“Defend.”

Defend, hm? That was what he did best, after all. That was all that he was good for. Defending his lord, oathsworn was he. Defending his family, with bonds of blood tying them together. Defending his beloved Vietnam, as would any man would when faced with the destruction of all he had ever loved and known.

Ah. It was just like olden times, wasn’t it. An enemy, swaggering into Vietnam, demanding allegiance, and tribute. Already, he felt the ties to the land he had put under protection with Đức Thánh Trần already fraying, in the name of their “liberation.” No matter. Vietnam had faced such things before. Foreigners had came to the Đại Việt, calling them barbarians, and that they ought to be more “civilized.” Pah! Their so-called civilization was a thin pretext to try to conquer Vietnam, and these… these creatures would do the same for “liberation.” This was no liberation that he could sense. Forcing the cutting of bonds, the severing of ties, the savaging of trust. There was no freedom for a man without friends or family!

He drew in a deep breath. If he could not defeat these beings here, he would be forced to Disengage. To retreat, once more, with his master and whatever they could take with them. It wouldn’t be so bad, to regroup with allies, and make a go of it together. But first…

He could feel it in his bones. This was a fight to save Vietnam. This was a fight to save the world.

He spoke to the makeshift army that his Master had supplied him, these “oni.” They looked like monsters, but they were his army, and no other’s.

“You are no men. You are monsters. And for that, I cannot ask you to be as the Four Immortals, strong and powerful as they were. I cannot ask you to be as cunning or wise as Lạc Long Quân, or Trạng Quỳnh. I cannot ask you to be as skilled in arms as Bang Mong and Hau Nghe, the famous archers of times long gone past.”

“But you are no ordinary monsters. No simple beasts. You are more than that. You are under my command, and I demand more than that from soldiers! If you cannot be a hero, be the greatest beasts of them all! The Long of the East, the Lân of the West, the Quy of the North, the Phụng of the South! Be powerful, be swift, be stalwart, and do it with honor and skill!”
And then he turned, to face the invaders.

“AND TO YOU, I HAVE NAUGHT MORE TO SAY, FOREIGNERS, INVADERS, OPPRESSORS! SPEAK NO MORE OF YOUR FALSE LIBERATION! I REJECT YOU! I REJECT YOU A THOUSAND TIMES OVER! GET OUT OF THIS SWAMP! GET OUT OF VIETNAM! GET OUT OF THIS WORLD, FOR YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE! BEGONE!”

And as he said his final words, the defenses began to activate. No more pits, or stakes. No more simple traps, or restraints.

Boom.

@Paradox Witch @ReallyDumb

---

Gin gritted his teeth angrily as the words of this Lyaeus only confirmed it was Donnie all along. Gin couldn't help but feel both disgust and rage for his old friend. Indeed, to a man like Gin, who dedicates everything he has in order to protect his loved ones, an act of betrayal like this was the worst possible crime one could commit, no matter what the circumstances.

"Yeah? Well, I'm sure he thinks what you're doing is lame..."

Gin was breathing slowly, keeping his composure as he prevented himself from lashing out at the Lyaeus. He needed to keep calm, to remain grounded. If he allowed his emotions to fully take over, then it would surely mean the end of everyone. In other words, Gin needed to keep his cool so that everyone else is able to stay cool... and surely enough, the Beast's next attack against him would be an affront to his beliefs themselves.

"... You can strike down my body, my mind, and my soul, but like hell will I allow you to break what's in my heart!"

Moving quickly, Gin placed a hand on his glasses as he began to focus. He needed to ensure that his glasses didn't break, believing the best course of action was to strengthen its own force of providence.

Firstly, he crushed the Shikigami under his control all at once, restoring a little more than a quarter of his life force into himself before transferring the life force that had been used for his previous Shikigami into his glasses, making sure to only use that amount before cutting the line before his own life force could be drained further. Effectively, Gin turned his glasses into a Shikigami, albeit with a much stronger existence than his previous Shikigami had.

Then, he stretched his other hand, pointing it to the ground as he began to channel the vast misfortune accumulated within the hot springs, converting that misfortune into fortune by utilizing his Irezumi. Gin transferred that converted energy into his glasses, empowering them further, filling them with some of the immense grudges contained within the land from the countless human lives lost to that cursed fire, turning them into an accumulation of their hopes and dreams.

Thirdly, Gin began to copy some of his own self into his glasses, placing everything that made him human within them; his convictions and beliefs. His anger and motivation. His hopes and fears. Most importantly, however, Gin transferred his own stubborn unyielding resolve, the determination he has as a man to overcome all seemingly insurmountable odds, his own ability to defy fate into his glasses.

And last of all, Gin hollered a rallying cry, both to his shades as well as to everyone fighting alongside him...

"We are bound together not by chains or obligations, but a universal belief to live on as our own selves! As humans, we will continue to fight for what we believe is our own freedom, not one imposed by the likes of a beast! We shall fight to remain as our own selves! YAKUZA, ASSEMBLE!"

Whether Gin's shades would grow its own pair of glasses, evolve into a greater form, or just explode was beyond him... so long as his heart remains unbroken, he will continue to stand tall, shouldering whatever consequences his actions may entail.

He had donned the provided shades Gin had brought, and Gudrun was there too, and these monsters attacking the spring.....so it was time.

It was time for the King of Noble Heroes to battle again once more! And through Revelation, and the use of his runes to again gain "Clairvoyance: A" future sight, and what was going on, he could perceive just what not to do...and what would work best. Gram dissipated away from his hands, and the warrior's hands clenched into proper fighting fists. He did not have to say anything to Gudrun, for she would know the same. There was a lack of need present in regards to speaking, merely action was needed. And it seemed the other servants were ahead of him by a good bit already in their efforts thus far.



He would shatter "that" fate with his own two hands, and bring to heel this enemy that threatened all humanity.

That was the role of a proper hero, after all...

...To bring salvation to mankind, even if they didn't want it!

Sigurd moved at immense speed, aiming in this case moving in from the side to send his fist into the skull of the Lyaeus fighting Achilles. Full punching power, no rune boost. He knew how it would move, what it could or would do, the possibilities laid out in front of him like a children's picture book. And he....would...not....LOSE!!!

@Paradox Witch

---

With a single movement, the sun was coming down. If it was allowed to fall here, it would incinerate them all.

There was no time for her to reach the one that had prepared it, and Achilles, being the fastest hero, had made his attack against it before the nature of their protection had begun to clarify. Still, being the fastest hero, it should have been possible for him to do away with his weapon and attack again, driving the offender back. In that case, she would put her faith in the abilities of a hero trained by another famed teacher.

How backwards. How arbitrary.

