Nasuverse Holding Back the Sea
- Thread starter Ryuugi
- Start date
XxXXxX
If nothing else, Berserker was competitive and he knew it. He always wanted to win.
Granted, this was in large part because the fate of the world often seemed based around his continued success, but even beyond that, he didnÆt like to lose. Maybe that was the Roman in him or maybe it was the Greek, but it was definitely a fact.
So as soon as the hunt was organized, he immediately got to work.
The supervisor had failed to give any clues as to the whereabouts of Caster, but Berserker wasnÆt worried. He had an enormous advantage over the competition, due to two factors.
First of all, he had Mrs. OÆLeary, who specialized in hunting down the supernatural. Once she had CasterÆs scent, heÆd definitely be able to hunt him down, given time.
But perhaps even more than that, he had something none of the other Servants had.
He wasnÆt ancient.
He had been born in this era and he knew how things worked in the Modern Age. As such, he knew a number of things, including, perhaps most importantly, where to start and where to go from there.
The first place he went was the morgue. If this had happened over night, then they probably werenÆt even finished examining the bodies yet.
Entering spirit form, he waited impatiently for the doctor to leave. He did so fairly quickly, looking like he was about to get sick. Whistling quietly, he called Mrs. OÆLeary in when the coast was clearùdue to the small size of the room, she simply stayed as a strange shadow, always staying by her MasterÆs feet.
Silently putting on some rubber gloves, he began to examine the bodies.
They were mangled. Just by looking at them, he could tell how monstrous Caster wasùthe piles of meat on the tables no longer even slightly resembled a human being. He immediately gained empathy for the doctor that had been examining theseùeven for him, this was pretty gruesome.
He examined the bodies briefly, wanting to get his own opinion on them before looking at the DoctorÆs notes. In the process, he noticed that the victimÆs bodyùhe couldnÆt even tell if it was a man or a womanùhadnÆt been cut in the slightest by the doctor. It was so torn apart, it hadnÆt been needed.
Examining the corpse, he could tell two things for sure, which the doctorÆs notes supported.
Something had eaten it, obviously from the missing flesh and the teeth marks.
Something had torn its way out of it.
The latter could be explained in a number of horrific waysùlike a spell that rips the targets entrails out. Definitely something magical in nature.
But that wouldnÆt explain the former.
The teeth marks definitely came from some kind of creature and definitely not a human. That would imply that Caster was able to summon a creature, like he and Rider. But it didnÆt account for how something seemed to have torn its way out of the victimÆs body.
Putting the two things together suggested something both horrifying and disgusting.
Caster was able to a creature inside a personÆs body. The number of corpses and their similarities actually implied that he could summon multiple creatures, perhaps simultaneously.
Taking that knowledge and combining it with the fact that Caster and his Master had already kidnapped something upward of thirty small children and the possibilities were more than enough to enrage Berserker.
But before he could kill Caster, he had to find him, so he swallowed his rage.
The Doctor returned, apparently having left the room to throw up, but Berserker had dematerialized the moment heÆd heard the door begin to open.
In spiritual form, a ServantÆs senses were also completely spiritual. He couldnÆt truly see or hear, though the way he perceived the world allowed him to pretend to do both, in a way.
But it had its advantages. In his spiritual form, he could perceive things that also lacked a physical formùincluding traces of magic. He could do so while materialized as well, of courseùhe was a spirit either wayùbut the results seemed so much more obvious in this formùprobably because he had to rely on that sense completely in this form.
So, as a Spirit, he continued his investigation.
The first thing he noticed were the magical traces all over the body, but he had already known that a spell had caused this.
But he also noticed something much more interesting.
In his current state, he could æseeÆ details about the spell, sort of. Not enough to tell who had cast the spell or even exactly what the spell wasùthough that could have been because he lacked familiarity with such things, not being a magus. However, there was something that he was readily familiar with.
All over the body were traces of magic that reminded him of the sea. But at the same time, it didnÆtùor rather, not of any sea heÆs ever seen.
Curious.
XxXXxX
If nothing else, Berserker was competitive and he knew it. He always wanted to win.
