I had posted this in another forum and was waiting for some opinions, but since I got no response I post it anyway.
This is my first fan fiction using f/sn world, and my second fan fiction in total. Before reading any further kept in mind that this probably is badly, very badly, written.
This is loosely based in a doujin whose name or author I donÆt know, if anyone recognize the inspiration of some of the scenes please send a message to me with the doujin and/or author name so I can give them proper credit.
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Archer vs Berserker
The castle was flooded with the noise of the battle.
The sound of swords clashing. Stone and steel creamed in each encounter.
In the middle of the hall the two Servants were fighting with all of their power.
One, because he knew he couldnÆt survive even a second if he held back. The other, because it was the only thing he could do.
But the result of the battle was clear from the start, even to a person with little battle experience like BerserkerÆs Master.
If it was Saber at full health she could slow down her servant enough time to the others to escape the forest, even survive with a bit of luck, but for that unknown bowman, to try to stand before the most powerful hero of all the times, was a death sentence.
He couldnÆt block, he couldnÆt parry and all his attack served for nothing. His throwing swords didnÆt even graze her Servant skin.
Butà she couldnÆt help being a little nervous.
It wasnÆt because she feared ArcherÆs Noble Phantasm, those swords that kept appearing in his hands each time that he threw them or when they broke against the stone axe-sword of her servant. After all a useless sword was useless even if you had a lot of them.
It was that smile.
He didnÆt stop smiling after asking to his master if she minded if he killed Berserker.
It didnÆt matter how much Berserker overpowered him, how many of his attacks did nothing or how many times his weapons broke against the god-like strength of the attacks his opponent made.
That smile never faded.
The mocking smile of someone that knows something.
It unnerved Ilya.
But she knew how to resolve that.
ôKill him now, Berserker!ö
And the mad warrior roared in agreement.
Dismissing all his defensive instincts, her servant put all his might and what was left of his mind in that swing. It would be suicide in a battle of servants leaving such an opening, but, against her servant, which had lives to spare, dying meant nothing.
But Archer didnÆt try to use the opening nor he tried to dodge.
He blocked.
He crossed his swords in front of Berserker weapon and tried to
block the attack.
Swords clashed and cracks appeared in both short swords.
He was going to die, Ilya was sure of it.
The sword continued to break and Berserker roared again, putting
even more strength, if it was possible, behind his sword.
ôàö
The Archer said something, but she could not hear him over her Servant mad cry.
And just in that moment, when his swords started to shatter, light covered his swords, flowing out from the cracks.
Archer was sent to the other extreme of the hall, flying by the sheer force of Berserker attack.
Alive.
Wounded but alive.
Impossible, she thought, his swords wereà
Cracked but whole.
Metal shards of the same color of the blades were coming out of where the cracks were and they seemed a bit larger.
And his smile became even more broad.
ôI was trying to reserve my strength to kill someone else but everything that you have done, Ilya, has put me in quite a situationö Archer said in a mocking tone.öI hope that you wonÆt hold anything against me after I kill your servant.ö
He was mocking her. He was sub estimating her Servant.
A no-name hero was mocking her Servant and her!
ôDestroy him, Berserkerö She said as the command spell in her body flared to live with her orders. ôReduce him to a smear on the floor!ö
There arenÆt words to describe the sound that was coming out from Berserker throat as a red light surrounded him and the power of the command spell flowed into him. Making him faster and stronger. Deadlier.
He charged against the red Servant. In his mind there was only his order. And nothing could stop him.
In the other side of the hall the smile in Archer face faded, being substituted by a lot of concentration.
In less than five seconds Berserker would reach him. If that happened he would die, he was sure.
But five seconds were enough.
His hands were empty, the twin swords banished like they never existed.
ôSteel is my body and fire is my bloodö
A bow in his left hand, an ôarrowö on his right.
An arrow that isnÆt a arrow but a sword.
A Noble Phantasm filled to the brim with prana. Pushing against the limits of its capacity. Breaking them.
A Broken Phantasm.
Three seconds left. The stone giant still charged with his maddening roar.
Two seconds.
ôCaladbolg!ö
He fired.
The attack only graced BerserkerÆs shoulder, cutting through his
skin like butter and went past him, still following a straight line.
One second.
He smiled again staring at the servant in front of him.
A scream interrupted the mortal countdown.
His shots never missed. The spiral broken sword continued his path to the only weak point of that avatar of destruction called Berserker.
Illyasviel, his master.
She froze and only could scream at the sight of the arrow going straight to her.
No running would help her. The explosion that the Phantasm would cause should kill her along with past of the castle.
So she screamed and waited for death.
But it didnÆt come to her, and he opened her eyes.
Her servant had saved her.
Hearing his masterÆs scream through his madness he fought the absolute order of the command spell and by simply instinct bended its power to turn around and be able to intercept the weapon.
But his sword didnÆt resist the piercing strength of the arrow, which made a hole through it. Nor the skin blessed by the gods block it.
So he stopped the arrow with his chest.
Both Archer and Ilya were speechless
Berserker roared in pain, but this didnÆt stop him. Before the overstored prana could make his effect and the Broken Phantasm exploded he dropped his sword and reached for it.
He grabbed the handle and pulled it out causing blood to spurt out of the wound.
