Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her sense of smell was the first to come in, as she took her first breath in over five hundred years. She kept her eyes closed, savouring the taste. Sweet, so sweet, she'd almost forgotten just how good the air could smell. Was this how it had been, before?

It couldn't last, and the stolen air rushed out in a soft sigh. When she breathed in again, eager to taste unsullied air again, it was too late. A tinge of acid, a sour chemical tang that was all too familiar. She sighed. It wasn't like she wasn't used to the taste of the tainted air she breathed out. Still, it was almost worth being summoned just so she could pretend she was only a girl again. If only for a moment.

Touch was next, as she felt cold smooth stone against her bare feet. She knelt anyway, lowering her head. Having never been summoned before, she didn't really know the correct rituals and protocols, but the closest thing to a Master was probably a client, and so she would show the proper deference. Opening her eyes – not that her Master would be able to tell, under the skull mask she wore as both identity concealment and badge of office – she risked a look around.

A church – or perhaps a chapel? She wouldn't know, naturally, although she had been tasked to kill more than one priest or bishop or cardinal visiting their 'holy land'. It didn't matter. Even if her Master didn't share her faith, they were still her Master. She peeked up, head still bowed, and looked at him.

Or them, rather.

Two people stood before her. One was a woman, with pale, pale skin, silver-white hair and red eyes. Not human, she saw. Not many would have noticed, but she had had to kill so many creatures that played at being human that the signs were obvious to her. A certain perfection of form, perhaps, that spoke of craft rather than the true creations of God. And the other…

A killer. Plain to see, for those who knew how. It was the eyes, dull and impassive as they may have seemed, that gave it away first. She saw how they roved over her form, and not in the way that most men's did. Face, then hips, then most of the way back up, yes, and she saw the minute widening of eyes, but it wasn't the lust she usually inspired and expected. This killer looked to her eyes for a first indication of killing intent, then to where her knives were kept. Then, rather than her chest – not that she was especially impressive in that area anyway – he watched her shoulders, in case she should suddenly attack.

And then he blinked, and simply regarded her impassively once more. She nodded. Yes. He would do.

She'd looked him over in almost exactly the same way, of course. The woman too. The woman was unarmed, but the killer had something hidden in the folds of his black outer garment (an overcoat, whispered the Grail in her mind), that from the size and shape was probably a modern firearm. There was also a knife strapped to his calf just above his right boot, and the rest of the pack of cigarettes was in the left breast pocket of his shirt.

It wasn't that she considered him a threat, or had any intention of poisoning his cigarettes. It was just that she couldn't help herself from noticing. She had been trained far, far too well to ever just see people as people and not threats or targets.

The killer raised his hand, showing his Command Spells, and she spoke for the first time – the oath she gave every client.

"Everything, everything, everything as you would will it. I will offer all of myself to you. This body, this heart, all of it…"

That done, she awaited her Master's reply.

"Your name and Class?" he asked.

"I am Hassan-i-Sabbah, your Assassin, Master."

Her Master nodded, as though he expected such a reply. "The Old Man of the Mountain, head of the order that gave their name to the word assassin. I suppose the legends have distorted with time. You are neither old nor a man."

"You are currently on a mountain though," said the woman behind him. When he turned to look at her, she grumbled, "Just saying."

"All the heads of the order, no matter their name before they were chosen, became Hassan-i-Sabbah," said Assassin. "Though, I do not remember what my name was… if you call me Hassan, I will be pleased to answer. It makes no difference."

"Well, we can't just go around calling you Hassan," said the woman in white with a pout. "That's not cute at all! Wasn't there anything else you were called?"

Assassin frowned, behind the skull mask. Whether or not her name was cute or not had literally never entered her head. She glanced at her Master, but he said nothing. Well, if he didn't disagree, she had no reason to disobey this woman, clearly an associate of her Master.

"When I was confirmed as the head of the order, and first took the name of Hassan-i-Sabbah, I was given a title to separate me from the previous head. He was Hassan of the Dreadful Wild, for his skill with beasts; I was Hassan of the Serenity, for mine with poison."

"Serenity…" said the woman. "What do you think, Kiritsugu?"

Her Master – Kiritsugu – gave a barely-noticeable shrug. "I had planned to simply call you Assassin, unless you have any objections." Assassin shook her head. "Then, do you object to Iri calling you Serenity? I doubt I can stop her, but if you really don't like it…"

Assassin shook her head again. "It makes no difference. Hassan or Serenity, I am still your Servant Assassin. I am yours to do with as you will – what you call me is a small thing next to this." There was no need for any attachment to a name that was never hers, after all.

Kiritsugu nodded, but the woman – Iri – groaned. "Ugh, you're both hopeless. I knew she was going to be like you, but I didn't think she'd share your boring pragmatism too. Kiri, I'm taking care of her. If I have anything to say about it, she won't turn out like you and be so dour all the time. We're fighting to save the world, for goodness' sake!"

There was just a twitch of a smile on Kiritsugu's face. "You realise that she's already dead? She can't 'turn out' any different from me, because her story was already completed centuries ago."

"Shh, you! I'm not listening to any more of your nonsense. Serenity, dear, come with me and we'll see if we can find you something a bit more cheerful than those dreary things you've got on to wear…" Iri made to take Assassin's hand – only to recoil when Assassin flinched backwards to avoid it, scooting backwards until she was a safe distance from her Master's partner.

Iri kept her hand out a moment, then dropped it down by her side, looking concerned. "Oh – did I scare you, Serenity? I'm sorry-"

"No!" said Assassin. "It is I who should be sorry. Master, Iri, it is important that you never, ever touch me. To do so is death, certain as sunrise." She drew her knees up against her chest. "Everyone who touches me dies. Even my breath will kill eventually. For your own safety, Master, Iri, please…" she forced herself to say it, "please stay away."

Illysaviel von Einzbern was in a huff.

These days, everyone seemed to be busy with something, and didn't have any time to play with her. Even Papa! When she'd asked what was so important that even the homc… the homuc… that even the maids were brushing her off, Papa had just got that uncomfortable expression he always got when she asked him about his work, and told her the news; that he'd be going away soon, along with Mama.

"But why?" Illya had whined.

"It's important, Illya. There's a lot of people who need help, and if your mama and I work very hard, we can save all of them. But we can't do it here, so we're going to have to leave. Just for a little while."

Illya pouted. Not because she was actually sulking – she was eight, not five – but because she'd worked out that whenever she did all the grownups, even Papa, were a lot more likely to let her have her way. She'd perfected it through years of trial and error, until the castle maids were basically putty in her hands.

It was technically lying, but it was with your face not your voice so it didn't really count, and it made it so much easier to get what you were after. (Illya took after her father much more than her mother, in almost everything but looks.)

"Can I come with you?" she pleaded. "I'll be really good…"

"No." And that was that. There was no arguing with Papa when he made that face, the one that was all hard and cold and scary.

On the off chance it might help, she'd gone to Mama as well, but didn't really expect it to work – despite how he looked, Papa was the soft touch most of the time. And, sure enough, Mama had just pulled Illya into a hug and told her to be good for Grandfather Acht while they were away.

Illya had agreed, obviously. It wasn't like she was planning to be bad for Grandfather, that was just stupid and the funny man from the Magus Association had gone home in pieces when he'd made Grandfather angry.

(Literally, in pieces. Still alive pieces, delivered one by one over the course of months. His head had gone last, and Illya had had great fun taking it on tours of the castle, especially once the lungs were disconnected and it stopped making that annoying wheezy screamy noise. Illya had sulked for days when the maids had gently but firmly pulled Prince Headward out of her hands and finally sent him home.)

Anyway, of course she wasn't going to make trouble for Grandfather, because she didn't plan to be in the castle at all. Papa leaving was bad enough, but he did that all the time and Illya had gotten used to it. Taking Mama, though? She'd be left with just the maids to play with, and they were boring. No, Illya was going, whether her parents liked it or not.

It wasn't quite true to say that Illya had never been out of the castle, but certainly she'd never been out of its sight. Still, going with her parents shouldn't be all that hard. Papa always took these big bags with him, and she knew they weren't the ones he packed his clothes in because he always made a game with her out of deciding what to wear on his trips. So they couldn't be anything really important.

Illya would sneak into Papa's room while he was out (she'd seen him talking very seriously with Mama in the study while looking at all kinds of boring-looking papers with little photos of people clipped on, and they looked like they'd take a while), and pack a bunch of her stuff into the bags. Then she'd hide in there just before her parents left, and by the time they realised she'd come along they'd probably be halfway there already.

Maybe she should take some snacks and books too, because Illya wasn't sure how far away this Fuyuki place really was. It could be a whole hour away.

The door to her parents' room wasn't locked – who would steal anything out here in this castle? – but Illya still felt like she was trespassing when she stepped in with a small bag of clothes and other travel stuff. There was a cold, creepy feeling in the room that she'd never felt before, even though the sun was shining brightly through the window.

Illya shook it off and marched in anyway. No-one was there, the room was deserted. It wasn't the time for the maids to clean, and they knew better than to wander in. No-one was watching her. Now, where would Papa put his other bags…

She found them under the bed – with how large it was, there was plenty of space. Grinning in triumph, she crawled underneath and started to drag the bags out so she could hide her stuff properly.

The bed creaked. Illya jumped, and darted out from under the bed and looked around. There was still no-one there. Eyeing the bed suspiciously, as though it was deliberately playing a trick on her, she retrieved the bags, and unzipped them.

When she saw what was inside, she huffed in frustration. The bags Papa always took with him were filled with guns. No fair – she wasn't allowed to touch Papa's guns, that was the one thing he'd ever ever shouted at her for.

So she needed some way of hiding herself and her things in the bag without touching the guns. Maybe there was some kind of pulley system she could rig using the bedsheets....

"You… should be elsewhere, child…"

llya shrieked and spun on the spot at the unexpected voice behind her. Her feet caught on the bag and she tripped, landing on her butt and facing the bed. Crouched on one corner like a spider was a grown-up, a woman with dark skin wearing a tight dark costume and a mask shaped like a skull. Illya scooted backwards until her back hit the wall, staring. The woman had definitely, definitely not been in the room five seconds ago.

"Ah, child… Illyasviel, yes?" said the woman. "Illyasviel, I am sorry for startling you. I work for your father."

Oh. Well, that did explain it. Papa did mention he occasionally worked with people.

(Illya liked to think of herself as pragmatic and cynical. However, it was hard to get good at being sceptical and spotting lies when you lived in a castle full of people who had no reason to lie to you. In fact, the only person who deceived Illyasviel regularly was her father, and then only in ways like going outside during a game of hide and seek and explaining afterward that they'd never agreed that it was out of bounds – despite Illya being forbidden to go outside without permission. So Illya was quite gullible, even for an eight-year-old.)

"Are you Auntie Maiya?" asked Illya. "That's the only person I know who works with Papa but she's never visited, because she and Mama don't get on."

"No. I am not Hisau Maiya. I am the Servant Assassin. You may call me Serenity."

"A Servant!" Illya's eyes shone, all previous fear forgotten. All Einzberns knew about Servants, of course. In many ways, the entire family was geared towards the summoning and use of Servants in the Holy Grail War. Seeing one in the flesh – well, spirit-flesh – was like seeing your life's work and also a superhero and a princess all at the same time. Then Illya made the connection. "The Grail War? That's what Papa's up to? Geez, he could have just said…" She crossed her arms, pouted (for real this time), and glared at the floor.

The Servant – Serenity – tilted her head. "Have I upset you? I am sorry…"

"No, it's not you – well, you made me fall over, and that hurt, but I'm not cross about that. It's because I definitely can't go with Papa and Mama now. I want to but… I get it. It's too dangerous." She lifted her head. "I'm hardly going to see them before they go, there's too much to do, and Mama won't be coming back, and Papa might- Papa might…" She sniffed, and hated herself for it.

Serenity paused, then lifted her hands to her mask and slowly removed it. Her eyes were huge and dark underneath, and full of concern for her Master's child. "Illyasviel, I will do my best to make sure your father is safe. While I am alive, none shall approach him without my knowing."

Illya smiled, eyes watery. "You'll keep him safe? Promise?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear?"

Serenity frowned in confusion. "Pinky… swear?"

"Yeah!" Illya got up and crossed to in front of the Servant. "When you make a promise, and you link you pinkies, it's sealed for life. It's like a Geas, but it doesn't need any magic. Pinky swear you'll keep Papa safe." She reached for Serenity's hand, to show her, but the Servant pulled away, folding her hands under her armpits.

"That… would not be wise. But I can offer my oath, and my word. I will protect your father's life as though it were my own – as though it were more than my own. I promise, you will see your father again, Illyasviel."

Illya frowned sceptically. "I don't know. If it's not a pinky swear, I don't know if I can trust it. Let's see, let's see… oh! You're Assassin, right? That means you kill for money?"

"I worry about why you know that… but yes."

"Then…" Illya fumbled in her pockets, and eventually came up with a fistful of grubby change. "I'm hiring you! I know it's probably not a lot but… two Deutsche Marks, to kill everyone that's trying to hurt Papa?"

Serenity was still for a moment, mouth open in surprise. "Life and death are important things, Illyasviel, and not so cheap as that… but then, I have never taken a contract to protect another. Very well. The bargain is struck. Your father's life preserved, for two Marks." Serenity bowed her head. "I have never once broken a contract, lady Einzbern. I shall not start now."

Illya nodded in satisfaction. "Okay. Okay. If I can't go, you'll have to go in my place. Papa's very good at what he does, but he can't be all careful all the time." She drew herself up, and tried her best to sound regal, and impressive – like Grandfather when he addressed the family. "Watch him, protect him. You made a promise, we made a deal!"

At that, Serenity's lips twitched in a tiny, tiny smile.

Chapter Text

Serenity crouched in a tree. Even barefoot, even balancing on her toes to maintain footing on the tiny branch, she was steady as a rock. Below her, her target searched, oblivious.

People rarely looked up – especially not directly up. At most, they might scan the canopy every so often, then return to looking at head height and sometimes ground level. Craning your neck all the way up was awkward and uncomfortable, so people just didn't do it.

Serenity would have struck by now, but the location wasn't right. Still, it wasn't hard to make someone move the way you wanted, if you knew how.

She threw one of her double-sided white knives, almost invisible against the backdrop of snowy forest. It landed with a soft crunch in a snowdrift, about fifty feet behind the target, who whirled and squinted as through trying to catch a glimpse of motion. With a glance back behind her, the target set off, carefully checking behind every tree.

Serenity followed above, sure-footed as a squirrel and utterly silent. Her target stopped, and so did Serenity, showing no discomfort as her bare feet landed on a snow-covered branch, as thick as her wrist. She looked around at where they had ended up. Yes, this would do.

She reached down and gave a branch a violent shake, sending snow plummeting down like a miniature avalanche. It all fell directly onto her target, who squealed in outrage.

"Aah! Serenity, you meanie, that went down my back!"

Illya shook out her dress in a frantic attempt to get the snow out before it all melted, and glared at Serenity, who landed in front of her so lightly she barely left a footprint.

"My apologies," she said.

"I really thought I had you that time. I definitely heard you behind me!"

"I am an assassin raised to the Throne of Heroes. If you can hear anything at all from me, you should probably assume it is a trick."

Illya huffed, and Serenity smiled.

She and her Master, and Iri, wouldn't be staying in the Einzbern castle all that long – her own summoning was pretty much the end of the preparations, and it was judged that Kiritsugu would perform better if he spent more time in the battleground beforehand, the inherent risk this presented being significantly mitigated by the presence of Assassin. So, they were there for pretty much exactly as long as it took to conduct final mission preparations: transport to Fuyuki, transfer of essential resources, sending initial reconnaissance teams in to make sure the Tohsakas hadn't cooked up some nasty surprises for visiting magi over the last sixty years, that sort of thing.

Soon, they would be leaving. Serenity was still sceptical that this aeroplane could really get the three of them to Japan in a matter of hours, but she was looking forward to seeing it, and seeing Japan, too. She'd travelled far and wide in life – for someone of her era, that was. Her Master had asked her to name all the places she had visited, to get a sense of the different environments she could operate in, and had pointed them out in an atlas. The scale of the world, and the tiny part of it that had made up her whole life, had left her feeling small and humble.

Serenity had spent most of her time winning snowball fights against Illya. Somehow, Illya managed to be just as excited by the prospect of playing in the snow as Serenity was, despite having lived in it all her life and Serenity having never seen snow before. As someone who was, by necessity, quite good at reading people, Serenity thought that Illya must be incredibly lonely shut up in this castle. None of the true Einzbern children really associated with her, and while the homunculi were nice enough they all had jobs to do and none of them were really children even if they were younger than Illya. Very probably, Serenity was the first person outside of her parents to really pay attention to the girl.

These matches weren't – quite – as uneven as they sounded, because Serenity couldn't directly hit Illya with a snowball. There was every possibility a little of her sweat could sink into the snow and then hit Illya, and even such a tiny amount could prove fatal, especially to someone as small as Illya.

But it was still a match between a Servant and a human child, and Serenity was very good at improvising. Shaking branches above Illya's head, kicking up great flurries by moving at speed… once she stole Illya's scarf and used it as a giant sling.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd played around like this. She was younger than Illya was, certainly. Ever since she'd been taken by the Order, there had been no time for frivolity, only study, prayer, and training. And ever since she achieved her poison body, she was left unable to play normally with others even if she'd wanted to.

The War wasn't all going to be like this, of course. Sooner or later, the killing would start. But this… it was a reminder of what she was fighting for. The chance to, once again, live and laugh and love like a normal girl.

The rest of the time was spent in conversation with her Master. He wanted to know everything about her – or rather, about what she could do. Could she harm Servants with her poison? How much was necessary to kill a normal human? Could it linger on objects? What were the effects when administered by contact, by ingestion, by injection, by application on a wound? Besides her poison, what else could Serenity do?

Her Master had access to information on all her parameters and skills, but he wanted to see them anyway. Serenity obeyed, without complaint. It made sense to her. She was just another of her Master's weapons – it was only natural he should know everything about it and how it worked. She saw the careful way he maintained his gun and his knives, and noted that it wasn't done out of love or sentimentality, but simple pragmatism. She approved, and did everything Kiritsugu asked.

The day came, quicker than seemed possible. Despite her promise to be good, Illya threw a tantrum on the day her parents left, and Serenity's last sight of her was the tiny homunculus screaming and crying while hanging half out her parents window, while a harried-looking maid held on to her to stop her from following.

Then they were away – Serenity, her Master, and Iri, who drove to a small airport and then on to the Einzbern private jet. Serenity could have followed the car in spirit form, but could hardly have kept up with an aeroplane, and in any case all of the aircrew were owned or employed by the Einzberns and knew better than to talk; so Serenity spent the trip materialised, and enjoying the journey. When the plane took off, she was all but glued to the window, and gasped to see the land fall away – higher than the tallest tower, higher than the mountains, she'd never seen such wonders in all her life.

But she thought that behaving like some simple peasant girl would hardly give her Master faith in her, so she restrained her excitement and instead settled down to sleep for the long journey to Japan.

Eventually, she was woken – not by a shake, of course, but by her Master's curt voice in her mind. When they landed, Serenity was already in spirit form. Iri would proceed to the castle, there to meet up with the staff that had been sent ahead to prepare it and make it liveable after sixty years of minimal maintenance. Kiritsugu would be meeting with his associate, Hisau Maiya, to retrieve the weapons he'd left with her in a secure location. Serenity, naturally, would accompany him.

For this part of the journey, and from this point on, Serenity was not to be seen in public. This was a warzone, and there was no point giving out information you didn't have to. Even the fact that the Einzbern Servant was an Assassin was priceless information to the right person at the right time, even without knowing exactly who it was. So, while Kiritsugu's hired car weaved through the streets of Fuyuki, Serenity followed above, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, visible only to those with the mystic sight and then only as a fleeting shadow.

When her Master arrived at the hotel, Serenity was already there. As a ghost, she drifted in to the room her Master had indicated, and settled into a dark corner. The woman inside noticed nothing, instead continuing to check and recheck the weapons which covered the bed.

There were bullets, and knives, and various cheap handguns like the one Kiritsugu had had with him back in Germany. But three were given pride of place, obviously special – and while the Grail did not go so far as to give Serenity the exact specifications of each, it did give her a general idea of why. The first was designed to be held in one hand, and would spit a rapid stream of bullets. The second was huge, almost as tall as Serenity herself, and would fire single shots with high power and great precision. Both of these were impressive enough – although Serenity could almost match the firing rate of the smaller and the accuracy and power of the larger using her thrown daggers.

The last, however, was rather more special. Older and better cared-for, with the marks and wear that showed years of hard use. Just by looking at it, Serenity could tell it would fit in her Master's hand like it had grown there. This would be the Thompson Contender, then – the tool through which her Master fired his signature Origin Bullets and his greatest weapon. Besides her.

Kiritsugu must have had a lot of trust in this Hisau Maiya, to have left such a weapon in her care.

Serenity waited for her Master – as did Maiya, judging from the impatient glances she kept throwing at the door, and the way she kept on looking out the window. Even so, it was Serenity that noticed him coming first. The tread of his shoes, the rhythm of his steps, the soft rustle of his coat – Serenity had a good ear for this kind of thing. Identifying a target with senses other than sight was an essential skill for the Order, after all, though Serenity was usually in plain view when she killed anyway.

Thus, she wasn't surprised when Kiritsugu entered the cheap hotel room without fanfare, and was instead watching Maiya. The woman's cold and expressionless face lit up for an instant, with a smile of delight – before she reined it in and looked detached once more. To Serenity, though, it was obvious. Love, or something close enough to pass for it. Or else, a kind of dependency that at least did the trick.

Kiritsugu had seemed comfortable with ordering the Servant Assassin around, as if it was natural, without shame or awkwardness. This was good, and was one of the reasons why the partnership between the two was as frictionless as it was, but Serenity had never realised that it wasn't actually all that natural. Now she understood. She wasn't the first girl to regard Emiya Kiritsugu as her Master.

Her Master greeted Maiya with a kiss on the lips. Maiya closed her eyes in bliss, but to Serenity it was clear that Kiritsugu was just going through the motions. As someone who'd kissed hundreds of men she did not love, Serenity was very familiar with what that expression looked like. It bothered her. Being used as a tool was something she, Serenity, was used to – as a member of the order, and now as a Servant – but Maiya was head over heels for a man who could only see her as a pawn.

She thought of Iri, too, even now busy preparing a home for Kiritsugu to come back to… but let it go. It wasn't any of her business. No, in fact this rational, methodical, cold approach would work wonders for them in the war, and fit in seamlessly with her own methods. It would almost certainly increase her chances of acquiring the Grail and achieving her wish.

It still bothered her. But only a little. Not even as much as, say, taking a human life.

Still, she would have to make an effort to be nicer to Maiya. With luck, she wouldn't have to keep on living the life that Serenity had. One girl lost to a life of death and shadows was more than enough for one team.

… she should probably wait to show herself, though, because Maiya might just have a heart attack if she realised she and Kiritsugu weren't alone right now. Feeling vaguely voyeuristic, Serenity settled back into the shadows.

So, it turned out demon summoning was easier than people thought. Who knew?

Okay, there was actually a fair bit of work involved. First, you had to discover an old book in your parents' house, that actually had the ritual in it in the first place. Then, get bored enough to actually decide to try it out. Then you had to actually learn the design of the summoning circle, and practice drawing it in blood too, because blood didn't run like ink or paint did and you had to work quite quickly to prevent clotting or stuff like that.

And then the book said it needed to be the right blood, unless you could do magic in the first place. If you weren't already a wizard, then you needed to find a wizard and use his blood instead, because it would have the 'residual Od, which the aspiring Form Magus might Transfigure into the true Mana by means of the Alchemy of Soul, using the improvised Formalcraft diagram as described in Chapter Seventeen'.

It was a testament to just how bored Uryuu Ryuunosuke was with his life that he'd bothered to hack through that dusty old piece of crap, and bothered to do all the practice, just for the possibility of summoning a demon. Just on the off-chance magic was actually real.

If it was all a hoax, just a bunch of old farts playing make believe, then he'd be stuck with an awkward clean-up and would laugh about it later. (To himself, obviously.)

If it was real…

…well, hopefully he wouldn't get fried by a fireball or something when he tried to go after a wizard's blood. But, discounting that, if he managed to summon a proper demon – man, just how cool would that be?

And that was why he was here, in this house, draining the blood from two people and their teenaged daughter. Apparently they were magical, according to rumours around the neighbourhood anyway. They hadn't hit him with a fireball, although to be fair Ryuunosuke had kind of cheated by breaking into the house while the family was asleep and injecting them with quick-acting sedative where they lay. (No sense in wasting blood.)

The circle was drawn. (Again. Ryuunosuke had gone through quite a few murders before now, trying to find the right people.) The sacrifice was ready, although it was getting tears and snot all over the floor. God, it was like someone had just killed the young boy's entire family and decorated the floor with their blood and tied him up and forced him to watch all of it. Kids these days.

"Okay, how did this go?" he said to himself. "Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill, fill… geez, how many times…" he broke off and flicked through the book. "Five? Fine. Fill times five, repeat times five, frickin' whatever. I will be all the good in the world – not bloody likely. I am all the evil in the world, that's more like it. Answer my summons, Guardian of the Contract!"

The circle glowed a dull red.

That seemed to be it.

"Um…" started Ryuunosuke. Was the demon just trying to trick him into breaking the circle and freeing it to slaughter everyone? He didn't really know how clever this thing was going to be. But, on the other hand, he got the circle to glow this time! Progress! It was a pretty roundabout way of getting a crappy reading light, and it wasn't exactly the kind of trick he could show off at parties, but still!

No doubting it now, magic definitely existed. And, well, he'd feel pretty stupid if there really was a demon there, just biding its time, and he just walked away because he was dumb enough to fall for its tricks. Maybe it just needed a little encouragement?

"Um, Mr. Demon? I've got a nice little sacrifice for you here! Something nice and sweet and succulent- ah! Fucking ow!"

His hand burned as if branded. Before his eyes, a weird pattern of marks appeared on the back – and the circle on the floor erupted into flames.

When it died down, the circle was empty no more. What looked like a young blonde girl stood inside, dressed in a pale yellow kimono. At first glance, she looked pretty cute, kind of exotic. Then Ryuunosuke noticed the horns, curving up from her forehead. And the hands and feet, monstrous red clawed things instead of dainty human fingers. And the way the ends of her long hair smouldered and flickered with licks of flame.

And the eyes – utterly alien, glittering with a cold, reptile intelligence under a murk of rage. The eyes of a cat, and Ryuunosuke knew how cruel those evil little furballs could be. They locked onto Ryuunosuke's, and he found himself frozen like a rabbit before a snake. Here, in front of him, was a predator – the next step above mankind on the food chain.

She spoke, and Ryuunosuke saw tusks. "Well, summoner? Where are the sweets that were promised?"

Ryuunosuke blinked. "Oh. Um, it's not sweets, it's that kid there." The boy's muffled screams almost hid the demon's sigh.

"Better than nothing, I suppose…"

There was… mess.

When it was done, the demon sat in the middle of the room, licking her claws clean. Ryuunosuke gaped.

"That was… when you… and his bones…"

The demon winced. "Yes… the bone thing wasn't really my idea. But I have a friend who'd be disappointed. You know how it is."

Ryuunosuke stared at the demon he'd summoned. This was… mindblowing. He was well aware he wasn't like other people. Ever since he was young, he'd had a fascination with death. He wanted to see more of it, experience more of it, and eventually, create more of it. Everything about the transition was just amazing to him.

Other people didn't seem to think this way, and while Ryuunosuke never really wondered why, he accepted that he was an outlier, and that society would never accept him as he was. So he contented himself with easily-hidden murders, going after women and children as easier targets, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd never be able to really do anything interesting with death.

This demon, though? Now she was interesting. She was like… like a sentient tiger, a wild beast that inflicted death on humans in her path like it was natural but also could appreciate how she did it. She was the most beautiful thing Ryuunosuke had ever seen.

"So," he started, "who are you, anyway?"

The demon looked round, and fixed his gaze with those animal eyes. "Hm? Ah. Servant Berserker, Ibaraki-douji."

This wasn't really what Ryuunosuke was expecting to hear. "Servant… what? Who do you serve?"

The newly-named Ibaraki glared. "You, obviously. Keep up. You summoned me for the Grail War, did you not?"

"…the what?"

Ibaraki snarled – actually snarled, making a noise like a pissed-off tiger. "The Grail War, summoner. A battle between seven legends, for the prize of one wish. You truly do not know?"

Ryuunosuke's blank look said it all.

The demon sighed, glowering with eyes like coal. "You summoned me and bound me to this world. While this is true, I will fight to obtain the Grail. Should you die, I die as well. Six others vie for the prize, and six others will be ripped apart should they stand between me and what is mine." Ibaraki flexed her claws, and clenched her right fist. "Six other mages are in your position, having summoned a Servant to fight on their behalf. For your sake, I hope your magecraft is as mighty as your Servant." She smirked, showing her tusks once more.

Oh. Oh dear. This was… this was pretty bad, wasn't it. All Ryuunosuke had wanted to do was summon a demon to feast on the souls of the living! He didn't think he'd actually have to do any work for it!

"Erm, just to let you know, I'm kinda… not a wizard? I basically just sort of completed this ritual by accident. I don't know anything about any Grail, or any other wizards… are you saying that there's other guys who've summoned demons like you?"

Ibaraki stared at him for five full seconds. Then she put one monstrous claw to her forehead and closed her eyes. "My Master is useless. Once more, I will have to do everything myself… Shuten, I bet you're laughing at me from Hell right now…" She opened her eyes again. "Very well. If that is how it must be. Summoner!"

Ryuunosuke supposed that meant him. "Yes?"

"Once more, I am Ibaraki-douji, Servant Berserker, leader of the oni of Mount Ooe. I will fight and win the Grail, to achieve my own wish. If we win, you also get one wish." Oh. That sounded pretty cool. "I will do my best to keep you alive, but be warned – we enter battles you have never imagined, and I have never attempted to protect someone so… puny."

"I'm not-"

"Therefore, we will need a secure base of operations. I am most familiar with mountain territory. Tell me, is there a mountain nearby where we can retreat and plan and raid from?"

Ryuunosuke thought. There was one place…

"I guess. But, there's already a temple there. Hey, if demons are real, are onmyouji real too? Is that going to be a problem?"

Ibaraki smiled nastily. "No. I don't expect it will."

It was night, in Fuyuki city.

Come morning, the delivery man found Ryuudouji Temple deserted.

Chapter Text

By night, Ryuudouji Temple had been kind of spooky – all grand and imposing up on the mountain top, with an impressive gate that seemed to say to Ryuunosuke, stop. You stand on holy ground.

The gate was not so impressive any more.

The sun rose on the courtyard, pale glow washing over grey stone, and revealed a disaster area. An observer would have assumed the temple had been struck by a typhoon that had miraculously spared the rest of the city – as though the holy men had taken the blow upon themselves to save the innocents below. See, they'd say, here was where the wind had ripped the gate from its foundations and blown it clear across the grounds to smash into the shrine. Here was where a mighty branch must have been sent from the woods to rake across the decking and take out the support pillars. The fires, yes, from lanterns blown over and fuelled by the howling gale.

All very explainable, if there had been a typhoon. How lucky, that Fuyuki proper was delivered.

But there hadn't been, and nothing about this had been lucky.

Ryuunosuke leaned against one of the few walls Ibaraki had left intact, and watched his… Servant? Yes, that was what she'd said. He watched his Servant lounge on the steps up to the shrine, cleaning herself in the sun.

Shintoism, or religion of any kind, had never really done it for Ryuunosuke – but nevertheless, he'd still had something of a spiritual experience at the temple.

The first time he'd witnessed a car crash, he was seven years old. It had been a silly, avoidable thing, just someone driving while drunk, misjudging a turn, and ploughing their car straight into oncoming traffic. A simple, everyday tragedy, but Ryuunosuke had been entranced. The sheer power of the forces involved, the way that three fragile little lives had been snuffed out by their own hands and some bad luck… it humbled him. For the first time, he really understood just how small a thing death was. How could a human life be worth anything, compared to the vastness of the forces that could be brought to bear on their bodies?

He sought out more. As a child, he could hardly cause anything, but he searched out news footage or car crashes, train derailments, tsunami, volcanic eruptions… anything in which people died by the hundreds, as if the universe itself was telling Ryuunosuke that no, life didn't matter.

He'd grown up since then – learned to appreciate death as a transition and entity in its own right, and not just as an absence or rejection of life. But watching Ibaraki break a temple gate with her bare hands, and hurl it overarm to crush sixteen astonished monks like it was a paper toy… it reminded him a lot of that feeling.

She'd been a force of nature in her own right. And now, here she was in the morning sunshine, delicately licking blood off her claws with a long, pink tongue, looking like some fairytale princess. Well, if you ignored that she was more likely to slaughter any dragon that kidnapped her and steal its hoard, and then eat any knight that came riding in on a white horse to rescue her.

Was this the 'gap moe' Ryuunosuke had heard about?

Ibaraki looked up, and caught him staring. He looked away hurriedly, then glanced back. She frowned. "What is it, summoner?"

"Nothing. Just… kinda wondering what I'm bringing to the party here, you know?"

"The… party? You wish to hold a revel?" Ibaraki put one bloodstained claw to her lips in thought. "I suppose there is no harm in it, although it would be a lot of trouble to obtain a proper feast, and we would need to silence all witnesses. On the other hand, one problem may solve the other…"

Right. Noted: Ibaraki wasn't very good at slang.

"No, no, no need for any revels. I meant, you're kinda amazing, you know? I'm pretty useless by comparison, but I don't want to just sit around and let you do everything. Is there, you know, anything I can do to help?"

"Nothing. To suggest a human can help an oni is madness." Ibaraki's reply was quick, as though rehearsed – or an automatic response. Well, screw that. Ryuunosuke was having the time of his life, and he was going to get involved, dammit.

"Hey now, no need to be like that. You said there's six other demons and six other wizards, right? What do those other guys usually do?"

Ibaraki regarded him with a cool stare. "If you were a halfway competent Master you would know all this already."

"Well, I'm trying to learn. Please. Just what did I accidentally get myself into last night?"

For a moment it looked as though Ibaraki would refuse him again… but then she seemed to come to a decision. She stood and made her way over, until she came to a stop just in front of Ryuunosuke. Like this, it was apparent how short she was – the top of her head would only have tickled Ryuunosuke's chin, although the horns could still have put out an eye.

"Very well. You wish to understand the Holy Grail War? First, you must understand Servants. Pick me up."

Ryuunosuke's brain had been trying to figure out where this conversation had been heading, but it now ground to a halt. "Um… what?"

If such a thing was possible, Ibaraki squirmed. "You heard me, summoner. Pick me up. It is the quickest way of understanding the difference between you and me, nothing more!"

Slowly, as if reaching out to an animal that may well suddenly bite his hand off, Ryuunosuke placed his hands under Ibaraki's armpits and heaved. She came up easily, weighing no more than the little girl she appeared to be, red clawed feet kicking in the air.

"Very well, now put me down. Down, I say!" Ryuunosuke did so.

"As you see, summoner, I weigh no more than I look. My muscles are as they appear, only a little denser than yours and that due to my lifestyle compared with your own. Now, tell me – " With a violent disruption to the air, a giant blade made of what looked like bone and rawhide appeared in Ibaraki's hands. She twirled it like a baton, then held it out handle-first to Ryuunosuke. "Do you think you can swing my sword?"

"I'm pretty sure I can't…"

"Try."

Ryuunosuke did as he was told. The second his hand closed over the handle, Ibaraki let go – and Ryuunosuke was forced to let go and hop back, utterly unprepared for the weight of what felt like an entire car on the end of his arm.

"Woah!"

Ibaraki smirked, then picked up the blade in one hand and held it straight out. Knowing what he knew now about how heavy that sword was, Ryuunosuke looked for some sign of counterbalance – for Ibaraki gripping the ground with her feet, for instance, or somehow not falling over with a sword heavier than she was held at arm's length.

He saw none. Even physics was apparently scared of the demon he'd summoned. So cool.

"This is the great bone blade, formed from the skeletons of oni – and oni bone is the toughest material above the sea. It is a mass of curses and hate and power that no human can hope to carry. So you see. Servants are powerful, summoner. Beyond you in every way. Stronger than you, faster than you, tougher than you, in ways that go beyond mere physique. You ask if you can be any help? Lift my sword first, then say that."

"Wow. So these other demons are all like you? All oni?"

"Ah… no. I had meant to correct you earlier. In truth, the War is primarily held between heroes, not monsters such as myself. I would be surprised if there were any other oni summoned – the rest will likely all be human heroes."

Questions, Ryuunosuke had so many questions. "How do you know all this, anyway? Has this war been going on since you were around?"

"No. The Grail provides a basic understanding of the War, and the very basics of modern knowledge required, to each Servant – language included, naturally. Or did you think I spoke your pathetic modern mewling in medieval Kyoto?"

Ryuunosuke supposed that made sense. Although it clearly had its limits. Looking at Ibaraki now, he couldn't imagine she'd actually be able to ever blend in, even if he somehow managed to hide her horns, hands, feet, and eyes. She was just obviously different from modern humans in the way she thought, spoke, and acted… even outside the fact that she clearly regarded most humans as somewhere between vermin and food.

Anyway. "So if most of the other wizards are just summoning other humans, how do they stand a chance against you? No human I ever met can do…" he gestured vaguely at the ruins of Ryuudouji temple, "What you can, no matter how heroic." A good thing too, or you'd have cops leaping at least medium-sized buildings in a single bound and running down getaway cars.

Ibaraki looked uncomfortable, chewing on her lip with one massive tusk. "Of course! Oni are naturally superior! …but heroes are troublesome. Be warned, should we encounter another Servant, you will have exactly as little chance of facing them in combat as you would me."

"Huh… so what's the point of the wizards, then? Is their magic a threat to these Servants?"

"It is possible. But unlikely. Generally, if any Master encounters any other Servant, the Servant is sure to win. The point, as you say, is to act as an anchor for the Servant. Without the mage providing magical energy, the Servant fades away. A Master who is having trouble defeating an enemy Servant in battle might direct his Servant to destroy the enemy Master instead. Or, if he is feeling confident, go after the other Master directly, of course."

Yikes. So these Servants were likely to be gunning for his head? Ryuunosuke tried to imagine himself fighting Ibaraki. He couldn't see any scenario in which he lasted more than about three seconds. "Huh. That's… not great. I'm not exactly a fighter."

"Indeed not. Fortunately, you are so weak as to be beneath notice for most other Masters. Any pathetic stream of prana you produce is all being directed into sustaining me. Keep out of the way, and they are unlikely to find you."

Run and hide, huh? That sounded right up Ryuunosuke's street. "Alright. Any other advice?"

"Yes. Your hand." Ryuunosuke looked at it. The marks he'd acquired last night were still there, red and angry. "Those are your Command Spells. Each Master has three. Each of them allows you to give me one absolute order."

"Huh." Ryuunosuke considered. "So, if I wanted you to sleep with me, I could just tell you to do it, and you would?"

Ibaraki's reptile eyes blazed. "Indeed I would. And after the third time you ordered me to disgrace myself so, I would rip your head from your shoulders, safe in the knowledge you no longer had any power over me."

Noted.

"So, what are they usually used for?" asked Ryuunosuke, choosing to move the conversation on quickly. "I'm assuming wizards aren't so stupid as to waste them like that."

"Quite. The authority of the Command Spells empowers a Servant. Tell me, 'Strike him true', and no matter my skill or my opponent's speed, I will land a perfect blow. Tell me, 'Come to me', and I will bend space to appear before you. Tell me, 'Defend this hill', and all I do in pursuit of that goal will be greater and easier. This, I suspect, will be your main contribution to the War."

That sounded fair enough. It wasn't like he actually wanted to make Ibaraki do anything, anyway. She was perfect as she was, his natural predator, and he had no wish to spoil that. But defeating these other Servants sounded like it was going to be tough for him, so having three cheat codes would help massively.

"Sounds good to me. Um…" he cast around for something more to say. "So, you were the leader of your oni clan, right? You're going to be better than me at this whole war thing, so I guess I'll just follow your lead."

Ibaraki preened a little, smiling and nodding. "Good, you do know your place. Oni are not used to taking orders from humans. It is well you did not try."

Hah. Flattery would get you everywhere, with demons as well as humans, it seemed. This suited Ryuunosuke perfectly – he'd always been charming when he wanted to be.

"Well, it's just common sense, isn't it? You've got more experience than I do in this kind of thing, so I'd be crazy not to let you be your best. So – what should we be doing, Ibaraki?"

Once more, Ibaraki paused for thought. "You are a pathetic Master – weak in magic and unlearned. This is not your fault, but it does mean I lack access to magical energy."

"Is that a problem? You seem pretty kickass to me so far."

Ibaraki raised an eyebrow at 'kickass', but apparently chose to let it slide. "I am more powerful than I otherwise might be, as a Japanese demon summoned in Japan. However, as a Kyoto youkai summoned in Kyushu, it is hardly a great boost. And even so, I need magical energy to act. It is as though…" Ibaraki seemed to search around for a comparison. "Ah. Yes. It is as though I am a 'car', operating without 'fuel'. My relative infamy gives me a more efficient and powerful 'engine', allowing me to do more with less – but I cannot run on nothing at all. And yes, to extend the analogy, I have so far been 'running on fumes'."

"Um…" Ryuunosuke looked around at the devastation that happened when Ibaraki happened to buildings. "Really?"

Ibaraki – Servant Berserker – smirked, and stalked a distance away. "Oh yes. Prepare yourself, Master – this may hurt a little." And before Ryuunosuke could ask what she was about to do, she hefted her great bone blade in one hand and blurred it forward in an overhand strike to the ground.

The paving stones… evaporated. The ground beneath… crumbled. The earth parted like water. What was left of the buildings shook in their foundations. A great cloud of dust exploded from the point of impact, forcing Ryuunosuke to shield his eyes against the blast. Some shrapnel must have hit him, because he felt cuts like lines of fire against his body. When the blast cleared, a furrow fully twelve feet deep and twice as wide ran from the edge of the temple grounds up to Ibaraki, her sword now the centre of a crater.

She'd practically split the mountain in half, and didn't even look tired.

Ryuunosuke panted, inexplicably exhausted – and those damn cuts were burning worse than before! He looked down, and saw… nothing. He wasn't bleeding. So why the hell was his body on fire?

Ibaraki looked on, pitiless, as he squirmed and writhed. "I have just used Mana Burst, a skill to enhance the destructive power of my blows using magical energy – yours, in this case. You have very little to spare, and your body is drawing what it can from your own reserves. The pain you feel is your measly excuses for circuits overloading – spiritual organs in a physical body never designed for them, overheated and burning you from the inside out. The agony… it must be exquisite." The savage gleam in Ibaraki's eyes sent a shudder down Ryuunosuke's burning spine, and he wasn't a hundred percent sure why.

So cool. Not safe, but so cool.

"So…" he panted, trying to keep his voice under control. "Wh- ah – what do we do?"

Berserker smiled, that mad glint still there in her reptile eyes. "I can feed on souls, as any Servant can. The people of this miserable city will provide the sustenance I need to raze it to the ground, and everything I need to crush the other Servants and win the Grail. We will rest here for the day. Prepare yourself, Master. We rest here for the day, and come the night, mankind will once more learn to fear the wrath of the oni."

Ryuunosuke grinned, he couldn't help it. "Shit yes. Let's have a night on the town."

Tohsaka was the first target.

Not for elimination; that would come later. In Kiritsugu's vision for the first part of the War, he and Assassin would remain entirely out of sight, making the most of their stealth advantage to gather information on all other Masters and Servants. When they were ready, they would strike – unforeseeable, irresistible, and aimed at what the two of them, in their considerable experience, considered to be the greatest weakness of each pair. But not before. Certainly not in the very first few nights of the War.

No. For now, the game was gathering intelligence.

Kiritsugu would start with the two known factors – just like the Einzberns, Tohsaka and Matou were guaranteed a place in each War. Thus, they knew precisely where two of their enemies lived. The reverse was also true, of course, which was why Kiritsugu had purchased, under a false name, a second house in the suburbs west of Fuyuki.

It had been assessed that the Tohsaka house would be better defended, and better shielded against people trying to gather its secrets. For one, the Tohsaka specialty of manipulating magical energy meant that a broad suite of effects could be achieved, and empowered through their secret Jewelcraft. For another, the Tohsaka family itself was in the ascendant, while Matou had been in a long slow state of decay for as long as it had been living next door to one of its main rivals, who owned the land they lived off. Curious, that.

In any event, Kiritsugu would control his bat familiars and scout the Matou mansion – each equipped with modern video cameras, the best that money could buy, which was to say that the cameras were actually small enough that a bat could lift them with some effort. Serenity, by far the more effective even compared to an entire colony of bats, would observe the Tohsaka. She was to pay special attention to any Servants seen, and also to any avenues for infiltrating the house itself.

She had declined the use of a long-lens camera, to record her observations for posterity in the same way the bats would; her memory was trained towards recalling exactly this kind of thing with perfect clarity. Besides, there was no need to waste a perfectly good camera. Like most everything else, if she handled it for any length of time there was a risk that poison would linger on the object and harm the next user.

So, Serenity sat, perfectly still, on a rooftop overlooking the Tohsaka house. She was in spirit form, and with her presence fully concealed – as far as anyone or anything else was concerned, she simply wasn't there. Even so, she instinctively huddled in the shadows, her silhouette obscured by the chimney behind her, her mask removed to reduce the risk of shine. There was no point getting sloppy, after all.

She had been here for four hours now. Twelve hours, the night before.

Most Servants – even some Assassins – would have gotten bored long before now. But where others might have seen a deserted street, she saw a wealth of information and possibility. She may not have been the fearsome Servant in a fight, but at espionage, reconnaissance, intelligence gathering, it was undeniable: Hassan of the Serenity, the Old Man of the Mountain, was in another league.

One man, late thirties, passing in front of house from west to east, she sent to her Master, telepathically. Assessment: Salaryman, drunk, returning home after work night out. Conforms to analysis of foot traffic for the past hour. Assess peak time for potential witnesses is still 12 midnight to 0100, least disturbed time is from 0400 onward. Expect ambient light levels lowest in one hour, forty-five minutes, based on cloud cover and moonset.

Acknowledged, sent Kiritsugu immediately. If he was getting tired from the constant, mind-numbing vigil, he didn't show any signs of it in his mental voice. Quietly, Serenity was impressed. Not many could handle the strain of staring at nothing in particular for so long.

That said… Serenity was close to done with the Tohsaka house, without an actual sighting of the Servant. If they didn't show their face tonight, she would move on and survey another of Kiritsugu's known Masters. Tohsaka was the top priority for the certainty that he would be involved, but Kotomine Kirei was a close second. For some reason, he unnerved Kiritsugu: he hardly showed it, but it was obvious to Serenity. Since her Master was hardly one to scare easily, she'd made a mental note to treat Kotomine with particular caution. First, though, Tohsaka. The fact that his Servant hadn't shown themselves yet was… worrying.

The attack, when it came, was overwhelming.

From a clear sky, arrows suddenly rained down. A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, more – beyond counting. They filled the sky, and shortly filled the ground as well. To dodge was impossible: one may as well try and dodge raindrops in a storm. Serenity could only watch, even her composure startled into breaking, as the sky turned green and fell.

On the Tohsaka house.

The green arrows slammed into a barely-visible barrier of magical energy, which rippled like water under rain. As the distortions grew more and more violent, the arrows were knocked back off-course or caught and diverted into the ground.

Serenity was no magus, but she could see the idea. Rather than stopping every projectile, the barrier was designed to dissipate its force to where it was needed most, with the initial energy supplied from a jewel – in this case, the sapphire glowing brightly on its pedestal in the courtyard. Clever, efficient, and elegant. Classic Tohsaka magecraft, in other words.

Still, it had limits. The arrows that made up the storm weren't particularly damaging… by Servant standards. But even so, the green barrage tore the ground around the barrier to shreds, and shattered every window on the street with the mere shockwave of its passing. The Tohsaka's barrier shook ever more violently, and it was clear – sooner or later, the barrier would collapse altogether. When it did…

On the other hand, maybe the arrow rain – surely Archer's work – would cease before then. With this many arrows, Serenity almost hoped it was a Noble Phantasm, and would therefore run out of magical energy quickly. The alternative was mildly horrifying.

But, an opportunity was an opportunity. With all its power directed at defending an attack from the sky, the shield had weakened considerably at the sides. Serenity flung a knife. For a moment, it was visible only as a faint white streak – then as a smooth distortion as it passed through Tohsaka's barrier with hardly a ripple.

The sapphire shattered, and the shield froze in place. Without its ability to redirect force, the barrier was crippled. Brittle.

Useless.

With a sound like breaking glass, it exploded, directing all its remaining energy outwards in a last-ditch attempt to scatter the arrows. More gathered overhead, and Serenity reflected that one knife to bring down Tohsaka's house was a pretty good deal.

And Tohsaka's Servant finally showed her hand.

"Tarrasque!" called a female voice.

What looked like a turtle shell – enormous and spiny, dark red – appeared above the Tohsaka mansion. It hovered, looking like a cross between some bizarre zeppelin and an umbrella, shielding the house from the last of Archer's assault. Eventually, the last arrow bounced uselessly off the turtle shell, and it vanished into a mass of purple-blue motes.

Serenity watched to see if there would be any more.

Nothing came, for long moments. Slowly, Serenity relaxed.

Master, your assessment? she asked. She knew he'd have been watching through her eyes.

The arrows were almost certainly Archer's work, Kiritsugu sent. I'd be surprised if that were not their Noble Phantasm, but without hearing it invoked nothing is certain. I would have guessed the protective shell was some sort of spell, suggesting Caster, but that name…

Tarrasque. Serenity hadn't heard of it in life, but her status as a Servant – called from the Throne of Heroes – had a number of advantages that weren't immediately obvious. Among them was the ability to access something of the legend and history of a Heroic Spirit one was unfamiliar with in life, given certain cues. Invoking a Noble Phantasm was a near-certain way to announce your identity, and Serenity hadn't missed this one.

Tarrasque: O Dragon's Shield that Shall Not Let a Blade Pass. A Noble Phantasm that draws on the shell of the dragon Tarrasque to greatly increase defence for the owner and her allies, and act as an impenetrable shield against physical force. Its owner, Saint Martha of Bethany, who witnessed the Prophet Isa raise her brother Lazarus from the dead, and who later travelled to France and tamed the Tarrasque. If I had to guess, Master, she most closely fits the Rider class, associated as it is with beasts and monsters.

Agreed. There was a pause in Kiritsugu's mental voice, as though unsure as to how to proceed. It was barely noticeable, though, and he continued on, as professional and confident as before. Given that, do you have any theories as to the arrows that forced Martha to such extremes as to deploy her Noble Phantasm?

None, said Serenity, without shame. Being honest, and correct, was more valuable than deluding yourself into thinking you'd seen clues you hadn't. I apologise, I was focused on the Tohsaka house and missed where they originated.

As to that, I may have an idea, Kiritsugu said.

Serenity waited patiently.

When the attack on the Tohsaka house began, I moved some of my familiars out of cover to observe. As soon as I did, they were destroyed – fast enough that not one managed to record any of the others' destruction, even after I began moving them in groups designed for maximum oversight. Given my proximity to the Matou house, common sense would suggest it was their Servant. Given their ability to accurately target and destroy my familiars, no matter how widely-spaced, common sense suggests that their Servant is the mystery Archer.

It wasn't watertight logic… but often you had to work with what you had. Sure, it could have been some unrelated, very fast and stealthy Servant, active in roughly the same area and exactly the same timeframe as Archer, taking advantage of the distraction. It wasn't impossible – in fact it was a perfect description of Serenity's own actions tonight. But Archer being the Matou Servant was, by far, the more likely scenario.

In which case, the opening salvo of the War had drawn pretty clear battle lines. The Matou – if it was truly them – had gone after the Tohsaka at the very first opportunity, with maximum force. They'd already cost the Tohsaka their home's defences, and forced their Servant to identify herself. (Well, with a little help from Serenity.)

This time, it seemed, the Matou were determined to see Tohsaka fall.

Chapter Text

Serenity pushed open the door to the entrance hall of the Einzbern castle, then stood out of the way as her Master staggered through it.

They'd returned home, Serenity and Kiritsugu both, after witnessing Archer's declaration of war to the Tohsakas. With all his familiars destroyed, Kiritsugu's surveillance capabilities were limited – and given how easily they'd been spotted, he was unwilling to risk attracting Archer's attention himself.

In the morning, he would create more, but for now, he could barely keep his feet. As he reached the stairs, Iri came hurrying down, in a nightdress.

"Kiritsugu, you're exhausted! Here, lean on me…"

She slipped his arm over one shoulder, and helped him up and away into the living quarters. Serenity remained in the entrance hall, thinking. She'd hardly noticed, since on the job her Master was the model of professional efficiency almost all the time, but he'd been burning the candle at both ends ever since the War started. When was the last time he'd had a full night's sleep? Back in Germany?

Instead, he'd been taking himself out at night to better direct his familiars, and make his own observations – and during the day he'd been either setting up contingencies and fallback plans with Serenity, talking with Iri, or simply rereading the dossiers on each of the likely Masters that he'd compiled. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn't doing something, and while at the time Serenity had just thought he was focused and motivated, he showed no signs of taking a break or even slowing.

Why was he pushing himself so hard? Wasn't that her job, now?

Sure, he was trying to win the War – Serenity would have been more worried if he hadn't been taking it seriously. But Kiritsugu was…she could only call it driven. It couldn't just be the prospect of winning the Grail… could it?

For someone supposedly similar enough to her for the Grail to match them together, Serenity was starting to realise she didn't actually know much about her Master.

It was time to fix that.

She wasn't going to go and disturb her Master now. He needed the rest, and some time with his wife. But there was another option.

Serenity wandered the empty, dark halls, silent as a ghost. The stone was thick, and the carpets were soft, but it was a dreary place, and full of drafts. In the daylight, it might be grand. With the fires and lights lit, it might be cosy. But this was the wartime headquarters of the Einzberns, and no-one involved in its construction had considered comfort to be of any importance.

It wasn't like Serenity wasn't used to places like this. But it still made her uncomfortable, because while her Master may have seemed to be suited to this on the surface, she'd seen him interact with his wife and his daughter and this… didn't fit. It almost seemed as if he was forcing himself somehow. Again, why?

And if it was the case, then as his Servant, Serenity needed to be prepared for any strain that might cause.

She found the door she was after, obvious from the light spilling from underneath it. Serenity astralised to walk through it – then stopped. Fading back into view, she raised one hand and knocked, hesitantly.

"Hello?" called Hisau Maiya's voice from within.

"It is I," Serenity said. "Assassin. May I please come in?"

There was the sound of footsteps, and Maiya pulled the door open, peering out at Serenity. "Assassin? What is it? Does Kiritsugu need something?"

"No. I wished to talk to you. May I please come in?" Serenity repeated.

"Why- I mean, yes, of course." Maiya retreated inside the room, sat down on the bed, then stood up, apparently unsure of how to act. "Would you care to sit?"

"That is very kind… but not safe. Extended contact with objects may leave traces of poison, and I do not wish to cause harm. I will stand."

Maiya's room was small – still larger than any space Serenity could remember calling her own, but small, clearly intended for a single person. The furniture wasn't exactly cheap – this was still the Einzbern castle, after all – but it was simple and functional. A plain set of drawers, a dusty wardrobe, a small sink with a mirror. In the middle of the castle as it was, there were no windows, and while the lamplight was bright, there were shadows that made the room feel even smaller than it was.

Serenity instinctively edged towards one of the shadows, then stopped herself. It was peculiar, this urge to hide. She was sure she hadn't been quite this bad about it when she was alive, at least not when she wasn't on a mission – was this her status as an Assassin-class Servant affecting her mind in subtle ways? There were worse things, she supposed.

But yes, where Maiya had chosen to sleep was curious. When they'd arrived in Fuyuki, Iri had naturally chosen the master bedroom for herself and Kiritsugu – or the Master bedroom, as she said while making the face of someone who knows what they've just said is hilarious but is waiting for everyone to catch on.

And then again when neither Kiritsugu nor Serenity burst out laughing. Five more times.

But every other room in the whole castle was free. Why did Maiya confine herself so?

Serenity asked her.

"Ah. This room is close enough to Kiritsugu's to be able to be alerted to an incoming Servant attack, while far enough to potentially allow flanking manoeuvres on an enemy Master that invades the castle. As well, it is easily defendable should the need arise."

Serenity stayed quiet, because she was a professional liar and she knew when she was being lied to. All that stuff might have been true, but it wasn't why Maiya had chosen this room.

Sure enough, Maiya fidgeted slightly, looked down and said, "And also, I'm just not used to all this… richness. It feels wrong. The beds are too soft, I don't understand why everything has to be so fancy, and all those big rooms just feel like a waste of space. This much feels like… mine."

Well, Serenity could spot a conversation opener when she saw one.

"I imagine that working with Master is often a little more uncomfortable," she offered.

Maiya nodded. "Yes. Before he was hired by the Einzberns, we were comfortable, but certainly nothing like this. Mostly, we lived in a series of cheap motels or rented apartments, and I continued to do so after he left his weapons with me and moved to Germany." A slight frown, at this.

We, noted Serenity. "So, you often worked with Master? I suspected… his weapons seemed very important to him. To have left them with you, I'm sure he must trust you greatly."

Maiya smiled, looking grateful. "Yes… he has no reason not to. Everything I am, I owe to him. In many ways, I am the closest person to him."

Ah. There it was. Serenity had been right in choosing to come to Maiya. If anyone could tell her why her Master was determined to reach the Grail, it was her. All that was needed was to extract the information, as she had with countless hundreds of targets before, with most of them never even realising they were being interrogated.

And… she had promised herself she would make an effort to bond with the woman. She had. Even if she had an ulterior motive, she could still try and make friends. It wasn't dishonest. It wasn't.

Serenity hated herself sometimes.

But she still had a job to do. She took off her mask, because people responded better to a doe-eyed young girl than to a featureless skull. Maiya's eyes widened in surprise – if Serenity had to guess, Maiya had just assumed the mask was part of her 'costume' and that she basically had no face under there.

If she'd been any other leader of the Society, she'd have been right. But as an infiltrator, Serenity was more useful with an intact face. Or several.

"Please…" started Serenity. "Tell me about how you met Kiritsugu. I am interested to learn how someone such as him came to have a partner."

Maiya blinked, clearly taken off guard. "Of course, although it isn't a very interesting story. I was taken by the army and forced to be a child soldier, in some country long ago. Kiritsugu rescued me, took me away, and gave me an identity of my own. Hisau Maiya isn't my real name, it's just what was on the first fake passport Kiritsugu arranged for me, and I've used it ever since."

A girl, taken from her home and forced into a life of violence, until even her name was stripped from her. Yes, Serenity and Maiya were really far too similar.

"Did you ever attempt to recover your original name?" she asked.

"No. Kiritsugu offered, many times, but I have no interest in exploring my past before he found me. I don't even know what country I came from, and now I don't care. If there was one thing…" Maiya's cool expression broke for a moment. "I had a son. While in the army. I don't know who his father was, he could have been any of them, but still he was precious to me. He was taken from me after he was born, and I don't know what happened to him. For all I know, he lives there still. Kiritsugu killed the warlords and broke up the army, after I told him where their secret bases were, but the peace lasted only a few short years. Perhaps he too is a soldier. He would be… perhaps twelve now?"

Serenity wanted to put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. She settled for saying, "I'm sorry to hear about it."

Maiya shrugged. Serenity could still see the tension in her shoulders, though. "It was a long time ago. I am happy to work with Kiritsugu now."

"Forgive my asking," Serenity pressed, "and please do not take this as my trying to subvert you, but I'm genuinely curious. What exactly is the difference between you fighting for Kiritsugu and you fighting for your old warlords? Both make use of you for your skill at arms, do they not? Why did you hate the one and follow the other, even to something like the Grail War?"

"Well, for a start, I sleep with Kiritsugu of my own will," Maiya said wryly. "It took a long time to actually make him realise that was what I was after, in fact… but for another, the warlords – and the captains and sergeants under them – only ever wanted power, enough to push themselves to the top of the filthy heap that was that place's only government. Kiritsugu… has a dream."

Serenity's ears perked up. Not that anyone could tell from her expression, which she kept politely interested. "Oh?"

"I don't know the full extent of it, or how he's come to think this way, but despite how he looks, Kiritsugu is a gentle man. The gentlest. No-one hates violence more than him – which is why he will fight to prevent more."

That… was not the answer Serenity had been expecting. "I… do not understand."

"Kiritsugu's targets are always chosen with care, and he prepares extensively in an attempt to minimise casualties. Once that is done, he will act, without hesitation or mercy, even if he must slaughter innocents to get at his target. Afterwards, he grieves, and I comfort him. But it is all for the sake of ending conflict. He has burned down buildings with children inside, to stop a vampire from destroying a whole town. He has derailed a train, killing all onboard, to end the life of a mage planning to introduce a fire demon to the heart of a nuclear reactor. Before he met me, he even shot down a passenger plane with his own mother onboard, all to save the lives of the same people who reviled him for it." Maiya paused, more visibly emotional than Serenity had ever seen her. "No-one understands. To them, he is a monster like no other, but the truth is, Emiya Kiritsugu is a man who despises killing, and would like nothing more than to stop. But he can't. Not while people are in danger."

Serenity was putting the pieces together now. "So the War…"

"Yes. For his wish, he will end all conflict and suffering in this world. To achieve it, he will wade through an ocean of blood, commit crimes unthinkable to anyone else. No tactic too low, no sacrifice too great. Only the Grail matters – getting him and you to the end in one piece."

Maiya finished talking, but Serenity's head was still spinning. So. That was the connection, the reason the Grail had matched Emiya Kiritsugu and Hassan of the Serenity. Killers who hated killing, murderers who wanted nothing more than to live in peace. For that… Kiritsugu had decided to stake his happiness, throwing his morals into the fire in pursuit of some greater good. Serenity had always had her faith, her belief that no matter what, all was in the loving hands of Allah, and that all paths would lead to Paradise in the end. Kiritsugu, it seemed, had placed all his faith in the Grail.

But without a wish-granting artefact, how long would he have gone on like this? Serenity knew, better than anyone, how hard it was to go against your fundamental nature like that. Eventually, her mind had broken. Softly, quietly, as expected of one of the world's greatest assassins, but broken nonetheless. Forced to infiltrate, seduce, fall in love, then kill, destroying the semblance of happiness she gained with her own hands.

Kiritsugu cared about everyone he killed – cared, in a general way, about all of humanity.

Serenity had to win the Grail. Not just for her own wish, not even to see Kiritsugu's dream of a world without conflict realised – although she wanted that, very much – but because if she did not, and Kiritsugu still survived the War, she had a horrible feeling that her Master was on borrowed time before he destroyed himself.

Last night had been… well, kind of underwhelming, actually.

It had started great. Ryuunosuke and Ibaraki had descended on an unwitting Fuyuki like the proverbial wolf on the fold, full of fire and fury…

…until Ibaraki explained that actually, she would need to be a little bit discreet about this, because if she just charged around smashing everything within reach, it would be a giant neon sign that would signal it was time for every Servant in the area to come and kick their asses.

Well, she didn't say it in those words, but Ryuunosuke got the idea.

So, their big debut basically consisted of him wandering the late-night streets of Fuyuki until he ran into someone walking alone, with no witnesses to run off and alert the authorities, at which point Ibaraki emerged from thin air and tore them to shreds. Which was cool, obviously, and Ryuunosuke had laughed in glee and astonishment the first time, it was just… it was kind of boring after the first five times?

He'd asked Ibaraki to try and make it a bit more entertaining, but she'd only fixed him with an imperious stare and said, "I am no performing monkey, summoner, and you would do well to remember it." He hadn't pushed, and had just tried to get what joy he could from the look on people's faces when they realised what kind of monster Ibaraki was, but still. It was a bit dissatisfying.

He had managed to catch that moment when the sky turned green and fell on one of the houses in the suburbs, though. He and Ibaraki hadn't been anywhere near, but it was kind of obvious. Now that had been exciting. It wasn't so much the potential for death, although the idea of it landing on a crowd of people really was awesome, it was just… it looked cool. What? It wasn't like death and killing was the only thing he liked. He could appreciate when something was awesome, and 'causing the sky to darken with a rain of cosmic arrows' was metal as fuck.

Not quite as metal as summoning a fiery demon from Hell to wage war against wizards, but then Ryuunosuke had really lucked out there.

In the end, though, the night had been pretty boring all things considered, and Ryuunosuke was happy to go back to the temple as soon as Ibaraki started complaining about how tiresome it all was. The irregular sleep he'd had wasn't doing him any favours, and all he'd wanted to do was have breakfast then go to bed, so he could accompany Ibaraki the following night.

Which brought him to his first problem.

Ibaraki hadn't destroyed the kitchen when she wrecked the rest of the temple, thankfully. But… well, what monks were happy to love off and what Ryuunosuke was happy to live off were two very different things. It wasn't like there was nothing in the cupboards or fridges, it was just, you know. Unprepared. Ryuunosuke didn't have anything against cooking, but he preferred to leave it to other people if possible. Like, say, convenience store workers.

So, here he was, just after sunrise, strolling around Fuyuki once more. He'd told Ibaraki she didn't have to come, but she'd decided to anyway, and was currently lurking somewhere. It was useful, that – both because it meant she could come out of nowhere and attack, but also because she would draw attention, what with the horns, claws, eyes, and tusks. And the hair. And the banana-yellow kimono. On the other hand…

"Hey, Ibaraki."

What is it?

"I was wondering-"

Silence, fool! You appear as one addled, muttering to himself. If you must talk, reply telepathically, as I do.

Um. Ryuunosuke didn't actually know how to do that. He gave it his best shot.

Like this?

…

Apparently not.

Ah, screw it. He had a better plan. Ryuunusuke rummaged in his pockets and brought out his phone – having a proper mobile was quite rare, and expensive, but what could he say? He found tech cool. He brought it up to his ear.

"Hey, Ibaraki."

… what is that?

"This? Yeah, I'm on my mobile phone. I can talk to you while just walking around, how cool is that?" He nodded at a mother and son on the other side of the street, who were giving him disapproving glances at how he was acting in public. Eh, screw them.

Hmph. Hardly an elegant solution. Although I do applaud your playacting.

"Haha, I know. Hey, anyway, I was wondering – can all Servants turn into ghosts, or is it, you know, a youkai thing?"

It is not, as you put it, a 'youkai thing'. All Servants, regardless of origin, are in essence nothing more than very powerful spirits. As such, they can materialise or enter a spirit form at will. While in such a state, they are impossible to detect for anyone who does not have spiritual senses. A Servant will almost always be able to tell that another Servant is there, as we have a sense for each other. A mage may get a general impression, a dim blur at the very best. You, I suspect, will know nothing.

"Sounds like a good thing I got you, then."

He couldn't see it, but he could tell when Ibaraki was smirking. Naturally. Be aware, though Master. Even I am unlikely to detect Assassin before they strike.

Right, there was that. Ibaraki had gone through the Class system with him, and he'd tried his best to remember it. But, honestly, did it have to be so confusing? English was never his strong suit, and this was what all the Class names were in – which he found particularly unfair, since, according to Ibaraki, none of the three founding families spoke English natively, and the War was always intended to be held here in Japan. Why on Earth had they gone for English?

And then there were all the exceptions, which apparently made up half the rules. Ibaraki was a Berserker, but she was acting pretty sane so far – in fact, she was a lot more on top of things than he was. When he'd pointed this out to her, she'd replied that she was an oni, and that a tendency towards violent wrath and random destructive urges was entirely normal for her.

Fair enough.

In the end, he'd just decided to roll with it. If there was anything really important, he trusted Ibaraki to let him know as and when it came up.

At this time in the morning, the convenience store was actually pretty busy – salarymen stopping off for coffee on the way to work, shift workers just getting off. There was a hush as Ryuunosuke entered, and everyone looked round nervously. It was like that scene in a Western, where the new gunslinger walks into the saloon and everyone stops what they're doing, and Ryuunosuke resisted the urge to announce that he was the new sheriff in town and that things would be different from now on, yessiree. Instead, he gave a smile and nonchalantly stepped into an aisle, and everyone went back to what they were doing.

"What was that all about?" he said – quieter now, because talking on the phone was rude in a store, and he really would be kicked out if he caused a fuss.

While none of these pathetic weaklings can detect my presence, I am still the most powerful and malevolent spirit they will ever have come across. A little of that bleeds across, making even normal humans nervous and on edge. They will not see it as anything past 'bad vibes'… and likely attribute it to you. Likely they assume you are some dangerous and intimidating figure, like a warlord or executioner.

Oh, great. "Wasn't I supposed to not be drawing attention?"

From the other Masters, yes. From these sheep? While I am with you, you have nothing to fear. You could engage the entire constabulary in battle and emerge victorious. I often found that a worthwhile way to pass an afternoon. Ibaraki sighed, a distinctly weird experience to have inside your head. However, that would certainly bring the other Masters down on our heads, yes. In any case – none of the people here would go so far as to actually accuse you. They will dismiss it as their own foolishness, or at the very least as none of their business.

Well, he could see that. No-one wanted to get involved with anyone dangerous if they could avoid it. Given how he was dressed, and the state of Fuyuki, they probably just thought he was Yakuza. He wasn't – Ryuunosuke had always been very careful not to step on the Fujimura group's toes, even more so than he had with the cops. At least the cops had to follow rules.

Popping the phone onto his shoulder, he browsed the selection of ready meals and easy-cook foods on offer, and shovelled about a weeks' worth of instant ramen into his shopping basket, followed by some snacks, drinks, a couple of cereal bars. All very unhealthy, but probably not much more than, you know, participating in a war against wizards and monsters.

He almost didn't notice a couple of packs of candy falling off the shelf all by themselves and into his basket as well. He would have said something… but he could feel Ibaraki's stare on the back of his neck, and decided not to make an issue of it.

He was just about to take it all to the counter, when something caught his eye. Putting down the shopping so he could talk properly into the phone, he said, "Hey, did you catch the news today? Just seen it."

What are you – ah.

In the newspaper stand, a familiar image had caught his eye – even in black and white, the streaks of light he'd seen from far off were instantly recognisable. He picked up a copy.

"Says here it's a fireworks accident. Tore up a whole bunch of the street, it's all blocked off for repairs now. Also messed up the grounds around this one house – not available for comment, apparently – but otherwise, nothing, doesn't really go into a whole lot of detail. Newspaper doesn't make it seem like it was as big a deal as we thought. What do you make of that?"

Understandable. Part of the job of the moderator of the War is to keep the existence of magic secret. It is hardly surprising he has concocted some cover story. It is puzzling one of the Masters was not able to restore the street as though nothing had happened, but I suppose with Archer on the loose they may not have risked it. Why? What does this say to you?

Ryuunosuke couldn't quite hide his grin. "Well, now. You didn't mention there was a whole organisation designed to help us keep everything secret. I knew the moderators didn't care about casualties, or we'd have heard something about last night already, but you mean to tell me they really don't care how much of a mess you make as long as they can explain it away and keep all the weird stuff under wraps?"

'Under wraps?' If I understand you correctly… then I suppose so. They are magi, and magi in any age are selfish and cruel. At least we oni are honest about it.

Ryuunosuke put the paper back on the rack, and sauntered off to pay for his groceries, a spring in his step. "I think it's time we stopped messing around feeding you piecemeal. If something like that isn't going to raise any eyebrows… then it looks like we've got a lot more leeway than I thought."

Tonight looked like it was going to be much more fun.

