+1 on Raff
+1 on Raff
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Nothing bad every happens in graveyards
4
1 Split the party.
Rather not get sucker punched at this point
Guys, remember you have to assign specific characters to specific tasks.
There is currently a tie between Raff's and Hermes' plans.
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
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+1 for Raff's plan.
Let's hope this goes better than Saber v. Berserker
It feels like I have a different excuse for a hiatus every month, but I have to be honest with you readers and players nonetheless.
As some among you may remember, I went on a trip last month. I returned feeling extremely tired and more than a little sick, but I assumed it was simply the physical demands of that trip and the different environment. However, I did not recover after a few days, so I visited the doctor, underwent a few exams, and turns out I have a pair of tumors. I still do not have a date for the surgery, but I have to apologize beforehand for whatever irregularities in the quest's updates for the following weeks, if not months.
Let there be no doubt that I enjoy writing this quest and I have every desire to take it to its spectacular conclusion. I appreciate every single vote, comment, and the discussion in the Discord server. With all my gratitude, I thank you all for reading and/or participating in Fimbulwinter. Until next time.
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Don't you fucking dare worry about us now, okay? You and your health are your number one priority now.
Originally Posted by Faux, July 20th 2019
True Rider
Dude, that's horrible. I only hope everything goes well.
I will be praying for your health.
Hang in there, and I hope you get well soon.
Hang in there man. Jesus. How big are the tumors?
We all love this story but your health is a lot more important. Take as long as you need to recover we'll still be here when you feel a bit better.
Geez, Daneel, I'm sorry you're going through this. Don't worry about us and take care of yourself!
Club Alemán, Salvador Donoso 1337, Valparaíso
Day 04
Morning Phase – 05a
Sheer cold (-34°C/-29°F)
Snowfall
(BGM)
Valparaíso’s “German Club” was founded on 1838 by a group of young German immigrants as a spot for cultural activities—readings, theatre, music and the likes. It would become the hotspot for the city’s cultural and social exchange: for immigrants from all the European nations to mingle with the locals and among themselves, and for local artists to present themselves to the populace and to their peers. As a significant element of the city’s history, its location, the emblematic Ross Palace, became part of the city’s “Intangible Cultural Heritage” on 2013. In present times, it includes a restaurant and several halls for social and cultural events.
Spoiler:
It is in one of these halls that two girls hide, surrounded by blocks of ice in which innocents remain trapped, their forms emaciated after days of slow drain. The banner at the entrance told the girls that they intruded into a gathering of local followers of the Baha’i faith. This is no surprise to anybody—Chile is one of the strongholds of the young religion, hosting one of only three great temples in the Western Hemisphere. While the first “official” followers appeared in the 1940s, the written works of the faith made it to the country as early as the first decade of the 20th century, through the Theosophical Society.
Callous as it may be, the fate of these pitiful people is no importance to these girls, due to both lack of empathy and their own specific shapes of selfishness. In fact, it is not clear why these two remain together. They left the ziggurat following instructions and went into hiding, but it has been a long night since then, long enough for the ecstatic high experienced by María Magdalena Vyhmeister upon meeting The Maid to pass and become a strange remembrance. If anything, the reason for them to remain together is their inability to think of the alternative. When one lacks direction, one looks to others in hopes of receiving on from them; such is the human way.
This, however, is no longer the case for one of them.
“That, that was my brother,” declares Magdalena seconds after a roar that engulfed the city. She blinks rapidly, several times, like a computer’s flickering hard drive light, or like she is trying to deal with dirt in her eye. Hexensoldaten VI, Elisabeth, pays closer attention to the twitching of the girl’s hands, perhaps grasping something that only exists in her mind. Elisabeth is mindful of these things, but not particularly wary, for she fears no magecraft.
“I, I have to go,” declares the redhead. “Before things get even worse, I have to—”
Magdalena does not finish the sentence. Whether she does not want to share the words with Elisabeth, or does not want to voice the words outright, remains up to discussion. She is halfway out of the event hall when she stops to consider the homunculus one last time, perhaps driven by some smidgen of gratitude for keeping her away from danger for a while.
“So? What are you going to do?”
Elisabeth’s single eye blinks in confusion. The question itself is not weird—The Maid asked her basically the same thing. However…
Magdalena has little in the way of patience; so much is obvious, as her expression grows disdainful after several seconds of Elisabeth’s silence. The Villarrican rolls her eyes.
