Breo

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Ajax’s Grave, Foreigner’s Lowlands

“. . .Very well.”

Last request of a dying woman, even if she was someone he himself hated—what was a man to do in the face of such a thing? Furthermore, as far as he was concerned, she had paid the price for her transgression already.

Therefore, her form asking him for mercy, not for herself, but for someone else, was noted.

“If you must, at least die knowing I will fulfill that—!”

Ah, so that was meant to be her end? He supposed he should expect little else from opportunists like magi.

He supposed he should also have felt empathy for her plight at this moment.

He supposed—he should have felt great anger toward the thing that had robbed her of peace.

However, at most he could only muster a measure of annoyance that he had not been the one to snuff her life out with his own hands. Frowning, he glanced back at the interloper.

“Maybe not. Consider yourself fortunate that these were the circumstances you took her in—otherwise I would have had another target for my ire right about now.”

Speak of the devil, too. . .

The new arrivals were welcome enemies, but at this point, Achilles’ main worry laid with his Master, and so, he turned to break into a full sprint in her direction, and not a moment too soon. At the very least, he was confident in his ability to make it.

Achilles’ divine speed, which stood at the top of all heroes, was now employed toward the purpose of reaching his Master before it was too late for her.

Luckily, his fight with Saber had not drained him, and she was close by that, for all the difference it made, it might as well have been the teleportation that could be accomplished by a Command Mantra. Picking her up, taking note of the bruises and wounds, he decided—it was not time to continue fighting. At least not for now.

So he ran forward, out of the line of fire of the mortars that had been shot against them, lowering his speed to something still inhuman, but not able to turn Benita to mush from the velocity alone. Run, run, pass by the one who already is, the girl that had been his Master’s opponent thus far—and presumably the girl that was the late Saber’s Master, in a run of her own.

The odd thing was, how had a human managed to reach that sort of speed? Though it was not too pressing a matter at the moment. She was fast, but he was still faster so—

To begin with, passing her by, he was thankful for the small frame of his Master (though he would never say it to her face), since it allowed him to hold her easily with one arm, and use the other to get a hold of the girl he had sworn would see to safety.

He always was a sucker for dying requests.

“Don’t mind if I drop you both nearby, do you?”

And so, completely unphased by the two bodies, he continued on his path, reaching the edge of their base before leaving them both on the ground, gently enough in Benita’s case.

He frowned at the wounds once again, but his angry glare passed right over Sophia and was directed toward the church on the hill.

He was not someone that possessed the Clairvoyance Skill—but the quality of his eyesight was top notch, and he did not need to be able to count the number of cracks on the wall to make out the form of a stationary building.

“Play nice for a second, will you? I have something to do.”

Materializing his spear, he twirled it, holding it in a reverse grip instead of the stances he had used previously.

If Saber’s Master had listened to her dying moments, at least she should know he had agreed to the request, so he himself would not harm her unless she made to attack Benita again. No, this was meant for someone else.

“I’d try to find an appropriate line to use for the situation, but the truth is, my imagination’s running a bit dry.”

One step, two steps back.

“You see, my Master needs to get to bed, and this girl is someone that is under my protection right now, so what you just tried to do is in my list of things I take issue with.”

Holding his weapon parallel to the ground in his right—

“I’m in a terribly foul mood right now, all considered. So, Archer, I take it?”

—He broke into a sprint forward, faster than the eye could follow, reaching the highest speed before digging his feet into the ground and transferring all the momentum to the spear.

“Fuck off.”

It left his hand with the crack of the sound barrier, the black spear followed a direct path right toward the source of the mortar shots.

Turning, he shot a glance toward his Master.

“Right. We are getting you into bed, by the way,” Almost absentmindedly, he gestured at Sophia. “You can come with, too. . .

. . .But you’ll need a hard hat.”

@phonic @addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Ajax’s Grave, Foreigner’s Lowlands

Some would call it a bet. Others a prayer. Others still would deride it as a cornered rat lashing out.

Achilles would do nothing of the sort. His enemy had chosen to place her life on the line and commit to her course fully, with no hesitation, looking at the end of the road and facing him head on.

His blood boiled, and he hated that he had to show this to the killer before him, but, begrudgingly. . .

Even if it was to escape, even if she had killed his cousin, even if she was an enemy he absolutely cannot forgive, he would not mock that determination. Rather, in her last moments, he would acknowledge it and answer on his own.

To have held off his hundred blows.

To have evaded his killing strike by a hair’s breadth.

To possess the determination to trudge forward.

I will acknowledge you, then. The determination in those eyes, the gleam of one who strives to live just for one more second, the commitment to one’s path. I will respond to it in the only manner I am allowed to now.

It is the only gift I can give — to an enemy I hate, but that I will not disrespect, to an enemy that is about to die, this is my farewell.

I will answer your every attempt and absolutely—

“—Shatter them all right before your eyes.”