Chapter Text

Fuyuki was, all things considered, a quiet city. What little crime there was was usually contained and controlled by the Yakuza, and under Fujimura Raiga's leadership they were much less of a violence group and more of a traditional organisation – they dealt in vice and corruption, mainly, and unrest on the streets was bad for business. Thus, Fuyuki's residents were unused to having their daily lives disturbed by violence.

(It was in the Tohsaka's interest to make it this way, and so it was.)

Nevertheless, on two suburban streets, the scene could only be described as a warzone. The pavement was pitted and cracked, countless potholes dug out of the road as though it had suffered a strafing run from a fighter jet. A telephone pole had actually fallen completely, and only a concerted effort from residents and the government workers sent to help had shifted it so it no longer blocked traffic. Every other window in the houses on both sides was cracked, or shattered altogether.

They'd said it was a fireworks accident late last night, and of course that was what it must be. It hadn't looked like any firework any of the residents were familiar with, but what else would you call a rain of green light falling from the sky and ruining the neighbourhood?

The old-timers had claimed all sorts of things throughout the day, blaming the government, or aliens, or demons. One man had insisted he'd seen similar strange happenings when he was a boy, sixty years ago, and warned darkly that it would get worse before it got better.

He may well have been right. Although there had been no more massive… whatever it was, every so often things would just… break. Streetlights, telephone poles, sections of wall or fence – out of nowhere, they suddenly had a tendency to explode for no reason, as though smashed by some great force.

There were rumours that it was some malicious prank, a group of kids with explosives on a campaign of terror, or even something worse. The police denied any such thing, but it was clear the problem was getting out of hand. Every time a section of the street was repaired, something else would break, as though someone was trying to hinder the repair effort – or just terrorise and harass the residents.

Only one house remained pristine, spared from whatever calamity had befallen the area. The locals knew that it was the Tohsaka house… and beyond that, nothing at all. While Tohsaka Tokiomi himself was something of a local figure – hardly famous, except in the right circles, but seemingly involved at some level in a little bit of everything – not one of the families on the street had ever been inside his home.

Those families with young children knew a little more about the daughter, Rin, mostly in the form of rumours repeated in awed tones by their children after school. But even then, the Tohsaka girl had only very rarely deigned to visit another's house, and certainly never invited anyone back. She was out of town with her mother, lately. The gossips made much of the fact that Tokiomi had remained behind.

They made much more of the other woman that could occasionally be glimpsed through the windows of the house.

She looked like a nun, some said, although others thought she was, not to put too fine a point on it, merely wearing a 'nun' costume. It wasn't anyone's business – of course – but she only showed up just as Tohsaka Aoi left, and didn't that just say it all? In the lurid imaginations of a dozen bored housewives, deliciously unspeakable things were going on in the mysterious house. As night fell, more than one watcher kept a discreet eye on the windows, for one reason or another.

None, however, watched quite as discreetly as Servant Assassin. In the shadows as always, she watched, and listened to the conversations around her, and built a picture in her head.

Observing Tohsaka's house might have seemed to be a bit pointless now that they knew who his Servant was – but there was still a lot of valuable information to be learned. The apparent feud between Matou and Tohsaka was really the only game in town at the moment, and if anything developed Kiritsugu wanted to know of it immediately. At the insistence of Iri, however, he was staying home for the night, piggybacking on Serenity's senses while firmly confined to bed.

Among other things, he wanted to know what the next step was. After Archer's opening salvo, the rest of the night had been peaceful – only for them to begin taking potshots at the Tohsaka house during the day. For hours, whenever Tohsaka or his Servant were visible through the windows, sure as sunrise an arrow would blast out of the blue sky, aimed unerringly for their hearts.

It wasn't technically against the rules, but it was pushing it. It didn't help that the Tohsaka defences had seemingly been repaired, a clear gem resting where the sapphire had, which seemed designed to protect the house at the expense of the street around it.

Whenever an arrow entered the new bounded field, it wasn't diverted in the slightest – it simply emerged from another part of the bubble without losing momentum, usually to drill into what was left of the street beyond. Once again, it was an elegant solution to a problem of overwhelming force… but it wasn't doing anything to help keep the secret of magic under wraps. Even for those without eyes to see, the constant, low-level disruption was more than enough to be suspicious.

Now, however, it was night, and the streets were clear once more. Without the innocent population of Fuyuki to get in the way…

Serenity crouched between two buildings, quite far back. She had no illusions – no way was she risking getting caught in Archer's Noble Phantasm. Eyes fixed on the house, she waited. If the War was to progress, it would progress here. Yes… surely…

Ryuunosuke knew he wasn't really contributing a whole lot to this whole 'Grail War' business, but he did have one advantage over Ibaraki – his knowledge of the current era in general and Fuyuki in particular. So he'd sat, he'd had a proper think, and he'd come up with a brilliant idea.

From last night, it was obvious that whoever was supposed to be supervising this war didn't actually care about collateral damage, only that there were no witnesses. But sneakily picking off stragglers, the homeless population and night workers like they had been was taking too long to build up Ibaraki's power. What they needed was a big group of people all in one place, that wouldn't get the chance to escape.

With a spring in his step, Ryuunosuke walked down the streets of Fuyuki's entertainment district, such as it was. Fuyuki wasn't exactly Tokyo… but it wasn't like there was no nightlife. The Yaks had an interest in running the scene even if no-one else did, and with Shinto under development east of the river, there was a lot of real estate just waiting to be turned into profit.

The night hadn't got properly cold yet – and Ryuunosuke's new black jacket did a lot to ward off what little chill there was in any case – and the lights from the restaurants and bars cast the street in a warm glow. The air smelled of food and alcohol, and there was a pleasant buzz of conversation all around. It was a lovely night to be out.

Ryuunosuke couldn't keep the grin off his face. This was going to be so cool.

What are you smirking at, summoner? You look a fool. Remember our plan. We are not to draw attention to ourselves… not before the proper time, at any rate. He couldn't see Ibaraki, but he knew by now when she was smiling nastily.

He shrugged. The street was full of people who stood out more than him. It wasn't anything to worry about. "What do you mean 'our' plan? This is all me, far as I can see."

True, you had an adequate idea, and provided a suitable location. It was well thought… for you. But summoner, you are a moderately successful serial killer. I was the general of the Mount Ooe oni. Do not pretend my suggestions did not refine the scheme of attack.

"Eh. I'm more a big-picture guy. Admit it, this is going to be great."

Oh, I'm sure. I am… moderately impressed with your usefulness, summoner. You are pathetic and puny, but often knowledge of the land can carry a pathetic and puny army to victory over a superior force.

"Was… that a compliment?" A disembodied huff was all the answer he received, and Ryuunosuke laughed out loud.

Up ahead was their destination. Their target. Off in a dark corner, down a side street, a set of stairs led down to a sort of courtyard. At this time of night, there wasn't a large queue, and the bouncer fidgeted impatiently.

It was a bar – The Copenhagen, proclaimed the wooden sign outside. Not a very special bar, all things considered – there were better, there were worse, and there were certainly cheaper. But this particular bar did have a couple of big advantages, that made it perfect for what he had planned. And if Ryuunosuke hadn't been a local, hadn't spent some pretty disappointing nights in this very venue, he'd never have known about it.

Big advantage one: this was a Yakuza bar. Not an exclusive one, it was open to the public, but there was a hefty drug trade being run out of this place. Which meant that, whatever happened, there would be no police response tonight. The Yaks tended to look after themselves. However, it did mean a little extra security – in this case, a steel door that needed to be opened from the inside, once the bouncer on the outside gave the correct signal.

Ryuunosuke waited until everyone that was left to go inside had done so, then strolled towards the entrance, giving a jaunty wave to the bouncer, a short and thickset man in a black jacket and trousers as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

He was dressed rather like Ryuunosuke was at the moment, in fact.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Hey…" replied the bouncer, uncertainly. "You got ID there, friend?"

Ryuunosuke made a show of patting himself down. "Uh… sure, just let me…" He fumbled around in his left pocket, then his right, then reached inside his jacket.

"Look, you know what," said the bouncer, "I'll take your word for it, I know you're old enough, just get inside-"

"No, no, couldn't possibly, I know I had it just here…" Ryuunosuke rummaged some more. Inside jacket pocket, back trouser pocket. He pulled out his wallet, his face lit up, and the bouncer motioned him inside impatiently. Then Ryuunosuke put it back. "No, not in there, took it out for work…"

He searched himself for a few more seconds, then looked up apologetically.

"Ah, crap, left it in my other jacket."

"It's fine," said the bouncer through gritted teeth. "Just get in and we'll say no more-"

"No, no, that wouldn't be right. You know what, I feel bad for wasting your time like this, so how about I take your spot on the door for a while and you go inside and have yourself a drink?"

The bouncer looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Uh… no. Look, if you're just here to mess about, I'll have to move you on."

Ryuunosuke sucked his teeth in mock disappointment. "Well, it's your choice, but this next customer looks really difficult to deal with…"

"What next-"

There was a burst of fire in the deserted courtyard, blinding Ryuunosuke for a moment. When the spots cleared from his eyes, Ibaraki was there, holding the bouncer to the wall by his throat. He struggled and clawed at her hand, but he may as well have been a toddler next to Ibaraki.

"Guardsman," she hissed. "I desire entry to this tavern. Admit me, and I will kill you."

"Um-" started Ryuunosuke. He thought she might have gotten a bit lost somewhere there.

"Or rather, I will merely kill you," clarified Ibaraki. "If you bar my path, I will take the trouble to mutilate your soul as well. You will arrive at any afterlife you are destined for a crippled wreck. You may be missing your arm. Or your face. Or your higher emotional functions. Do you doubt me?"

The bouncer shook his head, terrified.

"Then let me through. Be swift!" Ibaraki dropped the man, who collapsed to his knees, coughing. He would have remained there – but at Ibaraki's snarl he lurched to his feet, and gave a series of knocks on the door. There was the sound of a bolt sliding back, and with a creak the door opened.

"Very good," Ibaraki said. With a lightning-fast shove, she dashed the bouncer's head against the wall, and stalked inside.

Ryuunosuke looked at the corpse, already starting to stain the stone floor. "Should have gone inside and had a drink when you had the chance, buddy. Still…" He pushed the door closed and began searching the dead man's clothes.

The other big advantage to this place – and the reason why he'd chosen it for their little outing tonight – was simple. This was an old building, and it didn't really conform to any of the newer regulations about what bars had to have. Usually this would have been caught during regular health and safety inspections… but for the Yakuza, that kind of thing happened to other people. So this particular bar was missing a few essential things that most other bars would have had.

Fire exits, for instance.

There was one way in, and one way out. And a demon stood between a hundred people and the only escape.

Ryuunosuke found a set of keys, and locked the door shut just as the screams started.

"… I guess you don't want what they're having."

Hotaruzuka Otoko – or Neko-san, to her friends – wasn't supposed to be working at the Copenhagen. But although her dad was mostly a pretty good manager for the place, he was pretty terrible about finding people to cover shifts, so she helped him out whenever he asked.

If the police had ever come in for a random check, they'd have been in a lot of trouble, letting a fourteen-year-old serve alcohol… but that wasn't exactly likely. She'd known for a while that the Copenhagen had ties to what passed for the criminal underbelly of Fuyuki. It wasn't anything anyone had specifically told her, she'd just… picked up the idea somewhere that she lived and worked at a Yakuza bar.

It was fine. Really, it was. Sure, a lot of the guys that came in looked scary, with shaved heads or tattoos or just a look in their eyes that set Neko-san on edge. But not once had any of those guys made trouble – and on the rare occasions that someone else had, those guys had very politely asked them to leave.

(Finding out that they worked for her classmate's family broke the rest of Neko-san's nervousness about them – because Fujimura Taiga was so chirpy and cheerful and energetic that she couldn't imagine anything really bad being connected to her.)

So, yes, Neko-san had always felt safe in the company of Yakuza.

Until now.

The bar was silent, all conversation stopped while everyone stared at the girl in the banana-yellow kimono who had just entered, and at the severed head she'd thrown onto the floor.

She seemed… to be on her way to costume party? A kimono wasn't that weird a thing to wear, although they weren't usually quite so short. But as Neko-san stared, she noticed little details that weren't quite right. The hands and bare feet, red, clawed, demonic. The horns, rising up from her forehead. The eyes, catlike and malevolent.

"Greetings," said the girl. "I am Ibaraki-douji. I am here to drink, and then to kill you all. I will have five bottles of your finest sake, to start."

No-one said anything. The girl – Ibaraki-douji – frowned, and tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder. "If I must serve myself, I shall become cross. Is this not a tavern? You, girl!" She pointed at Neko-san. "I do not wish to repeat myself. Bring me wine, or you will not like what follows."

There was a scraping noise as a chair was pulled back, and Ishiyama Gori slowly rose to his feet. At six foot five, there was a lot of rising to do. His shaved head, scars and neck tattoo marked him as one of the proper Yakuza, and his mountain of muscle was what earned him the nickname 'Gorilla-chan' among his comrades. He shambled over to Ibaraki, and put one massive paw on one tiny shoulder. "You should leave, girl," he rumbled.

There was… a blur. Gorilla-chan howled in pain, clutching his wrist – which now bent past a ninety-degree angle.

"You call me a mere girl? I am an oni of Mt Ooe, human, and I did not give you permission to lay hands on me," snarled the girl, orange eyes blazing. "I will get to you in time. However, as I have said many times by now, I wish to drink first. Can… can you all understand me? I am sure I am speaking your filthy modern tongue correctly…"

Gorilla-chan swung one huge fist. Neko-san had seen him break inch-thick boards with those hands, and he'd been putting less effort in then than he was now. Ibaraki didn't defend, but leaned into the punch, catching it on her horns.

The blow connected. The girl didn't move. Gorilla-chan's other wrist snapped.

The girl brought her head forward in a vicious headbutt. Short as she was, her horns connected squarely with Gorilla-chan's stomach… and sunk in with a sickening crack. The huge man went sprawling, gasping for breath but unable to fully inhale. The girl watched him struggle with his collapsed lung, eyes pitiless.

Most of the patrons were cowering in their seats, but more men stood up, drawing guns, knives, and even a cheap sword. Ibaraki sneered. "You insist on dying first? I refuse to oblige you. For your impudence, you can break and suffer until I get round to devouring your soul." She spread her arms, and grinned, showing tusks. "Come!"

And come they did. A short man led the charge, thrusting his knife low, while two men in white suits closed in from either side, aiming to trap Ibaraki between them. At the last moment, the girl twisted, and the knife scraped off her stomach as though it was trying to cut stone not flesh. One hand – red, clawed, demonic – seized the knife holder's wrist before he could pull back, and the other found his shoulder, digging in painfully.

With a wrench, the girl pulled back, and the arm came loose. The girl swung left and down, bringing her improvised club through one of her attacker's legs, then brought it overarm down on the other's shoulder. All three men crumpled.

CRACK.

Neko-san flinched, as the sound of a gunshot filled the cramped bar. She wasn't the only one, and there were shrieks from the unprepared patrons.

More followed, as the three Yakuza with guns opened fire, stepping into the open space in the centre of the room to get a clear shot.

The girl seemed more confused than anything, as bullets whizzed by her. "Firearms? They seem to have advanced well these past centuries. But if you think your modern weapons will avail you…"

There was a blur, and she stood right next to the men, crushing the centre shooter's elbow in one hand. There was a wet crunch as she squeezed, and the man's face went pale. "… you are sadly mistaken."

A pair of guns fired at her, point blank, and she twitched aside to avoid the bullets. The motion yanked the poor guy she was holding off his feet, and the demon took the time to bury all five fingers in his stomach as he fell. The guns tracked her, but Ibaraki batted one aside with such force that it shattered against the far wall, and grasped the other with a grip like a vice. Slowly, she placed the barrel against her forehead, and fixed the last gunman with an imperious stare.

"Fire away, human, if it will make you feel better," she said. "Come on! Be the hero, slay the oni!"

He didn't need telling twice, immediately emptying the clip at point blank range.

It had no effect at all, and Ibaraki smirked. "Too bad." With a twitch of one hand, she reduced the gun to so much crushed scrap, then clubbed its owner in the jaw with the wreckage. Teeth flew, and the man's head bounced off the floor hard enough to leave a stain.

And that was that. Everyone that had been willing to fight was down – and, true to the demon girl's word, none had been killed. Crippled, mutilated, broken, but not dead. Yet.

An office lady close to the door made a run for it, scrambling out of her seat to stumble for the exit. Ibaraki didn't seem concerned.

"Fools," she said, apparently to the room at large. "As if I would simply leave an escape behind me. I told you I was here to devour you. Did you not believe me?"

There was a moan of despair, and the sound of hands desperately hammering on the metal door that led to safety.

"Excuse me," said Ibaraki, "I will be back."

She stalked towards the would-be escapee, and seized her by the scruff of her jacket. She dragged the woman back towards the table she'd been sitting at, where what looked like her work colleagues watched in horror.

"Do not be alarmed," continued the demon. "I bear no ill will against you for trying to flee. I will not make you suffer unduly." The woman whimpered in relief, and began stammering out her thanks. "However, I do need to start somewhere – so thank you for volunteering."

With that, she heaved the woman onto the table and hopped up, straddling her.

"Wait!" she screamed. "Please! I have a mother at home, a family – don't kill me!"

"Why on earth do you think that would matter?" asked Ibaraki, sounding honestly confused. "Honestly, human…" She flexed her claws, and ran them down her victim's cheek, drawing blood.

"No! Guys, don't just sit there! Help! Anyone!" The man's friends looked stricken, but none of them made a move. They just sat, frozen in fear, while Ibaraki opened her victim's jacket and shirt.

"If anyone wishes to grant you a reprieve, they are free to do so," said Ibaraki casually. "All they need do is volunteer."

The woman's pleading eyes found a young man, sat bolt upright and staring at the scene in front of him. He opened his mouth, then shut it with a gulp and looked away. The woman's screams redoubled.

"Enough of that," said Ibaraki. She leaned over, mouth open…

"I'll take her place," came a voice. Every eye in the room found the speaker. An old man stood up from his seat, and stepped forward, legs shaking. "Take me, instead of her. I've not long left for this world, anyway."

"Indeed not," said the demon. "Very well, the bargain is struck. Your life, in place of hers." She rolled herself off the sobbing woman in one smooth motion, and crossed the bar to stand in front of the old man. She put one clawed hand on his wrinkled cheek, and although the man flinched he stood firm. "Hm. I admire your courage, human. This will be swift."

Her thumb jerked, and the man slumped, blood bubbling from his throat. Ibaraki lay him down on the floor almost gently, bent down and…

…well, ate him.

Despite her words, it wasn't especially quick, and Neko-san would remember for the rest of her life the twitches and aborted attempts at screams the old man made as he was eaten alive. No-one moved, no-one said a word. Neko-san wanted to break the silence, to run while the monster was distracted… but fear glued her feet to the floor. She clung to the hope, some pure prey instinct, that if she stayed quiet, didn't draw attention, she would be left alone. The woman who had been saved clutched her jacket to her chest and wept silently.

Eventually, it was done. It had taken no more than a few minutes of horror. Ibaraki straightened, wiping her mouth.

"Excellent. I feel stronger already. Now…" she turned back to the woman she'd let go. "Where were we?"

The woman paled, looking as though… well, as though she'd been granted a stay of execution only to be told it was going ahead anyway. "But… you said… he volunteered…"

"Hm? Oh, yes. He did indeed volunteer and take your place." With a sudden rush, Ibaraki was there, pinning the woman to the table. "As first to be eaten."

Neko-san felt her stomach drop, and realised something she'd been trying to deny admitting to herself ever since the demon girl walked into the room.

No-one was getting out of here alive.

It is done. Ryuunosuke jerked at the sudden unexpected voice in his head, then relaxed. Checking his watch, it had been a couple of hours since he'd locked Ibaraki inside the bar with everyone. The sounds coming from inside had been very interesting indeed, and he'd kind of wished he could be in there watching. But, well, someone had to mind the door so people wouldn't find it odd that the bar had no security.

Instead he'd practised seeing things through Ibaraki's eyes. She'd told him it was possible, and apparently it used the same mental link she used to talk to him. He'd given it a go, but all he'd really gotten were flashes – blood spatters, people running in panic, that sort of thing. To be honest, he might have just been imagining all that.

"Need me to unlock the door?" he called.

You do ask stupid questions sometimes, came his Servant's scornful voice. Ryuunosuke stood well back from the door.

After a second, it crumpled under the force of a titanic blow from inside. With a shriek of tortured metal, it bent almost in half, ripping off the hinges, then flew outwards to smash into the wall on the other side of the courtyard. Ibaraki stalked through.

She was soaked in gore, her yellow kimono splashed with dark brown and her mouth and chin coated in sticky, stringy blood. She smiled at Ryuunosuke, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Have fun?" he asked.

"This was never about my having fun, Master. It was a necessity if I was to obtain the prana necessary to fight other Servants… but yes. It was an acceptable night."

"Hey, never let it be said I don't know how to show a girl a good time." He looked up at the building behind them. "So, you got enough juice to clear away all the evidence like we said?"

In answer, Ibaraki held out her left hand, and that giant bone blade appeared there. Hefting it onto her shoulder as though it were made of foam, she turned to face the bar she'd just left. Taking a stance with her sword held low and behind her, she began to gather power.

Ryuunosuke was no wizard, but even he could feel the difference. It started as a heat haze around her hands, then licks of flame around her hair – but before long, the air around Ibaraki was distorted and the girl herself was almost incandescent.

"Oh," she said as an afterthought. "You may wish to stand well back, summoner."

Yeah, he kind of got that from the way that his hair was beginning to singe even standing twenty feet away from his Servant. Ryuunosuke beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the street and settled in to watch.

Ibaraki's right hand came to rest on the pommel of her sword, and gripped it tight. For a moment, she stood there.

Then she swung.

The sword ripped into the wall of the building as though it had been made of paper, but that was the least of it. With Ibaraki's blow, all the power that she'd been holding back blasted out in a devastating wave. Metal melted, brick scorched, wood burned to cinders in an instant. The air blasted forth with such force that Ryuunosuke's ears popped even as far away as he was.

Fire had a way of wrecking the structural integrity of buildings even in the best of cases, as vital supports were warped, softened or eaten away entirely. This was not the best of cases. For one thing, Ibaraki's flame was so hot and appeared so suddenly it acted more like an explosion than a slow-burning blaze. For another, Ibaraki had physically taken out most of an exterior wall with one swing of her sword.

The Copenhagen took a couple of minutes to fall, but fall it did. In the end, all that was left was a flaming wreck, hardly recognisable as a building anymore. All those bodies that Ibaraki left would be charred beyond recognition, and certainly no-one would be able to tell how they'd died.

The authorities would chalk all this up to a terrible accident: such a shame the building wasn't up to code, so tragic. Or maybe they'd look a little deeper, find out the Copenhagen had been a Yakuza bar, and start looking into gang violence. Either way – the last thing anyone would suspect was that a resurrected demon had done it in order to hide the fact that she'd eaten the souls of everyone in the building.

See? It was an awesome plan.

And now that his Servant was all powered up, they could start having some real fun.

Three times.

Three times, the sky had rained green annihilation. Three times, the street was ruined by divine forces. Three times, the shell of the Tarrasque had prevented all harm from coming to its target.

Serenity hadn't interfered, this time. If the Matou and Tohsaka wanted to spend all their time and energy locked in their stalemate, she wasn't about to argue.

Not that she could really do much against the forces being unleashed anyway. Either of the Noble Phantasms being pitted against each other used more magical energy than she could spend in a night. The first time had been just after sundown, as soon as the streets were clear of people. The second had been at midnight. And the last time, in the early hours of the morning…

For a bare instant, the green rain had hung in the air, a promise of death shining like the moon. Then it doubled in size. And again. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it looked as if morning had come hours early…

And then that awful green sun fell to Earth, with shocking suddenness.

The arrows had been like lightning before – but now each had carried the power of a fallen star, crashing into the shield with such a deafening roar that every window left intact for a mile around had shattered immediately, and even Serenity was forced to clap her hands over her ears.

It had felt like the end of the world.

A Command Spell, it had to be. An already monstrous Noble Phantasm, empowered by an absolute order capable of overpowering the very logic of Gaia to become an attack capable of grinding mountains to dust. Even the shell of Tarrasque had looked puny and fragile against such a ridiculous attack…

…until that shell had grown to twice the size and three times the thickness, empowered by its own Command Spell. Instants before the first meteor would have hit, it had become an immovable wall that weathered the assault – not without a scratch, not without being pitted and scarred and almost almost broken… but it held.

After that, there were no more salvos from Archer. Matou had realised trying to break through with main force was futile, it seemed.

The sun rose – for real this time, illuminating a wreck of a street. Debris was strewn everywhere, wood and glass and chips of stone. There was barely a square foot of street that hadn't been ruined, and only a miracle had kept all the houses standing. But, for now, the War was over.

In the distance, church bells rang. The sound wormed its way into Serenity's ear, impossible to ignore, building to an angry clamour… before stopping abruptly.

Serenity wasn't any kind of magus, but she knew a magical effect when she heard it. The bells would ring in the ears of anyone with spiritual senses, and used the leyline that ran through Fuyuki to reach anyone in the city, whether they could hear the physical bells or not. It was one of the pre-set signals that all the official Masters knew, and the message was clear.

The moderator had summoned all participants in the War.

And he didn't sound happy about it.

Chapter Text

While Christians made up only about 1% of the Japanese population, there was nevertheless a trend towards weddings conducted in the Christian style, even among those not of the faith. It was easy, relatively cheap, and honestly, it wasn't like the minister was going to have a whole lot else to do. This was the explanation for how the Kotomine church managed to maintain its funding, and justify its existence in the first place.

It was all a lie, of course. People did get married in the Kotomine church, and it did even turn a profit out of the venture – but had it not, another excuse would have been found. The Church had no intention whatsoever of letting something like the Holy Grail slip from under its watchful eye. Sure, it wasn't the real one; they knew that from the start. But quite apart from anything else, leaving a wish-granting artefact in the hands of a group as calculating, power-hungry and megalomaniacal as magi was just asking for trouble. The church had installed Kotomine Risei in Fuyuki for the third Holy Grail War, and while they were ongoing they were going nowhere.

Besides, Risei quite liked it here. And if he were to go, who would tend his flock?

He looked out at the morning service, and continued his sermon.

"In the Gospel of Saint Matthew, Jesus implores us all to 'turn the other cheek'. It's an expression that's easy to say, easy to repeat, but hard to put into practice. To respond to aggression not with aggression, but with compassion, is not an easy thing to do. But that is why Christ serves as an example – if it were easy, it wouldn't take the Messiah to teach us how to do it."

He smiled while the low chuckles around the room died down. "There are, of course, alternative ways of reading this passage, that old and dusty men like me argue over, and discuss what exactly Christ meant by this. For me, all that rather goes over my head, and I can only see the obvious meaning – that revenge for revenge's sake is never the right thing to do.

"Now, I can point to many times in scripture and elsewhere where violent ends were used in pursuit of a righteous cause, and I'm sure many of you can as well. I'm not here to tell you that you should never defend yourself, and I'm sure Christ wouldn't tell you that either. If you're in trouble, you are allowed – I'll stress, you are allowed – to do what you need to, to keep yourself or your loved ones safe. But when Christ tells you to turn the other cheek, he's contrasting it with the still older saying which advises 'an eye for an eye'. Don't become consumed with revenge, don't seek to hurt your aggressor just because he hurt you. If you need to defend yourself, do so – but as an impulse to protect, in the finest Christian tradition, entirely apart from the mindset that pushes us to hurt just because we ourselves have been hurt."

He paused for a moment, just long enough to make it clear that the sermon was over.

"Now, I don't just roll a dice to decide these topics – I know there's been a lot of trouble lately, and I'm hearing a lot of you passing a whole lot of blame around. Kids, criminals, terrorists… I'm hearing it all. Folks, I don't know what's going on any more than you do, but I've already mentioned the fact that people are getting worried to the authorities, and they assure me they're on the case. So, I implore you all to stay safe, and I implore you all – rather than going out with fire in your hearts looking to make those responsible pay… turn the other cheek.

"If you'll turn to page 14, we'll sing our closing hymn before the benediction…"

When it was all over, and Risei had blessed and waved off the last of his celebrants, he closed the door behind him. It made a very final boom as it shut, and the atmosphere in the previously warm and comforting church changed to something rather more austere.

Risei turned around, and met the eyes of the two men who had stayed behind, standing on opposite sides of the central passage, pretty much as far away from each other as they could get. The grandfatherly smile had slid off his face, and his priest's robes and stole gave him an air of authority and gravitas.

"Gentlemen," he started, voice just a touch above a growl, striding towards the front of the church. "I do hope you enjoyed today's sermon. Sometimes, when I know that one of my flock is struggling with an issue, I will construct a lecture discussing that issue, as a way of both offering support, reaching out, and bringing the issue to the forefront of the minds of the community as a whole. Sometimes, however, needs must, and I throw all attempts at subtlety out of the fucking window." He turned just before the altar, and regarded his two… wayward sheep. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Tohsaka Tokiomi cleared his throat, and glared daggers over at the other side of the room. "Loath as I am to appear any more childish than I already do after you called us all here like errant schoolchildren, I do feel compelled to point out that, in this case, he really did start it."

"Hah." Matou Kariya was almost a perfect contrast to Tohsaka Tokiomi – dressed in a tattered black hoodie and jeans where Tohsaka had his elegant red velvet suit, his hair a filthy matted white mess to Tohsaka's neatly-groomed black hair and goatee. While Tohsaka was clearly making an effort to rein in his emotions and appear civilized, Matou's face was set in a twisted grimace of hatred. His hands would twitch randomly, as though itching to place them round Tohsaka's neck, and while he looked relaxed sprawled backwards in a pew, every so often he would jerk and shudder in place. "Damn right I did. This is a war, isn't it? I don't see where you get off telling us how we can and can't fight it, Father."

"Ordinarily, you would be correct," Risei said. "However, as I am sure I don't need to remind you, it is my responsibility to ensure the War remains secret. When I have no less than five people raise concerns over the fact that their homes and neighbourhoods are breaking for no reason, it becomes my problem."

"I quite agree," said Tohsaka. "By all means, apply your sanctions to the guilty party. I, on the other hand, have done nothing but defend myself."

Matou snorted. "Is that right? Because I'm pretty sure I specifically told Archer to target your ostentatious piece of crap house, and nothing else. Hey Archer, did you miss and not tell me?"

There was a flash of forest green motes, and a Servant appeared next to Matou – clearly his Archer. She looked like a young woman, in a black and cyan short dress, with long dirty-blonde hair and… cat ears? And a cat's tail? Risei didn't stare. He'd seen weirder and worse during the Third War.

"No. I don't miss," she said simply, eyes on Tohsaka.

"Well, there you have it," said Matou. "Can't have been my fault."

Archer didn't have a weapon in hand, but that could change in a moment, Risei knew. From the cold look she was shooting at Tohsaka, that was a very real possibility. How had Matou managed to convince his Servant to carry his grudge?

"Bringing your Servant within the territory of the church violates the spirit of neutrality we are aiming for here, Matou," he said sternly. "I won't forbid it – but you are on thin ice as it is. I'll remind you – both of you – that you are under my personal guarantee of truce for as long as you are here. Any violence, and the War is suspended while all parties deal with the trucebreaker. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," smiled Tohsaka.

"Tch. Whatever."

Risei raised his voice, looking up to the rafters. "And to everyone else, don't think I don't see you. I'll hold you as witnesses to what happens here." There was a quiet rustling. Familiars. They'd received the summons, same as Tohsaka and Matou – except Risei hadn't personally phoned the other Masters to make them promise to show up in person. It was fine – as long as they got the message.

Interesting forms they took, though. There was a bat with what looked like a camera strapped to it – that would be this Magus Killer character who was giving Kirei fits. Speaking of, there was one of Tohsaka's crystal-eyed stone owls there too – the man himself had no need for them tonight, so Risei could only assume Kirei had received one as a gift somewhere along the way while apprenticed to him. One was visible only as a dark cloud, and was immediately recognisable to Risei as a summoned demon. Could have been anyone, but he'd heard the Magus Association was sending one of their experts on spiritual evocation and summoning. The last was a really rather beautiful bird that, despite being obviously artificial, was far more animated than either the controlled bat or the stone owl, fluffing its brass feathers every so often and hopping from foot to foot. Curious.

Four familiars, plus the two Masters here in person, made six. One was missing… as expected.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the boss," sneered Matou. "But don't try to change the subject. I'm not one to hurt innocents, and Archer's not so indiscriminate she can't group her shots to within something the size of a freaking house, even with her Noble Phantasm. You want the one responsible for all the damage? It's that bastard right there," he finished, pointing at Tohsaka.

Tohsaka raised one eyebrow. "I'm supposed to not defend myself? All that force has to go somewhere. If you really care about innocents, stop launching attacks at the defences you already know will redirect them."

"I care just fine, you arrogant prick. But if it's a choice between inconveniencing them and missing out on killing you – well, they'll get over it."

"Spoken like a true magus. I'm sure your grandfather is very proud."

"Why you-"

"Enough!" said Risei. This was getting them nowhere. "If I cannot appeal to your humanity, perhaps I can appeal to reason. This ridiculous feud of yours is clearly getting you nowhere – either of you. Surely wasting so much prana on butting your heads together is simply a waste, and will only make both of you vulnerable to another Servant looking to take advantage."

Matou laughed. "Nice try, but no. From where I'm sitting, I'm in a pretty good spot here. I'm free to harass Tohsaka all I want and wear him down, through exhaustion if nothing else. Keeping him locked in his house, with neither he or his Servant able to make any move… yeah, that suits me just fine. And if anyone else wants to help, fine by me. I'd prefer to be the one to kill him and send his house crashing down around his ears – but all I really want is him dead. And if anyone tries to come after me…" He shrugged. "I have full confidence in Archer. We'll take on all comers."

Archer showed a slight smile, but said nothing.

Risei sighed. He could see where this was going. "And you, Tohsaka? Can I not convince you to let go of your singleminded grudge? As ever, the church would welcome you and grant you sanctuary."

"I am hardly left with a choice. While I and my home remain targeted, I refuse to throw away my shield. It is certainly possible that Rider and I could relocate… but why should I leave my fortified position, with my family's mysteries all available to hand? No. I will endure. You will try and exhaust me, Matou? With your circuits in the condition that they are? I trust I can provide Rider with prana for far longer than you can Archer."

Risei sighed. "And so, both of you will continue to beat your heads together until both your houses are reduced to rubble, and the neighbourhood with them. Truly, the wisdom of magi is unparalleled. If you hate each other so, could you not simply find an open space somewhere and settle this in a fair duel?"

"We could do that," said Matou, "But why would I? Like I said, I vastly prefer it when I'm holed up in my house with Archer fully capable of blasting Tohsaka's with her Noble Phantasm whenever we feel like it, or sniping him with a lucky shot. Giving all that up for a so-called 'fair fight'… not my style. Thoughts, Archer?"

Archer nodded stiffly. "Duels are all very well for a matter of honour. But this is war. We are past all that now. All that remains is to fight until our last breath."

Resigned, Risei turned to Tohsaka. "And you?"

"Not that it matters, as my opponent is unwilling to face me fairly… but in this alone, I can understand his impulse. Archer, please take it as a compliment that I have no intention of facing you without my barriers in between us, when they are doing a fine job of keeping me alive and my house intact. A fair fight… no."

"So, we're just at an impasse, is that it?" Rise asked. "Neither of you will relent for the sake of the innocent caught in your crossfire, neither of you will budge to focus on other threats in the War, and neither of you will agree to give up what you see as your advantages to fight each other fairly."

"Yep."

"That is correct."

Risei put a hand to his head. "Honestly. So what is required is a means to break your deadlock… fortunately, as the Moderator I am well-placed to supply such a thing." He pulled up his left sleeve, revealing a muscular forearm – and a web of red markings covering it like an ornate tattoo. "I propose a contest. One task, performed on behalf of the Moderator of the War. The prize will be one Command Spell. Enough, I think, to tip the balance between you.

"In the hands of the Matou, one extra Command Spell would allow Archer to power through Rider's defensive Phantasm with her own. In the hands of the Tohsaka, it would allow Rider to weather a normal Noble Phantasm with no loss of power, leaving enough for a counterattack while Archer is unable to fire again."

Risei looked up at the rafters.

"I will open the prize up to anyone else who wishes to get involved, but be warned – I will demand a Geas from the winner that it be used only to break the balance between Matou and Tohsaka. How you decide which side you will use it for is up to you."

"And the nature of this task?" asked Matou. He sounded bored and uninterested… but if he really didn't care he wouldn't have asked at all. Got him.

"As it happens, I did not only receive complaints from members of Tohsaka's neighbourhood. You may or may not have noticed, but there was a rather unpleasant incident last night in Shinto. A bar, and everyone inside, collapsed and burned down. There were no survivors."

"So?"

"I have it on good authority that it was Berserker who was responsible." Risei paused. Matou and Tohsaka both looked surprised, and there was a rustle of activity from the familiars up above as well. "I cannot reveal my source, but rest assured – a Servant was responsible. Neither Berserker nor their Master have presented themselves to me, nor was the Master of Berserker among those whose identities were made known to the church beforehand. This act was not done to gain strategic advantage against another Master – it was mere wanton violence for the sake of violence. Perhaps if this Berserker was under command of a more traditional Master, they might have better controlled their Servant. Alas, it was not to be.

"As far as I can see, we have a rogue Master and Servant, clearly uninterested in fighting the War as it should be fought. My task is this: hunt down and kill the culprit, Berserker. If you choose to leave the Master alive, so be it, but make sure Berserker is stopped before they engage in a full-blown rampage. However, I will not suspend the War for this – feel free to engage other Servants if you wish. The offer is merely an… optional extra."

There was another rustle of activity up ahead. Matou looked dubious, and Tohsaka spoke up, looking vaguely disgruntled.

"I cannot help but feel like I am at a disadvantage," he protested. "Forgive me, Archer, but your Noble Phantasm and appearance leave me quite sure as to your identity. In a race to capture a target, how is Rider supposed to compete with the swiftest huntress in all of Greece, who fired the first arrow into the Calydonian boar?"

"Sucks to be you, I guess," spat Matou. "Also, cheers for divulging my Servant's identity to everyone here, dick."

Tohsaka smiled frostily, then turned back to Risei. "Well? What am I to do?"

"Tokiomi, you refused all other alternatives. I apologise if you feel this contest is unfair – however, I will not abide your ridiculous and destructive behaviour any longer. I'm sorry, that's how it is."

While Tohsaka gaped, Matou stood, laughing. "Well, there you have it. Thanks, Moderator, your solution is equitable and fair. Archer, let's go hunt." He limped from the room, clutching his arm to his side, but there was a definite pep in his step nevertheless. Archer shadowed his footsteps, finally dissolving into green motes just as the church doors opened. When they closed behind them, Risei clapped his hands.

"Very well. That concludes the purpose of this meeting. Go with God, and I wish all of you the best of luck in your efforts. Remember, if it means anything to you – Berserker is a threat to the people of this city. Innocent people, who know nothing of us or our wars and conflicts. Spare a thought for them, and remember that with all our knowledge and might comes the responsibility to protect those who do not have it. I will not command you to join the hunt. But I will say: remember how we treat rogues like Berserker. Take care that one day, the hunt does not come after you."

He spread his hands, and the various familiars flew out of the church.

Once they were all gone, he turned to Tokiomi.

"Convincing enough, do you think, my old friend?"

Tohsaka Tokiomi, the man Risei had dandled on his knee as a boy and who had been christened in this very church, smiled. "Quite. I almost thought you really were angry with me."

"Make no mistake, I really am displeased that it has come to this. But I understand. The church still holds that you are the safest candidate to obtain the Grail, and I'll do what I can to make that happen."

"Thank you." Tokiomi inclined his head. "Matou seems to have swallowed the bait quite nicely."

"Yes. With luck, he'll be too busy hunting down Berserker to continue bombarding your house, and we'll have lured Archer out from her defensive position. That was a masterful bit of reverse psychology at the end. I thought he might refuse, and spoil all our setup. You even worked revealing his Servant's True Name into the bargain as well."

"If I say black, Matou Kariya will say white. I truly don't know what I have done to earn his enmity so – he surely cannot still be jealous over Aoi's choice. In any case, I guessed that the best thing I could do to make him accept your task was to oppose it myself."

"Mm." Risei was silent for a moment. "Just so you know, with such a public task, if Archer really is the one to kill Berserker, I will have to award Matou the Command Spell. Are you not worried about that at all?"

Tokiomi chuckled. "Not especially. Anything can happen in the Grail War. Perhaps Berserker will slay Archer for us. Perhaps the Command Spell will go to someone who recognises the wisdom of making common cause with me instead of a shortsighted fool like Matou. And should the worst happen, and Matou receive an extra Command Spell to batter down my and Rider's combined defences… well.

"That is what Lancer is for, is it not?"

The two conspirators chuckled.

Neither noticed the skull mask in the shadows, fading softly away to report back to her Master.

Chapter Text

It was an unspoken rule that no activity concerning the War was to happen during the day. There were far too many people around, and the fact that everything was illuminated made it basically impossible to hide something as flashy and destructive as a Servant battle. The general wisdom was that the War started at sundown, and if you hadn't managed to achieve anything by the time the sun rose, well, that was you done for the night. The Master would retire to their base to wait out the day, catch up on some well-needed sleep, and prepare for the next night.

But… it still wasn't an actual rule.

The rule – and it was really more of a guideline anyway – was that you weren't allowed to reveal the existence of magic. That was it. And in that regard, an Assassin could get away with a lot that another Servant couldn't, even in the middle of the day.

As a spirit, she was invisible to all without some kind of magical senses, and it wasn't like the Presence Concealment skill checked whether or not the sun was shining, so Servants wouldn't notice her either. Like all the other Servants, if she got in a fight it'd be immediately noticeable… but, then, why on Earth would she choose to do such a thing?

So. It was early afternoon, and Serenity had just finished shadowing Tohsaka back to his house. As before, she stopped short of actually crossing into his property – she was almost certain her Presence Concealment was proof against anything he had set up, but… you never knew. Why risk it?

Master? she asked.

Yes?

Are we planning on supporting either side during this hunt for Berserker? Kiritsugu hadn't said anything on the matter. There was nothing wrong with that, of course… but Serenity had gotten used to immediate and clear direction from her Master. To not have that on such an important issue was… unusual. She decided to prompt him. Her expertise was considerable, and her Master had made sure she knew he valued it. Enabling Archer to kill Rider with a Command Spell seems like something we should support, but…

The last conversation between the moderator and Tohsaka suggests there is more to it. I agree. Her Master's voice was cold as ever, but over the telepathic connection, he couldn't quite hide his nervousness. I assume Lancer is Kotomine Kirei's Servant. No, he must be. To have formed an alliance already, Tohsaka has not had a chance to contact anyone else. And Tohsaka believes this Lancer capable of standing up to Archer's Noble Phantasm, even boosted by Command Spell… Assassin, we must find Kirei. No other Master is so dangerous.

Serenity wasn't sure, even now, what had Kiristugu so worried about this Kotomine, but her place was not to argue. Yes, Master. And… the other Servants?

There was a pause while Kiritsugu thought. …yes. Tohsaka has made them relevant, by bringing them into his game against Matou. Lancer… This time, her Master's thoughts were flavoured with frustration. …will wait. Clearly Tohsaka intends to keep him in reserve. Very well. Assassin, monitor the other Servants. Discover their identities if you can. If you can locate Berserker, do so. I will… make a decision on what to do.

Very well, Master. Serenity set off. Her Master hadn't told her where to start, but, of course, Serenity was fully informed as to the current disposition of all known Masters and Servants. There was no point in keeping her in the dark, so Kiritsugu shared all information with her, allowing her to make informed decisions on the ground.

Like now. Invisible, silent, Serenity hopped from rooftop to rooftop to sprint down a deserted street, to leap and swing and land back on the rooftops again. She had never been to her destination in person – but she'd seen photographs, and she'd looked through a map of Fuyuki, and that was enough.

The city was… different, during the day. So many people – they thronged in the streets, and the next street over would have more, and the next street as well, on and on as far as the eye could see. Fuyuki was, the Grail informed her, a small-ish but growing city. In her day, it would have been, by far, the largest city in the world.

People out shopping, or relaxing with friends in the sunshine, or just walking as far as Serenity could see. You'd never know that each and every one of them was under threat from spirits that should never have existed in their peaceful time. It was relaxing and humbling to behold… but melancholy at the same time. Even had Serenity's body not been cursed so, she could never be part of this sunlit world where everyone was smiling.

No. She was here to kill for her Master, to make sure this world endured.

Up ahead, the Hyatt came into view.

It wasn't actually all that hard, to find out who was selected as a Master. At least, not the ones selected from the Association. The Grail assigned Command Spells however it wanted, but there were certain trends, and the sheer number of magi who made up the Association meant that more often than not, the leadership could be said to have a 'candidate' to present. They weren't guaranteed a spot in the same way that the Founding Families were, but it was a pretty safe bet.

And, well, magi being magi, if one of the traditionalists was selected for an honour that set him above his peers, you'd damn well hear about it. Kiritsugu didn't even have to do anything – the Einzberns had long established the infrastructure for this sort of thing. In this case, they had plenty of contacts within the Association that had let them know the moment Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi started bragging.

From there, it was a matter of monitoring his movements. El-Melloi was reportedly an expert in spiritual evocation and summoning, and just generally a talented magus all-round, so he was very likely to notice any magical tracking attempts. No doubt he dealt with that kind of thing all the time – the Clock Tower was notorious for underhanded dealings, and someone as important as the lord of the Minerology Department must have people trying to steal his research as a daily annoyance. He would spot any familiars or sympathetic connections from a mile off.

He would probably not, however, do the same with the local private detective hired to note his arrival in the country and discreetly follow him to where he would be staying. Magi tended to lose all sense for mundane matters, and forgot that the vast majority of the population got along just fine with no magic at all. El-Melloi had proceeded blithely to his hotel, and the slightly confused P.I. had reported in on this – and a couple of other matters – been paid for his time, and sent on his way.

He hadn't managed to actually get in to the room itself, of course. Dismissal of mundane methods or not, El-Melloi wasn't that stupid, as Serenity discovered when she attempted to access the room normally. (You never knew.) He'd locked out the entire floor, in fact, involving some really complex space-warping that allowed the stairwells and elevators to bypass the whole thing unless it detected the correct magical signature.

The floor itself had been transformed into a labyrinth, with more space warping messing with the dimensions to the point that some of the doors led into alternate dimensions altogether. There were traps and tripwires and effects laid over what looked like every inch of the place. More, there were what felt like at least a dozen ghosts, spirits or demons wandering around looking for intruders, with various sensory abilities and various hunting patterns. The place was impossibly secure.

So much so, that it wasn't even security any more – to Serenity's eyes, it was just showing off. Almost childlike, in fact, in the caster's clear excitement and anticipation of someone trying to get past all his clever preparations. No-one did all this just because they wanted to feel safe, War or no War. No, it looked like El-Melloi was here for… a good time? He wanted to match wits against other magi, each of them using everything they had, and prove he was superior.

Well, blow that for a game of soldiers.

Serenity might well have been able to work her way through the maze of traps. The combination of dematerialisation and Presence Concealment at A+ rank did a lot to deal with pretty much any combination of sensors. El-Melloi would have been expecting that, of course, and set countermeasures specifically for Servants, but Serenity was one of the best in history at what she did and she was reasonably certain she could cope.

But, really, that sounded like a lot of work, and why bother? There were easier ways of doing this.

Serenity stood on the very edge of the roof, enjoying the afternoon breeze through her hair. Crouching, she drove two knives up to the hilt straight into the concrete – on the vertical side of the building, over the edge. Keeping hold of each knife, she leaned even further over, then picked her feet up and straightened out into a handstand, holding herself over empty air.

Then she pulled one knife out and lowered herself on one hand. In went the free knife, a little lower.

Step by step, she lowered herself down the side of the Hyatt.

See? Much easier.

Even like this, she kept her mental map of the internal layout of the Hyatt. When she judged that she was above the right window, she bent her arms and lowered her invisible head so she could just peek through the top.

The Hyatt was grand and luxuriant – well, most modern living spaces seemed that way to Serenity, although she was aware she'd so far lived in two castles and spent her time observing a mansion, so she might not have had the best sample size to work with. But the Hyatt was luxuriant and modern, rather than old-fashioned – all wide and open-plan, curving walls, lots of glass. Interesting.

But she wasn't here to examine the architecture. Serenity held still as two people came into view – one a blond man in flowing blue clothes, the other a redheaded woman in a white blouse with a ribbon. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument, or at least a one-sided rant on the man's part.

Serenity recognised El-Melloi, but wasn't familiar with the woman. She didn't set off Serenity's sense for Servants, although something in the apartment sure was – though whether they were dematerialised or simply out of sight Serenity didn't know.

Master, she sent, knowing that Kiritsugu would focus on seeing through her senses. Any idea on who this woman is? She could be an aide or confidante, but she doesn't act like either. If anything, she seems to be an equal to El-Melloi.

Do you have a clear shot at him? came the reply at once. There's no point in collecting information if we can just kill him and get him out of the way immediately.

No clear shot, Serenity said. Not without knowing the whereabouts and capabilities of his Servant.

Keep listening, then, said her Master. I'll see if our files on El-Melloi have anything.

Serenity did so.

"… that little upstart thinks he is," El-Melloi was snarling. "Bad enough he defies me, but that the Grail should grant him Command Spells also? As though we were equals? And to add insult to injury, the Grail decides to grant the Servant of the Spell to such an insolent fool. Tell me, Sola-Ui, if the Servants summoned are a reflection of their Masters, what does that say, that the brat's ego called to such a master magus?"

"It tells me you are being ridiculous, Kayneth," snapped the woman – now identified as Sola-Ui. "If we had swapped Servants you would instead be complaining that this Waver Velvet drew the most outstanding class. Has Saber given you any cause for dissatisfaction?"

"No… Saber has been exemplary, I admit. But it irks me, Sola-Ui, it irks me that Velvet's Servant refuses to come out and fight. Sending automatons against me… surely they cannot think to defeat me with toys? But if not, what is his design…"

Sola-Ui rolled her eyes. "You're getting obsessed. Velvet and Caster are a non-issue, surely? No Caster can stand up to Saber, and were you to take the field against Velvet… well. Enough said on the matter. Focus on something else. Such as this situation with Berserker."

"Hm." El-Melloi sat down on the couch, and reached for a bucket of wine and a glass. "I'm torn on that. Part of me wants to let Matou and Tohsaka destroy each other and take out Berserker into the bargain, but… having the extra Command Spell would be useful."

"Would you use it to support Tohsaka or Matou?"

"I haven't decided yet." El-Melloi smiled. "I suppose it would depend on who can give me a better offer."

"Or on whose Servant would otherwise give you more trouble."

"… yes, there is that." El-Melloi swirled his wine. "In any case, even just having the option would be helpful… and it has been dreary, cooped up in here. This is hardly what I was expecting from the War."

Sola-Ui frowned. "Think how it's been for me, will you? At least you have full access to your magic, and can go out and fight alongside Saber… not that you have," she sneered. "I, on the other hand, will stay here for the rest of the War. Honestly, the things I put up with."

El-Melloi smiled, and to Serenity's eyes there was genuine affection there. "Yes. Thank you once again, Sola-Ui. You know I wouldn't be able to do this without you, do you not?"

The woman rolled her eyes and turned away. "Yes, yes. I'm not objecting, really. But it's frustrating, to be dragged into your scheme and then for you not to even take advantage of it."

"Well, just because you're providing all the power to keep Saber active doesn't mean I have to waste mine. There's no point in setting up this grand atelier and then not making use of it. I'll engage, carefully and in a time and place of my own choosing. If I'm fighting, I can at least fight as a magus does."

"Seems to me that a magus fights very similar to a coward," Sola-Ui spat. El-Melloi blinked, clearly taken aback.

"What would you have me do, Sola-Ui?" said El-Melloi, his tone slightly mocking. "Pick up a sword and charge in alongside Saber? I'm no good at that, and it's not my place. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"How dare-"

The door into the apartment flew open, and in swept a knight in pale blue and white, proudly bearing what looked like a broken clockwork bird.

"I have finished!" declared the knight, brandishing the bird like a hunter with a pheasant. "It gave me trouble, oh yes, but once again the Knight of White Lilies is victorious over Caster's silly dolls!" Then, appearing to notice the atmosphere in the room for the first time, continued, "…am I perhaps interrupting something?"

El-Melloi was the first to break the silence. "No, Saber, not at all. Sola-Ui and I were merely having a disagreement."

"Ah, the usual issue?" The knight – Saber – smiled, apparently familiar. "My Master, I well know how troublesome women can be. But I urge you to see my lady's side as well. You are talented, likely the most talented Master in the War. With such talent should come gallantry, or what is it for? Let us sally forth, the most magnificent and amazing Master and Servant, and dazzle all with a display of our skill!"

Sola-Ui gave El-Melloi a hard look. "You see? Saber thinks you're a coward as well."

"Not at all!" cried Saber, seemingly distraught by the prospect. "Master, I am your knight, to use as you see fit. As I served the Royal Family of France, and as you serve your Association, I now serve you, and to do as you command my only desire. I only mean… do you not want to fight alongside me? Were you not dissatisfied with not engaging the foe in the cut and thrust of battle?"

El-Melloi started to say something, but paused, closed his eyes and sighed. "The two of you are impossible. Saber, Sola-Ui, I'm only trying to conduct myself as a magus should. Of course I want to stride onto the battlefield and use every code, spell and trick I have to emerge victorious. But, Saber, though we fight with honour, others will not." He gestured at the broken automaton, still held in Saber's gloved hand. "Our foes would not hesitate to strike me down should I show myself on the battlefield. Through treachery, through trickery, through some means I can only guess at, I would die – not in battle, but through my own foolishness. And our chance for a wish upon the Grail will be lost. Is that what you want?"

Sola-Ui looked away in disgust, but said nothing. Saber's head shook emphatically.

"But…" El-Melloi continued. "Perhaps it is time I took a more active role in the War. Come, Saber. I have made my decision. We go to hunt Berserker! With my spells to track them down, and your sword arm, we cannot lose. Make your preparations. We leave at nightfall."

The look on Saber's face was radiant. "Yes, Master! For France, for the Association, we shall not fail! En garde!"

El-Melloi and Sola-Ui disappeared into the apartment, while Saber remained.

Your assessment, Assassin? said Kiritsugu.

Very straightforward, replied Serenity. And El-Melloi's focus on Waver Velvet and his Servant Caster may be a distraction we can exploit. However, you should not face El-Melloi in direct combat, Master…

Agreed. I never intended to. And Saber?

The Knight of White Lilies… Chevalier D'Eon, Serenity recited the information fed to her by the Grail. Not the most powerful… but skilled. Of the Servant encountered so far, likely the most talented in combat, just as El-Melloi is the most accomplished magus. However, Master, El-Melloi is not a threat. He will not be difficult to kill.

Explain.

Serenity focused on the coffee table, where the bottle of wine still sat in its bucket of ice. No matter how great your fortifications, or how secure your quarters, you still need to eat and drink. It would not be the first time, or the second, or the fiftieth, that I poisoned the food sent to a target.

I see. And if all else fails, there is still the fallback plan we discussed.

Yes. Serenity wasn't a fan. For one thing, blowing up a whole building to get to one man was… well, it just seemed a bit flashy. To be sure, it would probably be effective. There weren't a lot of spells one could cast immediately that would protect you from a fifteen-story drop unless you were expecting that kind of thing – and you had to be a special kind of person to anticipate someone taking out the floor from out underneath you.

But there was a bigger reason Serenity wasn't sold on this plan. As her Master laid it out, he took great pains to explain how he would keep the people of the hotel safe. He would set fires on the lower floors, he would ring the alarm bell, he would wait until El-Melloi was the last name to be called and impersonate him. It would allow the building to be brought down with only the magus inside.

When Serenity had asked, matter-of-factly, why he did not simply detonate the charges with no warning, to reduce the risk of El-Melloi having, by chance, prepared some defence, he'd chuckled to himself and said he must be going soft. Serenity didn't believe him.

Of all the times to begin considering collateral damage, it was during this, the most important fight in – potentially – the history of mankind? With the wish for eternal peace at stake, why take the risk? Why refuse the sacrifice?

No. To Serenity, this only confirmed what she'd thought. Silently, she fell forward and off the side of the building, fading into shadow and descending as a ghost.

Her Master was cracking under the strain brought on by the conflict between his ideals and what he had to do to reach them. With his hands covered in blood, with his goal so near, he was finally beginning to balk at what must be done.

Serenity could not allow that to happen. She had to support him with all he had, stop him from having to make the hardest decisions by making them irrelevant.

Or Kiritsugu would break, and the chance for a better world would be lost forever.

Chapter Text

Ryuunosuke had kind of gotten into a routine when going out with Ibaraki. He wandered pretty much where he wanted, she followed silently as a ghost, then she jumped out and ate people and they both had a wonderful time.

Not tonight. Now, Ibaraki had finally decided she'd drained enough power that she felt comfortable taking on another Servant – so it was time to kick ass and take names. This time, it was him following in her wake. While Ibaraki was still invisible, she forged on ahead, pausing only to send him terse updates as to her location. The streets were deserted, as usual – no cars, and only the occasional pedestrian, so Ryuunosuke was alone with his thoughts as he trudged along.

It felt a bit weird that they weren't travelling together, to be honest. After seeing what Ibaraki could do, Ryuunosuke had no embarrassment whatsoever about being protected by her in a fight, and the knowledge that things like her were out to kill him… he wasn't afraid of death, but he definitely didn't want his fun cut short.

But, as Ibaraki had pointed out, his main advantage was that none of the wizards knew who he was or what he looked like, and that he didn't even give off any magic for them to sense (being only barely a wizard himself). As long as he didn't obviously associate himself with Servant Berserker, there should be no reason for him to be targeted.

In fact, Ibaraki had wanted him to remain behind at the temple, but yeah, screw that. He was in this to actually have some goddamn fun in his life, and he wasn't going to do that by staying home with his thumb up his ass. If he could see through his Servant's eyes reliably, maybe… but he couldn't, so that was that.

Mind you, he was regretting his choice a little – the weather was horrendous. Just, wet, and windy, and overcast. It wasn't raining all that heavily, but there was a persistent drizzle, and already there were rivulets running through the street, reflecting the streetlights like little silver streams. His trainers were getting ruined.

If he was the dramatic type, he'd have loved to narrate his thoughts with something like 'It was a lovely night to kill people', but it really wasn't. It was a lovely night to stay indoors and not get cold and wet, was what it was, but sadly if he was going to participate in the War he didn't really have that option. Bah.

Anyway. Tonight, Ibaraki would test herself in combat against another Servant for the first time. She had a whole bunch of strategies based on how well she did – like, she didn't know just how much stronger being Japanese summoned in Japan made her – but honestly Ryuunosuke had kinda zoned out while she was explaining them. The main thing was, he was going to see how Ibaraki fought someone on her own level. This was going to be so cool.

Of course, the problem was actually finding other Servants. Six people, in a city of thousands, were not obvious, and that was before you considered that some of them were trying to hide from the others. Ryuunosuke wasn't a wizard, but he assumed that the reason Servants like Ibaraki could sense each other was just to hurry the damn War up a bit so they didn't die of boredom.

So, Ibaraki was returning to the scene of the crime. While they'd gone out of their way to provide a plausible excuse as to why an entire bar full of people had been annihilated, Ibaraki didn't expect that any of the Masters or Servants would actually be fooled – it was more to cover their asses so no-one got pissy about not keeping the secret of magic. It was just too much of a coincidence for something like that to happen just after the War started.

Or so Ibaraki had said. Ryuunosuke didn't really get it, and didn't care. As long as his Servant had an idea of what was going on, he was more than happy to follow her lead.

Up ahead, the bridge came into view, the other side still only a shadow lit by lamps turned to halos in the rain. There wasn't any shelter while crossing, and Ryuunosuke would have to cross – the temple was on the other side of the river to the bar Ibaraki had blown up. He cursed, snuggled further into his hood, and stepped forward into the road, now flowing with water running off the bridge.

In a flash of flame, Ibaraki appeared, halfway across the bridge and in the middle of the road. She faced the other side, and something in her posture made Ryuunosuke stop – an instinct that something wasn't right. After a moment, he realised what it was. Ibaraki had her sword out, ready. She'd never done that, never just brought it out without immediately using it. That she had, now… was she nervous? Surely not.

Summoner, came her voice in his mind. It was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something. It didn't feel like fear, but Ryuunosuke couldn't place it. It is time. Remove yourself, discreetly. Watch if you must, but do not be seen.

Well, he didn't need to be told twice. Ryuunosuke stopped, looked at his watch, then turned around and hurried back the way he came. He found a spot outside a café, where an awning gave him shelter from the rain, and settled in against the wall to watch.

Goddamn, he could hardly see anything from here. Shitty rain. This was going to suck if he missed all the action because of the damn weather of all things. He concentrated on the mental link he clearly shared with Ibaraki, on how it felt whenever she talked to him in his mind. Mentally, he crawled back down that link, imagining his ghostly image flying from his body and settling behind his Servants eyes.

Come on, come on…

With that, it finally clicked. He could see the bridge in front of him, a lone figure in yellow highlighted against the dark. But, overlaid on that, he could see… the road. The red steel of the bridge, on either side of him.

And, approaching, a figure in pastel blue and white, carrying a rapier.

Ryuunosuke smiled. Forget the nonsense he'd been doing so far, and forget whatever was happening with those arrow storms too. This would be the first battle of the War, one Servant against another, and he had no intention of missing it.

Ibaraki's grip tightened on her sword as the other Servant approached, and a low growl emerged from her throat. She wanted nothing more than to pounce, to rip and tear and smash and break until this speck was nothing but a smear beneath her feet… but there were formalities to be observed.

"Greetings," she said. "Know that you have the honour of being slain by Servant Berserker. Whose head is it that shall hang from my hall before the night is done?"

The other Servant paused, but recovered smoothly and gave a flamboyant bow – though their hand never left the slim rapier at their side. "A good evening to you as well, fair lady. I am Servant Saber! I regret that I cannot introduce myself as befits a knight, and conduct our duel in accordance with the proper customs – but, you understand. However, I shall ask, all the same: will you surrender? I promise, under our protection your Master shall come to no harm, and be treated as an honoured guest for the remainder of the War. This, I so swear, on my life, my honour, and my very name, though you know it not."

Ibaraki nodded, satisfied. It was always nice to meet an opponent who knew what was what. "Very generous. I decline, and answer in kind. Surrender, and I promise I will send your Master's heart to his grieving mother as a token to remember him by, after I slaughter the both of you."

Saber's mouth opened. Saber's mouth closed. "Perhaps it is best we dispense with the rest of the formalities…"

"Oh," said Ibaraki, a little disappointed. "If you insist."

"…yes," said Saber. "En gard-"

That was as far as the other Servant got before Ibaraki's bone blade smashed into the ground where Saber had been standing. They had danced aside at the last second, and drew their rapier in a flash of bright steel – but were forced to backpedal frantically as Ibaraki exploded up from the crater, sword blurring right to left.

Ibaraki gripped her blade in her left hand, and leapt at Saber once more, whipping it round in a horizontal strike. Saber ducked underneath the slash, rolling with the motion – and sprang to their feet just before Ibaraki's stomp cracked the concrete. Despite the speed of the manoeuvre, they came up in a picture-perfect fencing guard, balanced and even.

Pressing the attack, Ibaraki swung her blade overhead, an arc of violence moving too fast to track, aiming to crush this insect. It was met with a heavy tap from the rapier, sending it off course into the ground. Saber slid away from the shockwave as it landed, and resumed their guard.

Annoying. Ibaraki's lips curled, showing tusks. Did her opponent plan to avoid her the entire time? Enough of this dancing around. With a low growl, Ibaraki launched a flurry of blows, ripping through the air with a noise like arrows falling. Saber twisted and turned, dodging each by inches. With a flash of annoyance that left her lips as a snarl, Ibaraki realised Saber had gotten her measure.

When the assault broke off, Saber was unharmed. They held their rapier in in that perfect guard, looking not even out of breath. Ibaraki's face twisted in a pout of frustration, tusks showing. There was a way through Saber's defence, she knew it. Ibaraki hadn't shown everything she could do yet. While she considered, she stalked in a circle, unwilling to humiliate herself further just yet.

Saber followed, stepping with surety even on the rain-soaked road, clear blue eyes on their opponent.

"That is a very heavy blade," they said suddenly, eying Ibaraki curiously. "Tell me, what is it made of?"

"Oni bone," said Ibaraki. "The densest material above the sea. I have never had a problem swinging it, though. You would be a fool to underestimate my strength based on what you see."

"But of course!" said Saber. "After all…" And then they were there, launching forward in a lunging slash that took them inside Ibaraki's guard in an instant. It was all Ibaraki could do to duck her head in time to take the blow on her horns – and when it came, it staggered her back a step.

"… I myself have been underestimated many times."

Ibaraki shrieked in fury and swung her sword in an upwards strike that could have uprooted an ancient maple. It was caught by Saber's boot barely a foot off the ground – and forced back down, the knight's strength, technique and positioning more than a match for Ibaraki's raw power. Ibaraki put more force into it, only to be sent off balance as Saber suddenly disappeared, swirling to the right and coming round with a slash.

Unable to dodge, the strike laid open Ibaraki's upper arm, and she hissed – more in rage than in pain. Flexing her claws, she lashed out with her right hand, and was rewarded with nothing but a strand of Saber's golden hair as the other Servant ducked out of the way. A light cut to the cheek spun Ibaraki's head round as Saber whipped their sword across in a riposte, and she staggered backwards.

Damn it, Saber was a waifish bundle of twigs! Where was all this strength coming from?

She brought her bone blade down once again, but it was useless – Saber would not be taken by surprise so easily. The other Servant rapped their rapier just where Ibaraki held the blade, and it slammed into the ground an inch from Saber's boot. They stomped on it, driving it further into the asphalt of the road, and lunged.

Ibaraki was fast, much faster than she seemed. She could play with the greatest mortal swordsmen, and catch arrows mid-flight. She was rightly feared in Kyoto as an unstoppable force.

But Saber was just so much faster.

Heart, throat, inner thigh, wrist, jaw… Saber carved deep, deep wounds into every one in the space of a single second of violence. Ibaraki tried to react, but everything she did only presented the next target for Saber.

At last, Ibaraki caught a bone-breaking kick in her chest and sailed across the bridge, colliding with the barrier and bending it out of shape. Below her, the waters of the Mion river surged, swollen with rainwater.

Saber had done more damage to Ibaraki in the space of a second than most heroes managed in a lifetime. And yet, Ibaraki barely felt the pain.

As an oni, Ibaraki was strong beyond the dreams of humans. Saber was stronger – they didn't look it, but they were. Ibaraki was quick, and unhesitating in her pursuit of violence. Saber was faster. Ibaraki was more skilled than most foolish heroes ever suspected, a lifetime of war with her chosen weapon making her a master duellist as well as a terror on the battlefield. Saber could read her every move like she'd been told about it hours in advance and had had Musashi Miyamoto himself helping to plan the perfect counter.

But for all that… Ibaraki was still going to win this fight. Because Ibaraki's real strength?

Sheer rugged toughness. Many soldiers, guardsmen and heroes were sure they had killed Ibaraki, and all were proved wrong in the end. Bring on Saber's worst, because Ibaraki did not give a fuck. Stab her, slash her, beat her black and blue, Ibaraki would still be in the fight and only come back twice as pissed off.

She could do this all night.

Ibaraki picked herself up, and stretched, flexing her claws. "Very well," she said, still the image of politeness. "You have some skill, I admit."

"Ah, you embarrass me," said Saber. "You also are far more skilled than I expected. But, alas, I fear this battle is all but decided. You are not, I think, a match for me."

Metal crumpled as Ibaraki's fists clenched on the barrier fence. "Is that a fact?"

In a blur of motion, a six-foot section of steel was torn off and flew like a bullet towards Saber… who sidestepped it. Ibaraki, back on her feet, snarled. Around her, the bridge, otherwise soaked with rainwater, was quickly drying, wisps of steam curling up around Ibaraki's feet.

"It is," said Saber as though nothing had happened. They took a guarding stance. "Well? Shall we continue? This cannot be all you are capable of! A skill, some hidden talent… your Noble Phantasm may yet turn the tide! Come, and show your mettle!"

"You asked for it." Ibaraki drew in a breath, reaching deep into her reserve of prana.

And the space around her exploded into blinding, dizzying flame.

Asphalt melted. Metal glowed. The air swam like water, and the rain boiled into steam before it even reached the ground. Even across the far side of the bridge, paint started peeling under the impossible heat. In the middle of the inferno, Ibaraki stood, a monster fresh from the fires of Hell.

Saber's eyes widened, just a touch. Ibaraki pounced.

There was none of Servant Berserker's previous attempts at martial prowess. She simply bore down on Saber with all the subtlety of a meteorite – and when she landed it had much the same effect. Before, concrete had cracked. Now, it rippled, shards flying outwards with the force of bullets.

And a sphere of fire scorched what was left black, for a dozen paces around.

Saber backpedalled, rapier flashing to deflect concrete shards. They skidded to a halt outside the range of the punishing heat – only to grit their teeth and hold their ground as Ibaraki slammed into their guard, fist-first.

Now it was Saber's turn to go flying, clothes darkened by soot. Even as they landed, skidding even further towards the edge of the bridge, Ibaraki kept up her charge, carving a trench of melted asphalt and shattered concrete into the road with her passage.

Faster. Stronger. It wasn't mere physical might that empowered Ibaraki's blows now. Her body was always a vessel of pure prana – but now, more than she could ever hold hammered through her and exploded out of every strike. This was power, this was true strength, this was the birthright of all oni channeled into stone-shattering force and set ablaze by her hatred of all things human.

Prana Burst – Flame. Saber's body may be stronger than Ibaraki's. But when it came to sheer destructive potential? Nothing, nothing came close to the oni kind.

With one clawed foot, Ibaraki aimed a kick at Saber's tumbling form, and this one connected cleanly. Ribs broke, skin blackened and tore even as Ibaraki's superheated shin slammed directly into Saber's chest. With a sadistic grin, Ibaraki pumped a little extra prana into the strike, hitting with the monstrous strength that only an oni could call on.

Like a shot from a cannon, Saber flew upwards, colliding heavily with one of the metal girders that made up the bridge before crashing back down to collapse on the road. They coughed weakly, and struggled to rise.

Ibaraki smiled a predatory smile. "Are you having trouble, Saber?"

"Not… at all…" came the reply. Somehow, Saber managed to struggle to their knees. "I… am quite alright…"

"If you are sure," said Ibaraki, stalking forward. "Oh, by the way…"

Saber looked up, and their eyes widened as they saw what was clutched in Ibaraki's claws.

"…I found my sword."

Ibaraki… swung.

Unarmed, she had cracked the concrete. Empowered by her fiery prana, she had shattered it. With her sword in hand…

A wave of roiling fire and force obscured Saber from view. There wasn't an analogy that described it – an oni with her favoured weapon in hand striking full-force was like nothing else on Earth. What parts of the bridge that had not already melted or broken did so now. For an endless moment, nothing existed in front of Ibaraki except fire.

When it faded, Ibaraki's jaw dropped open in surprise.

Where Saber had been was a silver orb, no larger around than an umbrella. It seemed completely unscathed by Ibaraki's attack. As she watched, it flowed open, revealing Saber crouched inside. The knight smiled and stood, apparently recovered.

"That… is not yours," Ibaraki growled.

"No indeed," said Saber. "But it is quite useful, no? Such an amazing and beautiful piece of craft… magi are quite something these days."

