Apparently the stony assassin-form tried to use some kind of defensive power that involved asserting Castae's control over the space immediately surrounding its body, or subverting the Dragon's control over same. And apparently this attracted the Dragon's attention, whereas previously the Dragon was unaware of their approach, or did not see fit to react to it.
Santa Claus searches the surrounding area carefully, running a few patrols around It-That-Slays' location at relativistic speeds to scour the surroundings for any other such creatures. It wouldn't do to simply assume It-That-Slays couldn't have missed a spot.
EDIT:
Assuming the patrol runs don't turn up anything immediately threatening, Santa trots back to It-That-Slays and asks a question:
"I infer that the creatures we just encountered were able to carve out a small bubble of territory for Castae in the middle of your own. You've said that Chanters can do much the same; could there be a similarity there?"
The process of patrolling itself turns up several more identical stone figures, and It That Slays is too slow to break them all as they each carve our their own stretch of land.
Were his equine skull capable of it, Beta Ray Bill would have smirked. It-That-Slay's forces are pressing the advantage, Boros seems to be doing a very good job of keeping Aerguon occupied, and Santa was indeed capable of handling the mysterious new enemy, alongside the Dragon they are assisting. The battle isn't over, not by a long shot, but now they have some breathing room.
The urge falls away at that thought, and Bill, all business, turns his attention to the battlefield. His eyes scan the ground, searching for large concentrations of enemy forces; and through Stormbreaker, he searches for large or unusual sources of energy.
... Leading to Bill noticing the rather obvious fact they were flanked. New enemies began simply appearing as a small rampart of stone arose behind the front line, sealing away the mystery flankers as some manner of squat black stone golems appear, a roaring brazier of black fire atop each. These beings begin hurling balls of black fire upon the forests and their creatures.
It-That-Slays animals rush to assault the new walls from multiple directions while other parts of his forces continue their advance.
It-That-Slays itself turns it's back on the flanking action, focusing it's attention upon Aerguon and Boros's battle. It begins gesturing as magical energy, heat, light, and more form above it's head, as something is shaped in the air above it, positioned now upon the side of a great tree.
Lord Boros is now entirely serious. This battle has finally begun. As soon as his attack hits the shield, he darts back to observe it. Hmm. Very interesting. Let us dance, Aerguon.
Lord Boros begins to repeat his charge, over and over, taking different paths each time to hit different spots, in order to avoid interception. He doesn't think he can damage the warping space and time, no, instead, what he's doing is mapping out the boundaries of where the space warping effect starts and stops, as well as testing for any slightly weaker amounts of effect.
Naturally, repeating the charge causes more blast waves. It-That-Slays silently redirects the main of his forces around the Herald's location while bramble bushes of some kind grow in place to shield what remains.
Aerguon itself halts his forward motion atop a floating rock, and readjusts into an elaborate dance, marking the stone beneath his feet with glowing red lines and setting small fires on the ground. Stones drift near by 'chance' and are marked in turn, and always there is somehow a stone in place in time to shield him.
The boundary itself is erratic. It is absolute in effect where it exists, but seems to be slowly creeping farther out. It is consistent with the very different region of floating stones the enemy occupies.
The boundary itself is erratic. It is absolute in effect where it exists, but seems to be slowly creeping farther out. It is consistent with the very different region of floating stones the enemy occupies.
Hmm....Lord Boros stands at the edge of the warped space and time, and tries to enter it slowly. If that doesn't work, he'll repeat his previous strategem, except this time, he's aiming not to hit Aerguon, but to clear out the rocks around him, in order to prevent more shields. He'll use his eye beams in addition to the barrier assaults.
... Leading to Bill noticing the rather obvious fact they were flanked. New enemies began simply appearing as a small rampart of stone arose behind the front line, sealing away the mystery flankers as some manner of squat black stone golems appear, a roaring brazier of black fire atop each. These beings begin hurling balls of black fire upon the forests and their creatures.
It-That-Slays animals rush to assault the new walls from multiple directions while other parts of his forces continue their advance.
It-That-Slays itself turns it's back on the flanking action, focusing it's attention upon Aerguon and Boros's battle. It begins gesturing as magical energy, heat, light, and more form above it's head, as something is shaped in the air above it, positioned now upon the side of a great tree.
Beta Ray Bill spares It-That-Slays a glance, as much to confirm that the dragon is occupied, before turning his attention back to the flanking maneuver. His first thought is to hurl Stormbreaker at the ramparts with the intent to shatter them, much like he did with the great wall to begin this battle. His second is to dive into the burgeoning melee first, then hurl Stormbreaker, or one of the hammer's energy blasts.
After careful consideration of both actions, Bill lowers himself atop one of the great trees, and spins Stormbreaker in his hands. Let him strike from afar, for this cannot be the only maneuver that Castae will try!
And then, the hammer is let fly at the ramparts, with only somewhat less force than the strike against the great wall.
The process of patrolling itself turns up several more identical stone figures, and It That Slays is too slow to break them all as they each carve our their own stretch of land.
He releases the first dart lightly with an underhand throw, placed with practiced skill, on a swift dash directly toward the- Assassin? Then he removes from it the Christmas magic, and it becomes a hurtling hypervelocity projectile, as he angles away before reaching the edge of It-That-Slays' world.
Wooden fins strip away in a cloud of disintegrating, burning sawdust, and a dart of steel, already starting to glow and trail a cone of plasma from its reentry-hot passage through the air of It-That-Slays' realm, slams into the boundary of the zone carved out for Castae by one of the stony giants. Barring remarkable interference, it slams into and through the Castaean creature.
Santa pauses only long enough to ascertain the effect before repeating the process- or changing his plan of attack.
Zoss spat in annoyance. His foe sought to flee yet again. He was tired of His foe's running. Sliding one foot forward He drew from the void the Sword of Want, its blade longer than He was tall, its hilt of magnificent bronze and steel and energy, pulsing with greed for whatever it could take. And Zoss raised it above His head, eyes burning bright through the holes of his helm.
"I am afraid-" Said he. "That you will not have the opportunity to do so."
And then the realm of Zoss, so rapidly thrust into this world, froze. It froze the physical plane, as well as the plane of the spirit and of the mind. What faded away would be locked in place, what ran would be halted, what died would remain dead. Not even the swirling motes of void dust stirred, hanging in the air. Blood and shards of bone speckled the air like planets and asteroids in a massive galaxy. Fogged breath and incense smoke hung in the air like frozen nebulas and cosmic clouds. But one thing moved in this display of savagery.
That thing was Zoss.
He raised aloft His mighty sword, and did smote His foe across its neck, seeking to rend head from shoulders, spirit from body, his foe from life, killing not only their physical form, but their spiritual one, snuffing out their existence from the multiverse. The strike was clean, swift, and with its completion the flow of time resumed.
Things turn strange, even by the standards of an ancient undying godlike king. Zoss is no longer upon the field he stood, nor is he surrounded by the battle that raged around him. Zoss is not entirely sure he currently exists in any physical location at all.
He is, however, entirely sure that he has just cut down Ralox, the armored figure he had been fighting, and is now facing a very old, very, very angry, cold, deathly figure. Around him is a field of corpses, and before him stands, assuming this is real, a figure cloaked like a reaper and wielding a scythe. The air is deathly cold, and the being...
Well, Zoss isn't sure from where he divines this fact, but this figure before him is necessarily Raliant, the Reaper.
And for the first time in a long time, Zoss is facing something not lesser than he in ability. Or this is all in his head. Possibly both.
Before Edon can respond, Zirtash returns, cutting a hole in reality, and flying through the air back to Edon, spinning as he goes. Edon catches him out of the air easily, and then a massive, burning black coal humanoid figure steps through, easily thirty, maybe forty feet tall. Edon steps around and uncuts space. "Ah, Wotash. How did the battle go?"
The figure, clad in heavy looking crystalline armor shrugs while gesturing with a massive two handed axe for emphasis. "Maldurion showed right after you made your escape, of course. He's better by inches than last time, but did not bother to press me for long when it became clear you already left. I tried to hold him there, but he had no interest in me, for obvious reasons."
Then the figure turns fiery eyes upon Shiki and Vector. "Oh? Outsiders. How curious. I am Wotash the High Warlord, of the Jight, the Emperor's peerless lady of war, commander of adequate strength and martial skill to contest even Maldurion for a moment. I assume brother Zirtash already introduced himself."