Granted, this was in large part because the fate of the world often seemed based around his continued success, but even beyond that, he didnÆt like to lose. Maybe that was the Roman in him or maybe it was the Greek, but it was definitely a fact.
So as soon as the hunt was organized, he immediately got to work.
The supervisor had failed to give any clues as to the whereabouts of Caster, but Berserker wasnÆt worried. He had an enormous advantage over the competition, due to two factors.
First of all, he had Mrs. OÆLeary, who specialized in hunting down the supernatural. Once she had CasterÆs scent, heÆd definitely be able to hunt him down, given time.
But perhaps even more than that, he had something none of the other Servants had.
He wasnÆt ancient.
He had been born in this era and he knew how things worked in the Modern Age. As such, he knew a number of things, including, perhaps most importantly, where to start and where to go from there.
The first place he went was the morgue. If this had happened over night, then they probably werenÆt even finished examining the bodies yet.
Entering spirit form, he waited impatiently for the doctor to leave. He did so fairly quickly, looking like he was about to get sick. Whistling quietly, he called Mrs. OÆLeary in when the coast was clearùdue to the small size of the room, she simply stayed as a strange shadow, always staying by her MasterÆs feet.
Silently putting on some rubber gloves, he began to examine the bodies.
They were mangled. Just by looking at them, he could tell how monstrous Caster wasùthe piles of meat on the tables no longer even slightly resembled a human being. He immediately gained empathy for the doctor that had been examining theseùeven for him, this was pretty gruesome.
He examined the bodies briefly, wanting to get his own opinion on them before looking at the DoctorÆs notes. In the process, he noticed that the victimÆs bodyùhe couldnÆt even tell if it was a man or a womanùhadnÆt been cut in the slightest by the doctor. It was so torn apart, it hadnÆt been needed.
Examining the corpse, he could tell two things for sure, which the doctorÆs notes supported.
Something had eaten it, obviously from the missing flesh and the teeth marks.
Something had torn its way out of it.
The latter could be explained in a number of horrific waysùlike a spell that rips the targets entrails out. Definitely something magical in nature.
But that wouldnÆt explain the former.
The teeth marks definitely came from some kind of creature and definitely not a human. That would imply that Caster was able to summon a creature, like he and Rider. But it didnÆt account for how something seemed to have torn its way out of the victimÆs body.
Putting the two things together suggested something both horrifying and disgusting.
Caster was able to a creature inside a personÆs body. The number of corpses and their similarities actually implied that he could summon multiple creatures, perhaps simultaneously.
Taking that knowledge and combining it with the fact that Caster and his Master had already kidnapped something upward of thirty small children and the possibilities were more than enough to enrage Berserker.
But before he could kill Caster, he had to find him, so he swallowed his rage.
The Doctor returned, apparently having left the room to throw up, but Berserker had dematerialized the moment heÆd heard the door begin to open.
In spiritual form, a ServantÆs senses were also completely spiritual. He couldnÆt truly see or hear, though the way he perceived the world allowed him to pretend to do both, in a way.
But it had its advantages. In his spiritual form, he could perceive things that also lacked a physical formùincluding traces of magic. He could do so while materialized as well, of courseùhe was a spirit either wayùbut the results seemed so much more obvious in this formùprobably because he had to rely on that sense completely in this form.
So, as a Spirit, he continued his investigation.
The first thing he noticed were the magical traces all over the body, but he had already known that a spell had caused this.
But he also noticed something much more interesting.
In his current state, he could æseeÆ details about the spell, sort of. Not enough to tell who had cast the spell or even exactly what the spell wasùthough that could have been because he lacked familiarity with such things, not being a magus. However, there was something that he was readily familiar with.
All over the body were traces of magic that reminded him of the sea. But at the same time, it didnÆtùor rather, not of any sea heÆs ever seen.
Curious.
XxXXxX
Well, that's interesting, and makes for a nice bit of either conflict or a Checkov's gun, since we have a demigod who's noble phantasm essentially MAKES him god of the seas, does that mean the summoned things (or perhaps just the summon spell itself) fall at least partially under his domain via the Deception of Divinity?
