@yankee @Aoko Aozaki @phonic @reflection...[@Wine and Dine]

Looking down at the costumed man with profound pity, his gaze moved toward the one who claimed to be "Hercules", clearly disapproving.

To take on his name was one thing. To some degree, even if he found the idea of taking the "glory" associated with that man's name without having earned it distasteful, it was ultimately an act that would not have harmed anyone, and Heracles was one that could fight his own battles. Perhaps Saber would have challenged him in his place, considering that he had clearly not been summoned if the charade had been allowed to propagate for this long, but that would've been the end of that.

But endangering and abusing an innocent man for the simple purpose of showing off? He was not merely stealing that name — he was tarnishing it. And so, he spoke, words to challenge and condemn. If he wanted to be that titan so badly, he would give him a task at least worth the name.

"Why claim to be someone you are not—"

He began to speak, but he trailed off before he could complete it. His intuition kicked in, and he felt it before he saw it.

Indeed, as a demigod blessed from the moment of his birth, Saber possessed not only a strong body, but also inborn talents that already fell beyond the reach of most as a matter of course that had only been heightened throughout a storied lifetime. That he could not "see" the attack meant little to such intuition. There was "danger" aimed this way. That was enough.

The swirling torrent of magical energy was noted, his Master hurried to stand behind him as he took the sword in his hand.

...As it turned out, he needn't be so alarmed. Of course, Orpheus' intervention was as expected, and as effective as he remembered it to be from the days in that ship, so the "power" had already decreased enough that he felt confident that dealing with this kind of thing would be easy, and that did not even account for the actions that the other "kings" gathered here took in order to punctuate their own words.

It was a shame that of all the people here, he could only agree with one. At the very least the one to have posed the question also had a clear understanding of a king versus a petty despot — a tremendous relief. There was only so much nonsense he could take before simply leaving.

Regardless, their intervention made things easier. Between the Caster lowering its output, and then the barbarian thinning their numbers, Theseus simply stepped forward, in front of his Master and keeping an eye on the only other king here he could at least respect. Weak as they now were, there was no doubt that between all the abilities he had been blessed with, knocking them aside would be as easy as breathing.

"A Noble Phantasm, yes," He answered his Master's question without breaking his stride. "Whatever Servant launched it probably thought they could take advantage of this gathering to score as many kills as possible in one fell swoop."

Still, his annoyance simply increased, gaze sharpening. First the fool masquerading as a friend, now another barbarian in addition to the other two...

No, wait. At least the other two understood and respected Xenia to some extent. This one did not. So they clearly were an even greater savage. A brute-er. A barbarian squared.

There was the nature of those javelins, as well. Yes, "barbarian squared" was an appropriate appellation for whatever Servant had decided to launch them, but more than anything, Saber found himself vaguely intriged in addittion to revolted.

Because there was some form of "familiarity" there. The concept carried by the attack was obvious, but there was something deeper. The question then was—

He put his hand to his head, stumbling for a second, gaze unfocused.

"Something" slammed into him. Not words — nothing so civilized. A more apt term would be a ceaseless torrent.

For a second, the hero could not breathe. And then, it was gone, almost as if it had never been there at all.

But there was something "different".

"Master."

Theseus' voice had not changed from its usual candence, but there was an undercurrent of something that had not been there even when he had spoken with that barbaric king and his demands. Something that had been lacking even when he was speaking with the fool trying to appear as Heracles.

He turned to look at him and the difference was only ever clearer.

"I suggest that we immediately leave to hunt that Servant down. At the very least, not only have they interrupted a meeting, but they have used their Noble Phantasm, so that must mean they clearly desire a real battle, no? Let us give it to them."

They were not intended toward just the boy in front of him, but rather everyone who could be called an attendant to the banquet that dared to hear him. Regardless, without waiting for answers, Saber turned in the direction the Javelins had come from and began to move.

Sword in hand and fire in his eyes — Theseus no longer smiled.

The power of each of the Servants present was immaculate. A magus from the Age of Gods who wove spells with song, a tyrant whose command of war beasts brought to mind the stories of Hannibal Barca he had heard as a child, a king whose army served him even after death had taken them.

And yet, among them, he focused on one who, like him, had not acted.

"Why claim to be someone you are not—"

The Greek had been the one to utter those words. Looking through his Master's eyes, he saw the strength that Servant possessed, represented in 'costs'. They were mighty, to be sure; Hercules was mightier still, but it was nonetheless worth considering. One from the Age of Gods? Beyond that, one who was a contemporary of Hercules himself?

In some regard, he should have been terrified. The Faker class bore its strength in deception; by having one present who could lift that veil of deception, his advantage was nullified.

...was it his conversation with the pharaoh, weighing on his mind, that kept him from lashing out in response? Perhaps. Yes, perhaps. A low laugh left the emperor.

"To become someone who can make the people smile."

It was a response only meant for the Greek. It was a response that was no doubt absurd- the unconscious man who had been stuffed into a lion costume was certainly a testament to this much. That this man would speak of making the people smile while having just used one as a glorified prop was nothing short of ridiculous.

And yet, there was not a trace of deception in his words. Like a child who did not understand what he did wrong, he seemed to believe every word that he uttered.

Yes, in the first place, Emperor Commodus could not save a person.

His eyes strayed down to that costumed man, and a quiet breath slipped past his lips. Once more, the spell broke. Melancholy became spectacle. Introspection became performance. Arms spread wide, he looked to the gathered Masters and Servants once more.

"The Servant who attempted to attack us has violated peace, yes, but let us not ruin this occasion by chasing after them! They will likely be gone by the time we arrive!" A hand pointed towards Orpheus, nodding to himself several times.

"You, Caster, musician, whatever you choose to name yourself- are you able to scry the Servant's location? I propose we each observe their appearance, so that we know the face of the enemy, and then that we continue this gathering. There is no sense in letting such hospitality go to waste, fuahaha!"

Momotaro

The Risk I Took Was Calculated
Fuyuki Park

This was bad.

Expectations of just lightning raining down and him having to dodge it was shattered with one moment as Momotaro's charge was interrupted by his shock and surprise as his charge faltered, crashing through the first barrier that Hypatia had set up for him. His sword was outstretched and as his charge hit the barrier, his sheer force increased as he stumbled through.

This was gonna be harder than expected.

With that brief stop, he pushed on, going back into his valiant stride, gritting hard as he felt the atmosphere shift around him. This was no longer anyone's territory but this Caster before him. With that, Raid of Onigashima activated, the skill-boosting the boy's strength but at this moment, he was well aware that brute strength would not be his ally in this valiant charge.

He skidded in his tracks, watching the monkeys rise up from the darkness of the park before him and he noticed the crocodile almost immediately. A wide boyish grin spread across his features, realizing these were not animals like the ones he had met in his time, nothing but fakes, and a perfect sparring partner. The young warrior heeded the warning, quickly wrapping both hands around the katana as he lashed out into the monkeys, dodging the crocodile with ease, dancing around him with a glint in his eyes, lunging out at the monkeys with precise strikes, finishing each one with a single slash, aiming for critical centers, destabilizing them with a clear cut through the middle of each one.

Time was running out, and he could feel magic on its way. Suddenly the beam began. And Momotaro saw an opportunity.

Suddenly, he stomped on the crocodile's head with his sandaled foot, subduing it before gripping its tail with a free hand, the other on his katana. Swiftly, he began swinging the crocodile around him as orbs bounced to and forth, sheathing his katana and only using the crocodile to swing it, bouncing the magical balls off of its husk, every so often a stray one would slip by his defense as he slowly stepped closer and closer to the caster. His grip slipped and the crocodile was tossed towards Hypatia as Momotaro unsheathed his sword.

That moment of hesitation was enough for the beam balls to rocket into the armourless boy, wincing as he felt the electrical bursts around him. Dashing was all he could do as he ran, enduring the onslaught as he slashed out at them, hopefully bouncing them away from him, but they would only bounce back and smack him in the face. Wincing he brought his smiling face up to face his opponent as he advanced on Hypatia.

