Fate/Fiction

[Apple]

OOC: Crack idea. A Holy Grail war with servants from all over and all-new masters.

CHAPTER 1: Heaven's Feel 5.5

Geez, I can't believe it. Seriously? What the hell is this thing supposed to be, anyway?

I suppose that I should explain myself. My name is Elizabeth Grant, and I tried summoning the most bloodthirsty servant in the history of mankind. I had books upon books of the most horrifying of things. The grail mediator said that I'd have to be ruthless to win the war, so I thought I'd let my servant do that for me.

The papers, artefacts and documents of all the terrors I'd researched on are still here within the magic circle. Except that... most of them are still here. I can't tell which one the grail took. Some are torn beyond recognition, and I can't see that gaming magazine I was reading before I started the ritual.

The only thing different is this weird red statue. It's rather large, and looks like twin compressed drills coiled around each other in a double helix. It is surprisingly warm to the touch, but I don't feel any heartbeat. I am disappointed. The first thing that I did was use two command seals, saying "I command you not to harm me" and "I command you to look after my physical safety", but it seems wasted now. I think I hit a glitch in the system, or those filthy magi sold me out somehow. This is ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with this thing? I've been trying to communicate with it for the past half an hour, but nothing has worked. I even opened the window, hoping that some air would stimulate a response, but the damn thing just sits there. It sits. And does nothing.

Fuck you.

Kicking the base of the silent red monument, I sit down at my desk and peel open the curtains. There is a strange silence about this part of town today. The streets of Fuyuki are usually noisy with people, but the streets are deserted. Maybe this is some sort of anti-human weapon? If it was, then I probably did the right thing in telling it not to hurt me. Maybe it's killed my pesky landlord and that idiot who lives above me and keeps hammering at the floor every night.

Hah, I wish.

I pull the windows shut, only to hear something bound up the stairs; I turn back in the direction of the monument. Whatever is moving up the stairs sounds like it's injured. It's slow-moving, and I can hear it sludging along the steps like something coming out of water.

But something about the sounds it makes puts a prickling chill on my neck. It's sludgy and sounds like rotting flesh; if I didn't know any better, I would say that... it sounds like a moving sack of decomposing meat. A tingle of delight runs along my spine. Maybe this is the servant I summoned! If it is, I should be prepared to meet it.

Pulling the windows closed, I stride across the murky floorboards and place a hand on the doorknob. But-

"Don't go."

A boy stands in the corner of the room. It looks like- but it can't be-

"Lisa, don't go. It's dangerous"

Everything in the room swirls around me like a slow moving whirlpool. It is as if his presence commands my absolute attention. But why wouldn't it? It's brother.

"What are you doing here, Brent? What happened to your studies in Britain? Wait, how did you get into the room in the first place-"

The haze gets worse. It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on anything but Brent. He looks at me sadly.

"I know you're worried, sis, but now's not the time. There is a monster coming up the stairs, and it will kill you if you don't come to me right now."

Confused, I walk towards him in slow tottering steps. "Monster? I just summoned a- ah, but you don't know about servants, do you?"

"Just come," he says urgently, beckoning.

Slowly, steadily, I move towards him dazedly. The room seems to rock like a ship's cabin on the eve of a storm.

And then the door shatters inward on its frame just as my leg gets out of the way. By God, what--?

But it's not the door that is the issue, it's the thing standing in the doorframe. Stringy bits of sinew and muscle hang down from under its eye, and its decomposing mouth is opened in a terrible snarl. Massive bony arms stretch out of its back, and two extra ones string down its front. It lets out a roar like nothing I've ever heard before- by gods, it sounds like some kind of mutant cheetah- and then it pounces at me.

But it doesn't reach.

In that instant it hurtles towards me, the red statue in the centre of my room seems to explode with an intense light. I feel a tiny trickle of prana leak from inside me- the wave of incendiary light rushes outward radially, sending everything flying in a frenzy of fire and smoke. The beast is swept back on its hind legs, but I am held fast by the wall behind me. The floorboards themselves curl up and crumble into ash. Everything seems to be burning.

