OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Says 9th seat is a dude on the wiki so that girl be lying. Morgan Saber mode?
Fate/Beneath Mystic (Fate)
- Thread starter BlackHadou
- Start date
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Honestly, I was bullshitting seat numbers because I can't find where I put the list. 
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Honestly, I was bullshitting seat numbers because I can't find where I put the list.
Knights of the Round Table
Not many were actually revealed but the 9th seat was.
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
... See... I know Palamedes doesn't make it to the end of the era, and I also know correcting the number will literally tell you which knight was summoned, so I'm just going to leave it at his replacement, or something like that.
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Think he got ganked by Arthur.
-edit-
Nope, that's just f/go apparently.
Last edited:
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Only in Camelot, in the mythos he was killed during the Grail Quest due to old grudges.
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
So everyone knows, please reread the end of the last part, I've appended about 200 words to it. Originally in my writing there was no good break point within about 1000 words of there, but a few changes of sequence and events and suddenly it breaks off nicely, who knew?
Chapter Four, Part Two
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Saber. The Servant of the Sword. A knight class Servant that boasts the highest level of power. In the passed down lore of the Holy Grail War, it was called the strongest class, if one ignored the famous number of massacres that had led to Assassin being the class the entire war was often based around defeating.
It was also the rarest class to see. Usually, Saber was one of the two classes a Grail War failed to summon. Generally speaking, the summoning of the Saber class was regarded as a success for the Holy Grail War, a legitimising factor in a war that had never successfully produced a result.
Of course, as far as the Saber that was summoned by Razel cared, none of these factors were relevant. She had answered the call of the Holy Grail and she would win the wish making cup. It was a simplistic, perhaps even naive, but she was no less certain of the fact then she would wake up the next morning. The outcome was decided, all that mattered was to arrive at the outcome.
Her master was a somewhat strange boy. Really, who summoned a hero before saying that they would run away? It was foolishness when you had a legendary hero by your side. Even worse, he hadn't even done enough research to know her name. It was almost insulting, but she put the problem from her mind and focused on the task at hand. The enemy Servant would have to be destroyed. Just because there were fourteen Servants, did not mean that there were teams or alliances. In the end, they would all have to accept the simple fact that they would have to kill each other if they wanted to get the Grail.
It was a matter of fact that they all wanted the Grail. Heroes that would not fight did not answer the summons.
"On the other side of the building."
Saber was not a normal hero. Normal heroes did not bear the burden of voices in their head. No, she was something quite different. A central point where many wishes and sorrows gathered. That they manifested as something that was somewhat useful to her was a rare trait; most heroes in her situation did not gain any benefit at all.
It did not take long to find her targets. They numbered two, a pair of men that looked quite dissimilar. One was dressed in a simple tunic and robe, from his appearance, easily of Asian descent. His walk was slow and steady, and his eyes seemed more intent on the sights around him then any real concern on where he was actually walking.
"The Servant."
The other was an older man, likely somewhere in his thirties, his hair tied into a ponytail and his body leaning rather heavily on a cane. It wasn't entirely uncommon for a magi to receive injuries in their time, but for a magi to not have a means of repairing them, as if they had never occurred, was somewhat strange. Puppetry or replacement parts had been common in the old days. That a magus was injured and had not fixed the injury was, indeed, quite strange to Saber.
"The Master."
The hissing in her ear merely told her what she already knew. Both of the targets were slowly making their way into the street, but their speed was quite low. Saber had to wonder if it was because the master was simply slow, or because the Servant wasn't actually in a rush.
The scene raised a few questions. What was the Servants class? How dangerous were they? Sniffing with her nose, Saber could only conclude that the spirit in front of her must have had some sort of skill that lowered the effect of their presence. She could barely smell the stink of the mana he should be exuding.
"Odd." She muttered to herself, slipping through rooftops. The Servant did not appear to have detected her yet. Was he an Assassin lulling her into a false sense of security, or was he simply unaware?
No, something about the scene seemed just a bit off. Something.
"There isn't anything here." The master spoke up. "Is it really that important for you?"
"Perhaps it isn't important." The Servant answered. "I wished to see the conditions the common man still lived in." He paused, just briefly. "There was also the fight last night."
"There's nothing there, either." The master mused. Saber's nose twitched just a bit. Something was very wrong.
"Perhaps. I wished to see if the remnants identified the Servants."
"Well, it's just a waste of time. We aren't going to find anyone just walking around."
Something was direly wrong.
"Hmm. Perhaps this way." The direction the Servant began moving in, was directly towards Razel. It took Saber only a moment to realise the problem.
They knew she was there.
They weren't talking for their benefit. The Servant was just horrible at hiding the fact he knew. No one would talk about Servants in plain daylight without taking some sort of precaution. It was simply irresponsible.
Or maybe that was simply what they wished her to believe. After all, they hadn't made any overt movement towards her, but rather, her Master. Perhaps the one they knew about was not her at all.
But that did not help the predicament. Rather, it made it more of a problem, because Razel was not equipped to face a Servant. She would have to head them off.
Well, she intended to do that anyway.
"Ravage them."
Saber was not a warrior whose only weapon could be called a sword. No, she had a bit more versatility then that. Although her class ensured her Noble Phantasm was, indeed, a sword, she was armed with the rather rare blessing of a second Noble Phantasm. Her left arm burned as coils of chains sprung from the sleeve of her jacket, wrapping around her arm before forming three sharp blades in her hand. With a single, practised throw, the three chained spears flew into the air, flying at the unknown Servant and his master.
Generally speaking, a Servant was only famous enough to have one cornerstone of legend that was sublimated into a Noble Phantasm. However, in certain cases, such as the receipt of a divine instrument or a particularly noteworthy artefact, a Servant might possess two. Only the truly famous and, indeed, monstrously inhuman were able to attain three or more Noble Phantasms. A hero of that calibre would be on par with King Arthur, without a doubt.
Three chained spears flew, and without even batting an eye, barely, indeed, even moving, the Servant before her flicked the three aside with a hand, it's movements slight, but almost too fast to be observed. A hero who could fight unarmed was not uncommon, not within the Servant system, but it also revealed no information. It was, at it's core, a calling of a bluff. Cement cracked and dirt exploded as the three spears found themselves in the ground.
Yet there was more to the chains Saber held then merely their nature as a weapon that could be thrown. No, that would be too simple to be a crystallised legend. With a wrench of her arm, she tore them back out of the ground, the chains snaking around and shooting themselves at the Master.
"Look out!"
The chains were not merely throwing weapons. They could also operate autonomously. At its core, a weapon that could be used to attack a number of people at once, however, the cost for that was always going to be precision. The master's cry was perhaps misaimed, for he was the target of the attack.
However, if it managed to hit him, Saber would have to admit that she would be quite disappointed in her opponent. Thankfully, in her mind, he did not disappoint.
It was a flicker of light at best, a long shaft of wood shooting out of his sleeve, as the Servant spun, wrapping all three chains around its shaft with the utmost skill, before the weapon sharply snapped back and severed the chains entirely. Links broke apart, and the mess of steel burned away in a glimmer of red.