And threw it back to a stunned Archer.
If not for his MindÆs Eye ability his head would have been destroyed. He moved quickly enough to only get a scratch in his cheek. A very deep scratch.
The sword passed through one of the demolished walls, and an instant after that a explosion shook the forest.
It was fortunately that Rin and his group went in the opposite direction.
ôYou killed Berserker onceö
Surprise filled IlyaÆs statement.
It was impossible, Archer was too weak to do it. Even if Berserker took that arrow meant for her he should be fine, as his skin was impenetrable to anything but the most powerful attacks.
But yet it happened.
ôWho are you?ö she asked in stupor.
ôSurprised that a simple bowman was able to kill your Berserker?ö He replied smiling at her. öYou shouldnÆt be, I warned you from the start.ö
ôAnd what of it?!ö
Berserker roared as all his wound closed like they never happened.
ôKilling him once means nothing! Again and again he will stand up! My Berserker is the strongest hero. If you kill him you only will make him stronger!ö
As if for affirming this the servant took his stone axe-sword in his hand and smashed it against the ground while roaring in madness induced rage.
ôOh, really?ö He asked as his bow disappeared and the twin sword rematerialized again on his hands. ôSo killing him once doesnÆt workà How about, I donÆt knowà, twelve times?ö
He knows. Ilya thought. Somehow he knows.
But what if he knows?
The Hand of God granted protection against the means used to kill Berserker. His arrow would be as useless as his swords.
So, what if he knew?
ôI donÆt know. Why donÆt you try?!ö
Taking this as a signal Berserker charged again.
With renewed strength he attacked. Shattering ArcherÆs swords again and again. Even if he couldnÆt dealt a full blow, numerous deep wound started to appear each time that his weapon grazed
ArcherÆs body.
And, because of that, Archer wasnÆt smiling anymore.
Retracing Kansho and Bakuya at the rate they were being destroyed was something that required concentration and he could spare it to taunt his enemies.
Another part of his mind was reviewing his swords, one at one. In that moment he realized one miscalculation in his plan.
For someone with unlimited swords he had so fucking few A ranked ones. Or even B+, they would be enough if he Broke them.
In times like these the one rank reduction really sucks.
But all of this distracted him a bit, not letting him time to think about all the ramification of each one of Berserker movements. So when he dodged the stone axe-sword he never thought that it would stop mid-movement and hit him with the flat side. Even if it was not the cutting side it was enough to destroy his weapons and to send him flying.
Again.
But this time he took the hit in the chest, his armor was smashed on an instant. Only a quick reinforcement of his ribs saved him of dying.
But it hurt. The hit of the sword and the hit against the wall hurt a lot. He could block out the pain, but concentrating into his inner world and bringing out his prized swords was out of the equation for a few second. But it was too much time.
ôKill him before he recovers!ö He heard Ilya screaming.
He tried to assume a battle stance and tracing his twin swords to survive to the incoming attack, but, as he had thought before, the pain didnÆt let him visualize them well enough to trace.
Well, at least Rin should have had enough time to escape already.
And if not, he knew that, even if he died, his younger self would protect her with his life. In times like this he was nearly happy for that saving people thing that his younger self still had.
So he could die proud of fulfilling his orders and of killing Berserker once.
Well, this is the end. He thought while pulling himself straight and looking at his executor.
Then he saw it.
A sword within his vision range.
And he gambled everything in a desperate move.
His enemy swung down his sword.
A powerful hit, this time with the edge of the weapon, was coming
to take his head!
He swung his empty hands in that same direction!
ôI have created over a thousand blades!ö
The cries of stone against stone deafened even the roar of the
mad warrior for a moment.
ôWHAT!?ö Screamed Ilya in surprise, even if no one heard her.
The axe-sword of her Servant, roughly carved from a stone pillar of a temple dedicated to Heracles for her family in order to provide both, a catalyst and a weapon, was stopped.
By that same sword.
The red clad Servant countered the finishing blow with the same weapon that was going to kill him and used the momentum of the hit to distance himself from Berserker.
But he didnÆt stop there.
He charged against Berserker.
Flooding his arms with prana, he reinforced every cell, fiber and every bone in them. Faking the strength of his divine opponent.
Fake strength, forged combat experience and an imitated sword.
But they were enough for a faker like him.
A feral battle cry escaped from ArcherÆs mouth as he closes the distance between them.
And their swords met.
Fake or real, no one yielded against the other.
And so they met again and again.
Mirrored attacks countered each other every time that they swung their weapons.
No one stepped back, for they were fighting as one.
Sadly for one of them, the tip of his sword was breaking.
Their swords met again in a descending arc from above their
heads, and stone shard filled the air between them.
The sword in Berserker hand shattered, losing a good part of his tip.
That wasnÆt in ArcherÆs plan.
In the process of tracing the stone axe-sword he forgot to add a detail, and because of that the real thing was destroyed instead of his.
The hole made by Caladbolg
And so his sword, only meant to block this time, connected.
As Archer saw the now shorter weapon nearly touching his nose, the tip of his reached Berserker chest.
And in continued his way down, shredding his flesh in a vertical wound not deep enough to be fatal.
Everyone in the hall stopped for a moment in surprise. Even the mad warrior.