XxXXxX
Right now, there was nothing more valuable than time. By now, every Master was probably scrambling to get CasterÆs head on a platter. With additional Command Seals as a prize, everyone will sure be pursuing Caster.
Including him.
As someone with a Servant like Alexander, Command Seals were his last resortùand he wouldnÆt hand them over, no matter what the circumstances.
No matter who he is, for a Servant to be of the Caster class, it went without saying that he must have a number of tricks up his sleeves. The ones who could challenge him head on without any preparation were probably the ones like the Saber Class, who boast of a powerful Magic Resistance Skill. In comparison, Rider, who was outside the Knight Classes, would generally require at least some strategy to face such an opponent in an area Caster had already prepared.
As a Magus, Waver understood the threat of another magiÆs æMagic Workshop.Æ In comparison, he judged RiderÆs Magic Resistance to be of a D rank, which could cancel only Single-Action spellsàeven so, they would have to proceed, even with that fairly meager defense.
But it put them at an obvious disadvantage compared to the competition; Archer had a C rank and Lancer who had B rank, making them capable of cancelling spells of two and three verses, respectivelyùit would be difficult for them to be affected in battle, even by Caster.
And against Saber, who could be considered immune to modern magi, and Berserker, who was like a Divine Spirit in the waterà
They were at a definite disadvantage, in this regard.
Because of that, the solution was obvious; the best way to deal with this problem would be to lure Caster into a battle with either Saber or Berserker, and let him be torn apart. But if he did thatàthe Command Seals he was striving for would elude him.
More to the point, proposing an alliance with Berserker would be pointlessùRiderÆs pride would never allow it, and using a Command Seal to force him would be pointless; it was useless to spend Command Seals to gain them. It would do little more than earn him RiderÆs enmity.
Proposing an alliance with Saber would be pointless as well; what reason would a Servant that was immune to knowledge have to ally with someone who wasnÆt against a magic user?
And again, RiderÆs pride probably wouldnÆt allow it.
Waver stifled a sigh. Truly, his Servant was troublesome. He refused to stay dematerialized and, after seeing Saber, Berserker, and Archer do it, had insisted to wear modern clothing. Naturally, Waver had been forced to buy his clothes for him.
Naturally, since he was always materialized, he had also been noticed by the family they were staying with, who Waver had hypnotized into believing he was their grandson. Rider was now staying as his friend from overseas.
ôOi, kid, I have that thing you sent me to get!ö Rider bellow, dropping the bag in front of him.
Waver was annoyed to realize that he wasnÆt even annoyed anymore; he was starting to get used to Rider.
Repressing another sigh, he opened the bag, removing the twenty four stoppered test tubes. Each was labeled alphabetically and filled with water.
ôOi, kid, you realize weÆre on the hunt, right?ö Rider asked.
ôI want to win, too,ö Waver said absently, his attention completely focused on the test tubes. ôDonÆt worry.ö
Waver quickly cleared the table and took out his whole set of experimental toolsùone of the few items he had taken with him from London. He then selected several vials of ores and reagents, spirit lamp mortar, and a dropper.
ôHuh?ö Rider asked. ôDo you plan start with some make-believe alchemy?ö
ôItÆs the real thing, idiot.ö Waver replied, eyebrow twitching.
He selected the complimentary reagents and mixed them togetherùwhat he was doing was something that heÆd repeated countless times at the Clock Tower; even with his eyes closed, he would do it perfectly.
ôJust to be sure, you did mark the places on the map correctly, right?ö He asked.
ôWho could possibly make a mistake on something as simple as that?ö Rider grumbled, tossing him the map.
FuyukiÆs complete map, marked carefully with symbols of the alphabet, each a place Rider had collected water from the Mion River.
Even so, Waver was a bit disappointed. He had expected to compete glamorously in the Holy War as a ServantÆs Master. And yet, here he was, repeating the same basic experiments he had for years.
Unplugging the stopper of test tube A, he dropped a bit of the reagent into it.
The instantaneous reaction exceeded his expectations. The water immediately turned a rusty red color.
ôWhat on Earth is this?ö Rider asked. Waver had expected him to go back to watching his videos, but instead he was watching the experiment intently.
