"Right, I almost forgot." Roland said, taking the second sword from his belt. It was indeed an impressive sword, and in his cursed arm, it was so light. as he could throw it all the way to the moon. But, he turned, and with carefully relegated strength, he tossed it across the clearing the two had made between themselves. But he did not pick up the blade Dietrich had given him. Instead, it remained there as a totem in the ground. A drawn line for Roland.

He would take all the might of Trieu, and match it blow for blow. And he would never be pushed back beyond that line he drew with that sword. "As for your terms. I agree in full. Your legend versus mine. I warn you though." a grin crossed Roland's lips, and those eyes focused upon his friendly opponent. "I will hold nothing back, and you must promise the same in kind! Because this land! This Fuyuki, is my gift to my uncle! And when I bring it to him, finally... HE WILL LOVE ME!"

His hands wrapped around Durandal, firmly wrapping around the handle. The glittering gleam of two miracles remained, but Roland doubted he would need them. No, for this he would take on his enemy in one go. His legend shimmering without the need for miracles. He had already overcome that. He had overcome his own legend! He had overcome the odds and with that knowledge, he was ready to chart a new legend for himself.

Taking that point, a surprising distance still from Trieu from the chase, there was more than enough ground for the both of them to run towards the other. He raised his sword before him, and charged. A full heroic charge, ground tearing up as he ran. "Show me, the power of your legend!" He declared, baiting out a charge from Nanyue. Which would be stronger in the end?

___________________________________________________________


It happened suddenly. To a few of the men of the mafia. A poor man who had left his home briefly to see what was going on, found himself spotted by two of the mafia thugs. It was for a moment that they held a gun to that man's head...

Then they stopped. Because suddenly, there was a sound like grinding glass. _{Shink. Shink. Shink.} It came suddenly as shards of a black glass began to appear from an alley way. And the two men turned to run. They couldn't run fast enough as the crystalline plague spotted them. Or maybe, it sensed them? It didn't matter. The first fell as a growing crustal punctured his foot. And then it exploded expontentionally. Ripping through him, growing and surrounding him. All he could do was... SCREAM! The second man had a similiar fate. And then, the crystals began to recede. Collapsing back in on each other, two piles of bones landed on the floor, before the crystals retreated back into the alley way. Back into the hands of a doctor named Xerxes Kaveh.

"Sir, get back into your house." Was all the doctor had to say.

He was careful. Avoiding sight, and moving between the alleys. He struck at the mafia with the same tactic. Inciting fear as dark crystals grew from the ground, and spread out like a plague. Devouring groups of man, who would fire their rifles either at the crystals, or into the alleyway the crystals had come from. Each time they did though, Xerxes had moved to cover, the bullet striking some other part of the two buildings. An entire street would be covered in those dark crystals, before vanishing back into the cup he held in his hand. Each time wiping out at least ten men, leaving only their bones and clothing behind. It was horrifying, but effective.

For the few men he did run into, they would be on the ground, eyes rolling back before they could raise their guns. A curse born of a glare, the Evil Eye. A curse of weakness for most of them, knocking them to the floor and turning their skin dark and ill. They would be too weak to move, and that was more than enough time for Xerxes to move on.

Xerxes was an efficient man. He had lived many years, most of which he had spent watching the growing advent of gunpowder. As if he would ever allow himself to die to a gun.

Those who weren't mafia though, they returned home. Every one of them would see a shimmer, and a voice would tell them to go home. The natives returning to their homes, and they would settle in and stay safe. It was the best Xerxes could do It wasn't that he had anything against the mafia, but if they took the native district without some kind of fight, he wouldn't be able to turn in favors with the yakuza.

Pied Piper(Caster)

You know what happens when some unknown foreign object is within radius of Piper's lair...you know what happens?

well, I'll tell you what happens...

The weasel screech and cried outside the field of the academy, and the mysterious field answered before it even step foot of the place. Its effect takes place as the hymn of a flute creeps over and overtakes its mind, dulling it senses, cutting ties and erasing any knowledge of its masters knowing of it being controlled at this moment.

Whoever send this poor weasel in has no idea of what transpired next. A blank spot fills his mind.

The weasel is under the influence of the Charisma of the Rat King's place and as you can see, Piper's fortress security system is working as intended..

Could this be a trojan horse sent by the opposition? probably. Or just a friendly message?

I dunno, but you can never be too careful..

Piper was left behind to look after Enzo's pad while he's out of town, attending some fancy party. And indeed he shall, like a good servant and housekeeper that he is. just like a certain wife witch looking after her temple while his master is away

Caster delve deep into the mind of the German weasel, curious to see what secret is has..

I know who sent you...

and to be frank, I don't really care what you do on the other side of the map...

But seeing you travel all the way here, it must be very important...

Humor me, furry friend of Alchemist and perhaps I'll return you to your master in one piece. He snorts.

The weasel was forced to tell the truth under Piper's command..

This is Caster's way of Interrogation, via mental interference, violating your own privacy and inner thoughts, A mandatory invasion of one's mind and will.

And yes, Piper can speak the language of any animals...so start chirping, weasel.

@Scallop

Her sword sailed through the air and the hilt reached her open palm with ease, closing on it and tightening her sword grip as quick as possible. A light smile arrived on her lips as she outstretched her arms, both swords high in the air, the sun shining off them. One's beautiful crimson glimmer and the other's shining metal gleam, both bright and ready for battle as she observed the knight before her. It was plain to see that he wanted a kill.

But so did she.

Watching him begin to run, his glistening sword that brimmed with miracles that seek to escape and spread his legend once more. Truly this man was a hero of legend. But so was she. "You'll see everything my dear paladin, you will experience first hand the Might of Nanyue! Lady Trieu, the spirit that transcends time!" She slapped the side of Nanyue, the signal for the elephant to trumpet and rear, beginning to run towards Roland.

Defense mode still activated this wasn't a proper charge, but as she watched the knight charge closer and closer she knew she couldn't risk holding back. He was determined and that bloodlust arm of his would push him only further. He had a goal, he made it clear and she would let him claim that goal if he could beat her at least. Whoever this uncle was, she hoped that the lands he liked were those of ash and dust and fire and bones.

