Fate / Stained Inheritance

-A place of strength
-Saber offers aid

El-Melloi slams his book of notes shut with a deep thud as he stands upright, straightening his clothes somewhat. "Let us be on our way then. We must act fast, so we can get to Berserker before he begins to move."

With that, he stands, car keys jangling as he fishes them out of a coat pocket, Izabetha giving you a friendly nod as she falls in behind him, Archer vanishing into her spiritual form to follow as the rest of you fall in. Ruler is still notably keeping to the other side of the group from you. Flat gives you a quick compliment on your new outfit as he joins the pack, a sentiment echoed by Gray. But it's not really the time for idle talk. Not with this tension in the air.


"Are you scared?" A whisper from Gray at your side.

You give the briefest of nods in response, your fingers shaking so slightly. Of course you are. You saw Berserker last night. On top of his raw strength, there was a point when he saw you. Resented you, almost. The thought of him turning his attention to you again- you shiver. "You?"

Gray gives you a matching nod, biting her lip slightly beneath her hood. "But… if I need to… I'm ready. Even if they think I'm her, I can't just stand by."


With that, the pair of you follow the others on, the lot of you piling into a rather fancy car that El-Melloi is sitting behind the wheel of. It's a short drive over to Kiaras chapel and one that proves uneventful beyond El-Melloi swearing at a particularly erratic cyclist that nearly throws his lycra-wearing behind under your wheels after a nasty swerve. It's quite a comfy car really, the leather seats are so much more comfortable than the bus ones. But it's over all too soon, as you all pile out of the car outside Kiara's chapel, sharing a quick and reassuring glance with Gray as you do so.

You end up leading the group into the chapel, pushing the doors open in a now familiar motion. You're not the first to arrive: Kitsune sits on one of the pews, the same white mask hiding her face as before. She's perfectly composed, but is wearing a somewhat heavier outfit with tights and a light coat this time, rather than the lightweight dressy wear from your previous meeting. Saber stands against a pillar near his Master, blonde hair and armour gleaming in the candlelight.


"Welcome, Masters of Archer, Lancer and Ruler, along with the illustrious Lord El-Melloi." Kiara waves you in from where she stands at the lectern, her voice professionally neutral. Right now, she's the Overseer of this war. Not the Kiara you're used to. "May I present the Master of Saber, who has come in response to your offer. Now, I must remind you all that this is neutral ground, and so I shall not look upon any violence kindly."

With that, Kiara takes the slightest of steps backwards, clearing the stage as Kitsune uncrosses her legs and stands, turning her masked gaze upon you. She steps forwards, giving you no clue to her expression as she speaks.


"Ah. It is an honour to meet the Lord of Modern Magecraft in the flesh. To meet a lord is itself quite a notable thing, especially one such as yourself." Kitsune gives El-Melloi a quick curtsey in greeting, proper and respectfully. Unlike her outfit, Kitsune's voice is exactly as it was in your last meeting. Prideful and smug, even when talking to a Lord. "Along with one of your proteges, and a… member of the Einzberns. Of course, not to forget you, Master of Ruler, seeing as I understand you were the one who proposed this meeting. But before we get to that, I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to correct myself, one which I try not to be in often. First, I shall apologise for mistaking your allegiance during our last encounter based on your attire at the time."

Oh yeah. She did assume you were part of a plot by the church to break into this war. Your eyes flicker to Kiara for a moment: Given the amount of help she's given you, you're not entirely sure that assessment is wrong. Izabetha's fairly silent on the outside of the group, not reacting to Kitsune's description of her.


"Second, I must retract my comments about how this war was one with no place for negotiation." Kitsune continues, either not noticing or thinking nothing of your glance. "At Saber's insistence, I have been forced to reconsider that view in light of the threat Berserker poses."

"Thanks Gawain!" Flat says cheerfully, giving the blonde knight a thumbs up as a slight choking noise escapes El-Melloi's throat.

"I merely advised my lady based on what I know of the tyrant king." Saber says impassively, giving a stoic nod in Flat's direction, notably not saying a word on the topic of if that is his name or not.

"Regardless," There's a bite in Kitsune's voice as she interrupts again. "Master of Ruler, RM-FYK, or Yagami, however you would wish to be known-"

"Yagami will do." You snap back at her, put off guard by her mention of your barcode number. Like hell you're going to let them- anyone call you by that damned barcode ever again.

"Very well Yagami. I judged you and the rest of your uninvited guests to be a better ally in this matter." Kitsune begins counting off on her fingers at this point. "Archer's Master is out of her depth and refuses to leave her tower, Rider simply doesn't have the power, and Caster's Master is absolutely obsessed with you, Yagami. I fear your repeated escapes from his clutches have finally finished what his son's death began. While I expect that this war will end with all of us against all of you, it is pointless to plan for the war's finale with Berserker on the loose, if half of what Saber says is true. As such, I am willing to form an alliance with you on this matter."


With that, Kitsune steps back slightly, allowing Kiara to step forwards, holding a scroll in her hands. There's a faint scent of magic around the scroll, reminiscent of the feeling the contracts you signed this morning had. Some manner of geas, again.

"As the disposal of a rogue servant is very much in our interest, we at the Church are offering a means to ease this alliance." Kiara says, laying out the scroll on the lectern. "Should representatives from both parties find it acceptable and sign, this geas shall prevent Masters from attempting to cause harm to the other parties, directly or indirectly, as well as demanding that the signatories prevent their servant from independently going after their co-signatories. These provisions are to remain in force until noon of the day after Berserker's death. Are these terms acceptable?"

"If I may-" El-Melloi says, striding forwards to examine the contract, pushing his glasses up his nose as he leans in to read.


A minute or two later, he straightens up, declaring that he is fine with that wording, so it's clearly not got any hidden traps in it. Kitsune steps forwards, voicing similar sentiments, before signing her name upon it. Izabetha and Flat follow, with you ending up as the last signatory, wincing slightly as the pen pricks your finger to draw your "ink". You don't bother mimicking Izabetha and Flat and giving the contract your own look. You wouldn't be able to tell, so you're going to have to trust Kiara and El-Melloi on this front. You do get to see what Kitsune's name actually is though. Hana Ihsoh.

But with your name in place, Kiara steps forwards, providing her countersignature on the scroll. Just like that, you feel the geas take hold, soft tendrils of power wrapping around the throats of everyone who signed the contract. Which… now you're noticing it, there's a hint of something else here as well. It's faint, and hard to make out properly, but it feels like this isn't the first spell like this affecting Hana. A faint, similar taste from her mouth, you think. But you can;t quite make it out, not with her mask in the way, it's own magical signature concealing that second spell.


"There. Our alliance is established." Hana says, dusting her hands off. "Now, on the topic of Berserker, I have been performing some divinations of my own, and found that certain constellations are showing a darkening in their stars. A loss of their vitality. Translating that into the false sky of a terrestrial reflection lets the results from the heavens be mapped onto the earth, giving a location for that disruption, which corresponds to a notable leyline to the northwest."

There's a faint smug note in Hana's voice as she gives you the technical details of her divination, which are once more completely lost on you and Gray. It's getting a pondering mumble out of Flat though, and El-Melloi definitely has something to say, as he takes out some papers from within his coat pocket.

"A student of the Faculty of Astromancy then. To be expected, given your dawnbringing technique. I would assume the leyline in question was the Dragon's tail?" El-Melloi asks, getting a brief nod in return from Hana. "I concur with your assessment, given that my own enquiries have found Dathmet having invested quite a sum into constructing a workshop in that location over the past decade. It would hardly be complete after such a short time, but I would find it likely that it is operational enough to act as a base for his summoning."


"In which case The tyrant will have all he needs." Saber says stoically, turning his gaze to you. It's a bit unnerving, having his full attention, even though you're allied for now. "I believe you've encountered Vortigern more times than I. Tell me, was he changing?"

