Breo

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Ajax’s Grave, Foreigner’s Lowlands

If he weren’t so focused on slaying this enemy, perhaps he might have smiled at a display of ability enough to hold his strikes off. Being someone that liked to fight, someone that thrived in battlefields against challenging enemies, it would have been baffling to see Achilles sport such a serious expression while locked in combat.

Ah, why? We could have so much fun killing each other, so why is there absolutely nothing?

Because—

Now isn’t the time to have fun. Now isn’t the time to smile. Now isn’t the time to laugh.

Those who do not enjoy life will not know how to enjoy Elysium when they reach it. He had always held to that belief, and so he tried to make the most out of his run, that is why he had faced all that came his way with a smile on his face and joy in his heart.

But now it is time for duty. Now it is time to mourn. now it is time to earnestly, with no hesitation, with no mercy—

—kill.

Ah, ah, ah, such memories. It is just like back then.

Wordlessly, he threw himself into the dance of death once again, observing as his enemy prepares herself as she wheathered his strikes. Certainly, any one of the blows of the hero Achilles would be enough to be called a fatal wound—even with her own quick reactions, skill and instinct, his spear still found its mark, and the number of nicks would only go up while he remained out of reach. He could see the gears in her mind turning—or rather, he imagined that to be the case. Looking for an opening, an opportunity—it is what he would do in her shoes. Defense alone would not win a battle, and in a protracted fight he held all the advantages, so her only choice if she wanted victory would be to—

—Advance.

Logical.

A spear’s advantage against a sword always lies in the distance. A sword cannot effectively counter if the rebuffs fall short or worse, they are too strong and they leave themselves open, while the spearman only needs to match the footwork, retract his weapon and thrust again.

At the same time, the basis of all combat is to ‘kill the enemy while they are at the wrong range’, something Achilles had been exploiting thus far. Advancing against him was, ironically, the potentially safest route if accomplished.

—However.

The greatest hero of the Trojan War was not someone that had just coasted by life with no opposition, either. He had been trained by the greatest teacher, true, but, at the same time, a hero can only get so far with training alone.

A warrior who stagnated was a dead warrior. Training was the start, but the true measure of their skill was in the challenges they faced along the way, and the answer they reached at the end of their path. Achilles might not have possessed abilities such as precognition, the sharpest mind of the ancient world or a connection to the voices of the gods, but—

—He was still a great hero that had survived the beaches of Troy. He was still a top class warrior that had thrived before the walls of Troy. He was still a man who had pierced the hearts of many in Troy. That was his ‘proof’.

There were heroes who had made their name with singular acts of valor. There were heroes who had forged their legend with great contributions to humanity’s history. There were heroes that had become enshrined fables by killing ‘that which was beyond humanity’.

However, Achilles was not one of that sort. He was not a ‘hero that killed monsters’, such as some of his older counterparts in Greek mythology. That was not part of his legend.

What he had learned in the Trojan war—the attribute that separated him from such heroes, beyond even specs, skills or Noble Phantasms. In the ‘premise’ of the Holy Grail War, it was that attribute that made him even more attractive as a Servant.

He had not devoted his life to learn how to slay monsters beyond man.

Achilles was someone that had honed his skill for the purpose of ‘slaying men themselves’. He was ‘a hero that killed heroes’.

Therefore—

It was true that avoiding a thrust was possible if one possessed enough dexterity, quickness and recognized the direction even if they were not just as fast — after all it is still a straight line. It was also true that advancing so suddenly against one might leave the spearman open. It was true that pulling back in a panic would give away the spearman’s advantage, it was true that in closer quarters, a sword would be superior.

But, Saber, did you think it was anything novel?

The moment she had retracted the barrier, the moment she had focused on advancing, the moment she had chosen to hold her sword in so awkward a manner, the moment she thought to be able to hold back an opponent that was stronger than her if it came to it by grabbing his weapon, the moment she had chosen to attack half-heartedly against a man that had expressed his absolute desire to see her dead. Even if she succeeded, what did he have to fear, wearing his godly armor?