A spear, one of quite simple design, with a small plume of feathers at the base of the blade for accentuation. A weapon that belonged as much to a showman as a warrior. From that, it was not hard to conclude the opponent was likely a Lancer. His movements were fluid and almost careless, yet now he stood stock still, almost like marble, his eyes locked with the ground.
"Take care." His voice was soft. Perhaps he said it for Saber's benefit, or perhaps he said it not knowing she could hear him. "The enemy is on the roofs."
"Your timing was impeccable." His master nodded, whether it was praise or simple acknowledgement of his skills, Saber wasn't sure. Even so, her lips twisted into a small smile. Truly, her opponent was not going to be a waste of her time. He was at least good enough to warrant drawing her sword.
With a gentle push, she leapt from her perch, landing in the middle of the street like a weightless phantom. Perhaps, with the bloody red chains draping her left arm, she looked quite like the ideal of a phantom. Her mouth had formed a full smile, as she fully sized up her opponent.
Things like height and reach were essential for fights between men. However, a fight between heroes would never be decided by such trivial details. What would truly matter was the strength of the Noble Phantasms, and the level of power each side brought to bare. While the Lancer had fended off her chains, until their true name was actually stated, the feat was not particularly noteworthy.
"Well, you seem like your worth my time, Lancer." Saber declared, her right hand on her hip. "Really, were you just wondering around hoping to run into an enemy?"
The banter was unnecessary, in truth. However, the answer was something she was dying to know, that this wouldn't be one of those kinds of wars, where no one actually knew the layout and everyone spent more time looking then fighting. Lancer's face did not change for a long moment, before, it seemed, that his whole body relaxed from it's stone like posture.
"I must admit, the idea had appeal. However, I spoke true. We were here to see the remnants of the battle last night." He paused, for only a moment. "Perhaps it was unwise to speak at all. It appears to have given us away."
"We cannot win a war by fighting defensively, Lancer." It seemed that any attempt at secrecy was gone. Or, perhaps, the Servant and master pair had deemed it unnecessary, for Saber already knew her enemies class. "Maybe we should keep that in mind for next time, though."
"Do I have your permission?"
"If you need permission to fight, Lancer, this is already over." Saber declared, leaning forward and stretching out her right arm. Bloody light gleamed, as she tore a blade in the form of bright red energy from the air, a weapon that looked uncannily as if it were made from a jewel. The master merely nodded, and Lancer took another two steps forward.
"You are Saber, then." Lancer noted. Saber just grinned.
"Why don't you find out?"
That was all the punctuation she needed, before she bolted forward, swinging her sword like a demon hurtling out of hell.
It was also the rarest class to see. Usually, Saber was one of the two classes a Grail War failed to summon. Generally speaking, the summoning of the Saber class was regarded as a success for the Holy Grail War, a legitimising factor in a war that had never successfully produced a result.
Of course, as far as the Saber that was summoned by Razel cared, none of these factors were relevant. She had answered the call of the Holy Grail and she would win the wish making cup. It was a simplistic, perhaps even naive, but she was no less certain of the fact then she would wake up the next morning. The outcome was decided, all that mattered was to arrive at the outcome.
Her master was a somewhat strange boy. Really, who summoned a hero before saying that they would run away? It was foolishness when you had a legendary hero by your side. Even worse, he hadn't even done enough research to know her name. It was almost insulting, but she put the problem from her mind and focused on the task at hand. The enemy Servant would have to be destroyed. Just because there were fourteen Servants, did not mean that there were teams or alliances. In the end, they would all have to accept the simple fact that they would have to kill each other if they wanted to get the Grail.
It was a matter of fact that they all wanted the Grail. Heroes that would not fight did not answer the summons.
"On the other side of the building."
Saber was not a normal hero. Normal heroes did not bear the burden of voices in their head. No, she was something quite different. A central point where many wishes and sorrows gathered. That they manifested as something that was somewhat useful to her was a rare trait; most heroes in her situation did not gain any benefit at all.
It did not take long to find her targets. They numbered two, a pair of men that looked quite dissimilar. One was dressed in a simple tunic and robe, from his appearance, easily of Asian descent. His walk was slow and steady, and his eyes seemed more intent on the sights around him then any real concern on where he was actually walking.
"The Servant."
The other was an older man, likely somewhere in his thirties, his hair tied into a ponytail and his body leaning rather heavily on a cane. It wasn't entirely uncommon for a magi to receive injuries in their time, but for a magi to not have a means of repairing them, as if they had never occurred, was somewhat strange. Puppetry or replacement parts had been common in the old days. That a magus was injured and had not fixed the injury was, indeed, quite strange to Saber.
"The Master."
The hissing in her ear merely told her what she already knew. Both of the targets were slowly making their way into the street, but their speed was quite low. Saber had to wonder if it was because the master was simply slow, or because the Servant wasn't actually in a rush.
The scene raised a few questions. What was the Servants class? How dangerous were they? Sniffing with her nose, Saber could only conclude that the spirit in front of her must have had some sort of skill that lowered the effect of their presence. She could barely smell the stink of the mana he should be exuding.
"Odd." She muttered to herself, slipping through rooftops. The Servant did not appear to have detected her yet. Was he an Assassin lulling her into a false sense of security, or was he simply unaware?
No, something about the scene seemed just a bit off. Something.
"There isn't anything here." The master spoke up. "Is it really that important for you?"
"Perhaps it isn't important." The Servant answered. "I wished to see the conditions the common man still lived in." He paused, just briefly. "There was also the fight last night."
"There's nothing there, either." The master mused. Saber's nose twitched just a bit. Something was very wrong.
"Perhaps. I wished to see if the remnants identified the Servants."
"Well, it's just a waste of time. We aren't going to find anyone just walking around."
Something was direly wrong.
"Hmm. Perhaps this way." The direction the Servant began moving in, was directly towards Razel. It took Saber only a moment to realise the problem.
They knew she was there.
They weren't talking for their benefit. The Servant was just horrible at hiding the fact he knew. No one would talk about Servants in plain daylight without taking some sort of precaution. It was simply irresponsible.
Or maybe that was simply what they wished her to believe. After all, they hadn't made any overt movement towards her, but rather, her Master. Perhaps the one they knew about was not her at all.
But that did not help the predicament. Rather, it made it more of a problem, because Razel was not equipped to face a Servant. She would have to head them off.
Well, she intended to do that anyway.
"Ravage them."
Saber was not a warrior whose only weapon could be called a sword. No, she had a bit more versatility then that. Although her class ensured her Noble Phantasm was, indeed, a sword, she was armed with the rather rare blessing of a second Noble Phantasm. Her left arm burned as coils of chains sprung from the sleeve of her jacket, wrapping around her arm before forming three sharp blades in her hand. With a single, practised throw, the three chained spears flew into the air, flying at the unknown Servant and his master.
Generally speaking, a Servant was only famous enough to have one cornerstone of legend that was sublimated into a Noble Phantasm. However, in certain cases, such as the receipt of a divine instrument or a particularly noteworthy artefact, a Servant might possess two. Only the truly famous and, indeed, monstrously inhuman were able to attain three or more Noble Phantasms. A hero of that calibre would be on par with King Arthur, without a doubt.