A light overcame Trieu, enveloping both her and Nanyue, an angellic guise upon her innocent monster. Wings wide spread and a blinding light overcame her and the swords, increasing her speed as she hurtled towards Roland's charge. This was it. She looked down at Nanyue. He would survive this, she knew he would. She was counting on him after all. Her First Sword began to glow and she slashed through the air towards Roland, hurtling towards him something awful. A physical slash, of her grudges and hatred made real. The red blast headed straight for him as she continued to ride Nanyue to him.

"THIS IS THE LEGEND OF THE WOMAN WHO CONQUERED THE SKIES, SLAIN THE MIGHTIEST MONSTER OF THE SEA AND DROVE THE RULERS BACK TILL NOTHING REMAINED BUT THE PEOPLE'S VOICES!"



Natsuo blinked.

He looked around, feeling like he was in some sort of dream. Was he tripping? He rubbed his eyes. No way, that stuff he'd had was just some weird herbs no way it was hallucinogenic. He looked at his hands and began to wobble. Oh yeah, the drink. He began to click his fingers instinctively trying to regain focus.

He couldn't really remain focussed when that sake jumped into his hands. He stared at the deformed penguin, to the smoking men and back at his sake. Fuck it. He began to drink it before taking it from his lips and giving a big grin to the balding man. This guy didn't look Japanse, he looked like some sort of Troll.

"Yo! Uh you must be uh Chiron right?" He delivered another stupid smug smile to the man and bowed. "Name's Natsuo, I'm not a whatever uh, mage or summit? Anyways I'm here on behalf of this guy and like he was wanting to mend things with ya guys!" He began to rummage in his sack of items and pulled out two vials, one tinted gold and the other a clear substance. "That smug bastard offered these as like tokens of apology? Anyways, he had like a question for ya...he wanted you to help him? Like not you but like you seem really cool! But I mean like the guy with the pompadour! Or summit!"

He blinked and then remembered his question.

"Oh yeah! Yo so how do you kill a god?"




Gustav the weasel lived a very nice life back in Germany. His owner, Ludwig Von Gravenheim Krauste, chose him from a littler found in the wild, luck would have it Gustav was the only one the chef did not get his hands on! Ludwig had taken the vermin in even if Gustav hadn't fully appreciated his kindness. Causing chaos and threatening the work of Ludwig's life, causing him to often have German curse words thrown at him. yet this, this was something he had to do for his Master.

There was something happening in that small furry head, the weasel going still, someone was in his mind. Ludwig had never done this so the critter was in shock and it's mind was very unprotected. At first he would just see flashbacks of Ludwig working back at his lab in Germany, then in Fuyuki and then he saw the weasel's mind.

"herzlich Wilkommen! I was not to inform you of everything yet, I feel compelled. Mein master has no care for what you do in your base, or the events we know have transpired due to you and your master. However, there was an incident that these penguins also speak of. My master seeks your assistance in survivng and escaping this land, seeing as your master is also from a faraway foreign land. But we understand this can't come cheap and attached to my body with the note attached is a vial of a powerful concoction! We mean no trouble The weasel chirped.

"We also will reveal to you our allies weaknesses if this isn't enough from our side, so what do you say my mind inhabiting friend, do we have a chance at negotiations?"

@Argonaut

@Yukitamas @floodtalon @Phonic

It connected. The feedback was right there.

So why, he thought as the axes sent him face-first into the mire, why, he thought as he used his freed hands to strike against that inevitability, to deny the miracle he sought to bring forth, why could he feel something wrong?

The blow had certainly been lethal, the renewed vigor of Achilles undeniable, and even an opponent possessing the qualifications for the Battle Continuation Skill at the same rank as his own would not be able to escape death. If the miracle he sought was to strike at his heel, if the miracle he sought was to hit the weak-point of Achilles, he would die for it while Achilles did his all to deny him in turn.

That much should be doable. The momentum imparted by the axes, unable to harm him but able to move him, twisted him slightly downward, and he just needed to follow through without resisting. If the entirety of the mire was concentrated below, then he’d just have to —

Punch.

And punch, and punch, and punch.

Darius’ skeletons, combined, might be able to exert enough power, but they were still far from quick enough to outpace the combat speed of the fastest, and the state of their master would not help matters. Perhaps if he had tried something else, such as holding him down, the ‘miracle’ that was striking Achilles’ heel might have been within reach, but as it was. . .

So strike, and keep at it. That is what mattered, in the end. Even a blow to any other place was fine. Create an opening, a soil you can land on, and then back away from this last-ditch attempt.

And yet, and yet. . .

At that instant, he also understood the source of his bad feeling entirely—!

And then, he laughed, standing in the forest floor, the enemies receding as the monstrosity weaved forth by Darius and his army of undying soldiers sprung forth, realizing his enemy possessed the kind of miracle to overturn that death.

He was a hero, after all. Since when were there any certainties in a battle between such existences?

He guessed that even losers had pride to them.

“Ah, what an interesting situation.”

Achilles was fundamentally a hero who fought other heroes. The loss of his spear had, in a sense, constrained his overall fighting power, but that single truth had not changed, and he would freely admit that this sort of thing laid outside of his realm of expertise. He had killed men of varying sizes over the years, but this was new.

But not unwelcome. To begin with, he had said he needed to forge something more brilliant than his last legend, no? Then this would be a good place to start. Reviewing the options he had in mind —

. . .Yes, there was a way to ‘decisively crush this battle’, but he also had to think on the responsibilities he had as a Servant. Using it right now would be much too reckless considering the circumstances.

Besides, it wouldn’t be much fun.

“Very well, Darius III. May the Olympians bless our future battle with glory and honor.”

Ah, he had addressed him by his name. He had acknowledged this to be a proper battle to the death between two heroes. Just as Achilles had struck with all that he was, just as he had promised himself that each and every strike would carry that weight from now onwards, his enemy had answered in kind.

Being recalled was disappointing, but not unexpected. Considering the circumstances, he would also admit that it was far from an ideal battleground, and testing his Master further might not prove wise. He was one that naturally sought to prevail in flashy manners, but all the same, he had sworn loyalty and accepted the trust of that girl.

