As the journey continued, Valentina nodded idly as she listened to her Rider's advice and insight to the ongoing altercation. Luckily her familliar had succeeded in being hidden within the bush enough so she could get a pretty solid picture of the entire affair, commentating what she was seeing to Rider. If it was true that this was a combat between two of the most powerful Knights and a vicious animal that was Berserker, they might luck out with them wiping each other out.

They would be so lucky.

Her attention was snapped back to reality when the atrocious deviance approached their limo and attempted to work their magic on Rider, and she watched in quiet amusement as he swiftly dispatched of them. In her head she allowed herself to count the amount of bodies they already had in the library, the number of humans was quickly rising.

"I hate to be the one to break this to you Rider, but unfortunately this is the entire point of me being here. What you just encountered is commonplace in the 21st century, the norm for those who have only known this. For one like myself, I have watched in horror at the decline of humanity, falling further and further into decadence and depravity. Women of the night who have to turn to such vulgar vocations due to other humans concocting horrifying mind destroying narcotics, abusing each other, spreading hate and fear..." She tightened her wooden fist as she got to work sewing another familiar, sighing.

Turning her attention to the doll she allowed herself to continue talking. "When I am through with this war Rider, we will see another dawn of the golden age. I dreamt of walking the streets of your Assyria, but I was created by those who had fallen into self-obsession and sin. My very existence was to be an outlet for human sin for a single man, who thought himself worthy of such leisure." She stopped herself and looked down at her patchwork companion as she finished the stitching on him.

She could feel something. It was getting closer. Maybe it was the direction they were going, towards someone else with a Heroic Spirit who perhaps she was right in being cautious.

"Rider...prepare yourself, I believe we have attracted the attention of someone or something, or we are dangerously close to an enemy's territory, either way...." She trailed off, focusing on her familiar. "I promise you we will be victorious, wipe this slate clean, bring back another golden age, free of the stains of time"

She grinned looking at him from her seat, her hands beginning to wave around the familiar, precise fluid movements, as if dancing around this figure that was about to be animated.

@Reflection

The talk had gone over reasonably well.

"Very nice. I'm not sure what you know about the Church, Saber, but it's odd for one of their number to be the one to summon Caster. Still, they were amicable enough. We won't get in one another's way, and as needed, we'll be cooperating with them. For now, though, they can handle themselves- I can't imagine them failing against a problem of this size."

She was dealing with vague generalities as she explained matters to her Servant, though in her mind they were nothing of the sort. The flower her envoy was given would be stored appropriately, of course. A cage made of a lattice between something immaterial and something impossible- she didn't want to risk it doing anything besides what was promised. After all, while she was happy to trust the woman from the Church, her Servant...

"J.K. would probably want to hear about that, not that I'm telling him. That's what he gets for never answering my letters-"

Even if she disregarded the alien color of its wish and just what its presence did to her calculations, the things it treated as magecraft were enough to catch her attention. Caster class indeed, what a profound absurdity. Preparations would need to be made, in case they wound up coming to blows- she doubted such a thing would be necessary, though.

For now, though, she had other priorities. Between her analysis of the land and its flow of magical energy, her own observations, and the lattice of information she'd constructed...

"...eight?"

A ridiculous conclusion, but the only possible one. As per her records, the various Holy Grail Wars from the world over were never capable of summoning more than five Servants, save for perhaps the original from Fuyuki, which was said to be capable of seven. In other words, not only was this ritual at the largest scale yet witnessed, but it was at a level that exceeded even the original.

Another variable to account for, then. That threw a wrench in simply using basic deduction to riddle out the classes of the ones she'd seen so far, save for a couple of especially obvious cases. Still, that wasn't an insurmountable challenge- even a normal human could use such elementary logic. A member of Atlas couldn't possibly be stymied by this basic of a problem.

"Well, unless we decided to go hunting for one of the pairs minding their own business, it doesn't look like we'll get a fight tonight, Saber. That's for the best, though, like I mentioned. How about I finish up my work, and then we hit up a casino for a bit of fun? I'll send our little envoy around to scout for a nice one."

The words that would give birth to a calamity were uttered.

