[@dosthou] [@Sageage] [center][b][h1]Interlude III[/h1][/b][/center] [center][h2][Remains of Tragedy / Reparation for victory (3)][/h2][/center] [center][h2]Ruler - Hercules[/h2][/center] [center][h2]Burning Miyama Town[/h2][/center] There was a desperation in the fight of Lancer against Ruler. Of course that was to be expected. To simply overcome a calamity was in the nature of heroes, even if it was a struggle. But to overcome a greater hero, to be a hero who aided calamity against the one who stood above all others? The strike against him was one that rang true, yet by the virtue of the proof of his deeds it was judged unable to contend with him. Ah, how disappointing. In the end the boy was but a lily yet to blossom. To the one who had reached the end of the twelve-step journey one immature could not contend with him. Yet even then there was no restraint on Ruler’s part. There was no denying Lancer’s ability. Many servants would have been crushed already by the effort of Ruler, even if there were some who would not only be able to stand their ground, but also strike at him and force him back. As such he decided to bat away the lancer, sending it flying far away with a simple backhand. He did not underestimate this Lancer, nor did he take the wasteful path of being too cautious. To simply deprive the Lancer of possibilities was acceptable. His axe swung down. Even he could not prevent Lancer’s step in for a final blow. Or rather, even if he did it was a waste of time and effort. Knowing that Lancer’s Noble Phantasm could not harm him the servant had to rely on but his raw strength. It could hurt him, but to slay him once, let alone defeat him was a near impossibility for that youth in this situation. He was prepared to take a bit of damage, for there was no other hero nearly as robust as he. If the price to finish this battle and end this obstruction was this then he had no problems. It would strike soon after, their strikes almost in parallel to end the duel. The fist of Percival met the body of Hercules. Bone shattered, and the impact rippled through the youth’s body, wild waves of force shaking and tearing his arm apart, metal whined and distorted, bending from the force of Percival’s flesh and bone that pressed against it. Mangled meat was all that was left from the impact, and the only reason it could be called an arm in shape was because of the distorted red armor that drooled crimson liquid in dripping torrents as though it was the hungry jaws of a wolf. Barely maintaining its shape as it twisted and expanded out. The shape was recognizable as a thing meant to be cariciture of an arm, but no longer could it be called so. This level of damage was on par with the result of a certain mystic eye, inflected upon one’s self. The blow was of an immense power. Reaching above A+ strength, matching the power of that oni, or perhaps even exceeding it. In this situation, putting all that he did in it, it was a blow that was self-destructive to Percival. But it was not something that could topple Ruler. But... [h3][center]Then Hercules [color=ed1c24][b]Stopped [/b][/color][/center][/H3] The roar of Percival filled his ears and the sound of the flames and battling servants in the background faded away. His momentum was halted by the blow. This was not the result that should have come from a blow even of this strength. Hercules’s body also broke. The force of the punch caving in his chest and ripping his spiritual core, rendering it a lethal blow even to him. Hercules died. A second punch came from Percival and he felt the force from the first still pushing him back, making him unable to react. Even with the resistance gained from Godhand the blow was enough to knock him down, to topple the greatest of heroes and harm him. In truth it was more like a push in what it had achieved, but it was no less an impressive and yet self-ruining blow. With a crash that left an imprint of Ruler on the ground, his body treating the streets like snow for all the resistance it held against him. The greatest hero fell. He looked up at the young man, at Lancer who seemed to stand taller than before, even as he shook from his wounds and condition, barely able to stand. His mangled arms healed, and yet Hercules could see traces of where his ruptured arms had threatened to rip through his arm as slight traces in the red-metal. He was quite truthfully… confused. Ah, there was indeed a tragedy occurring. Yet even in standing against the hero as an obstacle to salvation there was a blessed youth who did something that seemed impossible. A lamentable thing to see such a miracle happen for such a cause. It was beneath him to be dazed. But there was a moment of confusion, of surprise. How did that happen? How did this young boy strike him down like that? For a moment, for one moment where the world seemed to pause for any who were watching, Hercules laid down and pondered. But then the reality of the situation sunk back in. In time much less than a whole second Hercules sprung into action. Magical energy collected and the keen hand of Hercules rained down like the heads of dragons. His fists slammed into the already torn apart ground, creating a hole, a cavern. Even in a time like this his instinct was to protect. Both for the sake of his neutral position as a administrator of the grail war, and as a hero. To protect children was something he dearly desired. He grabbed Lancer and together the two fell into the ground. His body was a shield, and hidden from the full-brunt of that world they would survive.