Berserker, because his attack failed and he was wounded instead.
Archer and Ilya, because they thought impossible for the stone sword to cut BerserkerÆs skin.
Archer was the first to act.
He swung the oversized weapon horizontally and quickly, before Berserker could react.
But he forgot that he wasnÆt the only Servant with the MindÆs Eye ability, even if his opponentÆs was a fake.
Berserker instinct screamed him to leap backward and he did it at amazing speed, even if he didnÆt know why. And thus, he evaded losing another life.
Like Archer predicted.
The bowman smiled at the sight of Berserker back leap, and closed one of his eyed concentrating half of his mind in the stone slab in his hand.
Carved from a pillar of a temple built in HeraclesÆ honor right after his death it was as ancient as his myth, and, somehow, after being used to summon the Servant and as a weapon by said hero it became like an A rank Noble Phantasm.
That was the only explanation he could reach after searching in its history, even if it wasnÆt a solid one.
Not that it mattered to him.
It could damage Berserker and so he would use it.
Berserker touched the ground after leaping and roared. His wound closed and he prepared himself to charge again.
Before this Archer concentrated even more in the ôswordö in his hand. He searched into its connection with the Heroic Spirit before him.
Into its connection to the legend.
Into its connection with the summon.
Into its connection to this war.
And he found it.
His ticket to the victory.
In not even the time that took Berserker to leap and charge again.
A plan formed in his mind.
Another nine blueprints were in his head, waiting to him to use them.
Berserker roared even louder and attacked him with his broken weapon.
ôUnknown to death.
Nor known to life.ö
Not even the instincts of the mad warrior would help him against the speed of the gods!
ôNine Lives Blade Works!ö
He targeted the upper arm, collarbone, windpipe, temple, diaphragm, ribs, testicles, and thighs.
The gore that followed froze IlyaÆs blood. Berserker was dying.
One death.
Another.
And other, and other, and otherà
But it didnÆt stop the Greek hero.
Seven hits connected before he could do anything. His body was being torn to pieces, but even then he still moved in order to kill his masterÆs enemy.
To kill him before he killed her.
Loyalty powerful enough to overcome the madness, even if only by an instant.
The attacks that were piercing his body were launched at the speed of the gods.
That was originally his attack speed!
The last two attacks met with their mirrors.
The sound of stone breaking and ArcherÆs scream of pain were the only sounds in the hall.
The two last projected swords and the original one were reduced to dust by the force of the impacts.
It was obvious to Ilya, the battle had ended.
Berserker stood immobile before the cloud of dust, nearly half of his body gone but already regenerating it.
He lost eight lives in total against that strange bowman that fought with swords.
A hero that even had a sword identical to the one of her Servant.
But now Archer was dead. Defeated by her Servant.
It was the end.
No.
A loud laugh came from the middle of the dust.
ôHave withstood pain to create many weapons.ö
Archer came out of the cloud of dust, covered in wounds from the explosion of the swords and without his left arm.
But the left arm didnÆt matter to him right now.
After all it was the right one which held the ninth weapon he prepared in advance.
Eight were reproductions of the stone axe-sword, necessary with his already projected one for his previous attack.
This one wasnÆt even a sword.
It was a lance.
ôGae Bolg!ö
LancerÆs Noble Phantasm. Ilya realized in that instant, but, while confused why this Archer had it, she wasnÆt worried.
They had fought already with that Servant, who retreated after his sure kill attack clashed harmlessly against Berserker divine skin.
It was useless.
But Archer knew it. That he couldnÆt hope to pierce BerserkerÆs skin with it.
Even then he started smiling again.
Because of it he prepared this weapon to use it after his previous attack. Before it would be useless.
The curse lance started to take effect.
But right now there were holes in that impervious skin.
And Berserker heart was destroyed by the curse of the lance.
Three lives left.
The mad warrior didnÆt like it.
He was summoned to be a unstoppable tank, killing his enemies even if he died in the process.
Not even after losing the ninth live he stopped.
So he roared, and still with the lance in his body, he caught ArcherÆs only arm and tossed him like a rag doll toward one of the walls.
Then, while regenerating and pulling out the weapon, he ran towards Archer.
And he punched him. Again and again he punched him with the power of a canon.
Then he caught him for the head and started to press.
ôStop Berserker!ö Ordered IlyaÆs voice. öHe deserve an even move painful death for killing you so many times!ö
At this order the Servant stopped to press, but he didnÆt release Archer.
ôThatà wasnÆt aà very clever thing to doà Ilyaö Said the bowman with a faltering voice.
ôYeah? And what are you to do? Dying on my Berserker?ö
A chuckle seemed to come from the imprisoned Servant.
ôNo, thank youà I haveà other plansàö
Before even Ilya could thought what that meant, he chanted again.
ôYet, those hands will never hold anything.ö
Pink light started coming out of his hand.
ôRho Aias!ö
Seven petals of light came out forming a barrier, pushing Berserker and forcing him to release Archer. Preventing him to reach him while that shield was still in place.
ôAnother Noble Phantasm?ö Ilya asked in surprise.
Berserker started to pound the barrier with his bare fists with no results except burning his hands, but he didnÆt stop.
Inside the shield Archer smiled again, even through his body was full of wounds and an arm was missing.