Three chained spears flew, and without even batting an eye, barely, indeed, even moving, the Servant before her flicked the three aside with a hand, it's movements slight, but almost too fast to be observed. A hero who could fight unarmed was not uncommon, not within the Servant system, but it also revealed no information. It was, at it's core, a calling of a bluff. Cement cracked and dirt exploded as the three spears found themselves in the ground.
Yet there was more to the chains Saber held then merely their nature as a weapon that could be thrown. No, that would be too simple to be a crystallised legend. With a wrench of her arm, she tore them back out of the ground, the chains snaking around and shooting themselves at the Master.
"Look out!"
The chains were not merely throwing weapons. They could also operate autonomously. At its core, a weapon that could be used to attack a number of people at once, however, the cost for that was always going to be precision. The master's cry was perhaps misaimed, for he was the target of the attack.
However, if it managed to hit him, Saber would have to admit that she would be quite disappointed in her opponent. Thankfully, in her mind, he did not disappoint.
It was a flicker of light at best, a long shaft of wood shooting out of his sleeve, as the Servant spun, wrapping all three chains around its shaft with the utmost skill, before the weapon sharply snapped back and severed the chains entirely. Links broke apart, and the mess of steel burned away in a glimmer of red.
A spear, one of quite simple design, with a small plume of feathers at the base of the blade for accentuation. A weapon that belonged as much to a showman as a warrior. From that, it was not hard to conclude the opponent was likely a Lancer. His movements were fluid and almost careless, yet now he stood stock still, almost like marble, his eyes locked with the ground.
"Take care." His voice was soft. Perhaps he said it for Saber's benefit, or perhaps he said it not knowing she could hear him. "The enemy is on the roofs."
"Your timing was impeccable." His master nodded, whether it was praise or simple acknowledgement of his skills, Saber wasn't sure. Even so, her lips twisted into a small smile. Truly, her opponent was not going to be a waste of her time. He was at least good enough to warrant drawing her sword.
With a gentle push, she leapt from her perch, landing in the middle of the street like a weightless phantom. Perhaps, with the bloody red chains draping her left arm, she looked quite like the ideal of a phantom. Her mouth had formed a full smile, as she fully sized up her opponent.
Things like height and reach were essential for fights between men. However, a fight between heroes would never be decided by such trivial details. What would truly matter was the strength of the Noble Phantasms, and the level of power each side brought to bare. While the Lancer had fended off her chains, until their true name was actually stated, the feat was not particularly noteworthy.
"Well, you seem like your worth my time, Lancer." Saber declared, her right hand on her hip. "Really, were you just wondering around hoping to run into an enemy?"
The banter was unnecessary, in truth. However, the answer was something she was dying to know, that this wouldn't be one of those kinds of wars, where no one actually knew the layout and everyone spent more time looking then fighting. Lancer's face did not change for a long moment, before, it seemed, that his whole body relaxed from it's stone like posture.
"I must admit, the idea had appeal. However, I spoke true. We were here to see the remnants of the battle last night." He paused, for only a moment. "Perhaps it was unwise to speak at all. It appears to have given us away."
"We cannot win a war by fighting defensively, Lancer." It seemed that any attempt at secrecy was gone. Or, perhaps, the Servant and master pair had deemed it unnecessary, for Saber already knew her enemies class. "Maybe we should keep that in mind for next time, though."
"Do I have your permission?"
"If you need permission to fight, Lancer, this is already over." Saber declared, leaning forward and stretching out her right arm. Bloody light gleamed, as she tore a blade in the form of bright red energy from the air, a weapon that looked uncannily as if it were made from a jewel. The master merely nodded, and Lancer took another two steps forward.
"You are Saber, then." Lancer noted. Saber just grinned.
"Why don't you find out?"
That was all the punctuation she needed, before she bolted forward, swinging her sword like a demon hurtling out of hell.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
Huh... A composite servant where many wishes were gathered... The round table itself personified? I don't know.
- Location
- America
Well, Saber's certainly shaping up to be a user-friendly Servant.
- Location
- Plato's Cave
She's totally a SV hivemind-insert quest protagonist.
MMMMmmmmmm yeah I like this Saber. Chains are a cool weapon.
Chapter Five, Part One
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
When it came down to it, Joshua had once possessed a promising future. A body that possessed the rare magic circuits of a family of distinguished magi, many magical secrets that allowed him to stand head and shoulders above his peers, and a ready made path to the Swirl of the Root for when he came of age. He was the definition of a magus who had been born at the right time, into the right family.
But then it all came to ruin. His body was damaged, his life fell apart, and the path to the Root was found to be closed. That was the reality that had revealed itself when he had tried to cash in his pedigree. It was a refutation that one could become something without trading something. It was a fundamental truth he had believed.
Joshua was not his original name. No, it was a simple, common name. He had no desire to be associated with his previous name. Its pedigree had been his ruin. He had no desire to carry it with him. Normally, when a magus family fell into ruin, that was the end.
However, his life had not ended. Indeed, he had never been more content. Mixing potions and making crafts was a skill he had long since honed. His skills as a spell caster had grown rusty, in a way, for he had not needed to fling a spell at a man in a very long time.
In truth, it had been pure whim that had led to him summoning Lancer in this Holy Grail War. A simple desire of curiosity, for he wished to see the binding of a spiritual foundation so high as a Servant first hand. Indeed, it had given him much food for thought, for a time beyond now. For the sake of his Servant, for now he simply had to fight.
Of course, the man with a lame leg, reduced to hobbling on a cane, would not be fighting too hard. After all, his body was damaged, no longer in it's prime. It was a story for another time, what exactly had caused the damage, however, suffice to say, there was a beast that watched the path to the thing called Akasha, and it was not a friendly beast.
Lancer was a pleasant Servant to summon. His statistics were actually quite impressive, even if, perhaps, his mystery as a Servant left a little to be desired, a famous Servant whose appearance had actually surprised him. The catalyst that had called him had been intended to summon one of the legendary Xian, although Joshua was not surprised to learn he had been duped. It was an artefact of historical significance, to be sure, but the cup he had used was not one used by the Xian.
In truth, for someone who had inherited the deposition of a family who had chosen to pursue the foundation of alchemy to it's very possible roots, it was a miracle that the summoning had worked. The idea of summoning a heroic spirit through such a simple means was almost laughable. To a pursuant of alchemy, it was almost like making gold from thin air; a near impossible feat that if you could replicate, would open all sorts of avenues. It made him curious as to the very nature of the Holy Grail War itself.
That, more then anything, was a reason to join the fight. He didn't have to win. He just had to see the end of the war. That was all. To see the Grail, perhaps even to puzzle out its workings, would be the true treat.
For Joshua, it had been immediately apparent that the summoning of Servants in this war was different to that of the subcategory wars. How, exactly, it was different, he wasn't quite sure how to put into words. It was an important, vital difference, but one that he wasn't sure how to explain.
Yet when he had voiced this thought to Lancer, Lancer had merely told him that he was thinking too hard about it. Perhaps that was the key, that one needed to avoid complicating a matter, but when it came to something like spiritual bodies, the subject was simply inherently complex.
When they had first come to the neighbourhood that morning, Joshua had given up on the idea of 'testing' out his new familiar, as it were. While a magus had no need for a familiar weaker then they were, the idea that he might be stronger then Lancer was ludicrous. However, a familiar usually could not think for itself. Given that Lancer was a very calm and kind man, at the intrinsic core that could only be revealed through the vision granted to Masters, Joshua knew better then to perform such a simple act of antagonism. However, the burning curiosity had always been there, just under his skin. It was that simple desire to know.