On that subject, it was clear to her, now. The surge in power from Chiron's Master, the transition from Gin to FUJIMURA, could only have been the result of-

"I see. A set of numbered rules."

Not nearly as bad as she had expected. Very nearly respectable, and she hadn't even met the man.

"I apologize for not visiting the bar when it was open. It seems there would have been much to observe." The second half of the comment was directed at the Lyaeus.

If Nikola Tesla was a brilliantly burning Star that forged humanity's path forward, she was the eternally burning Star that guarded humanity from behind. These mockeries of mankind did not belong. Their existence was wrong.

She would correct it, as she always did.

It was not a matter of dashing, charging, or rushing. Scáthach moved towards the Lyaeus who had aimed to bring madness onto the group. Its efforts had not bought it any time against her, as she had made use of Self-Suggestion even before the command of the Yakuza boss had filled the air. She was already two steps ahead.

Scáthach had already arrived next to the one who was attempting to destroy the glasses. A spear of bone appeared in her hand, and was thrusted with full force at the Lyaeus. It was not a Noble Phantasm release, but it was flew forward with deadly accuracy-

-And discorporated half a foot from the Lyaeus' face.

The protections of these beings prevented runes of strength from being useful, but runes of speed remained effective for maneuvering. The spear-thrust could not be called a "wasted attack" as Scáthach continued with its momentum, bare handed.

The runes were deactivated at the last moment.

"Donnie, was it? Would that be short for something?"

A fist came from below, cracking into this "Donnie's" chin and retreated the instant the blow had landed. Strike, feint, strike, evade. Her Clairvoyance told her where the enemy would move, and her mastery of Martial Arts allowed her to decide on the correct response.

"As you can plainly see, humanity has no desire for anything you wish to bring upon them."

In that sense, she was two steps ahead. Even as often as she had fought in such ways before, the slightest hints of cool began to surface.

With a kick, it was sent flying across the ground. It was not a "finishing move." Before the Lyaeus could get its bearings, she was upon it once more, continuing the assault.

"Abandon this, now."

Breaking out of the frozen space was a relatively simple task, it was just a matter of pulsing his magical energy to break the entire car free of the hold. No, the real problem came from the matter of the sun in their path. Tesla was not entirely confident in his ability to absorb that much energy at once, nor was he confident that Darius would have a plan to avoid it. Well, it can't be helped. "Disengage now!" Was all Tesla said before he leapt straight out of the car to the left, Disengaging once more. His options were closely observed, it would appear as if the current plan of regrouping at the Church was infeasible. Ah, speaking of the Church. A minor adjustment in the various armaments of his base was made, lightning began to fly towards the Lyaeus assaulting Lucius to try and buy him some time.

Suzaku was commanding his draugr to begin loading themselves into the railgun, hopefully hydra poison would have more of an effect on these damned monsters than lightning did. Regardless of what happened on that front, Tesla began making his way to Fisher's ship in hopes of contributing more there. They had just made quite the blast from what he could tell from his pigeons, they would likely need more power to continue firing on full blast like that.

---

"...very well, white titan. This time, allow me to be your death."

Altera did not understand the statement whatsoever, it made absolutely no sense to her. While it wasn't an attempt to confuse her, it was certainly confusing. The bartender was a strange being, a strange being that knew many things about Altera that not even she knew. The Sword of Mars disappeared as she activated her Crest of the Stars once again, dashing from between the two as they tried to close in on her.

She wanted to ask what he meant, she wanted to know so badly. Alas it was not to be, not when her instincts screamed at her to kill the abominations before her. She processed the situation quickly, enhancing her blows with Crest of the Stars seems to have nullified part of her power. Thus, she would have to fight using her own natural strength. Not a problem for her, however her new allies would need to know of this development.

"They take more damage from raw physical combat, they also nullify the impact of weaponry! Fight them hand to hand, crush them in your path to victory!" She called out to those who fought beside her, not that they needed the hint. The woman with the red spear was already on it, fighting the Lyaeus off with little trouble.

Her Crest of the Stars remained active, boosting her speed immensely as she dashed towards the Lyaeus who sought to trap her in a pincer. The first one she had attacked got a quick jab to the throat, a follow up hook was aimed at the second as she dashed in between the two. Her attacks constantly alternated, she would use Crest of the Stars as a quick boost as she jumped from enemy to enemy, assaulting them with various blows from her fists.

"I will not allow you to destroy humanity." It went unsaid that only she could destroy civilization.

---

Maintaining Berserker could only be described as one thing. Tiring. Nonetheless, she remained cool under pressure despite the constant yelling going on around her. Being cool seemed to power these tacky glasses, thus she would remain as cool as ever. She pulled out a small book from her coat pocket and opened it nonchalantly, connecting to the Clock Tower to report on the situation. They would need all support if they were to survive this.

"This is Elizabeth Aesworth reporting in. We have a worst case scenario on our hands, a world ending threat is imminent if action is not taken quickly. It is currently sealed at the moment, however it has taken hold of several civilians to try and weaken the seal holding it. The monster is an incarnated divine spirit, if it escapes the Heroic Spirits here will not be able to defeat it. It will likely destroy the rest of the world after it has finished us off. Support is required immediately." She adjusted her sunglasses in a cool manner, pushing them onto the bridge of her nose as some unknown light glinted off of them. Cool.

Well um... There wasn't any... Cutting going on. In fact, Durandal didn't seem to do much of anything. Honestly a bit of a bummer. You get a sword from god, have something to do with Hector, and... It just... Stops. At least he learned two things. One, there are shields that he can cut through easily. Two. The quills didn't spook them. But the actual arm itself did. Three... They were terrified of pigs. Yep, that was it. That was the only important thing he learned from this. Now to take advantage of that fear of boards. Side note, look for boar piglets. Might be useful later.

But no matter how rooted the attempts to keep Roland frozen might be, it lasted for barely a moment. Less than that. If anything, it paused him for less than the time it took for the Lyaeus to acknowledge he had been frozen in such a way. His presence, his heroic legend had long been surpassed. Roland, with shades reflecting light like a discoball, was surpassing everything in this war. He knew they knew, so he had to make sure to take them all out as fast as possible. Before their... Planning could be used against him.

But his arm, that had lashed out at the backrow, was not done. Nor was it going to stop. Instead, Roland kicked back, leaping away from the duo. But his arm, continued to stretch, and as Roland was falling back, the two in the frontline would feel a grip. The arm had split in two, with hands like fangs, it gripped the two from behind, and began to feast. But not flesh. Not armor or skin. But the grudges. The magic. The curses and blessings that had taken their bodies. Roland was taking a page straight from the same book. He was cutting their connection to the one controlling them, by devouring it.