So, begrudgingly, he would acquiesce to her request.

“Alright, alright I’ll be—!”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His eyes darted toward the church in the distance and the explosions therein.

There he was, that ‘Archer’ from the previous day. This was his intent, then?

. . .But, the Archer that called upon lightning had fallen to a misunderstanding once again.

To begin with, Servants were ‘sprinters’. In terms of close-quarters combat and reactions, they were all monsters in their own right even when compared to creatures such as the Phantasmal Species, even if they could not maintain that speed for long periods or use it in normal movement.

Achilles overtly defied this rule — the Noble Phantasm that granted him divine speed akin to teleportation, the Noble Phantasm that cemented his legs as ‘the swiftest of mankind’ and made his speed unmatched in such regard.

But, at the same time, the speed he wielded in his arms and the sharp reflexes he boasted of were no less monstrous. Whether in combat or in a race, Achilles was the ‘fastest hero’, and even if the former was a closer thing, he still stood at the top of a category populated by monsters.

The speed of a projectile must be much greater that of its target, this is well-known. Furthermore, it must also be strong enough to harm its target. Such things are basic principles.

Because if it were not enough, a difference in speed between two objects can be overcome if one of them needs to move substantially less distance.

Achilles did not dodge. Rather, all he did in response to the bolt of lighting aimed at his head was lift his arm, and carelessly let the gauntlet act as an impenetrable wall for the shots. Archer had done nothing to properly box him in or cut off his options, and now he would be entertained by Darius III, who, it seemed, had completely forgotten about their fight.

Well, he felt better about leaving now. If nothing else, the mood was ruined.

“Ah, well. . .”

He wondered what his Master would say about a new spear.

And thus, he disappeared, using his divine speed not to dodge — but to make it home before curfew.

Pied Piper(Caster)

Under the command and the subjugation of his spell, The German mammal cooperates quite nicely, in fact, Piper was quite surprised by the tales the weasel unravels before him. This weasel is truly is a weasel, both in the sense of the word and the meaning.

"So, You endangered your master's life during his line of work and yet you desire to help him during his time here in Fuyuki? what a strange love-hate relationship you have..." He lets out a small chuckle, learning about the past memories of the german weasel and Ludwig.

"Regardless, You must be truly desperate to come to me, and you don't even know what I'm capable of, Let alone my strength nor my weakness... or even the fact you're willing to sell your allies for your selfish request...I can tell you I have plenty of resources all over the land to aid you but aside from that..your Alchemist Master is taking a big gamble here.." He shrugs.

A fickle master who wavers his connections around seeking the aid of others rather than his allies at the church? heh, this should be good. Piper smirks at the thought.

"Still, Your offer is too tempting to ignore...I'm sure it comes with a high price no doubt" Piper ponders on for a bit.

"Go on...read the note for me and tell me what this vial is for?" Piper said, or rather commanded the weasel to read the message before him, He is intrigued by the information leaking out of the rodent's vulnerable mind.

It looks like the Rat king is curious and still clings on to the proposal, so by default He is willing to negotiate with this familiar the alchemist sent.

If Piper somehow declines or didn't agree on one of the terms, he can always alter the weasel's memory, erasing it like some sort of jedi mind trick, as if this conversation never happened in the first place.

But right now, Caster is all ears..

@Scallop

"Eh? Aren't today's magi s'posed to be, uh, keepin' that shit under wraps? Whatever, none of my business what they do."

Archer seemed reasonably confused by what the new arrival had to say, shrugging haphazardly as the bartender slid a fresh glass of wine over to him, one he downed without pause.

"Dunno who the fuck you're talkin' about, though. Only guy who's ticked me off got killed by some other fuck yesterday, so-" He cut himself off, eyes widening slightly as he snapped his fingers a couple times. "Oh! The birdfucker cosplaying as my hoor niece, yeah? I mean, their bar's gone so all's well that ends well, you feel me? Poison wata' unda the bridge."

It was unlikely that the poor guy had any idea what Archer was rambling on about now.

"Anyway, the kid's out at the mo'. He'll head back once he's finished his first practical, 's always good when shit lines up well like that."

...abruptly, something about the Archer's demeanor changed when that question was asked, the bartender straightening up in turn. Then, just as quickly, he returned to his prior state, Archer himself letting out a low laugh.

"Kill a god? Tough one, there, kid. See, just makin' people not believe in 'em won't kill 'em, and just makin' them wanna die won't do the job either if they're thorough enough. If you're goal's to not just weaken or stop a god, but to one hundred percent, totally kill 'em dead, well..."

"-Ending the world would do the job nicely."

The bartender interjected, his light tone breaking through the surrounding din. Archer turned around, quirking an eyebrow up in surprise as if to say 'the fuck was that, dude', before turning back to the human.

"...uh, yeah, that."

Oh god damnit Darius. The mad giant of skeletons and fire began his rampage, flinging several skeletons at the Church as he desperately searched for Alexander, to maim and kill that conqueror who had defeated him so many times in the past. He swung at Achilles, but to no avail. The comet merely pounded away at the bones of the behemoth, blocking Tesla's lightning with naught but a lazy wave of the arm. How annoying, how incredibly incredibly annoying. The dome of lightning took care of many of the skeletons, those few that got through were shot down by the antiartillery system in place. Tesla would let Darius rampage for now, the loser king needed to let off some steam after failing to kill Achilles. If things got too bad he would just have to have Xerxes activate a Command Seal. For now, he mused on what he could've done to bring down the comet. He would need to set a better trap if he was to bring a comet down to Earth it seems. No, this hero was already of the Earth, what Tesla sought to do was to annihilate that legend of Earth and make room for further legends of Humanity.

The skeletons faded into dust and that dust turned into nothing. Tesla sat on the roof of the church and stared at the sky, the first stars beginning to peek through as day slowly became night. Those stars that were so much like him. Yes, he was a Star whose purpose was to uplift Humanity. He was a Star who would bring hope to Humanity, who would change the course of history. His attention briefly flicked to one of his clockwork familiars, it would appear that knight from the other day has regained his arm. Or was he a Paladin? Oh, now the thief has lost his hands. And now the knight was... how unsightly. A battle began between the knight and the girl on the elephant, Tesla merely had the bird continue to observe from above while he had another attempt to follow the thief. He lost track of him quickly, but he had a general idea of where his base might be judging by the direction he fled. He would have to send another familiar to look for it later, for now he would content himself with looking to the Stars for inspiration. Those beautiful stars who he sought to emulate, those beautiful stars which remained eternal.

