“Ufufu, if this is a dream... then I don't want to wake up. Tanets Zaklyucheniya!”
Her name was Lu Bu. That much she knew.
Everything else was whisked away into the laughter on the air. Her eyes were wide as she looked around-- had she ever seen such a spectacle when she’d been alive? She couldn’t fathom it. Everywhere she looked there was some other vision of splendour-- a buffet table stacked almost to the glittering ceiling, itself like a canopy of stars overhead-- music flowing freely from the fingers of master performers, a symphony of instruments she’d never even heard of, let alone knew could sound so beautiful-- and of course, her once-opponent herself. The girl was absolutely captivating in clothes so resplendent Lu Bu was struggling to believe they were even of human make. If they weren't supposed to be fighting, she'd have half a mind to... wait, why were they supposed to be fighting again?
She was distracted from THAT train of thought only by beginning to realise her own clothing had changed too, into an outfit she recalled wearing once in her past when she was presented to the son of Yuan Shu. It was probably the nicest thing she’d ever owned, but just as she was about to even consider the stress of losing her armor, someone took her by the hands and whisked her up into a grand waltz. Ordinarily this would have been an offence punishable by death, but... she couldn’t bring herself to. Her weapon seemed to be not at hand, a mortifying concept and yet it was so hard to care. Why would she ever want to spoil the atmosphere here? All she could do was laugh and twirl, never having felt so happy-- so free-- in her life, dancing with reckless abandon, feeling the presence of her father all around her...
Her father?
But that wasn’t right.
Her father wasn’t here. Not in the flesh, anyway. His flesh was dead, but the metal and power that had made the Flying General such a force to be reckoned with was alive in her. That was why she fought in the first place. That was why she was Lu Bu. And she kindled the embers of his legacy within her, burning in the furnace that her chest contained. Her father was here, with her, and she could only ever truly feel bliss like this when she knew she had done him proud. This vision of beauty... this was not what stirred the heart of Lu Bu. Lu Bu was a warrior. She was a warrior.
Her father would never stand for this, find no glory in aimless revelry. Lu Bu would not waltz. And her name was Lu Bu.
The spell over her shattered in an instant. She looked at the face of the man still twirling her and saw only a crude mannequin of an illusion, an aimless smile on a vacant mask. The regalia broke in a shower of light and left her armored once again-- and more importantly, armed. One thrust of her halberd through his chest released his grip and sent the shadow spiralling away from her, but she wasted no time. The mechanical shunting of the multi-form weapon was all the music she needed.
“Neo God Force! The fusion of all creation, the purity of the soul which descends beyond the horizon of qualia. Tincture Trismegistus... primary form... CROSS!”
This was her dance-- the dance of battle. Charged with her energy, her hybrid body burning with power that glowed red-hot, blue-hot, and finally blazed golden with the force of her conviction, she loosed her Noble Phantasm powered by a True Name Release in its Cross Force and let it whirl around the room in a grand arc. Around the room it spun, encircling the horrified duchess and herself in whirring death as it shredded each illusory phantom before returning to her. Hand aloft she caught it clean and triumphant, fixing her shining eyes on the only other one left standing in the room. Her gaze stood stalwart, no longer enthralled by petty fantasy.
“You and I are much alike, Faker of Anastasia Romanova. We both shouldered a burden by taking on a name that wasn’t our own-- by becoming someone else for the sake of our dream. But that’s where the likeness ends. This is your dream-- an empty peace built on a lie you have to fool yourself into believing! What good is a dream you don’t even believe the real you belongs in?!”
Her weapon, once pointed at the impostor duchess, lowered-- to her side, but ever-ready. “You could never fool me with a dream like that. My dream isn’t of peace-- it’s of war. It’s of war and victory grand enough to break through the heavens and touch the soul of the only one above who matters. The only peace I’ll know is when I know everybody on this earth knows the greatness of the deeds tied to the name Lu Bu Fengxian and my father can smile at me! That’s my dream, a dream I held even before I became Lu Bu!”
She took one step forward, the illusion shimmering around her as its hold on reality weakened, unable to stand up to the flame of her passion. “I don’t want to fight you. Not like this. Not even my father would see any worth in striking down an empty shell. If you really want to fight me... if you have to get in my way... don’t disrespect us both by doing it for some hollow reason like a dream that isn’t even yours! If you’re going to make me cut you down, then stand on your own feet and meet my blade-- my dream-- with one that you actually have the conviction to hold onto with everything that remains of you under the mask!”
Lu Bu raised her weapon and shouted, overcharging everything she had with a torrent of sheer will-- a mental fortitude only capable of being mustered from the very core of one’s self, from the single drive engraved on everything that one is. “If your reason for fighting-- for living-- for becoming a Faker in the first place isn’t even your own, then what do you have worth dreaming for?! Prove to me-- to yourself-- that you ever wished for anything for yourself, that you have a reason to fight with no eyes on you but mine! Find something worth facing Lu Bu for or get out of my way! Now give me your answer, Grand Duchess!”
Originally Posted by realcasually
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