirely in white (though it was white that was heavily smudged with soot and other dirt), a flowing, billowy dress that put Kratos in mind of the kinds of clothing that Da Vinci had prepared for Altera and Shuten, prior to their deployment to this age. A veil, shorter than the one Altera wore, hung down to around the middle of her back, framing a head of pinkish hair that was peering up at them.

It was obvious at a glance that whatever this girl was, she was not human - or not fully human. A horn of golden metal protruded from her forehead, the thing sprouting from a larger band of metal that crept down to just above her nose, and appeared to encircle her entire skull - and her ears were similarly covered by large cylinders, the function of which Kratos could not even begin to guess. A thick wire dangled from one of them, connected, it appeared, to a similarly golden metal collar that laid around the girl's neck.

Her eyes were hidden behind that pink hair, but as she shifted her head from side to side, taking them in, Kratos got a brief glimpse of two differently colored orbs, staring at them warily.

Whatever she saw, it was apparently enough for her to make a decision, because she then tapped the metal of one of her heeled boots against the trapdoor, three times, in what was an obvious, distinct pattern.

There was a loud 'pop!', and Nursery Rhyme, still in book form, winked into existence. "You came for us." Nursery's voice was trembling, almost in time with her pages. Then, before Kratos, or anyone else could respond, there was a puff of smoke, and suddenly, Kratos had a weeping girl clinging to his neck.

"There was fire EVERYWHERE and I didn't want to burn and I was so scared, even when the purple lady protected me, then, Fran dragged us into this shelter but I could still feel the flames, and I must have pulled us into my Reality Marble because I was SO SCARED and…."

The girl was babbling - reacting in all respects like the child she appeared to be. For his part, Kratos was focused on only one thing in the girl's continued steam of words. Forcing himself to be gentle, he awkwardly laid a hand on Nursery's back, and carefully chose his words. "Girl….Nursery Rhyme." Her babbling stopped, and a pair of red, bleary eyes peered up at him. "Where is Medusa?"

"Oh." There was another pop, and Medusa tumbled into the pink-haired girl's arms. The woman's eyes were closed, her limbs dangling limply, her dress almost in tatters, singed and burnt.

"Uhhhhh." Said the girl, holding Medusa out to them.

Kratos wasted no time in taking her from the strange girl. Fujimaru and Chiron were there almost immediately. "She's still breathing - it's more of a reflex action for us, but it's a good sign." Chiron had a hand on the woman's wrist, likely checking on the thrum of her heart. "Heartbeat's strong, at least."

"She saved me," sniffled Nursery, still clinging to Kratos. "When the fire came, but it hurt her. Then we fell into the basement, and she wasn't moving, and I couldn't carry her, and the fire was coming. Then I heard footsteps, and I thought it was the evil clown, or the murder-machines, but it was Fran."

Nursery finally let go of her death grip on Kratos, turning a grateful pair of eyes on the pink-haired girl, whose stiff posture relaxed minutely when she (assumedly - Kratos still could not reliably see her eyes through her hair) locked eyes with the living story. "She dragged us into a room, pulled the door shut and sealed it behind us. It felt safe, but I was still so scared and, and….."

Her voice devolved into a choking sob, and she buried her face into Kratos' shoulder again. The pink-haired girl - 'Fran' - appeared to attempt to pick up the thread of the story.

'Attempted', at least. "Uhhh. Ahhh." Along with the grunts, the girl pointed at the trapdoor.

"She says that was Frankenstein's safe room. Covered to the damn gills with the best Bounded Fields he could buy, beg, borrow, or steal," said Mordred. "Though she didn't say 'Frankenstein', she said 'creator'."

Kratos blinked, and he was certain he was not the only one. "You can understand her?"

Mordred stared at him. "What, you can't? Didn't you have a fancy magical thing for that?" When most of them shook their heads in the negative (though she was only looking at Kratos), the knight shrugged. "Huh. Weird. She makes perfect sense to me."

In the end, it was of little concern - no different than needing Mimir to translate the World Serpent or the tongue of the elves for him. But…. "She said 'creator'," began Fujimaru. "Does she mean….?"

More inarticulate grunts, and Mordred nodded. "Yeah, this is Frankenstein's Monster - though she really doesn't want to be called that."

"One second - Kratos, hold onto her carefully, these things are a rush - at, least, they were for me." Fujimaru jabbed one of her healing darts into Medusa's arm. "That's three in one outing, which means I've used half. I hope they've got a resupply, or else I'm going to be out of these things by the time things get really bad here."

The woman stiffened for a second, hissing (possibly in pain, or as the pain lessened - or possibly just as some byproduct of her Gorgon heritage), then relaxed in Kratos' arms. She did not awaken, but she looked noticeably better.

"We're ready to receive her, Kratos," chimed in Romani. "Either Altera or Cu is ready to switch with her - Altera's healed up enough to rejoin you, and Cu was never injured in the first place, so whichever."

"Send Altera." The Saber was powerful, something they desperately needed right now. Their enemies were evolving, or improving with each skirmish. They had to bring as much strength as they could muster to the war they were embroiled in.

A moment later, the Saber was settling into position behind him, and Romani had vanished, rushing out to medical to oversee Medusa's treatment, leaving Da Vinci to run things while he was otherwise occupied.

"Ok," said Fujimaru, glancing over at the strange girl who was still watching them, warily. "So, is this the second one, then? If I remember the story right, the Monster wanted a bride - but Frankenstein balked at the last minute, and destroyed it instead of giving it life…..that's what made the Monster really start to ruin Frankenstein's life."

Fujimaru licked her lips, as she considered her words. "Did…..did you have a brother…or a husband or….something? That one Servant said they'd killed the other thing they wanted, and given the locale, I'd assumed that was you……was it one of his other creations?"

Fran shook her head, a gesture that was accompanied with another series of noises. "She says no, that Victor had always planned on making two - a new Adam and Eve. He had all the parts for both of them assembled, but he…..woke her up first." Mordred, from the tone of her voice, was scowling. Viciously. "She thinks what they found was the body that would have been the Adam - they were almost twins, apparently."

"Why had he not….animated him, then?" asked Chiron. "If this was his life's work, one would have thought that he would have completed it. All the tales of Victor Frankenstein did not paint him as someone who would allow something like the disturbance in this city to hold him back."

Fran growled, viciously, and loudly enough that Mordred took a step back, her sword snapping up reflexively, though it dropped when the girl didn't follow those snarls with anything resembling a threatening move. "Yeah…..you could probably guess, but she doesn't want to talk about that."

"Then why do our enemies seek you?"