Just how strong was Lancer?
"Do I have your permission?"
Somewhere inside him, Joshua was overjoyed to hear those words. The opponent, going by her blood red sword, was Saber. Lancer was a talented man who had easily deflected her sneak attack. Really, from the performance thus far, Joshua had no doubts as to which Servant would be crushed under the others heel.
There had been no need for overt permission, but Joshua had sent his mental ascent anyway. Saber was unlikely to leave without a fight, in any case. How she had found them, however, he wasn't exactly sure.
One could employ simple logic to discern the likely outcomes, to be sure. Saber was not of the Servant type to operate independently by nature; the price of the high power of the Saber class was their equally high maintenance. From that, it was easy to deduce that the Master was nearby. Either Saber was heading them off, or they had been found.
There was a third possibility, that Saber possessed the rare Independent Action skill on her own, which allowed her to move without need for her Master, but only the Archer class had it by default, and a Servant famous for independent operations with a sword would quickly give themselves away. No, it was an idea that could almost be discarded out of hand.
She was, however, fast. It was a simple fact. If one had blinked, they would have missed her charge, loudly cracking across the cement. Her sword gleamed as it flickered through the air, and Lancer's spear met it in a flurry of movement.
In many ways, it was like watching a dancer clash with a natural disaster. Lancer's movements could only be called fluid, with no unnecessary, wasted actions. Saber, in comparison, was more like a bouncing buzzsaw. Each clash was loud, as if the earth had met thunder and was weathering the strain.
In Lancer, was a martial artist of the highest calibre, but in Saber, there was something else, a primal fury that could only be called unnatural. Her body was like a hammer, repeatedly striking without once yielding the advantage. No matter how Lancer's body twisted around her blade, he could never advance a step, only move to the side or backwards.
To an untrained eye, to be forced to always move backwards could only be called a march, inexorably, to eventual cornering and defeat, yet to Joshua, it did not seem that way at all. In roughly two minutes of fighting at speeds that would cause an ordinary onlookers eyes to water, the pair hadn't managed to actually move an appreciable distance, having spun in a circle and reversed their positions from when they had started. In a small, minor way, it was concerning; if Saber wanted to murder Joshua with her chains, it would be almost trivial to fire them at him; however, she seemed far too engrossed in her battle to care.
Her movements were crisp, hard, deliberate. They were like particularly insistent punctuation. Not a single one could be denied. Not one was prevented. She would act, and so she did. There were no preemptive attacks that prevented her assault, nor could there be. She was a force of nature that would not slow for a simple man.
Lancer was by far not just a simple man, but he was not able to prevent the storm that was brewing before him. Perhaps it was easier to say he did not make any effort to prevent the storm, but rather, he deftly moved around the force of it's destruction. Each step seemed to move him three away, and Saber was always chasing after him, his spear weaving a deadly wall of death before him. In a very real sense, it was Lancer who was controlling the pacing of the fight, a steady gait in which he stayed one step ahead of the lion who would easily devour him, should even one pounce land.
It was a deadly, beautiful thing, and it brought Joshua to the stunning, harsh realisation, that there was simply no place for a mere human in such a fight. Even if he was a magus of the highest pedigree, what he was witnessing before him was no longer the domain of mere humans, but of monsters beyond human bounds trying, quite sincerely, to kill each other.
And that, that was a sobering realisation indeed. A magus had no need for a familiar weaker then they were. However, what happened when a magus obtained a familiar who was to them as they were to a worm, who not only was more powerful then them, but had their own will?
Suddenly, the question of whether it was even possible to win a Grail War, without something going catastrophically wrong. It seemed to be an almost impossible to create series of conditions, that a magus might actually be able to win.
Perhaps that was the true purpose of the Command Spells. However, that was irrelevant until the final act, and at this point, it was only the opening.
Lancer was not yet losing, that was certain, however, in truth, Joshua was not sure if the fight could progress beyond it's current state without revealing a good deal of his abilities. Lancer was not an uncommon kind of hero, a man with a strong base of skills and a Noble Phantasm that could at best be called average. He was a hero that, if this were a war in which the true legends, such as the likes of Achilles or Hercules, were brought to bear, there would be little hope of actually winning except by some means of outlasting the others and winning by default.
However, Saber's lack of the use of a Noble Phantasms name revealed some things about herself, too. The chain she had deployed, was almost certainly her 'real' Noble Phantasm. The only question was, how exactly did her sword fit into the picture? Was it some sort of telekinesis attack, or was it something else entirely?
Those were the hard questions a Master had to ask, for they were the ones with access to vast amounts of information. The simple fact was, the relative anonymity that Lancer enjoyed, was probably not also enjoyed by Saber.
With that in mind, it was probably safe to allow Lancer to fight a little harder.
'You may fight with everything that would not reveal your True Name immediately. See if you can force her to reveal something.'
It was simply an instruction. Joshua could make it an order; it would almost guarantee results, but it would also cost one of the Command Spells, an already precious resource. No, it would be better to hold those in reserve, for when they were really needed.
Mental commands were a useful tool. It would not work on a Caster, in all likelihood, but a Saber was unlikely to possess mind reading traits. It seemed Lancer had understood almost immediately, as he dropped his spear, kicking it straight at Saber, before unleashing one, two, three strikes with his fists.
The lady knight went flying across the street, crashing into a wall. As the dust cleared, however, it was clear she hadn't actually been harmed, pulling herself from the rubble. Where Joshua had expected confusion, there was only excitement.
Only the first of Lancer's fist blows had actually hit her. The rest had struck through specialised combat techniques that allowed one to render the distance between point a and point b a meaninglessly small number. It was a rare technique that was almost considered the domain of only sages, however, Lancer was a rare heroic spirit skilled enough to possess it, a technique for both movement and combat.
Lancer's mouth thinned just a little, as Saber drew herself out of her hole, rolling her shoulders, bloody red light burning from her left arm as chains ominously began floating in the air around her, like tentacles with a mind of their own.
"Well, that was actually pretty cool." She wiped the small trail of blood from her lip. "Not bad."
But then it all came to ruin. His body was damaged, his life fell apart, and the path to the Root was found to be closed. That was the reality that had revealed itself when he had tried to cash in his pedigree. It was a refutation that one could become something without trading something. It was a fundamental truth he had believed.
Joshua was not his original name. No, it was a simple, common name. He had no desire to be associated with his previous name. Its pedigree had been his ruin. He had no desire to carry it with him. Normally, when a magus family fell into ruin, that was the end.
However, his life had not ended. Indeed, he had never been more content. Mixing potions and making crafts was a skill he had long since honed. His skills as a spell caster had grown rusty, in a way, for he had not needed to fling a spell at a man in a very long time.
In truth, it had been pure whim that had led to him summoning Lancer in this Holy Grail War. A simple desire of curiosity, for he wished to see the binding of a spiritual foundation so high as a Servant first hand. Indeed, it had given him much food for thought, for a time beyond now. For the sake of his Servant, for now he simply had to fight.