A Mystic Code? Impossible. Saber could not have been carrying something like that – Ibaraki would have noticed something so eye-catching. Whatever it was, it shone like mercury, and flowed like… water…

Ibaraki realised, too late. All around Saber, mixing with the rivulets and streams of rainwater, were streams of the flowing silver Mystic Code. As she watched, they crawled and streamed up into the main body around the other Servant.

"Ah, Berserker, you surprise me!" Saber continued. "I was sure I was a match for you, but that flame skill is too powerful. Had my Master not intervened, I would have perished, and the world would mourn the loss of its most beautiful knight…"

"Be silent." Ibaraki had had quite enough of this. Again the swing, again the wave of fire and force. Again, Saber emerged unscathed.

"My apologies. We were in the middle of our duel!" With that, Saber stepped through the shimmering mass, and it moulded itself to their form. After a moment, it seemed as though Saber's knightly costume had been reforged in quicksilver. "Now, for the last time: en garde!"

With some instinct, Ibaraki twisted to the side – just in time for Saber's rapier to change course from its feint and knock her to the side. Growling, she struck out with her free hand, a raking slash with claws that could have scored solid steel. It skittered off living metal, and the hilt of Saber's sword thudded into Ibaraki's chest with enough force to push her back a step.

Ibaraki gave ground, bringing her bone blade round from behind her in a crushing strike. Saber pivoted smoothly round it, managing to plant their boot in the side of Ibaraki's knee – and throwing off the blast of flame Ibaraki had been calling.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Saber was just too quick, too good at reading Ibaraki's motions. And it was just unfair how strong they were. With the Mystic Code armouring them against the worst of Ibaraki's fire… she wasn't sure she actually could land a clean hit on Saber anymore.

But you didn't get to be the leader of an oni clan by giving up that easily, so Ibaraki grit her teeth and settled in for the long haul. She was flush with prana from her victims – surely Saber must be running low right now. All it would take was a little more…

Again and again the demon and the knight clashed, and again and again the knight danced away without a scratch while the demon simply ignored deep cuts.

An intervention would clearly be required, if the fight was to end by morning.

It came in the form of three green blurs, slamming into Saber's back just as they were about to plunge their rapier into Ibaraki's heart. In a flash, they gave ground, and snapped their head around to look for the source.

On a distant building, a vague figure could be seen aiming a bow.

And then…

Then the world turned green.

Chapter Text

It rained, and it rained, and it rained.

Mostly, what it rained was arrows.

There was a convention, in a lot of books Ryuunosuke had read, to describe a lot of arrows being fired as a 'rain', or a 'shower'. As far as descriptions went, it was fine. It got the point across of there being a lot of things falling from the sky. There were a hundred arrows, or maybe even a thousand, and calling it a rain made you picture that.

But, really?

Go out and stand in the rain sometime. Look at how the air is filled with dropping water, how you can barely pick out the individual drops and it's useless to try anyway because what matters more is the area affected. Now just try and imagine every single one of those raindrops as an arrow. It quickly becomes clear that 'it rained arrows' is taking just a bit of artistic licence. It's a wonderful metaphor, but a rain of arrows isn't anything like actual rain.

Archer's Noble Phantasm was like actual rain.

"Oh, bother," said Ryuunosuke softly, watching the sky fall from behind his Servant's eyes.

Ibaraki screamed as her flesh was punished. Arrows tore chunks out of her arms, her legs, her shoulders – only the fact that she had her bone blade held protectively over her heart and head prevented any of them from scoring a lethal blow.

She could barely hear herself think. All around her, arrows drilled into the bridge, each impact carrying the sound of a sledgehammer hitting stone – but with such frequency that all Ibaraki could make out was a neverending roar.

It was all she could do to keep her sword braced. She was dimly aware of Saber somewhere next to her, but could not have said what the other Servant was doing to stay alive.

There had been almost no warning.

A second for Ibaraki and Saber to notice the figure on the roof of a building, four kilometres away. Negligible, the time for both of them to recognise it as Servant Archer.

Maybe a quarter-second to realise that she had already fired, two specks of green making their way high, high into the cloudy sky.

Another quarter second for that sky to fill with arrows, multiplying over and over until even Ibaraki felt a leaden dread in her stomach as she realised that dodging would be impossible.

Half a second after that to turn Ibaraki's world into shit.

Two seconds, in total, from realising there was an intruder to being hit with their Noble Phantasm – because there was no way anything like this could be anything else.

A green streak opened a cut on Ibaraki's cheek. She gritted her teeth and ducked her head, feeling bones rattle. Her fingers, long ago broken where they held onto the bone blade's hilt, continued to clutch on, grimly.

There was no point in dodging this. All around, there was nothing but shattering concrete – there was nowhere to dodge to, and trying would mean releasing her guard. No. Ibaraki would weather this as she'd weathered every other attempt at her life.

At the thought, her hide thickened and toughened even beyond its usual iron-hard state, the red tattoos on her forearms, head and legs expanding to cover her entire body. Arms that had been thin and flimsy developed quickly – not growing huge, but growing dense, layers of muscle defining themselves even as arrows stripped them away.

Like this, Ibaraki looked even more like the oni of legend, and the thought made her smile a savage smile even as impact after impact jarred her body. To her disappointment, Ibaraki had finished growing long before she'd wanted to, and was left looking like a fragile human child – but she could change her form somewhat, and made use of the ability as often as necessary. A true oni would withstand the weight of a mountain falling on them, and so would Ibaraki.

Goddamn it, though, would this blasted Noble Phantasm ever stop?

The one consolation was that Saber was surely having just as miserable a time as she was. With a smirk – more a grimace, really – Ibaraki looked to the side, looking through the blinding storm of green to see how the other Servant was handling goddamn it what the shit.

Saber was unharmed. Not a scratch had been marked into their beautiful face, their clothes weren't ripped and torn like Ibaraki's kimono, and they didn't seem to even be breathing hard. That was… impossible. Impossible! No matter how canny Saber was, there was no way they could have dodged this.

And indeed they weren't. Their sword held at the ready, Saber stood perfectly still and looked into the arrow storm, apparently just as confused as Ibaraki. Although probably less annoyed about it. The arrows just… didn't hit them. All around Saber, the concrete was being pounded to powder under Archer's onslaught – but Saber stood in a zone of perfect calm.

Ibaraki saw Saber glance over at her. Ibaraki saw Saber's considering look. Ibaraki read it on Saber's face when the obvious idea dawned.

Slowly, carefully, Saber took a single step towards Ibaraki. The area of unmarred bridge stretching behind Saber like a shadow shattered like the rest, and Saber stood unharmed in her new position.

Saber smiled a bright, bright smile.

Oh, bother, thought Ibaraki.

She frantically swept her blade round to meet Saber's lightning-quick thrust, ignoring the arrows that tore at her. A blast of fire made Saber back off, but even that somehow failed to put them in the path of any of Archer's arrows – and then Saber attacked in earnest.

Ibaraki twitched aside as Saber's sword flashed – right into their follow-up, which severed important-feeling things in her shoulder like a surgeon's scalpel.

Basically ignoring that, Ibaraki blurred her sword through the area Saber's head should have been. It hit only air, as she'd expected – and her follow-up was stopped dead in its tracks, which was not. Saber's mercury-coated glove held Ibaraki's wrist in a vice-like grip. They drew back their rapier for a strike, but Ibaraki was a little quicker this time and lashed out with a kick, ducking her head against her shoulder to protect it from arrow fire.

Saber slithered aside, and did something complicated to Ibaraki's wrist that dragged her forward – directly into an arrow which embedded itself into her wounded shoulder.

Ibaraki screamed, and reached deep into her rapidly dwindling well of power. In a moment, she was surrounded by flame – and then she exploded. A sphere of force and fire briefly expanded around her, blasting even Archer's arrows off-target and forcing Saber to retreat once more. With a feral snarl of effort, Ibaraki kept it up, shining like a hellish sun.

If she let this up, she would die. Either by Archer's arrows, or by Saber taking advantage of her immunity to score a fatal blow. So it was simple. All she had to do was win, just that. Last a little longer, fight a little harder. Archer surely, surely could not have the prana to keep this up for long.

If all else failed, Ibaraki would have to escape – to flee, to run, to admit defeat. She could do that, quite easily. She could go back to the start, reset the conditions, and leave to take on Saber or Archer when they weren't supporting each other. She could even instruct Ryuunosuke to use a Command Spell.

But fuck that.

Ibaraki wasn't going to run, not from some effete flower knight and not from a coward attacking from miles away either. She was the leader of the Mt Ooe oni, and she was more than equal to this task.

… or, so she hoped, as she felt prana flow out of her like sake from a smashed gourd.

Eventually, mercifully, the rain slowed, and stopped.

Ibaraki still stood. Panting, bleeding from a thousand punctures and cuts, her kimono in tatters and her body so bruised and broken she had to lean on her sword for support, but Ibaraki still stood.

The bridge hadn't fared quite so well. The entire surface of the road was a ruin, more pothole than asphalt, scored down to the concrete in so many places it looked only half-built. The red steel that made up the structure was twisted and torn where arrows had punctured straight through. Around Ibaraki in particular, asphalt had melted, concrete had scorched, and even some of the metal was still glowing cherry-red. Even for a magus, the bridge was damn near beyond repair.

And, of course, there was Saber – who had weathered the entire thing, Archer's trump card and Ibaraki's prana burst too, without a scratch.

"Damn you," growled Ibaraki, forcing the words out through battered lungs. "So you're working together with Archer? Don't tell me you avoided that all on your own. No-one's that lucky."

Saber gave a flourish with their sword. "Alas, I must correct you! I am no ally of Archer's."

Ibaraki snorted, rather than dignifying that with a reply. Saber had the gall to look wounded.

"Oh, you cruel woman!" they said, sheathing their rapier and turning to Ibaraki with a hurt expression, one hand on their breast. "Beat me and break me if you must, but my honour is a fragile thing, and your doubt cuts me deeper than swords. I am no circus charlatan attempting to deceive you and triumph by trickery – I am not, I am not!"

Ibaraki huffed, and frowned haughtily. "Protesting that their word is their bond is often the first refuge of liars."

Saber clasped their hands in front of them, looking faintly desperate. "Then, if you will not believe my word, how about this? I shall reveal the name of our mutual foe, to show you we clearly cannot be in league! Archer's true identity is the huntress of Greece raised by bears, she who fired the first shot into the Caledonian Boar…" Saber turned with a flourish, and gestured at the distant building as though a showman introducing his act. "Atalante, the Argonaut!"

Oh? How illustrious. It seemed there were some celebrities taking part in the War, indeed. While Ibaraki had never met Atalante – being from different times and places as they were – the Grail supplied all Servants with a general knowledge of the other Servants' legends. A highborn lady raised by animals, who never truly left the forest behind and kept her heart wild to the end… yes, Ibaraki liked Archer already.

"Hmm?" she said. "How interesting. I find it laughable that Archer should miss so many times."

"Just so. And yet, she persists!" Without warning, Saber's rapier flashed out faster than thought. A single arrow smashed into the ground by Saber's feet, deflected before Ibaraki had even seen it fired.

"I suspect she is just as confused as I am…" Saber continued. "Certainly, she can hit me with the arrows she fires herself. Do you have any insight, perhaps, Berserker?"

Ibaraki glared. Saber's draw had been extremely quick. "Not a clue."

"Hmm…" Saber idly batted aside a few more potshots from Archer. As always, the knight hardly seemed to be trying, and the missiles – hardly visible in the night, moving fast as lightning and striking with twice the force – never made it past their guard. "What a mystery! Can it truly be that her Noble Phantasm refuses to strike me down? Is it then peculiar to the Noble Phantasm itself? Curious, curious…"

Ibaraki shook herself, stretching out her bruised and bloodied body. If Saber wanted to talk, let them – Ibaraki was recovering by the second. He knuckles whitened on her bone blade. She wasn't going to take on Saber, not like this… but she still had a few tricks left up her sleeve. Literally up her sleeve, in fact. It would take some time to gather the necessary prana, however. Her Prana Burst was not kind on her reserves.

As for Saber's question… armed with a name, the Grail helpfully supplied the information into Ibaraki's mind. With that form, that Noble Phantasm would have been…

Archer's Noble Phantasm, Phoebus Catastrophe. It was two letters of complaint, each tied to an arrow and sent to the gods themselves… who in turn made clear their displeasure at the one who angered their servant so. According to legend, Artemis and Apollo both had a hand in the divine punishment – with the arrows of Artemis striking only men and the arrows of Apollo striking only women.

It looked like even the gods were confused as to what gender Saber was.

And by the look of dawning realisation on Saber's face, they had apparently reached the same conclusion.

"Oh? Oh ho? Ah, now this is interesting indeed!" they said, clapping their hands. "Archer, can it be I am immune to your Noble Phantasm? How lucky for me! It must be formidable indeed, to leave Berserker so tattered."

Saber twirled aside, letting four arrows whistle through the space they had been. "Ah, no, Archer, I'm afraid it will take more than you have to defeat me now. Perhaps you should team up with Berserker, hm? Together, you may triumph! Ah, but the mighty Servant of Madness has already shown she can survive your best… however will you prevail without my distracting her? And should you fail to defeat her, however will you gain the promised Command Spell? Such a princely bounty… it would be a shame indeed if some gorgeous knight of flowers slew the beast and gained the prize while you merely peppered her with little thorns from above."

The promised what? Ibaraki growled, literally smouldering with a dull, sullen fury. There was a bounty on her head already? Damn her Master for egging her on, and damn her for falling for it. When she got out of this, she was going to have words with him. With every Servant against them from the very start, Ibaraki would need to play this just right and not get carried away again.

On the other hand, Ibaraki still didn't plan on losing.

There was a flicker of green in the sky, and Ibaraki just had time to notice another shot from Archer. Her bone blade rose, slower than Saber's lightning-flash swordplay but with a power as unstoppable as thunder.

Forget shielding herself. That wasn't an oni's way, and it wasn't a Berserker's way either. Archer's volley closed in – and Ibaraki attacked it back in turn.

One blast of green bounced off the blade, and nearly knocked it out of her hands. For the next two, Ibaraki corrected her grip for the power of the shots, and the sword was steady as a rock as it swept through them in a single strike.

Left, right, the shots just kept coming. For each blow Ibaraki smashed aside, another two were in the air, and her bone blade, already impossible to lift for most humans, felt heavier and heavier in her hands. Her well of power wouldn't last forever – and if anything Archer was only gaining momentum.

This wasn't Archer's Noble Phantasm, which filled the sky with arrows and left no place to hide. This was just one of the finest hunters in history, firing a lot of shots as fast as she could. From Archer's position, there was a stream of arrows, visible as green pinpricks of light against the grey clouds, curving up and up – to fall with all the power of an artillery strike and all the precision of a sniper.

Ibaraki lifted her sword once more to bat away an arrow aimed for her head – and missed the one behind it, which plunged into her stomach. Flinching back, Ibaraki gave ground, straight into the paths of another three which Archer had fired in anticipation.

They hit, each with a force Ibaraki had been hit by only a handful of times in her life. She went sprawling, and looked up to see the final shot in the volley aimed right between her eyes…

And Saber was there, batting the arrow aside with a merry laugh. "Whoops! Not today, Archer. My Master has decreed that I be the one to slay Berserker, and so I shall, even if means saving her first. Today, I am the knight protecting the fair maiden from the savage beast that threatens her…" they trailed off, looking disturbed by something. Maybe it was the hissing growl Ibaraki was making. "… ah, in any case. Shame on you for attacking such a helpless creature!"

"Helpless, am I?"

Ibaraki lunged, sword-first. Saber caught her wrist again and twirled her, batting away another volley of shots from Archer. When Ibaraki lashed out with her claws and teeth, looking more like a crazed hellcat than the oni princess she was, Saber laughed and flickered backwards, somehow managing to keep between Ibaraki and Archer.

Archer's bombardment was in full force, shots split between Saber and Ibaraki. While Saber's back was turned, the other Servant engaged in dealing with the arrows, Ibaraki saw her chance. She howled and swung her sword, a wave of force exploding forth to swallow up Saber – but at the last moment Saber dodged, allowing an arrow to strike Ibaraki's wrist and send the strike off-course.

Literally spitting fire, Ibaraki surged forwards, only to come up short as that mercury shield expanded into a flat disc at a gesture from Saber, blocking her view. She raised her sword – and was too slow to stop the spikes which sprouted from it to pierce her through. They bent and broke on her skin, and with a savage laugh Ibaraki bulled ahead.

Foolish knight. Foolish magus. That Mystic Code was impressive, for certain, but it acted best as armour for Saber. It had nowhere near the power to break an oni. If Saber thought this shield would protect them, they were sadly mistaken.

Another set of spikes appeared, plunging towards her, and these Ibaraki just ignored. Charging, she hefted her sword yet again, safe in the knowledge that nothing this Mystic Code could do could hurt her…

… and ran straight onto a spike which pierced her throat.

There was an instant, just one, where Ibaraki had time to process that she'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Then the pain hit.

Ibaraki's teeth gritted in agony, and her shriek of fury and pain was muffled, vocal cords severed by the colossal blow. Tears came to her eyes, only to be boiled away by the insane heat she was generating.

Her bone blade hung limply from fingers which had lost all strength, and she stumbled back, only staying on her feet by a miracle.

Ahead of her, Saber stepped through the mercury disc, revealing the spike still lodged in Ibaraki's throat to be her rapier, thrust through with perfect timing to blend in with the other spikes. As Ibaraki retreated, Saber advanced, step by slow, careful step, mercury reforming around her clothes once again. Their eyes were bright and triumphant.

A flurry of arrows came in, no doubt a last-ditch attempt by Archer to finish Ibaraki off before Saber could. Behind Saber, the tails of their mercury-coated cape rose up and thrashed, knocking them off-course. Saber kept their eyes on Ibaraki, and kept their sword in Ibaraki's throat.

Ibaraki thought she'd have had more time than this.

I was going to bring back the oni… we were going to live on Mt Ooe again, and everything would be like it used to be… was I wrong? Shuten…

"A valiant fight," said Saber softly. "But it is time for you to go, Berserker. I do not know who you were, but I will remember you nevertheless."

"…ghhg…" said Ibaraki. If ever there was a time to disengage, now was it. But, dammit. To run with her tail between her legs in the very first battle of the War? Never. Never.

"Hm?" said Saber. "Ah. Yes. I suppose I can hear your last words. Hold on, please…" With a flourish, they tore their sword free and shook it clean in one clear motion.

"…nxt…" Ibaraki's fingers tightened on her sword. A last ditch attack… yes, she maybe had the strength for one more blow at full force. Even Saber would feel that, if Ibaraki could just connect.

"I'm sorry? I'm afraid you will have to speak up."

"…gah…" Ibaraki spat blood, and glared at Saber, who looked back with a cool, professional air. No, Ibaraki was not going to hit Saber. Not when she was at her best, and certainly not now. But she couldn't just die without giving it one last shot to survive.

"I said…" Ibaraki raised her sword in one trembling claw.

"Yes?" Saber leaned in, mercury armour shifting and their grip on their rapier. Their eyes missed nothing, prepared for any attack from their defeated foe. Ibaraki smiled a toothy, tusky smile.

"I said… we'll continue this next time, Saber!"

And Ibaraki swung with all her strength.

At the bridge below her feet.

As the concrete crumbled under the titanic blow, as the metal groaned and shrieked as the battered structure finally gave way, as Ibaraki fell down into the water below, she had just enough time to savour the look on Saber's face.

Chew on that, you stupid knight. Next time, I'll crush you with my Noble Phantasm straight off.

Then Ibaraki hit the Mion River, and for a time, her flame was quenched.

Chapter Text

The bridge across the Mion river was a twisted, scorched and ruined wreck. Most of it had fallen into the river itself, steel beams and concrete blocks jutting like snapped ribs from the dark water. Upstream, the river surged angrily, already threatening to burst its banks – downstream, it ran sluggishly and sullenly. Already, sirens could be heard in the distance.

Serenity crouched in the rain, on top of a streetlight by the riverbank. There was a boardwalk that ran down the side of the river – by day, it was a favourite spot for joggers, families and picnickers enjoying the soft lapping of the river as it ran down, past the residential area, to the docks and the sea. By night, it was deserted.

If Serenity had been visible, she would have been a barely-glimpsed figure in the gloom, easily mistaken for a trick of the light where the streetlight's halo created a shadow above it. But she wasn't. There was no reason for her to materialise, so she wasn't even a shadow.

All around, onlookers gathered, dark figures against the city lights drawn from whatever business they had in Fuyuki. In ones and twos, they would approach the river, stop, and stare in shock. Drivers who wished to get their goods through, residents who had been alerted by the noise, night workers wondering how they would get home, all came to see what new calamity had disturbed their life.

Some left, but most stayed, trying to take in the new reality they found themselves in. As the first police arrived on the scene, the word had spread. Something had destroyed the bridge, and Fuyuki was split in two.

I could have prevented this, Serenity thought.

Saber and Berserker were both far beyond her ability to handle, of course. In a fight, Serenity would be lucky to last five minutes with either, and only then by running and escaping. If she managed to deliver a massive dose of poison, perhaps something could be done… but even that was not certain. It would need to enter the bloodstream directly to have a chance of affecting something as strong as a Servant.

Usually Serenity preferred more… intimate means of passing her poison through the mucous membrane, but an envenomed dagger thrown to cut the skin would work just as well. Even one dose could slow a Servant enough to make a difference. Three would be death, to all but the hardiest.

Berserker did indeed seem to be one of the hardiest. Worse, that power over flame… heat was not kind to poisons, and Serenity had not missed the way the rain had hissed and bubbled off Berserker's skin like water off a hot pan.

And as for Saber… Serenity did not specialise in close-in fighting, but her position had demanded she master it, just as it demanded she master all arts of killing. Therefore, she was in an informed position to say that the Knight of White Lilies was the best fighter she had ever personally laid eyes on. Serenity was a tricky opponent, and even masters of the blade would be hard-pressed to escape without a single scratch – and that single scratch would invariably be fatal.

Serenity honestly did not know if she would be able to put even a scratch on Saber.

But that didn't matter, because for the duration of the fight Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi had been not six feet below her, completely oblivious to her existence. In the dull yellow pool of light, he had stood, watching the battle unfold with a satisfied smile on his face. Close enough to observe, but far enough removed that the crowds passed him by, focused as they were on the destruction of the bridge. Totally focused, totally confident, the perfect magus. Totally vulnerable, the perfect target.

And she had done nothing.

No knife in the back, no droplet of spit aimed down the back of his neck, no silent lunge to fall upon the man and snap his neck. She had not been commanded to do so by Kiritsugu, so she would stay and observe.

Serenity had not been working with her Master long, but in that time she had come to respect his cunning, his preparation, and his attitude. His plans aligned almost exactly with what she would have done in his place – for that reason, she was more than happy to act as his tool and carry out her part in his plan as he wished. To kill, or to leave alone, Serenity was happy to abide by Kiritsugu's decision either way.

If only he had made one.

There were advantages to leaving El-Melloi alive, to be sure. Saber was a strong combatant in the War, one who perfectly countered Archer's Noble Phantasm and was able to fight even someone so destructive as Berserker to a standstill. It was entirely possible they would clear out some of the competition without Serenity or Kiritsugu having to lift a finger.

And El-Melloi was so, so full of openings. No doubt he was protected against every spell Kiritsugu could think of and more, but he was simply too careless to pose a threat to Servant Assassin. Standing in the open, watching a fight from less than a mile away. Living on the fourteenth floor of the hotel and never considering the consequences should he fall. Ordering room service in a war he knew was attended by one of the greatest assassins in history.

No, Serenity could remove both El-Melloi and Saber from the War any time she chose, and there were good reasons to keeping him around.

And if any of that had been Kiritsugu's reason for not giving the order to kill, Serenity would not have been worried.

Instead he had… dithered. The power to say yes or no to El-Melloi obtaining the promised Command Spell only existed as long as Berserker did. While Saber grew closer and closer to killing Berserker, Kiritsugu had held off on making a decision, until it almost didn't matter anymore. He had not said anything to Serenity… but connected as she was to his thoughts, she could tell – he was genuinely in two minds as to what to do.

That paralysis, so unlike him, worried Serenity more than she could express. And she knew the cause.

Kotomine. It all came down to Kotomine Kirei. The Master of Lancer, who according to Tohsaka Tokiomi would be drawn out in the event of Archer obtaining the additional Command Spell. Was it better to allow that, and use the certainty of when Lancer would appear to prepare a counter, or as it better to strike when they were unawares and not expecting battle?

The answer lay in what kind of Servant Lancer was – which was to say, what kind of Servant Kotomine would have summoned. One who built on preparation to achieve the impossible, and would be unassailable when properly girded for battle? Or one for whom any amount of preparation time would only help Serenity and her Master?

Given the deadline of Archer's slaying of Berserker, who would use that time better – Emiya Kiritsugu or Kotomine Kirei?

Serenity did not know. But more importantly, her Master did not know. And the question rankled at him. Just why he was so worried about this priest, Serenity could not fathom, but he was. Questions about the other Master filled his mind to the point of distraction, and by day he would pore over the dossiers he had collected, searching for any clue as to the character of the man he so clearly saw as his biggest rival and greatest threat. More than once Iri had forced him to go to bed – if left to his own devices Kiritsugu would simply study until he dropped.

By night, Kiritsugu spent his time directing his familiars – his bats, and Serenity – in the search for Kotomine. Maiya was standing vigil over the church, in case the Moderator was sheltering his son there. So far, they had found nothing – so Kiritsugu had ordered Serenity to track Saber instead. With his skill at spiritual magecraft, El-Melloi had an advantage in tracking Servants, and would be the most likely to find Berserker.

Berserker was the key, Kiritsugu had decided. Tohsaka, Matou, El-Melloi – all these were predictable, conservative. The Master of Caster had yet to show themselves openly. But Berserker was an agitator, something to shake up the status quo and force reactions. She acted, and the rest of the Masters reacted. For now, Berserker was the only path towards Lancer and their Master that Kiritsugu could see.

And she had just vanished beneath the rubble of the bridge.

El-Melloi cursed under his breath, and strode to the water's edge, leaning out over the railing as though he could catch a glimpse of his quarry if only he looked hard enough. After a moment, he shook his head, and stood stiffly, knuckles tight on the metal rail.

There was a splash, and Saber leapt from the water to vault the railing, landing on one knee before their Master, sword planted in the ground. With a puff of white motes that hung in the air like flower petals, they dematerialised just long enough to allow the water to fall to the ground, no longer supported by prana masquerading as flesh. Dry once more, Saber bowed their head.

"My apologies, Master," they said. "I was ready for a last-ditch attack by Berserker, but had not thought her canny enough to destroy her environment to escape. Next time, I shall not be caught off guard so, I swear it!"

El-Melloi waved a hand. "No matter. I count tonight a success. You showed yourself capable of matching both Berserker and Archer in combat simultaneously, and the Archibald name is not ashamed in the least." He leaned forward eagerly. "How did Volumen Hydragyrum perform? It was tricky to match it to your movements, but I thought we co-operated well by the end."

Saber nodded, eyes alight. "Ah, Master, it was magnificent! Sword and shield and armour, all in one – why, the uses are endless! Even the mighty Berserker's blows were turned aside… and of course, it is also such a beautiful item."

"For a true magus, form need not be sacrificed for function," nodded El-Melloi. "I too have also found Volumen Hydragyrum to be especially elegant in its execution. You say it even stopped Berserker? I knew it was strong, but not to that extent…"

Saber fidgeted. "Well, not exactly. It was a great help in absorbing Berserker's blasts of force, and in preventing her flame from reaching me, but had it taken a hit full-on, it would have availed me very little." They smiled, tossing their blonde hair over one shoulder and flashing a smile. "Of course, I was the finest fencer in France, and no-one has managed to strike me full-on since I was a green squire. Your mercury magecraft performs quite admirably as armour against glancing blows. And oh, Master, the trick with the covering wall and the spikes! Truly inspired!"

El-Melloi smiled, an honest, enthusiastic smile that looked quite out of place on his aristocratic features. "Right? I'd thought I wanted Berserker to lose sight of you, but then I realised how the shield could become a weapon as well. It didn't work, Berserker's hide was too strong, but then you turned even that into a lure! Remarkable, Saber, truly remarkable! I will need to remember that – perhaps I could study the shape of your sword, so I can more perfectly replicate it? Or maybe your hand as well, so I can better imitate the motions – Saber, let me see…" He pulled Saber to their feet and turned their gloved hand over and over in his own, studying the way the light played off the mercury still covering it.

"Yes, it should be more than possible. I wonder if I can include any of my other Mystic Codes in this setup? Thanks to Volumen Hydragyrum's versatility, it can act as a substrate for many other devices, so long as they are supplied with ample prana. Hmm… I have a bracelet to protect against heat – I'd planned it against Tohsaka, but it should work to counter Berserker too…"

"Um… Master…" Saber began, looking away and fidgeting.

"Hmm?" El-Melloi seemed to realise he was still holding Saber's hand and let go as if burned. He thrust his hands behind his back and turned away. Although it was dark, his cheeks seemed pink. It could have just been the glow from the streetlights. "A-anyway, Saber. Good work for tonight."

"Ah, um, yes! Master, do you wish me to hunt Berserker still? I lost her trail when we both fell in the water, but I could still search among the rubble…"

"No need," said El-Melloi. He gestured, and the Mystic Code flowed off Saber to rest as an orb next to the pair. With an excited smile, El-Melloi thrust his arm to the side. "Ire Sanctio!"

A dozen silvery wires shot out from the orb and into the dark river. They pulsed in a regular pattern, and El-Melloi observed it closely. Saber stood behind him at a respectful distance, demure as a maid.

For long minutes there was silence, as El-Melloi concentrated. Serenity weighed her chances if Kiritsugu were to order her to attack. El-Melloi was no threat, distracted as he was. Saber looked at peace, but Serenity knew better than to assume they were anything less than perfectly vigilant. A direct assault would be unlikely to work, but there were other options.

Saber would annihilate Serenity in a fight, but not immediately – Serenity could draw it out for a time through sheer speed. If Saber were enticed into driving Serenity away from their Master, they would be out of position to defend him from, example, a knife launched skywards before Serenity attacked and aimed to fall upon El-Melloi's head while Saber was distracted.

Yes, that would be how she would do it. If she were asked, and not before. Satisfied, Serenity settled in to her position, and watched, and listened.

Eventually, the silver probes El-Melloi had sent out withdrew into his Mystic Code and he straightened up with a frown. "Hm. I cannot find any trace of Berserker in the rubble, nor any spiritual residue indicating the passing of such a potent spirit as a Servant. Likewise, the river has washed away any trail she might have left. I can only assume Berserker has escaped."

Saber looked distraught. "I am very sorry, Master. I will do better next time."

El-Melloi smiled, and waved off his Servant's distress. "Worry not, Saber. It would be boring if things ended so easily, after all. We shall simply have to resume our search. I have some Mystic Codes prepared for this. I had hoped the other Masters would present themselves honourably, so we could duel one another as magi and Servant, but I suppose I always felt that was too much to ask. We will begin a sweep of Shinto tomorrow night."

"If I may, Master, we should begin in Miyama," said Saber. El-Melloi stopped, and frowned.

"Saber, I will remind you that I am the Master here. If I say we will search Shinto, that is what we will do."

"Indeed, Master. I will follow your command, whatever it may be. However, it would be a mistake." Saber met his disapproving glare with a cool and honest gaze, and did not back down. Just as Serenity was sure El-Melloi was about to fly into a rage, or at least reprimand Saber for contradicting him, he sighed and relaxed.

"… I suppose you have earned the benefit of the doubt. Go ahead, then, Saber – why should we not do as I suggested?"

"Because Berserker is likely based on the west side of the river, Master," answered Saber promptly, standing to attention. "When we encountered her, she was crossing from west to east. Now is the time of night for heading out on adventures, not returning from them! We should have been the first opponents she encountered that night, or else Archer would have seen and intervened elsewhere – thus, Berserker must have set out from the other side of the bridge."

El-Melloi nodded, stroking his chin with one gloved hand. "I suppose I can see your point. You are quite observant, Saber."

"You embarrass me, Master!" said Saber, putting both hands on their cheeks and turning away slightly. "I was a spy as well as a swordsman, after all – a poor Servant I would be if I could not do this much."

"No, I am grateful," said El-Melloi. "I… apologise for assuming you had nothing useful to say. It is often hard for me to remember you are far more than just another tool like Volumen Hydragyrum."

Saber smiled and took his hands in their own, expression radiant even in the dim glow of the city lights. "Oh, Master. For you, I will be the finest tool you could ever require. All I ask is that you act in accordance with the finest values we uphold as nobility in order to be a lord worthy of admiration, and remember to respect those who serve you in turn."

For a heartbeat, Master and Servant stood, looking into each other's eyes. Then, a siren passed along a nearby street, and the moment was lost. El-Melloi looked away first.

"A-anyway, Saber. Let us return. We can discuss our plans for Berserker back at the hotel, and equip you with some other Mystic Codes." El-Melloi turned and started walking stiffly in the direction of the Hyatt.

"Yes! Let us away, to sharpen our swords for the battle to come!" With a swirl of their cape, Saber dematerialised, leaving behind nothing but the scent of flowers.

Once more, the boardwalk was deserted and silent. In the gloom, one girl in a skull mask sat and thought.

The War's founders had been wise indeed. From almost any other Servant, El-Melloi would likely not have taken such criticism so well. But Saber understood their Master, and knew exactly how he would best respond to particular attitudes and arguments – partly because Saber seemed to have a natural talent for diplomacy and decorum, but also because those were exactly the levers that Saber identified with.

For each Master, a Servant. For each Servant, a Master. How well a Servant worked with their Master was a reflection of how well they were able to accept themselves, and the same worked in reverse. If a Master was honest about what kind of person they were, and were self-aware enough to realise their flaws and weaknesses, the Grail system guaranteed they would find the Servant who would work best with them.

Even a magus as traditional and hidebound as Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi could accept help from the Servant matched with him.

With a leap, Serenity launched herself into the sky, and made for the Einzbern castle.

She needed to talk to her Master.

Chapter Text

The locals called the forest out to the southwest of Fuyuki haunted. There were dark spirits there, they said, chased out there by the temple that stood to the north – or else there were ghosts, or snow fairies, or monsters.

They were, technically, right about three of the four, and they could be forgiven for mistaking an Einzbern homunculus for a snow fairy.

But the main reason why the place made intruders uncomfortable – and why no-one who did not have business there ever entered – was because there was a spell laid on the Einzbern territory for exactly that purpose. Magi liked to work in private, as a rule.

The initial Bounded Field served as both a deterrent and an early warning system, with a subtle compulsion to leave the area that increased in intensity as one approached the boundary line and a field-based tracking spell that took effect once someone entered. Anyone who was able to resist the first was, more than likely, an enemy – so if they entered regardless the second would both alert the Einzbern magus in the castle and track the location of the intruder.

There were other Bounded Fields within woods themselves, closer to the castle. These were intended to misdirect, to confuse and lead astray. Finding the castle was more difficult than it should have been, even for those who knew where it was. Unwary visitors would find themselves becoming hopelessly lost, as each patch of forest looked identical to the next.

Sometimes, this would literally be the case – Einzbern alchemy wasn't perfectly suited to providing defensive measures, but it was quite easy to alter a forest so that half the trees were exact imitations of each other. Even scoring marks into them wouldn't help, as the curse of similarity would ensure that every tree would bear identical marks.

This was not the only defence the Einzberns had set up during over two hundred years of owning the castle.

This was a wartime residence, after all. Any time the castle was occupied, it would be on high alert. And when it was not, the defences would remain up regardless. The Einzberns had no intention of just leaving the place wide open for the Tohsaka or Matou in between wars.

(Never mind that the Tohsaka had assisted in the construction of the castle in the first place. So far, nothing had come of it, but the first thing Kiritsugu had done when arriving was search the entire place, top to bottom, for any suspicious gemstones that looked out of place. The Tohsaka were magi, and probably too honourable or pig-headed to think that far ahead, but you never knew.)

For an Einzbern Master with a powerful Servant, the defences served as a great way to aim them at the enemy and smash them to pieces. For Serenity and Kiritsugu, they would serve just as well in evading enemy Servants and getting past to the vulnerable Master – not to mention buying time for Serenity to return if the castle should come under attack while she was out scouting.

Now, her need to return was not nearly so urgent. Nevertheless, Serenity flew through the trees, quick and silent as a breeze. As the Einzbern Servant, the defences had no effect on her, other than to inform her Master of her location.

He already knew, of course. Serenity had requested a face-to-face strategy meeting between all four members of the Einzbern team, and Kiritsugu had accepted.

He hadn't asked why. Was it trust in Serenity? Had he been planning something like this himself? Serenity didn't know, but was pleased she hadn't had to persuade her Master. In any case, Kiritsugu had told her where to meet, and was even now sat in the dining room that served as their conference hall, watching his Servant's progress through her eyes. As she ran, Serenity caught glimpses of the bat familiars he employed, tracking her and watching her back in case she was followed.

The Einzbern field would do both of those things, but Emiya Kiritsugu wasn't one to rely on just one solution, especially one he hadn't set up himself. Just like him, to make doubly certain. Just like him, to make sure he had total control over a situation if he could.

This could be a problem.

When she arrived at the castle, Serenity scaled the wall, nimble as a squirrel, and let herself in an upstairs window. Had this been a normal building, she would have dematerialised to go through the walls, but for obvious reasons the Einzberns had woven spells into the foundation that would prevent spirits from simply entering as and when they chose.

Even so, her bare feet made no noise on the bare stone halls, and when she entered the dining room, only Kiritsugu looked up to note her arrival.

"Very well," he said. "What did you want to talk about, Assassin?"

"Kotomine Kirei."

Irisviel and Maiya jumped, not having realised Serenity was there. Maiya's hand twitched towards her knife, hidden in her waistband but plain as day to Serenity, before she relaxed. Kiritsugu's eyes remained as impassive as ever.

"Go on."

"Master, I do not wish to criticise or cause offence. I am your Servant, and my only role is to carry out your orders. But one of your orders was to tell you if I had doubts about your plan. Master, you are becoming distracted by Kotomine Kirei."

"Yes. I assess that he is the largest threat to our winning the War."

"No. The largest threat to our winning the War is the effect you are allowing him to have on you."

There was a brief, tense silence in the dining room, and for one brief moment Serenity worried that she'd overstepped. As the moment stretched on, Irisviel looked worriedly between Master and Servant; Maiya simply watched Kiritsugu. At last, he looked away.

"Irisviel, I have discussed my concerns with you in the past. Please tell Assassin just why Kotomine is so important."

"Kiri…" Irisviel said, looking worried.

"Iri. Please."

Irisviel studied Kiritsugu's face, then turned to Serenity. "I apologise. It is hard for him to talk about, although he is being rather childish about it." Kiritsugu said nothing. "From what I remember… it's about Kotomine's personal history. He kept on almost mastering a field of study, then leaving it aside like it meant nothing. He changed jobs three times before joining his father in the 8th​ Sacrament. He doesn't seem to have any ambition, doesn't seem to want anything… and yet the Grail chose him as a Master.

"The other Masters are easy to understand, and easy to predict. But we don't know what Kotomine wants, what wish he'll make on the Grail, what he will or won't do to achieve it, nothing. He's a mystery, and mysteries scare Kiritsugu. That fear is why he is focusing on Kotomine above all others."

Serenity nodded. "And what is it you are scared of, Irisviel?"

Irisviel smiled gently. "That all this will have been for nothing. That I will die, and leave this world, and Kiri's dream will remain unrealised. That cruellest outcome… that is what I fear. That is why I support Kiri."

Serenity turned to Maiya, who tensed up under the skull gaze. "And you, Maiya? Do you also fear Kotomine Kirei?"

Maiya looked down, and fidgeted. "I… I fear nothing but that I will not be useful to Kiritsugu. While I work alongside him, what I fear or do not fear means nothing." She peeked at Kiritsugu from under her hair, but he did not seem to notice, his cold eyes watching his Servant.

Serenity nodded. "I also wish to support my Master… to remove all obstacles that stand in his path, even should those obstacles be of his own making… frankly, Master, I am worried about you. Your fear of Kotomine Kirei is causing indecision, and my fear is that when the time comes you will hesitate – not delay, not wait, but hesitate. Today, with the Master of Saber… can you deny that you failed to give an order out of uncertainty?"

Kiritsugu looked a Serenity for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. "I see your point. What is your advice, Assassin?"

That… was a trickier question. Serenity was not strategically minded. She was intelligent, and cunning, and in the tactical arts of killing she had no equal – not in this time, or in hers. But her long-term planning had been limited to the running of her Society and her village, and that was a very different thing to planning a war.

Around the table, Serenity found no help. Irisviel was also intelligent, and had the totality of the Einzbern knowledge encoded into her essence as a homunculus – but in another sense, she was ten years old and this was the first time she had been outside the family home in her life.

Maiya was if anything even less suited to strategic planning. Her life had been as a foot soldier, first in whatever country she had been born in and then for Kiritsugu. She could carry out tasks, and do them well, but she may as well have been a homunculus herself for how much volition she showed.

No. For better or worse, Kiritsugu must be the one to plan and execute this War. All the rest of them could do was support him.

Better do that, then.

"Kotomine Kirei is distracting you, because you fear him… therefore, you are the wrong person to deal with him," said Serenity. "Our only strength in this War is in the preparations and plans that we make… and these must be done without emotion or favour. While your plans include Kotomine, they will never work as well… so do not include him."

"You want us to ignore him?" Irisviel said, aghast. "I… um, Serenity, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"

"I want Master to ignore him," said Serenity. "I want him to put Kotomine Kirei out of his mind entirely, to focus on the other five Masters in the War. But he cannot do this while the problem remains. Therefore…"

Serenity turned to Maiya. "You will deal with Kotomine."

Maiya's lips parted in shock, and she looked uncomfortably at Kiritsugu. "I… if Kiritsugu commands me, then I will, but… he seems to have hidden himself extremely well, with the benefit of local knowledge, and… and I am not strong enough to fight an Executor."

"I am not strong enough to fight Saber… but I could have killed them tonight, nevertheless. You have worked with our Master for long enough… you will find a way. If needs be, you can use me, if I am not otherwise occupied. But it must be you, and not our Master."

Maiya looked at Kiritsugu. "Then… Kiritsugu, is this your will?"

Kiritsugu rubbed his eyes. In that moment, he looked very tired indeed. At last he answered. "Very well. We will try it your way, Assassin. If Kotomine appears before us, we will fight – we must fight. Until then, I will disregard him." He sat a little straighter in his chair. "Alright. Maiya, inform me if you require Assassin – in other words, if you are discovered by Kotomine before you are ready. Otherwise, I will delegate him entirely to you. Iri, remain in the castle as much as possible and co-ordinate with Maiya. Equipment, information, communications… do what you can."

"Ooh!" said Irisviel, waving her hand in the air as if in a schoolroom. "Can I be her getaway driver? We can be partners in crime! She's got the muscle, I've got the brains, neither of us have anything to lose!" She finished with her hand in a gun shape next to her head, and a fierce expression on her face.

Kiritsugu didn't answer, but Serenity saw his cheeks tense in what could have been a smile. He carried on as if nothing had happened.

"Assassin, we will focus on discovering Berserker's lair. The chance to control who gets an extra Command Spell is too important to pass up. Follow Saber for now. Archer will be better at hunting Berserker, but as tonight has shown, she can still be shaken – not to mention that Berserker seems unlikely to fall to Archer. El-Melloi will be better at tracking down Berserker's Master, and finding where they are holed up… as well as dealing with any defences they may have set up. I will follow and provide support or a distraction if necessary. Otherwise, I can continue to scout using my familiars.

"We are also missing any information on Caster, and we have only minimal information on their Master. Waver Velvet… in any case, they seem to be lying low for now, and conducting a harassment campaign against El-Melloi and Saber. If you see the opportunity to learn more, Assassin, take it. Otherwise, the hunt for Berserker is where the pace of the War is being set."

Kiritsugu stood from the table, and looked around the room, lighting a cigarette. "It makes me uncomfortable, to ignore Kotomine… but if this is Assassin's recommendation, I am willing to try. You have your orders. Rest for now. We begin our search in the morning."

Serenity bowed. "Yes, Master." Her skull mask hid her relieved expression. This, this was how she had needed her Master to be.

She just hoped he hadn't regained his focus too late.

Ryuunosuke ducked back out of the doorway, and the plate shattered against the kitchen wall. There was furniture and equipment in pieces around the room, and the trail of destruction led all the way to the temple entrance, now a scorched and blackened ruin smoking in the rain.

Ibaraki was taking her loss to Saber better than he'd expected, honestly.

Debacle wasn't a word that Ryuunosuke had had a lot of cause to use in his life, but he'd always kind of liked the sound of it. And now he had a legitimate cause to use it! So, after the debacle at the bridge, Ryuunosuke had snuck off as soon as he heard the sirens. He'd not worried about Ibaraki – partly because he could hear a steady stream of ancient Japanese curse words being poured into his head and partly because well, what on Earth was he supposed to do to help?

He'd made his own meandering way back to the temple, trudging through the rain. He'd checked for anyone following him all the way, and had still arrived before his Servant. The first indication of Ibaraki's return had been a wave of malevolent aura that hit the place like a tidal wave and sent birds flying for their roosts in alarm.

The second had been a small tree hurled against the temple wall.

That had been a few minutes ago, and Ibaraki's tantrum had already started to die down. Ryuunosuke poked his head back in. Ibaraki sat silently at the table, with a mostly-devoured packet of convenience store mochi in front of her.

"Um," he started. "You okay?"

Ibaraki turned one baleful eye on him, then huffed and returned to her sweets.

Gotcha. Sulking and comfort-eating. He could deal with that. He'd been a pretty moody kid, what with the whole obsession with death, but his mother had always managed to break him out of his funks and cheer him up again. Looks like he was going to have to play mother here.

He wandered into the kitchen, past his Servant, and didn't turn around when Ibaraki gave a low snarl. "I'm making tea," he said. "I'll make enough for two."

There was no response from behind him. The kettle had been a tragic victim of the mighty oni's rampage, but there was a pan and a pot that had survived the onslaught with only minor wounds and chipping. Ryuunosuke lit the stove, and began boiling the water.

The soft bubbling of the water was the only sound in the tiny kitchen. Ryuunosuke didn't push to make conversation. If Ibaraki wanted to talk, she would, eventually. He was pretty damn sure he was more patient than the Servant of Madness.

When the tea was done, he set a cup down in front of his Servant. She didn't thank him, only glared with one reptilian eye as he filled it up. Ryuunoske responded with nothing but a smile, and sat down across from her, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

The tea wasn't great, but it hit the spot. It had been a long and cold night, and a hot drink was exactly what the doctor ordered.

"Sugar."

"Hm?" Ryuunosuke opened his eyes. Ibaraki was pointing one claw at her mug.

"I require sugar, summoner. Or honey, if you must." Ibaraki scowled. "It is a way of retaining what little prana I have, nothing more!"

"You got it. Coming right up." He got up and started rummaging around the drawers for sugar. Why wasn't it kept with the tea? Stupid monks, he was glad they were all dead.

Eventually, just as he was worried that monks didn't do sugar for some stupid reason like 'ooh, the pleasures of the tongue are a small step from the pleasures of the flesh, and one should strive for the pleasures of the soul instead' (Ryuunosuke wasn't very good at Shintoism) he found a small ceramic pot filled with honey. He placed it and a spoon in front of Ibaraki.

"Just honey, I'm afraid, but it should do."

"You would make the master of this mountain prepare her own tea? Move swiftly, summoner, or what follows will be dire!"

Ryuunosuke tried really hard not to chuckle. It wasn't that he wasn't scared of Ibaraki, because she was a mighty demon and he was a squishy human. But she was also acting like a petulant child, and something about the disconnect was really tickling his funny bone. Well, he was under a lot of stress.

When he was done, Ibaraki seized the cup in both claws and took a long draught. "Acceptable. Tea is not what I would have chosen, but this is… acceptable."

"I guess you'd have preferred something stronger, huh?" Ryuunosuke said. He didn't know much about oni, but everyone knew that.

"I would have preferred to be drinking sake, that is correct. I would have preferred to have my band of oni at my back, instead of fighting alone." Ibaraki sighed, eyes downcast, and a light heat haze blew out through her tusks. "I would have preferred… to have my friend and sister in this situation with me, and not a pathetic human who cannot- cannot even make proper tea…"

Ibaraki looked so miserable that Ryuunosuke just wanted to put his arm round her and tell her everything would be okay. But he was about five thousand percent certain that was a good way to lose that particular arm, so instead he sat back down.

This was no good. Ibaraki was his tiger in human form, his perfect predator who inflicted death without a second thought. They were going to have a blast together and paint the town red… but not if she stayed like this. If Ryuunosuke was going to have any fun anytime soon, he was going to have to – he shuddered – cheer his Servant up.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" he ventured.

Ibaraki glared at him, a defeated expression on her face. "What good would that do, summoner? You are not one of us, and would never understand. Were it Shuten here with me, we would laugh and rage and fight against all the forces arrayed against us, and beat them all and return for revels on the mountain until dawn. Instead, I am alone, and weak. Far too weak, for what must be done."

Ryuunosuke did his best to try and look comforting. "I thought you did fine! You were up against two other Servants at once, and still managed to match that Saber blow for blow. Well, up until the end, the whole debacle with the rain of arrows and that weird silver blob. But you'll know to watch out for that trick next time, and she won't catch you off guard again." Or he? It was really unclear.

"Saber is not the issue," growled Ibaraki. "They will get what is coming to them, and burn in the Flame of Mt Ooe. The issue is the bounty they mentioned." Her forehead creased, folding the tattoos into odd shapes.

"Oh… I was wondering about that. So, what is it? Money?"

"Fool!" Ibaraki's eyes flashed. It was scary, but it was better than her being miserable. "What good is your modern money to a Servant? There are only two things that motivate Masters and Servants to work together – either the promise of a Command Spell, or else a monster so awful that the War must be placed on hold," Ibaraki sneered.

Ryuunosuke winced. "I, uh, I guess we attracted a bit more attention than we thought with our attack on the Copenhagen. That's, that's my bad." Darn, and he'd been so proud of his idea.

"It was a foolish move and you should feel ashamed," snapped Ibaraki. "But, in this case, I do not think it was your fault. Even if you were not careful, I was. I am as sure as I can be that no-one observed us, and the evidence cannot be traced back to us. We have not been so indiscreet as to warrant the Moderator calling for our heads… unless he is not as impartial as he seems."

This was all getting a bit confusing. "So… it wasn't our attack on the Copenhagen?"

Ibaraki waved a hand dismissively. "It may well have been the excuse. But if not that, it would have been something else. If I were to guess, he had some other reason for either uniting the other Masters or giving out a Command Spell or both. My question is, how did they know about the attack?"

Ryuunosuke tried to follow. "They… couldn't? Because you were super-careful, right?" A thought occurred, the twist that would naturally follow in a murder mystery. "Which means… one of us let him know? It wasn't me, I swear! Don't kill me!" He waved his arms frantically.

Ibaraki snorted, and flicked a finger against his forehead. It felt like a hammer blow, and Ryuunosuke felt his chair tip back. "Don't be foolish, summoner. We were observed. And since I felt nothing, I have only one suspect."

Ryuunosuke snapped his fingers. "Don't tell me, don't tell me… Assassin, right?"

Ibaraki smiled sweetly. Or at least, she showed her teeth.

"Yes. Some nasty little spy has been meddling in the affairs of their betters. And how like an Assassin, to tattle to the Moderator and make all the other Servants do their dirty work."

That was kind of smart actually. Ryuunosuke would totally have done that if he'd thought of it. "Despicable," he said. "So, um, where does that leave us?"

Ibaraki's feral mood soured. "Too weak, as I said. One Servant, I could have handled. Two, I can survive. But all six, united against us? It was an alliance of heroes that destroyed Mount Ooe, and an alliance of heroes threatens us now. By calling on the Moderator to unite the War against us, we are almost surely doomed. But, we now have one advantage."

That was good. Ryuunosuke didn't see how, but if Ibaraki could see a bright side then he wasn't going to argue. "What's that then?"

Ibaraki smiled, and her tusks gleamed. She clenched one claw. The tea cup fell from her hands as powder.

"There is now nothing more they can do to us. We are both of us condemned for our crimes. Only death awaits us. They believe we have broken the rules already? They have no idea what is coming."

Ryuunosuke was liking the sound of this. "So… we don't have to be careful anymore?"

"No!" Ibaraki slammed her hands on the table, and a spiderweb of cracks spread from the tiles underneath. "We must be more careful, if we are not to be defeated. The Servants are just as dangerous as before, and all of them will be focused on our defeat. We will need to pick our battles, or we will both die. But all the rules that held us back, everything we did so as not to draw attention… yes, I think we do not need those anymore.

"Come, summoner. In the morning, the oni will rampage through the city, one last time. And we have our first target. We will turn this city upside down, and when we find a certain creeping, sneaking, spying Assassin…"

Ibaraki cackled – and it was a proper cackle, high pitched and uncontrolled.

"We'll rip them apart."

Chapter Text

It had begun with the phone lines. One by one, seemingly at random but with great frequency, telephone poles were found toppled, as if struck by a great blow. They lay across roads, or fell into houses, or were just smashed to kindling and left strewn across the street. Wires coiled, sparking, in puddles left by the rain of last night.

On the outskirts, it was the same story with the power lines – pylons lay as so much scrap metal on the approaches to Fuyuki. About half of Shinto and most of Miyama lost power entirely, and the rest was patchy at best. Engineers, shaken from their beds, asked themselves what on Earth could have caused such damage – a freak storm? They might have called it terrorism, except that what kind of terrorist could break a power pylon in half without alerting everyone for miles around with an explosion?

It wasn't terrorism. The culprit was after something much more large-scale than simple terror, and Fuyuki was about to find this out.

As the sun rose, it had been the roads. Transport, already struggling with the loss of the bridge, suddenly ground to a standstill altogether, and the streets thronged with pedestrians – commuters trying to go about their day, or else curious about just what had caused the endless gridlock. To their horror, some found the cause.

At almost every major intersection, someone had created barricades. Not simple roadblocks, either – whole cars and trucks had been seemingly crushed, burned, and dragged into position. A few of them still had their drivers inside, although none were alive. Whether this was cause for sorrow was up for debate, given their slightly… chewed-on condition. A few of them had the drivers displayed as twisted, mangled wrecks hanging from the doors or off the upturned wheels. In the heat of the day, a cloud of flies surrounded each bloated corpse.

The barricades could not be moved – how were the bulldozers going to get through? All the roads they might use to get there were clogged with traffic or pedestrians. An entire city tried to find alternate routes, only to find that there were none, only more scenes of devastation. In places, the roads themselves had been smashed to powder, riddled with potholes large enough to lose a car in.

Where these had gone down to the pipework and cables, whole neighbourhoods were left without electricity or water. This would be unfortunate, given what was coming.

The people of Fuyuki complained, and shook their fists, and blamed the government, or terrorists, or aliens, or whoever – and then they all tried to continue their day.

It wasn't to be.

At around midday, the attacks started.

The first was an office building in Shinto. The fire alarm had been set off, and the workers evacuated obediently. None made it to the car park that served as a muster point.

The second was a street in Miyama, blocked off at one end by a barricade and at the other by a house, collapsed into the street and still burning. About a hundred people had been stuck there, either unwilling to leave their cars, preferring to wait inside their homes and pray the fire didn't spread there, or simply unable to scale the barricade with its grisly decorations. Those on the other side reported hearing shrieks, screams, the sounds of blunt impacts into human flesh… and the high-pitched, cold laughter of a young girl.

All this came as rumour and hearsay to the centres of power, most of whom were only just getting used to the fact that the roads were blocked. Without reliable phone lines there was no way to receive information or issue instructions. Without transport there was no way to pass information via word of mouth. With their emergency services pulled in every direction by over twenty individual infernos, there was very little the authorities could do. It was down to the police on the street to deal with incidents as and when they occurred.

And none of them were anywhere near prepared to deal with the beast rampaging through Fuyuki.

In the afternoon, enough of a local response had been cobbled together to try and rescue the worst-hit areas, or at least assess the damage.

By now the first fires had burnt themselves out, or been extinguished by bucket chains carting water all the way from the beach in a frantic attempt by the locals to save their homes. The first responders came onto the scene, hours too late, to see just what on Earth had happened.

It was a mess.

The only word for it was carnage. The burnt buildings, the wrecked cars, the uprooted trees and downed lampposts and phone lines… a typhoon could have hit and not made much of a difference. But all that was expected, given the state of the city.

The bodies, sadly, were as well.

What was not expected were the messages. Burned into walls, daubed in blood on the roads, and in one case even made by arranging corpses like some ghoulish art project, were two words.

ASSASSIN.

SURRENDER.

Serenity perched on the ruins of a house and looked down at another scene of horror, and shook her head. Below her was what had been a suburban street. Now, the asphalt was melted, its acrid smell tickling the back of Serenity's nose and mingling with the scent of charred wood, dank water, and powdered brick. And blood.

People, covered in dust, were working to excavate the collapsed buildings, put out the fires and search for survivors. Serenity could already tell it was futile. There was no-one left alive here.

Such devastation, the peace of Fuyuki broken, and for what?

It wasn't the death that bothered her… not really. Over the course of long years as Hassan-i-Sabbah, the Old Man of the Mountain, she had taken thousands of lives. She hated it, but she could hardly deny that she had gotten used to it, enduring a life of suffering with only her faith to assure her that it would work out in the end.

Even then, though, she had only rarely killed thousands in a single day.

It had to be Berserker. Only the fire demon was both powerful enough to pull something like this off, and unhinged enough to think it was worth it. Rider may well have been able to do this, especially if she could summon her Tarrasque as more than an empty shell, but she was also a literal saint. Archer may have been ruthless enough, but this wasn't her style. Saber… no. The Knight of White Lilies was not capable of this, in any sense of the word.

Caster was an unknown, and could well have been skilled enough with flame magecraft to shut down a city. But what purpose did it serve?

No, Berserker was Serenity's top suspect. But why, why had she called for Assassin's surrender? It made no sense.

Sadly, Serenity would find no answers here. There was no sense of a Servant – Berserker was long gone, no doubt to wreak havoc elsewhere.

Which left the question. What should she do?

She had no intention of surrendering, of course. Playing the game of the Servant of Madness, whatever it was, could surely only end badly. But… what did Berserker hope to gain by asking?

No matter. Those were questions for her Master, not her. All she had to do was as she was ordered. And right now, her orders were, 'Find Berserker.'

Assassin, came Kiritsugu's voice in her head. Head to Shinto immediately. The cultural centre has collapsed. Hurry.

Yes, Master.

Serenity turned away from this sorry scene, and dropped down, heading as fast as she could towards another. Invisible, silent, Serenity passed over the heads of the panicked crowds.

When she came to the river, she simply leapt over it, and carried on.

The good news – well, good for the purposes of finding Berserker, not so good for basically anything else – was that Berserker was doing pretty much the opposite of lying low. The bad news was that she was being annoyingly canny about it. This was the fifth site Serenity had visited, searching for her target, and Berserker hadn't been at any of them.

Serenity was very possibly the fastest Servant in the War, with only Archer maybe outpacing her, and could cover a lot of ground in a very short space of time. With Kiritsugu and his familiars, and with Maiya keeping in radio contact, there wasn't a whole lot of Fuyuki where they didn't have at least some idea what was going on. Every time any of them picked up on something happening, Serenity would rush over… only for Berserker to have vanished.

It was a good strategy. Berserker could cause untold damage in a hit-and-run attack with a combination of sheer strength and that flame power, and after dematerialising could be gone in seconds, only to pop up elsewhere before anyone had even finished responding to reports of the first attack.

Worse, the crowds of people she had forced onto the streets meant that other Servants had to be careful about picking a fight themselves. You would have thought that the secrecy rule would have gone out the window by now… except that Berserker hadn't technically revealed herself. She wasn't leaving any witnesses, at least. No Servant wanted to be the one to let that djinn out of its lamp.

All those people in the way also meant a lot more potential collateral damage. Berserker obviously didn't care, but Serenity couldn't imagine Saber or Rider starting a brawl knowing that a street full of people would be in the crossfire.

And speaking of…

Up ahead, Serenity could feel a Servant's presence. Landing on a rooftop near her destination, she instinctively hid herself in a shadow, and peeked out.

Saber stood before a barricade, their clean white and blue finery out of place amid all the metal, soot and blood. Their wide-brimmed hat was pulled low, hiding their eyes, and their rapier remained in its sheath at their hip. They stood very still, staring at the scene before them.

The barricade was one of the more disturbing Serenity had seen throughout the day. Like the others, it was made from cars, piled up three high all across the road so that only a small child could have squeezed between them and the buildings on either side. These cars, however, had been sealed together, through a combination of sheer strength crushing the metal together like clay and extreme heat welding it into one solid mass.

Berserker hadn't bothered to take the people out first.

One man sat in a pool of blood, where his head had been crushed by the two other cars Berserker had piled on top of his own. One old woman seemed to have died from a heart attack, and a girl that looked to be her granddaughter had cut herself deeply trying to drag both of them out through a window. A family of four had cooked inside their own car when Berserker had sealed them inside.

Saber's fist tightened on their sword. Any weapon forged today would have cracked from the pressure.

With a flash of bright steel, Saber lunged and drew in the same motion, exploding forth so quickly that even Serenity blinked. There was… a flurry of activity.

Saber stood on the other side of the barricade, and it collapsed in their wake. Metal shrieked against metal, and cars slid to either side as Saber sheathed their sword.

They dissolved into a shower of soft white petals just as the first medics, policemen and onlookers came round the corner to see what the noise was. Within moments they were gone – but Serenity still caught a glimpse of gritted teeth and cold blue eyes before the petals mixed with ash.

For her own sake, Berserker had best keep up her game of hit and run.

None of the other Servants were likely to give her any quarter today.

Ibaraki released the man she held by the jacket and let him slump to the floor of the tiny apartment. In the next room over, his wife lay in a mangled heap. There was an annoying mewling thing in a cot over in the bedroom, but she'd get to that soon enough.

She'd long ago stopped counting how many people she'd drained of prana. It buzzed through her spiritual self, heady and thick like the very best alcohol. Her entire body felt buoyed up by it, lighter than air and yet more solid than stone. She felt more powerful than she had since being summoned.

Of course, it was natural that this should be so! She was a mighty oni, made to prey on the puny humans that shrieked and flailed as she clutched them. Yes… it was only natural and proper that she should rampage, strike fear into the hearts of those with the misfortune to stand in her way. It was what Shuten would have done, and Ibaraki would do the same.

But by the gods, she was sick of the taste of human by now. Surely this was enough?

Every time she considered stopping, though, leaving the people alone and retiring to rest and enjoy herself, Saber's words came back to her.

"Should you fail to defeat her, however will you gain the promised Command Spell? Such a princely bounty…"

Enough? To fight six heroes called from the Grail?

Never. Not even close.

So Ibaraki pressed on. Created chaos, did things she hadn't even seen Shuten do, stirred the mortal world into a frenzy like a disturbed ants' nest, all to give her cover to keep on moving. As soon as even one Servant found her, that was it – she couldn't afford the delay of stopping to fight. Unless Ibaraki could escape almost immediately, every other Servant would sense what was happening and pile on.

And Ibaraki wasn't ready for that.

When she finished in that apartment, she moved on to the next by dematerialising and lunging through the wall to fall upon the terrified old man on the other side. She could have simply barged through – these flimsy modern buildings were nothing to her now. But destruction was not her goal. Prana was, and secrecy. Let those foolish heroes look for her in places of carnage. She would quietly continue gaining strength elsewhere, only to reappear and cause another distraction.

Ryuunosuke had been left behind. He'd whined and protested, but the truth was Ibaraki was moving too fast for him to keep up. The fool kept suggesting things for her to try, or things he'd like to see. Most of them would have taken up far too much time, but just to stop him from sulking Ibaraki had indulged him as much as she could. Honestly. The idiot would have fit right in among the crueller oni of Mt Ooe… but he really needed to learn when it was and wasn't appropriate to lose yourself.

Eventually, she was done, and Ibaraki paused for breath. She needed to move on, she knew that, but… for a moment, she let herself relax. Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took in the afternoon air. It was hardly peaceful – the air was full of soot and smoke and ash from a hundred places around the city, and screams and sirens sounded from far off. But Ibaraki took the moment to take in the scene anyway.

If the other Servants hadn't been united against her before, they certainly would be now. All those unwritten rules, the etiquette of the Grail War, Ibaraki had just spat on it all. Using the city itself as her sword and her shield… it was ambitious. But, really. They brought it on themselves. Going after her, for no reason other than that she was designated the villain in their play for heroes… what did they expect but that she'd throw herself further into the role?

Ibaraki was almost certain that she would not last another twenty-four hours. What she was doing… it was working well, and every hour made her more powerful. But in the end, she knew, with a sinking sensation in her gut, that she was living on borrowed time. You couldn't challenge the entire Grail War and expect to live.

But she'd damn well do her best.

She'd at least take down Assassin with her. Ibaraki didn't expect the little sneak to actually surrender, and didn't intend on stopping her rampage even if they did. But at least she could force the other Servants to call for it, as an easy way of getting Assassin out in the open. If she was lucky, Assassin may well be the next target after she was… after her.

Ibaraki shook her head. Enough of this gloomy navel-gazing.

With a light skip, Ibaraki vaulted the balcony and launched herself into open air, aiming for a suburban street.

She rose, and savoured the moment at the apex of her flight before falling. It was high time, she decided, for another fire to be started. Humans being humans, they had panicked, but some among them were organising to put them out. Yes, a quick burst of flame, a refill of prana, and she would be off.

The nice thing about fire was that it kept on going even without you there feeding it. It served as a weapon, a distraction, and an area-denial tool all at once. Most oni could produce heat with their imitation of Prana Burst – but Ibaraki was far above those common thugs, an entirely different breed, and flame answered her call like a faithful dog. She summoned it now, wreathing her blade in it so that when she landed she could slam it into the ground and annihilate everything around her in an expanding inferno…

…it really was taking her a long time to fall, wasn't it?

As Ibaraki had the thought, she suddenly accelerated towards the ground. She fell, spiralling out of control as she went far, far further down than she had jumped up. The ground rushed up to meet her at a terrifying speed, and she balled herself up and braced for impact.

When it came, it was like being hit by a falling star, and Ibaraki lay in the crater she had made, dazed. Above her, she heard a voice.

"You see, Master? A little space manipulation, a little gravity assist, and half the work is done for you! And the best part is, since it's the common sense of Gaia, which is to say physics, doing this, even Magic Resistance is powerless to resist!"

Ibaraki picked her head up off the ground and looked.

Standing above her, on the edge of the crater, was a Servant. Ibaraki was hardly inclined to call any human gorgeous, but this one was – pale skin, dark hair, her features a work of art. Excited blue eyes met cold reptilian ones, and the sheer intelligence behind them raised Ibaraki's hackles.

"Oho? Tougher than you look! Master, do stand back, dear, and let your teacher handle this…" The Servant put one hand on her hip. The giant, ornate brass gauntlet she wore on her left arm shouldn't have gone with the blue and red dress, but both were items of such incredible intricacy and beauty that they matched perfectly. Both were made by the same person, if Ibaraki was any judge – the Servant before her.

"I would say Good Morning, Berserker, but you've rather spoiled that," she said. "There I was, enjoying my beauty sleep, when the most frightful racket startled me out of bed. I poked my head out of the house, and saw an awful mess outside! 'Well, Caster', I said to myself, 'we can't have that!' So I woke up my poor Master, just as tired as I was, and out we came to see what we could do to help. A few little tracking spells later, a mass hypnosis to clear the area of our inconvenient audience, and here we are! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Ibaraki didn't dignify that with an answer, just lunged from her supine position straight at Caster. With her newfound power coursing through her veins, she was lethal, unstoppable, and moved faster than the foolish spellcaster could react. Her claws ripped into the figure without any resistance…

…and Caster's body smeared across thin air like paint on canvas before disappearing.

"Whoops!" said Caster, reappearing on the other side of the street, next to an especially puny-looking boy in some kind of green uniform. "And that, Master, is why you never stop and talk with a demon face-to-face if you can help it. Best to keep your distance!"

The street was oddly deserted. The people that crowded every other part of Fuyuki were nowhere to be seen, and although the cars were still blocking the road there was no-one inside. Caster's work, no doubt.

"Caster," said Ibaraki, trying her best to remain dignified despite having just assaulted empty air. "I'm leaving now. If you do not stop me, I will not have to hurt you or your Master. Goodbye."

Without waiting for a response, Ibaraki pumped power into her legs and leapt, Disengaging as she did so.

A second later, she made a second crater next to the first, and growled under her breath.

"Oh, no, please don't leave!" said Caster. "Who knows what you might take it into your head to do? And besides…"

A long staff topped with some kind of blue star appeared in her gauntleted hand, and her radiant smile lit up the street.

"… my student needs a lesson in how to fight."

Chapter Text

You'd be hard pressed to find two more different classes than Caster and Berserker.

As a rule, Berserkers used overwhelming force as their first, last and only resort. Tactics weren't necessary, skill at arms wasn't necessary – the Madness Enhancement that stole their reason also rendered such things unnecessary by empowering them to hit harder, strike faster and take more punishment. As strategies went, it was simple, but effective.

Ibaraki was an exception to that rule, at least partially. As an oni, bursts of all-consuming rage were kind of her normal state, so Madness Enhancement really just acted as a booster without a downside. She was free to use all her strength and all her skill together, and the combination was devastating.

Caster bobbed up and down on her toes, and smiled at Ibaraki. Her stance as a fighter was awkward and static, and she was clearly not ready to take a hit. Ibaraki wasn't fooled.

As a rule, Casters were underwhelming in close combat, with comparatively weak stats and few skills that helped at all in physical battle. Instead, they were intellectual powerhouses, fighting with strategy, if not quite with guile, to change the rules, stack the deck and generally use their knowledge of how to reshape reality to make things totally unfair for anyone trying to fight them.

To Ibaraki's annoyance, Caster was absolutely not an exception to this rule at all.

Ibaraki thundered forward, a lunge that took her across the street in a single step and shattered the asphalt in her wake. Flame gathered around her sword, madness danced in her eyes, and she swung with all the force she could muster. With the prana she'd gathered throughout the day, it was a blow as strong as any she'd hit Saber with the night before, and she was barely trying.

A foot from Caster, her sword bounced off empty air, which splintered and cracked like glass but halted her charge more surely than if she'd hit a mountainside. She landed on all fours, and bared her teeth at the other Servant.

"See, Master?" said Caster to the boy beside her. "A solid shield is simple, cheap and quick to throw up, but it can only take you so far. In the end, someone'll just muster enough force to batter through it, and then your only option is to match that force with an even stronger shield. For someone like us without a strong Foundation to work with, that's not so good, because the stronger your shield is, the more prana it uses.

"There's another problem, too. Any ideas, Berserker?"

Ibaraki hissed, and the asphalt around her bubbled, then boiled as the heat around her rose to impossible levels. She drew back one claw and slammed it against Caster's barrier, pumping a white-hot torrent of fire at the invisible plane of force.

It did nothing whatsoever, spiralling inwards on itself and vanishing as it touched the shield.

Caster giggled. "Quite right, dear! A simple physical block won't stop a lot of elemental effects, and if you don't include them a canny foe can cook you inside your own shield if you're not careful. Energy, sonic, curses, spirits… everything else you want to add just makes the spell that much more complicated and that much more expensive. Eventually it just isn't worth it. Well-demonstrated, darling."