Fran turned to Kratos, glanced up at him, then shrugged. He did not need Mordred to translate her morose "Uhhhhhh."

"They never said why they were chasing us, either," whimpered Nursery. "I first met Jackie one time when they had nearly caught her, and I helped her escape. But every time we got away, they just tried harder the next time." A low noise of distress trickled from between the girl's clenched lips. "And now they have her."

"Whatever they're going to do, they can't do it immediately." Sakamoto glanced back at the direction in which the machines had fled. "They still need to get their hands on Artoria."

"We should get back, said Chiron, with a frown. "Regardless of Fran's survival, we have the last thing our enemies need. The hammer is going to fall on the camp…..and soon, I fear."

Mash had drifted over to Fujimaru's side. "Are you ok to walk, Senpai?"

Fujimaru shook her head. "I'm ok. I should be able to make it back to the camp - those darts patched me up in a hurry."

Mash fidgeted, biting down on her lower lip. "Ok….if you're sure. But if you need to, I can carry you on my back…..since….since it's my fault you got hurt in the first place."

"Hey!" Fujimaru laid a hand on Mash's arm, turning the girl to look at her. "It's not your fault. Combat's chaotic like that, and those things were really bad matchups for both you and Sensei." She gave Mash's arm a squeeze. "And I'm ok. We'll figure it out, and get them next time."

"Let me take a look at the basement before we go," said Sakamoto, heading towards the trapdoor. "Just in case there's anything of value left there."

Fran began moving to follow him, gesturing and issuing a stream of unintelligible sounds as she did so. Eyes narrowed, Oryou floated after her, hair bristling.

They were not gone long - either the underground space was very small (or a good deal of it was now inaccessible, due to the explosion), or Fran had led them exactly where they needed to go. Oryou floated up, just ahead of her lover. A moment later, Fran heaved herself up out of the hole, a massive mace grasped in her hand.

Mordred's helmet tilted to the side. "What, you going to fight with us, Fran?" From the sound of her voice, Kratos felt that Mordred was grinning behind her helmet. "Nice!"

Mordred raised a fist, and, after a moment, and some leading gestures from Mordred, she awkwardly knocked her fist against the knight's. "This is a hell of a lot better than the two of us fighting each other, even if I kind of think things going down the way they did ended up working out for the best…."

Kratos blinked, and he was far from the only one. From the way the knight was talking…..

Chiron nodded, clearly having seen the look on his, or Fujimaru's face. "Yes. From what little I can recall, Fran, or the Heroic Spirit of her, was another one of the participants in the Grail War, alongside Mordred, Shakespeare, and several others we have met."

Fran was staring up at the Archer. "Not you yourself, child." Chiron gently reached out a hand, then, when Fran did not suddenly back away, gently patted her on the head. "But the Heroic Spirit you will someday be. I believe you and I were on the same side."

Mordred scoffed. "Not that I think 'sides' lasted long in that mess. I think I remember my Master not trusting our side as far as he could throw them - and I think that paid off in the long run." She reached out and ruffled Fran's hair, much more roughly than Chiron had done. "No hard feelings, that was a future you, and a different me. And you made me earn my win, either way."

Fran just huffed - but Kratos was certain he did not imagine the eye-roll that happened behind the girl's hair.

---

The entire way back to the camp, they felt eyes on them. Nothing, or no one (if that term was applicable to the machines that had been their enemies) they could see, but, given the ever-present fog, their watchers were operating from an obvious advantage.

"Whoever they are, they're good," muttered Chiron, body angled. "I don't think it's a Servant - probably some sort of spy drone built specifically for monitoring purposes. It fits their overall strategy so far."

"Good thing we were smart, then," muttered Fujimaru, with a glance over to Fran.

Sheathed in a powerful illusion spell, Fran glanced up over at her, but with a face that was not her own, but that of the oni.

"And that I can deliver quickly, and on-demand!" crowed Da Vinci. "Shame none of our Casters are good with that kind of magic, but it just lets me show off more."

She preened for a moment more, then settled down. "If anything, it's a good thank you for all that wonderful tech you sent back. Oh, I have IDEAS for them, so many ideas…." She frowned. "Just keep in mind that that emitter won't hold up to combat - it was a slapdash job - as much as anything I do is slapdash."

"Shouldn't matter," muttered Mordred, pointing. "We're almost back - I can see the top of the wall from here. Once we're behind Mother's Bounded Fields, she shouldn't need that thing anymore. It'll be a cold day in hell before one of those clankers sneaks into the camp with her watching."

Sakamoto and Oryou had vanished into Spirit Form before they had departed the ruins of the Frankenstein estate - the better to hide that the group that was leaving was one person larger. Fran was a part of their enemy's plans, whatever they might be, and they thought her dead. Better they waste time and resources to create a replacement - as they had indicated they would as they had taunted Chaldea with the Doctor's notes. However much or little it was, it would be time and resources that were not directed at them.

Any advantage you could seize in a war was a good one.

Before long, they were once more standing before the gate to the camp, Mordred's fist banging on the metal of the improvised gate, her voice bellowing out that they had returned, and to open up. The knight's voice had barely finished echoing around the misty air when the gate began to move to the side, allowing them entry.

They had barely finished shuffling in through the thin crack that had been opened for them when a voice, unpleasant, but now long grown familiar assaulted their ears.

"My. Quite the change from the group of conquering heroes that returned to my child's stronghold." Morgan was standing there, her expression as distant as ever, her eyes raking over them, taking in their battered forms, up until her gaze landed on the disguised Fran.

"But who is this, cloaked in such a shoddy illusion spell." She gestured with her free hand, and there was a shower of sparks, an eruption of smoke, and the image of Shuten vanished.

Morgan blinked. "A….homunculus?" Her head tilted to the side. "Yes…..and no." Her hand reached out, as if to cup the girl's chin. "You must be the thing my Master's friend was working on so feverishly…."

Mordred's hand intercepted her mother's. "Knock it off, Mother. No one's in the mood for it."

Morgan met her child's glare with one of her own, but it seemed half-hearted. Fran's glare, more vicious than either being exchanged by mother or daughter, went unnoticed, at least by Morgan. "So, it went that badly, did it?"

Mordred's scowl, if anything, grew in intensity. "We didn't lose or anything…..but we didn't win either."

"They took Jackie….." Nursery's voice was a low, worried whisper. The girl had not strayed far from Kratos in the entire time. Even now, the girl was almost clinging to his side, one hand resting on the belt of the Spartan's armor.

He had not found it in himself to shoo her away.

