Yukitamas

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Breo

In The Woods, Church Outskirts - Site of the Spear

The army of Persia swarmed over the forest, swarming like locusts and devouring all that was present. Idols and talismans were thrown into the door. Skeleton warriors clutched various spirits in their hands and dived into the tomb that was the final resting place of Darius the Third, adding the energy of the spirits to their liege. More and more the Athánatoi regrew, warrior after warrior manifesting in response to the magical energy claimed, plundered and redistributed.

But it all paled to the grandeur of one prize.

He stood before the spear, a ragged growl of a breath coming from him, his chest heaving for a bestial growl. The spear was a work of beauty. A peerless treasure among treasures. As a relic, as a legend it was certainly unmatched. Connected to one of the greatest heroes in the world whose name was celebrated everywhere the light of civilization reached. Any would hold it in awe, and any hero would hold it in high regard out of respect for that man. Even those who held him as enemies, those who absolutely detested him and died with their last moments dedicated as a grudge to him would feel awe at the weight of his legend.

Yet what he saw was something that was more poginant, more valuable to him.

What was a legend? The muddled thought went through his mind.

Iskander…

Iskander..

Iskander. . .

A legend was something that struck awe, that one admired. The spear before him was indeed a legend of humanity.

But more importantly it was a legend to that man

"ISKANDER!"

His roar shook the forest, sending a few of his men flying. Passion, absolute passion was filled in him as he took the spear in hand. This time he would strike at what was valuable to him. This time he would plunder that which formed his dreams.

To go beyond his legend.

To go beyond opposing the dream of okeanos to plunder the dream of the man who dreamed of the Iliad.

The spear sunk into the door. Achilles saw the spear.

It disappeared.

In its place came the legend of Darius, in full strength. No, exceeding the power that it held as a legend.

The magical energy that surged was enough to blind as suddenly the ten-thousand immortals walked the earth once more. Wreathed in a potent magical energy that exceeded their normal limits. He would become more than just a wall that withstood the dreams of that man.

No.

Darius turned towards the man who would no doubt come to avenge the plundering of his spear.

He would destroy the adored dream of that man.

He would never accept that king's authority. He would never allow him to conquer and win peacefully. It was not a matter of hatred, it was not a matter of jealousy as that man ruled in the way that he himself admired and longed for. In a sense he opposed his own ideal, that man similar to the First King that he saw as the station of a ruler to emulate as an ideal.

He became a king that existed as something to turn his emperor into an engine of war.

He was the final wall, the wall that contained an ocean, the world.

So long as he lived the man who conquered so much of the world would be denied and defied.

That was his hatred.

That was his love.

His axes crackled with electricity and his army formed themselves into a menagerie of monsters. Twisting the various works of Persia into that which slaughtered, that which warred.

The door that held the riches that allowed him to defy the greatest conquerer. The tomb where he rested after that long endless battle, undefiled even as he was slandered by all the people. The mercy, the respect and acknowledgement that he earned from his rival with his life.

The army that stood before him as an endless sea of war. Undying, unrelenting. If they had to match the endless war of the Illiad they would do so. If they had to overcome it they would do so.

Athanaton Ten Thousand

Immortal Ten Thousand Soldiers

The noble phantasm’s name was declared. It was not an invocation for the army was already there. But it was a challenge. This was his power, this was his empire that would conquer the dreams of the conquerer.

So he turned towards Achilles.

Even if he could not put it to words. Even if it was a twisted thought. Earnestly for this moment he believed fully. “I will defeat you.”

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Church Outskirts

What remaining soldiers remained had taken to looting a number of houses with their lord as they waited for further instructions. To be a servant was to stand as an exemplar of humanity as a star, yet subservient no matter how many lands one owned in life to a modern man.

Well, whatever the case it hardly mattered whether or not he was subservient or in-charge. With more than half his army decimated in mapping out the marshes, Berserker faced a large deficit that needed to be covered. In the short team he would be able to fight, even if he would be a pale shadow of the heights he could theoretically reach. But a solution was required, either one for the long-term or of a plunder great enough to take care of all such issues.

