[X] Speak with Circe. She's been on edge since Niamh arrived and you reached the cavern, though that's justifiable enough. If nothing else, you need to take stock of what she plans on doing and how much power she's got left. It's possible she's still freaked about not doing much to help with Lancer, but at the end of the day you didn't do much either, so maybe that would put her at ease, if that's what's wrong.
Fate/Ethereal Order
- Thread starter Squirtodyle
- Start date
- Location
- Earth
[X] Speak with Circe. She's been on edge since Niamh arrived and you reached the cavern, though that's justifiable enough. If nothing else, you need to take stock of what she plans on doing and how much power she's got left. It's possible she's still freaked about not doing much to help with Lancer, but at the end of the day you didn't do much either, so maybe that would put her at ease, if that's what's wrong.
MiracleGrow
Miracles for only $19.99 [They/Them]
- Location
- DOOR STUCK DOOR STUCK PLEASE I BEG U
[X] Speak with Archer. You can do it privately and you still haven't thanked her for what she did in the fight with Lancer, and the encounter with Niamh right after. There's also the vaguely worrying fact that she mutilated herself to keep fighting, and she seemed almost as monstrous as Lancer did at times. Maybe it's something you need to talk with her about, even if she seemed fine when Lancer was dead.
Archer has been pretty great so far.
Archer has been pretty great so far.
- Location
- Midwest
[X] Speak with Circe. She's been on edge since Niamh arrived and you reached the cavern, though that's justifiable enough. If nothing else, you need to take stock of what she plans on doing and how much power she's got left. It's possible she's still freaked about not doing much to help with Lancer, but at the end of the day you didn't do much either, so maybe that would put her at ease, if that's what's wrong.
NGL just picking this so we can waifu her or medea later on if things with romani don't catch on.
NGL just picking this so we can waifu her or medea later on if things with romani don't catch on.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
[X] Speak with Roman. You want to comfort him after his friend died, and you want to keep him close because as much as you feel like a parasite for it, the contact he gave so freely helped center you in the hellscape you found yourself in. It'll definitely be best for keeping you grounded before the fight, that's for sure.
We need that thematic preparation for when we get whatever'd by whoever's up ahead, and yeah, Roman's a little bit suspicious right now.
We need that thematic preparation for when we get whatever'd by whoever's up ahead, and yeah, Roman's a little bit suspicious right now.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I can fault neither your honesty nor your appreciation for women who are half-chariot, half-dragon.
- Location
- Earth
Having read Cascade Failure, this does seem consistent with Ed's tastes.I can fault neither your honesty nor your appreciation for women who are half-chariot, half-dragon.
- Location
- New York
[X] Speak with Roman. You want to comfort him after his friend died, and you want to keep him close because as much as you feel like a parasite for it, the contact he gave so freely helped center you in the hellscape you found yourself in. It'll definitely be best for keeping you grounded before the fight, that's for sure.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A little bit of short notice, but I'll be closing the vote for this at midnight tonight, roughly 9 hours from now.
EDIT: Voting closed. The winning vote was to talk with Circe.
EDIT: Voting closed. The winning vote was to talk with Circe.
Last edited:
- Location
- London
[X] Speak with Archer. You can do it privately and you still haven't thanked her for what she did in the fight with Lancer, and the encounter with Niamh right after. There's also the vaguely worrying fact that she mutilated herself to keep fighting, and she seemed almost as monstrous as Lancer did at times. Maybe it's something you need to talk with her about, even if she seemed fine when Lancer was dead.
Chapter Seventeen: Saber
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Archer doesn't want to talk about herself and the thought of talking to Niamh makes your heart leap in your chest even with your tightly controlled reactions, so that only leaves Roman and Circe. You'd love to talk to Roman, to cling on to the warm presence he'd proven himself to be before, but ultimately he's going to be hiding back while you and the others fight. Circe's been helping you through two different battles and you know that she's running on a finite supply, or at least a more finite one than you. For all you were considered worthless next to her, you've still got the kind of Circuits that people expect from a family as old as yours. It makes the most sense to talk with her, and it lets you avoid letting everyone else know you're doing it as much for yourself as you are for them.
There's only so much comfort you can get here without your cigarettes to try fill your lungs with a different kind of smoke.
Still, approaching her is hard. She's been the more outgoing and outspoken one since the moment you two met, and she hasn't at all been shy about talking to you when she wants. That thought alone makes you hesitate a little; if she wanted to speak, wouldn't she already be talking? Maybe it's a bad idea, and the chill that washes over your spine just makes you more certain-
"It's alright, Edward. We can talk now." She turns to give you a small smile, though you note she can't help but shoot a glance at Niamh, walking behind you. She's keeping her distance for now, and Roman is watching to make sure she can't stab you in the back, but it's still putting you on edge. You just can't justify her walking in front of the Servants in the group, unfortunately.
"What did you-" You try to speak before she turns back, acting as if you aren't having a conversation while you delve deeper and deeper into the cavern, her eyes fixed forward as she keeps watch over Archer in front and anything that might surprise her. You'd prefer you be the one taking point, but being in the middle keeps you safe and makes it easier for you to rush to the defense of the humans or Servants as needed.
"The two of us are speaking privately, though you can still talk to Archer with your bond. I'm sure she'd probably try to stab me if I tried to talk without her being able to hover over your shoulder." She's chatting away in the same playful tone she's used before, but after a few moments it turns serious again, and even if you can't see the expression on her face, a little part of you likes to imagine that it's genuine concern. "You've been acting off since we met with your sister, Edward. I know you're being serious, but you were like a golem. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." It comes out sharper than you'd like, and you regret it a little, but she doesn't seem to mind. There's just a little moment of silence that lasts too long to be anything but intentional, before you sigh and continue. "We...don't have a good history. It's too much to talk about it right now, I just want to make sure you're going to be alright when we fight Saber."