Saber had managed to avoid death once again. That, in itself, was commendable and something that spoke highly of her abilities as a warrior. But she had made one fatal mistake.

To begin with, Achilles had nothing to fear even if she did get close for a variety of reasons. Beyond even his confidence in his skills, the fact was that close range was where ‘Achilles absolutely held the advantage’.

Tackling an enemy is not a strategy that will work if you cannot make them so much as budge from their spot. Her mistake had been attempting this against someone that was as an unyielding wall, right before her.

The key of the matter was in Achilles’ divine armor, the greatest work of the Olympian blacksmith, Hephaestus, that was doubtlessly one of the many proofs of how beloved by the gods he had been during his lifetime. Beyond even the unfair effect it had working alongside his immortal body, the quality and protections built into the craftsmanship made it an absolute first-rate Noble Phantasm worthy of the second greatest hero of Greece. In terms of pure defense, it outweighed even the skin of a certain hero from Germany that had bathed in dragon’s blood.

Furthermore, the mistake had only been made worse by the fact that what she was attempting counted, for all intents and purposes, as the appropriate situation to trigger its second passive effect of enhancing the abilities of someone that was already a first-rate hero to their absolute limit.

Defenses that even the Rank of A would fail against.

Strength that approached that of monsters absolutely beyond man.

The bravery to try such a course of action without flinching, confident to the point of absurdity.

What she had attempted to tackle could not be said to be a man anymore — rather, the more fitting term would be ‘moving fortress’. And so, crashing against him, Achilles’ free arm came to envelop without so much as budging backwards, trapping her.

“Come to think of it.”

Ah, so this is it, then?

“When you killed my cousin he could not even move to escape his death, could he?”

The arm pressed—

“I guess it’s only fair, then.”

—and pressed—

“Now, stay silent, and enjoy the sunset. This is your requiem.”

—and pressed—

“I’d normally go for something more dramatic, you know? But as it is, well, I’m really angry right now, so this is the best you’ll get. Maybe if the circumstances were different. . .”

—and pressed.

“Maybe then we could have had a fun fight. But, sorry. This is an execution, you see.”

And Yamato Takeru, Saber of the Second Holy Grail War, died.

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Ajax’s Grave, Foreigner’s Lowlands

If he weren’t so focused on slaying this enemy, perhaps he might have smiled at a display of ability enough to hold his strikes off. Being someone that liked to fight, someone that thrived in battlefields against challenging enemies, it would have been baffling to see Achilles sport such a serious expression while locked in combat.

Ah, why? We could have so much fun killing each other, so why is there absolutely nothing?

Because—

Now isn’t the time to have fun. Now isn’t the time to smile. Now isn’t the time to laugh.

Those who do not enjoy life will not know how to enjoy Elysium when they reach it. He had always held to that belief, and so he tried to make the most out of his run, that is why he had faced all that came his way with a smile on his face and joy in his heart.

But now it is time for duty. Now it is time to mourn. now it is time to earnestly, with no hesitation, with no mercy—

—kill.

Ah, ah, ah, such memories. It is just like back then.

Wordlessly, he threw himself into the dance of death once again, observing as his enemy prepares herself as she wheathered his strikes. Certainly, any one of the blows of the hero Achilles would be enough to be called a fatal wound—even with her own quick reactions, skill and instinct, his spear still found its mark, and the number of nicks would only go up while he remained out of reach. He could see the gears in her mind turning—or rather, he imagined that to be the case. Looking for an opening, an opportunity—it is what he would do in her shoes. Defense alone would not win a battle, and in a protracted fight he held all the advantages, so her only choice if she wanted victory would be to—

—Advance.

Logical.

A spear’s advantage against a sword always lies in the distance. A sword cannot effectively counter if the rebuffs fall short or worse, they are too strong and they leave themselves open, while the spearman only needs to match the footwork, retract his weapon and thrust again.

At the same time, the basis of all combat is to ‘kill the enemy while they are at the wrong range’, something Achilles had been exploiting thus far. Advancing against him was, ironically, the potentially safest route if accomplished.

—However.

The greatest hero of the Trojan War was not someone that had just coasted by life with no opposition, either. He had been trained by the greatest teacher, true, but, at the same time, a hero can only get so far with training alone.

A warrior who stagnated was a dead warrior. Training was the start, but the true measure of their skill was in the challenges they faced along the way, and the answer they reached at the end of their path. Achilles might not have possessed abilities such as precognition, the sharpest mind of the ancient world or a connection to the voices of the gods, but—

—He was still a great hero that had survived the beaches of Troy. He was still a top class warrior that had thrived before the walls of Troy. He was still a man who had pierced the hearts of many in Troy. That was his ‘proof’.

There were heroes who had made their name with singular acts of valor. There were heroes who had forged their legend with great contributions to humanity’s history. There were heroes that had become enshrined fables by killing ‘that which was beyond humanity’.