Queen of Carthage
Former Miyama Town, The White Forest, Collaborative Project: Yggdrasil's Revengeance

Avenger wasn't sure if she should be furious or excited. Its Troy after all, home to her enemies, the people she swore to destroy. Well, it didn't matter, its time to destroy Troy. As queen of Carthage, as Avenger, as Dido, she couldn't and wouldn't rest until Troy and her children were dead.

Actually, that brought up a good question. Why were they gathered here in the ruins of Miyama Town when Troy was across the river?

Nevermind, questions like that weren't important either. Dido had gathered her army and done what she could for them to make them just that much more useful. Between her army, her phantasms, and her rage, it was a good thing she'd set up a way to offset her costs before hand. With these preparations, Dido would crack Troy and bring her fury to her enemies, the one grudge that she clutched to even after her life.

"Master, why are we here? We have our army, and there's not much more time to waste for 'preparations.' We should already be in Shinto, tearing down their god's forsaken walls and burning the city."

Dido paused and paced in front of her army for a moment before releasing what was basically a snarl as her fire flared.

Louder, much less in control, Dido shouted, "We're wasting time! While we wait here the enemy mocks us." She paused and looked back at her army before addressing her master once more, "No more waiting. I can't restrain anymore. We attack."

@BlueHelix@Sageage@Vocab@addamas@Art of Fun@DostHou

-----------------------Moving to Shinto Town, Outside Troy-----------------------


Workshop, "Newly" Occupied House, Southern Moor

After a night's hard work and some much needed sleep, Lilith was ready to intervene in the affairs of the town. It seemed all the fun was happening in the "Native District," and she wasn't about to let them be cut out of the fun anymore.

Judging by all the chaos, there didn't seem to be much time left to act, especially if she wanted to capitalize on the situation. It would be a real shame to waste all her preparations to help the people of Fuyuki.

Lilith decided it was time to go. She gathered her things, most of them stored in a large basket that she carried out the door. "Come, let's show the city the way to peace. Let's share with them our peace."

--------------------------Moving to Native District, Riots-----------------------
@DostHou

As Christopher saw Avenger burst off into the distance, he could do little else but begin to follow her. With a mental command, his armor began to come together over him, and about fifteen of his elite golems rose with him, carrying ammunition and other such supplies.

He couldn’t help but find it amusing that it was now her that was recklessly attacking an entrenched enemy, but-

She was an Avenger, after all, and Elissa, Queen of Carthage, at that. Filled with undying, unceasing, uncompromising rage at Aeneas and “his kind,” of Troy, of Rome, all of those of his kin and get. That was all there was to it, and he had long accepted the reality of the situation. If the target of an Avenger’s hatred appeared, the outcome was sealed.

No matter his misgivings, his doubts, his nerves… Dido was correct, even as clearly clouded in judgement as she was. Their preparations were complete. The army was armed and ready to march forth. Elissa was equipped to the best of their abilities, considering the resources of the alliance and the time they had.

Ah, but it wouldn’t do for his allies to dally, either, would it not?

“The time has come. Remember the plan. And… I wish you all due fortune.”

He hoped that his magecraft shined with due brilliance.

[Moving to Sieging Grounds]

@UndyingRegret @Sageage @Vocab @addamas @Art of Fun @DostHou

Just like in India. The mighty elephant, he knew he recognized it. He remembered the day one had been brought to Charlemagne's court. A mighty beast. A terrifying creature with such magnificent features that it could have slaughtered a whole army. Before him, this beast was certainly far greater. But, Roland wasn't even worried. Because once upon a time, on a hunt in the mystical lands, he had been challenged by a soldier to strip naked, and wrestle one of the mighty beasts.

Roland had clearly won that bet, and had carried the ivories home as trophies for his uncle. One ivory carved into a horn for Olivier, and the other carved for Astolfo. And before him, Roland saw that same challenge. That same prize. But by now, his legend as a slayer of phantasmal beasts had become solidified. And against beasts like this, he was among the top. A true hero for slaying monsters. And that bright glow that Trieu revealed? That showed him she was a monster worthy slaying.

As a force of red crashed towards him, Roland's reaction was to twist Durandal's handle. The flat of the blade facing that wave of grudges. As grudges struck the blade, that shockwave dispersed. The ground rocking with the force, but he had separated the force of the strike like one hero had parted the Red Sea. Durandal's invincible legend meant that no amount of attacks could damage the glorious blade. All it managed to do was slow him for a second.

Exactly what he wanted. If there was one thing he knew about a charging elephant, it was that they couldn't turn on a dime. Such large creatures needed a wide space to turn. Something he had used during the hunts. With his speed slowed just a tad, a foot dug in... And as the elephant barreled down, he dodged. The ground cracking as he leapt to the side, careful of the trunk, avoiding its grip as he moved right out the way. Now to the elephant's side, and in Trieu's blind spot. Where she couldn't strike at him without striking Nanyue.

Durandal flashed in the light of the goddess Trieu, and Roland struck. His blade aiming for Nanyue's hind leg. The blade crackled with his strength, carrying the miracles that increased its power against servants, and most of all... The mere fact that Durandal as a blade known for its sharpness. How many times in the past had Roland used that sword to slice through a boulder as if it was nothing more than a small obstacle before him? Now, Nanyue's leg was that obstacle. And it didn't stand a chance. Carried by Nanyue's own momentum, and Roland's strength, one of them had to give.



Nanyue's leg gave out. Slicing through that magical defense, then the armor, then the skin, then the meat and bone and right through it all again. The leg didn't follow in Nanyue's next step, and as the beast fell, Roland was already behind the massive beast, watching that momentum carry it forward. Nanyue slid along the ground, a cloud of dust rising as gravity brought it to the floor. And as the dust settled, Nanyue was less than an inch from the blade Roland had left as a marker. As if one last mark was made against Trieu and her beast.