"Yes-" You and Gray speak up in unison, turning to face each other in shock. There's a faint furrowing of Saber's brow at that, as if he's trying to place something in his head.

"He was- growing. Claws, and wings." You go on, recounting the tale of how he wasn't just healing, but turning into something else. "A monster."

"Then it is as I feared." Saber sighs, shaking his head. "If he had been summoned in a different class, perhaps… But that is not the case. We shall not be standing against the man, but the monster. I am glad for this alliance, as I would not be able to best this Vortigern alone. Not when it took the lance of my king to slay him."


A troubled expression settles upon Saber's face at that uncomfortable reminiscence, while you turn to Gray, hearing a faint gasp from her. She's wearing a matching expression.

"Fortunately, Vortigern is not incarnated." El-Melloi points out. "He remains a Servant, and this form is one he is forcing himself into. Hardly the greatest of limitations, but a limitation nonetheless."

"Fate cannot be ignored either." Kitsune says, her voice certain. "You helped slay the beast in life. Even if you did not deal the final blow, that is a potent tie we can use in our favour."

"We've got some tricks up our sleeves as well!" Flat chimes in brightly, pointing to the rest of your group. "Most of us have fought him at least once before and I know I've got a couple of things figured out that'll send him into next week!"

"Indeed." El-Melloi nods. "We have caused at least one wound that persisted through Vortigern's regeneration- taken one of his eyes."

"In short, we have the capability between us to end him." Izabetha says, her voice level. "All that matters is how we fight. So, shall we talk tactics?"

---

With your plans made, you all begin your journey towards Dathmet's workshop, Kiara giving you one last wish for good luck as the sun begins to sink towards the horizon. The drive is tense, and largely spent in silence. You're too busy going over your role in it, as well as looking out the car window for any traces of Ruler as she follows your car.

Eventually, you reach your destination: You stand at the base of a hill, surrounded by some lush forest lands. Picturesque, hilly land, filled with streams and hills and crags and old quarries, filled with the scent of life. But more importantly, at the top of the small hill you're standing by stands Dathmet's workshop: A manor house in looks, empty and lifeless.

You find yourself shivering a little as you get out of the car: This place is brimming with power, mana flowing all through the land. A quiver of excitement runs through your body: all this mana feels just like those lovely hot showers at Izabetha's mansion, a pleasant tingle dancing over you as it soaks into your skin. Despite the fear and tension, your heart pounding in your chest… you feel good, basking in power like this.


"Ms Yagami- your first assignment as a member of my faculty." El-Melloi commands you as he looks out the car window. "Make sure you come back. I'm not losing a student the day I get them. That goes for all of you."

His brow is furrowed, and despite the officer's tone he's speaking, there's a weak undercurrent to his voice. Fear and worry. The knowledge that you could very well die here, and there is nothing he can do to help.

He is a Lord, but this is beyond his power.


With that, El-Melloi drives off, looking to find a safe vantage point to observe from. It's just your group now. You, Ruler, Gray, Flat and Scathath from El-Melloi's car. Izabetha and Archer from her bike, and Hana and Saber exiting from Hana's own car.

As you stand at the gatehouse, you close your eyes, focusing on the flow of power all around you. There's something there all right. Something underneath the manor, drinking in the power and growing.

The forest is bathed in the grayish tones of dusk as you step forwards over the threshold of the grounds, the last of the sun having just fallen below the horizon. As you take that step, you feel motion from that presence.


"It knows we're here!" You gasp, opening your eyes as you feel a rumble in the earth.

An orange glow begins to flicker in the windows of the manor as its stonework begins to crack, the tinkle of shattering glass barely audible over the sound of rumbling earth. The rumble pauses for a moment, the fire growing within the mansion the only motion as the world holds its breath.

The moment passes, and the mansion explodes, energy blasting out the windows and through the walls: A tide of power dyed in red and black that no building could contain, accompanied by a sound more felt than heard as its deafening roar smacks into you, sending you stumbling as your ears ring.

The manor collapses in on itself, crumbling like a house of cards as fire begins to consume the wreckage. Even with your ears ringing, you can hear the sound of rubble shifting like gravel being crunched underfoot. Something moving within the flames.


A roar of challenge fills the dusk as what remains of the manor roof is blown clean away: Burning rafters are scattered like kindling as a pair of vast wings unfurl into the air, the building offering no resistance to their stretching. White scales gleam orange in the firelight as walls collapse, an angular head rearing skywards out of the billowing cloud of dust and smoke: Arrowhead-shaped and large enough to swallow you whole, horned and scaled with a mouth filled with something too dark and dense to be mere fire. A monster the world would recognise.


The White Dragon has awoken.


How did you choose to fight (Votes counted as entire plans)

[] Who draws Vortigern's attention, to stop him from simply turning his might upon all the Masters present?
-[] Ruler: She is agile enough to survive Vortigern's full attention. Furthermore, he recognised her when you fought before, and Ruler is able to compel others into pursuing her, so she will be able to hold his attention
-[] Saber: He is strong enough to survive Vortigern's full attention, and helped to kill Vortigern in his life, so he knows how he fights. In addition, the grudge Vortigern holds against him will ensure Vortigern focuses on him.

[] How do you stop Vortigern's regeneration, letting you wound him enough to create an opening for a decisive attack?
-[] From having fought him before, Flat and Scathath have devised a way of disrupting the mana flow he draws upon to heal. However, this will take their full attention, meaning they cannot aid in the fight directly.
-[] You will bear the weight. By linking in to Vortigerns mana flow, you will drink what you can and poison the rest with the curses burned into your veins. It'll free up Flat and Lancer to help fight directly, and… you'll be fine. You've channeled more power and lived.
-[] Gray stands on the frontlines. Gray's scythe is the only weapon that can truly harm Vortigern. Her fighting in this way will let her whittle down Vortigern by creating true wounds. However, this will prevent her from being kept in reserve, and Vortigern knows that weapon, meaning he will try to kill Gray to remove that threat to him.

[] When the time comes, how do you finish Vortigern?
-[] Gray reveals herself from hiding to strike him down. Your aim is to create an opening for her to land a decisive blow. However, this cannot be done if Gray is fighting on the frontlines with the others.
-[] Sheer overwhelming force: When the chance arises, simply strike Vortigern down with multiple simultaneous noble phantasms. With his regeneration disrupted, not even he can survive that much power.
-[] Recreate Vortigern's first death: With Gray and Saber present, you can tap into the ties of fate to strike Vortigern down the same way he died in life, causing their blows to land with far more than mere physical force. However, this would require Gray to take the role of King Arthur.

-Saber draws Vortigern
-You bear the weight
-Gray hides until the final blow can be dealt


"SCATTER!" Izabetha yells as Vortigern pulls himself free of the collapsing workshop, shedding embers like raindrops from his white-scaled hide, wicked claws gouging gashes into stone flooring as you see the full scale of his form.

It's terrifying- he's half the size of the mansion he just blew apart, not counting his sky-shrouding wingspan. Glittering scales white as fallen snow, positively demonic horns and fangs, and a blade-tipped tail felling trees with nothing more than reflexive twitches.

But there's something that blunts the terror you felt facing him last night, something that keeps fear's icy claws from gripping your heart as you sprint for cover at Izabetha's order: Vortigern may be many things… but not invincible. Even like this, the wound Gray dealt last night remains, leaving the left half off Vortigern's head marred with a crimson scar and an empty eye socket.

Gasping for breath, you finish your mad dash to cover, ducking down into a ditch. A glance backwards confirms that everyone else has scattered, leaving your collective Servants to advance on Vortigern: Of particular note is the way Scathach is dragging her spear along the forest floor as she runs, kicking up a cloud of dust. Just enough to hide Gray's presence as she gets herself to cover, making sure to keep herself as far back as possible. Your plan relies on keeping her away from sight after all.