However, Achilles was not one of that sort. He was not a ‘hero that killed monsters’, such as some of his older counterparts in Greek mythology. That was not part of his legend.

What he had learned in the Trojan war—the attribute that separated him from such heroes, beyond even specs, skills or Noble Phantasms. In the ‘premise’ of the Holy Grail War, it was that attribute that made him even more attractive as a Servant.

He had not devoted his life to learn how to slay monsters beyond man.

Achilles was someone that had honed his skill for the purpose of ‘slaying men themselves’. He was ‘a hero that killed heroes’.

Therefore—

It was true that avoiding a thrust was possible if one possessed enough dexterity, quickness and recognized the direction even if they were not just as fast — after all it is still a straight line. It was also true that advancing so suddenly against one might leave the spearman open. It was true that pulling back in a panic would give away the spearman’s advantage, it was true that in closer quarters, a sword would be superior.

But, Saber, did you think it was anything novel?

The moment she had retracted the barrier, the moment she had focused on advancing, the moment she had chosen to hold her sword in so awkward a manner, the moment she thought to be able to hold back an opponent that was stronger than her if it came to it by grabbing his weapon, the moment she had chosen to attack half-heartedly against a man that had expressed his absolute desire to see her dead. Even if she succeeded, what did he have to fear, wearing his godly armor?

Mistake, mistake, mistake. Which one was the first?

. . .Perhaps, the moment she had seemingly fallen under the impression that the Heroic Spirit of the Spear would adhere to normal limitations — it was a flawed foundation to build a plan upon. To begin with, he only had that title because he could defy what should be ‘possible’ with a spear.

The momentum of the thrust stopped dead in its tracks the very instant Saber made her choice to advance and sacrificed her shoulder, only to begin its movement anew, this time to the side as Achilles swung it.

Recognize. Plan. Execute.

Saber was fast, but Achilles was ever a step faster.

Accelerating to top speed in less than an instant, the spear which Saber had allowed to slide over her shoulder now—

—Collided against her head and caved in her skull like overripe fruit.

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Lowlands

“A likely story.”

His words cut through the air, sharper than any sword. There was a hunger in his eyes, and the chill that it produced would have been enough to drive an army with their tail between their legs. He seemed to forget about the outside world entirely, paying no mind to observers.

Only one thing mattered now.

The blood staining the head of his spear dripped down in rivulets as he held it still, not moving from his stance even after Saber had dashed away. Gone were the playful jabs or the joy for a strong enemy that would not die to his hero-slaying thrusts as a matter of course. His gaze, intense and deadly, met Saber’s eyes and carried a sense of complete mercilessness.

“Let me regale you with another option.”

He shook his spear to get the blood off, staining the earth—ah, that’s not enough, not enough, it is the farthest thing from enough—and turned to face her.

“I see before me an opportunistic wretch that, seeing a chance to take two Servants out, decided to take it. I see before me someone that slayed my cousin while claiming to be his ally, which might as well mean you’re either lying to my face or a traitor, but do you want to know the best part? After that, you tell me to worry about the city, you tell me you are on my side, and you expect me to believe you and join forces with the one who killed my kin right before me, just like that.”

The world froze as he pulled his armament back. It was not the release of Prana predating the usage of a Noble Phantasm—the killing intent coming off the man was just that strong.

“Tell me, Saber, what would you believe in my position? In fact, let me tell you another thing.”

Through it all, his voice did not raise a decibel above casual, as if talking to an acquaintance about the weather.

“I absolutely suck at fighting allies, you know?” He made his odd confession, as though the fact were relevant to the situation at hand. “Once I’ve accepted them like that, once I’ve accepted them as friends, I really can’t bring myself to fight at full strength. Maybe I really am childish, like some people I met would say, but it’s something I’ll never get over, even if others can. But tell me, Saber, when I attacked you just now—did you feel any hesitation in that thrust?”

He finally smiled, a grim thing completely at odds with the cocksure disposition he usually displayed, and perhaps it would have been better if he had kept his expression neutral.

“I don’t acknowledge you as an ‘ally’, Saber. Much less a friend, or someone I would entrust my back to. So that means there’s going to be no regrets, there’s going to be no hesitation and there’s going to be no mercy. Get ready to play for keeps.”

The wound Saber had received was not deep, but in a battle between Servants, every single nick mattered, it was still a sign that first blood went to him, and against Achilles, who was the swiftest hero of them all and boasted of the skills and specs of a first-rate Servant, who would pounce and capitalize on any weakness, a single misstep would mean death.

“Maniacs that can’t control their greed, huh? Yeah, yeah I agree, I’ll save the city just like you want—and starting with the one in front of me, I’ll use my full power—”

Again, he took a single step toward Saber, and again, his form would have appeared to even the most acute eyes as ‘having teleported’. Even for the Lancer class, which usually boasted of fighters with high mobility and agility, the speed of his legs was baffling.