"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I've got nothing left to lose here, and I had a long time to mourn my niece before we killed that husk. You can count on me, but I'm worried that we can't count on you." It's blunt as hell, but considering how often she's been flirting and teasing and dancing around stuff beforehand, you appreciate it. You kind of prefer it to her being playful like you've known her for years, as opposed to a few hours. "Tell me a little, please? She's not normal, clearly. Some kind of hybrid, or a blessing, or...?"
Your chest is tight, but you don't think you're getting out of this one. Hell, maybe explaining it a little could help.
"My family is old, and we had some kind of connection to the Aes Sídhe before they started to retreat to the other side. A contract or a blessing or maybe there was some interbreeding, I don't know. Sometimes a child is born as a throwback, and ends up as a perfect hybrid of human and faerie. Better quality Circuits, more Circuits, they age slower, have natural talent at magecraft...basically the perfect heir." You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice as you speak, until by the end of it you're all but spitting the words. You're glad it's a private conversation, because if it wasn't, you doubt you'd be able to keep yourself from rounding on Niamh and doing something you're not sure you'd regret until Olga started yelling at you.
"My parents didn't know they were having twins, and...she ended up being a Child of the Fae, and I didn't. So I was worthless. When I figured that out, I left. The end." It feels...you're not sure how it feels. Bitterness and spite twisted up inside your stomach making you feel like you've swallowed acid, especially with her being so close, but talking about it with someone that's going to disappear, someone he can be honest with, admitting even the littlest amount...it's a little nice. Too dangerous for someone like you to indulge in, especially with the way you can feel the temptation to let Roman in more and more. Working with your Origin might have given you some powerful tools, but you're not fond of how it's affected you in other ways. It's hard enough to stay isolated without your soul working against you.
"I see...hmph." The disgusted huff she gives is a bit of a shock, and though she doesn't turn, you can see the way her wings seem to fluff up in indignation. "What a stupid system. From what I've seen, you've got a good head on your shoulders, even if you do live up a little too much to that knightly thing you have going on now. I certainly would have kept you around to teach if I'd had the chance."
You're not quite sure how to react to that, even though part of you latches onto the praise like a starving wolf. She barely knows you, and you've been using power that you've been given, but...it's still nice to hear. Though considering it's coming from Circe...
"Didn't you turn the men you kept on your island into pigs?" You're a little surprised yourself at what you say, that you're even capable of making a joke in a situation like this, but then again, maybe you're just so tense and worried that what she said caught you more off guard than you thought. She turns to you again and gives you a little smirk, and...well, it looks good on her. The things you notice when you're marching to potential death.
"So you do have a sense of humour. I promise I wouldn't turn you into a cute little piglet, Edward...your sister though, she might want to watch out."
You laugh before you can stop yourself, and it feels good. Circe turns back, probably to avoid Roman or Niamh realising you've been having a conversation, but you caught the satisfied smile on her face. You're still tense, still worried, but a little less so, and when that same chill from before runs down your spine as Circe lifts her spell, you feel a little bit more ready for what's to come.
Hah. You certainly got what you were looking for, even if it meant Circe totally brushing past your attempts to make it seem like it was just professionalism.
The Holy Grail is here.
Roman is staring off into the corner, and when you glance over, you understand why. It's half-hidden by gloom, but you can see the heavy boots, the dark trousers, the tatters of part of a dark green coat. You can't see anything above that, but you can't blame that on the darkness of the cavern. Gently, you reach out to turn him aside, and he rubs at his eyes with his sleeve before giving you a grateful look. You might not have known Lev, but he was important to Roman, to Chaldea. That's enough to make you regret that you couldn't save him too.
"Master." Archer's voice is taut with tension, that one word almost sounding like a snapped bone as it echoes softly through the cavern. A moment later, when you look forward, you understand exactly why.
It's a woman, or at least something shaped like one, the silhouette of her short figure just barely defined through the darkness. It's almost impossible to see until she starts to step forward, and with every inch she strides closer, your chest gets tighter and tighter. Her body is all but totally covered with what looks like black plate armor shot through with red veins, but as she comes into the dim light of the Grail instead of hiding in the shadows of its colossal plinth, you realise that's not the full story. Her breastplate is steel, but as it stretches down her arms it shifts seamlessly into dark scales, the same red corruption streaking through them. She wears no gauntlets, her hands ending in savagely sharp claws, and her legs are the same, dark steel greaves giving way to a sea of black scales, ending in two three-taloned feet, each step leaving shallow gouges in the stone beneath her.
Like all the others, her eyes are covered, the same black scales that cover her limbs melding into a visor. Just like with all the others, it doesn't seem to impede her vision at all as she stares right at you. Her face is the only thing that's not completely covered with armor or scales, and you can see the dark veins that stand out among her deathly pale skin, her hair a blonde so pale that it's almost white. A thick reptilian tail sways behind her with every step, and you can just barely make out the skeletal frame of draconic wings pulled tight against her back, almost like a mockery of a cape.
Stepping forward maybe two dozen meters from you, she drives her sword into the ground and rests her claws on the pommel, and you swallow thickly. You know that sword. Every single Enforcer that's worked for the Clock Tower upon realising that the Holy Grail War was growing more widespread knows that sword. It's corrupted and tainted, a black blade instead of polished silver and glowing red sigils instead of the carved faerie letters, but there can be no mistaking it, and you can't help but let out a terrified pant of laughter.
Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory.
You're fighting Arturia Pendragon.
The silence stretches on until you can feel cold sweat dripping down the back of your neck, until finally, Saber begins to speak. It's halting, raspy, and uncertain, like her voice has gone unused for so long she's forgotten how it's meant to work, but the words themselves are understandable enough.
"I...guard this Grail. You...will not...take it. Leave...or die."
That she can speak at all is a shock after Medea and Cú Chulainn's insanity, but it doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that she's between you and the Grail, and she doesn't seem inclined to negotiate. It goes against everything you've ever been taught when it comes to this Heroic Spirit, but you steel yourself and step forward, casting a glance backwards and speaking with far, far more confidence than you're feeling.