“For God’s sake, is there even anything you want to do?”
Elisabeth, however, only grits her teeth and looks down, to the other girl’s disgust. Magdalena clicks her tongue.
“Whatever. I don’t have time for this.”
The homunculus is left alone; Magdalena’s departing steps firm and decisive even in their echoes throughout the desolated palace. Elisabeth still looks down at empty, gloved hands and from there to her dark uniform, snugly fitting as ever. Once she wore a swastika armband like her “elder siblings”. When exactly did she throw it away?
Sighing hopelessly, the girl with the eyepatch leans back against the wall. It is cold. Everything is cold.
“I just want to live…” she murmurs. It is a plea to nobody.
*** ***
Parque Cultural de Valparaíso, Cárcel 471, Cerro Cárcel, Valparaíso
Sheer cold (-34°C/-29°F)
Snowfall
(BGM)Character Status
So, um, Valparaíso’s “Cultural Park” stands on the former location of the city prison. When the prison was moved to La Pólvora on 1999, local artists and all sorts of local cultural and communal associations occupied this old site. Government eventually took over, but the citizenship still appoints representatives to the administration of the plot of land, which was converted into a collection of architectural spaces for the city’s artistic and cultural expression. The former cellblocks and other prison spaces are now a modern theater and practice rooms for dancers, thespians, musicians and even circus performers. The buildings surround one of the city’s largest parks, ending on a terrace offering one of the best views of the bay. On the park’s grounds also stands the colonial era ammunition dump, the oldest city building still standing and the city’s archeological record.
That was the morning’s tourist spot. I am your guide, Javier Lucero. Tips are welcome at the end of the tour.
By the way, I feel fucking incredible right now. The physiological optimization provided by Sthūla-Śarīra combined with the boon of the Divine Flame and whatever The Maid did, to create the perfect feel-good cocktail. I feel like trying something utterly absurd, like leaping over a building like goddamn Superman. Magic has become a perceptible, very physical thing circulating freely throughout my body. I am full of vigor, full of strength; it’s just the best. Except for my empty stomach, but nothing I can do about that for now. By the way, Nomikata’s movements seem lighter, too. Assassin…well, she’s always moved with superhuman athleticism, but…
“Wait, she didn’t give me any boons! It’s because I called her useless, isn’t it? That petty bitch!”
Yeah.
“So, guys,” begins the small girl. “I’m probably saying the obvious here, but you guys really get what we’re getting into, right?”
It is hard not to, what with the distant sound of advancing tank threads, engines and gunfire, all that smothered by that most unwelcome roaring.
“Wait, what are they shooting at?”
“My familiars. They’re really hunting them down this time.”
Nomikata clicks his tongue. I get it; Assassin’s zombies are very useful, even better than their drones if you ask me.
“But that’s my problem. Our problem is that we’re supposed to keep the eeevil Nazis away from that church.”
“There’s no way we can do that,” I immediately state. We don’t know their numbers, but they definitely have enough people to just, you know, move around us.
“So our only choice is to go straight for the head.”
Nomikata is right. Sustainable asymmetric warfare requires the smaller side to possess a number of advantages we three simply do not have.
“But the head is a Servant,” he continues. “Berserker, right? I have all the confidence in my abilities, but I know better than to take on a Servant.”
“Neither of you is taking on a Servant. That would be stupid,” declares Assassin. “Beating Servants is the job of Servants.”
Her voice is tense, well aware of the implications of her own words. Nonetheless, she can still smile.
“That’s why your job is to get in the way of their troops as much as you can until I shove my claws through his back. And that’s why I should get going. Can’t Presence Concealment while hanging around you two non-stealthy chads.”
“Right, right,” agrees Nomikata, looking more amused than anything else. Assassin’s smile fades away.
“Really, guys. Don’t overdo it.”
A moment later, she is just not here anymore.
(BGM STOP)
“She is hiding something,” declares Nomikata moments after she is gone. Well of course she is hiding something. Everybody in this goddamned city is hiding something. Aren’t you fucking brilliant, Mister Brit.
“We still have a ways to go to the graveyards,” I retort. “We’re way in the open up here.”
The vehicles are not moving…rather, the sound of engines and tank threads is not as loud, probably because they have gotten as far as they could on the flat coastal road, Errázuriz. There is also no more automatic gunfire. Perhaps Assassin has commanded all her zombies into hiding.
We don’t get to think anything about that. Or about anything else.