The Noble Phantasm, Comet Form, that was only confirmation of was Achilles’ standing as the fastest whether in this War or any other, a continuously-active type that was the source of his divine speed that stood at the undisputed top of Heroic Spirits. Things like building distance or running away we’re only as effective as one’s own speed was when compared to the opponent, and unfortunately for Saber, there were none faster than him.

“—I’ll use all my strength and right here, right now, end her life.”

The spear darted forward. A sturdy thing, he clearly knew how to use it well—in the Trojan war, it had pierced the hearts of many heroes, and the skill and speed Achilles wielded it with certainly reached a category of its own. There might have been those who matched or exceeded that skill, but combined with his natural ability, he was no less of a ‘monster’ for it.

Gouge the head. Pierce the throat. Impale the chest, stab the heart, puncture the lungs, slash away at her upper extremities.

Certainly, in the span between heartbeats, Achilles could doubtlessly exchange more than a hundred blows, all of them lethal or crippling. Furthermore, the distance between him and Saber was just enough to remain out of reach of her sword while he could pick and prod and kill at his leisure with his own weapon, and she would have to defend and retreat only to be followed, or try to advance and open herself up if she made a mistake.

Furthermore, even if she avoided a lethal blow, even if she avoided being crippled, every single wound he scored would be another to his advantage, and not something that the enemy would be able to recover from quickly, or at all if he had any say in it.

After all, if summoned as a Lancer, his spear also gained the property of ‘dealing cursed wounds’. How long until she could no longer hold her ground?

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Lowlands

The hero of the Trojan War continued to run throughout the city as fast as his legs could carry him, uncaring about any buildings destroyed in his wake, concerned only with reaching his Master’s current base of operations quickly so that he could discuss just why she had not thought to tell him about his teacher, and just how he would be able to deal with him.

Trauma or no, hellish training or no, Chiron was someone ‘dear to Achilles’ heart’. That was an undeniable fact, and he could not bring himself to raise his spear against the man, even if he had thrown his lot in with whoever had called forth Troy. The fact of the matter was — he had always been the kind of idiot that absolutely could not fight those he had already deemed as ‘friends’. Perhaps some would be able to kill that feeling, but the bonds he had formed were not something so easily ignored.

And that was without mentioning the rush of suppressed memories that would have him staring at the ceiling for quite a while following his return. At this point, he just wanted to get back.

However, something caught his attention, and the ‘comet’ shifted its course ever so slightly to pass by the two Servants having a battle so near their base. Perhaps one of those his Master had mentioned, allied to the Matou, or just simple coincidence? Regardless, he did not have time to—

For the second time in the same day, Achilles forgot how to breathe.

That shield.

His legs came to an abrupt stop, the force of the sudden deceleration enough to crush a man, yet not even phasing the greatest Achaean as he beheld a macabre spectacle.

He knew that shield. He knew the man holding it. He had laughed beside that man. He had trained beside that man. He had fought and bled and killed and cried beside that man.

He had been friends with that man.

His cousin, Ajax — another of the great heroes of that War, who had distinguished himself as much as the other, whose name still echoed in eternity as that of a great hero.

He knew that man, and now he was seeing him bisected by the sword of an enemy, his faithful shield powerless to stop it. His grip on his own spear tightened, but that was nothing compared to what came after — the flash that signaled the arrival of a new Servant, and the release of another Noble Phantasm.

His cousin had died, right before his eyes, before he had even known he was here, too stunned to try to save him, too baffled to try to stop them, too absorbed in his own worries to act promptly, too—

—too late to save anyone, again. But that’s a theme with you, isn’t it? Always losing sight of the most important things—

“—And nothing but regrets to show for it.” He muttered, taking a step forward, gaze fixed on the woman that had turned his cousin to ash.

In some dark manner, it must have been amusing. He, the fastest of all heroes, always too late to help those that needed it, always too slow to save those that mattered, always a step short from being able to protect what he loved.

He had never been a hero that saved people. His legend had been built on the corpses of his enemies and his loved ones. However, before he could wander down that path, a memory assaulted him.

A moment, shared on those beaches during a quiet night.

”You’re thinking of what?”

“Hey, Rules Fifteen and Thirty-one, cousin. Besides, it’s not like you can talk about how we use our equipment. I really believe this can work.”

“. . .I suppose. You always did live up to expectations, as well.”

“Heh, well, gotta come up with my own way of keeping up. Teacher’s training can take us far, but what makes or breaks a hero comes afterward, Ach. It’s in what we live, and what we reach at the end of the road. But we’ll manage it. After all—”

“—Rules One-Hundred and One-Hundred and One: Rise, Strive.”

The hellish memories associated with each one were oddly absent — or rather, something he had dismissed as a matter of course due to the situation. How could he afford to care about such petty things now? How could he live with himself if he let that get to him right at this moment?