"Step back. We'll handle this. Be careful." It's far more for Roman than it is for Niamh, but you're not losing any more of Chaldea's personnel today. Roman is moving backwards already, but it takes Niamh another few heartbeats, looking at you with panic and worry in her expression before she bites her lip and turns to retreat with Roman. You let the bitter thoughts of how she'd of course be upset when her favorite little dog is in danger flow through you for just a moment, before letting out a breath. When you fill your lungs again, you steel your mind and let everything but the fight to come drift away. Saber is waiting patiently, not moving a muscle as you stare her down, feeling the sweat drip down your neck.
"Circe, focus on strengthening us and distracting her. Archer, try to keep her from using her Noble Phantasm, and kill her when you get a good shot. I'll keep her attention." There's no arguments, no challenge to your orders, not even a worried look from Archer. It's three on one and the odds are distinctly not in your favor. If you screw up, you're going to die.
The air stills, and the world seems to slow to a crawl, nothing but the dim light of the Grail shimmering to show that there was any progression of time at all. It's so quiet you can hear your heart thumping inside your chest.
You don't know which one of you moved first, whether it was the twang of Archer's bowstring, the icy warmth of Circe's spell flooding your limbs, or your own legs sending you lunging forward, shield in hand, chain-blade in the other. It doesn't matter. Even with Circe's aid, you can't get to Saber before she blocks, and even though you're the one to tried to slam the heavy shield into her, you can feel your arm already going numb. She's only using a single hand, the other held casually at her side as you struggle to force her blade back, but it's like trying to move a mountain, and when she actually pushes back herself you're sent flying backwards. You manage to spin in midair and land on your feet, just in time to watch Archer send a volley of arrows at Saber, firing fast enough that you can barely make out the different shots as they rocket towards the corrupted king.
Saber just stands there, glaring through the visor at your Servant as her wings flare out behind her, a pulse of energy so thick and dense you can feel it like a buzz in your teeth even as far away from her as you are. It sends most of the arrows flying in random directions, disintegrating the few that were close enough to her, and then with an almost lazy swing of her sword she sends a lash of that same pitch-black energy towards Archer, gouging through the rock like it's nothing but wet sand. She just barely avoids it and retaliates with another few arrows, but a contemptuous wave of Saber's hand and another savage pulse of energy is all it takes to avoid them. Her movements lack any sort of finesse, but it's not like it was with Lancer, where he was too insane to bring to bear any of the skill he had in life. For Saber, it was a choice. Arrogance bled from her every move, and you feel a quiet rage bubble up inside you as you realise the truth.
She's not even trying, because there's no need for her to try. Finesse, tactics, skill, all of those are things lesser beings use to supplement their weaknesses. Against a certain level of raw power, at the level of raw power she possesses, they're meaningless. It will all end the moment she decides to exert any real effort and bring down that blade.
A snarl rips from your throat as you dash forward again, but your mind is moving faster than your body for once, and you're remembering how Archer's arrow tore through Medea's chariot-body earlier, whatever it was she did with it. There's no time for words but you do your utmost to send your impression of that memory through your link, and almost as soon as you do you receive a vague feeling of agreement. Your chain unwinds slightly around your right arm as you dash forward to strike with your shield, moving with the deflection you expected to swing around and aim for the other side of her head. Again and again you swing your shield and again and again it's deflected, each impact sending shockwaves through your arms until your bones feel like they're on fire and your muscles feel like jelly, but you keep going. Saber's expression is almost bored, but you can feel the gnawing pit in your stomach as Archer retreats to the shadows and starts to draw upon more and more of your mana. You can't see Circe and you don't have time to look for her, you'll just have to trust that she's doing something to help. When you feel the drain on your mana surge, you swing again, only this time you don't bounce off, locking your shield with her blade and pushing. She only has a moment to sneer at you over the rim of your shield before Archer fires.
Out of the corner of your eye you see it, even as it's making your limbs feel weaker than you're comfortable with. An arrow in the middle of a cyclone, sparks of electricity running through the dust cloud that it's picking up as it rips up chunks of earth and shreds them. Saber whips her head to the side and sends out another surge of black energy, but it's not enough, her arrogance working against her. Archer's arrow rips through the shroud of darkness, homing in on Saber's head, so close you can almost see it connect-
The typhoon rocks your body as it blows past you, weakened by Saber's own Mana Burst, and you can just barely see Circe's tawny wings low to the ground as she lunges forward with her staff, a blade of solid light emerging from the tip with a thrumming sound as she aims directly for Saber's throat. You feel her sword move and your shield moves with it, the impact of Circe's staff making your arms shudder and pain rocket through them again. When the dust clears and you can finally see what happened, your breath catches in your throat.
In one hand, she holds Excalibur, catching both your shield and Circe's blade of light like they're nothing, holding you both back despite your struggles. In the other, she holds Archer's arrow in her claws, only a few inches between it and her face, her hair blown back out of its tight bun to sail down her back by the force of the typhoon that the arrow had cloaked itself with. All that effort, and you couldn't even scratch her.
You did get her to drop her guard, though.
A pulse of mana is all it takes for your chains to move, looping under your shield and surging forward before Saber can react. Even with her Instinct, it's too close for her to react to, not when both her hands are occupied. You feel the rush of mana as she tries to send out another pulse, a buzzing in the back of your skull growing louder and louder by the moment as the silvery blade reaches higher and higher, and then metal touches skin and rushes through and feel the spray of hot blood as the blade of your chain pierces Saber's throat.
She screams.
It's a hideous sound, something no human should be able to make, something between a woman's cry and a dragon's roar, the blade through her throat not impeding her in the slightest. She tosses Archer's arrow aside and rips the blade from her throat, and for a moment you're afraid she'll destroy it but then more arrows fly towards her from the gloom and she has to let go to batter them away, Circe's disengaging to try and strike again and your chains are retracting to cover your arms and you can just barely see a little flash of green before Saber tilts her head, just barely enough to avoid an arrow the side of a small javelin pierce her skull. It still smashes into her visor, ripping out chunks of scales, and beneath it you see a poisonous yellow eye with a slit pupil, almost seeming to glow in the darkness of the cavern.