Explaining was troublesome, but a barrage of questions would be even more so, so he answered.
ôThe remains of magecraft in the water.ö
æAÆ was the place where the river mouth met the sea. As such, it was the obvious place to start, even if the reaction was abnormal.
ôàBoy, did you realize from the beginning that the water of the river was like this?ö
ôOf course not! But this city has a river running through it; itÆs natural to start investigating from the water!ö
When searching for a magus, the easiest way was the æWaterÆ element. At its base, water was something that flows from a higher place to a lower one; compared to the effort needed to calculate the winds direction and detect the earthÆs pulse, finding the lowest point of water was a simple matter. This was especially true for lands with rivers. As such, he had decided to start his search with the simplest method, but it seemed he had already drawn the æwinner.Æ
One by one, he tested the tubes. As he headed up stream, the reaction got stronger and stronger and his reaction quickly changed from surprise to shock. For a reaction like this, the only explanation was for the Workshop to have been set up in the middle of the river and to have discarded his wastes with no preparations at all. Such a magus is less than third-rate; if anything, this was the mistake of a newbie.
And yet, discovering his opponent in such a way didnÆt make Waver feel proud at all. HeÆd expected to have to exhaust his ingenuity and compete against wonders with his own in a æMagecraft Competition,Æ but what he was doing now was more like a mundane police forensic.
The reaction of æPÆ was pitch-black. If it got any darker than this, he might need to use a more advanced method to continue the analysis, but when he tested æQÆ there was no reaction. The water remained clear no matter how he shook it.
Waver opened the map and located P and Q.
ôRider, between these two points, what is there? A draining trench? An irrigation channel?ö
ôHuh?ö Rider voiced, surprised. ôThere was something really big thereàö
ôThatÆs it! In all probability, thatÆs the location of CasterÆs Workshop!ö
With a solemn face, Rider gazed at his Master closely.
ôOi, boy. Could it be youÆre actually some excellent magus?ö He wondered.
Waver snorted and turned away.
ôThis is not something a great magus would do; this is the method of the worst of the worst. Are you making fun of me?ö
ôWhat are you talking about? If you achieving great results with poor methods, isnÆt that a greater achievement then having used better methods? You should be proud of yourself! As your Servant, I too am proud!ö Rider laughed. ôAfter all, after grasping the enemyÆs location, itÆs my turn, right? Come one, boy; letÆs attack at once!ö
ôH-hey! The opponent is still a Casterùattacking his Workshop without any plan might be a little foolhardy!ö
ôIn war, the enemyÆs position can change at any time. If you know there position and donÆt strike quickly, there may not be time for regret!ö
ôàYouÆre really fired up, today. Does this competition really have you that excited?ö
ôOf course! And not only that, but my Master has shown some outstanding results. In that case, bringing back the head of the enemy as repayment; that is my pride as a Servant!ö
In that moment, Waver wonderedàthe soldiers that had served under this former King of Conquerorsàhad they been swept away across Asia like this as well?
XxXXxX
Right now, there was nothing more valuable than time. By now, every Master was probably scrambling to get CasterÆs head on a platter. With additional Command Seals as a prize, everyone will sure be pursuing Caster.
Including him.
As someone with a Servant like Alexander, Command Seals were his last resortùand he wouldnÆt hand them over, no matter what the circumstances.
No matter who he is, for a Servant to be of the Caster class, it went without saying that he must have a number of tricks up his sleeves. The ones who could challenge him head on without any preparation were probably the ones like the Saber Class, who boast of a powerful Magic Resistance Skill. In comparison, Rider, who was outside the Knight Classes, would generally require at least some strategy to face such an opponent in an area Caster had already prepared.
As a Magus, Waver understood the threat of another magiÆs æMagic Workshop.Æ In comparison, he judged RiderÆs Magic Resistance to be of a D rank, which could cancel only Single-Action spellsàeven so, they would have to proceed, even with that fairly meager defense.
But it put them at an obvious disadvantage compared to the competition; Archer had a C rank and Lancer who had B rank, making them capable of cancelling spells of two and three verses, respectivelyùit would be difficult for them to be affected in battle, even by Caster.