"Our enemies escaped." His voice was a low rumble, irritated, both at their failure, and that he had not realized the trap for what it was. "They delayed us long enough to seize the child, then destroyed the estate, and fled."

"Not willing to oblige you with a simple fight?" Morgan's eyebrow crept upwards. "It seems your enemies are a bit more clever than the ones you have faced previously." She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what do you plan to do about it?"

"We tend our wounds." As Kratos turned back to look at the gathered forces of Chaldea, Sakamoto and Oryou shimmered into being. "My Master, first and foremost needs to be looked over - and don't try to tell me you're fine. Those medical wonders Da Vinci made do a good job at patching you up, but she was very clear that they're not some panacea."

"Fine, fine," said the girl, her tone that odd combination of put-up and affront that only children on the cusp of adulthood could manage. (Not Spartan children. But Spartans were made differently. The Agoge left no question of what would happen to a flippant child who spoke back in such a manner to an elder.) "Get me checked out, and then we can take care of the folk who need it more."

The girl, as expected, sounded impatient, eager to get what she sees as an unnecessary bother out of her way so that others, who need medical attention more can be seen to. He would have normally expected Mash speak up at this point, insisting that her friend needed to be looked over…..but the purple-haired girl had been oddly withdrawn on the trek back to their camp. Her attention, if nothing else, had been as hard and as focused as he could have asked for. She'd been more than diligent in guarding for threats as they'd picked their way back through the misty city - almost to the point of paranoia.

Internally, he sighed. He had an idea of what was going through Mash's head - previously, the girl she was contracted with had been seriously wounded by an enemy who had gotten through Mash's defenses. Had Kratos not come upon them in that moment, she, and all of them, would likely have died. And now, Fujimaru had been injured again - less severely, but injured all the same, when Mash had been unable to hold the line of enemies that had been pressing her.

She was still so young, and for all that she had seen, she was far from a hardened soldier (something he was thankful for, truthfully). A bit of an overcorrection was to be expected.

Yes, he would need to make time to talk with the girl - assuming Fujimaru did not notice it before him, and speak to her first.

The girl in question was speaking to Sakamoto, while being herded in the direction of the building that had been given over to Chaldea's use. "I'm going to swap you out with Lord El-Melloi II. If we're expecting them to hit us here, I think I'd like the mastermind of the Battle of the Red Cliffs - not to mention the Empty Fort Strategy - to take a look at things and help shore up our defenses before things get bad."

"I would speak with him as well," rumbled Kratos, drawing eyes to him. "Our enemies' goal remains shrouded. We know what they seek….but not why."

"It is something I have been thinking about myself," admitted the El-Melloi, when he had finished manifesting. "Let us talk as we walk."

"I'll come find you once I get a clean bill of health," said Fujimaru, with a wave, as she was marched away.

"Assuming their plan doesn't require any other pieces, they need three things." The Caster began to tick items off on his fingers. "Jack, which they now have. King Artoria - which we deprived them of. And Fran - she managed to evade them, but they have the Doctor's notes, so that is only a temporary reprieve."

"They have little in common. Fran is not even a Heroic Spirit." Altera was staring up at the fog-choked sky, her eyes distant. "The King of Storms at least is powerful, but they had her restrained, rather than utilizing her as a weapon."

"There's something to the fact that they had the King of the Wild Hunt restrained, and the forms the machines use - as has been mentioned." The El-Melloi's mouth was a thin line. "It's far too much to be mere coincidence - a belief that Kongming shares with me. Increasingly, I think the Fae Realms are somehow involved in whatever our enemies are planning, though we're unsure as to exactly what form - source of power, alliance…..or something unfathomable." He shrugged. "There's just not enough data for a proper guess."

Kratos knew little of the Fae, and he was wracking his mind to recall the snippets that Mimir had let slip of them, during his time with them. (Shockingly, for as fond as the Smartest Man Alive was of the sound of his own voice, stories of his times back in the land of his birth were…..more sparing than his other tales.) Mostly, he could only recall that Mimir nursed a dislike of the king he had served then that was nearly as strong as his hatred for Odin. That did not bode well, he felt, for the answer to the question he was about to ask. "Would the Fae ally themselves with our enemies?"

"That's…….difficult to say." A complicated series of emotions played out across the Caster's face. "The Fae don't think like humans do, don't have a moral code, or values, or, sometimes, even thought processes that align with anything we can understand." He glanced over to Kratos. "I assume the gods you've met in your time, while powerful, were still human, in some fashion."

"Yes." And they had very human flaws - the very thing the evils in Pandora's Box used to drive them to greater heights of wickedness.

"The Fae…..aren't. Possibly it's different in your world, but here, the Fae are alien. They can pretend to be human, pretend very well. But they operate off rules and desires that are logical only to their minds."

"One of my countrymen, way after my time got a 'blessing' from them when he did one of them a service." Cu's image winked into being, as Kratos' communicator activated. "A magical spot on his face - a beauty mark, if you will. Caused any woman - and probably a handful of men, too, to fall helplessly, hopelessly in love with him." Cu spat off to the side. "Thing ended up causing his death in the end when his liege lord's wife fell madly in love with him at a glance, and put a geas on him to take her away. Poor Diarmuid - bastard's luck was almost as bad as mine."

The El-Melloi starts, then paused in his walk. "He was actually Lord Kayneth's - my teacher and the former El-Melloi before myself - Servant in the Grail War I fought in."

"No kidding?" Cu leaned forward, interest obvious on his face. "Lancer?" At the El-Melloi's nod, Cu's grin grew. "Huh. Small world, then."

"He seemed like an honorable warrior. Certainly amongst the collection of Heroic Spirits in that war." The man's head dipped, and he shook his head sadly. "I don't know the exact specifics of it all, but he died, killed by the Saber of that War - Artoria. Lord Kayneth and his promised wife died shortly after - we think at the hands of Saber's Master, an assassin known as the 'Mage Killer' by the Clock Tower."

"He brought his woman along to the damn Holy Grail War?" Incredulity dripped from Cu's voice. "With Diarmuid as his Servant? Was he looking to die?"

"No, he merely misunderstood what the Holy Grail War was. From what I've managed to piece together in the years since, he was expecting it to be some grand, noble thing. Mages dueling honorably." The El-Melloi grimaced. "He was unprepared for what it actually was."

"Most are not," muttered Kratos, softly.

There was a long pause, as all of them digested that, each one briefly revisiting the wars they had seen in their lives. "Anyways," said Cu, breaking the silence. "While the Fae are bastards, they're not really the kind of bastards who would wipe out Humanity like this. They like humans too much for that, though it's less fondness and more….." His face twisted. ".....half the way you'd look at your pets, the other half the way a kid would protect their toys. Not great, but not generally completely genocidal like Lev and his buddies."