"This is great! Thank you caster! AHAHAHA" he laughed as he responded, trying his best to roll to dodge the beams before coming back up and ducking beneath the bouncing onslaught, many striking him and electricity slowly began to build, slowing him down, but he continued nonetheless. "Apologies for the misunderstanding! Beserker of the Goddess will likely make short work of the oni! But I shall oblige you and spar! I hope you have more tricks up your sleeve!"

A wise grin was obvious as he took a deep breath and nodded, making a final dash for her, sword in both hands. "I promise you, at this moment I wouldn't dare! This is more fun than 3000 Onis!"

---

There was a certain bizarre fascination with watching Caster work, that kind of fastidiousness that was beyond human as he mired away at something esoteric and yet utterly mundane. Of course if Maurius was the sort of man who cared one lick about his servant's craft it would probably be less bizarre and more fascinating, but even his borderline apathy towards medical magecraft couldn't entirely subdue the curiosity of seeing exactly how a legendary figure conducted business. Besides, even if their disciplines could scarcely be further apart it was easy for a man like him to appreciate thoroughness.

The concerns that Caster brought to bear were far more intriguing though. Even as one who had accepted the nature of his servant and assumed this little excursion to be a waste the very idea that this grailwar could be "diseased" set his mind to turning. He put finger to chin as he prepared to answer, thinking it over both generally and tactically. The two of them were certainly an oppurtune pair to ally with given their particular skill set, but to put the proof to the pudding would be admitting they weren't truly a competitor. Ah, but to reveal as much could also be to their advantage as well if Maurius shifted his own goals appropriately.

"Well Caster, I would certainly like to discuss the possible treatments, for myself and for this grailwar, in depth once we are-"- He didn't get to finish the thought, the sound of conflict roared over him and chased all his carefully gathered thoughts from his mind, leaving only annoyance. "...Was overlooking their trespass upon our territory not enough? Must they also try my patience with all this rack-..." He was given pause again, something in the air- subtle but divine. "-That sound. Caster, attend me. We will be making an appearance at their little party after all. Perhaps you'll even get a chance to operate if our guests don't settle down."

Without further hesitation Maurius was through the door, briefcase in hand and a grim smile upon his face and a determination in his gait. Perhaps he had just struck gold by chance, and if not he'd make someone pay for the annoyance of it all with his own hands.

---

---

She was fast, but Shuten was faster and more fortunate besides. Power coursed through the little oni's body, more power than even the mighty king of Mt. Ooe had at her command already, as she received the blessings of an unseen but much appreciated patron. Delicious, I'll kill you last then she thought to herself, and to caster too. She had even done her the favor of distracting the disgusting little peach boy, so she would have plenty of time to play with her food.

The little berserker surged forward with katana in hand and that same explosive fury as before, dragging the club up and back into position as she headed straight towards her hated foe and their own dreadful blade even as they retreated. She knew that sword, she knew what it was capable of, but she knew what she was capable of too. As the grass cutting blade came to bear it was practically slow motion to the Oni, her already insane agility boosted further by Caster gave her the opening she needed.

The sound of steel on steel filled Fuyuki as their swords collided as Shuten attempted not to dodge the attack so to speak but rather strike clean through it with all of her might before it could properly come to fruition. It was simple, the sword could not launch its attack if it could not be swung at Shuten, and so she struck the oncoming sword as hard as she could before it could trace a path across her, a countermeasure halfway between a parry and hitting the enemy with a freight train.

She couldn't get quite close enough for her katana to behead Yamato in that same stroke, though it was close, but the raw force of the blow would either send the enemies noble phantasm flying or shatter the hand that stubbornly clung to it... And that giant iron club was coming around again too, and in a much wider arc this time no less. If the raw ferocity of her blows wasn't so fierce as to drive the air from the space between them the other Berserker might have heard a giggle.

"Ma'am, the person who died here was not Santa, that is not a sleigh, and you are not the new Santa either."

“Huh? Huh? Huh!?” The barrage of revelations came thick and fast, leaving Astolfo with little response. “That doesn’t sound right. If I’m not the new Santa, then why did I already give my master one of my Noble Phantasms as a gift, then?” His response was accusatory and indignant, but it mostly just came out as cute. For some reason, that was the one counterpoint that he could think of in that moment.

“But wait… You were talking in red, so it must be true,” Astfolo said, placing a finger on his chin in thought. “Alright! I guess I’m not Santa after all! Honestly, I was getting pretty worried about how tough the job is, so it’s actually a relief!” He lifted his arm in a cheer of joy. Once again, the emotions he was displaying were wiped away in an instant to make place for the new truth, accepted in a moment.

“Well, that means I can focus on winning the Grail War! As the cutest Servant summoned in the strongest class, it should be a piece of cake.” At that, Astolfo struck a pose, holding two fingers around his eye, and opening his mouth wide in a smile that showed a small fang. “Oh, I should talk in pink, that would be even cuter.”

He looked towards his fellow Servant, as if really seeing her for the first time. ”I guess that makes us enemies, but you seem nice. We should be friends instead!” He held out his hand towards the Archer, beaming through closed eyes as he offered a handshake, a symbol of friendship. It was a strange thing to offer someone who had only spoken a single sentence to him, but that was just the kind of person Astolfo was.

”I’m Astolfo, one of the Paladins of Charlemagne. What’s your name?” After carelessly giving away his true name, he finally stopped babbling, giving the other Servant a chance to respond.

@Astarte @Cu Chulainn

Altera watched her javelins collide with the building from afar, a dust cloud rising as the building slowly collapsed around everyone. Explosions rang out in the distance, colliding with the wall of death and protecting all under Timur's roof. She did not know how many she had killed, if any at all, but the warning had been made clear. Those who parade around as kings and heroes shall become dust, for this is the only end for those who oppose the Hun.

She could feel it now, they rallied their forces for a counterattack. Were she another barbarian, she would stand her ground to meet their attack head on, letting blood soak into the battlefield as she ruthlessly slew every last fool who opposed her! She would conquer them, showing them the folly of their actions and mount their heads on pikes as she burned down their kingdoms! But, she was not another barbarian, she was Altera the Hun. She understood her limits well, the foolishness of running into a fortress wall with no way to survive the inevitable assault. She would retreat, gather her forces for another concentrated assault later. To fight many armies at once was no easy task, this war needed to be fought with careful strategy.

"Come Cordula. We must retreat and prepare for the next attack. The war has begun." Altera turned away from the Academy as a returning volley of arrows was fired on her position, calmly walking to her Master and sweeping her off her feet into a bridal carry as the two disengaged from the field of combat. She bent her knees and leapt, that storm of arrows striking nothing but the concrete of an empty building as the Master and Hun made their getaway.

---

---

William covered his smile with his sleeve as the detective finally realized who he was, casually brushing aside such minor details as the fact that he tried to cast an illusion on the poor boy. "Ah, it looks like you've seen right through me Mr Hardboiled Detective. Indeed, I'm just a good for nothing scoundrel who wants to have some fun at the expense of others!" William laughed, patting Kotaro on the shoulder nonchalantly as he turned his focus back to his Servant.

It seems there was another Servant nearby that none could see, as bolts of lightning rained from the sky to try and fry both of their Servants. Perhaps the Oni had come with assistance? Well, it didn't really matter much to William, that was his Servant's business after all. William was just here to act as a battery and observe what beautiful stories could be told. He was just a Magus after all, a magical scientist looking for a path to Avalon. He had no mind for any of this combat stuff, he barely even knew how to feed himself, much less make a complex stratagem that would lead to victory. The best he could do is play a little prank here and there to keep things interesting for everyone involved.

And then, a girl appeared next to him. Strange, he would have noticed if an illusion were being cast in his vicinity. Perhaps she just appeared there? Sure, it was considered impossible to teleport in today's Magus society, but casting grand rituals like the one he was seeing now in mere seconds was also considered impossible in today's Magus society as well. Oh well, just another day in the Holy Grail War. "Yes, this is he! How may I help you today Amara bint Mahmud ibn Hāshim Seif?" William let the name roll off his tongue with ease, instantly recognizing the Magus from what research he had done while entering the war. A fellow Clocktower Magus, high bred, old blood like himself. Possibly older, considering his entire lineage was a lie. "Wait wait, don't tell me! You saw the message didn't you? Which one is yours, the oni monster or the lightning person that I can't see?" He asked, not really expecting an answer.