Edon seems content for the introductions to play out, for the moment.
Abruptly, Shiki seems to change into an entirely different person, at least mentally, and grips her blade and cuts her way... elsewhere.
Then a pair of men fall through and Edon stares at them curiously. Shirou and Karna, meanwhile, find themselves in the strange terrain of the Bone Plane without any real warning. The anomaly they fell out of closes itself about as quickly as it opened.
Things turn strange, even by the standards of an ancient undying godlike king. Zoss is no longer upon the field he stood, nor is he surrounded by the battle that raged around him. Zoss is not entirely sure he currently exists in any physical location at all.
He is, however, entirely sure that he has just cut down Ralox, the armored figure he had been fighting, and is now facing a very old, very, very angry, cold, deathly figure. Around him is a field of corpses, and before him stands, assuming this is real, a figure cloaked like a reaper and wielding a scythe. The air is deathly cold, and the being...
Well, Zoss isn't sure from where he divines this fact, but this figure before him is necessarily Raliant, the Reaper.
And for the first time in a long time, Zoss is facing something not lesser than he in ability. Or this is all in his head. Possibly both.
Regarding the being that stood across from Him, the King of Kings banished the Sword of Want with a gesture, its magnificent, deadly length dissapating in a crack of thunder. Then, that done, He crossed His arms over His chest, and glared at the being across from Him.
The King of Kings, for just a moment, began to consider that this being, this "Raliant" may be more powerful than even He- but no. No, such thoughts were foolish. Such thoughts would be His downfall. This being- should it also choose to be His foe- will fall as the other had.
Regardless, this being had displaced Him, and Zoss was unsure as to where. If it was in His own head, then this Reaper was foolish indeed, for thats where Zoss was at His strongest.
"So-" Said He. "-Reaper. What do you wish of the Master of the Multiverse?"
Abruptly, Shiki seems to change into an entirely different person, at least mentally, and grips her blade and cuts her way... elsewhere.
Then a pair of men fall through and Edon stares at them curiously. Shirou and Karna, meanwhile, find themselves in the strange terrain of the Bone Plane without any real warning. The anomaly they fell out of closes itself about as quickly as it opened.
Shirou Emiya's mind reeled. Something had gone terribly wrong. One moment, he was enjoying his weekend, heading back home with groceries in hand to make dinner for Rin and himself, and the next, he felt a sudden unearthly pull, something that forcibly grasped not only his body, but the very core of his soul.
The next instant, he was hurling through some sort of alternate plane of existence, a space of alien energies and cosmic imagery beyond his ability to comprehend. But as he tumbled across the void, he felt something reach out to his being. Unlike the utterly foreign pull that he experienced moments earlier, this power felt familiar, resonating with his body and soul and cutting through his fear and confusion. It was a sensation he believed he might never experience again in his lifetime. The summoning of a Servant.
And now he was face down on the ground, feeling sore from the short drop he had just taken. He grunted as he shook his head, trying to clear his dizziness as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of an utterly alien world, one covered in bones of varying sizes as far as the eye could see, including many the size of skyscrapers.
He immediately took notice of the massive being towering above him. It was a pitch black humanoid in some sort of crystalline full-plate armor and wielding a giant battle axe. Even the immense stature of Berserker from the Fifth Grail War paled in comparison to the titan standing before him. A chill of fear ran down his spine and formed a pit in his stomach. He really, really hoped it wouldn't try to kill him.
There was one more person, a seemingly human old man wearing gray leather armor and a wide-brimmed wizard's hat. A sword with an ornately designed hilt hung at his hip. It was a very subtle feeling, but Shirou found his eyes drawn to the weapon. There was something about it that told him that it was no mundane blade, but he was too bewildered by his situation to focus on it for more than a second.
Lastly, there was one more person beside him. A tall, lean, pale-skinned man with a striking mane of white hair and icy blue eyes. He wore a black body suit with gold accents and plates of spiked golden armor on his arms and legs. The body suit was completely open at his chest, which was embedded with a round, red jewel at the center, with eight smaller red jewels surrounding it in a starburst pattern.
In addition to the bodysuit and armor, he wore a gold, spiked choker connected to a thin golden chain necklace that hung at his chest and inner shoulders, with red jewels hanging at eight points around the circumference. Lastly, a pair of large, golden, sunburst-shaped disks floated at his shoulders, with a thick, feathery, red mantle floating between them at his back.
The man had similarly assumed a kneeling position, calmly gauging each of the individuals present. His gaze then met Shirou's, followed immediately by a look of recognition.
"I have heard and answered your call, Master," he greeted calmly with a bow of his head. "I am Servant Lancer, and I hearby pledge my spear and armor to your service. However..." he paused, taking another look around again. "...I don't believe I've been summoned into a Grail War. This doesn't look like anywhere on Earth that I know of, and I don't feel the World trying to reject my presence. And the way I arrived...strange as it is, we've clearly encountered some sort of anomaly."
"But I don't sense hostility from any of the individuals here. Rest assured, If I am wrong, I will protect you, but for now, I believe establishing a dialogue would be the best move."
Shirou took a moment to process that, glancing down at the top of his right hand. Sure enough, there was a red Command Seal in the shape of sunburst present, confirming his status as a Master. That was at least one mystery solved, but there were still so many other questions whirling around in his head, and being confirmed as a Master just raised even more of them. But for now, he chose to follow Lancer's advice, and turned to face the three unfamiliar figures in front of him.
"U-um...Hello," he greeted, shakily at first, but growing more steady. "My name is Shirou...Shirou Emiya. Do you...happen to know where we are?"
Hmm....Lord Boros stands at the edge of the warped space and time, and tries to enter it slowly. If that doesn't work, he'll repeat his previous strategem, except this time, he's aiming not to hit Aerguon, but to clear out the rocks around him, in order to prevent more shields. He'll use his eye beams in addition to the barrier assaults.
Lord Boros passes into the realm of Castae at no particular effort once he slows enough. It appears the effect only acts upon objects in excess of a certain speed. The speed, in fact, that Aerguon is moving at, as it turns out. Aerguon adjusts the pattern of his motions, clearly reacting to the breach of his territory. Of course, his goal remains unclear.
Beta Ray Bill spares It-That-Slays a glance, as much to confirm that the dragon is occupied, before turning his attention back to the flanking maneuver. His first thought is to hurl Stormbreaker at the ramparts with the intent to shatter them, much like he did with the great wall to begin this battle. His second is to dive into the burgeoning melee first, then hurl Stormbreaker, or one of the hammer's energy blasts.
After careful consideration of both actions, Bill lowers himself atop one of the great trees, and spins Stormbreaker in his hands. Let him strike from afar, for this cannot be the only maneuver that Castae will try!
And then, the hammer is let fly at the ramparts, with only somewhat less force than the strike against the great wall.
The point the hammer strikes shatters magnificently. Whatever sorcery the enemy works, it is not foolproof against the might of Stormbreaker. Other ramparts remain, and the battle continues, of course.
He releases the first dart lightly with an underhand throw, placed with practiced skill, on a swift dash directly toward the- Assassin? Then he removes from it the Christmas magic, and it becomes a hurtling hypervelocity projectile, as he angles away before reaching the edge of It-That-Slays' world.
Wooden fins strip away in a cloud of disintegrating, burning sawdust, and a dart of steel, already starting to glow and trail a cone of plasma from its reentry-hot passage through the air of It-That-Slays' realm, slams into the boundary of the zone carved out for Castae by one of the stony giants. Barring remarkable interference, it slams into and through the Castaean creature.
Santa pauses only long enough to ascertain the effect before repeating the process- or changing his plan of attack.
The first creature targeted is helpless against the attack, swiftly annihilated. Each progressive target attempts increasingly skilled means of self defense, as if they know of the means by which their predecessor has been slain.
And then one of the Assassins wearing... A scarf? Yes, a yellow and black striped scarf, launches into Santa's path at relativistic speeds, intent on cutting off his devastating assault upon it's comrades. The air is heavy with Myth, the figure's precise nature as a person being concealed by the very Mythic status so clear to Santa. This is not merely an Assassin, this is a legendary Hero, beyond it's comrades, a figure worthy of myth and legend. And the figure is followed by a storm of floating stone knives, accelerating towards Santa as to deny him forward motion or perhaps seeking to carve him open, whirling furiously through the air as if possessed.