Of course, the man with a lame leg, reduced to hobbling on a cane, would not be fighting too hard. After all, his body was damaged, no longer in it's prime. It was a story for another time, what exactly had caused the damage, however, suffice to say, there was a beast that watched the path to the thing called Akasha, and it was not a friendly beast.
Lancer was a pleasant Servant to summon. His statistics were actually quite impressive, even if, perhaps, his mystery as a Servant left a little to be desired, a famous Servant whose appearance had actually surprised him. The catalyst that had called him had been intended to summon one of the legendary Xian, although Joshua was not surprised to learn he had been duped. It was an artefact of historical significance, to be sure, but the cup he had used was not one used by the Xian.
In truth, for someone who had inherited the deposition of a family who had chosen to pursue the foundation of alchemy to it's very possible roots, it was a miracle that the summoning had worked. The idea of summoning a heroic spirit through such a simple means was almost laughable. To a pursuant of alchemy, it was almost like making gold from thin air; a near impossible feat that if you could replicate, would open all sorts of avenues. It made him curious as to the very nature of the Holy Grail War itself.
That, more then anything, was a reason to join the fight. He didn't have to win. He just had to see the end of the war. That was all. To see the Grail, perhaps even to puzzle out its workings, would be the true treat.
For Joshua, it had been immediately apparent that the summoning of Servants in this war was different to that of the subcategory wars. How, exactly, it was different, he wasn't quite sure how to put into words. It was an important, vital difference, but one that he wasn't sure how to explain.
Yet when he had voiced this thought to Lancer, Lancer had merely told him that he was thinking too hard about it. Perhaps that was the key, that one needed to avoid complicating a matter, but when it came to something like spiritual bodies, the subject was simply inherently complex.
When they had first come to the neighbourhood that morning, Joshua had given up on the idea of 'testing' out his new familiar, as it were. While a magus had no need for a familiar weaker then they were, the idea that he might be stronger then Lancer was ludicrous. However, a familiar usually could not think for itself. Given that Lancer was a very calm and kind man, at the intrinsic core that could only be revealed through the vision granted to Masters, Joshua knew better then to perform such a simple act of antagonism. However, the burning curiosity had always been there, just under his skin. It was that simple desire to know.
Just how strong was Lancer?
"Do I have your permission?"
Somewhere inside him, Joshua was overjoyed to hear those words. The opponent, going by her blood red sword, was Saber. Lancer was a talented man who had easily deflected her sneak attack. Really, from the performance thus far, Joshua had no doubts as to which Servant would be crushed under the others heel.
There had been no need for overt permission, but Joshua had sent his mental ascent anyway. Saber was unlikely to leave without a fight, in any case. How she had found them, however, he wasn't exactly sure.
One could employ simple logic to discern the likely outcomes, to be sure. Saber was not of the Servant type to operate independently by nature; the price of the high power of the Saber class was their equally high maintenance. From that, it was easy to deduce that the Master was nearby. Either Saber was heading them off, or they had been found.
There was a third possibility, that Saber possessed the rare Independent Action skill on her own, which allowed her to move without need for her Master, but only the Archer class had it by default, and a Servant famous for independent operations with a sword would quickly give themselves away. No, it was an idea that could almost be discarded out of hand.
She was, however, fast. It was a simple fact. If one had blinked, they would have missed her charge, loudly cracking across the cement. Her sword gleamed as it flickered through the air, and Lancer's spear met it in a flurry of movement.
In many ways, it was like watching a dancer clash with a natural disaster. Lancer's movements could only be called fluid, with no unnecessary, wasted actions. Saber, in comparison, was more like a bouncing buzzsaw. Each clash was loud, as if the earth had met thunder and was weathering the strain.
In Lancer, was a martial artist of the highest calibre, but in Saber, there was something else, a primal fury that could only be called unnatural. Her body was like a hammer, repeatedly striking without once yielding the advantage. No matter how Lancer's body twisted around her blade, he could never advance a step, only move to the side or backwards.
To an untrained eye, to be forced to always move backwards could only be called a march, inexorably, to eventual cornering and defeat, yet to Joshua, it did not seem that way at all. In roughly two minutes of fighting at speeds that would cause an ordinary onlookers eyes to water, the pair hadn't managed to actually move an appreciable distance, having spun in a circle and reversed their positions from when they had started. In a small, minor way, it was concerning; if Saber wanted to murder Joshua with her chains, it would be almost trivial to fire them at him; however, she seemed far too engrossed in her battle to care.
Her movements were crisp, hard, deliberate. They were like particularly insistent punctuation. Not a single one could be denied. Not one was prevented. She would act, and so she did. There were no preemptive attacks that prevented her assault, nor could there be. She was a force of nature that would not slow for a simple man.
Lancer was by far not just a simple man, but he was not able to prevent the storm that was brewing before him. Perhaps it was easier to say he did not make any effort to prevent the storm, but rather, he deftly moved around the force of it's destruction. Each step seemed to move him three away, and Saber was always chasing after him, his spear weaving a deadly wall of death before him. In a very real sense, it was Lancer who was controlling the pacing of the fight, a steady gait in which he stayed one step ahead of the lion who would easily devour him, should even one pounce land.
It was a deadly, beautiful thing, and it brought Joshua to the stunning, harsh realisation, that there was simply no place for a mere human in such a fight. Even if he was a magus of the highest pedigree, what he was witnessing before him was no longer the domain of mere humans, but of monsters beyond human bounds trying, quite sincerely, to kill each other.
And that, that was a sobering realisation indeed. A magus had no need for a familiar weaker then they were. However, what happened when a magus obtained a familiar who was to them as they were to a worm, who not only was more powerful then them, but had their own will?
Suddenly, the question of whether it was even possible to win a Grail War, without something going catastrophically wrong. It seemed to be an almost impossible to create series of conditions, that a magus might actually be able to win.
Perhaps that was the true purpose of the Command Spells. However, that was irrelevant until the final act, and at this point, it was only the opening.
Lancer was not yet losing, that was certain, however, in truth, Joshua was not sure if the fight could progress beyond it's current state without revealing a good deal of his abilities. Lancer was not an uncommon kind of hero, a man with a strong base of skills and a Noble Phantasm that could at best be called average. He was a hero that, if this were a war in which the true legends, such as the likes of Achilles or Hercules, were brought to bear, there would be little hope of actually winning except by some means of outlasting the others and winning by default.
However, Saber's lack of the use of a Noble Phantasms name revealed some things about herself, too. The chain she had deployed, was almost certainly her 'real' Noble Phantasm. The only question was, how exactly did her sword fit into the picture? Was it some sort of telekinesis attack, or was it something else entirely?
Those were the hard questions a Master had to ask, for they were the ones with access to vast amounts of information. The simple fact was, the relative anonymity that Lancer enjoyed, was probably not also enjoyed by Saber.
With that in mind, it was probably safe to allow Lancer to fight a little harder.
'You may fight with everything that would not reveal your True Name immediately. See if you can force her to reveal something.'
It was simply an instruction. Joshua could make it an order; it would almost guarantee results, but it would also cost one of the Command Spells, an already precious resource. No, it would be better to hold those in reserve, for when they were really needed.