ôSo as I pray.ö
How many legendary weapons he had? Ilya asked in her thoughts.
And he said it, like an answer to that not asked question.
ôUnlimited Blade Worksö
And the world was burned away.
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When the fire banished there were no traces of the castle or the forest.
There were only swords. Stuck in the earth like they were strange tombstones.
Tens, hundreds, thousands, and millions of them.
In the sky strange cogwheels moved constantly like part of a gigantic clock.
A hundred meters away from her and her servant was Archer, still smiling
ôLike what you see, Ilya? These are the worldÆs finest blades, from a simply kitchen knife to the most powerful holy blades. Each one is sharpened to the extreme and ready to be used by me.
Do you still think that I was bluffing when I said that I would kill Berserker?ö
She didnÆt know what to think, one moment she had Archer at her Servant mercy and the next one she was in this strange world.
A world created by that Servant.
A Reality Marble.
The most forbidden form of mage craft, used by a Servant Archer.
A world filled with swords.
Nothing made sense.
But she didnÆt care.
ôAnd what of it!? Even if you have so many weapons you only have one hand! What can you do!?ö
Archer didnÆt reply, he only continued smiling.
A thought was enough.
They started to rain over her, Noble Phantasms.
An absurd quantity of them.
Only the quick reaction from his Servant, covering her with his body, saved her.
Then, as abruptly as it started, the rain finished.
ôThis is my world, why should I need to use my hands when the reality is my ally?ö
And, as if hearing him, the swords started to dislodge themselves from their resting places and floated up while others materialized in the sky.
And they shoot themselves towards them from all angles.
And while Berserker was occupied protecting his master from them he called forth a very nostalgic sword.
Caliburn, the golden sword of assured victory.
Perhaps he could not use it like he did with his Saber, back when he was alive, and kill Berserk multiple times with it.
But it was A ranked.
Enough to bypass the GodÆs Hand.
The beautiful sword appeared in his hand.
And he released it.
Instead of falling to the ground it moved forward at an amazing speed.
Berserker, as busy as he was didnÆt pay it any attention until it was piercing his stomach.
And then he could do nothing.
Two lives left.
ôBerserker!ö Ilya screamed worriedly.
Ten lives were gone.
And Archer didnÆt have any intention to stop.
She believed him now.
He could kill Berserker.
And he was doing it.
ôVajra!ö
She heard a shout at her Servant side.
Archer was there. In his hand was a curiously shaped weapon.
But his magical presence was so weak that they didnÆt saw it until it was too late.
TaishakutenÆs weapon entered his body through the hole made by Caliburn a few seconds before.
The weapon did itÆs effect and dealt damage independently from his ArcherÆs magical energy.
And BerserkerÆs body exploded in lightning from the inside.
His skin burned, unable to protect itself from a damage dealt from inside.
And the swords that rained from the sky started to pierce the charred body.
Until nothing could be seen of her servant.
She fell to her knees.
And started cry.
Her Berserker couldnÆt have died. He was her protector, someone that never would leave her alone.
She was alone again.
The sound of steps.
She looked up to see Archer in front of her.
Wounded, with only an arm and nearly exhausted, but with a sword in his only hand.
And Ilya screamed of fear for death.
But, then, a roar seemed stop Archer in mid movement, and Ilya opened her eyes wide.
Berserker still wasnÆt dead.
He was one of humanity greatest heroes, he participated in countless battles, killed so many enemies and refined his skills, reflects and instincts to his maximum capability.
All in order to achieve victory.
So, even after being reduced to a mindless beast, killed eleven times and being pierced by a lot of swords, he still refused to lose.
He stood up again and shook most of the swords out of his body.
And tried to charge against Archer again.
But the last of the swords that waited in the sky fell down towards him, With enough strength to make him unable to move.
And while this happened Archer traced let his sword banish and started to run with grabbing a screaming Ilya with his remaining hand.
In front of him his world was starting to dissolve, and The World was restituting its order.
Like a hole in the middle of his field of blades.
His only possibility of killing Berserker last time, was now.
He pulled more prana from his connection to Rin, enough to make his world once again.
But he wouldnÆt do that.
He overcharged his already projected world.
His Noble Phantasm.
His circuit suffered from the strain and like when he was a novice sword started to come out from his deeper wounds. But he ignored it like he ignored the angry Ilya calling for Berserker.
The cogwheels of his world started to speed up with the extra energy he was using.
And in the sky and in the ground cracks started to appear.
He ran, ignoring all of this, towards the ôholeö. He needed to reach it before the he was infusing his world closed it.
Behind him the swords stopped to rain and Berserker started to pursue him.
The cowheels started to give sparks off for going to quick, and the cracks in the ground and the sky met in the horizon.
His world was being broken.
He reached the ôholeö just in time before it was too little for him, but he didnÆt stop even when he passed it and continued running.
He broke his own world. His only own Noble Phantasm.
He used for first time the Broken Phantasm called Unlimited Blade Works.
A Broken Phantasm composed of unlimited Broken Phantasms.
He didnÆt want to see what happened.
He imagined it.
He was reaching the forest when a loud and unnatural shattering sound came from the castle.
He embraced the struggling Ilya.
And the night became midday when everything was bathed by the flames and the shrapnel of a dying world.