---

"I'll do it- I can deal with his healing." That's what you said, back in the chapel, putting yourself forward for the role.

"Are you certain? My Master and I have devised a plan to hack the lifeline." Scathach interrupted, tracing out a rune with her fingers. "Can you handle it?"

"Look- we need you fighting- need everyone who can" You said, banishing her concerns- though you're still not sure if they were for your health or just about the plan. "It's… just power. I've felt it, sensed it. It's… I'll be fine. I've held worse. More."

"Agreed. If what she's said has been accurate, this should be within Mimi's ability. It'll certainly be less straining than what she did to Assassin." Izabetha nodded.

"Now hold on one moment- you trust her with this task?" Hana asked incredulously, pointing at you. "You were barely able to command your servant in our previous spar, how can you do this now? What ability do you have that Lancer does not?"
"Yeah well I'm a lot better than I was then, aren't I? You said Lainur's got obsessed over me, you don't think there's a reason?" You snapped back, drawing a sigh from Hana.

"Fine then. The question remains, how do we kill Vortigern? Even with weight of numbers and Yagami on our side, he is hardly going to die easily." Hana said, quickly pivoting the conversation.


There was a bit of babble at that, as everyone gave their own opinions on the best approach. You weren't paying much attention to that though: Your gaze was fixed on the pocket of silence at the back of your group, where Gray was whispering to El-Melloi. They shared a quick exchange, before she broke away, giving you a brief nod as she stepped forwards, making sure her hood was pulled low.

"I can do it." She said simply, her voice held firm to stop it shaking. "I've hurt him before- did something he couldn't heal. I can't stand by and watch, so… give me a chance. If you do, I can kill him."

Again, Saber's brow furrowed as Gray spoke. "How? No… if you can do that, fight by my side!"

An odd sound to hear from the voice of a knight like that. How it almost sounded… pleading, an impression only reinforced by the way he reached out his arm to Gray. However, his fingers grasped nothing but air as Gray stepped back, hiding behind Scathach.

"No- we should keep her safe." Izabetha was next to speak, shaking her head in response to Saber's plea. "If she has already wounded Vortigern, he will try to target her first. Gray, we should keep you hidden, so you have the element of surprise."

Gray nodded slightly, from her spot away from Saber. "I… can do that. If it's best. And… that way, I'm fighting as me."

"Then let me draw Vortigern's ire!" Saber half-yelled. "He knows me. Hates me. I will keep his gaze upon me, to give you that chance."

"Very well. But you are forbidden to die, do you hear me Saber?" Hana sighed haughtily. "But I do believe we have our plan of attack now."

---

That's how it went. So you've just got to trust in your companions, and wait for your time to come. To wait for Vortigern to feast upon the land. To wait and watch.

To watch as you see Gray rush for cover, ducking behind a particularly large boulder as your Servants rush uphill towards Vortigern, the wind of their passage stripping the leaves from the trees they pass.


A low snarl escapes Vortigerns throat at the sight of his assailants, the muscles in his throat visibly tensing as a deep red begins to shine out through the gaps between his scales there. His wings extend as he crouches town. He leaps, wall-tumbling winds sweeping through the forest with his wingbeats as he soars into the air. He's far more graceful than anything that size should be. For the briefest of moments, he hovers there, blocking out the newly risen moon with his bulk as the glow within his throat builds. The moment passes, and Vortigern reminds you why you feared him.

His jaw opens, a blood-dark beam of raw power spearing out with a low, sound-smothering roar. It's not flame, it's something far denser, far hotter than mere fire: Nothing less than a line of raw destruction that he scrapes across the ground. Nothing can stand where the beam strikes: Soil becomes glass, rock melts and trees sublimate, filling the air with smoke as Vortigern turns this force upon your servants.

In an instant, they scatter, each dashing their separate ways to evade the overwhelming force bearing down on them. Panic grips you as you lose sight of them between the smoke and the sheer speed of their movements: They can't have just died like that, can they? You shake your head- no. You need to- you think for a moment. Ruler's still alive. You can still feel the bond between you. It's something to focus on, as you calm yourself, fighting the fear.


As you calm your nerves, a brilliant figure shoots upwards out of the smoke, a golden streak trailing behind them as they collide with Vortigern, forcing him off balance as they slam into his chest with bone-shattering force, before continuing their- her flight into the sky above.

Ruler lives, lighting up the night sky as she spreads her brilliant wings wide, far more graceful in her flight than Vortigern, hope swelling in your chest at her ascent. She wipes a streak of ash from her fiery hair as she looks down upon Vortigern righting himself in the sky below, a cratered dent of broken scales seeping blood from his chest where Ruler struck him.

But even with that glorious ascent, she's still looking less than how she looked last night. The flames wrapping her body are still the fading embers they've been at all day, compared to last night's blaze. The golden sun-disc floating behind her looks dull as well. Even now, in this critical battle, she's troubled… and she wouldn't let you get close to her, to talk about just why the revelation of her true nature has left her so concerned and distant. A prayer slips from your lips as you watch her soar. Please let her be okay. So you can try to talk with her properly. Just… don't let this cause her death.


As you whisper, Ruler wipes Vortigern's blood from a fist, staring down at him as he begins to chase her up into the sky. Her expression is cold… but not hateful. Closer to pity, than anything else.

Ruler dives as Vortigern flies up to meet her, nimbly weaving between gnashing teeth and raking claws as Vortigern savagely lashes out at her. Her eyes narrow as she spots a gap in his attacks, and dives in towards his wings- only to be sent spinning through the air as his tail comes up. A whip-crack splits the air as his tail's bladed tip slices her right arm open, a bone-deep gash even with Ruler's attack being converted to a desperate diving dodge at the last moment.

Vortigern's jaws open, ready to catch the tumbling form of Ruler before she can right herself- before a silver light arcs through the sky, exploding as it strikes him at the base of a wing, shredding its membrane and sending him plummeting to earth. Tracing the light back to its source, two figures stand atop a rocky crag in the middle distance.

Izabetha gives a satisfied nod as she peers through a scope, taking a gleaming bundle of silver wire from a pouch strapped to the kevlar plate covering her chest. A quick incantation, and it infurls into a long arrow made of gleaming filigree, closer to a ballista bolt than a bow's arrow. It's tip begins to glow from within as Izabetha channels more power into it, the wire-coils condensing at it's tip, brimming with power eager to be unleashed. Happy with the outcome, she passes the arrow to the silent figure of Archer, who wordlessly nocks the arrow to her bow. Her red eyes gleam as she keeps her gaze focused on the falling dragon, her skin glowing a faint silver where the moonlight touches it.

The earth quakes as Vortigern crashes down upon it, sending branches raining down upon you. A furious roar shakes the air as he springs upright with surprising grace, leaping from the dust of his fall.


"COME NOW, VORTIGERN. FACE ME." Saber's voice rings out into the night, accompanied by the metal-on-metal clash of him slamming a gauntleted fist against his chest. His expression is firm as he raises his blade in challenge to Vortigern, a faint golden glow shining from the hilt and enveloping the sword's edge. A low chuckle slips from Vortigern's throat as he looms over Saber, malice dripping between his teeth.

"Gawain. Pathetic knight: You weren't strong enough then, you aren't now." Vortigern snarls back, his hateful voice dissonantly human coming from a monster's mouth as he names Saber, confirming your suspicions. With a bluf of motion, he strikes, viciously swiping at Saber- at Gawain- with his claws. Each slash is a blur of motion, far faster than anything that large should move, and each one takes Gawain's full strength to block: Even bracing the blade with both hands, Gawain is being driven back meters with each strike, leaving a scar of furrowed earth from the force alone.

