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Moonlit Rain – VS Caster
“Now!”
I yell at the top of my lungs.
It’s a nonspecific command that may only further confuse Caster.
But within this earshot, hidden in the forest outside the castle, is a pair of ears that know exactly what that command means.
Trusting my fate to the tiny hands listening in on me, I charge forward, the bow in my hands changing shape.
Once again, I wield my gauntlets.
“Has your madness already overtaken you, Servant Rider? I admit, you’d make a fine Berserker.”
Chuckling to herself, the androgynous magus readies himself.
Swaying to the left, her left hand brings forth another ofuda.
Another prediction, another spell made to come true.
However—!
“Sorry! I left mindless rage behind long ago!”
Laughing wildly, I jump to the side, confusing Caster momentarily.
She may know what I’m about to do.
But she won’t necessarily know why.
Lowering my stance, I kick the wall near me, sending rubble flying towards her.
She clicks her tongue in annoyance.
Castle walls are scattered all around us.
Caster dances around each projectile, but almost topples over when she accidentally steps on a rock underneath her foot.
Knowing, understanding, and acting is one thing.
But you need the whole context to be able to fight properly.
So, if she only pays attention to her Noble Phantasm, and not the battlefield, her defeat is certain…!
“Hy, hyah!”
My fists take advantage of her misstep, and lunge at her head.
It’s a one-two punch meant to knock one’s head off.
As expected, she dodges it with some difficulty, bending backwards like a snake and performing a somersault.
But that’s alright.
I’m already on the move.
My knee flies forward and I jump after Caster only a fraction of a second late, ready to crush his tiny body with a single blow.
“Wha—“
Caster’s eyes widen, and he immediately slams her back against the ground, desperately going low to avoid my kick.
I sail past her from above, landing in a blink of an eye.
From there, it’s a roundhouse kick aimed at the rising spellcaster.
Having no other choice, she throws her ofuda in haste, negating my attack with her magecraft.
Explosion rattles the courtyard.
I might be damaged, but I still count this as a victory.
I’ve managed to rattle the ever-cool Servant.
“Heh.”
My mouth twists into a victorious sneer.
The more I destroy the already ruined castle, the more unpredictable the battlefield becomes.
Some as light and lithe as Caster finds herself quickly in trouble here.
Which means, slowly, but surely, our positions will start to reverse.
Within this chaos, those with big, heavy bodies such as myself are on the roll!
Of course, thanks to Caster’s Noble Phantasm that difference is merely trivial.
He can predict everything I do, and will be able to act accordingly.
But, even trivial is more than nothing.
As I slide forward, propelled by my own momentum, my still-extended leg sweeps the ground.
Hastily, Caster jumps backwards, drawing two more ofudas as she does.
While this may make no difference when it comes to the two of us, it still proves me right on my theory…!
Each attack I make only serves to drive Caster further into desperation.
I do not hesitate in the least. Instead, I spread wanton destruction around my by going wild with my power.
Floor, walls, ceiling, statues… everything is destroyed by my touch.
It extends my strength a bit further than is necessary, but it’s a sacrifice I have to make.
The balance between the two of us is precarious, and I have to be sure to keep it till the time comes to launch our counter-attack.
“You barbarian brute…!”
Caster hisses uncharacteristically angrily.
Her spells are flung into the air, and I watch as two bolts of lightning, ancient dragons of destruction, swirl towards me.
I know they’re going to hurt.
There’s no way I can avoid them right now.
But they won’t kill me.
My magic resistance will let me get by.
So, there’s no reason not to just charge through, straight at my enemy—!
“Hah, you find me so unsightly!?”
Laughing as Caster’s magic tears apart my body, I launch into a series of attacks, a twisted combo of kicks and punches that threatens the whole space around Caster.
She sways to the left and right, dodges by laying low and then jumping over an extended leg.
Sweat mars her face.
His concentration is completely on his Noble Phantasm, and the information it gives him.
I admit.
Her form looks exceedingly beautiful.
Dancing amidst the strikes of bronze.
Dancing amidst the rubble and dust.
She puts her trust completely to her manuscript and forgets to even look at me.