The answer was that there was no way. Plain and simple. He had failed him, he had failed plenty of people but—

That just meant he would have to fight for what he had left all the harder. That just meant he would have to treasure those memories all the more. That just meant he would have to honor them as best as he was able.

The hero named Achilles was never one that looked at the past, he was not one that pondered about the what-ifs and sighed while endlessly thinking about missing opportunities. He would do what he had always done, the swiftest hero in the world would run forward at full speed, looking at the future.

There was no cocky smirk, there were no taunts. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his gaze was firm, focused and ready.

The traumas would not overcome him. The pain of loss would not hold him back. His regrets would not drown him. His anger would not cloud his mind.

They were things that did not matter. Thus—

“Rule number Ninety-Five: Concentrate.”

What did he have left?

The gifts of the gods.

The skills he had been taught by the greatest teacher in the entire world.

The abilities he had refined over the course of ten years of war.

And a body forged for victory.

Plenty to work with.

A single breath, the eternity between heartbeats, and Achilles had moved. There was no warning, and he offered no quarter — almost as if he had teleported, he had appeared right by the side of the Saber — Yamato Takeru — spear poised to gouge her side with all the quickness that the fastest among heroes could muster.

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Edge of Shinto Town, in front of Troy

Again, he spoke of those rules. Again, Achilles felt odd, like remembering a half-forgotten dream. He brought a hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his heart start to ache as whispers he could not quite make out and scenes he could not quite connect flashes in his mind.

Mental interference?

. . .No. To begin with, even without his armor, Achilles was one who possessed the skill, Bravery of the highest caliber, and compounded with his other abilities, it meant that he should be able to shrug off that sort of attacks without much issue. Besides, it felt different, more like he was trying to remember something that. . .

That. . .

Stop you moron, you don’t want to—

But then, Archer waved the bottle in front of him, and Achilles suddenly found his gaze transfixed in its form.

Ah. I have seen that before, indeed.

I wish I had not.

The dam broke, and it all rushed back in.

“Best way ta learn Pankration is hands-on, Ach.”

“Now, then, hand eye coordination by catching whatever arrows I fire at ya, for the next twenty-four hours. Fail once and we start all over, no breaks~”

“Oh, you’re taking a dip in those nearby whirlpools, objective’s ta escape before ya die. Eh? The chains? Well, you never know when ya have to escape stuff like this. Ya know there are always weirdos with a penchant for nonsensical executions.”

“Ey Ach, got Dio to lend me those mares of his! Time to work that cardio!”

“Now then, getting into the obstacle course, the arrow wall was gettin’ old, so I added a tightrope walk over the volcano and reduced the allotted time to five seconds.”

“Ach? Ach? Ah, damn, again? You’re lucky I trained Asclepius ya wuss.”

The color had already drained from his face entirely. Ignoring the bottle crashing against him, his eyes, wide like saucers, simply stared at Archer as though he were seeing him for the first time. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Get into the cave, Ach. Just like old times.”

A response finally arose from him, but rather than words it manifested in a full-body spasm following the word ‘cave’. His legs started to tremble, and he opened his mouth again.

The following instant, the hero’s figure had once again turned into that of a comet, but this time he ran at full speed from the direction he had come from.

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!”

Oh, had he managed to outrun his own shout this time?

Smashing against and through the wall of the building in his way, the hero made his gallant retreat toward Miyama.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Edge of Shinto Town, in front of Troy

His rage upon seeing those walls again burned strong — enough to conjure the memories of all those he had lost to them, of his dear friend who had been killed by their foremost defender.

There were a lot of bad memories associated with that place, and for a hero who wore his emotions on his sleeve, it was all too easy to become lost in them. Of course, the knee jerk reaction had been to call out the only man he would have thought able to construct them in the modern era, but. . .

”There’s no mud in ya face, Ach.”

His gaze flickered to the man that had addressed him, not surprised by the knowledge of his identity considering what he had done the night prior so much as confused by the familiarity in the tone. Come to think of it. . .

He was rather sure he had never met this man before, but a nagging feeling on the back of his head. . .

He ignored that for the moment, however. What he had said was true — his foot shifted, slightly, but he did not lower his spear.

There was no way he could have gotten this close to Troy if that guy was around, at least not without paying dearly for every inch of ground, having fallen into a couple dozen pitfalls and gotten more rocks to the back of the head than he cared to admit. The walls might have withstood many assaults, but they alone weren’t even half of the defenses that protected the Trojans from their enemies.

That guy had never been ‘someone who decisively won’, but he had been the sort that ‘simply did not lose’. That made him all the more annoying.

Still, he was not here, and that calmed him somewhat. Seeing his figure combined with the walls themselves would have been enough to make him fly into an actual rage.

