Breo

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Edge of Shinto Town, in front of Troy

His rage upon seeing those walls again burned strong — enough to conjure the memories of all those he had lost to them, of his dear friend who had been killed by their foremost defender.

There were a lot of bad memories associated with that place, and for a hero who wore his emotions on his sleeve, it was all too easy to become lost in them. Of course, the knee jerk reaction had been to call out the only man he would have thought able to construct them in the modern era, but. . .

”There’s no mud in ya face, Ach.”

His gaze flickered to the man that had addressed him, not surprised by the knowledge of his identity considering what he had done the night prior so much as confused by the familiarity in the tone. Come to think of it. . .

He was rather sure he had never met this man before, but a nagging feeling on the back of his head. . .

He ignored that for the moment, however. What he had said was true — his foot shifted, slightly, but he did not lower his spear.

There was no way he could have gotten this close to Troy if that guy was around, at least not without paying dearly for every inch of ground, having fallen into a couple dozen pitfalls and gotten more rocks to the back of the head than he cared to admit. The walls might have withstood many assaults, but they alone weren’t even half of the defenses that protected the Trojans from their enemies.

That guy had never been ‘someone who decisively won’, but he had been the sort that ‘simply did not lose’. That made him all the more annoying.

Still, he was not here, and that calmed him somewhat. Seeing his figure combined with the walls themselves would have been enough to make him fly into an actual rage.

If the man was to be believed, ‘that woman’ was not here, either — though that did not matter as much. Achilles was one with his fair share of regrets, and he wished to apologize, yes, but. . .

“She doesn’t worry me as much,” He snorted, though there was no humor in the following smirk. “It’s only the one issue with her, but the circumstances are not right to solve it. I have my own duties — so even if she was here, I would kill her again.”

After all, despite all that had occurred between them, she was not someone he had called ‘comrade’, and despite his regrets over an insult, he would not simply lay down and die.

“I’d be a pretty piss-poor Servant otherwise.”

What had prompted him to share those thoughts, he wondered? Usually, mentions of that girl would at best merit a brusque answer, but the odd sense of familiarity persevered — and his curiosity as to the man’s demeanor grew.

Rule twenty-two. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling a memory swim just out of reach. For some reason, a shiver went down his spine.

Well.

That was also curious.

Regardless, for all that was all well and good, it was clear that the great hero if the Trojan war would not be dissuaded from his course of action so easily — those walls needed to be cracked open and shattered. Perhaps it was an inevitable outcome in this war — after all, regardless of how soundly Achilles declared his hatred of ‘fate’, Heroic Spirits were no more and no less than slaves to their own stories.

However, the other Servant was in the way, and clearly not intent in just letting him walk through for whatever reason. He raised his spear just a touch, pointing it his apparent opponent.

“So, just what’ll you do to stop me if I keep at it, then? You know who I am. Speaking of which. . .”

Looking at the man, examining his features just a bit more closely, Achilles could say. . .

“—just who the hell are you?”

@Paradox Witch

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Construction Project ‘Tarantasio’, “Temporary Room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands

“Who can say?” He shrugged, staring out from his spot near the window toward the flattened plains surrounding the site. Between his actions and those of whoever had let that storm loose, they had all but demolished and wiped away everything that once stood in the area. “We were just doing our part to deal with that debacle, Master. If someone else considers us responsible for it and holds Ruler’s declaration as applicable, it is their choice to come and fall.”

Absolute, unshakable confidence in his own victory, just like always. In a way, one supposed it should be expected, considering who Lancer Prime was.

“I expect some will even band together. Last night’s display was not really subtle. . .Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter. If it comes down to it, at least we can win quicker if we crush them all at once.”

His expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered their next move, only listening to that which had entered the room with half a mind at best — he had no words to spare for it, and his Master was the one that was being questioned.

Not to mention, he had never been one for architecture. Ask him to lug things around, he could do it, but he had no interest in their planning for the moment. Certainly, having a camp to return to was important, but at the same time he disliked the idea of just waiting for people to come to him.

The simple truth of the matter was that did not really enjoy defensive tactics — it required patience he did not have, and he preferred to be on the offensive whenever possible. So.