The terrible, unwholesome, intolerable roar rages again, filling the city with its gross presence.
(BGM)
“That sounded a lot closer!”
I don’t need you to tell me that! Do you make it a habit of stating the obvious, Nomikata!?
We see it right afterwards: a massive, flaming boulder tracing a menacing parabola as if slung by a medieval trebuchet. This time Nomikata knows better than to say anything, quickly scurrying out of the probably landing area.
I…can’t move. My body will not move. The flame within does not allow me to move. To move would be to run away, and the flame will not allow me to run away from this thing.
It lands some meters away, the tremendous impact making the earth shaking beneath my feet and veiling the world within a cloud of raised snow, gravel and dust. I should be on the floor; the impact was fierce enough to send me tumbling to the ground. However, I still stand. My body aches as they vibrate, the energy of the falling “meteor” traveling along the ground and up my limbs to rattle my bones.
However, I still stand.
I am not the one who will be put down here!
*** ***
(BGM)
Javier Lucero is out of his mind.
“Shit…!” Seigi Nomikata hisses just before his mouth fills with dust and snowflakes. It makes no sense; it contrasts too strongly with the abrupt heat that envelops his surroundings. Suddenly the thick clothes he wears become a prison, and the snow around his feet rapidly melts into intrusive slush.
The cloud disperses. The monster roars. Seigi pulls at the zipper of his jacket, freeing his neck and nothing else—he knows it would be a mistake to take off his winter clothes. Rather, he needs to retreat.
Javier Lucero is out of his mind.
He remains unmoving, seemingly unbothered by tremors, roaring or heat. Disconnected from the world around him, Javier remains fixated on the monster, his odd-colored eyes gleaming with unbridled contempt. Is he even aware of himself by this point?
The monster roars. Seigi cannot fight the urge to get away. The heat and the instinctual insight that tells him he is already within the monster’s range propel his legs to get him away from the abomination of molten rock.
What Seigi does, however, is grab the monster’s attention. In the time it takes him to take two steps, the monster reaches for the wrecked remains of a park bench, a crumpled mass of bent metal and warped wood, and flings it at him with enough force to rip his head off his shoulders.
Spoiler:
Time slows down. Seigi Nomikata is not afraid. In fact, he faces the threat with utmost lucidity. The monster is fearsome. Its choice of weapon far less so.
“That sister of yours brags about your connection to the Source of All Things, but you have not even bothered to do something about that crippled magic crest. Come here. Even if the legacy of your forebears is forever lost to you, that is by no means reason to be wasteful.”
“Nigredo—Parallel—Gale!”
Their contents no longer within reach, but their basic functionality still useable to a degree, the dregs of the Nomikata family crest are now repurposed as a low-grade parallel processor for dual casting. Seigi consciously handles the demanding process of nigredo; the crest can only handle the barest, simplest of magics. The Maid’s boon makes the circulation of magical energy trivial, and the resistance from both his body and the world nigh-inexistent, almost as if the spells had been completed the moment he thought of using them. It is almost worrisome how convenient it is.
Steel is unmade by the fundamental principle of decomposition. Wood is flung away by a blast of wind spontaneously unleashed in front of Seigi. The man pants tiredly, but it is the heat that weakens him. It is like standing close to a massive furnace, or a forest fire.
The creature (?) growls, seemingly irritated that the annoyance in front of him remains in one piece. A shudder travels down Seigi’s spine. He does not need to be a Servant nor does he need mystic eyes to feel the circulation of magical energy within and even around that creature, and he can tell something like a spell is in his future.
The monster roars, the explosive sound this time accompanied by a stream of fire out of its igneous throat.
“Shit!”
It is not a flamethrower, but a mowing wave of flame that even denies him the choice of jumping to either side. Nigredo? Is it natural flame or does it obey some superior concept—
“Don’t ignore me.”
The flames part like the deep waters of the Red Sea. All it took was a gesture from Javier Lucero’s hand. Like that, all of a sudden, Seigi Nomikata realizes he no longer exists in the eyes of either.
“AaaaaAaeeEee…” A strange, guttural murmur, already more than anybody would expect from one made of melting rock. Javier cares not. His right foot stomps the ground, and the world hums. For a fraction of an instant, land, sea and sky vibrated as one: a single hum of assent, as if encouraging Javier without words. However, it is only for a moment so short Seigi is left wondering if he merely imagined it, even if the cold sweat down his back is very real.
