[center][h2]Dulle Griet, Foreigner's Graveyard[/h2][/center] As Nakae fled, the madman laughed. A harsh, keening noise that shattered the air under the lonely moon. Was it for the defeat of her enemy, the despair of his Master, or something else entirely? Well, it wasn't as if what occurred in her mental world was within the understanding of the sane regardless. [color=ed1c24]"Hey, I was just thinking. Since he's not a Master anymore, ya think that command from Ruler still applies?"[/color] She remarked aloud to nobody, a manic grin splitting her face in two as, directly above her own head, that hole in the world to the black capital appeared. The hilt of a blade slid from the gateway, like the Sword of Damocles hanging overhead, ready to drop into her hand. [color=ed1c24]"Eh, well even if it did, I don't wanna get more on Ruler's bad side. Not yet, anyway."[/color] Saying this with a dismissive tone, the Berserker closed the overhead gate, glancing to the running figure of the defeated boy. [color=ed1c24]"Now then, back to searching for [b]him[/b]."[/color] Saying these words, Hell's conqueror made her departure. [hr] [center][h2]Ruler, Church Interior[/h2] [@Beloss] [@Holy Grail] [@DrowsyPangolin] [@Cu Chulainn] [/center] Another new arrival? This day was seeming to be infinitely more active than yesterday had been. Maybe the cookies should have been prepared for today instead. Ah well, hindsight was 20/20. Eyes flitting to the newly-entered Master and Servant, Ruler gave a slight nod to himself upon verification of identity. Yes, compared to that Berserker who had just stopped by, this was a much more reasonable hero to expect in a Grail War. [color=fff79a]"Welcome, competitors. I am this war's overseer, Servant Ruler. Excuse the mess, another Servant was in a rush."[/color] He explained with a brash laugh. [hr] [@Berserk Gene] [i][center]Joshua Abraham Norton died in the year 1880. Joshua Abraham Norton does not belong in the current era. Joshua Abraham Norton's status is "alive". Joshua Abraham Norton belongs in the current era. False: Body is that of a Ghost Liner-class spiritual entity. Materialization has not occurred. Analyze. Analyze. Analyze.[/center][/i] The former Boxzerker did not fade. Not yet, at least. And yet, it was obvious that the current arrangement could not be a long-term one. With the prana of the Command Seals fueling him and Imperial Decree at least temporarily confusing the force pledged to crushing his existence, it was possible to sustain his existence without killing his current Master. Given his nature as a Berserker, a day would be the maximum. Less if he fought. This was equivalent to a death sentence. The war will not end in a mere day, and when his time runs out, he will certainly fade. It can only be called beyond fortunate, then, that elsewhere a boy with one leg was beginning to awaken. [hr] [center][h2]???[/h2][/center] "...good, you managed to retrieve him before he faded." The black-haired man who had acted as a blight on the war appeared, a dying figure in his grip: the Servant who had, mere minutes previously, entered that other world that Dulle Griet called Hell. And before him... [color=9e0b0f][b][center]You will be beloved by God. You will be struck down by God. You will tear apart mankind.[/center][/b][/color] Before him stood another figure, sweat dotting their brow as they straightened up from their previously-doubled over position. Vomit stained the floor before them, their face pallid. "That Lancer, he really was beyond my expectations. What a monstrous figure, a true idol of rebellion, processing him as the first one was a mistake." They murmured under their breath, a trace of admiration flickering over their face before being wiped over with new resolution. "...we need to speed things up. I'd wanted to keep working on him for a few days, but the schedule will need to be bumped up. Let the boy go." The black-haired man gave a silent nod before taking his leave, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared. The body of the Servant, lacking a Master to keep him in this world and with his limbs crippled at the hands of the man who had taken him from Hell, fell haplessly to the floor. They stepped forwards, a somber expression on their face. "...there's no need to worry. I'm sorry, you've suffered a lot, but it will end here." A single hand was placed on the Servant just as his body began to fade, and before he could perish, something impossible happened. Dying wasn't supposed to feel like this. [color=9e0b0f][b][center]You will be steeped in rage. You will forge something terrible. You will herald the end of life.[/center][/b][/color] Before he could fade, Muramasa felt it. Through his body and out through that hand pressed against him, something flowed. Strength had long since left his limbs, but now it was like something entirely different was being sapped from him. The world around him did not grow black with the release of death, but grey as that "something" was torn from his spiritual core. This was not something within the rules of conventional logic, this was a conceptual attack on his very being. And as that greyness overtook everything, he finally realized. It was "him". That hand was taking away [u][i]what made him "him"[/i][/u]. Unable to stop the outflow, unable to fight back, unable to scream, the Servant Muramasa left this world.