@KatKook

Simon nodded in acknowledgement of Avenger's expert throw, not a hint of awareness of the use of Magecraft in the precision toss that the cyborg ninja had performed. And indeed, many souvenirs had been purchased, much revelry had been had, the trunk was filled to pack with miscellaneous bobbles and snowglobes that Simon had seen and bought/stolen shamelessly. And the ninja stars, couldn't forget the ninja stars. The CD clicked into place audibly as the intro to the CD started, a slow build up with pounding drums and screeching feedback for maximum impact. Phobia groaned as he realized just what was playing, was it too late to object?

Almost certainly.

Simon's head bobbed along with the tune, not so much because he enjoyed the edgy musings of the latest album from the hit band, but more so because it was annoying the living hell out of Phobia. Simon noticed Kullervo opening the glovebox out of the corner of his eye, turning his attention to the Avenger as he pulled out their map to check out the various landmarks they had circled and emphasized. Lots of casinos from Simon, places of strategic importance from Phobia as he insisted they were here for a reason besides getting drunk and gambling, whatever Kullervo found interesting. Probably edgy stuff, seemed to be his taste. This assumption was swiftly proven wrong as the Avenger pointed out his current interest, Shadow Rock Park. A park? Really? Well it did have shadow in the name, so maybe it was kind of edgy.

Nope, he wanted to play baseball. Eh, fuck it. "Never tried baseball out, suppose now's as good a time as any to hit something really hard!" Simon replied as he yanked the steering wheel to the right hard, just narrowly entering the exit ramp without hitting the divider. Some more cursing in the background from Phobia, another wild laugh from Simon as he went way over the speed limit, tearing through the city recklessly.

Soon enough they were at the park, despite the many near misses and car crashes they almost got into on their way there. Simon hit the emergency brake as he squealed to a stop, perfectly within the lines of an empty parking spot. Simon looked out the window and frowned, turning off the emergency brake as he moved forward ever so slightly. Yep. Just outside the parking lines now. Anyone who looked at his car would be mildly annoyed, but not enough to actually call someone to tow him. Perfection.

"You are a child." Phobia muttered as Simon hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and shoving the keys in his pocket. The trunk was popped open as Simon rummaged around looking for something, before emerging with a large polestaff and a satisfied grin.

"This should do! Alright, let's hit the park!" Simon cried out as Phobia fully receded into his shadow, too tired to bother arguing with his idiot of a partner. Baseballs of shadow were made, as well as an actual bat if Kullervo wanted one, with Phobia acting as the pitcher. Lights all around the park were shut off (smashed) to create a nice tense atmosphere, lots of shadows and darkness for the perfect ambiance. Simon would let Kullervo have the first swing as he stood off to the side, content with narrating as Phobia wound up the throw.

"Alright folks, looks like we've got a doozy of a game today! On the away team we've got Avenger, the freshly summoned Servant from who knows where, looking to knock one out of the park today, not a shred of mercy in his bones as he eyes the thrower down with a vengeance! And on the home team we've got the shadowy and mysterious Phobia, a real brooder in public, but not many know that in private he's an absolute downer and nobody wants him at parties-"

Phobia's "eye" twitched as Simon went on, leaning his throwing arm back as he stared at Kullervo. He rolled his shoulder, took a deep breath, cracked his non existent neck-

"JUST THROW THE FUCKING BALL!"

And the ball of darkness launched forwards at Kullervo, a quiet boom echoing through the area as the concrete shadow broke the sound barrier and rocketed forwards at Kullervo. Sheesh, what a weak throw.

Struck by Berserker's limb in an attempt to block the impact, Lancer quickly used that opportunity to leap off that very same limb high into the air, spinning like yo-yo until the heel of his right foot showed itself from above and like a charging meteor colliding with earthen soil, Lancer intends to crush the Berserker's skull underneath his heel, a fitting end for a savage, ravaging beast. Then again, the Archer was also a viable target, no hard feelings, he supposes. Surely even he's smart enough to break away or somehow use Berserker's body as a shield.

Should both of them dodge, a tremor would have followed, cracking the surface of the ground and leaving a crater that is considered inferior to both beasts going at it in their primal state.

