[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/271031448755109888/452429537993818112/AchBanner.png[/img]
[h2]’Lancer Prime’[/h2]
[h2]Foreigner’s Lowlands[/h2][/center]

“A likely story.”

His words cut through the air, sharper than any sword. There was a hunger in his eyes, and the chill that it produced would have been enough to drive an army with their tail between their legs. He seemed to forget about the outside world entirely, paying no mind to observers.

Only one thing mattered now.

The blood staining the head of his spear dripped down in rivulets as he held it still, not moving from his stance even after Saber had dashed away. Gone were the playful jabs or the joy for a strong enemy that would not die to his hero-slaying thrusts as a matter of course. His gaze, intense and deadly, met Saber’s eyes and carried a sense of complete mercilessness.

“Let me regale you with another option.”

He shook his spear to get the blood off, staining the earth—[i]ah, that’s not enough, not enough, it is the farthest thing from enough[/i]—and turned to face her. 

“I see before me an opportunistic wretch that, seeing a chance to take two Servants out, decided to take it. I see before me someone that slayed my cousin while claiming to be his ally, which might as well mean you’re either lying to my face or a traitor, but do you want to know the best part? After that, you tell me to worry about the city, you tell me you are on my side, and you expect me to believe you and join forces with the one who killed my kin right before me, just like that.”

The world froze as he pulled his armament back. It was not the release of Prana predating the usage of a Noble Phantasm—the killing intent coming off the man was just that strong.

“Tell me, Saber, what would you believe in my position? In fact, let me tell you another thing.”

Through it all, his voice did not raise a decibel above casual, as if talking to an acquaintance about the weather.

“I absolutely suck at fighting allies, you know?” He made his odd confession, as though the fact were relevant to the situation at hand. “Once I’ve accepted them like that, once I’ve accepted them as friends, I really can’t bring myself to fight at full strength. Maybe I really am childish, like some people I met would say, but it’s something I’ll never get over, even if others can. But tell me, Saber, when I attacked you just now—did you feel any hesitation in that thrust?”

He finally smiled, a grim thing completely at odds with the cocksure disposition he usually displayed, and perhaps it would have been better if he had kept his expression neutral.

“I don’t acknowledge you as an ‘ally’, Saber. Much less a friend, or someone I would entrust my back to. So that means there’s going to be no regrets, there’s going to be no hesitation and there’s going to be no mercy. Get ready to play for keeps.”

The wound Saber had received was not deep, but in a battle between Servants, every single nick mattered, it was still a sign that first blood went to him, and against Achilles, who was the swiftest hero of them all and boasted of the skills and specs of a first-rate Servant, who would pounce and capitalize on any weakness, a single misstep would mean death.

“Maniacs that can’t control their greed, huh? Yeah, yeah I agree, I’ll save the city just like you want—and starting with the one in front of me, I’ll use my full power—”

Again, he took a single step toward Saber, and again, his form would have appeared to even the most acute eyes as ‘having teleported’. Even for the Lancer class, which usually boasted of fighters with high mobility and agility, the speed of his legs was baffling.

The Noble Phantasm, [i]Comet Form[/i], that was only confirmation of was Achilles’ standing as the fastest whether in this War or any other, a continuously-active type that was the source of his divine speed that stood at the undisputed top of Heroic Spirits. Things like building distance or running away we’re only as effective as one’s own speed was when compared to the opponent, and unfortunately for Saber, there were none faster than him.

“—I’ll use all my strength and right here, right now, end her life.”

The spear darted forward. A sturdy thing, he clearly knew how to use it well—in the Trojan war, it had pierced the hearts of many heroes, and the skill and speed Achilles wielded it with certainly reached a category of its own. There might have been those who matched or exceeded that skill, but combined with his natural ability, he was no less of a ‘monster’ for it.

Gouge the head. Pierce the throat. Impale the chest, stab the heart, puncture the lungs, slash away at her upper extremities.

Certainly, in the span between heartbeats, Achilles could doubtlessly exchange more than a hundred blows, all of them lethal or crippling. Furthermore, the distance between him and Saber was just enough to remain out of reach of her sword while he could pick and prod and kill at his leisure with his own weapon, and she would have to defend and retreat only to be followed, or try to advance and open herself up if she made a mistake.

Furthermore, even if she avoided a lethal blow, even if she avoided being crippled, every single wound he scored would be another to his advantage, and not something that the enemy would be able to recover from quickly, or at all if he had any say in it.

After all, if summoned as a Lancer, his spear also gained the property of ‘dealing cursed wounds’. How long until she could no longer hold her ground?

[@addamas]