Vol 2. Chapter 42. Icarus.

Maiya couldn't even fight back in the state she was in, forcing her to watch as Kirei raised the black key up high.

Maiya's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled against the rifle's foregrip, her vision hazing from the pain in her abdomen.

She thought for certain that this next instant would be her end, as Kirei hovered above her, with an expression that remained devoid of emotion.

But before he could bring the black key down, a burst of bullets tore through the air.

The muzzle flashes lit the garage with rapid bursts of light. Kirei twisted, retracting his black key in an attempt to parry the hail of gunfire.

The first few rounds sparked against the blade's metal edges, ricocheting off into the concrete, but the force of those impacts managed to loosen his grip. The black key jerked violently in his hand before it snapped, broken shards clattering to the floor.

Maiya knew she wouldn't get a better chance, and seized that brief opening Kiritsugu had created for her.

Inhaling deeply, she forced her body to respond. Pain flared through her side, but the adrenaline dulled her pain.

Without wasting time, she let her rifle hang and reached for the combat dagger strapped across her chest, quickly pulling out the blade from its sheath.

Kirei moved away to escape the sudden barrage, barely getting scratched by the barrage of bullets. His expression remained cool, but for an ordinary human, those injuries he had accumulated through the battle would have been crippling. But for that man, it seemed only to make him seem more alive.

Taking her chance, she lunged, leading with her shoulder to close the gap, gripping the dagger low and angled upward. Her boots slipped slightly on the drenched concrete, but she locked her stance before stabbing forward.

Kirei's attention flicked from Kiritsugu's muzzle flashes to the glint of Maiya's dagger. The blade cut through the distance in a direct line toward the center of his chest.

Kirei's hand, the one Maiya had previously shot, flashed into the path of her weapon. The blood-slick skin and dark fabric of his sleeve made it seem as if he was simply swatting aside an inconvenience. But instead of merely blocking or deflecting, he closed his damaged palm around the knife's point, impaling himself all the way through.

A sickening squelch echoed in Maiya's ears. For a second, she didn't fully register what had happened. Her breath caught, and shock formed a silent gasp in her throat.

Her dagger, the entire length of steel, was now embedded through Kirei's palm. The tip of it was only a few centimeters away from puncturing his chest.

Kirei exhaled calmly, as if the pain did not exist. His hand held fast, stopping Maiya's lunge dead in its tracks. Maiya tried to yank the dagger free, but his grip was like iron.

She heard Kiritsugu's footsteps pounding on the opposite side of the pillars, the scuff of his shoes echoing in the enclosed space. At the edge of her perception, she registered him reloading in an urgent scramble as she struggled to keep Kirei pinned.

Kirei didn't give Maiya time to think. A flash of movement, and a slight dip of his legs, his weight shifted as he coiled in his stance.

She heard a gunshot from Kiritsugu's position, but it came too late. Kirei ducked under the line of fire, pulling Maiya's dagger with him, effectively dragging her forward. And then he struck.

His uninjured arm cocked back as he pivoted on his back foot to gather momentum, ignoring how his hand was skewered. His elbow snapped into alignment as he drove his fist toward Maiya's chest.

She tried to twist away, but the dagger trapped her in his hold, giving her no space to retreat. The blow landed, full force, squarely in her sternum.

The impact crushed bone, caving in her ribcage with a muffled crack. Her entire body jerked backward, only to be halted by Kirei's grip on the dagger still lodged in his palm.

Her eyes rolled up, and she coughed, a wet, ragged sound, spitting blood onto Kirei's wrist. The world tilted. She felt weightless for a moment, as the pain overwhelmed every nerve.

She collapsed, blood leaking out of her mouth, as her body slumped lifelessly to the floor. Her internal organs had been unable to withstand the strain of Kirei's strike, the majority popping like a balloon.

Kirei released a shallow breath, as he glanced at Maiya's still body, the smallest of smiles wiggled its way onto his face.

Then, with a sudden clench of his good arm, he wrenched the dagger from his injured hand, a fresh stream of blood joining the water on the floor.

He turned, holding the combat knife in his good hand. The sprinklers hissed overhead, and flames from earlier gunfire licked across some debris near the far wall. Somewhere in the distance, the crash of colliding Servants resonated, but neither man in the garage allowed their attention to wander.

Kirei sprang into motion. His boots splashed across shallow rivulets of water on the floor as he dashed for Kiritsugu.

Kiritsugu saw him coming and immediately broke into a run himself, ducking behind a large SUV with shattered windows. The muzzle of his pistol peeked out from behind cover, sending a short burst of gunfire to keep Kirei at bay. Spent casings bounced on the slick floor, and the smell of gunpowder mingled with the damp air.

Kirei pivoted at the last moment, letting the bullets tear through the door of a sedan instead, as he sank low, using the hood as cover.

Kiritsugu quickly realized he couldn't hold his position for long, as Kirei was faster than him, and far more adept at close combat. Steadying his pistol, Kiritsugu ejected the near-spent magazine with a practiced flick of his thumb. He slapped in his last magazine, before cocking the slide back, ejecting an unused cartridge.

Knowing that Kirei knew where he currently was, Kiritsugu knew that he needed to leave his spot, and hide. As without the advantage of surprise, he'd lose, especially now that Maiya was out of the picture.

Taking in a deep breath, he activated Double Accel. The world around him seemed to decelerate for just an instant. Water droplets hung in midair like crystals, and the drifting smoke from earlier explosions appeared to swirl in slow motion.

Kiritsugu moved, pushing off the corner of the sedan, sprinting to another line of cover. He slipped behind a thick concrete column, then swiftly cut across to a vantage point behind a wide pickup truck with smashed headlights.

He paused there, adjusting his stance. His chest rose and fell with hurried breaths, as time resumed its natural flow. He needed to keep track of Kirei's position.

Seconds of tense silence passed. Kiritsugu tried to still his own pounding heartbeat, leaning to peer through the side windows of the pickup.

No sign of Kirei. He had vanished between columns or behind another vehicle, probably stalking him.

Kiritsugu gritted his teeth. His mind raced. He had only a single magazine left. If he wasted even a single bullet, there would be no second chance.

He scanned the reflective surfaces of nearby cars, hoping to catch a hint of movement.

Then he heard it: a faint step, the gentle scrape of a shoe against concrete. Kiritsugu froze, pressing his back against the truck's frame, waiting. Another faint sound, this time from behind the next column.

Slowly, Kiritsugu inched along the side of the pickup, pistol raised. He half-expected Kirei to pounce from above, or perhaps strike from an unexpected blind spot.

He took one step, then another, mindful of his footfalls. The slick floor made it difficult to move silently, but this was not his first time moving silently through unconventional terrain.