"Lisa! Run!"

A voice echoes mildly in the recesses of my brain. I struggle to my feet as the thing in the doorway gets its own bearings. Gods above, it's still alive? It doesn't even have a head anymore!

It lets out an earsplitting howl and pounces again as I dive behind the upturned desk at the furthest end of the room. Another wave of light explodes from the centre of the statue and persists for at least five seconds. I can hear the beast's dreadful agony and the smell of burning wood.

And then everything is over. I raise my head from behind the table and spot the mutilated creature's body sitting before the red statue. Its entire torso is curled back in an indefinable stance, and every ounce of it is charred to a crisp. One twisted arm actually crumbles into soot and drifts away as a draft enters through the broken window behind me. The blood coloured statue just sits there, looking for all the world as if it hadn't exhibited superhuman baking powers.

Brent sits next to me, rubbing my arm. "I won't let them hurt you, sis."

How did he get here...? And wait, what does he mean by- did I just summon my own brother as a servant? All of this is just ridiculous. I think I need a merlot. Seriously.

[Apple]

Chapter 2: The First Battle

"Rider, do you see anything?"

There is no answer from the hooded servant. His eyes are obscured and he hasn't said a word in the past day. The only thing I remember him saying was "Are you my master?". He's been quiet ever since.

And there's that other thing. I can't shake it. It's this feeling of intense danger lurking around the corner that I can't perceive. Or rather, I can't seem to remember. It's unsettling. The mists around Fuyuki are typically this thick at this time of day, but here it just adds to the eerie nature of the surroundings. I should keep my guard up; Rider is out of spirit form for a reason. He's on alert, too. Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Newspapers over the last three days have reported mass graves being dug up for no explicable reason. Families have simply vanished from their homes, leaving nothing but bloodstains and random bits of gore. The only reason why we're even out is because I hadn't got supplies. I clutch the jewels in my pocket. Could it be the work of another master?

There is a pause behind me. I feel something slip up my shoulder, then the sensation disappears, as if deleted by some strange force- for an instant there is something cold against my throat-

"TAKERU!"

Black matter washes over my face and neck, obstructing the path of whatever it was. There is the sound of shredding flesh, but there is no pain or blood. The wound is not my own. I hear the sound of light footsteps retreating.

Rider comes into view as I whirl around and brandish the jewels in my hand. His arms and legs are warping, changing in a frenzy of red and black. Claws sprout of his arms, giving him the appearance of a demonic creature. In the distance is a white figure that fades into and dissipates from view. Concentrating, I can see the outline of an archaic outfit, complete with sheathes and daggers. He stands there, unperturbed by the aggressive reaction of my own servant.

"What do you want?" Rider snarls.

There is no reply. The ghostly figure stands in the fog, as if inviting an attack. As if completely confident in its own victory. For an instant it fades from view, and then it rematerializes. I can't seem to keep the vision of it for long. Is this one of its noble phantasms?

Angered by the attack on his master, Rider throws his left hand in a wide overhand arc. It hurtles forwards like a speeding bullet, the claws outstretched in a deadly grip. The silent servant sidesteps the attack and launches itself on its heels. Its blade comes to bear as it rushes towards Rider. The two servants clash, steel ringing against bone.

"I asked you, what the hell do you want!" Rider roars in frustration. His other arm whoomphs back to its original length and morphs into a savage looking double-edged blade. The enemy servant slides its weapon out of Rider's claws, smoothly bringing it into Rider's chest.

"RIDER!"

But he does not bleed. Instead, black matter spews from the wound, engulfing the enemy's blade and speeding toward his silent foe. The white servant lets go of his sword just in time and pushes off of Rider's chest with his feet, somersaulting several metres backwards. Rider staggers slightly and wrenches the sword out of his chest with his claws. He spits black wads of stuff onto the ground, cursing.

"What are you?!" he demands.

There is no reply. The white servant just stands there like before, a wraith enveloped in the mist; he begins to fade away again. Rider throws the blade to the floor, letting it clatter with unnecessary force. His wound has healed already.

"Come after me you coward!"