Mental commands were a useful tool. It would not work on a Caster, in all likelihood, but a Saber was unlikely to possess mind reading traits. It seemed Lancer had understood almost immediately, as he dropped his spear, kicking it straight at Saber, before unleashing one, two, three strikes with his fists.
The lady knight went flying across the street, crashing into a wall. As the dust cleared, however, it was clear she hadn't actually been harmed, pulling herself from the rubble. Where Joshua had expected confusion, there was only excitement.
Only the first of Lancer's fist blows had actually hit her. The rest had struck through specialised combat techniques that allowed one to render the distance between point a and point b a meaninglessly small number. It was a rare technique that was almost considered the domain of only sages, however, Lancer was a rare heroic spirit skilled enough to possess it, a technique for both movement and combat.
Lancer's mouth thinned just a little, as Saber drew herself out of her hole, rolling her shoulders, bloody red light burning from her left arm as chains ominously began floating in the air around her, like tentacles with a mind of their own.
"Well, that was actually pretty cool." She wiped the small trail of blood from her lip. "Not bad."
- Location
- Plato's Cave
I can't really guess at who this Lancer is, since they seem like an Asian martial artist and they aren't the canon ones (well, they aren't Li Shuwen. They might be Hozoin Inshun but I know nothing about him beyond that he exists).
He seems pretty cool, though. Definitely feels like the kind of Servant you could get a flashy wuxia fight out of, at least.
Also:
And so the (mis)information warfare is shown to be well and truly underway.
He seems pretty cool, though. Definitely feels like the kind of Servant you could get a flashy wuxia fight out of, at least.
Also:
And so the (mis)information warfare is shown to be well and truly underway.
- Location
- America
Damn, don't have a solid enough grounding in eastern history and myth to make anything close to educated guess on Lancer.
The chapter itself is solidly written, but the perspective jumps between updates could be problematic in the long term. As a critic, consider sticking to Razel and Saber's perspectives for the whole of the engagement, and using their eventual withdrawal to focus on 'Joshua' and his Servant.
The chapter itself is solidly written, but the perspective jumps between updates could be problematic in the long term. As a critic, consider sticking to Razel and Saber's perspectives for the whole of the engagement, and using their eventual withdrawal to focus on 'Joshua' and his Servant.
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Rewriting the whole chapter is a bit of a big ask, but ill see what i can do.
- Location
- Singapore
I second what Lichte said, but I'd also suggest that the sentence structure be shorter for the fight description sentences. Right now they're very thoughtful and elaborate, which is good for a fight analysis style but doesn't serve well to give impact to each blow. It works this way, it's not bad, but it might get better!
Frakir's brother
Goodbye.
- Location
- The Sea of Trees
Only the truly famous and, indeed, monstrously inhuman were able to attain three or more Noble Phantasms. A hero of that calibre would be on par with King Arthur, without a doubt.
While undoubtedly true much of the time, like how Cu literally has a Noble Phantasm for every class, aren't there several weaker heroes that have a lot of tools? Astolfo and Yamato Takeru are two good examples of this. Perseus isn't quite Canon's fifth tier, but he is still a hero of many tools.
While undoubtedly true much of the time, like how Cu literally has a Noble Phantasm for every class, aren't there several weaker heroes that have a lot of tools? Astolfo and Yamato Takeru are two good examples of this. Perseus isn't quite Canon's fifth tier, but he is still a hero of many tools.
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Believe it or not, Astolfo is actually super famous. Astolfo is a part of the group that defines the idea of the modern knight, even if you haven't heard of him specifically you've felt his influence.
Perseus... well, his NP's have a gimmick to them, namely he has a lot of them, but he can only use one at a time.
Perseus... well, his NP's have a gimmick to them, namely he has a lot of them, but he can only use one at a time.
Frakir's brother
Goodbye.
- Location
- The Sea of Trees
I haven't heard of him before Fate, but I did know of the Paladins of Charlemagne. However, despite his fame Astolfo himself isn't at the average level of the Fifth war: obscenly overpowered.
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
The average level of power in Apocrypha is Karna and Achilles, then everyone else.
Chapter Five, Part Two
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
It was, perhaps, inevitable that Razel's attention would be drawn to the battle between Saber and Lancer. After all, it did not take long to clean his apartment of the precious few items worth worrying about. It was not an atelier, a workshop for a magus; there was no reason to worry about an enemy stealing research or any such thing. In truth, Razel did not own anything that could be considered worth stealing to the average magus anyway.
True, his personal weapon, a Mystic Code, could be considered a trinket worth examination, but the simplicity of it was not something that warranted inspection more then once. No, when one came from a lowly family, one was blessed with the small blessing that whatever secrets your body held, were not secrets worth knowing.
That was his sincere belief, anyway. The Marshall family was a bunch of nobodies who had failed to make it big in the world of magus politics. They had nothing worth offering except money and maybe an extra set of hands. It was not difficult to see why none of them had made it past the rank of Fes.
Reaching the rooftops was not difficult. The application of reinforcement was trivial even for the most incompetent of magi. Generally speaking, using magical power to reinforce the body and increase its performance was, perhaps, the most risky application of reinforcement, but it was also amongst the most useful. However, it was not a art most developed; Razel included, for it was a art known to lead only to a dead end. A tool, and nothing else, for it could never lead to the root of all things.
After all, what kind of magus did not seek the root of all things, Akasha. A magus who did not would be a very poor magus indeed.
"A Lancer. Looks Asian." Razel commented to himself as he settled on the rooftops, gazing down into the battlefield. In truth, since a Servant was a familiar, it was quite possible, trivial even for some, to use their eyes to see the going on of the battle. However, to the young magus hiding in the rooftops, doing so seemed inefficient, as if it would cheapen the momentous occasion that was occurring. A hero battling a hero was a miracle that simply did not occur in nature; to be so close to such a thing was something most magi could not claim, let alone anyone else.
"Spearman. Knows kung fu." Razel continued to mutter, watching the little dance. "At least, I think its kung fu. Might be a magus of some sort..." The young man winced as his Servant went crashing into a wall. Three blows, two of which had not even connected but struck anyway. To do that with magecraft would be exceedingly difficult in the modern age, but there were other ways to do it.
"Probably not a magus."
The revised opinion came with a nod, as Razel turned his attention away from his Servant and to the enemy master. A man, somewhat middle aged, who walked with a cane. His body looked withered on the left side, as if he was the victim of an experiment gone wrong, or perhaps it was a cultivated appearance. Razel did not get the feeling of a wounded man from that form at all; rather, it was the feeling of a conniving beast who had been injured and suffered nothing for it.
It would be a mistake without any doubt to underestimate an enemy master. Especially with a power like the Command Spells in play. So long as one could adequately think, the use of a Command Spell was entirely possible.
"He's pretty good." Saber's voice floated through the other end of the bond between a master and their familiar. Razel forced down the brief spout of surprise. He really shouldn't have been surprised that a Servant would be able to open the link. It wasn't something likely for a knight class, but many Servants no doubt possessed the knowledge of how.
Even so, Saber did not seem worse for wear, striding out of the mess she'd left behind in the wall. Even if she was covered in dust, she didn't seem particularly injured.
That, in and of itself, was quite strange. Saber was strong, but strong enough to ignore an attack that had been aimed directly at her body, ignoring her armour? It almost beggared belief, that she was completely uninjured.
