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Fate / Stained Inheritance
- Thread starter Sightedjt
- Start date
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
Honest answer- I forgot, was busy with bew job stuff aroumd then and it slipped my mind.
Vortigetn sheet
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
Statistics
STR-A
END-A->EX
AGI-C
MAG-B->A
LUCK-C
NP- A+
Chaotic Mad (When suppressed) LE
Skills
Magic resistance C ->A+
As a normal member of the saber class, Vortigern retains some resistance to magecraft. In his true form, this resistance is greatly increased, and even more against holy effects.
Independent action EX
Berserker has no need for a master, and can last indefinitely without one, given opportunities to restore his mana. This is only possible because of situational factors, given his proximity to his own corpse.
Madness enhancement C
This skill is one forced upon Berserker due to being summoned in said class, serving more as a shackle to help control him.
Power from the earth EX
Berserker is capable of drawing mana directly from the land. This effect increases in potency the closer he is to the spirit tomb Albion. While drawing power in this manner, berserker's wounds will regenerate. This skill is only usable due to his proximity to Albion.
Dragon Core A+
Due to his draconic nature, Berserker is capable of mana output far above what a human is capable of.
Tyrants might A+
Vortigern is a dragon and tyrant, boasting strength far above any mortal man, strength enough to strike fear into the hearts of those he faces when he demonstrates it. As Monstrous Strength, with an intimidation effect.
Noble phantasm
ALBION. Rank A-, Anti fortress.
Berserker calls out, and his body answers, conjuring a vast wall of bone and claws and scales and teeth to erupt from the earth, tearing apart and consuming his foes.
THE WHITE DRAGON EX
The more Berserker draws power from Albion, the more draconic he becomes. Eventually, he will return to his true form, the white dragon of albion. In this form, all of Vortigern's attributes are enhanced.
Speaking of Vortigern, his sheet in question, though it's a bit rough as far as full writeups go.
STR-A
END-A->EX
AGI-C
MAG-B->A
LUCK-C
NP- A+
Chaotic Mad (When suppressed) LE
Skills
Magic resistance C ->A+
As a normal member of the saber class, Vortigern retains some resistance to magecraft. In his true form, this resistance is greatly increased, and even more against holy effects.
Independent action EX
Berserker has no need for a master, and can last indefinitely without one, given opportunities to restore his mana. This is only possible because of situational factors, given his proximity to his own corpse.
Madness enhancement C
This skill is one forced upon Berserker due to being summoned in said class, serving more as a shackle to help control him.
Power from the earth EX
Berserker is capable of drawing mana directly from the land. This effect increases in potency the closer he is to the spirit tomb Albion. While drawing power in this manner, berserker's wounds will regenerate. This skill is only usable due to his proximity to Albion.
Dragon Core A+
Due to his draconic nature, Berserker is capable of mana output far above what a human is capable of.
Tyrants might A+
Vortigern is a dragon and tyrant, boasting strength far above any mortal man, strength enough to strike fear into the hearts of those he faces when he demonstrates it. As Monstrous Strength, with an intimidation effect.
Noble phantasm
ALBION. Rank A-, Anti fortress.
Berserker calls out, and his body answers, conjuring a vast wall of bone and claws and scales and teeth to erupt from the earth, tearing apart and consuming his foes.
THE WHITE DRAGON EX
The more Berserker draws power from Albion, the more draconic he becomes. Eventually, he will return to his true form, the white dragon of albion. In this form, all of Vortigern's attributes are enhanced.
Speaking of Vortigern, his sheet in question, though it's a bit rough as far as full writeups go.
079-Final Peace
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
-You spend your time with Ankaa
Sand falls through the hourglass as evening draws closer, bringing the end of the war with it. The air is tense and charged, each passing hour feeling longer than the last.
"This will have to do." In the basement of the manor, a cold and tired voice addresses a sweating boy as he picks himself up from the floor once again, rubbing fresh bruises. He takes the hand the one-armed woman in front of him offers as he sways, accepting the offer of a seat. A gasp slips from his lips as she begins to rub a salve over the wounds, stinging as it hits the cuts and scrapes he's been left with from the spar. "You've improved… ah, if only I had a year with you. What I could do with you..."
The boy's attention is drawn to the uncharacteristic wistfulness in the woman's voice, and he asks if she could stay, still an endless font of energy after being the clear loser in their training spar.
"Not like this." She shakes her head, glancing at the stump where an arm once was. It still twitches as she keeps applying the medicine to her students' injuries, moving to now-useless muscle memory. "You have done well enough to have my back so far. That will not be enough, and I will most likely be the first of our servants to die tonight."
There's a pause as she walks around, tilting the boys head up to look her in the eye. "You understand what you must do when the time comes."
He nods once, eyes darting around the room uncomfortably, his endless energy dimmed for a moment.
Elsewhere in the manor, an artificial girl stands in communion with her maker. She offers herself up for inspection, memories on display like words on page. She is pored over, discussed, dissected, offering what clarity she can on matters. Throughout it all is a great, obsessive need, tinting her thoughts as strategies are designed, refined, discarded and adopted. In the end, however… the choice will be hers. She was designed to be a unit capable of independent action and decision-making, and this is not a war that the network has control over. She must use that. She knows what the outcome must be. Everything else is up to her.
Somewhere else, a weary Lord and a faceless girl find rest where they can. One is barely awake from overwork, endless politicking and dealmaking to place himself in the best position to shield him and his from what comes after the war. The other trembles with nervous energy, her hidden features set with determination.
"You're set on that, then?"
"I am. I- I have to." The girl clutches her hands, her knuckles ghost-pale. "If I can get- if he can see me…"
"Do it, then. Make sure you come back without regrets. Take this chance and don't let go." The man replies, his voice carrying the echo of his own missed chances. "I'll be fine here, for now. I've done all I can on my end…"
"Here you go, Sir." The faint scent of tea fills the room as the girl lays a cup down in front of her mentor, the two passing the time in their usual manner.
Somewhere else, far from the manor, a nun stands on a rooftop, basking in the sights of the city. Her eyes are fixed on the gleaming silver of the Thames, and the metal shapes of the flood barrier near its mouth. The wind blows around her, leaving her untouched as a faint shimmer of power surrounds the feathered fan she carries. This is among her favourite sights: A living city, filled with countless souls, each brimming with their own selfish desires. Endless wants that swirl and mix together and fill her heart with dark temptations.
But here and now, it is the desire of one single girl that lies in the nun's heart. A battered, broken girl, blackened and tainted and endlessly tempting. A girl who would have every right to choose hate and violence. But who could also not. A girl filled with potential, potential that has drawn the nun to her, to offer assistance and guidance. To let the girl make her own choice..
That is what has driven the nun here, to discard the veil of impartiality that has kept her from the stage of this war. To have fought off her own darker instincts that have been swelling within her because of her interest in the girl. Instincts that scream at her to twist the girl, make it so that the nun is all she desires, all she can ever think of. Instincts that have tried so hard to stop the girl from making that choice the nun so deeply wishes to see. But they have failed, and the girl has chosen.
She has chosen to try and save even one person from the pain that shattered her past. She has rejected the hate that kept her sane during a decade of dehumanised hell, and found a place within the very people she despised. With the help of a brilliant guiding light, the girl has rejected her darkest desires. So as the nun prepares herself for what is to come, to act for that girls sake… there is only one thought on her mind.
"If she can do it, so can I."
That is what is happening now, in places both near and far within the city. But you are here, in the place you have found so much comfort this past week: You are nestled in Ankaa's embrace, breathing in the smoky, spicy scent of her cinder-dusted wings as you relax together. Your hair is caressed by a summer breeze that slips in through the open balcony doors, and you occasionally squirm as Ankaa shifts herself slightly, causing her feathers to brush against the nape off your neck.
This isn't like the other times you've embraced each other: It's no traumatised clinging, or tearful consolation. It's simply the two of you choosing to be like this, greedily drinking up each other's presence, your hands idly tracing scribble-lines on Ankaa's feathers while she has an arm wrapped around your waist, both of you leaning into the other.
It's a lovely expression, all the tension that had been building within you simply melting away in Ankaa's arms, her wing like a blanket on you- it's not even hot, which was surprising.
"It's not really fire, is it? Besides, how could anything of mine ever hurt you?" Was all she said in response to your asking, giving you a little giggle as she pulled you closer to her with that wing.
It's those little moments that make this time so special, this time which you know means so much to both of you. Moments where you talk about everything you've done, the heart pounding terror and the joys that you'd given up on experiencing. You talk about the future as well, what you plan to do as a mage. You're not sure about that, really. Living is… not really something you've had much experience with. You'll find a normal and go from there, you think. Maybe not a normal normal. But a normal that's yours. That'll be a start.
Even so, there's something you can't help but notice, from the way Ankaa's asking about the future. Something which does bring to mind one little question about your past as well.
"You're not going to be there, are you?" You ask, after a moment's hesitation.
"Ah- you noticed then, Mimi."
"You're… not really a liar, Ankaa. You just… said things like you wouldn't be here- That got me thinking, about long ago… What happened to the Servant that won the last war? If they're not here…" You say, working through your thoughts as Ankaa gives a guilty chuckle at being called out.
"Ahh, I should have known I couldn't hide that. It's hardly something I've had practice doing, is it?" Ankaa sighs, giving a slight, resigned, shrug. "I'm afraid you have the right idea , Mimi. We're summoned by the grail. Once it's gone, that's that for us Servants."
"Would've been too good to be true, I guess." You shrug.
"Now now Mimi, you're thinking about things the wrong way-" Ankaa tuts, shaking a finger back and forth, before flashing you a tender smile. "Does it lessen the joys we have shared this week, knowing that it must end soon?"
You shake your head after a moment's pause. It doesn't make these past days any less unforgettable.
"Everything ends Mimi… Even the stars above fade." Ankaa gazes upwards, a wistful smile on her face. "But that does not make them any less beautiful. Sometimes, it is how temporary things are that make them precious. Sometimes, it is only once something is gone that humans realise it's worth to them… Nothing is eternal, my Mimi."
She turns to look at you, shifting her weight ever so slightly to really look you in the eyes. Despite the melancholy in her voice, she's not unhappy here; you can see that in her amber eyes as she puts a hand on her heart. "Not even me. So I am glad that it did not take this ending to know what it meant to us. After all, these days have been blessed for me, days I would trade centuries for.
""Then- let's make the most of it." You say abruptly, cutting off Ankaa's trailing words. "If there's not much time left, let's use it. Do something, make sure we don't regret anything here."
With that, Ankaa scoops you up in her arms with a joyous laugh, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the cheek.
"I've one secret left to tell you, my Mimi. Don't worry, you'll find out when the time is right." She whispers into your ear as her lips leave your cheek, before she leaps out the room, vaulting effortlessly over the balcony railing to land the pair of you on the ground below. "But what shall we do with the time we have left?"
"Food first- that cake shop Kiara was at, there was so much else there." You decide, the thought of those sweets leaving you drooling. "After that- we'll see what there is."
"Then let us be on our way."
With that, the two of you head off to enjoy this last afternoon of the war, the same way you've spent so much of this last week.
Together.
The hours pass by like minutes, flying by until night comes once again. Tension fills the air as you regroup with the others and head out into the city once more: El-Melloi's staying behind, heading to regroup with Adashino along with Aldetha. They're not taking any chances about what might happen here, so it's reassuring to know that you've got another pair of eyes on your side.
Which leaves the seven of you, Masters Servants and Gray heading out in a single group into the city. They need to kill you to win the war, so there's no point in splitting up. You'll make them come to you. It takes maybe half an hour of patrolling, leaping between rooftops and glancing around the city before you see what you've been looking for.
On the roof of a building some half-mile away from you stands a knight in armour, a familiar blue cape flapping in the breeze. Gawain raises a blade in salute, before pointing it in the direction of a nearby stadium. With that, he leaps away, heading towards the nearby arena. With nothing else to do, you follow Gawain, landing as a group in the middle of the stadium, fake-grass crunching beneath your feet as the stadium floodlights shine down on you all. Three people stand opposite from you: The gleaming form of Gawain, The leather-jacketed form of Rider, his crimson motorbike idling beneath him, and the shaggy, dishevelled Master of Rider, Mr Wight. Caster and Lainur, however, are nowhere to be seen
"Of course the civvie doesn't show when he's needed." Rider spits onto the ground as your party approaches, Gawain taking a step forwards towards you, his sword still sheathed.
"How is she?" He asks, his voice forced neutral.
"She was safe and unharmed when we dropped her off. If your Master had any sense, she's long gone from here." Izabetha replies, voice calm as she meets Gawain's gaze. "Not that she was ever your true Master."
"Even so, it is a relief to hear. Thank you for acting with honour." With that, Gawain gives you a bow of thanks, before casting his gaze around your group. "I must ask one more thing: Are any here willing to face me in a duel? You have the advantage either way."
The air goes still as Gawain makes his last request, Scathach shaking her head dismissively. Though whether that's discounting her own chances in her crippled state or the idea itself, you're not sure. Izabetha's also having no part in it, going by the look on her face. You're about to turn to Ruler and see what she thinks, when golden light flashes beside you. The air sings as a you see a familiar scythe appear out of nowhere, pointed straight for Gawain.
"Fine- I'll do it." Gray's voice trembling as she steps forwards, pulling her hood down as she glares at Gawain, still aiming her blade at him as she walks despite the shaking of her hands.
Gawains eyes go wide as he finally, truly sees Gray's face, and he takes a step back. "No- not you- it can't be you. Is there none other among you who would face me- I cannot raise my blade against you!"
"You- you're going to have to!" Gray's voice is filled with nervous energy as she swings her blade into a battle stance, ignoring the desperate look on Gawain's face.
Do you intervene?
[] Let Gray duel Gawain, regardless of his objections
[] Have Ruler Duel Gawain instead of Gray
[] Don't have a duel at all
Sand falls through the hourglass as evening draws closer, bringing the end of the war with it. The air is tense and charged, each passing hour feeling longer than the last.
"This will have to do." In the basement of the manor, a cold and tired voice addresses a sweating boy as he picks himself up from the floor once again, rubbing fresh bruises. He takes the hand the one-armed woman in front of him offers as he sways, accepting the offer of a seat. A gasp slips from his lips as she begins to rub a salve over the wounds, stinging as it hits the cuts and scrapes he's been left with from the spar. "You've improved… ah, if only I had a year with you. What I could do with you..."
The boy's attention is drawn to the uncharacteristic wistfulness in the woman's voice, and he asks if she could stay, still an endless font of energy after being the clear loser in their training spar.
"Not like this." She shakes her head, glancing at the stump where an arm once was. It still twitches as she keeps applying the medicine to her students' injuries, moving to now-useless muscle memory. "You have done well enough to have my back so far. That will not be enough, and I will most likely be the first of our servants to die tonight."
There's a pause as she walks around, tilting the boys head up to look her in the eye. "You understand what you must do when the time comes."