"Shut up!" Ibaraki began pounding on the shield with one hand. With every blow it splintered a little more, a spiderweb of cracks hanging in mid-air.

Caster ignored her. "If you've got prana to spare, you can pull all kinds of nice tricks with it, though. For example, a shield that absorbs force to use later can be very helpful indeed…"

There was just a moment where Ibaraki paused in confusion. Then realisation hit, and she scrambled backwards.

With a merry laugh, Caster waved a hand, and her barrier collapsed – blasting Ibaraki with every ounce of force she'd hit it with.

The ground shook. Cars were flipped onto their sides. Any glass left in any window left it. Ibaraki slammed into a house on the other side of the street, crashing straight through the walls to land in a ruined kitchen.

Ibaraki growled, more from frustration than from pain. Damn that Caster! This was, if anything, even more annoying than fighting Saber had been. At least when Saber had slid away from her attacks they hadn't giggled about it.

No more. See how funny Caster thought she was now her shield was down! Ibaraki smirked, seized a section of wall in one grasping claw, and hurled it at Caster like a cannonball.

An instant later, it came back as fast as it had left, smashing Ibaraki even further into the house.

Buried under debris, Ibaraki growled again.

"Now, the ideal is vector manipulation," Caster went on. "Defence and offence all in one, that only gets more effective the more force your opponent uses. And because the mystery is only materialised at the point of impact, it's even prana-efficient too! Sadly, the maths involved to make such a thing practical…" she smirked and preened. "Well, you'd have to be some kind of genius."

… this cocky bitch! Ibaraki had to win now, there was no justice if she didn't.

Or she could just leave, she realised. Caster blasting her away was not fun at all, but it was certainly better than when Caster was trying to get her to stick around.

With a devilish grin, Ibaraki barged straight out the other side of the house, emerging onto the next street over… or at least, that's what she would have done if there hadn't been a blue-edged portal on the other side of the wall. Once again, Ibaraki found herself tasting road, while a shower of bricks rained down on her from the orange-edged portal that had appeared above her original position.

"Space manipulation is wonderful if you can manage it," sang Caster. "So many applications, and once again it's all about redirection rather than direct opposition." She giggled again. "Of course, it helps if your opponent insists on being so predictable. Berserker is being really rather co-operative here, but you can't expect everyone you meet to rush head-first into every trap you set…"

"Kill… you…" snarled Ibaraki.

"Oh, don't be a grumpy-guts!" Caster said, wagging one gloved finger. "You're being ever so helpful, and such a good sport, don't spoil it now. Honestly, I have enough of this sourpuss over here…"

"Caster…!" sputtered the boy, turning red.

"Zip it! I do hope you're paying attention, Master, there will be a quiz later. Berserker, dear, this is going to be ever so awkward if you keep on trying to escape. I'm not sure my heart can take such a beautiful woman trying so hard to get away from me…"

Oh, that was it. Ibaraki was done holding back. She let the lid off the well of prana she carried, and power throbbed in every muscle, so that she almost glowed with it.

Or maybe the glow was just the radiated heat that boiled just beneath the surface.

This time, even Caster was not fast enough when Servant Berserker lunged with everything she had.

The next instant, her sword was stuck fast, inches from the boy's face. Caster's staff was all that lay between them, buzzing with energy all its own, and the Servant of the Spell was no longer smiling. Ibaraki pushed down harder, and the blade pushed down – before stopping entirely as the staff simply refused to move any more.

Caster let go, and made a gripping motion with her gauntlet. The staff stayed where she'd left it in mid-air, just as immovable as before, while wind surged around it, drawn into a sphere above Caster's palm. Ibaraki pulled back – too late. Caster thrust the sphere out at her, and a typhoon in miniature blasted Ibaraki back once more.

She landed on her feet, and was in motion, using every ounce of her power to make her stronger, faster. With a kick, a car flew at the Master of Caster, but had hardly reached half-way before it turned into a flock of bronze birds. These wheeled around, razor-sharp beaks glinting in the distorted sunlight as they sought Ibaraki.

Faster.

She was already lunging forwards, and the heat around her half-melted the birds before they got within sword-range. Her bone blade did the rest, and with a snarl of effort Ibaraki swung.

The wave of fire and force that surged forth hid Caster and her Master from view. Cars flipped end over end, clearing a space in a cone in front of Ibaraki. She charged through it, plunging into the flames and readying another blow.

Faster.

Once again, she found herself above the street, emerging from a portal – but this time, she didn't waste a moment, blasting yet more fire straight down. When she landed, it was blade-first, and the earth trembled at the impact of an oni striking the ground with all her might. Ibaraki didn't hang around, but shot straight from the crater she'd made at where she knew her victims were.

Faster. She couldn't let up, not for a moment, or Caster would move on from these parlour tricks and really let loose. There she was, up ahead, pulling her staff free of whatever stasis spell she'd put on it to block Ibaraki's sword…

… hadn't everything been on fire a moment ago?

Caster's eyes twinkled, and Ibaraki noticed the tiny sphere of flame hovering above her palm, shining like the sun.

Oni were very resistant to fire. Ibaraki in particular could walk through an inferno unscathed, thanks to her natural resilience and her prana burst, and even being inside a burning castle bothered her not one bit.

She had no desire to find out what Caster could do with two blasts of demon-fire, all concentrated into the size of a peach.

Ibaraki had a moment to throw herself to one side, barrelling straight through another car, before a lance of white-hot flame speared the air where she'd been. Ibaraki turned to follow its path as it speared though three cars without slowing down.

"Redirecting energy is a staple for magi who lack power," Caster was saying to her Master. "As below, so above – just as a small man must learn to use his opponent's force against him in a wrestling match, a weak magus must use what is already there as his weapons. It doesn't have to be magic, either! Air, fire, there's a lot you can do if you're efficient enough.

"But with those kinds of elemental spells, they're useless if you miss, so it's often worth spending a little extra prana to add some kind of redirecting or homing component…"

Ibaraki cursed and scrambled away as the streak of fire came back as an arrow of light. At the last moment, she dodged, and even she felt the heat as it passed within a foot. Ahead of her, it circled back.

Ibaraki risked a glance at Caster. The other Servant was fiddling with her staff. Dammit. She had no time to waste fighting her own attacks like this, she needed to get in and stop whatever Caster was doing!

The fire bolt surged in, and Ibaraki narrowed her eyes. Screw this. There was one way out of this, and that was head-on. She thrust her hand out, and gathered up yet more power from her brimming well.

Just before the flame struck her, she released it – and swept her bone blade through the resulting explosion. The double shockwave felt like a punch in the gut… but when it cleared, the bolt had vanished.

Ibaraki wasted no time, and leapt.

As she closed in on Caster, the Servant of the Spell twirled her staff in a full circle and struck it on the ground. A ripple expanded through the space around it in all directions, and Ibaraki felt herself slow, then stop, hanging suspended in mid-air.

… she couldn't move. She had no leverage to move herself through the air, and her frantic swipes did nothing but spin her in place. Ibaraki gathered power for a flame blast, although to attack or push her groundwards she didn't know-

With another spin of Caster's staff, and another tap on the ground, a hazy bubble of wind sprung up around Ibaraki – and suddenly all the air within vanished into it. Ibaraki didn't need to breathe, so what…?

The flames flickering around Ibaraki's hand died, starved of oxygen, and she realised.

Ibaraki swiped at the wind shield, trying to make a hole, but it was just out of arm's reach. She gritted her teeth.

Outside, Caster was doing… something. While saying something to her Master, she gestured with her gauntlet, drawing faint blue circles in mid-air. What they were meant to be, Ibaraki could not guess, but she didn't like the look of them at all – especially not when, with a wave of Caster's hand, they flew out and placed themselves in a larger circle containing Ibaraki, most of the street, and Caster herself.

She looked very pleased with herself, and Ibaraki was struck with an intense desire to wipe that smug expression off her face. She sat, cross-legged, in mid-air, and thought.

Physical strikes were out. She didn't have the reach or the leverage. She could try to shapeshift, lengthen her arm and break the seal that way… but Caster would only expand the bubble. Her flame had been taken away from her – even though it fed on prana rather than fuel, it still needed air to burn. She glared, yellow eyes staring hatefully at Caster.

Caster noticed, and winked. With a twist of her gauntlet, Ibaraki's bubble began spinning, with her taken along for the ride – upwards, sideways, rotating in all three axes. She couldn't even tell which way was up, let alone start to think of a plan of escape. Ibaraki was pretty sure that Servants couldn't get seasick, but it looked like Caster was intent on finding out the hard way.

Inside the bubble, Ibaraki couldn't hear herself growl in rising frustration.

Damn her, damn her, damn that Caster! Not enough to trap her foe, she had to prevent her from getting her bearings at the same time. The world spun crazily around Ibaraki – sky and ground changed places at random, and she could only make a guess at where Caster and Waver Velvet were right now.

It was time. Ibaraki could only see one way out of this.

Once more, power rose inside of her – but instead of blasting through her whole body and emerging as fire and force, it went to one place in particular.

One red claw clenched, incandescent with power. Ibaraki couldn't aim, but then, she didn't really have to.

"Great Grudge of Rashomon!"

Something left at great speed, punching through Caster's little bubble as if it were… well, as if it were nothing but air. With the rush of oxygen, Ibaraki ignited once more, directing her flame upwards to push herself down.

Caster had noticed, of course. But Ibaraki suspected she would be too busy to stop her.

Ahead, there was a streak of flame. Faster even than Caster's stolen bolt – this was visible only by the insane devastation it left in its wake, and the trail of blazing heat and burning objects.

It jinked left and right, then shot for Caster, growing in size and intensity.

A shimmering field that Ibaraki could only guess the purpose of faded into existence ahead of it, and Ibaraki didn't even need to look to see Caster's smirk.

It was wiped off her face when the streak changed course, smashing through the walls of a nearby house to emerge behind the Master-Servant pair, and slam into a hastily-raised plane of force from behind. Only then, paused for that brief instant, did it finally become visible.

Once upon a time, Ibaraki had faced a hero, and lost. She had managed to survive and escape, but her right hand had been severed at the wrist. She'd learned to fight left-handed, grown stronger for the experience, and returned to claim it…

…only to find that her right hand had developed something of a life of its own. Thus, her Noble Phantasm took form – the Great Grudge of Rashomon, the severed hand, reclaimed amid fire and destruction.

Ever since, it had been just as unruly and eager for destruction as any other oni. It was really only a matter of letting it off the leash.

Now, it battered at Caster, a great red claw the size of a horse. It was the great oni come again, and its might and terror were unstoppable.

Caster's shield exploded, sending back every bit of force it had been struck with – but Ibaraki's right hand wasn't so weak, and powered through the blast. A sweep of Caster's staff created yet another portal, and the hand appeared high in the sky.

It shattered the ground an instant later, creating such a shockwave that even Ibaraki was hard-pressed to keep her feet. Debris pelted Caster and her Master, changing to feathers as it passed through a silver cloud expelled from Caster's gauntlet.

Obviously, the hand wasn't just a projectile that Ibaraki fired off. It was still her hand, and if she wanted it to go around an obstacle and burn those behind it to cinders, why, that was exactly what it would do. In its wake, there was only fire.

Where the Great Grudge of Rashomon passed, things melted or burned, one of the two.

Caster's hold on Ibaraki weakened, and she dropped to the ground. As soon as she hit, she was off, hammering into Caster's guard – this time, no more than a simple plane of force like the first that shattered when Ibaraki hit it.

Ibaraki grinned. Not so clever when she had to defend against two sides at once, hm?

Time to make this a little more complicated, then.

Ibaraki skipped aside, crashing through the low wall at the side of the street to land in a small garden. It quickly began burning, but no matter.

Her hand struck at Caster again – from above, from the side, from below. Caster wasn't smiling any more, but frowned in concentration, eyes flickering this way and that to try and find the hand before it struck.

It emerged, diving low and accelerating in a charge that left a trench carved in the road. It batteed against yet another protective spell, and skittered off like the rest, looping upwards to come back from another angle. Caster's eyes followed it…

…and missed Ibaraki herself coming on the trail of her hand. She smashed into Caster, bone-blade first, and no shield, portal or anything stood in her way. She had just a moment to savour the look of panic on the other Servant's face before Ibaraki was on top of her. With a cry of victory, she placed a claw on Caster's face and smashed the foolish mage into the road.

"Not pleasant to be on the receiving end, is it?" she snarled.

"Hmm, I wouldn't know," came a voice from behind her. "If you didn't like my painting, darling, you could have just said. You've quite ruined it, I'm afraid."

Ibaraki whirled. Caster waved merrily from next to her Master, looking very unsmashed.

"Surprised? My art is uncommonly good, I'm told. The eyes follow you around the room… and sometimes act autonomously as an illusion, you know how it is." Caster put her hands on her hips and laughed. It wasn't very ladylike at all. Ibaraki seethed.

"How did you replace yourself with an illusion while under attack? The Great Grudge of Rashomon is not so weak that you can… can multitask while it has you as its prey!"

"I suspect you rather underestimate how good I am at multitasking, dear… but in this case, the answer is simple. Since when were you under the illusion I was not replacing myself with a double?"

Ibaraki did not dignify that with a response.

Except her hand, descending from above with the force of a falling star. It crashed into Caster with an explosion, shaking the street. Where the Servant of the Spell had been was nothing but a scorched crater to match the many others now littering the area.

"Still an illusion, I'm afraid," said Caster, stepping from behind a ruined car. "Now, really, are you sure you wouldn't rather surrender?"

Ibaraki ground her teeth, and eyed the open ends of the street. With her Noble Phantasm active, she may well be able to escape. Damn her pride – Caster was not playing fair, and Ibaraki was more than happy to come back and crush them later, when they were less ready.

"Caster." The Master stepped up, looking dishevelled. He swallowed, and said, "She's not going to back down. As expected of Berserker…" He bit his lip. "We've made the offer. Do it, Caster. We can't let her keep on causing all… all this…" he finished, waving his arm vaguely at the street.

Caster nodded, and passed her staff from hand to hand, looking a bit sheepish.

"Ehehe… this is going to sound a bit creepy, but… hold still, Berserker! I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to stop you from running away for a while!" Reaching out with her gauntlet, she gripped… something. Slowly, she began to twist, and Ibaraki's eyes widened as she felt reality lurch.

All around her, the circles Caster had drawn earlier flared to life, and an intricate design appeared on the ground between them.

She had to get out of there, fast. She pumped prana into her limbs, and turned to run, her hand flickering back to her side for an extra boost if necessary-

"Adding imaginary numerical axis, preparing inversion, creating existence of spatial template! Forming mirror road, radius one hundred metres, inverting Mirror World connections!"

The world… boggled.

Ibaraki landed on her feet, sword in hand, and looked around frantically. Nothing seemed to have changed, although she knew bone-deep that something was wrong. She was in the same place she was before, and everything seemed to be the way it was, so what had-

Ibaraki noticed the change, and bristled. Turning to Caster, she whispered, "Wh- where did you send us, mage?"

All around her, the sky was covered in distortions, as though the entire street were inside some giant crystal.

Caster twirled her staff and struck a pose, as if she were in some stage comedy. "Aha! Praise me, praise me! I was almost certain that would work, and it did! Berserker, Master, welcome to the Mirror World. Anything we do here won't damage the city, so let's really go wild!"

Caster's master collapsed onto trembling knees. "Caster… I don't want to believe it, but… did you just transport us through dimensions?"

Beaming, Caster nodded. "Yes! Well, no. Sort of! If other dimensions are like the infinite reflections in a pair of mirror, then this is just the mirror's surface itself. I had to create a false space using the real world as a template, so it's really just an approximation – but even a forgery by the great Da Vinci is guaranteed to be of universal quality!"

Her Master shook his head, looking stunned. "My God… even if it's not the true Second Magic, to create a space so quickly…" He looked up, and Ibaraki met his gaze. His slack expression firmed up into a resolute frown. "But you're sure, Caster? Berserker won't harm anyone else in here?"

"It's a pinkie promise!" Caster waggled the little finger of her enormous metal gauntlet at him.

"Then… then I can freak out later." He took a deep breath. "Berserker!"

Ibaraki blinked, then cocked her head. "Yes, human?"

The kid stood up, and put his hands on his hips in what was probably supposed to be an imposing stance. Ibaraki just stared at him curiously. "My name is Waver Velvet, and I am the Master of Caster. You are trapped, and for your crimes I will eliminate you. Surrender, and we can end this quickly and painlessly." His voice softened. "Please. Just give up, and it'll be easier for everyone."

Oh? How generous of this little brat to offer her such terms. Ibaraki's eyes blazed, and her lip curled.

"'Eliminate'? 'End this'? Little boy, your words betray you. If you mean to kill me, say so. You don't have the guts, and neither does your giddy Caster. From my perspective…" Ibaraki smirked, showing tusk. "Your Servant has trapped her biggest weakness in a cage with a monster. Some genius she is! I'll fight, and because the two of you are weak where it counts, I will win. Surrender?" She swiped her blade to one side and stared straight into Waver Velvet's eyes.

"Right now, I am the only warrior in this entire universe."

Her power, boiling over as it was, flared – and for just a moment, the flames licking at the end of her hair blossomed into life, forming the shape of great wings before vanishing.

Waver Velvet took a half-step back.

Ibaraki smiled.

Chapter Text

Picture a universe. Not a large one – a couple of hundred yards across, at most. Set it inside a gem, so that the borders of reality shimmer and gleam across a thousand facets.

Into this universe place a small section of suburban Japan. A street of small houses, low walls, telephone poles. A scene you could find anywhere, except that this street is jammed with cars, covering almost the entire available space.

Now, populate this universe with two magi and a monster, and set half of it on fire.

Ibaraki leapt for her foes, eyes flashing – and when an oni of Ibaraki's calibre's eyes flashed, this was not a metaphor. The air in-between her and her targets exploded, fire obscuring her vision.

From the side, her right hand flew in, blasting through partially-melted houses and cars without losing speed. It was the Noble Phantasm of an oni princess, and there was nothing in this world that even registered as an obstacle to it.

Again and again it hammered on Caster's guard, bouncing off a bubble air that felt as hard as stone. Harder, even: the Great Grudge would have smashed stone to sand and melted sand to glass long ago.

Because Ibaraki was not stupid – despite her fondness for simple tactics like 'rush in and smash things with oni strength' – she did not expect any of this to work. Within Caster's bubble, she saw the other Servant muttering to herself. More of her stupid lessons for her Master?

Ibaraki didn't expect she would be that lucky. An incantation, then.

She descended upon her foes like cannon shot, skipping across the street as a yellow blur. When she reached Caster's newest shield and swung her sword with all her strength, it cracked – before once again releasing all that energy in a directed blast.

By now, though, Ibaraki had gotten wise to Caster's tricks, and though she flew backwards she controlled herself – and left a trail of fire from both hands, bathing Caster and her Master in as much heat as she could summon.

She landed on a rooftop, and kicked off to rocket forward once again, preparing to follow up her fire attack with a physical blow to overwhelm whatever trick Caster had prepared to avoid the attack.

Another portal? An illusion? Some new impossibility?

Ibaraki half-expected any of these. But in trying to anticipate the moves of a genius spellcaster, she'd forgotten.

They weren't in the real world any more, and Caster no longer felt any need to hold back.

Ibaraki descended – and hit a shock of cold so intense she felt like she'd fallen into ice water.

Caster held her staff up, a shining white snowflake six feet wide hanging in the air before her. Everything near her was covered in frost, intricate designs in ice spreading across the car windows. With a smile, Caster tapped her staff on the ground – and the snowflake shattered.

The air froze.

Ibaraki's flame guttered out, and her breath nearly stopped as the temperature plummeted. Plunged from intense heat to far, far below freezing, the metal of the cars warped into strange shapes – if there had been any glass left in the windows, it would have splintered.

Her right hand, on course to slam into Caster from behind, almost didn't change course in time. As it was, it swerved frantically to avoid the blue-tinged death zone, and managed to escape with only the thumb passing too close.

Ibaraki couldn't feel that thumb anymore.

Frantically, Ibaraki backpedalled, trying to escape from the zone of impossible cold. She didn't know if Servants could freeze to death, but she was prepared to trust Caster on this one. She scrambled over cars, literally burning prana just to keep her core temperature above zero. When she retreated enough that it was merely cold, she ignited once more, and spun to face her opponent.

Out of spite more than anything else, Ibaraki spat another fireball at Caster. It winked out before it was halfway there, and she scowled. Fine. If fire didn't work, she would try something else.

Ibaraki stabbed her sword into the ground, and let go of it to seize the nearest car, scrunching the metal in between her fingers. With an underarm sweep, she flung it at Caster, a tonne of metal hurtling towards her fast as an arrow.

On the other side, Ibaraki's right hand simply swept itself along the street palm-first, sending a wave of metal and glass hurtling towards the other Servant.

Caster smiled, and blew Ibaraki a kiss from above her gauntleted hand.

A howling, icy gale blew into existence from nothing, and Ibaraki flinched as she was plunged back into below-freezing temperatures. Frost formed on her skin, and her fingers and toes went numb almost immediately. The car she'd thrown was tossed back at her like an autumn leaf in a breeze, and the glass her right hand had swept up blew past her as tiny, sharp hailstones in the blizzard Caster had called.

With a flash of orange, her right hand batted away the tumbling, spinning car, shattering it to frozen pieces. A moment later it appeared before her, cupping her in its blazing fingers and shielding her from the worst of the wind. With a violent shiver, Ibaraki wreathed herself in a corona of fire. Freezing cold gave way to blessed warmth, and she sighed.

Her right hand snapped out, crossing the distance between Ibaraki and Caster in an instant. That wind seemed to have used up most of Caster's cold barrier, but Ibaraki didn't risk her hand getting close again. Instead she sent it spinning around Caster, harrying and lunging. Heat and cold went to war around Caster and her Master, who seemed not to mind at all.

No matter. If long-range combat wasn't working either, Ibaraki would just have to power through and do this the hard way. Ibaraki advanced – not at a rush this time, but at a deliberate walk. Step by step, she plodded through the blizzard. Frost melted before her, running in rivulets down the battered and scorched streets.

Caster twirled her staff and made an upwards gesture with her gauntlet. The wind stopped, and Ibaraki almost stumbled against the sudden lack of pressure. She wasn't about to complain, but what was Caster doing?

With a wink and a giggle, Caster pointed upwards, and Ibaraki groaned.

The Mirror World was too small to have a proper weather system, but apparently the Servant of the Spell didn't care. Clouds boiled and churned in the wind Caster had summoned, growing darker by the second.

Ibaraki's right hand shot up to try and interfere somehow, but it was too late.

The rain came first, soaking the street and steaming around Ibaraki's superheated form. It was cold and wet, but she had no time to appreciate this new unpleasantness. Caster pointed her staff at Ibaraki and clenched her fist, and thunder rolled.

Ibaraki hated thunder. Stupid Ox-King.

The feeling was apparently mutual.

Lightning speared down from the clouds, hitting with a shock that left even Ibaraki winded – and the crack of thunder that accompanied it nearly deafened her. She felt her hair rise on end, the oncoming tension that meant another strike was coming, and stepped aside-

-and the lightning that followed forked in its course to follow her.

Dammit! Magical lightning wasn't all that hard to dodge, even if it was as fast as the real thing – if you could sense the positive streamers it was as good as a telephone punch, and Ibaraki had had a lot of lightning thrown at her over the years to practice with.

Unfortunately, Caster was better than that and was doing this the hard way. Real lightning was just the spark that followed a charge, and if Ibaraki was the wrong charge then it was her the lightning would hit. Usually it would seek a better path to ground itself with – but Ibaraki could feel a strange tingle across her body, and suspected Caster was altering her physical properties somehow.

The clouds flashed, and Ibaraki hurled herself into motion. Forget trying to assault Caster – with a storm on her side she just had too much firepower at her disposal to deal with that way. There was really only one way of dealing with lightning.

Go inside.

The door to the nearest house was locked, but that was no issue for a Servant. Ibaraki dematerialised and leapt through it, just as lightning struck the roof. Inside, the quiet and stillness was almost startling. The storm raged outside, muted for now. Caster could probably aim magical lightning through the damn keyhole, but if she was playing with the real thing even she couldn't get at Ibaraki in here.

Which meant she was probably cooking up something else instead. Damn her. The longer the fight went on, the more in Caster's favour it became as she altered the environment to suit her needs. And it hadn't exactly started out easy for Ibaraki.

But she needed a moment to catch her breath, to think. So she took her time, and crept through the house.

For all that the street outside was, well, war-torn, the interior had survived pretty much intact. A normal house, for a normal family… Ibaraki assumed. The design, the layout, the furniture, it was very familiar, and so, so different to someone who'd arrived from hundreds of years in the past.

Then again, Ibaraki had hardly had the most normal childhood, or the most normal home in her adult life.

Enough of this. Ibaraki padded on bare feet up the stairs, taking the time to enjoy the feel of carpet through her toes. In an upstairs bedroom, she stopped to examine a photograph. A family, all smiling, a little girl in the foreground laughing and holding a cat. Ibaraki stood there for a second, expression blank, before carefully replacing the photo.

She'd had a family, once – not the one she'd started with, but she was happy enough for all that. A life of freedom and adventure on Mt Ooe, with good friends and her beloved Shuten. All she wanted, all she'd ever wanted, was a way back to that life. It wasn't selfish – it wasn't, because it was all for Shuten. If you were fighting for the one you loved, you were in the right, that was how it worked.

But, just like before, the heroes couldn't let the oni have their way. A war between seven Servants? Hah. As soon as the oni drew attention to herself, it became six against one. Unfair.

Now, here she was. Trapped, in a separate dimension, against a Servant more dangerous by far than Saber and Archer put together.

She wasn't in the worst situation possible. Caster had her Master here with her, and Ibaraki was still brimming with energy – even after using her Noble Phantasm and throwing around Prana Burst like it was going out of fashion. But she couldn't actually get at Waver Velvet through Caster's defence, and every bit of power she thew out was another weapon for Caster to turn against her.

Ibaraki was good at getting herself out of trouble, but even she couldn't see a way out of this.

… fine. If she was to go, she would go down fighting. For an oni, it wasn't such a bad death. Calling her bone blade to her hand once more, Ibaraki barrelled straight through the wall of the house she'd been hiding in, and resumed her pointless assault on Caster.

In a city in chaos, Kotomine church stood as an island of calm. Separated from rest of Shinto, in its place on the hill, it had not been caught up in the atrocities Fuyuki had seen today. And yet, Risei was troubled.

Of course he was – how could he not be? From the church doors one could look out over a peaceful forest and hillside… past to the large patches of the city on fire. Smoke rose in great plumes from over a dozen locations, rising like some horrid fungal growth from the city below. They cast the day in shadow, and even here Risei could smell an acrid tinge on the air.

Such devastation could only be the work of a Servant, or else some terrorist group better organised and better armed than Risei had ever heard of. No. In Fuyuki, in a Grail War? Of course it was a Servant.

Which meant it was his responsibility.

And, he suspected, his fault.

Theoretically, any Servant could have done this. The tendency to start fires suggested some affinity for flame, but really, that was the least of it. Every Servant was too fast to catch, too strong to resist, and could turn intangible at will. There was nothing at all that any normal police force could do to stop them. In fact, Risei could only think of a few reasons why Fuyuki had not been destroyed long ago.

First, the personalities of the Servants involved. There was no doubt in his mind that Servant Rider could have, if she'd wanted to, easily matched the destruction seen today. However, over the course of rather a few conversations with the woman, he'd found her a genuinely delightful person, and honestly couldn't imagine her doing such a thing – or condoning it.

The second thing that could keep Servants in check was, therefore, other Servants. Servants could not be policed, as they were too strong – therefore, they had to police themselves.

Admittedly, they weren't actually incentivised to do this. The closest thing to an authority was the Moderator himself, and he had no actual power over the Servants. What he could do, however, was offer incentives for other Servants, and the knowledge that this was within his power was usually enough to keep even those Servants who weren't as kindly as Rider in check, or at least curtail the worst of their excesses.

On the other hand, this was really an all-or-nothing prospect. His options were total leniency, or zero-tolerance and extermination. Risei had made the decision on Berserker after discussing it with Tohsaka Tokiomi. He stood by it… but he wondered if it hadn't been a little premature.

Somehow – probably another Servant bragging – Berserker had found out they were condemned, and had decided they had nothing else to lose. And, yes, that was entirely Berserker's choice and Berserker's sin to bear. But every time Risei tried to muster up some righteous indignation, his eyes would drift to the smoke, and his ears would pick up the sound of a city screaming, and he would think, I caused this.

If he'd found another way, if he'd tried to find a more subtle solution, if he hadn't tried to play Tokiomi's games with the War. Would Berserker have snapped? Would the thousands of people burning and suffering and dying still be alive?

He didn't say any of this to the woman at his side, however. He didn't need to. Out of everyone, Servant Rider knew more than anyone how he was feeling.

Rider had arrived early in the day, and had hardly let Risei out of her sight since. Now, she stood by him as he watched over the city. An observer might have mistook her for a nun, in service to the Church and sent to assist Risei. This observer would have been almost correct. Rider was indeed here to assist Risei, and was indeed aligned with the Church.

But as a saint, she was a little higher up in the hierarchy than a mere nun.

Given this, a hypothetical observer might also have been confused over her outfit. It looked a little like a nun's habit, with long flowing tails and a headdress. But it was a little more… form-fitting than nuns tended to dress, with slits uncomfortably high up the legs and thigh-high boots of all things. Risei hadn't brought it up. Rider didn't seem embarrassed, and had even referred to it as her 'holy garment'… so it was probably fine.

Lust was a sin, Rider was far too young, and now wasn't the time.

"It's terrible…" said Rider. Like Risei, she looked out over the burning city, her deep blue eyes troubled. She bit her lip. "There must be something I can do. If I were down there…" Her fists clenched.

"I know," said Risei, putting his hand on Rider's shoulder. "Your heart goes out to those in need. Mine too. But… all I can do is have faith."

Rider turned to Risei with a forlorn expression. Like this, Risei was very aware of how much shorter she was than him – sure, she could shatter dragonscale with her bare fists, but all he could see right now was an unsure woman in need of help. "All things according to His plan? Father, I don't know if I'm strong enough to just accept that…"

"Accept it? Certainly not. I won't tell you that the Lord works in mysterious ways – he works through us, his servants… or Servants, as the case may be." Risei smiled down at Rider, and she returned it weakly. "No, we are all of us bound to do what we feel is right – and let God show Himself through our actions. When I spoke of having faith, I meant in Tokiomi."

"Yes…" Rider looked down. "I trust him, I do… and it is not as if I resent being commanded to protect you!"

Risei chuckled, despite everything. "I do not resent being protected by you, either, Rider."

Rider smiled briefly, before her face fell again. "Only, is this really the best use for me? I did not mind defending Tokiomi's home from Archer, and I understood why it was best for me not to pursue Berserker. But now, with all this…" Rider gestured at the city. "Can Tokiomi really mean for me to do nothing to stop Berserker from running wild? I will do as he commands, and I will keep you safe from harm, Father, but…"

"You feel duty-bound to do more," Risei finished.

"Yeah. Ah, that is," Rider corrected herself, blushing, "Yes. I do." She straightened, and held her cross-shaped staff upright.

It was refreshing, to have a Servant who was of the faith. As a necessity, Risei had interacted with Rider more than any other Servant – and had been surprised and pleased when Rider reached out to him outside of 'working hours'. He'd taken her confession, over the phone, and when that was done they had simply… kept talking.

Risei had been a priest long enough to recognise someone who was crying out for emotional help and support. At a guess, Rider wasn't getting everything she needed from her Master. Risei wasn't sure he was qualified to act as a spiritual leader to a literal saint, but if Rider was happy with it then he would do his best.

"I have known Tokiomi for his whole life," he said. "I was placed here to oversee the Third War, did you know that? Well, I was. I have watched Tokiomi grow from a hot-headed and excited young boy, to a teenager desperately trying to appear dignified and level-headed while being the same clumsy dork he always was inside, to a man who became the perfect cold-hearted magus he wanted so badly to be.

"I fear he lost his innocence somewhere along the way. I think the boy he was would be surprised if he learned what it would cost to become the man he is. But throughout the years, in some ways – perhaps the most important – he has not changed at all. His talent as a mage, yes, that stayed. His intelligence, certainly. Most of all, his drive, that is exactly the same. As a boy, he would stay up far too late, attempting this spell or that. As a teenager, he researched everything he possibly could about the Grail Wars – I practically had to throw him out of the church so he would stop pestering me about the Third War.

"Tokiomi is not the man I hoped he would aspire to be, and I pray for his soul as I pray for all my flock. Many magi are demons in human form, and I often worry that it is only Tokiomi's sense of decorum that prevents him from sinking to their depths. But, Rider." Risei looked Rider dead in the eyes. Above all else, he needed her to understand this.

"Tokiomi's whole life has been spent preparing for the Heaven's Feel ritual. He is a smarter man than I, and knows secrets of magecraft and strategy I would lose myself in. I may not trust him to act as a moral paragon – but I trust him to do his best to win this war in a way he can be proud of."

Rider bit her lip. "It's not much to go on, is it? I had hoped my summoner would be like me… and, well, like you, Father. A person who… if not virtuous, is at least trying their best to act in accordance with the Lord's decrees. But the Grail seems to have matched me with my Master for other reasons. I would hate to think I was defined by my negative traits…"

Risei sighed. "I wouldn't presume to have made an insight into your inner heart within a couple of days, but I do have an idea as to how you two are similar."

"Mmm? How's that?"

"I think…" Risei smiled mischievously. "…that I will keep that to myself. Rest assured, though. I do not find it a bad quality, in either of you. If you are worried that you will begin to act as coldly as Tokiomi does, do not. I literally cannot imagine you acting without regard for others – that is something I have been able to tell within a couple of days."

"Thank you, Father." For a moment, man and spirit stood in silence, contemplating the events of the day.

Then a pulse of magic almost blew them both off their feet – not with force, but with sheer presence. Risei's head snapped round to the west, where a column of smoke was reforming itself into a new shape. An arrow pointed downwards, indicating an area in Miyama, and as Risei watched the top of it formed a snarling wolf's head.

"The sign for Berserker…" Rider breathed. Her eyes hardened. "I must go. I need not protect you from Berserker if Berserker is not here – that is Caster's work, and a better Servant you will not find for stalling another. This is a call to arms, Risei!"

Risei waved her off. "I have lasted this long without you watching over me. Do as you feel you must. I will be fine."

"Thank you, Father." Rider turned to go, then stopped. "I will let Tokiomi know. Perhaps he will ask your son to persuade Lancer to guard you."

Unlikely. Lancer was a weapon of last resort, their last trump card in the War. "Perhaps," said Risei. "Go!"

Rider dematerialised in a flurry of purple-blue sparks, and Risei watched them fade into the air.

When she was gone, he slumped, every minute of his age showing on his face. This damn War. He was too old, and the young were too good for it. Typical of magi, to ruin everything around them.

But he had to soldier on. The Grail could cause untold harm in the wrong hands. Tokiomi wasn't exactly the perfect choice, but he was a damn sight better than most. And, if nothing else, Saint Martha would keep him honest.

Or Kirei. Risei allowed himself a smile. What if Kirei won the war? With Lancer, it was all but certain he would be one of the final two Masters. He chuckled. If it came to that, he wasn't worried at all. Kirei was a man of the cloth, after all, and his own son. He was a fundamentally decent human being, who just needed some guidance. At the moment, that was Tokiomi, but Risei trusted his old friend not to lead his son astray.

Yes, engineering the War so that Tokiomi and Kirei won it was the right thing to do. All Risei had to do was make sure Fuyuki survived it.

Five minutes.

Five minutes of fire, five minutes of violence, five minutes of launching everything she had… but that was all.

Ibaraki hung in the air once more, scorched by lightning, frostbitten by cold, bruised and bleeding from a hundred effects she couldn't even name. Her right hand had been sealed in an zone of looped space, and was hurtling towards Caster over and over within the same twenty-foot area.

Caster herself stood, not a hair out of place, in exactly the same spot she'd been in when she arrived in this world.

"Very well, mage," said Ibaraki, trying to sound calm and dignified no matter much she wanted to scream and cry. "You have beaten me. Slay the oni, and boast to all your hero friends how you defeated the leader of the Mt Ooe bandits in single combat. You will know it to be lie, but how convenient for you that no-one can see what happened in the world you trapped me in."

Caster clapped her hands together, and her gauntlet and staff vanished.

"Well!" she said, turning to her Master. "I won't lie and say that was a close one, but that certainly was an interesting challenge. For a genius like myself, the outcome was never in doubt, of course – but, Master, did you learn something?"

"You learned to fear the wrath of the oni-kind-"

"I think I get what you were trying to demonstrate," Waver Velvet said, rubbing his chin in thought and looking at where Ibaraki hovered. Almost every spell you used had some twist to it, that made it harder to cast initially but saved on power in the long run. Rather than brute-forcing physics, you changed the causes, so your results were a lot more stable. And for larger effects, you used pre-existing spells to reinforce them – and buy yourself time to set them up without interference from Berserker."

"Interference? I would have torn you to pieces and left each one in a different province had I-"

"Very good!" said Caster. "I'll let you in on a secret – not a single spell I've used today was beyond your power. Even with the diminished prana of the world today, even with the levels of Od you have available, you could have cast it all. The only limit is your skill, and your knowledge of the world to support it. And that's what you have me for!"

"Stop ignoring me!" Ibaraki shouted.

Caster seemed taken aback. "Pardon? Darling, do be quiet, I'm trying to teach my student here."

"I am Ibaraki-douji, the terror of Kyoto! I can not be so lightly set aside!" Ibaraki stamped her foot, but it didn't quite have the same effect in midair. Rather than an earthshaking stomp, she just kind of waved her foot around, and started to spin sideways a bit.

"Oh, you were super scary, really!" Caster said. "I even sent up a flare asking for backup for other Servants, although I guess I don't need it now… if you'd started to win I could have brought them in to the Mirror World. I'm not certain what would have happened if I died, but you could certainly have captured my Master and forced me to release you that way, in which case having someone on the other side would have been only sensible… sorry, Berserker, are you having trouble?"

Ibaraki was now tilted halfway, and continuing to spin. She glared at Caster.

"Ooh, such an adorable pout! Master, Master, look how cute she is!"

"I am not cute!"

"Yes, you are! Oh, it's such a shame you had to be such a disaster, or the Moderator would have never conspired with Tohsaka to get you killed."

That was news to Ibaraki. "The… Moderator?" She was now horizontal, her hair hanging straight down over her eyes.

Caster waved a hand, as if it wasn't important. "Yes, yes, they're in league, it's obvious they're doing this to try and distract Archer from attacking them and give them space to prepare something else."

Waver looked at her, clearly trying not to smile. "Caster, we should probably get this over with before the 'terror of Kyoto' flips upside down. Her dress is short enough as it is, and while I'm all for making her pay for her actions, humiliating her like this is… well, it's not my thing."

"Mine either, to be honest," said Caster. "She's for dressing up, not for lewding – she's a little scrawny for one thing, and while the blonde hair is nice she hasn't taken care of it at all- oh, you meant in general? You're so straight-laced, Master." She reached inside her dress and pulled out a glass bottle of pink liquid. "Still, at least I don't have to worry about you misusing this…"

Uncorking it, she flung the contents at Ibaraki. It sprayed out, forming itself into a mist, which drifted inexorably towards her. Something told her that inhaling would be a very bad plan.

"What is this? Answer me!" she snapped, craning her head back to avoid the tendrils creeping towards her.

"It's a little something I put together as a last resort, of course," said Caster cheerfully. "Alchemy is hardly my specialty, but nothing is impossible for me, and potions have all sorts of uses. I call this one a Suggestion Solution!"

Ibaraki froze, her stomach dropping. "You mean…"

"Mind control in a bottle!" Caster preened. "I'm a genius, so you never stood a chance against me, but you were really rather impressive. I'm not in the habit of throwing away valuable resources, you know." She turned to her Master, hands on her hips and a severe expression on her face. "Now, I increased the concentration so this would work on Servants, but don't go getting any ideas, Master. Just because she's cute doesn't mean you can do anything funny with Berserker, that's not OK at all."

"I wouldn't!" sputtered Waver Velvet, his face turning red. Ibaraki fought even harder to keep her head away from the mist. With a thought she dematerialised.

Caster laughed. "Darling, I just said I made this stuff to work on Servants, what on Earth made you think turning into a spirit would help at all? Down the hatch dear, there's a girl…"

Waver Velvet sighed, but made no move to stop his Servant. "Berserker, you brought this on yourself. Hopefully… hopefully you can do some good before you die."

Sanctimonious prick. In that moment, Ibaraki hated him. She'd been dissatisfied with Ryuunosuke, but she could get along with him so much better than this cowardly mage who acted tough when he didn't do anything to win…

… oh, right, that was her way out of here.

SUMMONER! she screamed in her head. Summoner, summon me, now!

There was silence, but Ibaraki could feel his confusion. Wasn't she already summoned? She almost screamed in frustration, but didn't want to open her mouth while the pink mist coiled around her.

With your Command Spell, idiot!

The mist of Caster's potion was all around her now, casting everything in a pink glow. Ibaraki held her breath, not knowing if it would do any good, and her vision got hazier and hazier. Sounds became muted – but Caster's voice cut through like a knife, impossible to ignore.

"Now, Berserker, here is what I want you to do…"

Chapter Text

So, uh, Ryuunosuke was having basically the best day of his entire life.

Seriously! He knew he was weird, but how could anyone not find this cool? In less than twelve hours an entire city had been brought to its knees by a single demon! It was every apocalypse movie wrought in miniature but real, and it was all Ryuunosuke could do not to walk around with a big goofy grin on his face.

He'd gone along with Ibaraki for the earlier parts, which were awesome enough. Knocking down electricity pylons with her bare hands, crushing cars with people inside them… it was like Ibaraki had finally come around to his way of thinking and started properly enjoying herself while killing. She'd said her goal was to create chaos, but come on. She was a demon, right? If Ryuunosuke was having so much fun, there was no way Ibaraki wasn't too.

Sadly, after a while there was too much chaos, and Ryuunosuke was finding it hard to get around. Ibaraki wasn't going to carry him, and Ryuunosuke wasn't going to piss her off by asking, so he'd gone back to climb the hill that led to the temple. From here, there was a great view of the city burning, and it make Ryuunosuke want to cry with frustration that he just couldn't take every part of it in.

SUMMONER! Summoner, summon me now!

Ibaraki's sudden telepathic shout had him leap about a foot in the air and yelp with surprise.

Wha- had Ibaraki gotten in trouble? Damn, he'd just assumed she could handle whatever she came across, they'd planned this out pretty well. He was pretty glad no-one was around to see his reaction, he wouldn't want to come across all crazy.

Shit, did he have to do the whole thing with the blood and the sacrifice to re-summon her? That was going to be awkward, especially today of all days-

With your Command Spell, idiot!

…oh, right. Yeah, good idea, Ibaraki, except how was he supposed to do that? Ryuunosuke lifted his hand and frowned at the red marks that had appeared on the night he first summoned Ibaraki, all those days ago. He'd seen and done things he never expected since then… but for all that, he hadn't really changed at all, had he? He was just a dude who stumbled into a partnership with an awesome demon girl, and had been dragged around in her wake ever since.

And he was fine with that!

But for once, Ibaraki needed him. Now, how did you use a Command Spell?

There was only one clue Ryuunosuke had. The only bit of magic he'd ever done on purpose since summoning Ibaraki – seeing through her eyes. It was great, partly because it was real goddamn magic that he could do, and partly because it meant Ibaraki could really cut loose without worrying without her squishy Master in the way.

But what did it mean? The only thing Ryuunosuke could guess was that there was a connection between him and Ibaraki – on a very deep level, that wasn't visible even to spirits like Servants but that was fundamentally there. All he needed to do was… just kind of yank on that connection, maybe?

He tried. Really tried, screwing up his eyes and focusing on what it felt like to see through another person's own eyes as if he was there. From his hand where the Command Spells shone, he pictured a rope of glowy energy. Blue, he thought at first – but changed it to yellow, which he thought fit Ibaraki better.

In his mind's eye, it stretched away into the distance, connecting to his faraway Servant. He imagined it getting shorter, pulling Ibaraki along, and smiled at the unamused expression on her imaginary face as she was hauled through the air.

He went deeper. The expression she'd had when he'd offered her that kid to eat. The feel of her body squirming when he'd picked her up. The smell of smoke from the ruins of the Copenhagen. Everything he'd shared with his Servant… and capped it off with the first sight he'd had of her reptile eyes opening for the first time in this world.

He pulled it all together, and pulled. He looked to see if he'd succeeded.

Nothing had happened… but his Command Spells were glowing like they were waiting for something. As he watched, they faded into a sullen red gleam.

Oh, were they expecting him to talk out loud? That seemed like a weird restriction, but hey, he wasn't a wizard. He focused on the connection he knew he had with Ibaraki, pictured her eyes opening again, and said,

"Get over here right now, Ibaraki!"

He'd meant to just, you know, say it. But they came out of his mouth with a tone of certainty and authority he'd never heard before. The voice of God couldn't have sounded as sure of itself as Ryuunosuke's had just then.

Against that voice, how could any Servant resist?

A hole opened in the world, spilling red light onto the sleepy hill. A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand yellow sparks gathered and swirled through, forming a very familiar shape.

In less than a second, the great demon Ibaraki-douji stood before him. Ryuunosuke grinned in triumph.

"Hey, you," he said. "Run into issues?"

Ibrakaki studied him, her expression unreadable.

"Yes," she said. "Servant Caster… she is more annoying by far than my worst expectations."

That brought Ryuunosuke up short. He killed the grin, Ibaraki definitely didn't look in the mood for it. "Eesh. That bad?"

"Very. Your summons came at just the right time – a little later and the War would have been over for us. But it was useful nevertheless. Enlightening, in fact." Ibaraki turned and started stalking dow the hill, and Ryuunosuke couldn't really do anything else but follow.

"How so?"

"I learned a lot. As expected of a battle against a mage, I suppose. In any case, prepare yourself, Master. We have been grossly deceived." A feral smile split Ibaraki's face. "There is something we need to do…"

It had been… a terrible day.

Serenity had seen her share of war, like all the Order. Ruined towns weren't something new to her – often, the chaos and confusion made perfect hunting grounds for her target. But what war did to the places it touched was always bad. As bad as Serenity's brand of silent killing was, at least she avoided the horror that went with open battle.

Mostly, anyway.

She shook her head. A salve for her guilt, no more. Death, one by one or en masse, was monstrous, and Serenity the biggest monster of all. The blood on her hands would never be washed off. Moralising would do her no good.

The fact remained, Serenity was not as uncomfortable in the burning city as she would have liked to be. She picked her way across treacherous roofs, faded to a shadow in the billowing smoke, and threaded her way through panicking crowds like she had a hundred times before.

Ahead of her, Saber was visible as a shining white glow in her mind's eye, dematerialised but otherwise not bothering to hide.

Serenity had followed Saber through this Hell – disaster to disaster, horror to horror, until the flare had gone off, a signal impossible to ignore. What kind of spell it was, Serenity could not say, but it was the most obvious thing she had ever encountered. It pulled at the senses, almost painful to look away from, the direct opposite of Serenity's Presence Concealment.

She wanted to go to it – even beyond the fact that Saber had taken off running after it, even beyond the logic that said this had to be a Servant encountering Berserker. A subtle compulsion? Something else. Serenity didn't know. In the end, her path lay that way.

Saber had rushed ahead, heedless of who saw them, and arrived under the flare, shining directly on…

… a ruined street, with scorch marks and craters and every sign of a Servant battle but no Servants at all. No people at all, in fact.

There was a fading presence, the last sign of a Servant recently gone, but the area had been fairly bathed in so much prana that it was impossible to pick up anything more. Saber stopped from a dead run in a single smooth step, and materialised in the same motion. They cursed, and looked around.

"Caster? Caster, I know your magic when I feel it! Stop hiding behind your illusions, Servant of the Spell – on my honour and my Master's, I will stay my hand while Berserker remains free!"

The street remained silent. Saber's lip curled, and she turned on her heel, cape swirling as she left to start her hunt for Berserker again-

The church bells rang.

The special bells, the special sequence – once again, the Moderator was summoning the Masters in his War to Kotomine Church. And this time, he wanted everyone there. In person.

Now? Of all times, he chose now? Serenity's lips quirked at the grim irony. Just when every Servant was out in force at the same time, carrying out his instructions and searching for Berserker, he called them back. Probably, the priest wanted to make sure everybody got the message… and deliver any more 'helpful guidance' he and Tohsaka had cooked up.

But… you couldn't just ignore the Moderator of the Holy Grail War without a really good reason.

Master, Serenity sent. Your orders?

We'll go. We have no choice, or we'll be labelled the next targets after Berserker is dealt with. I want you hidden unless we have no other choice.

Very well. I am on my way. Kiritsugu had removed himself back to the Einzbern castle as soon as it became clear what kind of fiasco Berserker was creating. He was no stranger to wartorn hellscapes either, but he couldn't get around the city as easily as Serenity – and if Berserker caught him in the open, even by accident, even without realising who he was, it was over.

Good. I will call Maiya. This is an opportunity, if we use it right.

Yes… but Master, do remember she has her own assignment now. Serenity paused, considering her words. And, Master…

What is it?

I will follow your orders and remain unseen, as you wish. But… no Master would venture into the city as it is without a Servant escort. Every other Servant bar Berserker will be at the church, and should they assume you are without protection, they may seize the opportunity… Master, I will try to protect you, but if I cannot be seen I cannot act as a deterrent, and I am no match for any Servant in a fight.

Yes. Kiritsugu's mental voice was wry. So I think it best if we take extra precautions.

Serenity waited patiently.

There is a certain grace period for us to arrive at the Church. An hour would not be unreasonable. Assassin… if I were to make my own way, how many of these locations can you reach within an hour?

Kiritsugu explained his plan. It was genius, it was cold, and the other Masters would never see it coming.

You seem set on making enemies, Master… was what Serenity said. But what she thought was,

You seem set on destroying yourself with your kind heart.

Last time Serenity had arrived at Kotomine Church, it had been on a bustling morning, the congregation arriving to worship, socialise and generally live their life. The church itself had looked comfortable and inviting, its doors thrown wide open and the priest himself standing by them with a smile to welcome his parishioners.

It had stirred deep memories of a village mosque, long buried to the sands of time. Different faiths, different cultures, different times, but the sense of community and belonging was exactly the same.

Now, the church lurked on the hill, black silhouette against an iron-grey sky. The doors were closed, and the façade loomed above Serenity as she approached. There were Servants within – many Servants, their presences all overpowering each other to the point where it was impossible to distinguish the number, and not helped by the spiritual layout of the church dampening even Serenity's sense for that kind of thing.

It didn't seem to bother Kiritsugu, so she said nothing.

Her Master pushed open the great wooden door, and slipped inside. Invisible, undetectable, Serenity leapt up into the rafters, and positioned herself where she could see the entire room.

"So Master number six shows his face at last," drawled an aristocratic voice. Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi lounged on a pew, having turned his head to note the new arrival. He smirked. "Even I have heard of you. Watch out, everyone! We are in the presence of Emiya Kiritsugu, the so-called Magus Killer."

Kiritsugu said nothing, but leaned against the far wall of the church and lit a cigarette. El-Melloi frowned, but rallied and continued, "As far as I can tell, though, you're nought for six. Losing your touch, are we?"

Again, Kiritsugu said nothing. His dull eyes scanned the room, neither avoiding nor lingering on the Master of Saber. El-Melloi's face twisted.

"I asked you a question, Magus Killer! I heard you were an uncouth heretic, but to think you were so disrespectful as to not even acknowledge my-" He stopped, quelled by Saber's hand on his knee. "Hmph. Very well. You intend to talk through battle, is that it? Fine by me. For your sake, I hope you live up to your reputation."

El-Melloi's jabs seemed not to affect Kiritsugu at all. There was silence in the church, a heavy, oppressive stillness. None of the other Masters seemed willing to talk.

El-Melloi had claimed the centre of the church, choosing a pew in the middle. Saber sat next to him, their head on a swivel as they kept track of those around them. Tohsaka Tokiomi had chosen the opposite pew, in precisely the same row, mirroring El-Melloi's position but otherwise not acknowledging him. The holy woman next to him could only be Rider, in that case.

From the back row, Matou Kariya and his cat-eared, lion-tailed Archer both glared at the back of Tohsaka's head. Archer had fixed Kiritsugu with a warning stare when he had settled against the back wall, but had returned to mimicking her Master.

In a corner, as far from El-Melloi as he could get, was a boy Serenity recognised from Kiritsugu's files. Having made himself known to the Einzbern information network when he unexpectedly boarded a flight to Japan, this must be Waver Velvet. A student at the Clock Tower, and in fact a student of El-Melloi. Thinking back to how irritated El-Melloi had been, the dark-haired beauty next to him would be Caster.

Which left…

Kotomine Kirei rose from where he was kneeling at the front of the church and turned. A tall man, in a dark suit and priest's collar, he didn't look like the sort of man to worry someone like Kiritsugu.

As always, Serenity couldn't help herself from noticing the threats. The jacket was reinforced, by metal and magic judging by the weight, and from the way it hung there were some kind of long throwing knives inside it. The priest's stance was surefooted and balanced, and his hands bore the signature scars of someone used to fighting. A competent fistfighter, then.

Combined with reinforcement, he would certainly be formidable in battle. The extensive files Kiritsugu had made bore out this assessment. The life on an Executor was not for the weak of will or the weak of body.

That alone would not have worried Kiritsugu so. Serenity had been sceptical, sure that her Master was reading too much into things, worrying over nothing.

But Serenity recognised those eyes. Dull, cold, devoid of all energy… if Serenity's Master had not found his purpose – his driving wish to save all mankind – would this be what his eyes looked like? If Serenity had not had her faith, would she have gone through life as dead inside as this man?

Yes. Serenity now knew who the most dangerous Master in the War was. Kiritsugu's worries were, in her Serenity's professional opinion, very well-founded indeed.

The two men locked eyes. Kiritsugu looked away almost immediately, but the difference between his demeanour earlier and now was night and day.

El-Melloi was someone to be ignored, dismissed as a posturing windbag, no threat. Kotomine Kirei had Kiritsugu's full attention.

"Emiya Kiritsugu," said Kotomine. "Welcome to my family's church. Know that we are all under truce here. I've been waiting to talk to you."

To anyone else watching, Kiritsugu would seem to have ignored the comment entirely. But Serenity noticed the tiny flinch, the tension in her Master's shoulders.

Ignore him, Master, she sent, desperately. Leave him to Maiya. I will help her if needs be, but leave this man alone.

No response. But Kiritsugu forced himself to relax, and took a draw on his cigarette.

"Kirei," said Tohsaka. "All the Masters are here. Where is your father?"

"Maybe he's waiting on a full head count of Servants?" spat Matou. "I count two Masters without Servants. A bold move, coming alone. You're putting a lot of trust in everyone else to follow the rules… too much, if you ask me. Kinda makes you wonder what you two know that everyone else doesn't. How many alliances have we got, under the table, right now, hm?"

"This is hardly the time for politicking," said Tohsaka, turning round in his seat to glare at Matou. "You know very well we are all united against such a threat to the War as Berserker. Why would I want to burn down the city I live in, for goodness' sake?"

"Hey, I didn't mention anything about you." Matou gave a sick, lopsided grin. "Sounds like a guilty conscience to me."

"Oh? You mean you were thinking of someone other than me? My, that would make a change…"

"I am satisfied as to my own safety," said Kirei. "This is the place I have grown up, and I trust in its status as neutral ground – and besides that, calling Servants in times of need is exactly what Command Spells are for. But what of you, Emiya Kiritsugu? Why arrive without your Servant? Surely the Magus Killer could not be so careless. Is it confidence in your skills that has led you to walk into this place, where all your foes are gathered together, with impunity?"

Kotomine walked slowly down the central passage, his eyes never leaving Kiritsugu.

"I must know. Is it recklessness, or are you simply confident? If the former, what drives you to such lengths? If the latter, whence does your confidence flow? How are you so sure of yourself? Could it be that, even now, you do not wish to give away any advantage?" Kotomine's full attention was fixed on Kiritsugu. Tohsaka looked frankly baffled, as though he'd never seen his student this way before.

"Your Servant must be Assassin…" Kotomine said, although to Kiritsugu or himself Serenity couldn't say. "Yes, it is perfect for you. So, is your Assassin hidden? Did you come alone, or did you use this time to send your Servant away? This would be a perfect opportunity to strike elsewhere while all other Servants should be gathered in one place. But do you trust your Servant to act alone? Or do you trust them to protect you? Magus Killer, I must know how you think…"

As he passed Tohsaka, Rider reached out and put a hand on Kotomine's arm. He paused, startled, then blinked. The rapt expression faded away, replaced by a mask of indifference once more.

"Of course, you needn't tell me such things. I will learn the answer. You are the greatest threat in the War, that is all."

There was a rustle of activity at his words. El-Melloi looked indignant, but restrained himself. Caster, on the other hand… Caster's bright eyes were looking between Kotomine and Kiritsugu with interest. That could not be a good sign. Serenity still did not know what had happened between Caster and Berserker, but the Servant of the Spell seemed entirely unharmed.

"I'm still curious about what kind of insurance the Magus Killer has, actually," said Matou. "Come on, tell us."

Kiritsugu took one last pull on his cigarette, then pointed at Matou and pulled out a polaroid photograph.

"Matou Sakura."

Matou flinched. Kiritsugu didn't linger, but pointed at the other Masters in turn, pulling out more photographs.

"Tohsaka Rin. Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri. Glenn and Martha Mackenzie… Caren Hortensia." On this last, he had no photo – Serenity was fast, but the Einzbern network had Kotomine Kirei's daughter in Europe still. The point was made.

Archer's eyes flashed. "You dare? On this day, in this place, with Berserker running wild, you threaten us with hostages?" She bared her teeth. "You truly are reckless if you think this will earn you anything but your death."

"I have not done anything. But my associates have taken one of these people. If I am alive and free at a predetermined time later, this person will be released unharmed."

"It's a bluff." Everyone turned to look. Caster spoke again, confidently. "He's far too kindhearted to actually kidnap anyone. It's obvious if you're a genius. There's no-one in danger."

"I find that hard to believe," sneered El-Melloi. "This is the Magus Killer."

Waver Velvet stood up, and spoke in a hesitant voice. "I… I think we should listen to Caster. She… isn't wrong. Basically ever."

El-Melloi rolled his eyes. "How convenient, you agree with your own Servant. You may not know his history, Mr Velvet, so let me give you a history lesson. This man has the blood of hundreds on his hands. Entire families, wiped out along with their crests – down to the last child, the last familiar, the last servant. This man broke a dam and drowned two villages, just to kill one magus who lived there. He killed his own father – and then, years later, the woman who took him in as his mother. All you have to lose is the couple you've duped into providing a roof over your head, but I refuse to trust my fiancée to the mercy of the Magus Killer!"

There were nodding heads all around, as everyone glared at Kiritsugu.

Dammit, thought Serenity.

There really wasn't anyone in danger.

Caster was exactly right. Kiritsugu was far too ready to make an enemy of everyone in the War for the sake of a bluff, and not as hard-hearted as he needed to be. Like his plan to topple the Hyatt, far too kind.

He justified it, saying this was the best way to get attention without risking it solidifying into hatred by actually putting anyone in harm's way. The paranoia would do his job for him, and every other Servant would prevent anyone from harming him for fear that their hostage was the one taken. When everyone realised their hostage was fine, their anger at Kiritsugu would fade, and they wouldn't expect him to actually take hostages in future. It was fine justification… but Serenity couldn't help but feel like once again Kiritsugu had half-done the job.

Tohsaka looked as though he was about to speak up – but just then, the back door opened once more, with a loud creak. A man walked through, and grinned wildly.

"Well, uh, wow. Anyway, now that that's over, I guess… time to get this all started! Number seven, Uryuu Ryuunosuke, Master of Berserker, reporting in!"

There was a scrape of wood on stone as both Saber and Rider stood up. Archer had somehow flipped herself onto the back of the pew, her great black bow drawn and aimed. Caster hummed, drumming the fingers of her brass gauntlet on her staff.

"Whoa there!" laughed the man responsible for all the ruin brought to Fuyuki today. "I thought this was neutral ground? Uh, I wasn't wrong about that, was I?"

"You dare stand there and request the rights afforded to combatants?" snapped Saber. "What you have done – what Berserker has done in your name – is unconscionable! You have completely disregarded the code of conflict, and rendered yourself no better than a beast in my eyes. As a knight of France, I will not stand by and let your crimes go unpunished, neutral ground or no!"

Rider inclined her head. "Be glad this is a church. Repent, order Berserker to slay herself, and I give you my word, such as it is: I will preserve your life to face justice, even against Saber. Refuse, and, with great regret, I will send both you and your Servant to God."

The Master of Berserker raised his eyebrows. "Uh, wow. That's, uh, kind of you? But, yeah, not going to happen. Me and the big man never got on. 'Thou shalt not kill' was kind of a dealbreaker, you know how it is."

Archer spoke up. "Then you surely cannot have come here hoping to walk away alive. Say what you wish to say, then accept your death."

"Hey, I'm just a spectator here. Really. It ain't me that's got something to say…"

There was a noise from the front of the church, behind the altar. Risei appeared, walking stiffly. He stopped, but didn't say anything, instead issuing a strange choking noise as yellow motes swirled into existence behind him.

Within a second, Servant Berserker stood at the head of the church, her right hand firmly clamped around Kotomine Risei's neck.

"Well met, heroes," she said. "Now. While I've got the Moderator's ear, let's talk about how unfairly this War has been proceeding, shall we?"

Chapter Text

Risei had never been an Executor. Not that he had anything against the order – there were those in the Church that disdained what they thought of as heretics and fanatics, but Risei had seen that they had their place, and the day his boy Kirei had decided to join them had been one of the proudest of his life. Being an Executor was a fine thing, but Risei knew it wasn't for him.

That said, in this strange and hostile world of mages and monsters, the life of a priest wasn't always a simple one, and Risei had seen some shit. Demons, dark spirits, things he couldn't even put a name to. He'd muddled through somehow, with help from Kirei or Tokiomi, and considered himself a little hardened to danger.

He'd started his career in the dark side of the Church by moderating the Third Holy Grail War, after all. The horrors he'd witnessed there would stick with him until he died. Nothing could top it.

But, this day of devastation…

Alone in prayer in his church, he'd heard cruel laughter from behind and turned around to find the Devil in a yellow kimono.

Small, hardly even coming up to his chest, and appearing in the guise of a beautiful woman, but Risei knew the Devil when he saw it. He didn't need the wicked horns or the grasping, black-nailed claws to let him know, either – one look in the yellow, hate-filled eyes was enough.

Even the red claw closed around his neck, he couldn't stop himself from focusing on the sharp, sharp tusks gleaming in the candlelight. What would happen to his immortal soul if it were mutilated and devoured by those tusks before it reached its eternal rest?

For the first time in a very, very long time, Risei feared death.

If he made it through this, the Fourth War would take a comfortable second billing in his nightmares.

But it seemed Berserker did not wish him dead just yet. Instead, she had marched him to the bell tower and forced him to summon a conclave of Masters once more. When he'd dared to ask why, she had only said, "Justice," and tightened her grip on his neck. The feral gleam in her eyes dissuaded him from asking more.

And now, here they all were, Masters and Servants both. A sorry congregation, each so suspicious of the other. Into a place of community and togetherness, war had come. Into a house of God, the profane and the heretical held sway. How could he be surprised that a demon now stood ready to conduct her own sermon?

Risei did not recognise the young redheaded man who introduced himself as Berserker's Master, but he spoke like a local. How had he failed to notice such a tortured soul in his own city? If he had only reached out sooner…

But the time for kicking himself was past. His life was literally in Berserker's hands – all that was left was to see what she wanted.

At the head of the church, there was a raised dais around the altar. It added ceremony to what would otherwise be a man standing in a room and talking. It was a little crass to refer to it as stagecraft, but that was what it was. The speaker was elevated above the congregation, separated even by something so little as a foot of height. Now Berserker held the room, and it served the same effect.

"Well met, heroes," she was saying. "Now. While I've got the Moderator's ear, let's talk about how unfairly this War has been proceeding, shall we?"

"Unfairly?" spat Rider, incredulously. "You're a monster! Look at what you have done, just today! How many lie dead, because of you? How many lives ruined, homes destroyed, supports ripped away, because of you? How can you possibly claim yourself to be unfairly persecuted?"

Berserker growled, and Risei felt the tension in his neck rise ever so slightly. "If I am a monster, it is because you – all of you – have made me one. I say again, I have been persecuted, hunted down for actions that would earn anyone else a slap on the wrist at the very worst. Unfairly forced into combat so, small wonder that I resort to desperate measures to acquire the power I need to defend myself."

"If you have not the power to acquit yourself in battle, the correct response is to make up the difference with guile," said Archer, her face hard as stone. "If you have not the guile to overcome the difference in strength, the correct response is to seek allies to aid you. If you have neither strength nor guile nor allies, you are unfit to obtain the Grail. Fail and fall to those who do."

Berserker sneered. "The law of the jungle, is it? Then why object to my preying on the weaklings who make up the citizens of this measly city? If anyone, I thought you would understand, Atalante of the Argonauts. I am an oni of Mt. Ooe, and I take what I want – and what I wanted was power. That you responded with outrage for my having the temerity to try and stay alive shows only your hypocrisy and insecurity. But this is not the injustice I speak of."

"Well, do tell, dear," said Caster. "We're all just dying to hear whatever nonsense you've got to say." She brushed her hair over one shoulder with a nonchalant shrug. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can squash you, after all."

The other Servants nodded. Risei breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Berserker held the floor, she wasn't liable to crush his neck like a rice cracker. His eyes darted to meet Caster's, and she shot him a little wink.

"You are the worst of all, Caster," said Berserker. "Shall I tell everyone what you tried to do to me? How you tried to manipulate me for your own ends?" Caster's relaxed smile slid off her face. "Oh, yes. If it is monsters you are after, Rider, look no further than the Servant of the Spell."

Rider did not look at Caster. "Your attempts at deflection will get you nowhere. Speak swiftly. What do you want?"

Berserker smiled sweetly. "What do I want? Why, what I want is acknowledgement. I am not the only one with a crime to confess. In this place, in this company, there is much that needs to be said, and to be heard. But since you ask – I will begin at the beginning.

"I found myself summoned to this time weak – weaker than I have ever been. My Master, pathetic fool that he is, could never supply me with the prana I needed to fight. And yet, did I not have a wish I would stake everything to obtain? I ask you, Servants of the Fourth Holy Grail War – who among you would have denied the wish the Grail chose you for, in the very instant of your summoning, just because the power to grasp it was not handed you on a silver platter? Well, heroes?"

Risei looked out among the Servants. None spoke. For a moment his eyes lingered on Rider's… before she looked down.

Berserker smiled, and swiped her hand to the side. "Never! You would not give up so easily, and neither did I. All the strength I needed was mine for the taking, in the city so ripe for plunder. And so, I devoured the people of Fuyuki, yes. As I had, at need, in life, so was my need now. Moderator, I bid you speak – was my action against the rule of the Grail War?"

The iron grip on Risei's neck eased, just enough. The awful pressure in his head ceased, and he coughed, and spoke. "What you did was never something intended by the Founders – only a necessary consequence of a Servant's spiritual form-"

Berserker shook Risei like a dog with a toy, and his words choked off. "I did not ask the opinion of fools long dead, who sought to bind the monsters of old to their will! You are the Moderator. You are the sole arbiter of what is and is not legal. You are the one man who dares to tell those beyond humanity what they may or may not do. Rejoice, take pride – and answer me. I asked you once, and ask you once more – was my action against the rule of the Grail War?"

Speaking the words was hard, and not just because this time Berserker had not loosened her hold on his throat. "…no."

"Very good," Berserker smiled, and released Risei. Several of the Servants stirred, but Risei made no move to escape. How could he? No matter where he went, his sin would follow. He had always thought of the Moderator's role as being the one to curb the worst excesses of magi. How naïve. The rules he enforced were laid down by none other than those magi – how could they be anything but monstrous?

Risei could have made to step down from the raised dais and escape. Instead, he remained where he was, on the same level as the oni Berserker.

"And here is where the injustice of those who hold themselves to be heroes rears its head," Berserker said. "Indeed, I preyed on those within the town – as is my right as a Servant, my right as the strong," she nodded at Archer. "None could object. And yet you did."

"My Master and I seem to have been left out of the loop a little, wouldn't you say, Moderator? Tell me – tell the room, in fact – just what was the discussion that led to your declaring me anathema, and placing a bounty of a Command Spell on my head?"

"Who says we did?" said Tokiomi, leaning back in his pew. "The fact that you can think of no reason for anyone to want you gone other than for compensation… well, it seems you are projecting a little. Can it really be so hard to imagine that all these," he waved a hand to indicate the gathered Servants and Masters, "simply objected enough to your actions, legal or not, to wish to destroy you first? I know Rider was outraged at your depredations – as all decent folk would be, I'm sure. There is no need to invent a conspiracy where none exists."

Berserker laughed, a high, mocking laugh without an ounce of mirth in it. "Well said, Master of Rider. Indeed, what self-respecting hero would suffer an oni to live? I may well have just thought that all these paragons of humanity simply wanted me gone, were it not for the fact that Saber let slip the existence of the reward."

All eyes turned to the Knight of White Lilies. "Ehehe… oops?" they said, with a sheepish smile. El-Melloi put a hand to his head.

"What I do not know is why," said Berserker. "You surely did not believe I was a threat to the secrecy of the War, not with Archer throwing her Noble Phantasm around as though it were seeds on a field – and besides," she smiled. "I made very sure to remove all witnesses. Speak, priest! Why come after me?"

"You were a danger," began Risei. "You had no intention of participating in the War-"

"Lies!" In a flash, Berserker seized Risei's hair and twisted. Risei sank to his knees, bellowing in pain.

"I have heard enough excuses, priest," Berserker snarled. "The truth, now – or shall I pull your head from your shoulders and shake it to see what secrets are inside?" Her claws tightened on Risei's scalp, hair coming out at the roots.

"You will do no such thing," hissed Rider, rising to her feet. "You are mad, not stupid. Kill Father Kotomine, and I promise you will suffer retribution the next instant. Father, do not speak. You have no reason to do anything this creature says."

Berserker growled, and for a moment Risei wondered if Rider had doomed him. Then with a thrust, she released him, and Risei was left on his knees, not daring to move. His eyes met Kirei's, and the burning shame ate at him. For the boy to see his father like this, a plaything to a demon… Kirei looked stoic, but Risei could tell it was bothering him.

"I suppose we are at something of an impasse," said Berserker, stepping back and raising her hands placatingly. "Then, how about this? I will spin a tale, and the Moderator will say yea or nay. Before that, though…"

Risei felt claws between his shoulder blades, and was roughly pushed down to a prostrate position. Berserker sat down on his back, and Risei held still, face reddening at the indignity.

"Let me tell you exactly what I've been up to."

Serenity crouched in the rafters of the church, listening to Berserker make her demands. Ever since the oni had appeared, she had been ready to strike.

But not to strike Berserker. That was too risky.

Serenity wasn't worried about accidentally hitting the Moderator – she could shave the wings off a fly in mid-flight, so accurate was she with her thrown daggers. Instead, the risk was that Berserker would not immediately die from something as simple as a poisoned knife. Even in the second she took to die, she could very easily rip the Moderator to shreds. Or, worse, let loose a last-ditch burst of fire.

While Kiritsugu was nearby, Serenity would not take the risk.