"Getting rid of me? I don't think so." Thankfully the cracks in the pavement allowed several bricks to be uplifted easily but he decides to show it off in style. Like a graceful dance, he steps on one part of each brick, sending them into the air for a moment before striking them with his fists almost as if they were arrows notched against a bowstring these very bricks could very well kill someone frail.

So why did he send them flying towards Berserker? A hulking beast only looking to get angry the more he gets annoyed? It is an attempt of a distraction- an opening for Archer to abuse.

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---

The ageless creature listened silently to the resolve that the proud former head expressed. It was not something greeted by his usual casual joy or marred by a superficial smirk. All he did was receive and consider it. Only when Kitorai finished his last word did Ahmicqui nod solemnly, accepting it. “So that is how you have chosen to pass on.. What your cycle shall be.” He released a long breath, only for his smile to return before looking upwards to the skies. “Very well.. We shall see if you are worthy if the last of you can buy what you seek to gain.. But I cannot say I dislike those kind of people.” Ahmicqui stared Kitorai straight in the eyes.

“I shall not insult you by denying it, I’ve lived a bit longer than most.. Someone has to water these lands after all.” He said with a fond and loving smile.

Ahmicqui turned his head towards the park proper, humming in contemplation before withdrawing the sunglasses from the pocket of his shirt. Obscuring his sickly amber eyes before raising a hand in parting, waving it behind him at Kitorai. “We shall speak another time.. I’ve been invited to play a bit with the boys.. Of course, you are welcome to join. You may just learn a little bit more.” Ahmicqui glanced over his shoulders to flash a grin at the aged mage lord before walking off.

---

A quick stroll brought him to the part of the park that was becoming ever more of a mess. Collections of scrap littered all about from a ruined car. The bronze-skinned man reached down, casually weighing a head-sized heap of metal before closing his fist around it, squeezing and crushing it into a sphere with the same ease one would make a ball out of paper. It was not good to let things go to waste after all, even if it was as useless as metal.

Raising one hand to his head, teeth sank into flesh and that dark essence of life dripped from his hand. Shifting the metal ball to his bleeding hand, he permitted his blood, part of his essence to seep into the ball. Turning it into a vessel of his own being, an extension from it and lending it shape before it could fade.

So

It

Stirred

Within

Ahmicqui could feel it, his other self calling out to him. A creature that he had never been able to name, yet their fates had been intertwined on the day of their birth. It was not something that was him, but it was also not something that was something else than him. In the end it was but a part of him, that proud owl. Or he was a part of it, the lines between them had long blurred, and perhaps its thoughts had bled into his own as even he could no longer tolerate the day.

“We shall feed soon, the night is long and we must be patient.” He thought to themselves in something that could only be felt as extreme fondness. Even as he feels that hunger stir within him, but it was only natural. Owls feed on mice, and Ahmicqui feeds on humans, that is how it was meant to be. Their eyes moved towards the man who danced with anger like a known lover, and they knew what had to be done.

Even the sunglasses of this ageless duo could not obscure the sickly amber glow of their eyes, for what rested behind them were no longer the eyes of a man, but the eyes of an owl, a predator, a creature of the night. They called out to the Soul Dyed In Red and it would know to no longer be speaking to merely a singular being, but also not something that was distinctly multiple things. “Allow me to introduce you to a sport home to this land.. One practiced to this very day.”

Form was everything, and thus they repeated the motions of it. Placing one leg back while stretching their arm with ball in hand behind them. Amber eyes focused and trained themselves on the shape of anger of Berserker. Hitting a servant as swift as this one was not an easy task, but it mattered little when one knew where it was going, as they could track Archer in more ways than just sight. Aiming not for where Berserker was, but aiming where he would be.

The rush of air was felt only an instant later.

The ball had been released, cast with the strength of something beyond human at the shape of Anger that was Berserker. Cast with a speed surpassing that of a bullet, but it was not the physical that was the threat. Ahmicqui no longer saw a ball, but an owl soar through the night, a creature that hunted with a single strike in the dark, with swiftness befitting it. A strike not to tear at flesh, but at the spirit itself. To tear and rip it from the spirit of Berserker. Such was the bounty of an emissary of the underworld.