“I figure you can deal with this place on your own for the moment, and if you need me I’m only a step away to begin with,” He grinned at Benita. “So, we can see about those Command Mantra or at least keep them out of the hands of others — whichever seems more appropriate.”

After all, those things were trump cards in this battlefield of heroes, so denying the enemy the possibility of acquiring them was, at least, a sound move. However, he did not have much in the way of leads, so he would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Running around until he found someone to beat up. It brought back memories.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to hold the fort here while I go have some fu— err, scout. Yeah, yeah. . .”

And then, he jumped out and began his dash. His earlier boast of ‘I am only one step away’ might have seemed excessive even for a Lancer, but it was something that held true for him nonetheless — he possessed the divine speed of a hero hailed as ‘the fastest’, so even the greatest obstacles in this place might as well have been pebbles beneath his feet for all they mattered.

So, he set out in a run toward Shinto, any arguments his Master might have had summarily ignored. He had been obedient from the start, but it was time for him to do as he liked for a bit.

Now, then, he needed information. And, if he remembered correctly, he’d been told that information was most readily available in bars.

Perhaps he’d find something interesting in that pub his Master had spent the previous night at. In fact, he was even rather curious about it, considering the name, so his course was set..

The plains, the river, then the intact buildings on the other side, all blurred around him as the swift-footed Lancer sped toward his destination, like a comet.

But then, suddenly.

The comet ground to a complete halt.

Edge of Shinto Town, looking at Pelion’s Pub and. . .

Those walls.

Those walls. Those walls, those walls, those fucking walls.

His teeth were bared in an expression completely divorced from his earlier, cocksure façade. His raptor’s eyes stared at the fortress before him as a surge of absolute loathing shot through his veins. For a single instant, the hero named Achilles was no longer within the confines of this island in the far east — but rather, standing with the sea at his back in the bloodstained sands of those beaches, looking at that same city, with that man standing on the walls, directing the troops.

It bubbled from within him, a fire lit in his chest and spreading throughout his body, spilling forth from his lips as a —

“▂▂▃▃▅▅▅▅ — — ! !”

It could not be called a cry.

It could not be called a scream.

It was a guttural, savage sound no man should make. The howl of a beast that would drive carrion birds away from a battlefield full of corpses, the roar that would crush the spirits of lesser men and make even the most elite of armies falter and tremble with fear.

The rage-filled snarl of Achilles as he once again witnessed those walls. There was no trying to make sense of it — but at the same time, his thoughts about the situation should be obvious.

There was a lull of silence after that — perhaps the calm following an unforgiving storm. If animals had been nearby before, they all had surely fled or been terrified into silence. However, it was not to last, for he broke it moments after.

This time, however, it was not a roar that spilled forth from his throat, but rather, a word.

A name.

And, in spite of that, the sound was perhaps even more terrible than that which had come prior as the greatest hero of the Trojan War spat it out.

“HECTOR!”

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Basin, Miyama

He laughed as he continued his descent. Uncaring about whether his declaration had been heeded or not.

It would be a shame, certainly — as far as it concerned something of the nature of this War, to have heroes snuffed out before they could even have a chance to prove their mettle or exchange names would be tragic, but this was simply the way things had turned out.

However, there was something that caught his attention at the edge of his vision.

A young man, engaged in battle, fighting against. . .

Fighting against. . .

No. There was no way that was right, there was absolutely no way that was possible, but at the same time, he had heard tales, from his teacher, his mother and father, about that demigod that possessed a body without peer, that man who could be called ‘the greatest hero of them all’.

That frame, that body, that skill and the power behind each blow. He fit them perfectly, and he realized then just who he was seeing —

Right before the young man decked him hard enough that he seemingly knocked the wind out of Hercules himself for a second.

Speechless, his attention was split between the fires down below and the fight to the side. A smile split his face once again, and he decided he had to get there as soon as possible after dealing with the task he had been given.

After all, one was the man he had always wished to meet, the other was someone that could match him. His blood felt like it was boiling.

And so, the sea of flames rose up to meet the falling world—

”What?!”

He thought it would be a simple matter, but it proved anything but. Not only did it push back, he could feel actual struggle against the advance of his own Noble Phantasm. His expectations shattered in the face of something so ridiculous, eyes widening and prideful smile slipping away.

