A/N: Hey guess what I found some of my brains
The streets of Orleans are like something out of a nightmare, or a movie. Carts and crates are strewn out across the space between cramped buildings, and the roads are filled with wyverns, a wall of gnashing teeth and thrashing wings. The common folk of France fight on with sticks, pitchforks, cleavers, axes, their bare hands in some cases. You could see the desperation on their faces, the very real fear that this is where they die. Slaughtered by monsters.
Mashu does what she can, but she cannot afford to be distracted from her mission. As she runs by, she swings and she bats with her shield, knocking wyverns aside with every strike. Enough of them fall before her borrowed hero's strength, but she cannot tell if it's enough to kill. Kana's command seal compels her onwards, and she's far too focused on Jeanne's fate. At the very least, following her trail is an easy task. Just look out for the torn up roads and shattered walls.
She follows their trail towards the city's south, tearing through the roads and through monsters in equal measure. Wyverns and people become more scarce the closer she gets, as does the thumping in her chest. Thinking it's just the beating of her heart, Mashu carries on. But before she knows it the streets are barren of monster and man alike, and she finally realises that the thumping has a metallic clang to it.
More importantly, it's weighty, but it's not in her chest. It merely echoes through it. What she's been hearing all this time, as fast as her racing pulse, has been the shock of a battle between Servants.
Mashu hurries onward, shield held forward in expectation of an attack. As she steps out of the street and round a corner, she catches a glimpse of a smoky shadow holding up a holy woman by the neck. She slams her foot forward, ready to dash forward.
She braces against it instead when the black knight throws the Saint at her. Her boots grind against the dirt. Mashu feels the strain, borrowed strength barely enough. But she holds, and manages to keep the Saint upright. She tries to get in front of her. "Jeanne, are you--"
The black knight is upon them instantly. There is a clang, and Jeanne cries out from the sword now lodged in her abdomen. Mashu sees the baleful red light shining through his smokey visor, sinister and foreboding. She sees the storm coming for her, something no human could fight.
She lets go of her shield and throws a left hook. Her shield falls, and Jeanne with it. The black knight catches her fist with ease, gripping her hand with bands of iron, still looking intently at her. He does not notice, nor does he care, when Jeanne falls and brings his stolen french broadsword with him.
He looks only at her, head tilted, ever menacing… yet curious. He lets go of Mashu's closed fist and lets his arm hang limp.
"G...Gah…?"
Mashu frowns. What is he trying to say? She doesn't get a chance to find out.
Pulling the broadsword out of her gut, murmuring a prayer that infuses it with white light, Jeanne D'Arc swings at the black knight, holding onto the blade. He intercepts instantly with his vambrace, the clash of metal on metal ringing like thunder. The pointed hilt of the blade remains a frustrating inch from his helm.
Regardless, his helm splits into halves and falls apart. Long purple locks spill from his head, oily and tangled. His features are sunken, his teeth pointed, his skin pale. His eyes are narrowed like pinpricks. He looks nothing like noble.
Yet, despite that, he is undoubtedly Lancelot du Lac, greatest of King Arthur Pendragon's knights.
And now, he wields the sister of the King's legendary sword.
Lancelot breaks his deadlock with Jeanne in an instant. Her arms above her head, her stolen estoc twirling through the air, and both her sword and her flag unavailable to her, the only thing that stands between Arondight and her head is a young Shielder gifted power but none of the lessons to use it.
Instincts drive Mashu Kyrielight regardless. She reaches out and pushes the Saint back, putting herself in the way instead. Lancelot sees it, but he's already committed. Not even one of his prodigious skill could redirect the slash.
Once more she steps through time. The blade passes through her like smoke. Mashu Kyrielight is unharmed. Lancelot sees this and closes his eyes, a small smile on his lips.
A seasoned soldier, bleeding from a deep cut and a very deep stab wound, the Maid of Orleans capitalises instantly. She calls her flag to her side as she leaps for the black knight, and stabs him in the chest. The knight is forced back but remains upright, the spearhead embedded in his heart. He is mortally wounded, but still in a position to kill her.
Lancelot does not resist as Jeanne D'Arc draws La Pucelle and stabs him in the neck. He finally falls, still smiling sadly. On the ground, bleeding out, he reaches out to Shielder with weak, trembling fingers. Mashu grabs his hand, unaware of the significance.
In seconds he goes limp. In a minute his body has faded into motes of golden dust. The last thing to go is his smile, his nobility finally restored.
In the aftermatch, as Jeanne falls to her knees and tries to control the bleeding, Mashu Kyrielight does not know why she cries.
Behind them, the sky is pierced by a blue beam.
----
Outside the gates of Orleans, Cu Chulainn could almost shed a tear of joy, because this is probably the best fight he's had so far. Like, sure, Dracula was pretty cool, and fighting an army of discount dragons is pretty sick, but monsters are easy and so get boring after a while - even if they have disgustingly good fire support. Dracula mostly stood there and shot stakes at him. Kind of one-note after a while, frankly speaking.
And then Siegfried comes along as a legitimate fucking sword-wielding badass and man if the fate of the city behind him and literally all of human history wasn't on the line, he might drag this out as long as possible just to milk it for all the excitement this fight is worth. Even if the cursed dragonslayer might not have his heart in the fight.
Landing deftly after backflipping, Lancer glances behind him at the torn up muddy labyrinth that used to be gently rolling hills covered in grass and trees. Yeah, he definitely doesn't have his heart in the fight.
Exhaling, the Saber takes a step back and holds his sword at his chest, even as the green rune on it dims in intensity. He's hardly untouched after the fight they've had, but compared to Cu his injuries are minimal. Not that it matters, he's the son of Lugh. He can take more injuries than some german guy with wings and a good sword. "I apologise for this, Lancer. But our time has come to an end."
Cu frowns. Experience has taught him that anyone saying that is about to kill themselves or do something ridiculous - sometimes both at once. He steps back as well, Gae Bolg over his shoulder in case anything should happen. Now, Cu curses the loss of one of his arms. "Why's that? Not like the horde's left the city yet."
Siegfried shakes his head. He pulls on the hilt of his blade to reveal a blue crystal, and the blade burns with blue flame that reaches out to the skies. Cu immediately takes a stance, but he has a feeling it's already too late. "Lancelot is dead. My Master has new orders for me."
Cu smirks. He barks a laugh and leaps backwards. He hears his Master yelling for him to do something, but he's an old hand at this. He knows what to do. "Well, my orders haven't changed."
The dragonslayer smiles gently at him, more gently than expected. "I wish you all the best, Lancer."
"Heh. See you around, Saber."
The blue light around Balmung intensifies, scattering the clouds above. Gae Bolg burns red and painfully bright to look at.
"Fall - BALMUNG!"
"GAE BOLG!"
Saber swings. Lancer throws. The blue light of the sword that slew Fafnir crashes against the red spear of striking death, each a weapon of such unfathomable force that armies would be scattered before their light.
And inexorably, the light of Balmung slowly overcomes the power of Gae Bolg.
----
Throwing down the splintered remnants of her pike - holy fuck dual-wielding that and her sword was impossible she's never doing that again - Kana looks out at the interplay between blue and red right outside the walls of Orleans and gulps. Siegfried fired off Balmung after all. Lancer's trying to counter, but it won't be enough. It sucks, but Balmung's a full rank higher. They have a minute or so before Balmung overpowers it, and while at least it's not Excalibur it's still going to rip the walls open and kill a lot of people.
Think, Kana, think! You've always been good at lateral thinking. How do you get a barrier out there in time to tank an Anti-Army Noble Phantasm?!
'Caster, can you whip up a--' She snaps her fingers abruptly as she remembers. 'Nevermind, it's anti-Dragon. You do you.' She focuses on someone else entirely. Jeanne might be able to do it with Luminosite Eternelle… if she could get there in time. But it might not cover enough area to tank the entire strike for the city… she would need to be in the perfect place to diffuse the blast…
Dammit dammit dammit, no time! 'Marie, go find Mashu and Jeanne, and get them to the gate now!'
'Oui, already on it!'
It might not be enough. She needs to know where the last piece on her board remains. 'Mashu, where are you?'
The blue light swallows Gae Bolg then and there. Kana sees a blue blur jump clear, but it's a small mercy. In a few seconds she'll be dead. It might be depressing, but luckily for her she is an idiot. She can't help but believe.
She also has magic hax.
"Mashu… By my Command Seal, have faith."
----
Standing in front of the gates of Orleans, standing before the blue light that will wipe out civilisation, with the Saint by her side and her Master (far) behind her, Mashu Kyrielight plants her shield into the ground and flushes it with power. Once again, she'll break the storm.
"Engage Noble Phantasm - Lord Chaldeas!"
She expands her boundary, protecting not just herself, but all who stand behind her. The blue flame that slaughtered the Sky Demon, Fafnir, crashes against her shield with all the force of a freight train and more.
It is heavy. It is unimaginably heavy. Once more Mashu must confront with the reality that saying and experiencing are far different. She survived Excalibur through the skin of her teeth, and she's already been in combat today. She never had to protect a city either. The struggle to contain Balmung, to protect an entire city, might just be too much. There's too much at stake, too many people to live up to. What if she fails? What happens right after? Won't Siegfried just fire off another one?!
The Saint squeezes her shoulder. Mashu feels unnatural resolve in her own actions, a Command from someone far behind her, but also far ahead of her.
She looks past Balmung, past Siegfried, past the hills and the rivers and the trees, past Paris…
Mashu Kyrielight steels herself, unyielding, for there is no longer any doubt. Either she holds, or Ritsuka Tohsaka dies. And he won't die. Not until she sees him again!
The storm passes. Balmung's light dies. Siegfried looks at her, impressed. But he is still compelled by the absolute nature of a Command Seal, and instead charges Balmung once again.
Mashu narrows her eyes. Her barrier yet remains. He can come as often as he wants. Balmung will break long before she does.
The wyvern corpses around her lurch abruptly. Siegfried calms Balmung down immediately. Mashu frowns, but holds fast. What is going on?
Each corpse bursts suddenly. Mashu and Jeanne shriek. It's only once they start gathering together in bundles that she realises what is going on.
One by one, the mystical dragon-headed warriors of Colchis rise again, forged from the literal bones of their enemies. And Mashu does not even have to look over her shoulder to feel the literal stampede of them charging through the gate, instead looking as Siegfried chooses to retreat.
Next to her, Jeanne's expression is between shock and relief, something she shares even as Marie rides up next to her with Kana, offering a hand to pull her up.
The siege is over. Their counterattack has finally begun.
.