---

The boy-warrior is no king. He has no right to entry - and thus, did not try. Instead, he acted as a hunter ought. He lurked. He waited. While he's certainly no skulking assassin, and his pride is much too great to go to such an underhanded length for a simple kill, he's hungry. He was promised the world - he was promised he could do whatever he pleased. Those were her words. Of course, in reality - he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. That's just who he is. Perhaps there would be a fight there. Perhaps blood would spill. Perhaps the whole banquet would turn to a flurry of blood and violence, of betrayal and kingslaying. If nothing else, it would be a fun light show, and whoever walked out, tired from the conflict - would step into the eyes of a hunter. He has too much pride to skulk around and pick off someone from afar, but not near enough pride to refuse an offering of blood. And weakness, to a hunter, is an offering of blood.

He didn't quite expect such a generous offer, though. His ears twitch, his eyes focus, and then widen, just a bit. What's that, over there? A rain. A hundred hundreds glowing droplets of light, pouring into the banquet. Of the things he expected, someone raining on their parade wasn't high enough on the list, it turns out. It's more than enough light for his eyes to get a perfectly clear view of the situation. Tail swishing, he draws himself taller, tongue tracing across his teeth, against the sharp canines, and grasps his bow. Good. A short, harsh laugh to himself. He has no idea who that woman is. It does not matter, though. He'll follow her. From roof to roof. She's fast, but he's fast. She can't run forever. And she's already used her Noble Phantasm once. He's sure that means he can outmatch her, if he's smart and careful. And if he cannot? Then it doesn't matter, either. If he loses, then he'll curse the world. If he wins, he'll praise himself. That's how it's meant to be.

Not a moment wasted. Not a thought spared to remorse. Not a single idea of mercy, or of restraint. This is how a hotblooded Arcadian man should be. He doesn't hunt her for a practical reason - though there are surely plenty of them - he hunts her purely for the desire to hunt. The desire to kill someone. Just for the thrill of it. There is no higher purpose, no larger desire to this fight, besides perhaps to prove that he can.

... Yes, truly, the Hun is not the only barbarian on this field. Bloodletting for the sake of bloodletting is nothing but barbarism for the pleasure. But for one promised the right to do whatever makes him happy - then he will be as barbaric as he pleases.

@Flood@Kyoka

"You, Caster, musician, whatever you choose to name yourself- are you able to scry the Servant's location? I propose we each observe their appearance, so that we know the face of the enemy, and then that we continue this gathering. There is no sense in letting such hospitality go to waste, fuahaha!"

The formerly jovial eyes of Caster had hardened into flint, all light and humor extinguished. “Faker. Your presence here heralded those spears. If you are in alliance with the Lancer, then even the slight interest your own tune held will be worth nothing.” With the warning sent, he began to play once more, a foreboding, ominous tune as he called for the death of the barbarian.

In front of everyone’s eyes, a hazy mist coalesced to form a sort of “screen” which projected the Barbarian who had assaulted the banquet. The Lancer running while carrying their Master, while another servant was beginning to engage them- there was no better opportunity than now. He could hear the screams in his mind, and knew that Theseus would be experiencing the same. The image of the Lancer confirmed what he had heard of the Noble Phantasm’s True Name Release.

“Altera the Hun.” The words drip like venom from his mouth. He turns to the crowd, fury burning brighter as his playing reaches a fever pitch. “Kill the Barbarian who has trespassed upon this occasion of merriment and wonder! I will support all of you! To whomever kills her-”

[Apologies for this Master, but I cannot let this pass.]

“I promise a true Alliance, to work with another!” There were more than a few Servants within the banquet whom Orpheus would have rather thrown himself at the tender mercies of the beast-women of Dionysus once more before aiding, but the being who had attacked them could not be permitted to live. Not a moment longer. The thoughts of Orpheus the muse, who had his concert intruded upon, Orpheus the civilized, who witnessed a Barbarian to exemplify all Barbarians, and Orpheus the ear of the Muses and their own mouth who saw the greatest scourge of history live, all came and became unified.

However, that did not mean he could not alter the playing field to suit his purposes...Starting up a new song, he granted aid and succor to the Servants, increasing their speed, and implanting upon them the information of their target’s location, a false Clairvoyance. There was one he knew in particular from his days on the Argo, and he approached him.

“Theseus. Jump.” He’d know what to do.

The guitar strumming would remind him, if not.

[@Wine and Dine]

Talia Heigen-Schwertz

---

The manners of their host was appalling to Talia. Really, to so arrogantly proclaim himself ruler of both land and body.

How obscene, how lewd!

At this point the she visibly sputtered aloud, face aflame at such a shameless proclamation. Such was the degree of shock suffered that not a single word was spoken as Rider placed himself between her and the infuriatingly dashing host before them.

Truly, a setback in her attempt to appear as the refined noble scion of her impeccable lineage. It was a blessing that no rival were around to see such a sight, lest she be further embarrassed.

It was then, a rain of weaponry materialized in the sky, raining down death.

Or at least, it attempted to.

It was hard to tell when one was being smothered against the solid superstructure known as "Muscles Paradise". The thought was appreciated, the seriousness in which Rider took his duty was something to be commended. But with all the stimulation she had undergone this day, from the excitement felt in the opening of this wonderous event, to the indignation felt at this moment, all that could be parsed was a stream of incomprehensible babble.

And if one listened closely enough, they might even be able to make out a few words.

"... Can't ... Breathe..."

@Aoko Aozaki @Phonic @BB @Froppy @wug @ReallyDumb @Crusader Lord @Breo @Yankee @Reflection

---

---

Gunnar Hámundarson

---

As a deluge of javelins clashed against the collective power of several servants, outside the gates of Homurahara Academy stood a shining presence.

The very image of a knight in shining armor, complete with princess in his arms. Sparks flying from legendary deed clashing against legendary deeds seemed to only serve as a spotlight shining upon this beacon of virtue. Even now nothing seemed to deter his winning smile.

Whistling as he observed the damage, Lancer looked into the eyes of his master, still carried like a unsullied bride on their wedding day.

"Looks like we made it just in time right master? There was no need to dwell on those dark fantasies so deeply."

Truthfully, though he would have liked to come much earlier, Lancer had a bad feeling about arriving too soon. As a result, instead he chose to arrive 'fashionably late'. Besides, it would seem that within this time period, a 'hero' arrived in times of crisis just like this.

And Lancer was nothing if not a hero.

"Well we're plenty late enough by my reckoning. No need to keep everyone waiting even more."

Carrying his master in his arm through the gate and aisle of Homurahara Academy, a few feet before they reached the banquet proper, Lancer set his master down gently, like setting a lover down atop a bed.

Unspoken were words of encouragement. Through that unseen link that connected both Lancer and Tabethya Gunnar sent warm feelings to alleviate any worries, and a light admonishment against any such apprehensions. But most importantly, his own smile conveyed his supreme confidence in her. Stepping away, he went ahead and walked, heroically, towards the gathering.

A hero is a star composed of great renown and even greater deeds. A hero conquered fear and drove away harm. But most importantly...

A hero always bore the worries of people underneath them.

@Aoko Aozaki @Phonic @BB @Froppy @wug @ReallyDumb @Crusader Lord @Breo @Yankee @Reflection

Quite a lot had happened. Heracles had made a request of the Caster, already annoying Xerxes simply because this Caster was his by now, or at least in his mind. After all, he had invited the Caster in, and given him orders. Was that not enough for the man? Either way, as the enemy servant was already fleeing, Caster was pulling up a 'projection' of sorts. A way to watch the enemy. Even more... To learn her true name.