By leaping back, he landed besides his master, sword raised as if ready to strike back at any of the creatures that made a move on the man. Roland knew that if he couldn't devour the monsters with his arm, and he couldn't simply cut them apart... Then he'd have to retreat. Get some distance, and probably get his master to safety. He couldn't risk leaving him out there like this. "Master, we should get you to safety. These things are invulnerable to my sword. And I don't want to risk them attacking you while I'm punching them to death."




Xerxes could not just sit by and watch. He had to act. And he had something in particular that could help. It was a blessing from his homeland. He could see that man, Gin trying to help the other masters. A hand on his shoulder, and a surge of his magic.

"May there be health and long life, complete Glory giving righteousness! May the visible yazads and the invisible yazads and the seven Amashaspands come to this fair offering."

It was a holy prayer. A blessing of life, and righteousness. A holy rite and hymn that echoed through the room. A prayer to restore strength to Gin against the challenges ahead.

"For many years keep them worthy to perform worship and utter prayers, to give charity and offerings, being just. May they have health to fulfill all their duties! May they be liberal, kind and good!"

@Greengoat@Addamas




He roared, emitting sound and magical energy outward. The car that was already brimming and bursting with flames and magic exploded outwards in a zooming blast that propelled him out like a bullet. Crackling and surrounding the car like armor, it made for a shield for the Berserker as he escaped himself with his disengage skill. The “car” was devoured by the light of the sun. The Loser King left the battlefield.

He heard a command from his master, and considering the fact that Archer was escaping just fine on his own, he considered his first task completed.

The rattling of bones managed to somehow mimic the sound of burning rubber as he took a turn and made his way towards the DDD.

Various Anathanoi appeared on the streets with bows and arrows to strike at the Lyaeus. The Loser King was used to a fight in his wake even as he left. A sane man would expect the Lyaeus to simply give pursuit, or to transport themselves to another foe. But Berserker treated them as an army, depositing a few dozen to strike at them as if to tie them down. But soon the skeletons were either destroyed or left by their own… at which point they simply just stared awkwardly at each other until they faded away to be brought back to their king.

Attracted by the other army, Darius made his way to the Marshal. The wrongness of the army was shrugged off, ignored. Not that he noticed to begin with. An army was an army, whether they be ghosts, alien creatures, soldiers or the undying. To begin with his Anathanoi was hardly anything normal.

An army was its soldiers, but it was also their leader. If this Anathanoi was the immortal and yet dying army that represented his rule, taken form as skeletal beings. Then it was not strange for the army to be alien and odd with their leader being a gateway himself in his flesh.

The Immortal Anathanoi was brought forth, Darius presenting himself in his traditional manner, riding upon a Elephant of death and accompanied by his soldiers as they unleashed their own attack.

A raw charge. Chariots rode in, sometimes even struck down by stray cannonballs. Skeletal worms ruptured through the ground, burning with the raw energy of strife that fueled them from the tomb that was carried on the king’s elephant. The two armies clashed in a maelstrom in a sense. Arrows rained down on the Lyaeus and soldiers alike by happenstance and the charge of skeletal giants, the thrashing of the worms and soldiers would surely drag some of them down as well.

Yet what was lost would be regained, what was lost would be rebuilt and replenished. The focus of the army of Darius was upon the enemy, but the casualties that unfortunately happened on both sides due to each other would only strengthen him further at the least.

How chaotic.

Ths was indeed war.




Teodoise

“The ground?” he mumbled to himself before beginning his work.

His mind took in the positions of the two, the trajectory of the roots, and the enemy.

Displacement magecraft was a thing that was hard to master.

They seem to not take mind of visual obstructions. It is likely that they have some form of pure eyes, or clairvoyance. Mhm, perhaps it is a sort of feed of data or the perspective of a higher level being? Their spiritual foundation is that of a non-human and they are all close to identical after all." He raised a hand.

Various blows from the trees and plants were displaced, moved so as to strike the Lyaeus itself. The ones that he took care of were the ones he saw were the largest obstruction to Raikou’s possibility of movement.

The chance that she would go this way, what she could manage if she leapt that other way… In a sense he was opening the path most likely to bring them an escape for her while counterattacking with the beast’s own attack.

If it were simply a matter of opening the path he could have shot and burnt past the plants. This was a test of their capabilities as he observed and analyzed the reaction to the lightning of Gozu-Tennou. Yes. There were many that would not understand what was happening with that magical energy, but to one of Atlas... with the machine within his body… It was a matter of learning more about the rules of that process.

Nothing was concrete, nothing was beyond the creations of mankind. That was the hope of some. If one was prepared to fight the inevitable end of humanity, if one was part of that mad workshop, then even something like a magical defense that would absorb all attacks would be something they would work to conquer.

Speaking of.

Well, let’s see how this works.

The wind rushed across his face, carrying the smell of ozone and the storm of dust that caked onto his face.

He turned the gun towards the Lyaeus. Analysis of enemy foundation and conversion of energy. Injection of Kamidoku and magical energy at the corresponding concentrations. Formation of prepared “bullet” by binding the formula to the nail. The gun was more a factory, built from his knowledge and his body rather than the weapon itself. Like a 3D printer that worked off the settings that came from Idris and his own processes.

Then what indeed was he fighting with?

What he held in his hand was a bullet meant to kill a Lyaeus and only an Lyaeus.

He squeezed the trigger.

With a blast of magical energy the nail flew, seeking out the Lyaeus, screaming for its death as the two escaped the grasp of the liberator.

“They’ll catch up!... with a 50-50 chance.”

It was not a calculation born from his mind, but rather a simple casual guess. He didn’t have the time to worry about that, nor the true ability to predict things with how murky the model of the future became with the fate-defying capabilities that were so concentrated in this city.

What a strange moment to be playful. But he was already being carried by a child.

@Reflection


Five for the servant, one for the master.

The wind across his face was cold. Almost unbearably cold. His nerves and mind were woken up, and as he saw the brilliance of his servant, he could only smile.

Ah, somehow I managed to guide a burning star like that.

The glasses upon him felt natural. He was used to taking on the aspect of another and opening his own body to foreign entities as part of his shamanism. To take upon the mantle of a mobster. He was a horse, then a man, then a Yakuza.
He felt a gauge rise, corresponding to his thoughts and movements. What a strange thing.

What he would do next was something that most would call absolutely stupid.

The shroud ripped from a few quills that flew his way. The spirits within that moved to wrap around their wearer to keep protecting him curled around Tilipojuan. In a sense it looked more like a scarf now, bellowing in the wind as he suddenly rushed towards the Lyaeus. Wrapping and unraveling as he moved at a speed that exceeded even him as a horse as he was bolstered both by spirits he invoked into him, and the glasses that he now wore.