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Please critic as much as you like. If you spot grammar errors please report them.
This is my first fan fiction using f/sn world, and my second fan fiction in total. Before reading any further kept in mind that this probably is badly, very badly, written.
This is loosely based in a doujin whose name or author I donÆt know, if anyone recognize the inspiration of some of the scenes please send a message to me with the doujin and/or author name so I can give them proper credit.
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Archer vs Berserker
The castle was flooded with the noise of the battle.
The sound of swords clashing. Stone and steel creamed in each encounter.
In the middle of the hall the two Servants were fighting with all of their power.
One, because he knew he couldnÆt survive even a second if he held back. The other, because it was the only thing he could do.
But the result of the battle was clear from the start, even to a person with little battle experience like BerserkerÆs Master.
If it was Saber at full health she could slow down her servant enough time to the others to escape the forest, even survive with a bit of luck, but for that unknown bowman, to try to stand before the most powerful hero of all the times, was a death sentence.
He couldnÆt block, he couldnÆt parry and all his attack served for nothing. His throwing swords didnÆt even graze her Servant skin.
Butà she couldnÆt help being a little nervous.
It wasnÆt because she feared ArcherÆs Noble Phantasm, those swords that kept appearing in his hands each time that he threw them or when they broke against the stone axe-sword of her servant. After all a useless sword was useless even if you had a lot of them.
It was that smile.
He didnÆt stop smiling after asking to his master if she minded if he killed Berserker.
It didnÆt matter how much Berserker overpowered him, how many of his attacks did nothing or how many times his weapons broke against the god-like strength of the attacks his opponent made.
That smile never faded.
The mocking smile of someone that knows something.
It unnerved Ilya.
But she knew how to resolve that.
ôKill him now, Berserker!ö
And the mad warrior roared in agreement.
Dismissing all his defensive instincts, her servant put all his might and what was left of his mind in that swing. It would be suicide in a battle of servants leaving such an opening, but, against her servant, which had lives to spare, dying meant nothing.
But Archer didnÆt try to use the opening nor he tried to dodge.
He blocked.
He crossed his swords in front of Berserker weapon and tried to
block the attack.
Swords clashed and cracks appeared in both short swords.
He was going to die, Ilya was sure of it.
The sword continued to break and Berserker roared again, putting
even more strength, if it was possible, behind his sword.
ôàö
The Archer said something, but she could not hear him over her Servant mad cry.
And just in that moment, when his swords started to shatter, light covered his swords, flowing out from the cracks.
Archer was sent to the other extreme of the hall, flying by the sheer force of Berserker attack.
Alive.
Wounded but alive.
Impossible, she thought, his swords wereà
Cracked but whole.
Metal shards of the same color of the blades were coming out of where the cracks were and they seemed a bit larger.
And his smile became even more broad.
ôI was trying to reserve my strength to kill someone else but everything that you have done, Ilya, has put me in quite a situationö Archer said in a mocking tone.öI hope that you wonÆt hold anything against me after I kill your servant.ö
He was mocking her. He was sub estimating her Servant.
A no-name hero was mocking her Servant and her!
ôDestroy him, Berserkerö She said as the command spell in her body flared to live with her orders. ôReduce him to a smear on the floor!ö
There arenÆt words to describe the sound that was coming out from Berserker throat as a red light surrounded him and the power of the command spell flowed into him. Making him faster and stronger. Deadlier.
He charged against the red Servant. In his mind there was only his order. And nothing could stop him.
In the other side of the hall the smile in Archer face faded, being substituted by a lot of concentration.
In less than five seconds Berserker would reach him. If that happened he would die, he was sure.
But five seconds were enough.
His hands were empty, the twin swords banished like they never existed.
ôSteel is my body and fire is my bloodö
A bow in his left hand, an ôarrowö on his right.
An arrow that isnÆt a arrow but a sword.
A Noble Phantasm filled to the brim with prana. Pushing against the limits of its capacity. Breaking them.
A Broken Phantasm.
Three seconds left. The stone giant still charged with his maddening roar.
Two seconds.
ôCaladbolg!ö
He fired.
The attack only graced BerserkerÆs shoulder, cutting through his
skin like butter and went past him, still following a straight line.
One second.
He smiled again staring at the servant in front of him.
A scream interrupted the mortal countdown.
His shots never missed. The spiral broken sword continued his path to the only weak point of that avatar of destruction called Berserker.
Illyasviel, his master.
She froze and only could scream at the sight of the arrow going straight to her.
No running would help her. The explosion that the Phantasm would cause should kill her along with past of the castle.
So she screamed and waited for death.
But it didnÆt come to her, and he opened her eyes.
Her servant had saved her.
Hearing his masterÆs scream through his madness he fought the absolute order of the command spell and by simply instinct bended its power to turn around and be able to intercept the weapon.
But his sword didnÆt resist the piercing strength of the arrow, which made a hole through it. Nor the skin blessed by the gods block it.
So he stopped the arrow with his chest.
Both Archer and Ilya were speechless
Berserker roared in pain, but this didnÆt stop him. Before the overstored prana could make his effect and the Broken Phantasm exploded he dropped his sword and reached for it.
He grabbed the handle and pulled it out causing blood to spurt out of the wound.