The ground cracks beneath the monster’s feet and it finds itself stuck. Javier ignores the creature’s roar and stomps the ground a second time. Again, the world sings: an exhalation from deep within the bowels of the earth, rising unseen but true. It is not magecraft; how could anybody call it magecraft? How could anybody take this for the crude, brutish methods of man? It is a vestige of ancient power, older even than the primordial language that allowed man to put a bridle on Gaia. This is a shadow of the ways of the gods, who ruled not by manipulation of ether, but by being one with the world.
Seigi Nomikata knows: something is about to happen, and it will not be a product of Javier Lucero’s sorcerous brilliance invoking a procedure upon the world.
It will happen because Javier Lucero wills it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Therefore, Seigi is considerably less surprised than the rock monster when a veritable geyser of lava surges out of the cracks in the ground to engulf the large creature. Seigi himself has already taken further steps away from the impossible phenomenon. Javier…does not look surprised in the slightest, of course. It is exactly as he intended it.
The monster roars, slowly walking out of the outpour of incandescent molten rock. Indeed, therein lies the problem, and perhaps the clearest hint that Javier Lucero is not entirely himself.
Well of course a lava attack won’t work against a magma monster, for Christ’s sake!
Naturally, it is not as straightforward—this is not a videogame or the likes—, but the fact remains that the monster steps out of the geyser seemingly unharmed.
“…aaaAaaaAaeeEeee…” The creature hisses at Javier, who still has its undivided attention. There is an opportunity there, but Seigi Nomikata does not yet know the best way to exploit it. Instead, he looks around, fooling himself into believing he will catch a glimpse of Liria Colhuán. She should, indeed, be aware of what is happening here.
(BGM STOP)
Unfortunately for everybody involved, these things have a habit of happening on cue.
“Gah! This is bad, this is bad, this is bad!”
Assassin lands some steps away from Seigi and the two beings of ancient fire and rock. It is a rough landing, involving more than a bit of rolling on the slush and scurrying back to her feet, right before her pursuers catch up to her.
“Damn it, they really have some way to track me, no matter how well I hide my presence!”
Seigi Nomikata feels his heart sink in his chest.
(BGM)
They are completely, utterly, absolutely over their means. Javier does not seem to have even noticed the appearance of Assassin and her dire pursuers. The two monstrous beasts, too, are fixated on the Servant of Assassination, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the two humans (?) in the park.
Spoiler:
Seigi Nomikata is the outsider in this entire event; the one that by all means should not be here. The magma monster tried to get of rid first precisely because he was the unnecessary and this undesired outsider. That means that the possibility to tilt this seemingly hopeless situation in a different direction likely rests on his shoulders.
Is there anything he can do, though?
Time for Choices
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3
2a: Lock down the scorpion man
3.
I'll see other opinions' about the second choice for now
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...Ok, this is probably really, really crazy, but how about:
2: Focus on helping Javier by using nigredo to break down the magma monster on both the physical and spiritual levels.
1: As Seigi does the above, Javier will simultaneously force the creature's flames to submit to his own divine flame and absorb them.
You crazy, crazy man. I'm in.
Seconding this.
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
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Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
I can't think of anything better so I'm choosing this as well.
Church of Saint Aloysius de Gonzaga (Eastern Bell Tower), Templeman 990, Cerro Alegre, Valparaíso
Day 04
Morning Phase – 05b
Sheer cold (-36°C/-33°F)
Snowfall
(BGM)
Access to the top of the eastern bell tower is blocked by ice of all things. The one only known as Caster of the Black Sun taps the solid block of frozen water with rough knuckles. There was not much in the ways of skin care in her era beyond aromatic oils, so no amount of acting can conceal the marks of a lifetime of work.
Her signature Personal Skill,, grants her transcendental insight on the magical arts; a consequence of the purposeful exaggeration of her life publicized by those claiming to be her heirs. Certainly, her magical prowess in life did not reach anywhere near the lofty heights she has achieved as a Servant. Still, for the prowess gained in this Saint Graph, she is still not someone who belongs to a battlefield. For all the difference between Servants and ordinary humans, she feels almost as adrift in this frozen world as they are. At the very least, for now she will get rid of this ice.Niṣirti ApkallīSecret Knowledge of the Sages
It takes her a handful of seconds. Her original, living self would not have even known where to start. It is almost like living in another person’s body, wielding powers she is most definitely not worthy of possessing.
Whatever might have been trapped inside this ice was long unmade. Caster steps into an empty space, filled only by a bell cracked by the extreme cold it has been subjected to.