A moment later, Kiritsugu spotted a dark form sliding behind the trunk of a crushed sedan.

Kirei.

The man was hunched slightly, leaning around the side in a posture akin to a predator stalking prey, his eyes scanning the parking lot.

Kiritsugu exhaled, aligning his sights. He had the perfect angle, as Kirei hadn't spotted him yet. The crosshairs lined up on Kirei's head. He steadied his grip, prepared to fire.

Then, at the worst possible moment, his phone started to buzz.

Kiritsugu felt it vibrate against his chest, the soft hum nearly drowned by the falling water but still audible enough to pierce the silence. His eyes went wide. A wave of cold dread spilled through him.

A random call was impossible, as his number was off the books, and was not registered anywhere that mattered.

Only two people had his work number, Maiya and Irisviel, neither of which could have called him now, as Maiya was certainly dead, and Irisviel had lost her belongings when Caster kidnapped her.

In an environment as quiet as this, that tiny buzzing noise might as well have been a roaring alarm.

Kirei's head snapped in Kiritsugu's direction. Those dark eyes locked on him with a terrifying speed. Without hesitation, Kiritsugu dove behind the pickup's rear, cursing under his breath.

Trying to take a shot while Kirei was looking at him would have just wasted bullets, something he couldn't do now.

He heard the scrabble of Kirei's rapid footsteps as the priest sprinted, closing the distance. Kiritsugu jammed a hand into his pocket, thumbing the reject call button. He raised his pistol, bracing for the inevitable confrontation.

A heartbeat later, Kirei vaulted into view, weaving between cars. Kiritsugu squeezed off two shots. The muzzle flashes flickered, illuminating Kirei's silhouette.

Kirei twisted, letting one bullet pass just beyond his head and blocking the other by batting it aside with his reinforced priest garb, easily knocking it aside.

In the same fluid motion, Kirei lunged around another car, sliding across the wet floor as he repositioned. Kiritsugu scrambled backward, trying to gain distance. His phone vibrated a second time, the buzz practically echoing in his skull.

He was out of time to silence it again. Kirei seized the opening and launched himself forward, footsteps pounding hard enough to almost leave indents in the concrete. Kiritsugu pivoted, firing another round.

Kirei's body shifted at the last instant, contorting away from the bullet's path so that it struck the concrete behind him. He was close, too close.

Within an arm's length, Kirei flashed the combat knife upward, intending to slash across Kiritsugu's forearm. Kiritsugu jerked back, spinning to the side and barely evading the blade. He brought his pistol forward, aiming to shoot point-blank.

Before he could pull the trigger, Kirei thrust the knife forward. Kiritsugu realized his mistake an instant too late, the blade wasn't aimed at him, but at the muzzle of his gun.

A metallic clang reverberated as the knife slid into the pistol's barrel, jamming it firmly. Kiritsugu's eyes widened in a mixture of horror and resignation. He felt the muzzle bend against the intrusion, rendering the weapon useless.

He only had an instant to assess before Kirei's damaged arm drew back, ready to perform a punch identical to the one he had delivered to Maiya.

Kirei was unable to close his fist, choosing to instead open it, readying a palm strike instead.

Kiritsugu could only watch on as Kirei took in a deep breath, as a smile crossed his face.

But before he could strike, the sound of concrete breaking was heard, along with something whizzing through the air.

In an instant, Kirei's chest burst open, revealing a tip of a dagger protruding out of his chest where his heart was.

The priest's eyes widened, as blood spewed out of his mouth in a cough. His body started to sway, as all the strength in his body vanished.

Slowly, the priest slumped, falling over. Kiritsugu watched him fall to the floor with relief, but clear suspicion.

It did not take a genius to know who had saved him, the only remaining question was, why?

Leaving that question be for the moment, he pulled out his buzzing phone, and glared at it. On the screen he saw a number he had never seen before, causing him to feel on edge.

Hesitating for a moment, he pressed the phone to his ear and clicked the accept button. "Who are yo—" "Kiri!" His words were cut off by a voice he could instantly recognise, causing his eyes to widen.

"Irisviel?!" He said with clear disbelief, before cooling his head and thinking things through. "Where are you, are you safe? How did you call me without your phone? Where is Saber?" He rattled off, causing Irisviel to quickly answer.

"I'm fine, I'm in an alley… I tried remembering your number, tried a few different ones, before checking the contact list from the phone Vivian gave Saber. There was only one contact with your name on it, so I called once I found it," she explained in a single breath, before continuing.

"I'm not sure about Saber, but I've been hearing their fight for a while now, I even think they might have brought down a building in their fight," she said nervously.

The news caused Kiritsugu to frown, before sighing. "I'll find you soon, just be careful, and trust in Saber," he said, causing Irisviel to quickly but in, as it sounded like he was about to turn off the call. 

"Kiri, that's not why I called you! It's the Grail," she said, causing him to frown. "Something is in it," she said shakily. "I– I, when I was a part of it, I saw it…" she murmured.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. Kiritsugu was not fully sold on Rider and his Master's news of the Grail potentially being cursed, as he felt it was more an attempt at them trying to increase their chance of winning the war.

As it was far too convenient that Rider had found papers from Caster, written in a language he understood, that described a worst case scenario out of the blue. In his opinion, it was an attempt at them trying to monopolize the Grail.

"I don't know," she muttered, before continuing. "I didn't see anyone, but I felt someone else in there," she explained shakily. "It felt so dark… the black mud tried to consume me… it showed me so many things…" her words trailed off for a moment. "Horrible things it wanted to do."

Each word made Kiritsugu's heart sink. Both due to his wife experiencing something horrible, along with the fact that if her words held true, then maybe Rider wasn't lying.

"I only survived due to something Caster had done, as I couldn't fully meld my soul with the Grail. But it still tried to consume me," she stuttered, causing Kiritsugu to speak up, sounding a lot more gentle than he usually did. "Did it say its name?"

There was a slight pause before she spoke. "A–Angra Mainyu…" she stuttered out.

That single name almost caused all the light in Kiritsugu's eyes to go dark.

Irisviel had no way of knowing that name, so her knowing it all but confirmed Caster's theory, meaning one thing.

The Grail was cursed.

"Stay put Irisviel, I'll co–" Kiritsugu cut himself off at the sound of something sizzling piercing the surrounding silence.

Turning his head to look in the direction of the sound, he instantly recoiled back.

There was a hole in the wall, likely where the dagger had come from, and it was leaking a black sludge. One that seemed to ooze malice, as it disintegrated the surrounding cement, causing it to smoke.