But she doesn’t have to.
… Determination like that can only be admired. There’s something divine in how humanity can ignore the existence of everything else to exceed their own excellence.
Gauntlets striking, boots sweeping, bodies colliding.
And to illuminate it all, an array of magical power too vast to even comprehend.
I challenge a system of magecraft that’s thousand years old with only my flesh and blood.
---------- And I’m winning.
Using my legs like talons, I sweep at Caster’s head.
Immediately afterwards, I fall to the ground and take the hit with my hands, switching to a sweeping low kick that’s almost like a dance.
My fox-eared enemy jumps above it, but immediately lets out a yelp of surprise.
She’s landed straight on some loose rubble at the corner of the courtyard.
Growling in excitement, I pounce like a spring.
Right fist extended, my fist breaks the sound barrier as it aims to take Caster’s head.
In desperation, she rams her head backwards, avoiding my strike with a mere inch between them.
The air current already cuts his skin.
As the back of her head collides with the stone, it draws blood. However, he’s still alive.
And on that exact moment---
“Rider! Get back, now!”
I hear a voice ring in my head.
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Interlude
Longshot, Deadshot
“……..”
Up.
High up above the canopy of the forest that surrounds the castle.
A single bowman stands alone.
Her arrow is trained at the silvery target almost a kilometer away from her.
Her eyes are narrowed, and her lips are sealed.
She makes no sound.
In truth, she has killed her breathing to steady her aim.
Even as wind blows through the forest, she moves no muscle. Or, perhaps it is better said that she does not move at all.
Like a statue.
A bird could land on her shoulder, thinking she was merely another branch.
Even then, she would not budge in the slightest.
This is a skill of a skirmisher.
Of a guerilla warfare fighter that leaned to snipe in a forest environment.
“……..”
A chill runs through the area.
Behind her is the destroyed remains of a shrine that once towered above the treeline.
Next to it are the ravaged corpses of a turtle and a snake, creatures that went mad and tore each other apart.
But even that sight of destruction is nothing compared to the sheer concentration that ebbs from the archer.
Nothing has changed in the hazel-nut haired girl.
She’s the same as before.
But now, with that oak-wood bow in her hand, arrow aimed at a target so far away…
… She’s becoming something dangerous.
The quiver on her waist is filled to the brim.
Runes glow quietly in each arrow.
They’ve been loaded with spells that make sure the arrows would penetrate even the stone walls of the castle before her.
But even that, even that… it’s not the reason for the chill.
Even if you discard the magecraft, discard the arrows, discard the bow…
The chill would still remain.
That is an aspect solely belonging to Servant Archer.
Intent to kill, as sharp as a needle.
It could slice through your heart and you wouldn’t even feel it.
It goes through the treetops, past the branches, avoiding the stone pillars and the great walls.
It finds its way to the courtyard where two Servants wage war, and locks onto the silvery one.
Even from so far, she has found a perfect, slightly curving line for her arrows.
It is a feat not many Archers could boast about.
Only those who lived and trained in deep, thick forests could even dream of doing it.
This was her battleground, her backyard.
Even though she was worlds away from her homeland, the basics were still the same.
And that was all that she needed.
The string of the bow lets out a quaking screech.
It’s been pulled to its utmost limit.
Any more than this, and Archer would most likely break it.
Yes, even with her lithe frame, those two fingers of her possess an insane amount of strength.
Were she not specifically trained for it, it would take three men to pull back the string of her bow.
But here she is; a girl who can do it alone.
Smirk plays on her lips.
She surveys the battlefield far away from her.
And finally, she sees an opportunity.
The silver glint wavers.
The bronze glint advances.
For a moment, the two of them hang in balance, desperation glimmering from each of them.
And like a hawk, the forest-green chestnut watches over them, hidden within the canopy.
“Rider! Get back, now!”
Her mental command rings out once. Only once.
She trusts her partner to not even look at the results. She knows he’ll do as he’s told.
And so.
After ten minutes of breathless existence as part of the EInzbern forest…
… Servant Archer finally lets go of her bowstring.
“Haaaaaa—!”
Interlude Out
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Interlude
Mimicry
Strikes like moonlight.