In the parish house adjacent to this building, Fiore Forvedge tends to an unconscious Sakura Edelfelt and a dangerously weak Alicia Drake. Caster will help if her help is requested, although there is nothing she can do for Alicia Drake’s dehydration that Fiore cannot do herself. Same goes for the one named Sakura. It is important that these people can take care of each other without her input.
She is not comfortable inside the church. The priest, Ricardo Ahrens, does not possess the talent for the magical arts, but this temple is protected by his faith, and that of those who worship within its walls every day. It is not a place welcoming to Ghost Liners, most particularly those attached to other faiths. It is almost laughable—the brunt of her legend, or rather her contribution to mankind, was cultural and artistic, not religious. It just happens that her occupation was religious in nature.
Unfortunately, the Lord’s presence will not protect these walls against rockets or tank shells. Even if she had the defensive magic to protect against such violent onslaught, it probably would not work well in this particular building. Therefore, she has separated from the group—from the humans—to figure out her next move. She received The Maid’s blessing, which boosted her physical strength (worthless) and her capacity to accumulate and circulate magical energy (extremely useful). However, proper defenses take time she definitely does not have—she is not the Lady Maid, who can do almost anything effortlessly and in an instant.
The Maid…the mere thought of her is uplifting. In her time, The Maid’s name was already legend. It is almost terrifying to think that the Servant who caused all this is but a mere offshoot—a discarded fragment of an even greater whole. Naturally, what else can be expected of one who grasped both humanity and divinity?
Beautiful, wise and terrible; Alter Ego is everything Caster and all her colleagues in her time believed her to be and oh so much more. Truly their example, the exemplar to look up to. Their shining star.
She must be stopped.
At the top of the tower, Caster can see the vast dome of fog that is Avenger’s bounded field. There are also occasional rumbling sounds—somebody seems to be fighting in Sotomayor Square, outside Avenger’s Noble Phantasm. She also perceives the distant hum of tank threads and engines, but they will be hard-pressed to make it all the way to the church through the narrow streets…
“Huh?”
Caster frowns, leaning forward as if that could somehow improve her visual acuity. For a moment there, she saw…something yellow? Flying low along the streets…moving westwards. Towards Sotomayor Square.
“Something’s changed…they are not moving the way I would expect…”
The words come more from intuition rather than from the available evidence. The main question in her head remains…
“Berserker, and the one in Miss Isolde’s body…will they come for me…or will they…?”
*** ***
Avenger’s Bounded Field
Hot (32°C/0°F)
Harsh Sunlight
A world without wind, without shade and without water. Not a trace of humidity, only the inclement sun striking upon the dried husk of a once fertile land. It is not ungodly hot, but direct exposure to the sunlight without the relief of shade nor the cooling effect of wind make the surroundings stifling. This is the world in which two Servants now face each other in a decisive battle.
Avenger points his vicious weapon at the girl, the very gesture a decisive statement.
“This is a world in which you will only know misery—!”
(BGM)
“Urrroaaaaagh!”
Avenger barely manages to intercept the preemptive attack with his great polearm. Very similar strengths struggle against each other and refuse to give way.
“Insolent! Do you have no manners as a warrior, girl!?” complains the armored warrior in his low voice muffled by his helmet.
“What’cha talkin’ about, I’m all about dem manners! I just said ‘Hello’ in Sword!”
“I’m not laughing!”
“Well you should try it!”
(BGM)
Metal clangs against metal like steel pinballs bouncing out of control. Their weapons slice and meet at the speed of automatic gunfire; countless exchanges in the blink of an eye. The clash that seems as even as it is violent and beautiful changes after Avenger’s furious howl, a sound from one more demon than man. The great axe blade at the end of a shaft longer than Avenger is tall, erupts with a wicked, dark aura.
Exactly one clash of blades later; exactly one eloquent cracking sound later, Maria hurriedly retreats to gape at her broken sword.
“Well, fuck.”
Fortunately, her sword is not a Noble Phantasm, merely a tool created with her magical energy just like her taimanin uniform combat dress. It takes merely a second to remake the blade. Unfortunately, it means she spent valuable magical energy to repair her weapon.
Avenger is on her like the shark that smells blood, and Maria hurries to dodge. The axe wrapped in melam crashes on the ground already so dry it is cracked, causing it to explode and release shards of compact soil in every direction.
“Bad news. That axe is serious bad news!”