Seeing it, Kiritsugu felt a horrible feeling, as the little hole in the wall slowly expanded, leaking more and more miasma.

"Kiri?" Irisviel's voice caused him to wrench his gaze from the quickly growing pool of black mud, and focus on his wife's voice. "I just found something unsettling, I'll investigate it later, for now, I'll hang up. I'll call you when I am closer."

"Please hurry, I don't want to be alone right now," she stated nervously, causing Kiritsugu to sigh.

Pressing the phone to his ear, he picked up his somewhat dented gun and holstered it. "Never mind, I'll hold the line while making my way over to you," he said gently, causing a light sigh from the other end of the phone.

"Thank you."

~~Fate/False Order~~

"L— Lancelot?" Artoria said in a shaky, almost broken voice, her gaze fixed on the purple knight with unbelieving eyes.

The streetlamps sparked feebly, half of them shattered from the earlier destruction, while the few that still functioned cast flickering cones of light over the Knight of the Lake.

Now she knew who he truly was. One of the greatest knights who ever served by her side, consumed by madness. The mere fact alone caused a pit to form in her stomach.

Across from her, the towering form of Berserker stood perfectly still for a moment, before he raised Arondight, the Knight of the Lake's prized blade.

The stance paired with the figure performing it caused Saber to hesitate, as the image of her once loyal knight brandished his blade against her.

But Lancelot—no, this Berserker—did not hesitate.

He did not heed the sorrowful quake in her voice. With a guttural screech, he sprang forward in one explosive motion.

Artoria was too stunned to dodge immediately.

She barely managed to shift her feet into a defensive stance in time to bring her invisible sword overhead. Their blades collided with a resounding boom, sending shockwaves through her arms and shoulders. Sparks flew outward in a blinding burst.

But the power behind Berserker's overhead strike was monstrous, far beyond what she had faced moments earlier. Artoria's feet sank into the cracked pavement; her knees buckled, nearly giving way under the sheer force that pressed down on her sword.

She clenched her teeth, struggling to maintain her stance. Her muscles trembled, and she felt the bones in her arms vibrate with each second that she held off Arondight.

The ground beneath her groaned, spiderweb cracks spreading outward from the point where her feet dug in.

A fraction of space opened between their blades as she sank further into the ground. Seizing this slight reprieve, she drew upon her reserves of mana, pushing upward with all her might.

She felt the clash waver, if only for an instant. Still, it was enough for her to slip free from the deadly press of steel.

She staggered back, catching her breath. Her golden hair clung to her face with sweat, and her lungs burned from the exertion. Yet, staring across at the man who was once her proud knight, she felt her chest tighten with guilt.

"Lancelot!" she cried, voice cracking with more emotion than she intended. "W-why… Why are you like this? Why do you pursue me in hatred?"

Berserker only lunged, ignoring her words, his blade cutting through the air in a downward arc. Artoria deflected the blow to one side, but the force rattled her arms anew.

Even as she managed to parry, he twisted Arondight back, swinging it horizontally. She pivoted just barely in time, the blade whistling an inch from her breastplate.

She realized he wouldn't speak rationally. He was too far gone, too ensnared by madness to do anything but rage.

Yet she had to try.

She owed her knights at least that much, to give them the chance to show that maybe somewhere within that twisted mind, the knight she once knew could still hear her.

"Is—Is this my fault?" she shouted, her voice rising to be heard over the thunderous clash of steel. "Did I fail you so completely that you were left to this madness?"

His only answer was an inhuman roar. "AAAARRRRTHUUUUUURRRRR!!!"

He threw a savage kick with no warning, his armored boot colliding with her side just under her ribcage. The blow came like a sledgehammer.

Despite her best attempt to brace, the force sent her flying backward in a violent arc. Her body skidded across the road, smashing through the charred remains of an overturned stall and tumbling into the front of a building with a sickening crunch.

The building's facade gave way. Broken glass rained around her as she crashed through what remained of a display window.

She felt plaster crack, and then an entire section of wall tore open as she barreled inside, sending merchandise racks and shelving units toppling in a cacophony of splintered wood. Thick dust billowed into the air, momentarily obscuring her vision.

For a moment, she could only gasp for air. Her entire torso throbbed from where his boot had made contact. A lesser warrior would have been knocked unconscious—or worse.

But Saber was no ordinary human; she clenched her teeth, forcing the pain to subside through sheer will.

She planted both hands on the debris-strewn floor, forcing herself upright. Shards of glass and bits of broken tile slid off her armor.

In the dim overhead lighting, she realized she'd landed in what looked like a boutique, its once-neat displays now ruined. Torn clothing, shattered mannequins, and splintered wood surrounded her.

At the far end of the store, the hole she'd crashed through was still big enough to show the outside street. Flickering neon from a half-demolished sign traced shifting colors across the dust in the air. She coughed, inhaling a lungful of particles, but willed her focus to remain sharp.

Berserker's roar cut through the settling dust like a clarion of dread. She glimpsed his dark form surging closer.

He strode right through the remains of the outer wall, Arondight carving a brutal path as he advanced. Stone, metal, and plaster yielded to that blade as if it were slicing through parchment.

In that moment, she could almost see the regal posture that once belonged to her bravest knight, overshadowing his bestial presence.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she steeled herself, raising her invisible sword. Despite her swirling guilt, Artoria was a warrior above all else, she would protect herself, and she would fight if there was no other choice.

Berserker tore through the final remnants of the boutique's outer wall, forging a jagged, man-sized opening. He wasted no time with words or roars this time, only advancing in a single-minded assault.

He lunged, swinging Arondight in a broad, descending arc, cutting a diagonal slash straight toward her. Saber recognized the move, and quickly flung her sword up in another overhead block. Steel met steel, and an echoing clang rang out, driving rivulets of dust from the cracked ceiling above them.

Though her defense held, Berserker was already following up. He released one hand from Arondight's hilt and threw a savage punch toward her face. The motion was fluid, almost seamless, as he used the momentum of his blocked sword arm to pivot his torso and add torque to the punch.

Artoria twisted sideways in an attempt to dodge, but the fist still found its mark, striking the side of her jaw. The impact rattled her skull, sending her vision swimming for half a heartbeat. She tasted blood on her lips.

With a grunt, she harnessed that very momentum, letting it carry her body backward. In midair, she planted her feet on an overturned rack and used the unstable surface to push off, sweeping her sword in a slash aimed at his exposed arm. The move was risky, as she had only the briefest moment of alignment, but she seized it.

Her blade caught the edge of Berserker's gauntlet, scraping it with a piercing shriek of metal against metal. Sparks erupted as the invisible sword carved a shallow cut into the hardened steel. It was not a deep wound, but it left a definite gash on his fingers, hopefully crippling his grip.