And threw it back to a stunned Archer.
If not for his MindÆs Eye ability his head would have been destroyed. He moved quickly enough to only get a scratch in his cheek. A very deep scratch.
The sword passed through one of the demolished walls, and an instant after that a explosion shook the forest.
It was fortunately that Rin and his group went in the opposite direction.
ôYou killed Berserker onceö
Surprise filled IlyaÆs statement.
It was impossible, Archer was too weak to do it. Even if Berserker took that arrow meant for her he should be fine, as his skin was impenetrable to anything but the most powerful attacks.
But yet it happened.
ôWho are you?ö she asked in stupor.
ôSurprised that a simple bowman was able to kill your Berserker?ö He replied smiling at her. öYou shouldnÆt be, I warned you from the start.ö
ôAnd what of it?!ö
Berserker roared as all his wound closed like they never happened.
ôKilling him once means nothing! Again and again he will stand up! My Berserker is the strongest hero. If you kill him you only will make him stronger!ö
As if for affirming this the servant took his stone axe-sword in his hand and smashed it against the ground while roaring in madness induced rage.
ôOh, really?ö He asked as his bow disappeared and the twin sword rematerialized again on his hands. ôSo killing him once doesnÆt workà How about, I donÆt knowà, twelve times?ö
He knows. Ilya thought. Somehow he knows.
But what if he knows?
The Hand of God granted protection against the means used to kill Berserker. His arrow would be as useless as his swords.
So, what if he knew?
ôI donÆt know. Why donÆt you try?!ö
Taking this as a signal Berserker charged again.
With renewed strength he attacked. Shattering ArcherÆs swords again and again. Even if he couldnÆt dealt a full blow, numerous deep wound started to appear each time that his weapon grazed
ArcherÆs body.
And, because of that, Archer wasnÆt smiling anymore.
Retracing Kansho and Bakuya at the rate they were being destroyed was something that required concentration and he could spare it to taunt his enemies.
Another part of his mind was reviewing his swords, one at one. In that moment he realized one miscalculation in his plan.
For someone with unlimited swords he had so fucking few A ranked ones. Or even B+, they would be enough if he Broke them.
In times like these the one rank reduction really sucks.
But all of this distracted him a bit, not letting him time to think about all the ramification of each one of Berserker movements. So when he dodged the stone axe-sword he never thought that it would stop mid-movement and hit him with the flat side. Even if it was not the cutting side it was enough to destroy his weapons and to send him flying.
Again.
But this time he took the hit in the chest, his armor was smashed on an instant. Only a quick reinforcement of his ribs saved him of dying.
But it hurt. The hit of the sword and the hit against the wall hurt a lot. He could block out the pain, but concentrating into his inner world and bringing out his prized swords was out of the equation for a few second. But it was too much time.
ôKill him before he recovers!ö He heard Ilya screaming.
He tried to assume a battle stance and tracing his twin swords to survive to the incoming attack, but, as he had thought before, the pain didnÆt let him visualize them well enough to trace.
Well, at least Rin should have had enough time to escape already.
And if not, he knew that, even if he died, his younger self would protect her with his life. In times like this he was nearly happy for that saving people thing that his younger self still had.
So he could die proud of fulfilling his orders and of killing Berserker once.
Well, this is the end. He thought while pulling himself straight and looking at his executor.
Then he saw it.
A sword within his vision range.
And he gambled everything in a desperate move.
His enemy swung down his sword.
A powerful hit, this time with the edge of the weapon, was coming
to take his head!
He swung his empty hands in that same direction!
ôI have created over a thousand blades!ö
The cries of stone against stone deafened even the roar of the
mad warrior for a moment.
ôWHAT!?ö Screamed Ilya in surprise, even if no one heard her.
The axe-sword of her Servant, roughly carved from a stone pillar of a temple dedicated to Heracles for her family in order to provide both, a catalyst and a weapon, was stopped.
By that same sword.
The red clad Servant countered the finishing blow with the same weapon that was going to kill him and used the momentum of the hit to distance himself from Berserker.
But he didnÆt stop there.
He charged against Berserker.
Flooding his arms with prana, he reinforced every cell, fiber and every bone in them. Faking the strength of his divine opponent.
Fake strength, forged combat experience and an imitated sword.
But they were enough for a faker like him.
A feral battle cry escaped from ArcherÆs mouth as he closes the distance between them.
And their swords met.
Fake or real, no one yielded against the other.
And so they met again and again.
Mirrored attacks countered each other every time that they swung their weapons.
No one stepped back, for they were fighting as one.
Sadly for one of them, the tip of his sword was breaking.
Their swords met again in a descending arc from above their
heads, and stone shard filled the air between them.
The sword in Berserker hand shattered, losing a good part of his tip.
That wasnÆt in ArcherÆs plan.
In the process of tracing the stone axe-sword he forgot to add a detail, and because of that the real thing was destroyed instead of his.
The hole made by Caladbolg
And so his sword, only meant to block this time, connected.
As Archer saw the now shorter weapon nearly touching his nose, the tip of his reached Berserker chest.
And in continued his way down, shredding his flesh in a vertical wound not deep enough to be fatal.
Everyone in the hall stopped for a moment in surprise. Even the mad warrior.
