[@Breo][@Over Illusion] [h2][center][b]Emmerich Lisztmayer-AnschΓΌtz von Sabern, [i]Master [s]of Rider[/s][/i] Nearby the Tohsaka Manor The 27th of August, 1939[/b][/center][/h2] [hr] The mad rush of a released Command Seal brought a blindness of power over the officer's eyes. Such strength, such might he thought would be unstoppable. Arcane movements and amounts of prana never felt by an ordinary magus in their entire lifetime were now held at the order of a stalwart german commander. As his spirits rose, so did his rush to rejoin the battle by the side of his companion and cherished hero. Pupils dilated and hasty breathing, skipped exhalations and gasps of bravery: All telltale signs of an ecstatic Emmerich sinking away in his reawakened lust for glorious victory. With his body trained to reflexively execute the movements of a trained soldier, the lanky man's mind was left unoccupied to wander freely. Visions of an auspicious reconnection to the roots of mankind hurried his unbroken sprint onward - The fever-dream of every true fascistic individual was about to be made manifest before his very eyes. Men and women of old heroics, those whose exploits inspired an insurrection against this rising degeneracy of Europe, were now to fight beside the men and women of the present who choose to answer the call of their ancestors! One more corner to turn - The noise of battle was intoxicating, the air carried a whiff of bloodshed that only made Emmerich's mind race on. The officer has seen it all, old memories came flooding back to his mind's eye. One by one he recalled the worst of mankind he observed and replaced the images with those of a cleaner, hopeful future. The poisonous Communists who tore down the past - [i]Erased[/i]. The unhinged Marxists that raped women with laughter - [i]Erased[/i]. The eternal Jews that sold children into prostitution - [i]Erased[/i]. The crooked Hebrew that ruined lives with usury - [i]Erased[/i]. The perfidious Englishmen who held a facade of false nobility - [i]Erased[/i]. The detestable Frenchmen who took a people's livelihood - [i]Erased[/i]. [b]Degeneracy [/b]- [i]Erased[/i]. The horrible humanity that sunk to hollow nihilism, pursued only base pleasures and sought nothing but minute entertainment - [u]π•½π–Šπ–‹π–Žπ–“π–Šπ–‰.[/u] In earnest, no national socialist wished for the unmaking of a people or their nation and neither did Emmerich wish for those either. What he longed for was merely a purge of righteousness against the values of an aimless society - To once more put onto the throne of humanity the values of culture, tradition and progress. This was the only true path to walk for any man that has lived the War to End All Wars. Civilization was to be rebuilt from the ashes that were left behind after the Apocalypse of Old Europe, lest it be consumed by the bestial nature of an unguided man. In the mind of the officer, Sigurd's mere existence was the embodiment of the success of this movement. Young Warriors of the Gun and Grenade, fighting beside and led by the Old Warriors of the Sword and Shield; All in pursuit of one ultimate truth to be achieved. A cheer flooded the lanky officer. A grin creaked beneath the balaclava. Kit jingled as both hands clung to the Schmeisser. The sudden rise in uneasy silence did little to halt Emmerich's advance towards the battle against an impregnable foe. A worry scratched at the back of his mind for sure, yet he quickly strangled it into silence for nothing - No mere human - could ever come to match the might of Sigurd. And yet, it happened. The unthinkable transpired. There the wretched holy man stood with a heart in his grasp, accompanied by an accursed woman, both basked in the fragments of light that fluttered like a swarm of dayflies in the evening wind. His brain could register the odd formation of visual stimuli to be vaguely in the figure of- [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]No, Rider! No - Sigurd! SIGURD![/i][/b]"[/color], came the helpless shriek. Suddenly it dawned on the german what truly happened. The sinister signs from earlier that he ignored soon gained meaning: The silence after just a single clash, the throbbing pain in his chest and the sudden disappearance of that imposing presence which could only be cast by a Servant. There was no denying it now, Rider was dead - Once again, that is. The hearty rush to battle came to an immediate halt. The officer crumbled to his knees in a cascade of metallic noises, yet somehow he still managed to remain upright. It was second nature to him, truly. The force of the stop flung the helmet off his head and immediately a pair of bare hands snapped to take hold of his scalp. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]SIGURD![/i][/b]"[/color] A shot rang through the night - The dropped Maschinenpistole 38 misfired upon impact against the pavement, sending a lone bullet into the sky and a single hot brass casing onto the ground. The clink of the spent cartridge was soon joined by the rattle and roll of the trusty clothed Stahlhelm. It, too, has hit the pavement. Fortunately it did not misfire. Eyes shot wide in realization of Rider's death welled with tears that Emmerich quickly diffused. However, within the officer was a shattered world. A hope that was once extinguished by the Great War, sparked again by Rider's existence, was now stomped out again. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Where are the heroics you promised me, my Rittl?[/i][/b]"[/color] There truly were no miracles in this world. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]... Where are they?[/i][/b]"[/color] And nothing can change that. The whimpered questions were not answered. They could simply not be answered anymore, as the person whom they were addressed to no longer existed. There, on the street and in the final purple coat of the sky, Emmerich knelt in humiliation - Not only was a Germanic ideal removed from this word, it was done so with a singular blow lacking any effort delivered by what, on baseline standards, was an ordinary human being. The victor of the battle was not even tired, he did not even break a sweat. The Agent merely walked away from the engagement, holding idle chatter as if nothing happened - As if he shrugged off a piece of lint from his shoulder. In an offhanded manner the lanky german registered that something transpired in the Tohsaka Manor as well, but the despair that beset him bore priority for now. Like always, Emmerich soon stood again - After all, to live is to struggle. A hollow message was broadcast to all members of his expedition, letting his followers know of the happenings in a solemn and tight-lipped manner. [center][color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Rider is dead.[/i][/b]"[/color][/center] Manhood is Struggle - He internalized this truth. To become master of one's life, one must become a master of both agony and joy. In these dogmas the officer found the willpower to fight on, yet as his ideal was crushed he has become a changed man. The hyena that survived in those inhuman ditches and fended off herds of rapacious slav after slav in a bid of persistence awoke once more. There was nothing to be gained from wallowing in this misery. Reality had to be accepted, it would not take any other answer than acceptance. Miracles do not exist, just like Sigurd did not exist anymore. He had to move on - Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. - He understood and embraced that. Duty came dripping onto his psychological wounds like a soothing salve. It was time to continue on with the mission. Silently collecting his belongings and making sure no irreparable damage is done to them, Emmerich ventured forth in the ruins of the short and fatal encounter. A bare hand reached over to the satchel strapped onto his thigh, drawing a plain-looking metallic object of brick-like design. It resembled an oversized flask in all honesty - With a yellow plug and a handle on the topmost part, nothing really stood out on the object's surface aside the thick white text on its side: "[b]3kgs[/b]" In no time the determined officer was already at the doorstep of the Tohsaka Manor, on a knee in front of the main door. With a hand on the yellow plug and the strange metallic object propped up against the door frame, his grasp tightened. A part of him knew that what he was about to do is an outlet for his despair just as much as it is an execution of a plan, but he tried to ignore the former fact. It'd be very unprofessional to bask in such endeavors - And so, he merely cranked and pulled the yellow plug free of the metal object before running away from it posthaste. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wiD2ByQ.png[/img][/center]