A feral cry ripped from Berserker's throat, more enraged than pained. Raising Arondight overhead with a single arm, his entire body trembled with fury.

Saber landed, booted feet skating across the polished tile, sending fragments of debris scattering. She pushed herself upright, ignoring the throbbing in her jaw.

Her green eyes locked onto Berserker, analyzing his next movement, as a single misstep here could mean certain death.

He roared and slashed, yet the slash seemed to carry far too much range for his position.

Artoria realized a beat too late what he was doing.

His strike cut only air, but that air shook as he completed his strike. A shimmering line of blue energy formed in the blade's wake, as it appeared on the store's shelves, mannequins, walls, and the ceiling above in a wide, diagonal arc.

Her instincts screamed at her. She half-stumbled, half-threw herself backward, leaning so far she nearly toppled. As she did, she watched that crackling line sail just inches above her face, splintering everything behind her.

Berserker's breath rasped behind his visor. He seemed to stand still for a moment, as if assessing the giant illusory slash.

And then he spoke two words in that raspy, mangled tone of voice he used to shout Saber's name. "Arondight Overload!"

Artoria's eyes widened. She felt a spike of dread wash over her, followed by an eruption of white brilliance from the diagonal cut that he had just carved into the air.

That elongated tear glowed violently, scorching her vision with its intensity. She sensed, more than saw, as the store's walls began to rip apart at the seams.

Cracks spidered out from that glowing line, skittering along the building's support columns, the ceiling beams, and the outer brickwork. The structural integrity failed in an instant. The glowing line slowly vanished, but once the lights vanished, a long cut was left where the light had been.

Artoria had only a heartbeat to react. She saw the ceiling sag, the lights wink out, and she felt the floor quaking beneath her feet. Summoning every ounce of her strength, she lunged for the nearest intact wall and smashed through it with a powerful thrust of her shoulder.

A thunderous collapse sounded behind her as she dove clear. The building caved in on itself, floors and walls folding inward like a house of cards thanks to the building being severed in two.

Clouds of dust bloomed outward, temporarily blotting out the moonlight. Chunks of rubble rained down, smashing into the pavement with calamitous force.

She landed in a forward roll on the street outside, bits of debris clattering around her. Her lungs burned, and her armor bore scratches from countless impacts, but she was alive. Rising to one knee, she coughed, her hair and face dusted pale by the swirling haze.

She kept her invisible sword raised in a defensive posture, scanning the collapsed structure for any sign of Lancelot.

The building was a wreck of caved-in floors, shattered windows, and bent metal frameworks, still trembling from aftershocks of the destruction.

Even in the chaos, Artoria remained vigilant. She suspected that Berserker was still alive under that wreckage, as the knight she once knew would never die so easily.

The hush that fell over the scene was deafening. Only the crackle of broken wires and the faint shift of rubble broke the stillness.

Then, with a jarring crash, the twisted mass of debris near the center of the collapse exploded. Chunks of stone and steel flew in all directions, revealing Berserker's towering figure in mid-jump.

He soared into the night sky, brandishing his blade, as he headed straight for her.

Artoria's instincts flared hot. She had expected something like this, so she adjusted her stance, anchoring her feet and lifting her blade to meet the airborne assault.

Berserker descended, bringing Arondight down in a thunderous blow. Sparks ignited where their weapons met, the clang echoing through the deserted street.

Artoria slid back a step under the impact, her boots carving fresh lines through the dust on the pavement. Her only reaction was to grit her teeth as she held firm.

The moment he landed, she sensed an opening as he lunged for her. She angled her sword to deflect his, letting the momentum of his blow shift slightly to one side.

With a quick pivot, she thrust forward, aiming to drive her blade beneath his arm. But Berserker had anticipated her counter.

Even as her invisible sword scythed forward, he twisted his hips and slammed a knee directly into her midsection. The sheer force of his strike rocketed through her torso. She felt her lungs contract painfully, a burst of air forced from them. Her teeth clacked together, and her vision blurred at the edges.

Simultaneously, through the haze, she adjusted her blade, and swiped forwards with it. Sword met steel, and while her lunge was shallow, a thin line was created on the purple knight's abdomen, slowly trickling droplets of blood.

A strangled gasp escaped her as she soared backward under the knee's power, slamming into the side of another building.

This time, the wall held, though it caved inward with a spiderweb crack of bricks. Her body trembled from the impact, and she slid down a few inches before catching herself.

For half a second, Artoria's mind whirled. She forced herself to remain upright, ignoring the sharp ache in her ribs. Her left hand drifted to her face, and with a wipe of her mouth, a small trail of blood was left on her gauntlet. It was not a fatal internal wound, but it would certainly hamper her in the long-run.

Clenching her jaw, she raised her gaze. Berserker was already charging her again. If she gave him even a moment's advantage, he would be upon her, like some unstoppable beast. She inhaled, forcibly straightened her spine, and braced for contact.

But she was a fraction too slow. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye, swinging Arondight in a diagonal slash aimed at her shoulder. Her guard came up, but it was too hastily thrown up.

His sword bashed against hers, and the force jarred her entire arm, snapping her guard aside as easily as if it were made of twigs.

She felt the whoosh of air as Berserker passed her, breaking the already fractured wall, and barreling through the building.

Her eyes widened, as she didn't feel any damage to her body, but that alone caused her panic to rise.

She whirled around to face him, sword up.

He stood a few paces away, his broad back turned to her. His posture was rigid, and the glow from the inside of the building illuminated Arondight's blade.

She stared, tension coiling in her muscles. A sudden pang of dread tugged at her senses as she looked at his blade

Berserker's voice rumbled, deep and gravelly through the helm. "Arondight…"

It was as though the very air shivered in response. A faint, glimmering line of blue etched itself across Artoria's torso, from her collarbone to her opposite hipbone. She inhaled sharply; it looked like a blade's afterimage, a cut that had not yet fully manifested.

She recognized what was about to happen instantly, and horror started to flood her very being.

But Berserker's deep, guttural voice continued, heedless of her desperation, fueled only by pure hatred.

"Ove—" Before he could finish, the ground near him burst open, and a twisting lance exploded through the ground.

Berserker didn't even have the chance to react, as it punched through his neck, the space around it shredding his head and upper torso in a second, before continuing its trajectory, as if it hadn't just eviscerated a top-class Servant, busting through a wall, and continuing into the night sky.

Saber could only blink, as the large blue line on her body vanished, along with Lancelot, who quickly turned into blue motes of mana, vanishing before he could make contact with the floor.

The sudden end to her battle caused Artoria to tighten her grip on her sword, as while the sudden sneak attack had saved her, she couldn't find any joy in how the battle ended.