He was fast. Her smile turned wider and she beared down, knowing the first strike was imminent. her eyes blazed with the fire of battle yet again. As he dodged around Nanyue she knew it was too late to smash him with Nanyue and get him to the ground. As he dodged around Nanyue swung his body, attempting to hit Roland with the force of his body as she reached out to slash at him with her First Sword. As she glanced down at the knight slashing through her mount, she saw him and yet again, knew this fight was the one she had been waiting for.

Nanyue trumpetted out a pained noise, a loud cry from the elephant as it stumbled and hit the ground, a large cloud of dust rising around them as Trieu got back into position. "Nanyue, rise. We aren't over yet, fight through the pain my companion, you will charge again yes?" He began to rise back onto his legs.

"Impressive! But not enough!" With that Nanyue trumpetted and he began to charge yet again. Trieu smiled wide, her anegllic glow shining around her and Nanyue, the blood from his gash not gushing as much due to her glow. He charged, knowing Roland wouldn't resist another go, but as they reached Roland, she swung his direction suddenly. The unwounded side of the elephant facing Roland as she swung his side to almost crash into him, suddenly slashing out with both swords, adjusting her position and leaning off to slice at the knight before returning to her perch upon Nanyue.



Natsuo was out of his depth. That masked asshole didn't warn him about any of this messed up stuff. He didn't have many more orders that he could remember, rubbing his eyes as he could feel his senses numbing more and more. This simple man was already losing his inhibitions and blinked at the portly fellow and the sharp dressed man.

Now what did the masked man say was happening..

]"S'all good! I'll wait for the guy y'know?" he began to laugh for some reason, the drunk man really not knowing what to do in this situation. Then he remembered.

"I uh, we can;t really end the world, hey I'd die too! The guy said he uh, there was a problem at the church? Some guy with the power of uh...Thor? Mars? WAIT NO!"

He smacked his forehead. "It's Zeus! There's some guy calling himself Zeus!"




The weasel was under control entirely. Ludwig couldn't sense anything that was going on so Gustav was on his own, all the information Ludwig had entrusted the weasel with was now vulnerable and up for grabs. However, luckily the weasel was cunning, smart and knew how to get himself out of scraps.

"Ah! Well at first there was understanding and the allies were going to be permanent! However my friend! All of his allies have become erratic and my master no longer feels safe in their company! With the oncoming attack from the angry wizards he has begun to fear without proper connections and aid from someone like yourself, he will not be able to even survive this war."

The weasel chirped happily before going back to negotiations. "This vial here! One drop into someones mouth, mix it in their drinks, drop it on their food. This fine concoction can allow the victim of the potion to experience their greatest fears! They will see what they believe to be a very real hallucination, their greatest fear become material! This will allow the victim to become much more compliant and easy to control! If this ware does not interest you, we have others that are quite...the gruesome sorts. Vant a potion that can mutate small creatures and make them stronger? We have it my friend!"

...

...

...

The bartender and the manager turned to face one another, as if to verify that they had both just heard the same thing.

"...heh..."

"...pff..."

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

-And erupted in raucous laughter.

"Someone fuckin' thinks it's ya daaaaaad-"

"Are they trying to trick us, or are they genuinely that dumb-"

"Why would we even fight 'im? We're his fuckin' family-"

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

...eventually, the laughter calmed down.

Eventually.

"Haha...aha...hoooooo. Alright kid, here's the rub of it. I, uh, I dunno if the guy who sent ya actually knows dis, but that ain't Zeus, that's some guy named Nicholas-"

"-Nikola."

"Yeah, that. Nichols Tassler."

"...close enough."

"Anyway, he ain't Zeusy. But, uh, see, I'm not really here ta fight shit. I'm just kinda here to mess around and have some fun. This Tassler guy, he ain't been one'a my customers yet, but he ain't done stuff ta get blacklisted like talkin' shit at me fa' no reason or tryin'a attack the staff, so I'm not really feelin' tryin'a kill him, ya feel me?"

Shrugging somewhat apologetically, the Divine Spirit briefly turned to fistbump the bartender, before turning back to the human.

"Uh, so yeah, ya can tell the guy that I'm not really interested unless this Tassler guy tries to fuck with me or my staff. Tell ya what, tho, I'll give 'im and the birdfucker a few free drinks if they stop by, ta make up for it. Same goes for you too, kid. We got the best stuff in this country, fuckin' guarantee it."

---

"... On second thought, I don't really care. I can always ask during the meeting, after all. I gotta run. Savin' a city and all that. Tell Benita I might be a bit late, and that I'll get her... cake. Kids like cake, right?" Placing his hands in his pockets, FUJIMURA turned back to the hot springs, calling for his boys and for Gatekeeper to head on out. Turning back to Enzo, the Yakuza boss continued walking, whistling a tune and patting him on the back on his way out. When his men all followed them out, they were all astonished at their boss's handiwork.

"Damn, boss, you broke their guns by yourself? Man, I wish I could do that..."

As each of FUJIMURA's men came pouring out, they all complimented their boss in some way or another, much to his benefit. It's as if FUJIMURA was growing taller with every step he takes. In turn, the Yakuza following FUJIMURA had all welled with personal pride, feeling extremely cool marching alongside someone like their boss. To Enzo, however, as he saw the gangster's bespectacled men, he would be able to notice that their presences, while very much dwarfed by FUJIMURA's, seem to be incredible for what seem to be normal humans. Their own inner belief in their coolness, as well, seems to be making them stronger.

As soon as they were out of earshot from the Mafia gathered at the hotsprings, FUJIMURA hollered out to his men, telling them all to 'stay cool.' Indeed, it was an intrinsic effect on the glasses both FUJIMURA and his men were wearing; the more cool they believed themselves to be, the stronger they become.

"Alright, boys! Believe in yourselves! Believe that you're the coolest ass-kickers in this town! The cooler you think you are... no, the cooler you know you are, the stronger you become! If we start getting shot at, don't start runnin' away! Believe that you're faster than those bullets, and dodge the hell out of 'em! Believe that you're stronger than those bullets, and punch the shit out of 'em! And if you feel some weird ass voodoo magic, raise those talismans up in the air and tell it all to fuck off!