He nods once, eyes darting around the room uncomfortably, his endless energy dimmed for a moment.
Elsewhere in the manor, an artificial girl stands in communion with her maker. She offers herself up for inspection, memories on display like words on page. She is pored over, discussed, dissected, offering what clarity she can on matters. Throughout it all is a great, obsessive need, tinting her thoughts as strategies are designed, refined, discarded and adopted. In the end, however… the choice will be hers. She was designed to be a unit capable of independent action and decision-making, and this is not a war that the network has control over. She must use that. She knows what the outcome must be. Everything else is up to her.
Somewhere else, a weary Lord and a faceless girl find rest where they can. One is barely awake from overwork, endless politicking and dealmaking to place himself in the best position to shield him and his from what comes after the war. The other trembles with nervous energy, her hidden features set with determination.
"You're set on that, then?"
"I am. I- I have to." The girl clutches her hands, her knuckles ghost-pale. "If I can get- if he can see me…"
"Do it, then. Make sure you come back without regrets. Take this chance and don't let go." The man replies, his voice carrying the echo of his own missed chances. "I'll be fine here, for now. I've done all I can on my end…"
"Here you go, Sir." The faint scent of tea fills the room as the girl lays a cup down in front of her mentor, the two passing the time in their usual manner.
Somewhere else, far from the manor, a nun stands on a rooftop, basking in the sights of the city. Her eyes are fixed on the gleaming silver of the Thames, and the metal shapes of the flood barrier near its mouth. The wind blows around her, leaving her untouched as a faint shimmer of power surrounds the feathered fan she carries. This is among her favourite sights: A living city, filled with countless souls, each brimming with their own selfish desires. Endless wants that swirl and mix together and fill her heart with dark temptations.
But here and now, it is the desire of one single girl that lies in the nun's heart. A battered, broken girl, blackened and tainted and endlessly tempting. A girl who would have every right to choose hate and violence. But who could also not. A girl filled with potential, potential that has drawn the nun to her, to offer assistance and guidance. To let the girl make her own choice..
That is what has driven the nun here, to discard the veil of impartiality that has kept her from the stage of this war. To have fought off her own darker instincts that have been swelling within her because of her interest in the girl. Instincts that scream at her to twist the girl, make it so that the nun is all she desires, all she can ever think of. Instincts that have tried so hard to stop the girl from making that choice the nun so deeply wishes to see. But they have failed, and the girl has chosen.
She has chosen to try and save even one person from the pain that shattered her past. She has rejected the hate that kept her sane during a decade of dehumanised hell, and found a place within the very people she despised. With the help of a brilliant guiding light, the girl has rejected her darkest desires. So as the nun prepares herself for what is to come, to act for that girls sake… there is only one thought on her mind.
"If she can do it, so can I."
That is what is happening now, in places both near and far within the city. But you are here, in the place you have found so much comfort this past week: You are nestled in Ankaa's embrace, breathing in the smoky, spicy scent of her cinder-dusted wings as you relax together. Your hair is caressed by a summer breeze that slips in through the open balcony doors, and you occasionally squirm as Ankaa shifts herself slightly, causing her feathers to brush against the nape off your neck.
This isn't like the other times you've embraced each other: It's no traumatised clinging, or tearful consolation. It's simply the two of you choosing to be like this, greedily drinking up each other's presence, your hands idly tracing scribble-lines on Ankaa's feathers while she has an arm wrapped around your waist, both of you leaning into the other.
It's a lovely expression, all the tension that had been building within you simply melting away in Ankaa's arms, her wing like a blanket on you- it's not even hot, which was surprising.
"It's not really fire, is it? Besides, how could anything of mine ever hurt you?" Was all she said in response to your asking, giving you a little giggle as she pulled you closer to her with that wing.
It's those little moments that make this time so special, this time which you know means so much to both of you. Moments where you talk about everything you've done, the heart pounding terror and the joys that you'd given up on experiencing. You talk about the future as well, what you plan to do as a mage. You're not sure about that, really. Living is… not really something you've had much experience with. You'll find a normal and go from there, you think. Maybe not a normal normal. But a normal that's yours. That'll be a start.
Even so, there's something you can't help but notice, from the way Ankaa's asking about the future. Something which does bring to mind one little question about your past as well.
"You're not going to be there, are you?" You ask, after a moment's hesitation.
"Ah- you noticed then, Mimi."
"You're… not really a liar, Ankaa. You just… said things like you wouldn't be here- That got me thinking, about long ago… What happened to the Servant that won the last war? If they're not here…" You say, working through your thoughts as Ankaa gives a guilty chuckle at being called out.
"Ahh, I should have known I couldn't hide that. It's hardly something I've had practice doing, is it?" Ankaa sighs, giving a slight, resigned, shrug. "I'm afraid you have the right idea , Mimi. We're summoned by the grail. Once it's gone, that's that for us Servants."
"Would've been too good to be true, I guess." You shrug.
"Now now Mimi, you're thinking about things the wrong way-" Ankaa tuts, shaking a finger back and forth, before flashing you a tender smile. "Does it lessen the joys we have shared this week, knowing that it must end soon?"
You shake your head after a moment's pause. It doesn't make these past days any less unforgettable.
"Everything ends Mimi… Even the stars above fade." Ankaa gazes upwards, a wistful smile on her face. "But that does not make them any less beautiful. Sometimes, it is how temporary things are that make them precious. Sometimes, it is only once something is gone that humans realise it's worth to them… Nothing is eternal, my Mimi."
She turns to look at you, shifting her weight ever so slightly to really look you in the eyes. Despite the melancholy in her voice, she's not unhappy here; you can see that in her amber eyes as she puts a hand on her heart. "Not even me. So I am glad that it did not take this ending to know what it meant to us. After all, these days have been blessed for me, days I would trade centuries for.
""Then- let's make the most of it." You say abruptly, cutting off Ankaa's trailing words. "If there's not much time left, let's use it. Do something, make sure we don't regret anything here."
With that, Ankaa scoops you up in her arms with a joyous laugh, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the cheek.
"I've one secret left to tell you, my Mimi. Don't worry, you'll find out when the time is right." She whispers into your ear as her lips leave your cheek, before she leaps out the room, vaulting effortlessly over the balcony railing to land the pair of you on the ground below. "But what shall we do with the time we have left?"
"Food first- that cake shop Kiara was at, there was so much else there." You decide, the thought of those sweets leaving you drooling. "After that- we'll see what there is."
"Then let us be on our way."
With that, the two of you head off to enjoy this last afternoon of the war, the same way you've spent so much of this last week.
Together.
The hours pass by like minutes, flying by until night comes once again. Tension fills the air as you regroup with the others and head out into the city once more: El-Melloi's staying behind, heading to regroup with Adashino along with Aldetha. They're not taking any chances about what might happen here, so it's reassuring to know that you've got another pair of eyes on your side.
Which leaves the seven of you, Masters Servants and Gray heading out in a single group into the city. They need to kill you to win the war, so there's no point in splitting up. You'll make them come to you. It takes maybe half an hour of patrolling, leaping between rooftops and glancing around the city before you see what you've been looking for.
On the roof of a building some half-mile away from you stands a knight in armour, a familiar blue cape flapping in the breeze. Gawain raises a blade in salute, before pointing it in the direction of a nearby stadium. With that, he leaps away, heading towards the nearby arena. With nothing else to do, you follow Gawain, landing as a group in the middle of the stadium, fake-grass crunching beneath your feet as the stadium floodlights shine down on you all. Three people stand opposite from you: The gleaming form of Gawain, The leather-jacketed form of Rider, his crimson motorbike idling beneath him, and the shaggy, dishevelled Master of Rider, Mr Wight. Caster and Lainur, however, are nowhere to be seen
"Of course the civvie doesn't show when he's needed." Rider spits onto the ground as your party approaches, Gawain taking a step forwards towards you, his sword still sheathed.
"How is she?" He asks, his voice forced neutral.
"She was safe and unharmed when we dropped her off. If your Master had any sense, she's long gone from here." Izabetha replies, voice calm as she meets Gawain's gaze. "Not that she was ever your true Master."
"Even so, it is a relief to hear. Thank you for acting with honour." With that, Gawain gives you a bow of thanks, before casting his gaze around your group. "I must ask one more thing: Are any here willing to face me in a duel? You have the advantage either way."
The air goes still as Gawain makes his last request, Scathach shaking her head dismissively. Though whether that's discounting her own chances in her crippled state or the idea itself, you're not sure. Izabetha's also having no part in it, going by the look on her face. You're about to turn to Ruler and see what she thinks, when golden light flashes beside you. The air sings as a you see a familiar scythe appear out of nowhere, pointed straight for Gawain.
"Fine- I'll do it." Gray's voice trembling as she steps forwards, pulling her hood down as she glares at Gawain, still aiming her blade at him as she walks despite the shaking of her hands.
Gawains eyes go wide as he finally, truly sees Gray's face, and he takes a step back. "No- not you- it can't be you. Is there none other among you who would face me- I cannot raise my blade against you!"
"You- you're going to have to!" Gray's voice is filled with nervous energy as she swings her blade into a battle stance, ignoring the desperate look on Gawain's face.
Do you intervene?
[] Let Gray duel Gawain, regardless of his objections
[] Have Ruler Duel Gawain instead of Gray
[] Don't have a duel at all
- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Let Gray duel Gawain, regardless of his objections
I support Gray. She can have a little honor duel as a treat, to cheer her up.
I support Gray. She can have a little honor duel as a treat, to cheer her up.
- Location
- Florida
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Let Gray duel Gawain, regardless of his objections
Let the Gawain trauma unfold!
Let the Gawain trauma unfold!
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Let Gray duel Gawain, regardless of his objections
Gawain, suffering, etc. I don't think Gray's going to win, but I doubt Gawain'll kill her. Maybe he'll have a little more sympathy for Lancelot this way.
Gawain, suffering, etc. I don't think Gray's going to win, but I doubt Gawain'll kill her. Maybe he'll have a little more sympathy for Lancelot this way.
ART: "You accept her"
- Pronouns
- It
huh, shes older than i expect
080- Finale 1
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
-Let Gray have the duel
"Sure about this?" You ask Gray as she steps forwards, quickly meeting her gaze as she gives you a quick nod in response; her attention's still fixed on Gawain.
She's not backing down from this. No matter what. It's only fair that you give her the chance she needs.
"Come on. Let's stop Rider stepping in." You nod to Ankaa as Gray walks past you, the blackened metal of your blades flashing into existence as flame gathers around her feet.
"Fine then. One last flight." Rider nods to his Master as you approach, Chang'e readying herself behind you. "Got your tricks ready, Maximillian?"
"Always."
With his Master's reply, Rider guns his engine and streaks off, his bike a crimson blur as he tilts it wildly to deflect Chang'es opening shot off the bodywork, his Master clinging on behind him for dear life as ghostly wisps follow in their wake.
"No time for half-assing it, Rider. We're going all out- I've got the rest all set. Just do what you do best!" With a manic grin etched on his face, crimson light flares around Maximillian's hand as he yells one last command. "FLY"
"Who's ready to be eighty-one then?" Rider cackles as he accelerates into a scarlet blur, reaching the stadium wall in an eyeblink and ramping himself into the air. "Face me in the skies, face the heart of Jagdgeschwader 1!"
The scream of an engine fills the air as red light flashes, and Manfred Richthofen soars on his crimson wings once more, the manic, adrenaline-junkie grin of a man who knows he could die in seconds and is loving it scrawled across his face. Behind him in the crimson biplane sits Maximillian, remaining by his Servant's side even now. After all, who could pass up the chance to fly with the Red Baron?
But theirs is not the only pair of crimson in the air tonight, as Ankaa unfurls her wings to their fullest extent, sending cinders drifting across the field. She glances back at you, the two of you sharing a wordless nod.
The sky is yours. Show him that.
One heartbeat Ankaa is there- the next she's gone, leaving a trail of flame in her wake as she soars skywards, a blazing arrow effortlessly gaining on Manfred. He pitches to the side as she streaks past, a frantic dodge to take him out of her way and to deflect the silver arrows being shot up from Chang'e below.
"You do not fear death, then, to fight like this." Ankaa whispers as she passes by, locking eyes with Maximillian in that brief instant.
"This late, it's win or die trying!" He yells back, shaking his head wildly. "Policies will tear my heart out for my part here, now Berserker's killed the only man who mighta covered my ass! The only way I live past tomorrow is if I win- then none of this matters!"
Maximilian turns his attention to Rider, crimson light glowing on his hand again as the ghosts that trail behind their biplane grow thick and heavy. "I'll be borrowing this- it's not right for you to fly alone. [Augmentation], [evocation], [shaping]… Now then, who among you departed will fly with a legend?"
In the instant Ankaa takes for the skies, Gray charges Gawain, her scythe gleaming under the stadium lights as the pair dance across the grass, each swing of Gray's being deflected by Gawain as he parries blow after blow, refusing to let any land. Even so, he's having to exert himself to do so; and after once leap to put distance between him, a drop of blood slips out from between the plates of his gleaming armour, staining the bright grass crimson.
"Why must you do this-'' He gasps, face pained as he continues to defend and only defend. "I cannot fight you!"
"Because I hate the way you look at me." Gray whispers, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she continues her assault on Gawain. "If I don't see a mirror- somedays I can- almost forget it! Go a day without hating this. So- stop reminding me. Stop looking at her- And look at me!"
Voice rising to a scream, Gray steps in with another lethally fast blow, sending Gawain skidding backwards through torn up grass from the blow's force. He looks up to where Gray hangs in the air, scythe swinging down as she descends from her leap.
"Saber. You will fight here." A voice speaks as crimson light shines for a third time. A calm voice. A confident voice. One that is eternally used to being in charge of a situation. The voice of a mastermind.
With a snap, a ray of pure sunlight shines down from above, illuminating Gawain where he struggles to hold his body in place, red lightning crackling over skin that begins to shed a golden glow as the sunlight infuses it.
"I'm- sorry." Gawain grunts out, as his resistance to the command falters and he begins his counterattack against Gray: A sweep of his blade forces her to block, sparks flying to match the red glow in the sky, as Rider's Master uses his second command seal in as many minutes.
But this time, it's not for his Servant's benefit. It's simply a source of power, raw energy to allow him to do a working far beyond his means. To conjure up specters of the past, ghostly replicas of the Baron's wing, their gray, translucent forms manifesting behind their leader in formation before peeling off to chase down Ankaa: She twists and turns in the night sky, a golden comet darting between the ghostly biplanes as they track her through the skies above, ever luring them onwards and upwards. The ghosts may be mere shades, but the staccato fingers of gunfire that they reach out to Ankaa with is no less real for it, spectral shot that carries a cold gleam in the moonlight.
And with the weight of numbers on their side, before too long some shots find Ankaa, drawing blood as they punch through a wing, the shades flying to cage her, to surround her. It might be a flesh wound, the work of an instant to heal, but it's still enough to disrupt her for just a moment.