Again and again they clash, before Gawain finally tries to counterattack, catching an incoming swipe with a slash of his blade, locking it against Vortigern's clawed… hands. You think that's the right word for them at least. A drop of blood slips down the blade's fuller as Vortigern and Gawain try to force the other back. It's not an even contest; Gawain's needing both hands and all his strength here, while Vortigern's only using a single limb. He holds it for an instant, then presses, forcing Gawain down.

That's when you see it: Despite the effortless pushing, Vortigern is still rooting himself to the earth here, as you catch a faint flickering motion around Vortigern's claw. Inky shadows seeping out from beneath his scales, momentarily dimming their pristine whiteness. Dimming the golden glow that shines around Gawain's blade. It's not just that rooting motion either- you can feel a faint disturbance in the flow of mana that fills this forest as he does this.

Recognition flashes across Gawain's face at the sight, as he expertly twists himself aside, Vorticerns claws shredding nothing but thin air as Saber pivots, driving his blade through the claw, briefly nailing it to the ground below.

Hissing, Vortigern snaps at Gawain, his jaws closing in on the knight even as he desperately wrenches his blade out to defend- but leaves him defenceless against the purple blur that tears out from the forest, as Scathach drives her spear point into the dented scales left from Ruler's first impact, forcing Vortigern's bite off-target so it only tears the armour from Gawain's left arm like tissue paper.


Before blood hits dirt, Scathach moves again, sprinting down Vortigern's length, her spear dragging deep scores through his hide as she lays into him relentlessly. Her fighting style… reckless doesn't even begin to describe it. She simply sees only her speartip and its target.

She fights like someone who doesn't care if anything strikes her: Either she doesn't think it could hurt her, or she doesn't care if she dies. Vortigern's tail whips round as he buffets her with a wing, and for a moment you think you're going to find out which of those it is.

"Right!" A yell rings out from the forest the instant Vortigern moves: Flat's, yelled out from where he lies in cover, scrutinising Vortigern with magically-enhanced focus. Scathach darts in response to the command, following Flat's instructions to nimbly slip away from the onslaught. She might not be watching her foe's movements, but that doesn't matter when she has someone who's doing nothing but.

Vortigern snarls at the dodging, moving to attack again before a volley of arrows arcs down from the sky like silver raid, shredding a wing. The snarl shifts to a vicious roar as Vortigern launches into a full bodied assault, viciously brawling with the other servants as an ominous glow builds in his throat once more: He hurls himself forward upon Gawain, half-crushing the knight as his claws strike again and again, ripping into his exposed arm despite his best efforts but a would-be fatal bite is averted by Ruler as she descends from the heavens, jabbing a flaming fist into Vortigern's blind left eye. A flick of his tattered wing knocks her to the ground and you wince as he stomps on her with one of his rear feet, leaving an arm a crushed mess as she frantically rolls away, a familiar tug in your chest as she takes more power from you, flame licking around the wound as she retreats and regenerates as Scathach dives in once more, striking at the hamstrings of Vortigern's now-bloodstained foot to cover Ruler's retreat. Even with Flat's guidance, Scathach can't quite evade the sweeping tailblow that slices into her arm as Vortigern leaps upwards, taking to the air once more, the power building within his throat overflowing and spilling between his teeth as he inhales.


Again, Vortigern breathes ruin. Once more, a beam of energy lances out from his mouth, the bass-reverberation accompanying it smothering the sound of combat. In an instant, the crag that was Archer's vantage point is reduced to a molten spray fountain, lava spraying into the forest. You think you saw a silver speck leap from the crag before the beam hit- you don't know though. You couldn't tell. You hope you did. You don't want to think about what it means if you were mistaken.

With the sniper's perch destroyed, Vortigern sweeps the beam down towards you all, torching a swathe of forest as it descends on your Servants, a blazing executioner-blade.

It never lands.

Faster than you can track, Scathach leaps upwards, leaving the treetops far below her as she drives her lance into the base of Vortigern's jaw, ducking beneath his fatal breath to pin his mouth closed.

From above, a star falls: Drawing more and more power from you, Ruler descends, a faint golden trail in her wake as she dives from the sky above, driving her brilliantly blazing sun-disc into Vortigern's head from above. Blood sprays into the night sky as the crimson tip of Scathach's lance is forced out from the roof of Vortigern's mouth, Ruler's impact having slammed his mouth closed.

Leaving nowhere for the power within his throat to go.


Gore splatters the forest as Vortigern's throat explodes in a gush of flame, blown out by his own power. A death-rattle escapes his throat as he goes limp in the sky, plummeting towards the ground like a rock while Ruler hovers in the sky overhead.

Scathach landed first, having also leapt away right before the blast. She's not escaped completely unharmed though, raw red and char-black burns covering an arm and a leg where her bodystocking has been burned away. A disdainful hiss escapes her mouth at the sight of her wounds, checking herself over as Vortigern falls.

Falls, and lands: Vortigern's eye opens wider, bloodlust-bloodshot as he twists in the air at the last moment to land, sparing himself the crash. Blood pours from his blown-out throat, but he still stands. Stands, and worse; fights.

For the instant his claws touch the earth, you feel it. A surge of power from within the earth, a live-wire that links all the way back to the corpse in London. Vortigern draws on the land once more, pulling more than you've ever felt him take. Glowing cracks spread through the earth around him as he takes more than even the land can bear, the excess mana spilling out as softly glowing motes of light.


Your skin crawls as you feel the air grow thunderstorm-oily, greasy and heavy and terribly, potently, charged. You can feel mana flooding this area… and it feels good. Like warm sunlight caressing you. More importantly, you can feel where the flow of mana is thickest, the heart of the leyline Vortigern is using.

The ground around Vortigern cracks even further, a forest of dead, jagged bone erupting out from the cracks with a sickening crunching, forcing your Servants away from him. Within that dead forest, he begins to heal and grow, damaged flesh knitting itself back together.

Now's your chance.


Your heart pounding in your chest, you spring from your hiding chest and sprint towards the leyline's heart, your black keys clutched in your hands. Twigs crunch under your feet as you spy a hollow in the earth left from a fallen tree that's right atop the pulsing artery of power. It's perfect.

Reaching the edge of the hollow, you leap, a strangled grunt of exertion slipping from your mouth, a single eye tracking your jump from within the forest of bone: Vortigern is watching, his mere attention sending an icy chill down your spine. Too late to back out now though. A single thought, a connection to your keys, and your blades flash into existence, their tarnished silver edges gleaming in the night. You crash down into the hollow, using the force of your landing to drive your blades deep into the earth; sending those extensions of you into the pulsing river of power that flows here.

A heartbeat of nothing- almost enough to doubt, to worry if you've messed up, ruined this entire plan.

A heartbeat more, and you connect.

You connect, and you burn.

You connect, and you shatter.

You connect, and you scream.

Your body cries out in agony as you connect to the leyline, drinking, bathing, drowning in the arterial heartblood of the world. Flooding your body with primal power, far more than a normal person should hold.


But you are not a normal person.


You may only be a broken fragment, but a grail remains a grail. To hold, store and channel power is what you were made for- and there is one thing you know above all else.

You've held more.

This isn't as bad as Fuyuki; the flow of mana here might be endless, but it's different. Cooler, softer, far less dense. Even so, it's too much for you to just drink, even with Ruler to shunt the excess to. You can't take this entire leyline, to cut Vortigern off entirely; but you don't need to. You just need to take enough, taint enough.


Blood drips as you bite your lip to stop your scream, your mind racing as you fight through the pain: You force your blades deeper into the earth as you grasp at the power, working on instinct rather than understanding as you refine your connection. As you follow the pain to align yourself better with the leyline as you drink.

It's still agony as you divert as much of the mana into you as you can, but a bearable agony. You're not burning here, after all. You're not taking more than you can handle. You're only taking exactly that amount, down to the very last drop.


It hurts, but you can manage, even if you're nearly cracking your teeth from how hard you're clenching your jaw to hold back the scream. If you scream, you won't be able to focus; and you need to focus here, to make sure you do this right.