It's not focused on you.
With mounting horror, you glance backwards to confirm your fears. Niamh stands with her notebook in hand, a tall faerie warrior in darkwood armor holding a how as long as he is tall, with another silvery arrow nocked. She looks almost regal despite what she's wearing, a faerie queen not bowing before the evil dragon in front of her, standing up and resisting and declaring that she would fight her hardest against its tyranny.
She's doomed herself and Roman both.
Saber screams again, and this time it's accompanied with a surge of energy like before, nothing but pure, brute force and plenty of it. You're sent flying backwards and Circe only barely manages to avoid it, and then all of a sudden Archer is with you again, saying words you can't hear through the ringing of your ears and looking concerned, and then over her shoulder you watch as Saber takes her sword in both hands and begins to raise it to the sky.
You're moving before you can stop yourself, all but shoving Archer out of the way as instincts take over, your own, the Servant whose powers you've been given, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you make it between Saber and the two non-Servants, the two who don't have the slightest hope of being able to avoid it once the sword falls like Damocles' blade. Even as you rush, your hearing returns, just in time for you to hear the the rasping, furious word spill from Saber's mouth.
"Excalibur..."
You're in front of them, your shield ready, your body rigid, your mind in a panic. What can you do? What can you possibly do against this, one of the strongest Noble Phantasms in existence? Why are you doing it? To protect a doctor you barely know, that you only care so much about because your Origin all but forces you to connect with others faster than you can handle it? To protect a sister you hate, whose arrogance brought Saber's attention onto her in the first place?
Why did you ever think you could make a difference?
"MORGAN!"
Black death rushes towards you, devouring everything before it as you hear the crackle and roar of Excalibur's released potential, and time slows to a crawl. There's a simple answer to all of those questions, really. It's the same answer you gave in that hazy dream you only half-remember, a dark sun crashing down on you while you stood fast and resolute. Another dark sun rushing towards you now, and in your moment of clarity before your death, you realise that it's always been exactly that simple.
Why do you take up the shield?
To protect.
It's what he would do, if he were standing here now.
It's what you will do, standing here with his shield.
You suck in a breath as you raise your shield, casting your mind deep within and reaching for the power you know you hold, sifting through memories and names and emotions, searching for the key to the shield you know you could be.
[ ] It lies in the past, in the dormant blood that sleeps within, the legacy that passed you over before. The immortal Aes Sídhe in their everlasting faerielands, the blessed country of Tir na nÓg, where nothing dies or is destroyed, where all things are preserved. You call upon their permanence, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
[ ] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
[ ] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against it.
There's only so much comfort you can get here without your cigarettes to try fill your lungs with a different kind of smoke.
Still, approaching her is hard. She's been the more outgoing and outspoken one since the moment you two met, and she hasn't at all been shy about talking to you when she wants. That thought alone makes you hesitate a little; if she wanted to speak, wouldn't she already be talking? Maybe it's a bad idea, and the chill that washes over your spine just makes you more certain-
"It's alright, Edward. We can talk now." She turns to give you a small smile, though you note she can't help but shoot a glance at Niamh, walking behind you. She's keeping her distance for now, and Roman is watching to make sure she can't stab you in the back, but it's still putting you on edge. You just can't justify her walking in front of the Servants in the group, unfortunately.
"What did you-" You try to speak before she turns back, acting as if you aren't having a conversation while you delve deeper and deeper into the cavern, her eyes fixed forward as she keeps watch over Archer in front and anything that might surprise her. You'd prefer you be the one taking point, but being in the middle keeps you safe and makes it easier for you to rush to the defense of the humans or Servants as needed.
"The two of us are speaking privately, though you can still talk to Archer with your bond. I'm sure she'd probably try to stab me if I tried to talk without her being able to hover over your shoulder." She's chatting away in the same playful tone she's used before, but after a few moments it turns serious again, and even if you can't see the expression on her face, a little part of you likes to imagine that it's genuine concern. "You've been acting off since we met with your sister, Edward. I know you're being serious, but you were like a golem. What's wrong?"
"Nothing." It comes out sharper than you'd like, and you regret it a little, but she doesn't seem to mind. There's just a little moment of silence that lasts too long to be anything but intentional, before you sigh and continue. "We...don't have a good history. It's too much to talk about it right now, I just want to make sure you're going to be alright when we fight Saber."
"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I've got nothing left to lose here, and I had a long time to mourn my niece before we killed that husk. You can count on me, but I'm worried that we can't count on you." It's blunt as hell, but considering how often she's been flirting and teasing and dancing around stuff beforehand, you appreciate it. You kind of prefer it to her being playful like you've known her for years, as opposed to a few hours. "Tell me a little, please? She's not normal, clearly. Some kind of hybrid, or a blessing, or...?"
Your chest is tight, but you don't think you're getting out of this one. Hell, maybe explaining it a little could help.
"My family is old, and we had some kind of connection to the Aes Sídhe before they started to retreat to the other side. A contract or a blessing or maybe there was some interbreeding, I don't know. Sometimes a child is born as a throwback, and ends up as a perfect hybrid of human and faerie. Better quality Circuits, more Circuits, they age slower, have natural talent at magecraft...basically the perfect heir." You can't keep the bitterness out of your voice as you speak, until by the end of it you're all but spitting the words. You're glad it's a private conversation, because if it wasn't, you doubt you'd be able to keep yourself from rounding on Niamh and doing something you're not sure you'd regret until Olga started yelling at you.
"My parents didn't know they were having twins, and...she ended up being a Child of the Fae, and I didn't. So I was worthless. When I figured that out, I left. The end." It feels...you're not sure how it feels. Bitterness and spite twisted up inside your stomach making you feel like you've swallowed acid, especially with her being so close, but talking about it with someone that's going to disappear, someone he can be honest with, admitting even the littlest amount...it's a little nice. Too dangerous for someone like you to indulge in, especially with the way you can feel the temptation to let Roman in more and more. Working with your Origin might have given you some powerful tools, but you're not fond of how it's affected you in other ways. It's hard enough to stay isolated without your soul working against you.