Altera the Hun. Attila in a different term. A warrior from the stars who sought the destruction of human civilization. Just watching her... He could see quite a few similarities between her and something like their host. Both sought to destroy. Demons in human skins. This one was a Lancer, clearly using some kind of skill to run away. Perhaps disengage? He knew that one of the final kings of his empire, Darius the third, named for his father, had possessed such a skill. It allowed one to flee any exchange, but could it compensate for the exhaustion of utilizing a noble phantasm like she had just done? The distance to cover was vast, and worse, a Lancer. A class known for their speed. But...

"Very well, I accept this challenge. Consider it a sport. Whoever manages to slay the savage proves above all others that they are the most capable of being a king. After all, a king must be able to seek vengeance against a barbarian like this." Heracles can wait. Though, if Heracles happened to join in, and become a victim of his attack... Well it was a shame to be Heracles then. Even if that wasn't who he was, he'd find out the truth eventually. Probably wasn't much of a conundrum, since who would go around claiming to be Heracles? Iphicles? Doubtful. But what did he know about either of them?

He had not dispelled any of his soldiers. Instead, they began to gather together again. Like a collective organism, they began to form together. Their bodies assembling together. Hands connected, their flesh mixing together as legs twisted. Becoming claws, or stretching their bodies out. The forms of man became twisted under their dark cloaks, and that cloth became flesh. Rapidly they took on the form of a dragon, fit for a king to ride upon. The blessing of Caster struck each of these soldiers, and they were ready to take flight.

"I shall take to the skies. Caster, feel free to join me, there is room for you on my beast." Xerxes said, smiling down upon Caster as he took his position on the back of the beast. Reins materialized in his hands, and waiting for Caster's response... It struck off into the air. Xerxes could easily follow Lancer's course now, as the beast ascended. She might attempt to retaliate, but it hardly mattered. Now that he was in the air, Xerxes no longer felt a need to hold the reins. Instead, he materialized a bow in his hands, taking aim. His skill, imperial privilege, easily covered the necessary requirements one might need for something as simple as Archery.

________________________
@ReallyDumb@BB@Crusader Lord@Phonic@Yankee@Phlogistinator@Aoko Aozaki@Phonic@Flood
________________________



"You know, I'm starting to think he isn't coming." Ariadne groaned, and rubbed her eyes. "You'd think an invite to visit a fellow mage would be enough for some people, but noooooooo." She was clearly unhappy about the whole ordeal, and it was even starting to distract her from the various spectacles all going around. She'd never been dumped before the date even began! Was she not pretty enough? Maybe she should have been more obvious. Maybe she should have poisoned him with wine? Or used a charm? Nah, he had a servant around.

Speaking of, she'd had his base watched since pretty much she left. Nothing. He hadn't even left the building as far as she could tell. Was he even going to participate in the war? Or was he gonna spend the whole war in his base, buffing himself to make sure his servant could handle anything? It was actually pretty gross if he was going to do that. Ew.

"Caster, if as you suspect, there is a second caster blocking your vision, that means there is a second caster who is probably terrified of having their identity revealed. Maybe their master is at the park too. After all, if they're this cautious, they probably wouldn't even leave their master alone." Ariadne mused, while pushing that tasteless coffee man out of her mind. "If I sent one of my goons over, he might be able to spot them, personally. It's just a park after all, and the fighting is pretty obvious."

"Though... I am thinking of starting a little trouble." She'd hate to be hiding in base all night, but it was probably safer this way, until she was fully prepared. She had stuff to tinker on in the meantime.

“...”

Demon.

Yeah, that was all she really needed.

He wasn’t even a bit startled when she essentially teleported behind him. Magi were used to the unnatural, they lived in it after all. They were a testament to the supernatural that lurked behind the world. However, even magi had limits on what they could normally accept. What Amara had done would violate most magus logic, yet, this man was fine. Of course, it meant that his common sense was even more alien than that of your average magus.

To put it bluntly, to Amara, it meant that he was surely part Incubus.

Incubi were demons which preyed upon the sexual energy released by humans, normally through intercourse, though the manipulation of dreams was possible.

In the Arabic world, specific kinds of mischievous Djinn took up the mantle traditionally given to the Incubus. Obviously, this man before her, a descendent of Merlin, wouldn’t have any connection to the Arab world. However, it is worth noting because, in the end, no matter where one is from…

Incubi are demons which prey on people.

Incubi were things incompatible with the world Amara envisioned...but this person was still a man, right? He was only partially a demon, so that meant there was still humanity left in him. Well, whatever humanity magi had left in them. Just because they were part abomination didn’t mean they would be a problem for innocent people.

Alternatively, Inversion Impulses existed.

However, it was possible that she was merely reading too much into things. Of course, this mindset was shot down the moment she realized that the man saw through the disguise Caster gave her. If anything, seeing through this cemented him as definitely someone that was part demon and dangerous.

She wanted to ask Caster, but she was a bit preoccupied playing with the Saber.

“I see…”

It took a few moments, but Amara decided on what she needed to do.

“Goodbye.”

And it was that she was unsure, so she would escape for now, regroup with Caster, and talk it over with her!

So, as fast as Amara appeared, she darted away from the conflict, into some nearby trees away from the fight. That fight was scary.

---

---

---

---

…

Oh, he wasn’t dead. This was good. Seeing that the javelins were now gone, Nebuchadnezzar freed his master. He had heard her mumble a bit, something about lacking air, but he had to make sure she was safe first. AJavelin to the head will kill you quicker than the momentary lack of oxygen after all.

It seemed like the focus of the banquet shifted over to the attacked, which was correct. The mark of a barbarian was a complete disregard civility. Going by what the musical man had said, it was Altera(?) the Hun! Clearly, the good man meant Attila. It must have just been a more regional variant of the name.

Either way, Attila was the target of this hunt. Unfortunately, even with the speed boost, there was little Rider could do to actively chase her down. He couldn’t run at his full speed with his Master. Her body would absolutely be destroyed if he actively tried to chase down a fleeing Servant with her. Rider could, in theory, just leave her here, but he didn’t trust the host of this banquet.

Ah, but Xerxes’ new challenge needed his response, didn’t it? If he didn’t respond, then he would forfeit his ideal of kingship. This presented a dilemma. Nebuchadnezzar had to protect his master, but he also had to prove that his way of being king was the ultimate path. There seemed to be no way to do both.

Of course, as the Greatest of Kings, Nebuchadnezzar already had the answer. With a smirk, he glanced over to the Greek.

“Theseus, King of Athens, Slayer of the Minotaur, Son of Posiedon, and a whole list of other titles. Few have legacy as great as you, but I guess that is proper for one of Greece’s greatest heroes.”

Even Rider’s resume wasn’t as impressive in comparison, though he made up for it in other ways. Rider was king of an entire empire, Theseus was a king of a city. Of course, the size of one’s kingdom didn’t matter, instead, what mattered was how one ruled their kingdom. In that regard, Theseus was still a much greater king than the rest at the party.

When it came to this hunt, Theseus would have to serve as his proxy. Theseus cherished the same ideals as him, so if he killed Attila, then it was like Nebuchadnezzar had won in the end, right?

“A king who saved the lives of his people while still a prince, but one who never truly found respite.

It was tragic, but was that not the story of all Greeks? Even if Nebuchadnezzar was Babylonian, “Greek Tragedy” was common knowledge gifted by the grail. Despite being in the top three heroes of Greece, Theseus likely had the saddest tale of them all. His story was up there with Oedipus, Cadmus, and Agamemnon. Yet, despite that, he tried his best for his people.

Yeah, Theseus would do.

“Slay that brute and show why our path is true!!”

Spring-Heeled Jack - Assassin

Fuyuki Park – Enjoying the Show a Little Less Now

The ground shook repeatedly, each tremor bigger than the last as the little demon girl began her assault. The tree that Assassin was hiding behind, along with every other tree in the vicinity, toppled and fell as the very dirt they were rooted in was ripped apart by the shockwaves, forcing the Servant to find another hiding place. It wasn’t strictly necessary, since his Presence Concealment would keep him from being detected whether he was in cover or not, but he felt an instinctive need to put something between him and those he was watching.

Lightning rained from the sky towards the other two Servants, while leaving the demon alone. Even so, the attack was unlikely to have come from the girl herself, which meant that there was a fourth player involved her; or fifth, depending on it you counted Assassin. He didn’t, so four it was.