Regarding the being that stood across from Him, the King of Kings banished the Sword of Want with a gesture, its magnificent, deadly length dissapating in a crack of thunder. Then, that done, He crossed His arms over His chest, and glared at the being across from Him.
The King of Kings, for just a moment, began to consider that this being, this "Raliant" may be more powerful than even He- but no. No, such thoughts were foolish. Such thoughts would be His downfall. This being- should it also choose to be His foe- will fall as the other had.
Regardless, this being had displaced Him, and Zoss was unsure as to where. If it was in His own head, then this Reaper was foolish indeed, for thats where Zoss was at His strongest.
"So-" Said He. "-Reaper. What do you wish of the Master of the Multiverse?"
"It should not be possible for you to be here, vermin, but then I suppose thou myth is one of expectation breaking and change, indeed. Regardless, thy defiance of the true master of the Multiverse, my great liege, Maldurion, will end with thy own end. Perish."
Then it charges for Zoss, scythe swinging swiftly, as the world itself seems to push against Zoss, seeking to pin him.
Shirou took a moment to process that, glancing down at the top of his right hand. Sure enough, there was a red Command Seal in the shape of sunburst present, confirming his status as a Master. That was at least one mystery solved, but there were still so many other questions whirling around in his head, and being confirmed as a Master just raised even more of them. But for now, he chose to follow Lancer's advice, and turned to face the three unfamiliar figures in front of him.
"U-um...Hello," he greeted, shakily at first, but growing more steady. "My name is Shirou...Shirou Emiya. Do you...happen to know where we are?"
Edon the Grey responds, words carefully considered. "Well, I would guess nowhere you know of, unfortunately. Do you know of the concept of a universe? If so, perhaps that you are not even in your home multiverse will mean something. We are, specifically, in the territory of Phalanges the Protector, in the Bone Plane, which is one of nine parts I know of to the entire multiverse of the warring Dragons, of which I am one. I have previously traveled another multiverse, though that is a story too long to cover in detail. My name is Edon the Grey. This-" gesturing at his sword briefly, he continues "-is Zirtash the Veilrender, the large one over there is Wotash the High Warlord, and that is Agatha. She is an outsider, like yourself." he says, gesturing at each as he names them.
Wotash speaks up, then. "I'm afraid being here puts your life in danger. Not so much being in the Bone Plane, but rather the multiverse. Maldurion the Bloody, last Dragon of the Fire Plane, essentially rules the multiverse these days. And as one might infer from his moniker, he is violent, and interested in nothing else than violent, endless war. My emperor, Edon the Grey, seeks to topple his chaotic, dull reign, but as each Dragon grows in power for every Dragon from the same Plane they kill, Maldurion is nigh incontestable so long as my master is so far behind the curve of strength. And so we aid him in his hunts for the other Spirit Dragons, to close the gap. "
Zirtash speaks, then. "My emperor is a strong believer in freedom, and so would not try to force you to do anything, and it is likely you could survive here in peace, if you wished. Still, I do not suspect you to be inclined to inaction, based on your Myths."
Edon nods, saying "I would guess you have many questions. I shall endeavor to answer them, if so."
Shirou took a moment to process that, glancing down at the top of his right hand. Sure enough, there was a red Command Seal in the shape of sunburst present, confirming his status as a Master. That was at least one mystery solved, but there were still so many other questions whirling around in his head, and being confirmed as a Master just raised even more of them. But for now, he chose to follow Lancer's advice, and turned to face the three unfamiliar figures in front of him.
"U-um...Hello," he greeted, shakily at first, but growing more steady. "My name is Shirou...Shirou Emiya. Do you...happen to know where we are?"
"Hello, Emiya," Agatha replies with a wave. "Uh, just so we're clear, Emiya's your given name, right?" she finishes lamely. There were enough Japanese-esque timelines that she needed to make sure.
Edon the Grey responds, words carefully considered. "Well, I would guess nowhere you know of, unfortunately. Do you know of the concept of a universe? If so, perhaps that you are not even in your home multiverse will mean something. We are, specifically, in the territory of Phalanges the Protector, in the Bone Plane, which is one of nine parts I know of to the entire multiverse of the warring Dragons, of which I am one. I have previously traveled another multiverse, though that is a story too long to cover in detail. My name is Edon the Grey. This-" gesturing at his sword briefly, he continues "-is Zirtash the Veilrender, the large one over there is Wotash the High Warlord, and that is Agatha. She is an outsider, like yourself." he says, gesturing at each as he names them.
Wotash speaks up, then. "I'm afraid being here puts your life in danger. Not so much being in the Bone Plane, but rather the multiverse. Maldurion the Bloody, last Dragon of the Fire Plane, essentially rules the multiverse these days. And as one might infer from his moniker, he is violent, and interested in nothing else than violent, endless war. My emperor, Edon the Grey, seeks to topple his chaotic, dull reign, but as each Dragon grows in power for every Dragon from the same Plane they kill, Maldurion is nigh incontestable so long as my master is so far behind the curve of strength. And so we aid him in his hunts for the other Spirit Dragons, to close the gap. "
Zirtash speaks, then. "My emperor is a strong believer in freedom, and so would not try to force you to do anything, and it is likely you could survive here in peace, if you wished. Still, I do not suspect you to be inclined to inaction, based on your Myths."
Edon nods, saying "I would guess you have many questions. I shall endeavor to answer them, if so."
"I know this is his time to ask questions," Agatha replies, gesturing towards Shirou, "But what is our battle strategy against Spirit Dragons? If the Dragons' brand of immortality is like how it works in my multiverse, then Dragons can regenerate from any injury blindingly fast. That's usually a guaranteed loss by attrition where I come from. Will weakening them enough for you to do your thing work?"
The point the hammer strikes shatters magnificently. Whatever sorcery the enemy works, it is not foolproof against the might of Stormbreaker. Other ramparts remain, and the battle continues, of course.
While an excellent result, the presence of the other ramparts on their flank, the enemies they spawn, and the energies Santa's own battle is beginning to produce all remind Bill that time is a luxury on this battlefield. Even as he catches Stormbreaker again, he comes to the sobering conclusion that simply hurling the hammer at each rampart will take too long, leave too many enemies on the field, and potentially leave him more vulnerable to a surprise attack against himself. Not that he is an easy target without his hammer, but it s a risk to be managed.
Hefting Stormbreaker, Bill aims the flat head of the hammer at one half of the rampart line, as close to the center as he can, and calls upon the third of his ranged attacks. A beam of mystic energy leaps from Stormbreaker, traveling the distance between himself and the rampart he is aiming at in seconds. It strikes, and then the beam blooms into a half-sphere scouring the ground, the impact point of the beam marking the center.
Lord Boros passes into the realm of Castae at no particular effort once he slows enough. It appears the effect only acts upon objects in excess of a certain speed. The speed, in fact, that Aerguon is moving at, as it turns out. Aerguon adjusts the pattern of his motions, clearly reacting to the breach of his territory. Of course, his goal remains unclear.
Now let's begin launching the assault! Lord Boros attempts acceleration, and if that is mot successful, attempts to match Aerguons's speed. He begins to gratuitously use his eye beams, shooting at the rocks in the area.
Edon the Grey responds, words carefully considered. "Well, I would guess nowhere you know of, unfortunately. Do you know of the concept of a universe? If so, perhaps that you are not even in your home multiverse will mean something. We are, specifically, in the territory of Phalanges the Protector, in the Bone Plane, which is one of nine parts I know of to the entire multiverse of the warring Dragons, of which I am one. I have previously traveled another multiverse, though that is a story too long to cover in detail. My name is Edon the Grey. This-" gesturing at his sword briefly, he continues "-is Zirtash the Veilrender, the large one over there is Wotash the High Warlord, and that is Agatha. She is an outsider, like yourself." he says, gesturing at each as he names them.