To take the mana into yourself, splitting off what you can to Ruler, forcing the link between you wide as you flare off as much as you can. To filter what remains through you, circulating it through your veins. To taint its raw purity with the curses running within you, then spit it back out, poisoning Vortigern's river.

It takes a moment at first, but you start to sense a change in the leyline, a growing stream of black running through its current. It's working. You can't let yourself feel the slightest hint of satisfaction at that though, you've got to focus on your task until it is done.


Even as you feel your circuits open as wide as possible, their glowing cracks spreading across your body wider than they've ever gone before: Within you, every last atrophied pathway is being forced back into life by the load you're carrying.

Even as something changes within your blood, the curse residue within you slowly dissolving within the power that floods your body.

Even as you see the pale blue of the veins at your wrists darken as your very blood blackens from the curses that it carries with it. It's odd. You think

Even as-yo̴͖̱u̘̻͇̱̝͈r͕͚̖͙̪̮͍͟ ̧̤̝͈͇̩̮v̫̙̟̝̲̘̜͞i͝s̸į̻̳̞͉͈ͅon ̀f̡̥l͟i͙ć̤k̯̪ersͅ,̛̩̜̞ ͈̣̯͚̯a̠̟͔͉̱͚ͅn҉͎̦̼d͔͕ ̦͓͇̬̤͎̟f̩o͍̥͕̣̗͘r̨̲̼̖̮̬͎̝ ̺͕̳͔a͕̲͖̟̪̰ ̞̟̣m̯̣͓̱͇̯͞o̭̟̬̼̰̥͘m̛͕͈̥͉e̢͈̹̥̙͕n̷̖̟̭̝̱̙̠t̳̜̥̲͕͔̬ ͘y̷̞͙̙͎͔͙o͔u̪̜̬ ͓̩̪̼s̝̕e̦̳e͖͔ ̤t̝w͉̕ó̞̖̩̝̥ ̜͓̜̳b̩̹r͇̜̪̙a̠͍̼̠̦n͖̤̖̟̥͓c̛̙̗͉h͍͜i̮̥̦̠̖̫̙n͙̰͖̹̠̠g,҉͔̖͔̤͖ ̛̠̱̝͈̺̞c̳͎̬̩l̗̗̭̘͍a̳̻̳͎̞̙͈w̪̣̥̞͕̪͇͟-͙̻ḻ͝i̤̻͎̥̠͎͡k͎͇̲e̢͚͕̯̟͇̬͎ ̺̗͝s̨w̱̞̫̮̘o͙̩̮̩͓̱͉r̼̱̺̬͓̥͚d̢͙̻͎̤͉͎̩s̠̺͜ in͙̪̻ ͢p̘̮͇͕̝͔͚l̫͎̹̖̼̳a̲̫c̫͕̝̼͖e̱̩̣̟̱̬ ̦͚̖̮o̷̲͔̻̘f̤͚̱̦͍ ̴͕͎̤ͅy̡̯o̫̝̗u͉̗̮͡r͡ ̹B̼͇la̦̲̞̘͇̥c͘ḳ̟̱̬͟ ͓̼͎̻͡K̫̮͟eys̺͡,̭̻ ̷̻̥t̨̘̘͍h̜̣̲̥͇̪ͅei̜͎͓̭r͙͓͖̫͡ ̗̫̜͈͇o͙̜̣͇͉̤͍m̫̰̠͡i͔̻̫̪̥̰̝͝n̤͚̲̞̞̫o҉͕̥̺̦̜̦u͓̣͈̖͎̝s̢͉ ̷r̼e̟̜̗͝ḍ͇̺̩͠ ̗̪̥̭͝a̱̫̙ņ̖d̰̘̘̪̻̫̫ ̳̭̟͈̙bl̜͓̬̮͓a͟c̩̫̘̝̻͔̖͞k̞̣̯̝ ̶b̭͟ḻ̱̱̦̰a͢ḏ̩̳͞e̸̦͔s̨̥̰͍ ̧͖̼d͕̞i̻͇̦͎͇̜͜g̹̖̠g͍̹̬i͍̮n̡g̸ ̥̹̠͍̘̹i̵̻n̫̤͓̲̹̲ṱ̲o̞̳̹̭̺ ̵t͚h̬̟̱͎͔̬̦͝e͈͖̘̗̱̺͍͟ ͇̠̥̝͙͡e̹̥͈̞̣à̲͉̟̮̦͕̲r͏̝̞̟t̤͓͓̀h̻̬̝̝̙

Even as the slim, straight blades of your Black-Keys tarnish further, dyeing themself midnight black as tarnished silver filigree creeps over their handles, sprouting out from beneath your fingers.

Even with all that, you hold your focus, because you know what happens should you fail.


Meanwhile, a furious roar rings out from Vortigern as your effect on the leyline becomes clear; the jagged bones surrounding him grow brittle, and while you've not stopped his healing entirely, it's slowed. More importantly, what grows back is weaker, a faint gray mildew covering the regrown flesh and scale, leaving it weak and brittle.


As the orange glow of a spreading fire begins to fill the forest, coming from the burned gashes from Vortigern's breath, he moves. He leads by charging out of the jagged bone that had kept him safe during his regeneration, trying to keep the initiative in his favour. Again, his throat glows, forcing your Servants to scatter. But this time, his throat constricts, his breath coming as a series of rapid, narrow pulses rather than a single beam. While each beam might be weaker on their own; the odd tree being struck by a spare pulse only being left an ashen statue, as opposed to simply vaporising… But that doesn't really matter when Vortigern's clearly able to be more precise like this, a hit to a wing sending Ruler plunging from the sky towards the waiting bony thicket, while another blast shatters armour to leave Gawain's chest protected by nothing more than skin and skill.

But even after taking such a hit, Gawain charges forwards, intercepting Vortigern's charge. He gives a quick call back to Hana, who nods, beginning a familiar chant. Gawain's struggling now, but he remains resolute in his defence: Even as bony thorns erupt out of the ground with each step Vortigern takes, Gawain holds, having to parry them as well as Vortigern's own attacks. He holds, but imperfectly; Vortigern's strikes carrying such force that some of the spikes find their mark in Gawain's flesh, bursting up through his boots or slashing through his arms.

Even the return of Scathach to the fray only minorly aids Gawain's defence, as the ever-sprouting fossil thornfield surrounding Vortigern hampers her movements at every turn, predatorially harrying her and preventing her from resuming the savage onslaught from before. She's still able to score Vortigern's hide, painting his white scales red, but less than before, and she's starting to take some scrapes from the spikes closing in on her, largely on her burned side, the searing she received when she blew Vortigern's throat open hampering her movements just enough to matter.


But that changes when Hana finishes her chant: Just like your fight in the parking garage, she brings the day to this moment, flooding the area in sourceless sunlight. In this brilliance, Gawain gleams, his marble-carved muscles shining in the light as the jagged bone thorns begin to shatter when they strike him, causing him all the trouble of a mayfly bite.

Now, Gawain goes on the attack, playing the iconic dragonslayer in motion as he dances with Vortigern moving faster than he did before. He's stronger too, each claw-swipe becoming easier to repel than the last. At last Gawain can strike back, the sunlight trailing from his blade banishing that inky blackness that bubbled up from within Vortigern's scales the last time they clashed.

Again and again he strikes, his sword carving deep gashes into Vortigern's chest, splattering the forest around them with blood. At one point, after pinning an arm to the ground with his blade, Gawain begins to pummel Vortigern; his bare fists simply punch straight through the scales covered in the mildew left from your own efforts, leaving bloody pits in Vortigern's flesh. With Gawain like this, the tide of battle is sure to turn in your favour.