Even so, they're far enough in the air now. Far enough above you that Ankaa will know if any should turn to attack you instead of her. Far enough to be safe. Far enough that while she cannot give it her all, she can still retaliate against those who would claim ownership of the sky from her.
Screaming through the air in a hairpin turn, Ankaa strikes back at the ghostly biplanes harassing her: The first one tries to roll away from her as she charges straight at it, only to be scattered like morning dew as Ankaa simply flies through it. These shades are nothing compared to her. In the end, as she burns ghost after ghost to mist with her flames, this is the only way the battle could go. Manfred is outnumbered and outgunned, while Gawain… Isn't Ankaas concern right now. She's not worried about Gray, at least.
So it's only her own caution stopping her from going straight for Manfred himself. She will not risk you becoming a target again. As Chang'e has things in hand, an endless stream of silver arrows coming up from below constantly forcing Manfred to stay on the defensive, there's no harm in clearing the skies and winning the war of attrition. But on the ground below, zabetha has other plans.
Izabetha stares up at the flying form of Manfred, fingers twitching nervously. She can see what Ankaa's doing. The safe, careful option- the luxury of someone who has an eternity to spare and endless restorative ability. But there's no time for that. This fight needs to be wrapped up quickly. The grail must be secured. Which means it's time to change tactics.
Manfred's ability as a pilot is superb. Every shot Chang'e fires is met by him pushing the engine further, moving in ever-more-extreme maneuvers to ensure the arrows glance off the bodywork, punch through an empty panel. So the answer is simple.
Ignoring the crimson flash of Scathach tearing apart a low-flying ghost, landing heavily and awkwardly from the jump as her wounds threaten to reopen, Izabetha acts: A silver spike gleams as she draws it from a pouch on her webbing, humming with the mana barely contained within it. As she's done so many times, she effortlessly shapes the metal into a gleaming arrow for Archer to loose at her foes. But this time, she adds something more. One single bullet, taken from an oh-so-tightly locked case. A precious tool. A precious memento. She brings it to her lips, whispering a goodbye to it. This may not be the last she has… but it is still one less thing she will be able to remember her father with. The metal flows like water around it as Izabetha places the bullet in its place within the arrowtip, and at last her weapon is ready. A quick droplet of power, and she feels the metal fletches twist and tilt. Just the way she needs it to be.
"We're doing things that way, Archer." Izabetha's voice is firm and cold as she stares up at her target, passing the arrow to Chang'e. "Three shots- quickly, before he realises. Then the kill."
There's a silent nod from Chang'e at Izabethas instructions, and she moves to follow them. Izabetha's gaze goes skywards, staring at Manfred's plane as the moonlight trails streak upwards at him; once, twice, three times. The instant she registers the third arrow soaring skywards, she acts. Power surges through her body, a tearing feeling in her head as she taps into her other side. Her human side.
"Time Alter: Accelerate-" A faint whisper slips from Izabetha Einzbern-Emiya's lips, and the world stops around her. Her last arrow soars in the sky, pure as moonlight as it flies towards Manfred. Her eyes burn as she reinforces them, zooming in to see every inch of the plane. In the space between seconds she watches him make his move, wrestling with the controls as his plane tilts. She can see how it's going to move as she reaches out with her magic, tilting the arrow's metal fletches slightly. Just enough to tilt its path slightly. To guide it.
The instants pass treacle-slow for Izabetha as she watches the arrow close in on her target. Even if they realise her trick, it's too late now- it's going to hit.As she lets time and her vision return to normal, she catches the start of panic on Maximillians face, as he realises too late that his Servant was never her true target. Then, it is done: Her arrow strikes true and the unstable, barely contained energy held within the silver detonates with lethal force.
In the moments before Izabetha's strategy unfolds, Gray and Gawain continue their spar across the turf, clashing with blinding speed. This is not a fight. Not really. Not when Gawain's moves are stilted and robotic, with none of the skill he displayed against Vortigern.
"Say something- answer me!" Gray gasps as she strikes, her scythe slipping through a gap in Gawain's defences to carve a gash in his armour, the blade bloodied as it comes away. There's more blood than just that on the grass and broken earth, and not all from Gray's attacks. Whatever she was hoping to hear in response, she doesn't get it, merely a strangled grunt escaping Gawain's throat.
"What a disappointment." The confident voice of Saber's hidden master sounds through the stadium again, a letdown sigh accompanying the words. "Still… it is not entirely a waste."
You feel someones gaze fall upon you, as you dive to the side, avoiding a lethal bolt of energy that falls from the sky- albeit one aimed at you with all the killing intent of a pebble tossed into a lake. "Yagami, was it now? I suppose you are enough to deserve a name."
Your skin prickles as you glare up at the sky, the dismissive tone of the speaker setting your teeth grinding.
"I must admit, your growth has surprised me." The voice tosses you the barest scrap of approval. "I do have a place for one with your… unique talents. A work that would benefit greatly from what you can do."
"Not interested." You snap back without thinking. They're one of the masterminds here, so they're one of the people who kept you caged. Even without that… you hate the tone of their voice. Aloof. Above the world. And not once talking about why you should, only about what it would do for them.
"Hardly unexpected, given your fresh association with my fellow Lord. Well, the offer remains, should you survive. Something as mundane as mortal peril is hardly an obstacle to working together, in the world of magecraft." You can just hear the voice shrug at that as you feel their gaze leave you.
As the explosion of Izabetha's last arrow fills the sky above you, you find your attention drawn back to where Gray and Gawain's duel reaches its conclusion, as a well timed spring forwards takes Gray over her foe's guard to shatter his breastplate with her blow.
Metal cracks and falls to the ground, as a torrent of blood pours out onto the earth from within Gawain's armour. You see bare flesh, nearly torn apart by the row of deep gashes punched into it, some nearly going all the way through him: The wound from when Vortigern nearly tore him apart. He's been fighting this whole time without having had the chance to heal. He drops to his knees, supporting himself on his blade, the compulsion to fight finally fading. Now, at last, he has words for Gray.
"I am sorry, my lady. I cannot see you as anyone else. That is the face of my king. You speak, and I hear their voice. No matter how much you scream… I want you to be Arthur." Gawain's voice is weak as he forces himself upright once more. "With what I wish for… how could I not wish to see him again?"
There's a soft, sad noise from somewhere within Gray's throat as Gawain tilts his head back, looking at the stars. They're so much dimmer than the ones he remembers. He sighs, and in this moment he is defeated. "Even though I can only see him… It is because of my heart, and nothing more. I know this isn't right. That this is not the hour of my king's return… So no matter how much I want you to be them… You can't be."
Gawain sways on his feet as Galatine falls from limp fingers, shakily raising one fist to his torn apart chest in something that is not quite a salute. "May you forget the way I looked at you."
Then, with one last blood-choked chuckle… Gawain is gone, vanishing into golden mist.
You feel his essence swirling around, being drawn to the river and the grail that awaits there. Though your stomach rumbles at the richness, you hold yourself back, refraining from taking a bite out of his spirit. Out of thanks for him having helped you last night, perhaps. Or maybe it's just that you don't want to disorient yourself here and now.
Either way, he is gone, and his Master has left wherever he was as well. You see Gray start walking over to you, as Scathach and flat drop in from above, having found no sign of Caster in their patrolling.
Now all that remains is to await the conclusion of the fight in the skies.
A scream splits the sky as Izabetha's arrow detonates, shredding flesh and burning circuits. Maximilian yells in agony, as he feels senses he's spent a lifetime cultivating burn away under the surge of power that suddenly flows through his body. His vision dims as he slumps forwards in his seat, halfway falling out the jagged hole in the plane left from the explosion.
Manfred's yelling something at him, but he can't hear it. There's something he can still do. They both knew how it had to go. Victory or death. Red light flashes from a bloodied hand as he gives his last command to his servant. Stay here. Fly. Win.
Then, everything goes silent and dark.
"No- not like this!" Manfred yells at the uncaring night as his Master dies in the seat behind him, unable to do anything. Even with the last command anchoring him, giving him form… gold dust is beginning to drift from his body. In time, he will vanish like morning mist. "Not the slow death- not again! Damn you Archer, you coward!"
He spins his plane around, flying straight down to where he can see Chang'e and Izabetha, standing on the stadium's roof. A suicidal charge. If he must die, he's at least going to avenge his Master. Which is when a blazing light shoots past him, the winged form of Ankaa filling his vision as she floats in the air ahead of him.
Ankaa is calm as she flies through the air, staring Manfred down. Maybe if she had chosen a different approach, this would not have happened. But it has. So she must deal with it. Her foe cares not for his own life anymore… but she will not allow this. Mimi will not meet her end to some suicidal rush like this.
It's okay. She can do this. It won't doom her.
"Did you really think I'd let that change how I feel about you?"
Your words flash through Ankaa's mind as her flame flickers and burns, a sickly, ominous blue creeping into their hue as Ankaa taps into the side of herself that she hates. Manfreds eyes widen, a faint blue circle glowing around his pupil as Ankaa takes off into the sky.
Immortality- it's right there for the taking! If he can get it- he won't die by inches and hours- he'll live, he'll be the king of the skies, an eternal legend! Thoughts of suicidal revenge burned from his mind by the baleful glow of Ankaa's blue flames, Manfred turns to follow her, madly firing his gun at her he soars behind her, ever chasing her onwards through the night.
It worked. She's managed to channel this side of herself. But there's no joy on Ankaa's face as she carves a burning trail through the night sky, weaving around skyscrapers and twisting between the ragged, erratic gunfire from her pursuer. How could she feel joy, when she leads a man to his death?
Straightening out from a turn, Ankaa soars straight upwards, leading Manfred ever upwards. The roar of his engine begins to stutter as they breach the clouds, the rattling sound of mechanical failures and ignored in his madness. With thee city left nothing more than luminous specks below them, Ankaa hangs in the sky, the moon at her back, seemingly reflecting her light. Now, at last, she gladly let's go of that darker power, and sanity returns to Manfred all too late.
Slowing from one last, desperate burst of acceleration, his engine sputters and dies, a terrible creaking sound reaching his ears. He looks to the side, gasping in the thin air as he sees cracks spread through the wing that was closest to the blast from Izabetha's arrow. As if in slow motion, it breaks completely, falling to the ground below, towards the city lights that are indistinguishable from the golden dust he bleeds.
It's over for him now.
With that, Manfre relaxes in his seat, letting the fall take him as Ankaa dives down, her blazing body crossing the distance between them in heartbeats. He looks up, meeting her gaze as he accepts his fate. He's never seen the world from this far up before. It'd me nice if his Master was still here to see it, though. "That… was a good flight. Ah… what beautiful wings you have."
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Ankaa says in response to Manfred's whisper, with nothing but a wordless nod in response. With that, the world seems to go still, as the fire around her grows ever warmer and brighter, surging out from her in a great, white hot blaze.
There are many ways Ankaa could have ended this. But out of respect for a fellow flier, she chose this one… So that Manfred and Maximillian depart this world together, in a pyre few could dream of.
Just like that, it's over, as you see the burning light of Ankaa returning to your side. There's a warm feeling in your body, and you look down to see a faint gold glow pulsing in your chest, tracing out along the lines of your circuits. The grail's got close to completion. You glance around the stadium, seeing the faces of your companions as they look at you and realise what this means.
Which is when you scream in agony as a railroad spike of agony slams into your skull, forcing you to stagger and retch and double over as jagged black lines throb in your vision… along with faint, eyeburn-afterimages of hateful red eyes as you feel the faint traces of one last servant enter your body, the pain making you unable to resist that urge to just take a bite of them as they pass on.
But it's not Rider you're consuming here.
A gale-force gust of wind shoots fills the room as the nun glares hatefully at you, the force of the wind forcing you to brace yourself as the metal walls of the chamber creak and glass cracks. In one hand she holds the feathered fan that caused the gale, aimed threateningly at- not you, your Master. In the other, she holds an unconscious body, barely in their teens. She stands by an empty, cruel harness, all cold cruel metal and jagged wires. The marks of the connections are clear as day on the rescued person, who moans softly in their slumber. As for the other six cradles, filled with equally abused occupants… a glance is all you need to know that they are beyond saving. Were they a patient of yours… painkillers. Anaesthetics. Enough to let them die peacefully in their sleep. That's all you could do for them.
The nun yells at you to stay back, hurling another razor-sharp breeze at you and your Master- enough to force you to take a step back and ward it off yourself. She turns to run through the opposite door, refusing to abandon her charge no matter how much it slows her down. You're about to chase her down when you hear the inhuman cackle from behind you. Dread creeps up your back as you turn to look at- the only other person here.
Shredded skin is the first thing you see, hanging loosely from their elderly form. They haven't even bothered to defend themselves from the biting wind the nun struck you with. Your experience as a doctor screams at you, begging you to notice the fact that there's not a single drop of blood on the flayed skin.
And that's when you see what lies beneath your Masters skin. The churning, writhing, wormlike mass of ugly black tentacles, covered in a harsh, ashen carapace. The inhuman chuckle reaches your ears again, with your Master's mouth not moving one inch. You can't even see any breathing. The tentacles shudder as the carapace cracks in tens of places, blood-red diamond shaped eyes gazing at you with hate you've never seen before- even the counts fury at learning what you did to his brides is nothing to this.
Faster than you can even think, your body is torn apart as dozens of spikes impale you- and as your blood sprays across the walls, you look down to see yet more of those red eyes lurking within your shadow. As your body begins to fade away, you see your Masters body uncoil into something truly inhuman, tendrils uncoiling to impale each of the captive vessels: Raised lumps begin radiating out from the bleeding points of impact as the tentacles push themselves further in, burrowing beneath their skin.