"I see...hmph." The disgusted huff she gives is a bit of a shock, and though she doesn't turn, you can see the way her wings seem to fluff up in indignation. "What a stupid system. From what I've seen, you've got a good head on your shoulders, even if you do live up a little too much to that knightly thing you have going on now. I certainly would have kept you around to teach if I'd had the chance."
You're not quite sure how to react to that, even though part of you latches onto the praise like a starving wolf. She barely knows you, and you've been using power that you've been given, but...it's still nice to hear. Though considering it's coming from Circe...
"Didn't you turn the men you kept on your island into pigs?" You're a little surprised yourself at what you say, that you're even capable of making a joke in a situation like this, but then again, maybe you're just so tense and worried that what she said caught you more off guard than you thought. She turns to you again and gives you a little smirk, and...well, it looks good on her. The things you notice when you're marching to potential death.
"So you do have a sense of humour. I promise I wouldn't turn you into a cute little piglet, Edward...your sister though, she might want to watch out."
You laugh before you can stop yourself, and it feels good. Circe turns back, probably to avoid Roman or Niamh realising you've been having a conversation, but you caught the satisfied smile on her face. You're still tense, still worried, but a little less so, and when that same chill from before runs down your spine as Circe lifts her spell, you feel a little bit more ready for what's to come.
Hah. You certainly got what you were looking for, even if it meant Circe totally brushing past your attempts to make it seem like it was just professionalism.
Circe's Bond Level has increased.
---
You can't tell how long you've been walking when the tunnel starts to open wider, but the moment it expands into the enormous cavern resting underneath the temple, your breath catches in your throat. It feels wrong, not just because all of a sudden you've shifted from a tight cave to a cavern that looks like it could practically swallow the city whole inside it, there's a tension to it as well, like a balloon filled so full with air that the slightest pressure could cause it all to pop. Archer and Circe both tense up as soon as they step through the threshold, they feel it too. Even without the soft purple glow from the top of the raised plateau in the center of the cave, you'd know exactly where your target is.The Holy Grail is here.
Roman is staring off into the corner, and when you glance over, you understand why. It's half-hidden by gloom, but you can see the heavy boots, the dark trousers, the tatters of part of a dark green coat. You can't see anything above that, but you can't blame that on the darkness of the cavern. Gently, you reach out to turn him aside, and he rubs at his eyes with his sleeve before giving you a grateful look. You might not have known Lev, but he was important to Roman, to Chaldea. That's enough to make you regret that you couldn't save him too.
"Master." Archer's voice is taut with tension, that one word almost sounding like a snapped bone as it echoes softly through the cavern. A moment later, when you look forward, you understand exactly why.
It's a woman, or at least something shaped like one, the silhouette of her short figure just barely defined through the darkness. It's almost impossible to see until she starts to step forward, and with every inch she strides closer, your chest gets tighter and tighter. Her body is all but totally covered with what looks like black plate armor shot through with red veins, but as she comes into the dim light of the Grail instead of hiding in the shadows of its colossal plinth, you realise that's not the full story. Her breastplate is steel, but as it stretches down her arms it shifts seamlessly into dark scales, the same red corruption streaking through them. She wears no gauntlets, her hands ending in savagely sharp claws, and her legs are the same, dark steel greaves giving way to a sea of black scales, ending in two three-taloned feet, each step leaving shallow gouges in the stone beneath her.
Like all the others, her eyes are covered, the same black scales that cover her limbs melding into a visor. Just like with all the others, it doesn't seem to impede her vision at all as she stares right at you. Her face is the only thing that's not completely covered with armor or scales, and you can see the dark veins that stand out among her deathly pale skin, her hair a blonde so pale that it's almost white. A thick reptilian tail sways behind her with every step, and you can just barely make out the skeletal frame of draconic wings pulled tight against her back, almost like a mockery of a cape.
Stepping forward maybe two dozen meters from you, she drives her sword into the ground and rests her claws on the pommel, and you swallow thickly. You know that sword. Every single Enforcer that's worked for the Clock Tower upon realising that the Holy Grail War was growing more widespread knows that sword. It's corrupted and tainted, a black blade instead of polished silver and glowing red sigils instead of the carved faerie letters, but there can be no mistaking it, and you can't help but let out a terrified pant of laughter.
Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory.
You're fighting Arturia Pendragon.
Class: Saber
True Name: Arturia Pendragon
Stats:-
STR: A -> A+
END: B -> A
AGI: B - > D
MAG: A++
LUK: E
Skills:-
Magic Resistance: A
Class Skill of the Saber class, expressing a resistance to all forms of thaumaturgy. While ordinarily the corruption caused by tainted mud would result in a reduction in this skill's rank, the exact nature of Arturia's corruption brings her more draconic aspects to the forefront, allowing her to avoid any such effect.
Riding: X
Class Skill of the Saber class, representing the ability to ride and direct all forms of mounts. As she is now, Arturia eschews any steed, and so this skill has been sealed.
Instinct: A -> B
Supernatural instincts for combat, allowing limited precognition when in battle. As a result of the mental corruption that Arturia has undergone, this skill's rank has been reduced. Despite the madness and rage that lies beneath the surface, Arturia has retained some semblance of sanity, and as such this skill remains a powerful tool.
Charisma: B -> E-
A skill representing the capacity to lead and inspire others, all but required for a ruler. Naturally, Arturia possesses a B rank in this skill, marking her as a truly great candidate for a king, but in her corrupted state she no longer possesses such charm, nor does she care for it. She leads through fear and domination, and though her subjects may follow her, their morale will be extremely low.
Mana Burst: A -> A+
The ability to expel mana from one's body in order to strengthen themselves and their equipment. Arturia's corruption has enhanced her draconic aspects, and as such her Mana Burst has been strengthened as well. Each and every blow contains immense destructive force, and with the tainted mud providing her effectively limitless fuel for as long as it burns within her veins, Arturia is capable of abusing this skill with impunity.