Lancelot deserved better than that, mad as he was, dying due to an attack he never saw coming, nor had any chance of dodging. It made her stomach churn

The Noble Phantasm that killed him was unknown, but it was something resembling a lance, and knowing that Lancer was dead, it pointed towards the owner being the one Heroic Spirit that owned a nigh uncountable amount of Noble Phantasms.

Archer, Gilgamesh.

Clenching her sword with more effort, Artoria looked at the hole it had torn through the ground, frowning slightly.

How Archer had hit him, when he himself was underground, and out of sight, caused Artoria to feel nervous. He was already a monster, and pulling that off only made him seem more unbeatable.

Archer's reason for targeting Lancelot was obvious, as the one-sided resentment between the two was as clear as day. So she could only assume that he took the chance to kill him when he was about to win as a slight to Lancelot, and to spit on his effort.

Frowning, Saber relaxed her stance, knowing that now was not the time to linger when Archer was on the prowl.

Quickly leaving the area, she infused her legs with Mana, and with small controlled bursts, made her way back to the alley where she had left Irisviel.

When looking down it she couldn't find Irisviel, which somewhat pleased her, as it meant that she took her words to heart about her safety.

Choosing to run into the alley herself, she focused her senses on locating Irisviel.

It only took a minute for her to pick up on Irisviel's muffled voice, causing Artoria to rush to her location.

As she got closer, she heard her voice completely stop speaking, clearly keeping quiet for her own safety.

"Irisviel," Artoria said in a calm tone of voice, causing the aforementioned homunculus to poke her head out from a large dumpster. "Saber?"

Smiling, Artoria moved towards her, and knelt down to one knee. "Irisviel, are you alright?" She asked with care, giving her a quick once over.

The mantle Alistair had given her had seen better days, as whatever was behind that trashcan was now all over his cloak, giving it a few orange and brown smears, along with an unflattering smell.

Not seeming to care about her state, Irisviel gave a relieved smile. "I'm doing great, I even got in contact with Kiri!" She said excitedly, while proudly presenting her phone, which displayed a call in process.

"Saber," came the much cooler voice of Kiritsugu from the other end of the line.

The voice of her Master gave an effect similar to being dunked with cold water, as she schooled her expression. "Kiritsugu," she said curtly.

"We have an issue," Kiritsugu said, causing Artoria to slightly frown, but decided on staying silent, as she knew he'd continue with or without her input regardless.

"Archer is on the loose, and we have reason to believe that he is targeting the Grail," he continued, and Artoria's expression only further worsened. "Your family is in danger," he finished.

That statement caused Artoria to stiffen, as she locked her gaze onto the phone. "Since when were they your priority?" She asked neutrally. "Besides," she followed up, not giving Kiritsugu a chance to speak up. "I promised Vivian to stay clear of them until they are sure that the Grail is safe for Servant's to be around, so I intend to safeguard Irisviel in the meantime."

There was an audible pause on the other side, followed up by a sigh. "Archer just killed Kirei Kotominei," he stated harshly, before continuing. "He is now Masterless, and I am certain that he'll try to force one of the three to become his Master, then forcing them to fix the Grail."

Kiritsugu's theory caused her to feel a sense of dread, but she stood steadfast. "I promised to take care of Irisviel, and I have confidence in them, or at least their ability to flee if needed," she said, causing Kiritsugu to scoff.

"Then they'll die," he stated. "You've seen firsthand what he is capable of at Einzbern Castle. He's not something they can face," he rebuked harshly. "Not returning to help them is equivalent to abandoning your family."

Artoria only lowered her head, her bangs covering her eyes, but did not speak up to rebuke Kiritsugu. But the sound of her gauntlet warping and creaking under her grip, as she clamped down on her sword did not go unnoticed.

"Kiritsugu," she gritted out. "I gave them my word… and while that may be meaningless to you, it is the only thing I have left," she expressed calmly, now raising her head, practically glaring down at the phone. "I promised not to return, and to safeguard Irisviel," she stated with pride. "Will you make a liar out of me? Must you take that from me as well?!"

Her passionate words caused Irisviel to lower her head, suddenly wearing a face full of shame, causing Saber to subtly falter, not understanding why she looked like that. "Saber," Irisviel said gently.

"I–I— I don't want them to die," she mumbled, her eyes unable to meet Artoria's own. "Can you please… Please check in on them?" She asked gently, causing Saber's eyes to widen.

"Irisviel…" she mumbled, suddenly understanding why Irisviel's attitude had changed. After all, she was asking her to go through with it, despite her just saying what doing such a thing would mean to her.

Irisviel was unable to look her in the eyes, but she continued. "You don't even need to be seen, you could discreetly check in on them…" she mumbled while fidgeting, trying to come to some compromise. "I just know the two of us will regret it, if Archer shows up, and neither of us are there to do a thing to help them."

Irisviel's words caused Artoria to lightly bite her lip, as she looked at her nervous friend. Artoria understood that Irisviel knew that she was asking a lot, but she was willing to do it all the same to help her family.

But something still gnawed at her. "Irisviel… you are weak right now, I can't just leave you," she weakly protested, causing Irisviel to shake her head. "Kiritsugu is coming, he'll be here soon," she stated, before looking up, facing Artoria face to face.

"Go," she said gently. "Help your family."

Her words caused Saber to falter, but she instinctively knew that her decision was already made up.

"Thank you, Irisviel," she said with a nod, before standing up, and infusing Mana in her legs, dashing away with insane speed.

As she left, Irisviel's face morphed into one of regret, and clear self-loathing.

"I'm so sorry…"

~~Fate/False Order~~

Pressing my phone against my ear, I could only hear the rhythmic sound of the phone ringing, causing me to impatiently tap my foot against the floor. Alistair hadn't answered a single one of my calls after he left thirty minutes ago with Vivian.

Normally, I wouldn't call, but after hearing all the commotion outside, I couldn't help but worry.

I had yet to leave the room, as the runestones kept on failing, forcing me to replace a couple every minute. That alone had forced me to stay inside, but I could no longer take it.

At least one building must have been destroyed, at least that's what the vibrations and noise told me, and what worried me even more, was that one of them seemed to be the neighboring building.

After that, I had started to call, yet Alistair had not answered his phone.

Hearing the line go flat, and the robotic voice asking me to leave a message after the beep, I hung up, and tried calling him again.

As the ringing resumed, I heard slow, heavy steps echo through the room.

Hanging up the phone, I turned to look at the direction of the noise.

As the echoes got closer, I spoke up. "Alistair?" I asked skeptically, earning a pleased hum in response, as a figure entered through the giant hole in the wall.