You were summoned to try and claim the grail, and you have merely helped a monster- a demon. As your life here ends, you see the loose patch of discarded skin that used to be your Masters hand, discarded like a used glove. The last thing you see is the faded stain where a command seal used to be, and you recall what the command was, now when it is too late to matter. "Forget"
"̦̮̞͓̠͇͞T̞̲̪̤͔̯͎͡h̼̩͚͚̰̝̱͓͞͞i̷͏̲͍s̫͡ ̢̹̣̩͇i̡͈̤s͍̼͙̖̱ ̲̻͇͎̲̜͚n͙͙̙̥͉̞͠o̳͔̻͞t̪͚ ͏̛̖̟̹̙̰̤t͎͇̩̞͞h̗̳̫̬̳͚̳̯̀e͈̮̼̪̮͚̜̹ͅ ̝̺̱͍á̳̩̯̰̮̪͕p̻͉̥͚͚̕p҉͏̜̝̮̜͘ͅͅơ̸̯̰̤̭̣̦̖̠i͈̞n̬͓̙̲̠̰̘͠t̷̛̜͈̪̳̱̹̻͢e͟҉̮͉͍d̴͍̣̬̖̰͓̰̦̰ ̸̺̦̼̘̤̰̪̼t͉̥͙ͅi̧҉̪̩͈͎̖̣̩̰ͅm҉̛͙̼̞̣͈̮̺̭e̷̬̙̬.̩̯̳̥͖̟̖͔͓̀"̘͇̞̪͝͞
̬̠͢
̼͓̖̝"͕̪̹͎̦T̵̡̨̲̬̖h͓͇į̶̱̙̹͡s̪̣ ͉̖̀̀i̻̝̩͈s̺̱̖̪̜̤͕͟͝ ͎n҉͏̗̩͇̳̯ͅǫ̳̼̥̝̻͖̩̞̯t̞̲̟̻̠̠͢ ̹̯̕͝ṱ̤̥͔̣̖h̞̭͎̲͇ͅe̷̴͙͔ ̶̯͕̱͟a̺̲̯͘p̫̲̟̼͍̗̣̀͜ͅp̵̟̠͚̱̕o̕͏̞̦̼̠̗̗̩͔͇i̟̙͝ǹ͓̼̗̹̩̕t҉̠̗͚͖̜͚̳̹͘e̡͙̺̣d̵͓̠ ̷̢̯̞͇̭͞v̧͈͈̲ȩ̶͇͈̰̪̲͞ͅs̨̡͓̠̯s̸̺̤̫̜͉͜e̴͖̖̙l̷̛̤̘̜̭̜͘.̗͍͞ͅ"̭̮̲͍͕͍͈̲
͙̹̭̖͈̥͡
̢̬͖̠̞̝̺̤̝͟"̧͎̱̮̼̠̬̖͜B̵̝͙͍̯͚͕̬̀u̶̷҉̜ţ̩̪ ̰̣̖ͅi̼̼t̨̧̖̝̱̠̙̘̫͜ ̴̨̻̗͎͢m̴̨̜̟̖͍͍̭u̙͕̫͎̹s̮̭̰̯̹̗͍͉t̲̝̙̞̗̙ ̴҉̬̙͢s͏̗̟̭u̵̢̙̲̼̘͖f̬̪̥̞̰̪̬̬͞f̷̠̫̜̩̪̮̘͠ͅì̥̖̼͈̭̭̗̟͎͜c̷̖̀͞ȩ̞͓̮̩͎ ̵̧̠f́͜҉͈̠̥̟̥̮̠͎ǫ̩̙͚͍̭r͖̬̬͔̗̤̝ ̢̥̯̭̥͎̳͎̀t̸̬̗̜h̴̻̠͕͇̫̹̝e҉̹̠͉̙̗̀͢ͅ ̳͍̺͈̮́͘͟ͅw̢̪͎͍͔̺̰͉o̫͇̪͈͕͞r̗̳̠͓̺͉͉͡ḱ̢͍̬͜ ̴͕̤̩̼̺̺͢͢t͏̼̰͙̱o̶̻̤̦͎̱̩̫̼̮͜ ̢̥̘̲͔͝b̴͈̬͘e̶̡̻̠̫̩͍̙͈̙ ̴̵͓̬͡ͅd̸̪͚̬͍͕̙̼̣o̹̯̝̲͜n̩͇̕͠e͚̮̟͔̹̲̤̙̘.̧͔̬̩̱̙̩"҉̱̤͉͎̱
A voice roars in your skull as you snap back to reality, throat raw from screaming as you still see those flashes of red eyes in your vision, the pressure of something pushing its way into your awareness in a way you can't describe. Gold cracks blaze across your boddy as you stumblingly whirl around, ignoring the concerned faces of your companions as you search for the one person that can help you.
"Ankaa!" You cry, a command seal blazing on your hand as you fall into her arms. "Get me to the river- the grail NOW!"
There's a heartbeat where all you can feel is speed as you are borne there by Ankaa, fast enough to strip flesh from bone if you were not in her embrace. You open your eyes to see the Thames barrier, maybe half a mile from where you stand at the riverbank.
You see a figure flee from the silver metal buildings that compose the barrier, holding another in their arms as a tengu's wind takes them across the water safely.
You see the light filling the river, as a beacon of gold shines upwards from the center building of the barrier, coalescing into something beautiful and pure and with the power to change the world: The grail.
And you see that building explode as black tentacles expand outwards from within it, as the demon that Leonardo Lainur carried within him grows to its full, terrible potential. You see red eyes shine in the night as it spreads across the river, growing towards the shores. You hear the grind of bone as it reaches upwards, tentacles closing around the Grail as the demon seeks to claim it for itself.
Your mind aches as you sense the screams of your fellow vessels, feel their feeble struggles as their lives begin to fade away. They are resisting the invader… but they cannot last long.
And above everything else, as your vision flickers, you see and know the demon. Static clouds your eyes as you see it in senses only a vessel would have, the senses of the vessel- the girl who has done nothing but tap into her nature as a cursed grail, who now stands mere meters from the Grail in its entirety- the Grail that she was the blueprint for.
You saw it burrowing inside Lainurs body and soul when you first met him, and you could not meet its gaze when it looked back. Here and now, as an eye turns to give a hateful stare at you… you can. In this place and this time you can meet its gaze and understand it, even if the knowledge is not truly yours. But this borrowed understanding that seeps into your skull from the grail is enough.
It is not a living thing- not even a beast of magic and gods, the way Ankaa truly is. It is a creature made of magic. It is closer to a spell than a creature. A living piece of magecraft, a wonder this era could never match. Not just one that lives by itself- you can see the myriad pieces in its structure where it is meant to connect with so many others… But it is alone, and it is broken.
Vast scars mar its structure, entire segments of its entirety slashed away, rough wounds bleeding something into the world. You feel the image of a knife held at your own neck, the fear of someone who no longer sees themself in the mirror and who will not allow this to go on anymore. It's damaged, barely holding itself together. A remnant that can only survive by leeching off the grail.
You see the hatred that gleams in its eyes as it looks out on the world, and the visions of a golden light in the sky that burns away everything it hates… You have come so far, and you are still not safe from the incinerator.
No.
You're not going to let this happen.
You close your eyes for a moment, thinking back on all you have seen and learned this past week. And you know that this is not the end.
You can see it, there's a way to end this. To save your future.
[] You can destroy the grail, and that will take the monster with it
No- that won't work. You've seen what happens when the grail breaks down, it'd kill millions if it went off here in the middle of the city!
[] You can keep attacking it, deny it the chance to claim the grail and it'll starve to death
No- if you do that, it'll take too long. Things could go wrong, and if it reaches the shore it'll start feeding on everyone around.
There's still another way.
"Ankaa- please, trust me." You whisper to her as you open your eyes, the knowledge of what must be done burning in your mind as brightly as her fire. "Get me there. Get me to the grail, and I can end this. I can stop this."
It's a devilishly simple plan.
All you need to do is become what you were made to be
QM note- There's a reason Mimi saw the pillar when she very met Lainur for the very first time- this has always been on the cards as an outcome for the finale. Took a while but here we are! The final moments of Mimi's war are coming.
"Sure about this?" You ask Gray as she steps forwards, quickly meeting her gaze as she gives you a quick nod in response; her attention's still fixed on Gawain.
She's not backing down from this. No matter what. It's only fair that you give her the chance she needs.
"Come on. Let's stop Rider stepping in." You nod to Ankaa as Gray walks past you, the blackened metal of your blades flashing into existence as flame gathers around her feet.
"Fine then. One last flight." Rider nods to his Master as you approach, Chang'e readying herself behind you. "Got your tricks ready, Maximillian?"
"Always."
With his Master's reply, Rider guns his engine and streaks off, his bike a crimson blur as he tilts it wildly to deflect Chang'es opening shot off the bodywork, his Master clinging on behind him for dear life as ghostly wisps follow in their wake.
"No time for half-assing it, Rider. We're going all out- I've got the rest all set. Just do what you do best!" With a manic grin etched on his face, crimson light flares around Maximillian's hand as he yells one last command. "FLY"
"Who's ready to be eighty-one then?" Rider cackles as he accelerates into a scarlet blur, reaching the stadium wall in an eyeblink and ramping himself into the air. "Face me in the skies, face the heart of Jagdgeschwader 1!"
The scream of an engine fills the air as red light flashes, and Manfred Richthofen soars on his crimson wings once more, the manic, adrenaline-junkie grin of a man who knows he could die in seconds and is loving it scrawled across his face. Behind him in the crimson biplane sits Maximillian, remaining by his Servant's side even now. After all, who could pass up the chance to fly with the Red Baron?
But theirs is not the only pair of crimson in the air tonight, as Ankaa unfurls her wings to their fullest extent, sending cinders drifting across the field. She glances back at you, the two of you sharing a wordless nod.
The sky is yours. Show him that.
One heartbeat Ankaa is there- the next she's gone, leaving a trail of flame in her wake as she soars skywards, a blazing arrow effortlessly gaining on Manfred. He pitches to the side as she streaks past, a frantic dodge to take him out of her way and to deflect the silver arrows being shot up from Chang'e below.
"You do not fear death, then, to fight like this." Ankaa whispers as she passes by, locking eyes with Maximillian in that brief instant.
"This late, it's win or die trying!" He yells back, shaking his head wildly. "Policies will tear my heart out for my part here, now Berserker's killed the only man who mighta covered my ass! The only way I live past tomorrow is if I win- then none of this matters!"
Maximilian turns his attention to Rider, crimson light glowing on his hand again as the ghosts that trail behind their biplane grow thick and heavy. "I'll be borrowing this- it's not right for you to fly alone. [Augmentation], [evocation], [shaping]… Now then, who among you departed will fly with a legend?"
In the instant Ankaa takes for the skies, Gray charges Gawain, her scythe gleaming under the stadium lights as the pair dance across the grass, each swing of Gray's being deflected by Gawain as he parries blow after blow, refusing to let any land. Even so, he's having to exert himself to do so; and after once leap to put distance between him, a drop of blood slips out from between the plates of his gleaming armour, staining the bright grass crimson.
"Why must you do this-'' He gasps, face pained as he continues to defend and only defend. "I cannot fight you!"
"Because I hate the way you look at me." Gray whispers, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she continues her assault on Gawain. "If I don't see a mirror- somedays I can- almost forget it! Go a day without hating this. So- stop reminding me. Stop looking at her- And look at me!"
Voice rising to a scream, Gray steps in with another lethally fast blow, sending Gawain skidding backwards through torn up grass from the blow's force. He looks up to where Gray hangs in the air, scythe swinging down as she descends from her leap.
"Saber. You will fight here." A voice speaks as crimson light shines for a third time. A calm voice. A confident voice. One that is eternally used to being in charge of a situation. The voice of a mastermind.
With a snap, a ray of pure sunlight shines down from above, illuminating Gawain where he struggles to hold his body in place, red lightning crackling over skin that begins to shed a golden glow as the sunlight infuses it.
"I'm- sorry." Gawain grunts out, as his resistance to the command falters and he begins his counterattack against Gray: A sweep of his blade forces her to block, sparks flying to match the red glow in the sky, as Rider's Master uses his second command seal in as many minutes.
But this time, it's not for his Servant's benefit. It's simply a source of power, raw energy to allow him to do a working far beyond his means. To conjure up specters of the past, ghostly replicas of the Baron's wing, their gray, translucent forms manifesting behind their leader in formation before peeling off to chase down Ankaa: She twists and turns in the night sky, a golden comet darting between the ghostly biplanes as they track her through the skies above, ever luring them onwards and upwards. The ghosts may be mere shades, but the staccato fingers of gunfire that they reach out to Ankaa with is no less real for it, spectral shot that carries a cold gleam in the moonlight.
And with the weight of numbers on their side, before too long some shots find Ankaa, drawing blood as they punch through a wing, the shades flying to cage her, to surround her. It might be a flesh wound, the work of an instant to heal, but it's still enough to disrupt her for just a moment.
Even so, they're far enough in the air now. Far enough above you that Ankaa will know if any should turn to attack you instead of her. Far enough to be safe. Far enough that while she cannot give it her all, she can still retaliate against those who would claim ownership of the sky from her.
Screaming through the air in a hairpin turn, Ankaa strikes back at the ghostly biplanes harassing her: The first one tries to roll away from her as she charges straight at it, only to be scattered like morning dew as Ankaa simply flies through it. These shades are nothing compared to her. In the end, as she burns ghost after ghost to mist with her flames, this is the only way the battle could go. Manfred is outnumbered and outgunned, while Gawain… Isn't Ankaas concern right now. She's not worried about Gray, at least.
So it's only her own caution stopping her from going straight for Manfred himself. She will not risk you becoming a target again. As Chang'e has things in hand, an endless stream of silver arrows coming up from below constantly forcing Manfred to stay on the defensive, there's no harm in clearing the skies and winning the war of attrition. But on the ground below, zabetha has other plans.
Izabetha stares up at the flying form of Manfred, fingers twitching nervously. She can see what Ankaa's doing. The safe, careful option- the luxury of someone who has an eternity to spare and endless restorative ability. But there's no time for that. This fight needs to be wrapped up quickly. The grail must be secured. Which means it's time to change tactics.
Manfred's ability as a pilot is superb. Every shot Chang'e fires is met by him pushing the engine further, moving in ever-more-extreme maneuvers to ensure the arrows glance off the bodywork, punch through an empty panel. So the answer is simple.
Ignoring the crimson flash of Scathach tearing apart a low-flying ghost, landing heavily and awkwardly from the jump as her wounds threaten to reopen, Izabetha acts: A silver spike gleams as she draws it from a pouch on her webbing, humming with the mana barely contained within it. As she's done so many times, she effortlessly shapes the metal into a gleaming arrow for Archer to loose at her foes. But this time, she adds something more. One single bullet, taken from an oh-so-tightly locked case. A precious tool. A precious memento. She brings it to her lips, whispering a goodbye to it. This may not be the last she has… but it is still one less thing she will be able to remember her father with. The metal flows like water around it as Izabetha places the bullet in its place within the arrowtip, and at last her weapon is ready. A quick droplet of power, and she feels the metal fletches twist and tilt. Just the way she needs it to be.
"We're doing things that way, Archer." Izabetha's voice is firm and cold as she stares up at her target, passing the arrow to Chang'e. "Three shots- quickly, before he realises. Then the kill."
There's a silent nod from Chang'e at Izabethas instructions, and she moves to follow them. Izabetha's gaze goes skywards, staring at Manfred's plane as the moonlight trails streak upwards at him; once, twice, three times. The instant she registers the third arrow soaring skywards, she acts. Power surges through her body, a tearing feeling in her head as she taps into her other side. Her human side.
"Time Alter: Accelerate-" A faint whisper slips from Izabetha Einzbern-Emiya's lips, and the world stops around her. Her last arrow soars in the sky, pure as moonlight as it flies towards Manfred. Her eyes burn as she reinforces them, zooming in to see every inch of the plane. In the space between seconds she watches him make his move, wrestling with the controls as his plane tilts. She can see how it's going to move as she reaches out with her magic, tilting the arrow's metal fletches slightly. Just enough to tilt its path slightly. To guide it.