...and there so happened to be a treasure, a great weapon that was a peerless weapon. As a spear alone it was priceless, but as a crystallization of myth, a piece of a legend it was beyond simple monetary value.

Berserker moved without any hesitation, taking the straightforward-most path, heedless of who may notice him, and bulldozing even homes in his wake as he charged for his prize. It would not matter who came, even if it was that hero who was the fastest and the mightiest of one of the most famous wars in human myth. The power of that spear would give way to the power of Persia, and even with his mind clouded, he was certain that even that man could not stand against his immortal army.

It was certainly reckless.

Yet a charge like that was only fitting to grab at the spear of the man who lived life as a comet.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@BlueHelix@Reallydumb@Kyoka@reflection

In The Woods, Southern Moor

Athánatoi Number 3001

Directed by that man he marched forth without fear in a batallion with a hundred more of his allies. In a sense they were unlike the men of that one general, being one of many, indistinguishable from each other. They held a willl and could easily meld together, yet could also become individual soldiers. The undying army that held a form that was not strongly defined. What shaped them then was the will of their Emperor.

Various pit traps were revealed by the careful poking of soliders, and the ground-shattering shots of Archer. At times boulders that rolled into their ranks were repulsed due to advance warning by the Athánatoi gathering and forming massive giants to push back against them.

Yes, thanks to the guidance of Archer things were going well.

Athánatoi Number 236

The snapping of bones, the whine of metal. Darts that punctured through them and broke them apart came from the bushes. Darts that killed invading soldiers. Laid by a heroic spirit by that virtue they were tools that struck as a mystery. Even with all their sweeps, various Athánatoi walking in one by one, they could not quite clear it all. No easy path existed and so each meter was gained at the cost of shattered soldiers, fading into wisps of ether as they felt the terror of the defiance of a hiding lord.

Athánatoi Number 7449

A most dangerous stretch of land that the Emperor certainly could not have discovered. Even if it was something that he would have figured out soon enough after the first wave of casualties, there was little he could do to find where this stretch of land that was hostile to those who advanced into the heart of this territory ended in a spot of respite.

But with the guidance of that man they knew. With that knowledge they crossed.

Giant towers rose into the ground. Macabre and yet prideful. They had no will and yet they held a sense of luxury and regality that carried the power of the Persian Empire. Giant pillars of bone and metal of soldiers clinging together. Thousands gathered to form a construct with their bodies, one that cast a shadow over the horizon of Fuyuki. Silently it arched, falling with a large crash that sent a powerful shockwave through the moor that ripped through the land and sent cracks and fissures that broke apart various traps, and drained pits of mud and quicksand.

But that was not its purpose.

The elephant of the Emperor crossed first, then came the rest of the soldiers. Holding the weight of the rest of the army, the bridge formed out of the Athánatoi.

The army was the might of the empire. The empire grew by supporting the reach of the one who stood as the man who reigned above it. It was only natural then it could support his march as a bridge.

Athánatoi Number 3862

It walked forward as a scouting party. Searching for the master, searching for the servant. Slowly they were mapping out the moor.

Number 994 disappeared. Number 13 found itself bashed to bits by a launched log.

It walked forward.

It also disappeared as the world became a murky brown as it sunk into the trap that hid a pit filled with water. As he fell his body crumbled at the holes edges and caused a reaction of the tumbling of rocks that buried him inside.

Number 3862 dispersed.

Athánatoi Number 391 disappeared.

Athánatoi Number 2501 disappeared.

Athánatoi Number 33 disappeared.

The numbers of the Athánatoi were whittled More than half of the army had faded away and the mighty elephant that Darius rode upon was now but a chariot pulled by two “horses” made out of a number of skeletons forming a mimicry of the beasts..

The invasion was by all means a most costly one, but also one that was going better than expected.