281 Starfist:Centarous

Crossing the distance he unleashed a barrage of blows, shining and leaving a trail like a comet as he let loose every strike like his mental image.

The absorption and circulation of outer energy to connect the internal and external. Taking in and releasing the gods. The discipline of martial arts. The opening of one’s self to spirits and cycling them. The two disciplines were, in his mind, surprisingly compatible despite being from the two other sides of the world.

The strength of beasts, the mind of a man, the pride of a Yakuza. Like a strange sort of Chimera, taking in the offerings of what Fuyuki had, he raised his fist against the Beast.

Whether or not the rain of blows was futile. Despite the fact that he was perhaps not endangering his servant. To simply stand there and wait was something he couldn’t do. Even if he was told that it would be the end of the world.

@Paradox Witch

Well. That had been disappointing.

A flash of annoyance followed that thought, alongside the thought “teacher’s would have done better”.

Regardless of it being substantiated or not. It was, however, still understandable — to begin with, a weapon that failed the first time it was used already made a terrible impression. Still, it seemed more to be a condition of the enemy, rather than a flaw in the spear itself.

Annoying to the sprinter, yes. But by no means something that could defeat him by itself.

Without a pause, he let go of the spear — at this moment, against these enemies, it was completely useless to begin with, but that didn’t matter much.

After all, he was still the fastest. After all, he had still been trained in other ways of combat. Without letting the situation get to him as a sun was thrust toward him, he made a snap decision.

If the circumstances were different, he would have indeed just moved out of the way, but what was behind him could not be lost. But he didn’t intend to take it lying down either. If his weapons were useless, he would just have to take a page out of his senior’s book.

“I guess if I can’t just spear you through the heart—”

He moved, but not to retreat. He stepped in toward the attack, slightly to the side, divine speed and strength all in one, his fist flying toward the enemy’s forearm.

He would not dodge, but he would not take it lying down, either. He figured attempting to disrupt and redirect it was fair game. Whether it failed or not was another thing — a split second decision to maximize gains and minimize losses. So long as he protected what he wanted to protect, it was fine even if it killed him.

“—I’ll just beat you to death. Normally, I’d ask for a name, but all considered — I figure skipping formalities and just killing each other works fine.”

Their specs were beyond those of humans and entered the realm of Servants, true. But even by the standards of Servants, Achilles’s physical parameters, while not unthinkable, were top class, and his speed exceeded that of any other. The unfair invincible armor granted to him by the blacksmith of Olympus only widened the gap.

Therefore, if his gamble went through, he was fairly certain that his enemy would be down an arm.

He could not move. The crushing edict of the cavern bore down on him, locking him in place. What threads of his will could escape, even with the strength of Nega Liberator, were barely even shadows of the true article.

However...

"Hear me, Lord of All Creation."

All of its avatars spoke in unison as it did.

There was something in those words. Something terrifying, something impossible.

The other who stood in the cavern froze in disbelief, as the seal shook. The seal pulsed. The seal strained.

"...so, they're pushing you that hard?"

"..."

It merely continued on.

A true release is impossible. A partial release is impossible. A fragmentary release is impossible. The abilities that can be output in this state are several orders of magnitude below the intended usage. In lieu of this:

"I announce."

_hope
"In my name representing law, I announce."

_LAST/End
"Everything will be corrected."

_{Agrios Eleutherios}
"Let the final laws be shattered."

-Initiate Artificial Noble Phantasm, false release.

---

Two Lyaeus were killed by tentacles wreathed in eldritch fire. @GreenGoat

Three Lyaeus were killed by a burst of light. @MrCellophane

One Lyaeus was killed by the coordinated assault of two great heroes. @Crusader Lord @Breo

A destroyer of civilization kept two Lyaeus at bay, not giving up even an inch to their coordinated assault. @floodtalon

Two madmen escaped another brush with death. @floodtalon @Yukitamas

The clashing powers of two armies, while not harming the Lyaeus, were enough to serve as a distraction. @Yukitamas @GreenGoat

It was a noteworthy turnabout. While not crippling, a sizable chunk of their forces were killed, negated, or otherwise tied down.

It grieved for those lost, as it swore to bring them back.

And so...

---

The targets of Roland's attack were struck, but the results were below his expectations.

Yes, there was no doubt that the attack was a success. Magical energy flowed out of their bodies from the sides of contact, leeching into the arm and only further enriching Roland, but...the effect was far less than it should have been, given the sheer presence of these beings.

This was only natural, though. After all, their power was not magecraft. It was not a curse or a blessing. It was something beyond such trivial rules, it was the power of an Authority. To attempt to devour such a thing...even for a beast that could consume Age of Gods magecraft as easily as breathing, it was ultimately trivial.

Still, the magical energy being taken from the two Lyaeus was not insignificant, but they made no effort to prevent it. In fact, they moved only to grab those tendrils of Roland's arm, to keep it in place.

Because, as his Master charged forward to engage the Lyaeus, instead of staying beside his Servant in safety, that lone being could only smile. At the very moment where the Master's fist came into contact with the Lyaeus...

The two vanished from sight, from this place.

And with his Master whisked off to parts unknown, the three Lyaeus standing behind their assaulted counterparts acted. Their wills stretched out, and struck at the connection between Roland and the boar.

Even if the connection was deeper than they had anticipated, they could surely saw it away with enough time.

---

He could not sustain himself any longer.

Lightning strikes attacked those fighting him, but they failed to faze those freaks.

His magical energy was continuing to wane. Each moment made him weaker, which allowed the Lyaeus more openings, which only fueled that downward spiral.

This was not a glorious fight against Arturus. This was infuriating. This was despicable.

And yet, he knew. He knew that he would fall here.

"...fine. There's no point in being eternal if the world ends, and besides that..."

The Sword Emperor, facing death, steeled himself.

"I frankly would just like you all to lose."

He had analyzed them sufficiently. Not enough for a perfect observation, but sufficiently.

"A sustained connection would be infeasible. Make it a burst that lasts for a time after, so there isn't a connection to cut. Do not attempt to affect them, focus on strengthening those who can fight against them. Their abilities are degraded from what that source is, so prioritize dealing with this damnable defense."

He spoke aloud to nobody. Yes, besides himself and the Lyaeus, there was nobody who could hear him.

His body was already dissolving into motes of light. His death was assured.

And so, he lunged forward, moving to make one last pointless strike against the Lyaeus...

[Knight Tactics]

...and as they dodged that faked blow, he could only smirk.

His posture changed, and so he drove his own blade into his heart.

"...Wish received."

With that, the Sword Emperor reached his end.

---

"If that was the case, they would not have wished for me to enter them."