The instants pass treacle-slow for Izabetha as she watches the arrow close in on her target. Even if they realise her trick, it's too late now- it's going to hit.As she lets time and her vision return to normal, she catches the start of panic on Maximillians face, as he realises too late that his Servant was never her true target. Then, it is done: Her arrow strikes true and the unstable, barely contained energy held within the silver detonates with lethal force.
In the moments before Izabetha's strategy unfolds, Gray and Gawain continue their spar across the turf, clashing with blinding speed. This is not a fight. Not really. Not when Gawain's moves are stilted and robotic, with none of the skill he displayed against Vortigern.
"Say something- answer me!" Gray gasps as she strikes, her scythe slipping through a gap in Gawain's defences to carve a gash in his armour, the blade bloodied as it comes away. There's more blood than just that on the grass and broken earth, and not all from Gray's attacks. Whatever she was hoping to hear in response, she doesn't get it, merely a strangled grunt escaping Gawain's throat.
"What a disappointment." The confident voice of Saber's hidden master sounds through the stadium again, a letdown sigh accompanying the words. "Still… it is not entirely a waste."
You feel someones gaze fall upon you, as you dive to the side, avoiding a lethal bolt of energy that falls from the sky- albeit one aimed at you with all the killing intent of a pebble tossed into a lake. "Yagami, was it now? I suppose you are enough to deserve a name."
Your skin prickles as you glare up at the sky, the dismissive tone of the speaker setting your teeth grinding.
"I must admit, your growth has surprised me." The voice tosses you the barest scrap of approval. "I do have a place for one with your… unique talents. A work that would benefit greatly from what you can do."
"Not interested." You snap back without thinking. They're one of the masterminds here, so they're one of the people who kept you caged. Even without that… you hate the tone of their voice. Aloof. Above the world. And not once talking about why you should, only about what it would do for them.
"Hardly unexpected, given your fresh association with my fellow Lord. Well, the offer remains, should you survive. Something as mundane as mortal peril is hardly an obstacle to working together, in the world of magecraft." You can just hear the voice shrug at that as you feel their gaze leave you.
As the explosion of Izabetha's last arrow fills the sky above you, you find your attention drawn back to where Gray and Gawain's duel reaches its conclusion, as a well timed spring forwards takes Gray over her foe's guard to shatter his breastplate with her blow.
Metal cracks and falls to the ground, as a torrent of blood pours out onto the earth from within Gawain's armour. You see bare flesh, nearly torn apart by the row of deep gashes punched into it, some nearly going all the way through him: The wound from when Vortigern nearly tore him apart. He's been fighting this whole time without having had the chance to heal. He drops to his knees, supporting himself on his blade, the compulsion to fight finally fading. Now, at last, he has words for Gray.
"I am sorry, my lady. I cannot see you as anyone else. That is the face of my king. You speak, and I hear their voice. No matter how much you scream… I want you to be Arthur." Gawain's voice is weak as he forces himself upright once more. "With what I wish for… how could I not wish to see him again?"
There's a soft, sad noise from somewhere within Gray's throat as Gawain tilts his head back, looking at the stars. They're so much dimmer than the ones he remembers. He sighs, and in this moment he is defeated. "Even though I can only see him… It is because of my heart, and nothing more. I know this isn't right. That this is not the hour of my king's return… So no matter how much I want you to be them… You can't be."
Gawain sways on his feet as Galatine falls from limp fingers, shakily raising one fist to his torn apart chest in something that is not quite a salute. "May you forget the way I looked at you."
Then, with one last blood-choked chuckle… Gawain is gone, vanishing into golden mist.
You feel his essence swirling around, being drawn to the river and the grail that awaits there. Though your stomach rumbles at the richness, you hold yourself back, refraining from taking a bite out of his spirit. Out of thanks for him having helped you last night, perhaps. Or maybe it's just that you don't want to disorient yourself here and now.
Either way, he is gone, and his Master has left wherever he was as well. You see Gray start walking over to you, as Scathach and flat drop in from above, having found no sign of Caster in their patrolling.
Now all that remains is to await the conclusion of the fight in the skies.
A scream splits the sky as Izabetha's arrow detonates, shredding flesh and burning circuits. Maximilian yells in agony, as he feels senses he's spent a lifetime cultivating burn away under the surge of power that suddenly flows through his body. His vision dims as he slumps forwards in his seat, halfway falling out the jagged hole in the plane left from the explosion.
Manfred's yelling something at him, but he can't hear it. There's something he can still do. They both knew how it had to go. Victory or death. Red light flashes from a bloodied hand as he gives his last command to his servant. Stay here. Fly. Win.
Then, everything goes silent and dark.
"No- not like this!" Manfred yells at the uncaring night as his Master dies in the seat behind him, unable to do anything. Even with the last command anchoring him, giving him form… gold dust is beginning to drift from his body. In time, he will vanish like morning mist. "Not the slow death- not again! Damn you Archer, you coward!"
He spins his plane around, flying straight down to where he can see Chang'e and Izabetha, standing on the stadium's roof. A suicidal charge. If he must die, he's at least going to avenge his Master. Which is when a blazing light shoots past him, the winged form of Ankaa filling his vision as she floats in the air ahead of him.
Ankaa is calm as she flies through the air, staring Manfred down. Maybe if she had chosen a different approach, this would not have happened. But it has. So she must deal with it. Her foe cares not for his own life anymore… but she will not allow this. Mimi will not meet her end to some suicidal rush like this.
It's okay. She can do this. It won't doom her.
"Did you really think I'd let that change how I feel about you?"
Your words flash through Ankaa's mind as her flame flickers and burns, a sickly, ominous blue creeping into their hue as Ankaa taps into the side of herself that she hates. Manfreds eyes widen, a faint blue circle glowing around his pupil as Ankaa takes off into the sky.
Immortality- it's right there for the taking! If he can get it- he won't die by inches and hours- he'll live, he'll be the king of the skies, an eternal legend! Thoughts of suicidal revenge burned from his mind by the baleful glow of Ankaa's blue flames, Manfred turns to follow her, madly firing his gun at her he soars behind her, ever chasing her onwards through the night.
It worked. She's managed to channel this side of herself. But there's no joy on Ankaa's face as she carves a burning trail through the night sky, weaving around skyscrapers and twisting between the ragged, erratic gunfire from her pursuer. How could she feel joy, when she leads a man to his death?
Straightening out from a turn, Ankaa soars straight upwards, leading Manfred ever upwards. The roar of his engine begins to stutter as they breach the clouds, the rattling sound of mechanical failures and ignored in his madness. With thee city left nothing more than luminous specks below them, Ankaa hangs in the sky, the moon at her back, seemingly reflecting her light. Now, at last, she gladly let's go of that darker power, and sanity returns to Manfred all too late.
Slowing from one last, desperate burst of acceleration, his engine sputters and dies, a terrible creaking sound reaching his ears. He looks to the side, gasping in the thin air as he sees cracks spread through the wing that was closest to the blast from Izabetha's arrow. As if in slow motion, it breaks completely, falling to the ground below, towards the city lights that are indistinguishable from the golden dust he bleeds.
It's over for him now.
With that, Manfre relaxes in his seat, letting the fall take him as Ankaa dives down, her blazing body crossing the distance between them in heartbeats. He looks up, meeting her gaze as he accepts his fate. He's never seen the world from this far up before. It'd me nice if his Master was still here to see it, though. "That… was a good flight. Ah… what beautiful wings you have."
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Ankaa says in response to Manfred's whisper, with nothing but a wordless nod in response. With that, the world seems to go still, as the fire around her grows ever warmer and brighter, surging out from her in a great, white hot blaze.
There are many ways Ankaa could have ended this. But out of respect for a fellow flier, she chose this one… So that Manfred and Maximillian depart this world together, in a pyre few could dream of.
Just like that, it's over, as you see the burning light of Ankaa returning to your side. There's a warm feeling in your body, and you look down to see a faint gold glow pulsing in your chest, tracing out along the lines of your circuits. The grail's got close to completion. You glance around the stadium, seeing the faces of your companions as they look at you and realise what this means.
Which is when you scream in agony as a railroad spike of agony slams into your skull, forcing you to stagger and retch and double over as jagged black lines throb in your vision… along with faint, eyeburn-afterimages of hateful red eyes as you feel the faint traces of one last servant enter your body, the pain making you unable to resist that urge to just take a bite of them as they pass on.
But it's not Rider you're consuming here.
A gale-force gust of wind shoots fills the room as the nun glares hatefully at you, the force of the wind forcing you to brace yourself as the metal walls of the chamber creak and glass cracks. In one hand she holds the feathered fan that caused the gale, aimed threateningly at- not you, your Master. In the other, she holds an unconscious body, barely in their teens. She stands by an empty, cruel harness, all cold cruel metal and jagged wires. The marks of the connections are clear as day on the rescued person, who moans softly in their slumber. As for the other six cradles, filled with equally abused occupants… a glance is all you need to know that they are beyond saving. Were they a patient of yours… painkillers. Anaesthetics. Enough to let them die peacefully in their sleep. That's all you could do for them.
The nun yells at you to stay back, hurling another razor-sharp breeze at you and your Master- enough to force you to take a step back and ward it off yourself. She turns to run through the opposite door, refusing to abandon her charge no matter how much it slows her down. You're about to chase her down when you hear the inhuman cackle from behind you. Dread creeps up your back as you turn to look at- the only other person here.
Shredded skin is the first thing you see, hanging loosely from their elderly form. They haven't even bothered to defend themselves from the biting wind the nun struck you with. Your experience as a doctor screams at you, begging you to notice the fact that there's not a single drop of blood on the flayed skin.
And that's when you see what lies beneath your Masters skin. The churning, writhing, wormlike mass of ugly black tentacles, covered in a harsh, ashen carapace. The inhuman chuckle reaches your ears again, with your Master's mouth not moving one inch. You can't even see any breathing. The tentacles shudder as the carapace cracks in tens of places, blood-red diamond shaped eyes gazing at you with hate you've never seen before- even the counts fury at learning what you did to his brides is nothing to this.
Faster than you can even think, your body is torn apart as dozens of spikes impale you- and as your blood sprays across the walls, you look down to see yet more of those red eyes lurking within your shadow. As your body begins to fade away, you see your Masters body uncoil into something truly inhuman, tendrils uncoiling to impale each of the captive vessels: Raised lumps begin radiating out from the bleeding points of impact as the tentacles push themselves further in, burrowing beneath their skin.
You were summoned to try and claim the grail, and you have merely helped a monster- a demon. As your life here ends, you see the loose patch of discarded skin that used to be your Masters hand, discarded like a used glove. The last thing you see is the faded stain where a command seal used to be, and you recall what the command was, now when it is too late to matter. "Forget"
"̦̮̞͓̠͇͞T̞̲̪̤͔̯͎͡h̼̩͚͚̰̝̱͓͞͞i̷͏̲͍s̫͡ ̢̹̣̩͇i̡͈̤s͍̼͙̖̱ ̲̻͇͎̲̜͚n͙͙̙̥͉̞͠o̳͔̻͞t̪͚ ͏̛̖̟̹̙̰̤t͎͇̩̞͞h̗̳̫̬̳͚̳̯̀e͈̮̼̪̮͚̜̹ͅ ̝̺̱͍á̳̩̯̰̮̪͕p̻͉̥͚͚̕p҉͏̜̝̮̜͘ͅͅơ̸̯̰̤̭̣̦̖̠i͈̞n̬͓̙̲̠̰̘͠t̷̛̜͈̪̳̱̹̻͢e͟҉̮͉͍d̴͍̣̬̖̰͓̰̦̰ ̸̺̦̼̘̤̰̪̼t͉̥͙ͅi̧҉̪̩͈͎̖̣̩̰ͅm҉̛͙̼̞̣͈̮̺̭e̷̬̙̬.̩̯̳̥͖̟̖͔͓̀"̘͇̞̪͝͞
̬̠͢
̼͓̖̝"͕̪̹͎̦T̵̡̨̲̬̖h͓͇į̶̱̙̹͡s̪̣ ͉̖̀̀i̻̝̩͈s̺̱̖̪̜̤͕͟͝ ͎n҉͏̗̩͇̳̯ͅǫ̳̼̥̝̻͖̩̞̯t̞̲̟̻̠̠͢ ̹̯̕͝ṱ̤̥͔̣̖h̞̭͎̲͇ͅe̷̴͙͔ ̶̯͕̱͟a̺̲̯͘p̫̲̟̼͍̗̣̀͜ͅp̵̟̠͚̱̕o̕͏̞̦̼̠̗̗̩͔͇i̟̙͝ǹ͓̼̗̹̩̕t҉̠̗͚͖̜͚̳̹͘e̡͙̺̣d̵͓̠ ̷̢̯̞͇̭͞v̧͈͈̲ȩ̶͇͈̰̪̲͞ͅs̨̡͓̠̯s̸̺̤̫̜͉͜e̴͖̖̙l̷̛̤̘̜̭̜͘.̗͍͞ͅ"̭̮̲͍͕͍͈̲
͙̹̭̖͈̥͡
̢̬͖̠̞̝̺̤̝͟"̧͎̱̮̼̠̬̖͜B̵̝͙͍̯͚͕̬̀u̶̷҉̜ţ̩̪ ̰̣̖ͅi̼̼t̨̧̖̝̱̠̙̘̫͜ ̴̨̻̗͎͢m̴̨̜̟̖͍͍̭u̙͕̫͎̹s̮̭̰̯̹̗͍͉t̲̝̙̞̗̙ ̴҉̬̙͢s͏̗̟̭u̵̢̙̲̼̘͖f̬̪̥̞̰̪̬̬͞f̷̠̫̜̩̪̮̘͠ͅì̥̖̼͈̭̭̗̟͎͜c̷̖̀͞ȩ̞͓̮̩͎ ̵̧̠f́͜҉͈̠̥̟̥̮̠͎ǫ̩̙͚͍̭r͖̬̬͔̗̤̝ ̢̥̯̭̥͎̳͎̀t̸̬̗̜h̴̻̠͕͇̫̹̝e҉̹̠͉̙̗̀͢ͅ ̳͍̺͈̮́͘͟ͅw̢̪͎͍͔̺̰͉o̫͇̪͈͕͞r̗̳̠͓̺͉͉͡ḱ̢͍̬͜ ̴͕̤̩̼̺̺͢͢t͏̼̰͙̱o̶̻̤̦͎̱̩̫̼̮͜ ̢̥̘̲͔͝b̴͈̬͘e̶̡̻̠̫̩͍̙͈̙ ̴̵͓̬͡ͅd̸̪͚̬͍͕̙̼̣o̹̯̝̲͜n̩͇̕͠e͚̮̟͔̹̲̤̙̘.̧͔̬̩̱̙̩"҉̱̤͉͎̱
A voice roars in your skull as you snap back to reality, throat raw from screaming as you still see those flashes of red eyes in your vision, the pressure of something pushing its way into your awareness in a way you can't describe. Gold cracks blaze across your boddy as you stumblingly whirl around, ignoring the concerned faces of your companions as you search for the one person that can help you.