And against Saber, who could be considered immune to modern magi, and Berserker, who was like a Divine Spirit in the waterà
They were at a definite disadvantage, in this regard.
Because of that, the solution was obvious; the best way to deal with this problem would be to lure Caster into a battle with either Saber or Berserker, and let him be torn apart. But if he did thatàthe Command Seals he was striving for would elude him.
More to the point, proposing an alliance with Berserker would be pointlessùRiderÆs pride would never allow it, and using a Command Seal to force him would be pointless; it was useless to spend Command Seals to gain them. It would do little more than earn him RiderÆs enmity.
Proposing an alliance with Saber would be pointless as well; what reason would a Servant that was immune to knowledge have to ally with someone who wasnÆt against a magic user?
And again, RiderÆs pride probably wouldnÆt allow it.
Waver stifled a sigh. Truly, his Servant was troublesome. He refused to stay dematerialized and, after seeing Saber, Berserker, and Archer do it, had insisted to wear modern clothing. Naturally, Waver had been forced to buy his clothes for him.
Naturally, since he was always materialized, he had also been noticed by the family they were staying with, who Waver had hypnotized into believing he was their grandson. Rider was now staying as his friend from overseas.
ôOi, kid, I have that thing you sent me to get!ö Rider bellow, dropping the bag in front of him.
Waver was annoyed to realize that he wasnÆt even annoyed anymore; he was starting to get used to Rider.
Repressing another sigh, he opened the bag, removing the twenty four stoppered test tubes. Each was labeled alphabetically and filled with water.
ôOi, kid, you realize weÆre on the hunt, right?ö Rider asked.
ôI want to win, too,ö Waver said absently, his attention completely focused on the test tubes. ôDonÆt worry.ö
Waver quickly cleared the table and took out his whole set of experimental toolsùone of the few items he had taken with him from London. He then selected several vials of ores and reagents, spirit lamp mortar, and a dropper.
ôHuh?ö Rider asked. ôDo you plan start with some make-believe alchemy?ö
ôItÆs the real thing, idiot.ö Waver replied, eyebrow twitching.
He selected the complimentary reagents and mixed them togetherùwhat he was doing was something that heÆd repeated countless times at the Clock Tower; even with his eyes closed, he would do it perfectly.
ôJust to be sure, you did mark the places on the map correctly, right?ö He asked.
ôWho could possibly make a mistake on something as simple as that?ö Rider grumbled, tossing him the map.
FuyukiÆs complete map, marked carefully with symbols of the alphabet, each a place Rider had collected water from the Mion River.
Even so, Waver was a bit disappointed. He had expected to compete glamorously in the Holy War as a ServantÆs Master. And yet, here he was, repeating the same basic experiments he had for years.
Unplugging the stopper of test tube A, he dropped a bit of the reagent into it.
The instantaneous reaction exceeded his expectations. The water immediately turned a rusty red color.
ôWhat on Earth is this?ö Rider asked. Waver had expected him to go back to watching his videos, but instead he was watching the experiment intently.
Explaining was troublesome, but a barrage of questions would be even more so, so he answered.
ôThe remains of magecraft in the water.ö
æAÆ was the place where the river mouth met the sea. As such, it was the obvious place to start, even if the reaction was abnormal.
ôàBoy, did you realize from the beginning that the water of the river was like this?ö
ôOf course not! But this city has a river running through it; itÆs natural to start investigating from the water!ö
When searching for a magus, the easiest way was the æWaterÆ element. At its base, water was something that flows from a higher place to a lower one; compared to the effort needed to calculate the winds direction and detect the earthÆs pulse, finding the lowest point of water was a simple matter. This was especially true for lands with rivers. As such, he had decided to start his search with the simplest method, but it seemed he had already drawn the æwinner.Æ
One by one, he tested the tubes. As he headed up stream, the reaction got stronger and stronger and his reaction quickly changed from surprise to shock. For a reaction like this, the only explanation was for the Workshop to have been set up in the middle of the river and to have discarded his wastes with no preparations at all. Such a magus is less than third-rate; if anything, this was the mistake of a newbie.