"That isn't to say they don't kill people - they do," commented the El-Melloi. "But it's more….happenstance when they forget people aren't as durable as they are. Or simple carelessness. To continue the analogy used, like when a child is too rough with their toys and breaks one - or several."

"There's lots of stories of people making deals with the Fae," chimed in Nursery Rhyme, from where she had perched herself on Kratos' shoulder - a position he had still not found it in himself to remove her from. Yet. "They usually end badly. Someone makes a deal, but isn't careful about the wording, and they end up dead…..or worse." The girl giggled, then resumed the soft humming she had been doing while the rest of them had been talking.

".....aaaanyways," began Cu, still shooting a look at the girl. "What she says is right. If you ever run into one, be very, VERY careful with your words around them. Don't ever accept food or drink from them, and never make a deal with one unless you're very sure of yourself….or damn desperate." The corners of the Hound's mouth quirked up in a smile. "But I probably don't have to tell you about that, after all."

No. No he did not.

"The more we speak of it, the more I begin to believe there is no alliance here - the Fae forms of the machines we are seeing is a….byproduct, of our enemies overall plan." A frustrated noise slipped from his lips. "Which is an unfortunate dead end - but, thankfully, we have other avenues to explore."

"Nursery, what can you tell us about Jack?" As the girl blinked at him, he continued. "It might help us understand why they took her - and maybe, what they plan to do with her."

Nursery fidgeted for a moment, before nodding. "Jackie's……Jackie's not normal. She's not a concept like me, but more a 'what-if?' Since people don't know who Jack the Ripper really was."

"A serial killer - a criminal," elaborated the El-Melloi, with a glance at Kratos. "He murdered a number of prostitutes during this time period, and had London itself in a minor grip of fear for a period of time. He even sent at least one letter - the 'Dear Boss' one, to the police to taunt them. In the end, he was never caught, and the murders just….stopped. To this day, while there are theories on his identity, no one knows for certain."

Nursery was nodding her head. "And Jackie's one of those 'possibilities'. There's another Jack, a Berserker, and he explained it by saying…" The girl's voice dropped, becoming deeper - oddly, not some form of mimicry, but almost akin to a recording. " 'Jack the Ripper changes form based on what class they are summoned in. That's why each of us is so different from the others.' " She swallowed, and her voice returned to normal. "So Jackie, this one, is one of the people it could have been. Though…..she's a bit more than that, too. There were a lot of dead children in London at this time. Inside…..Jackie's all those, too."

The blood drained from the El-Melloi's face. "She's…….." He shuddered. "That is…..horrific…..but I think that explains why my Master was incapacitated after one encounter with her."

"She's a Medium….or a Spiritualist. Either term works," he said, to Nursery's curious expression. "She can see ghosts, but too many of them can overwhelm her. Seeing that many….and in an unprepared state…….it harmed her. Greatly."

Nursery seemed to shrink in on herself. "We're sorry. I know I already said it, but I do really mean it. We shouldn't have tried to hurt you like that." She fidgeted. "And…..we didn't even know we might do that to the red-haired girl."

Disgust, and something uglier were roiling in Kratos' gut (so many souls…lives.….trapped. And for what? All so the Throne of Heroes could have a copy of Jack the Ripper? His dislike of the thing grew ever more pronounced.), but he put them aside with an effort of will. "Should we assault their stronghold, will we need to keep Fujimaru back - away from Jack?"

"Possibly. Possibly not," said the El-Melloi with a shrug. "Take it with a grain of salt, but Morgan said that her Circuits were…..'hardened' was the word she used, when she examined Fujimaru after she helped heal her. It is possible that after being damaged, her Circuits have repaired themselves stronger, in the same way muscle tissue regrows itself after being torn through exercise."

"Or Morgan did something to her," muttered Cu. "Or is just lying. Don't ever believe that bunk about how the Fae can't lie, Kratos. They can, and do - when it suits them."

"That is a possibility," admitted the El-Melloi. "But I did an examination of my own after, and I did not find anything amiss. I'm far from any kind of expert, but I am at least competent. Until Romani can take a look at her, that's the best we have." He sighs, tiredly. "And I think I can guess why our enemies wanted Jack. That many souls…..there are no shortage of things they could do with them."

The communicator on Kratos' wrist activated again, and Da Vinci's image winked into life. "Like power whatever they were going to use that spire for, for one." The Universal Genius' mouth was a grim line, and her eyes were as hard as Kratos had ever seen them. "I've had this suspicion for a while, but I think I know what they're using to power those machines - not the steam that's being used for the simple motive processes, but the catalyst that starts the transformation matrix we've seen them use. It's human souls. Ones spliced with a touch of something else."

"Probably a sliver of the essence of one of the Fae realms," spat the El-Melloi. "Or even some of this Artoria's Core, or Graph. I had the same suspicions as you, but…."

"It explains where all the people went," growled Cu. "And Mordred saw them hauling people off during the early stages of this mess. So Jack's their battery, then, for whatever their plan is, and Artoria's….the bridge, or the catalyst, maybe." He scratched at his nose. "What about Fran?"

There was a long silence, then the trio of Casters shook their heads, one by one. "No idea." From the tone of her voice, it galled her to have to admit that. "I don't know enough about her capabilities or anything to be able to guess. If I could examine her, I could probably get a better idea, but….."

"She doesn't seem all that choked up about the man who made her being dead," mused Cu. "Dunno how much of the story was true or not, but….."

"An….examination is not something she would agree to," rumbled Kratos. "Not if this Victor Frankenstein was anything like the one in the tale."

"Yeah," agreed Da Vinci. "Much as I'd love to see, personally, how Frankenstein managed his feat, that poor girl's probably been poked and prodded enough for a lifetime or two. So unless she offers, I won't press." She shrugged. "It's moot anyways - this is the living Frankenstein's Monster, and I have no way of getting there, or her here, really. The accident with Kratos aside, we're really not MEANT to bring living people back to Chaldea from their proper time. Servants, or resources and materials are one thing, but people? That's a big no-no."

"Whatever they need her for, it's moot. At least assuming they are able to decipher the Doctor's notes and make another like Fran." They were climbing the stairs to the wall that surrounded the camp, the El-Melloi's fingers twirling a cigar, almost idly. "Knowing about it might give us some better idea of their overall goals, or an idea of how to stop them, but given the limited time frame we're working with, it's probably better to focus on this."