Instantly recognising my son, I gaped in mild horror as I saw his state.

He looked like shit. All the armor on his left side had been torn off, including his helmet, revealing some shallow cuts on his left hand side and face. Though most worryingly enough, he was using a hand to lean his weight against the wall.

Not waiting a moment, I pocketed the phone, and rushed over to Alistair.

"Sup," Alistair said while raising his free arm, flashing me a smug smile. "Guess who I ju–" Before he could finish, I wrapped him up in a tight hug, and let out a sigh of relief.

Feeling some of my nerves calm down, I briskly broke the hug, and fixed my son with an angry glare. "What happened to you? Why didn't you answer your phone?" I pressed, while giving him a slight once over, instantly noticing two thin gashes on his armor covering his thighs.

Not giving him a moment to answer, I moved a hand to slightly press on the spot, causing an instant wince from Alistair. "Make a chair, and sit down!" I said, and almost reflexively, Alistair molded the concrete beneath him, creating a simple cube for him to sit down on.

Not waiting for him to sit down himself, I shoved him into the seat, which I did with surprising ease, only furthering my worries.

Kneeling down, I moved to undo the latch holding his armor in place, and removed the cuisse. What I was met with was a set of blood stained trousers, revealing a small cut on his leg. "Come on, spit it out," I said, while tearing the fabric apart, revealing a thin stripe of pink skin.

"We met Gilgamesh," he said, causing me to freeze. My head snapped up to meet his calm gaze, and I quickly looked behind him. "Where is Vivian?" I asked nervously, only for Alistair to shake his head.

"She's fine, and currently doing what we set out to do, as she is in tip top condition. So she should be creating a safety net for the sludge," he said while gesturing behind me, towards the un-Holy Grail.

His question made me sigh with relief, before looking at his wounds. "How did you escape?" I asked, while casting a diagnosing spell on his injury.

The spell told me that his quadriceps and hamstrings had been skewered clean through, and that the muscle had some nasty tears, showing me a small wound on the back of his thigh.

I gave a slight grimace, as I moved my hand around his thigh, and instantly felt the slightly smoother skin where the wound was. "We killed him," Alistair said, causing me to stop my inspection.

… Huh?

Slowly looking up at him, I spoke. "You killed Archer? The guy that throws Noble Phantasms like they are going out of style," I said skeptically, earning a nod from my son.

"We needed to throw up a shit ton of Bounded Fields, along with collapsing a building on him. All that, and I only landed a single hit on him, but it was enough to shatter his Saint Graph, so it was worth it, despite the damage," he said while gesturing at his legs, while shooting me an immensely smug look.

Seeing it, I understood that he was subtly asking for praise, though in reality, I should scold the ever loving shit out of him for doing something so stupid.

…But killing something like Archer deserves some praise… what was that term the freeloader used again…

Cupping my chin, I looked up at Alistair. "You are… him, and… goated?" I said the last part with some confusion, as I still didn't get how that was a compliment.

Alistair seemed to slightly shudder at the 'compliment', shooting me an unimpressed look. "If you're going to use any of those in the future, please say it with more confidence… when you phrase it like that, it sounds kind of cringy."

What the hell did cringy mean?

Seemingly catching onto my puzzlement, Alistair waved his hand. "Never mind, how have things been going up here?" he asked, while looking around the room.

As he did so, some color left his face, causing me to wince. "Yeah, I ran out of runestones five minutes ago," I said, causing Alistair to push himself up from the stone cube, almost staggering when doing so.

Standing up, I quickly looped an arm around him, supporting his unsteady frame. "Careful, your wounds are barely healed, they can tear easily," I explained, but Alistair didn't seem to notice.

"The field will fall if they all break, we need to fix it," he said, causing me to frown. "I tried a few different methods, none of which seemed to work," I explained, causing Alistair to glance at me, before slowly hobbling over to Caster's workbench.

As he got there, he knelt down, and opened a few cabinets, quickly searching them for anything. "How did you use up all of them?" Alistair asked as he rummaged through Caster's supplies. "There should have been at least a bit over two-hundred in there," he added.

I could only shake my head, as I opened a few cabinets as well. "Everything was fine, up till ten minutes ago, as the Grail started acting up, and the runestones fell in the dozens," I explained.

My words caused Alistair to look back at the Grail, and he grimaced. "What the hell?" He murmured, causing me to turn around as well.

The Grail's glow was visibly dimming, and black lines started to grow on it, forming lines that resembled cracks.

"Shit, shit, shit," Alistair muttered, and I could only barely stop myself from mirroring his sentiment.

Hearing some stones clinking together, I watched as Alistair pulled out a small bag of what I knew to be blank runestones.

Standing up, Alistair leaned to the table, and poured out the bag's contents, revealing the small blank stones.

Alistair blankly stared at them, clearly contemplating something, before speaking up. "What are the odds that the amplified mysteries in the surroundings are enough for me to create a runestone, like Casters?" He asked seriously.

Blinking slowly, I turned to look at him. "Unlikely, but there is a slight chance," I said, causing Alistair to sigh. "Good enough," he said resignedly, before grabbing a runestone from the wall, one that was not too blackened from absorbing the Grail's curses.

I watched as Alistair's eyes shifted in a kaleidoscopic range of colors, as he gazed fixedly on the rune. Slowly, his face turned red, and veins started to bulge on his forehead. Grabbing his arm, I gave it a tug. "You can stop, we can try something else," I said, but Alistair didn't budge.

"No, this is our best shot," he said through gritted teeth, as some veins appeared on his eyes, while he continued looking at the rune.

His breath started to become heavy, and the slightest trickle of blood ran down from his nose, while he kept unblinking eye contact with Caster's rune.

Clenching my fist, I felt terrible that I could only watch on, as Alistair was visibly deteriorating in front of me.

As his second nostril started leaking blood, Alistair closed his eyes, and clutched his head with a hand, while almost collapsing onto the table, using his other hand to stop his fall.

Knowing that he probably had a headache, I didn't speak, instead merely using an arm to support him.

Straightening himself up, Alistair, through his now bloodshot eyes, gave a wide smile. "I understood it," he said with a twinge of disbelief, but the excitement far outshone his doubt.

Before I could congratulate him, he clumsily went to pick up a blank rune and stared at it. Brushing his thumb over its surface, I watched as some odd squiggly lines formed on its surface, before crumbling into fine dust in his hands.

Seeing that happening, he quickly picked up a second one, only for it to turn into dust, after he slid his thumb over it. Then he picked up a third, a fourth, a fifth, before I grabbed his arm.

Stopping his action, he gave me a nervous look. "It's not working," I said regretfully, causing his expression to fall.