Instead, she was shadowing the redheaded man who had called himself Uryuu Ryuunosuke. Killing a Servant's Master would choke off their supply of prana. Berserker might well have enough left to not immediately disappear, and even to destroy the Moderator on the way out, but she would cause no more damage than that.

Uryuu Ryuunosuke seemed to have no idea of the danger he was in, leaning against the double doors into the church with a wide grin on his face. Foolish of him to appear before the assembled might of the War, if he truly was Berserker's Master – uncharacteristically so. Berserker had, so far, been playing the war very cannily indeed. Even while throwing caution to the winds and creating chaos, she had done so tactically. In the end, she had eluded both Serenity and Saber, moving too quickly to track.

There was every chance this was a simple dupe, a stalking horse meant to attract attention while Berserker and her true Master maintained the advantage of surprise. If so, killing him would not slay Berserker, and would not solve the standoff in the church.

Not worth revealing herself, then.

Nevertheless, Serenity positioned herself to strike. At the command from her Master, this Uryuu Ryuunosuke would die, Master of Berserker or not. In the meantime, Serenity held herself ready – and listened to what Berserker had to say.

"I can only think of one incident that would have provided the reason – the excuse, rather – for why I was singled out for the righteous punishment of the august heroes. A couple of nights ago, yes. Unsatisfied with my progress with piecemeal prey, I decided to seek better hunting grounds." Berserker looked down, pensive. "I suppose you, Rider, will call it my monstrous nature driving me to greater evil, but the truth is I simply wished to secure myself. You claimed I did not intend to participate in the War? How wrong you were. I was trying to drag myself to the starting line, as quickly as possible…"

Berserker blinked, and straightened, her face hard once more. "My Master made himself useful for once, and selected the perfect target. Some tavern somewhere, I do not recall the name. I feasted – not unkindly, though I doubt you will care – and when I was done I burned the place to the ground. Thus did I remove all witnesses and conceal the secret of magic in a single stroke. None should have been aware of my actions that night.

"And yet, when I ventured forth I was beset by both Saber and Archer, and I was informed that there was a bounty on my head. Long have I thought on how my actions became known, and I can only think of one option. I was observed."

Ah. Serenity could see where this was going. The messages Berserker had left at her crime scenes over the course of the day…

Master… she started. We may be about to be put in a difficult position.

Agreed, came Kiritsugu's response immediately. Berserker has outmanoeuvred us splendidly. …I never thought I'd be saying that, he added wryly.

"Yes," Berserker said with a nasty smile. "I was quite sure that no human could have escaped the trap my Master and I set – which leaves six obvious culprits. Now, if a Servant watched what I did and still did not see fit to intervene, that is hardly my fault, or so I reasoned. All it shows is what I have suspected all along – that heroes are more interested in persecuting the oni when it suits them, and not at all in protecting the people they profess to serve. However…" She trailed off and scanned the room, her eyes landing on Saber, Archer and Rider.

"I was wrong. I now believe that some heroes, at least, would have stepped in to confront me – out of hatred for the oni or a self-righteous belief in absolute justice, if nothing else. So now I ask myself…" Berserker's eyes flashed.

"Which Servant is the best suited for spying on the deeds of others? Which Servant may well be too weak to face me in open battle? Which Servant would think it a grand scheme, a perfect murder, if they instead tattled to the Moderator and got others to do their dirty work? To be sure, the lion's share of the blame lies with the Moderator, who had his own reasons to agree – but the one who gave him the excuse, who provided the pretext for all these fine heroes to pick on the oni… yes, you have indeed earned my hatred as well."

In a flash of fire, Berserker was on her feet, bone sword in hand, and she pointed that great twisted blade down the length of the Church. Servants stood ready to defend their Masters in the next instant, but Berserker wasn't looking at any of them.

"Assassin!" she roared. "I accuse you of conspiring to manipulate the War against me with the Moderator! Come, deny it, and face me, or else hide and prove yourself a coward and weakling!"

Chapter Text

The church was silent following Berserker's ultimatum. All eyes were on Kiritsugu, who seemed as unconcerned as ever, continuing to draw on his cigarette with his other hand in his pocket.

Serenity knew better. Some magi who picked up the habit – especially those with Fire elements –occasionally did things like draw runes with the end, or make use of the smoke to blind or smother. In Kiritsugu's case, though, the cigarette was a distraction. His other hand had a light grip on his Thompson Contender, already loaded and ready to fire.

And despite the quiet in the hall, there was a frantic conversation inside the heads of the Master-Servant pair.

We can't show ourselves, Serenity sent, the communication fast as thought.

I had no intention of doing so, said Kiritsugu. If we had acted sooner, we may have been able to stop Berserker before she put us in this position.

And before she had destroyed Fuyuki, were the words left unsaid.

Serenity fiddled with her knife, hidden up in the rafters. This is a problem. If we do not clearly deny our involvement… even if we do, Berserker is not wrong to suspect us.

There is that. Turning in a dangerous Master to the Moderator is precisely the kind of step I would take if I were not sure of our ability to kill them by other means. Except that my real target would then have been one of the other Servants, temporarily focused on a different threat.

Serenity nodded. Unfortunately, your reputation… we look guilty. And dangerous. If the other sides in the War decide we are the next biggest threat after Berserker…

Even so, Kiritsugu said. Uncertainty is our surest shield… and this Caster worries me. She saw through our ruse far too easily.

Behind her skull mask, Serenity chewed her lip. What will you do instead? Should you deny it anyway without letting me face Berserker? The other Masters…

Let them whisper, let them suspect. They cannot afford to focus on anything other than Berserker right now. I know you of all people are not worried about our reputation. A twitch of the cheek, which Serenity recognised as a smile.

Of course her Master would understand. As you wish. As always, the talking I leave to you, Master…

Kiritsugu exhaled a large amount of smoke. "I do not deny it," he said, dull eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "I would be a fool to. You will not fight my Servant today."

"Oh?" said Berserker. "I thought you might try and wriggle out of the blame somehow. Taking it on your shoulders instead… how manly of you." Her smile gained a cruel edge. "Do the other Servants here feel the same?"

Kiritsugu said nothing.

"At least Saber and Archer fought to stop me. Yes, okay, there was a reward, but still. But you… you didn't even try. You sat there and watched me – such terrible things I did – and did nothing but make notes for your tattling. Was it cowardice or callousness that stilled your limbs and stifled your tongue? I would usually assume the former, but I know how magi are…"

"You cannot blame Assassin for your actions," said Rider, although she didn't sound very sure. "You bear that sin alone. Even if it was an ill thing to stand by and not even try to help…"

"I don't know," said Caster. "We're supposed to be heroes, are we not? The best and brightest of humanity! Would you have let Berserker have her way with those poor people right in front of you? I for one would have at least tried to make a distraction. My Master would never let me hear the end of it, otherwise… he's really just a big teddybear, under that grumpyguts front he puts on- ow ow ow, hey, Master, let go!"

Waver Velvet stopped tugging on Caster's ear, but stayed the same amusing shade of scarlet.

"We're not here to discuss Assassin's misconduct," he said. "Stay focused, would you?"

"Agreed," said El-Melloi. "My discomfort at how cavalier the Magus Killer and his Assassin seem to be with the rules can wait – Saber, at least, has a score to settle with you, Berserker."

Serenity was watching the other Masters. They all seemed to be in silent conversation with their Servants the same way she was with Kiritsugu – and she didn't like the way those conversations seemed to be going. Tohsaka's expression remained cool and calculating as ever, while Matou turned round in his seat to glare at Kiritsugu.

We've lost the room, she realised. Maybe they'd lost it the moment Kiritsugu pulled his hostage bluff. If there had ever been any chance of an alliance with the other Masters, there was none now. The question was, which of the other pairs would be first to take advantage of the new most obvious target?

Berserker smiled. "Oh? Come and do your worst, then, by all means. I'm not going to ask Saber to halt their unreasonable pursuit of me just because of Assassin. Just remember that I challenged Assassin, and was ignored – whatever excuses you choose to make, it's not me that doesn't want to fight in this War."

The Moderator struggled to his knees. His breathing was ragged, his clothes rumpled from where Berserker had shoved him to the floor, but he strove for dignity nevertheless. "What do you want from us, Berserker? All this will earn you is more hate from the Masters…"

Berserker rounded on him, and he quailed. "Hate is all I have ever been given from humankind! Who would treat an oni fairly, after all? Satisfaction, justice, fair treatment… these are not in the stars for me, I know that already. No more than victory in this Grail War." With a disgusted look, she turned her back on the priest.

"You ask what I want?" Berserker closed her eyes and clenched her fists, speaking half to herself. "I want to leave this city a smoking ruin, just to show I was here. I want to ruin every one of your lives, and hear your loved ones wail and regret you ever made an enemy of the oni kind. I want to use every minute of my borrowed time to mark my existence. I'll paint my name into this town, with blood, fire and scars if that's what it takes."

"We'll stop you," said Rider. Her earlier doubt seemed to have passed, and she sat ramrod-straight in her pew, the perfect saint once again. "It will bring me no joy to do so, but if a glorious death is truly all you aspire to, let us make that end right here. Let Father Kotomine go, and I will fight you in Assassin's place. I, for one, will remember you and what you have done for as long as I live. Let that be enough. The death and destruction… for the love of Christ, let it end."

"Augh! You must not have been listening, Rider," huffed Berserker. "Myself, against four Servants? An oni is worth ten of you humans… but even I have limits. I wouldn't accomplish anything, I'd just be squashed. No! If you want to end me, work for it. And I'll fight you every step of the way. Every trick I know, every bit of power I can gather… I will use it all to stay alive that little bit longer. I may not be able to win this Grail War. But I assure you, I can make sure this entire city loses."

Serenity stole a glance at her own Master. As always, he looked unaffected, but his hand stayed in his pocket, gripping his gun.

If today was only the start of Berserker's campaign of terror… the city was already on its knees after twelve hours. Where would it be after a day? A week? Berserker was tough enough, and slippery enough, that she could draw out the suffering for as long as it took. Serenity had no desire to see such a hell, but she'd made worse with her own hands – she could weather the most horrible scenes Berserker could create so long as she had faith. But her Master, her softhearted Master…

He would remain professional. He would observe the battlefield with cold, stoic eyes and make the best of the situation, then emerge victorious. And in the doing, his heart would break. The things Berserker would make Kiritsugu ignore on his road to victory would leave nothing but a shell of a man left to wish upon the Grail. Even if a better world was achieved, Kiritsugu could not be part of it.

"So… what now, Berserker?" tried the Moderator again, eyes pleading. "You've said your piece, you've made your accusation. Where do you go from here?"

Berserker laughed. "Oh, you think I've finished? Ha! More fool you, priest, I have barely begun! Assassin deserves all the scorn I have for them, and more, but you are the reason I am here and not hunting for shadows."

She stalked over to the old man and hauled him to his feet.

"I said I would spin a tale, and I will. My attack on the tavern was the excuse. Assassin was how you heard about it. But why, why post a bounty?" She seized the priest by the front of his robes and snarled up into his face. She snorted.

"Ugh, I'll just get to the point already. When Assassin came to you with reports of my deeds, you seized on this as the excuse to influence the shape of the War. Your friend, the Master of Rider, was under siege, by Archer probably. His defences, shattered. His home, imperilled. His Servant, tied down defending what was his." Berserker looked out over the church at the Servants gathered there. "It's like you said, Archer – Rider's Master hadn't the strength to win on his own… so he turned to his old friend for help.

"You gave Archer a wonderful distraction," she continued, nodding at the cat-eared Servant. "You pulled attention off Rider and her Master. You condemned me to death. Admit it." She extended one claw as if to caress the Moderator's face. With a flash, it ignited, and Father Kotomine's eyes widened in fear.

All present in the church were silent, spellbound by the display. Tohsaka and Kotomine Kirei seemed impassive, although Serenity thought she detected a spark of interest in the young Master of Lancer's eyes. El-Melloi seemed intrigued by the possibility, shooting glances over at Tohsaka.

Rider's hands gripped the pew in front so hard the wood had splintered.

And Caster… Caster was staring at Berserker with an uncomfortable intensity, at odds with her flighty attitude from earlier. Those blue eyes, so filled with intelligence… just how much did they see?

"Admit it! You did, didn't you!" spat Berserker. Her claw inched closer and closer to Kotomine's face. Sweat was pouring down the priest's cheeks, but Berserker's grip on his robes held him fast.

Serenity adjusted her grip on her knife. She had no special sympathy for priests – the number of missionaries to the 'Holy Land' she'd been ordered to kill would have Rider after her head if she knew – but to see any man so helpless before a monster was uncomfortable. Fire was a terrible way to die.

Not that her poison was any kinder.

The very tip of Berserker's superheated claw touched Kotomine's cheek. Flesh smoked, with an awful hissing noise barely audible over the howls of agony. He pulled away – but one old man could not resist the Servant of Madness, and Berserker hauled him back as if he were made of straw.

"Say it!" said Berserker again. "You think you're protecting anyone like this? Just give up already, old man!" Though Kotomine struggled, the incandescent claw grew closer and closer.

Do you think it's true? Serenity asked. Berserker was wrong about us…

Kiritsugu didn't answer for a moment. I think that's the wrong question. The question is, what does Berserker gain by raising the point? If all she wants is to cause as much havoc as possible, it shouldn't matter.

Sowing division? suggested Serenity. Turn the war against Rider like she tried to do to us?

Mmm… maybe. But I can't help but feel there's more to this. Division or not, after this the whole War is going to be against her no matter what she does. I just don't see how she benefits.

On the dais, Berserker caressed Kotomine's cheek once more. No-one does, thought Serenity, to herself this time. What a joke this War was turning out to be. Five Servants sat in a church and did nothing while the worst of them did whatever she wanted. Was any of it worth it?

Yes. For Kiritsugu's wish, anything was.

But the tension in her Master's face told Serenity he couldn't take much more of this.

We need to stop this, she said.

Why?

Because her Master was having a hard enough time reconciling his ideals and his methods as it was, without forcing himself to watch a man die by fire for the sake of pragmatism. Because even weighed against the happiness of everyone in the world, a tiny risk to their chances of success was worth it to prevent suffering happening right in front of them. Because Kotomine Risei did not deserve to burn to death.

She couldn't say that, though. Kiritsugu had spent far too long justifying his own actions by the yardstick of the ends.

Instead, she kept her tone professional and detached. If someone else really is set to benefit from this, we don't need to know who it is to want to prevent it.

Serenity could see her Master weighing up her words. …very well. Did you have something in mind?

Berserker's Master… or the man acting as one. He remains within my sights. Say the word.

A slight smile. No need.

In a sudden flurry of motion, Kiritsugu's gun was out of his pocket, levelled at Uryuu Ryuunosuke.

"Berserker," he said, into the sudden silence. "Step away from the Moderator."

The young man – a child, really – put his hands up, a 'who, me' grin slipping onto his face. "Hey, buddy, no need for that. I thought this was a neutral zone?"

"Your Servant is attacking the Moderator," said Kiritsugu. "I think I will be forgiven, this once."

Berserker herself had stopped her torture, and was looking at the scene with interest. "An interesting choice. Go on, then, fire away – if you don't mind letting me kill this priest, of course. I'm sure I can kill one old man, even as I disappear. Sorry, Master, but please die beautifully."

"Always knew I'd leave a good-looking corpse," said Uryuu with a smile. He laced his fingers behind his head. "Death doesn't scare me. Not a lot of folks get to say they died to such a cool gun, you know? Thompson Contender, right? Man, those bullets are going to mess me up." He laughed, but his eyes flicked to Berserker as he did so.

Caster's gauntlet made a series of taps on the wood of the pew as she drummed her fingers. "If he were going to fire, he'd have done it already," she said to no-one in particular. "You don't care about the Moderator at all, do you? But… hm. Worried he's not the right guy? That's probably a good decision. Not that I'd have any idea, of course."

Kiritsugu's aim was rock steady, but Serenity felt the sudden confusion through the link.

"Not helping, Caster…" muttered Waver Velvet.

"Well, it's a change to the deadlock, at least," said Caster cheerfully. "Go on then, Master of Assassin – the ball's rather in your court, I'm afraid. Berserker's called your bluff. What were you planning to do from here?"

She grinned, a cheerful grin, as though the lives of two men did not hang in the balance.

It's her, Serenity realised. There wasn't any reason for the thought. It was nothing more than a hunch. But Serenity had long since learned to trust her hunches. She didn't know how, she didn't know why… Caster just wasn't responding like she should be.

And Caster had seen right into the depths of Kiritsugu's heart. He wouldn't fire, for fear of making a mistake, breaking the deadlock and freeing Berserker to sow more chaos. Serenity knew it. Caster knew it.

But Caster had no idea what Serenity would do. How could she? No-one in Fuyuki had ever so much as glimpsed her.

She made the call.

The knife flew from her fingers like a bullet.

Even with everyone's attention on the tableau, no-one reacted in time. Only Caster, using some application of that oracular intelligence, seemed to have a clue – and Serenity relished the widening of the Servant of the Spell's eyes in the instant before the poisoned knife drilled into the side of Uryuu Ryuunosuke's head.

In the next second, Caster's surprise was replaced with a smirk, just for a split-second. Serenity looked at what she'd done in dismay.

Uryuu Ryuunosuke remained standing, a hole through his skull – and through that hole, brass gears spun and clicked in an intricate pattern. His outline shimmered and wavered, before the illusion failed entirely, leaving nothing but an ornately decorated doll, decorated in shades of gold and blue, where the Master of Berserker had stood.

All eyes were on the scene taking place at the rear of the church.

"A golem?" said Tohsaka dumbly. "Incredible… I've never seen such intricate work. Whoever made this must be a true visionary in the craft. I see we have all been underestimating the Master of Berserker."

Saber looked very intently at the gear mechanisms, then leaned over to whisper in El-Melloi's ear.

For a moment, Serenity saw a flash of annoyance cross Caster's face. "Ah. Yes. Berserker's Master. Indeed. Also, actually that's a clockwork homunculus, so technically- ow!" She broke off after her Master kicked her under the pew, and regained her cheerful disposition. "Now, let's see… a thrown dagger, non-reflective but lighter in colour than I'd expect. Looking at the angle, it came from the rafters… good afternoon to you, Assassin."

Caster turned her head to look at where Serenity had been. Serenity had moved on since then, of course, but it was still uncanny.

"No? Not even a little hint?" She pouted. "I don't suppose you'd care to demonstrate again?"

There was no way Serenity was going to pass up a straight line like that. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and there was still a hostage situation that needed to be resolved.

Three more knives ripped through the air.

At Berserker.

Fast as the oni was, Serenity could throw knives faster than any arrow, completely silently and without warning. Berserker hissed in pain as they scored lines of blood on her hand, cheek and bare shoulder, and spun to place the priest in between her and the source.

Serenity was already in the shadows behind her.

The fourth knife plunged itself into the base of Berserker's neck, between her shoulder blades – but only penetrated a quarter-inch.

Tough, Serenity thought. She could throw her knives straight through plate armour if she got the angle right. To really cause any damage with her knives she'd have to put her weight behind it in close combat… and that was just a stupid plan.

No matter. Kiritsugu had quietly slipped out the back of the church as soon as Serenity had begun her attack on Berserker. He was out of the firing line for any retaliation – the worst Berserker could do now was kill the Moderator.

Luckily, Berserker didn't seem all that interested in making good on her threat, instead looking around for Serenity. Serenity had already dematerialised, and repositioned herself up in the rafters.

All she had to do was wait.

"Where… where are you, Assassin?" growled Berserker. Already, her face was flushed, beads of sweat forming. Her words were very slightly slurred. "Come out and fight!" She shook her head to clear it, blinking. Her grip relaxed, ever so slightly, on Father Kotomine's robes.

That was all it took.

An explosion of pure white light hurled Berserker into the stone wall behind the altar, leaving the priest untouched. Rider was on her feet, the portrait of an avenging angel. She pointed her cross-shaped staff, shining with that same holy glow, at the downed Berserker.

Caster sat back, an intense expression of frustration on her perfect face. With all eyes on Berserker, Serenity was the only one to notice her sigh.

The next second, Berserker launched herself at the Moderator.

"No!" Rider yelled.

With a wrench, space dislocated. Berserker vanished. Kotomine Risei went with her.

Archer vaulted a pew and was out the door the next instant, and out of sight the instant after. Rider and Saber were hot on her heels, but Serenity remained, watching Caster.

"I suppose we'd better go try to retrieve the Moderator," she said to her Master. "Tally-ho!"

With a smoother distortion of space than the violent break Berserker had used, they were gone.

Now would be the time to kill the remaining Masters… but no. Tempting as the thought might be, they were needed to chase down Berserker before she caused more havoc.

Worse, Serenity suspected even she and Kiritsugu would need help in dealing with the most dangerous Servant in the War – the one who'd somehow subverted the Servant of Madness into doing her bidding.

Just north of Kotomine Church, there were suburbs, where the countryside slowly turned into the more modern Shinto. Despite the horror of the day, they were quiet.

Risei appeared in mid-air, and fell.

Before he hit the ground, he was seized by small but strong arms, and shoved roughly against a wall.

He cried out, but found a tiny, red-clawed hand clapped over his mouth. His cheek throbbed where the Servant in front of him had burned it, and he thrashed trying to squirm away.

"Silence, fool!" said Berserker. "You will reveal us. I need to warn you about-"

The oni jerked aside, cursing, as a green arrow blurred through the space her head had been.

"Already?" She lunged at Risei, and he flinched, but all she did was hustle him around a corner. "Listen. I have been controlled, and you have been deceived. My escape removed all persistent effects, and my head is clear – but we have only moments."

"Controlled?" Risei was having trouble catching up. Berserker stomped her foot in impatience.

"Yes! I am not so stupid as to make an enemy of the entire War and then appear in front of them like some theatre villain!"

There was a whistling noise, and Berserker swatted two more arrows out of the air.

"Curses!" Berserker seized Risei's wrist, and picked him up bodily as if he were no more than a child. "Come, Moderator of the Holy Grail War. We have much to discuss, but we are pursued!"

Wind whipped at Risei's robes as he was carried on the shoulders of the Servant of Madness, who was apparently not quite as mad as previously believed. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the agony in his cheek.

Maybe this war would turn out to be worse than the Third after all…

Chapter Text

It was the most uncomfortable kidnapping Risei had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

He was not as young as he used to be, and Berserker was not being gentle with him. She grabbed him, dragged him, hustled him, and at many points just outright threw him – all in her strange determination to have him along for her escape.

Risei could barely process it. He'd never been able to stand roller coasters, and this was worse, because at least a roller coaster didn't moan at you for being too slow every ten seconds.

"Hurry up, priest!" snarled Berserker, yanking Risei's arm so that he stumbled round a corner about half a second before a flight of arrows destroyed the pavement the pair had been standing on.

"I'm tryi-" started Risei, before Berserker snapped her head up, and lunged forward straight into him, carrying him clear across the street in an instant. Risei's breath left him in a rush, and his vision swam – but he did see a silvery-blue figure flash into existence in front of him, sword raised.

Risei was jolted sideways as Berserker corrected her course – and then flung upwards as she leapt. He had a brief moment of clarity, saw Berserker bat away a punishing volley of arrows, then landed, hard, in an alleyway.

"Try harder," said Berserker. "It's difficult enough trying to protect myself! Be grateful, human!"

He opened his mouth to protest – she was the only reason he was in danger in the first place, dammit! – but before he could say anything a white blur streaked into his vision from the side and he felt Berserker's claw close round his neck-

The world disjointed, again.

Risei lost all sense of where he was – up, down, fast or slow, he had no idea what was happening to him. After finding out just how long an instant could last, he blinked and found himself skidding to a halt next to Berserker on a rooftop.

His knowledge of Fuyuki rooftops wasn't the best, but he guessed they'd travelled only about half a mile that time.

It wasn't the first time Berserker had done this – it was the same escape skill that had allowed her to vanish from the church, under the noses of five other Servants. That time, they'd travelled a lot further… but if Risei was any judge, it wasn't the kind of skill meant to be used in quick succession. Berserker was as energetic as ever, but her gritted teeth showed the strain she was under.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He couldn't help it.

"Of course!" snapped Berserker. "It will take more than this to lay low the mightiest oni of Mt Ooe."

"If you say so…"

"I do say so!" Berserker stomped her bare feet, then broke off, fidgeting and casting her gaze around. She looked nervous, but Risei didn't want to start another argument – or have his cheek branded again – so he said nothing. "Enough chat. We will clearly not get a moment to talk – priest, understand that abducting you was not my intention. I have been controlled – by Caster."

Risei's head was already pounding, and the abrupt change from running to talking wasn't making things any easier. "By Caster?"

"Yes, by Caster! We have no time for you to repeat everything I say, so just shut up and listen. The other Servants will be on top of us any moment." Berserker visibly restrained herself, and went on. "Caster has made some manner of potion, that can place even Servants under her control. She can do a lot more than that, but as the Moderator this is what should most concern you."

Risei breathed out heavily. This was… a lot to take in. "So your actions against the town of Fuyuki were actually done by the will of Caster? It seems I owe you an apology."

"Certainly not!" said Berserker, seeming honestly offended. Risei flinched, his cheek burning with phantom pain. "Caster has no claim to the wonderful chaos this pathetic settlement finds itself in! That was done by my hand, and mine alone. It is not the first city I have brought to its knees in such a way." She relaxed, and Risei did as well. "An apology is owed, however. Why did you turn the War against me? Caster wished to analyse your motives, but I am curious nonetheless."

That was the question Risei had been asking himself all day. He didn't like the answer he'd come up with any better than Berserker would, but there was no point lying to her and less point lying to himself.

"I… trusted Tohsaka Tokiomi, I suppose." He held up a hand, to forestall the scathing objection he saw on Berserker's face. "I know, the responsibility is mine, and I take all of it. It is given to me to oversee the War, and I take that role seriously. However, the fact of the matter is that he is my friend, a man whom I have seen grow into who he is today, and I have to believe that a War run to his instructions is better than the alternative."

"And how is that working out for you?" asked Berserker.

Risei winced. "Your point is noted. For whatever it is worth, I do believe I mis-stepped in provoking you. I will have no part in your sins, but for that… if an apology is what you want, then an apology you shall have. I am sorry, Berserker."

"Hmph." Berserker tossed her head. "It is pointless to try and curry favour with me now. You condemned me to die, whatever your reasons for it. I should be angry with you, I suppose… but to be quite honest, I can't find it in me. Both of us are the puppets of more ruthless masters, it seems."

"I don't think that's quite how I would describe my relationship with Tokiomi," Risei protested.

Berserker fixed him with a glare. "I could be angrier with you, if you'd like."

"Are you sure you have time?" Risei asked with a smile.

"True." Berserker frowned. "Actually, the other Servants should have found us by now. Why are we not under attack?"

A voice answered from behind them. "Oh, Berserker, dear, you do give the most marvellous straight lines!"

Risei whirled. Perched on an arial on the edge of the rooftop was a large bronze and blue bird – a peacock of some kind, if he was any judge. It fluttered its wings and cocked its head in their direction with a soft whirring. Only that, and the brief glimpse of gears Risei had caught as it moved, let him realise it was mechanical. Its motion was a perfect imitation of real avian behaviour.

As he watched, it opened its beak and emitted a bright blue light, which formed into a hazy blue-tinged image of Caster in mid-air, beaming and winking at Berserker.

"To answer your question, obviously I'm interfering with the magical energy you give off to make it less noticeable," said Caster. "How else did you imagine you surprised everyone back at the church? When I cancel that spell, the other Servants will be all over you like white on rice, so do listen well, darling."

"You." The hate in Berserker's voice was palpable, but for all that she was maintaining an impressive level of self-control.

Caster giggled. "It's me! Oh, don't be like that. There's no point getting angry, dear."

A low snarl tore its way out from between Berserker's tusks. "No? I think destroying your toys could be quite satisfying, even if you're not here."

"Then why haven't you?" Caster asked. Berserker was silent. "I meant there's no point in getting angry, because I'm deliberately suppressing your anger. You just can't hold onto the emotion right now. It's a lovely colour on you and you're just so adorable when you're in a tantrum, but I do rather need the Moderator in one piece and I was afraid you might take it into your pretty little head to do something… irreversible."

Risei thought he had better intervene. Two Servants had met, and not immediately started trying to kill each other, which meant his role was to moderate. It was still the middle of the day – well, late afternoon – and even if the city had ripped half to pieces there was no point in escalating things. "I am well," he said. "Battered, bruised, and confused, but well. I do not believe we have met, Caster."

"Technically, we're not meeting now."

"Nevertheless, I am pleased to do so." Risei tried to look stern. "Berserker has been making some disturbing accusations."

Caster – or at least the image of her – beamed with pride. "The accusations that I've been manipulating the War by using her via mind control to sow dissent and get rid of the other Servants without exposing myself to danger? Yes, they're all true."

There was silence on the rooftop, broken only by the distant sounds of a city in chaos.

Risei struggled for something to say. "That was… a little more than she had gotten round to accusing you of, in fact."

"Oh? What on Earth were you doing all this time, then? No, don't worry about it. In any case, it's also true that I was the one directing her actions at the church, and who made the decision to bring you along on this little trip."

Berserker snorted. "You really are shameless, aren't you?"

"If I am, it's because I haven't done anything to be ashamed of." Caster grinned. "I'm quite sure that controlling other Servants isn't against the rules, because guess what?" She threw her hands up. "There aren't any! Really! I checked! It's not like the Grail checks how you won it, once you get your hands on it. Anything you do that helps you get there is A-OK as far as its concerned. The only one who might object is the Moderator."

"And you think torturing this person for information is likely to earn you flexibility in the rules?" Berserker said. Risei hadn't been about to put it that way, but she was right. He wasn't exactly in a charitable mood.

"I think this person is hardly in a position to throw stones," said Caster. "Well done on not admitting your alliance with Tohsaka in front of everyone, but, I mean, that hardly makes you less guilty."

Risei opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling very tired. It was hard to argue with someone when they were only voicing the arguments you'd been having with yourself inside your own head.

"Not to worry!" Caster continued. "It's not as if that were my only plan. And, honestly, even if you, as Moderator of the Grail War, were to make it an issue… look, I don't like to toot my own trumpet, but I'm reasonably certain I can win the War by myself even if everyone else is against me. But that sounds like a lot of work, and frankly I have better things to be doing."

"Better things than obtaining a wish?" Berserker sounded sceptical, and Risei didn't blame her.

"Of course! I have a cute student to train up, don't I?" Caster giggled. "He's got a long way to go, but I really do think he'll be one to watch… once he ditches his fuddy-duddy sourpuss attitude, at least."

"So, why are you here?" Risei asked. "If this was supposed to be a rescue, it's a peculiar one."

"A rescue?" Caster put a finger to her lips in thought. "Well, I suppose. You're not in any real danger from Berserker, she has no intention to harm you. I only had her take you for… incentive. And she even managed to pry that confession out of you! Good job, Berserker. You really are exceeding my expectations, you know."

Berserker gripped her sword and bared her tusks at the image of Caster, but apparently didn't trust herself to speak.

If Caster noticed Berserker's animosity, she didn't seem to notice, still smiling sunnily at the pair on the rooftop.

"So what happens now?" asked Risei. "You've clearly got something in mind. It's been a long day already – I would appreciate it if you would stop dancing around the issue and said what you were after."

Caster pouted. "Oh, you're no fun. Everyone in this War is so stuffy. It only looks cute on our adorable Servant of Tantrums, and that's mainly because of the gap moe… anyway! Yes, here's what's going to happen. Berserker, dear, you're going to lead the other Servants on a merry chase until I deem the time and the place to be right, at which point you will elegantly and beautifully crush them like bugs.

"Now, this does mean you will need to do our best at keeping them off you, but not do so well that they actually lose track of you. So, remember that little spell for keeping your magical energy suppressed I mentioned? Once our little tête-a-tête is finished, I will unfortunately not only be removing it, but sort of putting it back on inside out. Oh, it's more technical than that, but essentially, there's no chance of the other Servants losing your track through that wonderful Disengage skill you have. And don't go thinking you can remove the effect through Disengaging either! It's trivial to get round that once you know how, but you'll never guess what I've done – so don't you worry your head about it. From the look of you I'm guessing you're running into the limits of what that skill can do for you anyway – just keep on running and you'll be fine."

Risei risked a look sideways at Berserker, whose jaw was hanging open in a mix of incredulity and outrage.

"Why should I?" she said. "Why do anything you want me to do? I am the leader of the Mt Ooe oni, and no human commands me. You want me to jump through all these hoops for you like a trained puppy? You missed the part where I shook off your leash. How about I keep the Moderator with me, and we have our Servant conference again – only this time, it's about you. No, I can't see a single reason to do what you say."

Caster beamed. "I can!" She held out her arms to the side with a flourish, and the image shifted.

Berserker went very still and quiet.

Lying on some kind of gurney or table was… well, the image was done in shades of blue, but Risei recognised the redheaded man whom Caster had used as the model for her golem. He seemed to be asleep, and unharmed – but any Master in the power of another's Servant couldn't be expected to stay there long.

"Now, I would never be so gauche as to directly threaten your Master should you fail to do what I ask… oh, except I guess I just did," continued Caster, when her image had faded back into view. "Ehehe… Still, you do get the point, don't you, dear?"

"Where is he?" said Berserker. She didn't snarl, didn't rage or scream. Her gaze was fixed on Caster, and her face was a flat mask of calm.

Caster noticed. "Hm? I seem to have struck a nerve… and, of course, your Master is where you left him."

"You're at the temple," Berserker said. "Good. Wash your neck and wait. I will be there shortly."

"Okay!" Caster didn't seem particularly worried. "Now, is there anything else you ought to know… oh, yes. I know I'm being terribly unfair by putting this on you, so I'll help you out a little. I do want you to survive this, after all. First, some advice!

"Now, Assassin is annoyingly slippery, so I lost track of them, but you are being pursued by Saber, Archer and Rider. You might expect Rider to be there first, but it looks like she's gone to cut you off by the river. Do watch out for her pet when you make it there, but I'm sure you'll be fine once you make it past them.

"Archer will probably find you first when I cancel the spell. You know who she is, right? Oh, good. Yes, she really is the last person you want to have hunting you down, but it can't be helped. Saber isn't quite so fast, but I think you had a run-in with them before… it would probably be a bad idea to let them catch you. Their Master has certainly been a busy little beaver…"

Berserker didn't rise to the bait, if bait it was. "Fine. Your advice is noted. Anything else, or can I come and kill you now?"

"Of course! Stand back, duckies." Caster pointed, and started moving her left hand in a circular gesture.

Risei wasn't sure if he preferred being swept up in Caster's flow compared to Berserker's… but at least he was moving under his own power. He stepped back – just before a sparking orange-edged portal appeared in front of him. On the other side was the real Caster, who waved cheerfully. She seemed to be in the courtyard of Ryuudou Temple. Obviously, Risei hadn't spent a lot of time there, but he was at least familiar with the layout.

"I thought I'd take the Moderator off your hands. Protecting him as well as yourself can't have been easy, and as I said, I do need him undamaged – so I'll just give him a shortcut and get him here a little early. In you come, dear."

Risei shot one last look at Berserker, then wondered why he had. Was he feeling attached to his original kidnapper just because the new one was so disorienting? Ridiculous. He was the Moderator – it was high time he got hold of himself. He squared his shoulders and stepped through the portal.

Caster offered him a hand, which he waved off. He was old, not an invalid.

He was taken aback when Caster seized it anyway, and was about to start fighting, Servant or not, when she pulled him clear of the portal just ahead of a blast of heat, and a growl of frustration from Berserker.

Turning, he saw the cause – a translucent golden barrier blocked her passage through, expanding in intricate fractal shapes wherever she pounded on it.

"Oh, come on, now," said Caster. "You really thought I'd have opened a portal to my actual person and made it permeable to Servants? I wasn't born yesterday, you know. Now, in the interest of fairness, I should probably mention I already cancelled your stealth spell, so any moment now – oh, there we are! Toodles, and good luck!"

Through the portal, Risei saw the sky light up with green streaks. It looked like Caster had been right on about Archer finding her target first.

"Caster-!" started Berserker, but she was cut off as the portal suddenly winked out of existence.

"Well, that's that," said Caster. She exhaled, and seemed to both relax and sober up. "I do apologise, Moderator, but one must keep up one's game face, you know… can I offer you tea? Coffee? I've not exactly settled in to the place, but the kitchen is quite serviceable."

Risei held up a hand. "None, for me. Thank you. Caster…"

"I know," said the Servant. "I've been terribly naughty, haven't I? I understand this isn't exactly the done thing, but really, what did you people expect when you made one of the Servant Classes specialise in magic? Of course we were going to bend the rules into new and interesting shapes – and I can hardly go up against someone like Berserker with my bare hands."

Risei grunted. "The Caster class has always been a problem. I could tell you stories about the Third War…"

"That would be very helpful, actually," came a voice from the half-demolished temple. Stepping out into the courtyard was Caster's Master, young Waver Velvet. "Any information is good information, and I do honestly feel bad about what we had Berserker do to you. We just needed to know what was going on with you and the Tohsakas, that's all."

Was that all? His cheek throbbed. "If you had concerns about the way the War was going, you could have simply asked. But, in light of the circumstances…" he waved his hand at the sky, where the ash cloud spreading from Fuyuki was still visible, "I can, as they say, turn the other cheek. However, if you do wish to make it up to me, I have a request."

"If it's something we can do and not give up our advantage in the Grail War, then yes, of course," said Waver. "What do you want?"

Risei glanced at Caster, who nodded. Probably she already knew what he was after. Too insightful by half, that one.

"You have Berserker's Master held captive, yes?"

"That's right. He's in a magically-induced sleep right now, thanks to Caster, but he's fine. Why?"

"Because I want to speak to him," Risei said. "Alone."

Chapter Text

Ryuunosuke dreamt of a city in flames.

Not Fuyuki, as it happened. It would have been understandable if he had, but no. The buildings were shorter, older, made of wood and stone rather than steel and glass. The streets were narrow, designed for horse and cart rather than cars, and the people that rushed through them bearing weapons and buckets of water wore peculiar archaic clothes rather than the suits Ryuunosuke was used to seeing.

Japanese history hadn't exactly been his best subject, and he'd never exactly taken an interest in it. Still, even he recognised the temples and pagodas of Kyoto when he saw it. Had he taken a school trip there at some point? Who even knew.

Still, he saw it, clear as day. Too clear. This had the clarity of memory, with none of the symbolism and strange double-existence that objects in dreams had. The sounds of roaring fire and shouting men were distinct and detailed in the way that sounds in dreams weren't; the smell of smoke and burning flesh, even more so. Ryuunosuke would have sworn he was awake… except he had no body, no control over what he was seeing. All he could do was watch.

Ryuunosuke would have been the first to admit he wasn't the brightest bulb in the drawer, but he wasn't stupid. Now, he didn't know the first thing about ancient Kyoto. In fact, he could think of only one connection – his Servant. His Ibaraki was from there, wasn't she? And this dream was clearly magical in some way, which meant that this whole thing was, somehow, to do with her.

At the thought, he relaxed. If it was Ibaraki, he had nothing to worry about. He sat back and enjoyed the spectacle, waiting for her to make her appearance.

He didn't have to wait long. His view focused on a narrow street, packed wall to wall with guardsmen in armour carrying spears. They pressed forward, shouting and thrusting – and were scattered like ninepins. Ibaraki emerged, swinging that great bone blade with reckless delight, an enormous smile on her face. Something was off, though. What was it?

"Wahaha! Fear me, men of Kyoto! The great Ibaraki-douji comes once more to burn your town and steal your treasures!" She brandished her sword, accidentally blowing a hole in the stone wall next to her and causing the building on the other side to shudder. Ibaraki looked at the damage she'd caused, seeming surprised, but rallied quickly. "Er… see how puny your human dwellings are before the might of the Mt Ooe oni! Ahahaha!"

The sword was really too large to use in these tiny streets, Ryuunosuke thought – perfect in open battle, but it only got in the way in close quarters. Still, he wouldn't want to be the one standing in front of it.

The soldiers before Ibaraki quailed, but their captain held firm. "Hold out, men! Buy time for the onmyouji to arrive! They'll seal these demons. For now, steel your courage, and protect the Shogun and the princesses!"

Ibaraki laughed again. "Yes, yes! Give your all, fight and die under an oni's blade, that's how it should be! When your onmyouji come, I'll flatten them as well! Come!"

Ryuunosuke watched the exchange, amused, but still something seemed odd to him. Then he realised. Ibaraki was having fun. Even as she set about the soldiers, scattering them every which way and sending them flying with great sweeping blows of her sword, she laughed with glee and excitement. Even as the captain duelled her with skill beyond any of his men, scoring lines of blood on Ibaraki's shoulders and wrists that flowed down her body to meld with her tattoos, she never lost the joyful enthusiasm of battle.

It was a side of her he'd never seen. In the Holy Grail War, Servant Berserker had fought hard, and with intensity, but she'd always had an undercurrent of grimness to it all. She hadn't enjoyed wrecking Ryuudouji temple like this, or feeding on the patrons of the Copenhagen. When she'd set out to bring Fuyuki to its knees, she'd done it methodically and with great efficiency.

If he had to name an emotion to associate with his Servant Berserker, he wouldn't have said enjoyment, no. What drove his Servant, from the moment she'd been summoned, through her battles against Saber and Caster, that made her act so differently than the laughing demon he saw in ancient Kyoto?

Even in the middle of her duel with the captain, she was forced to defend herself from the soldiers pouring in – and though each lightning-fast swing of her sword held the power of an avalanche and crushed men in armour like bugs beneath a boot there was no end to them. A spear found her side, slicing a tear in her banana-yellow kimono. She incinerated the lucky soldier with an offhand gesture, but the motion let the captain hammer his sword through her guard, sending Ibaraki skidding sideways before she regained her balance and set the street shaking with another titanic blow to create distance. Still she smiled.

"Is this all you have, warriors of the capital? Why, even the children on Mt Ooe put up more of a fight when we send them to bed!"

The soldiers quaked, but held fast. The captain held his sword up in a guard position. "You'll be sleeping in the ground soon enough, demon. While I am here, no oni will ever set foot in the Imperial Palace!"

"Oh?" a voice answered from behind him, and Ryuunosuke's mind froze. "Then where did I find this princess?"

The voice was like honey, smooth, sweet and sultry. It dripped into his ears, and his brain melted at the sound of it. His vision – so clear before – went hazy. Details blurred, colours became hyper-saturated, and he felt his point of view spin slowly. With the voice came a gentle smell of fruit.

With the smell of fruit came madness.

The captain and his soldiers collapsed. Some convulsed. Some screamed. Some clawed at their own faces until blood dripped down their chins. Some simply stared blankly, eyes filled with the horror inside their heads.

All Ryuunosuke could focus on was the monster, stalking out of a side street.

It was tiny, shorter even than Ibaraki. It looked at first glance like a beautiful woman, with slender pale limbs and short dark hair pierced by a pair of horns flowing naturally from its forehead. It was barely-dressed, a too-short purple kimono vaguely tied with a sash around the waist. Where Ibaraki had tusks, the monster had fangs, which it bared in a sickly-sweet smile as it emerged from the shadows.

In one delicate hand, it held a young girl by the hair, dragging her along the street. She was still alive, but if Ryuunosuke was any judge, that wasn't out of any sense of mercy. The girl's face was a mask of terror, and she huffed out shallow breaths at irregular intervals. After a moment, Ryuunosuke realised she was trying to scream with a voice that had long since howled itself hoarse.

Ryuunosuke had never been so frightened. Ryuunosuke had never been so fascinated.

"Oh, Ibaraki, you have been busy," the monster purred, looking at the carnage. "You work too hard, you know…"

Once again, the voice oozed like sweet poison into his mind, and melted everything before it. Ryuunosuke told himself this was only a dream – only a memory, of long ago and far away, and that it couldn't hurt him. He wasn't sure he believed himself.

Ibaraki blushed, and rubbed the back of her head. "Stop it, Shuten… this is all for your sake, you know."

The monster – Shuten – shrugged, one pale bare shoulder rising and falling. "I'm sure I never asked you to come along… all I said was that I was going for a trip. You turned it into a full-on raid by the Mt Ooe oni all by yourself. You really should try to cut loose a little more, Ibaraki. Being so serious all the time can't be good for you…"

"You should be a little more serious sometimes, Shuten! If you keep on running around doing whatever you want like this, that stupid onmyouji will find out it's you and send that cow and her Four Whatsits after us." Despite her scolding, Ryuunosuke couldn't help but notice the dopey smile on Ibaraki's face. Was this the reason she'd been fighting? "Honestly, I don't know what would happen if I didn't keep on covering for you like this."

"Oh, it would all work out. They're only humans, Ibaraki."

Ibaraki fidgeted. "Well, yes, of course. Nothing can stand before the might of the oni, that's obvious… but even so…"

Shuten stalked past her, patting her on the shoulder. "You worry too much. If anyone makes trouble, we'll just kill them… hm? Ibaraki, I might be imagining things, but have you found a toy for yourself?"

"Huh?" Ibaraki cocked her head. "I… no? What do you mean?"

The monster Shuten-douji looked directly into Ryuunosuke's eyes – and he was caught. His world narrowed to a pair of violet eyes, while everything else became nothing but a blur. His heart hammered in his chest, and seemed to distort everything in mad ripples. He fell, deep into those pitiless eyes…

… and woke up in a cold sweat.

He looked around frantically, and found himself in the room he'd been staying at in the temple. It was pretty spartan, even by the standards of, you know, monks – just a little cell, with four bunks and nothing much else. On the other hand, he didn't have a whole lot of possessions, so hey, maybe he was cut out for the monastic life after all. He breathed deeply, trying to shake the smell of fruit from his mind.

What was that?

The door opened, and a beautiful dark-haired woman entered, bearing a tray of tea and toast.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" she said. "Well, calling you 'sleepyhead' is a bit cheeky of me, since I was the one keeping you under… and it isn't actually morning, either… um, let me try again! Good afternoon, Master of Berserker! Pleasant dreams?"

He shuddered, violet eyes flashing inside his head. He grabbed a mug of tea and sipped it, grateful for the distraction.

"Not so much, hm? Not to worry, dear, dreams are just that most of the time. Unless you got really unlucky there should be no lasting side effects. Now, what's the last thing you remember, my love?"

The last thing he remembered? At the moment he was having trouble remembering anything but the monster from his dreams… but slowly it began to come back to him. Berserker was ripping up the town, she got in touch to make him use his Command Spells to get him out of a sticky situation, and then…

"She knocked me out!" he blurted. "I thought Servants couldn't do that!"

"Oh, no, we can," said the woman. "There's not a lot of situations where we'd want to, but the only thing that really stops a betrayal is the Command Spells, and unless you're expecting something most Masters aren't quick enough on the draw to stop us… oh, where are my manners? I'm Servant Caster, dear, and I'm the one that controlled your Berserker to get you out of the picture for a while."

The woman smiled genially, and Ryuunosuke felt his stomach drop. He looked with panic at the tea.

"Oh, don't be silly, I don't need to feed you anything to bend you to my will," said Caster with a fond smile. "The tea is just tea, I promise."

Berserker! Called Ryuunosuke inside his mind, with rising panic. A little help! This crazy bitch has me captured!

There was no reply.

"Yes, I'm afraid I've sent Berserker on a little errand," said Caster. "Now, we don't want her getting distracted, so I've cut off the connection between you two. Yes, Command Spells too," she added, as Ryuunosuke looked at his hand.

When he eyed the door of his cell, trying to work out if he could risk making a break for it, Caster sighed. "Oh, relax. Honestly, if I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have woken up. Oh dear, that sounded like a threat, didn't it? It really wasn't meant to be…"

Ryuunosuke eyed her warily. "So… you said you were keeping me asleep? Does that mean you woke me up? Why?"

"Ooh, you are a sharp one. Actually, I'd thought you were dumber than that … well, maybe it's just long-term planning you're not very good at…"

There was no point in strangling her, Ryuunosuke reminded himself. It was never good to just murder someone out of passion without any planning or forethought, and besides he'd probably turn into a newt before he finished the job.

"But, yes. There's someone here to see you! So, drink up and make yourself presentable, there's a dear."

Ryuunosuke swung himself out of bed and rubbed his eyes. No point in arguing. He didn't want to find out what Caster did to stubborn Masters. But there was no reason he had to like it. "You can't just fairy-godmother me into a pretty dress? Sheesh, what kind of witch are you?"

He was rewarded with a genuine laugh, Caster apparently taken by surprise. "Would you like that?"

"Hey, I'm not just talking any dress here. Full-on Disney Princess, or nothing."

"Well, I can certainly manage one of those…" Caster said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Despite himself, despite the fact that he was a prisoner, despite how his Servant was God-knew where, Ryuunosuke felt the tension he'd been feeling lift. Was it just another magic thing? He hadn't seen Caster do anything…

Out of nowhere, a question occurred to him.

"Hey, Caster…"

"Mm?"

"How does someone become a wizard?"

Caster stilled, and peered at him. "Now that's a question. Why do you ask?"

It was the obvious response, but it still threw him. He took a moment to arrange his thoughts.

"Look, before all this, I was just kind of coasting through life. I had my interests, but no purpose, you know? Then, I tried a demon-summoning ritual, just for fun, and suddenly there's this whole world out there, that I never knew about. Magic, wizards…" A pair of violet eyes rose up in his memory, and his vision swam. He shook his head, and violet turned to yellow. He smiled. "…monsters. It's goddamn terrifying, but I gotta know more. No way I can just forget all this exists."

Caster looked thoughtful. "Mm… there are worse reasons for getting into this world. Unfortunately, I can't help you."

"That's OK. No worries. Just thought I'd ask, cause, you know, you're probably the best spellcaster around."

"Top three in the world right now, actually… oh, this is so frustrating. It's not often you see someone come along with a motivation like yours, and I'd like to see what you could make of yourself. But I can't. Really, I'm tempted to take you under my wing, but I'm already busy with one student already, and, well, Berserker would probably get all jealous if I took you away from her…"

She put her knuckles to her head in thought, seeming to genuinely struggle. Ryuunosuke couldn't help but smile.

"Hey. Like I said, no worries. I'll figure something out."

"Hmm, yes, but I'd like to have helped at least a little… well, I'll have a think and see what I can do for you. It's such a shame, but you'll probably be dead by the end of the war, anyway."

That brought Ryuunosuke up short. "Huh?"

"Oh, yes, you and Berserker haven't made a lot of friends, you know? I understand everything, of course, but off the top of my head, Saber and Rider are especially angry at you. Well, mostly Berserker, but she's a tough cookie, and it's always easier just to go for the Master. I'm afraid you don't stand a chance against either of their Masters, so all they have to do to get rid of Berserker is stall her long enough for their own Master to find you. And, well, you've rather made that their priority with your gamble today. Now, you would be safe, because no-one knows who you are, but… ehehe…" Caster fidgeted, and poked her fingers together sheepishly.

Ryuunosuke didn't like where this was going. "What did you do?"

"Um, you know what, we're wasting time here, and this is all really something you should bring up with the Moderator, he's the guy that's waiting to see you, by the way… out you go, young man, chop chop!" Caster chivvied Ryuunosuke out of the room, and he let it happen – apart from anything else, the Servant was vastly stronger than he was.

He'd gotten used to the explosive force Ibaraki's twig-thin arms could generate, but then she was always supposed to be a front-line fighter. He'd had an image of Casters as the nerdy bookworm Servants, but it looked like even they were beyond even most human weightlifters.

A smile worked its way onto his lips without his input. There was no other word for it. This world was so cool.

There was something melancholic about Ryuudouji Temple, Risei mused. He wasn't about to tell anyone else how to run their religious sites, but seeing it all dead and empty was sad. It ought to be, if not full of life, then at least tranquil.

The only signs of life were Caster and her Master, working in the open space of the courtyard. What they were doing, Risei couldn't say.

The place was half-destroyed. The temple property was encircled by a high stone wall. This was still intact, but the torii gate had been left where it was, hurled across the courtyard to lie embedded in the public-facing shrine. The temple complex had once stood as a handful of ancient buildings made of stone and wood, surrounding the temple itself. This now sported a hole large enough to drive a truck through, the stone of the walls blasted through to wreak havoc on the interior.

The beams and posts that had supported the buildings had been strewn around the courtyard, nothing more than splinters. Risei picked his way through it, avoiding sharp spars of wood, and the dark stains on them. Wind whistled through the macabre forest, and through holes in the structure, and Risei pulled his priest's robes tighter around himself. It really did look like some natural disaster had hit the temple.

But no. Berserker had wrecked this place, just as she would go on to wreck all of Fuyuki. If Risei had paid more attention, if he'd kept a better eye on things, would he have been able to see Berserker's rampage coming? Could he have reacted better to it? There was no way to know. Risei said a prayer for the monks, and made his way to the kitchen – one of the only parts of the temple left intact.

Caster had woken Berserker's Master and left him there to get his bearings before fetching Risei. For his safety, or so she said. Risei wasn't entirely sure how much he trusted Caster. She was entirely too happy to admit to casual mind control, and seemed to have a penchant for deception and trickery. Not to mention, if she was to be believed, she was the one that had forced Berserker to hurt him, back in the church.

Risei rubbed the burn on his cheek absently. It would leave a horrid scar, if he ever made it through this mess. With one final look back at Caster and Waver Velvet as they picked over the wreckage of the shrine, he opened the kitchen door and went in to meet the Master of Berserker.

Chapter Text

Despite his extensive experience with the Church, Risei had never met a murderer.

Okay, that wasn't strictly true. In his line of work, there were monsters wherever you went, and death was something you… didn't get used to, but something you accepted as part of the job. Certainly there was no end of fanatics or heretics who'd gotten hold of some religious artefact and used it for the worst of ends. And, of course, there was always the Third War.

Risei was also pretty sure that Kirei had killed, as part of his duty as an Executor. He'd never brought it up, but it was just one of many reasons he found to be worried about his son. Kirei was such a good-natured boy, and it couldn't have been easy for him, but Risei had decided to let him process it at his own pace. When he wanted to talk about it, his father would be there.

But Risei had never deliberately gone to have a chat with someone he knew to be a murderer. This wouldn't end in an arrest, this wouldn't end in a fight; this was Risei, simply talking to someone who had killed people.

He opened the door, and stepped into the tiny kitchen at the temple.

"Yo," said the killer, sitting at the table, raising a hand in greeting.

Given Caster's apparent flair for deception and illusion, Risei had suspected she might have been pulling a multi-layered con, by giving her golem back in the church an entirely different appearance to the real Master of Berserker. But no – the man in front of him was a perfect double, from the red hair to the purple jacket down to the tips of his… leopard print shoes? Risei couldn't understand the fashions of the young these days.

Of course, if he was going to far as to suspect Caster, he had no way of knowing if the man in front of him was real and not just another illusion. He sighed, and pushed away the thought. That way lay madness.

"Good afternoon," he said, taking the chair opposite. "Uryuu Ryuunosuke, I take it?"

"That's me," said Uryuu with a grin. "And you're the Moderator, I hear." His eyes dropped a fraction, to peer at Risei's collar. "Oh, man. You're not here to 'save' me, are you? Because I've heard the good news, and it wasn't very convincing, gotta say. I'd have started off with 'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned', but honestly? I'm not after forgiveness, least of all from God."

Well. That was a lot to unpack. It wasn't the first, second or thousandth time Risei had dealt with angry atheists picking a fight, though, so he simply leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"You can relax… my son." He caught Uryuu's grin, amused despite himself. Good. "I'm here as the Moderator of the Holy Grail War, not as a priest. Though, in a way, perhaps you could consider this an attempt at saving you."

"Yeah? Hey, I'm all ears, old man. You might not have noticed, but I'm in a pretty shitty situation here." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Caster makes absolutely dogshit tea."

Risei chuckled. Despite knowing the man in front of him was a murderer, there was something charming about Uryuu. "Dire straits indeed. Whether or not this conversation ends up being good for you or not is up in the air, however. The sad truth is that not everyone can be saved in this life, and whether or not you can be depends on you. As it is, you're heading down a road there's no coming back from. If there's even a possibility of changing that, you're going to have to be the one to change. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. Going on the way I have been lands me captured and with a priest telling me I'm not long for this world. That's, uh, pretty clear. If you've got a way I can maybe make it through this in one piece, well…" Uryuu spread his hands. "What do you need, chief?"

"If you wouldn't mind my asking – just how did you end up in this position?" Risei asked. "As the Moderator, my job is to keep tabs on the state of the War, but I know almost nothing about your movements. Berserker did mention some of your exploits at the church, but I was… understandably distracted at the time. I'd like to hear it from you."

Uryuu put his hands behind his head and let out a long, deep breath. "Whoo boy. That's a long story, you know?"

"Neither of us is going anywhere."

"Ain't that the truth." Uryuu drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes on the ceiling. "OK. Sure. I'll tell you how I got here, but gramps, two things. First, you gotta let me tell this thing my own way, because if you break my flow we're gonna be here all day."

"Not a problem," Risei said.

"Cool. And, also… look, I'm not stupid, and I know a lot of this is gonna rub you the wrong way. Just… save the outrage for the end, alright? Again, we don't have time for you to freak out over every little thing."

Just ignore those awkward little mass murders, huh? Well, Risei had expected attempts at self-justification when he requested this conversation. "Well, you said it wasn't a confession, but I'm not in the habit of interrupting those, regardless. If you've got things to get off your chest, I'm here to listen, not to judge."

"Right… I guess I'll find out how far that goes soon enough, huh? Okay. So, for me, all this started when I found a book on demon summoning at my folks' place in town…"

Risei listened with a growing fascination and horror as Uryuu talked. How he'd figured out the Servant summoning ritual by bloody trial and error. How he and Berserker had destroyed the temple, then set out to prey on the townspeople. Their attack on the Copenhagen. Their fight against Saber, just last night, interrupted by Archer, and how they learned there was a bounty on their heads. How, upon learning they were marked for death, they threw caution to the winds and gathered as much power as they could. And, finally, how Uryuu had received panicked instructions from Berserker to pull her out of a losing fight with Caster, only for her to immediately attack him and knock him out when his back was turned.

It was just as Risei had feared. He'd set the bounty, at Tokiomi's request, and set off the day's chain of events. Berserker and her Master had been dangerous and heedless of civilian casualties before – but he'd given them the reason they needed to disregard the rules of the War entirely.

Berserker had said as much, in the church. Risei had been holding out hope it was just another ploy by Caster to sow doubt, but here it was, straight from the Master. He couldn't keep on denying it.

Fuyuki had been brought to its knees in a single day, and it was his fault.

"I see," he said heavily, when Uryuu had finished. "Thank you for telling me, Mr, Uryuu. You've certainly given me a lot to think about." He looked at the floor, but all he saw was the burning city, and the ash cloud covering the sky. His fault. He blinked, and pushed the image away. He would pray for forgiveness later. Now, he had a job to do. He looked back at Uryuu.

"I said I wouldn't judge, and I won't," he said. "So please take this in the best way when I ask: how could you do this? What possible reason is there for countenancing the death of hundreds?"

To his surprise, Uryuu laughed. "Well… I'unno. It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It… just seemed like a good idea?"

"Yeah! You know, Berserker needed the magical energy, we needed to sow chaos and keep everyone guessing, we didn't have anything to lose… I mean, I thought we pulled it off quite well. It was, you know, go big or go home, right?"

Risei studied Uryuu, his face still as stone. "Ordering the deaths of hundreds didn't bother you? Morally speaking?"

"No." Uryuu replied immediately. He'd seemed almost whimsical before, but not now. "Not one bit. Old man, I think we're coming at this from two very different places."

"I believe you're right, young man."

"You're getting all caught up in 'how could I do this' and 'don't I get that it's wrong' and all that. But, see, I just don't think that way."

It clicked, finally. Risei kicked himself for not understanding before. "You're a psychopath," he said. "A literal psychopath. You don't – can't – care about anyone but yourself." Risei sighed. "This makes things a lot more complicated."

"Really? I think I'm pretty simple." Uryuu chuckled. "Oh, man, don't take that the wrong way. I don't mean I'm stupid, I mean… look. I see something I want. I go for it. I see something I like to do, I do it. My levers are not all that complicated. If you want me to do or not do something, well… just make it worth my while, know what I mean? Hell, I'm cheap to feed. Money, sure, I can use that. Not getting jailed or dead is a big motivator.

"In the end, all I want is to be able to live my life how I choose. That's not so crazy." Uryuu lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And, come on, I'm like ninety percent certain that's how most people live their lives anyway."

"Oh? What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean?" Uryuu spread his arms. "I mean, look around you, gramps! Look at this world! Everyone's out for their own little slice of the pie, and they don't care who they have to trample on to get it. Everyone does what they want, and anything else is just," he waved his hands, "window dressing. The politicians are all corrupt, and everything they do only ends up getting them more power. They want it, they get it. The businessmen don't care who has to suffer so they can improve their bottom line. They want it, they get it. And that's before I even start getting into the organised crime side of things. The Yakuza in this town are freakin' insane, let me tell you. Well, I guess a priest wouldn't know anything about the Yaks…"

"As it happens," Risei said, trying not to smile, "I have always found Fujimura Raiga to be a man of character with his a very strict sense of honour. But, please continue. As a sheltered priest I, of course, know nothing about the world, and I'm finding your take on it fascinating."

"You know the Tiger? Well, shit…" Uryuu whistled and raised an eyebrow.

"All old people know each other, didn't you know that? But never mind me. Don't stop now, young man," Risei said. This was an old argument, and Risei never got tired of young people who thought they had it all figured out. "As such an experienced cynic, why isn't everyone screwing everyone over all the time? I could point to countless times where people have done me a good turn – and, be honest, you can too."

"Well, sure," Uryuu, said, nodding vigorously. "Maybe people treat you with respect, cause you've got something they want, or because they want to show how goody-goody they are to the world. Making nice with a priest gets you big points because that's what you're supposed to do, but no-one actually believes in God, right?"

Risei quirked an eyebrow. "I feel I am professionally obliged to disagree… but please, carry on."

Uryuu did. "So, as a priest, maybe you only ever saw that side of people, which is why you're such an optimist, I guess. There's all kind of reasons people might act nice. But take it from someone who's been knee-deep in shit his whole life, most people are just going to do whatever they want and fuck whoever else."

"Interesting." Risei nodded, as if considering Uryuu's words. "So, why isn't everyone a murderer? Why doesn't everyone do what you do?"

Uryuu rubbed the back of his head. "Well… for me, it's because I just find death fascinating. It's not a sex thing," he added quickly. "Just in case you were wondering. I've just always been interested by death, and what people go through when their last moments arrive. I mean, you have to have done some last rites in your time, right?"

"More than I care to remember," said Risei.

"Right! So you get it. There's something special in the act of dying, something that makes it significant. It's the last thing we do, of course it's worth commemorating. You choose to make it a religious thing, and sure, I dig that. As my way of showing appreciation, I just choose to make it happen more often."

Risei raised one shaggy eyebrow. "You don't kill for the enjoyment or satisfaction of it? You don't have some secret grievance with the world? You just… like death?"

"You got it. Always have. It's not about the victim, just so long as they start out breathing and stop halfway through the process." Uryuu sniggered. "But, having said that, I'm not exactly Mr Atlas here, and having a fight tends to cause a scene and attract cops, so it tends to be women and children I kill. But, again, it's not a sex thing."

"Alright."

"It's important you understand that."

"I understand."

"Right." Uryuu leaned back, apparently satisfied.

For his part, Risei had a lot to chew on. He'd requested this conversation in order to get the measure of the Master of Berserker, but what he'd found wasn't what he'd expected. A power-hungry magus, throwing people's lives away for a wish, he could understand. A grim nihilist, secure in his belief that life was so much chaff on the wind, sure. Even a bloodthirsty monster, killing for the sake of it just to revel in the carnage, Risei got.

But Uryuu Ryuunosuke wasn't any of these. He just liked to see things die, same as another man might like to see sunrises or ocean views. Bad luck for the world that such a man had been born unable to empathise with others. Worse luck that such a man had been chosen by the Grail.

In that sense, it wasn't even Uryuu's fault. He wouldn't, couldn't, ever understand that what he and Berserker had done was wrong, so there was no point in castigating him. Put like that, it was a miracle that Berserker had been as restrained as she had been. Risei rubbed his burned cheek absently.

"You're taking this pretty well, old man," Uryuu said suddenly. "To be honest, when I heard the Moderator was coming, I thought you'd bust your way in here and put the fear of God into me before demanding I repent."

"Fire and brimstone was never my style," Risei said, shrugging. "I prefer to come to an understanding with my flock – to inspire others to follow the path of the Saviour, instead of punishing humans when they inevitably stray from the Divine ideal. Or, if you prefer, put it like this: everyone's got issues, and nobody's perfect." He smiled.

Uryuu leaned forward. "Wow, you… you really aren't angry, huh? I thought you'd have to at least act like you were. I guess you don't have to keep up appearances with me, though, so hey, that's cool."

"Oh, I'm furious," Risei said, still smiling. "There's a part of me that'd like nothing better than to beat your murdering punk ass senseless."

Uryuu scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You don't think I could? I'm an old man, and I don't have the time or energy to boast, so believe me when I say I'd eat you for breakfast, kid. In the long list of shit I've seen, you don't even rate, believe me." Risei sighed. "But, that's hardly the Christian thing to do, and I'm supposed to set an example. This leaves the problem of what to do with you…"

Risei hummed in thought.

"Mr. Uryuu, are you aware of the Moderator's role in the Holy Grail War?"

Uryuu looked blank. "Well, you… sort out the bounties and stuff? Yeah, no, I have no idea."

"I'm not surprised. If Berserker had not told you, there would be no real way for you to know. It is no accident that I am a priest as well as the Moderator. When the First Holy Grail War was in the planning process, almost two hundred years ago, the Church came to know about it. Don't ask me how," he added, holding up a hand. "I don't know, and our internal histories don't record it. Obviously, we – that is, the Church – were very interested in the prospect of the Holy Grail manifesting itself."

"Oh, right," Uryuu slapped a fist into his palm. "The whole 'blood of Christ' thing, yeah? Like in that movie."

Risei smiled. "Like in that movie, yes. Although that story is apocryphal, in the literal sense that it doesn't appear in the Bible. The Holy Grail is from Celtic myth originally, where it appears first as a cauldron in Irish and Welsh legends, before becoming a chalice somewhere along the line as it migrated to the Arthurian canon."

He paused, aware that he'd been rambling, but to his surprise Uryuu seemed rapt with attention. Risei went on.

"I don't know where the wish-granting aspect of it came in, but Arthur and his knights' quest for it gave the Holy Grail the secondary meaning of 'a highly sought-after object'. It certainly is that, no matter the truth as to its origins, and the artificial Grail created by the Einzberns is no different. The Church could not simply stand by and let a divine relic appear at the behest of a group of godless magi, so we stepped in and offered our aid."

"Huh," said Uryuu. "So, first, I just realised that King Arthur and his knights were probably actually real, and that's like the coolest thing in the world to me." He grinned at Risei, but only briefly. "I am listening, I promise. What aid did the Church give? Cause it seems a pretty wizard-led enterprise so far. Like, they… or we, I guess… provide the Servants, provide the magic, provide the Grail, everything. What does the Church actually bring to the party?"

Risei chuckled. "In all honesty, very little. In reality, as you said, the Grail is not ours to give away, and the fact we pretend it is is perhaps simply arrogance on our part. However, we do provide a neutral party, and the possibility of settling disputes without normal magus power dynamics coming into play. Admittedly, within a Holy Grail War, power dynamics largely consist of 'people with Servants' and 'people without', and the Church is contractually on the latter side of that scale."

"Yeah, that seems like a flaw to me," Uryuu said, nodding. "Like, how do you even enforce what you say?"

"That, young man, is the problem every Moderator has had to face," Risei admitted. "Fortunately for me, my job is made much easier when the sanctioned party insists on making enemies." He finished with a hard stare at Uryuu.

The killer raised his hands in mock surrender. "My bad. In fairness, weren't you conspiring against me? Berserker did mention she thought that was what was going on."

"Believe me, I have paid the price for that." Risei rubbed his cheek again. "In any case, acting as a neutral party is one of the most important tasks of the Moderator, but not the only one. We hold additional Command Spells, to use as rewards to incentivise certain tasks – for example, the bounty we placed on Berserker. In the early stages of the War, we keep track of which of the participants has summoned their Servant and formally entered – and, should any inexperienced Master need an explanation of the rules, we perform that task also. In fact, your failure to do so was a major factor in why you in particular were selected as our scapegoat."

Uryuu didn't look thrilled. "Aw, man, so I could have gotten in your good books early on by just showing up and letting you know I was here? Yeesh. How was I supposed to know that?"

"Your Servant could have told you. I understand it is part of the information package they receive from the Grail in order to function in the modern world. However, the decision not to do so is understandable from a tactical point of view, I suppose."

Risei hesitated.

He could leave it here. Break off his conversation with Uryuu Ryuunosuke, call for Caster, and have him put back into his magical sleep. He didn't have to tell the man what he'd planned on telling him ever since he'd started talking. In fact, it was a downright terrible idea.

But if he did that, he may as well beat Uryuu to death with his bare hands right now and save everyone the time and trouble, because to withhold this information was a death sentence for him. And Risei just couldn't bring himself to do that.

Uryuu was a killer, unrepentant and gleeful. It was very unlikely he'd be able to change. But he'd been open and honest, and while hardly self-aware had shown at least a modicum of good sense. There was a spark of genuine curiosity about the world and its miracles, just a hint of a man who could care about something other than death. A man who could, just possibly, make something of himself, given a second chance and a lot of careful supervision.

And in the end… it wasn't Risei's place to decide when it was or wasn't someone's time. No man knew the day or the hour, and all that.

He made the call.

"In any case, the Moderator – which is to say, the Church – also fulfils one more important task." Risei looked straight at Uryuu, because this was important.

"What's that?"

"If a defeated Master – that is, one whose Servant has been destroyed – seeks sanctuary at the Church, it is the Moderator's duty to grant it. Until the end of the War, they will be under the personal protection of the Moderator." Risei smiled. "For whatever that is worth, of course. As you point out, the Moderator has very little actual power. However, you might expect that anyone breaking the rules to kill you would be treated just as harshly as you yourself were. More so, in fact."

Uryuu had gone very still. "You're saying… I could live through this after all?"

"That is what I am saying." Risei inclined his head. "If you should happen to outlive Berserker, and you manage to request sanctuary, I will guarantee your safety up until the end of the War. If you show me that you can be more than a blight on God's creation, if you give me something, anything to work with… you may well survive a deal longer than that. You said you wanted to make it through the War in one piece?

"Rejoice, Uryuu Ryuunosuke. Your wish will be granted."

Chapter Text

After the flurry of departing Servants, Kotomine church could have seemed still and quiet. But the Masters of the Fourth Holy Grail War knew their business, and as soon as the door swung shut behind Rider, they had gathered in the middle of the church to co-ordinate.

Before the altar, dust dancing in dazzling patterns in the air as the late afternoon sun shone through the old stained glass window, Tohsaka, El-Melloi and Matou had formed a loose triangle. El-Melloi and Matou occupied the front pew, immediately either side of the central passage. Tohsaka stood before the altar itself, and if he felt any discomfort at having to stand, none of it showed on his face.

From the distant look in their eyes, each Master was in constant communication with their Servant, seeing the world through their eyes and passing messages back and forth, as fast as they could think them. Every so often, they would mutter in low voices to one another, letting the other Masters – and, through them, their Servants on the ground – know the situation as it unfolded.

El-Melloi seemed to have sunk the most deeply, into a kind of trance. He may not have been seeing the church at all, only rousing faintly when tapped on the shoulder by Matou before settling back down into his pew. Strange, for such an accomplished magus to have such a hard time following the flow of the pursuit. Was his focus split somehow?