This, being the open ground before the walls. The man's eyes, normally dark and shaded, glowed gold, and, for a split second, there seemed to a man crouching over the El-Melloi's shoulders, one dressed in flowing robes, a large fan in his hands, and a look of absolute concentration on his bearded face.

"Let's begin."

---

Senpai was fine.

Chiron had looked her over - exhaustively - and had concluded that the nano-dart had healed most of the injuries her Senpai had taken during the fight.

Because of Mash.

There was little more than a tiny bump on her head, and the dried blood in her hair to show that she'd been hurt. By all respects, her Master….her friend, was fine.

Mash was not.

Mash had, again, let her Master down. That Fujimaru wasn't in a coma this time was no excuse. An enemy had gotten around her, had hurt her Master.

What was even the point of her being a Shielder if she couldn't do her one job?

Things had worked out this time, yes. But there was no guarantee that would hold. She was surrounded by people who had seen war - true war, in all its ugliness, and they had been adamant on one point - anyone could die, at any time. None of them were guaranteed to make it through this alive.

And, while they had lost people so far - even beyond the hundreds who had died in Lev's sabotage - so far, they had been lucky. Their only losses had been people they'd met along the way, and not any of those who had become permanent parts of Chaldea. Friends. It had still hurt to lose them, but…..it wasn't the same.

(And Mash, at times, hated herself for feeling that way.)

She'd made peace with her own death a long time ago. But in what she realized was a mirror of her Senpai's feelings, she hadn't, and wouldn't be making peace with Fujimaru's potential death any more than she knew her friend would stop trying to find a solution for Mash's own looming end.

Fujimaru was going to live. She wasn't going to go through what she'd gone through in that burning city again. And if Mash was too weak to protect her, well, then…..

She'd made a decision.

In her defense, it might not be the best decision.

Kratos' words about too much power quickly, about how shortcuts could turn badly in a hurry were echoing in her mind as she stomped through the camp. But it was her life, and her decision.

She needed to be stronger.

Fou was trailing along after her, the animal unusually quiet, almost as if he could understand what was going on. She'd intended on leaving him with her Senpai, let the two of them get some sleep, but Fou had leapt down from the bed and chased after her almost immediately. She'd tried putting him back, but he just kept following her, and she'd had to resign herself to his presence here. (She didn't want a witness for this - even Fou, who couldn't speak, she felt like he was judging her with the looks she was getting.)

She rounded a corner, and saw exactly what she'd been looking for. Well, not exactly - she'd been hoping to find Mordred, and just Mordred, for this. But it seemed that despite her Luck being a respectable C, she was borrowing some of Cu's fortune today (or maybe Medusa's, or Avenger's - for all the Hound complained, the two women had a stat lower than his, and comparable to his when he was a Lancer), because it wasn't just Mordred she'd stumbled upon, but all three members of the Pendragon family.

Too late to back out now, either way. She'd spent the past couple of hours building herself up to this. The handful of times her resolve had started to slip, a simple glance at the dried blood in Fujimaru's hair had shored it up.

She had to do this.

Mordred was the first to notice her, or at least the first to react to her walking towards them (Morgan probably knew where Mash was from the time she left the warehouse that Chaldea was using - despite the name on the camp, this was Morgan's fortress more than it was her daughter's). "Hey, Shieldy!" The knight raised a hand in a wave. "What's up?"

When Mash didn't reply, simply continued walking forward, her face a mask, the smile fell off Mordred's face. Artoria glanced over at her daughter, a knowing expression written across her face. "I believe you know what this is, my child."

The knight rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. Was just hoping I was wrong." Mordred's frown grew. "Shieldy, you're glaring at me like folks have when they wanted to fuck me. Please tell me it's that, and not the other thing."

Mash felt her cheeks flush, just as they did every time the subject of…….romance….came up, but she pushed it aside. She wasn't going to let herself be distracted (the quip about the knight not being her type - not that Mash even knew what her 'type' might be - died a lonely death). "No, it isn't."

She straightened her back, and drew herself up to be as tall as she could manage. "I don't care which of you it is, but I want one of you to answer my question."

She regretted her choice of words about a second after they were out of her mouth, and she saw an honestly frightening light in Morgan's eyes - right before Mordred's hand clapped over her mother's mouth. "No, Mother." Mordred flinched at the look on Morgan's face, but didn't remove her hand from the woman's mouth. "And that doesn't count as an agreement to a deal or a pact or any shit like that, either - you know I have dibs here on this. Partially to keep her from agreeing to anything with you." Mordred's nose twitched. "Or you, Father. Even if you're not as bad as mother, this version of you is still part Fae, which means I don't want Shieldy making any kind of deals with you, either."

Artoria snickered, then waved her hand at Mordred, tacitly giving permission. Morgan glared harder, snatching her head away from the hand that was covering her mouth. "It doesn't work that way, my child, and you know this."

"Don't care," snarled Mordred. Her finger slid through the air to point directly at Mash. "That one there is a damn angel, and you're NOT getting your hooks into her. And if me getting in your face isn't enough to make you back off - and why would it be?" Sarcasm dripped from the Knight of Treachery's voice. "Think about the very scary people who will ALSO have a problem with you if you kick this hornet's nest. Starting with that big-ass god, all the way down to that weedy little nerd who hates you for whatever plan of yours fucked with his assistant."

Fou growled, fur puffed up, eyes locked onto Morgan, unintentionally emphasizing the point, and drawing Morgan's eye for a second.

Mordred shook her head. "Like I said, I got dibs on this specifically to prevent you from fucking this entire thing up - didn't plan on having to use it on Father, but that's neither here nor there. Now, is this going to be a problem, or are we going to be adults about this shit?"

Morgan bristled, but finally backed down. "Very well. As I said when you summoned me, I am here to help you, Mordred. Despite your…..somewhat unfair opinion of me, I do just want the best for you." She took a step back, her face settling back into that cold mien that seemed to be her default. "I will not jeopardize your alliances. Go, tell the child what she wants to know."

Mordred nodded her head respectfully, then turned back towards Mash. "Now, are you ABSOLUTELY sure about this, Shieldy? There ain't no take-backs on this. And from what I heard, you haven't had the easiest road when it comes to your passenger, what with him not talking to you, then everything with that sword you're wearing."

For a second, Mash was suddenly very, very conscious of the weight of the sword on her hip - like the first few days after it had appeared, and had become a constant in what she'd come to think of as her 'Servant costume'.

"So, to make certain - are you certain?"

A deep breath was filling Mash's lungs, and her mouth was opening to say 'yes' when….