No reply again. Rider cusses and launches himself forwards at a frightening speed, exploding as he ripples through the air. Black jagged material forces outwards in all directions like massive black needles. This is an attack that closes off all escape routes, overpowering the opponent with sheer volume of weapons. The enemy servant stays in the same spot, weaponless, until the very last second.

As the ball of ever-expanding black matter converges upon him, he dives through a nearly invisible crack at a speed far surpassing that of what Rider just exhibited. The growing blob of black matter that is Rider grasps futilely at the nothing which it just consumed. Then the opponent servant turns to me, his face still cloaked.

Oh, shit.

[Apple]

Chapter 2.5: Interlude

"Tell me another one, Varric!" Giggled the child.

The dwarvish servant smiled. His master sat across the room, adjusting a set of dials on a radio. The wife sat in a corner of the room, her ear pressed to the windowsill.

"All right, kid. Which one do you wanna hear?"

"I wanna hear the one about Zev. Uncle Zev. The one you called Zevro-ooown."

"Ah, Zevran?"

"Yah, dats the one. Zevro-oooown."

The dwarf chuckled. "You don't want to hear about uncle Zevran, all he did was get cosy with Hawke! Hey kid, you would be surprised at the proportion of assassins which are bisexu-"

"Archer," came the voice in the shadows from behind the radio. "Can we change the subject?"

The dwarf put on a theatric frown and turned back to the child. "Right kid, yer daddy says that we shouldn't be talking about this sort of thing." He grunted. "Ask me something else, come on."

Abruptly, the radio crackled into life. Frazzled snatches of conversation came through, buzzing with static and interference.

"-ome after me-"

"-coward!"

The child started as the radio started sputtering more random bits of the conversation. And then, at exactly the right moment, the radio worked in its full glory.

"FUCK YOU, ASSASSIN!"

It was silent for about five seconds following the outburst, and then the child clapped his hands gleefully. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Assassin! Zevo-rooooown! Hehehehe!"

Varric looked up from the boy as the kid began a repeating a slew of "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" in his high-pitched voice. The dwarf sighed and turned to his master. "What's going on, Barto?"

The man frowned as he adjusted several more knobs, fiddling with the antenna. The static fizzed back into existence, then fizzled out of it. "I don't know. I sensed a spark of prana being activated in a street several hundred metres from here. I thought I'd check it out, and sure enough- wait, let me see if I can get a visual-"

The contraption that looked like a radio sent a beam of light streaming out of its rear end, illuminating the far end of the room. Vague images moved around in it, shadows of sorts.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Now I'd like to know how you do that, Barto."

"Familiars. But I'm not telling you any more, Archer. Your mouth functions like a leaky cauldron."

"You wound me, Barto," Varric replied with exaggerated disappointment.

"Not without reason."

The projected images frazzled into clarity; it was like looking through an obtuse lens. Everything looked grossly magnified. The world around was warped, but they could see the distorted form of a master backing away from a hooded servant. In the distance, a black mass of tendrils or something struggled to untangle itself from the messy heap it was. It was cussing loudly from what snatches that Varric could hear. He thought he heard an instance of 'Son of a bitch'.

"Beatch! Beatch! Soooon of a beatch!"

"Charles, don't talk like that," the woman in the corner whispered. The boy gurgled in response and continued to cuss like a miniature pirate.

A black mass of material shot out from the heap in the corner. At the speed it was going, it would have put a hole in any ordinary human's head- but the hooded servant dodged it like it was nothing, and continued his approach. A glint of steel flickered in the gloomy light. It was like watching a bad quality B-movie, except that it was real.

"... That could be problematic."

Varric looked at the blades and frowned. "An assassin class servant, you don't suppose...?"

"Yes, but look at the speed at which that attack was going. It's faster than your bolts move, Archer."

Mildly insulted, Varric cleared his throat. "Bianca isn't my only weapon, Barto."

"I know that. But this thing is faster than your superhuman crossbow. And this servant is faster than this thing. It could be a real threat to us."

"So whaddaya want me to do?"

"I want you to tell us a story, Varric."