But-

There was a matter even more important.

He was the emperor. But the emperor had a cornerstone that he could not do without. His master. The situation at the church, of the Archer who was their ally who engaged in hostilities with that shining hero who was known as the fastest.

The heart of the war-effort of Darius was under incredible danger. Despite the losses that had be incurred, despite the fact that the battle was over he made to retreat. Taking his leave of the marsh. The Athánatoi left in the shame of defeat.

But defeat did not matter. As long as they remained, as long as he could rebuild it did not matter.

Leaving the land of Rider, Darius made to pillage a number of homes, taking cues from the riot that now rampaged through the city.

To recooperate and to be close enough to protect his master. The campaign was that of loss, but it was information that they could use for another invasion in the future.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@BlueHelix@Reallydumb@Kyoka

In The Woods, Southern Moor

A capable general.

That was something that some stories did not describe him as.

Yet he was a man with many things. It was only natural then that he gained things that he did not originally have. Sporting the armor that was the creation of the man of the era of electricity, and sporting the various sacks and vials of the dreaded poison that laid down even the greatest of heroes. What he held was a bounty indeed for any hero, but it was simply a small part of the hoard that would become the power of Persia.

That power, for now was partially on loan. The man beside him was clever, but he was not Iskander. No, despite acting now as a general with the help of Darius, this man was not Iskander.

An ally, a general under his control. He was not a enemy worth facing, an enemy worth devoting one’s existence towards. The hero Odysseus was indeed one of the most celebrated and famous of the modern era. Together they marched upon the swamp, and as they rode, Darius on his elephant of the dead, looking towards the Archer from time to time to consult him wordlessly as though playing at the role of a leader while being a berserker he found that it was a great hero at his side. A hero certainly on the level of him

Yet.

He was so incredibly different. The two men were both clever, and masters of war. Yet they were heroes of a different cloth, birds of a different feather. Even if Odysseus were to be the greatest military tactician in existence, Darius would not see him as a great foe.

For he did not have that drive, that burning drive like that one man.

Would he see Iskander? Would he see that drive?

In his madness, the drive and Iskander were one and the same. Similar to that knight who saw saint and knight as the same individual, the same soul.

Oh Iskander, oh Iskander. Who would be Iskander?

He felt the appearance of a servant as a master called their partner back with a command seal.

Was it you? Iskander!

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@floodtalon

Family History: The Aesworth are a offshoot family of the Aesaurum, when a set of twins was born during the third generation of the Aesaurum family. The "younger" twin was cast out to begin a new branch family uder the Aesworth name, while the Aesaurum continued with the "older" twin. The Aesaurum family is five generations old by now, with a crest age of 400.

Branch families work by someone who is beginning a new family/making a new crest being given a donation of a small part of an established family’s crest. This helps them skip the labour and problems of starting from scratch. In exchange they tie themselves to the donor family and sorta serve them like vassals to an extent.

What normally happens in this sort of scenario you’re describing is something like Sola-ui or Sakura. Aka something to tie them to another family for political connections, and also they get to sorta continue a line of magi.

People within the Spiritual Evocation department noticed her talents and recruited her quickly, giving her plenty of materials to work with and better herself with. 30 years passed since her birth, with the Clock Tower recognizing her achievements and awarding her with the title of Pride after heading a joint project within the Spiritual Evocation department

It seems a bit of a stretch to go from dead apostle hunts to becoming a lecturer. Sure she might be good, but I don’t think she’s really going to get the chance to show that off to the extent needed for that with her set up and background. Furthermore she doesn’t have the political standing for this.