The Witch of Dun Scaith moved to attack it, to prevent its action. If it was alone, this would have surely succeeded.

However, it was not.

One of its allies who had stood in wait became active. With a blur of space, the Lyaeus appeared before its brother.

There was no attempt to dodge or counterattack, as those would provide openings. Rather, it took the brunt of Scathach's attacks without hesitation, the blows tearing into its body and bringing it to the brink. It did not have time to prepare any defenses or counteroffensives, and so it was helpless to do anything but ensure that none of her attacks reached past it.

At the same time, though...

In desperation, that boy had acted. In desperation, he had attempted to save himself. And perhaps there would have been a chance, were it not for one fatal mistake.

Yes, what he had done could only be called a mistake. What he stood against was something that had designed itself for a singular purpose.

[Agrios Eleutherios]

...in that regard, daring to place his humanity into his glasses was to create a new weak point.

Yes, for a being who shattered laws made by humans, this was perhaps the best possible thing to fight against.

And so, the glasses shattered.

The glasses all shattered, undone by the prayer to shatter all laws.

...given the sheer depth of connection made through those glasses, then, the feedback from having them severed was surely immense.

It would not be enough to kill him, but the damage to his mental energy and spirit were surely significant. For some time, at least, the Masters and Servants were deprived of those glasses.

---

It took a mere instant.

No, perhaps less. It was not as though there was a delay, as though one state of affairs had been true in one moment and a different one in the next. Rather, it was something else.

The five became one. Perhaps they had always been one. United under the name of the Beast I, their wills made manifest. The very same force that was necessary to struggle against that.

Yes, the other cases could not warrant it. To utilize it within each of those other fights that were ongoing across the city would be foolhardy, as it was required for this one.

Not because he was the strongest, for he was undoubtedly not. The reborn paladin, the sword emperor, and the fastest hero certainly outmatched him.

Not because he was the most brilliant, for he was undoubtedly not. The great strategists of this war certainly outmatched him.

Not because he could save the world, for he could undoubtedly not. The humans of this world certainly outmatched him.

But because of that weapon he held---

[Agrios Eleutherios]

Space bent. Time twisted. The texture that they stood upon warped.

For it is said, the god of this land was sealed in a cavern, and that when this occurred, there was a world without a sun.

For it is said, the god of another land ventured freely into the world of the dead, for he was the only god to know death.

For it is said, the impetus of that wandering star commands it: may all things be reduced and taken.

And so, the knight and the Beast stood within a new space, wrought by the hands of those intersecting stories.

A world without life. A world without a sun.

"I am sorry, but you will not leave this place, Grail Knight."

Pied Piper(Caster)

A King without a home.

Caster fled.

His escape was more of a humiliating defeat than a glorious victory, to be honest. The Ratcatcher turns around and saw the massive bright light that engulfs his very kingdom. He gritted his teeth and tightly clenches his fist in sheer anger.

He hasn't felt this so much rage and pure hatred that he's feeling right now ever since he was ousted by the king and his own people back at Hemilin. He has to get his revenge. The Ratcatcher of Hemilin is very petty when it comes to this kind of things, It practically said in his legend. He has to find a way, somehow.

Caster was halfway across the map when he notices the explosion not far from the academy. it's somewhere in the forest area, where he heard the large blast. He paused midair and contemplated. Having second thoughts on what he's about to do, he shakes his head and decided to investigate that strange occurrence.

The agile Bard and his giant rats did a 180 and check the explosion out, to see if he can find any leverage in this dire times, I'm sure his master, Enzo will understand.

"Hang in there, Master I just need to run a little errand.."

B͏͠҉er̶̕ş̶e͝rk̀ę́r͏ ̶̧G̀̕í͟͝l̸le҉s̛ ̀D̷͢e̢ ͡Ra̷̡͞is̢͘
Foreigner's Lowlands

---

The sheer amount of rage he was experiencing was gone, as if switching off a lamp, when Gilles managed to finally defeat those two Lyaeus. There was only pain. Pain and the terrible realization of the memories flooding back, through Prelati's Encouragement of him during that mad moment. It seemed that his friend's encouragement brought him strength, but at the cost of reliving his live again and again, the memories vivid as if it happened just yesterday.

He collapsed upon the bloody field, left over by the severance of his men from him, the flames seemingly trying to consume his entire self now.

Thats... right.. The Maiden... Jeanne... she was burnt to death... I am sorry...

Jeanne...



A lake of blood, knee deep, barely concealing the bodies strewn within. A hand, stretched out for help that never came. He stood alone in the lake, soaked in blood, soaked in the regret and pain of his victims. All these deaths... but what had they done?

"You know very well what they had done! This fate, they brought it upon themselves!" The him that was from the future spoke, rising from the blood as if the blood itself had formed him. Anguish, rage, regret and most of all, sorrow, was apparent within his future self's features, even clad and partly hidden with the cloak he wore. "To betray their own saviour, to turn upon one who hath sacrificed her all for them! Even abandoned by the very God she devoted herself to!"

That was right.

For the very person he had thought to be the proof of God's existence, for that gentle smile, that hand that held the flag they fought under, for that brilliance to be snuffed by the ugly jealousy of the people.

"But yet... they were the reason you fought in the first place, wasn't it?" A voice, from a young boy, wearing armor that looked a bit too big for him, and a sword that didn't look as if it was drawn for battle much. "Don't you remember? You were just sixteen at the time, before you took up the sword for the first time against the English?"

That too was right.

He was the boy before him, untouched by the blood, pale, tall, and scrawny. But he had taken up the sword for France. He was trying his best for the people under him, yet always felt inadequate, until she came. The Holy Maiden, Jeanne d'Arc, the flag bearer who turned the tides of the war. But her end... shook him to his very core. It was as if God had just abandoned them.

"God may have abandoned her. But you did not! WE did not! Our loyalty lies with Jeanne! WE SWORE TO PROTECT HER!"

"That is right. We have not abandoned her. Nor will we abandon the world now. What will Jeanne say if you neglected the very people you fought to protect? This may not be France, but the people are the same. Mothers, fathers... children whose future still lies bright."

The boy inhaled, before bellowing at him, a slight vein appearing on his forehead.

"Are you going to abandon the people again, Gilles de Rais!? Will you turn a blind eye to everything Jeanne fought for!?"



"UUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!"

The flames seemed to gather in his hand as his cape rematerialized, seemingly made of some writhing fleshy material, still burning intensely with a strange purple flame. His hand held out, it materialized not his banner, but a horrifying staff of flesh, bone, and teeth, appearing out of the flames in his hand. Bringing himself to his feet, he held up the staff, the chanting and fluttering deep within him reaching a crescendo, as if angered by the mere presence of the Lyaeuses, drawing in energy from the other side.