Wotash speaks up, then. "I'm afraid being here puts your life in danger. Not so much being in the Bone Plane, but rather the multiverse. Maldurion the Bloody, last Dragon of the Fire Plane, essentially rules the multiverse these days. And as one might infer from his moniker, he is violent, and interested in nothing else than violent, endless war. My emperor, Edon the Grey, seeks to topple his chaotic, dull reign, but as each Dragon grows in power for every Dragon from the same Plane they kill, Maldurion is nigh incontestable so long as my master is so far behind the curve of strength. And so we aid him in his hunts for the other Spirit Dragons, to close the gap. "
Zirtash speaks, then. "My emperor is a strong believer in freedom, and so would not try to force you to do anything, and it is likely you could survive here in peace, if you wished. Still, I do not suspect you to be inclined to inaction, based on your Myths."
Edon nods, saying "I would guess you have many questions. I shall endeavor to answer them, if so."
Shirou listened carefully, trying his best to process everything they said, but it was still difficult. He had seen and done some pretty amazing things in his lifetime, but getting shanghai'd into an entire other reality where Dragons fought for supremacy was just on a whole other level.
He was definitely relieved that the giantess was not hostile, and his eyes widened in surprise when the sword Zirtash began speaking. Looks like his hunch was correct. Reflexively, he wondered if it was possible to Trace a sapient sword, but he filed that thought away for now.
"That's...definitely a lot to take in," Shirou admitted as he stands up, with Karna following suit. He dug a fingernail into his palm to make sure he wasn't having the weirdest fever dream in his life. Nope, that pain was crisp and real.
"I sense no deception in their words," Karna adds with a nod. "Everything they have told us is the truth, as far as I can tell."
Shirou nodded and took a moment to think before responding, his brow furrowing. "This Maldurion...he doesn't care if he hurts or kills inncocent people in waging his wars, right?"
"For clarification, what exactly is a 'Spirit Dragon'? I have a feeling they're different from the giant, winged, fire-breathing lizards I've heard about in legends."
"Zirtash, you also mentioned that we're not inclined to inaction "based on our Myths". What exactly do you mean by that?"
"And most importantly, Edon the Grey....as one of the "warring Dragons", what do you intend for this world if you win the war?" Shirou asked, looking Edon directly in the eye.
"Hello, Emiya," Agatha replies with a wave. "Uh, just so we're clear, Emiya's your given name, right?" she finishes lamely. There were enough Japanese-esque timelines that she needed to make sure.
"Oh, uh, actually Shirou is my given name," he replied with a sheepish smile and a wave of his own. "Heh, I was born and raised in Japan, but I've been spending the last few years in England, so I'd gotten used to using my given name first. Sorry for the confusion."
He then blinked as he realized something. "Wait a minute...does that mean you're also from Earth?"
"Oh, uh, actually Shirou is my given name," he replied with a sheepish smile and a wave of his own. "Heh, I was born and raised in Japan, but I've been spending the last few years in England, so I'd gotten used to using my given name first. Sorry for the confusion."
He then blinked as he realized something. "Wait a minute...does that mean you're also from Earth?"
Agatha rubbed the back of her neck. This was going be awkward. "Well...it's an alternate one. Earth does exist, but judging by the fact that you said you come from 'Japan,' you're so far in the past that us coming from the same world doesn't mean much. And judging by your 'Servant,' I'd have to guess that the entire multiverse around it is a different one altogether. Still, the language survived intact enough through the millennia that I still had to ask."
Agatha rubbed the back of her neck. This was going be awkward. "Well...it's an alternate one. Earth does exist, but judging by the fact that you said you come from 'Japan,' you're so far in the past that us coming from the same world doesn't mean much. And judging by your 'Servant,' I'd have to guess that the entire multiverse around it is a different one altogether. Still, the language survived intact enough through the millennia that I still had to ask."
"So you're from an alternate Earth AND from the future?" Shirou asked, eyes wide with surprise. "That's pretty amazing. I mean, so is everything and everyone else here, but...well, you get the idea."
"So uh...what's your name?" He asked, holding out his hand for a shake.
"So you're from an alternate Earth AND from the future?" Shirou asked, eyes wide with surprise. "That's pretty amazing. I mean, so is everything and everyone else here, but...well, you get the idea."
"So uh...what's your name?" He asked, holding out his hand for a shake.
Agatha returned the shake with a smile, the first she's shown since she got here. "The name's Agatha Weiss, But you can call me Vector."
EDIT: When she put her hand down, she replied with a shrug, "So far, everyone who's gotten warped here is pretty amazing, so you've probably got something amazing too. It's just pattern recognition."
Agatha returned the shake with a smile, the first she's shown since she got here. "The name's Agatha Weiss, But you can call me Vector."
EDIT: When she put her hand down, she replied with a shrug, "So far, everyone who's gotten warped here is pretty amazing, so you've probably got something amazing too. It's just pattern recognition."
Shirou smiled back. "Pleased to meet you, Vector. You can call me Shirou."
"So we're not the only ones who have been brought here. Do you have any idea what exactly is bringing people into this world? Does it have something to do with the Dragons?"
Shirou smiled back. "Pleased to meet you Vector. You can call me Shirou."
"So we're not the only ones who have been brought here. Do you have any idea what exactly is bringing people into this world? Does it have something to do with the Dragons?"
"According to Edon, Maldurion is. He kidnapped us expressly for the purpose of killing us. I can tell you firsthand that I didn't start out in the Bone Plane. I got warped to his Fire Plane first, where he sicced an army on me for his sick amusement. Edon got me out of there, thankfully."
Agatha clears her throat. "Maldurion only desires war, as I understand it. He creates armies of warriors and has them fight each other to the death simply because it's his idea of entertainment. Occasionally, he'll kidnap beings from other realities just so he can fight them. What's weird is that I got taken to the Fire Plane where his toys were, which makes sense, but you got transported straight to the Bone Plane. Edon, Wotash, you have any ideas?" she finished as she looked towards the Dragons expectantly.
"According to Edon, Maldurion is. He's been taking powerful fighters from across reality to fight him, simply because he wants a challenge. He kidnapped us expressly for the purpose of killing us. I can tell you firsthand that I didn't start out in the Bone Plane. I got warped to his Fire Plane first, where he sicced an army on me for his sick amusement. Edon got me out of there, thankfully."
Agatha clears her throat. "Maldurion only desires war, as I understand it. He creates armies of warriors and has them fight each other to the death simply because it's his idea of entertainment. What's weird is that I got taken to the Fire Plane where his toys were, which makes sense, but you got transported straight to the Bone Plane. Edon, Wotash, you have any ideas?" she finished as she looked towards the Dragons expectantly.
"I know this is his time to ask questions," Agatha replies, gesturing towards Shirou, "But what is our battle strategy against Spirit Dragons? If the Dragons' brand of immortality is like how it works in my multiverse, then Dragons can regenerate from any injury blindingly fast. That's usually a guaranteed loss by attrition where I come from. Will weakening them enough for you to do your thing work?"
Wotash speaks in response to this, profesional and clearly speaking feom experience. "A battle between Dragons is always at a strategic scale. Dragons are hierarchically less and less resistant to damage from sources of the following nature: Mortal arms, Daemon arms, Daemonic Magic, Wyrms, Jind arms, Mortal Sorcery, and at the top Draconic attacks per se. While I cannot state with certainty where you would fit on this spectrum, and there are plenty of exceptions, damage to a Dragon even of the lowest class causes pain, which takes away from their focus with which to take and hold Territory, Weave enchantments, direct strategy, fight physically, and employ their Quirk. Damage is regenerated from less easily as you move up the list, but even at the lowest tier there the disruption can matter. Moreover, no Dragon fights alone, that I know of, and only Dragons possess their particular defenses as a general rule. Additionally, there will be the need to hold off the forces of whatever Jyre Maldurion is using to keep the local Dragons separate, which is typically one of my jobs."
Shirou nodded and took a moment to think before responding, his brow furrowing. "This Maldurion...he doesn't care if he hurts or kills inncocent people in waging his wars, right?"
"For clarification, what exactly is a 'Spirit Dragon'? I have a feeling they're different from the giant, winged, fire-breathing lizards I've heard about in legends."
"Zirtash, you also mentioned that we're not inclined to inaction "based on our Myths". What exactly do you mean by that?"
"And most importantly, Edon the Grey....as one of the "warring Dragons", what do you intend for this world if you win the war?" Shirou asked, looking Edon directly in the eye.
