The land was his.
This was uncontestable. The will of the Emperor (God) was almighty in all respects. He was a monster that had the entire continent dancing on the palm of his hand, so something as minor as this land was conquered as a matter of course. If he wished to, he could restrict access but—
Ah, well, it would not do to suddenly deprive auxiliaries from resources, and it wasn't like he needed to siphon everything regardless. Not at this stage.
At the same time, he felt something amiss.
"Hoh. . ."
Something that resisted his domination, not falling as a matter of course? Admittedly, Saber had not attempted to usurp anything — he had simply supposed that the land would have no master and, therefore, fall in line easily enough, but it appeared that such was not the case. He briefly entertained the idea of contesting and taking it anyway, as was the Emperor's (God's) prerogative, but. . .
A smile appeared on his face. Yes, this Fuyuki might be more interesting than he gave it credit for.
"—Interesting. Very well, then. I will allow it, but you had better not disappoint. I will be looking forward to it."
The words appeared to have no meaning in and of themselves as Saber spoke aloud, approaching the group at a leisure pace, but they needn't have any. After all,
it was not something that was meant for them.
Still, he was brought out of his musings by Arturus' query, and his eyes turned to regard her upon hearing his name.
"Lucius, I say we have a competition, should you choose to go against Herakles as well. Who will be able to take more of his lives, I wonder."
Well, that was very un-Arturus, but he supposed that it was only another difference between this one and the one he remembered. Still. . .
"I must admit I am curious," He said, "I came across many things during my lifetime, but although I met creatures that refused to die for good, I never had the pleasure of facing one that can come back from the dead. Still, if it is Heracles. . ."
Even when maddened, the Greatest Hero of Greece was a threat like few others. While Saber relished the challenge, his mind adapted different ways the situation could play out.
The greatest hindrance, of course, was that blessing. While under the classifications of this summoning system it might have only been given the Rank of B, in terms of Mystery Lucius would not hesitate to call it an uncontested miracle on par with Arturus' holy sword, or his own divine curses and blessings granted by Flora.
Better than that, in fact. Lucius' armor was a fantastic thing in terms of defensive and support capabilities, but compared to the Twelve Labors, it was much more limited even with the "fertilization" it carried out. The Sword Emperor had but one life to give and furthermore — even if the numerical value of the sheer defensive power it provided was great, as expected of Vulcan's masterpieces, it was nothing as "cheatlike" as that skin that unconditionally denied anything that did not breach the Rank of A.
Saber would have no problem in that front, but the added defensive power against "that which had killed him before" combined with the fact that he needed to make each blow count due to the resistance gained even from normal wounds. . .
—Troublesome, so in that case. . .
"It will just come down to which one of us uses their sword first, Arturus," He said. "Even with his stock resurrections untouched, being swallowed by the tip of the light of that holy blade or the lightning of my demonic sword should be sufficient to erase his lives. Perhaps it would be overkill, but it is the only way of properly dealing with the issue."
Saber was confident on being able to diminish that stock without needing to resort to that, but the fact remained that Arturus should be able to, as well — but after that, he would be immune, and then they would need to unleash their weapons in earnest.
Not much fun, in his opinion — either as an opponent or as a competition target.
"Bah," He scowled. "I would much rather take him on while sane."
A mind-boggling, stupid proclamation. Did he not realize—
. . .No, he did. He certainly did know what he was asking for. He knew that the chances of success would be nigh-nonexistent. He knew that the chances of survival would be barely above zero. Yet he still wished for it.
"—After all, matching sword techniques against the Strongest Hero would surely be a satisfying time, regardless — it would mean our end, of course, but what a glorious end it would be. But there is no glory in fighting him like that, and no real fun in a contest with a foregone conclusion — you may have him if you like, Arturus. I will be taking that Black Dragon in the meantime."
At that moment, however, as the others still drafted their plan of action, Saber's head snapped up and his gaze focused in the direction his Vassal had been stated to be in.
"It appears we will have to separate for now, then," He said. "My Vassal and his retinue appear to have encountered trouble. I will meet with you once I take care of that business."
So saying, Lucius vanished, transferred to his Master by the Command Mantra.
Without missing a beat to question the pile of corpses around them, without needing to gather himself for the briefest instant, body, mind and soul fell in line with what was most natural.
Dominate the land, ascertain the targets. His Vassal seemed to have spent a great deal of energy keeping this army at bay, so gathering from a secondary source would be a welcome relief to him.
"Really," He chided. "Do not waste words if you are going to use one of those, Vassal. The more direct and shorter the command, the better. "Come" would have worked just as well, and "save me" would have been more efficient."
Cannot forget about educating your Vassal on the proper use of those things. Did he not realize the sheer
potential of what he had in his hand? Lucius Tiberius might not have purely pursued magecraft as a scholar in life, as those magi under him sometimes lamented, but he was not blind — whoever had designed those was, doubtlessly, a genius.
Ah, but there were more important things than that at this point — he could ask about it and file his wish for a conversation on curses for later.
Now? Now, kill, kill, kill and kill again. Florent became an arc of red as it cut skeletons to pieces, releasing shockwaves with each swing. Like a veritable reaper, Saber took to the battlefield with his crimson blade.