With this the stage was set, all of the actors had revealed themselves and the battle was truly underway. The little demon girl would clash with the ‘Strongest Berserker’ and the unknown source of the lightning was being chased down by the young Saber, the result being the kind of battle that warriors and heroes lived for. It was enough to make a person’s heart race and their blood boil, the sort of thing that some Heroic Spirits allowed themselves to be summoned for just so they could experience it again. Assassin watched the unfolding melee with sharp eyes, having no trouble following the action as his eyes darted behind his mask, and the whole time there was only one thought running through his mind.

He didn’t want anything to do with it.

“What’s that Master? You don’t want me to try and fight these monsters? Well… if you insist.”

Slipping away from his latest hiding place, Assassin pulled back to the very edge of the park and began to circle around. The man who had been with the strongest Berserker earlier, the one who had invited them all here, had disappeared before the combat had begun, but perhaps he was still around her somewhere; Assassin had not seen him reappear anywhere nearby but it made sense for him to remain close to her Servant. Staying too close would risk him being caught in the fighting, but straying too far from your only protector had its own risks; if he had to guess, Flur was still in the park somewhere. As for the other Masters, well, none had shown themselves quite so blatantly as Flur but there may be one or two lurking around.

In fact, maybe they were all huddled together behind a tree, watching their Servant’s try to kill each other while having a nice chat.

Silently, Assassin hurried towards the tree in time to hear the tail end of their conversation. Flur was there, as were two others; one less than the number of Servant’s currently fighting, which either meant that one had decided not to leave safety to be here themselves or they were somewhere else in the park. The woman was named and Assassin hoped his Master was paying more attention that he, because what a name it was; Flur asked who she was the Master of and the fact that he didn’t bother to include the Saber in his query was telling. Assassin’s eyes flicked towards the young man who completed the trio, he would be the boys Master then.

Rather than answer, Amara bin-whatshername turned and ran, fleeing faster than a human should have been able to. Assassin wanted to chase her, oh how he wanted to chase her, to stalk her and harry her as he had in days long past; he would hunt her down and terrify her and take his time taking her apart, only to leave her alive to tell tales of him.

He imagined his Master might not like that last part; she might not let him have his fun if he didn’t get the results she wanted. Perhaps if he killed these other two she would let him indulge himself a little elsewhere. Assassin considered the two men, one the Master of the strongest Berserker and the other the Master of the young Saber. Which one should he kill first? The Berserker was probably the larger threat in the grand scheme of things, though both were more than a match than a simple man like himself.

But then again, should he kill both? Or would it be better to leave one alive for now? If he killed them both, then who would be left to deal with the demon girl? Leaving powerful opponents alive was a risk, but at the same time they could potentially keep each other in check; if he took out every Servant who could keep the demon girl in line then she would inevitably turn her attention towards him and his Master…

Bah, thinking like this was making his head hurt. He was not a man for games of strategy or war like this; he was a scoundrel and a menace and nothing more. He would kill one at random and then deal with the other if there was time; the night was young and he had a youthful maiden to pursue, he couldn’t waste any more time with this.

Eeny meeny miny moe
Catch a Magus by his toe
If he hollers, slit his throat
Eeny meeny miny moe

Assassin’s claws glinted in the moonlight as he prepared to strike, his Presence Concealment dropping away as he appeared behind his target. His hand shot forward, attempting to drive it like a spear through the chest of one Kotaro Toshizo.

@Aoko Aozaki@Flood@Argonaut

"Don't worry, Master, some people just don't know how to appreciate cute things," Caster said when her Master made her distress known.

She turned around when her Master offered to send some of her goons to scout the source of the unusual anomaly at the park. "I don't know if that was the work of another Caster. But I think your idea is fine. We've learned far more than I thought in a single night. My sight is becoming clearer, I believe that the more information we have, the closer my prophecies will be to the truth. Not that I expect anyone to believe them of course."

"If it's trouble you want, I have the right thing for you," Caster said as she got up from her seat and, with a snap of her fingers, dressed back into a casual outfit. Together with the change of clothes, she cast a concealment spell on herself. The objective wasn't making herself invisible or unnoticeable, but to scramble any information an enemy Master could get by looking at her.

"That will do it! I'm gonna take Milord for another walk. Why don't you come with us? I'm sure you'll find it worth your time, Master." Caster flashed a beaming smile to her Master before making her way out of their workshop. She could tell her more details, but knowing the curse Cassandra was afflicted with, the least she spoke the better.


A few moments later...

"Hey you! Pretty guy with a tattoo on the back of your hand!" Caster called for Walter right after crossing a street. "You are looking for company, aren't you? Of course, you are," she said as the wolf puppy perched on her shoulder stared at him.

"What do you say of enjoying the night with a total hottie who could make even a Goddess jealous of her beauty?" Before he could even answer, Caster already made her way to the running man, catching up with him without any apparent effort and trying to pull him closer with an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"By the way, don't even think about doing anything funny. Milord has a really keen nose, if he smells any kind of mischief..." Caster chomped at a Pocky stick. Hopefully, he would get what she meant.

---

@Reflection @Scallop

Caster was pleased by Sabers effort and unique tactics, before raising a blurry arm to end the bout. He had made it nearly the entire stretch of her territory while minimizing the oncoming damage. It was something to be saluted, for certain. This was the absolute and terrifying power of the Saber class on full displa-

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+ Number 1 +
WARNING: Unknown enemy sighted.
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+ Number 5 +
Ho.
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+ Number 2 +
Tonight's Target spotted. Initiating High-Speed Thought/Multiple Future Prediction/Value Computation
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It was a competent move; targeting two(and before, three) vulnerable Masters. Unfortunately, Assassin couldn't have taken into account the fact Caster. . .

No, 'Hypatia', existed.

Nor had he noticed that Casters two ritual circles had remained in the area, even after she had left.

From the very start of this battle, an enemy Assassin had always been Casters target.

Everything up until this point. . . Had gone absolutely according to her Calculations. After all, Assassin was the natural predator of human beings. If that was the case, Hypatia was the natural predator of Assassin.

She would not allow them to steal information that rightfully belonged to her. If her face wasn't hidden under an aura of static, it'd be impossible to deny that her expression was something utterly ugly.

In that same timeless instant, she smiled.

The moment the figure even entered Casters visual perception, Caster created a high class defensive barrier around the two vulnerable masters. Making use of the present magical formula, this action was hastened even faster than its usual norm. It was a wall of opaque 'force' that separated the exterior from the interior.

In the same moment. Her hands twitched slightly, releasing the hold on the etherlite around her waist. The truth of the matter was-
from the very start of this fight, Caster had been in the harness of a giant slingshot.

With no restraint, she shot forward at a crashing speed that eclipsed both the speed of sound and Servants. She fired herself in a perfectly calculated trajectory to avoid almost any obstacle. As she passed Saber, she used her etherlite to both grab hold of him and prepared the future battlefield for her needs.

And then, they both went flying directly in Spring Heel'd Jacks direction. Caster herself would miss, certainly. However, Hypatia had calculated a near 'sure-fire hit' that almost reached into the realms of a result forced by the end result of multiple lines of fate.

It was an attack with such precision based on her calculations it had almost no chance to miss. The likely surprise of this opponent would probably help, too.

The strike wouldn't come from herself, but rather, from the Japanese Saber now snug in her Etherlite. She would release him directly behind Jack, giving Saber an extremely likely chance of attacking the Assassin with his flowery blade at a crashing speed that was terrifying even for a Servant. She had already accounted for the chance of hitting the vulnerable masters; and avoided that result just the same. She had even gone so far as to pick a trajectory that would minimize Sabers self damage as much as possible.

It would be a deadly blow.

. . .Assuming of course, Jack didn't dodge out of the area and completely avoid the hit. It was a suppression move that would force him away from the extremely vulnerable pair of masters.

The second she had a free, safe moment, she would also expand the anti divination field around the area by using the preexisting boundary field as a basis. But that would have to wait until the right moment appeared.

