[@Cu Chulainn] [center][h1]Lancer - Percival (Lily) Faltered Tragedy Concessive Collateral Compassion[/h1][/center] The tree must fall, the tree would simply impede the path. It was a thing that was most unkind, a delusion more than fantasy in a sense. But it was a matter Lancer realized he could not do much about. Nor was there a need. It’d be taken care of. The tree was not a concern. But rather the calamity that it would bring was on the mind of Lancer. The matter of that texture, of that fantasy was a story that closed in his mind as he suddenly made to leave. But before he did he grabbed back his spear from Rider. “The tree’ll be gone soon. But there’s something that’ll happen with the trains. There’s a lot going on where the world fell. If you want a better fight then you should go there.” The words were a direction for the Rider, a suggestion, a tip. It was all so he would leave, all so he would not stop the boy, or threaten his master when he took to leave with their fight not finished. “I have to go.” he said before leaving, rushing away as if not caring that Rider could chase him down to cut him to bits as though he were indeed just a normal little boy. [center][h1]-[/h1][/center] Hundreds died immediately. Many others were soon to follow, and others were teetering on the brink. In comparison to the hell of Miyama town that was divine punishment and the cruetly of the world, this was a disaster that was more like the destruction of man. To call this a hijacking gone wrong, or a terrorist act was far from far-fetched. The reason for this tragedy was pettier than he could have imagined. It simply happened out of sheer chance due to a negligent mystic code. To give a berserker such a mystic code was the height of irresponsibility. It was something even that youth found terrible. Which was saying something. But he knew not the culprit, nor found himself with the time to care. Like a blur he rushed through the crowd of injured people. A god-wind, a small spirit that had come to help, a strange miracle. It mattered not what they’d call it. Lancer shattered debris, ripped off caved in metal walls. A child who cried by their mother’s side, hobbled by a mangled leg that would never be able to walk again, dribbling lifeblood upon the ground and drowning out the flames from the explosion in a senseless waste of the water that was one’s vigor. The man whose face was scorched, flesh and skin melting together. The men whose limbs splintered from crashing into the wall and to each other like carelessly discarded dolls. The woman who lied, still, dying, a bar of mangled metal piercing through her skull, ruining her left hemisphere. The train began to meld back together, dragging glass from the scorched ground, and burning glass with it He healed those who were alive. Limbs connected, piles of flesh that lost the shape of humans, only barely alive by the most technical of definitions became people again. Light returned to crushed eyes. Hearts moved again, bones melded back together. Familiars warred for the spear in the background as he dashed about, healing and moving people as he went. What was a disaster and triage situation was cleared in but minutes. The servant who moved, astralizing and popping back into a materialized as needed, not bound by the limitations of a physical body, and working at the full speed of a servant managing to prevent death after death. At this point he did not think. Entrusting the guidance of his revelation skill, he sunk into his purpose. Faster, faster, faster. You are not the hero who dashes like the first start. You are not the hero who holds the world in his hand. You are not the hero who conquered twelve tasks. You’re simply a boy. You’re not a knight. His mind flashed the imagery of that hellish fire, of the people who crumbled away, burned by the black flames due to his presence. It was simply more fuel for him to let his mind sink away, the direction from above becoming like instinct. He allowed himself to be sublimed to its direction, to become like a robot, a tool. If he simply worked, if he simply pushed himself then there would be no time to hesitate, to feel the pain and horror. This time they were being saved, this time he did not come as a reaper. But what did he come as? “Mother. I met some knight in the forest. I did not know you could wear rocks. But what strange clothes it was. It shined so bright! Even their horses had clothes too like that.” “Mother. When I hunted some boar I met a knight again. He held a strange spear, one that was mostly a blade. It was very pretty.” What was a court? What was a knight? At that point he did not know. Did he understand even now? He who was ignorant of the world, who did not know what something was beyond the name. The garb of a fool hid the act of the savior that left the site of the railyard whole again. Even corpses were put back together. All the better for those who would live, that they be greeted with the wholesome dead rather than the bodies of those who were brutalized and met with their unfortunate ends. Each death was one that he could have stopped if he had been as fast as certain other heroes. Each death was one that likely would have been prevented if he asked his master for the use of a command seal. Ah, he really was a fool. These clothes suited him well. They were truly his noble phantasm, rather than the red vermilion armor of blood and glory that he had taken and admired. He felt a bit cold as he sat down on top of one of the trains that had been, for the most part fixed due to his ability. The final bit of work had been accomplished. He would wait for a time, waiting for the emergency survives of Fuyuki to arrive. The dead should be honored, the dead should remain whole. There was more trouble in the city, a riot slowly starting up. But for now… He watched over, stomach twisting slightly. Ah, what was this? A tear ran down his cheek. There were many things he did not know, and he still did not know. The world was a simple place he had thought when he was a child, who knew only the forest, his mother and the boars they hunted. Then they came. “Mother. Today I met three knights…” “I wish to see the court of King Arthur. “ “I wish to become a knight.” … “Mother, why do you cry?” The weight of a few thousand. What then was the weight of a nation? He thought of that king. What was the weight of the world? Looking in the direction of Mount Enzo, Percival thought and felt.