Mistake, mistake, mistake. Which one was the first?

. . .Perhaps, the moment she had seemingly fallen under the impression that the Heroic Spirit of the Spear would adhere to normal limitations — it was a flawed foundation to build a plan upon. To begin with, he only had that title because he could defy what should be ‘possible’ with a spear.

The momentum of the thrust stopped dead in its tracks the very instant Saber made her choice to advance and sacrificed her shoulder, only to begin its movement anew, this time to the side as Achilles swung it.

Recognize. Plan. Execute.

Saber was fast, but Achilles was ever a step faster.

Accelerating to top speed in less than an instant, the spear which Saber had allowed to slide over her shoulder now—

—Collided against her head and caved in her skull like overripe fruit.

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Lowlands

“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—ah, that’s not enough, not enough, it is the farthest thing from enough—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, Comet Form, 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

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Foreigner’s Lowlands

The hero of the Trojan War continued to run throughout the city as fast as his legs could carry him, uncaring about any buildings destroyed in his wake, concerned only with reaching his Master’s current base of operations quickly so that he could discuss just why she had not thought to tell him about his teacher, and just how he would be able to deal with him.

Trauma or no, hellish training or no, Chiron was someone ‘dear to Achilles’ heart’. That was an undeniable fact, and he could not bring himself to raise his spear against the man, even if he had thrown his lot in with whoever had called forth Troy. The fact of the matter was — he had always been the kind of idiot that absolutely could not fight those he had already deemed as ‘friends’. Perhaps some would be able to kill that feeling, but the bonds he had formed were not something so easily ignored.

And that was without mentioning the rush of suppressed memories that would have him staring at the ceiling for quite a while following his return. At this point, he just wanted to get back.

However, something caught his attention, and the ‘comet’ shifted its course ever so slightly to pass by the two Servants having a battle so near their base. Perhaps one of those his Master had mentioned, allied to the Matou, or just simple coincidence? Regardless, he did not have time to—

For the second time in the same day, Achilles forgot how to breathe.

That shield.

His legs came to an abrupt stop, the force of the sudden deceleration enough to crush a man, yet not even phasing the greatest Achaean as he beheld a macabre spectacle.

He knew that shield. He knew the man holding it. He had laughed beside that man. He had trained beside that man. He had fought and bled and killed and cried beside that man.

He had been friends with that man.

His cousin, Ajax — another of the great heroes of that War, who had distinguished himself as much as the other, whose name still echoed in eternity as that of a great hero.

He knew that man, and now he was seeing him bisected by the sword of an enemy, his faithful shield powerless to stop it. His grip on his own spear tightened, but that was nothing compared to what came after — the flash that signaled the arrival of a new Servant, and the release of another Noble Phantasm.

His cousin had died, right before his eyes, before he had even known he was here, too stunned to try to save him, too baffled to try to stop them, too absorbed in his own worries to act promptly, too—

—too late to save anyone, again. But that’s a theme with you, isn’t it? Always losing sight of the most important things—

“—And nothing but regrets to show for it.” He muttered, taking a step forward, gaze fixed on the woman that had turned his cousin to ash.

In some dark manner, it must have been amusing. He, the fastest of all heroes, always too late to help those that needed it, always too slow to save those that mattered, always a step short from being able to protect what he loved.

He had never been a hero that saved people. His legend had been built on the corpses of his enemies and his loved ones. However, before he could wander down that path, a memory assaulted him.

A moment, shared on those beaches during a quiet night.

”You’re thinking of what?”

“Hey, Rules Fifteen and Thirty-one, cousin. Besides, it’s not like you can talk about how we use our equipment. I really believe this can work.”

“. . .I suppose. You always did live up to expectations, as well.”