The Clocktower provided extremely rare materials to facilitate the experiment, handing the project off to her to test if she was as good at Spiritual Evocation and Spiritual Surgery as others claimed. The combination of a Nature Spirit and a young dead boy, an exceedingly rare event that can only be done by human hands. To give human values to something not human, very few of these "Guardian Spirits" exist. They must be bound immediately if they are to continue to exist in this world, so the newly made Guardian Spirit was quickly bound to the Leyline of another Aesworth's land in Germany. It would likely take another few hundred years for the spirit to properly "become human" so to speak

Why was there a project to make a guardian spirit. Like what’s its purpose? Why is this a group project. If it’s being made by the department then it has to have some sort of reason. Magi don’t just make things for no reason, they especially don’t get together for big projects for no real reason. I don’t really see the purpose or need for them to make a guardian spirit, especially if they’re handing it to someone unrelated to the project.

So she makes a Guardian Spirit (with the help of other magi)

They offer her a nature spirit as something just to test if she is capable of doing something she claims she can do.

I’m afraid this just doesn’t really present a convincing line of reasoning.

Spiritual Evocation: The ability to evoke and control spirits, from the lowliest wraiths to even Guardian Spirits.

Please remove this bit.

Overall I am rejecting this sheet in its third iteration.

Once more I suggest that at this point that you go with another concept.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@BlueHelix@Reallydumb

In The Woods, Southern Moor

Too long had he been idle, too long had he waited before returning to his battle. His eternal war with that man would never end, and every moment of peace was simply a break for him.

His emissary had not been successful, simply being plundered himself into the fuel of the enemy. Yet he was a man who was not like the many heroes of this war. He was one who was surrounded by defeat, who knew many failures and retreats. Such a small loss would not bother him, for he was the ruler who like a bird of fire rose again and again. Like a weed he propagated and withstood. He was a wall who defined himself in opposition to other great legends.

Yet his awaited foe did not come. The man called the Great did not come. He did not come he did not come he did not come. No matter where he waited, no matter how he awaited his arrival to the place that held a great bounty (fallen leyline) no matter how he waited by the ocean he did not come he did not come he did not come. Why was he not here, why did he not come with his unquenchable desire and greed?

The power of the empire was like the fuel for a legend that burned bright enough to cast its flame into the future as a great beacon to light the path. An anchor that helped to define human history.

He struggled against the man that could not be denied in his quest for the end of the world. Even the Persian Empire falling before him and claimed and repainted as his.

A failure, a terrible failure built upon the countless losses.

He had done his role diligently, but now he walked out as the conquerer. If that man would not come then he would lash out and search for him. So the army marched. A manifested army of the dead, or rather the undying marched. Their sights set for that moor, that marsh of the Rider who was the lord who defended his land.

He did not know of that servant, nor of his history. But in a sense there were similarities in their nature.

Riding upon a great elephant, accompanied by his vast legion. With a need to wage war verging on the need of madness, he descended into the moor, trampling a gouged path into the land with the arms of the Persian Emperor.

Iskander!

Oh Iskander!

Where are you?

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

Rank: Brand

@floodtalon

Much too high. Her abilities and political standing is far from being worthy of the title of Brand.

For comparison, Lord Archibald Kayneth El-melloi is from a most prestigious family of 9 generations. He is a notable lecturer in the Clocktower said to be have entered the position at the youngest age in the history of his department. On top of being set up with immense talent and political standing, he also happens to be talented in furthering his relations and managing said political standing. He is a man who both was given all the tools to succeed, and held the talent to utilize said tools to their full potential.

He is a man stated to be someone who could have revolutionized a field of magecraft if he had not died prematurely.

Even then it is only due to his connections and his political marriage that connects him to the family of the head of a Clocktower Department on top of his abilities as the head of the Archibald family that he has become a lord and Brand.

Of course Kayneth does deserve his ranking as a magus, and potentially he could reach a very high level of Brand but…

The point is that you definitely don’t qualify for Brand.

Objective for the Grail: Elizabeth has no wish for the Grail, being sent by the Mages Association to destroy it with the assistance of the Servant she has summoned.

Alice will send you a PM with your objective for the grail. However what can safely be said is that your goal isn't to destroy the grail at this point. Please simply say that you're going to Fuyuki as a agent of the clock tower following their directive.