If the man was to be believed, ‘that woman’ was not here, either — though that did not matter as much. Achilles was one with his fair share of regrets, and he wished to apologize, yes, but. . .

“She doesn’t worry me as much,” He snorted, though there was no humor in the following smirk. “It’s only the one issue with her, but the circumstances are not right to solve it. I have my own duties — so even if she was here, I would kill her again.”

After all, despite all that had occurred between them, she was not someone he had called ‘comrade’, and despite his regrets over an insult, he would not simply lay down and die.

“I’d be a pretty piss-poor Servant otherwise.”

What had prompted him to share those thoughts, he wondered? Usually, mentions of that girl would at best merit a brusque answer, but the odd sense of familiarity persevered — and his curiosity as to the man’s demeanor grew.

Rule twenty-two. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling a memory swim just out of reach. For some reason, a shiver went down his spine.

Well.

That was also curious.

Regardless, for all that was all well and good, it was clear that the great hero if the Trojan war would not be dissuaded from his course of action so easily — those walls needed to be cracked open and shattered. Perhaps it was an inevitable outcome in this war — after all, regardless of how soundly Achilles declared his hatred of ‘fate’, Heroic Spirits were no more and no less than slaves to their own stories.

However, the other Servant was in the way, and clearly not intent in just letting him walk through for whatever reason. He raised his spear just a touch, pointing it his apparent opponent.

“So, just what’ll you do to stop me if I keep at it, then? You know who I am. Speaking of which. . .”

Looking at the man, examining his features just a bit more closely, Achilles could say. . .

“—just who the hell are you?”

@Paradox Witch

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Construction Project ‘Tarantasio’, “Temporary Room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands

“Who can say?” He shrugged, staring out from his spot near the window toward the flattened plains surrounding the site. Between his actions and those of whoever had let that storm loose, they had all but demolished and wiped away everything that once stood in the area. “We were just doing our part to deal with that debacle, Master. If someone else considers us responsible for it and holds Ruler’s declaration as applicable, it is their choice to come and fall.”

Absolute, unshakable confidence in his own victory, just like always. In a way, one supposed it should be expected, considering who Lancer Prime was.

“I expect some will even band together. Last night’s display was not really subtle. . .Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter. If it comes down to it, at least we can win quicker if we crush them all at once.”

His expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered their next move, only listening to that which had entered the room with half a mind at best — he had no words to spare for it, and his Master was the one that was being questioned.

Not to mention, he had never been one for architecture. Ask him to lug things around, he could do it, but he had no interest in their planning for the moment. Certainly, having a camp to return to was important, but at the same time he disliked the idea of just waiting for people to come to him.

The simple truth of the matter was that did not really enjoy defensive tactics — it required patience he did not have, and he preferred to be on the offensive whenever possible. So.

“I figure you can deal with this place on your own for the moment, and if you need me I’m only a step away to begin with,” He grinned at Benita. “So, we can see about those Command Mantra or at least keep them out of the hands of others — whichever seems more appropriate.”

After all, those things were trump cards in this battlefield of heroes, so denying the enemy the possibility of acquiring them was, at least, a sound move. However, he did not have much in the way of leads, so he would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Running around until he found someone to beat up. It brought back memories.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to hold the fort here while I go have some fu— err, scout. Yeah, yeah. . .”

And then, he jumped out and began his dash. His earlier boast of ‘I am only one step away’ might have seemed excessive even for a Lancer, but it was something that held true for him nonetheless — he possessed the divine speed of a hero hailed as ‘the fastest’, so even the greatest obstacles in this place might as well have been pebbles beneath his feet for all they mattered.

So, he set out in a run toward Shinto, any arguments his Master might have had summarily ignored. He had been obedient from the start, but it was time for him to do as he liked for a bit.

Now, then, he needed information. And, if he remembered correctly, he’d been told that information was most readily available in bars.

Perhaps he’d find something interesting in that pub his Master had spent the previous night at. In fact, he was even rather curious about it, considering the name, so his course was set..

The plains, the river, then the intact buildings on the other side, all blurred around him as the swift-footed Lancer sped toward his destination, like a comet.

But then, suddenly.

The comet ground to a complete halt.

Edge of Shinto Town, looking at Pelion’s Pub and. . .

Those walls.

Those walls. Those walls, those walls, those fucking walls.

His teeth were bared in an expression completely divorced from his earlier, cocksure façade. His raptor’s eyes stared at the fortress before him as a surge of absolute loathing shot through his veins. For a single instant, the hero named Achilles was no longer within the confines of this island in the far east — but rather, standing with the sea at his back in the bloodstained sands of those beaches, looking at that same city, with that man standing on the walls, directing the troops.

It bubbled from within him, a fire lit in his chest and spreading throughout his body, spilling forth from his lips as a —

“▂▂▃▃▅▅▅▅ — — ! !”

It could not be called a cry.