The world just….stopped.

Then, it vanished.

In the time it took her to blink her eyes, she found herself transported from the ramshackle camp she had been in, to somewhere that looked like it was right in the middle of a cloud. White, soft mists - that couldn't be farther from the grey haze that had been surrounding them since they'd all arrived in London - were everywhere. She was even standing on them, as little, or maybe as much sense as that made.

"You haven't moved, so don't panic." A voice. Behind her.

She spun around, already calling her shield to her, body tensing.

"And you're not losing any time - this space exists in your mind." There was a man standing there - tall, possibly handsome, all tousled white hair and chiseled features.

Wearing armor like hers (without the exposed stomach, she noticed). Carrying a shield that resembled hers - though her 'blunt end' was more his 'sharp end' - much akin to a spike, really.

And the sword she had just been thinking about was sitting on his hip. Just like it did with her.

The man shrugged. "Though it might be more correct to say it exists in 'our' minds."

Mash felt her breath leave her lungs. "You're him." Her head spun, and she wobbled a bit. Her heart was hammering in her chest. "The Heroic Spirit…"

The man nodded. "That was bound to you in that disgusting experiment, yes. That's who I am." He took a step forward, then another, until he was right in Mash's face. "And I want to know exactly what you think you're doing?"

His arm shot out, and poked Mash right in the forehead, faster than she could follow. One second, he'd been standing there, arms crossed in front of him, and then there'd been a finger jabbing her right on the skull, the sensation of the touch hitting her before her brain had processed that he'd moved.

She stumbled back a step, but it didn't look like the man even noticed. "I have been doing my best - and I'll be the first to admit it might have not been a stellar job at first - at trying to keep you in one piece." He sighed. "But I HAVE been trying. It would help if our enemies would stop coming up with new and more deadly things to throw at you each time you go out to fight them, but that's completely out of my control."

For a second, he almost looked sheepish. "And I am sorry about what the sword did to you. But it was the only thing I could think of to deter them from trying that trick again - except in larger quantities. I….hoped you were strong enough to weather it, and you were. Still…..for what it's worth, I'm sorry it came to that."

And then, he was right back in her face again. "So WHY are you trying to undo all of that? You're not strong enough for this….not yet. I would have thought being in a coma for a few days would have perfectly illustrated that."

His eyes narrowed. "It's the girl, isn't it?"

Mash blinked, but then realized that she shouldn't be shocked he knew. From everything he's said - and his actions, like giving her access to his powers in the first place, and then the sword, later - it's clear whoever this Heroic Spirit is, he's been aware of, or just watching through her eyes the entire time they've been bonded together.

So she didn't bother denying it. "I wasn't strong enough. Again. I need to be stronger." Unhesitatingly, she looked up, meeting the strange man's eyes. "This can do that. Can help me protect her….protect everyone."

"At what cost?"

"Does it matter?"

Her reply stopped him in his tracks, and he stared, wide-eyed, at her.

"You know what we're fighting….what the stakes are. What's my life, my health, compared to that?" Her shoulders slumped. "What little of that is left….."

"And you'd burn all that away? Possibly leave your Master - and everyone else, though I think we both know she's the reason you're doing this - on her own?" He could be stabbing her with his….their sword, right now, and it wouldn't be piercing her to the level that his eyes were. "Without you? For however long the rest of this war is? Because you know there's more after this, and they'll be harder….worse than the things you've seen so far."

"I'm a Shielder. I'm supposed to protect people…..her. What good am I if I can't even do that?" Her voice was beginning to gain volume, matching his. "Even with all the training I've done with Mr. Cu and Mr. Kratos, I'm still……it's not enough!"

"And that's the OTHER thing!" His hands were on his hips, and he leaned in, looming over her, their foreheads almost touching. "You have a better example than most do about the consequences of a reckless desire for power in that foreign god, and yet, you're STILL rushing ahead, just like he did - like he's counseled you NOT to do!"

"It would be worth it." And she meant it, she really did. "Everyone looks for a meaning in their life - and mine, which started in a tube, and will end before the year is out……it's protecting Fujimaru. Stopping the Incineration of Humanity. If I can do that better…."

He sighed. "Is this how my father felt with me? Back when I was so certain of how things were and how the world worked? Heaven help me….if I wasn't halfway certain He's laughing at me right now." His hand moved up to brush through his hair, an unconscious, habitual gesture, she thought. "Be glad you got me as an Alter, girl, rather than my usual self. Normally, I've got such an impossible bar for people that I wouldn't be talking to you right now - probably would have just ignored you after I deigned to give you access to my powers……and then probably would have just crouched, waiting for you to disappoint me, so I could take them back."

He sighed, deeper this time, and his face fell. His voice, when he continued, was softer, too. "There's nothing I can say to you that's going to dissuade you from this, is there?"

"It's my life…..my choice."

"And it's MY power!" His eyes narrowed. "I don't HAVE to let you use it, if you're going to use it stupidly!"

Her shield was in her hands - she didn't know where it had come from, but it was there, and more and more she was thinking that she'd like to hear the sound it would make when she rang it off his head. He'd noticed, and the look on his face was just infuriating her more - mostly it was the utter lack of concern, but there was at least a touch of 'come on then, try it'. Mr. Cu could fill an entire photobook with different variations of that exact expression, in increasing levels of excitement (and insanity).

"If I could offer another point of view?"

They both jerked, startled at the sound of another voice in a place where that shouldn't happen. Moving in almost perfect synch (though neither of them realized it), their heads turned, swiveling around.

There was a man in white, standing just off to the side of where they'd been glaring at each other, leaning lazily on a staff. She couldn't see much of his features, the cloak he was wearing had a hood, and it was riding low on his face, to the point where only his mouth was visible - a mouth that was turned up in a wicked smile. White, silken hair spilled out from under the hood, further obscuring his features, given how it clumped (if hair that fine even could clump, a part of her said jealously) around the opening of the hood.

(She felt like she should know him.)

The Heroic Spirit she'd been about to come to blows with recoiled like he'd been struck. "You……." It was a legitimate question, she thought, as to what was whiter now, his hair, or his face. "You can't be here. It's impossible!"

The hooded man laughed. "Usually you'd be right. But this space…..well, it's close enough to a dream that I can cheat." He raised his hand, fine, delicate index finger and thumb held just a millimeter apart. "Just a little bit, but it's enough, when you're as talented as I am. Plus, I'm involved in this mess that's going on in Britain. Kind of tangentially, but it's enough for me to be able to sneak off, to balance things out a bit."