Noble Phantasm:-
Excalibur Morgan: Sword of Promised Victory (Anti-Fortress - A++)
The legendary blade of King Arthur, granted to him by the Lady of the Lake alongside the scabbard of immortality, Avalon. Once the pinnacle of holy swords, it has been corrupted along with everything else about Arturia. Where once the light of humanity's hope would have shone freely, this blackened version instead emits darkness that devours light and bring nothing but despair, like the shadowy flames of the dragon Vortigern.
Upon activation, the sword converts Arturia's mana into an incredibly destructive beam of black energy that completely destroys all in its path. With the mud burning away her very existence into energy, Arturia is capable of unleashing this devastating Noble Phantasm as many times as she pleases.
True Name: Arturia Pendragon
Stats:-
STR: A -> A+
END: B -> A
AGI: B - > D
MAG: A++
LUK: E
Skills:-
Magic Resistance: A
Class Skill of the Saber class, expressing a resistance to all forms of thaumaturgy. While ordinarily the corruption caused by tainted mud would result in a reduction in this skill's rank, the exact nature of Arturia's corruption brings her more draconic aspects to the forefront, allowing her to avoid any such effect.
Riding: X
Class Skill of the Saber class, representing the ability to ride and direct all forms of mounts. As she is now, Arturia eschews any steed, and so this skill has been sealed.
Instinct: A -> B
Supernatural instincts for combat, allowing limited precognition when in battle. As a result of the mental corruption that Arturia has undergone, this skill's rank has been reduced. Despite the madness and rage that lies beneath the surface, Arturia has retained some semblance of sanity, and as such this skill remains a powerful tool.
Charisma: B -> E-
A skill representing the capacity to lead and inspire others, all but required for a ruler. Naturally, Arturia possesses a B rank in this skill, marking her as a truly great candidate for a king, but in her corrupted state she no longer possesses such charm, nor does she care for it. She leads through fear and domination, and though her subjects may follow her, their morale will be extremely low.
Mana Burst: A -> A+
The ability to expel mana from one's body in order to strengthen themselves and their equipment. Arturia's corruption has enhanced her draconic aspects, and as such her Mana Burst has been strengthened as well. Each and every blow contains immense destructive force, and with the tainted mud providing her effectively limitless fuel for as long as it burns within her veins, Arturia is capable of abusing this skill with impunity.
Noble Phantasm:-
Excalibur Morgan: Sword of Promised Victory (Anti-Fortress - A++)
The legendary blade of King Arthur, granted to him by the Lady of the Lake alongside the scabbard of immortality, Avalon. Once the pinnacle of holy swords, it has been corrupted along with everything else about Arturia. Where once the light of humanity's hope would have shone freely, this blackened version instead emits darkness that devours light and bring nothing but despair, like the shadowy flames of the dragon Vortigern.
Upon activation, the sword converts Arturia's mana into an incredibly destructive beam of black energy that completely destroys all in its path. With the mud burning away her very existence into energy, Arturia is capable of unleashing this devastating Noble Phantasm as many times as she pleases.
"I...guard this Grail. You...will not...take it. Leave...or die."
That she can speak at all is a shock after Medea and Cú Chulainn's insanity, but it doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that she's between you and the Grail, and she doesn't seem inclined to negotiate. It goes against everything you've ever been taught when it comes to this Heroic Spirit, but you steel yourself and step forward, casting a glance backwards and speaking with far, far more confidence than you're feeling.
"Step back. We'll handle this. Be careful." It's far more for Roman than it is for Niamh, but you're not losing any more of Chaldea's personnel today. Roman is moving backwards already, but it takes Niamh another few heartbeats, looking at you with panic and worry in her expression before she bites her lip and turns to retreat with Roman. You let the bitter thoughts of how she'd of course be upset when her favorite little dog is in danger flow through you for just a moment, before letting out a breath. When you fill your lungs again, you steel your mind and let everything but the fight to come drift away. Saber is waiting patiently, not moving a muscle as you stare her down, feeling the sweat drip down your neck.
"Circe, focus on strengthening us and distracting her. Archer, try to keep her from using her Noble Phantasm, and kill her when you get a good shot. I'll keep her attention." There's no arguments, no challenge to your orders, not even a worried look from Archer. It's three on one and the odds are distinctly not in your favor. If you screw up, you're going to die.
The air stills, and the world seems to slow to a crawl, nothing but the dim light of the Grail shimmering to show that there was any progression of time at all. It's so quiet you can hear your heart thumping inside your chest.
You don't know which one of you moved first, whether it was the twang of Archer's bowstring, the icy warmth of Circe's spell flooding your limbs, or your own legs sending you lunging forward, shield in hand, chain-blade in the other. It doesn't matter. Even with Circe's aid, you can't get to Saber before she blocks, and even though you're the one to tried to slam the heavy shield into her, you can feel your arm already going numb. She's only using a single hand, the other held casually at her side as you struggle to force her blade back, but it's like trying to move a mountain, and when she actually pushes back herself you're sent flying backwards. You manage to spin in midair and land on your feet, just in time to watch Archer send a volley of arrows at Saber, firing fast enough that you can barely make out the different shots as they rocket towards the corrupted king.
Saber just stands there, glaring through the visor at your Servant as her wings flare out behind her, a pulse of energy so thick and dense you can feel it like a buzz in your teeth even as far away from her as you are. It sends most of the arrows flying in random directions, disintegrating the few that were close enough to her, and then with an almost lazy swing of her sword she sends a lash of that same pitch-black energy towards Archer, gouging through the rock like it's nothing but wet sand. She just barely avoids it and retaliates with another few arrows, but a contemptuous wave of Saber's hand and another savage pulse of energy is all it takes to avoid them. Her movements lack any sort of finesse, but it's not like it was with Lancer, where he was too insane to bring to bear any of the skill he had in life. For Saber, it was a choice. Arrogance bled from her every move, and you feel a quiet rage bubble up inside you as you realise the truth.