“Heh, well, gotta come up with my own way of keeping up. Teacher’s training can take us far, but what makes or breaks a hero comes afterward, Ach. It’s in what we live, and what we reach at the end of the road. But we’ll manage it. After all—”

“—Rules One-Hundred and One-Hundred and One: Rise, Strive.”

The hellish memories associated with each one were oddly absent — or rather, something he had dismissed as a matter of course due to the situation. How could he afford to care about such petty things now? How could he live with himself if he let that get to him right at this moment?

The answer was that there was no way. Plain and simple. He had failed him, he had failed plenty of people but—

That just meant he would have to fight for what he had left all the harder. That just meant he would have to treasure those memories all the more. That just meant he would have to honor them as best as he was able.

The hero named Achilles was never one that looked at the past, he was not one that pondered about the what-ifs and sighed while endlessly thinking about missing opportunities. He would do what he had always done, the swiftest hero in the world would run forward at full speed, looking at the future.

There was no cocky smirk, there were no taunts. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his gaze was firm, focused and ready.

The traumas would not overcome him. The pain of loss would not hold him back. His regrets would not drown him. His anger would not cloud his mind.

They were things that did not matter. Thus—

“Rule number Ninety-Five: Concentrate.”

What did he have left?

The gifts of the gods.

The skills he had been taught by the greatest teacher in the entire world.

The abilities he had refined over the course of ten years of war.

And a body forged for victory.

Plenty to work with.

A single breath, the eternity between heartbeats, and Achilles had moved. There was no warning, and he offered no quarter — almost as if he had teleported, he had appeared right by the side of the Saber — Yamato Takeru — spear poised to gouge her side with all the quickness that the fastest among heroes could muster.

@addamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

’Lancer Prime’

Edge of Shinto Town, in front of Troy

Again, he spoke of those rules. Again, Achilles felt odd, like remembering a half-forgotten dream. He brought a hand to his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his heart start to ache as whispers he could not quite make out and scenes he could not quite connect flashes in his mind.

Mental interference?

. . .No. To begin with, even without his armor, Achilles was one who possessed the skill, Bravery of the highest caliber, and compounded with his other abilities, it meant that he should be able to shrug off that sort of attacks without much issue. Besides, it felt different, more like he was trying to remember something that. . .

That. . .

Stop you moron, you don’t want to—

But then, Archer waved the bottle in front of him, and Achilles suddenly found his gaze transfixed in its form.

Ah. I have seen that before, indeed.

I wish I had not.

The dam broke, and it all rushed back in.

“Best way ta learn Pankration is hands-on, Ach.”

“Now, then, hand eye coordination by catching whatever arrows I fire at ya, for the next twenty-four hours. Fail once and we start all over, no breaks~”

“Oh, you’re taking a dip in those nearby whirlpools, objective’s ta escape before ya die. Eh? The chains? Well, you never know when ya have to escape stuff like this. Ya know there are always weirdos with a penchant for nonsensical executions.”

“Ey Ach, got Dio to lend me those mares of his! Time to work that cardio!”

“Now then, getting into the obstacle course, the arrow wall was gettin’ old, so I added a tightrope walk over the volcano and reduced the allotted time to five seconds.”

“Ach? Ach? Ah, damn, again? You’re lucky I trained Asclepius ya wuss.”

The color had already drained from his face entirely. Ignoring the bottle crashing against him, his eyes, wide like saucers, simply stared at Archer as though he were seeing him for the first time. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Get into the cave, Ach. Just like old times.”

A response finally arose from him, but rather than words it manifested in a full-body spasm following the word ‘cave’. His legs started to tremble, and he opened his mouth again.

The following instant, the hero’s figure had once again turned into that of a comet, but this time he ran at full speed from the direction he had come from.

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!”

Oh, had he managed to outrun his own shout this time?

Smashing against and through the wall of the building in his way, the hero made his gallant retreat toward Miyama.

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