Looking down at the runestones, he started mumbling a slur of curses, before looking at me. "Do you have any idea on how we can increase the density of mysteries? There has to be a way," he said with some hope.

Pursing my lips, I gave him a calm look. "I don't know, I was hoping your Origin would help you when inscribing it," I explained, and as if I had said something brilliant, Alistair straightened up.

"Yes… that might work…" he mumbled to himself, but the sudden change caused me to feel a bit uneasy.

Moving to place a hand on his shoulder, I spoke. "What are yo—" I cut myself off, as I reflexively retracted my hand as it made contact with his skin, as it was blazing hot to the touch.

"Alistair?!" I said with clear unease, as I watched as his skin reddened due to the heat, and the sweat on his skin evaporated.

In a matter of seconds, he had overheated himself to the point where, if it was me doing it, my circuits would have started degrading due to the overuse and heat.

"Wh—" Before I could properly speak, I felt a wave of something crash into me, causing me to fall to one knee. My breath hitched, and I felt suffocated in the atmosphere, as I tried to take in deep breaths.

After adjusting for a moment, I understood it. The mysteries in the area had tripled— no, quintupled in potency and density, causing it to become hard for me to breathe.

Looking up at Alistair, he was panting, but still standing, his two hands firmly gripping the edge of the table, as he looked dazedly forwards.

Mustering myself to my feet, I looked at him with mild horror, as I started to connect the dots. "Y–you… You idiot! You stimulated your Origin!" I bellowed while looking at him with concern.

Only an idiot, or a desperate fool would do such a thing. As if you did it improperly, you could fall into madness, trying to get closer and closer to becoming one with your Origin.

Cases have shown people with fire Origins burning themselves alive voluntarily, as they felt it was the natural step for them, along with others with more esoteric Origins cannibalizing others, or experimenting on themselves to become one with their Origin.

Of course, stimulating it properly brought great benefits to one's magecraft, and other areas if your Origin was more adaptable in use, but doing so posed the risk for you to later fall into fully stimulating your Origin by accident.

Alistair's Mysties Origin was simply too scary to properly try to mess around with, as I have no idea what would happen to him if it was stimulated. As for all I know, he'd start incorporating mysteries into his body and explode.

As Alistair picked up a blank runestone, he once more trailed his thumb over it, but this time, small squiggly lines appeared on it, and it didn't show any signs of crumbling. "It worked!" He exclaimed with clear relief.

Ignoring all the bad thoughts for a moment, I too stared at the stone with wide eyes, before my brows furrowed. "It doesn't look like this one," I pointed out, while looking over the one he had used for reference.

The one he held used squiggly lines, ones whose origins I could not pinpoint, while the other was clearly some form of Greek.

Brushing his finger over it again, Alistair shot me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Divine Words are two layered, I was just doing one layer at a time," he explained, removing his thumb and revealing an identical Greek rune to the one he had used to learn the carving.

Smiling, he picked up another, and created an identical one, which only widened his grin.

Before he could continue, I raised my hand, and pinched his earlobe, causing him to give a grunt of annoyance. "I'm sorry," he reflexively said, clearly knowing that I was about to lay down the law, after what I just saw.

"I'm sorry won't cut it," I said harshly. "You could have started the process of slowly killing yourself," I said with clear unease, causing him to give a slight wince. "I know, but I felt that I could do it," he half-heartedly rebuked.

Seeing that he wasn't repenting, I shot him a glare. "That looked very spur of the moment if you ask me," I bit back. "And even if you did, research is needed, before you oh-so bullheadedly try to pull something like that off."

Looking properly chastised, Alistair lowered his head slightly. "Yeah, but can you agree that given the circumstances, that it was not a completely terrible choice," he defended himself, while gesturing at the Grail, who's black cracks had now grown almost to cover the entire thing.

I hadn't thought of that…

Though, to be fair, Alistair had all but tried to commit lengthy suicide in front of me, so I'll give myself a pass.

"Fine, start making a few more runestones then, and I'll start placing them around," I ordered, and Alistair only nodded his head. "Yes Ma'am!" He said while grabbing five runestones, easily swiping a hand over them, carving the absorption rune into it.

Picking up the seven first runestones, I quickly walked away, and started placing them on spots where ones had been before.

As I moved a meter away from Alistair's vicinity, I felt the mysteries drastically weaken, back to the level they had always been inside Caster's workshop. Which was still incredibly dense, but the difference was staggering.

Placing them on the walls, I mentally created a checklist for potential experiments we needed to do together, to see if Alistair could consistently stimulate the mysteries in the air around him to that extent. As if he could, then the difference between him, and a Caster from the Age of Gods, would be that one was in the Throne of Heroes, while the other was here.

If utilized properly, he'd be able to perform magecraft extremely close to True Magic consistently, and without proper drawbacks.

While what he had done was reckless, now that the damage was done, as long as he didn't try to stimulate his Origin any more than he already had, then there'd be no real consequences for this, other than a stern lecture from me once we got home.

Placing the last runestone on the wall, I made my way over to Alistair, and experienced once more the level of mystery those who lived during the Age of Gods experienced first hand.

Seeing the small pile he had already made, I gave a slight smile, before deciding on slightly delaying my installation of the stones.

As I was currently experiencing the same as Alistair, I was sure that I'd be able to cast at a much higher proficiency, so I just had to try.

Raising a finger, I used the most basic, and most well known fire 'mystery', the use of friction to create heat, and then flame. Something so well known among the mundane side of the world, that this particular mystery stopped working right after the Age of Gods ended, due to how many knew the method.

But as if to disprove that, a small flame sprouted to life atop my finger, a feat that would be impossible by anyone else, using the same mystery as myself.

Quickly snuffing it out, I was tempted to use one of my more esoteric ones, to see how much greater the effect would be, but decided against it for now, as while it wouldn't take long, I had work to do.

Picking up the small pile of rocks, I quickly moved around the room, and fastened them to the wall.

As this went on, the effect showed, as the Grail's black lines stopped growing, and a few of them even started visibly shrinking.

Smiling to myself, I was about to repeat the process, when I heard footsteps approaching.

Alistair seemed to react as well, as he turned away from his bench, and squarely stared at the hole he had entered the room through, as a figure wearily entered the room.

"Artoria?" I mumbled, causing the figure to slightly stiffen before fully entering the room and turning to face us.

I was right on the money, as I saw a somewhat relieved looking Artoria stand in the makeshift entrance, before she gained a calm expression.

"It is good to see you all," she stated, causing me to raise a brow. "Thank you, but didn't we see one another not thirty minutes ago?" I teased, still relatively happy to see her, even if her visit was abrupt.