Perhaps if she was using a defensive Noble Phantasm, but Razel did not feel any particular great strain. The entire situation was abnormal in the extreme.
"Did you deploy a Noble Phantasm?"
"Of course not."
Razel had his doubts as to whether Saber was telling the truth. If the gap between her and Lancer was just that great, then it would be unusual that the fight hadn't already ended in her favour. Her body did not waver under his blows, but those blows were enough to shatter stone.
Was that the power that the Saber class possessed, or was Saber just a particularly unusual heroic spirit? Razel did not possess the context to know.
The pair had already dived back into their deadly dance of death, sword, spear and chains flailing in a blur as they moved. The pace of the fight was no longer Lancer's to dictate. Side stepping and manoeuvring was made difficult by the chains that lapped at his sides, waiting for the chance to slip by his spear and skewer him. However, it did not seem that the change of pace had made all that much of a difference. His spear was like a blur, flickering left and right, up and down, his feet moving with rapid precision. His body was simply never once where Saber's blade could reach.
He was an extremely skilled warrior. That much was certain. The outcome of the fight would likely come down to the actual properties of Saber and Lancer's Noble Phantasms. It was not a fight either could win by simply nicking at the other, not in anything approaching a reasonable period of time.
At its core, a Servant was a being comprised of magical energy given form. As a result, the battle between two Servants could be called a war of attrition. When a Servant was damaged, their reserve of magical energy was diminished. Thus, a battle between Servants was a battle to shave away the opponents magical energy with the minimal expenditure of your own. There was a way to cheat this problem, of course; if the head or the heart were destroyed, in most cases the Servant would be killed as a matter of course, for those contained the essential parts of a Servant.
A Noble Phantasm was usually a method of achieving maximum damage on the enemy. Even the weakest of Noble Phantasms could easily become lethal in the right hands. They were weapons of legend, after all. However, they were not always efficient on a level of expenditure. They did, however, greatly expedite a fight.
If Lancer and Saber utilised their Noble Phantasms, the fight would come down to who wielded the more appropriate Noble Phantasm. What that Noble Phantasm was and how it was used would greatly change its potency when used against another Noble Phantasm.
Was that, perhaps, Lancer's true ace, that he had an unusually powerful Noble Phantasm? Did Saber possess an equally powerful one?
Without knowing Saber's identity, the strength of her Noble Phantasms would of course be a mystery. It was an unusually vexing situation, a mistake that Razel had not known was even possible before he had summoned his Servant. If he had known, perhaps he would have found a more specific catalyst.
There was no point in dwelling on what might have been, though. For Razel, it was a decision that had already been made and the consequences were simply what he had to bear. For now, though, the battle was at a stalemate that could not be resolved except by escalating it.
"How much more can you put out without your Noble Phantasm?"
"A bit more."
Saber's answer did not reassure Razel so much as placate his slowly fraying nerves. So Saber had something in reserve. That was good, but it did not necessarily solve the problem. However, glancing away from the mesmerising blur of combat for just a moment, Razel came to a different conclusion.
"A stalemate, then." He muttered. In the distance, he could see the gentle flurry of movement. Humans were making their way into the alleys. Continuing the battle would be foolish; it would risk the revelation of magic to the common man.
"Master?"
"Retreat. You have company coming."
The command was to the point, as Razel let out a small sigh. It did not seem that the battle had born much in the way of fruit. He could feel something from his Servant, almost like a mental glare, but he put that away in another compartment in his mind for now.
Drawing his bag just a little closer, he began jumping along the rooftops, sliding absently down a pipe to ground level. For a normal human, doing something like that would be the realm of the movies. Even for a magus, it was actually a waste of resources, in a way. It was quite easy to simply disappear into the crowd as he exited the alleyway, appearing like just another young man making his way to some destination, like a university perhaps.
After a few moments, he could feel the presence of his Servant by his side. She did not seem particularly happy. No, if Razel was honest with himself, she seemed disappointed.
"Problem?" Razel asked, pretending to be playing around with his watch. There was no immediate answer.
"Troubled." Saber finally muttered in his head. "That was a Servant, right?"
Razel just nodded, more to himself then to Saber, as he continued to walk. Really, he wished he'd had the foresight to procure a vehicle, but he hadn't expected to be discovered so soon.
However, there was the question of if he had really been discovered, or if it was just happenstance. Razel was inclined to think it was the latter rather then the former.
"He was good." Saber admitted. "Really good, actually, but it never felt like I was fighting another Servant." She seemed perplexed. Really, the statement perplexed Razel too. If it didn't feel like she was fighting a Servant, then it certainly had looked it to his eyes. Two warriors of sublime skill engaging in mortal combat was a sight to behold.
"What do you mean?"
There was no way to hide that sentence. The only way to deliver it was mentally. Saber did not immediately answer, as Razel began marching down the steps into an underground train station.
"I'm not sure. I feel like he should have been more… able to harm me. I'm no fool, I know the tales of the legendary masters of combat across the sea. He seems like he should rank amongst their numbers, yet his skill and the force of his blows do not seem to match."
That was a curious statement indeed. Had the Servant's summoning been defective somehow?
"Did they see where you went?"
"Doubtless we have a follower. I lost track of him almost immediately. He would not seem out of place as an Assassin."
"His class then?"
"His Master called him Lancer. Whether it was a response to my guess or not, I'm not sure."
"Then we will have to be careful, I suppose."
It was difficult to do as he'd said, however. While Razel made the idea of being careful sound simple, the reality was that it was anything but. Shaking his head just a little, he leaned against the wall, waiting for a train to arrive.
"You have a plan?"
"Of sorts. I'll divine the Servant later. For now, let's just focus on getting away from here. The battle last night might attract more visitors by the end of the day."
Saber did not answer immediately. That, Razel was not sure how to feel about.
True, his personal weapon, a Mystic Code, could be considered a trinket worth examination, but the simplicity of it was not something that warranted inspection more then once. No, when one came from a lowly family, one was blessed with the small blessing that whatever secrets your body held, were not secrets worth knowing.
That was his sincere belief, anyway. The Marshall family was a bunch of nobodies who had failed to make it big in the world of magus politics. They had nothing worth offering except money and maybe an extra set of hands. It was not difficult to see why none of them had made it past the rank of Fes.
Reaching the rooftops was not difficult. The application of reinforcement was trivial even for the most incompetent of magi. Generally speaking, using magical power to reinforce the body and increase its performance was, perhaps, the most risky application of reinforcement, but it was also amongst the most useful. However, it was not a art most developed; Razel included, for it was a art known to lead only to a dead end. A tool, and nothing else, for it could never lead to the root of all things.
After all, what kind of magus did not seek the root of all things, Akasha. A magus who did not would be a very poor magus indeed.
"A Lancer. Looks Asian." Razel commented to himself as he settled on the rooftops, gazing down into the battlefield. In truth, since a Servant was a familiar, it was quite possible, trivial even for some, to use their eyes to see the going on of the battle. However, to the young magus hiding in the rooftops, doing so seemed inefficient, as if it would cheapen the momentous occasion that was occurring. A hero battling a hero was a miracle that simply did not occur in nature; to be so close to such a thing was something most magi could not claim, let alone anyone else.