The knight (and he had to be a knight - she'd noticed, just like everyone else had noticed, the common thread that connected the people who recognized her shield) groaned, one hand palming his forehead. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? I remember you. How my father, and the rest talked about you, Meddler. In the end, it all collapsed, and what did you have to show for it…"

There was a Name coming, about to be spoken, but suddenly, the hooded man was there, his hand clapped over the knight's mouth.

She hadn't seen him move. Not in that he'd been too fast for her to track, no. He'd teleported. There one second, and right next to them the next.

"Shhhhhh." The hushing noise was accompanied with a waggling finger from the hooded man's other hand. "I'm not about to spill the beans about who you are, so I'd appreciate the same courtesy from you. Ok? Or do I have to use the patented Artoria-muzzle spell on you?"

The knight nodded, and the hand blocking his mouth was removed. "Also, don't look so surprised, Mash Kyrielight." The full force of that grin turned itself in her direction. "This isn't reality, and so the rules of reality don't apply, any more than they apply to a dream. Once you figure out the tricks, you can do anything in a dream. After all…." The grin grew wider. "It's not like you're standing on solid ground. And do you think that's air you're breathing, or you think you're breathing, right now? The normal rules are on vacation, as long as we're here."

The knight was still glaring, but it had taken on a more resigned air. "And that means there's no way for me to get rid of you, either, is there?" When the hood shook, side to side, almost gleefully, the knight just groaned. "Fine, say whatever you're going to say. Maybe you'll have more luck persuading this stubborn girl than I was."

As the hooded man's hands slapped together, almost as if he was applauding the knight, the other man simply slunk off, putting a small amount of distance between them.

Leaving her alone with this odd interloper.

"Well, firstly, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kyrielight. I have to say, you, and the rest of Chaldea have been very, very entertaining, so far." He strode right up to her, and held out a hand.

Idly, she noticed that flowers were blooming under his feet - continually, and even the places he'd been standing were still covered in beautiful petals and flora.

She took his hand, despite her misgivings, because she couldn't imagine that the Heroic Spirit would let him anywhere near her if he meant her harm - they'd just been arguing about trying to keep her from hurting herself, after all. "You've….been watching us?"

More of that musical laughter issued from beneath the hood. "Oh, yes! I was on the edge of my seat when I saw your Master fall like that, back in Fuyuki…..but then, the big surprise swept in. It's been gripping, since then! Very unexpected!"

"Don't look so surprised, girl." The knight was shaking his head. "You're involved in reversing the Incineration of Humanity. More people than just this……individual are keeping an eye on you, because you're the last hope of the world."

"Oh yes!" agreed the hooded man. "You've already been visited by one so far - or that Foreign God of yours has, at least, but that's neither here nor there." He pumped her hand twice, eagerly, then took a step back. "We're here to talk about you, Mash."

His hands steepled together, and he leaned forward. "Firstly - why are you so sure that you're going to fail?" She felt herself blink, and, before she could formulate a response, he continued talking. "Is it because you've done so, twice now? First in that city, and now, just a little while ago?"

She nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. He wasn't saying anything she hadn't been thinking herself, or hadn't just said herself not that long ago, but….

"So why, then, do those two failures have to overshadow all the successes you've had?" His head tilted to the side. "And don't try to tell me you haven't had any. Speaking as someone who's been watching your journey, you've had a lot of them. You stopped Artoria's Excalibur, while you were still new to your powers, and that was on your second day. I could list the litany of other incredible things you've done since then - like climbing two giant creatures, and smacking them around, for one - but then we'd be here forever. So, to ask again, why are you so certain that you need this power to not fail again?"

She swallowed thickly. "It's not…..it's not that I think I'll fail again. It's just that two times is….two too many. I can't TAKE that chance, that it'll happen again." Despite the fact that the man's eyes were hidden behind that hood, she tried her best to meet them. "They only need to succeed once."

"Well, you aren't wrong about that, but I do feel you're kind of missing the forest for the trees." The edge of the hood fluttered with a sigh. "When your Master was hurt, in Fuyuki, what happened?"

"Mr. Kratos saved us." She hadn't even known what to make of the man, at first. So tall, and massive (and savage, a tiny part of her brain said), showing up like some kind of superhero or something to save them at the last minute. "And then Mr. Cu showed up, and helped Senpai."

"Right," said the hooded man, with a nod. "And then, just now, what happened?"

"Senpai fell, and cracked her head." Mash shuddered, the image of Fujimaru lying on the ground, limbs moving weakly, and the machine standing over her, bringing its weapon down still seared on the insides of her eyelids. "But then Avenger managed to stop it."

The hooded man said nothing, but the grin on his face was only growing wider.

"You can't be suggesting that everything is going to miraculously work out every time, are you?" The knight's voice was incredulous. "There's no way you're that naive."

"Oh, of course not." The hooded man shook his head. "I've seen more war than anyone else, save maybe that formerly-immortal woman on the Isle of Shadows, and I know anyone can die, at any time. My point is more that when Mash here has stumbled…..others have stepped up to help."

His finger reached out and tapped her on the nose. "You're putting all this weight on your shoulders, child, like you have to carry everything, all by your lonesome. And while I agree, you, and every one of you getting stronger is something that will have to happen if you're going to succeed in this Grand Order…….it isn't all on you, anymore than it's all on Fujimaru, or Kratos, or any of the rest of you."

"You're the first line of defense, Mash Kyrielight, but not the LAST line of defense for your Master."

"So, do you trust them to help pick up the slack when you can't…..or don't you?"

She did. She knew she did. But that trust was balanced against the fear of losing Fujimaru, and…… "What if you're wrong?" she asked. "What if I do trust them, and it still goes wrong?" Because it couldn't be that simple. She wasn't a child to be lulled to sleep by fairy tales where everything works out in the end. Real life didn't go like it did in the stories.

"Well, I could lean on my awe-inspiring Clairvoyance and assure you that it will, but I'd be lying." He threw his hands up. "Sadly, the end of your journey is hidden from me, just like it's hidden from everyone with that Skill. And honestly, everything about you Chaldeans is a bit murky. We can get some glimpses of your future, but it's not stretching out as far as it normally would. The future around you seems to be constantly in flux….." His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "Probably due to that g-o-d that's hanging around your base. As I understand it, he had something of a reputation for defying Fate in his world."

"Honestly, I can't even promise that you'll all make it out of this Singularity, so I'm all out of any reassurances I can give on that front, sadly." His hand reached up to cup his chin. "But I believe in you humans - can you say the same?"