Artoria only sighed, and started to look around. "Do you know where Vivian is?" She asked absentmindedly, causing me to glance at Alistair, who looked a bit on edge, before looking back to Artoria.

"She's on the lower levels, trying to contain the spillage of that," I said while gesturing at the Grail.

Spotting it, Artoria gave a pained grimace. "What has happened to it?" she asked nervously.

"Other than the obvious?" I mentioned dryly with a shrug. "No idea, we assume it is Avenger, but we are more focused on countering its effects."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked genuinely, causing me to look at Alistair, who only shook his head.

"Nothing right now. As we need to see if the runes are capable of reversing what's affecting the Grail," Alistair stated, earning a nod from Artoria.

"I see, then I sha—" she cut herself off, and she gained a confused look, as if someone was talking to her. "Wha–"

Suddenly, a red glow encompassed her, and her body shook. Shakily, as if resisting the movement, she grabbed her sword with her other hand.

Her face quickly morphed into one full of outrage, and panic, the color draining from her face.

"Kiritsugu, you—YOU BASTARD!" She suddenly yelled, followed by another red glow encompassing her body.

Kiritsugu?

Before I could react, I felt myself being pulled backwards, and quickly flung behind me. It only took an instant for me to slam into a wall, creating even more distance between myself and Artoria.

I then watched as Alistair quickly passed me in one leap, but as his leg made contact with the ground, blood splattered from his thighs, as his wounds reopened.

Light accumulated into his open hand, shaping into Rhongomyniad, but as he kicked off from the ground, his leg spazzed, causing him to lean too far forwards.

His lunge quickly turned into something more resembling a dive, as he hurled towards Artoria, his lance now fully formed and at the ready.

In an instant, a boom was heard, as he crossed the distance. But his posture was terrible, as upon landing, all he could do to not land face first was to stumble forwards.

Luckily for him, Artoria seemed to be actively resisting whatever command she was given, as her arms trembled, almost giving Alistair a pleading look.

Using all of his forward momentum, Alistair was only able to plunge the lance into Artoria's chest, thanks to his unfortunate positioning.

As it entered her chest, Alistair slammed into her, completely skewering her, slightly pushing her back, and shoving his entire lance through her chest.

The sudden attack from Alistair caused Artoria to start to glow, mana particles rolling off of her, meaning that he had punctured her Saint Graph.

I was about to feel a sense of relief, before noticing that Artoria suddenly looked even more horrified.

With her raised sword, the invisible air rippled around it, creating a small hurricane around it, revealing a glowing Excalibur. But the sudden burst of air slammed into Alistair, who was flung backwards.

As he flew backwards, he was flung straight towards the Grail.

As he was about to make contact with it, he simply phased through it while being covered by a thin layer of mud, before slamming into the rim of the hole the Grail's mud had created. Brutally bending his back, as he collided with the edge of the hole, landing in a small puddle of mud.

Watching the scene, I felt a growing sense of horror.

Artoria was clearly about to Excalibur blast the Grail… and now Alistair was in direct line to her attack.

Pushing myself off from the wall Alistair had thrown me at to ensure my safety, I ran Od through my armor.

In an instant, close to all of it was shed, and a thin cloud of metal spread through the room.

Running some more Od though the remaining parts of my armor, now reduced to a set of greaves and vambraces, I saw the electricity coil around my form, as I almost instantly crossed the distance between me and Alistair.

Sliding through the mud, I felt the sudden feeling of my feet burning at the sensation, as I got close to Alistair.

Looking down at him, I saw he was furiously panting, while almost fixedly staring at the incoming attack.

Kneeling down, I felt my knee explode with pain as I started scooping up Alistair, my hands following suit as they made contact with the mud.

The pain was increasing, causing my eyes to water, as I pulled him up.

Red splotches could be seen growing on his body, circling the black mud on his body, along with small black lines forming.

Gritting my teeth, I reinforced my body, and started to lift him up, while moving to stand up in the same motion.

But then I felt it. My knee wouldn't move.

Looking down, I saw the mud surrounding my kneeling knee tainted with blood… and I couldn't feel my leg.

Giving Alistair a frantic once over, I felt relieved that the effects were drastically lessened on him.

Taking in a sharp intake of breath, I flooded my arms with as much Od as I could to reinforce them.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Alistir looked at me with clear panic in his eyes. "Mom?"

Smiling back reassuringly, I spoke up. "Goodbye."

His eyes instantly widened, but before he could respond, I raised him onto my shoulder, and flung him using all the reinforcement I could put behind my throw.

With a pop, I felt my arm tear as I threw him.

As he sailed through the air, I could see his expression riddled with horror, but I only smiled.

Alistair will survive…

Thank Go—

—

4 Hours, 45 Minutes And 43 Seconds Until Zero 

—

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A/N

Welcome back, my reader Overlords, please add this to your library and give me some comments, stones and reviews, as it would be much appreciated.

I must say, I am disappointed in everyone thinking that I'd offscreen Rosalind, what is this, armature hour? I find this outcome far better than her dying due to one of Gilgamesh's weapons. Talk about character development for Alistair.

I have to say though, Gil pulled a fast one on all of you, as I only saw one comment mentioning the A++ Ranked Noble Phantasm, that he shot at Alistair, as everyone else, like Morgan and Alistair, focused on the last 'random' attack, causing everyone to overlook an equally important attack.

Now, some of you might be wondering, where the hell is Morgan? Well, that's for next week, and she has a decent excuse for not being present.

Oh, and just to add insult to injury, for those who know, in Heavens Feel, it is mentioned that Gilgamesh is worth three Servants in terms of energy, meaning that after he died, if Morgan had joined Alistair up, she might have noticed that the grail was full, and ready to extract the angry-mango.

Womp Womp Woooomp.

Ah yes, things aren't quiet over yet, so wait for the next chapter, as it is the last in this Volume before the Epilogue, and my subsequent hiatus, so stay tuned!

Now, what are your thoughts? Sad to see Mama-Pendragon go? I'll be honest, it was a bit hard for myself to write Rosalind's part, knowing what was about to happen, which is why the chapter was delayed, as I knew once it was over, I'd never write from her perspective again.

Any guess to why Morgan is not there? Give me your crackpot theories, I'd love to hear them.

Got to add this, 10K words for this chapter, damn, my self-loathing must be high, as in total, I have written 18K words this week, equivalent to 4 and a half chapters, for probably a third of the total power stones.... Yes this is me asking for more, please give...

https://discord.gg/HAPhryp5M2

Now I'm am sad after writing this chapter, so I hope you all have a nice day, or at least one better than mine, and send me some stones or some shit (Not literal shit), as I need motivation!