Zirtash speaks up, sighing. "Dragons do not think as mortals do, nor do my kind, the Jight, or the Jind more generally. One of my duties was to understand mortals for my emperor, in the past. Even Edon the Grey does not properly have a concept of the innocent, nor can he by his very nature. "
Then Wotash interrupts. "Maldurion, however, is a particularly... dark example, among Dragons. Dragons do not, as a rule, hold or understand mortal values, but the values they each hold differ. Edon the Grey is fundamentally a proponent of freedom. He does not like to be bound, caged, dictated to, or otherwise restricted, not even by the laws of physics, and dislikes inflicting such states on others, while valuing the ability to wander and see the world. Maldurion has a love of the carnage of war. He does not simply enjoy warfare, he is obsessed with the feel of blood on his claws, the sight of corpses rent asunder, the deaths of armies... It is a natural fit to his power to reverse injuries of the mortals. But his root nature is callous, and not merely ruthless, but essentially actively cruel. To the mindset of that Dragon, you exist to die for him or be killed for his entertainment. His response to winning was, after all, to turn his mortal armies upon each other endlessly, and search for new creatures to massacre. Most Dragons are driven by territorial desires, not wishing to allow other Dragons to exist within their awareness, Maldurion fights for the sake of the violence itself."
Zirtash gives the sense of nodding, although as a sword he is not actually capable of that action, before saying "Indeed. To Maldurion, there is not only no concept of innocents, but unlike most Dragons he does not even value the lives of those he rules. While the mortals under a Dragon may be fundamentally just more tools for war, there is normally a need to care for their comfort, their safety, their needs and wants. Many Dragons bring about a good quality of life, and as a Dragon's realm grows, those at the heart of their territory may have no sense of being soldiers at all, due to filling roles of logistical import from complete safety. This pattern, however, does not describe Maldurion by any stretch of the imagination."
Then Edon the Grey himself speaks up, having been content to allow the others to explain thus far. "A Spirit Dragon is any Dragon of the Spirit Plane. Each of the Planes has their own norms and styles and environments. You three bear a general resemblance to creatures of the Fire Plane, which I myself look more similar to than most Spirit Dragons. In general, Dragons of the same plane are able to kill each other and acquire the dead Dragon's quirk. The mortal populations of the other planes are generally dissimilar to you, in design, be it the winged, typically large creatures of the Wind Plane or the naturally aquatic denizens of the Water Plane, and so on."
Zirtash takes his turn to speak again, speaking as if lecturing on a topic per se. "As to Myth, every being has a Myth, although for many that Myth is simply the very basic and insignificant description of the kind of being they are. Places, creatures, and objects alike. And we Jight, and the other Plane's own kinds of Jind, as well. The Myth of a Dragon is it's root nature, and will only change by the acquisition of a new Quirk, the Myth of a Jight is shaped by the power of the Quirk that rules us, by our will or our Emperor's, and the base Myth of a Daemon is shaped by the Jind who created it's template and commands it. However, for both Daemons and mortal creatures, one's Myth is shaped by their history itself. Their decisions, their feats, and so on. Jind as a whole have the power to read the Myth of any being they are aware of, and so I can judge, to a degree, how you are likely to act by nature of your Mythic Character."
Then Edon grows more serious, and answers that final question. "I cannot know what I would do with the power of the Throne through which Maldurion has siezed control over so much of the multiverse until the day I myself hold it. Still, I have no particular interest in ruling all that is, if only because to dictate the world would rob me of the joy of discovery. Likely, I would listen to those who have aided me, as I have often done in the past."
"According to Edon, Maldurion is. He kidnapped us expressly for the purpose of killing us. I can tell you firsthand that I didn't start out in the Bone Plane. I got warped to his Fire Plane first, where he sicced an army on me for his sick amusement. Edon got me out of there, thankfully."
Agatha clears her throat. "Maldurion only desires war, as I understand it. He creates armies of warriors and has them fight each other to the death simply because it's his idea of entertainment. Occasionally, he'll kidnap beings from other realities just so he can fight them. What's weird is that I got taken to the Fire Plane where his toys were, which makes sense, but you got transported straight to the Bone Plane. Edon, Wotash, you have any ideas?" she finished as she looked towards the Dragons expectantly.
Wotash speaks up while Edon looks contemplative. "I believe that the young woman who left is entirely responsible for that discrepancy. Maldurion is not the only being able to access other multiverses, and as they arrived in the aftermath of her departure, it would be the logical cause."
The first creature targeted is helpless against the attack, swiftly annihilated. Each progressive target attempts increasingly skilled means of self defense, as if they know of the means by which their predecessor has been slain.
And then one of the Assassins wearing... A scarf? Yes, a yellow and black striped scarf, launches into Santa's path at relativistic speeds, intent on cutting off his devastating assault upon it's comrades. The air is heavy with Myth, the figure's precise nature as a person being concealed by the very Mythic status so clear to Santa. This is not merely an Assassin, this is a legendary Hero, beyond it's comrades, a figure worthy of myth and legend. And the figure is followed by a storm of floating stone knives, accelerating towards Santa as to deny him forward motion or perhaps seeking to carve him open, whirling furiously through the air as if possessed.
Santa Claus' hand darts into his bag, moving beyond the merely relativistic, sparkling golden Christmas magic and blue radiant Cherenkov radiation wrapping an aura around his superluminal fingers as he withdraws something and mutters the triggering word, "Window!"
This enchantment he and the elves devised, in lieu of a coal delivery to some outstandingly naughty mortals, led by a particularly arrogant blasphemer against the Christmas spirit, some dozens of years ago. It gave them a few subtle conniptions and helped him achieve a few difficult tasks.
A handful of bits of tinsel flutter momentarily in the air, as all hangs still around them. They twist into a new shape, gleaming metal sheets the size of a man's palm, shaped like butterflies and flapping their wings. The tinsel butterflies multiply swiftly, exponentially, even by the dizzying standards of speed exhibited by Santa and the scarf-bearing assassin. This they do most swiftly, for they are driven not by forces of matter, but by the jolly old elf's will, and that is quick as quick can be.
The rapidly growing and vast swarm of tinsel butterflies leap upon the stone knives, wrapping around them, made of enchanted metal too tough and flexible to cut without sawing. They flock to blunt the blades and drag the knives down, more and more of them thickening the air and grappling the swarm of blades, until it is down to Santa, and it is down to the animate statue in the yellow-and-black scarf.
Santa hefts his weapon, the Northwards Pole, imbued with the Myth of the revolving planet. Silvery droplets of liquified air fly from the weapon's tip as he makes a deft swing with the striped metal knobkerrie, wielding it as easily as a conductor's baton. If the assassin bears a weapon Santa will strive to smite it from the Castaen creature's hand; if not, he will smash the weapon into the arch-Assassin's leading limb, whichever leg or arm is most ready to hand.
The Northwards Pole's impacts carry the momentum of a planet on its axis, and nearly anything that can be moved or dislodged by such forces, will be moved. On the other hand, creatures thus knocked flying seldom gain more than a few hundred miles per hour of speed in subjective terms; what can survive such collisions may roll with the blow and recover unharmed, if batted around a bit.
Wotash speaks in response to this, profesional and clearly speaking feom experience. "A battle between Dragons is always at a strategic scale. Dragons are hierarchically less and less resistant to damage from sources of the following nature: Mortal arms, Daemon arms, Daemonic Magic, Wyrms, Jind arms, Mortal Sorcery, and at the top Draconic attacks per se. While I cannot state with certainty where you would fit on this spectrum, and there are plenty of exceptions, damage to a Dragon even of the lowest class causes pain, which takes away from their focus with which to take and hold Territory, Weave enchantments, direct strategy, fight physically, and employ their Quirk. Damage is regenerated from less easily as you move up the list, but even at the lowest tier there the disruption can matter. Moreover, no Dragon fights alone, that I know of, and only Dragons possess their particular defenses as a general rule. Additionally, there will be the need to hold off the forces of whatever Jyre Maldurion is using to keep the local Dragons separate, which is typically one of my jobs."