A pity then, that it cannot last: All too soon, the sunlight fades, Hana gasping with exertion from behind her mask. Just like that, Gawain's forced onto the defensive again as Vortigern presses his advantage. Strike after strike rains down on Gawain, desperately parrited before yet more lethally edged fossils burst up from the ground through Gawain's feet: He's trapped, pinned in place as Vortigern brings a clawed hand down to crush Gawain into a red smear on the ground.


A silver streak flashes in the night, and a gleaming explosion turns half of that hand to mincemeat, throwing that strike off target to do nothing more than crater the ground. Following the streak back to the source, you see Izabetha, a wet scarf wrapped over her mouth, with Archer at her back. The pair of them are covered in soot and ash, and you can see some red weals that'll become quite nasty burns, but they're both intact. Vortigern roars, shielding his face from the rain of arrows Archer begins to pepper him with a wing. The ground shakes as he leaps backwards, a glow building in his throat once more as he prepares to breathe.

"Be ready! If he is to darken my blade, he must focus his power, keeping him still. And with a weakened throat like that, this blade is at last a threat to him." Gawain calls out to you all as Vortigern leaps backwards, darting forwards to remain the vanguard. "Now, bear witness to this sacred blade!"


Gawain sweeps his sword upwards, tip pointing towards the sky as he holds it before his chest in salute. The air grows hot and heavy with mana as the sword's guard shifts, exposing a brilliant light held captive within the blade. A sun in miniature, but undiminished in intensity.

Golden light radiates out from Gawain, creeping across the ground in shining lines as he lifts the blade high into the air, held in an executioner's stance.

"Sister to victory, replica of Sol: By your flame, let the world be cleansed! EXCALIBUR, GALATINE!" The golden lines split and merge as Gawain roars in challenge, leaving him standing in the centre of a shining sundial, his blade the gnomon. A sundial in form only, as you find out as he brings his blade down.


For in this moment, Gawain points, and the sun follows.


An arc of power flies from his blade, joined by plumes of flame that erupt from the cardinal points of his sundial, their brilliant heat nothing to the crackling power of the central arc, which is something far denser and brighter than a mere inferno: It is simply a piece of the sun unleashed, pure creation invoked for destruction. The ground beneath it fuses to glass as the sunfire streaks towards Vortigern, leaving no room for escape.


Even with your eyes shut tight and covered with a hand, it's all blinding; your world turns red with the intensity of the light. You see your bones as black shadows, surrounded by the darkened branches of your arteries.

You've no choice but to hold fast until the light fades to see the impact of the strike, you'd be blinded if you tried to watch, eyes shut and hearing only the screaming roar of Vortigern as the fire impacts. The light begins to fade- you'll be able to open your eyes soon.


That's when you hear the sickening crunch of teeth on flesh.


Your eyes snap open, the still-too-bright light forgotten. What greets you is a scene from a nightmare: Vortigern's jaws closed fast around Gawain's limp body, everything from the waist up within the dragon's jaws. Bone crunches as the Vortigern chews, blood streaming out from beneath his teeth, pooling around the still-gleaming blade of Galatine where it lies on the glassed ground.

Vortigern's also a horrific sight: there's a foot-deep gash running down his body from chest to tail that's just gone :Its edges just a horrific crispy black crust of scorched flesh leaking blood and pus from a myriad of cracks that break open and shut with Vortigern's motions. Nearly his entire left side is now scorched to a crisp, red-wealed flesh and burned scales. But nowhere on his body do you see any sign of that inky blackness that dulled the light of Gawain's blade, and you realise that Vortigern didn't even try to defend himself that way- he knew that was what Gawain was expecting.

A flick of his arrowpoint-head, and Vortigern sends the limp body of Gawain flying into the distance, a faint green glow trailing from the knight's waist. You catch sight of air-touching bone in the depths of that sear-scar as Vortigern sweeps his gaze around, searching for his next target now that Gawain cannot hold him back. His eye narrows as he finds it, and your heart nearly freezes on the spot.


He's looking at you.

He knows that if he kills you, he can drink from the leyline to his heart's desire once more.

You can't move a muscle as Vortigern lunges towards you, all grip on the leyline lost as you stare down his throat. You can only watch as his bloodstained teeth close in on you, thirsting for your life.


"MIMI!" A terrified cry splits the night as a blazing figure streaks past you, ducking under Vortigern's jaw to tackle him. It's Ruler, jagged bone spikes still impaling her body from her landing in Vortigern's thorntrees, but freed from that prison in the nick of time.

Flame burns around her wings as she pours every ounce of the power you diverted to her from the leyline into her desperate effort to save you, tackling Vortigern into the sky. You leap to the side as she forces him upwards, dodging the bladed tip of his tail by a hair's breadth as he slices it towards you. After that, he's out of range, and returns his attention to Ruler as she bears him upwards.


You fall onto the earth from your leap, staring into the sky where dragon and phoenix clash. Fang strikes fist and flame burns feather as scorched white and burning gold collide, each strike of Ruler's aimed not to kill, but to force Vortigern upwards, further away from you.

"Why do you fight for this era?" Vortigern snarls between his attacks, his claws raking nothing but thin air. "You, who saw the end of ours."

"How could I not?" Ruler cries back, tear-streaks visible on her face as she ducks and weaves and strikes, always pushing Vortigern upwards.

"The world is poisoned, the people weak- have you not seen that shade? They long for that kinslaying niece of mine, they would break each other to bring her back, all to beg for her to save them from the hell they made! 'We are finished, Mankind is finished!' They scream and cry and change nothing!" Vortigerns voice drips with mocking hate, far darker than your black blood. "Why should I not tear this world open and return it to the way it should be, when it is what they long for?"

"Our world has ended long ago, Vortigern! It is not worth ending millions of stories to bring back!" Ruler yells, defiance firm in her face.

"They killed the world- They are not worth saving! The world will be healed, and those who survive will be worthy-"

"They are always worthy! No matter the world, I shall love all those who live and grow, and will forever wish them every happiness the world can offer!"

"They will choke on their toxic air and die by their own hand, and every one of your precious stories will be gone forever!"

"You do not know the future, tyrant! There are billions of stories their lives have yet to tell, each of which could change the world- you would not believe how small a seed can grow into a miracle. So as long as my light shines, I will never stand with those who would stifle the hopes of others: So I would stop you, even if it saved but a single story!"

"It's her, isn't it." Vortigern snarls menacingly. "You had always been apart from us- from them... You chose to fade away than flee to the reverse, for you could not bear to live in a world without the people you love… but you had never been part of their world before. This is the first time you have lived with them, your deepest dream now reality and all thanks to that poisoned girl you call Master."


"I shall take that dream from you, so your heartbroken eyes see the truth at last."


Ruler gasps in terror, as Vortigern furls his wings and plummets groundwards, readying his breath once more. Panic fills you, freezing you to the spot as you look up at the sight- he's diving straight for you again, set on burning you to ash.

Blue flame blooms around her wings as Ruler draws upon the darker side of her nature, the destructive desire for immortality that has destroyed so many lives. She can fill Vortigern's mind with that lust so he sees nothing but her, drawing him after her- she can still save you!

And yet, no matter how hard Ruler reaches for it, those baleful fires of calamity fail to ignite, and Vortigern still plunges down towards you. Hope fades from her face as the flames around her fade away to nothing. Falling from the sky, she dives after Vortigern, lightning fast but still too slow to save you. Ruler screams your name, and at last you understand.


You know why she's been avoiding you ever since you learned her truth.

She's been avoiding you because she was afraid. Because she didn't want to hurt you.

She can't hide her nature anymore.She can't hide the part of her that brought ruin to everyone who got close to her, and she could not bear to do the same to you.

So even now, when Ruler needs it to save you… she cannot embrace that side of herself, the fear gripping her heart and smothering her flames to ash.

That turmoil plaguing Ruler ever since she revealed her truth has not doomed her as you feared it would.

But it has doomed you in her place.