It was only then that Ahmicqui made itself known, laughing in a fiendishly playful way, more befitting of one who teased a friend by throwing a ball at them rather than a monster throwing a heap of death at someone. “I hope we do not intervene, I wanted to show a bit off for the red one.” Ahmicqui waved at the Red Archer as if greeting a friend.

Hm? Nenet frowned slightly at Nakano's dismissal of her explanation. Hadn't she just asked for Nenet to try and explain more esoteric stuff to her? And the current topic was both more relevant and easier to digest, at that! Ah well, she'd just have to break it down a bit further.

"No, no, it's very useful information to know. It's important to understand who we're up against, Saber." Her eyes sparkled slightly as she chided her Servant, turning on her heel to face the swordswoman. "You see, the Church is the enemy of magi, the enemy of mystery as a whole. For about seventeen hundred years, the Mage's Association and the Church have been at odds. Magecraft itself is a heresy to them, something they swear to eliminate, so the fact that a woman from the Church summoned a Caster and seems to be following the Caster's tune without issue tells us quite a lot about her."

"It means, in other words, that she is from a part of the Church that does not condemn the practice of mysteries. There are very few divisions within the Church like that, so knowing this, we can start to piece together more about her. That, in turn, lets us start theorizing about what she knows, what she's capable of, and what she's outfitted with. That feeds into our planning, and so on~"

Ah, she had to hold herself back from Nakano asking if she'd 'miscalculated'. As if something like that was possible, especially on such a basic problem. Troublesome, the Saber really needed to be properly educated, if this was all of the information she was working off of.

"Oh, the information from the summoning system told you about that? No, that's not quite right. This summoning system is based off of one that was made by a cabal of magi in the East- your home country, as a matter of fact. That one was capable of summoning seven Servants, allegedly. A little over half a century ago, information started to get disseminated about it, and people started making their own summoning systems based off of that information. Some of them can only summon two Servants, some of them can summon as many as five, but there aren't records of one matching the seven that the original ritual in Japan could muster. Well, until now."

"It's curious, maybe that marketing campaign wasn't all hot air. This Second Owner's done some interesting things, to make land this poor support something of this magnitude. I wonder what his goal is?"

Of course, after business came pleasure. Nakano's words caused a grin to blossom across the alchemist's face, the woman letting out a low laugh that shook the air.

"Heh~ Of course I can teach you! You Servants might be absurdities with a force of providence like nothing else, but when it comes to card counting, you won't find someone who's my match in this hemisphere."

A calamity was about to befall Las Vegas.

@Kala @seirei no hai @DarckLeon @Breo @GreenGoat


A number of things came together, aware and yet not, regardless... His body moved. If it was his brother maybe he'd call it the guidance or will of god. Archer would simply turn his nose up at that. This was the talent he had, the path he could walk because he was him. Thanking someone else for that made his gut twist. But still, he he couldn't deny that even with the theft of the first blessing, the favor of his father still filled his spirit and body.

In this battle he showed his pride and his truth. Where Berserker's mind raced, bestial instinct refined slowly by the edge of a hunt. Archer considered his attack and then lost himself to the flow. How similar, how different. For a enemy like Berserker he paradoxically didn’t need to think. An enemy with overwhelming power, with inhuman power that man needed wit and the divine to compete with. He held both, and yet instinct fought with instinct. It was an instinct gained from becoming a beast against the instinct of a man born as a hunter.

Shifting so Lancer and Berserker got in each others ways, blows colliding between kick and punch, while his own fist bashed into the wolf's face. A light hit, but more importantly Archer's fist didn't pull back. He grabbed at Berserker, pulling him in, struggling and exerting himself to grab the raging servant into submission. Berserker was stronger, but the man born red was the king of the land, whose descendants became the king of the world. His own gifts, his way of life and sin, coming together with the hope and gift of his father.

Berserker was overwhelming. But so were Archer and Lancer.

Berserker was pulled off his feet as Archer fought to hold him, and batter him with strikes. Archer shifted in correspondence with the propelled bricks, forcing Berserker into their path, pinning him between his own fist and Lancer’s strikes.

“When you made this into a wild attack this became something different from a duel you know. You should know well, interruptions build upon interruptions. A hard-fought victory over a meal soon becomes a humiliated escape from a brand new predator that waltzes by and decides to butt in. But keep your eyes on me, just like that. Yeah, you know who to look at. You’ll know who to fear.”