"Remember, we all have different names, but together, we are the Fujimuras! We are the Yakuza! Nobody messes with us!"

FUJIMURA's men all shouted cheers as they marched onward. Their belief in themselves, and in each other, grew enormously, as they all motivated each other to be at their best. They had to be at their best for what comes next. They were on a mission, after all. One that was delayed far too long.

From the remnants of Miyama, he had continued east. Regrettably, the bouts of combat he had sought to join seemed to have ended while he was dropping his Vassal off. A pity, he'd been hoping to join those, whether to find others worth fighting or to find others worth recruiting.

Well, no matter. The land of this city was only becoming his more and more by the second. The only places in Miyama left untouched had been the center of that riot he had taken his Vassal from the edges of, the forest that had yet to blossom, and that strange structure that roused his curiosity.

Ah, there was some sort of temple, as well, but he'd visit that another time.

Regardless, it had been time to move to the east, crossing the border of the river and sinking his will in as he went. For a Servant of his speed, it had not taken long before he had reached Shinto, and began the process anew.

"Ah, a perpendicular one..."

And so, stretching into the night, he continued.

The Sword Emperor, the enemy of the war, would make Fuyuki his before the next daybreak.

---

The Ten Braves dashed across the street, spreading throughout the Native District and bringing Yakuza justice to the Mafioso who dare slaughter the civilians while making sure the innocents remain safe. They all moved in such an inhuman way that it was all trivial to them, and the chaos dying down at their arrival definitely helped that. Their arrival specifically was, in lack of putting it any other way, a stomp; their coolness was high enough to surpass any welcoming gunfire they would meet, and now it has gone to the point where they can literally just punch any bullets coming for them. Such feats were only possible for them due to their belief in their boss as well as their own inner coolness. Of course, all of them already being close to 'ideal Yakuza' only expedited this ascension to kickassery.

In other words, these ten men, who have all been close to FUJIMURA and his beliefs, are able to receive some of the strongest benefits from FUJIMURA's very presence.

Standing atop one of the tallest structures to see in the Native District was FUJIMURA, surrounded by a swarm of around 40 shikigami, all appearing as swans made of paper, covering the Yakuza Boss at all angles. Should any opportunistic fool with a gun attempt to snipe him at his currently high position, they would find their bullets stopped in their tracks, rammed by one of these origami birds, all of which moved at a speed close to that of a Servant's. Upon further inspection, it would reveal that each of these folded swans were all wearing glasses of similar make to FUJIMURA's own, except small enough to appear as if they were actually 'wearing' them. Because FUJIMURA's charisma is able to extend not only to other humans, but also to beings such as his shikigami, they, too, are granted the same increase in power that FUJIMURA's men all enjoy. And because these shikigami were all made with a portion of FUJIMURA's lifefore, they all receive possibly the greatest benefit from FUJIMURA's existence. It wouldn't too far to say that each individual shikigami are able to fight on par with FUJIMURA, himself, though they aren't quite as strong as their maker, specifically.

Taking off his signature coat and wrapping its sleeves around his waist, FUJIMURA stretched a bit before getting to work. Aside from his absurdly toned physique, enhanced greatly by his literally awesome power, his own irezumi would possibly catch the eye of any onlookers, as well. One side was painted with all dark colors, with calamities and malevolent figures such as oni tattooed on his right side. On his left, in opposition, were all brighter colors, all showcasing a rebuilt Fuyuki with a Komainu watching over it, guarding against the darkness.

"Alright, let's begin..."

Drawing three talismans from his pocket, FUJIMURA raised them up in the air with his left hand, pointing his right, palm open, to the turbulent streets below, beginning to channel the 'pain and suffering' accumulated from the Native District. As all those grudges gathered within FUJIMURA, the irezumi on his right side began to glow with a black light, a visual representation of the misfortune that he is channeling within. The irezumi on his left side, however, all began to glow white, channeling much of the bad luck accumulated from the riot and turning it into good luck; the true power of FUJIMURA's peculiar tattoos, which allow him to channel 'misfortune' into 'fortune', and vice versa. Afterward, FUJIMURA began to distribute all the fortune he has converted into each of his talismans, infusing them all with good luck...

"I hope you're ready, boys!"

And so, FUJIMURA threw all three of his talismans into the air, each of them already infused with both his affinity to 'Fire' as well as his own innate coolness. As soon as they were high enough into the sky, FUJIMURA shouted the magic words, resulting in them all bursting in a magnificent flash. Each explosion took the shape of the display of pyrotechnics that one would see at a festival, fireworks all infused with good fortune meant to fill the hearts of everyone who sees it with hope; hope for a bright tomorrow, and hope that Fuyuki will shine brilliantly again....

To FUJIMURA and his Ten Braves, however, this was a signal. Not a moment after, they all began to shout in unison, their collective voices all spreading throughout the Native District:



Once the challenge was issued, FUJIMURA crossed his arms, grinning as he awaited his opponent to come. Indeed, whoever this 'monster' who dared issue a challenge to the Yakuza, they were compelled to follow this challenge, in return, the words of the Fujimura Ten Braves all cutting into this monster's psyche, inciting it to accept their challenge. This is the power of the Grand Mob Ritual, a conceptual attack made by several 'Ideal Yakuza' against a single target...

@manythings @phonic @seirei no hai @addamas

He walked.

Ah, his leg stumbled.

“Are you sure we should let him in?”

“Ah, he’s a horse, what’s the worst he can do?”

“I think it’s a p-”

“Aaah, let him in. He’s waddlin-...trottin here!”

His balance was completely off. This was not a matter of carrying himself properly, of showing the discipline attained by him. It wasn’t the matter of walking properly either. He was struggling to move, each bit of distance that he covered a bit of an ordeal as his world swam, as the recent events played through his mind like a broken tape.

He fought many people, he killed many people. He saw many murders, he saw many tears. Killing the people of Fuyuki to save the people of Fuyuki. To strike down the gangsters as though he were hunting beasts rather than fighting as a martial artist. Yet what chilled him the most was the face of that one man.