To begin with, to stand before his shield was to stand against the world — even if the fire had absorbed curses, even if it had grown stronger from all those it had claimed already, it should not be able to resist the advance as it was crushed underneath, but his eyes did not trick him.

Somehow, this fire had gained the same characteristics as what sought to oppose it, but. . .

No, the how, the why, that was not important at the moment. What mattered were his orders, and his own desire regarding this matter. He had said it before, hadn’t he?

A hero is also someone who saves, and the nature of these flames only made them more terrifying — stopping their spread had only become an even greater priority if this was what they were able to do mere hours after their inception. Therefore, to save those that still resided in this city from the inferno, he. . .

“Don’t think that’s all there is to me, either!” He roared out. Almost as if seeking to push it down himself, his shield came up once more before crashing downward again — once, ten times, a hundred times, so fast that his arms might as well have been a blur.

He could not fail. He would not fail. Not when that man was that close. He could not afford to —!

This was not simply a matter of crushing it anymore, this had become an all-out clash between a microcosm and another. For a single instant that seemed to stretch into eternity, they pushed against one another, the flames tainted by curses pushing against the world that had been engraved with Achilles’ own life.

And, in the end, there was one victor.

The flames gave out, and the meteor continued its descent, the ground below cracking.

The structures built by the hands of men were obliterated as a matter of course, blown away like they had never existed in the first place — it looked as though no trace would be left that anyone had ever lived there, and anyone that had not evacuated in time had likely been ground to dust as well — if they had even managed to survive the flames in the first place.

Miyama — or rather, this part of it — had absolutely stopped existing as a town, the land left in great disorder. As he accomplished what he had set out to do and the ‘world’ he had called forth vanished, Achilles looked around and witnessed the damages first-hand.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.

“Ahahaha. . .I guess I might have overdone it?” Standing at the center of the newly-formed basin, he seemed to grow self-conscious at the strangest time. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it and using his shield as a makeshift mirror, looking himself over.

“I gotta make a good first impression. . .no wait, I already dropped that on them, first impression plan did not go great,” He muttered to himself, “So I’ll apologize formally, invite them to drinks. . .hold off on asking for a fight, too, I need to smooth this out first.”

He held the shield out in front of him, considering, before a glimmer in the reflection caught his eye. Tensing, he turned his head and watched the glow of flames in the distance.

The fire, it seemed, had not been completely put out.

“. . .Oh, come on!” He raged. “I interrupt his fight and I can’t even put it out completely?” The indignation seeped away, giving way to despair as he came to another realization.

“He. . .He will never sign my shield now. . .”

. . .Well, nobody ever said heroes can't be fanboys themselves, as well.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Middle of Town, Shinto Town

The Heroic Spirit of the spear looked at the burning district across the river, the weapon that granted him his title slung across his shoulders. A careless laugh escaped him as he received the orders from his Master.

“You’re even blowing one of those things on this? Are you sure that is wise? Although it’s not like I dislike that sort of thing.” He mock-chastised the hasty decision made in a drunken stupor with a smile, then immediately retracted it. Whether it had been a decision made with cold logic or a snap-judgement in the heat of the moment, Lancer Prime was a hero that would respect it.

There was a saying about alcohol bringing the truth out of people. His Master would not have done this if she was not concerned with the safety of those that would be caught by the flames, and he would answer that request without hesitation.

After all, even if he was the hero of the rushed life, even if his tale was one of violence, he was still a hero in the end.

And a ‘hero’ is also ‘someone who saves’. Therefore. . .

The spear vanished, he would have no use for it now. So thinking, he took a few steps back and materialized something else in its stead.

A shield coalesced, firmly grasped in his left hand. Visually speaking, it seemed to be an ordinary piece — solid and excellently made, to be certain, but lacking any sort of adornments or signs that it was a hero’s tool beside that craftsmanship.

Just a simple, round shield, an antique that seemed plain when compared to his radiant armor.

However, it was still one of the ‘treasures’ that Lancer Prime could confidently call nigh unmatched in the entire world, and one he held dear to his heart.

Crouching as if to begin a run, empowered by the Command Mantra his Master had used, he smiled.

“Hope there’s not too many heroes in there,” His muscles tensed. “It’d be pretty lame if they died before we could even exchange names properly wouldn’t it?”