Several eyes appeared from the staff's top, jerking around as if glancing at everything, before each of the seven eyes paused, glaring at the different Lyaeuses nearby. Each one transfixed upon a different target, the staff channeled eldritch energy from the other side, a beam of brilliant light sparking from each eye upon their targets.

"Masters!" Gilles bellowed. "Servants! All those that would oppose these things, these creatures that would destroy us and the world! Let us strike upon its heart! Let us march towards the source!"

A cry for action, for them to march under his banner. Yet even if none came to his aid, he would march alone, full of convictions as Jeanne did. Even if he was to be deemed a heretic, even if he was to be burned by hellfire, this, at least he would do.

Well... Fuck. Guess that meant Roland wasn't going to just grab his master and run. Mind you he probably should have done more to keep him in check. Bad days for everybody to be honest. But that wasn't going to stop Roland. Not at this point. Not when he'd gotten so far. The sunglasses fell apart, and the hero couldn't help but laugh. This whole situation was just the tip of the iceberg of crazy. Crazy enemies. Crazy stuff. And they were trying to remove his arm at the top of it.

"You know... If you guys do anything to my master..." The look he gave them wasn't even funny. The cheer in his eyes was gone. It was dark now. He had been pulling punches. And now without that man to hold him back, Roland had entered that place. That place he had gone so rarely, but when he had, it was devastating. Horrifying. At the very least he was wearing clothes this time.

The two minions holding his arm were dead. It was faster than any of them could react. Their torsos freed from their bodies, and the other three dead just the same. How?

In that moment, Roland had charged. His arm retracting. His body shifting, and a double kick was aimed right at the chests of the two holding his arm. But it wasn't just a kick. It was two forces pulling them in opposite directions. He yanked back with that cursed arm, full force. And as their torsos went in one direction, the upper halves of their body the other. He was freeing them, in the most violent way possible. Freeing their body parts from their cores. Their magical energy stripped from them. It didn't matter what authority they had. This was Roland's authority. His hand let go, and two halves fell to the ground, splattering onto the flowers and crushing them beneath the weight of their own death.

The next three fared no better. A foot slamming onto their own, pinning it as Roland grabbed their arms. Yanking one in two directions till even an aptitude for survival meant nothing. ^SQUELCH! Like a Wishbone. The other two were showered in that blood before their limbs were ripped off in an equally gory fashion. Body parts smearing the ground and their skulls crushed under the weight of Roland's boots. _CRACK! Blood shooting out and smearing all over the flowers, until it was all soaked in blood. Roland's armor shimmering with red in those moments, and he raised a hand to wipe the stained crimson from his cheeks.

They could deny civilization all they wanted. But something primal like that? Nothing could save them. Nothing that they seemed to possess anyway.

"Master, if you can hear me, tell me where you are. And let the one that kidnapped you know something. I wanted to save their lives. But now, I'm going to murder every single one of them." He didn't raise his voice. It was done in a cold way. A cruel way. A way that screamed nothing but death.

This was the paladin who had beheaded the enemies of his lord. This was Roland. Gone was the idiot hero. Now was the war hero. Killer of dragons and men.

What was a beast to him?

Tesla landed aboard Fisher's ship quickly, having sent a message ahead of time to alert the Strategist of his arrival. The ship was organized chaos, people running left and right to keep things working and on schedule. It was Tesla's element. He pushed his way through the crowded ship towards Tesla, not even bothering to introduce himself as he got straight to business.

"Here's the current situation. We have 30 of the threats surrounding the cave which the monster has been sealed in, we need to reinforce the seal before the monster can break out. We know very little of these creatures, other than that they are seemingly invulnerable to conventional weaponry, responding instead to brute force delivered via martial force and as you saw, pure magical energy. My Master is informing me that your class is Strategist, therefore-"

He opened his hand, several holographic images projecting themselves into the air. Each one showed the perspective of various battles happening around the area from an aerial point of view, the point of view of his pigeons to be precise. A replay of Lucius's battle was also available, along with a highlight reel of scenes Tesla had picked out as important. In all, there were ten screens projected above the fist of Archer.

-we need to strategize."

---

She held them off yes, but she did not destroy them. It was a simple matter to keep them distracted, but these beings had an unnatural tenacity about them, their ability to "survive" being unrivaled. A punch was delivered to the right arm of one, only to abandon the attack as her Instincts screamed to dash backwards as the other tried to strike at her from above. She was getting nowhere with this, it was a battle of attrition she was sure to lose.

In her peripherals, she noticed something squirming, but there wasn't time to focus on it. They were coming at her from both sides now, she would have to- her Instincts cried out once more. Both arms shot out like bullets, grabbing each Lyaeus by the throat and hoisting them into the air. Two lasers shot from the squirming she had noticed earlier, piercing the heads of the Lyaeus before they had the opportunity to strike at Altera. She dropped their limp corpses on the floor and observed the squirming thing more closely.

It was a sight to behold, the man known as Gilles De Rais had become an abomination from the Outside. Yet his conviction was admirable, his cry to action almost rousing something from within Altera even. However, she could not follow him into the heart of war quite yet. She could not destroy the enemy's civilization yet, not when her Master was still at risk. Another burst of Crest of the Stars later and she was attacking the next Lyaeus that had survived Gilles's assault. If none survived, then she would enter the DDD to check on her Master.

---

No response. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and growled, the glasses on her face shattering as if she had crushed them in rage. But she had not, something else did. The one who made the glasses was injured, his life force and spirit drained by the attack of the Beast. Berserker was marching into battle, but Elizabeth had more important things to worry about than her Servant at the moment. A quick mental message was sent to try and get Berserker to hold for just a little longer, but it would likely be to no avail.

Right now, Elizabeth needed to focus on getting Gin back on his feet. She moved over to him quickly, a stride with purpose as four tentacles of mercury emerged from her back to lift her up a little higher. "Hold still boy, you need medical attention." He likely didn't need to be told that considering the pain he must be going through, but some people are foolhardy enough to try and ignore the pain. A quick diagnosis was made, his mental energy and spirit had been struck by intense feedback. Likely the backlash from those glasses all shattering at once. "I would tell you to not make those glasses again, but we're going to need them. So instead I'm going to tell you to not do whatever it is you just did earlier the next time you make those glasses." She observed him from all sides, hard at work to try and stabilize his spirit as best she could. He would need more though if he was going to be up and at it soon, her work was good but not that good.

"If anyone here is proficient in the art of Spiritual Surgery or healing the spirit, your assistance is required immediately." She spoke aloud as she continued her work, an open invitation to everyone in the room to get off their asses and do something.