Near the time she reached the combat area, Hypatia would engage a high-class defensive wind barrier and end her own forward momentum.

As for her Master. . .

------------

Rather than notify her master with something so limited like human language, Hypatia simply directly gave her Master all relevant information and instructions through Etherlite.

They could be summed up simply, though.

"Utterly destroy that Assassin. Only a single Strike/Tap/Attack is required."

Caster released the limiters on her masters hardware, letting her loose on the opposing Servant.

His first act of the war was cowardice. It was bowing to a conqueror. It was looking at someone claiming the Earth - and allowing it. He hasn't spoken since they left the clearing, and moved out of his forest. But he's thought a lot, mouth screwed shut, eyes set ahead of him as he navigated back out.

What was a man who did not hold to his values?

What was a man who buckled under the demands of a tyrant?

Weak. Useless. Pitiable, but not worth pitying. He's seen it all before. The conqueror of old are not comparable to the conqueror of new, but the goal is just the same. He's seen it all before. And his own compliance, his own unwillingness to fight, it disgusts him. How dare he? Isn't he a warrior too? Hasn't he spent all his years fighting? Against conqueror. Even against armed soldiers. And he's killed them all. It wasn't the right choice. The right choice was to order his knight into battle, and to deal with the consequences of it. Even if it killed him, it was better than such a low act of cowardice. No, no. That's wrong too, he realizes. That's just the same as suicide. He didn't know where the enemy Master was, so he could've been at a disadvantage he didn't even know about. What was he supposed to do, then?

How does he both be strong enough to uphold his values, and to change the world by his own hand, and smart enough to live long enough for any of it to matter?

Over the years, he's killed and grown strong. Toned his body and magic with the bodies and magic of those he's laid low. But who else can he kill? He'd have to kill a thousand more men, each of them mighty, to match even the weakest of these Servants.

It is impossible for a human to do battle with a Servant. This, he knows to be true, if not by anything but the difference between that man in the clearing and him. And the difference between his own Saber and he. There is no answer to this conundrum. None but to rely on others. But this is not the way of the Wari', and this is not his way. He doesn't want to 'have strong friends and allies'. He wants to be strong.

It hits him at once. He wants to be strong. He must become stronger. If he doesn't become stronger, there's no point. If he doesn't become stronger, then he'll die without leaving his mark.

His face tightens, and he brings his hand up.

"Saber. By the order of this Command Spell..." His heart pounds. Perhaps most Servants would kill him before he uttered the command. Surely, this is true. But this man in front of him is not 'most servants'. No, he is someone who wouldn't strike out, even at an order this vile. "Give me your heart!" His spiritual core. The underpinnings of his existence as a Servant, and the greatest value he has to Pumak, at this moment. It isn't to say that Saber would ever be useless - this is assuredly untrue. But it's definitely true that, to the man who wishes to be strong, becoming strong is far more important than having a strong ally. And, so - he demands his right as a Servant. He demands the heart of a dragon. He demands power, and even the cost of that ally. The seal burns away on his hand, leaving tattered red marks on his skin. The first mark is gone. The order is given. He can still walk away from this path, if he wanted.

He does not assume the first spell alone will suffice. It's an order that commands suicide. That acts against the interests of the man he promised allegiance to. This acts against the Servant who answered his call to the world. Treason of the highest order. But, all the same... "Saber! By the order of my second Command Spell! Give me your heart!" All the same, he was never truly suited to be a Master. It's just not in his personality. Giving orders and standing back - those were never what this man wished for. And, besides, allowing another to act as your strength, in some way, puts you at their mercy. That's the problem. Weaker ghosts, his wraiths and spirits and curses - they aren't people. Depending on a person to fight for you, instead of being able to fight yourself, is antithesis. If you can't win a fight yourself, he thinks. You shouldn't have come to fight. Him and Saber had good compatibility, but only because this Saber would have good compatibility with anyone. If he had summoned a strong king, he would balk at the existence of such a man who feels he has a right like that. If he had summoned a powerful, but obedient, warrior, he would be disgusted at the man's lack of pride. Well, perhaps that's too far. But this man - it would never work out. Not really. They would be allies, but never friends. That's something he knows is true. The second seal burns away.

But that doesn't make this the right thing to do. That doesn't make this any less a sin. They made a promise to one another, and only a handful of hours later, he's breaking that promise. What a thing to do? What a repulsive man to be. Make no mistake - this is not an action he is proud of. Only a monster would be. His words nearly catch in his throat, interrupted by his own remorse for it. He can stop here, surely. Two Command Spells aren't enough to make this man kill himself. Surely, he would be forgiven. He would fight the war at a grave disadvantage, but he would fight it. But they would not win. You cannot take half a dozen steps down the road, and then turn around. If he had stopped at one, there would still be a hope. But it's too late for that. "Saber... I'm sorry. By my final Command Spell, I order you! Saber! Give me your heart!" The final seal burns away.

Pumak lays his hand on the presented heart. There is no other way that can go. Officially, Pumak is no longer a Master. His seals are gone, replaced only by bruises. His hand falls on the heart, and he lifts it. It's heavier than he expected. It's not a human organ. The spiritual core of a Servant. The heart of a dragon. Such a thing surely no longer exists in modern times. And surely, this is a path for more strength. This is a path that he can walk on his own. He grips the heart, feeling the strength in it, and nods. This was wrong. This was cruel. This was callous and cold. He knows that. But he can't stand his own weakness. He couldn't stand the idea of being pathetic in the face of a monster, like that man in the clearing.

And, so.

The shaman brings the heart to his mouth, and swallows it whole.

Caster emerged from the school a respectful step behind his Master, the glow of his mask visible before his body was. Garbed in dark fabrics, dressed more akin to a man of science than a doctor, he stepped out into the night lights of the academy's courtyard. He did not bother to check the sky from which the rain of javelins had poured, nor did he show hesitation in approaching the marshalling group of Servants. With hands behind his, Hippocrates the Second appraised the gathered.

"If I may offer my assessment before anyone partakes of the hunting of Asiatic barbarians," Hippocrates began, his voice cutting through the air with a smooth and calm clarity. "There are greater dangers to your potential victories than one who has been directly impeded this night," he said, eventually coming to a stop not too far from the group of apparent kings. "Dare I say that it is most fortuitous to your individual conditions that you have gathered tonight, and that you are able to hear my message. Otherwise, the likelihood is that you would all be dead in less than a week, no matter your respective strengths."

Caster's voice, for whatever reason, carried a prominence that stopped interruption. He was a man that was meant to be listened to for the sake of ones health, and that was something even the most crazed of Servants could identify from his bearing alone. "Among you, the gathered kings, there is one who can best be described as suffering from a being of 'malignancy'. That is to say, one of you is rotting the Holy Grail War from the inside of the system which constitutes it. By virtue of this individual being summoned, the whole system becomes compromised. Complete failure of the system can be expected within the next few days, discounting any potential for acceleration. Until that point, our bodies will wither. You will grow weak and be brought low, from the immortal memory of a king to a leper among mortal men," the Father of Medicine illustrated.

The neon 'eye' of Caster looked over the gathered individually. Finally, it settled on the one called 'Hercules'.

Not 'Heracles', he noted among many other things.

When Caster regarded the one called Hercules, he could feel his body respond in kind. The near overwhelming desire to cure through direct ministrations manifesting as a roar in his heart, thumping against the cage his mind had constructed for such a rampant desire. The genetic memory of Asclepius within his makeup was almost akin to a living thing in its own right, always demanding immediate and thoughtless action in regards to those who needed his help. The urge, which made up part of Hippocrates' heritage. But much like any instinct, it was base.

It disgusted Hippocrates. Asclepius was but a God of Medicine, lacking in the tact required to truly nuture humanity away from the ailments of the body; Gods were ultimately flawed beings -- powerful, dreadful and beautiful, but too different. Caster's fellow Asclepiad -- his cousins and siblings by distant divinity -- were zealots, too focused on the dying Mystery of their gene-sire rather than adapting to the changes that their era presented.