Both his hands grabbed at Berserker as he smiled, even as he risked exposure to those powerful blows in doing His master’s blow was coming, so he’d have to answer in kind.

Berserker flew, thrown by Archer, with the aim and power befitting his class and identity. Hound and Owl took flight, and the violet and yet welcoming collision of two lights was akin to a game of the gods from long ago.

”...He’s tough, he’s fun. What class do you reckon he is? Rider? Berserker? But whoo, that’s something yourself, master. I won’t have to coddle you too much, won’t I? Good.”

---

Wave after wave of people crashed against each, gawking at the lights and drowning in vice. If one were to ask for a depiction of mankind's folly, one would only have to look to Vegas, for surely there was no truer representation.

Fools flocked to this 'paradise', in search of pleasure and riches. Putting their lives on the line for a taste of greater prosperity, clawing at, devouring each other mindlessly. Crushing hopes and dreams underneath their heels in pursuit of their own. In the end, only one winner can exist, and it's never the players.

It was only fitting then, that a Subspecies war were held here, and even more fitting that Androssi entered.

Even if, in the end, the house were to be the only one to win this grand exchange of desires, Androssi would make sure he at the very least came second, with or without Assassin, he would make do.

And so, with a grand grin set upon his face, he welcomed the night, stepping onto the skeevy streets of sin city.

Now was the time to properly greet his opponents, and he had every intention of letting them become very close acquaintances at the very end.

@Argonaut

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SIGMUND
Spring Valley Community Park

---

His own counter collided properly. The idiot had started shifting before it had even begun, like some sort of prescience, so he had missed a full-force counterpunch — but with his strength, Archer should have still felt it and his head should still be ringing.

For that, he was willing to pay the price of a hit. Sacrificing your body was only a natural thing to do if it propelled you to victory in the first place — the Völsungs had ascribed to that kind of philosophy.

Not to mention, more than anyone else, so long as it was a straight fistfight, Berserker was confident in his body’s capabilities.

His eyes flicked upward, and his other fist came to meet Lancer’s foot, taking his attention away from Archer for a moment. That small bit of negligence was all the bowman required.

The next heartbeat, Berserker was already...sailing through the air?

His gaze flickered back to Archer, his brow creasing.

Was he retarded? Probably.

But he’d have still thought that even a moron would understand that a pinned enemy was better than a thrown one. As it was, Berserker could—

Ah, wait. His gaze shifted slightly, to the side. Hm, so that is what Archer wanted — just throw him on the path of another attack. It was not fast or strong — not by the standards of a Servant, and certainly not by Berserker’s — but it carried something else.

How irritating. Still, it provided an opportunity, and revealed something else to him, as well as allowed him to do something else.

This made it three on one.

Yeah, if it was three on one, then it was worth doing.

His hand rose into the air, and when he swung down, he was holding something. The projectile, whatever it was now, was rent, torn asunder — split in twain almost contemptuously easily.

The lightshow fizzled out and died, Berserker landed safely — and, in his hand, was a sword.

It was a beautiful sword, though simple in its make.

It was a terrifying sword, though unassuming in its form.

There was no doubt that this was Berserker’s vaunted treasure as a Heroic Spirit, the proof of the legend he had left behind. There was no doubt that this was a Noble Phantasm.

There had been no time to call out its True Name, but that was fine — in the first place, what sort of magecraft would require a Noble Phantasm’s release to contend against? Certainly nothing that could be found in this wretched day and age.

The sword was simply greater, so it cut through. That was all there was to it.

Berserker hefted the thing and let it rest on his shoulder, before looking around.

Archer and Lancer were still there. His mind worked overtime.

And he started to laugh.

“Ah, that was a good one,” He said. “Alright, I think I got what I wanted out of the night.”

He had fought them enough. He hadn’t seen their weapons, but judging everything from approach to countenance was good enough for his purposes.

So without pause or decorum — he turned on his heel and started walking away.

“Laters,” He waved carelessly. “I gotta scout out the others, after all. I wanna see if I can’t get into fights with everyone tonight.”

Then, he looked over his shoulder.