Even with the blessing leaving his lips, all it did was reinforce Gin's soul for the moment of impact. But even Xerxes could not protect him from the damage done, as the glasses all began to crumble. The madness it seemed was gone, but even then, the danger was still clear. Those creatures were still active, and this man was the only one who may be able to get the masters together for a grand ritual.

Taking a step back, Xerxes couldn't help but growl. He could feel that nagging issue creeping up again. That annoyance with how all these monsters just showed up. He'd probably blame it on Benita or maybe one of the other masters. He'd have to see how it all ends up. Because despite his nature, Xerxes found himself with only one clear objective. Survive. And that meant working with the others who may very well be responsible with this to shut it down.

"If anyone here is proficient in the art of Spiritual Surgery or healing the spirit, your assistance is required immediately."
"You're in luck. I'm a qualified Doctor." Xerxes said, kneeling down to Gin's level. From his belt, he pulled one of only a few flasks, and he began to swirl the mixture inside. It looked like some kind of tea, with visible bits of bark and leaf swimming about. "First, what's your weight?" He made some rough guesses on the man's height, but weight... That was tricky. Once he knew that, he pulled the cork off, and raise it to Gin's lips.

"Drink. This is a herb from my homeland. We used it for strengthening the soul, and repairing it after long journeys. It will make the healing go faster." He traded a glance with the other medically inclined individual. It was a simple message. You stitch the wounds, and I focus on the growth. It was clear the damage wasn't shallow, but it was important they work together to get Gin back in business as soon as possible.
"So, I don't think I caught your name earlier. I am Xerxes, and you?" Small talk while working, took some of the stress off the situation. "I realize you expected... More of a classic war when you arrived. I assure you, it was going well on the first day."

His cool glasses were....gone. It almost felt like a part of him he didn't know was lost, like some long forgotten article of clothing he'd worn in some other universe....or perhaps he was just imagining things. Regardless, the shades were gone from all of them, but so was the madness that had been used as well. Regardless, the others seemed to be stopping or slaying their foes as well, but even so Sigurd continued to maintain the "Clairvoyance" as well as continuously keep using his Monstrous Strength skill. He began to run at speed, to follow Gilles even as the other servant brought out maddening sorts of things at his disposal.

Because if he could get "there", to the epicenter of this, then perhaps he could do something about it all. Perhaps he could do what was necessary to save the world along with the others here. It was worth a shot, to end this as fast as possible, to do something, anything, and as he kept his eyes on the future he would be able to keep up with what was going on in general as well. Because it was there, lingering just beyond the horizon, that thing which allowed humans to weather all the storms thrown at them:

Hope.

@GreenGoat

“Ah, so that is how it is.”

In the midst of the excitement, the glasses had broken for some reason — likely, the man that had provided them had run into issues of his own. Troublesome, but not a deal-breaker.

To begin with, now Achilles had an advantage. Now he had knowledge of what to do.

They were strong, but they still fell short of him. They were quick, but never as quick as him.

And even if his weaponry could not wound them, he mused, his fists broke their bodies well enough. The one that had been murdered just now was proof enough of it.

So, without wasting a second, putting both of his new spears away, he set his gaze on the next one — out of the way from the others that were fighting. Each should be able to deal with their chosen foes on their own now, barring being overwhelmed, and the priority right now was to retake the initiative.

They had come with the intention to overwhelm them, so turnabout was only fair. Cracking his knuckles, he grinned.

“Y’know, it’s a shame you don’t want to die to weapons.” The words left his mouth softly, contrasting with the cold look of his eyes, fixing on his target like a bird of prey. “Being run through with a spear is a much more dignified end than getting beaten to death, or so I think. But if that’s what you prefer, who am I to refuse?”

The next instant, the speed of sound had been surpassed once again, as the hero’s godspeed carried him to the next target. Like a shooting star, he darted across the battlefield with the legs that were the fastest of mankind, fist poised to crush the new target’s skull like overripe fruit and then move on to the next.

At first, when the circle of magic appeared in the sky and her flotilla's shells were swallowed up in the abyss, Fisher was puzzled. When her Master began to invoke her oddly-named attack, however, the Servant's heart stopped. Breaking into a run from her spot on the bow, she began to charge for Dreadnought's citadel, shouting at the top of her lungs, "NO, MASTER!! WAIT!!"

The crash of Carly's 'magical cannon' threw her off; the Strategist was forced to throw her arms across her face, stopping her eyes from being blinded as a massive blast of energy tore from just in front of her fleet and streaked towards the coastline. Eventually, the cacophony of light and heat died down, allowing Fisher to lower her arms.

She really wish she hadn't, as her eyes fell on a smog and fire-covered section of coastline. Realising that the entire harbor had been gutted, Fisher's characteristic anger flared. In a trice, she was at her Master's side, hauling Carly off the deck by the shoulders and shaking her violently.

"You BITCH-BORN WHORE!!" the Fleet Admiral railed, her face blueing to near-violet. "Just what business did you have to override MY orders to the fleet?! And not only that, while I opted for a carefully planned bombardment of the outer harbour area, you went overkill and very well may have destroyed both our reinforcements and the ONLY foothold we have on this benighted land!! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't-"

"Admiral, ma'am!" A shout came from the main deck. The Ensign calling up to his commander was waving his peaked cap wildly and gesturing to the smoke-filled seaside. "Look!"

Trembling with barely kept in-check anger, Fisher set Carly down and stalked towards the edge of the bridge snatching up her binoculars. Panning across towards where the remains of the harbor were still burning, she caught the pinprick, winking glare of-

... A signal lamp?!

Two hulls suddenly burst out from the smog and Strategist heaved a sigh of relief; it seemed that the last two destroyers (as well as several dozen smog-covered and clearly banged-up, yet alive Marines) had all made it out. What she did not expect, however, was the third shape that loomed in the blackness beyond, punctuated by a menacing series of blasts from its horn and the signal it now flashed to 'Dreadnought':



Fisher lowered her binoculars and looked back at Carly. "I owe you my most heartfelt apologies, Master," she added apologetically. "I won't doubt you again, but please run anything you need to do by me BEFORE you carry it out." She grinned wryly, beckoning to her. "Come now. We have a war to win and a world to save!"

A sentiment, then that it seemed the newest arrival - judging from the (late) telegram shoved into her hands by an out-of-breath rating, followed by Servant Tesla showing up out of the ether - shared. The Fleet Admiral appraised the situation that the Servant of Electricity explained, as well as the radio images that Tesla threw in as visual aids, before nodding sagely.

"Very well. Follow me to the chart-room in the citadel's lower deck; I want to hear and see everything you've just summarised in as much detail as possible." She nodded to Carly. "Mistress, it's best that you follow as well."