Tohsaka, by contrast, seemed the most 'present' of the three Masters whose Servants had followed in pursuit. His eyes flicked from El-Melloi to Matou and back again, following their snatches of conversation.

"Into the business district. Trap her before she reaches the plaza," Matou said, tapping El-Melloi's knee.

"Which way?"

"Through the arcade. Left."

"Mm."

They lapsed into silence.

"No sign of Father Kotomine, by the way," Matou added. "Berserker must have dumped him. Hopefully alive. I liked the old geezer."

Tohsaka held up his hand. Kotomine Kirei emerged from the shadows behind the altar like a wraith, and Tohsaka whispered something into his ear.

Kirei nodded, and disappeared into the depths of the church. Tohsaka stepped forward, clapping his hands for attention. After a moment, the other two men seemed to partly emerge from their reverie, although El-Melloi still seemed slightly vacant.

"Yeah, what?" Matou snapped. "We're busy here, if you hadn't noticed. Some of us actually want to stop Berserker, you know. I'd ask you to get Rider to help out, but somehow I'm not surprised you don't care."

"Rider stands ready," Tohsaka said, not reacting to the jibe. "We assess Berserker will try to escape over the river. We shall cut her off there. Archer and Saber will act as the hammer to Rider's anvil."

"Oh, great," said Matou, his face twisting. "So we get to do all the work and you get to claim all the credit."

Tohsaka smiled, thinly. "On the contrary. I am generously giving you this chance for Archer to slay Berserker before Rider gets involved. If she cannot manage it… well, that is hardly my fault."

El-Melloi made an annoyed sound. "Stop arguing or go away. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Yes, yes," Tohsaka waved him off. "I just wanted to inform you both. If you could herd Berserker towards the river, that would be useful. With luck, we can finish it there."

"Not likely," said Matou. His hand spasmed as he spoke, but he seemed not to notice. "She's slippery, I'll give her that. With only two Servants… we're doing our best, but she's managing to escape every time." He glared at Tohsaka. "A little help would be useful. Where did you send the priest? If Lancer wanted to make an entrance into the War, now would be a good time."

Tohsaka smiled thinly, though he looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, we're trying. Be grateful Archer is easy to handle. For myself, I am more worried about Caster, and why she hasn't appeared in pursuit yet. She seems the type to have a plan, but I hope she is not going to get in our way. If she had at least left her Master, we could have combined our efforts…"

El-Melloi sneered, something like life returning to his eyes. "Velvet? A jumped-up novice. We're better off without him. I wonder where the Magus Killer could have got to. If he's done something to Sola-Ui while the rest of us are dealing with Berserker, I'll rip his soul out and bind it to a toilet."

There was a moment of silence in the church. Tohsaka seemed vaguely contemptuous of El-Melloi's outburst – Matou, if anything, seemed impressed.

"No kidding," he said. "Insurance or no insurance, threatening children is crossing a line. I'd feel better if he kept his Assassin where we could see them, that's for sure."

Serenity supposed that was her cue.

With a clatter that rang like gunshots around the church hall, a handheld radio fell from the rafters to land in the middle of the three magi.

They craned their heads to see where it had come from, but she had already moved into another patch of shadow, and was dematerialised in any case. When they couldn't find her, they all stared at the radio as if it was going to explode.

"I'll get right to the point," came Kiritsugu's voice from the radio. "I'm offering the services of Assassin to help deal with Berserker."

There was a pregnant pause.

"…I hope he doesn't expect us to sully our hands with that modern technology," sniffed Tohsaka.

Matou snorted. "You're just saying that because you have no idea what button to press to communicate through that radio."

"By all means, enlighten us," said Tohsaka without missing a beat. "I'm sure the Matou family must have resorted to worse following its tragic decline."

"Yeah, no, nice try, but I'm not touching anything the Magus Killer's handled."

"I can hear you all just fine," said Kiritsugu. "And if I wanted you dead, it wouldn't have been a radio falling from the ceiling."

Silence, once more, as each man had his own personal moment of realisation. Serenity sighed silently. Once again, Kiritsugu seemed dead set on making enemies.

Kiritsugu's voice came – not over the radio this time, but inside Serenity's head. Assassin. There a number of familiars heading towards the church. Do not be seen.

Understood, Serenity sent.

"Assassin is very menacing, I'm sure, but are you sure she's in the right place?" said Tohsaka mildly. "If you really are interested in helping out against Berserker, she's currently…" He looked over at El-Melloi.

"Shinto," said El-Melloi, his eyes distant. "Heading north."

"I won't risk Assassin against Berserker in a straight fight," Kiritsugu said flatly. "There's an easier way."

"What's that?" asked Matou.

"Berserker's Master. Assassin will find him, then kill him. Any information you have would be helpful."

Tohsaka raised an exquisite eyebrow. "If we knew where Berserker's Master was, any of our Servants could do as much with little trouble."

"You will need all of your Servants to stall Berserker. And you run the risk of allowing her Master to summon her with a Command Spell. Assassin can ensure he is dead before he knows he is in danger."

Another silence. Matou eyed the radio again.

Up in the rafters, Serenity noticed a small stone owl swoop on silent wings through an open window. It fluttered and landed in an alcove, crystal eyes gleaming and its head swivelling.

It might be able to see her, even dematerialised as she was. Magi had all sorts of tricks, and their familiars were no different. However, Serenity had learned to avoid notice long before she became a spirit. She clung to the wall above it, still as a spider, and listened to the conversation happening below.

"I see," Tohsaka said. "The fact remains, we unfortunately have no clue as to the location of Berserker's Master. He could be anywhere in the city, hiding out and making the most of the chaos to cover his tracks."

"West," said El-Melloi. "Saber encountered Berserker as she was crossing the bridge, west to east. She's on that side of the river, I'm sure."

"Ah. I stand corrected." Tohsaka rolled his eyes. "We merely have to search the whole of Miyama. While the roads are blocked, and people are everywhere. I hope Assassin is prepared to search for a long time. I'd get started, if I were you." He craned his neck, peering up into the shadows. Behind him, another stone owl flew in and settled on a beam, perfectly placed to observe the other – and Serenity.

Or at least, it would, if Serenity were a novice. Since she wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, she'd moved to cling to the bottom of that beam, out of sight of both familiars. Tohsaka frowned.

"No need," said Kiritsugu. "Didn't you just ask Kotomine Kirei to locate his father and Berserker's Master?"

Tohsaka stiffened. Serenity allowed herself a smile. Lip reading was such a useful skill for an infiltrator. It was a good thing the skill had carried over to Japanese. Thanks to the Grail, no doubt.

… the listening device she'd planted on Tokiomi's collar without his realising helped, admittedly.

"Goddammit, Tohsaka," growled Matou, a vein pulsing sluggishly in his neck. "I've had it up to here with your shit. Stop fucking around with politics and strategy and just help for once."

Tohsaka sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "As always, you fail to see the big picture. I have no control over Kotomine Kirei, and certainly none over his Servant. He was worried about his father, as well he might be, and I merely suggested he might ask Lancer to search for him – and that if Lancer came across someone who matched the description of Berserker's Master, we should be informed. The Moderator is key to the smooth functioning of the Holy Grail War, and a personal friend of mine besides. It's only natural I should divert assets to ensure his safety, and who better than the Servant paired with his son?"

As Tohsaka defended himself, Serenity was on the move. The owls had a fairly simple search pattern – probably so that they could run it themselves without requiring the attention of their increasingly distracted Master. However, that also made them easy to avoid, and in the gap where neither of them were looking at her Serenity dropped to the floor, nothing more than a flickering shadow, and hid herself in a dark corner.

"You didn't want to request that Lancer aid the other Servants in battle?" Kiritsugu asked. "Using a Servant to search a city for one man is a strange use. Assassin is suited for it, but Lancer is not – unless, of course, you already know their true identity, and what they are capable of."

"If you are accusing me of something, Magus Killer, say it and be done," snapped Tohsaka.

"Hardly an accusation. Just a note that Rider and Lancer appear to be in alliance."

"We are not."

"Assassin heard differently."

Tohsaka looked venomous at being caught out, but said nothing. Serenity hoped Kiritsugu wasn't about to mention that she'd also witnessed Tohsaka conspiring with the Moderator. It would only muddy the waters to reveal that now, when the other two Masters were co-operating to retrieve him from Berserker's clutches. Conspiracy or no, Berserker needed to be stopped. Tonight.

Matou's left hand shook violently, until he clamped down on it with his right. "I can believe it. The priest kid cut ties before the War started, but I guess it was an act. Damn it. Guess Lancer got added to Archer's list of targets."

"After we stop Berserker," said El-Melloi. "Focus."

"Yeah, yeah."

The Masters lapsed into silence, but Serenity had only been following the conversation with half an ear anyway. With Matou growing more suspicious, a small number of some kind of winged insect made their way into the church – through open windows, doors, through cracks in the stonework, anywhere they could.

Insect familiars. Weak. Far, far weaker even than the Tohsaka stone owls, unable to see spirits, and while larger and meaner than normal insects they could still be crushed with ease by a normal human.

However, their weakness worked to their advantage. Any that touched Serenity's exposed skin or even got too close to her breath would die – and alert the magus controlling them. She was dematerialised, of course, and as a spirit didn't need to breathe, but you could never be too careful with magical creatures.

With the stone owls up in the rafters, and more and more insects worming their way in to the church, this was beginning to resemble a challenge.

Serenity wove her way through the erratically buzzing insects, ducking and pivoting to make sure she didn't touch even a single one. She took a meandering route around the outside of the room, keeping herself concealed in patches of shadow, her mental model of the owls so perfect she could tell where they were looking with her eyes closed.

She settled underneath a pew, so close she could reach out and touch El-Melloi's ankle – if she'd wanted to kill him, of course. She snuggled herself in to the wood, and smiled. It wasn't her place to complain that the War had been boring, but it did feel good to make use of her talents.

A door swung open, behind the altar, revealing Kotomine Kirei. He glided through, a ghost in a priestly collar, and emerged from the shadows behind Tohsaka.

"It is done," he said, making everyone present jump. Serenity noted with professional approval how well-concealed his approach had been. He was never going to sneak up on her – but it only cemented his position as 'most dangerous enemy Master'. Serenity focused, and confirmed to herself that she was able to kill him at a moment's notice. A thrown knife would do it. It was a bit awkward from her position, but that was no obstacle to a true professional.

Kotomine seemed unperturbed by the effects of his entrance. Instead, he walked over to the radio and crouched next to it. "What is- ah. I presume the Magus Killer has entered the game."

"Yes," said Tohsaka. "I'm told this type of device requires input from the user, so if he can hear us Assassin must be nearby… possibly." He eyed his stone owls, still fruitlessly searching.

"Never mind that," El-Melloi said. He leered triumphantly at Kotomine. "So, Master of Lancer, have you found Berserker's Master?"

To his credit, Kotomine Kirei didn't miss a beat, didn't even raise an eyebrow at surprise at his supposedly secret task being revealed. "I have," he said. "And more than that. My father is alive, and in the company of three others. One I can only presume to be Berserker's Master. The other two are more concerning. Caster and her own Master are nearby, and appear unconcerned. What they are all doing together, I can only speculate."

"Waver Velvet…" El-Melloi snarled. "I knew that boy was trouble. Disruptive and impertinent even in school, and now he allies himself with Berserker? He needs a lesson in true magecraft, and soon."

"No doubt," said Tohsaka, rolling his eyes. "An alliance between Berserker and Caster, though… yes, troublesome. Caster is well-suited to defend the Masters, allowing Berserker to rampage free. I had thought… well, no matter. Gentlemen, I hope this lays your fears to rest regarding the Moderator. If we could return to the matter of fighting Berserker?"

"Whoa, hang on," said Matou. "Where are they? You never said."

Tohsaka looked at him scornfully. "Do keep up, Matou. Now that Caster is involved, we would be better served going after Berserker directly than walking into whatever trap she has set. I should have thought that would be obvious."

Matou sneered, but didn't say anything. His agitation still showed though, and the insects had begun to gather around him, ready to defend their master. El-Melloi fingered some kind of talisman, and muttered an aria under his breath. With a soft crackle, a barely-visible field expanded around his person – and every insect that came into contact with it spasmed and died. Matou threw him an annoyed look, which was soundly ignored.

Still, the insects were annoying. As a shadow, Serenity slipped out from under the pew, and wove her way through the buzzing, darting forms to scramble up a column and cling, gargoyle-like, to the top.

Tohsaka's nervous, Serenity sent.

Yes, came the reply. Still worried about someone getting the Command Spell by taking out Berserker's Master?

Could be. Master, we need that location from Kotomine Kirei.

There was a small pause as Kiritsugu thought. You'll need to handle Caster. I don't know what she's playing at, but she's up to something, and it involves Berserker and her Master.

Do you want Caster killed along with Berserker's Master?

Only if possible. Stopping Berserker is more important for now. There was no question that Serenity would be able to pull it off. Once again, she was grateful that Kiritsugu was her Master. If she absolutely had to be used as a tool for killing, at least she was used effectively and with full trust in her abilities.

Understood, she sent. How will we persuade Kotomine Kirei to give up the location?

The reply had a wry flavour. Same way we do everything. Exploit our advantage for all we're worth.

Yes, Serenity was very pleased she was Kiritsugu's Servant. Anyone else wouldn't have had any clue what he was talking about.

"Kotomine Kirei," came Kiritsugu's voice from the radio. "I have faith in Assassin's ability. Please tell us where we can find Berserker's Master."

Tohsaka clenched his gloved fists, but his face was as controlled as ever. "You do not need to, Kirei. The Magus Killer would be better served by lending Assassin in the direct fight against Berserker."

And reveal her capabilities in front of half the War? Not likely. Serenity held back an audible snort of contempt. Tohsaka Tokiomi was a man who should never be given charge of an Assassin.

"How I use my Servant is my business. How Kirei uses his information is his own."

"He has no reason to comply with your demands!"

Ah. That was the straight line Serenity had been waiting for.

Serenity blurred into a silent flurry of motion, diving out into empty air. Mid-flight, she threw her hands out, and six knives ripped through the air, each making no more noise than a baby's dying breath.

The owls exploded, poisoned metal drilling through stone like paper. Shards rained down on the four Masters – but none dared move.

Each of the other four knives Serenity had thrown had found its way to rest between one man's feet, passing an inch past their nose in the process.

Serenity landed silently on bare feet, dematerialised once more, and padded past Kotomine to sit on the altar.

As messages went, it was fairly clear.

El-Melloi was shivering with impotent rage. Matou just shivered, a look of pain on his face as though he was agitated by something internal. Tohsaka simply raised an eyebrow – but couldn't disguise the bead of sweat running down his face. His Command Spells shone through his gloves, but he hadn't used them.

To his credit, Kotomine had managed to remain entirely impassive. "Wonderful…" he said. "Very well, Emiya Kiritsugu. Assassin will find my father, the Master of Berserker, Caster, and her Master all at Ryuudouji Temple. I wish you luck."

Serenity went, hearing the sounds of arguing behind her.

There was no time to waste, after all. If Rider, Saber and Archer were as bad at co-operating as their Masters were, it looked like she was the only one with a chance of stopping Berserker.

"Kirei. It's time. We can't let the Magus Killer of all people get his hands on an extra Command Spell. Give us a chance to kill Berserker, but if we can't manage it… it is high time for Lancer to enter the War."

"So, I'm to be your stalking horse, Caster?" Ibaraki said, into the space where the portal had closed. A grin worked its way onto her face, and despite the situation her blood boiled in anticipation of the battle to come. "I think not. I'll crush them all, and then you! Prepare yourself, heroes who would dare face an oni in open battle!"

Ibaraki spun, eyes wide with glee, and faced a sky full of arrows, sword in hand.

Chapter Text

Despite how she seemed, and despite her Servant Class, Ibaraki was not a simple thug.

Living on a mountain right next to the Heian capital was a… gutsy move for a band of oni, and they'd never have survived as long as they had if Ibaraki hadn't had at least a smidgen of guile to go with her heaping piles of raw power. Admittedly, a lot of the time the extent of her guile was persuading her stupid subordinates to maybe not just blunder in and crush everything when that stupid cow Raikou was obviously waiting in the wings to ambush them, honestly.

And usually Shuten had blundered in and crushed everything anyway. But Shuten was an apocalypse that walked on two legs, so everything tended to work out okay no matter what she did, and besides there was nothing Ibaraki could say or do that would stop Shuten doing exactly as she pleased at all times. Ibaraki had stopped bothering to try and instead just kind of planned around her.

But in general, Ibaraki was well-versed in guerrilla tactics, and humans that expected her to simply charge in swinging were often in for a nasty surprise.

Now, Ibaraki stood on the rooftop where Caster had left her, watching specks of green shoot up like fireworks from a distant point. There, just visible through the haze of smoke rising from Fuyuki, was a small figure, bow raised to the sky.

Green arrows streaked across a backdrop of red, as Archer found and attacked her prey. When her shots found their mark, it would be annihilated. Ibaraki didn't know what that bow was made of, but it had managed to punch its projectiles though entire buildings in order to attack their target on the other side, and hadn't that been a fun surprise for Ibaraki.

She could have run. She could have dodged. She didn't.

"Alright, Archer," she said. "Let's try something new for a change."

Since her escape from the church, Ibaraki had been on the back foot. Trying to stay one step ahead of Archer while hustling that priest around had not been easy. No matter how she tried to evade, Archer had seemed to expect it, and launch a flurry of arrows that would force Ibaraki to dodge yet again, or else try and weather an endless storm of punishing strikes.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really. Archer was Atalante, the greatest huntress of Greece – no wonder she knew exactly how to herd her quarry where she wanted it to go.

But Caster's intervention had changed that, in two ways. First, she'd taken the priest off Ibaraki's hands, and she no longer had to worry about keeping a squishy, modern, old human from breaking. Now, Ibaraki was free to move as fast as she could – which meant speeds that would give any human passenger severe whiplash at best. Ibaraki might have been able to escape from Archer, before, but she'd have had to scoop up what was left of the Moderator in a bucket.

(There was a time and a place for that sort of thing, no matter how much it made Shuten giggle when the twitching, fleshy mass begged for death after she was finished with it.)

Second, Ibaraki had now had a moment to think.

And so, after fully considering her actions and their ramifications, and comparing her tactical advantages compared to her opponent, she made her informed and rational decision.

She exploded screaming from the rooftop, launching herself sword-first straight towards Archer.

After all, the sooner she brought the fight to close range, the better – and the quickest way to Archer was straight towards her, right? It was basically science.

Ibaraki vaguely heard the building she'd kicked off cracking from the force, but didn't pay it any attention, instead focusing on sticking her landing. Her foot touched down for an instant on another building – and then that roof shattered too, Ibaraki propelled forward at insane speeds.

Another, and another: Archer was firing from a mile away, but that was no more than a handful of steps with the distance Ibaraki was covering. The world narrowed to nothing more than the remaining steps, and the skyscraper that served as Archer's perch.

Three. Archer's aim adjusted.

Two. Ibaraki readied her sword.

One. Muscles tensed in her leg, and her claws dug in for purchase before she shot forward once again.

And-

-Ibaraki lunged. There was still maybe a quarter-mile between the building she kicked off from and the top of the tower – and Ibaraki covered half that distance in the blink of an eye.

Archer's face loomed closer, her expression showing nothing but cold focus even now. Her bow tracked Ibaraki, even as it became obvious that she had not jumped high enough to hit her.

"Hey, kitty…"

Ibaraki allowed herself a savage grin, and pulled her sword back.

"Git!"

When Servant Berserker impacted the tower, it was with an explosion.

The concrete slowed Ibaraki's blade not at all, which scythed through the entire thing like it was made of air. In its wake, Ibaraki pumped as much power as she could into her Prana Burst, leaving a white-hot line of rapidly-expanding gas where her sword had been.

The top two floors of the skyscraper just… ceased to exist. In their place was a cloud of rubble, metal, glass and furnishings moving at speed, with a surprised-looking catgirl in the middle.

Which wasn't to say that said catgirl didn't respond basically perfectly. Archer twisted upside-down in mid-air to place the soles of her feet against the nearest block of concrete, and pushed off, launching herself downwards. As she dove, she managed to fire a steady stream of arrows at Ibaraki, each one aimed to intercept her projected flight path.

Unfortunately for Archer, Ibaraki was an oni, and as far as she was concerned her projected flight path could fuck straight off.

Ibaraki held a hand out, and a torrent of fire blasted forth – and this time, Ibaraki let the recoil stop her almost dead in mid-air. With a backhand swing, she hurled her sword at Archer, then held both hands up behind her. They ignited, and Ibaraki fell from the sky as a burning comet. Bits of building fell all around her, but she fell faster, and locked her gaze on her opponent.

Down below, Archer reached the decapitated building, and landed in a roll to come up on aim in the ruins of an office, now open to the sky. Her head snapped up, her ears twitched, and she zeroed in on Ibaraki, bow drawn-

-and was forced to leap aside and vault over the side of the building, as Ibaraki's sword came down like the fist of an asura. It punched clear through the floor Archer had stood on, lodging in the next while rubble rained down around it.

Ibaraki herself followed an instant later, snatching up her sword as she barrelled through concrete and steel like it wasn't there, emerging on the outside of the building. Archer was there, running down the glass surface – and when her ears twitched and she noticed Ibaraki thundering towards her, she leapt out into empty space.

With another blast of flame, Ibaraki followed. Shards of glass seemed to hang in midair as she blew through them, and shattered them on her iron skin. Then, they were left far behind as she half-fell, half-flew, a nimbus of flame surrounding her in her pursuit of the falling Archer, far below.

This was more like it. Now she was the one hunting Archer and not the other way around, she could dictate the pace of the fight. Archer was fast, and she could bring a lot of firepower to bear, very accurately, over a very long distance… but up close? She was just another human to die beneath the blade of the oni.

With that cheerful thought in mind, Ibaraki threw yet more fire out behind her, pouring on the speed. Archer's speed meant nothing in midair, and with a thrill of excitement Ibaraki realised she was gaining. Archer seemed to realise it as well, and twisted to shoot yet more arrows at Ibaraki even as she fell, but a forward burst of prana blunted their force and Ibaraki's sword took care of the rest.

Closer. Archer grimaced in concentration as the ground approached.

Closer. Ibaraki cackled at the sheer joy of chasing down a strong enemy.

Closer. Archer was just outside her sword's reach…

…and then Archer twisted to land on her feet, inches ahead of Ibaraki – and was gone, her impossible speed taking her hundreds of yards away before Ibaraki slammed her sword into the road where she'd been.

She screamed in frustration. "Goddammit!"

Tarmac rose in a great rippling wave, but Archer only rode it to gain more distance. Snarling, Ibaraki flung herself out of the crater, sword blurring to knock aside Archer's counterattack, and the chase was on.

The streets were still packed with people – of course they were, Ibaraki had blocked off all the roads and sown chaos only today. The thought had been to keep the other Servants too busy reacting to try and stop her, and to fill the space with potential witnesses. A battle between Servants was anything but inconspicuous, and that kind of thing was generally frowned on. Ibaraki didn't care, of course, which gave her the advantage.

Apparently, no-one had told Archer.

She was just too damn fast. No-one saw her as she passed by, because she was only really visible as a green blur. Ibaraki could just about follow her by where she paused between footsteps – kicking off a wall here, leaping off a rooftop there – but the people had no chance.

They noticed Ibaraki though, because she was a little slower and also still on fire. Those that didn't get out of the way… well, how sad for them. It was such a shame, too, because Archer was going to so much trouble to thread her arrows through gaps in the pedestrians, her skill utterly defeating Ibaraki's attempts to use the foolish humans as shields.

"Come on, Archer," called Ibaraki, after batting away the latest volley. "Surely there is more to you than this?"

There was no reply. Archer sprinted down a relatively deserted street, and Ibaraki only just managed to barrel round the corner before losing sight of her. The buildings were getting taller as they moved further north – Ryuunosuke had mentioned this was the business district, although what kind of business required such grand, sky-piercing masterpices Ibaraki could only guess. Some kind of magecraft? Were they wizard's towers?

"Maybe you could try your Noble Phantasm again?" she suggested, shaking off her distraction. "That was very effective!"

This time there was a reply, but it came in the form of three arrows aimed for various vital points. Ibaraki laughed and swatted them aside.

Up ahead, Archer disappeared into some kind of arcade – enclosed, narrow, with various shops and stalls on either side. This modern time really did have an abundance of interesting things. Ibaraki would have loved to stop and sample the delicacies, maybe bully a vendor or two, but there was no time. If Archer wanted to shut herself into a narrow space where her agility was useless, who was Ibaraki to argue? She dove into the arcade.

A second later, she was forced to pulse her power in a violent blast of prana, knocking about fifteen arrows off-course. She growled. In the brief instant Archer was out of her sight, she'd managed to fill the narrow arcade with a flurry of projectiles, just where Ibaraki was unable to dodge.

Annoying. Archer wasn't much a threat if she didn't deploy her Noble Phantasm, but she was just so annoying. Ibaraki growled, and her rising sigh of frustration ignited as a cone of flame ten feet across. The wooden furnishings in its path flashed and burned to ash in moments, while the fancy clothes and desserts on display simply disappeared.

Now look what Archer had made her do! She could have at least snagged some of the sweets on the way past. Growling, Ibaraki gave chase through the blackened and burned arcade, Archer a barely-glimpsed figure in the distance.

But not quite so distant as she had been.

Maybe it was the fire, maybe it was the tight quarters, maybe it was how Archer kept on trying her pointless counterattacks, but Ibaraki felt she was catching up. Spurred on by the thought, she pushed herself faster and faster.

Round a corner, the arcade opened onto a wide plaza, and Archer was only a few dozen yards away. It wasn't Ibaraki's imagination! This meddling cat was tiring, slowing, and soon enough she'd be a smear on Ibaraki's sword. She lunged, heedless of Archer's arrows, brandishing her sword, and Archer had to dodge, rolling under the strike and kicking off the wall to gain distance.

Archer and Ibaraki emerged from the arcade into the plaza almost simultaneously. Well, 'emerged' made it sound gradual. At the speeds they were moving, 'exploded' would have been a better word – especially as the next thing out was a torrent of demon fire, as the arcade utterly failed to contain the sheer volume of flamed Ibaraki was pumping out behind her.

People screamed and ran from the noise, tripping over themselves to escape. Neither Servant paid them any mind.

The next blow would be the last, Ibaraki knew. She knew, because she intended to make damn sure this was the case. She wasn't messing around, and she shoved enough power into her blade to cleave a hill and its three best friends in half.

And then Archer stumbled.

Ibaraki howled in triumph, and whirled her blade over her head. Her eyes locked on her opponent's, blazing yellow malice fixed on cool green… amusement?

She had only an instant to register that something was seriously wrong.

In that instant, Archer moved. Her muscles uncoiled, her tail lashed, and she was suddenly just… not there. Instead, she was on a rooftop, half a mile away, already aiming her bow.

Ibaraki's jaw dropped. She couldn't help it. She'd seen both heroes and oni move quickly before, but this was impossible. No wonder no-one had been able to catch Atalante, in her legend.

In that frozen instant, Ibaraki finally realised the truth. She'd been allowed to catch up, nothing more – and in the very instant she overcommitted herself, the trap was sprung.

Ibaraki's blade smashed into paving stone at the same instant that Saber appeared out of fucking nowhere and shoved their rapier through Ibaraki's shoulder blades, driving her to her knees and leaving her pinned to the ground like a bug.

Her scream was lost in the sound of the earth tearing, rippling, shattering under her monstrous blow – but anyone who heard would have been able to pinpoint the moment it turned from pain to rage.

The way she erupted into flame would probably have been a clue.

All around, stone melted to slag. The plaza had once had some rather fetching plants and trees in it, but it sure as hell didn't anymore, only some artfully-arranged flecks of ash. Around Ibaraki, there was a blackened area of devastation – and at the edge of it, one sneaky backstabbing double-teaming swashbuckler, entirely unharmed.

They seemed… different. Parts of their blue jacket, and their cape, had turned silver, and they wore a ruby amulet at their throat. Ibaraki didn't like the look of that at all, and if the fading glow was any indication as to what it did, Saber was going to be even more of a nightmare than they were last time. Apparently, they'd come prepared.

Of course Atalante the Huntress would have set something like this up. The hunter becoming the hunted was a problem as old as hunting itself – and so was the solution. And since the only thing that could realistically pose a threat to a Servant was another Servant, what else could the trap have been?

Around them, the plaza cleared. Those that had lingered after Ibaraki's violent entrance had decided not to hang around after her second explosion. Those that still stayed were hurried along, as arrows lodged themselves between their feet.

Apparently the huntress didn't want any hostages messing up her trap. Ibaraki let them go. She was past caring.

Saber saluted with their rapier. Ibaraki hadn't even felt it get removed from her chest, which was probably a good thing. The relaxed, playful expression on Saber's face from their first duel was gone, leaving only a calm professionalism. "En garde."

Ibaraki struggled to her feet, clutching at her breast. It wasn't a fatal blow, not to a Servant, but it had still really goddamn hurt. "You're supposed to say that before we fight, fool! What kind of knight are you?"

"One who, with regret, must slay a wild beast before it hurts anyone else." Saber raised their sword, a textbook guard. "You may have your reasons. As you say, all is not as it seems in this War, I agree. But nevertheless, you cannot be allowed to live."

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," Ibaraki tried, before sighing. "Ugh, whatever. There's no talking to you people." She brandished her sword, and flexed her claws.

There was a whistling noise behind her, and Ibaraki swung her sword backhand to deflect another shot by Archer. Saber lunged at the same instant, darting in to thrust at Ibaraki's heart.

But Ibaraki had been expecting something like that, and met Saber's charge with a torrent of flame from her right hand. The force of it stopped Saber cold… and cold really was the word, as Ibaraki's worst fears were proven true about the amulet.

The fire – Ibaraki's own demon fire, her pride as a high-class oni – spiralled inwards towards Saber's amulet as though disappearing down a drain. Within a second, there was no trace of it, and Ibaraki stomped her foot. "That's cheating! You can't do that!"

"My Master came prepared," said Saber. "Although I believe this was meant to stop magecraft – how impressive it was able to stop even your flames! As expected of my Master… ah, how wonderful magic is."

"This is so unfair," grumbled Ibaraki. "My Master's good too, you know! Very, um, non-judgemental!" Why was she even arguing? She shook her head and glared at Saber.

"Yes. That is why you will lose," said Saber. "Your Master simply did whatever you wanted – and mine thought about how best to use his weapon in this War." Not bragging, not posturing, just a simple statement of fact. Ibaraki was hard pressed to disagree. Ryuunosuke was doing an admirable job of keeping her summoned, and an absolutely abysmal job of everything else.

But honestly? This wasn't about Uryuu Ryuunosuke. Ibaraki hadn't really worked with her Master. At best, he'd been a tool, a convenient way to learn about this new era, or use the Command Spells at her instruction. Beyond that, she'd treated him as a sort of affiliate. Not her partner, not her clan.

There was nothing he could say or do to stop her doing as she pleased at all times.

She'd had to fight alone, only because she never did anything to forge Uryuu into a worthy partner.

Well. Maybe it was time to change that, when she rescued him from Caster's clutches.

For a moment, Ibaraki debated telling Saber about Caster, and how her Master was captured. How the Moderator they'd set out to save was even now in her hands.

But no. When had anyone in this War ever listened to a thing she said? If their ignorance about Caster came back to bite them, it was only what they all deserved.

Ibaraki smiled, and readied her blade. "We'll see. Saber! Archer! Before you stands Ibaraki-douji, leader of the Mount Ooe oni, Servant Berserker! You who stand between me and my Master, prepare to feel my power!"

"Well met," said Saber. "Die well."

The only answer from Archer was a flash of green – and when Ibaraki swung her sword up to meet it, the duel began.

Chapter Text

Once again, here Ibaraki was – in a city she'd recently put to the torch, fighting tooth and nail to stay alive against warriors who could give even her a decent fight. The screams of the fleeing citizens were drowned out by the clash of bone on metal, and the earsplitting cracks as the stone of the plaza failed utterly to stand up to the forces involved.

In oni terms, this was called 'a decent start to a Friday evening'…

…usually. Now, though, she wasn't here for a good time, because her Master was in the clutches of the Servant that Ibaraki was least equipped to kill. Every second he spent there, he was in danger, so she had no time to deal with Saber and Archer.

Unfortunately, she couldn't just run. Archer had led Ibaraki into this trap while acting as the quarry – on the pursuit, Atalante the Huntress would be twice as impossible to deal with.

Couldn't run.

The obvious solution was to close to arm's length and squash Archer before making good her escape… but the first problem with that was, Archer had already proven she wasn't about to stand still and get caught. Atalante was faster and more agile than Ibaraki, there was no way around it. If she wanted to conduct the fight at a particular range, then that was what was going to happen.

And at the moment, Archer looked like she wanted very much to be across the plaza and on top of a roof, raining shots down on Ibaraki.

Couldn't run, couldn't fight.

Now, Ibaraki was very, very tough, and could shrug off wounds that would kill a human in minutes. She was used to thinking of arrows as a kind of battlefield decoration – a bit distracting, occasionally annoying, but essential for the ambience. But that black and green bow, in Archer's hands, fired off shots that hit like siege engines, perfectly aimed to pulverise Ibaraki's vital points, at a terrifying rate, from over a mile away. It was almost unfair.

Couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't ignore the problem.

And, as bad as all this was, it was still not the most pressing issue in Ibaraki's life. No, that would be the second problem with just running up and splatting Archer.

"Eyes on me, Berserker!" sang Saber. Cuts flashed out, so fast their sword tip appeared in multiple places at once.

"Shut up!" A tonne of oni bone scythed through the air, left to right, and Saber slid out of range – then backpedalled as the air the bone sword had passed through exploded in white-hot flame, an arc of fire that echoed Ibaraki's own blow.

Once more, Saber's goddamn amulet did its work, and the flames were extinguished as they were sucked in. But that was okay. There was more to flames than heat, after all.

They also made an excellent smokescreen.

Ibaraki burst through the wall of flame swinging, and Saber pivoted to let the blow strike only concrete.

Usually, concrete would shatter when subjected to this kind of punishment, or more likely turn to sand under the kind of force Ibaraki could put out. But this concrete had been superheated, by Ibaraki's last strike and also by just being in her general vicinity while she was pissed off.

So, there was more of a splash.

This suited Ibaraki just fine, and she followed up with a heave to send even more softened, red-hot concrete cascading over Saber.

Or, she would have, if Saber had had the grace to stand still for it, but nooo, they had to go and whirl to one side, silver cape flying. Ibaraki had expected that, and had aimed her shot wide, hoping to catch Saber with some debris.

She did not expect their cape to move of its own accord to shield its wearer from the rest, then shoot out as spikes that bent against Ibaraki's iron skin.

"That quicksilver Mystic Code again?" she whined. "Can't you do anything without your Master's help? Do you really have that little pride as a knight?"

"Ah, Berserker," Saber beamed, giving a twirl that showed off their silver highlights and took them further out of reach. "What knight goes into battle without a favour from the cheering crowd? Mine is simply, ah, a little more favourable than most."

Ibaraki inspected the spot the spikes had hit her. "Not favourable enough, apparently."

Saber tipped their hat, and looked up mischievously. "Alas! It does make a wonderful distraction, though…"

Ibaraki was already diving aside when the arrows drilled into the ground, because even she could recognise a set-up line when she heard it. Even so, she had to slam her sword into the other arrow Archer had fired, having guessed which way she would dodge, and the impact nearly knocked it out of her hands.

Her head whipped round to find Archer – now behind her. Had she made her way round via the rooftops? Ibaraki turned her dive into a roll, and came up ready to bat aside the next volley-

-and Saber's boot took her in the back of the head.

Ibaraki tasted concrete, and blood, as she sprawled.

Move!

She blasted herself aside, a liberal application of Prana Burst taking her past Saber's downward stab – and another halting her before she ran into the arrows hammering along her path. If she'd just rolled aside, or continued longer…

No time to dwell – Archer's next volley was on its way. It looked haphazard and random, with shots going wide or shots oddly spaced, but Ibaraki knew better. She blocked the first arrow perfectly, which unfortunately also put her perfectly out of position to parry the next two. She darted to one side, and used her right hand to punch the predictable follow-up away – only to snap her head to one side, taking the arrow that had looked randomly off-target on her horns.

By now, Ibaraki assumed that Saber would be making her life difficult again, so on the principle that more fire was probably always good, Ibaraki aimed a wide-angle blast at where she'd last seen them.

On the principle that Saber was more likely to be taken out by a random lightning strike than something like that, Ibaraki felt for the spot the fire started cooling unnaturally, then launched herself sword-first in that direction.

As usual, Saber was ready for the thrust, and twisted to spin sideways along the length of Ibaraki's blade and ram an elbow into the side of her head.

This wouldn't usually do much, because Ibaraki's skull was made of the same material that her sword was, and that had been splitting concrete all day without a scratch. And yet, stars exploded behind Ibaraki's eyes, and she staggered, clutching her temple.

She didn't dodge so much as ungracefully fell out of the way of Saber's follow-up, and lurched backwards out of the way of Archer's opportunistic shots – coming from the side, now, she noticed in the part of her mind focused on not dying against the best swordsman she'd ever faced.

This wasn't working. Ibaraki would love to blame her performance on Archer's interference, but… the truth was, Saber was faster than her, and better than her. Ibaraki had the edge in strength, with her Madness Enhancement and her Prana Burst both working together, but that wasn't enough.

Saber had gotten her measure during her last fight, and while Ibaraki was a far better duellist than she seemed, the Servant of the Sword was just too skilled for Ibaraki to win in a swordfight.

Well, then. That made the choice obvious, didn't it?

Ibaraki lunged round to one side, as if to flank, incidentally putting both her opponents in a line – and then whipped her left hand forward and hurled her sword at Saber. It hummed as it tore through the air, and when Saber sidestepped it smartly, it carried right on and collapsed the building Archer was perching on.

"Unorthodox!" called Saber, sounding quite unconcerned. "But, I don't believe you thought this through. That fine blade was really the only thing giving you a reach advantage, and its weight was the only thing allowing you to match me blow for blow. Are you sure that was wise?"

"Quite sure," said Ibaraki – and with a flex of rarely-used muscles, she changed.

Her claws thickened and hardened, and her fingers lengthened slightly. Her horns extended and reinforced themselves, harder even than before, and under skin turning to iron callus her bones did the same. Her tusks grew razor-sharp, and jutted out ready to use as weapons.

Her oni-bone sword was a wonderful weapon, but Ibaraki didn't really need it. Shapeshifting was a little-used skill, but when pushed? Oni made perfectly adequate weapons all by themselves.

Her feet flexed, claws dug into concrete, and Ibaraki flew at Saber as a whirlwind of tooth and nail.

Saber's rapier blurred into motion, a steel flash too fast to track, but Ibaraki accepted a cut to her shoulder and was inside Saber's guard in an instant, flinging the rapier aside and actually ripping it out of Saber's hand with the force. Claws raked across Saber's chest, and made it halfway down before skittering off metal. Ibaraki lunged for Saber's neck with her teeth, and was rewarded with a taste of blood and a startled yelp – but Saber jerked their head out of the way just before the oni's jaws could lock on.

Ibaraki settled for a headbutt, with every ounce of power from her torso channelled into a horn point. Saber had to fall back entirely into a backwards roll to get clear, and Ibaraki followed with a vicious stamp.

Saber came up twisting and turning, trying to create distance, but Ibaraki had her now, and had no intention of letting her get away. The Knight of White Lilies might have been an incredible fencer, but this kind of infighting wasn't their strong suit, and the advantage would always go to the one with…

…claws?

Ibaraki ducked her head without thinking, and felt something scrape across a horn. As she did, she felt a sharp pain in her side, and another in her shin. Something was wrong, and Ibaraki took her usual course of action when faced with something unexpected in close combat.

Namely, she detonated with the force of a medium-sized bomb.

Once more, the fire was sucked into Saber's amulet, but the force still sent Saber skidding back – and with the added distance, Ibaraki saw the problem.

Saber's gloves, coated in quicksilver, now sported blades on the fingers, similar in shape to her own claws. Their knees and boots had sprouted spikes, and a longer blade jutted back from each elbow. It was all very beautiful and elegant, and very annoying.

Ibaraki felt her side, and found a small cut. Apparently, Saber was strong enough to force these short, thick blades through Ibaraki's hide, even if the Mystic Code itself didn't have the power.

"I really hate that Code," she grumbled.

"My Master and I fight as one," said Saber. They sighed, a fond smile gracing their perfect features. "He amazes me more and more with his concentration and his drive… I dedicate this victory to him." Before Ibaraki's eyes, the Code reshaped itself again, flowing down the glove and extending out to form a silver replica of Saber's rapier.

Ibaraki groaned, and readied herself to fight again – then shot forwards, partly to catch Saber off guard but mostly because she'd missed Archer getting round her again.

Saber caught her wrist, and replied with a textbook riposte with their new sword. Ibaraki jerked her hand free with a blast of flame, and only a hasty grab managed to catch the sword in time to stop it running Ibaraki through. She gripped it as tight as she could, but it ran like water through her fingers, and Saber whirled out of range before Ibaraki could counterattack.

She charged, trying to get in close again – but Saber skipped backwards, giving ground and punishing her with deep cuts to her throat and wrists for trying. Well, screw them too. Ibaraki held both hands out behind her and blasted flame backwards, rocketing forwards horn-first.

Saber stopped that with a dizzying elbow strike, but Ibaraki was back at close range now, and this time she was ready for Saber's extra spikes. She blocked and checked and thrust, and all the while thrashed at Saber with every sharp point she had.

She could do this. If she kept it up, kept Saber confused enough, they wouldn't be able to adjust to her new, wilder style in time. Ibaraki shed heat and light like a miniature volcano – forwards, backwards, anything to add more force to her strikes and overpower Saber.

And then Saber caught her right wrist again. Ibaraki funneled more power towards it, and prepared to break free.

"You couldn't keep a grip on me last time – get some new tricks, Saber!"

Ibaraki wrenched her arm up… and Saber's grip came with it.

The silver hand stayed clenched on Ibaraki's wrist, sealing itself into a closed ring, while Saber removed their real hand out from under it, leaving behind a chain linking Ibaraki's hand to theirs.

The other end of the chain developed a spike, which Saber crouched to plunge deep into the concrete – leaving Ibaraki staked to the ground, tethered by her right wrist. The chain shortened violently, dragging her down and leaving her open.

She tugged, but the damn thing had grown spikes after being placed. Ibaraki planted her feet, and prepared to pull up the whole damn plaza and hit Saber round the head with it if necessary…

…before realising Saber had skipped back.

She'd forgotten Archer, yet again.

Dammit. These two were too good. They didn't exactly work well together – they just worked well, in general, and were more than capable of adjusting to take advantage of the other's manoeuvring.

And now, arrows streaked towards her, while she was unable to move freely.

Well.

Shit.

This was… pretty bad, actually. Archer and Saber's plan had gone off pretty much perfectly. She couldn't reach Archer, couldn't effectively fight Saber, and every time she tried to focus on one the other punished her for it.

Now, with arrows capable of punching through steel plate like paper bearing down on her, her right hand was trapped against the ground.

Ibaraki smiled.

She'd been holding off on this, because there was really nowhere left to escalate to afterward… but if Saber and Archer were going to push her to this extent, there really was nothing for it.

"Should have gone for my left hand," she said. "Great Grudge of Rashomon!"

There was fire.

There was a hand the size of a horse, which basically just appeared in the path of the arrows, leaving only a streak of flame to show where it had been.

But, more importantly, there was now a gap at the end of Ibaraki's arm, and she wasted no time in slipping her shackle.

Time to go.

She blasted herself sideways, and made a break for a particularly sad-looking pile of rubble that she was pretty sure used to be the building she'd thrown her sword at.

Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Saber start after her – and also noticed the way they broke off when a giant flaming fist slammed down into the plaza a single step ahead of where they would have been. The speed at which Ibaraki's right hand travelled, and the awesome force it could bring to bear, meant that, actually, yes, it could deal with both Saber and Archer at once – long enough for her to escape.

More arrows flew, but these were batted away with a sneering disdain by the Great Grudge, again streaking upward to intercept before slamming onto the rooftop Archer had moments ago been standing on, reducing it to kindling.

Archer fled over the rooftops, slowing not at all for ledges, gaps and wires. Her aim was affected not a jot, and the Great Grudge was forced to burn more arrows into disintegrating ash. That was the Servant of the Bow for you.

Ibaraki reached the rubble. Now, how to find her sword?

Oh, yes. It would be the only thing not reduced to ashes when she was done with it.

A thought, and the Great Grudge came down like a thunderbolt to pound the little piles of concrete, brick and glass into sand. The next moment, it was gone, sweeping low and forcing Saber to break off their pursuit – the moment after, smashing another of Archer's perches and fouling her shots.

Noble Phantasms. Ever so helpful.

With one last look back at the wrecked plaza, and the two Servants failing to get past her Noble Phantasm, Ibaraki made her escape, and sprinted west as fast as she could go.

Yeah, like it was ever going to be that easy.

At first, Ibaraki made good time. This sort of thing was easy for her, because she'd long since stopped caring what happened to the city and just kind of barrelled through every building in front of her.

The occasional potshot from Archer still found its way to her, but they were easy enough to deflect – and Archer herself was way, way too busy dealing with the Great Grudge to really start to herd Ibaraki in one direction or another. Saber had the same problem, and wasn't nearly as fast.

Still, if she dawdled, Ibaraki would get caught.

So, when she got her first sight of the river, and the Servant guarding it, Ibaraki didn't even slow down. On the contrary, she poured on the speed, boosting her strength to make great bounding strides and blasting fire out behind her to accelerate as fast as she could.

Up ahead, Rider braced herself for Ibaraki's charge. She looked very impressive, her cross-shaped staff planted and her posture bolt-upright. She looked every inch the perfect holy saint – an image only helped by the way her staff was glowing with a pure white energy that made Ibaraki's eyes water to look at.

Ibaraki used one final boost, and shot towards Rider like a flaming missile. Rider raised her staff to meet the charge…

…and looked very surprised when Ibaraki just flew straight past her.

"Love to stay and kill you, but I have things to do!" called Ibaraki. She sailed high, high up into the air-

-and was brought back down by an explosion of white light.

She landed in a heap at the water's edge, but managed to turn it into a roll. She came up, crouched and ready.

"Dammit!" she yelled. "Rider, I don't have time for this!"

"Indeed," said Rider, approaching to join Ibaraki on the riverbank. Her staff began glowing again. "In fact, I would go so far as to say you are out of time completely."

… okay, that was a pretty good line.

Ibaraki considered trying to talk it out… but an image returned to her of the priest's cheek sizzling under her red-hot claw, and Rider's outrage.

Thanks, Caster, she thought venomously. Literally burning my bridges.

Well, whatever. She could take one lousy saint.

Without warning, Ibaraki lunged. Rider brought the staff up, glowing, in a simple block – which collapsed basically immediately under Ibaraki's assault. Ibaraki closed in… and noticed the quickly brightening glow from the staff.

She retreated, just in time to avoid an explosion of light, centred on Rider. She landed, skidding back, and dodged to one side as a shaft of radiance descended from the heavens, gouging a crater into the earth. Rider lowered the staff, looking ever so slightly smug.

"The Lord's power cannot be resisted by evil – and will never harm His loyal followers," she said. "With his staff, I do His wonders. You have met your end, Berserker."

"Oh, spare me!" Ibaraki swung her sword, and released a wave of fire, which met an equally bright wave of light.

But, well. Fire still made a great smokescreen, and so far Rider hadn't proven nearly as good a fighter as Saber.

Ibaraki hurled her sword through the fire, then surged after it herself. As she emerged, she saw Rider struggle to parry the unnaturally heavy blade – and out of position to stop Ibaraki from closing her remaining hand around the shaft of the staff.

What do you know? A one-handed oni was easily a match for a wimpy saint in a fight.

"Enough of this toy," she said, even as her fingers started smoking.

Then she ripped it out of Rider's hands and threw it underarm into the river.

A headbutt sent Rider stumbling back.

Ibaraki considered just letting Rider go, and continuing on her way. But no. She was tired, and pissed off, and Rider was still enough of a threat that she could justify taking a moment to smash.

Rider's hair had fallen over her face, but her hands trembled and her voice shook. "You… you threw away my staff…"

"Don't worry," Ibaraki said. "Hold still and I'll send your head down to look for it." She approached, and flexed her claws.

Rider raised her head. The fury in her eyes gave even Ibaraki pause. "You threw away my staff, you bitch!"

Oh dear.

Ibaraki attacked.

Ibaraki picked herself out of a crater with her head ringing.

What had just…

She rolled out of the way, and Rider's boot came down in an axe kick and crumbled the earth in a ten-foot radius.

"That was a gift from the Lord himself!" Rider fumed. Her fists balled up, and she stomped one leg forward into a basic fighting stance.

Then she darted in to stomp on Ibaraki's foot, while pounding a hammerblow of an uppercut into her chin.

Ibaraki went flying.

"Ow! Are you sure you're not Servant Berserker?"

She landed, and jerked to one side as Rider's fists thundered through the space where Ibaraki's head had been. She ducked and wove, and eventually had to explode again just to create distance.

This was… unexpected. Apparently the saint of the shore had a really, really mean streak and a left hook that could fell an elephant.

Fortunately, Ibaraki didn't have to sit here and take it. Rider's staff was gone, and apparently that meant instead of raining down holy fire to purge the unclean she just had to beat sinners up until they repented.

And while Ibaraki could take her – totally! – it would take time. She had a Master to rescue.

So instead of attacking, she just blasted off and leapt over the river. But, just in case Rider had something up her sleeve, she focused on bringing up a little insurance.

"Why you- get back here!" yelled Rider. "Tarrasque!"

"Tarra-whatnow?" Ibaraki didn't know what Rider was yelling about – until she felt prana spike below her.

She looked down, and saw teeth.

The dragon Tarrasque rose from the Mion River like a breaching shark. Its catlike jaws opened, wider, wider, enough to swallow Ibaraki whole, revealing the spark of dragon fire deep in its throat.

Come on, come on!

Ibaraki threw fire downwards, not expecting to even singe the beast but trying to gain a little more height. Tarrasque just continued to rise, its tail thrashing like a crocodile's. Ibaraki was no more than a foot above it…

…when her insurance arrived.

All the breath whuffed out of Tarrasque, as the Great Grudge of Rashomon hit it square in the chest. Its jaws closed with a snap, and Ibaraki continued on her way.

She landed on the far bank, and booked it, not even bothering to look back.

This time, no more distractions. No more obstacles.

Hold on, Ryuunosuke…

"Tohsaka… that was truly pathetic."

"Your input is as valuable as ever, Matou. Kirei, I think it's fair to say we failed. Eliminate Berserker."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Over the course of the War, Ryuunosuke had kind of built up an impression of his Servant as an invincible, unstoppable force of nature. His perfect predator, who didn't moralise over the act of murder but just acted, her overwhelming power as inevitable as death itself. It had taken Saber and Archer together to even slow her down on the bridge, and even then she'd gotten away clean.

She'd lost to Caster, of course – but he hadn't seen that himself, and in any case using magic was cheating. In a straight fight, he couldn't imagine her losing.

And then Lancer had dropped in and shattered his illusions as easily as he'd shattered Caster's forcefields.

Now, Ibaraki-douji, the scourge of Heian Kyoto, was crumpled in the middle of a crater, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Lancer crouched beside her, one hand gripping her by the hair and grinding her head into the broken stones. He – or she? Ryuunosuke genuinely couldn't tell – swivelled his head, looking between Caster and her Master on one side, and Risei and Ryuunosuke himself on the other. He was paying no attention to Servant Berserker, crushed in the instant of his arrival and no longer a threat.

Come on, Ryuunosuke thought – to himself, to Ibaraki, he didn't know. Get up. Are you going to let yourself be taken out so easily?

Is this really how it ends for us?

To his surprise, an answer came.

No, it doesn't have to be, came Caster's telepathic voice. Forgive the intrusion, dear, but in fairness all your thoughts were written all over your face anyway. We need Berserker back if we're to have any chance of getting out of this.

Outside their heads, Caster fiddled with her staff, looking very nervous indeed. "Erm, this really isn't what it looks like? I really was just hanging on to the Moderator for… reasons…"

Even as she spoke, her voice continued in Ryuunosuke's head, sounding a lot less nervous. I can get us clear, young man, but you will need to make a distraction.

How?

You still have two Command Spells left, yes?

Ryuunosuke smiled. Say no more.

"I'm sure you are entirely innocent of that particular crime, Caster," smiled Lancer, utterly relaxed. "However, did you forget? You are still my enemy in this Grail War. You, especially, are likely to be troublesome if I let you live. I will permit you to say your goodbyes to your Master. Do so, now. Then fight, or run, or die, as you choose. It will make little difference, but if you can die happier I would prefer that."

"Oh, well, in that case…"

Now, please! Caster sent.

Ryuunosuke didn't have to be told twice – and, more, he didn't need to be spoon-fed a plan, either. Berserker was very simple to use. If she was up and fighting, she'd take care of everything. If she wasn't, his job was to get her there.

That made things easy.

His hand flashed red, and his voice gained that impossible authority he'd heard only once before. "Stand up! Fight! Stay alive!"

Berserker exploded.

Ryuunosuke closed his eyes to the sudden flash of heat, as Ibaraki received a massive influx of energy and used it all to do two things: repair herself, and remove the obstacle keeping her down.

Lancer was sent flying, all his strength doing basically nothing to help him stay on the ground. Mid-air, he sighed, and pointed at Ryuunosuke and Caster's Master. "Unwise."

Something bright gold flew very, very fast at Ryuunosuke's face. He didn't even have time to flinch…

… and then he was a hundred feet in the air.

What?

Ryuunosuke opened his mouth for a manly shriek before he realised he wasn't actually falling. He was standing on some barely-visible plane of force, next to Caster and her Master. Above him, blades whirred, as some weird Renaissance helicopter hovered above them, casting the plane of force from a device on its hull.

Down below, he caught a glimpse of the temple courtyard, now even more thoroughly ruined than it was before, and getting more ruined every second as Ibaraki and Lancer duelled.

"That was very well done," gushed Caster, clapping her hands. "It's so nice when people do what they're asked without further guidance. Thanks to you… and Berserker, I suppose… I was able to teleport us all out of harm's way."

Ryuunosuke looked around. "Where's the old dude?" He really didn't want to lose his best chance of living through all this if Ibaraki was killed.

"Oh, I left him behind. He's not in any danger from Lancer, but it does make them a little more careful, which is good for us. Do hold on tight, I think Lancer's found us," she added. "Have Berserker keep him busy, please?"

Ryuunosuke jumped, as the platform he was standing on was rocked by a titanic hit from below. The spell held, but flickered alarmingly.

Looking down, he saw what looked like chains retract into Lancer's form as Ibaraki smashed him aside, only to be crushed into another crater in return.

"What just happened? Who is that?" said Ryuunosuke.

Caster's confident smile slipped just a fraction. "Ah. Yes… well, that is Enkidu, the clay man from Mesopotamian myth," she said, as if that was going to mean anything to Ryuunosuke.

He looked blankly at her, then shrugged wordlessly.

"For goodness' sake, don't you know anything?" snapped her Master, looking very unkept. His hair was a mess, his tie was crooked, and his eyes were wide. Yeesh. Anyone'd think he'd been having a bad day. "Enkidu! The monster sent by the gods to humble King Gilgamesh! He fought the Humbaba! He bound the Bull of Heaven! He fought the King of Heroes to a standstill!"

"Yeah, I can see he's a badass, but, uh none of that means anything to me," said Ryuunosuke. He turned to Caster. "Teach, can you put it in a way I understand?"

Caster hummed. "Let's see… well, how about this? Enkidu is what happens when the gods make a superweapon, and it works so well that it decides it doesn't want to do what they say anymore."

Oh. Yikes. "How screwed are we?"

Down below, Lancer had apparently given up on taking shots at the airborne Masters in favour of simply punting Berserker around the mountain. Ryuunosuke winced. Ibaraki was tough, but she couldn't take much more of this.

"Oh, very. It may as well be you down there fighting them instead of Berserker for how outmatched she is." Caster hefted her staff. "Of course, I wouldn't be Caster if I didn't have some way to cheat…"

She aimed her staff downwards towards the duelling Servants, runes lighting up around the tip. Far below, somewhere on the side of the mountain, something lit up, and a stream of complicated-looking rune formulae shot towards Caster's staff. They all gathered together into one of the orbiting symbols, and with a mechanical-sounding clunk something fired off, flying like a bullet towards the fight.

It hit Ibaraki and knocked her sprawling, out of the way of a vicious slash by Lancer.

Ryuunosuke raised an eyebrow. "Your aim needs work."

Caster's smirk returned full-force. "Does it?"

"You just shot my Servant!"

"Did I?"

"I just saw you do it!"

"Did you?"

Caster's Master sighed. "Caster, I really hope you know what you're doing…"

Hisau Maiya knew what she was doing.

She'd spent her entire life as a soldier of some kind, with maybe half of that acting as an assassin for Kiritsugu. While he had always handled the more dangerous jobs personally, she'd watched him and learned everything she could. After all, she wanted to be useful to him, didn't she?

The plain fact was, it took a certain kind of mind, or a certain level of experience, to expect a rocket to come flying through your windows and detonate, sending shrapnel to shred everything inside a building. Veteran soldiers might develop that kind of razor's edge reactions, although almost certainly at the cost of severe difficulties adjusting to home life.

This was why Kiritsugu and Maiya preferred to attack veteran soldiers at home, where their attempts to settle back in to a routine would work against them.

For your average magus? Forget about it.

Still, Maiya was not in the habit of underestimating her enemies, so taking another cue from Kiritsugu's book, she'd adjusted to compensate for the worst-case scenario.

It took a frankly paranoid mind to expect the landmines and tripwires set up outside the exits. And beyond that, it would take someone truly absurd to spot her sniper's nest under pressure, much less assault her position.

It looked like Kotomine Kirei was truly absurd.

Maiya twitched aside, and three Black Keys embedded themselves up the hilt in the tree she'd been resting against. The Executor came in, face impassive, drawing another set of the throwing swords from his jacket as he advanced.

Somehow, as soon as she'd fired her rocket, Kirei had exited the church at speed, blowing right past her traps. He'd thrown his first set of Black Keys directly at Maiya, as if she hadn't even bothered to hide, and since then she hadn't had the room to be surprised any more.

She dodged to her left, into the woods, drawing her Calico and spraying a hail of bullets behind her one-handed. They all went wide, but Kirei slowed to cross his arms over his head – which meant he didn't notice the flashbang grenade Maiya had prepared with her off hand.

Maiya spun into a crouch, up on aim, and this time none of her shots missed.

They might as well have, though.

The five-round burst plinked off Kirei's priest's robes like water off a raincoat, and Maiya groaned. Armoured, and reinforced too if she was any judge. A headshot might work, but Kirei was too canny for that. If she'd brought armour piercing rounds, or gained the distance to use her sniper rifle…

No use complaining now. She was not going to take Kirei out like this. Her first attempt failing was unfortunate, because he'd be even more on his guard after this, but part of being a professional was knowing when to cut and run.

Time to go.

Maiya pulled a flare gun, and shot a bright red star into the sky.

Then she turned and sprinted as fast as her legs would take her towards the entrance to the church grounds. If she could just make it to the road…

She almost made it.

Her thigh exploded in pain, and she tripped, rolling to a halt. She wrenched her Calico around, but it was kicked out of her hand – and then she was on her back, with Kotomine Kirei stood over her.

"You are not the Magus Killer," he said. "Where is he?"

Maiya said nothing. In her head, she ran through everything she still had on her. Her knife? No. Her backup pistol? Not accessible from this position. A grenade? Kirei would just avoid it.

There was only one thing that could work.

All she'd have to do was kill herself to use it.

Well. That made things very simple.

"How did you react so quickly? How did you know I was there?" she asked. Partly because she needed to know what mistake she'd made, mostly to distract Kirei from her hand sneaking towards her belt.

If Kirei noticed it, he didn't say so. Instead, he replied, "Lancer told me. Their sensory abilities are really quite impressive. As soon as you arrived, I knew where you were." He paused, and quirked his lips in a half-smile. "The other Masters are safe in the catacombs beneath the church, of course. All you have done is rearrange the furniture. I wonder, what will Emiya Kiritsugu say when he sees your corpse, and learns you have failed utterly? Will he be angry with himself? Will he be disappointed in you? Will he mourn?" He leaned in eagerly.

"None of these," said Maiya with absolute conviction. "I am merely a tool to him. He will reassess, adjust, and kill you all the same." Her hand snaked closer, closer, to the canister at her belt.

Kirei lost his smile. "How… boring. Go with God, then, tool of the Magus Killer."

He raised his sword.

And that was the moment when Irisviel von Einzbern drove her car straight through the wall onto the church grounds.

"Wooo!" she squealed, window down and hair flying. She spun the wheel, and the car careened into a long skid, neatly avoiding Kirei's reflexively thrown swords. Out the window flew a shining silver wireframe bird, which dove directly at Kirei.

Maiya saw her chance, and shoved with all her reinforced might while Kirei was distracted. He rolled off her, hands partly tangled by Iri's construct.

Now that Iri was here, Maiya could press her advantage… but there was no need for a suicide attack now that her escape route was here. The best thing to do was escape, and come back another day.

Preferably, with armour-piercing rounds.

She tumbled into the back of the car, and flinched back as two Black Keys thrust themselves through the door.

"Drive," she said.

"You got it!"

Iri accelerated, and in moments the church was left far behind. They continued on their way, taking the back roads that circled around Fuyuki proper. With everything happening in the city, it was basically impossible to get a car through it right now, even for a driver as… unique as Iri.

"What went wrong?" said Iri.

"Lancer detected me, and told Kotomine Kirei," said Maiya, tiredly. "I don't know how."

"Did you manage to get a shot through? Even a scratch-"

"No, nothing. Armoured priest robes. He'll be on his guard now. I can think of a few ways to get through it, but him knowing we're coming makes things hard. I might have to ask Assassin for ideas."

"Well, you just let me know if you need anything. Kiri is busy setting things up for later in the War, so I think we're best to head back home for now. Your leg needs healing, for one thing… Is everything okay with Serenity?"

Maiya thought back. Assassin had sounded as cold as ever when giving the signal to take out Lancer's Master, but she'd heard the sounds coming from the mountain even on the other side of the city. For a moment, she thought it was an earthquake, or a volcano erupting. Despite how easily Kotomine Kirei had taken her out, she was very glad not to have to worry about what on Earth was going on over there.

No, neither she nor Assassin had any business fighting head on against the kind of monsters this War was bringing out of the woodwork.

Lancer was a goddamn monster. Ibaraki knew monsters, and her instincts as a monster herself were screaming at her. It was like those times, mercifully rare, when Shuten had gotten really scary.

Her comeback had started well enough. Ibaraki wasn't stupid, and noticed at once that Caster had teleported herself, her Master, and Ryuunosuke out of danger, but not the Moderator. In other words, everyone she actually cared about keeping alive was out of harm's way, but Lancer couldn't use any really destructive attacks for fear of hitting the person he was trying to rescue. Ibaraki was an old hand at taking advantage of things like this.

Namely, she flexed her power and set everything on top of the mountain on fire. She didn't have a lot to spare, but if she could distract Lancer for even a moment it'd be worth it.

Or, that had been the plan for about half a second before Lancer lunged with a flat palm to her chest, and knocked her clear through the temple wall.

Ibaraki flew, trailing fire like a comet. She would have screamed aloud as she crashed through over a foot of solid stone, but for one thing the pain of impacting the wall was nothing compared to how Lancer had hit her in the first place, and for another she was pretty sure her lungs had been temporarily liquidised by the shockwave of Lancer's palm strike.

None of this had slowed her down appreciably.

After Ryuunosuke's Command Spell, Ibaraki had been forcibly restored to fighting fit, and could even now feel the lingering effects, helping her roll to her feet and shake off the dizziness. She'd seen Shuten fight on after taking grievous wounds, seeming incredibly blasé about things like a hole in her stomach or an arm bent the wrong way. It might have been because Shuten was just impossibly sturdy…or, Ibaraki supposed, because Shuten was simply too drunk to feel pain most of the time.

This wasn't anywhere near that. But, aside from her dwindling reserves, it was keeping her in the fight so far.

Which was good, because things hadn't improved much since the start of the fight.

Ibaraki hadn't had another chance to go after the Moderator, and if she was being honest had kinda lost track of where he even was. She had bigger things to worry about.

Ibaraki skidded to a halt, sword ploughing a furrow in the ground. Lancer closed in. They'd started out with human-looking hands. Now? Not so much.

Ibaraki pivoted aside to avoid a strike from an arm flattened and sharpened to look like an axe of exquisite craftsmanship. She turned, planted her feet, and swung her own bone blade into Lancer's midsection.

This was the kind of blow where it didn't really matter where you hit. If you connected – even if what you connected was ribcage, or arm, or armour, or a castle wall – the only thing left would be powder.

She hit. There was no doubt about that.

She skidded sideways a full foot, even braced as she was. The shockwave rattled her teeth, and sent her hair flying.

Lancer… went considerably further.

They were blasted upwards and away as if fired from a cannon, but Ibaraki knew better than to assume this meant she'd actually had any effect. When she found them, mid-air, she noticed their shoulder had sprouted a shield – which appeared to have not even been scratched by Ibaraki's blow. Lancer's left arm pointed at her.

Ibaraki had only a moment to process the sight – and then chains shot forth from their sleeve, golden blurs in the afternoon light. Only Ibaraki's recent experience with deflecting Archer's arrows let her swat them aside, muscles screaming with the effort, and they punched deep into the soft earth behind her.

Then they went taut, and Lancer's right arm flowed like, well, clay – reforming itself into a flat, spear-like blade. Ibaraki's eyes widened with a terrible premonition about what was going to happen.

A green spell blasted into her side, knocking Ibaraki to one side just as Lancer basically appeared at their anchor points. Their right arm buried itself briefly in the ground – before the mountain's structural integrity basically gave up from the speeds involved, and everything exploded.

Ibaraki backpedalled, accepting a hundred tiny cuts to her arms and face to protect her vital areas, as shards of rock shot past her at bullet speeds. Creating space wasn't actually a good move against Lancer, because their chains were every bit as destructive as Archer's arrows and twice as annoying to deal with, but she needed a moment to suss out just what Caster had done to her this time.

For basically the entire fight, the Servant of the Spell had been interfering. You might have thought she'd, you know, actually attack Lancer, but it looked like Caster had other plans. Whenever Lancer looked like they might manage to break through Ibaraki's guard, she would be knocked out of the way by what felt like sledgehammer blows, but on closer inspection were part intricate insectile mechanisms, part flying collection of runes.

Every time they slammed into Ibaraki, they burrowed into her flesh, and left arcane designs traced onto her skin. They glowed unnaturally in a multitude of colours, and in basically any other circumstance Ibaraki would have torn herself apart trying to get the parasites out – except that in her own way, Caster was actually helping.

The first one had made her tougher. The second, faster. The third seemed to have given her better control over her flames. This one… Ibaraki felt the cuts on her skin close, fast even for her, and smiled.

Caster's help was incredibly annoying, but it certainly was useful.

Ibaraki was slightly worried about the fact that each design the insects formed on her skin seemed to be forming part of a larger whole, but she had no time to think about it. All she could do was trust that, at least, Caster didn't intend for her to die here.

In the meantime, she'd accept whatever help she was given.

She grit her teeth, gripped her sword, and charged in swinging. Harder, faster, tougher than she'd ever been.

She lasted about five seconds.

Ibaraki was sure Lancer hadn't started off this battle all that much stronger than she was. But every hit was countered with one of equal strength, Lancer's arm transformed into an axe or shield or spear or whatever would best ruin her day at that particular moment. She spun and dodged and ran and weaved, but Lancer moved with an eerie grace, unhurried and precise but faster than any Servant Ibaraki had seen save Archer.

She couldn't get away – even when she leapt clear and let loose a hundred-pronged blast of flame, an image of the Orochi itself bearing down on Lancer, they weathered it like it was a warm breeze, latched chains around her ankle, and slammed her to earth.

Fire erupted from her body in all directions, power she couldn't spare. Partly it was to blunt the force of her impact, partly to soften the ground, and it barely worked. She landed on her hands and knees in soil, and threw herself forward.

Lancer seemed to have had the same idea, and rocketed forward. Ibaraki pulled back her sword, and gathered everything she had into it. Every last scrap of power, every last ounce of strength. Her own, Caster's, Ryuunosuke's, everything. Her sword flared red, then white, then almost vanished from view beneath the roiling, shimmering heat haze.

Ahead, Ibaraki saw Lancer approaching at speed, and had only an instant to notice two things. The first was the beautiful mace their left arm had turned into. The second was the small smile on Lancer's face. Was it a challenge? Satisfaction? Confidence? Ibaraki couldn't tell.

The two met halfway.

Ibaraki came off worse.

She felt the shockwave from hitting Lancer as a dull thud throughout every inch of her body. It would have been the hardest hit she'd ever felt – including Saber's sneak attacks, including Archer's Noble Phantasm, including that jerk Watanabe-no Tsuna cutting off her hand, including everything – if it hadn't been for Lancer's mace crumpling her shoulder into a ruined mess at the exact same moment.

Her hardened body carved a trench into the mountainside, and she felt every inch of it. She rolled to her feet, the Command Spell helping her up once again. Lancer came in, an unstoppable white and gree blur skipping over the ruined landscape, and Ibaraki hefted her sword one-handed and called for her fire once more.

It didn't come.

She'd used too much.

Ibaraki swung anyway, and her sword hummed through the air, a blow to rend mountains and part seas – but it was batted aside with a sound like thunder.

Then, it was over. Ibaraki felt a hand lock around her throat as she was slammed down again.

Lancer looked entirely unworried. Ibaraki had fought, harder than she'd ever fought in her life, but for all the effect she'd had she may as well have been gently tickling the other Servant.

"An interesting challenge," they said. "I shall have to destroy Servant Caster soon. Their spells would have shamed any wizard from the Age of Gods, but I cannot deny their effectiveness. With their aid you became potent indeed. The mistake lies with you. You gave too much of yourself on the way here, and failed to leave yourself enough power. Now, all your strength is useless without something to fuel it." They stopped, and considered. "Also, you chose to fight me. That was quite a large mistake."

Ibaraki rattled out a pained breath. Her wounds began closing, but slowly, far too slowly. She would have said something… but there was nothing to say. She had fought, and lost. Despite the pain in her limbs, despite her arm hanging limp, she stared defiantly into Lancer's eyes, fiery yellow into grass green, and prepared to die.

To her surprise, she found herself thinking of Ryuunosuke. She'd always thought of him as just a tool to keep herself summoned. She should have thought of him as a second chance to leave a legacy – the last oni, in spirit of not in body. Too late to teach him anything now.

Oh, well. Lancer was here, so probably everyone here was going to die in short order. At least she'd never have to listen to any more of Caster's annoying prattle.

And, because apparently Caster could hear straight lines even in someone else's head, Ibaraki heard that too-jolly voice in her head.

Hold on, dear, just this last spell to go! This will be a doozy, so brace yourself!

A pure white spell smacked into the small of Ibaraki's back. She prepared for whatever it was. A last-minute injection of magical energy? A boost to everything that had gone before?

She waited for whatever miracle Caster had decided now was the best time to perform.

The mechanical insect slipped under Ibaraki's skin, and began tracing its own design. When it was done, nothing happened.

To Ibaraki.

But the pattern of runes Caster had been drawing on her skin the entire time began glowing white.