Who suffers to save you
-[] Flat
-[] Scathach
-[] Izabetha
-[] Archer

-Scathach saves you


You stare up at your descending death, limbs frozen with fear. But even if you could move, it wouldn't be enough. Not against the burning death that awaits you.

Maybe you'll be lucky, and you won't feel a thing.

That's the last thought that runs through your mind as Vortigern breathes death once more.


"Lancer!" A voice screams as red light flashes.

One moment, you're seconds from death. The next, you feel a wrenching at your shoulder and then you're ungainfully soaring through the air like a limp partridge. Glancing back, you see Scathach standing where you were, arm still outstretched from throwing you as she circles round, spear in hand-

Red and black death engulfs her as Vortigern breathes, the heat blistering your skin even as the wind is knocked out of you as you land awkwardly in an ash-dusted bush, safely away from the beam of power. A heartbeat after the beam engulfs Scathach, it parts: A crimson gleam rushes upwards, splitting the deadly torrent apart as it rises like a salmon up a waterfall, Scathach leaping out of harm's way through the gap.

Vortigern's breath is cut off as Scathach's spear finds its mark in his throat, a choking roar rumbling from his throat as his breath sputters out. Coughing, you rise to your feet, just in time to see Scathach crash down to earth.

It doesn't look good.


She came from the left when she saved you. So it is that left side of her body that lies in ruin, char-black flesh covering her from shoulder to thigh, sloughing off with her breathing to reveal her ribs underneath. Her face isn't as badly burned, but you're still glad you can't see what's under the scorched hair that hangs raggedly in front of it. But that's not the worst of it- you saw how she was bringing her spear round to throw and split the beam. No time for a proper stance, she had to throw it with her left arm. The arm which would have been closest to Vortigern as she threw, shielding her face from the worst of the flame.

The arm that is gone, everything from her shoulder now nothing more than ash in the breeze that's starting to whip around the forest as the fire begins to take hold.


Scathach stands for a moment as she lands. Framed against the steadily growing firelight, she sways unsteadily on her feet, trying to support herself on a spear she's not holding, with an arm that isn't there. She falls to her knees, where she's able to hold herself there for just long enough to whisper something to herself, before she collapses face down into the dirt.

With a cry of worry, Flat rushes forwards, grabbing the still form of Scathach, before quickly starting to cast some magic, trying to fix the worst of her injuries as a faint glow begins to surround the deepest burns.


While in the sky above, Vortigern hovers, uneven in the air as he claws at the spear lodged in his throat. Finally slapping it free to fall to the forest floor below, he readies his claws for a dive, unfazed by the deep gouge in his body left from Gawain's blade.

In the instant before Vortigern can make his descent, Ruler finally catches up with him, trailing gold as she sweeps in from his blind left side. Flame trails behind her sundisc as she hurls it before her, aimed straight at where his wing meets body. The throw strikes true, and blood rains from the sky as the golden disc cuts through scale flesh and bone to split the wing from its owner. A horrific screech fills the night as Vortigern plummets to the ground, trees snapping beneath his weight as he crashes.

"Mimi!" Ruler cries out as she swoops down from the heavens, pulling you into her embrace. She's crying- wailing even. But she's warm. Warmer than she's felt this entire day "I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean for that I didn't want to I just needed to keep you-"

"Hey- hey." You say weakly, still a bit winded from your rough landing after Scathach's rescue. You reach up to Ruler, brushing away hot tears from her eyes. "You finally stopped avoiding me."

You smile then, to make sure she knows it's okay. You can talk later. "Go on. I'll be fine. Make sure he dies- I've got your back."

Ruler nods, and in that moment you feel her get a bit warmer as flames begin to run along her wings once more. She puts you down, and steps forwards to meet Vortigern as he strides forwards out of the woods he fell into, battered but unbowed, despite his missing wing, scarred body and bleeding wounds.

Ruler charges, and she's not alone: A trail of gold following her scythe, Gray runs with her, worried fury twisting her face, now fully visible as the speed of her movements forces her ash-covered hood off her head.

You rush forwards behind them, gagging a little at the unfortunately-familiar smell of burned flesh as you help Flat lift Scathach. Taking her on your shoulders, the pair of you begin to drag her away from the worst of the fighting.
In the night behind you, Ruler and Gray clash with Vortigern once more, the dragon snarling with rage at Gray, fangs and claws rushing to claim her life over and over again, only to be met with the flaming fists of Ruler, determined to keep Gray safe. With Ruler watching her back, Gray's free to lay into Vortigern, elegantly slicing arcs out of his flesh.

Gray leaps into the air as you glance back, seeing her outline cast against the moon as she raises her scythe high. As gravity brings her back to earth, Gray brings her blade down: Vortigern's second wing hits the ground before she does, leaving a mighty dragon little more than an oversized lizard.


"Pitiful shade!" Vortigern yells at Gray as he continues his attempts to strike back at her. "No matter what your breakers wished for you, you cannot be her!"

"I-I'm not trying to!" Gray shouts back, carving an X into Vortigern's neck as Ruler's fists shatter the blade on his tail as it sweeps around. "But there's no way I'd just let you hurt them! You won't take them- not when… when they let me be me!"

"Then die with them."

A pulse from the leyline, the scent of gravedust as Vortigern calls upon his corpse one more, dragons teeth sprouting from the ground to impale your friends- but before that bone forest can sprout from the ground, a sword flies out of the forest, sinking into Vortigerns empty left eyesocket. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to wound him- to flinch him, delaying the lethal sprouting for precious heartbeats, letting Ruler and Gray make their escape, darting back towards you as the razor-sharp fossils erupt from the ground.

It's then that their helper reveals himself from the forest; Gawain, broken and bloodied but still breathing, albeit barely. Nothing but scraps remain of his ash-covered armour, and he's halfway to being torn apart by the bitemarks- you swear you could see right through to the other side through some of them. He's barely standing, the ornate belt around his waist slowly dissolving into firefly-green motes of light as he staggers over towards Hana. But there's only one person he's looking at right now.

"I knew it." Gawain gasps, his eyes fixed on Gray as she leaps away from the bones. "I don't know how- but please accept… that act of service. If I could do more… but I think I've reached my limit."

"We're pulling back- give us some time!" Hana calls out as Gawain dematerializes, heading in a similar direction as you and Flat to make sure that her servant doesn't bleed out either.


"Well, it looks like it's time for us to play our hand. Archer, are you ready?" A familiar voice says in response to Hana, as from out of the trees emerge Izabetha and Archer, moving to stand resolutely in the middle of the scorch-cleared line left from Vortigern's attempt on your life. Archer gives a brief nod in response, unfastening the veil that hides her mouth as Izabetha calls back to you. "Ms Yagami, if you could assist?"

You share a quick 'you good?' with Flat, before running back to the leyline, plunging into its rich, sticky current once more as you connect to it. Ruler and Gray land beside you, taking up a defensive stance. "Worry not, Mimi. I will never let that happen again."


As that happens and the spears of bone around Vortigern begin to crumble from your effect on the leylines, Izabetha stands with Archer. She doesn't move to draw her own weapon, instead saying a single word as she stands to her Servant's side. "Fire"

Red light flashes on Izabetha's hand, and Archer's crimson eyes glow to match it, her pupils narrowing as power surges through her. Her mouth opens in a gasp, exposing her bloodthirsty pointed canines.

Her ornate bow held in hand, Archer reaches to the smaller of the two quivers that hang against her robed back. Nine spaces for arrows are set out within it, with one already empty. Archer draws a second arrow from that quiver: Tipped in white gold, and a rich, deep mahogany wood for its shaft to match her bow, and its fletchings are a near-perfect match for Ruler's own feathers in colour and brightness.

Tears gleam in her eyes as she nocks the arrow, and the air grows hot with mana as golden light gathers in the air above Vortigern.