Caster had adapted. By lowering himself to understanding the ways of the mundane, of explaining things within nature as just that, and appropriately conducting himself as a healer of humanity should, he was remembered by humanity. By humbling himself to the raw fact that change was inevitable, he had usurped his God.

The God was a myth, contributing nothing to mankind's wellbeing. The Physician was true, granting the men of his era and beyond the proverbial fire to continue without the myth. There was yet more work to do, Caster declared to himself in his youth, and that thought carried with him through to his pseudo-immortality.

Humanity was close. The perfection of medicine was but one factor of the future he foresaw in the glint of liquid metal, but it was his duty to see that factor perfected. In his own interest, the source of impending failure had to removed so he could continue.

The man called 'Hercules' was killing the body of the Holy Grail.

"You are the source, hero of a nation. You are the cancerous antithesis of success."

A polite way to not call the man the hero of heroes, whom even a man like Hippocrates could admire.

It was simple pattern recognition, afforded to his eyes to make such a diagnoses of the Servant's circumstances. The man was not Heracles. The son of Zeus would not carry such an obtuse burden upon his body, that which could potentially topple nations through his mere presence. Even at his most subversive, acting as an Assassin, no such ability would manifest within Heracles. It was truly a burden of being which belonged to that of the tyrants of old, specialising in the killing of civilisation rather than something born through the virtuous clash of hero and beast.

The greatest of heroes would not called himself by his Roman name at a first introduction. He may not even proudly introduce himself at all. Indeed, Caster saw before him the equivalent of a man made by Aristophanes; an act, a play -- and In practice -- a fraud. Frauds were dangerous.

Within Caster's body, magecraft was at work. The school of Mysteries formed from the acts and body of Asclepius that of body, and the protection and restoration of it. Although it eluded his children, the theoretical end point of it was true resurrection. That end point was unattainable in the world Hippocrates lived in, and the one he had manifested in. It was that fact which brought Hippocrates to consider the natural world in absence of the divine; if the acts of his gene-sire were not sufficient, then there would be other ways, as it ever was in any field of study.

That was not to say Hippocrates obsessed over learning how to resurrect another -- that was merely one part of a greater whole. He never truly pursued it as a singular act.

But he had pursued the understanding of the forces at play within the body, learning about that which the Mysteries were ignorant. Through his mind, he unified the mundane and the mystical, bringing the Asclepian Mysteries to a precise study. So precise that he scarcely needed more than his own body and a thought to enact a series of small-scale miracles which, when combined, took a greater effect.

A Doctor was always prepared. Within his body, a culture of self-adapted virological cognitive disease developed, travelling in a form of moisture and magical energy. His body felt no effect from them, free from the reason-eroding malady of the short-lived virus, but if he were to bleed, those around him would. It would manifest from him, a 'living humor' as it were.

It was not harmful in a certain sense. Confusing, breaking up ones ability to connect thoughts, disrupting actions with the idea of another action, but it was designed to last no longer than an hour even in absence of his treatment. A simple protective measure, on top of the reinforcement of that which was inside his body.

One breakthrough lead to another. The Father of Medicine was the epitome of synergy in his crafts.

"While I advise that you all turn your eyes to the greater threat, I cannot make you," he said to the gathered kings beside Hercules, revealing his hands slowly to gesture to all of them with open arms. "If you desire evidence, then it will be provided in less than twelve hours."

"And you do, after all, have the 'right' to refuse treatment."

---

"Then, I'll leave the kid to you while I do so."

The man who had approached him and asked to prove their ways to the other two — he was a good person. That much was clear even to Saber, and that was enough to deem him "someone that could be trusted", and someone he felt sure to leave his Master with.

"I apologize, Master, but—"

His Father's voice only rose within him as he took a glance at the projection Orpheus had called forth.

"...That thing's not just any old Servant, barbarian or otherwise," He muttered, sword at the ready and shifting his gaze in the direction where its battle was taking place. "That thing is a "disaster". Diminished now, but a disaster all the same, and not something I can ignore or forgive. Sorry."

That much was certain. The creature that had once laid his Father and the other Olympians low was here, flaunting around the modern world without a care and attacking a peaceful gathering. A beast would always be a beast, and Olympus demanded its head.

To him, who was already angered by the display of barbarism in the face of a "truce", the Gods' indignation and the nature of the beast only further fueled his decision. At the very least, it would be a learning experience for the boy.

And so, he began to take his leave. The Archer that was fighting it hopefully would at least keep it preoccupied for long enough — even that creature should realize that others would be coming for her at this point, and even if she could deal with the Archer, the combined might of several Heroic Spirits bearing down upon her head would be enough to effortlessly crush her without a trace.

And then they could go back to more pleasant things, such as talking about kingship and enjoying the food and drink for what was sure to be one of the rare moments of peace in this War—

Only for yet more revelations to be sprung on them. The appearance of a new Caster was surprising — the nature of the fool calling himself by the name of his friend moreso.

In any other circumstance, Theseus could, would, have acted in order to correct that "mistake" immediately. Something that threatened the very foundations of the Grail War and their existences was doubtlessly more dangerous than petty squabbles.

But at this moment, in this juncture — he could not.

Was it the fact that he knew of the White Titan? No, if it was just that, he could have simply trusted the Archer and the barbarian with at the very least keeping it busy, then moved to eradicate the threat in front of him before hunting down and killing the beast.

Rather—

"To become someone who can make the people smile."

To make people smile.

So that nobody would have to cry.

He huffed — how irritating. Of course he had to have precisely that reason. Of course he had to be reminded of a certain time when—

"...So that was why? Life certainly dealt you a bad hand, I'll admit."

Taking another's name because your own was one synonymous with ruin. Discarding your own for such a dream. In a way, he could not say he did not understand. After all, no matter how many people his deeds through Attica saved. No matter how many of Athens' youngsters he protected by putting an end to Minos and that child. No matter how much good he did—

He cast a glance at the sword in his hand. Yeah, that was right.

The legend called "Theseus" was that of someone who always failed to save what was right in front of him and brought grief to those he cared for the most.

No matter how hard he tried, at the most critical moment, something he loved would slip right through his fingers like sand.

—But even so.

"That's no different than giving up, though, isn't it? Giving up on yourself because you "can't" and turning into someone else that "can" do what you want. If you do that before even starting, isn't that brittle imitation already like accepting defeat from the outset?"

Even if it was impossible. Even if it was a definition already carved into your Saint Graph. Even if it was an inescapable fate.

To be a hero is to scorn such things.

If the world says that you cannot save, if the world decrees that you can only ruin, if the world says that you are destined to lose something in order to gain something else.

"Changing yourself? That is a loser's answer. If you want to be a hero for others' sakes that badly, then go ahead at full blast and change the world instead."

Carve out an even more brilliant legend with your own two hands. And when those hands are tired and you want to stop, when you are hitting the limit, then clench them into fists, remember why you started down that path, and punch right through that limit.

After all—

"—Being a hero is about laughing and putting your life on the line to do cheesy stuff just like that."

And so, he took his leave — perhaps, indeed, leaving behind a much grander threat than he was seeking to confront. But even then, he could not bring himself to mind it.

"Figure things out and find your answer, I suppose. If you are still alive when I get back, I'll fight you then.

"But until that moment comes — sorry, everyone, but I'll be selfishly siding with my beliefs."

And then, without hesitating, he took off to the sky and then toward the White Titan, emboldened as he was by Orpheus' music.

@Over Illusion @Yankee @Aoko Aozaki

Momotaro

Master of Faster
Fuyuki Park

Momotaro's soul and passion were burning, his joy of the thrill of the fight, unbeatable odds flying towards and around him, it was all perfect for the young saber. Truly, the entire time, his bright boyish grin never left his face. In his natural element, the peach boy shone, dashing with such excitement, before positioning himself for a strike on Caster's defense before suddenly.

Whiplash.

Rather than himself moving, all he saw was Caster disappear before his very eyes, the woman launched from one location to another in the blink of an eye before suddenly, it was like the world around the poor confused Saber shifted entirely around him, as if he had never moved and the only hint that he'd even moved was the fact that a small dust cloud erupted from his feet, sandals against the grass and dirt before his realization to his whereabouts quickly kicked in.