That man.

Yes, that man who he most definitely put an end to. Somehow he had survived? Somehow that man returned?

The flames that bathed the mountain. The blood that coated his fist. The laugh of a man broken. No, that man was regrettably broken a long time ago. A man broken different, distorted. The values of normal humans were not quite his. Or perhaps rather it was that he didn’t recognize them as applying to people?

Yes.

To that man, humans were not humans.

What walked the earth were like what their magecraft turned them into. Beasts who walked in a false light of knowledge.

He saw him in the streets. A smile on his face as he walked through the carnage.

In his fog, in the haze of the streets that woke him up. It was only for a moment, yet the world around him stopped. Shocked into a pause. He saw him. That presence was dark, resentful. It was like a microcosm of the feelings that had spread out in this riot.

Yes, he surely was hated by that man.

While there was no proof he knew deep down that his presence here was no accident. He had a hand in the happenings in the city in some way. Perhaps he had even started the events that began this tragedy?

He wouldn’t put it past him. He was always clever, always good with people.

In a way he knew him the best of anyone. In a way he knew him the least. So different, and distant.



Without paying the world around him much mind Tlilpojuan came to rest before he realized it. While the presence of another master was accepted in the gathering quite naturally. What no one would have realized was that he fell asleep, his mind wandering off tormented by dark memories and thoughts brought to life from his fatigue. All the while he was still standing. Still draped with that blackened shroud, and splatters of blood tainting his outfit.

Well, he certainly looked at place with all the penguins around at least.

As Roland dodged around the beast, he felt that rush of battle. That heartbeat pounding in his chest as he watched it fall. Until, he glanced to his side and had to laugh. It seemed for a moment that he hadn't had the perfect attack after all. Trieu's sword swing had actually managed to strike his pauldron, denting the armor till it was creaking loudly as he moved. While Trieu and Nanyue recovered, Roland ripped the pauldron off, and threw it to the side, where it clattered against the ground. At this rate, he'd probably be fighting the end of the war completely naked. Not that he hadn't fought completely naked before.

He waited for the elephant to make a full turn, his sword slicing at the ground, as if he was challenging them to continue this duel. Roland hadn't had a fight like this yet in the war, where both fighters came out in full force. No trickery, just their skills and blades.
"Trieu, I want you to know, this duel is the most exciting I have had yet! Consider yourself worthy of your legend." The paladin smiled, and raising his sword again he was ready for the second clash of their blades and beasts. "I hope you are willing to forgive me, as I am using this duel to help me master my new limb." The shroud came loose, and that new horrifying limb could be seen once more. The bandages pulled back to the elbow, with the loose ends fluttering behind Roland in the breeze. He looked every bit as heroic as he did horrifying. That limb, bristling with fur and visible veins, claws that could rip a man apart. It all seemed to be closer to a nightmarish monster than something that could ever be called a limb. At least for now, it wasn't fully awake, and Roland had some degree of control over it.
Maybe that was why he wanted this fight? To test that. To practice control over his newfound limb.

He charged when Trieu and Nanyue did, his feet pounding against the ground. But when the beast turned, Roland leapt. He leapt into the air, striking out with Durandal in one hand, and his demonic arm free. Durandal struck with both of Trieu's blades, defending him from that strike, and as Trieu pulled back, Roland's demonic hand latched onto the side of Nanyue, ripping into the armor, and holding on tight. The defense cut through like paper as that demonic hand began to feed on the magical energy used to maintain Nanyue's defenses.

Trieu laughed as she clashed against the blade, his words spurring her on to deliver this valiant knight a challenge he deserved. Yet Trieu had been yearning for such a fight also, glad he could deliver just as he had promised.

As his mighty blade clashed against her shining red one, she knew it was all too late. Yes she managed a blow on him but it seemed yet again he had pierced her defense. That awful demonic arm twisting and contorting and possessing almost no characteristics that she would call that of an arm. Yet it remained.

She bit down hard, her teeth clenching as she watched the arm pierce into Nanyue, drawing blood as Nanyue trumpeted in pain. She couldn't stand by this and yelled, "Ha! Roland the mighty knight, I admire your audacity!!"

She smirked as she withdrew one sword from her swipe and went to slash down at the area where flesh met demonic tissue as Nanyue kicked at Roland, sending dust and force at him.

If he could be removed, she made a quick gallop before turning to face him once more, the elephant bloody and damaged but it wasn't over yet. Trieu panted and looked to where she had dropped her other sword during that collision.

"I'm impressed!! A very impressive arm might I say, much more vicious than your other"

Roland's response was to pull his legs in closer, and kick off as Trieu pulled back to strike his demonic arm. Roland's sword sweeping about and striking the red blade as it swung in again, deflecting the blow as he felt the buffering force of the elephant's roar.

Dust clung to his eyes, and he wiped it away, but he didn't seem bothered much more. Except for maybe looking rather miffed from the clash of blades. "I'm a Paladin. Far different from a knight. Knights are a fickle lot who sit in a castle. I am part of my uncle's court. A paladin who seeks the conquest of the holy city and to return it to the hands of the Holy Roman Empire!" He let out a laugh, and raised both his arms as if to invite more challenges from Trieu.

Taking his time, Roland flashed a grin. "As for my arm. I should make it clear that Olivier has seen my third arm, and she found it rather impressive! You should see me as a Berserker, I can hardly keep my clothing on."

He charged, aiming to leap right up onto the back of the mighty Nanyue, to face Trieu right there on even ground.

Trieu's eyes flashed yet again, the clash of blades bringing her back to the time of the battlefields of Vietnam and China. Wu warriors trying their hardest to deflect her blows, yet none of them, not even one warrior, stood out as a challenge for her. That was her deepest regret. She brought the rebellion to life and ignited the fires of Vietnam once more, yet she never got what she had desired.

Yet here it was.

"Apologies paladin, in my life I encountered neither, just bandits and lowlifes on horse back, yet I can see the difference is that Paladins are much more concerned about their endowments."