The little boy clapped his hands again, giggling. "I like Varric's stowwies!"

"You might not want to hear this one, son," the man in the corner said, his lip tightening. "Although I don't suppose we have much choice."

"I suppose that's a direct command, then? I have full permission? Do you want a couple of darkspawn heads with that, Barto?"

"You can joke about this, Archer. But remember- your- our win rests on this."

The dwarf nodded, wincing inwardly. Such a dull master.

[Mike1984]

Will any of the canon characters be showing up here at any point?

[Apple]

Chapter 3: Interlude II

"I want to know how my father died," said the man, dumping papers on the priest's desk. The newly instated mediator of the war swivelled around to face the magus.

"Oh?"

"I said, I want to know how my father died. Answer me!"

The priest surveyed his aggressor coolly. The man's orange hair glinted in the dim light.

"Mister Ryuunosuke, I have no idea how your father died. Please do not create a scene."

"It's not like I can really go anywhere, is it?" The man indicated at the chained gates of the church. Its front doors were currently being dragged shut by attendants. "So as long as I'm here, you'd better answer me. How did my father die?"

Uryu's boy, and not a trace of magic in his blood, the priest thought wryly to himself. All of the aggressiveness shows, though. "I think we both understand the situation, Mister Ryuunosuke. But this is neither the time nor the place to demand an explanation from me. It's not like I have one."

"Ah, but my servant knows otherwise," the man replied, smiling. "In fact, he's the one responsible for this fog."

A servant? You have no magic, boy. Go home and lie to someone who cares to listen. "We have received news that the fog is merely a natural occurance," the priest replied, clearing his throat. "Please stop making a scene, mister Ryuunosuke, before I get my nuns to forcefully evict you from the premise."

The man let the papers float to the ground, and sank beside one of the benches. "You will regret this, priest."

"I'm sure I will. Now please act like a proper gentleman, not something remin-"

He caught himself, but scarcely in time. The man looked up. "You do know."

"Er, ah, yes, I mean no. None of the answers that you seek can be found here, Uryu."

"Uryu?"

God damn it all.

"What I think, mister priest," the man said, standing up and curling his hand around the priest's neck, "Is that you should be really careful right now."

The priest didn't get to hear what exactly he was supposed to be careful about, because at that exact moment one of the nuns let out a shriek. The chained gates rattled wildly as something crashed against them from the outside. Startled, Ryuunosuke cut off and raised his head.

"What the fu-?"

Something was scaling the church's grilles. It looked vaguely humanoid, a combination of bone and gristle with large bladed claws extending from its fingers. The priest felt Ryuunosuke's hand drop from his neck in a hurry.

"I, ah-"

The creature turned its head to the source of the noise. Its mangled jaw twisted into what looked like a half-grin, then it roared at the pair. Two more scampered up the church grilles to see what it had found.

"-ah, ah-"

The creatures scaled the metal bars with impressive dexterity and dropped into their side of the church with remarkable speed. The priest raised his arms.

"Who is your master, and what have you come for? There is no need for such an assault on the mediators of the war. Declare your business peacefully!"

The creatures stared back at him blankly, as if vaguely confused by the question- then one leapt forward and sliced him open from throat to groin. The other two let out roars of approval as it wrenched a mouthful of flesh from his throat. Gagging, the mutilated mediator dropped to the ground. His face and arms were slick with blood. Ryuunosuke turned and ran.

He nearly made seven metres before another one of the creatures dropped down from the interior of the domed ceiling. It stabbed him with its twin blades, roaring wildly as it tore into his flesh. The nuns in the background shrieked and fled for the underground passageway.

"Father?" Ryuunosuke thought, as the image of the creature blurred into something he thought he recognized before everything faded to black.

[Apple]

I don't think so, but three of the participants will be from the three main families (Takeru Tohsaka, (undecided) Makiri, and (undecided) Einzbern).

[Mike1984]

Well, unless this is post-UBW, the only way the Makiri family is going to have any children is if they come from Sakura (unless Zouken somehow obtains a new heir), and similarly unless Sakura retakes the Tohsaka name or gives a child to Rin the only way you're getting a Tohsaka master is from her, so....