And so did the other pattern, the one that she'd been drawing for most of the afternoon. Lines of light traced themselves across the mountain, until the entire thing was covered with intricate loops and whorls, each containing a rune in complex arrangements and patterns.

Around the mountain, mechanical stakes, driven deep into the earth and placed at key points in a very specific formalcraft circle, lit up, and began spinning. A white glow surrounded them as they drew power in – more, and more, and more, from an endless well.

"What's going on?" asked Ryuunosuke.

Caster laughed, a high and triumphant sound. "Leylines, boy! Fuyuki's built on a strong one, and this is where it's closest to the surface! As much power as we could ever use, right there for the taking – all it needs is a direction! And I choose…" her smile took on a wicked edge. "Straight into Servant Berserker."

Ryuunosuke gulped, hearing the shrieks coming from down below. "She doesn't sound like she's enjoying it…"

"Oh, she'll be fine. Probably. Now, boy, the finishing blow. Nice and specific, like we discussed, you get more power that way…"

Ibaraki howled in pain as power thundered through her body.

She exploded, expelling fire in a vain attempt to vent the impossible amounts of energy her spirit core was being forced to contain, and Lancer was sent flying back.

Every wound was healed in a moment, flesh knitting itself back together in ways that would have been wasteful at any other time but now only served to slightly lessen her burden.

Somehow, she still managed to hear Ryuunosuke's voice.

"By the power of this Command Spell…"

Ibaraki grinned savagely, and looked towards Lancer. If she had any insight into her Master at all, she knew exactly what was coming. She dug her bare feet into the ground.

"…knock his fucking head off, Berserker!"

She moved.

Every iota of power was directed into propelling her forward, creating a plume behind her visible across the city. Her legs uncoiled, empowered by her Madness Enhancement, her Prana Burst, and her Command Spell to fire her at Lancer at speeds even Archer couldn't match.

It didn't even take an instant.

She was behind Lancer, her sword out, incandescent with the power pouring off it.

Lancer stood behind her, entirely unable to react to the speed Ibaraki had shown.

Even in the roar of Ibaraki's inferno, the sound of their head hitting the dirt was like a coffin lid slamming shut.

Ibaraki turned, and sneered triumphantly at Lancer's headless body, still standing upright.

"Your mistake was underestimating an oni of Mount Ooe," she spat. "Think on your failure, and be glad I have other foes… to…"

She stared, heart sinking.

This wasn't fair.

This was impossible.

But the stump of Lancer's neck bulged outwards, and developed details, like a sculptor creating a statue in fast-forward. In seconds, Lancer stood, as perfect as when they entered the battlefield.

"Impressive," they said. "By the way, the Moderator is now clear, in case you were wondering. A good thing, too. It becomes clear I have held back quite long enough." Golden energy crackled around their form.

Ibaraki backed off, terrified despite the power thrumming through her soul. Any other day, any other foe, she would have said she could challenge the gods themselves.

Now, she wasn't sure it would be enough.

"Age of Babylon."

Lancer slammed their hand on the dirt.

And the top third of Mount Enzou threw itself at Ibaraki.

Chapter Text

The end of the world was heralded by golden lightning.

When Lancer slammed their hand down on the broken stones that made up the Ryuudouji Temple courtyard, it spread out in a web of light, before fading from sight.

For a moment, that was all that happened.

But Ibaraki's instincts were shrieking at her, and she threw both hands before her and blasted off backwards with a burst of prana.

And so it was that she was already moving when the first blade passed an inch from her nose.

It was an exquisite spear – a work of art by any measure, razor sharp and perfectly balanced, carved with natural-looking embellishments all the way down. Ibaraki was not in the habit of being charitable to her opponents, but there was no other word for it than beautiful.

The way it was trying to take her head off, less so.

The hundred others like it, sprouting from the ground like raindrops in reverse, were downright unpleasant.

From Lancer's hand, spreading out in a wide circle, the earth reshaped itself into a thousand weapons and flung itself at Ibaraki. They shot past her, fast as bullets and with hundreds of times the weight, ripping apart the air with their passage.

If Ibaraki had been airborne, she would have had no way to dodge. They simply came too fast and too thick to stop, and were too powerful to block. But for all their speed, they couldn't come from just anywhere – they had to start at the bottom. Every time Lancer fired a weapon from the ground, she had moved on, and by the time the next masterwork blade shot out she'd moved on again.

Ibaraki kept low to the ground, blazing like a comet, jinking and swerving even as she retreated – and managed to stay just a step ahead of Lancer.

More, and more, and more weapons fired. Not all of them came straight up, but came at odd diagonal angles, and her sword just barely came up in time to meet them. Ibaraki parried and deflected and defended herself as best she could, her bone blade nearly jerked out of her hands by the titanic force behind the projectiles. Her mind narrowed to this next weapon, this next defence, this next dodge.

It hurt. She took many hits that on any other day would have put her down for good. But eventually, the nightmare ceased and it was over.

Ibaraki stood panting at the edge of a crater. The mountain was… well, slightly less of a mountain now. Every speck of dirt that used to make up the summit had been fired upwards. Sooner or later those weapons would start coming down, but that was a problem for Future Ibaraki, and that bitch had probably done something to deserve it. Present Ibaraki had a fight to survive.

Fortunately, she was as powerful as she'd ever been. Ibaraki was connected to a leyline, and had more prana than she knew what to do with pumping through her body.

Well, that wasn't quite true. She had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to do.

Namely, turn every last scrap of it into fire and hit Lancer over the head with it.

She filled her sword with prana, and swung it overhead. It sounded simple, and it was, but a description like that didn't really do justice to what happened.

Ibaraki had gotten used to being pretty indiscriminate with her fire. It was useful, because bathing a wide area in a healthy coating of flame kept the most annoying of the puny humans off her back, or at least distracted by irrelevant things like 'argh, I'm on fire' or 'no, please, my baby's in that building'. Weaklings.

But that didn't mean she couldn't focus when she needed to.

A paper-thin crescent of hyper-compressed fire exploded from the tip of her sword. It was hard to see clearly – partly because it was so compact, partly because it was glowing white-hot, and partly because the sheer heat of it cast a heat haze that extended fully ten feet from the centre.

It fired at Lancer faster than any arrow.

So did the next ten.

What little bedrock Lancer hadn't used to try and take Ibaraki's head off melted under her assault, in a straight line from her to them. Lancer seemed entirely unworried – but rose from their crouch to smoothly step out of the way of each and every one of Ibaraki's attacks. When the flaming bolts impacted the far edge of the crater, they scored deep, deep slices into the earth that bubbled even as they cooled.

As the last fiery crescent shot past them, Lancer extended a hand and waved it experimentally through the heart of the inferno.

"Potent," they said. "But inadequate."

Ibaraki swung again, out of spite more than anything.

This time, Lancer didn't even blink as the flames splashed against their tunic without leaving a mark. "No, I'm afraid that's just not going to be enough. Baking clay only makes it harder, you know?" They smiled. "To shatter a clay statue, what you need is a hammer – every peasant knows that."

"Good to know," Ibaraki snarled. Her sword arm blurred, and the earth in front of her cracked. A section of solid rock the size of a cart flew up from the force – only to disappear with a rush of air as Ibaraki kicked it directly at Lancer.

Lancer smiled, and pulled their arm back.

The boulder hit Lancer with a force Ibaraki would have otherwise called unstoppable – and Lancer hit it right back, an open palm strike surrounded by golden lightning.

The boulder shattered. Anything would have. But as well as shattering, the rock reshaped itself around Lancer's hand – and came back twice as fast. Ibaraki dove to one side as a cluster of masterwork weapons exploded through the space she had been, disappearing over the horizon in the blink of an eye.

Noted, thought Ibaraki. Lancer is the world champion at throwing rocks. Do not give them ammunition.

Well. That left really only one option then, didn't it?

Ibaraki hefted her sword, and blasted forward to do battle directly. Her sword impacted Lancer's upraised arm before her foot even touched the ground, already breaking from the impact in a spiderweb of cracks. Lancer took the blow with an unconcerned smile, and answered with a bone-rattling punch – and Ibaraki's bones were really quite hard to rattle.

She went flying back, but as soon as her foot made contact with the ruined, scorched earth she was off again, relying on her prana burst for propulsion just as much as her legs. As fast as she'd been sent back, she came back faster, bringing her sword down upon Lancer's head.

They dove backwards, rolled and slid back in a feral crouch, trailing their hand through the earth. Ibaraki had only a moment to react, before more weapons speared upwards. She pushed herself aside, changing direction on a pinpoint-

-but not fast enough to avoid an axe fit for a king goring her side and tearing a chunk out of her body.

Ibaraki screamed, about a fifty-fifty split between fury and agony. Her wound bled flames, her spiritual body repairing itself out of the impossible power pouring into her every second, and she ignored the pain in favour of landing on all fours and lunging horn-first at Lancer.

They caught her, one rough hand closing around her horn, and planted her in the solid rock headfirst.

Ibaraki's head filled with static. Dimly, she was aware of her skull healing, white-hot fire filling in the cracks, so recently healed by Ryuunoske's Command Spell. Her core hadn't quite been shattered, and it was busy repairing her physical form. In less than a minute, she'd be good as new.

'Less than a minute' may as well have been an eternity in a Servant battle. Which meant this was still really, really bad. And when things got really, really bad, Ibaraki did one thing, by instinct – she exploded.

However, usually when she did this, she wasn't plugged into a leyline.

A new sun rose over Fuyuki, blowing clouds before it to reveal a deep blue evening sky. For a moment, it was visible over the entire city, then it faded into a sullen orange.

Lancer had left a crater after using their Noble Phantasm – now that crater was a little bit larger, and glowing cherry-red. The entire area looked like a vision of hell, broken and melting rock forming strange shapes. Heat haze lent a surreal, deamlike quality to the stage for Ibaraki's last battle.

Ibaraki herself floated high above it all, wreathed in flames that billowed in the insane updrafts from the crater, and occasionally took on the appearance of enormous wings. Ibaraki had sometimes seen it happen, when she really pushed herself, but thought nothing of it.

After all, she usually didn't intend to hold on to a lot of her fire for very long.

Baking clay might only make it harder, but Ibaraki was pretty sure there was a limit. She intended to find it.

"Alright, Lancer!" she yelled, voice barely audible over the wind and roaring flame. "This is everything I have left! Stand there and take it for me, would you?"

She didn't hear a reply, but Lancer spread their hands down below.

Fine.

She gathered her power into her claws, condensing it into a point no larger than her fist. It blazed white, every bit as hot as any massive fire blast she'd ever made, a mass of prana only barely contained by her will. The fireball hovered over her palm, promising destruction if it were ever set free. Ibaraki smiled, showing her tusks in pride at the little ball of devastation she'd made.

Then, she made another. And another.

The bleed-off from her excess power had suffused the air around her, raising it far, far above boiling. Now, she drew it all in to a hundred points, each of them shining just as bright as the first.

Then she pitched the one in her hands like a fastball straight at Lancer. Every single other one followed.

The explosion was hard to look at even for her, and the updrafts ruffled her hair. She gave a mad grin.

A second later, she did it all over again.

She rained down fireballs with gleeful abandon, producing an effect similar to a focused, sustained firebombing. Lancer vanished from sight, but Ibaraki just redoubled her efforts.

In her heart, she knew this was futile. She'd already given the best she had trying to beat Lancer, and this amounted to no more than a final tantrum. She felt she was allowed this. For the Servant of Madness, she really hadn't had a chance to cut loose and just enjoy a fight. Too busy trying to survive, figuring out a way to compensate for her weak Master, or else dealing with the consequences of her actions.

Still. If she was going to go out, it was going to be spectacular, and she'd at least admire the funeral pyre she made.

…although that pyre was looking a little closer than it had a couple of seconds ago…

Ibaraki stared into the heart of the flame, and gasped.

While fireballs rained down, Lancer's clay weapons rained up. Matching Ibaraki's output blow for blow, each and every ball of condensed power was met with a perfect spear, which neatly bisected the fireball and forced it to detonate early.

And, Ibaraki couldn't help but notice, the spears launched by Enkidu of Uruk very much didn't explode. At most, they were knocked off-course – but less and less so every moment. Worse, Ibaraki's fireballs were getting further and further from the ground before being intercepted. Little by little, Lancer was winning, and their spears were getting closer and closer to spitting her.

Ibaraki gritted her teeth and focused almost everything she had into blasting Lancer – while her right hand took the rest.

Fire filled her vision, filled her lungs, and she knew she had only seconds before Lancer's spears made it to her. This was it then. Everything she had.

"Great Grudge of Rashomon!" she screamed, and her right hand pounded Lancer to dirt, flashing to earth so fast she could only follow it by the flaming contrails it left behind.

She laughed madly. "Hahaha! Enough of a hammer for you, Chain of Heaven?"

"Not nearly."

Ibaraki felt a pain in her right palm, and gasped more in surprise than pain. She hadn't known anything even could injure her right hand when it was fully freed. She looked down – and froze, heart sinking.

Her right hand twitched, bound in loops and knots of golden chain and fixed to the earth, with two spears the size of small trees impaled straight through it. Lancer stood next to it, looking no worse for wear.

Her focus lost, Ibaraki lost her grip on the fireballs she'd been about to fire, and they exploded around her. That didn't hurt so much – she was all but immune to heat.

The spears they'd been about to intercept, however, hurt much more when they lodged themselves in her gut.

Ibaraki shrieked, and scrambled to pull them out. In her haste, she was unable to dodge when another golden chain wrapped itself around her ankle.

And then…

Then it was over.

Ibaraki lay face-up in the dirt, Lancer's foot on her neck and chains around every one of her limbs. She struggled, gathering power to rage and scream and break free…

…and Lancer reached out, plucked one of the first falling weapons to make it back to earth out of the air, and casually shoved it through her heart.

Ibaraki stilled, feeling power leak out of her broken core – and with that feeling, knew that she was dead.

Lancer seemed to read Ibaraki's feelings of despair and defeat in her face, because they nodded in satisfaction.

"It is finished, Ibaraki-douji of Mt Ooe," they said. "You fought well."

Ibaraki wanted to spit words of venom for his condescension, but couldn't muster up the strength. Lancer seemed to notice her distress, and held up a hand in acknowledgement.

"Oh, please don't misunderstand," Lancer said. "It wasn't close. But it was beautiful. Yes, this has served as a wonderful introduction to the War. Thank you, Servant Berserker."

Lancer raised their voice – and Ibaraki felt it, humming and singing through the very earth she lay on. Not loud, just everywhere at once. It was like Lancer was using the land itself to speak.

"There you have it, spectators. I believe myself to be the strongest Servant in this Grail War, and while I hardly have a use for such an item, I also have no intention of submitting to death, so Servants, please do consider this your notice of execution – all five of you listening." They turned their head, but Ibaraki couldn't see what they were looking at.

"If you wish to determine the hour of your death, I invite you all to come and find me in the forest behind the Kotomine Church. If you wish me to decide it for you, simply wait and I will find you."

Lancer stilled, a contemplative look on their face, and the earth stilled with them. After a moment, they spoke up again.

"For now, I think we have done more than enough damage to the people of this city, so let's say… three days of armistice. If any Servants fight for the next seventy-two hours, I will be very disappointed to hear about it – and I will hear about it. Let the people rebuild, let them heal. When that is done, we will resume our battle.

"That is all."

Ibaraki's vision began fading, and out the corner of her eye she could see herself slowly dissolving into orange motes of light.

Ah. This is how I die, then. Against the Chain of Heaven, I suppose there was no chance…

She thought of her Master. Goodbye, Ryuunosuke. Carry word of my deeds into the future.

She grit her teeth against the pain, as her torso began disappearing.

Next time, for sure, Shuten. We'll be together… I promise…

Ryuunosuke shed no tears as he felt Ibaraki's presence vanish from his mind.

He'd known this was coming. At the start of the War, he'd thought Ibaraki invincible, unstoppable. Watching her throw the temple gate through the temple everything, so long ago, he was sure nothing in the world could challenge her. How could it? The strength of armies, the ferocity of hell itself, and a pure lack of care as to what others called morality – she was his perfect predator, everything he aspired to.

How wrong he'd been. Ibaraki had been matched, and outmatched, at every turn. Despite everything either of them had tried, they'd only ever dug the hole they were in ever deeper, and brought more and more heat down onto themselves. Though Ibaraki managed to escape and survive, and though neither of them would admit it, they were fighting a losing battle.

But, more importantly, Ryuunosuke had come to understand that his Servant was forcing herself. His Servant Berserker threw herself forward with desperate abandon, focused on survival and victory and not having any fun whatsoever. Compared to the gleeful demon he'd seen in his dream, Ibaraki-douji with her full clan behind her and her beloved Shuten at her side, his Servant was a wreck.

If she hadn't been so focused on winning against the other six Servants, so sure they would all turn on her, perhaps she wouldn't have brought herself to their attention quite so readily.

And now, Ibaraki had met a foe so far beyond her that she couldn't deny her fate any more. From the moment Lancer had recovered from having their head chopped off, Ryuunosuke knew it was all over for Ibaraki.

Was it his fault?

Ryuunosuke shrugged. Well, maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. He'd never been one for feeling guilty, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. Instead, there was an entirely new feeling spreading in his tiny little cold dead heart.

Curiosity.

Death was his passion. His one real interest, the best thing ever. But… well, he'd just watched his Servant kill a city, and be ended in return by a monster that hadn't walked the earth in over six thousand years in a fight that levelled the mountain they were standing on. There just wasn't any real way to top that. He'd never get anywhere just killing things and watching them die.

But that was okay. Ibaraki had shown him how much he was missing.

A vision of violet eyes, and a smell of fruit, crawled across the front of his brain, and he smiled.

He knew, now, that there was more out there than just matter and energy – that the world wasn't so simple as it was described on the freaking Discovery Channel. There were monsters. There was magic. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted to learn more about death.

What actually happened when someone died? Where did the soul go? Where was the line? Could you bring someone back over it?

These thoughts filled Ryuunosuke's mind. He didn't know if there were answers… but becoming a wizard – a proper wizard, like Caster, not just a half-assed wannabe like he was now – seemed like a pretty good way to get them.

As he stared at the last fading orange motes that had been the demon that opened his eyes to the world of magic, he thought, Thank you, Ibaraki-douji. You were pretty kickass. I'll be fine.

First, though, he needed to live through the rest of the War.

He tore his gaze away, and looked over at Caster, frowning down at the scene of devastation beow them. "Hey, Caster."

"Hm?" The Servant of the Spell seemed distracted. "Oh. I'm so sorry for your loss, dear. These things happen, you know."

Ryuunosuke waved a hand. "Eh, don't worry about it. Berserker wouldn't have wanted me to grieve. Just, she also probably wouldn't have wanted me dead, so, um, if you could pretty please see about getting me to the Moderator…"

Caster blinked. "Ah, yes, of course. Do excuse me, I'm all out of sorts. I'll have to replan everything – none of my strategies were intended for use against the Chain of Heaven, you know… oh, what I am I saying, that's not for you to worry about. Here you are." She tapped her staff against the plane of force acting as a floor, and a blue-edged portal opened up in mid-air. "You stay safe now!"

"I intend to," said Ryuunosuke with a wink. "Toodles!"

He stepped through the portal.

He landed on soft earth, and the portal closed behind him. He looked around. He was in a forest, through a very sorry looking one. Most of the leaves had been shaken from the trees, and most of the rest had been set on fire from the heat, even this far away from the fight. From the looks of things, he'd gone from hovering over the top of the mountain to standing at the foot of it, in a single step.

So cool.

Up ahead, through the woods, he saw the Moderator, his back turned to him, as well as… a stripper in a nun costume? Well, if the old man needed some relaxation at the end of a long-ass day, Ryuunosuke couldn't blame him.

He started towards the pair, opening his mouth to shout. All he had to do was claim sanctuary, and he'd be set. He'd keep his head down throughout the rest of the War, then find out how you got to be a wizard. He'd learn everything he could about death.

Despite being the first person to be knocked out of the War, Ryuunosuke couldn't keep a grin off his face.

He couldn't wait to get started with his new life.

Risei leaned against a tree, panting. His body ached, his heart pounded in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He was thirty years too old for this. Or, possibly, considering just what was causing him his current headache, about six thousand years too young.

He'd run as soon as Berserker and Lancer had started fighting – and been blown off his feet within ten paces from the shockwaves. He'd rolled down the mountain for what had felt like a thousand years, avoiding hitting his head on a rock by what he could only assume was a miracle. When he'd come to a halt, he hadn't bothered trying to stand up, just crawled the rest of the way. Every time his shadow was cast in a sullen orange glow from behind, every time he felt the mountain shudder under impossible force, every time he heard the roar of a beast in agony, he'd steeled himself and pressed on.

Now, the silence settled with an awful pressure, and only the sound of his gasps told Risei he hadn't gone deaf. The mountain itself seemed to have died, still and unresponsive beneath his feet where before it had been twitching as if in pain.

He risked a glance behind him, up to the peak of Mount Enzo half hidden through the trees. It was dark, the shadows long and steady in the evening sun, no longer dancing crazily in the light of a hundred blasts of flame.

It was over, then, just as Lancer had said. Berserker was dead.

Risei heaved himself upright, and made his way down to the bottom of the hill, feeling every single one of his years. In front of him, Fuyuki came into view, hazy through the smoke. It was still on fire, Risei realised with a shock – the fire service had been one of the first things Berserker had hit, and the roads were simply too crammed with panicking people to organise any kind of response.

He rubbed his cheek, the burn scar from Berserker's red-hot caress still raw. The oni was dead, but the damage from her rampage remained.

And in the end, she'd died all the same. All that pain, all that suffering and chaos, for nothing.

His fault.

Risei knew it was madness to think this way. Berserker's sins were her own to bear. But by that token, Risei's sins were his own to bear as well, and he could not deny he'd had a part in it. His politicking with Tokiomi had wrought this, had created the conditions for Berserker to decide she had nothing more to lose – and even if he wasn't to bear the weight of all the lives lost that day, he couldn't simply wash his hands of the whole things and pass responsibility.

If nothing else, this would never happen again. Not on his watch.

And, up ahead, looking fretfully up at the mountain, was just the person he needed to speak to.

Rider gasped when she saw Risei limping down towards her, and rushed forward to support him. "Father Kotomine! My God, what has happened to you?"

He waved her off. "I'm fine, Rider. My old bones are bruised, that's all. I may be the Moderator, but I have no business being near a Servant battle…"

"I should think not!" Rider huffed indignantly. "Oh, that Berserker… I will pray for her passing, that she might be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord. But I won't be praying very hard!" She faltered, and looked around guiltily. "…oh dear, that's very unworthy of me, isn't it, Father? I just can't seem to muster up any mercy for that… that animal, even though I know the Saviour's mercy extends to all things. I suppose I have a long way to go to follow in His footsteps…"

Risei smiled, despite himself. Rider was refreshing to be around, and not just because she was a lovely young woman. She was a good person – the real deal, the kind that reaffirmed his faith in humanity in a world that all too often fell short of his ideals. While Rider lived, there was at least one righteous soul in the Grail War.

God knew, her Master wasn't one of them. Risei sighed heavily. The events of this day… it was too much. Tokiomi wasn't truly to blame, any more than Risei was, but that didn't change a thing – it was by his word and deed that the War was in the state it was. Risei had no desire to stand in his friend's way… but looking out over the city he'd helped to destroy, he knew he couldn't be part of Tokiomi's schemes any more.

But that was only half of it.

The Grail was too dangerous to pass into the hands of an unvetted, unknown magus. The Church had decided they could work with the Tohsaka family, who desired nothing more or less than the Third Magic created by the Einzberns all those years ago, and were unlikely to harm the world with their ambitions. In their hands, the Grail would do far less harm than if it were granted to the El-Mellois of the world, much less the Uryuu Ryuunosukes.

Now, however, there was another option. A way for the Grail to stay safe, with the people who truly respected its power.

Kirei would win the Grail. His son, his little boy, possibly the only other righteous soul in the War alongside Rider, who was humble and devout and had lived his days in service to the Lord. Yes. Risei could live with a man like that getting a wish.

And all he had to do to make it happen was let the War continue along its natural path. Let the most powerful Servant win. Having now seen Lancer's power, Risei couldn't imagine him losing to anyone. No-one could threaten Kirei's shot at the Grail.

No-one, except Tohsaka Tokiomi, who still commanded Kirei's loyalty.

Therefore, Tohsaka Tokiomi must be removed as a threat.

Risei breathed a deep sigh, and wished this burden had passed to another – then shook his head, annoyed with himself. The only other one it could have passed to was Kirei, and Risei would not wish that on him. Kirei was where he was meant to be, and Risei was too. The Lord never laid a heavier burden than it was possible to bear.

He cleared his throat, and began to sabotage his oldest friend.

"You're a good woman, Rider," he said. "I have truly enjoyed my time working with you."

Rider startled, and looked at him in concern. "Father? What are you saying? I thought you said you were alright! You're not going to die, Father, I swear it…"

Risei chuckled tiredly. "Indeed I am not. But I fear our time together has come to an end nevertheless. It has been… a very long day. A very trying day. Rider, could you please pass on a message to Tokomi for me?"

"I… yes, of course. What is it?"

"Please let him know that due to the circumstances of the day, the Church has decided to break off the unofficial alliance with the Tohsaka family. I'll not work against him… but I'll not work with him behind everyone's back either."

Rider looked anguished. "Father…"

"I know, child. But look at what we've achieved, with all our games and all our plotting." Risei gestured at… well, at everything. "I'm just a simple priest. I'm no good at this, and I need to stick to what I know. I'll moderate the War. I'll do my best to keep the people safe from now on. If Tokiomi wants to help with that, I'm willing to accept it. But I can't be part of his faction any more. You understand, don't you?"

Rider wrung her hands. "Is there no way I can convince you to stay? I know my Master seems cold, but I also know he is a good man! How could I be summoned if it were not the case? Please, Father…"

"I am truly sorry." Risei patted Rider's hand. "Tokiomi will always be my friend. But it is precisely because of that friendship that I cannot stay by his side and enable him. That much, today has made very clear. Instead, it is my duty to stand fast, as an example." He paused, and sprang his trap. "As a man of God, I can do no less."

He saw and felt Rider tense up, and Risei mourned the loss of his innocent, straightforward nature. Once, he had been like Kirei, not an ounce of guile in him. Now look at him. Perhaps it was only fitting to use Tokiomi's influence to sabotage his Servant's morale.

But it still didn't feel great.

"And… and me, Father? What shall I do?"

Risei sighed, and twisted the knife, hating himself all the while. "I would never ask you to put your duty to your Master above your duty to God. You shall do as your conscience demands, Rider."

The Servant was quiet. Risei could see the warring emotions play out across her face – Rider possessed many wonderful qualities, but a poker face was not one of them. Well, not in front of him, anyway. While she was every bit the perfect holy maiden in public, to her friends she was the same village girl that had met Christ and followed him into a new life.

Her duty to God was the highest priority in the world to her. Risei could hardly call himself her friend and not know that.

Of course, a friend wouldn't have used it as a weapon against her.

I am so sorry, Rider. Please forgive me. For the sake of the world, the Grail must go to Kirei. I cannot let Tokiomi demand it from his pupil, or let you convince Kirei he would be right to do so.

"Of course…" Rider said. "My duty to my Master…"

Risei decided not to push. The seed of doubt was planted.

There was a very small noise behind them. Risei turned to look into the dark woods, but saw nothing. He shivered. It was time to go home.

"Think nothing of it, Rider. Just pass on the message. And, if I could trouble you for a lift back to the church? I would call for a taxi, but I fear the roads are completely impassable still."

"Oh! Yes, of course, Father," Rider said, visibly brightening. "It would be my pleasure."

Yes, Risei reflected. Home, his bed, about a thousand painkillers for the beating that Berserker had put him through. That sounded wonderful.

It might even take his mind off the guilt gnawing at his heart.

Up in a tree, Serenity watched the Moderator and Rider go.

Things were happening, and very quickly. Until a few minutes ago, the urgent priority was to stop Berserker's rampage. The longer she spent torturing the city, the longer Kiritsugu spent torturing himself for choosing to let it continue rather than nip it in the bud – no matter how wrong he was to do so.

His ideals and soft heart would have him save the city, but his head and pragmatism had led him to allow it to suffer in order to draw out the other Masters. It had worked, but the cost had grown too great. To spare him the suffering – and, more pragmatically, because of her suspicions about Caster, Serenity had wanted to end it as soon as possible.

After that, the plan had been to work their way through the rest of the War at their leisure, having gathered more than enough intelligence. Serenity would have had to discuss it with Kiritsugu, but her own preference would have been to remove Caster first, as the Servant that got more dangerous the longer you left them.

And then Lancer had appeared.

The most powerful Servant possible, under the control of the most dangerous Master possible. Worse, Lancer had been able to detect her. During his speech at the end, challenging every Servant to come and die, they had been looking directly at her. The entire time.

Looking at her – the head of the Order, one of the best in history at not being seen, when she very, very much wanted not to be seen. She didn't know how that was possible, but there was no use denying it.

It was the nightmare scenario, and Serenity could already imagine her Master tearing his hair out in frantic worry – especially for his wife and his associate, working to attempt to kill Kotomine Kirei with no idea of the power he commanded.

The worst of it was, he would still let them do it. Having been convinced of his own compromised decision making where Kirei was concerned, he would grit his teeth and let Iri and Maiya go up against him, even knowing about Lancer. He would call it the move with the greatest chance of success, he would say they were both willing to sacrifice themselves for his cause, and all of that would be true.

But if they died because he let them go up against Kirei, he would never forgive himself for it. Even if he won the War, he wouldn't survive.

Serenity had to kill Kotomine Kirei. Or at least make sure Iri and Maiya survived doing so.

It… shouldn't be impossible. Kirei was still just a man. No matter how powerful his Servant was, he was still vulnerable. The problem was that Serenity couldn't even get close without Lancer knowing, and, having detected her, she would have no chance of survival.

However, Serenity was not one of the greatest killers in history for nothing. She would not fall to despair. When Allah sent adversity to test his faithful, you had to get creative.

Admittedly, nothing came to mind at the moment.

Serenity sighed, and dropped, light as a shadow, to the ground. For now, all she could really do was return to the Einzbern castle, to give her report of the battle to Kiritsugu and regroup with Iri and Maiya – and to plan their future steps.

First, though, she would have to clean up her tracks.

Starting with the first kill she'd made in the War, moments ago.

She pulled her knife from where it had buried itself in the former Master of Berserker's brainstem, and picked the corpse up by the scruff of the neck. Even in death, he was youthful and handsome, a cheerful grin on his face as if excited to go to meet whatever fate awaited him.

It was rather like locking the stable door after the horses had not only bolted but also laid waste to a city and massacred thousands, but better late than never. There was no use letting a potential Master run around as a loose end. While he had the Command Spells, even depleted as they were, he could still form a contract with a Servant. Somehow, Serenity didn't think anyone would miss Uryuu Ryuunosuke.

After a short prayer for his passing, she got to work. The river should do as a hiding place.

Ibaraki came to.

She was quite surprised by this, naturally.

It was pitch black, here in… wherever she was. Oni had excellent night vision, but this was as if even the possibility of light had been snuffed out.

Fortunately, she was in a position to do something about that.

With a flick of her wrist, a small flame, no more than a candle, hovered above her palm.

It didn't help at all. Wherever this was, there was nothing to illuminate.

"Ugh," came a voice from directly behind her. "No, you won't do at all."

Ibaraki whirled, but saw nothing. "Who goes there? I am Ibaraki-douji, and you will regret angering the scourge of Kyoto!"

"Oh, wow, the first Servant to be knocked out is threatening me. I'm shaking," came the voice in a mocking sneer. "You couldn't even kill that dragon, so you're no use to me whatsoever. Go on, get out of here."

Ibaraki felt herself fading once more. In a panic, she shed as much light as possible, trying to at least see the face of her attacker.

They were all swallowed up… but just before they were, she could just about make out a figure in black.

"Don't worry, O weak-ass Servant Berserker," they said. "Don't feel too bad about how you died like a chump. If it's any consolation, those other 'heroes' aren't going to last too much longer. After all…"

They leaned in close, and before she lost consciousness for good, Ibaraki saw a pale face full of malevolence.

"I'm gonna avenge you."

Chapter Text

The Grand Hyatt in Fuyuki was, by all accounts, a fine place to spend one's time – and with the luxury afforded by the El-Melloi wealth, the penthouse suite was grand indeed. No expense had been spared on the furnishings or facilities, the room service was catered by world-class chefs, and the view from the window over Fuyuki was breathtaking.

Sola-Ui Nuada-de Sophia-Ri was absolutely sick of it.

She had enthusiastically gone along with her fiancé's plan for the Holy Grail War – frankly, she'd been impressed the primping fool had even that much guile in him, and didn't want to squash the first spark of anything interesting she'd seen in him. She would take over as the primary source of prana for the summoned Servant, while Kayneth took charge of the Command Spells, saving his considerable magical reserves for fighting enemy Masters.

Well. She'd had her doubts that Kayneth would actually get involved in the fighting himself, but she approved of the plan.

What she hadn't realised, though, was just how boring her part in it would be. She was a vital asset in the upkeep of Saber, but was totally, completely vulnerable, her reduced output hampering even the basic self-defence magic she'd bothered to learn over the years. Thus, the best move was for her to simply remain in Kayneth's atelier, behind layers and layers of magical defences, safe from harm.

It was undoubtedly the smartest plan. Saber had agreed so, after all.

But god, if she never saw these walls again it'd be too soon.

Kayneth was still sleeping off the effort of the day before. Or so he said. To Sola-Ui's mind, Saber had done most of the work, so if anything she, Sola-Ui, should be the one feeling drained. Even so, Kayneth had dragged himself in after everything was said and done last night, ordered Saber to debrief Sola-Ui on the events of the day, then gone to bed and not stirred for hours.

And because Kayneth had asked, Saber had agreed, of course.

The Knight of White Lilies was, if nothing else, efficient at relaying information. They spoke of Berserker's rampage, the damage done to the city, the unscheduled meeting between all Masters at the church, Berserker's flight and battle against Saber and Archer, her final retreat to Mt Enzo… and how Lancer had entered the War and crushed Berserker in minutes, then called a three-day ceasefire.

Whether or not any other Masters would honour it remained to be seen, but the night, at least, had been quiet – if Saber had encountered any trouble, they hadn't woken Kayneth or Sola-Ui, or exerted themselves enough for Sola-Ui to notice the pull on her prana reserves. For once, she'd had a good night's sleep.

Sola-Ui slipped out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown, and paused on her way out of the room to regard her sleeping fiancé.

Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi was handsome enough, all fine aristocratic features and blond hair. Certainly his family was prestigious enough, one of the twelve great Lordships of the Clock Tower. Kayneth himself was an exceedingly talented magus, reaching the rank of Pride in his teens and only accelerating his growth from there.

Oh, of course, he had his share of flaws. He was arrogant, like most of the aristocratic magi families. He was stubborn, and almost childish at times in his desire to play with his Mystic Codes and toys. He was stubborn, and would refuse to listen to ideas he didn't like but keep on ploughing ahead with his bullheaded assumptions.

But, really, as magi went, he was positively saintly. For his part, Kayneth had seemed genuinely delighted by his betrothal, and seemed to go out of his way to make sure Sola-Ui felt included and valued. He always treated her as a woman, and not simply as an unquickened womb or experimental material. There was nothing wrong with him, as a magus or a person.

Sola-Ui just didn't love him, that was all.

As if that had anything to do with it. Her older brother Bram had been chosen to succeed the Sophia-Ri Crest, so as far as her family was concerned Sola-Ui was good for nothing more than a political pawn and breeding stock. She'd promptly been promised to Kayneth, who (her family excitedly reminded her) was a prodigy, and a lord, and whose children with her would certainly surpass this generation.

Sola-Ui had smiled, and said all the appropriate things, and tried to get used to the idea of living with this man for the rest of her life.

So far, she hadn't been able to convince herself to look forward to it. The sole bright spot was that, unlike most magi that ended up married to Lords, she was at least able to contribute, to control her destiny. For as long as Kayneth saw her as useful, she wouldn't have to worry about being discarded again.

And so, here she was, stuck in a hotel room on the wrong side of the world, with a man she barely tolerated, forced to supply prana to a Servant and with absolutely nothing to do. With Kayneth asleep, Saber apparently didn't feel the need to bother materialising and keeping Sola-Ui company, so she wandered over to the coffee table.

On it was a scattered selection of notes arranged in six piles, some in Sola-Ui's own handwriting and others copied from mythological texts. She sat down and absentmindedly picked up the closest sheet.

Desperate for something to divert herself through the long lonely days of the War, Sola-Ui had thrown herself into research. She and Kayneth had already gone over the dossiers on the other Masters – limited, extremely so, neither the El-Melloi and Sophia-Ri families having information networks that reached a backwater like Japan – but, in the long hours while Kayneth was out with Saber, she had done her best to try and identify enemy Servants, along with any weaknesses they might have.

It had been grim and disheartening work.

Representing the Matou, Atalante the huntress, one of the legendary Argonauts, famous as the swiftest hero in all of Greece. A master of the bow, she'd landed the first hit on the Calydonian Boar – and, quite unfairly in Sola-Ui's opinion, also had enough skill in close combat to defeat Peleus, the father of Achilles. She'd been tricked by a golden apple, and at the end of her life was turned into a lion – neither of which were options available to Kayneth.

For some reason, her Noble Phantasm wasn't able to affect Saber. Which was a good thing, of course. Sola-Ui's lip curled as she looked at the next page.

For the Tohsaka, Saint Martha of Bethany, famous for witnessing Jesus Christ himself raise her brother Lazarus from the dead, then later travelling to France and quelling the river dragon Tarrasque. Through his familiars, Kayneth had seen her summon the shell of the dragon. That it was proof against Atalante's arrows was only to be expected, but worrying nevertheless.

Neither Kayneth nor Saber had seen the dragon itself, and Sola-Ui hadn't either – but when, last night, she'd heard roaring from outside, she'd rushed to the window just in time to see something cause an almighty splash in the Mion River.

Sola-Ui couldn't find a weakness in Saint Martha's legend. The only saving grace was that it appeared as though both Tohsaka and Matou had used a Command Spell against each other, to no effect. Pointless, but if these provincial magi wanted to waste their strength against each other she certainly wasn't going to argue. Sola-Ui moved on.

Waver Velvet seemed to prey on her fiancé's mind, prideful fool that he was. Sola-Ui could not see why he was so worried – the boy was a weak magus, only third-generation, and an impetuous blowhard at that. His Caster-class Servant's identity was unknown, and for some reason Saber seemed very concerned about her.

Ridiculous. Saber came with Magic Resistance as a Class Skill for a reason. Waver, and his Caster, could be safely discounted.

More concerning was the Magus Killer, Emiya Kiritsugu, and his anonymous Assassin. Sola-Ui had heard all the horror stories of what that monster had done to magi and their Crests. It was a good thing he was saddled with a weak Servant like Assassin – there was no telling what he'd be capable of with someone like Saber.

And he was, by all accounts, a weak magus himself, relying on trickery and barbaric modern weaponry to slay his targets. If Kayneth could manage to face him openly, that would be half the battle won – even without Volumen Hydragyrum, Kayneth was ten times the magus Emiya was. The problem would be pinning the coward down.

Ibaraki-douji, the leader of the Mt Ooe bandits… was no longer a problem. The War was well rid of such an eyesore, and her no-name Master as well.

And then, there was the six thousand year old, unkillable Divine elephant in the room. The priest, Kotomine Kirei, had somehow summoned the Man of Clay, Enkidu. Worse, from what Kayneth had heard, it appeared that Kotomine's student-mentor alliance with Tohsaka was not quite so severed as that of Kayneth and Waver Velvet. Tohsaka denied it, of course, but the Master of Assassin seemed very sure.

Sola-Ui didn't see just what was preventing the priest boy from using Enkidu to, you know, win the War already. If such a power had been given to her…

Well. No use wishing.

The day wore on. No enemy Servants came attacking, and there were no sounds of battle audible from the city outside the window. For now, it seemed as though Lancer's threat was enough to keep even the Holy Grail War in line.

In the late morning, Sola-Ui was distracted from her brooding by a whirl of white petal-like motes. Saber appeared, already posed in a courtly bow.

So beautiful. Always so beautiful. Whatever else one might have thought about the ambiguous Servant, the one thing even Sola-Ui couldn't deny was that Saber was, bar none, the most gorgeous person she had ever seen, with a slender, androgynous figure emphasised by their skintight breeches, and with smooth pale skin and heart-stoppingly lovely features. Sola-Ui gritted her teeth.

"Lady Sophia-Ri," they said, in that ringing voice that could have been a youthful boy's or a mature woman's. "Master has awakened, and wishes to hold a strategy meeting, in light of the events of yesterday. He would be honoured if you could attend, and provide your valuable insight."

Sola-Ui doubted that was precisely how Kayneth had put it. Saber was very adept at buttering her up, it seemed. Still, what was she going to do, refuse?

"Very well," she said. "I was just thinking about the state of the War in any case. Tell Master I shall be right through."

Saber favoured her with a beautiful smile. "With pleasure, my lady." They dematerialised, and Sola-Ui's fists clenched. She forced herself to relax, and stalked through to the dining room they had been using for 'official' meetings.

Kayneth's face lit up when she entered. "Ah, Sola-Ui. I hope you slept well?"

"Well enough," she said curtly. "What is this about?"

To his credit, Kayneth faltered for only half an instant before smiling back at her. "Ah, ever keen to get on with the mission. I share your thoughts, of course. To answer your question – this seems like a good time to take stock, and to decide our next steps in the War. All Servants have now at least made an appearance, and the first Servant has fallen. Up to now the War has very much been driven by Berserker's actions – now, it is high time we think about what the next stage will look like."

So far, so obvious. Sola-Ui prevented herself from rolling her eyes as she answered. "Honestly, Kayneth. You don't need me to tell you how to run things, or my permission to do so. Saber is your Servant, not mine, I think we're all very aware of that."

Kayneth tilted his head, confused. "I still value your input, Sola-Ui, you know that. You're just as much a part of this team as I or Saber are. I'm sorry if that hasn't been made clear."

Hmph. Sola-Ui sat down, the opposite end of the table to Kayneth. "Well, then. If you're interested in my opinion, here it is. As it stands, from what you and Saber have told me, Lancer is the greatest threat to winning the War. While they exist, no-one else stands a chance. To my mind, if this conversation doesn't somehow end with a solution for that problem, we may as well throw ourselves out the window right now and save ourselves the time."

"Graphic, but essentially correct," Kayneth said with a chuckle. "Saber and I had come to the same conclusion ourselves. However, that doesn't necessarily make them our first priority."

Oh, so he'd been talking with Saber without her? Yeah, Sola-Ui was feeling so very valued right now. She sneered. "No? I know I'm not some bigshot prodigy, but it seems pretty simple to me. We can't win the War while Lancer's still around, but we've got a chance against everyone else. So, the most important thing is to get rid of Lancer."

Kayneth nodded. "At some point, yes. But Saber had a different view, which I feel holds merit. Saber?"

At Kayneth'd words, Saber materialised, standing deferentially behind Kayneth, every inch the perfect knight. Sola-Ui didn't miss the implication. They could have appeared at the table, between their two Masters. They could have appeared off to the side. Instead, Saber placed themselves squarely on Kayneth's side… and opposite Sola-Ui's.

"Thank you, Master," they said. "If I may – attacking Lancer would not be advisable. Even with the combined efforts of every other Master and Servant in the War, victory would not be certain… or rather, it would be certain – certain to end in our defeat. This is not a slight on you as Masters. I could not hope for a greater lord to serve than the El-Melloi head, and your support so far has been superb." They smiled down at Kayneth, and laid a fond hand on his shoulder. Kayneth laid his own over it briefly, and Saber went on, turning a polite smile on Sola-Ui. "And Lady Sophia-Ri, your supply of prana has likewise been adequate."

Adequate, was she? Sola-Ui couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the sight of Saber's delicate fingers on Kayneth's shoulder. Her stomach twisted, and she managed to turn her face away.

"Brave of you to admit your own incompetence, Saber," she gritted out. "You had almost begun to impress me, but I suppose your legend is still too new. Well, I suppose disappointment was to be expected, with this one providing the basis for your summon." She smiled sharply, hoping Kayneth would take it as a joke.

He didn't seem amused. "Saber has performed above my wildest expectations. That they cannot defeat the Chain of Heaven is no fault against them, simply the luck of the draw."

"Ah, you are too kind, Master." Saber put a hand to their head with a flourish. "Despite my age I am mighty enough, and I flatter myself my skill with a blade is unequalled in this War… but the fact is that Lancer is simply too powerful. However, this does not leave us without options."

Kayneth leaned forward, an excited gleam in his eye. "If the Servant is too powerful, we must fight the Master."

It made sense, Sola-Ui supposed, but hardly left them in a better position. Any Servant was only a Command Spell away from being at their Master's side. And besides that…

"Are you sure you can handle Kotomine Kirei, even so? I'm sure you're a better magus than he is, but do bear in mind he's spent his life hunting magi like you. A fight between you may not go your way."

Inwardly, Sola-Ui cursed, because she knew she was just needling her fiancé. Was this what she'd been reduced to? She braced herself for Kayneth's indignant reaction.

"You are quite right."

Huh? Sola-Ui looked at her arrogant, overconfident fiancé, unsure if she had heard correctly.

Kayneth chuckled. "Surprised to hear me admit it? A week ago, I would not have. But, experiencing this War alongside Saber… it has opened my eyes to many things. I know full well, now, the difference between power and skill – and, too, the difference between technical mastery and the ability to succeed in the field. If I achieve nothing else in this War, I will take that lesson and count it as time well-spent."

"Wonderful, Master," Saber gushed. "Truly, every day you make me glad to be the one who answered your summons. With you by my side, we shall both display the finest virtues of nobility, and demonstrate our fitness to hold the responsibility of Lord and Knight – if we hold fast, even Lancer will fall, I swear it!"

Sola-Ui could barely look. "Fine," she grated. "So, what's your plan for Kotomine? Just attacking him from the front isn't going to work, even if it's Saber – he'll summon Lancer and that'll be that."

"Indeed. Saber cannot hold off Lancer, and even if they could it is by no means certain I would prevail over Kotomine Kirei, even with Volumen Hydragyrum. However, all is not lost." He smiled up at Saber. "Saber's talents are not limited to the battlefield – and one of their other skills may serve us well here. Diplomacy."

Saber gave a little bow.

Ah. Yes, that made sense. Sola-Ui began to see where all this was heading. "You plan to enter an alliance with another Master and Servant. Two Servants might be enough to hold back Lancer long enough for two magi to defeat Kotomine. That might work, yes. Who?"

Kayneth opened his mouth, but Saber cut in. "We would be interested in hearing your opinion, Lady Sophia-Ri," they said. "Again – we value your input, and this decision affects you too. My word to you: we won't ever decide something like this by ourselves." They shot a dazzling smile at Sola-Ui, who returned it frostily.

"Well," she began, somewhat mollified by the fact that she was being allowed to actually give her opinion. "I imagine Waver Velvet is out. You'd never trust him, and he'd never trust you – it'd be a terrible idea all round. For the same reason, I cannot see an alliance with the Magus Killer working well." She tapped her lips, in thought. "From what Saber said, Tohsaka is working with Kotomine. I doubt he would support an attack on his student like that. Which leaves…"

Kayneth nodded. "Kariya Matou, the Master of Archer. A powerful Servant, a magus from," he sniffed, "at least a halfway-respectable family, and most importantly…"

"I can work well with Archer," said Saber. "Our skills complement each other, we cover for each other's weaknesses, and Archer is the best suited Servant to potentially sidestep the whole issue and slay the Master of Lancer from afar, aside from Assassin. And, of course," they laughed lightly behind a silken glove, "They already know Archer's Noble Phantasm is useless against me. That allows for some quite potent combination assaults – not to mention, it puts us in rather a dominant position in the relationship. Matou would be a fool to refuse an offer of alliance from us."

Shrewd. Sola-Ui looked at Saber with narrowed eyes. They worked so well as a straightforward combat asset, and behaved so servile outside that role, it was easy to forget that Chevalier d'Eon was a crafty, intelligent spy and diplomat.

Like, for example, just now. Saber had made a big show of including Sola-Ui, but in reality it had been a foregone conclusion from the start. If she had been a little less cautious, she might well have just accepted it, never realised she was being manipulated into believing she really was valuable as something other than a prana battery.

From the proud smile on Kayneth's face as he looked between his Servant and his fiancée, he wasn't being cautious around Saber at all. Sola-Ui folded her arms.

"So? You're forming an alliance with Matou. Great job, well done for Saber's diplomatic skills. Then what? Go straight after Kotomine?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," said Kayneth, waving a hand. "At the moment, Kotomine is secure. How could he be otherwise? More to the point, he and Tohsaka have both shown themselves to be patient, unlikely to be disruptive. They can afford for us to come to them, and I think that is just what we shall do… in time. Instead – if Matou is willing – I intend for us to turn our attention to more volatile agents."

Sola-Ui sighed. "So, just as before, this is all about Waver Velvet. Why am I not surprised?"

"Not just Waver Velvet," said Kayneth. "The Magus Killer is clearly too uninhibited to run free. He threatened you, Sola-Ui." His eyes hardened. "Bluff or not, empty boasting or not… no-one tests the El-Melloi like that. I won't forgive him."

Saber smiled, and caressed Kayneth's shoulder. "Just so, Master. Such a slight demands satisfaction, and it will be my pleasure to act as your champion." They winked at Sola-Ui. "A poor knight I would be if I could not protect my liege's lady love, no?"

That did it. Sola-Ui stood up. "Well. You two clearly have this in hand, I see. You clearly know very well what you want to do. Far be it from me to dissuade you. Do have fun. If you need me, you know where to find me." With that, she swept out of the room, ignoring Kayneth's weak protests.

She flounced into the sitting room, and all but threw herself onto the sofa.

Damn him. Damn them both. The worst of it was, they weren't wrong. Of course Kayneth's perfect Saber wouldn't make such mistakes. Very likely, what they proposed was the right course of action. Sola-Ui had no doubt Kayneth and Saber could carry out their plan just fine.

Without her.

Chapter Text

The Tohsaka mansion was, by some way, the most lavish place Saint Martha of Bethany had ever lived. Even if, as a Servant, she didn't need to sleep – and so far, most of her nights had been taken up with making sure Archer didn't level the place – Tokiomi had kindly offered her an empty room to call her own.

There were quite a lot of those.

It was a lovely, finely-furnished thing, and Martha would be lying if she didn't admit that she'd jumped up and down on the giant fluffy bed in excitement, that first night.

After a while, though, all the grand décor started feeling… soulless.

Some of the best times in Martha's life were marked by simplicity. She'd been happy, as a simple village girl in Asia Minor – and then the Saviour had arrived, had changed her life for ever, and after that things were still simple but in a different way. Having seen the truth of the Lord, she decided there and then she would follow His example and His way, and she would thus both safeguard her immortal soul and deliver others from evil. It wasn't hard.

There were ten quite well-known rules, to start with.

Sometimes it had been difficult, of course – but Martha had never once regretted it. She had always considered herself fortunate to have a clear sense of right and wrong, and wherever her heart led her, there righteousness lay.

Now… now she was troubled. Deeply so.

Martha was in the habit of giving thanks for small blessings – and of the blessings she found herself with, in this strange existence she now found herself in, one of the greatest was to have found a friend here in Kotomine Risei. The priest was kindly, patient, and genuinely interested in what she had to say, without putting her on a pedestal just because some old men she'd never met had sainted her after death.

New friends were a joy to meet, and she could not have asked for a dearer one than Risei. That Martha's Master was friends with him, enough to run the War in tandem, was surely providence smiling upon her.

Lately, however, Risei had been giving her a lot to think about.

I would never ask you to put your duty to your Master above your duty to God. You shall do as your conscience demands, Rider.

Yes… a lot to think about indeed.

Martha was a Servant – which made her role unclear. She knew it was impossible for her – that was, the Martha that now paced back and forth in her room, and talked and felt and saw and thought – to be her actual soul, returned from the Kingdom of Heaven. Like any Servant, she was a simple copy in the shape of someone long since passed.

In other words, she was a tool for the purpose of delivering the Grail to her Master.

The question was, did this tool called Martha not have a higher purpose?

Like any Servant, she had been called to the War by the presence of the so-called 'Grail'. Most Servants desired it in order to make a wish. Martha's view was different. One story behind the Grail legend was that it was the cup that received the blood of the Saviour at the Last Supper.

Personally, Martha had never heard of such a thing. However, if it were true, then it would be a relic of unparalleled holiness and significance. If possible, it should be returned to the hands of the Church – and it especially must not be allowed to become a simple wish-granting artefact.

No, Martha would personally intervene before she let that happen, and crush all those that sought to pervert the power of the relic to simply grant their earthly desires. She would smash her foes aside with righteous fury, and against the chosen agent of the Lord none would stand, until she stood victorious and triumphant over a field of broken heathens.

… not that she enjoyed fighting, of course.

And in the past, it would have been that simple. A week ago, it had been that simple. While Tohsaka Tokiomi was a magus, and Martha did not trust magi as a rule, he was at least of the faith. And Kotomine Risei vouched for him, which meant a lot. Her Master's goal did not seem to be so terribly objectionable – as Risei explained it, it could be seen as the pursuit of enlightenment, and a path towards becoming closer to God.

Martha had accepted this, mostly on the strength of Risei's recommendation, even if she privately felt that becoming closer to God didn't really count if you were taking a shortcut. The Lord had intended one way of becoming closer to Him – nothing less than salvation for mankind, through the sacrifice of His son Jesus Christ. Anything else was… bordering on heresy.

Still Martha was willing to fight. From what little she had seen of the other Masters and Servants, the Grail going to her and Tokiomi was the best outcome.

And then Risei had abandoned their cause.

Now… now she found herself, for the first time in a long while, unsure as to what was the right thing to do.

So, ever since she had retrieved her staff from the bottom of the river – or, well, gotten Tarrasque to retrieve it, but what good was a river dragon if you couldn't send him to pick things up for you? – she had spent the day in her quarters in prayer. The Tohsaka mansion didn't have a chapel, but she was a saint, for goodness' sake, wherever she chose to pray would be holy enough.

And, praying for guidance was where Tokiomi's voice found her.

Rider, he said. Please come to the living room. Kirei and I are almost ready to begin our strategy meeting.

At once, Master, Martha said, rising from her knees. She brushed herself down and straightened her headdress, checking herself in the mirror. It wouldn't do to present anything less than her best foot forward, no matter how troubled her thoughts may be.

It had initially surprised Martha to learn that her Master had formed an alliance before the War had even started – but, she had decided, she would be thankful. It was one less thing to worry about during the opening stages, she was sure she would be able to work with any family of Risei's, and of course any help in battle would be welcome.

The real thing had been a little disappointing. According to Tokiomi, Kotomine Kirei had – by a complete fluke – succeeded in summoning a vastly more powerful Servant than anticipated. The focus for winning the War was now all on Lancer, rather than Martha herself. While she was grateful not to be expected to fight, it did bother her a little how easily Tokiomi had abandoned his plans for her upon obtaining a more valuable resource. It was logical, but… well, it felt a little coldhearted.

But she hadn't been summoned to give her opinion. Lancer would be held in reserve until more was known about each Servant, and until the other Masters had had time to draw up allegiances, grievances and battle lines – had Lancer made their entrance from the start, the whole War would be united against them. This way, there would be distractions, infighting, and confusion, ensuring Lancer was free to bring all their strength to bear.

Of course, Berserker had rather spoiled that plan.

Martha made her way down the stairs, and entered the living room that served as Tokiomi's main base of operations.

Tokiomi lounged on the sofa, a glass of red wine in his hand. Relaxed as only a magus surrounded by allies in his own home could be, he still took pains to present a dignified air. Martha approved – of that, if nothing else. She sat down next to her Master, on the other end of the sofa.

"Welcome, Rider," he said. "Kirei shall be here momentarily."

And… that was that. There wasn't any more the two had to say to each other – not here, not right now. Tokiomi was the Master, and Martha would be his Servant, and neither of them would step outside those roles.

The living room lapsed into silence, until the door opened.

Kotomine Kirei entered silently. He glanced at Martha as he passed to sit in a stiff-backed dining chair, but didn't smile.

Martha nodded to him anyway. Kirei was so different to the warm-hearted Risei that it was hard to believe they were related. Nevertheless, he was a man of the cloth, and Risei had only good things to say about him.

"Excellent," said Tokiomi. "Kirei, are we-"

He broke off, looking towards the doorway. Martha followed his gaze – and startled.

Servant Lancer, the Chain of Heaven, strolled casually through the door to sit cross-legged at Kirei's feet.

Martha liked to think she was fairly unflappable, at least when it came to scary monsters. But now, she found herself hyperfocused on Lancer, and wishing she were in a wider space so that she could call on Tarrasque. Every sense she had was screaming at her that there was an enemy in the room.

One she had absolutely no chance of defeating.

She remembered that night - remembered the earth quaking, the sky-piercing blasts of flame, the rain of masterwork weapons. She couldn't go up against that. Not even with Tarrasque, not even using her Jacob's Limbs fighting style, not with every advantage she could ever wish for. It would take literal divine intervention for her to even make it out alive.

But, she firmly reminded herself, she and Lancer were on the same side. She was being silly. More than that, she had never made a habit of being ruled by her impulses – well, not for long anyway – so she forced herself to smile politely at Servant Lancer while her heart hammered in her chest.

For their part, they seemed utterly relaxed, and returned her smile with apparently genuine joy.

From what Martha had seen the night before, no wonder they didn't seem threatened.

"Ah…" Tokiomi blinked, seemingly not quite sure how to react. "Welcome, Lancer. I, ah, was not expecting you at this strategy meeting."

"Naturally," said Lancer, inclining their head. "I invited myself. I found myself curious as to what my Master found so vital about them – and, of course, now that I am in the open I believe I am pivotal to every discussion about the future of the War. That being the case, I thought Kirei might benefit from my input."

"I see." Tokiomi was silent for a few seconds, but seemed to collect himself. "Then… we shall move on. Kirei, are we expecting your father at all?"

"We are not," came the blunt reply. "He appears to have withdrawn his support fully."

"A shame," said Tohsaka, sighing deeply. "His aid was hardly necessary – but it was welcome nonetheless. It appears all are present who are going to be, then." He clapped his hands, and jewels hidden in recesses within the walls began to glow, tracing elaborate designs across the walls. It was an anti-eavesdropping spell, Martha knew, sealing the confines of the room so that no-one could peer within by magical means. Tokomi sat back, satisfied, when it was done. "Are we observed?"

"No Servants nearby," said Martha, as she had at every strategy meeting thus far. It wasn't much, but Servants' ability to sense each other could come in handy.

Lancer smiled. "Indeed. All other Servants are within their own territories, with the exceptions of myself and Caster, who is on her way back to Mount Enzou. I cannot sense Assassin, but this equally means they cannot be anywhere nearby. Nor is Emiya Kiritsugu's associate in the vicinity, either," he added, turning to Kirei. "If we are secured against scrying from Caster – and with her on the move I believe it unlikely she is testing us – then we are truly private."

Martha's lips parted in surprise, and she stared at Lancer. She had an idea that they had some advanced sensory capabilities, but on that level? She shuffled her feet, embarrassed to have been outperformed so conclusively.

"Very well. Then on, I suppose, to our first order of business," Tokiomi said, swirling the wine in his glass in thought. "In fact, your being here makes things simpler in some regards, Lancer. It is my intention to press the advantage. Your power is overwhelming… startlingly so. The last thing we need is for someone to think of a way around it, or find a weakness to exploit. The best course of action is to immediately go on the offensive, before the other Masters can react to the new threat."

Kirei's face was impassive. "I understand."

"Good," said Tokiomi. "I believe our first target should be-"

"Excuse me," said Lancer. All eyes in the room turned to them. "The War is currently on hold. For two days more. Let the city rebuild. Let the people heal. After that, we may begin anew."

A silence fell in the Tohsaka mansion. Tokiomi looked at Kirei, who appeared uncertain. Martha looked back and forth between her Master and Lancer. Lancer, for their part, simply sat, utterly unconcerned.

"That… is what you said, I acknowledge," said Tokiomi carefully. "And, of course, I would never wish harm on the residents of my city. But, Lancer, we are running a War here. There will be casualties. Access to the Root is at stake here, every magus' dream. Sad as it may seem, pitting a few thousand lives against that is… really not much, in the end."

"I imagine those lives feel rather differently," said Lancer quietly.

Martha sat frozen, stuck between two impulses. Of course, she was a loyal Servant, and had pledged to support her Master's fight for the Grail. And, of course, she was not so naïve as to believe it could be won without any casualties.

But, the truth was, she agreed with every word of Lancer's. And she was very worried that her Master didn't seem at all concerned.

Tokiomi switched targets, apparently deciding the other Servant was a lost cause. "Kirei, do you not see the logic in maintaining the offensive? I know little of what the Executors teach, but surely it cannot be to back off when victory is in your grasp."

Kirei shuffled in position. "It is not."

"Of course not. It is only sensible to maintain the momentum. And, of course, our foes are varied and cunning. You were worried about Emiya Kiritsugu, were you not? Do you wish to give him time to plot against you?"

Kirei's face flickered through a range of emotions. "I… am unsure as to my intentions regarding Emiya Kiritsugu."

"Then please, my pupil," said Tokoimi, spreading his hands and smiling genially. "Let me guide you, as I always have. To remain motionless for the entirety of the three days is folly. I advise you to strike, and swiftly. Now. Our main priority is to-"

Lancer tapped a hand on the floor.

The room shook, plaster falling from the ceiling and the furniture shuddering in protest. Martha tensed, ready to leap to her Master's defence, as futile as it might be.

"I said," Lancer continued politely, as though nothing had happened. "The War is on hold. For the next two days."

Tokiomi stared at Lancer in impotent fury. He turned to Kirei. "Kirei, please-"

"Kirei, remember what I said," interrupted Lancer smoothly, voice easily drowning out Tokiomi's. "You are a man just as any other, blessed with a will and soul of your own. Think about what you want." They glanced at Tokomi. "I am your Servant, not Tohsaka Tokiomi's. I will do as you wish – once you decide what that is."

"Will you?" said Tokiomi, voice acid. "To me, Kirei, it looks very much like you are letting your Servant control you rather than the other way around."

Kirei looked helplessly between his Servant and his teacher.

"As it happens, Kirei was the one who asked for the ceasefire," said Lancer mildly. "I have never wished harm on the innocent, so I acquiesced. How do you feel about your choice, Kirei?"

"It was… the Christian thing to do," said Kirei. He frowned, as though unsatisfied. "It was the right action, I know it. All scripture says so, and I have been taught all my life to stand up for those who cannot help themselves."

"That's not what I asked," said Lancer quietly.

Kirei looked at his Servant, face anguished. He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes darting – for some reason – to Martha. The moment stretched on.

Lancer sighed. "Oh well. Think on it, Master."

"Thank you," said Martha, suddenly. She hadn't planned to say anything, but she thought it ought to be said. "For thinking of such a thing, I mean, Kirei. And thank you for agreeing, Lancer. It is right that the innocent should be defended, and you should feel proud of yourself for having the conscience to do so. My heart has been heavy in this War, but knowing I am allied to such good-hearted people makes a world of difference."

For some reason, Kirei looked even more uncomfortable at that. "Yes…" he said. "Good-hearted…" He subsided, and folded his hands together, face returning to a neutral mask.

Tokiomi scowled at her, apparently unhappy with how his Servant was throwing her support behind someone else.

Lancer sighed. "Well. It is done, in any case. Master of Rider, I suggest you begin making plans to take into account the new reality, because I certainly have no intention of breaking the ceasefire – or allowing anyone else to do so. Not until my Master orders me otherwise, of his own will."

Tokiomi ground his teeth together, incensed. Then he grabbed his glass and drained the contents in a single swallow. He glared round the room. "Fine. We shall have to adapt. With the Chain of Heaven on our side," he looked severely at Lancer, "there is little that can go wrong in any case.

"With such an overwhelming advantage in direct combat, I believe our biggest threats to be to our own person, as Masters. Therefore – when the ceasefire is over, naturally – we should prioritise Assassin and Archer as our biggest threats, with the next greatest being Caster, depending on how long we leave them. I can only imagine what kind of mischief the Servant of the Spell may get up to if she is allowed to operate unsupervised…"

Martha let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, while the discussion continued around her.

Conflict had been avoided, for now. But… it seemed Lancer was not quite so co-operative as Tokiomi hoped. Clearly the Servant had some agenda for their Master, even if it was only to prevent him being so biddable.

Martha wasn't worried for Kirei. She wasn't an expert in reading people, and certainly couldn't begin to guess the motives of such an ancient and inhuman presence as Lancer. But she had a feeling that, whatever else they wanted, they had Kirei's best interests at heart.

It made her think. She had been her Master's perfect, passive Servant. And she was fine with that role. But… she was a saint now. Countless people across the world looked to her for guidance, no matter how bizarre a thought that seemed to her, the village girl from Bethany. If Lancer had taken the War as an opportunity to shape the young man they'd been matched with… how could she do any less?

Tokiomi was, in all ways, a perfect magus, which meant he wasn't much of a good man. His acceptance of the reality of casualties in the pursuit of his own power bordered on the callous, and if it weren't for his genuine friendship with Risei, Martha would have doubted her Master had any emotional attachments at all.

And yet, the Grail had seen fit to match him with a saint.

Martha couldn't help thinking that was a sign.

She smiled, inwardly, a new resolution filling her with warmth like a cup of tea on a cold morning, both releasing the tension she felt and rousing her spirits for the path ahead.

This, then, was her purpose – the reason she had been called here as a Servant, even though she had no use for a false Grail. She would fight, to the best of the considerable abilities and with the aid of her mighty ally that chance placed in her path, and help her Master achieve his wish, just as every good Servant should.

And along the way, she would save his soul, so that the man who made that wish was not the coldhearted perfect magus, but a righteous man, who would do so in service to the glory of God.

Chapter Text

One of the best things about having an incomparable super-genius for a Servant was the knowledge that, with enough time to work on a problem, you could fix anything.

And, even twenty-four hours after Berserker's rampage had ended, Fuyuki needed a lot of fixing. Waver hurried, muscles burning, through the suburbs that he'd grown so familiar with over just the last few days – now transformed into a scene from hell. Ash and soot coated every surface, painting the houses a stark, bleak monochrome. Smoke still rose from a dozen places on this street alone, because all the roads were blocked and Berserker had murdered the fire service in any case. Twice today Waver had seen a fire suddenly flare back up out of control, the wind catching it at the wrong moment or a collapsing wall letting in more air.

Trees, uprooted. Telephone poles, thrown to the ground. Rubble, everywhere. Waver had never visited the site of a hurricane or other natural disaster, but he had a television. The resemblance was eerie, and all the more so for thinking that it had been the fault of a single monster. Worse, this carnage had been directed, calculated to cause as much damage as possible, with as little possibility for recovery.

Even in the light of day, the cheer and vibrancy had vanished utterly from the quiet neighbourhood.

Oh, there was life, lots of it. More of it than usual. Every able-bodied citizen was out on the street, doing their part to help with repair – lifting, carrying, clearing away rubble. The elderly and infirm handed out water, or dished out soup from great vats.

There hadn't been any official response, any co-ordination of effort. There couldn't be; Berserker had kneecapped the city to prevent just that. Everything that was happening had been organised locally, ordinary people just pitching in. It could have been a heartening tableau of how humanity pulled together in their worst moments… if it weren't for the charred corpses no-one had yet cleared away, and the grim exhaustion on the faces of the helpers.

And there Waver was, doing nothing but carrying wheelbarrows full of wood and brick to the construction teams, so that people who'd studied useful things like 'how to build a house' could do the real work. He considered mentioning the fact that he was being educated at the finest school of magecraft in the world, and laughed bitterly. What a joke.

If there were fewer magi and more builders, the world would be a better place.

One of the worst things about having an incomparable super-genius for a Servant was the knowledge that you could fix anything but weren't allowed to.

Over there, where smoke was still rising from that house; Caster could snuff out that flame in a heartbeat. No, better, she would probably just reach out with that gauntlet of hers and take it, shift it where it was needed – say, over here, where a half-dead salaryman was trapped inside his crushed car. People were working with tools to prise the door open, but a cutting blowtorch would do the job instantly.

A hundred wounds Caster could heal with a snap of her fingers. A thousand blockages she could sweep away with a wave of her hand. She'd do it, too, if Waver asked. All around, people cried out for help that Waver could give, and he…

… did so very little.

Not nothing. As scrawny as he was, he was still a magus, and subtle Reinforcement meant he could do grunt work all day. Caster, despite her delicate looks, was by far the strongest person here, and was also carrying just enough to not look suspicious.

In the end, that was what it was about. Blending in, keeping the secret, not standing out. There was a rational part of Waver's brain that knew he was making the smart choice. If there was another Servant waiting to prey on the city like Berserker had, Waver would need all the energy he could spare. If the Association found out he'd been openly performing miracles, even for a good cause, not only would Waver be in for it, but any witnesses would need to be silenced as well. Staying subtle was, in the long run, the best way to help.

But it sure didn't feel like it.

Next to him, there was a beep, and Caster nudged his shoulder. Ah. He hadn't been keeping an eye on the time, but clearly she had, or had set an alarm. He looked up at the sky, and yeah, it was starting to get dark. He set his wheelbarrow down, and nodded wordlessly at the construction worker waiting to pick it up. Then, he made his way back to the Mackenzies' house.

For once, Caster was quiet on the way back, making notes as they walked on some kind of electronic pad.

Posing as the Mackenzies' grandson was, on paper, a decent idea – he got lodging and food for free, and a family unit was far more anonymous than a couple was, especially a Western couple and especially one containing someone as flamboyant as Caster. It was a simple job: the Mackenzies already had a grandson, and according to Waver's research he lived in Australia and was unlikely to visit, so all that was needed was to replace their memories of their actual grandson with Waver. That kind of hypnotism was so simple it was hardly magic, and a real magus probably wouldn't have needed it… but it did get the job done.

However, if he was going to take advantage of the fact he had to play the part at least some of the time. With everything that had been going on, Martha Mackenzie had absolutely refused to hear of Waver being out after dark, and her husband had agreed.

So, when he arrived back, he made a point to be as obvious as possible about it.

"Gramps! Granny! I'm back!"

"Oh, Waver! Thank goodness," came an answering call from the kitchen. "Is Lisa still with you?"

Caster – 'Lisa del Giocondo' as far as Waver's hosts were concerned – laughed. "Don't you worry, Ms Mackenzie," she said. "Waver's not getting out of my sight."

"Well, I should think so." Martha Mackenzie emerged from the kitchen to wave a ladle at Waver. She was a tiny, elderly woman, but the Japanese air seemed to agree with her, because she still carried herself with surprising vigor. "You're very lucky to have such an accomplished private tutor, young man, and don't you forget it. Especially one willing to come all this way to teach you, and especially with all the trouble lately, so you look after her! Lisa, dear, you let me know if you need anything, and I'll make sure Glenn or Waver see you right."

"Oh, of course, darling," gushed Caster. "You're ever so generous. But we do need to be off – work never ceases, you know how it is…"

Martha smiled. "Of course. You two go on upstairs, I'll be down here if you need me. Glenn should be back soon."

"Will do!"

And up they went to the spare room, which Waver had taken as his own. More importantly, the room which, shortly afterwards, Caster had taken for her own.

The room was currently the most heavily-warded place in Fuyuki, including the Three Familes' personal workshops and the Kotomine Church.