Then, he exploded into motion, running forward full speed like a shooting star, people and buildings blurring around him. In an instant, he was already at the edge of Mion river, continuing his path atop the water without even a second of hesitation, too swift to be sunk here.

It was only natural. Backed by a Command Mantra, this was the sort of divine speed that could be achieved by the hero who was extolled as ‘the fastest, no matter the era’, moving like lightning across the battlefield, crossing the distance in but a breath. In the eternity between heartbeats, he had already reached his destination, the edge of the spreading flames just another step away.

But instead of plunging headfirst into the fire, Lancer Prime jumped above it, as high as he could with the momentum he had built combined with the strength of his legs. It was not true ‘flight’, but it was as close as it would get.

Sky Above Foreigner’s District, Miyama

Gravity asserted its hold over him then, and he dived headfirst into the inferno below. Everything seemed so small he could not help but laugh — the exhilaration had lit a fire in his veins.

It was only natural, he supposed. After all, had he not boasted that his life was that of a falling star?

He lifted his shield up and then he brought it downwards as if to smash an imaginary opponent, proudly declaring the name of the Noble Phantasm Achilles would, with no hesitation, call ‘the strongest trump card’.

_{The Miniature World Enclosed by the Azure Sky}
“Akhilleus Kosmos!”

The effect was, thus, activated.

Akhilleus Kosmos — the shield of Achilles, described with a hundred lines in Homer’s Iliad. A Divine Construct crafted by Hephaestus said to have been engraved with the world.

A Barrier-type Noble Phantasm that ‘deployed a Bounded Field’. The nature of that field could be guessed only with the treasure’s title.

Cities, beaches, rivers and mountains, the sky surrounding them. People, both ordinary, faceless masses and ‘those that had been engraved in the hero’s heart’. The places where he spent his childhood, the battlefields where he became a man, a thousand ships sailing the currents and a great city that stood before them, all those memories and more had been crammed into it to give life.

Akhilleus Kosmos — a Noble Phantasm engraved with ‘Achilles’ world’. The reality as he knew and understood it, with all the good and the bad, in all its beauty and ugliness, colored and seen through the lens of the great sprinter that distinguished himself on the battlefields of the Trojan War.

As far as ‘defense-type Noble Phantasms’ were concerned, it was certainly in a class of its own with only a handful of treasures equaling it, and only the tool of a certain king that could be called one of the summits definitely surpassing it.

An absolute barrier that protected the wielder from all harm — the masterwork of Greece’s premier blacksmith that employed the ‘world itself’ as defense.

. . .However, that was not what he was using it for. There were no ‘attacks’ coming his way, so using it like that was pointless to begin with.

But whoever said that ‘shields can only be used to defend’ anyway? If you asked the man himself, he would have you know that bashing an enemy’s face in was a valid use, and he applied the same principle to this gift.

Therefore, falling from the sky above Miyama at breakneck speed like a meteor was. . .

A ‘world’.

Laughing, Achilles rushed to meet the earth below, and his Noble Phantasm dutifully followed.

”Small fry, get out of the way if you appreciate your lives!” He declared with an inordinate amount of pride. “And any who remain, be crushed or rise above it, this is the time to prove your brilliance as heroes!”

”Only real warriors have any right to stand here!”

[@Miyama dudes]

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Crash Site, Einzbern Forest

The frown remained present, features stony even as Saber’s counter struck and sent him to the trench, the sensation of pain muted despite the distance and force.

He wondered if that was just his natural ability or the fact that he was annoyed with his opponent. As he flew back toward the trench, he twisted so as to fall on his feet and then jumped back once more, creating proper distance between himself and Saber — whom he carefully observed with narrowed eyes.

His words had drained the good mood he had felt, and this bout had gone on for long enough. He toyed with the idea of going straight for the kill, but even the annoyance was not enough to overcome his desire to have an all-out battle with the swordsman at some point down the line.

After all, neither of them had put everything on the line here — a battle between Servants was a battle between Noble Phantasms, and neither he nor his opponent had revealed all their cards yet.

He could, but he would not. It all came back to that single-minded desire that had built up over the course of the skirmish — Saber was doubtlessly a great hero in his own right, even if Lancer Prime had yet to guess at his true identity. He would have to be, to even begin to keep up with him.