[Apple]

Well, unless this is post-UBW, the only way the Makiri family is going to have any children is if they come from Sakura (unless Zouken somehow obtains a new heir), and similarly unless Sakura retakes the Tohsaka name or gives a child to Rin the only way you're getting a Tohsaka master is from her, so....

I was thinking of a hitherto undiscovered family line that went into hiding. Like, long ago before the Makiri name became Matou. Takeru Tohsaka is probably ShirouXRin, post Fate route.

[Mike1984]

I was thinking of a hitherto undiscovered family line that went into hiding. Like, long ago before the Makiri name became Matou.

Then they wouldn't be elegible for the Grail Ritual, and nor would they be called Matou, or even Makiri. Zouken's surname was originally Zolgen, and Makiri was his first name.

Takeru Tohsaka is probably ShirouXRin, post Fate route.

Why would Shirou end up with Rin post-Fate? Also, what happens to Sakura in this situation?

[Apple]

Goddammit. I shall call them Zolgen, then. Why wouldn't they be eligible? They could be magi.

Also, Rin has unloving sympathetical sex with Shirou after they both survive the tragedy that was the Holy Grail war. After a few years, Shirou slowly emerges from his depression about losing Saber and grows to love someone else. He still won't forget Saber, but hey, you gotta move on. Sakura... would just be Sakura, I guess...? Anyway, Zoken dies prior to this, and Shinji and Sakura spend his savings to go elsewhere. Away from Fuyuki.

[Mike1984]

Goddammit. I shall call them Zolgen, then. Why wouldn't they be eligible? They could be magi.

Well, they would be, but they wouldn't take the automatic "Matou" slot.

Also, Rin has unloving sympathetical sex with Shirou after they both survive the tragedy that was the Holy Grail war. After a few years, Shirou slowly emerges from his depression about losing Saber and grows to love someone else. He still won't forget Saber, but hey, you gotta move on.

I see....

Sakura... would just be Sakura, I guess...? Anyway, Zoken dies prior to this, and Shinji and Sakura spend his savings to go elsewhere. Away from Fuyuki.

I see....

Well, Shinji is dead if this is post-Fate, so it would just be Sakura, and I'd hope she would reconcile with Rin and be able to remain with Shirou rather than just being left alone with no way to get over her past....

[Apple]

Well, Shinji is dead if this is post-Fate, so it would just be Sakura, and I'd hope she would reconcile with Rin and be able to remain with Shirou rather than just being left alone with no way to get over her past....

Oh yeah, I forgot he got axe sword'd. Sorry bro. As for the Sakura reconciliation thing, I don't know... I hadn't planned anything like that.

[Apple]

Chapter 4: The First Battle, cont'd

Takeru watched as the off-focus figure drifted towards him, like an agent of death moving through the mist. A hidden blade extended from the interior of its wrist as it approached, its feet making no noise as it advanced. Rider had dislodged himself from the black muck he had become, but he was too far to reach his master. And he couldn't risk hitting Takeru with his whip arm.

Well, I guess this is the moment of truth.

Takeru hurled the jewels in his palm towards the advancing figure, but they just missed altogether. Or rather, the advancing servant completely adjusted his body instantaneously such that the jewels flew right past him. They detonated in the distance. Rider was charging forwards, but the Assassin was already face-to-face with the boy. He could see the short bristle on the servant's chin beneath his hood, almost smell its breath-

And then, abruptly, the man doubled over. He clasped his head in both hands, collapsing soundlessly to the floor. His hidden blade retracted as he went. Takeru backed away, raising his arm. Rider charged in from behind, his arms and legs rippling frenziedly as they shapeshifted once more. And then he was hurtling forwards, blade in hand, while Takeru held the single jewel that he knew would do the most damage.

They struck as one.

But neither hit.

The Assassin simply veered at supersonic speed, evading both the slash and the blast at the same time. His hands were still clasped over his head, but his legs moved of their own accord. The air literally thundered as he escaped the point-blank attack. Even Rider flinched. In his new location, the silent servant collapsed to the ground. Pressing both hands against the side of his skull he struggled and bucked, as if touched by some unnatural force. And then he was gone, returned to spirit form.