The smile disappeared as his gaze turned to steely determination. Momotaro, born from a peach, was nothing but a hero and a representation of the will and spirit that dwelled within the hope of Japan. In legend, he knew nothing but protecting the weak from the monsters in the dark, slaying them and spreading joy, hope, and peace. Remembering the moment he faced down all those oni, his gaze turned quickly to the attack this Western Devil was making on his amazing Partner.

His stance shifted with swift precision, turning on his heel as he swooped into position his sword between him and his master. As he went to make the arch of his katana he meant a mental note to thank the Caster who had given him this chance and even if it was in her own interest, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. In his eyes, she was a true ally, allowing him the chance to save Kotaro from almost certain doom, and by proxy, himself. Her tricks were nothing but fascinating to him, obviously, abilities that originated from somewhere more West than he had ever been. Oh, how he longed to hear tales of her homeland.

He arched his blade to give him one of two results. Slicing through the Assassin's arm at the moment of impact into Caster's barrier, or deflecting the metal claw with his mighty blade. With this territory in place and the raw feeling of evil that Assassin radiated, his strength was more boosted than ever, almost at the same level as the nearby Oni's. "Partner! Stay behind me! This beast is nothing but evil, find safety at once!"

He prepared to strike again, staring the assassin down as he watched for his next attack.

@King Cosmos

Walter Garbury
Shinto, Town proper
Uh Oh Spaghettios

Just before he had the chance to depart from Shinto Town, Walter's own incompetence befell him, striking back for not accompanying Hassan, surely they both would've been fine and safe if he had kept close to her. Of course, she would be safe whatever, she was powerful, fast, held abilities that scared even him. Going pale after hearing a voice call out to him, he pivoted on his feet and turned to the girl, quickly taking a chug from his hip flask to lessen the blow he knew he was about to take.

Giving a smile to the girl, he tried to ignore the obvious warning signs as he tried to play it cool. Sure he'd been getting luck every so often on nights out back in England, but he didn't expect something like this, that was undoubtedly a trap. Trying his hardest not to be flattered he patted down his pockets before nodding and giving a little chuckle, realizing he left his gloves at home and he was obviously a Master, even if his magus prowess wasn't obvious.

With the arm wrapped around his shoulder, he gulped as he looked to the puppy then back to the Caster. "Sure as long as I can enjoy the whole night, and that includes the dawn y'know? You yourself don't look like the usual kind of girl to just, run up and demand a night of joy and jealousy" He gave a grin before sighing as he felt it's gaze. Quickly he telepathically linked to Hassan. 'Assassin, be careful, think I just encountered something REAL BAAAD, but don't you worry, just focus on the Park and take easy pickings, or whatever y'think you can handle, godspeed'

Turning back to the girl after gazing off a little he gave another weak cocky smirk. "Mind telling me the name of my company, or do I not have that privilege yet?"

@Parallel Hearts

Ferdiad
Penthouse, Foreign District, 10:10 pm

Why did she make so little sense? She kept saying words but none of them seemed to actually register in his mind beyond just chatter. American? Luckily he was imbued with some level of knowledge of the world and how it had changed since the older days of the Ulster cycle. Chris chris chris? He was making the name over in his mind and chewing out the word as he said.

"Ah, gilla. You have a name? Chris? Understood, gilla."

Of course a berserker was going to get it wrong. Not that his mad enhancement was of such a level that he could not fully see reason. But when she said something as utterly absurd as him getting a change of outfit. All he did was shrug his shoulder and roll off the edge of the tunic. Having already slung it over but one side it now fell down flat and revealed more of the textured flesh. No matter how one gazed at it his skin had an odd look. It was the horn material that meshed well with his flesh and protected him from harm.


"What is wrong with my current attire? Do I need to change for battle? This is nonsense. No matter what I wear I will still strike down my opponent. Armor is all but useless for me."

Wait. Was any shop still open? Did they intend to steal clothing?

"Just lead the way to battle, Chris!"

"Maybe slinging me over your shoulder wasn't such a bad thing after all, Lancer. Just please don't do it in the morning, I don't want people to see me getting kidnapped by a Hun in midday, it also gives away our position." Being set down on a random building overlooking the fortunately empty-school (hopefully not having red-haired stragglers wishing to be Heroes of Justice) which was... she supposes... now fixed up with fireworks popping in the distance. Which could only mean one thing.

A Master and Servant or a collective of them, which meant free kills for her Servant which also meant no one who wasn't involved in the War would get hurt. While that seems plausible enough, she's not one to underestimate and would instead save her Command Spells to see what the Servants involved were capable of. While Altera was looking over the school, blade in hand. The girl took out a canister, depositing an iridescent goop of liquid which suddenly reacts at her touch, Magic Circuits activating with a flute sound imagined and running in her head.

Speaking in German, the slime fully formed into a raven, emulating its noise and cries asw ell as giving its wings a few flaps. It was operational and it was enough to check if there were bodies after what Altera was gonna do.

She suddenly felt her whole spirit being pulled away from her, it wasn't a slow rip but man it suddenly took some life out of her. She had just finished her incantation, materializing her Noble Phantasm that spelled "Destruction". Despite the pretty lights that it holds, it was deadly... this was Attila The Hun and she was known for her destructive power.

But what if there was a Servant who was known for protection?

It didn't matter now. The spears finally struck the school in its entirety, sending the watery raven using two fingers, controlling them like a puppet to see if she killed anyone...

...and her hunch was right, Altera wasn't able to kill anyone. It wasn't much of a surprise, she probably cost the Fuyuki government millions of yen but the main problem was there. Although with her raven flying overhead, perched on a tree branch, she could see that a "Musician" @ReallyDumb was playing something which dulled her javelins, a "Bearded King" @Reflection with soldiers way taller than any walking Human on this Earth, forming a shield wall in the same manner. Leonidas? Hardly. None of the shields were Spartan, perhaps someone that respected him? Some "Scummy-Looking King" @Phonic with cannons lined up to take out a fourth or half of the rainfall of javelins with loud booms of gunfire, Cordula swore they look more like tank cannons. And a "White-Haired Hunk" @Aoko Aozaki standing to protect what seems to be his Master with his body? And someone who held his sword with a frown on his face, someone she at least knew as a Saber @Breo as he held his sword with a glint of retaliation. While all of them seemed heroic enough... the one laughing on the sidelines, the "White-Wigged Buff Guy" @Over Illusion just reveled in what just happened. She didn't want the raven to get close enough to be detected it was enough to know that these are the Servants that her Servant pissed off just because they ruined their tea party.

It's a War, right? All is Fair.

With a soft whistle, the raven flew back on its own with her guidance and as it traveled noticed someone else running in the direction of the both of them. A boy with cat ears. @Gracefully They sent someone that quickly? Or was this a third party?

Cordula eyes widened, she was about to tell Altera to leave but the girl picked her up in a bridal carry, already making a break for it. The raven following behind at a safe distance, hopefully undetected. At least she has an eye in the sk-

"Oh hell no..."

Oh. Hell yes. A dragon made of soldier bodies manifested and flew up in the air at an amazing speed, also in pursuit of Cordula's Lancer, it was impressive for a big pile of decayed meat and as it gave chase crushed the raven that she made, pooling into water droplets down below a drain.

"Lancer... I think we have to go.." She would look to the Velber-incarnate, eyes stiffened and concentration focused. The bright glint of red in her hand flashed, an audible sigh with her clenched fist. She kept hoping that it works, this was the first war and she's probably the first person to use a Command Spell, she only hoped she didn't have to use the rest.

"Lancer. By Order of Command Spell, I order you to get us to safety immediately."

The tattoo burns in her hand, erasing the mark and leaving a red fade. Something beckoned Altera to leave, a spell almost akin to an Authority, something that forces a Servant to do what is against their ability usually but it was a desperate call and the two of them had the same idea. Thankfully her Disengage skill had helped this much, she only hoped that this Command Spell really did take them to a safe place, any place without any threats near them.

[@Wine and Dine] [@Floodtalon]