"I shall honour you once more, my love..." Her voice mournful as black roses, Archer raises her bow. "So let all know your life, as I carry your memory to eternity's end!"


Heat washes over you as the golden light ignites, a sun bursting into life in the sky above Vortigern. It hangs low in the sky, filling the forest with blinding light and scorching the world: Trees scatter as ash, and a pained roar fills the air as Vortigern is caught in an endless ocean of fire. You can feel him, greedily pulling from the leyline to douse himself and grow back his flesh as it burns away. But he's trying to drink from your leyline. Even if you can't take it all, you can drink enough power to slow him, to mean he can do nothing but heal himself.


Silver light gathers around Archers' arrow as she draws her bow, its fletching brushing against her cheek as she aims at the heart of her conjured sun. A tear rolls down her cheek… and in the moment before it would wet the perfect crimson fletching of her arrow, Archer takes her shot.

The immortal shot of Hou Yi!(In memory you live again)"

Chang'e screams to the heavens as her shot flies skywards, her voice carrying the pain of a murdered love. In the moment of that arrow's flight, the firelight plays off her exposed fangs, dyeing them in deepest red. As if they're covered in fresh, arterial blood.

Silver trails behind her arrow as it sails into the heart of the sun, parting its fire like mist. It strikes the core, and a deafening explosion shakes the world, leaving spots in your vision even through closed eyes. Just at the edge of your hearing, a faint, reedy cry reaches your ears, barely audible over the sound of fire.

"Such a painful story… Even as a Servant, you carry it with you?" Ruler whispers, the tears in her own eyes the first thing you see when you open yours.

In front of you all lies a crater, seared rock blasted into the earth, surrounded by barren ash, the trees laid flat and uprooted all around. It's not over though. You can feel the mana being drawn through the leyline still.


Which means Vortigern lives.

Even with so much of his flesh burned to nothing but charred flesh that's falling off his body as he stands, even with nothing but bone from his shoulders up, Vortigern lives: He's managing to pull up enough mana from the leyline to keep himself alive, uncaring of the rot that spreads from his wounds as he drinks all the mana you poisoned. His skull stares up as he begins to crawl his way out from the crater, his single eye balefully glaring at you as he pulls his shambling corpse of a body up over the lip of the crater.

To find Gray standing there in front of him, ash falling from her cloak like petals and bearing gold in her hands.

"Let's finish this Gray!" Adds yells, Gray nodding once in response.


"Gray…" She begins to chant, as golden light gathers around her scythe, held in resolute salute. It's… incredible. You find yourself pulling back from the light. You'd touched her scythe before, when you helped fend off Vortigern's blows as a human. You'd known it was something big then… but this is even more than you could have expected. You couldn't connect to the system that's waking up here.

Or rather… you shouldn't. It's not just the power of it. It's just so pure. Your cursed veins just don't belong anywhere near something like this.


"Pseudo-personality rescinded. Mana yield exceeds limits. Second stage restraints removed." A robotic voice speaks out, coming from the scythe. For a moment, it looks like ghosts surround Gray.

"Approved. Approved. Approved-"

The voices chant and power grows, until in the end a decision is made.

"Third stage restraints removed."


The scythe vanishes, and Gray holds dawn in her hands: A pillar of light rises from her hands into the sky, helical trails spiralling down from its tip in the outline of a lance.

Even as close to death as he is, Vortigern recognises this weapon. But no matter how much he tries, his body falling apart as he tries to reach Gray… he's too late.

"You won't take them! Rhongomyniad!(Lance of the World's end)" With a cry of challenge, Gray points her lance at the leaping form of Vortigern.

She points, and the light that holds a world in place shines forth, Vortigern's body offering no more resistance than a dream as the light shines on, tearing apart distant clouds as it flies into the heavens.


Vortigern's body crashes down to the ground in front of Gray, already dissolving into golden light from its periphery: Of the dragon-king of Britain, nothing remains but his near-skeletal head, rotten neck and half an arm. Everything else is simply gone, having been struck by Gray's lance. He is finally dying. Nothing he can do could prevent this. A death-rattle claws its way from his throat, as an empty eyesocket turns to Gray.

"No mere shade could have done that… To kill me as she did..." Vortigern's voice still drips with venom, even in his final moments. "May your world end like hers."

With one last, spiteful gasp, Vortigern finally goes still, his body vanishing into golden mist, swept away in the breeze.

At long last, Berserker is dead.

---

You look out upon your kingdom, your gaze contemptuous. Weakness fills your land, seeping into the soil. The great woods are being felled, and people no longer fear the night like they used to. They no longer respect the fair folk of the woods, who even now begin to retreat from the world. Your stomach turns at the forge-stink carried by the wind, as more and more of the world is dug open, precious iron being wasted on meaningless trinkets. Everything here is so terribly mundane, the magic that filled these lands in your youth beginning to fade.

It's disgusting. It's hideous. It is something you cannot allow to pass.

You turn your back on the lands you rule, for you do not recognise them anymore. Your chest grows hot as you enter your halls again, the grinding of growing scale beneath your clothes as you walk.

You shall have no part of this world of man. Even if the fairies flee, taking the beasts of your youth with them… you will remain, as the last monster of this land.

And you will remind them why they should fear.

---

Your eyes blink open, and you have to take a moment to steady yourself, shaking away the feeling that your hands should have claws on them. You cast your gaze around the devastated forest- it looks like a meteor hit here: Acres of forest are gone, either knocked flat or just burned to ash, and molten rock still drips from nearby crags. In the middle distance, at the edge of the devastation, the flickering orange of firelight can be seen, as a forest fire begins to grow.

But Vortigern is gone, and all of you live, even if Scathach is gravely wounded, leaning on Flat some distance away. Ruler's standing close by you as you pull your blackened blades out of the leyline, tucking their hilts back into your sleeves, while Izabetha and Chang'e are keeping a watchful eye on the area.


You turn around as you hear burned wood crunch underfoot, spotting Hana emerging from the woods she'd vanished into, Gawain by her side: She must have helped him, as he's no longer leaving a river of blood behind him, though he's still halfway torn apart.

He's still got his eyes fixed on Gray, who's still catching her breath where Vortigern died, leaving his Master's side as he staggers towards her, feet dragging in the dirt.

"Well, this has proved a satisfactory partnership." Hana says, brushing ash from her clothes. "I suppose this will conclude our time together, as we remain on opposite sides of this conflict."


You feel the geas you accepted tighten slightly as you tense up at Hana's words- but if its holding for you, it's holding for her. Meanwhile, Gawain has finally made his way over to Gray, reaching out a hand towards her. He opens his mouth to speak- and vanishes into thin air.


"The shape of stars. The shape of space. The shape of God."


Deafeningly loud in the current quiet, Hana's fox-mask splits clean in half, revealing her face behind it, eyes wide with shock. As the broken fragments fall to the ground, you see a single crimson brand on the inside of the mask, rapidly fading to nonexistence. You realise now, that you'd never seen any command seals on her body. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. From within her, you can feel that second magical signature, the one you'd felt when signing the contract earlier- but not it's not just dormant, a smoky chain wrapped around her neck and pinning her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

As panic fills her eyes, your attention is pulled upwards, to the vast amount of mana pooling in the heavens, the stars shimmering a baleful green. It feels like… they're getting closer.

"We need to go- now." Gray says, recognition in her voice as she's running towards you, dragging Izabetha and Chang'e behind her.


You and Ruler quickly start to follow her, since that much mana being gathered can't be anything good, and because you trust her enough to know that if she's running from something like this, it's a good idea to follow her. Even so, as you start running, the air smoky in your lungs, you can't help but look backwards, nearly tripping over your feet as you so so.

Hana's still standing where you left her, staring blankly into the sky as the stars begin to fall. Her lips move, forcing words past the throat-choking spell that's clawing at her.

"This wasn't… part of the… deal."

[] Save her
[] Leave her