Each time, she came back with less injuries, more people returned from each hunt as she improved her Spiritual Surgery.

Spiritual Surgery does not keep people from dying to vampires. You also cannot heal people from having their heads crushed, or just straight up killed in numerous manners even if Spiritual Surgery did work for healing flesh wounds. Which it does not. (Citation for such.

Spiritual doctors are said to heal the soul and not the body. I guess this priest here is the real thing, in contrast to his looks."

Interlude 10-4 F/SN Heavens Feel Route

For guidelines on what Spiritual Surgery can do look at Kotomine Kirei. While he is overall not good at magecraft, he holds the trait of spiritual surgery and is very talented at it. Examples of what he has done are remove worms from Matou Sakura, because worms are circuits. Albeit with the help of command seals. Graft a spiritual thing onto the spirit of an Emiya Shirou (Heavens Feel spoilers I guess. If you know about it, you'll get what I'm referencing) Also transferring command seals.

Eventually it was determined that she was the best in the Clocktower at it and so she was given the legendary title of Brand. 70 years passed since her birth and she became one of the youngest Magus to ever achieve the title of Brand.

She would be far from the youngest to achieve Brand, if she achieved it at the age of 70. The organization known as the Clock Tower that has existed for 2000 years has seen many freaks after all.

---

Number of Magic Circuits: A

Quality of Magic Circuits: A

---

Elemental Affinity: Average One

Inconsistent with your backstory. She’s someone from a branch that had to prove herself yet she’s got god tier circuits and a super rare trait that’s considered very valuable.

Also too high quality yeah. If you were part of the main family it could be argued for but I’m not allowing this.

Otherwise remember that affinities aren't just I cast fireball. The different elements have meanings that are added to magecraft, and also are the font of different magecraft. Average One is amazing because it can mix those different meanings. Consider for example Kayneth using his mercury with his affinities of wind and water because of their meanings of flow.

General Magecraft: A Brand level Magus on top of being an Average One, Elizabeth has mastered every element to it's fullest and mastered most general Magecraft over her life.

I don’t know why you’re talking about elemental magecraft under General Magecraft. It’s also impossible to master every elemental to its fullest. It wouldn’t be possible even if you were like a 2000 year old dead apostle ancestor. It’s not happening.

Spiritual Surgery: The art of healing, to remove a wound without ever touching the flesh. Indeed, it is the act of "cursing" someone to remove infection. A technique that both the Archibalds and the Archisortes are famous for, Eizabeth has taken to a new level. There can be nobody in the Clocktower who rivals her skill in healing wounds of the body, the only thing she cannot heal would be the "soul" itself.

Spiritual Surgery does not heal the body. The Archibalds are not famous for it. she is definitely not the best at healing wounds within the Clocktower either.

Spiritual Evocation: The ability to direct things of a spiritual nature,

As the name suggests it is actually about evoking spirits.

to even a dematerialized Servant's spiritual core,

You’re not messing with a servant’s spiritual core when they’re astralized. You’re not messing with spiritual cores with this to begin with.

Elizabeth has mastered this to a degree unknown to the Archibalds, taking many wraiths and stitching them into a sort of artificial intelligence bound to her will. She then pushed that intelligence into her Mystic Code, turning it into an autonomous attacking device.

This is very far from unknown to the Archibalds and isn’t really that exceptional by their standards. It's a useful ability of a spirit medium, but it's not groundbreaking.

Crest: 700 Years old

The Archibald family has the age of 9 generations.

The Archisorte family being a branch family is at a maximum around 6 generations old.

700 isn’t gonna happen

Reduce it to 200-400

Imaginary Space: A Mystic Code utilizing imaginary number space to store anything. The Mystic Code itself is her gloves, simply channeling Mana into either glove lets her deposit or withdraw anything she wishes, within a reasonable size of course. She has a variety of weapons stored in the Imaginary Space to supplement her skill with all sorts of weapons, along with a few pre-stored spells in case she needs to get out of a pinch quickly.