"Trust your friends, girl." A hand laid itself on her shoulder, and she turned to take in the knight, now standing behind her. "Trust in yourself, and what you're becoming. Please." A complicated series of emotions danced across his face. "Maybe……maybe if we'd been a little more able to trust each other, things would have worked out better for us…..back then."

"Maybe," said the hooded man, something other than playful glee appearing in his voice. "It would have been…….nice to see the dream continue. Wouldn't it?"

Despite the knight's attempt at a non-committal sort of noise, Mash could hear his agreement.

She took a deep breath. "I'm not saying you've convinced me, because I still have doubts." The two men were watching her intently, hanging on her every word. "And fears, and worries, and…….everything. I'm still scared that I'll mess up next time, and……I'll lose her. But I'll give it some more time." This time, it was her finger that shot up to jab at the two men. "But…..if things get bad, if Senpai's in danger, I reserve my right to say yes, to hear your name Mr. Knight! And if you hold out on me, and I lose Senpai over it, I swear to you, I'll become a REAL Heroic Spirit, and FIND you on the Throne and beat the stuffing out of you! And I'll have Mr. Kratos, or his Heroic Spirit version take his turn with you after!" Her eyes narrowed. "And then I'll find everyone else who helped us on this journey and let them have a piece of you!"

She didn't know exactly when she'd gotten up into the knight's face, but she was there, so she dredged up the best glare she could manage (possibly thinking of some of the ones Kratos had used on Avenger when the woman was being particularly….herself) and shot it right at the knight.

The hooded man was cackling, almost bent double. "Tiny….but fierce! Oh, it's wonderful to see someone doing to you what you did to your father!"

"Fine," said the knight, not at all fazed by her glare, and resoluting ignoring the other man. "If things get bad - really bad, I won't hold back if you ask."

"Promise?"

He banged his fist into his armor, right over his heart. "I vow it, Mash Kyrielight, on my honor as a Knight of the Round Table." And there was the confirmation of what she'd begun to suspect, not that it did her too much good, because there were a lot of people he could be (even if she could knock two names off that list, having personally met them), but still.

It was another piece of the puzzle.

"Thank you." And then, not sure where it was coming from, she was hugging the man.

She felt him freeze up, stiffening at her touch. "I might have wanted to hit you, and I kind of still do, but you have helped me. You gave me these powers to let me protect Senpai….everyone, and then the sword and the Noble Phantasm and everything……so thank you. I know we didn't ask to be bound together like this, but…." She was babbling.

A hand awkwardly patted her on the head, before quickly withdrawing. "It's ok girl….Mash. You weren't responsible for what was done to you, and in the face of the end of Humanity, I'd be a poor excuse for a Heroic Spirit if I held that against you." He extricated himself from her arms. "Just…….be careful, and don't rush yourself so much. Everything I am….that I can do….it's still too much for you….right now. But someday…."

"Someday," she agreed. But that someday might come sooner than either of them wanted.

She turned to the hooded man, to offer her thanks, but he was gone.

"He does that." The knight rolled his eyes. "For as cavalier as he was being about cheating to get here, he was probably very limited on how long he could stay before someone would notice." He looked down at her. "Now, I've kept your attention for long enough, and should send you back."

She had other things she wanted to say (or ask), but no sooner were the words out of his mouth than the world suddenly began to get hazy around her.

And she was back in the camp, staring at the three Pendragon women.

"Well, Shieldy?" asked Mordred.

Oh. She really had been brought back almost right where she had been.

"No." She shook her head. "No, I'm not."

Morgan was staring at Mash like she was a particularly unpleasant stain. "What…..for a second girl, I caught a whiff of magic off you." Her scowl deepened. "Familiar magic."

(Fou, too, was giving Mash a very suspicious look, but no one noticed.)

"I…..the Heroic Spirit I'm bonded to wanted to speak with me, so…..I went away for a second." Her nose wrinkled, trying to recall all the details of what had just happened, and finding them hard to hold on to - like trying to remember a dream after waking up. "There was someone else there, too. That might be what you're sensing."

"Him," muttered Artoria, knowingly. "Of course."

"So, did you and him come to some kind of agreement, then?" asked Mordred. "He pre-empt me telling you his Name?"

"Yes to the first, but…..no." She shook her head. "I still don't know who he is……though I have a bit of a better idea. He was one of the Knights of the Round."

Mordred blinked. "So, you had a conversation with that guy, and managed to come to some kind of agreement?" That single fang of hers poked through Mordred's grin. "Nice, Shieldy! I'd have ended punching him so hard it'd have knocked that stick right out of his ass!"

Mash laughed, just a touch hysterically, because……well, she'd just been through a lot in a short time. "I think I almost did hit him."

That admission earned her a rough headlock, and the scrub of knuckles across her scalp. Mordred was being loud enough that it took them a moment to realize Morgan was speaking - yelling more like.

"Mordred!" The Caster's voice cracked like a whip, and suddenly, Mordred had let go of her and was standing at attention, her hackles almost visibly rising - and Mash found herself halfway doing the same.

Morgan, for once, had something on her face that wasn't her usual expression of cold, haughty disdain. "The farthest edges of my Bounded Fields just registered a handful of those machines beginning to stray across them."

"It seems your siege has arrived, my daughter."

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I like Franky, beyond the fact that one of my two potential Grand Archers is her Papa (the other being Napoleon, one way or another, my Grand Archer is going to have 'Napoleon' somewhere in their name or title. Also RIP Takaya Hashi. You did a wonderful, hammy job voicing that kooky evil old man). No way I'd chump her out like that.

She still has a part to play in this Singularity.

Nursery: 'I'm terrified out of my mind, so I'm going to make a beeline right to the one with the biggest dad energy.'

An aside, but it never really occurred to me just how many Apocrypha characters are in London. Fran, Jack, Mo, Willy Shakes - and with Chiron being Fujimaru's first Servant, it's practically a reunion. Then again, when a war has 16 Servants taking part in it, it's bound to happen.

Galahad, obviously, having not met him at all in FGO yet (NA player only, as a reminder), so his personality is mostly my invention here. Though I am going for the more reasonable Alter description I've had of him rather than the 'too holy for this sinful earth' of regular Galahad.

This chapter brought to you by Fighting Gold. Because a year later, and it's still my jam, and the best JoJos intro.

Notes:

Originally posted on Spacebattles: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/a-ghost-in-a-strange-land-god-of-war-fate-grand-order-crossover.1129310/

TVTropes Page: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/AGhostInAStrangeLand

Takes place before Valhalla - as it was begun before that was announced.

FGO Friend Code - 076 428 445

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Ghost in a Strange Land