'It's safe to say, then,' she thought bitterly to herself as she cycled the bridge's hatch-wheel and responded to a Lieutenant's salute. 'That both the Grail and salvation for my homeland are now well and truly out of reach. Then again, if we all die here today and end up doing nothing to stop whatever evil's been unleashed here ... I suspect it would no longer matter anymore ...'

---

(a temp'd Odysseus post to be added here)

The words the beasts said were of no consequence. Their actions, however, did.

Simplistic tactics, yet effective all the same. Distract, Delay, Divide. With their greater numbers, a far more feasible and effective strategy than if only two were to try it.

He would just have to work a little harder to deal with this.

The one trying to get between him and Fran. The two trying to hold him down. Lightning flashed, as the power from his hands struck out in arcs, countless bolts flashing towards the two trying to drag Jack down, as the one in between him and Fran took a fist directly to the face.

The beasts rejected the Human Order, did they? If blades and weapons of Civilization were to be rejected, then the lightning of Creation, of the primordial creation of life, should sting.

Two more. They moved too fast, quick enough to reach the domain of Servants, both going toward Fran. Mid-attack, he was forced to let them go, unable to strike them as he struck the others.

A scream tore itself from his throat, as he watched Fran face them down.



Close. Too close. Both the monsters, and Jack.

Limited options.

-no perfect choices.

A bad choice, then. For her perhaps, but for her Jack…

The right one.

As the beasts moved, she did as well.

She knew he’d understand.

She just wished-



-He saw her eyes.

One last time then.

A running retreat. Step back.

His arm reached out.

If only there was another path. If only he was greater. If only he had been-

Those thoughts he had thought throughout the night disappeared as he affirmed his resolve.

“THEFT OF THE HEAVENS!”

That blinding light.

It hid a tear.

-

“Hey, buddy.” Space had been made, a Disengaging maneuver. A small retreat for a better position with Fran in his arms

“A thief doesn’t kill in revenge. My blade is meant for heists, not for hatred.” Fran’s body shimmers, and begins to fade.

“But now, now I don’t care. And besides...this isn’t my weapon.”

The Bridal Chest swings, and lightning flashes with it.

The great Ruler of this war, the overseer of its madness, was not engaged in a fight for his life. He was not making a heroic last stand in the name of the ritual that he was pledged to protect. He was merely hiding. Far beneath the earth in a miniature cavern that he had hollowed out, curled up into a ball, he shuddered and prayed that the conflict above would end.

“I-I’m adding an extra, because you did a wretched job of the last one!”

Pale hands shaking as he hugged his own torso, eyes bulging out of his head in fear, he screamed out towards the only one who could save him from the encroaching calamity. His Noble Phantasm.

---

---

---

An annoying fly screamed annoying things in his ear, but that was simple to ignore. After all, he had grown. He was no longer a hero of repentance. Now, standing in front of an enemy that threatened the world, he was simply a hero.

Eighty of these damn things had appeared without warning. Initially, he had prepared to strike them all down with a single blow, but they had come together, becoming one. It was a pity, but that was to be expected. This enemy knew him, and he knew this enemy.

Since then, they had been locked in combat. If he was as weak as he had been when fighting that Caster or that boy, he would have died without question. At that time, he was below even what his power as a Servant was. But, as the war had gone on, he had grown, surpassing his limits and becoming something more. That was the heart of his legend, after all. It was thanks to this that he was able to hold his own against this enemy.

A miniature sun stole one of his lives. A procession of beasts stole one of his lives. A spear of death was warded off. The cry of the forest was warded off.

Another few of these things appeared, joining that conglomerate while he was resurrecting from the most recent death. It was a small change, but that was enough to tip the scales.

A distortion of space stole one of his lives. A cry of the forest stole one of his lives. A spear of death stole one of his lives. The world became a world without a sun.

He would die here. He could perhaps delay the enemy, and inflict some wounds. He had riddled out the nature of its immunity and had become resistant to most of its abilities by now, after all. But, he would die here.

“...”

Something entered the underworld. Streaking faster than even the enemy could react, it appeared and melded into him. It settled in his core, thrumming in tandem with the six others that were already present. The six spiritual cores of the fallen Servants that occupied his existence became seven.

A new strength filled his limbs. A single life was restored, but that was not nearly as important as that strength. With the seventh spiritual core, he had become whole. He had begun as weaker than even ‘himself as a Servant’, but now he had ascended far beyond what was possible for a Servant. Through the labors he had undergone over the course of the war and the taking in of his spiritual cores, his legend had been recreated in this vessel. One could call this ‘power equal to a Heroic Spirit’, or even a ‘counterfeit Grand class’. He used neither. To him, this was simply his true power, the height that he had strived to reach in life, regained even in death.

The enemy was panicked. It concentrated its power. He was certain that the resources it was allocating to cope with him, both in the sheer number of the things and in the proportion of energy it was able send out through his teacher’s seal, was disproportionately high. It was likely making that even higher, a frantic bid to strike him down now that he had grown. Each and everyone one of the remaining hundred-some enemies across the city disappeared from their respective battles without warning, all coming together to face him. Sparing even a scrap of power here, against this enemy, would mean certain death. And so, they prepared their greatest offensive, an attack that stepped into the realm of their unsealed state’s power, an attack they could only use once due to its cost, but would pour out without hesitation if it meant defeating this enemy.

His instincts screamed out. Even with his body in the state that it was, far hardier than any Servant’s, the attack that was coming was sufficient to take fourteen lives, far more than the number he had remaining. But, the hero did not buckle. Without realizing, a smile had formed on his face. A battle to save the world, his blood was boiling. As the enemy’s attack was prepared, he released his great bow. This was a clash of their strongest techniques. If his attack came too late, or if it was insufficient, then he would undoubtedly die.

“Nine Lives...”

“Agrios...”

Understand the basic composition, separate it into its components. Utilize all knowledge of the enemy. Their body, their mind, their Authorities, their resistances, their legends, their ‘everything’. Take in the blessing of the goddess that has just appeared, and create an attack that will turn its one percent chance into one hundred. Imagine the tree of possibilities, and design something that can crush every branch it has.

He strained for more. Simply using his own power would not be enough, but he was not merely himself. He was a Lesser Grail. Since that was the case, he had the right. Burning up his spiritual foundation, burning up the spiritual cores within him, burning up the Holy Grail system itself. Something that went far beyond even Broken Phantasm, a suicidal attack to save the world. If this failed here, it would be the end. The other Servants could not sustain themselves with the Holy Grail system ruined.

It was a selfish act.

It was a narcissistic act.

...But, beyond all else, it was the act of a hero.

“Eleutherios!”

The enemy’s attack was released, and in that moment—

“...Anti-Beast.”

Heracles surpassed his legend.