"Ankaa!" You cry, a command seal blazing on your hand as you fall into her arms. "Get me to the river- the grail NOW!"
There's a heartbeat where all you can feel is speed as you are borne there by Ankaa, fast enough to strip flesh from bone if you were not in her embrace. You open your eyes to see the Thames barrier, maybe half a mile from where you stand at the riverbank.
You see a figure flee from the silver metal buildings that compose the barrier, holding another in their arms as a tengu's wind takes them across the water safely.
You see the light filling the river, as a beacon of gold shines upwards from the center building of the barrier, coalescing into something beautiful and pure and with the power to change the world: The grail.
And you see that building explode as black tentacles expand outwards from within it, as the demon that Leonardo Lainur carried within him grows to its full, terrible potential. You see red eyes shine in the night as it spreads across the river, growing towards the shores. You hear the grind of bone as it reaches upwards, tentacles closing around the Grail as the demon seeks to claim it for itself.
Your mind aches as you sense the screams of your fellow vessels, feel their feeble struggles as their lives begin to fade away. They are resisting the invader… but they cannot last long.
And above everything else, as your vision flickers, you see and know the demon. Static clouds your eyes as you see it in senses only a vessel would have, the senses of the vessel- the girl who has done nothing but tap into her nature as a cursed grail, who now stands mere meters from the Grail in its entirety- the Grail that she was the blueprint for.
You saw it burrowing inside Lainurs body and soul when you first met him, and you could not meet its gaze when it looked back. Here and now, as an eye turns to give a hateful stare at you… you can. In this place and this time you can meet its gaze and understand it, even if the knowledge is not truly yours. But this borrowed understanding that seeps into your skull from the grail is enough.
It is not a living thing- not even a beast of magic and gods, the way Ankaa truly is. It is a creature made of magic. It is closer to a spell than a creature. A living piece of magecraft, a wonder this era could never match. Not just one that lives by itself- you can see the myriad pieces in its structure where it is meant to connect with so many others… But it is alone, and it is broken.
Vast scars mar its structure, entire segments of its entirety slashed away, rough wounds bleeding something into the world. You feel the image of a knife held at your own neck, the fear of someone who no longer sees themself in the mirror and who will not allow this to go on anymore. It's damaged, barely holding itself together. A remnant that can only survive by leeching off the grail.
You see the hatred that gleams in its eyes as it looks out on the world, and the visions of a golden light in the sky that burns away everything it hates… You have come so far, and you are still not safe from the incinerator.
No.
You're not going to let this happen.
You close your eyes for a moment, thinking back on all you have seen and learned this past week. And you know that this is not the end.
You can see it, there's a way to end this. To save your future.
No- that won't work. You've seen what happens when the grail breaks down, it'd kill millions if it went off here in the middle of the city!
No- if you do that, it'll take too long. Things could go wrong, and if it reaches the shore it'll start feeding on everyone around.
There's still another way.
"Ankaa- please, trust me." You whisper to her as you open your eyes, the knowledge of what must be done burning in your mind as brightly as her fire. "Get me there. Get me to the grail, and I can end this. I can stop this."
It's a devilishly simple plan.
All you need to do is become what you were made to be
QM note- There's a reason Mimi saw the pillar when she very met Lainur for the very first time- this has always been on the cards as an outcome for the finale. Took a while but here we are! The final moments of Mimi's war are coming.
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- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This is a great way to sum up all her issues, and it's heavy with impact. I can imagine the voicing a little, even.
Glad to see Iza get a showcase in! That Emiya magecraft paying off and all.
Rude. Mages are so rude, even when they want to be nice to you.
I really like the whole Gray duel, so I'm glad it won, but also especially this. It does feel sad that... the stars are wrong, that his time is gone, that his King isn't going to come back, that he will likely never see that promised future. That he didn't just see Arthur in Gray because of the resemblance but because of his hope for seeing the King again... that adds a nice touch to it?
This is a really fitting ending for Ankaa's.... fear arc, all told? She can be what she used to be and it doesn't matter, she gets to blaze with immortality last time.
I like her story a lot better than sad birb's, you know.
Mmm, a last tease about red eyes... and then another dip in the flow. It's interesting to have mimi as not enough of a grail to end up like sakura, fully taking in anything, but.... a little bit stolen here and there. I hope it helps the other vessels, balances the load.
Hi, Flauros. Guess the disguise stopped being worth it.
Full pillar mode, then. Much more impressive than in F/GO, really.
I am as always a sucker for crossed out votes to indicate characterization, and I appreciate that... at this point, this late in the game, there isn't any question about Mimi. We've filled her character in enough.
Okay! In the finale now!
I can't wait to see how this closes out. I hope we get some epilogues, or what if omakes, or something? I'm gonna miss this.
- Location
- Florida
I just hope Mimi can succeed without losing her Humanity. "Becoming what she was made to be" worries me a lot.
081- Finale 2
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
[X] Become what you were made to be.
"Just give the word, Mimi, and I will do it." Ankaa whispers to you, cracking her knuckles as she gives the demon a glare brimming with hate. "If it will scour that monster from this world, I would tear my heart out-"
"There's no need for that- just get me there. That's all I need." You shake your head, blinking back the flashes of redness in your vision. "We do this the same way we've done so far. Together-"
"Until the end."
With that, you take off, sprinting along the riverbank towards the barrier. The grail's in the middle of the river- but there's a way you can get there- it's only insane. Suicidal. But it's what you've got- flying with Ankaa would just make you too big a target. You've got to get under its radar. Have it not realise what you're doing until it's too late. So you've got to get as close as you can, and run across the demon as its squirming mass chokes the river.
You run, and Ankaa flies. She swoops over the demon in the air, its red eyes tracking her as she overlooks it. It focuses, blinks, and death fills the air: Laser light flashing out, piercing Ankaa through and through, too fast for even her to dodge. She drops from the sky, blood leaking from half-cauterized wounds… then ascends again in a blaze of glory, her wounds vanishing in the flame that she wraps herself in. You don't even notice the pull of power she takes from you to do that. Here and now… you have all the power she could ever need.
Diving towards the demon, Ankaa is met by great tentacles rising up from its spreading bulk to meet her, sweeping in from all sides to crush her. They sweep in, blocking her from your vision- before a burst of flame scatters them all to ash, as Ankaa accelerates downwards, her flames carving a scorched groove in the body of the demon.
Red flashes in your vision as the phantom pain of the burn flashes in your mind, erratic, jagged images of the red eyes obscuring your sight, flashing in time with the gold tracery spreading across your body. But you can see the wound- and you can see the demon. It's a shell. It's hollow. Not physically, the scorched flesh that Ankaa's pyre leaves behind is as solid and real as yours- but… you can feel it. Somewhere at the core of this monster, something is missing. Vast chunks of it carved out and gone. Heartless in body and spirit, only capable to manifest like this thanks to all the things it has devoured.
It's good. It means you've got a better chance here.
You gasp for breath as you reach the waters edge, half-collapsing onto the railing as you catch yourself from falling. You're halfway there. Now comes the hard part- how do you get across the water? The demon's still spreading across the water- but it's still not at the shore yet- you've got to get there.
As you take those precious gasps of air, the demon strikes back at Ankaa, filling the sky with its deadly beams of light again- but this time, she is unscathed, reading the movements of the beast's eyes to dodge before it fires. It twitches and trembles in fury at her flight, appendages reaching up impotently for her.
Metal screams and twists as the demon coils around one of the bulwarks of the Thames Barrier, gripping it tighter and tighter, pulling and pulling until the entire structure is heaved from the concrete, held aloft by a trio of those pillar-like tentacles. It's held there for a moment before the tentacles flex, and the hulk of metal is sent flying into the sky, aimed to swat Ankaa like a bug- again the demon finds its assault to be useless, as Ankaa accelerates, punching straight through it, leaving a molten-edged hole in her wake.
But the metal still flies through the air- heading in your direction. You pick yourself up from your breather, ready to sprint away- when your hair is ruffled by the hurricane-force gale that briefly passes overhead, stopping the metal in its tracks. Robbed of all momentum, the barrier plunges harmlessly into the river, spray filling the air.
"My my, this has taken quite a turn, hasn't it Mimi?" You hear a soft, familiar voice at your back as you feel a wind at your back. You spin around to see Kiara touching down gently onto the pavement, her face half-hidden by the feathered fan she holds, a gentle wind playfully blowing around its tips.
"Kiara- you got out!" You gasp at her, still half-breathless. "Is- anyone?"
"Got out? How did you know?" Kiara tilts her head to the side ever so slightly. "You did ask me to do what I could for your fellow vessels."
There's a short, heavy pause before she speaks again. "One… I could save one. The rest were too far gone… I was going to do what I could, before I was so rudely interrupted."
You nod once in response. That's… what you'd seen in Casters last moments. It… could have been worse. Would have been, if you hadn't asked Kiara for help. "Are they-?"
"She's safe. Far enough away for the moment. I would do more, but… The situation here comes first. I may be many things, but I am still a member of the church- so this is a situation that I cannot allow to come to pass. Although I must admit, I fear something like this is beyond my capacity to exorcise." Kiaras free hand fidgets with a set of prayer beads,m her amber eyes holding the demon within it. "There is something about it though… An itch at the back of my head, perhaps. I feel like there's something I could do…"
"I can do it- just- help me get there." You respond, your breath finally returning to you as you massage a twinging leg.
"Ara?" Kiara gasps quietly, holding you in her eyes as she looks you over. Her eyes widen slightly as she sees the pulsing glow in your chest, before she lowers the fan ever so slightly. "Well, helping you fulfill your wishes would hardly be a sudden change of heart for me, would it now?"
She gestures with the fan, and you feel winds begin to play around your legs, gently ruffling the fabric of your trousers. "Make sure you make it back- I'm sure she'd want to meet you. I shall remain here… if I am blessed, I shall at least be able to prevent it from reaching the shore"
With that, Kiara thrusts her fan forwards commandingly, and you find yourself launched into the air, barely holding back a yelp of shock. Spray splashes your face as the winds carry you across the open water, low to the ground and beneath notice. They flick you upwards, and you find yourself landing on the demon.
Something crunches beneath your feet as you land- the outermost layer of the monster's carapace. Brittle, fragile and flaky. Like ash and bonedust. Filling your lungs with a familiar, horrific smell. The ghastly remnants of a furnace. With the burning star of Ankaa shining in your vision as she plummets from the skies, punching straight through the demon before bursting back up from below in a cloud of steam, you begin to dash towards the grail: The faint golden light shining out from within the knot of tentacles gives you hope- it's still shining, so there's still hope. The demon hasn't claimed it yet. It's something to focus on, to stop you from looking down at the carapace below you. As you get further away from the edge of the demon's spread, its carapace hardens, turning the into the dark, bony plating you've seen before. But for now, it's attention is all on Ankaa, it hasn't noticed you yet.
Until that all changes.
You stumble in your sprint as the carapace beneath you shifts, plates grinding apart to reveal a wet, fleshy pit beneath, an eye pushing its way outwards to fill in the gap ahead of you. It shudders, blinks, and turns its you-sized gaze towards you. You know exactly what's about to happen now- so you leap forwards, throwing the scrollcase high into the air as the hypnotic mandala-pattern shines out again, drawing the eye's attention as it focuses itself to end you.
It's only for a brief moment that the eye's gaze is drawn to the pattern, but it's long enough for you to hurl yourself to the side, crashing down on the bone beneath you as the beam grazes past you, hot enough to burn. But it's enough time for you to throw yourself onto the eye, keys in hand, using the fall to add just that little extra bit of force to your blow. Hot ichor splashes your face as you drive a blackened blade into the eye, wrenching it back and forth inside.
Then, for a brief moment- you connect.
The blade snaps as your focus breaks, left stuck inside the eye as you collapse, gasping in pain as the faint red-eye images fill your brain again, along with the the burning sight of you driving the blade into your vision as green eyes and black and gold worms fill your vision as you see your stab from the demons view and feel yourself bleeding into it even as it bleeds into you-
Biting your lip to draw you back to your senses, you scrabble to your feet to see the eye thrashing around in agony, the broken-off blade still lodged inside it… the demon's bleeding. It's melting. You connected to it for a brief moment, and just like the leyline, the curses within you flowed into it. It connected to you, and your body began to break it down and consume you, just like you did to all the magecraft that touched you this week. You have stained it, and as you run onwards, you see the eye get crushed by the demons own body, rejecting the foreign something that dares to attack it
You've gained some precious distance here, your goal looming ever closer, when the demon decides that you are now a threat. More of its attention is drawn from Ankaa, letting her scorch and char and burn ever more of its endlessly-growing body to ash, as an entire pillar-tentacle sprouts up in your path with that grinding rumble, three eyes gleaming malevolently at you as the carapace opens wide. They focus, preparing to burn you from the world in a way you can't save yourself from this time… Before three streaks of moonlight shoot in and pierce the eyes, popping them like burst balloons.
You dart forwards, ducking around the blinded and thrashing pillar, covering your ears to avoid the scream coming from somewhere within it, and catch a sight of your saviours: Gleaming with silver light, Izabetha and Archer stand on a rooftop at the water's edge.
Blood drips from Izabetha's lip as she bites into it. It's all she can do to not scream at the sight before her, at the demon that holds the grail in its clutches. Not from fear or pain- here and now, her heart has nothing but rage in it: She was so close! Her enemies were gone, and her allies weren't unreasonable- surely an agreement could have been reached! Even though she was not made to win a grail war, the grail was almost within her grasp! She could have finally done it!
But with the situation as it is… she has failed, and she knows it. That is the source of the scream welling up inside her. The fact that despite all she has done… once again, something has just come from nowhere and shattered her chance- The Einzberns chance- of claiming the grail.
Once more, her family is left with nothing.
Even so, when all is lost… this is not the end. Cold logic runs through her mind, calming that burning outrage. This is a situation where her primary goal is impossible. But even when nothing can be gained, it is still possible to not lose anything. So she has a hope that she can manage that much… and if she is lucky, find something of worth in the aftermath.
After all, she has seen you, how your heart beats in time with the stirring of the grail here, the gold spreading through your veins in these last moments. She has seen you tap into your nature, to accept it, to master it. To her eyes in these moments, you are a beacon, a key.
So when she sees you running to the grail in your suicidal charge… she will trust you. After all… you have more experience with grails than she has.
"Archer. This is my final command. Protect Mimi Yagami . Nothing else matters."
With a crimson seal burning away on Izabetha's hand, Chang'e springs into motion, calmly and fluidly shooting down each and every eye that opens before you, silver moonlight robbing the demon of its deadly gaze before it could threaten you. It's enough to keep you safe as you keep on running towards the grail, as her aim or pace never falters. No matter how many eyes open, she will blind them all, even as the demon begins to grow towards her and Izabetha. To defend herself would be to leave a gap in your defences, which she cannot allow.