The corridor of the ruined castle is filled by dancing blades that intersect each other’s trajectories, weaving a web of silver and red.
“Kuh---!”
The red-haired magus grimaces in pain.
As her weapon strikes against that of the homunculus challenging her, she feels the force travel all the way up to her arm.
It’s blunt-force against an array of metal, after all.
Hers is a sword-breaker, not a blade of a true sword.
It aims to destroy, to capture, to shatter. Not to slice and dice.
Meanwhile, her enemy…
“Haha… Interesting. Karin, you truly… are a strange magus.”
Her opponent laughs quietly as he dances away from her hasty overhead slash.
The weapon in his hands morphs and acquires a shape like that of a claymore.
It is a collection of silver strings, like those of a beautiful musical instrument, coiling around each other like snakes.
They take whatever shape they want, disregarding rules of mass and volume with vulgarity.
Shameless beauty.
That’s the term to describe what Iliaster von Einzbern is using to strike at his opponent.
Claymore swings with incredible force, betraying the expectations given by the lithe arms.
It’s strike forces Karin to retreat with two desperate steps.
She’s not willing to test her strength against that of the homunculus.
His choices of weapons are all western. It started with a fencing rapier, and now it has become this two-handed monstrosity.
Her eastern-influenced sword-breaker may be strong enough to withstand such an attack, but she certainly isn’t.
Thus, instead, she steps over the over-extended sword and lunges towards Iliaster’s chest with a thrust.
Red eyes look in surprise, but their owner is quick to act.
He throws himself to the side, and the weapon only scrapes at his side.
It draws blood, but not much.
And even that is more like mercury than anything belonging to a human.
“Are you afraid? I know it is rather unsightly to look at.”
Iliaster seems almost apologetic as Karin stares at the dripping blood.
Instead of answering, however, the redhead lowers her stance and performs a sideways slash while switching her weight from right leg to left.
Iliaster is forced to parry the attack with his sword.
Sparks fly as the two weapons meet.
“Kurvig!”
Ilister’s command rings in the corridor, and Karin lets out a grunt of surprise.
The claymore that stopped her sword-breaker shatters into hundreds of strings, all reaching out to her.
Swinging her sword haphazardly, she retreats from the homunculus, trying her best to parry all the needle-thin strikes and lashes.
At the same time, her magic circuits scream aloud, and the switch in her head clicks.
The mouth that has been like a cold-line so far utters two words.
“Stack Up, Double.”
Immediately, her vision splits in two.
Or rather, her existence overlays itself with another, and both react differently.
One stays behind, striking at the lashing silver even though its tearing her skin apart with whip-like strikes.
Other immediately rolls to the side, readies her sword-breaker, and lunges at Iliaster.
The boy looks absolutely shocked at what transpired.
“Alteration of occurrences!? Just what are you—“
He gets to say no more.
Instead, he’s forced back as the sword-breaker reaches for his defenseless head.
Homunculus bites his lip.
He takes part of the hit with his left shoulder, reducing the damage it does by falling according to the direction of the charge.
At the same time, the tendril-like strings retreat from the Karin they were attacking, and form into a great shield that pushes the attacking Karin back.
Rolling backwards, the swordsman of a magus retreats hastily, putting distance between the two.
Immediately, he is forced to make his weapon into a pair of sabers connected by a chain.
The Karin that was let free has run after him, delivering a slashing combo of up, down and up.
He is now fighting on two fronts.
And he is pushed back.
Though vastly inferior in terms of technique and skill, this one odd power, this one absurd piece of magecraft, is putting Iliaster on the defensive.
“Kuh…! Such insanity!”
But, even so, it is clear which of them is better in swordplay.
Even when the second Karin joins to the fray and begins an assault of her own, Iliaster can keep them both from delivering a fatal blow.
His sabers dance in the air as he blocks, parries and dodges the furious assault of the identical redheads.
Of course, it’s a situation that goes both ways.
With two Karins on the attack, Iliaster cannot begin an assault of his own.
He is forced to retreat slowly but surely down the corridor.
Each attack, though rough and without the deadly precision of a master, aims to take his life.