She's not even trying, because there's no need for her to try. Finesse, tactics, skill, all of those are things lesser beings use to supplement their weaknesses. Against a certain level of raw power, at the level of raw power she possesses, they're meaningless. It will all end the moment she decides to exert any real effort and bring down that blade.
A snarl rips from your throat as you dash forward again, but your mind is moving faster than your body for once, and you're remembering how Archer's arrow tore through Medea's chariot-body earlier, whatever it was she did with it. There's no time for words but you do your utmost to send your impression of that memory through your link, and almost as soon as you do you receive a vague feeling of agreement. Your chain unwinds slightly around your right arm as you dash forward to strike with your shield, moving with the deflection you expected to swing around and aim for the other side of her head. Again and again you swing your shield and again and again it's deflected, each impact sending shockwaves through your arms until your bones feel like they're on fire and your muscles feel like jelly, but you keep going. Saber's expression is almost bored, but you can feel the gnawing pit in your stomach as Archer retreats to the shadows and starts to draw upon more and more of your mana. You can't see Circe and you don't have time to look for her, you'll just have to trust that she's doing something to help. When you feel the drain on your mana surge, you swing again, only this time you don't bounce off, locking your shield with her blade and pushing. She only has a moment to sneer at you over the rim of your shield before Archer fires.
Out of the corner of your eye you see it, even as it's making your limbs feel weaker than you're comfortable with. An arrow in the middle of a cyclone, sparks of electricity running through the dust cloud that it's picking up as it rips up chunks of earth and shreds them. Saber whips her head to the side and sends out another surge of black energy, but it's not enough, her arrogance working against her. Archer's arrow rips through the shroud of darkness, homing in on Saber's head, so close you can almost see it connect-
The typhoon rocks your body as it blows past you, weakened by Saber's own Mana Burst, and you can just barely see Circe's tawny wings low to the ground as she lunges forward with her staff, a blade of solid light emerging from the tip with a thrumming sound as she aims directly for Saber's throat. You feel her sword move and your shield moves with it, the impact of Circe's staff making your arms shudder and pain rocket through them again. When the dust clears and you can finally see what happened, your breath catches in your throat.
In one hand, she holds Excalibur, catching both your shield and Circe's blade of light like they're nothing, holding you both back despite your struggles. In the other, she holds Archer's arrow in her claws, only a few inches between it and her face, her hair blown back out of its tight bun to sail down her back by the force of the typhoon that the arrow had cloaked itself with. All that effort, and you couldn't even scratch her.
You did get her to drop her guard, though.
A pulse of mana is all it takes for your chains to move, looping under your shield and surging forward before Saber can react. Even with her Instinct, it's too close for her to react to, not when both her hands are occupied. You feel the rush of mana as she tries to send out another pulse, a buzzing in the back of your skull growing louder and louder by the moment as the silvery blade reaches higher and higher, and then metal touches skin and rushes through and feel the spray of hot blood as the blade of your chain pierces Saber's throat.
She screams.
It's a hideous sound, something no human should be able to make, something between a woman's cry and a dragon's roar, the blade through her throat not impeding her in the slightest. She tosses Archer's arrow aside and rips the blade from her throat, and for a moment you're afraid she'll destroy it but then more arrows fly towards her from the gloom and she has to let go to batter them away, Circe's disengaging to try and strike again and your chains are retracting to cover your arms and you can just barely see a little flash of green before Saber tilts her head, just barely enough to avoid an arrow the side of a small javelin pierce her skull. It still smashes into her visor, ripping out chunks of scales, and beneath it you see a poisonous yellow eye with a slit pupil, almost seeming to glow in the darkness of the cavern.
It's not focused on you.
With mounting horror, you glance backwards to confirm your fears. Niamh stands with her notebook in hand, a tall faerie warrior in darkwood armor holding a how as long as he is tall, with another silvery arrow nocked. She looks almost regal despite what she's wearing, a faerie queen not bowing before the evil dragon in front of her, standing up and resisting and declaring that she would fight her hardest against its tyranny.
She's doomed herself and Roman both.
Saber screams again, and this time it's accompanied with a surge of energy like before, nothing but pure, brute force and plenty of it. You're sent flying backwards and Circe only barely manages to avoid it, and then all of a sudden Archer is with you again, saying words you can't hear through the ringing of your ears and looking concerned, and then over her shoulder you watch as Saber takes her sword in both hands and begins to raise it to the sky.
You're moving before you can stop yourself, all but shoving Archer out of the way as instincts take over, your own, the Servant whose powers you've been given, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you make it between Saber and the two non-Servants, the two who don't have the slightest hope of being able to avoid it once the sword falls like Damocles' blade. Even as you rush, your hearing returns, just in time for you to hear the the rasping, furious word spill from Saber's mouth.
"Excalibur..."
You're in front of them, your shield ready, your body rigid, your mind in a panic. What can you do? What can you possibly do against this, one of the strongest Noble Phantasms in existence? Why are you doing it? To protect a doctor you barely know, that you only care so much about because your Origin all but forces you to connect with others faster than you can handle it? To protect a sister you hate, whose arrogance brought Saber's attention onto her in the first place?
Why did you ever think you could make a difference?
"MORGAN!"
Black death rushes towards you, devouring everything before it as you hear the crackle and roar of Excalibur's released potential, and time slows to a crawl. There's a simple answer to all of those questions, really. It's the same answer you gave in that hazy dream you only half-remember, a dark sun crashing down on you while you stood fast and resolute. Another dark sun rushing towards you now, and in your moment of clarity before your death, you realise that it's always been exactly that simple.
Why do you take up the shield?
To protect.
It's what he would do, if he were standing here now.
It's what you will do, standing here with his shield.
You suck in a breath as you raise your shield, casting your mind deep within and reaching for the power you know you hold, sifting through memories and names and emotions, searching for the key to the shield you know you could be.
[ ] It lies in the past, in the dormant blood that sleeps within, the legacy that passed you over before. The immortal Aes Sídhe in their everlasting faerielands, the blessed country of Tir na nÓg, where nothing dies or is destroyed, where all things are preserved. You call upon their permanence, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
[ ] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
[ ] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against it.