"Spearman. Knows kung fu." Razel continued to mutter, watching the little dance. "At least, I think its kung fu. Might be a magus of some sort..." The young man winced as his Servant went crashing into a wall. Three blows, two of which had not even connected but struck anyway. To do that with magecraft would be exceedingly difficult in the modern age, but there were other ways to do it.
"Probably not a magus."
The revised opinion came with a nod, as Razel turned his attention away from his Servant and to the enemy master. A man, somewhat middle aged, who walked with a cane. His body looked withered on the left side, as if he was the victim of an experiment gone wrong, or perhaps it was a cultivated appearance. Razel did not get the feeling of a wounded man from that form at all; rather, it was the feeling of a conniving beast who had been injured and suffered nothing for it.
It would be a mistake without any doubt to underestimate an enemy master. Especially with a power like the Command Spells in play. So long as one could adequately think, the use of a Command Spell was entirely possible.
"He's pretty good." Saber's voice floated through the other end of the bond between a master and their familiar. Razel forced down the brief spout of surprise. He really shouldn't have been surprised that a Servant would be able to open the link. It wasn't something likely for a knight class, but many Servants no doubt possessed the knowledge of how.
Even so, Saber did not seem worse for wear, striding out of the mess she'd left behind in the wall. Even if she was covered in dust, she didn't seem particularly injured.
That, in and of itself, was quite strange. Saber was strong, but strong enough to ignore an attack that had been aimed directly at her body, ignoring her armour? It almost beggared belief, that she was completely uninjured.
Perhaps if she was using a defensive Noble Phantasm, but Razel did not feel any particular great strain. The entire situation was abnormal in the extreme.
"Did you deploy a Noble Phantasm?"
"Of course not."
Razel had his doubts as to whether Saber was telling the truth. If the gap between her and Lancer was just that great, then it would be unusual that the fight hadn't already ended in her favour. Her body did not waver under his blows, but those blows were enough to shatter stone.
Was that the power that the Saber class possessed, or was Saber just a particularly unusual heroic spirit? Razel did not possess the context to know.
The pair had already dived back into their deadly dance of death, sword, spear and chains flailing in a blur as they moved. The pace of the fight was no longer Lancer's to dictate. Side stepping and manoeuvring was made difficult by the chains that lapped at his sides, waiting for the chance to slip by his spear and skewer him. However, it did not seem that the change of pace had made all that much of a difference. His spear was like a blur, flickering left and right, up and down, his feet moving with rapid precision. His body was simply never once where Saber's blade could reach.
He was an extremely skilled warrior. That much was certain. The outcome of the fight would likely come down to the actual properties of Saber and Lancer's Noble Phantasms. It was not a fight either could win by simply nicking at the other, not in anything approaching a reasonable period of time.
At its core, a Servant was a being comprised of magical energy given form. As a result, the battle between two Servants could be called a war of attrition. When a Servant was damaged, their reserve of magical energy was diminished. Thus, a battle between Servants was a battle to shave away the opponents magical energy with the minimal expenditure of your own. There was a way to cheat this problem, of course; if the head or the heart were destroyed, in most cases the Servant would be killed as a matter of course, for those contained the essential parts of a Servant.
A Noble Phantasm was usually a method of achieving maximum damage on the enemy. Even the weakest of Noble Phantasms could easily become lethal in the right hands. They were weapons of legend, after all. However, they were not always efficient on a level of expenditure. They did, however, greatly expedite a fight.
If Lancer and Saber utilised their Noble Phantasms, the fight would come down to who wielded the more appropriate Noble Phantasm. What that Noble Phantasm was and how it was used would greatly change its potency when used against another Noble Phantasm.
Was that, perhaps, Lancer's true ace, that he had an unusually powerful Noble Phantasm? Did Saber possess an equally powerful one?
Without knowing Saber's identity, the strength of her Noble Phantasms would of course be a mystery. It was an unusually vexing situation, a mistake that Razel had not known was even possible before he had summoned his Servant. If he had known, perhaps he would have found a more specific catalyst.
There was no point in dwelling on what might have been, though. For Razel, it was a decision that had already been made and the consequences were simply what he had to bear. For now, though, the battle was at a stalemate that could not be resolved except by escalating it.
"How much more can you put out without your Noble Phantasm?"
"A bit more."
Saber's answer did not reassure Razel so much as placate his slowly fraying nerves. So Saber had something in reserve. That was good, but it did not necessarily solve the problem. However, glancing away from the mesmerising blur of combat for just a moment, Razel came to a different conclusion.
"A stalemate, then." He muttered. In the distance, he could see the gentle flurry of movement. Humans were making their way into the alleys. Continuing the battle would be foolish; it would risk the revelation of magic to the common man.
"Master?"
"Retreat. You have company coming."
The command was to the point, as Razel let out a small sigh. It did not seem that the battle had born much in the way of fruit. He could feel something from his Servant, almost like a mental glare, but he put that away in another compartment in his mind for now.
Drawing his bag just a little closer, he began jumping along the rooftops, sliding absently down a pipe to ground level. For a normal human, doing something like that would be the realm of the movies. Even for a magus, it was actually a waste of resources, in a way. It was quite easy to simply disappear into the crowd as he exited the alleyway, appearing like just another young man making his way to some destination, like a university perhaps.
After a few moments, he could feel the presence of his Servant by his side. She did not seem particularly happy. No, if Razel was honest with himself, she seemed disappointed.
"Problem?" Razel asked, pretending to be playing around with his watch. There was no immediate answer.
"Troubled." Saber finally muttered in his head. "That was a Servant, right?"
Razel just nodded, more to himself then to Saber, as he continued to walk. Really, he wished he'd had the foresight to procure a vehicle, but he hadn't expected to be discovered so soon.
However, there was the question of if he had really been discovered, or if it was just happenstance. Razel was inclined to think it was the latter rather then the former.
"He was good." Saber admitted. "Really good, actually, but it never felt like I was fighting another Servant." She seemed perplexed. Really, the statement perplexed Razel too. If it didn't feel like she was fighting a Servant, then it certainly had looked it to his eyes. Two warriors of sublime skill engaging in mortal combat was a sight to behold.
"What do you mean?"
There was no way to hide that sentence. The only way to deliver it was mentally. Saber did not immediately answer, as Razel began marching down the steps into an underground train station.
"I'm not sure. I feel like he should have been more… able to harm me. I'm no fool, I know the tales of the legendary masters of combat across the sea. He seems like he should rank amongst their numbers, yet his skill and the force of his blows do not seem to match."
That was a curious statement indeed. Had the Servant's summoning been defective somehow?
"Did they see where you went?"
"Doubtless we have a follower. I lost track of him almost immediately. He would not seem out of place as an Assassin."
"His class then?"
"His Master called him Lancer. Whether it was a response to my guess or not, I'm not sure."
"Then we will have to be careful, I suppose."
It was difficult to do as he'd said, however. While Razel made the idea of being careful sound simple, the reality was that it was anything but. Shaking his head just a little, he leaned against the wall, waiting for a train to arrive.
"You have a plan?"
"Of sorts. I'll divine the Servant later. For now, let's just focus on getting away from here. The battle last night might attract more visitors by the end of the day."
Saber did not answer immediately. That, Razel was not sure how to feel about.