Whether it be by decapitating him, skewering him, or bashing his head in…
… Tomoe Karin is, most definitely, trying to take his life.
Such sight makes the homunculus laugh.
In such a short amount of time, had the expectations of Servant Rider truly become so important to the girl?
“Gh------- yaaaaaahhh!”
Sudden yell brings the homunculus back to reality.
Before he can even realize what has happened, he sees a flash of red penetrate his defenses.
By catching both of his sabers into her sword-breaker, Karin on the right has given a momentary chance to her ally.
“Curses, I…!”
Desperately, Iliaster shoots a flailing kick at the charging possibility, hoping to at least shake her off-balance.
But it’s not use.
“Gk!”
Gritting her teeth together, Karin takes the full brunt of that kick to her face, and swings her sword-breaker upwards in a large arc.
The twisted weapon of red, black and white swings in revelry.
For a moment, there is nothing but the whistle of metal as it cuts the air and everything in its path.
“G-GYAAAAAAHHHHH!!”
Then.
A ripping sound.
Echoing from the joint of Iliaster’s right hand.
Before his very eyes, Karin slashes through flesh with pure brute force, separating his arm from his body.
It is a strike that should end this battle in an instant.
No, it must end this battle in an instant.
Even a magus, even a homunculus, cannot simply ignore a limb that has been torn off by the saw-teeth of a brutal weapon such as hers.
But…
“W-what!?”
A chill runs through the corridor. It is a nauseating, torturous feeling.
Something unnatural has just been revealed.
An emotion flashes on the face of the girl who caught Iliaster’s swords.
For the first time since this Holy Grail War started, Tomoe Karin is showing an emotion while fighting.
Momentary fear in her eyes, she quickly retreats and tries not to double over as pain overtakes her.
It is the pain of her other possibility being crushes.
No.
Devoured is a better word.
“Again, I apologize.”
Iliaster’s words sound hollow as he stares at what’s left of the other Karin.
Red of blood and hair is quickly devoured by silver.
“… My ugliness is my sin. You may understand now why I decided to mimic my elder sister.”
Ugly is an understatement.
What writhes and lashes forward from the stump of Iliaster’s right arm is a mass of silver tendrils, whip-like threads so thin that you can barely see them.
But when there are thousands of them together, they become an amorphous mass of mercury that devours a human whole, absorbing everything there is to absorb.
Blood.
Magical power.
Bone and sinew.
Everything to the point of not leaving even cartilage behind.
And the worst of it all is that Karin knows what those thousands and thousands of threads are. She understands just what Iliaster has been using as a weapon…
… and it freezes her spine with terror.
“You must understand, creation of a new homunculus is never easy. Especially in a hasty situation such as this. When Lord Jubsachteit sensed the stirring of a new Grail in this land, he had to make do with what reserves he had.”
Iliaster speaks calmly even though he has just absorbed a human being whole.
He allows his weapon to become another mass of writhing threads that soon assimilate to his still-normal hand.
“While there were no sufficient materials for a creation of a physical body, he instead opted to improvise. Thus, in order to make me a shapeshifter, a doppelgänger, my physical composition is 90% hair.”
Iliaster’s bitter smile was absolutely self-loathing.
“Hair harvested from the generations of Einzbern homunculi, filled to brim with magical energy. I am afraid you, as a magus, have found the worst type of opponent for yourself.”
A homunculus… no, a doppelgänger made completely out of hair.
It was sickening to Karin.
For a female magus, there was nothing more precious than their hair.
That was their last lifeline, their life’s worth of magical power.
And now, here was this artificial creature, composed solely of dreams that were only made to die.
That might have been hair of homunculi, but it was still precious to them.
Such a seething mass of silver must’ve contained hair from over a thousand women.
“Now you must understand why I wanted us to finish this battle with only our weapons, as knights of yore would have done.”
Iliaster sighs and throws his appendage of hair over his shoulder.
Immediately, the mass hardens and starts turning his skin to a silvery tint.
Even his face is affected, like it has gained a mask of mercury.
Meanwhile, the ponytail that has held his own hair is ripped apart as even more of the substance pours from his head, soon hitting the floor.