She wants to scream something like “what the hell’s with that axe!?” but she knows better, because it is not really unexpected.
“As expected of Your Majesty, that’s the Axe of Sacrilegious Plundering.”
The battle continues. The dance of clashing swords becomes a dance of evasion, with an additional component of Maria’s own attacks intercepted followed by hasty repairs of the sword unmade by each meeting with the demonic-looking polearm.
“So you have unveiled my name, girl!?” questions the warrior before unleashing a mighty slash that releases a spiral of dark radiance so violet it seems to cut space itself.
“Come on, when you pull off a Noble Phantasm with that name, you’re not really hiding it anymore, are you!?” Maria retorts while charging almost horizontal to the ground, before making a low sweep at Avenger’s ankles. The armored knight somersaults as if wearing weightless clothes, granting Maria the time to seize the initiative and move on the offensive once more. Avenger’s fierce, powerful swings of a weapon with superior reach are an even match to her nimble, acrobatic dance of rapid strikes. If anything, it is Maria who has to be wary of the polearm’s wicked radiance.
A minute that feels like an hour passes, their battle seemingly getting nowhere. Maria knows better, though. She can tell, very acutely, that she feels more tired than she should be.
“So?” She starts. “Did you really remake your Saint Graph just to beat silly little me? Can’t say I’m flattered, really.”
“A King cannot afford to lose,” is Avenger’s curt response. Maria feels strangely annoyed by it.
“But you’re not even a king anymore! Not in that form!”
Avenger roars and charges at her, the weapon’s wicked aura swelling to degrees unforetold.
“Ah shit—!”
Swinging meters away from the swordswoman, Avenger releases a humongous, sweeping wave of dark radiance that renders evasion impossible. With no other choice, Maria sets her blade in front of her and braces for an impact like a freight train smashing her at top speed, effortlessly lifting her off her feet and flinging her to the far away horizon in almost cartoonish fashion.
“Gah!” Maria grunts as she struggles against G-forces, even as she feels Avenger’s supernatural presence chasing after her airborne form. “Landing! Can’t fuck up the landing!”
Fuck up she does not, hitting ground feet first and sliding several meters backwards, stabbing the ground with her blade when she realizes she is about to stumble off the edge of a cliff.
“Well fuck, I thought this place was just dead flatlands.”
Moments later, she catches the first glimpse of the armored warrior’s approaching form in the distance, charging at superhuman speed.
“Did I hit a sore spot back there? Sowwy~!” calls out Maria in a teasing manner.
“I am hopelessness given form!” roars back the Servant of Vengeance, the dark radiance swelling with every word. “My heartbeat is the lament of mothers, the wails of widows and the curses of men brought to ruin. Do you honestly believe anything you do or say can wound me!?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, my wrists can’t handle all that edge! If you’re gonna slice me, at least do it with that axe!”
“So be it, then!” retorts Avenger before leaping with all the might of his legs, high into the sky, poleaxe leaving a trail of sheer darkness to create the image of a rising dark comet.
Maria grits her teeth, her original plan of pushing Avenger into overextending through an onrush of attacks long abandoned after coming to terms with his wicked weapon and the absurd reach it gives him. His improved Parameters also render the thought of outspeeding him completely moot.
“Saver, need your help here! Aura Slash, or Aura Slash?”
“Too slow!” shout the leaping Servant and the inner Servant at the same time, and Maria can only plant her sword in front of her to block Avenger’s very own “Dark Aura Slash”. Her mind blanks for a moment when the gigantic outpour of magical energy does not smash her, just until the hard ground beneath her feet gives in and she realizes Avenger sheared off the whole cliff’s edge.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuu—!”
Gravity is doing its thing, but Maria only has eyes for the figure far above her, holding his weapon above his shoulder, as if he is about to—
“FUUUUUUUUUU—!”
Indeed, he throws it like a javelin, clad in its unhallowed darkness. When it meets Maria’s own weapon wreathed in golden radiance, it is less the strike of a thrown polearm and more that of a ballistic missile. Thus Maria, and the world of hopelessness she is trapped in, are both swallowed by darkness beautiful and terrible.
(BGM STOP)
Wise Up! (Avenger of the Black Sun)
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A wise and beautiful woman who exudes an aura of grace. She is a sly, cunning, manipulative person who always gets what she wants, whether through trickery or ruthlessness. Her own fighting abilities are low, but she should not be trifled with. What does she ride? Men, of course!