Berserker, because his attack failed and he was wounded instead.
Archer and Ilya, because they thought impossible for the stone sword to cut BerserkerÆs skin.
Archer was the first to act.
He swung the oversized weapon horizontally and quickly, before Berserker could react.
But he forgot that he wasnÆt the only Servant with the MindÆs Eye ability, even if his opponentÆs was a fake.
Berserker instinct screamed him to leap backward and he did it at amazing speed, even if he didnÆt know why. And thus, he evaded losing another life.
Like Archer predicted.
The bowman smiled at the sight of Berserker back leap, and closed one of his eyed concentrating half of his mind in the stone slab in his hand.
Carved from a pillar of a temple built in HeraclesÆ honor right after his death it was as ancient as his myth, and, somehow, after being used to summon the Servant and as a weapon by said hero it became like an A rank Noble Phantasm.
That was the only explanation he could reach after searching in its history, even if it wasnÆt a solid one.
Not that it mattered to him.
It could damage Berserker and so he would use it.
Berserker touched the ground after leaping and roared. His wound closed and he prepared himself to charge again.
Before this Archer concentrated even more in the ôswordö in his hand. He searched into its connection with the Heroic Spirit before him.
Into its connection to the legend.
Into its connection with the summon.
Into its connection to this war.
And he found it.
His ticket to the victory.
In not even the time that took Berserker to leap and charge again.
A plan formed in his mind.
Another nine blueprints were in his head, waiting to him to use them.
Berserker roared even louder and attacked him with his broken weapon.
ôUnknown to death.
Nor known to life.ö
Not even the instincts of the mad warrior would help him against the speed of the gods!
ôNine Lives Blade Works!ö
He targeted the upper arm, collarbone, windpipe, temple, diaphragm, ribs, testicles, and thighs.
The gore that followed froze IlyaÆs blood. Berserker was dying.
One death.
Another.
And other, and other, and otherà
But it didnÆt stop the Greek hero.
Seven hits connected before he could do anything. His body was being torn to pieces, but even then he still moved in order to kill his masterÆs enemy.
To kill him before he killed her.
Loyalty powerful enough to overcome the madness, even if only by an instant.
The attacks that were piercing his body were launched at the speed of the gods.
That was originally his attack speed!
The last two attacks met with their mirrors.
The sound of stone breaking and ArcherÆs scream of pain were the only sounds in the hall.
The two last projected swords and the original one were reduced to dust by the force of the impacts.
It was obvious to Ilya, the battle had ended.
Berserker stood immobile before the cloud of dust, nearly half of his body gone but already regenerating it.
He lost eight lives in total against that strange bowman that fought with swords.
A hero that even had a sword identical to the one of her Servant.
But now Archer was dead. Defeated by her Servant.
It was the end.
No.
A loud laugh came from the middle of the dust.
ôHave withstood pain to create many weapons.ö
Archer came out of the cloud of dust, covered in wounds from the explosion of the swords and without his left arm.
But the left arm didnÆt matter to him right now.
After all it was the right one which held the ninth weapon he prepared in advance.
Eight were reproductions of the stone axe-sword, necessary with his already projected one for his previous attack.
This one wasnÆt even a sword.
It was a lance.
ôGae Bolg!ö
LancerÆs Noble Phantasm. Ilya realized in that instant, but, while confused why this Archer had it, she wasnÆt worried.
They had fought already with that Servant, who retreated after his sure kill attack clashed harmlessly against Berserker divine skin.
It was useless.
But Archer knew it. That he couldnÆt hope to pierce BerserkerÆs skin with it.
Even then he started smiling again.
Because of it he prepared this weapon to use it after his previous attack. Before it would be useless.
The curse lance started to take effect.
But right now there were holes in that impervious skin.
And Berserker heart was destroyed by the curse of the lance.
Three lives left.
The mad warrior didnÆt like it.
He was summoned to be a unstoppable tank, killing his enemies even if he died in the process.
Not even after losing the ninth live he stopped.
So he roared, and still with the lance in his body, he caught ArcherÆs only arm and tossed him like a rag doll toward one of the walls.
Then, while regenerating and pulling out the weapon, he ran towards Archer.
And he punched him. Again and again he punched him with the power of a canon.
Then he caught him for the head and started to press.
ôStop Berserker!ö Ordered IlyaÆs voice. öHe deserve an even move painful death for killing you so many times!ö
At this order the Servant stopped to press, but he didnÆt release Archer.
ôThatà wasnÆt aà very clever thing to doà Ilyaö Said the bowman with a faltering voice.
ôYeah? And what are you to do? Dying on my Berserker?ö
A chuckle seemed to come from the imprisoned Servant.
ôNo, thank youà I haveà other plansàö
Before even Ilya could thought what that meant, he chanted again.
ôYet, those hands will never hold anything.ö
Pink light started coming out of his hand.
ôRho Aias!ö
Seven petals of light came out forming a barrier, pushing Berserker and forcing him to release Archer. Preventing him to reach him while that shield was still in place.
ôAnother Noble Phantasm?ö Ilya asked in surprise.
Berserker started to pound the barrier with his bare fists with no results except burning his hands, but he didnÆt stop.
Inside the shield Archer smiled again, even through his body was full of wounds and an arm was missing.