“But considering you are quite a monster yourself… I am beginning to understand this is impossible. So, should we find another way to battle then? Not as swordsmen… but as magi?”
Iliaster shoots Karin a calming smile.
“A Monster of Sacrifice against a Monster of Probability.”
Allowing her emotions to die once more, Karin nods.
Her sword-arm falls limp, as her left hand reaches out for her neck.
For a moment, she caresses the fire-red jewel she has been carrying around, tied around her neck by an argent chain.
Then, without any hesitation, she rips it off, cradling the gem within her hand.
As her brass-eyes look at Iliaster, there’s no more hesitation in them.
No fear.
No terror.
By the suggestion of the homunculus, they have abandoned their civilized ways. Instead, they are about to do this as magi.
And if anything, Tomoe Karin understands the mindset of a magus.
“Very well. As monsters, then.”
She speaks with determination as she raises the gem above her head.
Interlude Out
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New Moon Equalizer – VS Caster
Suddenly.
The sky above us darkens.
As I retreat with a great leap, Caster is left under a quickly descending cloud of death that arrives screaming from the heavens.
Her eyes snap upwards, then at her Noble Phantasm, then back again.
This wasn’t foretold.
This attack came from outside Caster’s sphere of influence. His temple does not extend all the way to the forest.
So, there was no way to predict this.
It is a complete surprise, and because of that, she has no time.
Though I see an ofuda sliding out of his sleeve, and his mouth begins chanting a spell, it is far too late.
Arrows of destruction rain upon her like a swarm of locusts, denying any and all chances of counter-attack.
“Iyaaa, aAAAAAaarrghh!”
She screams in pain.
His body is not made for taking heavy physical damage.
Even this rain of magically enhanced arrows is almost too much.
Out of thirty about ten of them hit and go through.
His robes are skewered and blood spurts forth from multiple wounds.
Like a fly, she is nailed to the destroyed ground by the rune-covered projectiles.
But.
Even so.
Caster lives.
He might be fragile, but he is still a Heroic Spirit.
Just a simple volley of arrows shot from afar cannot kill her.
It would take a short-range burst that would riddle his body with holes to make her fall to the ground dead.
Therefore, it is up to me to finish the job.
“Hrrryeaaaarrrghh!”
I roar like a lion.
Pushing magical power to my legs, I reduce the distance between us to zero in a single blast of wind that shatters the sound barrier.
My right fist, retracted to gather power, lunges forth.
It lets out a loud boom as it overcomes the air.
At the same time, I squeeze my fist a little tighter.
Instantly, the gauntlet covering my arm comes to life.
Thus, with a great sound like a bell of a grand church tolling for midnight, my fist collides with Caster’s head.
It is not a pretty sight.
Even my initial attack is enough to shatter his skull and face.
When the pilebunker activates and drives the wedge into his head, the damage is catastrophical.
In a single strike, Caster’s head, and her spiritual core, is splattered all across the courtyard.
There is nothing left, not even a single fragment.
Overwhelming power against such weak defense could only mean overwhelming destruction.
What remains is the shockwave caused by the punch that rattles the whole castle.
“Fall to your doom, Servant Caster.”
I mutter as I watch Caster’s lifeless corpse topple backwards, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The combined attack of Archer and I must have not lasted even three seconds.
But in that time, the outcome of this battle was decided.
Even with all of her ability in seeing to the future, Caster fell prey to variables out of his reach.
What reigns on the courtyard now is only silence.
“What a powerful enemy. Truly a Caster of the highest caliber…”
I mutter my words of respect for my fallen foe, and turn around.
Gazing at that ravaged corpse would just be too cruel.
Therefore, I’ll give her at least the dignity of disappearing without my eyes mocking her pitiful end.
Instead, I clean my gauntlet of the blood it has been covered in.
“It’s up to Karin now.”
I heave a forlorn sigh and lift my eyes up to the skies.
The blue heavens seem so peaceful now. One could not even believe they were covered in deadly arrows just a moment ago.
And still, somewhere in the ruins of this once-beautiful castle, a battle between Master rages.