Her affinity is not Imaginary Numbers. As such she cannot operate this mystic code.

Pre-stored spells do not exist. Spells don’t work like that. The Edelfelts have their method of jewel magecraft for a reason as an example.

You can instead utilize high-speed arias (talk real fast) for faster spell casting. Or utilize magic circles to prep the formula of spells that are higher level and then just add an aria/cast like normal.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Manythings @Enterthehero @Paradox Witch

Railroad Tracks. Battle For The Spear

There was an explosion, a conflict.

More importantly there was something of value, something that called out to Berserker. OR was it that he called out to it? Whatever the case there was something to take of value, and in that sense he and his master were united in desire.

But there were other tasks to take care of. The value of what appeared to be up for grabs was certainly high, but it was something far below the value of exposing a servant.

A general could not secure all points, an emperor could not pave every road in his kingdom. For an emperor, a general was but one man and his lands were large, his ambitions and needs even larger.

Yet an empire was only strong because an emperor could take into hand that which was beyond one man. The power of Berserker was not that of the lone hero, no. The power of Berserker was the power, and riches of his nation.

So the emissary of Berserker went in his stead. What blazed through the city with a speed was not the servant himself, even as it sped through with a momentum beyond most creations of the modern age.

No, what passed through the streets was not a servant, nor a beast. Clattering and ringing, it was a chaotic and noisy canopy of noise. It was the sound of an army marching to war, amplified in the mess of a most strange method of transportation. Bones creaked, armor clanged against the ground.

The distance from the church to the railway was devoured, and after traveling on top of the rails to its destination the emissary of the Emperor burst through the wreckage of the already mangled train to fly towards the familiar that had managed to grab the spear. The form of it revealed as a ball, a mass of skeletons wrapped together. A Skeleton Ball

Falling upon the zombies that swarmed, it bounced after crushing the various bodies that had been gathered and then infested. Gore, poison and filth covered the ball as it finally collided with the familiar with the spear without any drop in speed.

Falling upon the familiar, a dozen hands reached out for the spear while another dozen grabbed at it, seeking to halt the momentum of that familiar and pull the spear along with it to pry it into its grasp.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@Dosthou

Technically? at the bridge -> Church

The golem was a giant among its kind. Massive, huge. Normally such a golem would be more than the rival of almost anything that a magus
could design in the modern day.

Unfortunately said golem was in the Fuyuki City where a magus had designed something that completely overshadowed it. The Grail War System to summon and bind small emanations that derived from Heroic Spirits, servants.

A golem of such size would normally be able to fight a servant. Yet this was a rushed job, constructed from materials that were not quite as aged or deep in mystery as those of a high quality. There were foundations and meaning to be tapped upon with wood. But in the face of the Persian King it was not quite enough.

An ax ripped through an arm, while a fist met another. The clash was something that sent ripples through the land. Almost tearing apart the ground as much as the golem had been trying to.

But what broke was not the arm of the, admittedly massive giant in relation to the normal human, of a man, but the gnarled trunk-like arm that burst from the impact that traveled through its seams. Unarmed, the golem toppled without balance from the result of the clash.

The end result was a forgone conclusion. Berserker summoned a number of his soldiers to fetch the smaller chunks while he himself dismantled and chucked into his noble phantasm, the various parts of the golem piece by piece.

Ah, the storm was ending. Darius watched for a moment the climatic end to the chaos that engulfed Miyama before returning to the church. He was, if nothing else, a loyal and dutiful mad-man.

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

@dosthou @Sageage

Interlude III

[Remains of Tragedy / Reparation for victory (3)]

Ruler - Hercules

Burning Miyama Town

There was a desperation in the fight of Lancer against Ruler. Of course that was to be expected. To simply overcome a calamity was in the nature of heroes, even if it was a struggle. But to overcome a greater hero, to be a hero who aided calamity against the one who stood above all others?