“Of course, if you wanna follow, feel free to. But from this point on, I’ll be using this thing, so only do that if you’re ready for us to start killing each other already.

“Speaking of which, I’ll be marking you down as fun ones — so do try not to die to anyone that isn’t me.”

Without waiting for further answers, Berserker left, already moving on to the next one. Restlessness sated, he wondered, which district to go for next?

Of course, there was the possibility that one or both of them would try to pursue. But that just meant he’d have to accelerate things and show he meant what he said.

...Still, wasn't this kind of anticlimactic?

@Yukitamas @Seirei no hai

---

Kullervo cackled wildly at Simon's crazed driving. Brushing up so close to death was indeed thrilling for the Servant, and he came to admire his Master's foolhardy rush to their destination. Kullervo also relished in the hatred brought forth from the other drivers on the road. Gathering the negative energies from these "road rages" as well as any other dark emotions they would find on their way, Kullervo worked on casting another spell centered on himself and powered by these bitter emotions.

However, somewhere in the process of drawing this grudges, Kullervo felt a faint presence. To him, it sounded like the sound of hundreds of people screaming. Some wished for justice, while others wished to just be let free... Kullervo contemplated investigating the source, but decided to hold it off for now. Right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. After all, the Sky Father Ukko would likely be upset if Kullervo had decided at the last minute to abandon the hallowed pastime that was baseball.

When they finally reached the park, Kullervo finished his incantations, keeping the spell's magical energy within himself. It was another curse, although this time it was self-afflicted. The nature of the curse wasn't made apparent just yet, although judging by the childlike expression on Kullervo's face, it seemed to be something he couldn't wait to take effect.

"Don't worry about my bat, Master. I'll go make my own... you go ahead and set up." Kullervo stated, his copper hand-axe materializing in his grasp. The axe-head glowed with a sinister magic, enchanted by Kullervo himself. Kullervo then walked up to one of the trees planted in the lot, raising the axe and felling the tree with a single swing. Kneeling down to the fallen tree, a few more swings were made as Kullervo quickly carved it into a usable and, more surprisingly, beautiful wooden bat. Gripping it tightly and swinging it in the air a few times, Kullervo smiled, satisfied with his work.

Stepping up to the plate, Kullervo momentarily traded his desert apparel for a spare uniform he found lying in one of the locker rooms. As Simon made his announcement to the obviously roaring crowd, Kullervo made a few practice swings, eying Phobia carefully. Speaking a simple incantation, his crimson eye began to glow once more...

As the shadowy sphere flew towards him at the speed of a bullet, Kullervo's eyes quickly tracked down the ball, its speed and trajectory quickly understood. Kullervo reacted not only with the speed of a Servant, but as if he was given a "protection" from Phobia's umbral orb. This was due to the effect of the curse (blessing) Kullervo had placed on himself earlier, a blessing meant to prevent the wielder from being harmed by projectile attacks.

Eagerly, Kullervo swung his bat with all his might, knowing just where he needed to hit. Blackened lightning surged through the bat as it met the ball, creating a bright flash seen far from the park, followed by a deafening thunderclap. The force of impact between the two objects resulted in the bat shattering to mere splinters as the ball flew in a straight line towards the heavens.

"Did I win? I won, didn't I?!"

The home run brought a wide smile to Kullervo's face as he began to perform some sort of victory dance. Afterward, Kullervo started to walk away from the field, stretching himself out.

"Well, I'm done for today, Master! Your shadow seems to be a good sport, as well! If you want to play some more, it'd have to be after I'm done doing what I really came here for... Heh."

And so, Kullervo procured his copper hatchet once more, preparing to work the magical energy contained within this land to his favor. Kullervo had outlined this place not only because it had the words "Shadow" and "Rock" in its name, but also due to the mana pooled within these grounds... and Kullervo could use all the mana he could take for himself in order to sate his vengeance.

@Flood

@Kala@Yukitamas@Seirei No Hai@Breo

Kitorai Valueleta

There were few times when your insctint failed you. In your youth that minor noble wasn't going to betray you, but you killed him anyway. When you were traveling around the world to make a name for yourself in your 50s and you found a pair of orphans in Amsterdam, those weren't really just homeless kids, but homunculi, and you had a scar in your chest to always remember them by. The point of the matter is that when you had a gut feeling it wasn't in vain most of the times, but if there was one time you wanted it to be wrong it was today. It wasn't.