A war hidden from the eyes of normal people…
For the first time I begin to realize how absurd this whole ritual is.
I shake my head.
There’s no need for such thoughts.
Whatever happens is due to Grail’s wishes.
Even if I cannot understand its muddled whispers, it still summoned us here.
Therefore, our course of action is simple.
We will fight.
And we will win.
For the sake of my Master, and for the sake of her wish… I’m prepared to go through Hell once more.
For a Heroic Spirit like me, a hope called forth by the earnest, desperate wish of a single girl…
There is no greater honor.
“Hmh?”
My thoughts are interrupted.
Something soft lands on my back.
I turn to look, and in that instant, I realize my mistake.
By showing respect for the dead opponent I was fighting… I foolishly blinded myself for a possibility that always existed.
”Kyuu kyuu Nyoritsuryou.”
Instant pain.
“AAAAAAAARrr,gk! Gk, gk, gu, kuaaaaAAAHHH!”
Unbelievable torment in the form of raw magical power being driven through my body like thousand stakes.
It throws me off my feet and nails me against the castle wall, rending apart the flesh on my back.
I can do nothing but writhe in agony as my body is ravaged by a showcase of undeniable power.
It ignores my resistance completely.
Foregoing elements, foregoing spell formulas.
Just by driving hostile energy into me, the Heroic Spirit I failed to kill takes her revenge.
A spell that must’ve been as powerful as an A-ranked Noble Phantasm.
Blue light that crackles around me like lightning, breaking bones and crushing me with its pressure.
It feels unending.
Even though it lasts for only five seconds, it feels like an eternity.
When I finally fall the ground, a smoking, half-dead corpse, I can barely lift my head.
Still, pushing my inner strength to its limits, I roll over to look at the Servant who nearly killed me.
What stands before me is Servant Caster.
But not just Servant Caster.
Servant Caster… completely unharmed.
It is not as if she regenerated her destroyed her.
No, even the previous wounds I dealt to her are gone.
… Wait. It goes further than that.
Just by looking at him, I can feel the pressure of his magical power.
She expended it with all of those grand spells he kept slinging at me.
Yet, it is now just as when I first saw her.
She has regained even that.
----------- In other words, it is like she had not fought at all.
“Well done… Servant Rider.”
Caster speaks with some difficulty, as if she’s having hard time keeping composed.
I can see a hint of animalistic rage deep within those clear, tranquil eyes.
Her bestial nature is shining through.
In other words… he’s seething with rage.
“To have prepared an ally… a commendable strategy to overcome my Noble Phantasm. You even managed to kill me. That alone deserves praise.”
Revealing her sharp teeth to a smile that lacks any friendliness, she raises her left hand, which is holding the golden scroll.
… Scroll that has been completely unfurled now.
In it, I see a list, a diagram of some sort, detailing some sort of process that is too complex for me to even begin to decipher.
I doubt any magus, modern or ancient, could have completely understood what was written there.
It was a diagram of such divine nature that it might as well been out of this world.
Alien information, transcribed via soothsaying methods that transcended the stars.
And now it had helped to completely recover Caster, even after she himself had died.
“I did not think I’d have to use Kin'u Gyokuto Shu in my first face-to-face outing with another Servant… you truly are one-of-a-kind opponent, Servant Rider.”
Caster snarls her compliments at me.
Gone is the façade of an aloof, cold soothsayer.
Instead, what stares at me is ancient system of magecraft, built on human mind and driven by inhumane heart.
A half-breed that acts as the engine of a supernatural mystery.
“However… now that I have revealed it, I cannot dally anymore. I must destroy you, along with your little accomplice.”
Caster takes a step forward.
“The information of my greatest Noble Phantasm cannot be revealed to the other competitors. You, and all your allies, shall die here.”
Another step.
A leg sweeps in front of another.
One more step.
I can feel it. The rage of magical power.
Once again, just by walking, Caster is preparing a spell. One that is most likely meant to finish me off.
I—
- Retreat! I need to regroup and refocus!
- Charge in! I could match her before, I can match her now!
Originally Posted by Seika
Aw, I have to catch up on this now? What a chore.
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