It was far too early to kill such an enemy, regardless of their words. He scowled, circling, but maintaining a distance between both of them, lowering his own spear minutely —

And then the sound of the explosion reached him before the following tremor. His head snapped toward the source for a second, surprise apparent in his features. Had another battle taken place so close by? He must’ve truly been off in his own little world to not to notice.

He turned his gaze back toward his opponent, eyes narrowed and wondering if there was more to this matter, before slinging his own weapon on his shoulders. The bloodlust that had emanated from him until seconds prior was gone, replaced by a relaxed air.

“. . .I didn’t see any when I came, so I’ll take your word for it,” Saber had not struck him as a liar. Confident to the same degree Lancer Prime was, yes, but not dishonest, and he admitted that such confidence was well-earned. “Besides, the mood’s ruined now. We can leave it here and kill each other in earnest later — it would not make for a good story if I ran the one good opponent through the first day and then everything else was a disappointment.”

He paused, half-turning in the direction of the explosion.

“That said, I wouldn’t be surprised if my little Master is as interested in that as I am, so I’ll be going to take a look before leaving. Feel free to follow.”

He had not asked for permission, nor did he seem to feel threatened by the possibility of Saber attacking him — his fighting mood had left him, and if he wanted to leave, there was not a thing the swordsman could do to catch him. His speed might be excellent, but Lancer Prime was extolled as the absolute swiftest among Heroic Spirits.

Even if Saber gave chase, he’d just take a look, circle back and make it out once again. Easy.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Crash Site, Einzbern Forest

He frowned, quickly correcting his course so that he would be able to place an armored forearm between Saber’s uppercut and his exposed jaw, deciding to take the new situation as it came, adapt and create some distance between them, mirroring his opponent.

Still, he could not help but click his tongue in disappointment.

He had been unable to grab him.

It was not a complete failure — or, at least, that was Lancer Prime’s assessment of the situation. In a way, he supposed he should have expected it, with Saber having shown himself to possess outstanding intuition and matching reflexes.

Having that sort of advantages, only a complete fool would have neglected to answer his assault and simply let Lancer Prime do as he pleased. His ability with the art that had been pioneered by the greatest hero and the slayer of the Minotaur might not have been as great as those of his forerunners — but the level of skill he had attained in life and the corpses he had left in his wake spoke for themselves.

Whether it was his spearmanship or his pankration, his skill was not to be dismissed. Observing Saber carefully, he took the window offered to him by manifesting his spear once more, holding it lightly in his right hand while watching out for sudden moves.

His Master had contacted him with further instructions — or rather, attempted to, trailing off at the end and leaving him hanging, but thankfully she did not appear to be in trouble just yet.

That was good — he could not very well fight this man if he did not put his all into it. Worrying about his Master on top of that would make things harder.

Still, he supposed he should get to those arrows and leave, preferably soon — they had been fighting for a while regardless, and Saber had proven to be an excellent opponent. Unveiling his own trump cards — killing him right now — was not something Lancer Prime wished to do.

It was far too early for that.

However. . .

"I may have underestimated your skills at Pankration, but once I strike your heel, it will be over for you, Lancer!"

His shoulders tensed and he forgot all previous thoughts.

It was not a surprise that he knew about his weak point — it was part and parcel of being one of the most famous heroes in the entire world, and he had not really done much to hide it.

However, that single sentence had nonetheless caused a shift in Lancer Prime’s demeanor. If glares could kill, Saber would have definitely been ash by now.

He listened to his words with half a mind, saying absolutely nothing, continuing to fix him with that stare, and only when saber was done did he speak.

“. . .Talking about the arrows, then? Sure, sure. We can definitely do that if you’d like, but. . .” His arm drew back. “You should be able to multitask effectively, no Saber?” He questioned, and his voice could have driven crows off the battlefield.

It would be one thing to boast about being able to catch him.

It would be one thing to boast about being stronger.

But what Saber had done was. . .

“I don’t mind hashing out the details, but you’d better survive long enough for us to agree on the terms.”

Ah, he had only come to get those things and meeting him had been a great bonus — he did not think anything could have ruined the night, but then—

—Saber had gone and put him in a terribly foul mood.