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- Location
- USA
[X] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against it.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
[x] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against it.
Naturally
Naturally
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
ARSLOTHES
ARSLOTHES
- Location
- Broadlands Va
[X] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against i
- Location
- Hollister
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
- Location
- Earth
[X] It lies in the past, in the dormant blood that sleeps within, the legacy that passed you over before. The immortal Aes Sídhe in their everlasting faerielands, the blessed country of Tir na nÓg, where nothing dies or is destroyed, where all things are preserved. You call upon their permanence, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[x] It lies in the past, in the dormant blood that sleeps within, the legacy that passed you over before. The immortal Aes Sídhe in their everlasting faerielands, the blessed country of Tir na nÓg, where nothing dies or is destroyed, where all things are preserved. You call upon their permanence, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
The key to this shield is definitely that I should be a fae creature, too.
The key to this shield is definitely that I should be a fae creature, too.
I do wonder what we're getting out of each option. Faery defensive Phantasm could be Avalon, but I'm assuming not since A) it would be hard for anything else to compare to Avalon, and B) It's very clearly restricted to Artoria only. None of the options particularly seem to fit Rho Aias.
Commonwealth1991
Thanks, I hate it.
- Location
- United States
[X] It lies in the past, in the dormant blood that sleeps within, the legacy that passed you over before. The immortal Aes Sídhe in their everlasting faerielands, the blessed country of Tir na nÓg, where nothing dies or is destroyed, where all things are preserved. You call upon their permanence, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
Time to prove those old bags in the family they picked wrong.
Time to prove those old bags in the family they picked wrong.
MiracleGrow
Miracles for only $19.99 [They/Them]
- Location
- DOOR STUCK DOOR STUCK PLEASE I BEG U
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
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[X] It lies in the present, in your own experiences, your own determination. In your fear you dismissed yourself, but you stand here because you were worthy, because you took up the shield. You won't borrow the power of the family you despise, nor the organization that you barely know. You will test your own spirit, your own oath, your own will to protect that drove you to do this at all. You call upon yourself, your conviction, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh your strength against it.
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ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
Ed: "baby needs to suck ash, baby needs to suck ash"
Circe: *moves toward him*
Ed: "Not ass you pervert, hands to yourself."
Circe: "If you were twins then why is she a child of the fae and not you?"
Ed: "It's magic I don't have to explain shit."
Oh like you're one to talk, you're the daughter of either two gods or a god and a sea nymph. You're getting so much juice from your Bloodline Technique you're this close to saying you turned all those sailors into pigs 'to test your ability'.
"... no but actually though, why did you turn all those people on your island into pigs. hey, hey circe, you didn't answer my question. why'd you do that. circe why are you ignoring me-"
But seriously, at least some good's managed to come from this! Ed's struck up a nice rapport with Circe, she's almost certain to tag along back to Chaldea now. Plus we've got- well probably not the full story of Why Are You Like This wrt Ed but a pretty good general idea.
you're hiding something you insufferable twink TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW
Nice, an even hotter Saber Alter. Plus she's even stronger than canon now due to the variation in her Blackening. Now these are the husbandos and waifus we should be tapping to bring home to Chaldea, not this Circe loser. She probably couldn't even win the game of thrones, smh.
damn, someone's really been eating her grail-wheaties
God damn. Archer is packing some serious power in there if she's able to shoot through a Saber Alter bladebeam with no appreciable loss in power.
You fool Salter, you fell for the classic blunder. You've been Wesker-in-RE5'd! Now Ed gets a free QTE melee combo on you for a metric shitton of damage.
Or a knife to the throat but hey works too.
Ed: "i see you have chosen to leave my life as you entered it"
Ed: "ruining everything for me o_o"
And then the sneaky hypermode magus assassin had to run in front of a fortress-annihilating doomlaser and try to block it. Ed is so wildly unsuited to being Shielder it's unreal and that makes it even better. Another spot of italics I see, but the way it's phrased it looks like Galahad isn't partaking at all as he's only ever referred to in the third person.
Otherwise known as Plan Try To Do Niamh's Job Better Than Her. Seems like kind of a reach considering we just had the conversation with Circe about how Niamh got all the superior dominant genes while Ed-mon got all the flawed recessive genes, but hey it's not impossible there could be a funky Bloodline Technique reaction. After all, I already mentioned how it's conceivable for Galahad to be half Irish or something nutty since he was the child of an ancestral Grail-keeper in a foreign land.
Otherwise known as the LORD CHALDEAS option. Not a bad one strictly speaking but it's not got the same weight for Ed that it had for Mashumellow in the source material, plus most of his interactions with Chaldea as an organisation have been Olga repeatedly stomping on his dick and calling him a little piggy.
This, conversely, feels too positive for this stage. Ed's standing between a Servant with an Anti-Fortress doomlaster NP and her targets, he only became a Demi-Servant that afternoon, he's still acutely aware of how Shielder-ing jars with his existing image of a fast whippy chain fighter dude, and also he's doing this to protect Niamh who sucks boo hiss boo. This is the sort of emotional response I'd expect more from far later in the story, for the Lord Camelot upgrade equivalent. So...
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.
I think this is ultimately my preferred of the three, and I know everyone will vote for number three so this is kind of a wasted vote, but I think it's not only something I could more easily buy coming from his emotional state at this early stage but - and maybe I'm off-base but this is from my point of view - it refocuses things to Ed's big 'problem' of caring about other people quickly and intensely given half a chance. It's not just about the organisation but about what it means, all the people involved, and that includes the mundane staff like the dude he got chewed out for trying to save in the sim. It's Ed drawing power and stability from his inclination to care about people and desire to protect them without instantly drawing that line to a feeling of "hey i can be a good person actually".
[X] It lies in the future, in the promise of what Chaldea brings. You've only just become a part of it, but you have to believe in it, borrow their strength and their conviction and their oath to protect humanity, and turn that into armor. You call upon its hope, to meet destruction incarnate and weigh their strength against it.