It could not be called a scream.

It was a guttural, savage sound no man should make. The howl of a beast that would drive carrion birds away from a battlefield full of corpses, the roar that would crush the spirits of lesser men and make even the most elite of armies falter and tremble with fear.

The rage-filled snarl of Achilles as he once again witnessed those walls. There was no trying to make sense of it — but at the same time, his thoughts about the situation should be obvious.

There was a lull of silence after that — perhaps the calm following an unforgiving storm. If animals had been nearby before, they all had surely fled or been terrified into silence. However, it was not to last, for he broke it moments after.

This time, however, it was not a roar that spilled forth from his throat, but rather, a word.

A name.

And, in spite of that, the sound was perhaps even more terrible than that which had come prior as the greatest hero of the Trojan War spat it out.

“HECTOR!”

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Basin, Miyama

He laughed as he continued his descent. Uncaring about whether his declaration had been heeded or not.

It would be a shame, certainly — as far as it concerned something of the nature of this War, to have heroes snuffed out before they could even have a chance to prove their mettle or exchange names would be tragic, but this was simply the way things had turned out.

However, there was something that caught his attention at the edge of his vision.

A young man, engaged in battle, fighting against. . .

Fighting against. . .

No. There was no way that was right, there was absolutely no way that was possible, but at the same time, he had heard tales, from his teacher, his mother and father, about that demigod that possessed a body without peer, that man who could be called ‘the greatest hero of them all’.

That frame, that body, that skill and the power behind each blow. He fit them perfectly, and he realized then just who he was seeing —

Right before the young man decked him hard enough that he seemingly knocked the wind out of Hercules himself for a second.

Speechless, his attention was split between the fires down below and the fight to the side. A smile split his face once again, and he decided he had to get there as soon as possible after dealing with the task he had been given.

After all, one was the man he had always wished to meet, the other was someone that could match him. His blood felt like it was boiling.

And so, the sea of flames rose up to meet the falling world—

”What?!”

He thought it would be a simple matter, but it proved anything but. Not only did it push back, he could feel actual struggle against the advance of his own Noble Phantasm. His expectations shattered in the face of something so ridiculous, eyes widening and prideful smile slipping away.

To begin with, to stand before his shield was to stand against the world — even if the fire had absorbed curses, even if it had grown stronger from all those it had claimed already, it should not be able to resist the advance as it was crushed underneath, but his eyes did not trick him.

Somehow, this fire had gained the same characteristics as what sought to oppose it, but. . .

No, the how, the why, that was not important at the moment. What mattered were his orders, and his own desire regarding this matter. He had said it before, hadn’t he?

A hero is also someone who saves, and the nature of these flames only made them more terrifying — stopping their spread had only become an even greater priority if this was what they were able to do mere hours after their inception. Therefore, to save those that still resided in this city from the inferno, he. . .

“Don’t think that’s all there is to me, either!” He roared out. Almost as if seeking to push it down himself, his shield came up once more before crashing downward again — once, ten times, a hundred times, so fast that his arms might as well have been a blur.

He could not fail. He would not fail. Not when that man was that close. He could not afford to —!

This was not simply a matter of crushing it anymore, this had become an all-out clash between a microcosm and another. For a single instant that seemed to stretch into eternity, they pushed against one another, the flames tainted by curses pushing against the world that had been engraved with Achilles’ own life.

And, in the end, there was one victor.

The flames gave out, and the meteor continued its descent, the ground below cracking.

The structures built by the hands of men were obliterated as a matter of course, blown away like they had never existed in the first place — it looked as though no trace would be left that anyone had ever lived there, and anyone that had not evacuated in time had likely been ground to dust as well — if they had even managed to survive the flames in the first place.

Miyama — or rather, this part of it — had absolutely stopped existing as a town, the land left in great disorder. As he accomplished what he had set out to do and the ‘world’ he had called forth vanished, Achilles looked around and witnessed the damages first-hand.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

“Ahahaha. . .I guess I might have overdone it?” Standing at the center of the newly-formed basin, he seemed to grow self-conscious at the strangest time. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it and using his shield as a makeshift mirror, looking himself over.

“I gotta make a good first impression. . .no wait, I already dropped that on them, first impression plan did not go great,” He muttered to himself, “So I’ll apologize formally, invite them to drinks. . .hold off on asking for a fight, too, I need to smooth this out first.”

He held the shield out in front of him, considering, before a glimmer in the reflection caught his eye. Tensing, he turned his head and watched the glow of flames in the distance.

The fire, it seemed, had not been completely put out.

“. . .Oh, come on!” He raged. “I interrupt his fight and I can’t even put it out completely?” The indignation seeped away, giving way to despair as he came to another realization.

“He. . .He will never sign my shield now. . .”

. . .Well, nobody ever said heroes can't be fanboys themselves, as well.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Middle of Town, Shinto Town

The Heroic Spirit of the spear looked at the burning district across the river, the weapon that granted him his title slung across his shoulders. A careless laugh escaped him as he received the orders from his Master.

“You’re even blowing one of those things on this? Are you sure that is wise? Although it’s not like I dislike that sort of thing.” He mock-chastised the hasty decision made in a drunken stupor with a smile, then immediately retracted it. Whether it had been a decision made with cold logic or a snap-judgement in the heat of the moment, Lancer Prime was a hero that would respect it.

There was a saying about alcohol bringing the truth out of people. His Master would not have done this if she was not concerned with the safety of those that would be caught by the flames, and he would answer that request without hesitation.

After all, even if he was the hero of the rushed life, even if his tale was one of violence, he was still a hero in the end.

And a ‘hero’ is also ‘someone who saves’. Therefore. . .

The spear vanished, he would have no use for it now. So thinking, he took a few steps back and materialized something else in its stead.

A shield coalesced, firmly grasped in his left hand. Visually speaking, it seemed to be an ordinary piece — solid and excellently made, to be certain, but lacking any sort of adornments or signs that it was a hero’s tool beside that craftsmanship.

Just a simple, round shield, an antique that seemed plain when compared to his radiant armor.

However, it was still one of the ‘treasures’ that Lancer Prime could confidently call nigh unmatched in the entire world, and one he held dear to his heart.

Crouching as if to begin a run, empowered by the Command Mantra his Master had used, he smiled.

“Hope there’s not too many heroes in there,” His muscles tensed. “It’d be pretty lame if they died before we could even exchange names properly wouldn’t it?”

Then, he exploded into motion, running forward full speed like a shooting star, people and buildings blurring around him. In an instant, he was already at the edge of Mion river, continuing his path atop the water without even a second of hesitation, too swift to be sunk here.

It was only natural. Backed by a Command Mantra, this was the sort of divine speed that could be achieved by the hero who was extolled as ‘the fastest, no matter the era’, moving like lightning across the battlefield, crossing the distance in but a breath. In the eternity between heartbeats, he had already reached his destination, the edge of the spreading flames just another step away.

But instead of plunging headfirst into the fire, Lancer Prime jumped above it, as high as he could with the momentum he had built combined with the strength of his legs. It was not true ‘flight’, but it was as close as it would get.

Sky Above Foreigner’s District, Miyama

Gravity asserted its hold over him then, and he dived headfirst into the inferno below. Everything seemed so small he could not help but laugh — the exhilaration had lit a fire in his veins.

It was only natural, he supposed. After all, had he not boasted that his life was that of a falling star?

He lifted his shield up and then he brought it downwards as if to smash an imaginary opponent, proudly declaring the name of the Noble Phantasm Achilles would, with no hesitation, call ‘the strongest trump card’.

_{The Miniature World Enclosed by the Azure Sky}
“Akhilleus Kosmos!”

The effect was, thus, activated.

Akhilleus Kosmos — the shield of Achilles, described with a hundred lines in Homer’s Iliad. A Divine Construct crafted by Hephaestus said to have been engraved with the world.

A Barrier-type Noble Phantasm that ‘deployed a Bounded Field’. The nature of that field could be guessed only with the treasure’s title.

Cities, beaches, rivers and mountains, the sky surrounding them. People, both ordinary, faceless masses and ‘those that had been engraved in the hero’s heart’. The places where he spent his childhood, the battlefields where he became a man, a thousand ships sailing the currents and a great city that stood before them, all those memories and more had been crammed into it to give life.

Akhilleus Kosmos — a Noble Phantasm engraved with ‘Achilles’ world’. The reality as he knew and understood it, with all the good and the bad, in all its beauty and ugliness, colored and seen through the lens of the great sprinter that distinguished himself on the battlefields of the Trojan War.

As far as ‘defense-type Noble Phantasms’ were concerned, it was certainly in a class of its own with only a handful of treasures equaling it, and only the tool of a certain king that could be called one of the summits definitely surpassing it.

An absolute barrier that protected the wielder from all harm — the masterwork of Greece’s premier blacksmith that employed the ‘world itself’ as defense.

. . .However, that was not what he was using it for. There were no ‘attacks’ coming his way, so using it like that was pointless to begin with.

But whoever said that ‘shields can only be used to defend’ anyway? If you asked the man himself, he would have you know that bashing an enemy’s face in was a valid use, and he applied the same principle to this gift.

Therefore, falling from the sky above Miyama at breakneck speed like a meteor was. . .

A ‘world’.

Laughing, Achilles rushed to meet the earth below, and his Noble Phantasm dutifully followed.

”Small fry, get out of the way if you appreciate your lives!” He declared with an inordinate amount of pride. “And any who remain, be crushed or rise above it, this is the time to prove your brilliance as heroes!”

”Only real warriors have any right to stand here!”

[@Miyama dudes]