He would listen, of course, but he was in dire need of an outlet.

So.

Without a single instant to prepare, he shot forward — opening with the same move he had launched toward Saber at the start of the match, his hero-killing thrust seeking to bite into the throat of the enemy.

”It’ll be over the moment you strike my heel? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Crash Site, Einzbern Forest

Something was not right.

Something was very much not right. Lancer Prime might have been confident in his skill, but even he could not help but find it odd that his opponent neither frowned or showed surprise once his hold sent him tumbling to the ground. He could understand the thrill of a good fight, of course, but the glint in his eye gave away that there was something else about this.

Regardless, it was no use to think about that now. He had always been a man that dealt with things as they came — perhaps that disposition would cost him, perhaps not, but he would not change course. Not that he’d be able to at this point, with Saber ready to collide. He continued through the motions as planned — the throw executed perfectly and his arm cocking back to launch the punch in a smooth transition — until Saber dodged by a hair’s breadth, his strike rupturing the ground instead.

He let his features change into a frown, starting to pull back, but it was too late — Saber was not quicker than him, but between his natural capacity and top-notch intuition, he was able to keep up and catch him off-guard like this. He was ready to, perhaps, be pulled into a wrestling contest — even eager, regardless of it being under his opponent’s terms, excited about the challenge and confident in his technique.

He was, however, not ready for the sudden explosion that managed to leave him dazed. It had not been powerful enough to breach the defenses of his armor, but it had interrupted his plans for a follow-up rather handily, which meant it was Saber’s move.

His mind reviewed possibilities — but, once again, Saber’s choice would surprise him. He had, after all, not expected the man to turn Lancer Prime’s own weapon against him, especially considering what he had done moments prior, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he dove down to meet his quarry.

It was a strange situation if looked through an outside lens. Not only did Saber have the advantage of reach, thereby making it impossible for Lancer Prime to engage in a grapple without being skewered, but it should have also been an expected strategy in any battlefield — it was, after all, the one weapon Saber had on hand and the Servant clearly knew how to thrust with a spear.

Yet. . .

“Come on now, Saber, did you seriously expect such a rookie mistake?”

This was not a normal battlefield, and neither was that a normal spear — and unless Saber possessed an ability that allowed him to ‘take possession of the treasures of other heroes’, the fact remained that regardless of whose hands it was on or the distance between them, that particular spear was a Noble Phantasm that belonged to Lancer Prime.

So he did the only natural thing when he was faced with his own weapon: much like Saber had done with that shield of his, he dematerialized it before it touched his skin as a matter of course, continuing his assault toward an opponent that was on the ground and had overextended an arm and had kindly put himself into a proper position.

Knees meeting the ground, he quickly made to grab that arm and get him into a shoulder lock, trying to get the other arm tucked beneath his leg.

The basics were rather simple — use Saber's own arm as a lever while his head and other arm remained bound by Lancer Prime’s legs, twisting to put his target into a torque and cause pressure greater than the joints could handle.

He had done it to some people, and the results were not pretty. He’d have to see whether Saber knew how to use that strength of his for more than just punches.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Anastasia Alexandrovna Voronin

Foreigner’s Graveyard, Shinto

“Ooh, what is this?”

Curious, so very, very curious. She hadn’t really expected to meet yet another fellow under these circumstances — a tad too presumptuous, considering that her reason to come could have probably applied to any necromancer worth the name, but her surprise at learning just who she had summoned had left her with the notion that there would not be another such coincidence.

Still, it was far from a bad thing — there was always that healthy sense of competition whenever she met a fellow practitioner, and this would doubtlessly be an interesting way to start the night off. Peering through the eyes of her familiars, she observed the approaching forces as her own pets moved toward the graveyard.

Hmm, now, what was the welcoming committee comprised of, again? She could distinguish a few normal ones, but also. . .oh.

Oh, that dog could be a problem. Her smile widened and she giggled into her hand. Seeing as neither magus nor Servant were around from what she could perceive, it would actually be a fight if her pets were to be pitted against them. She had chosen to just send some that had been idling around — no more than five — since it was supposed to be scouting and retrieving materials, but she was glad to have sent an specialized one — it would give her the chance to gather information and get a show, since the things she required for further preparations would still take a while.