A vampire, a creature of the night, a Dead Apostle... whatever you called it, each and every one of those monsters were a league apart from a normal human, magus or not. From the top of your head you could count about 5 people capable of fighting one on equal ground. Sadly for you, the Valueleta and the Barthomeloi didn't see eye to eye in most things to say least, one of those aristocracy loving fools would be very helpful right now. But alas, it is how it is.

“...just learn a little bit more.”

He would call the young man in front of him too cocky and disrespectful...but he wasn't even young to begin with, and he felt that Ahmicqui was oddly honest in his advice, with no traces of bravado in his speech. And he would agree to it if it wasn't for the small details of his gauntlets, at least he knew what he would do tomorrow: a suitcase in Las Vegas? why he surely has money or important papers in it, that's how he planned to bring his equipment everywhere he went now.
He couldn't join the fray, but he surely could watch at least the tail of the battle.

---

"Lancer, i think that at this point if you keep at it, this fight would just needlesly escalate, how about we retire from the night? We have a busy day tomorrow after all"

He was late, Kitorai realized, the battle was almost over, both his servant and the red beast had been interrupted it seems, another Servant, without a doubt, was leaving, a simple, yet strangely menacing sword in his hands. The new arrival had the same wild feeling that his servant initial opponent, the same yet different, if the red man was a hunter, then this one was a wild dog.

He waited for Lancer's response while analyzing the state of the battlefield... they really did a number on the park in the small time they fighted, he noticed. To bring this level of destruction with only their physical might...at least he was reassured with the fact that his Servant was no pushover, from what he could briefly see no side was victorious in this little skirmish, truly, this was a mere show of power.

He could see Ahmicqui a little further, and he felt like a fool for ever doubting that that thing was not a human for even a moment, in this place a little far away of the lights of the city, with the moon being the prominent source of light, Kitorai saw the real side of the Dead Apostle, and he had no shame in admitting he had a little fear, but that same fear was what kept him on guard against anything that could bring his old life to a premature end.

Lancer couldn't believe the power emanating from Berserker, the moment he clutched that familiar blade. One could completely tell that this person was a Saber. It was only natural right? Not to mention the power that came with his own bare fists. The beautiful Khan could only watch him walk away but not before baiting both him and the Redborn into following him.

"...so he was just scouting... good thing I didn't take out my actual weapon." Lancer chuckled to himself before turning to Archer, dusting his already stained and muddied tee, he still retained the formal dignity of a gracious and benevolent King. "Well he was holding a sword, so he's a Saber I suppose. Guess he got tired of the man's way to deal with things."

Well power or not, Lancer could tell this was a victory for both of them since he retreated because he "got what he wanted" and Lancer couldn't help that he might've already known his identity simply by the fighting style, he only hoped that wasn't the case.

"Lancer, i think that at this point if you keep at it, this fight would just needlesly escalate, how about we retire from the night? We have a busy day tomorrow after all"

His Master called from across the way and immediately walked by his side. "Sir! Are you alright? Any broken bones?" Pulling out the dense bodyguard act for a moment despite already showing superhuman feats. The Forever 25-man quickly turned towards Esau with a smile. "Well it was a fun bout but I believe Sir needs to get home. You understand, no? After all you have someone to attend to as well. Wouldn't want him to complain about the chilly nights."

Simon didn't react to Kullervo's blatant disrespect to the park as he cut down the tree to make a bat, nor did he react to Kullervo's new attire as he changed into a spare uniform that had been left around the park. Uniforms weren't his style anyways, but if Kullervo was having fun then who was he to judge? He didn't even react to the blatant curse that had been left on Kullervo, seeing as he had no real way of identifying it and Avenger was perfectly content with eating curses he saw no reason to worry about it.

But what he did react to, was the glow in Avenger's eye. He unconsciously leaned forwards as Phobia threw the "ball", his eyes following the graceful arc of Avenger's bat as obsidian lightning was left trailing in it's wake. And as bat met ball, a bright flash of light accompanied by a boom that could surely be heard from all over Sunset Manor, Simon cheered.

"AND IT'S A HOMERUN!" He shouted, throwing his arms into the air with a cheer as Phobia nodded in respect. Simon ran towards Kullervo to give the winner a high five, running straight past him and into the park as he missed his high five entirely. He stopped and turned around, but then he kept turning a bit too far to the left. Ok yeah, maybe staring at a blinding explosion wasn't the best idea, but it was so goddamn sick though. Phobia sighed as he merged back into the shadows, before emerging from Simon's own and guiding him back to the field.

"Don't worry about Simon, he's got good eyes. Just let us know when you're done, he's probably about to-" Phobia was cut off as Simon rubbed his eyes harshly, opening them back up as his pupils dilated and contracted to adjust.

"Alright Phobia, I can't let myself get shown up like that! Let's get started!" Simon said with an excited look on his face, grabbing his polestaff from where it was leaning against the fence and getting set up to swing. And while Simon would certainly not recreate anything nearly as flashy and brilliant as Avenger, each and every one of his own swings would be a home run in it's own right, except for the ones that accidentally went flying through car windows. If it was an accident at all anyhow.

But of course, soon enough Simon got bored of baseball without someone to watch and cheer him on in his recklessness, what was even the point of this dumb sport? All he was doing was swinging a stick at a ball, any jackass could do that. He collapsed his polestaff and walked over to Kullervo, curious to see just what the Avenger was doing with the park's mana. He of course knew what mana and leylines and stuff were, he wasn't that uneducated in the ways of the Moonlit World, he just didn't have the patience to bother learning any of that stupid magecraft shit. Why should he when he could just skewer someone with their own shadow? "So like... what are you doing?" He asked with a hint of curiosity, Phobia sighing in the background at the blunt question.

"Simon, you can't just ask someone how their Magecraft works, even I know that-"

"Shut up, nobody asked you. So what's happening here?" Simon asked again.

They had time. After all, even if somebody did take notice to the disappearances in the police station, it would certainly take longer than a few minutes to piece it all together, and then send out a call for aid. In fact, Rider had pulled up by the next target, pausing only to speak to his master before he would leave and repeat his actions.

"Master, what you say has me worried." Ashurbanipal bit his lips, and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "It makes sense, but it still fills me with worry. Humanity's decline was clear even in the golden age. I was a scholar who discovered the old languages, and I could read tablets of magic from the lost eras of humanity. I knew secrets of the Gods. And yet... Everything I learned only made it more clear that humanity was starting a decline. It would rise, it would fall, but each rise would be lesser as more and more of what we knew became a stretched and worn concept." Perhaps it was nostalgia. Not all heroic spirits adjusted well to the changes in humanity. Some, like Christopher Columbus never gave up their old ways. That man was a slaver in life, and a slaver as a servant.

Maybe Ashurbaniapl was just one of those servants who didn't adjust well to the modern day. Though, he was kidnapping people for torture, so he was unlikely to be winning any awards for being well adjusted.

"Your promise is just going to make this easier." He smiled, and vanished. A minute later, he returned, and hit the gas. Taking the odd turn down an alleyway, making odd cuts as he drove about. "If we're being followed I have an idea." He said, and adjusted his cap. The city vanished as he pulled onto the highway. The path was pretty straight-forward, and he could really hit the gas. The wheel spun in his hand, as other cars swept past him. The wheels of his car bounced and the city was left far behind. After all, he had no reason to fight on the streets of the city. It would only get messy. And perhaps fighting in a city would only aid his enemy. He wanted to be the one to pick the fighting ground.

"Master, if things become dangerous, I have a room for you in my chambers." Ashurbanipal explained as he pulled the vehicle over to the side. The vast Mojave Desert before him, and any followers with only one way to go after him. "You'll arrive back at the library in an instant. It's an empty, unused torture chamber, so you'll just be able to leave it without a fuss." It was a good plan. Anything endangers his master, and he'd just whisk her away back to where she was most safe.

He didn't leave the vehicle, as if he was planning to fight from that if he had to. "And now... We can wait." He had already done enough set up. Waiting was what he needed now. Wait for all his set up to pay off.