"Well, I should tell you a bit about myself if you want to judge where I am on that scale. I'm what my multiverse terms an 'ascended mortal.' The multiverse is organized along a celestial bureaucracy of sorts, each of the twelve universes having its own hierarchy of creator deities, known as the Kaioshins, a single destruction deity known as the God of Destruction, and that's not getting into the multiversal hierarchy that they all report to. Normally, you have to be born into godhood--the God of Destruction being an exception, as he's simply a very powerful mortal--but there is another exception. There are a variety of recognized rituals that grant mortals absurd amounts of power, depending on species--in my case, the Super Saiyan God ritual. In a mortal's lifespan, it only grants a very powerful, if brief, transformation, that gives the user divine ki. Allow me to demonstrate."
She flared her energy and her hair turned blue, standing straight up. However, if the members present had any method of detecting power, they'd notice that her power didn't actually increase. That was, assuming they could get around divine ki's nature. "In my case, it's useless due to another ritual I had performed that lets me access my higher forms' power without transforming, but still, the transformation had some side-effects." She powered down, her boyish hair returning to normal, and she continued talking. "When a mortal who used a god ritual dies and goes to the afterlife, they actually become a minor Kai by default. They skip the birth requirement and training normally involved in attaining godhood, and get a conceptual Authority, or divine power, and a personal domain automatically. Mine is Professionalism, allowing me to instantly master any skill not locked by biology, and grant any skill to another person. I might look twenty-five, but I'm really going on three hundred now. I died of old age a century ago. This also makes me...kind of immortal. Souls can't be permanently harmed or killed.
"As for offense, it mostly consists of this." She formed a baseball-sized sphere of purple ki in her hands. "This is a basic ki blast ready to be fired. It's a ball of spiritual energy. At my power level, it can easily blow up a planet or star if it's fired centerwards and it hits the core. Most of my attacks are more complex and powerful versions of this basic ability. However"--she put her hand above her head, and a ten-foot-long plume of fire flared skyward before dissipating--"it can also be used in more esoteric techniques, like that. I can also create anything I want with it, which should prove handy. However, ki isn't magic. You have to be born with magic power in my multiverse, you can't just train to get it like with ki.
"So where would I fit on your scale?" Agatha finishes.
"Well, I should tell you a bit about myself if you want to judge where I am on that scale. I'm what my multiverse terms an 'ascended mortal.' The multiverse is organized along a celestial bureaucracy of sorts, each of the twelve universes having its own hierarchy of creator deities, known as the Kaioshins, a single destruction deity known as the God of Destruction, and that's not getting into the multiversal hierarchy that they all report to. Normally, you have to be born into godhood--the God of Destruction being an exception, as he's simply a very powerful mortal--but there is another exception. There are a variety of recognized rituals that grant mortals absurd amounts of power, depending on species--in my case, the Super Saiyan God ritual. In a mortal's lifespan, it only grants a very powerful, if brief, transformation, that gives the user divine ki. Allow me to demonstrate."
She flared her energy and her hair turned blue, standing straight up. However, if the members present had any method of detecting power, they'd notice that her power didn't actually increase. That was, assuming they could get around divine ki's nature. "In my case, it's useless due to another ritual I had performed that lets me access my higher forms' power without transforming, but still, the transformation had some side-effects." She powered down, her boyish hair returning to normal, and she continued talking. "When a mortal who used a god ritual dies and goes to the afterlife, they actually become a minor Kai by default. They skip the usual methods of attaining godhood, and get a conceptual Authority, or divine power, and a personal domain automatically. Mine is Professionalism, allowing me to instantly master any skill not locked by biology, and grant any skill to another person. I might look twenty-five, but I'm really going on three hundred now. I died of old age a century ago. This also makes me...kind of immortal. Souls can't be permanently harmed or killed.
"As for offense, it mostly consists of this." She formed a baseball-sized sphere of purple ki in her hands. "This is a basic ki blast ready to be fired. It's a ball of spiritual energy. At my power level, it can easily blow up a planet or star if it's fired centerwards and it hits the core. Most of my attacks are more complex and powerful versions of this basic ability. However"--she put her hand above her head, and a ten-foot-long plume of fire flared skyward before dissipating--"it can also be used in more esoteric techniques, like that. I can also create anything I want with it, which should prove handy. However, ki isn't magic. You have to be born with magic power in my multiverse, you can't just train to get it like with ki.
"So where would I fit on your scale?" Agatha finishes.
Wotasy listens interested. "Ah, interesting. However, that doesn't really answer the question. You see, we don't know precisely why the divides exist."
Edon nods, before speaking. "Yes. I have long theorized the existence of what I call the Elder Power. You see, so much of this multiverse seems artificial. Structured and rigid. Why do mortals have access to magic arguably beyond Dragons? Here, a God falls under the heading of mortal, merely possessing immense power per se. But the same damage dealt by a Dragon has far more of a lasting impact than the same damage dealt by something heirarchically lesser. I know, intuitively, of the names of some things, but not others. I can see a Dragon's name on sight, as any Dragon could, but aside the Jind, nothing else. I believe this multiverse was created by something more powerful than any Dragon has ever been, and so too that all within it was. I call this being, organization, people... Whatever they are, I call them the Elder Power."
Wotash nods. "If my emperor's hypothesis is correct, we would have no way of knowing for sure merely by comparison."
Wotash speaks in response to this, professional and clearly speaking from experience. "A battle between Dragons is always at a strategic scale. Dragons are hierarchically less and less resistant to damage from sources of the following nature: Mortal arms, Daemon arms, Daemonic Magic, Wyrms, Jind arms, Mortal Sorcery, and at the top Draconic attacks per se. While I cannot state with certainty where you would fit on this spectrum, and there are plenty of exceptions, damage to a Dragon even of the lowest class causes pain, which takes away from their focus with which to take and hold Territory, Weave enchantments, direct strategy, fight physically, and employ their Quirk. Damage is regenerated from less easily as you move up the list, but even at the lowest tier there the disruption can matter. Moreover, no Dragon fights alone, that I know of, and only Dragons possess their particular defenses as a general rule. Additionally, there will be the need to hold off the forces of whatever Jyre Maldurion is using to keep the local Dragons separate, which is typically one of my jobs."
Both Shirou and Karna listen carefully and make note of this information.
Zirtash speaks up, sighing. "Dragons do not think as mortals do, nor do my kind, the Jight, or the Jind more generally. One of my duties was to understand mortals for my emperor, in the past. Even Edon the Grey does not properly have a concept of the innocent, nor can he by his very nature. "
Then Wotash interrupts. "Maldurion, however, is a particularly... dark example, among Dragons. Dragons do not, as a rule, hold or understand mortal values, but the values they each hold differ. Edon the Grey is fundamentally a proponent of freedom. He does not like to be bound, caged, dictated to, or otherwise restricted, not even by the laws of physics, and dislikes inflicting such states on others, while valuing the ability to wander and see the world. Maldurion has a love of the carnage of war. He does not simply enjoy warfare, he is obsessed with the feel of blood on his claws, the sight of corpses rent asunder, the deaths of armies... It is a natural fit to his power to reverse injuries of the mortals. But his root nature is callous, and not merely ruthless, but essentially actively cruel. To the mindset of that Dragon, you exist to die for him or be killed for his entertainment. His response to winning was, after all, to turn his mortal armies upon each other endlessly, and search for new creatures to massacre. Most Dragons are driven by territorial desires, not wishing to allow other Dragons to exist within their awareness, Maldurion fights for the sake of the violence itself."
Zirtash gives the sense of nodding, although as a sword he is not actually capable of that action, before saying "Indeed. To Maldurion, there is not only no concept of innocents, but unlike most Dragons he does not even value the lives of those he rules. While the mortals under a Dragon may be fundamentally just more tools for war, there is normally a need to care for their comfort, their safety, their needs and wants. Many Dragons bring about a good quality of life, and as a Dragon's realm grows, those at the heart of their territory may have no sense of being soldiers at all, due to filling roles of logistical import from complete safety. This pattern, however, does not describe Maldurion by any stretch of the imagination."
Shirou's expression darkened as he continued listening to their explanation of the last Flame Dragon's nature. More than anything, it was clear that Maldurion was evil in the truest sense of the word, and that he needed to be stopped.
Then Edon the Grey himself speaks up, having been content to allow the others to explain thus far. "A Spirit Dragon is any Dragon of the Spirit Plane. Each of the Planes has their own norms and styles and environments. You three bear a general resemblance to creatures of the Fire Plane, which I myself look more similar to than most Spirit Dragons. In general, Dragons of the same plane are able to kill each other and acquire the dead Dragon's quirk. The mortal populations of the other planes are generally dissimilar to you, in design, be it the winged, typically large creatures of the Wind Plane or the naturally aquatic denizens of the Water Plane, and so on."
Zirtash takes his turn to speak again, speaking as if lecturing on a topic per se. "As to Myth, every being has a Myth, although for many that Myth is simply the very basic and insignificant description of the kind of being they are. Places, creatures, and objects alike. And we Jight, and the other Plane's own kinds of Jind, as well. The Myth of a Dragon is it's root nature, and will only change by the acquisition of a new Quirk, the Myth of a Jight is shaped by the power of the Quirk that rules us, by our will or our Emperor's, and the base Myth of a Daemon is shaped by the Jind who created it's template and commands it. However, for both Daemons and mortal creatures, one's Myth is shaped by their history itself. Their decisions, their feats, and so on. Jind as a whole have the power to read the Myth of any being they are aware of, and so I can judge, to a degree, how you are likely to act by nature of your Mythic Character."
Then Edon grows more serious, and answers that final question. "I cannot know what I would do with the power of the Throne through which Maldurion has siezed control over so much of the multiverse until the day I myself hold it. Still, I have no particular interest in ruling all that is, if only because to dictate the world would rob me of the joy of discovery. Likely, I would listen to those who have aided me, as I have often done in the past."
Shirou nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I think I understand the general situation now. Ordinarily, I would ask how I can find a way to return to my world. But now that I know what Maludrion is and the evil he wants to unleash...I want to help stop him. I know this isn't my world, and Rin would probably scold me for getting involved in such a crazy situation, but...now that I'm here, I just can't stand the idea of turning away. Not when I have the power to make a difference and save lives."
Karna smiles ever so slightly at hearing the young man's words, right before Shirou turns to him. "I'm sorry that you got dragged into this mess, Lancer. I'm sure it's not what you were expecting, and I don't think we'll get a wish granted at the end, but...would you please lend me your power? I'm going to need all the help I can get."
The Servant shook his head, his smile just a bit wider. "You have nothing to apologize for, Master. I can see that you have a true and just heart, and you wish to embark on an endeavor to save this realm from a great evil. It was unexpected, but to be called back to life in service of such a noble goal...I could not ask for a greater blessing. I would be honored to aid you in your journey," he said with a bow of his head.
Shirou smiled and bowed his head in return. "Thank you. That means the world to me."
Wotash speaks up while Edon looks contemplative. "I believe that the young woman who left is entirely responsible for that discrepancy. Maldurion is not the only being able to access other multiverses, and as they arrived in the aftermath of her departure, it would be the logical cause."
"A young woman, huh..." Shirou mused. He idly wondered who it could be, but it sounded like they didn't know much about her either. He decided he would ask about it later.
"Well, I should tell you a bit about myself if you want to judge where I am on that scale. I'm what my multiverse terms an 'ascended mortal.' The multiverse is organized along a celestial bureaucracy of sorts, each of the twelve universes having its own hierarchy of creator deities, known as the Kaioshins, a single destruction deity known as the God of Destruction, and that's not getting into the multiversal hierarchy that they all report to. Normally, you have to be born into godhood--the God of Destruction being an exception, as he's simply a very powerful mortal--but there is another exception. There are a variety of recognized rituals that grant mortals absurd amounts of power, depending on species--in my case, the Super Saiyan God ritual. In a mortal's lifespan, it only grants a very powerful, if brief, transformation, that gives the user divine ki. Allow me to demonstrate."
She flared her energy and her hair turned blue, standing straight up. However, if the members present had any method of detecting power, they'd notice that her power didn't actually increase. That was, assuming they could get around divine ki's nature. "In my case, it's useless due to another ritual I had performed that lets me access my higher forms' power without transforming, but still, the transformation had some side-effects." She powered down, her boyish hair returning to normal, and she continued talking. "When a mortal who used a god ritual dies and goes to the afterlife, they actually become a minor Kai by default. They skip the usual methods of attaining godhood, and get a conceptual Authority, or divine power, and a personal domain automatically. Mine is Professionalism, allowing me to instantly master any skill not locked by biology, and grant any skill to another person. I might look twenty-five, but I'm really going on three hundred now. I died of old age a century ago. This also makes me...kind of immortal. Souls can't be permanently harmed or killed.
"As for offense, it mostly consists of this." She formed a baseball-sized sphere of purple ki in her hands. "This is a basic ki blast ready to be fired. It's a ball of spiritual energy. At my power level, it can easily blow up a planet or star if it's fired centerwards and it hits the core. Most of my attacks are more complex and powerful versions of this basic ability. However"--she put her hand above her head, and a ten-foot-long plume of fire flared skyward before dissipating--"it can also be used in more esoteric techniques, like that. I can also create anything I want with it, which should prove handy. However, ki isn't magic. You have to be born with magic power in my multiverse, you can't just train to get it like with ki.
"So where would I fit on your scale?" Agatha finishes.
"Holy crap," Shirou breathes upon hearing all of that. He could tell she was a badass just by looking at her, but the kind of power she described was utterly insane, far beyond anything he knew of in his own world. Frankly, he was feeling pretty small insignificant by comparison. Karna also perked up a bit at the mention of Godhood.
"Hah, wow...I hate to say it, but I'm nowhere near that powerful. I'm basically a normal human except for my Magic Circuits, which allow me to draw upon magical energy from within my being to enact supernatural effects. This practice is referred to as Magecraft, and those who practice it are called Mages. However...to be honest, by my world's standards, I'm considered a third-rate Magus, even after a few years of ongoing training to improve myself. I have a comparatively small capacity of mana to draw upon, and I'm only truly proficient in a few very specialized techniques. They've served me well, to be sure, but my magical aptitude is far more limited in scope than most other Mages."
"Let's see...I suppose my main skills are Reinforcement and Tracing. With Reinforcement, I can amplify the attributes or functions of a given object. For example, I can reinforce a steel bar to be stronger, a sword to be sharper, or a flashlight to shine brighter. I can even apply this power to my own body, making my eyes see farther or my legs run faster."
"With Tracing...well, technically it involves two different powers. The first is using Structural Grasp Magecraft in order to scan the entire physical structure of a given object, both inside and out. Then, once I've fully visualized the resulting structure, I can use Projection to create said item using magic energy alone. I'll give you a demonstration," he trails off as he takes a moment to concentrate.
Arcs of blue lightning suddenly erupt around Shirou's hands, the energy rapidly taking the shape of his signature blades, Kanshou and Byakuya. The ambient energy dissipated as soon as the blades were fully formed, with the entire process taking less than a second to complete.
"Due to the circumstances of how my power developed, I have a very specific affinity for bladed and melee weapons. I can use Tracing to create other types of objects, but it's usually slower and takes a lot more power. But recreating anything that could fall under the concept of Sword is almost as natural for me as breathing. In effect, this means that I can faithfully copy and recreate even legendary weapons with special powers."
He then bid the twin blades to dissipate into motes of blue light, disappearing as quickly as they arrived. "There are some limits to it, however. Most times, traced replicas won't be as strong or potent in their abilities as the originals, due to imperfections in the scanning and projection process. This can be alleviated to varying degrees with Reinforcement, though doing so consumes more mana. Also, If a weapon's construction involves processes or materials far beyond human understanding, then I'll have much more difficulty visualizing it properly. A weapon made by divine power alone for example would be nearly impossible for me to recreate."
"Lastly, there's my ultimate ability: Unlimited Blade Works. Basically, it's an inner world residing within my Soul that acts as an archive of every blade I've ever scanned in my life, taking the form of an endless field of weapons. With enough mana, I'm able to project this inner world as a Reality Marble, displacing everyone within a certain radius of myself into it. There, I have total control over all of my weapons, and can immediately call upon them to fly at targets like guided missiles, as well as trigger their special abilities. I can only fully manifest Unlimited Blade Works for a short period of time, but even in its passive state, I can Trace any weapon from it at will. I can even use it to create multiple blades at once and "shoot" them as high-speed projectiles.
"That's about it, as far as I go," Shirou finished. "My powers are certainly useful in combat, but they're nowhere near as potent as what Vector has at her disposal. I have more to say on Lancer, as he'll definitely factor into this, but I'd like the others' input first."
While an excellent result, the presence of the other ramparts on their flank, the enemies they spawn, and the energies Santa's own battle is beginning to produce all remind Bill that time is a luxury on this battlefield. Even as he catches Stormbreaker again, he comes to the sobering conclusion that simply hurling the hammer at each rampart will take too long, leave too many enemies on the field, and potentially leave him more vulnerable to a surprise attack against himself. Not that he is an easy target without his hammer, but it s a risk to be managed.
Hefting Stormbreaker, Bill aims the flat head of the hammer at one half of the rampart line, as close to the center as he can, and calls upon the third of his ranged attacks. A beam of mystic energy leaps from Stormbreaker, traveling the distance between himself and the rampart he is aiming at in seconds. It strikes, and then the beam blooms into a half-sphere scouring the ground, the impact point of the beam marking the center.
Fully half of the rampart line is shattered, spreading chaos among the enemy ranks as casualties mount and cover is lost. Survivors thrown clear of the blast are hunted down by It-That-Slays Wyrms, and swiftly shattered by mystically manifested ice.
Now let's begin launching the assault! Lord Boros attempts acceleration, and if that is mot successful, attempts to match Aerguons's speed. He begins to gratuitously use his eye beams, shooting at the rocks in the area.
Attempting to go noticably faster than Aerguon himself moves leads to a bizarre state of being pinned by the air itself, until such speed attempts cease. Going approximately as fast as Aerguon works fine, however.
Aerguon seems vexed by the overall battle conditions, and scowls as he turns his attention on Lord Boros entirely, for the moment. The dance shifts once more, and the world twists around him, something about to happen. As the rocks are cleared out, the area abruptly fills with shifting shapes of darkness, flooding forth from behind Aerguon. They move faster than should be possible by the apparent limits imposed by the space, and start tanking hits for Aerguon in place of the floating rocks.
Santa Claus' hand darts into his bag, moving beyond the merely relativistic, sparkling golden Christmas magic and blue radiant Cherenkov radiation wrapping an aura around his superluminal fingers as he withdraws something and mutters the triggering word, "Window!"
This enchantment he and the elves devised, in lieu of a coal delivery to some outstandingly naughty mortals, led by a particularly arrogant blasphemer against the Christmas spirit, some dozens of years ago. It gave them a few subtle conniptions and helped him achieve a few difficult tasks.
A handful of bits of tinsel flutter momentarily in the air, as all hangs still around them. They twist into a new shape, gleaming metal sheets the size of a man's palm, shaped like butterflies and flapping their wings. The tinsel butterflies multiply swiftly, exponentially, even by the dizzying standards of speed exhibited by Santa and the scarf-bearing assassin. This they do most swiftly, for they are driven not by forces of matter, but by the jolly old elf's will, and that is quick as quick can be.
The rapidly growing and vast swarm of tinsel butterflies leap upon the stone knives, wrapping around them, made of enchanted metal too tough and flexible to cut without sawing. They flock to blunt the blades and drag the knives down, more and more of them thickening the air and grappling the swarm of blades, until it is down to Santa, and it is down to the animate statue in the yellow-and-black scarf.
Santa hefts his weapon, the Northwards Pole, imbued with the Myth of the revolving planet. Silvery droplets of liquified air fly from the weapon's tip as he makes a deft swing with the striped metal knobkerrie, wielding it as easily as a conductor's baton. If the assassin bears a weapon Santa will strive to smite it from the Castaen creature's hand; if not, he will smash the weapon into the arch-Assassin's leading limb, whichever leg or arm is most ready to hand.
The Northwards Pole's impacts carry the momentum of a planet on its axis, and nearly anything that can be moved or dislodged by such forces, will be moved. On the other hand, creatures thus knocked flying seldom gain more than a few hundred miles per hour of speed in subjective terms; what can survive such collisions may roll with the blow and recover unharmed, if batted around a bit.
The Assassin seems stern as the blades are blocked, but also unconcerned, though perhaps that is just being made of stone. As the Northwards Pole drives towards it, the two drawing closer and closer together...
Well, Santa isn't entire sure what happens. One moment, he was about to strike, the next, the Assassin dropped from view, and he was several miles up moving rapidly skyward, his stomach aching as if from a mighty blow. And yet, there is a suggestion of a possibility, as for a scant second after the strike, Santa can detect the Myth of the being he was fighting. Stripescarf, it is called, and it bears the Myth of being the fastest of all Assassins- and then the Myth is cloaked in metaphorical darkness once more, and Santa is no longer sure its position, or able to discern further of its nature. Perhaps the being accelerated, and was no longer able to hide its nature while doing so.
Santa is alive, but far out of position at the moment, and not uninjured.
"That's about it, as far as I go," Shirou finished. "My powers are certainly useful in combat, but they're nowhere near as potent as what Agatha has at her disposal. I have more to say on Lancer, as he'll definitely factor into this, but I'd like the others' input first."
Edon nods in acknowledgement. "Brute power is not everything. Sometimes, it is the weaker warrior who has the greatest advantage. As for myself, I possess the common capabilities of the Dragons of this multiverse. I can claim Territory as my own, making it subject to my Influence, I can Weave enchantments upon objects that are within my Territory or very close to my physical location, and unweave the same as laid by any opposing Dragons or their Wyrms, and generate Wyrms proportionate to the Territory held. Only from within my Territory, however. Additionally, I can actually leave my own Territory, a feat impossible for most, if not all other Dragons, and have acquired a few other Quirks, the unique powers of individual Dragons, from slaying their prior owners. One such Quirk allows me to command the Jight, including Zirtash and Wotash here."
Wotash speaks up then. "If we are covering our contributions, my role in my emperor's forces is that of both shield and sword, so to speak. All Jight command Daemons, push Mythic Narratives, possess the ability to form a body, lay down Taint, as the proper term is for our equivalent ability to claim Territory. In battle, my body is a tool, and you should not risk yourselves to protect me in any condition: merely destroying my physical form will not kill me, and even should the enemy destroy my actual self I can be restored again and again. Therefore, it would be senseless to trade your life for my body. Moreover, I am meant to hold against Maldurion himself, and so it is unlikely any threat that could kill me would be survived by you. Other powers we Jight collectively hold are the ability to manifest the nature of our Myth within our Taint, both passively and by Daemonic magic through our Daemons, changing the laws of physics and enforcing effects. Perhaps most fearsomely, we can elevate beings to the status of Hero, binding them to our Myth forevermore, and raising their abilities to grander heights. They do, however, need to be closely affiliated with us, willing, and worthy of the title. "
Wotash pauses for a moment, before saying "The Jarrow and Jyre are similar in capabilities, but the Jarrow lack Daemons entirely, working solely through mortal retinues instead, and the Jyre lack the apparent ability to form a body. In turn, I am reliably informed that we Jight lack the normally incredible natural senses of other Jind." Wotash glances at Edon as she says that last bit. Then she continues, saying "It is my place in the overall composition of our war host to produce soldiers that can hold the line against the greatest of enemy soldiers, both basic foot soldiers and essential supporting elements to handle assorted problems."
Zirtash then speaks up. "For myself, by contrast to sister Wotash, I am the smith and weapons master of our emperor. I make arms and armor of the highest quality, and also serve as our general means of interplanar transport, for which I was first configured. My Daemons, in turn, are tools more often than warriors. On a basic level, I share the same powers, of course, but it is the Myth that creates unique and powerful variation."
Edon nods. "Aside the Jight, I possess the Quirk of Ninjutsu, claimed from killing its original owner. Due to the nature of the Quirk, I have favored enhancing it, in general. It is flexible and difficult to counter."
out, the area abruptly fills with shifting shapes of darkness, flooding forth from behind Aerguon. They move faster than should be possible by the apparent limits imposed by the space, and start tanking hits for Aerguon in place of the floating rocks.
Alright. Lord Boros thinks for a moment, but then decides to test if they stand up to eye beams. Should that work, he'll use those to break through. He doesn't expect that to happen, and plans to begin a more physical assault, attempting to juke around the new obstacles or just physically go through them. He's making progress, otherwise Aerguon wouldn't have upped his game.