Besides, it was so earnest an attempt she just could not bear not to watch it.

“Well then, kindly show me what you’ve gotten up to.”

---

Z-Team Alpha

Near the Graveyard, Shinto Church

They stilled without warning, vacant eyes turning to observe the sight that greeted them uphill. Originally, their orders had been to secure bodies and resources for their mistress to use, but that had now changed to ‘battle the creatures approaching from the church’.

One or the other meant little to them. If the orders changed, they would adapt to complete them regardless — after all, they had not been given any capacities beyond what Anastasia had deemed ‘necessary’ for them to function and perform in their allotted tasks — all else was secondary. One in particular, clad in what looked to be a heavy coat, approached to the forefront.

It was tall — particularly so compared to its companions, and more than a little bulky, yet when it shed the coat, the head looked disproportionately small compared to the body, fitting a more normal-sized fellow. However, the most eye-catching thing was. . .

—The stupendously ugly scar that ran from its neck to the base of the abdomen, almost as if it had suffered some particularly grievous accident. Its arms were spindly — altogether too thin, giving it a disproportionate appearance on every level, and its hands could hardly be called such, resembling more claws made out of bone.

They moved then, it ran them over the scar, settling over it for a second before the pinions dug.

There was no blood, there were no screams — the flesh parted for them and the moving corpse forced its torso open, but no viscera spilled out. It had been fully hollowed of anything that had been deemed unneeded, and in its place. . .

Like a macabre jack-in-the-box, more claws appeared, this time from the inside, as if seeking to hurry the process along. The entire torso parted down the middle, opening up like a wardrobe to reveal four more pairs of such extremities folded within. The mess of limbs disentangled as the monster stepped forward, its face the perfect picture of serenity as bones clicked into place.

its companions would help, of course, and his main target was the wolf that had earned the interest of their Mistress, but if any chose to approach it, it would kill them all the same.

@EnterTheHero

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Crash Site, Einzbern Forest

’Got it.’

He replied to the order from the mental link as an afterthought, too lost in the midst of battle to care. Normally, he would have been annoyed, but his mood soared sky-high, given the circumstances.

“An endurance type, huh? Guess this could take very long at this rate.” Lancer Prime joked still, even as his spear seemingly failed to completely take the enemy’s hand as he had intended.

Just as he had surmised, the armor worn by the black swordsman before him was, while not on the level of his own, still a treasured artifact that offered the one who wore it a measure of ‘invincibility’, though he had yet to determine the full extent of it. It had not entirely blocked attack, judging by the dropped blade, but between it and the abilities of his opponent, it had certainly been reduced enough to not to completely disable his hand.

Annoying, but informative nonetheless. He would not have been so rushed to cover his head and neck with the shield if it was a characteristic of his ‘body’, so that ruled out some other individuals that were closer in nature to Lancer Prime.

“I see you have me at a disadvantage, Saber — I guess such is the curse of being so famous. Can’t say I’ve figured you out just yet, though.” The smirk that wormed its way into his face clearly gave away the true implication behind the statement.

What did it matter if he knew? He would not shy away from combat just because his weakness had been discovered by the enemy. He angled his body slightly — only turned slightly sideways, just a touch shy of facing Saber completely head-on.

The grip his enemy had on his spear was not something he could break — Saber had displayed the skill Mana Burst, and his natural Strength was first-class. Wasting time attempting to wrest it away from his grip was not the answer, so he did the next most natural thing.

“Hold onto this for me for just a second, will you?”

He let go.

It was stupid — He had just made an attack to disable Saber’s sword, and now he was forfeiting the advantage just like that?!

Of course not. To begin with, he was not some one-trick-pony that could only do a single thing — though he had not been (would never be) a match for that great hero of his land, Lancer Prime was still a natural-born warrior that had studied under the great sage, and had absorbed all the knowledge Chiron had to impart to the point of becoming his second-best pupil.

His ‘talents’ did not lie in ‘spearmanship’ alone. They lied in ‘all the skills necessary for a hero’. And that included. . .

”Identify the opponent’s weakness, advance, and then be sure to crush it. That is—”

—The core, right, Teacher?