Even as Izabetha begins to frantically open fire on the approaching tentacles, her mundane weapons doing nothing at all to them, Chang'e protects you.
Even as the demon's tentacles rear up around the building, ready to tear it and them apart, she protects you.
It is only at the very last moment, when the tentacles surrounding her perch have grown too thick to shoot through, that she does something different. With a quick, seamless motion, she grabs Izabetha, hurling her from the rooftop.
Then Chang'e vanishes from this world, scattered to ash under the deathly gaze of the demon and the tentacles that crush the entire building to dust. Of Izabetha, there is no sign.
But they're got you so much closer to your goal- a hundred meters, maybe less. Ankaa's flying overhead as you break into a sprint, forcing your aching legs to keep working and your burning lungs to keep giving you the air you need. The stabbing headache of the bleedover's getting worse, more and more of your vision being filled by those translucent red eyes. You can't tell if it's because you're getting closer to the grail or because the demon's closer to breaking into the grail.
That golden light is still shining though, so it's not over yet. You avert your eyes for a moment as Ankaa swoops down low, searing a groove into the demons flesh all the way to the grail, the heat of her blinding flames washing over you as you drop into the pit of charred flesh and just keep on running. You're safe here, the burned pit keeping you out of eyeshot as you close in on the grail, making it right to the edge unscathed.
Only for you to be greeted by a massive wall of tentacles, the demon having extended itself as much as possible to form a tangled, knotty wall. A hundred eyes keep Ankaa pinned to the sky, an endless burning wall of lasers that even she cannot dodge completely as one great tentacle lazily unfolds, raising itself high to flatten you like a bug. The tentacle falls- then is sent flying to the sky in a crimson flash, blood spewing from its severed end.
A pained gasp escapes Scathach's mouth as she stands, the charred flesh of her scorched body weeping blood from wounds that never got a chance to properly heal. Even so, her bloodied spear is firm and steady as she points it at the demon. She knows it for what it is. She can see the hate for everything that calls itself human within its eyes. If she stood by and did nothing, simply let it claim the grail… that would surely grant her the oblivion she seeks.
But even after so many centuries seated before the gate to the land of shadows, she is not so desperate for death to take that bargain: If the price of her rest is the world dying with her, then the grave can wait.
So Scathach has come to fight, to show the world that even crippled by the dragon of Britain, she is far from done. Even so, these wounds are enough to make her slow, a liability. For her, this fight is not survivable.
"Master! It's time." Scathach calls out, raising her spear high.
On the shore, Flat sees the signal, staring at the monster his Servant has charged at. By his side, Gray holds an out of breath El-Melloi, who points a shaking finger at one part of the demon's wall. He knows what now's the time for. Scathach told him exactly what he needs to do in a situation like this.
Even so, he hesitates at giving the command, eyes watering as all his command seals turn into a blaze of power. "Show me how it's done!"
Standing before the heart of the demon, a bloodthirsty grin comes over Scathach's face as she feels the power surge into her. This is not going to be a true death for her. But a little death like this one will suffice, if it is against a foe like this.
In a flash, her spear splits and splits and splits again, becoming a field of thorns that pins the wall to the sky, impaling the tentacles over and over. The carapace beneath you shifts as the entire mass of tentacles is pressed together, making it into a single, massive target. Bone shatters as Scathach springs forwards, driving her spear into flesh before kneeling, the power from her master gathering within her. Then thunder claps as Scathach springs into the air, tearing open the outer plates of the demon and leaving a bloody crater behind her, the force of her spring simply shattering her wounded leg.
For a moment, she hovers in the air at the peak of her leap, blood-red energy surging around her spear. Lasers from the demon pierce her gut and shoulders, but the grip on her lance remains firm. "Witness your end, Gae Bolg Alternative!"
Kicking and launching herself down off nothing but thin air, Scathach falls to earth as a crimson thunderbolt, furious as a god's wrath as the air itself is split by her passing, left rent by scarlet lightning.
You close your eyes in reflex as she impacts, a blinding explosion that blows you off your feet from the force of the blast… And when your eyes open, Scathach too is gone.
But the way is open.
The grail is there, still intact and untarnished: A faint halo of golden light surrounds it, holding back the demon's tentacles. It's only inches away.
Even now, those tentacles squirm and grow, trying to force a new wall up between it and you as you scramble to your feet and run for your fucking life towards the grail. Here is Ankaa, returning to your side in a burst of flame, running side by side with you for three precious steps, together in these final moments. You feel feathers brush against you as a hand plants itself between your shoulders.
"Make sure you come back" Ankaa whispers as she pushes you forwards, thrusting you through the closing barrier of tentacles.
Soaring through the air, you extend your hand as you effortlessly pass through the golden light that surrounds the grail, meeting no resistance as you reach out to connect.
Then cold gold brushes against your fingers, and you return to the place you were made to belong.
"Just give the word, Mimi, and I will do it." Ankaa whispers to you, cracking her knuckles as she gives the demon a glare brimming with hate. "If it will scour that monster from this world, I would tear my heart out-"
"There's no need for that- just get me there. That's all I need." You shake your head, blinking back the flashes of redness in your vision. "We do this the same way we've done so far. Together-"
"Until the end."
With that, you take off, sprinting along the riverbank towards the barrier. The grail's in the middle of the river- but there's a way you can get there- it's only insane. Suicidal. But it's what you've got- flying with Ankaa would just make you too big a target. You've got to get under its radar. Have it not realise what you're doing until it's too late. So you've got to get as close as you can, and run across the demon as its squirming mass chokes the river.
You run, and Ankaa flies. She swoops over the demon in the air, its red eyes tracking her as she overlooks it. It focuses, blinks, and death fills the air: Laser light flashing out, piercing Ankaa through and through, too fast for even her to dodge. She drops from the sky, blood leaking from half-cauterized wounds… then ascends again in a blaze of glory, her wounds vanishing in the flame that she wraps herself in. You don't even notice the pull of power she takes from you to do that. Here and now… you have all the power she could ever need.
Diving towards the demon, Ankaa is met by great tentacles rising up from its spreading bulk to meet her, sweeping in from all sides to crush her. They sweep in, blocking her from your vision- before a burst of flame scatters them all to ash, as Ankaa accelerates downwards, her flames carving a scorched groove in the body of the demon.
Red flashes in your vision as the phantom pain of the burn flashes in your mind, erratic, jagged images of the red eyes obscuring your sight, flashing in time with the gold tracery spreading across your body. But you can see the wound- and you can see the demon. It's a shell. It's hollow. Not physically, the scorched flesh that Ankaa's pyre leaves behind is as solid and real as yours- but… you can feel it. Somewhere at the core of this monster, something is missing. Vast chunks of it carved out and gone. Heartless in body and spirit, only capable to manifest like this thanks to all the things it has devoured.
It's good. It means you've got a better chance here.
You gasp for breath as you reach the waters edge, half-collapsing onto the railing as you catch yourself from falling. You're halfway there. Now comes the hard part- how do you get across the water? The demon's still spreading across the water- but it's still not at the shore yet- you've got to get there.
As you take those precious gasps of air, the demon strikes back at Ankaa, filling the sky with its deadly beams of light again- but this time, she is unscathed, reading the movements of the beast's eyes to dodge before it fires. It twitches and trembles in fury at her flight, appendages reaching up impotently for her.
Metal screams and twists as the demon coils around one of the bulwarks of the Thames Barrier, gripping it tighter and tighter, pulling and pulling until the entire structure is heaved from the concrete, held aloft by a trio of those pillar-like tentacles. It's held there for a moment before the tentacles flex, and the hulk of metal is sent flying into the sky, aimed to swat Ankaa like a bug- again the demon finds its assault to be useless, as Ankaa accelerates, punching straight through it, leaving a molten-edged hole in her wake.
But the metal still flies through the air- heading in your direction. You pick yourself up from your breather, ready to sprint away- when your hair is ruffled by the hurricane-force gale that briefly passes overhead, stopping the metal in its tracks. Robbed of all momentum, the barrier plunges harmlessly into the river, spray filling the air.
"My my, this has taken quite a turn, hasn't it Mimi?" You hear a soft, familiar voice at your back as you feel a wind at your back. You spin around to see Kiara touching down gently onto the pavement, her face half-hidden by the feathered fan she holds, a gentle wind playfully blowing around its tips.
"Kiara- you got out!" You gasp at her, still half-breathless. "Is- anyone?"
"Got out? How did you know?" Kiara tilts her head to the side ever so slightly. "You did ask me to do what I could for your fellow vessels."
There's a short, heavy pause before she speaks again. "One… I could save one. The rest were too far gone… I was going to do what I could, before I was so rudely interrupted."
You nod once in response. That's… what you'd seen in Casters last moments. It… could have been worse. Would have been, if you hadn't asked Kiara for help. "Are they-?"
"She's safe. Far enough away for the moment. I would do more, but… The situation here comes first. I may be many things, but I am still a member of the church- so this is a situation that I cannot allow to come to pass. Although I must admit, I fear something like this is beyond my capacity to exorcise." Kiaras free hand fidgets with a set of prayer beads,m her amber eyes holding the demon within it. "There is something about it though… An itch at the back of my head, perhaps. I feel like there's something I could do…"
"I can do it- just- help me get there." You respond, your breath finally returning to you as you massage a twinging leg.
"Ara?" Kiara gasps quietly, holding you in her eyes as she looks you over. Her eyes widen slightly as she sees the pulsing glow in your chest, before she lowers the fan ever so slightly. "Well, helping you fulfill your wishes would hardly be a sudden change of heart for me, would it now?"
She gestures with the fan, and you feel winds begin to play around your legs, gently ruffling the fabric of your trousers. "Make sure you make it back- I'm sure she'd want to meet you. I shall remain here… if I am blessed, I shall at least be able to prevent it from reaching the shore"
With that, Kiara thrusts her fan forwards commandingly, and you find yourself launched into the air, barely holding back a yelp of shock. Spray splashes your face as the winds carry you across the open water, low to the ground and beneath notice. They flick you upwards, and you find yourself landing on the demon.
Something crunches beneath your feet as you land- the outermost layer of the monster's carapace. Brittle, fragile and flaky. Like ash and bonedust. Filling your lungs with a familiar, horrific smell. The ghastly remnants of a furnace. With the burning star of Ankaa shining in your vision as she plummets from the skies, punching straight through the demon before bursting back up from below in a cloud of steam, you begin to dash towards the grail: The faint golden light shining out from within the knot of tentacles gives you hope- it's still shining, so there's still hope. The demon hasn't claimed it yet. It's something to focus on, to stop you from looking down at the carapace below you. As you get further away from the edge of the demon's spread, its carapace hardens, turning the into the dark, bony plating you've seen before. But for now, it's attention is all on Ankaa, it hasn't noticed you yet.
Until that all changes.
You stumble in your sprint as the carapace beneath you shifts, plates grinding apart to reveal a wet, fleshy pit beneath, an eye pushing its way outwards to fill in the gap ahead of you. It shudders, blinks, and turns its you-sized gaze towards you. You know exactly what's about to happen now- so you leap forwards, throwing the scrollcase high into the air as the hypnotic mandala-pattern shines out again, drawing the eye's attention as it focuses itself to end you.
It's only for a brief moment that the eye's gaze is drawn to the pattern, but it's long enough for you to hurl yourself to the side, crashing down on the bone beneath you as the beam grazes past you, hot enough to burn. But it's enough time for you to throw yourself onto the eye, keys in hand, using the fall to add just that little extra bit of force to your blow. Hot ichor splashes your face as you drive a blackened blade into the eye, wrenching it back and forth inside.
Then, for a brief moment- you connect.
The blade snaps as your focus breaks, left stuck inside the eye as you collapse, gasping in pain as the faint red-eye images fill your brain again, along with the the burning sight of you driving the blade into your vision as green eyes and black and gold worms fill your vision as you see your stab from the demons view and feel yourself bleeding into it even as it bleeds into you-
Biting your lip to draw you back to your senses, you scrabble to your feet to see the eye thrashing around in agony, the broken-off blade still lodged inside it… the demon's bleeding. It's melting. You connected to it for a brief moment, and just like the leyline, the curses within you flowed into it. It connected to you, and your body began to break it down and consume you, just like you did to all the magecraft that touched you this week. You have stained it, and as you run onwards, you see the eye get crushed by the demons own body, rejecting the foreign something that dares to attack it
You've gained some precious distance here, your goal looming ever closer, when the demon decides that you are now a threat. More of its attention is drawn from Ankaa, letting her scorch and char and burn ever more of its endlessly-growing body to ash, as an entire pillar-tentacle sprouts up in your path with that grinding rumble, three eyes gleaming malevolently at you as the carapace opens wide. They focus, preparing to burn you from the world in a way you can't save yourself from this time… Before three streaks of moonlight shoot in and pierce the eyes, popping them like burst balloons.
You dart forwards, ducking around the blinded and thrashing pillar, covering your ears to avoid the scream coming from somewhere within it, and catch a sight of your saviours: Gleaming with silver light, Izabetha and Archer stand on a rooftop at the water's edge.
Blood drips from Izabetha's lip as she bites into it. It's all she can do to not scream at the sight before her, at the demon that holds the grail in its clutches. Not from fear or pain- here and now, her heart has nothing but rage in it: She was so close! Her enemies were gone, and her allies weren't unreasonable- surely an agreement could have been reached! Even though she was not made to win a grail war, the grail was almost within her grasp! She could have finally done it!
But with the situation as it is… she has failed, and she knows it. That is the source of the scream welling up inside her. The fact that despite all she has done… once again, something has just come from nowhere and shattered her chance- The Einzberns chance- of claiming the grail.
Once more, her family is left with nothing.
Even so, when all is lost… this is not the end. Cold logic runs through her mind, calming that burning outrage. This is a situation where her primary goal is impossible. But even when nothing can be gained, it is still possible to not lose anything. So she has a hope that she can manage that much… and if she is lucky, find something of worth in the aftermath.
After all, she has seen you, how your heart beats in time with the stirring of the grail here, the gold spreading through your veins in these last moments. She has seen you tap into your nature, to accept it, to master it. To her eyes in these moments, you are a beacon, a key.
So when she sees you running to the grail in your suicidal charge… she will trust you. After all… you have more experience with grails than she has.
"Archer. This is my final command. Protect
With a crimson seal burning away on Izabetha's hand, Chang'e springs into motion, calmly and fluidly shooting down each and every eye that opens before you, silver moonlight robbing the demon of its deadly gaze before it could threaten you. It's enough to keep you safe as you keep on running towards the grail, as her aim or pace never falters. No matter how many eyes open, she will blind them all, even as the demon begins to grow towards her and Izabetha. To defend herself would be to leave a gap in your defences, which she cannot allow.
Even as Izabetha begins to frantically open fire on the approaching tentacles, her mundane weapons doing nothing at all to them, Chang'e protects you.
Even as the demon's tentacles rear up around the building, ready to tear it and them apart, she protects you.