"... How about we get out of here?" Takeru asked. Rider gave no sign of assent.

=


"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" The man named Barto laughed, slapping the side of his chair. The Rider and his master were leaving the scene, as observed through the handheld projector. "That was a good one, Archer. I didn't know that Assassin class servants regularly suffered from chronic headaches."

The dwarf pursed his lips. "Especially when they were about to administer their death blows. Just think about it! No wonder they have to hide in the shadows and run. But," he muttered, lowering his gaze, "I'm... troubled."

"..Eh?"

"The guy's not dead, Barto. He could come after us at any instant! Well, me. If he knew who was responsible for his migraine back there."

The man's face straightened.

"Then we'll just crush his mind to a pulp with those headaches."

"No, something's strange. He seems to be slipping from my mind. Fading, even."

"Eh?"

"Do you know what his face looked like?"

"Whose face?"

Varric blinked in surprise. "You know, Mister whitey. Mister dodge-it-all. Mister headache."

"Are you trying to be funny, Archer?"

Confused, Varric looked at the boy and the woman. "Don't you remember anything?"

"Zevro-oooooown," the boy chorused happily. "Zevro-oooown."

"I think I- but- no, it can't be anything. Just a nagging feeling of danger," the woman said, staring at the dirt on the floor, as if trying to remember something. "I'm sorry, what?"

Blinking, and realising that his own memory of what that servant looked like was already gone, Varric made one last feeble attempt to salvage the information.

"The servant who was fighting Rider, chumps. That guy."

"But Archer, no one was fighting Rider."

[dakidukno]

I love it. Keep going bro.

[Apple]

Thanks.

CHAPTER 5: The Fifth Servant

Nothing remained of the church.

Yeager von Einzbern stood amidst the pile of fallen wood and stone. The decomposing body of the priest lay close to the altar, barely recognizeable. What little remained of his corpse stuck to the bones, giving the stinking body the appearance of frazzled clumps of weed. Teeth marks marked the spine and collarbone.

Dust rained down from the ceiling as something darted across the hole in the massive structure above.

His servant stood next to him, her wings taut and her fangs bared. She looked like an angel, complete with ruined feathers- except that every inch of her body was covered in scars. Red lines zigzagged across her forehead and arms, branching into networks across her face and torso. She stood still, but her wings moved slowly in the mild wind. The fog thinned and thickened in the heavy air, exposing shadowy shapes in the background.

"... Hello?"

It wasn't like he expected an answer, but the silence that answered his echoing question served to emphasize the magnitude of the massacre that had occurred here. Benches lay bashed up against the walls. Tablets and candles lay strewn across the floor.A human heart lay on the altar. Blood had been splashed across the big cross in the centre of the stage and across the walls. There hadn't been a battle, there had been a massacre.

Who would have done this?

Carnival snarled, her pupils dilating. The thing that had been sneaking on the roof was moving towards the rim of the broken ceiling. Yeager looked up, directly into the face of a rotting corpse. Orange hair fell over one side of its face, and the exposed eye was missing. What remained of its countenance was an empty socket, marked by tears and gouges. Its teeth curved and its bottom jaw had split into two independent mandibles. It seemed to consider them for a moment, and then it pounced.

Bad move.

The scarred angel moved exponentially faster than the beast did. She was upon it even before it had spanned half the distance toward them; there was a sickening crunch of teeth against bone as the winged berserker brought her prey to the ground. The sheer force of the impact tore grains of stone from the building and displaced clouds of dust . Salivating, Carnival dipped her teeth into the monster's throat even as it struggled futilely against her vicelike grip.

She was a long time drinking.

Yeager turned to survey the rest of the church. The entry passage to the basement remained barred up. Could there be survivors? It wouldn't mean much, but they might at least be able to tell him what had happened.

On cue, the doors began to slam and buckle wildly. Carnival looked up from her feast, little rivulets of blood running down the scars in her chin. She sniffed the air, let the motionless corpse drop, and stepped on one of its arms. It let out a strange shriek as its mutilated appendage shattered under the blow, sounding something like a hyena in pain.

Then she brought her other foot down on its remaining arm, silencing it permanently.

"Berserker. Open that door."

She looked at her master, seeming confused at first. Flickers of humanity returned to her eyes, beneath the tangled mess of matted hair.

"Nothing is alive behind those doors. Not a drop of living blood."

Yeager sighed, disappointed. His servant spat a distended artery out of her mouth, wiped her chin and commented on the meal. "No souls in this city. This is disgusting shit."

"I want to know what the church is doing about this," Yeager murmured, nodding at the ruined building. "This war cannot continue without its mediators."

The servant looked up, her eyes glinting maliciously. "But it can."

"Not officially."

"Dead is dead. I'll make it official."

Yeager didn't question the declaration. Instead, he walked pointedly over to the middle of the desolated building and picked up a stone. Then he placed it in his pocket, and turned to the scarred angel.

"We're going back to the Einzbern castle. I think we're done here."

Something white flickered in the corner of his eye and vanished. A normal magus would have been confused, or might have ignored it altogether.

Yeager Von Einzbern was anything but a normal magus. He murmured a word, freezing every inch of the air within the church. There was a ripple as something crashed through the barrier magecraft.

"Berserker, kill it."

She flicked her dirty hair back as madness washed over her eyes again. The muscles in her powerful legs tightened as the bones in her white knuckles stood out. She roared, and lashed at the unseen foe. There was a tremendous crash as her clawed grip collided with something in midair. She tugged, and a knife came loose.

The assassin standing behind the weapon materialized as the blade dropped to the ground. Yeager's eyes widened in surprise. The servant had just withstood a blow from Carnival, quite possibly one of the mightiest servants conceivable, yet he remained there without a scratch.
Undeterred, the scarred angel lashed at the assassin again with outstretched fingers. He ducked faster than her hands moved, and thrust a blade at her belly.

The weapon just broke outright.

The beastial angel went for the weapon, but the assassin retreated, leaving scarcely a mark on the church's walls as he backdashed diagonally. Carnival chased him, shattering bits of rubble into fine dust as she screeched through the air in a blood rage.

She nearly had him- her fingers were curling around his throat, quickly and surely- and then he was gone, flying out of the range of the attack with a quick snap of his back muscles. Yeager watched in amazement as Carnival's leg came up from underneath, but he simply grabbed her thigh and reversed her body in midair, as if he had seen the attack coming all along.

Assassins are supposed to be fast, but this is goddamn ridiculous.

Shrieking like a storm of fury, the scarred angel clawed at her aggressor. He released her leg and brought another dagger to his hands. Carnival slashed the air faster than the eye could see; the shockwave sent the blade flying from the assassin's grip and clanging noisily to the ground. Then the scarred angel went for his throat again.

His legs came up from under her, propelling her into the span of wall above him; it didn't hold her for long. Within an instant she had pulled herself from the concrete and resumed her ferocious assault. Yeager frowned. Normal assassins can't fight like that.

But here he was, moving faster than Carnival. What were his stats? The man squinted as prana initiated an accelerated flow through his veins...

Every parameter was lower than Carnival's, save luck. But stats were not a determination of speed. Strength, however, was clearly below what the assassin had just accomplished. Either he was drawing his power from the fog, or he had a skill or Noble Phantasm that boosted his abilities.

Just then, the passageway to the basement exploded outward in a shower of steel and splinters. Several more of the abominations emerged from within, sporting gruesome limbs and torn faces.

I guess you get lucky this time, faceless servant.

"Berserker! Retreat!" Yeager yelled and raised his fingers in the code language he had invented himself. Carnival didn't need telling twice. She crashed into the roof, bringing blocks of stone raining down from all directions- and within a second she had her master in her hands. In another second they were both speeding past the exterior of the ruined church at breathtaking speed.

Yeager thought he saw the assassin standing on the roof, watching them go even as the fleshy undead creatures surrounded the servant. And then the servant faded from vision, as if swallowed by the fog.