Without wasting an instant, Lancer Prime surged forward to meet Saber, knees bent slightly, his eyes darting toward the shield that sought to smash against his head — he ducked, minutely, as his now freed hands moved toward his enemy.

One sought to grip the opponent’s arm, the other sped toward Saber’s abdomen. Without wasting any time, he shifted once more, rotating and —

”Remember that you are not limited to your muscles alone. Invite the opponents themselves to fail.”

Using the momentum Saber had put into his blow against him, in conjunction with his legs, arms and back to execute the picture-perfect throw and then, once Saber was on the ground, he would follow up with a lightning-quick punch to the unprotected face, seeking to interrupt the flow of action Rider had commenced wholesale—

”Most importantly, never let anyone else dictate the terms of the engagement, Achilles.”

—And he would use all he had learned to achieve it.

Pankration. — the hand-to-hand combat art his teacher had passed down to him, invented by his senior disciple alongside the slayer of the Minotaur, the two men that had already been legends by the time Lancer Prime — Achilles — was just a boy.

Furthermore, Lancer Prime was also one of those rare great heroes that displayed the Skill, Bravery at the highest Rank, an attribute he shared with that man. If Saber sought to challenge him in hand to hand, he would be sure to rise to the occasion.

Of course, his enemy’s specs and abilities were still noteworthy even without the added defense of the armor, but he thought it would grant him enough of a window to retrieve his weapon and create some distance.

Most likely, he would obey his Master and leave. It was still too early and there were far from enough witnesses to the duel to kill such a magnificent enemy — it would be a shame.

In that regard, this was the childish streak of the great sprinter showing itself once more — he would spare an enemy solely because it would be more dramatic to face him later.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Crash Site, Einzbern Forest

The soaring spearhead was stopped by the shield, and Lancer Prime’s delighted laugh echoed in the forest as the song of steel meeting steel began once again.

Certainly, it appeared his opponent was not to be underestimated — to begin with, not many heroes could claim to be able to keep up with him like that. Saber must have been a great warrior indeed, to be able to even raise his shield in time — exactly the sort of enemy he wanted to face, exactly the sort of hero he desired to clash against during this second life.

Just as he stepped forward, so did Lancer Prime step back and to the side in turn — it was not an unexpected strategy. After all, one of the basics he had gotten beat into his head during his formative years was ‘kill the enemy while they are at the wrong range’.

In this battle, his spear offered him the advantage of reach compared to his opponent’s sword, and if he could circle to the side his shield did not cover he would only make it harder for Saber to properly defend himself. Furthermore —

His opponent’s strike was solid, doubtlessly breaching the Rank of A, as expected of any Saber worth the name, and if it hit, the damage should be worth noting even for someone like Lancer Prime, who boasted of great natural sturdiness. The only natural course would be to attempt a block.

He should be able to reach. After all, whether it was a sprint or his attacks, his divine speed remained the same as ‘the fastest of all heroes, without a doubt’. Even if Saber had already begun his attack, Lancer Prime should be able to outpace him.

—However, he instead took the ‘chance’ Saber had offered, sending a lightning-quick thrust with all the strength he could muster toward his exposed sword-hand. Did he intend to sacrifice his leg for it?

No.

To begin with, Lancer Prime’s body was one that had been endowed with ‘immortality’. His armor was something that took that characteristic and augmented it, in its own way, to make him ‘a hero that did not know death’. But that was far from its only function.

The greatest work of the renowned artificer of the gods. The final gift of someone who might as well have been his foster brother. He would trust it, and like many times before, it would not fail.

Even if Saber’s attacks made contact, they would not be met with blood and severed flesh — but stopped by the sturdiness of the armor his enemy donned. It was not the ‘immortality’ showcased by his skin that forbade all attacks but those that carried ‘Divinity’ from harming him, but simply the quality boasted by a masterwork courtesy of the greatest blacksmith of Greek mythology.

He was not the great hero that could even get back up after being killed. Lancer Prime had but one life to give. But Hephaestus had guaranteed that taking that single life would be the greatest endeavor his enemies would undertake.

—Saber’s attacks doubtlessly reached the rank of A.

However, the Rank of A alone would not be sufficient to breach his defenses.

Are you watching, Master? This is the strength of the man you've contracted with.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic