Franz Burine Plaza --> Subway SystemCaster stood on the edge of the building, gazing down into the lobby. His eyes focused briefly on each part of the scenario. First, there was a palace right there in plain view. That told him Rider's identity. It wasn't hard to figure out she was Russian Nobility, but which one would be a matter of order of elimination. Berserker's identity, that was simple enough. After all, his noble phantasm certainly stood out, and so did his sheer regenerative ability. That was two servants with their identities out in plain view. Next he identified Berserker's arm. It laid on the ground, occasionally twitching. He knew he needed to get that limb.
The attacks from above didn't cease, as it was clear he had become some kind of target for Berserker. The magical flare of a command seal made that more obvious. The winds that whipped up around him were a steady defense, at least at first. Notably one or two more of those swords and shields came closer than the last, as he noticed the narrowing range of the attack. Directed now at the rooftop. His remaining archers had already left the rooftop, clearly trying to get out of range as Manco focused on his next plan. To do that... He needed the Sixth level. An advanced form of consciousness. The ability to plan and focus on not only what was in front of him, but to set in motion the events to protect the future. He said the words...
"Ikaro" Once more. Winds exploded, directed right at the swords being fired down upon him. Swords were sent flying backwards, colliding and scattering them once more. A moment's peace as Berserker's second attack was already coming his way. That club. The Sixth level noticed this too.
He leapt, diagonally of course. The force of that club slammed past him, tearing through the wall of wind he called a defense. Thankfully, both his movement and the wind were enough to force the club just slightly off course. But the force of it's passing was more than enough to knock Caster about. The force knocking him as an arrow pierced the air where he had stood less than a millisecond earlier. The force sent him flying. Crashing with no grace to the plaza below. A gash of an arrow slicing into his flesh, bleeding. He landed in the snow, leaving a scarlet splattering as he stood. It wasn't fatal. He had the means to heal it. Thankfully though, he was no longer in Berserker's focus. Those swords and shields probably now slamming down onto the remains of where he had stood.
Where he had stood... There was now only death. If Berserker's focused attack had pulverized the roof, the power of Archer's arrow had torn through the structure, and destroyed countless lives in the process. The entire top half had ceased to exist. How many lives died in that moment? Caster ignored it, but the Sixth Level, the computing power of a king was crunching the numbers. No doubt it had at that moment been in the middle of being evacuated. Human life... Lost. Now, his heart was bleeding. Metaphorically of course. But it was full of anger. An anger at a man who treated life as unwanted. Numbers.
"Archer... You die for that." He said, turning his attention to his remaining soldier.
"We're leaving." He explained, picking up Berserker's arm and throwing it over his shoulder. The massive crystal palace hide him and most of the others from Archer's gaze, the benefit of buildings. A hand pressed against the floor, and the stone cracked under his will. Torn to shreds and breaching into the subway system that lay below the plaza. He briefly noted that whatever of his familiars remained were being shot at. A mental note caused them to remain there. He could make more later, but keeping them there kept the illusion that he had remained.
"Assassin, if you would kindly stop shooting my familiars, you might find that the subway system is currently under no such pressure." He shouted out, directing this to the lone gunwoman.
_____________________________________________________________________________
@King Cosmos@EpsirLeaping down through the hole he had made, he got to work. Throwing Berserker's arm to the floor, he raised out his hand. Tapac-yauri, the golden staff, appeared in his hand. He had to act fast, and while he would have preferred to take more time, he had to work quickly. He raised that golden staff up, and then stabbed it downward. The base of the staff was almost like a spear, sinking into the flesh. It didn't matter if it was a weak thrust, it only mattered that it was a divine weapon, wielded by a divinity. Much like Odin and Gungnir.
"I take on the role of Odin. Harald Wartooth, I am the divine being who comes at the end of your life's story. I strike your flesh with divine punishment, and declare that you have earned your worthy death." Manco said, reciting a divine curse upon a man who had died at a god's hands. His magical energy surged, and the curse was released. Naturally, there are always means to counter a curse. Berserker though might not possess such means. With this curse though, he pointed Berserker's compass of life, towards death. Like how the wheel of life turns, or something of that language. It could be described best as a saw, grinding away at the nature of Berserker's healing. His unwounded nature. He was now wounded, by a god.
"I hope your master suffers for what they did to you."With the curse cast, the shadow of the arm began to vanish. Burning away into nothing, and leaving the discarded limb. The shadow of the arm raced back to the Berserker, eager to rejoin its spiritual host and to carry the taint of its curse home with it.
Behind him, his lone bodyguard watched, protecting his master. Assassin would probably arrive at this point, since she was unlikely to be a fool.
"Assassin, I have no interest in chasing after you, so pick a direction and I shall go the opposite. But, if you are invested in your plans to kill Otto von Habsburg, I propose an alliance." 