She grinned, allowing him to leap up and turned to him, Nanyue moving slower now. Glowing deadly red, she made a slash hoping to be deflected and with a spare hand threw another dagger towards his abdomen. "But I am neither a knight or a paladin, I am a warrior, the warrior of Vietnam who ensured the survival of the country, and might I say, this is rather the spectacle I was hoping for in this war"

Roland reacted as expected. His sword striking her own, and with force, he pushed her blade to the side. Only to hear the THUNK of a knife entering his side. His combination of Guardian Knight, combined with battle continuation made the knife sticking out of his lower half rather... Forgettable. With one hand he pulled the knife free, and threw it to the side. A trickle of blood seen from the wound, but it would seal up in time.

Roland had expected more paladins, or knights in this war. But to fight something like a warrior goddess from Vietnam? This was the reason the war existed. To have two mighty forces from around the world clash.

Roland's riding allowed him to stand effortlessly on top of Nanyue, and he was all a grin as he took a step closer, his blade raised. And then, he struck. Fast as lightning, he struck, a flurry of blows each with staggering strength behind it. Approaching more and more, Roland seemed to seek to pressure Trieu into making an offensive strike. As if pressuring her to make a mistake.

"Maybe I should visit your country when this war is over. Though lady Trieu, I have heard stories that you possessed three breasts. Maybe your endowments are worthy of bragging about too."

Trieu saw how unaffected the knife had left him and her grin reached from ear to ear. This was it, as blades clashed and she stepped back, she felt her heart racing and her wind swept hair cascading around her.

"Ha! Survive this and I might allow you to behold them Roland!" She mocked before bracing herself as the strikes came in, defending each blow with her sword, except two blows. One cracking through her shoulder armour and another catching her side.

She felt the stinging pain through her angelic guise and smirked. "However I have no need to brag, as you can see you know all I want you to know" and then she unleashed the red shock wave again.

As it went for him she called put a mighty roar. "NANYUE!" and with that a glow enveloped all of them, Nanyues armour becoming spiked and flimsier and his tusks deadlier and larger. She smirked as he bucked and violently threw Roland off.

With that she took off, aiming for him to hit him with a charge.

Roland struck with lethal accuracy, laughing at their clash. His demonic arm twisting, and his breath heavy at the rush of excitement. He could tell what was coming next. All that damage building up. He had seen it before when the lady of Vietnam had saved his life. His sword raised up, taking the impact of her grudges, and he leapt backwards. Landing on solid ground as Nanyue eyed him from that distance.

"You are the worthy foe I came to this war to fight!" Roland laughed, raising his demonic arm. With a swish of his hand, needles, quills, the fur that attached to his limb fired off like darts. Showering Nanyue as the beast began to charge. Aiming for the eyes, vulnerable and blinding just for a moment as Roland kicked the ground hard.

IMPALED! Roland felt the tug of the mighty beasts tusk as they tore and slashed, and his cape, fluttering behind him, was lost. Torn away by Nanyue's charge and leaving Roland to land on the ground, watching with surprise at his lost garment. "Well, that was indeed impressive." Roland said, tossing aside the remains of his cloak. "I will have to get another... That is two of these I have lost." Roland said, materializing another cape.

Trieu laughed at his valour, still declaring her ferociousness as she charged. She was glad that she could have this chance. A great palladin fighting a woman who believed in quite another god yet conquered and fought back hordes of unrighteous men.

She laughed as her charge accomplished nothing but removing his cape and looked back at him and down to Nanyue's bloodied visage. "My companion....we shall have you repaired after this has come to an ednd"

She turned to him and smirked. "Impressive..." She was uinterrupted and nodded. Shame...she was really getting into this. "I'll have to end this duel here Roland of Charlemagne, it certainly was not forgettable, I hope to see you at the meeting I've been ordered to attend, I'm too return to my master, I shall see you when destiny next wills us to meet" She nodded and Nanyue's glow returned to that of his defensive form, returning Trieu to her normal self, giving him a nod as she rode off back to the Moors.

Roland though watched as Nanyue and Trieu retreated, and so did he. Walking away, he returned to the spot where he had placed the blade from the Einzbern's servant. That blade, still untouched and standing strong despite the battle that had raged before it. Picking it up, Roland carried it with him. He had to return it to it's owner still. Something he would do at the meeting of masters.

He could not explain it.

He had felt the waves of that concealed combat, he had perceived the existence of the monster, but that alone was not enough to justify him coming here in person. Why had he done so? It defied all reason. It was as if something had spurred him along to do so, as if a wish formed by billions had pushed him forwards.

It was for this reason that he stood there. It was for this reason that he faced something he now recognized. Yes, there was no doubt.

This was not merely a monster. This was a Monster. This was a Monster with the authority to devour all heroes.

Standing before it, he felt a mad maelstrom of emotions. Incredulity, denial, rage, melancholy, nostalgia, but above all of those was a pure, primal terror.

"...that spear..."

...but, none of these were due to the Monster.

In the first place, no Monster could make him fear like this. The worst that it could do was kill. It was simply a beast of destruction and power, regardless of how much it eclipsed him. That did not matter to him. That could not matter to him.

No, the terror was from the object in the Monster's possession.

It was worse than he had imagined. Infinitely worse. It was, without question, 'the most terrifying thing in this world'.

He had merely thought that what was here was a monster.

However.

That spear was something else entirely.

That spear was something that reached for a star beyond such trite words as heroes and monsters.

That spear was a prayer for the end of the world.

A torn laugh nearly sliced its way from his throat. How fitting, how heart-wrenchingly fitting that he'd see this again.

He could not oppose it. He was weak. He was hopelessly, pointlessly weak. If the prayer of that spear was realized, that would be it. They would all be gone. Not merely him, not merely humans, but all of them. Their lives, their creations, their world itself would become dust.

There will be no books singing praises of their heroes.

There will be no statues vaunted in their name.

There will be no children to carry on their story.

Yes, he was helpless to stop that prayer after it had been realized.

...but, for now, that had not come to pass. So, there was a chance. A fraction of a chance existed to prevent that inescapable end from falling upon this planet.

His eyes glinted with a feral madness that found itself mirrored in the Monster's eyes. A single misstep here would be fatal, not merely for him but for 'everything'.

Well...I suppose it's time, then.

Time to be a real hero for once.