ôSo as I pray.ö
How many legendary weapons he had? Ilya asked in her thoughts.
And he said it, like an answer to that not asked question.
ôUnlimited Blade Worksö
And the world was burned away.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----
When the fire banished there were no traces of the castle or the forest.
There were only swords. Stuck in the earth like they were strange tombstones.
Tens, hundreds, thousands, and millions of them.
In the sky strange cogwheels moved constantly like part of a gigantic clock.
A hundred meters away from her and her servant was Archer, still smiling
ôLike what you see, Ilya? These are the worldÆs finest blades, from a simply kitchen knife to the most powerful holy blades. Each one is sharpened to the extreme and ready to be used by me.
Do you still think that I was bluffing when I said that I would kill Berserker?ö
She didnÆt know what to think, one moment she had Archer at her Servant mercy and the next one she was in this strange world.
A world created by that Servant.
A Reality Marble.
The most forbidden form of mage craft, used by a Servant Archer.
A world filled with swords.
Nothing made sense.
But she didnÆt care.
ôAnd what of it!? Even if you have so many weapons you only have one hand! What can you do!?ö
Archer didnÆt reply, he only continued smiling.
A thought was enough.
They started to rain over her, Noble Phantasms.
An absurd quantity of them.
Only the quick reaction from his Servant, covering her with his body, saved her.
Then, as abruptly as it started, the rain finished.
ôThis is my world, why should I need to use my hands when the reality is my ally?ö
And, as if hearing him, the swords started to dislodge themselves from their resting places and floated up while others materialized in the sky.
And they shoot themselves towards them from all angles.
And while Berserker was occupied protecting his master from them he called forth a very nostalgic sword.
Caliburn, the golden sword of assured victory.
Perhaps he could not use it like he did with his Saber, back when he was alive, and kill Berserk multiple times with it.
But it was A ranked.
Enough to bypass the GodÆs Hand.
The beautiful sword appeared in his hand.
And he released it.
Instead of falling to the ground it moved forward at an amazing speed.
Berserker, as busy as he was didnÆt pay it any attention until it was piercing his stomach.
And then he could do nothing.
Two lives left.
ôBerserker!ö Ilya screamed worriedly.
Ten lives were gone.
And Archer didnÆt have any intention to stop.
She believed him now.
He could kill Berserker.
And he was doing it.
ôVajra!ö
She heard a shout at her Servant side.
Archer was there. In his hand was a curiously shaped weapon.
But his magical presence was so weak that they didnÆt saw it until it was too late.
TaishakutenÆs weapon entered his body through the hole made by Caliburn a few seconds before.
The weapon did itÆs effect and dealt damage independently from his ArcherÆs magical energy.
And BerserkerÆs body exploded in lightning from the inside.
His skin burned, unable to protect itself from a damage dealt from inside.
And the swords that rained from the sky started to pierce the charred body.
Until nothing could be seen of her servant.
She fell to her knees.
And started cry.
Her Berserker couldnÆt have died. He was her protector, someone that never would leave her alone.
She was alone again.
The sound of steps.
She looked up to see Archer in front of her.
Wounded, with only an arm and nearly exhausted, but with a sword in his only hand.
And Ilya screamed of fear for death.
But, then, a roar seemed stop Archer in mid movement, and Ilya opened her eyes wide.
Berserker still wasnÆt dead.
He was one of humanity greatest heroes, he participated in countless battles, killed so many enemies and refined his skills, reflects and instincts to his maximum capability.
All in order to achieve victory.
So, even after being reduced to a mindless beast, killed eleven times and being pierced by a lot of swords, he still refused to lose.
He stood up again and shook most of the swords out of his body.
And tried to charge against Archer again.
But the last of the swords that waited in the sky fell down towards him, With enough strength to make him unable to move.
And while this happened Archer traced let his sword banish and started to run with grabbing a screaming Ilya with his remaining hand.
In front of him his world was starting to dissolve, and The World was restituting its order.
Like a hole in the middle of his field of blades.
His only possibility of killing Berserker last time, was now.
He pulled more prana from his connection to Rin, enough to make his world once again.
But he wouldnÆt do that.
He overcharged his already projected world.
His Noble Phantasm.
His circuit suffered from the strain and like when he was a novice sword started to come out from his deeper wounds. But he ignored it like he ignored the angry Ilya calling for Berserker.
The cogwheels of his world started to speed up with the extra energy he was using.
And in the sky and in the ground cracks started to appear.
He ran, ignoring all of this, towards the ôholeö. He needed to reach it before the he was infusing his world closed it.
Behind him the swords stopped to rain and Berserker started to pursue him.
The cowheels started to give sparks off for going to quick, and the cracks in the ground and the sky met in the horizon.
His world was being broken.
He reached the ôholeö just in time before it was too little for him, but he didnÆt stop even when he passed it and continued running.
He broke his own world. His only own Noble Phantasm.
He used for first time the Broken Phantasm called Unlimited Blade Works.
A Broken Phantasm composed of unlimited Broken Phantasms.
He didnÆt want to see what happened.
He imagined it.
He was reaching the forest when a loud and unnatural shattering sound came from the castle.
He embraced the struggling Ilya.
And the night became midday when everything was bathed by the flames and the shrapnel of a dying world.
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