It is only at the very last moment, when the tentacles surrounding her perch have grown too thick to shoot through, that she does something different. With a quick, seamless motion, she grabs Izabetha, hurling her from the rooftop.
Then Chang'e vanishes from this world, scattered to ash under the deathly gaze of the demon and the tentacles that crush the entire building to dust. Of Izabetha, there is no sign.
But they're got you so much closer to your goal- a hundred meters, maybe less. Ankaa's flying overhead as you break into a sprint, forcing your aching legs to keep working and your burning lungs to keep giving you the air you need. The stabbing headache of the bleedover's getting worse, more and more of your vision being filled by those translucent red eyes. You can't tell if it's because you're getting closer to the grail or because the demon's closer to breaking into the grail.
That golden light is still shining though, so it's not over yet. You avert your eyes for a moment as Ankaa swoops down low, searing a groove into the demons flesh all the way to the grail, the heat of her blinding flames washing over you as you drop into the pit of charred flesh and just keep on running. You're safe here, the burned pit keeping you out of eyeshot as you close in on the grail, making it right to the edge unscathed.
Only for you to be greeted by a massive wall of tentacles, the demon having extended itself as much as possible to form a tangled, knotty wall. A hundred eyes keep Ankaa pinned to the sky, an endless burning wall of lasers that even she cannot dodge completely as one great tentacle lazily unfolds, raising itself high to flatten you like a bug. The tentacle falls- then is sent flying to the sky in a crimson flash, blood spewing from its severed end.
A pained gasp escapes Scathach's mouth as she stands, the charred flesh of her scorched body weeping blood from wounds that never got a chance to properly heal. Even so, her bloodied spear is firm and steady as she points it at the demon. She knows it for what it is. She can see the hate for everything that calls itself human within its eyes. If she stood by and did nothing, simply let it claim the grail… that would surely grant her the oblivion she seeks.
But even after so many centuries seated before the gate to the land of shadows, she is not so desperate for death to take that bargain: If the price of her rest is the world dying with her, then the grave can wait.
So Scathach has come to fight, to show the world that even crippled by the dragon of Britain, she is far from done. Even so, these wounds are enough to make her slow, a liability. For her, this fight is not survivable.
"Master! It's time." Scathach calls out, raising her spear high.
On the shore, Flat sees the signal, staring at the monster his Servant has charged at. By his side, Gray holds an out of breath El-Melloi, who points a shaking finger at one part of the demon's wall. He knows what now's the time for. Scathach told him exactly what he needs to do in a situation like this.
Even so, he hesitates at giving the command, eyes watering as all his command seals turn into a blaze of power. "Show me how it's done!"
Standing before the heart of the demon, a bloodthirsty grin comes over Scathach's face as she feels the power surge into her. This is not going to be a true death for her. But a little death like this one will suffice, if it is against a foe like this.
In a flash, her spear splits and splits and splits again, becoming a field of thorns that pins the wall to the sky, impaling the tentacles over and over. The carapace beneath you shifts as the entire mass of tentacles is pressed together, making it into a single, massive target. Bone shatters as Scathach springs forwards, driving her spear into flesh before kneeling, the power from her master gathering within her. Then thunder claps as Scathach springs into the air, tearing open the outer plates of the demon and leaving a bloody crater behind her, the force of her spring simply shattering her wounded leg.
For a moment, she hovers in the air at the peak of her leap, blood-red energy surging around her spear. Lasers from the demon pierce her gut and shoulders, but the grip on her lance remains firm. "Witness your end, Gae Bolg Alternative!"
Kicking and launching herself down off nothing but thin air, Scathach falls to earth as a crimson thunderbolt, furious as a god's wrath as the air itself is split by her passing, left rent by scarlet lightning.
You close your eyes in reflex as she impacts, a blinding explosion that blows you off your feet from the force of the blast… And when your eyes open, Scathach too is gone.
But the way is open.
The grail is there, still intact and untarnished: A faint halo of golden light surrounds it, holding back the demon's tentacles. It's only inches away.
Even now, those tentacles squirm and grow, trying to force a new wall up between it and you as you scramble to your feet and run for your fucking life towards the grail. Here is Ankaa, returning to your side in a burst of flame, running side by side with you for three precious steps, together in these final moments. You feel feathers brush against you as a hand plants itself between your shoulders.
"Make sure you come back" Ankaa whispers as she pushes you forwards, thrusting you through the closing barrier of tentacles.
Soaring through the air, you extend your hand as you effortlessly pass through the golden light that surrounds the grail, meeting no resistance as you reach out to connect.
Then cold gold brushes against your fingers, and you return to the place you were made to belong.
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- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Oh no, she's getting Seraph ideas?
Poor Iza - I really wonder how this would have played out if we'd picked her.
But I think this is poignant, in some ways - it's a little like heavens feel. a False vessel come at the end.... just the other way around, really.
- Location
- Florida
Oh man that was so bittersweet. So many allied Servants dying to help us, and maybe our other allies too. Fingers crossed that as many of them survive as possible.
Ending: The Manifest Vessel
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
[The Manifest Vessel]
Your body stands motionless at the center of the demon's tentacles, frozen in the desperate grasp you were in when you connected to the grail. The grail itself is gone, vanishing within you in a flash of light as you claimed it. But that isn't the end of it: you stand impaled by the demon, black cracks spreading across your body as it connects to you, burrows itself inside you. The rest of it is still, everything it is now chasing the grail inside you.
But that is there, and you are here.
You are in a dark void, a place where the shadows of power thrash around you like a storm-tossed sea, the conflict within you shaking this realm to its heart. For you stand here, wincing in pain as the demon invades you. Red eyes glare at you from cracks in the darkness, and you feel inky cracks spread across your body, more of the demon's eyes opening up within you.
This is the last battle you will face in this war.
This is a battle where the ending was predetermined.
The demon burrows within you, crawling around beneath your skin and into your veins and bones and nerves, hollowing you out from the inside until you become nothing more than a husk, a shell for it to wear. Just like what became of Lainur. It will speak with your mouth and your words and use the grail you have claimed to burn the world to ash.
Your body fights back the only way it can. This demon is a creature of magic. So just like any piece of magic your body comes into contact with, you begin to corrode it, breaking it down and consuming it.
Fighting like that, the two of you bleed into each other, each of you understanding the other completely. It's eyes flash green as it learns of your helplessness and your growth and everything you have done to live. Your eyes flash red as you understand what it is, and how much it has lost- both of its own body, and the fellows it was always meant to be with. You would weep, if it did not mean to tear you apart and end everything you have gained.
But in the end, this battle can only end one way.
Even though it is but a shadow of its full glory, the demon is so much greater than you. There is nothing you could ever do to harm it- you know no magecraft, and all your body can do is struggle to decay it. But there is no way you could ever do that fast enough, even with every inch of your curse-stained body becoming a mouth to feast upon the interloper. It, on the other hand, could kill you with but a thought. You would stand no chance against it, if that was its goal- But if it kills you, it loses everything. The grail vanished from the material world the instant you claimed it, seamlessly merging with you. If you die, it and its power will be lost, and everything the demon has worked for will amount to nothing. You, a weak, feeble and pathetic human, will have bested it. And that is something it could never stand for.
You cannot kill it, but it must not kill you.
This is a battle where victory is gained by devouring your foe, of the two of you tangling with each other's very core, staining each other and consuming each other and containing everything the other is within you. And that is why the outcome of this battle was predetermined.
Because no matter how much power the demon holds… it is still a crippled, broken, hollow thing that can hold nothing but its own spite within it.
But you are whole.
The demon tries to flee as it realises this truth, to return to the world and its body, to escape you… only to find itself trapped as you become its prison. It writhes within you, slamming itself against the walls of you to no avail as your body bites down on it: Every cursed vein in your body bites into it, the blackness and curses within you becoming fangs and venom that stains it as it struggles and screams and realises how powerless it is.
With the demon held within you, the turbulence that fills this dark realm vanishes as the cracks and eyes surrounding you fade to nothing. All that is left of the demon are the eyes staring out from the cracks in your body here, helpless and powerless and hopeless. No matter how much it thrashes within you, it can't even give you so much as a headache now.
You could end it all now… but there is something you must do first. Something you want to do. Casting your gaze around this dark place, you see what you were looking for. What you hoped you'd see: A faint glimmer of light in the distance. You move towards it, covering the immeasurable distance between you in an instant, to see six small wisps of light floating in the air in front of you, huddling together as they slowly fade away: As you watch, tiny glowing specks break away from them, vanishing into the nothingness around you. This is all that remains of the vessels Kiara couldn't save. They can't even form a body for themselves in this place- they aren't even part of the grail anymore: When you claimed it and it merged with you, you became its true vessel, the grail in its entirety all contained within you and you alone. There is nothing left of them now but fading embers in a cold and empty hearth.
You reach out to them, gathering all that they are within cupped hands, as you gently connect to them, taking care to keep the link as light as possible. You don't want to overwhelm them or scatter them, which would be oh so terribly easy now.
"It's okay. You're not alone. It doesn't hurt anymore, does it? That's right. You've all done so well to make it so far, to last this long now. You've all fought so hard. It's okay, you don't need to fight any longer. Your big sister's here, I'll take it from here." You whisper to your sisters, tender words slipping from your lips as you hold their fading souls in your hands. Words that you had longed to hear in your darkest, most pathetic moments. Staying with them, so their final moments are painless and with someone at their side.
One by one, cradled against your chest, the last remnants of your sisters dwindle into nothingness as their souls fade away. Now, there is only you in this place, and the demon howling in rage within you.
You give your sisters a moment of silence to mark their passing. Then, and only then, do you accept the power within you, closing your eyes as you become complete.
You ascend, opening your eyes in a golden world.
You are the vessel and terminal of the Grail.
The lens that interprets the victor's wish.
You are Mimi Yagami.
The Master who has claimed victory in this war.
The Master who has claimed victory in this war.
You are something golden and pure
You are something stained and blackened
You are both these things
So you are neither.
In the end…
You remain yourself
So you are neither.
In the end…
You remain yourself
The darkness in this place vanishes as you open your eyes, finding yourself in a white void filled with twinkling golden lights. The demons cracks on your body are gone, replaced by a dazzling gold tracery that covers you from head to toe: The mechanisms of the grail, complete and whole and carved into your soul. Your arms are folded, with one hand lazily half-cupped in front of you.
You blink, and you hold the demon in the palm of your hand, tearing it from everywhere it tried to hide- did it think it could escape you, when the only place it has to hide is within your soul?
You gaze down at it with gold-speckled eyes, watching its powerless panic as it finds that it cannot save itself. With the slightest twitch of your fingers, even that stops as you hold the demon immobile. There is nothing that it can do, so you forbid it from doing anything.
A golden chalice forms in your free hand, the waters within it sparkling like diamond. The power of the grail- your power, ready to be released. Knowledge burns in your mind- there is something missing. There is something that was present when you were in Fuyuki that is not here- something vital. Without that… there is something you cannot do with this power. Something you cannot regain, even if that is what you directed it to.
But you have a more immediate use for this power.
It tried to kill end your everything
Contaminant identified.
It would burn all of your futures to ash
Attempts to infiltrate grail functionality detected.
It cannot be allowed to live
Action must be taken to preserve grail integrity.
As two trains of thought reach the same conclusion, you lift the chalice high, holding it over the captive demon. It wished for the power of the Grail. So it shall have it. The chalice tilts with the faintest flick of the wrist, and a brilliant, rainbow-patterned stream of energy pours forth, splashing over your hand as the demon is engulfed within.
In the real world, the monster is petrified, every inch of its body turned to gold in an instant, crumbling into dust and vanishing on the river-breeze. But in this place and in your soul, a demon drowns in diamond.
Just like that, it is gone and only you remain here. You could stay here forever… but you feel a warm light in your hand. Someone is calling you back to her side.
So you open your eyes once more to see the dawn.
The faces of your friends and allies surround you as you open your eyes- your real eyes, feeling the spray of water against your cheeks. You're standing atop the center of the Thames barrier, with the orange glow of the sunrise just now colouring the sky.
"It's me-" You say, before the wind is knocked from you as Ankaa rushes you, scooping you up in her embrace, the familiar heat of her wings warming you to the soul.
"You came back." She whispers to you alone.
"Together until the end, remember? That wasn't the end."
"The Grail?" Izabetha's voice is weak, and dried blood crusts her face as she's slumped over, resting on both Gray, who's carrying an exhausted looking El-melloi with her and a silver-filigree crutch, one leg simply gone below the knee. Flat's uncharacteristically silent as he stands nearby, lost in thought.
From within Ankaa's arms, you hold up a hand, Just like within yourself, a thought is all it takes to manifest the Grail, cold gold appearing in your hand in a flash of light. There's a hungry gasp from Izabetha at the sight, as she stretches an arm out towards you… before it falls limp at her side.
"It is yours. What will you do with it?"
"I'd used a bit… But there's something missing. Whatever this was meant to do, I couldn't." You swirl the chalice around as you look into it, the golden lines on your body catching your eye: The full body pattern of the grail is here as well, replacing the shattered-glass look of your normal circuits. With luck, forever.
But as for what you would do with the Grail… you have enough power left to do something with. That much is certain. But when you think of what you could do with it… nothing comes to mind. You have freedom, friends, and a future. That's all you ever wanted. A week ago, you might have wished for death and destruction once more. Then, it would have made no difference who won the war inside you, for the outcome would have been the same.
That's different now.
But even if there is nothing you would use this power on… there are people who it could make a difference to.
This is the last choice you will make in this war. What will you do with the last of the Grail's power?
[] You use it for Izabetha. You give the Einzbern their wish, and end these wars forever.
[] You use it for Gray. You return to her something she lost, and lessen the shadow she lives in.
[] You use it for Ankaa. You cut away that which she hates, freeing her from it forever.
[] You use it for everyone like your sisters. You grant them the same chance that Ankaa gave you.
- Location
- Florida
Well shit this is actually a difficult choice to make.
I'm leaning in favor of ending these fucking wars forever by voting for Izabetha. Magi are literally incapable of having a nice clean grail war without corruption bullshit messing things up.
[X] You use it for Izabetha. You give the Einzbern their wish, and end these wars forever.
I'm leaning in favor of ending these fucking wars forever by voting for Izabetha. Magi are literally incapable of having a nice clean grail war without corruption bullshit messing things up.
[X] You use it for Izabetha. You give the Einzbern their wish, and end these wars forever.
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- Location
- Somewhere!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I like this, that she's kind of eating into a pillar. Some of the better FGO parts in pt 1 were when the pillars started to panic and be afraid.
Got little happy chills from this one! Hype!
<3
Ah, so we did learn a trick from Kiara!
How to hold them in the palm of your hand, and how to trap a demon pillar in your fingers.
I really like the einzbern inner voice. Pretty sure I've said it before, but it's one of my favorite motifs in this sort of fantasy thing - very orderly, very computerized, that sort.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] You use it for everyone like your sisters. You grant them the same chance that Ankaa gave you