Intricate formalcraft circuitry done partly in blood and partly in solder covered every inch of the walls, with layer upon layer of circles in the middle of the floor. More circles were crammed into the corners and empty spaces, so that there was hardly a spot left bare. Some stayed perfectly still, some moved while Waver watched, and others seemed still but had definitely been pointing in different directions when they'd been drawn.

The outermost set was aligned to the four cardinal directions, Waver knew, and there was at least one aligned to the current positions of the sun and moon. More pointed at various constellations, the four leyline nexuses within Fuyuki, and six small circles had arrows pointing towards the most potent Spirit Origins in the city to track the other Servants (although Assassin's had remained frustratingly blank since being drawn).

Despite how haphazard it could have looked, it instead somehow all came together in a coherent, almost beautiful whole, where each circle empowered, informed, or fed off all those it touched. A scholarly-inclined magus could receive a masterclass in Bounded Fields just by looking at the floor of Waver's bedroom.

If they did that, though, they'd be missing out on the even greater wonders lying around.

A brass generator the size of a toaster hummed on Waver's desk, glowing with soft blue light. It was fuelled by ambient magic, and if planted near a leyline would be able to power an entire house with room to spare. Wires and cables hung off it in every direction, so that it sat at the centre of a spiderweb of machinery.

A separate stand held Caster's gauntlet – delicate blue runes around the base would teleport it to her hand in the unlikely event she was caught without it. A dozen half-assembled projects were strewn across the floor and desk, arrangements of brass and wires and machinery that Waver could only guess the function of. All were covered in that circuitry-like formalcraft that was Caster's trademark, along with innumerable runes.

One of her mechanical birds cocked its head and chirped as they approached, and Caster scratched it under the chin absently. Smaller automatons – Waver couldn't bring himself to call them 'robots', even though that was exactly what they were – scuttled around underfoot, arranging pages of notes or diagrams or sketches according to Caster's mood.

Caster flopped herself down in the desk chair and fanned herself with a hand. Waver sat down on his bed and folded his hands under his chin.

"Okay," he said. "Talk to me, Caster. You've been quiet all day, which means you're planning something."

"Right-o! Gosh, you do know me well..." Caster picked up a blank sheet of paper and twirled a pen in her left hand.

Waver smiled grimly. "Let me start you off. It's about Lancer, isn't it?"

The twirling stopped, and Caster's smile fell, before returning almost full force. "It certainly is! Oooh, I had such plans for Berserker, and that big old meanie went and ruined them all. And, now, well, everything's rather pointless unless we can figure out a way to stop an ancient superweapon."

"I'm assuming you have some ideas?"

Caster laughed, for real this time. "Silly Master, who do you think I am? Of course I have ideas. Whether they'll work is another question entirely, and whether Lancer will politely stand still and let us try them out is another again. But… yes, I think I have an plan for how I'll go about this. However!" Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "What do you think, my student? You've had a day to chew on the problem, so give me what you've got."

Waver sighed. On one level, he was ecstatic that the Servant of the Spell had decided to take him on as a pupil. El-Melloi was a masterful magus and an inspiration even if he was somewhat… abrasive, but Leonardo da Vinci was on a whole other level. And, more to the point, she understood where Waver was coming from entirely. It was incredible, having your ethos of hard work and talent achieving results over mere bloodline validated by an honest-to-goodness Heroic Spirit.

But it did mean that Caster demanded a lot of her Master. Waver hadn't known the Grail War would involve quite so much homework.

"Okay," he started. "So, clearly just hitting Lancer with more and more force isn't going to cut it. They're tough enough to survive a leyline-powered Berserker going all out, can respond with even more force than that, and even when we did manage to hurt them by using a Command Spell, apparently they can just regenerate whatever damage we do. Going by the 'clay man' myth, they might need to be connected to the ground to do that, but that's not exactly much of a limitation.

"If we're going to do this, we need to either deal massive enough damage fast enough that we destroy their Spirit Core before they get in contact with the ground, or else just bypass the problem altogether somehow." He looked up at Caster, to see how he was doing. She smiled, and gave a 'carry on' gesture with her pen.

"So, leaving aside the second option for now… it wouldn't be too difficult to get them into the air, in theory. Not sure how heavy they are, so wind magic or telekinesis might not be the perfect tool, but your portals should do the job pretty easily. We'd need to keep them from falling, so maybe two portals on top of each other, layered so they fell in an endless loop… and probably a forcefield to stop them from just making a chain all the way to the ground and pulling themselves down. Actually," he frowned, as something occurred, "didn't they arrive by flying? That makes this trickier…"

He got up, and started pacing. Machines moved themselves out of his path as he did. "In that case, maybe a sphere of portals, each leading to the other side, leaving no escape. That cuts off Lancer from the ground – and then all you have to do is gather enough power from the leylines to hit them hard enough that their Spirit Core shatters." He stopped. "I feel like it can't be that easy. What have I missed?"

Caster hummed, and waved a hand. "Four things."

"Four?" Waver sighed. He'd thought that was pretty logical, but Caster wasn't ever wrong. He settled back down on the bed and prepared for the lecture.

"Mm-hm! Okay, first, I know I make it look easy, but portals aren't that easy to just fling up willy-nilly. A simple entry and exit point is all well and good, but closing off a space like that? A lot harder. You need at least three sets if you want to make a cube, and the power requirements almost cube as well when you factor in the adjustments to keep spacetime stable as well as maintain all three. Not to mention the mental complexity to keep it all straight in your head. At that point you're better off building something to handle most of the work for you. Not an issue for us, but it is a pretty obvious weak point, and Lancer isn't stupid.

"Second, take whatever estimate you had for how much force it'll take to break Lancer's Spirit Core, and multiply it by, like, a hundred. You might not have seen exactly what it was Lancer was doing to poor Berserker, but your Clairvoyance should be able to tell you – they don't have fixed stats like normal Servants would. In a pinch, they'll direct all resources to withstanding attacks, so we're looking at an effective Endurance of at least A. And, worse, they should have some mechanism for Magic Resistance as well, so we'll have to break through that before even starting to cause damage. Again, not too much of an issue, but that's even more power we'll have to gather beforehand.

"Third… just who were you expecting was going to have to do the dirty work of hitting Lancer with our mega-ultra-super attack, huh, mister? Me, that's who! You want me to step into an enclosed space with the Chain of Heaven? That's a recipe for a very sore head in the morning, let me tell you. Lancer isn't going to stand still and let us hit him – as well as maintaining containment, as well as preparing our alpha strike, and as well as flying because we're doing this in mid-air, remember, I also have to protect myself from an Age of Gods superweapon? Master, that's, like… really, really hard!" Caster looked at him tremulously, fists under her chin, the picture of plucky but overworked innocence.

Sometimes Waver wished he'd just summoned some warrior. Someone big and simple and easy to work with. Sure, he wouldn't be receiving lessons from a world-class genius, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with Caster's whimsical playacting.

He managed to keep a straight face, somehow. "And the fourth thing?"

"Oh, yes. Well, even in the case that we did manage all that, Lancer's Master isn't just going to leave him there. That's pretty much the exact situation Command Spells were built for."

Waver put a hand to his head. "Damn. I can't believe I forgot about those. I was just focused on beating Lancer, and didn't even think…"

"It's an easy mistake to make," said Caster kindly. "That's also the reason we can't just trap him somewhere, or send him into space. We'd get one shot, have to get it right first time or be crushed, and then they'd just reset and be on their guard for things like that."

Well, he hadn't really expected to come up with a solution to the problem in ten minutes of brainstorming. It was still a good lesson, though: even the littlest things could absolutely ruin a grand plan. Kotomine Kirei was formidable, by all accounts, but insignificant next to the power of Enkidu – and yet, his presence was the difference between the plan being 'impractical' and 'impossible'.

"Fair enough," he said. "So how would you-"

There was a knock at the door. He didn't have to worry about his 'grandparents' hearing anything – Caster's spells muffled outgoing noise so that all that could be heard was indistinct voices.

(Absolute silence might have been suspicious, but Caster thought of everything. Waver was pretty sure that a determined listener would be able to make out an actual lesson being conducted, if they tried hard enough – not just the same lesson every day, but an actual syllabus, with accurate information appropriate to Waver's level of schooling, just on the off-chance they were under observation. Caster. Thought. Of. Everything.)

But Waver recognised Martha's footsteps, so he pulled a half-filled exercise book out from under his pillow before making for the door. Caster waved a hand, and the formalcraft circles faded from sight as the machines scuttled under the bed.

Waver counted to two, then opened the door. "Hi, granny."

"Hello, Waver." Martha smiled warmly and lifted the tray held in her hands. "I brought toast? And tea?"

"Oh, granny, you didn't have to…"

"Of course I did, young man! You need feeding up, you'll waste away otherwise. Your father grew up tall and strong – I knew you should have drunk more milk when you were younger…"

Waver studiously ignored Caster failing to hold in her giggles behind him, and plastered a smile on his face. "Thanks… very kind of you…" he gritted out. His 'grandmother' wandered over to the desk and put the tray down before Waver could take it from her hands.

She looked around the room at all Caster's notes and drawings. "This room is so untidy, Waver… it's lovely to have you stay, but mind you clean up after yourself!"

"Will do, granny. Thanks for the toast, we'll take the plates down when we're done, gotta get back to studying, thank you, bye!"

After firmly chivvying Martha out of the room, Waver closed the door and leaned against it. "Sheesh. I know she only does it because she cares, but honestly…"

"Waver."

The hard edge in his Servant's voice made Waver snap his head round. Caster's voice was all business, no playfulness at all.

"What is it?"

In response, Caster put on her gauntlet, and carefully withdrew a note from under the plate of toast. "This. I don't recognise the handwriting, but it isn't either of the Mackenzies'."

She carefully unfolded the paper, taking care to only touch it with her gauntlet. Waver leaned over the desk and read.

His blood turned to ice.

Dimly, he was aware of his heart thumping in his chest – stupid thing, there was no use filling him with adrenaline now. Partly, he felt… violated, angry, strangely indignant. This was his safe space, a place to go to retreat from the perils of the War. That illusion of safety had been definitively shattered. Mostly, he just felt terrified.

"They were here?"

Caster nodded grimly, spell after spell flying from her off hand. They lit up the circles on the floor, which span crazily, function after function activating.

"Are we safe?"

"Clearly not," snapped Caster, before her face softened. "But… I don't think we're in immediate danger. There's a lot more they could have done, and they didn't have to leave a warning like this. I think this is legitimate."

Waver stared at the note, which may as well have been a death threat for all its implied menace.

To Waver Mackenzie aka Waver Velvet aka the Master of Caster,

The Master of Assassin requests a parley to discuss solutions to Lancer.

The toast is not poisoned.

Yours,

Assassin

Chapter Text

"This is a disaster."

No-one in the Einzbern's conference room seemed inclined to disagree with Emiya Kiritsugu. Irisviel sat at the table, but didn't seem to have anything to add, instead looking worriedly at her husband. Maiya stood behind Irisviel's chair, a simple soldier to be called upon when needed. For his part, Kiritsugu's face was as blank and cold as ever, but the tension in his shoulders, and the way he fidgeted with his Thompson Contender, made it plain to Serenity if no-one else – he was rattled.

Frankly, so was she.

The most powerful Servant, in the hands of the most troublesome Master – one who, judging by how he'd acted at the Church, already had some kind of interest in Kiritsugu. Despite how it sounded, by itself, that wasn't so bad. No matter which Servant it was, chances were Serenity would have been unable to defeat them in combat anyway.

No, what took this from 'unfortunate' into 'disastrous' was two facts about Enkidu. First, they were that much more powerful than anyone else that simply waiting for Kotomine Kirei's Servant to fall to someone else was no longer a remotely viable plan. Second, and much worse, they could somehow detect Serenity's presence – at least, when close by.

Serenity thought back to that night, to the earth and trees moving as one to the will of the Chain of Heaven. It was possible that Lancer could only detect her when she was on the ground. It was possible that, far away, her Presence Concealment would win out.

But that was the kind of gamble you only took and lost once.

Until they knew what Lancer's limits were, Kotomine Kirei was almost unassailable.

Almost.

"I apologise," said Maiya. "If I had accounted for Kotomine's use of armour, my attempt on his life would have been successful. Had I sacrificed my life, it may have worked even so. I should have persisted."

A shame. Kotomine Kirei – and, more importantly, Lancer – would be on the lookout for Maiya now. Losing the advantage of anonymity was always a blow.

"Yes. That may well have been the best opportunity to kill him we will get." Kiritsugu's reply was blunt. Maiya suppressed a flinch, and she looked down with a forlorn expression.

Irisviel pouted. "Don't be mean, Kiri! Maiya, you had no way of knowing Lancer would make things so difficult. And it's not as though we learned nothing – knowing that those priest robes are armoured is very valuable. Next time, we'll bring the armour piercing rounds, that's all. This isn't hopeless," she finished, jabbing the table with her finger weakly. "We knew this was going to be difficult going in, and we've still got to try our best. For the sake of the world."

Kiritsugu didn't smile, but the tension seemed to lessen slightly. "Hm. The fact remains, this is a lot harder. Maiya or you could have masqueraded as normal humans and evaded Lancer's detection – that avenue is now closed. If Lancer sees you near Kotomine Kirei, he will be sure to intervene. And we can no longer make use of Iri as transportation."

"I'm a getaway driver, Kiri, get it right," Irisviel huffed. "But yes. Sorry, Maiya, but the dynamic duo isn't quite so dynamic any more."

It wasn't really something anyone was talking about. Certainly no-one had told Serenity anything – but noticing weakness was just another killing art she'd been forced to master, and it was obvious to her that Irisviel wasn't well.

Moving under her own power was about her limit. Maiya followed the homunculus woman like an extra shadow – opening doors, pulling out chairs, and generally acting as Irisviel's hands. Irisviel was as chipper as ever, and hadn't complained, but looking at her now seemed to cause Kiritsugu considerable distress.

The fact that this sudden illness had come on suddenly, immediately after Berserker was defeated, was rather suspicious, in Serenity's opinion. But, no-one had asked her opinion – in fact, Kiritsugu almost seemed to have been expecting something like this.

If he wasn't worried about Irisviel, then Serenity wasn't either. The additional mental strain was something her Master definitely didn't need, though.

"Kotomine Kirei… and Lancer… remain the ultimate obstacle for this War," Kiritsugu said. "All our focus must now be on Kotomine. Maiya's face is now known, and Irisviel is unavailable. Berserker's rampage and Lancer's reveal has changed things. I had hoped not to cross paths with Kotomine at all, so I was willing to leave him to others, or to you, Maiya… but I don't think that's feasible anymore."

"I disagree," said Serenity. Maiya and Irisviel both jumped. Serenity wasn't in spirit form for this discussion, and the dining room was well-lit enough that she couldn't even lurk in a shadowy corner, but nevertheless it seemed the two had forgotten she was there. "It makes things substantially harder, yes… but Master, now more than ever you must not become distracted by the Master of Lancer. Please, have trust in your Servants."

Maiya shifted uncomfortably. "Assassin. I am grateful for your faith in me, but I think it's been shown that I cannot take on Kotomine Kirei."

"I think you underestimate yourself… with preparation and correct tools, I think it can be done." The skull mask Serenity wore couldn't convey a smile, so she took it off to give an encouraging one to Maiya. "I will help you."

Kiritsugu scratched his chin. "It is true that, if possible, I would prefer not to get anywhere near Kotomine. So, Assassin, what am I to do while you and Maiya deal with him?"

"Anything you wish, Master," said Serenity, inclining her head. "Your insight into methods of dealing with all other Masters will be invaluable. Better, since they will all be focused on dealing with Lancer, they will not expect an assault while they live… Master, feel free to disregard my suggestion. I only wish to help."

And to preserve her Master's mental state as far as possible, she didn't say. Serenity didn't know why Kiritsugu had been driven to such distraction by Kotomine, nor did she know why Kotomine was so interested in her Master. But she had a feeling it would be much, much better if they were never to meet. Maiya was not the killing machine Kiritsugu was – but neither did she have any baggage concerning the Master of Lancer.

"Lancer remains an issue, however," Kiritsugu said. "While they remain, Kotomine cannot be ambushed by anyone short of Assassin – and even if he is, it would be the work of a moment to summon him via Command Spell. What did you have in mind for that?"

"Well, he can only do that three times," said Irisviel. "Wait, maybe four? Did we find out if he ever got that extra Command Spell from defeating Berserker?"

"We'll assume that he has," said Kiritsugu. "It is his own father handing them out, after all. I'm not a fan of that option. Assassin… and Maiya… would need to escape from Lancer four times and somehow stop them from realising what you're trying. Not feasible."

Irisviel grumbled and put her head on her arms like a sulky child. "I wasn't saying it was an option, I was just saying it was a limited thing…"

Serenity ignored her, instead speaking to her Master. "This is not a new problem. It is worse than we hoped… but hope is not lost." From what Serenity had seen of Kiritsugu, he would usually have already thought of some way around the restrictions and complications he'd been presented with. He'd let himself become overwhelmed with worry – if anything, it was a sign of how much the Master of Lancer dwelled in Kiritsugu's thoughts.

It was okay, though. As a Servant, supporting her Master when he was off his game was part of her role.

"When your target has powerful reinforcements, what do you do?" Serenity continued. "Let us say… you are to assassinate a magus. Just as you have a thousand times before. The magus has a familiar, or summoned demons, or spirits, or maybe just mercenaries with whom he is in contact. He can summon these to his side, and the reinforcements can sense you, although the magus cannot. What do you do?"

Kiritsugu stilled. Serenity could almost see his mind start to work on the problem, now it had been presented to him in the abstract. "I attack from somewhere outside the familiar's sensory range. Use a missile, or remote-detonated bombs if we can lure the magus into a pre-prepared area. The aim would be to kill the magus before he can summon his familiar – ideally before he knows he is under attack. Failing that, I cut off communications so that his familiar cannot warn him, then go in to finish him off myself." He looked up. "I see. Yes, those make sense. Tricky, with Lancer as the foe… but doable."

Serenity smiled. Not such a disaster, after all. "Those were two approaches I had considered, yes. Well done, Master. Command us, and we shall go."

"Hm." Kiritsugu got up and paced, hand to his chin in thought. "You'll need a distraction, for the first, or bait. And if it is an actual missile you plan to use, I'd need to get in touch with some old contacts. Unless you had another idea?"

"I did." Serenity hesitated. This wasn't going to go down well, if she knew her Master. But it was necessary – or, not necessary, but it would make things a lot easier.

"Master… how do you feel about an alliance?"

There were few places in Fuyuki left untouched by Berserker's rampage, but the river bank was one of them. A wide open area with little in the way of road or foot traffic, there simply just hadn't been all that much to destroy.

Kiritsugu Emiya sat on a bench under a streetlight, and smoked, and waited.

From here, you could see the wreckage of the bridge upriver, and across the water to where Shinto still burned, while the suburbs that Berserker had turned into a deathtrap were set back from the bank itself. The evening sky was lit up in a dull red glow, but the clouds promised rain later. Outside the streetlights, it was a very, very dark night – but power had been partly restored to the city, and while the shadows were deep there was more light than darkness.

There weren't many places to hide, and fewer places where one might gain a vantage point.

In other words, it was the worst possible ground for an Assassin.

In other words, it was the best possible place for a show of good faith from Emiya Kiritsugu.

It had taken a lot of persuasion, from Irisviel and Serenity, to get him to reach out to Caster and his Master. (Maiya had been no help at all, predictably.) It had taken them even more to convince him to remain out in the open like this, even with Serenity on-hand, even with Maiya providing covering fire if necessary, even with Lancer's moratorium on top of everything else.

And even then, he'd insisted on a little extra insurance, just in case.

But the threat of Kotomine Kirei and his Lancer was a powerful motivator. Caster was best placed to bend the rules of the War in the way they needed, and if Serenity's hunch that Caster was behind Berserker's actions after her rampage were true, then she was a force to be reckoned with indeed.

And, alone of all other Masters and Servants, she might actually accept. When Kiritsugu had pulled his bluff with the hostages, only Caster had seen through it – seen through it instantly, and correctly deduced Kiritsugu's character. None of the other Masters had, and the Magus Killer had very few friends.

An alliance with Archer might have been ideal. Archer was perfectly-placed to snipe Kotomine Kirei, might have been the only one who could do so from beyond Lancer's range. Kiritsugu and Serenity had a lot to offer the Matous as well – Saber was immune to Archer's Noble Phantasm, while El-Melloi had proven singularly incautious and was easy prey for Assassin.

But that had been before Kiritsugu had threatened Matou Sakura. They'd both seen Archer's almost irrational rage at the idea, and knew there was going to be no help there.

No – it was Caster and her Master, or no one.

Just when Serenity was almost convinced it was going to be 'no-one' after all, she made out a pair of figures approaching from Miyama.

Master, she sent.

I see them.

Just like always, even just observing the other Master-Servant pair as they approached told Serenity a lot. Caster led the way, confidence practically rolling off her in waves. Or, on second thought, maybe that was just the many, many layers of personal defences she'd set up, so thick they distorted the air around her like a heat haze.

They were attending a meeting with an Assassin, after all. This much was probably only sensible.

In contrast, her Master followed behind, nervously looking round at the buildings as though wary of an ambush. He wasn't, technically, wrong to do so.

If Serenity had to guess, Caster was the dominant force in this pair. Maybe even the one making the decisions. That was… fine. Less predictable than a modern magus, and far, far more open to non-traditional avenues of thought, but in some ways having someone who could be guaranteed to always make the smart move was almost as valuable.

As expected, Caster spoke first.

"Those things will kill you," she said, pointing at the cigarette. "Or, so I'm told."

"Caster. Thanks for coming."

"Oh, straight to business, is it?" Caster pouted. "Well, how could we not come? You made a… very strong impression. Now, my Master and I had a little chat, and we decided that we couldn't see your message as anything other than a show of good faith. You didn't have to tell us that the toast wasn't poisoned, or leave any kind of message at all – if you wanted to kill us, you could have just poisoned it anyway, and that would have been that."

"We still checked for poison anyway, though," grumbled her Master. "Hours, it took us, going through every test she could think of. And on the tea as well."

Caster reached back and bopped her Master on the head. "Shush, you! There are mages who'd sell their firstborn for a lesson in practical alchemy from me, so no grumbling, mister!" She turned back to Kiritsugu. "Yes, we were all in a tizzy. It's rather embarrassing, but I still don't know how you did it – Martha Mackenzie doesn't remember taking us tea at all, and I know you're not better at hiding hypnosis than I am at finding it. And yet, you somehow had her deliver the message anyway…

"You had us dead to rights, and I don't mind admitting it. So, I'm thinking that was a message, a warning, and a sign that you weren't going to kill us. And, when Assassin suddenly shows up on our radar, and when you meet us in a place like this… well, I'm thinking I'm inclined to listen.

"Now, obviously we've come prepared, because we're not stupid, but I'm guessing you've done the same, because neither are you. You're meeting up with the Servant of the Spell after all, and who knows what kind of tricks I might have up my sleeves. So, I'm thinking you've got overwatch somewhere, you've maybe prepared the area as much as possible, and obviously Assassin is in hiding nearby… although, funny thing, they haven't disappeared, but I don't see them anywhere. I suppose they're hiding somewhere unexpected. Am I right with any of that?"

There was no reply except an exhale of cigarette smoke.

That had, however, been pretty much exactly Serenity and Kiritsugu's thought process in sending their message and meeting in this place. To a scary degree. For a moment Serenity expected Caster to announce her hiding place, but apparently that much was beyond even her.

"Hm. You're harder to read than I thought. Still, now that we've established that we don't really trust each other… hi! I'm Servant Caster, and it's good to meet you! This is my student and Master, Waver Velvet." Caster introduced herself and her Master with a flourish. They made an interesting contrast – Caster beautiful, flamboyant, clearly having the time of her life, and her Master a gloomy-looking shadow behind her, peering out with a slightly overwhelmed expression.

And… 'student' first, Serenity noted. It looked like Caster's relationship with her Master was more complicated than the usual. Well, she wasn't here to judge.

"Master of Assassin. …Emiya Kiritsugu. Magus Killer."

Caster beamed. "Good-o! Lovely to meet you. Well, all of that is nothing we didn't know already, actually, but thanks ever so for reaching out to us anyway. Since we're in the spirit of getting to know each other, let's fill in some blanks, shall we? Here, I'll go first." Caster put a finger to her cheek, as though to pantomime deep thought.

"I've done my homework, naturally, but there was a limit to what I could find and what I could observe from seeing you directly, so let's see how close I get. You're rather lethal, as modern magi go, thanks to what seems to be a mix of modern technology and some Mystery to destroy Magic Crests – judging by after action reports, anyway. It wasn't easy, but I did see a little something about an Emiya line of magi that specialised in time magic. You don't prefer to rely on it, though, and I'd guess that's because you just aren't that powerful. That's okay though! You really have learned to compensate, goodness me, yes…

"It's rather hard to separate out fact from rumour, because you've made yourself into something of a myth, but it's clear you specialise in killing magi and are perfectly willing to accept collateral damage. Despite that, though…" she smiled, dark eyes glittering with intelligence. "I got a look at you in person, and you're not as hardhearted as you seem. You'll do simply atrocious things to get to your target, but if you can avoid it, you will. I suspect, given how long you've been active, that your most notorious acts are rare cases, and that you usually manage to finish things rather more cleanly. What sets you apart is simply how far you'll go if problems present themselves… if I had to guess, I'd say you actually hate killing, despite how good you are at it.

"The question then is 'why enter the Grail War' – and while I'm good at cold-reading, I'm not that good. I'm thinking it's something to do with stopping suffering in future, though, just going by your history."

Caster put her hands on her hips and smiled, apparently done with dissecting Emiya Kiritsugu's innermost personality. "Was I close?"

The feeling of alarm coming through Serenity's link with her Master was enough to tell her that, yes, Caster was very close. Far, far closer than anyone should be. It was eerie, having what should be deep secrets seen through so easily.

What would Caster be able to tell about Serenity, if she got the chance?

Something had to be done to regain the initiative.

On the bench, Kiritsugu didn't respond except to take another drag on his cigarette. After some hurried conversation between Serenity and her Master, he spoke.

"Waver Velvet, third-generation magus and student at the Clock Tower, enrolled in the El-Melloi classroom. Posing as 'Waver Mackenzie', grandson of Glen and Martha Mackenzie. Servant Caster. True name unknown, but referred to by the Mackenzie family as 'Lisa del Giocondo', also known as the likely model for the Mona Lisa, whom you closely resemble. Likely identity, Leonardo da Vinci."

Caster laughed, apparently unconcerned. "Oh dear, you have been a peeping Tom, haven't you? I knew trying to be clever would backfire on me… "

Her Master was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, but didn't seem to be able to muster any words. It was probably just shock, but Caster might have just silenced him with a spell to prevent any flustered squawks.

If so, Serenity was grateful.

"Displayed great facility with rune magic, formalcraft, and item construction. Great intelligence, with a tendency to show that intelligence off given the opportunity." Kiritsugu paused, while Caster pantomimed great offence, cheeks puffed out and hands on hips. "Suspected talent in manipulation, subversion or outright mind control, based on how Berserker wasn't acting quite herself at the church."

"Ooh, you spotted it! I wondered if anyone would. Yes, that was me." Caster winked. "Don't worry, your Assassin is safe. I needed someone loud and obvious to draw attention and take on the other Servants head-on. Berserker was perfect for it; Assassin, not so much. Oh, and before you ask, that method won't work on Lancer."

That was a lot more brazen than Serenity had expected. Caster seemed to be completely shameless. Not necessarily a bad thing.

"Very well," Kiritsugu said. "Then, on that subject: can we work together to carry out solutions to Lancer? We had some thoughts on how you may be able to distract them at the right moment to allow us to deal with their Master…"

This was it. The bread and butter of the meeting. The most intelligent Servant, and the most subtle. If they couldn't, between them, come up with a viable plan, then they may as well all jump in the river and save Lancer the trouble of killing them personally.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked! Well, certainly I'm convinced. But, Master does tell me I'm a little overconfident sometimes, and it really is his decision…" Caster turned and waved her Master forward. "What do you think? Can we work with them?"

Waver Velvet approached. Compared to Caster's easy air of competence, he looked like a scared kid in over his depth. Still, he walked up to the Magus Killer without fear. A growing confidence, or just trust in his Servant?

"I… don't think an alliance will work," he said. "I can't read you like Caster can. There's this wall of trust between us, and I don't think we can just pretend it isn't there. I know this might be a bit rich coming from us, when we've turned up with about seventeen safeguards against this being some kind of ambush."

"Only sixteen, Master, we couldn't get both the clockwork homunculi working in time- ow, Master!" Caster hopped up and down where her Master had stood on her foot.

Waver went on as though his Servant hadn't spoken. "I'm not very good at this, but I guess you've got safeguards in place as well. Maybe even something that'd stop us, even with all of Caster's protection. I don't know. I still don't like how you invaded the Mackenzies' home, even when I know that you could have followed through and didn't.

"That said… I know you've extended a lot of trust to us in showing yourself in a place like this. You haven't sprung an ambush, even if you prepared for one. You showed your face, when you didn't have to. You could have poisoned the toast," he said with a small smile. It was gone in a moment, and he squared his jaw. "We can't build an alliance. Neither of us can trust the other enough. But I'd like to think that we can work together, despite all that. Co-ordinate, even if we can't co-operate. We're probably the best pair for dealing with Lancer, and you're the best for dealing with his Master, so…" He stuck out his hand.

Serenity felt, very keenly, that they were at a crossroads. If they refused now, it might very well start a fight she wasn't sure they could escape from. If she needed to, she could still kill the Master of Caster, the second-most dangerous Servant in the War.

Well, Master, what do you think?

Caster's aid is too valuable to lose. Kotomine and Lancer are too large a threat. Do it. And… Serenity felt the hesitation, then the decision. An additional show of trust would seem to go a long way at this point.

As you wish, Master.

Kiritsugu stood. But he didn't take Waver's hand.

"In the interest of working together, allow me to show another capability of mine that may prove useful to your plans."

Serenity dropped her transformation. 'Kiritsugu's' flesh flowed like water, and in a moment the Magus Killer had vanished. In his place was Serenity, the masked Servant Assassin, less than a step from an enemy Master.

Morph (Infiltration). Not a skill Serenity used often, but one that was very useful at times. She couldn't do anything particularly impressive with her shapeshifting, but so long as she kept a human shape, taking on others' appearances was simple. Many of the Great Chiefs of the order had removed their faces. Serenity had gained a thousand.

This was the last safeguard Kiritsugu had insisted upon – that she take his place at the parley.

It certainly seemed to have taken Waver Velvet by surprise. He scrambled back, almost tripping, to stand behind his Servant.

Caster looked very awkward indeed, fiddling with her staff and looking sheepish. "Oh. Yes, that would make sense. That was how you delivered the message to us – Martha Mackenzie never did take us tea, it was you all along! Which means you've been right inside our inner sanctum, and we never knew… um, Master, this is really embarrassing, actually…"

"Yes! It is! Dammit, Caster, I nearly died! Again!" Waver beat his fists against a light blue forcefield Caster threw up at the last minute.

"We apologise for the deception," said Serenity. "As you said, it is hard for us to trust others. But, please, if we can return to the matter of the Chain of Heaven who wishes to destroy us all…"

Caster laughed. "Of course! Yes, I think we can work very nicely together. First, let's talk about the shape of the War in the next few days, as I see it…"

Through their link, Serenity felt Kiritsugu relax, and remove his eye from the scope of his sniper rifle. Apparently he no longer felt there was a risk of a sudden attack from the Servant of the Spell. Serenity, for one, was very glad.

After all, they had no idea just what an Origin Bullet would do when used against Caster's shields.

Caster and Assassin, the two most dangerous Servants in a Grail War, united. Intelligence and guile against sheer power.

If they could work together well enough to matter.

Chapter Text

For such a smart man, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald could be really, really stupid. It was just one of the things Sola-Ui had come to expect from her fiancé. But even then, this was something else. A stupid plan, which he was going about in a stupid way, and which anyone else would have to be stupid to go along with.

And yet, there Saber was, apparently just as happy to be wielding a fluffy feather duster as their rapier, giving the hotel room in Fuyuki one last clean.

"This is pointless," she said, for the thousandth time, as if anyone in this room cared what she thought.

"Nonsense," said her fiancé, dusting off his robes absent-mindedly. "First impressions mean a lot, you know that. What would Matou think if my headquarters looked anything less than immaculate when they come to parley?" He chuckled. "And, of course, Saber has done such a lovely job at setting it up for guests."

In the corner, Saber flashed their Master a brilliant smile and twirled the feather duster in a flamboyant salute.

Sola-Ui glared at them, and at the perfectly laid out tea set that no-one would drink. Utterly pointless. Only an idiot would willingly accept a drink prepared by an enemy Master. Frankly, she'd think less of Matou Kariya if he even touched it. Kayneth himself hated tea. Saber didn't need it, and Sola-Ui certainly wasn't in the mood. And yet, Saber had insisted on laying out refreshments.

And Kayneth had smiled indulgently and gone along with it. Of course.

Sola-Ui clenched her fists, and tried again. "They're not coming, Kayneth. Obviously. Why would Matou choose to accept your invitation and walk straight into your place of power? We could have done anything to set up a trap – we should have done anything to set up a trap! Think for a second, honestly! Matou would have to be an idiot to come here."

"Well, yes. But after seeing the man in person, and co-operating in the chase of Berserker, I feel fairly confident in saying Matou Kariya actually is that kind of idiot," said Kayneth. "He is impulsive and reckless, with a one-track mind and a grudge against Tokiomi Tohsaka for… some reason that escapes me."

"More, he already knows that Archer and I work well together," put in Saber. Sola-Ui gritted her teeth. "He also knows that, with my fortunate immunity to Archer's Noble Phantasm, we are at an advantage – if we wanted him dead, we would not need to use such subterfuge! No, we would face him in honourable combat!"

Kayneth's dopey grin at Saber's words almost had Sola-Ui clenching her fists. Instead, she folded her arms and turned away.

"He still has no reason to accept your invitation, no matter how politely Saber delivered it," she sneered. "He's not coming."

"I suppose we shall just have to wait and see," said Kayneth calmly, still with that infuriating know-it-all smile that made Sola-Ui want to punch him.

There was no arguing with him when he was like this. Maybe in a couple of hours Sola-Ui would try again. For now, she had no intention of prettying up a room for guests that would never see it, so she flounced off to the kitchen and poured herself a generous glass of wine.

It would play havoc with her sleep schedule, but so what? All she was good for was a prana battery for Saber. Kayneth and his lovely shiny new knight action figure would go ahead and do whatever the hell they wanted, so screw her and her opinion, she supposed.

All at once, Saber startled, and turned towards the window. "Master."

"Archer?" At Saber's nod, Kayneth closed his eyes. "Yes, I feel Matou coming as well," he said after a moment. He smirked at Sola-Ui. "Best get ready, dear. It seems we will be entertaining tonight after all."

Sola-Ui almost screamed.

Idiots. Everyone in this stupid, stupid War, all idiots.

Like most of Fuyuki, the residential area in Miyama was in chaos. There were fewer fires burning unchecked, a couple of days after Berserker's rampage, but there was still rubble and barricades everywhere, making the roads almost impassable.

To vehicles, at least. To Serenity, it was perfect terrain.

Even better, here in the nicer district, where the houses were large and Western-style, surrounded by high walls, there were fewer people milling around on the streets – especially this late at night. The well-off had, on the whole, retreated inside their houses. There, they ran down their food stores and waited for the authorities to clear up the devastation outside.

They might be waiting a long time, Berserker having decapitated the systems in place that might have dealt with this sort of thing, but Serenity wasn't interested in the ordinary citizens of Miyama.

Ahead of her, the Matou house stood, dark and forbidding in the night.

She still wasn't entirely convinced by Caster's reasoning as to why this should be her next target…

"See, here's the thing," said Caster. "We can definitely help you out with Lancer's Master. We've been working on our own projects that look very promising, and we're super happy to co-ordinate in attacking Master and Servant at the same time! But, we've kinda got a more immediate problem."

Serenity – feeling very exposed, just standing in the open like this, even if she knew why it was necessary – didn't say anything.

"From my read on the Masters of Lancer and Rider, not to mention Lancer themselves, they're not about to move any time soon. The Master of Rider is itching to get going, but I'm pretty sure there's quite a bit of tension in the Rider-Lancer alliance beneath the surface. Lancer's content to wait around, and their Master doesn't have a clear idea of how he wants to direct them. Best guess, they'll dither until something forces their hand. Ideally, that something will be us, when we're good and ready."

Caster's Master nodded. "I want the first strike to be the last, if possible. We don't need the Chain of Heaven deciding we're dangerous enough to bother crushing."

That made sense. There was no point in trying to wear down someone who could perfectly reform themselves in an instant. Prepare perfectly, then make a decisive move. It had served Serenity well throughout her life.

"The problem?" she prompted.

Caster preened, all too pleased to be given a chance to show off. "The problem, dear, is that I need time to work! Time, and space. I can't be having to deal with distractions while I'm trying to set up solutions for Lancer, and frankly it all sounds dreadfully hard work. You're the only Servant left without Magic Resistance, you know, it's all terribly unfair."

She hummed, and spun her staff idly. "And we're not the only ones who've been forming alliances, I'm afraid. Lancer has everyone all in a tizzy, and it seems the Master of Saber has worked out he has rather a lot to gain from an alliance with the Master of Archer."

Serenity noted the tension in young Waver Velvet's posture when the Master of Saber was mentioned. According to Kiritsugu's research, he was a student of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, but there didn't seem to be any loyalty or warm feelings there. On the contrary, El-Melloi seemed almost insulted that his student had put himself on his level.

"That sounds troublesome… for you."

"It is!" Caster said with a pout. "Archer hasn't really shone so far in this War, but she really is a nightmare to deal with. A sniper who hits like an artillery barrage and moves through the battlefield like lightning… any time Master or I are out in the open, or next to a window, or really just anywhere in general that isn't properly fortified, I have to waste my energy on concealment and protective spells! It's such a bore."

Serenity didn't say anything. Even Caster had to get to the point eventually.

When it was obvious Serenity wasn't going to give anything back, Caster sighed. "And, yes, it's a problem for you too, obviously. You and your Master made yourselves rather unpopular the other night with that little hostage bluff. Out of everyone, I'd say the Master of Saber and Archer herself were the most annoyed by it – so, if anyone's going to be their target once they've teamed up, you will be. Good thing we decided to team up as well, huh?"

That was pretty much what Serenity had feared. Kiritsugu might not care about his reputation so long as he got results, and that was a good attitude to have… except when it turned an entire Grail War against you.

Something of her troubled thoughts must have shown in her body language, because Caster nodded sympathetically. "Yes, yes, I'm know I'm really not one to talk, but that wasn't the wisest move, darling. Still, that's how it is! If you want us to come up with some really top-grade solutions for Lancer, we'll need a little time…

"So, pretty please take out either Saber or Archer for us?"

It sounded to Serenity very much like Caster just wanted to use her new ally to deal with all her problems for free. But… that much was to be expected. It wasn't like they had anything to lose by taking out some other Servants. Formidable as Saber and Archer undoubtedly were, they were essentially irrelevant now that Lancer was revealed. If the other Servants didn't factor in to any kind of plan for dealing with Lancer, all they could be was a hindrance.

Besides. It was high time Assassin started getting a bit more active in this War.

El-Melloi would be easy to kill when the time came. He was far too full of openings – no matter how powerful he or his Servant were, Serenity would be able to pick them off at her leisure. Archer, though… that Independent Action skill could make things tricky. Even if Serenity acted as bait, and drew Archer away from her Master so that Kiritsugu could kill him, there was no guarantee Archer would disappear before killing Serenity in return.

No, ideally Serenity would be far, far away before Matou even realised he was dead.

Fortunately, she was perhaps the Servant best equipped to make sure this was the case.

The high wall around the Matou estate wasn't a problem. Serenity scaled it with a light hop, and landed silently on the lawn. There didn't seem to be any kind of Bounded Field here like the one at Tohsaka's house, either, which struck her as odd. Then again, what she'd seen of the Matou magecraft lent itself mostly towards the control of those insect familiars.

Kiritsugu's research had indicated the Matou magecraft was in decline. It had started when they'd moved onto Tohsaka's land – there was nothing proven, but the Einzberns speculated it was something Tohsaka had done to the ley line to get an edge in the Grail Wars.

There was a reason the Einzberns only showed up to Fuyuki once every sixty years.

The door was locked, which wasn't much of a surprise. Usually, this wouldn't be much of a problem, but today Serenity had taken… a little extra equipment with her. She carefully placed a small leather bag down on the doorstep, walked inside straight through the door, and inspected the lock.

No alarms. Not even a simple spell designed to do the same job. Curious. Either the Matou just didn't care about security, or they had something else they assumed would deal with thieves or enemy magi out to steal their secrets.

Well, it suited her purposes. Serenity opened the door, retrieved her bag, and continued inside.

Like many of the places Serenity had found herself in in her new life, the Matou house was expensive, and opulent, even grand. But where the Einzbern castles had been cold and empty, or where El-Melloi's apartment had been modern and bland, the Matou house was… dead.

Not even the dead of a tomb, a clean dry dusty dead – the Matou house was rotting. Not physically. The curtains weren't moth-eaten, the wood hadn't been chewed by worms, there was no mould eating away at the ceiling. All of that would have at least indicated some presence of life, and there wasn't any. It wasn't even all that dirty, at least not in the main living areas.

But here and there, you could see it. The areas where grime had built up over long decades with no-one who cared enough to clean. The broken furniture no-one had replaced. The total lack of any kind of decoration. In the night, the shadows were deep and the silence oppressive. This was nothing more than the corpse of what had once been a home.

Serenity wasn't usually this morbid, she reflected. This house seemed to bring it out in her.

On the brighter side, she felt a lot happier about what she was about to do to the place.

Her hand dipped in to her bag, and came out carrying a pin, a rag, and a bottle of unidentified fluid. She licked the pin, and stuck it point-out behind the doorknob, where it might prick an unwary hand. The bottle was quickly upended onto the rag to wet it, and she smeared the liquid inside over the whole arrangement. Then, she moved on, just another shadow in the night-time house.

As she crept through the house, Serenity carried on wiping the wet rag in key areas – especially those that might be likely to be touched. Doorknobs, window panes, the stair bannisters, light switches. Here and here, more pins were placed, sometimes stuck into the floor to be trodden on, or inside cushions or seat covers.

After the madness of the War so far, Serenity was almost glad to return to normal – this was much, much more familiar ground for her. Killing in person was all well and good, but the real advantage to poison was that the poisoner could be long gone, with a perfect alibi, before anyone realised anything was wrong.

Even a tiny amount of her bodily fluids would be fatal to a human… eventually. The more they absorbed – even through the skin, even without knowing it – the more quickly their end came. Someone who opened one of her poisoned doors would initially only feel a slight tingle in their fingers, and think nothing of it. An hour later, their hand would feel like it had been dipped in flames, and an hour after that they would be unable to do much more than writhe and scream in agony. Death, within a day.

If they pricked their finger on the pin and introduced Delusional Poison Body into their bloodstream, however, they'd be unlucky to have to suffer for more than a couple of minutes.

It was as much kindness as Serenity was permitted to offer.

Little by little, room by room, the Matou house turned into a deathtrap. A thousand poisoned surfaces, a hundred hidden pins, just waiting to trap the unwary Master.

… and, also, because Kiritsugu was nothing if not thorough, a variety of small but potent explosive devices, which Serenity attached with tape to the underside of every table, cupboard and chair in the building. Some were incendiary, some contained a hail of shrapnel that Serenity had spent an afternoon licking, and one contained what Kiritsugu had called a 'nerve agent', which he claimed would cause nausea, followed shortly by paralysis and death if inhaled.

All it would take was one phone call, and the bombs would go off. Alternatively, all it would take was for one of them to be mishandled, at which point it would explode and actuate the others, and the bombs would go off. A different Servant might have asked why bother poisoning the place if they were going to go to the trouble of blowing it up, but in Serenity's opinion, you could never be too sure.

Ground floor is done, Master, she sent. Upstairs or downstairs next?

Downstairs, came the immediate reply. The Matou workshop is likely to be in the basement. Find it, destroy it if you can.

Understood.

The basement wasn't hard to find. For one thing, the air smelled worse and worse the closer Serenity got to it – a dank, wet, offensive stench. For another thing…

A single worm wriggled on the carpet. It was the first living thing Serenity had seen in the house. She padded up to it and crouched down to inspect it.

Serenity was generally fine with animals. They usually weren't fine with her, as even mosquitos refused to feed on her tainted blood, but generally she liked the idea of every one of Allah's creations having its own proper place in the order of things.

This, however, was the most disgustingly unnatural thing she'd seen in a long time, and she took a small amount of satisfaction in prodding it with a finger and watching it flop around and die.

There was a small trail of slime that Serenity would rather not think about leading from the dead worm to a door that looked even dingier than the rest of the house. It would be wrong to say Serenity was nervous as she opened the door, but she would admit to a certain amount of trepidation as to what vaguely unpleasant sight might await her inside.

This was, as it turned out, entirely justified.

The stairs leading down were narrow, and unlit. In the dark, they seemed to shift and move underfoot – until the light from the open door revealed them writhing with a carpet of worms. As Serenity stepped down through the door, the ones on the first step squished under her bare feet and shrieked in pain. After that, they gave her a wide berth.

The door swung shut behind her, leaving her in darkness, but Serenity's night vision had been incredible when she was alive and was even better now, so she could still make out the basement beyond.

She wasn't surprised, but it was… dispiriting how awful things were down here. Magi. Infidels and heretics, every last one of them.

The room was filled wall-to-wall with those disgusting unnatural worms – not a square inch of floor was visible beneath the mass of pale, squirming flesh. The basement seemed to heave and pulse with their motion, like Serenity was standing inside the living organs of some horrible creature. As she descended, they chittered at her angrily. It wasn't often she was grateful for her poison body, but seeing how it was standing between her and being swarmed by these filthy things, she could imagine how her fate could have been worse.

Unfortunately, she didn't have to.

In the middle of the basement floor, a small lump lay unmoving. Serenity walked up to it, wishing her senses had been less well trained so she could convince herself she'd seen wrongly.

Master, she sent.

Kiritsugu's mental voice was tense. I see it. I assumed Matou Sakura was sent away for the War, just as Tohsaka Rin was.

It looked like the Matou were a bit more relaxed about leaving their daughter in a war zone than the Tohsaka were. And, apparently, more relaxed about dropping her into a pit of worms for the night.

They're inside her, Serenity thought, privately this time. Why isn't she screaming?

The answer was far too obvious, and came to Serenity with a depressing certainty. After all, the Order made Serenity's body into poison. Why hadn't she screamed?

Because she knew no other way. Because this was the life she had been given. Because she was a tool for others to use, and tools didn't scream.

Serenity wasn't so unprofessional as to react where anyone could see. But if she could, she'd have clenched a fist.

"You'll have to forgive the mess," came a voice from behind her.

Serenity was against the opposite wall in an instant, knives out and ready.

An old man, tiny, stooped and bald, stood in the basement. Serenity hadn't felt him approach. At all.

That was, as far as she was aware, impossible.

"Oh, such energy," cackled the man. "Stop rushing around so, Assassin, you'll make me feel even older than I already am."

A man in the Matou house, who knew of Servants – a magus. A Matou magus – a likely Master. A likely Master – an enemy.

The knife was halfway towards the old man before the chain of logic finished itself in Serenity's mine. The knife blew clean through his head, and clattered away into the darkness. Where it had passed was a hole – the edges wriggling and reforming as the worms that made it died from poison.

The old man seemed not to notice.

"I would have cleaned up, if I'd known I'd be receiving visitors. That's what you get for being rude enough to drop in unannounced, I suppose. You can hardly blame my granddaughter and I for not being as hospitable as we might otherwise be." He poked the worm-filled lump in front of him with his cane, prompting a series of twitches as the things reacted. "As you can see, she's hardly dressed in her Sunday best." There was a series of wet cackles. "Let me greet you, in any case. I am Matou Zouken. I'd bid you welcome, but I can see you've already made yourself quite at home. Such a lot of poison you've left around the place, dear me…"

Serenity was… concerned. She'd been seen. The whole War up to now, no-one had seen her. Lancer had somehow known she was there, but even they hadn't managed to creep up on her physical form. No-one should have been able to do that. It was like this Matou Zouken had appeared out of thin air. Well, foetid, rancid air, at any rate.

"Nothing to say?" said Zouken. "Youngsters. No manners, any of you. Well, straight to business it is. I am obviously just a weak and feeble old man," he sniggered, "and can't threaten you to do anything, but please leave my house, Servant Assassin. Neither I nor my granddaughter are the Matou Master, and are no threat to you. You are, in fact, interrupting her magecraft lesson."

Serenity looked at the tiny naked girl, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She looked back at Matou Zouken.

"She's not a particularly attentive student," said Zouken.

This was honestly a new situation for Serenity. She didn't have any knowledge of magecraft or magi. Fortunately, she was part of a team.

Master?

Matou Zouken… according to the Einzbern records, formerly Makiri Zolgen, founder of the Matou family and head of its magecraft. Absorption, the act of binding onto oneself… so all these insect familiars are part of his body?

Ah. That explained it. Zouken hadn't snuck up on Serenity – he was already there. His presence was all around her from the start, so all he needed to do was form a body to speak with.

In future, if Serenity came across an enormous pile of unholy worms, she was just going to kill them all immediately and have done with it.

Orders, Master?

Kill Zouken, if you can.

… and Sakura?

There was a long pause. If Serenity knew her Master – and by now, she thought she might be getting an idea – he'd be torn right now.

On the one hand, he'd be thinking of the reasons why letting this little girl die was the pragmatic thing to do. It would free Serenity to annihilate every living thing in this basement, for one thing. Unless Zouken was a lot hardier than he looked, there would be no more witnesses to describe Serenity and her abilities. It would end the Matou line, a very positive result as far as the Einzberns were concerned.

The other part of Kiritsugu's mind would be thinking about Illya. About Maiya, and about all the other little girls in the world he would have saved if he could.

But he'd spent so long sacrificing in the name of ideals that it was almost more habit than pragmatism. Would he recognise it, if he found a person to save that didn't need him to kill in exchange?

Kiritsugu would want to tell her to save Sakura, but couldn't let himself. Once again, her Master would break his own heart to eliminate the slightest possibility of risk. How much more could he take?

Not much, in Serenity's opinion.

So she'd make this easier for him.

A flurry of knives exploded from Serenity's hands. Zouken laughed as they ripped into his body, but Serenity had only meant to distract. One hand dipped into her bag, the other prepared yet another blade.

In a flash, Serenity knelt at Sakura's side. The girl was covered in worms, writhing in a frenzy to get away from her poison body. Serenity's hand moved like a sewing needle, and every worm left on Sakura burst like overripe fruit.

Assassin! came the too-late call in her mind. Serenity ignored it.

Zouken was quickly dissolving into a pile of insects – not just worms this time, but more of those wasp-like creatures that had accompanied Matou Kariya. Better make this quick.

Serenity's other hand closed round Sakura's wrist. Even under these circumstances, Serenity felt her heart leap at the contact, her first in who knew how long. Sakura blinked, and looked at Serenity as if seeing her for the first time.

What she didn't do was die in screaming agony.

Among all the useful tools of this age, Serenity thought she might like latex gloves the best.

"Hold your breath," she said.

With a yank, Serenity threw Sakura up the stairs, and winced at the sound. She wouldn't be comfortable, but it was better than staying in here… especially with what Serenity was about to do to the place.

Assassin… fine. If you're to do this, do it right. I trust your judgement, said Kiritsugu.

Thank you, Master. I promise, it is for the best.

Hrm. I'll want an explanation later. For now, finish up and return. Make sure you finish off Zouken.

Of course, Master.

One last item came out of Serenity's bag – a metal cylinder, about a foot long. It would probably be very familiar to any Japanese housewife, especially ones who had problems with pests.

Admittedly, most brands of bug spray weren't really up to dealing with horrifying magical murderbeasts. Then again, this bottle of bug spray wasn't really bug spray at all. It would do the job just fine, though, whether its target was a cockroach, a worm monster or a herd of elephants.

Serenity started spraying, and Delusional Poison Body filled the air.

In seconds, there was nothing living in sight. A pile of clothes and a stick marked where Matou Zouken had been.

Sakura, sitting on the top step, watched the whole thing with puffed out cheeks, apparently having taken Serenity's warning seriously. She jumped when Serenity appeared behind her, and her breath came out in a huff. She stood, and Serenity reached over her to shut the basement door.

"Grandfather will be angry," Sakura said. She didn't sound scared so much as resigned to the fact.

"Will that not kill him?" Serenity asked.

Sakura's only answer was a dully incredulous look, as though she couldn't believe Serenity had asked something so stupid.

Master? Serenity sent.

It shouldn't be a problem for us. Don't worry about it.

Okay then.

"Your name is Matou Sakura, correct?" she said out loud.

Sakura nodded, slowly.

"Hello. I am Servant Assassin. Please try not to touch me, or you'll die."

Another nod. Sakura didn't seem particularly nervous about any of this. Either she was an impressively unruffled kind of kid, or – and Serenity had a feeling this was more likely – she'd simply learned that reacting to every horrible thing that happened around her got her nowhere.

"We're going to leave this place," Serenity said out loud. "Is there anything you want to take with you?"

Sakura tilted her head, and thought about it. After a while, she shook her head.

"Okay," Serenity said. "Come, then."

Sakura wandered in the direction of the front door, and Serenity went after her, opening the doors as they went and carefully closing them after. Together – not touching each other, barely looking at each other, but together – the two left the house.

Well. Serenity had done a lot of things in her time, but being a childminder was a new one.

Sola-Ui wondered if she was supposed to do something.

One minute, Matou Kariya had looked fine – well, no. That was a lie. One minute Matou Kariya looked two steps from death, but still upright and holding a conversation, the next he collapsed and started coughing fit to bring his lungs up.

Maybe Saber knew the proper etiquette for this.

With one final wracking heave, a huge, fat worm, the size of a banana but way more disgusting, slithered out of Matou's mouth. It flopped around on the carpet – that was more cleaning they'd need to do, thought Sola-Ui glumly – before splitting and revealing thousands of tiny maggots inside. As she watched, they reformed themselves into the shape of an old man, only a couple of inches tall.

The tiny man marched up to Matou, still choking on the floor, and prodded him roughly.

"Get up, fool," it said. "I have some news you will want to hear…"

Chapter Text

Things had happened rather quickly in the El-Melloi hotel suite.

The tiny worm-man had told Matou Kariya something about someone being kidnapped – Sola-Ui didn't really bother to listen to the details – and this had made both Kariya and his Servant very angry indeed.

Archer had dissolved into a rush of green motes moving at speed towards the window. Kariya, meanwhile, had scooped up the mass of maggots and reabsorbed them… somehow. Sola-Ui hadn't seen it happen, and was pretty sure she didn't want to know how it was done, because the only thing she could think of that would be worse than having to swallow the maggots would be to have them find their own way in.

Matou seemed to have recovered now, and was preparing to leave.

"Are you sure?" asked Kayneth. "With your home unusable, you will need a secure place to work from. Now that we are allies, even only temporarily, my atelier is yours if you require."

Oh, it was, was it? Nice of Kayneth to ask her. She glared at him.

"…although I request you defer to Sola-Ui in domestic matters during your stay here. As I do, haha."

She was going to punch him. She would be Saber's first kill in this War, and it would be Kayneth's fault for provoking her. Her fist clenched so hard it was physically painful, and it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep from yelling.

Matou, at least, seemed to pick up on her hostility.

"Uh, no. I'm good. I really should head out." He picked himself up, moving like a man twice his age.

Kayneth nodded, and motioned to Saber, who got the door. "I understand. You want to support your Servant in battle, as any magus would."

That earned him a strange look from Matou. "No? Archer can operate just fine without me there. You know, as if she can act in some kind of independent fashion. But someone's gotta be there to take care of Sakura once Archer rescues her. Archer is great with kids, but…" he smiled nastily, "She's going to be a little busy hunting down Assassin and nailing her to a tree."

"Very well. If you change your mind, or need somewhere to accommodate your niece, you know where to find me. Saber will guide you out of the labyrinth."

Kariya limped off down the haunted halls.

Once he was gone, Kayneth turned to Sola-Ui. "Prepare yourself, dear. I'll also head out, I think."

Sola-Ui sighed. "Why? This child has nothing to do with us. I'm sure it's very sad she's been kidnapped, but I hope you're not moving to rescue her out of some misplaced sentiment."

"Hardly." Kayneth chuckled. "Partly, I admit, it would be nice to be the hero for once. But no – I think Archer has that well covered. Instead, it occurs that it would be hard to find a better moment to assault the Einzberns than when their Servant is busy trying not to get, well, hunted down and nailed to a tree."

Sola-Ui paused, and considered. That was… actually a decent point. Even a stopped clock, and all that. She argued, more out of habit than because she really felt the need, "It's still not necessary for you to go. Everyone else will have had that same idea."

"Then I'll have plenty of help." Kayneth's eyes hardened. "The Magus Killer threatened you, Sola-Ui. I'm not letting that go."

"If you think I'm going to swoon and fall into your arms, Kayneth, you've got another thing coming."

"Nice as that would be, I know you better than that." Kayneth smiled as though he hadn't just said something utterly ludicrous, while Sola-Ui worked out what on Earth her reaction should be to something like that. "It would be nice if you wished me luck, though."

Sola-Ui folded her arms and turned her head. This much, at least, she could grit her teeth and do. "… good luck. As if you need it. I'm sure Saber won't let anything happen to you."

"Just so!" said Saber, having reappeared in the doorway. "Master, are you ready? Have you said your goodbyes?"

"Almost." Kayneth leaned across and kissed Sola-Ui on the cheek, which she accepted dutifully. "Now we are done. Come, Saber. Emiya Kiritsugu dies tonight."

And off they went, leaving Sola-Ui alone in the hotel suite. Again.

With a puddle of greasy worm juice on the carpet.

Gritting her teeth, she dialled hotel services and prepared to make the arrangements for a maid to enter through the many, many layers of defences. Security was one thing, but there was no way she was touching that.

Martha wasn't restless. She was a purehearted woman of the cloth, which meant that she couldn't possibly be restless, even though tonight was the first night Servants would fight each other without Lancer coming down on them like a tonne of bricks made from Age of the Gods clay. If something was going to happen, it would be tonight, when the other Servants had had three days to plan. Caster worried her, and Assassin worried her, and frankly she wasn't too sure about Archer or Saber either. Getting out and actually fighting the good fight would calm her down, because at least then things would be simple.

Tokiomi was far too passive, in her opinion – not that anyone had asked for it, and not that she intended to offer it unless specifically asked. It wasn't her place, and she would freely admit that she knew very little of war. But she did know a thing or two about evil, and right now there was evil in the city running unchecked. Staying turtled up had done no good against Berserker, and it wasn't going to do any good now.

But she wasn't restless.

She was quite content to simply stay in this lovely room her Master had prepared for her, pray, and worry herself sick.

There was a knock at the door, and she was across the room and opening it before the third knock came. Kotomine Kirei was behind it, looking vaguely surprised before he schooled his expression.

"Rider," he said. "Lancer has some information. Please come with me. I am just about to brief Tokiomi." Then he walked off, leaving Martha to hurry behind.

(Obviously, hurrying was something of an exaggeration. Like any Servant, Martha could have done three laps of the house and grounds by the time Kirei's leisurely walk made it to Tokiomi's living room. But there was such a thing as decorum, and besides Kirei's legs were longer than hers.)

The living room door was open, but Kirei knocked on it anyway. Probably a habit he'd picked up as an Executor, Martha reflected – Kirei's footsteps were very quiet, and he didn't want to startle people. Tokiomi looked up.

"Kirei," his eyes flicked to Martha, and widened, "and Rider? What is it?"

Kirei didn't hesitate. "Lancer has detected Matou Sakura being abducted from the Matou mansion."

Martha winced. That bluntness was something Martha saw sometimes in Risei. Hopefully, he would grow into a certain measure of tact.

Then what he said caught up with her.

"Abducted?" she said. "By whom? Are you sure?" What on Earth had Archer been doing, to let such a thing happen? Martha wasn't the best at reading people, but even she could tell that Atalante reacted furiously to the very idea of involving her Master's niece in the War.

"Quite sure. Unless Matou Sakura has suddenly gained the ability to leap across rooftops, we assess a Servant is responsible." Martha studied Kirei's face for any sign that he was joking, but either he was perfectly serious or his poker face was better than she thought. "Lancer cannot detect any Servant near her, so Assassin is the likely culprit."

"Emiya Kiritsugu… making good on his threats to use hostages, I see." Tokiomi looked as thunderous as Martha had ever seen him. Understandably. "Kirei, can Lancer monitor Rin from where she is?"

"Yes."

"Have them do so. I want to know immediately if Rin is in danger. Aoi also."

"Of course."

"Good." Tokiomi exhaled, looking slightly calmer. "As for this – I think the Magus Killer has made it clear he does not intend to abide by the unspoken rules. Involving children is too far. Rider, with me. I think the Moderator needs to know about this…"

Martha trailed after her Master – there was some magical communication device in the workshop, which Martha wasn't going to pretend to understand, which was how Tokiomi preferred to keep in touch with Risei. Personally, she preferred to use what the Grail told her was called a 'telephone' to call her friend, but then she wasn't a magus.

She hoped the Matou girl would be alright. At least her Master's daughter was safe. It was good to know he at least cared about the innocent.

Serenity hadn't exactly abducted Matou Sakura as part of a plan, and thus, she didn't really have much of a plan as to what to do with her.

Fortunately, part of proper preparation was to have measures and resources in place even for things that you didn't plan for – so, after some hasty discussion with Kiritsugu, Maiya stood ready to pick up Sakura and take her away by motorbike (cars being almost useless on Fuyuki's ruined streets). Take her somewhere other than the Einzbern castle, obviously, since that was the first place anyone would look for her, and while it was well-defended, the point was to take Sakura away from the warzone.

This plan, ideally, would involve Sakura being spirited away before anyone (apart from Zouken, naturally) realised she was gone. Thus, Serenity was in spirit form, her presence concealed, materialising only to whisper directions to Sakura as she wandered through the ruined streets – and, occasionally, when there were no witnesses, to lift her over a particularly awkward obstacle, or to leap from rooftop to rooftop as a shortcut.

It was something of a strange sight, this little girl in her neat little purple dress and matching boots wandering through the rubble, abandoned cars and debris that made up Fuyuki. If anyone noticed, no-one came – either to help or because they saw an easy target. Serenity wasn't too worried about that kind of thing, though. From Kiritsugu's research, the local Yakuza took a very dim view of that sort of thing.

Now, of course, everyone had bigger problems.

Serenity's problem came in the form of a clinical message from her Master.

Assassin. Prepare to engage. Archer seems to have a lock on your position.

Out went Serenity's spiritual senses, out came Serenity's knives, even as she stepped away from Sakura into a shadow and instinctively concealed her presence as much as she was able. Yes, there it was – a powerful Spirit Origin, closing rapidly.

Very rapidly.

Actually, really very rapidly indeed. Serenity should probably be doing something about this.

Any information on how she's tracking us? she asked.

None. Lancer may be passing her information, though I doubt it. She may have a lock on Matou Sakura. Worst case, she's just that good a hunter that your Presence Concealment is of limited use. I suspect a combination of the second and third options.

Serenity thought furiously. She had been careful to leave no trace, out of unbreakable habit if nothing else – Sakura was making no such effort. Archer knew that they'd started off at the Matou mansion, and if she was any hunter at all she'd have guess as to Sakura's average walking speed. That gave a pretty limited circle in which to search.

Small enough that Archer would be able to catch Sakura's scent once she got near? Maybe.

Plans whirled through Serenity's head. She had bait. She maybe had the element of surprise. Archer might by now know about Serenity's poison, but not her other skills. Most importantly, this wasn't a fight Serenity had to take. She could just fade away and run for it.

And let Archer take Sakura back to the worm pit.

… she gripped her knives tighter.

All of a sudden, Archer was there, materialising in a swirl of green motes in the middle of the ruined street. She knelt next to Sakura, and took her shoulders in a surprisingly gentle grip.

"Sakura! Are you okay? Did Assassin hurt you? I should have never left you alone, going in person to meet the Master of Saber was stupid but Kariya insisted… you're really alright? You must be so frightened…"

Sakura reached up, dull expression still firmly in place, and scratched Archer between her cat ears.

"I'm okay, Archer. Assassin was scary, but not bad… I think…"

"Is she still here?"

Sakura just tilted her head at that. Archer concentrated, taking in a deep breath and pricking up her ears. On this street, there were no fires, and few cars – just scattered rubble from a collapsed house strewn across the road. With the streetlights broken, the only light came from the moon and stars, half-hidden by the haze of smoke over Fuyuki. The shadows were deep, the street silent.

Serenity didn't have to breathe as a spirit, but held her breath anyway.

After an agonising moment, Archer nodded. "Fled, then. Cowardly, as expected. Come on, Sakura, let's-"

And that was when Serenity struck.

Three knives whipped towards Archer like bullets – silent, deadly poisonous bullets. Serenity could throw knives through plate armour, and all three were aimed at vital points… but the damage the blade would do was just a bonus. The real aim was to introduce Delusional Poison Body into Archer's bloodstream.

One was aimed directly for Archer's eyes to present the smallest profile, and this was still the most obvious threat. One was aimed low, at Archer's ankle, hard to see, and if she planted her feet to duck out of the way of the first knife, it would hit. The third and last was aimed centre mass – and, more importantly, aimed so that if dodged it would hit Sakura.

A surprise attack with silent knives, each one deadly with only a scratch, and positioned so that even if the target somehow knew about them they would be hard-pressed to avoid all three. Serenity took no pride in her killing ability, but she was the head of the Order for a reason.

Unfortunately, Atalante was an Argonaut for a reason as well.

When the first knife was halfway towards Archer, her ear twitched. Then, she blurred into motion – her great black bow appearing in a whirl to bat aside the first and last knife, so fast Serenity couldn't even follow it. Archer skipped back, foot neatly raising above the low knife to step back into a firing stance-

Ah.

Serenity dove to one side as a green arrow demolished the building behind where she'd been standing, and kept moving. For a moment she was visible only as a shadow moving among shadows – then, as she ducked behind a car, not visible at all. As a spirit, she doubled back, moved through a house for good measure, and emerged on a rooftop behind Archer, heart hammering.

This might be trickier than she'd hoped.

"Assassin," snarled Archer, looking around. "Involving children? I hoped your Master was only bluffing, like Caster said, but it seems there is nothing you won't sink to."

Serenity wanted, very badly, to ask whether Archer knew about what happened to Sakura in the pit. If Archer was less angry, she might have. Now, all it would do was give her a target.

On the off-chance Archer wouldn't expect another direct attack, Serenity flung more knives from her perch. Again the twitch of an ear picking up an almost-silent projectile, again the whirl of motion knocking everything aside – and again Serenity was forced to dodge as a punishing volley of arrows to match an artillery strike destroyed the rooftop she was standing on.

"Do I have to wreck this entire street to force you out of your hiding place, Assassin?" said Archer. "Because I will."

Serenity cursed inwardly. Archer was right, she couldn't keep this up forever. Her throwing knives were clearly not working. Time for a change of approach.

Dematerialised, she crept round Archer – not behind, but to one side, appearing again in the shadow of a partially-collapsed wall. She picked up a rock, and lobbed it over Archer's head. Then, she moved.

The clatter the rock made was barely audible, but Archer had launched five arrows in its direction before the echoes had even died down. The house unfortunate enough to be in the way fairly exploded from the assault, arrows punching clear through the building to impact the street on the other side.

By that time, Serenity was already three quarters of the way towards Archer, knife pulled back and aimed squarely between Archer's shoulder blades, where it would be most awkward to block-

Archer's backward kick hit her square in the sternum. Serenity's breath left her in a rush, but that was nothing compared to her ribs breaking, followed by her spine as Archer's heel drove straight through her body at very nearly the speed of sound.

She flew backwards, rolled once, then hit a wall. She was light enough that she didn't blow straight through it, but was left half-embedded in broken brick. She had just enough presence of mind to dematerialise and throw herself to the ground before an arrow passed through where her head would have been. She darted aside, back behind cover. In spirit form, she felt herself heal, agonisingly slowly.

Noted. Serenity would not be taking on Archer in close combat.

Her throwing knives were obviously out as well – Archer was too sensitive and too quick to be hit without some truly exceptional manoeuvring on Serenity's part. Serenity did still have other means of delivering her poison, but none that wouldn't also hit Sakura.

… which left her with very few options. This was exactly why Assassin Servants didn't take on any of the others directly if they could help it.

Master, do we know where the Master of Archer is? she sent.

Unfortunately not, came the reply immediately. The familiars are searching.

A shame. Matou clearly wasn't with Archer – or in other words, Archer wasn't currently protecting her Master. From her assessment, even Maiya would have little trouble killing Matou if he were by himself.

Well. That was one idea…

When her chest had repaired itself enough to talk, Serenity materialised once more out of sight, and called, "Thank you, Archer."

That earned another volley of arrows, but Serenity had already moved on.

Archer stood protectively over Sakura. "For what?"

"Taking the bait so well. My Master would have a much harder time killing yours if you were there."

There was a pause as Archer considered this. "Liar. My Master is alive and well, and no-one is nearby."

Serenity laughed, in a manner Iri had said was very disturbing when it came from a grinning skull somewhere in the shadows. "Yes, modern weaponry is quite something. Believe me, or don't. You'll know the truth soon enough. Tell me, what happens to Sakura once both her protectors are dead?"

Archer's tail twitched. Then she knelt down and turned Sakura to face her. "Sakura. I'm going to check on your uncle. I can't go as fast as I need carrying you. Stay here. No matter what Assassin tells you. She's a liar, understand? Stay here." She straightened up, looking around in vain for Assassin. "If you harm a hair on her head…" She left the threat unfinished. With a snarl, she crouched – and then was gone, leaving only an afterimage.

After a moment, Serenity appeared next to Sakura. If the girl was confused as to what had just happened, she didn't show it.

"I'm not supposed to listen to you," she said, staring up at Serenity with incurious eyes.

Serenity considered, then decided on an approach. "You don't have to. I'm not going to tell you anything. All I will do is ask questions. You don't even have to answer, I'm just going to stand here and ask. That's fine, isn't it?" Sakura was a small child, and Serenity had mastered social engineering and manipulation like she had every other art of infiltration. It was almost unfair.

Sakura nodded.

"Just tell me… will Archer take you back to the worm pit, if you go with her?"

Sakura hesitated, then shook her head.

"Not directly. But you'll be at your house, and you'll end up there anyway, right?"

Sakura nodded.

"Is that where you want to go?"

Sakura blinked, and looked down. After a moment, she shook her head.

Serenity crouched down, eye-to-eye with Sakura, and took off her mask. She held Sakura's gaze – the girl seemed unable to look away. "You actually hate it there, right?" she asked softly.

The expression of guilt and fear on Sakura's face would have twisted the heart of anyone who had one. How fortunate for Serenity that she'd killed hers long ago.

"I… shouldn't say," Sakura said, hands twisting in her dress. "Grandfather will be angry."

"You don't have to say," Serenity said. "I can already tell. Sakura, is there anywhere you would rather go? You don't have to go back. We can just take you away."

"Archer said to stay here…"

Serenity didn't say anything. Instead, she watched while a little girl's desire to do what her guardian said warred with her evident sheer terror at having to go back to her house. Sakura wrung her hands, and shuffled her feet. Serenity let her get to her answer in her own time – aware that with each second, Archer was getting closer to finding her Master, and seeing that he was in no danger at all.

Trembling, Sakura looked up at Serenity, and answered.