The strike against him was one that rang true, yet by the virtue of the proof of his deeds it was judged unable to contend with him. Ah, how disappointing. In the end the boy was but a lily yet to blossom. To the one who had reached the end of the twelve-step journey one immature could not contend with him.

Yet even then there was no restraint on Ruler’s part. There was no denying Lancer’s ability. Many servants would have been crushed already by the effort of Ruler, even if there were some who would not only be able to stand their ground, but also strike at him and force him back.

As such he decided to bat away the lancer, sending it flying far away with a simple backhand. He did not underestimate this Lancer, nor did he take the wasteful path of being too cautious. To simply deprive the Lancer of possibilities was acceptable.

His axe swung down. Even he could not prevent Lancer’s step in for a final blow. Or rather, even if he did it was a waste of time and effort. Knowing that Lancer’s Noble Phantasm could not harm him the servant had to rely on but his raw strength. It could hurt him, but to slay him once, let alone defeat him was a near impossibility for that youth in this situation. He was prepared to take a bit of damage, for there was no other hero nearly as robust as he. If the price to finish this battle and end this obstruction was this then he had no problems. It would strike soon after, their strikes almost in parallel to end the duel.

The fist of Percival met the body of Hercules. Bone shattered, and the impact rippled through the youth’s body, wild waves of force shaking and tearing his arm apart, metal whined and distorted, bending from the force of Percival’s flesh and bone that pressed against it. Mangled meat was all that was left from the impact, and the only reason it could be called an arm in shape was because of the distorted red armor that drooled crimson liquid in dripping torrents as though it was the hungry jaws of a wolf. Barely maintaining its shape as it twisted and expanded out. The shape was recognizable as a thing meant to be cariciture of an arm, but no longer could it be called so. This level of damage was on par with the result of a certain mystic eye, inflected upon one’s self.

The blow was of an immense power. Reaching above A+ strength, matching the power of that oni, or perhaps even exceeding it. In this situation, putting all that he did in it, it was a blow that was self-destructive to Percival. But it was not something that could topple Ruler. But...

Then

Hercules

Stopped

The roar of Percival filled his ears and the sound of the flames and battling servants in the background faded away. His momentum was halted by the blow.

This was not the result that should have come from a blow even of this strength.

Hercules’s body also broke. The force of the punch caving in his chest and ripping his spiritual core, rendering it a lethal blow even to him.

Hercules died.

A second punch came from Percival and he felt the force from the first still pushing him back, making him unable to react.

Even with the resistance gained from Godhand the blow was enough to knock him down, to topple the greatest of heroes and harm him. In truth it was more like a push in what it had achieved, but it was no less an impressive and yet self-ruining blow.

With a crash that left an imprint of Ruler on the ground, his body treating the streets like snow for all the resistance it held against him. The greatest hero fell.

He looked up at the young man, at Lancer who seemed to stand taller than before, even as he shook from his wounds and condition, barely able to stand. His mangled arms healed, and yet Hercules could see traces of where his ruptured arms had threatened to rip through his arm as slight traces in the red-metal.

He was quite truthfully… confused.

Ah, there was indeed a tragedy occurring. Yet even in standing against the hero as an obstacle to salvation there was a blessed youth who did something that seemed impossible. A lamentable thing to see such a miracle happen for such a cause.

It was beneath him to be dazed. But there was a moment of confusion, of surprise. How did that happen?

How did this young boy strike him down like that?

For a moment, for one moment where the world seemed to pause for any who were watching, Hercules laid down and pondered.

But then the reality of the situation sunk back in. In time much less than a whole second Hercules sprung into action. Magical energy collected and the keen hand of Hercules rained down like the heads of dragons. His fists slammed into the already torn apart ground, creating a hole, a cavern. Even in a time like this his instinct was to protect. Both for the sake of his neutral position as a administrator of the grail war, and as a hero. To protect children was something he dearly desired.

He grabbed Lancer and together the two fell into the ground. His body was a shield, and hidden from the full-brunt of that world they would survive.