And yet, discovering his opponent in such a way didnÆt make Waver feel proud at all. HeÆd expected to have to exhaust his ingenuity and compete against wonders with his own in a æMagecraft Competition,Æ but what he was doing now was more like a mundane police forensic.
The reaction of æPÆ was pitch-black. If it got any darker than this, he might need to use a more advanced method to continue the analysis, but when he tested æQÆ there was no reaction. The water remained clear no matter how he shook it.
Waver opened the map and located P and Q.
ôRider, between these two points, what is there? A draining trench? An irrigation channel?ö
ôHuh?ö Rider voiced, surprised. ôThere was something really big thereàö
ôThatÆs it! In all probability, thatÆs the location of CasterÆs Workshop!ö
With a solemn face, Rider gazed at his Master closely.
ôOi, boy. Could it be youÆre actually some excellent magus?ö He wondered.
Waver snorted and turned away.
ôThis is not something a great magus would do; this is the method of the worst of the worst. Are you making fun of me?ö
ôWhat are you talking about? If you achieving great results with poor methods, isnÆt that a greater achievement then having used better methods? You should be proud of yourself! As your Servant, I too am proud!ö Rider laughed. ôAfter all, after grasping the enemyÆs location, itÆs my turn, right? Come one, boy; letÆs attack at once!ö
ôH-hey! The opponent is still a Casterùattacking his Workshop without any plan might be a little foolhardy!ö
ôIn war, the enemyÆs position can change at any time. If you know there position and donÆt strike quickly, there may not be time for regret!ö
ôàYouÆre really fired up, today. Does this competition really have you that excited?ö
ôOf course! And not only that, but my Master has shown some outstanding results. In that case, bringing back the head of the enemy as repayment; that is my pride as a Servant!ö
In that moment, Waver wonderedàthe soldiers that had served under this former King of Conquerorsàhad they been swept away across Asia like this as well?
XxXXxX
It's both. DoD works by making Percy the 'god' of things that fall under his father's domain, but it's not limited to area's his father controls, as seen in Son of Neptune, where he takes control of the water in the land beyond the gods.
It applies to anything that can be even vaguely defined a body of water, fresh or salt, though it works better with the latter. It works with anything that's even vaguely a horse, even if it has wings or eats human flesh or is a zebra. And it applies to anything even vaguely aquatic. And it lets him pilot anything that's even kind of an aquatic vessel, even if it lacks means or propulsion or a crew--as seen in SoN, he can even hold them together with his will when they're about to literally fall to pieces.
Granted, it doesn't actually give him control or horses or marine life. They do recognize him as a god, though, even though that doesn't necessarily inspire obedience, like with the flesh eating horses.
He can communicate with them telepathically (and vice versa), though, which is never a god thing in the realm of Lovecraft.
It applies to anything that can be even vaguely defined a body of water, fresh or salt, though it works better with the latter. It works with anything that's even vaguely a horse, even if it has wings or eats human flesh or is a zebra. And it applies to anything even vaguely aquatic. And it lets him pilot anything that's even kind of an aquatic vessel, even if it lacks means or propulsion or a crew--as seen in SoN, he can even hold them together with his will when they're about to literally fall to pieces.
Granted, it doesn't actually give him control or horses or marine life. They do recognize him as a god, though, even though that doesn't necessarily inspire obedience, like with the flesh eating horses.
He can communicate with them telepathically (and vice versa), though, which is never a god thing in the realm of Lovecraft.
Good parts.
Does it say in canon that the alignments were Shirou's perception of them?
For what its worth, the wiki describes Gil as 'extremely arrogant and selfish.' Also, not clear on his reason for wanting the Grail, since what I remember is that he wanted to cleanse the world of all the 'useless' people, leaving only the ones who were worthy of being ruled by him. I'm pretty sure that's not what you mean, so what reason do you think he had, and where can I see it in canon?
Does it say in canon that the alignments were Shirou's perception of them?
For what its worth, the wiki describes Gil as 'extremely arrogant and selfish.' Also, not clear on his reason for wanting the Grail, since what I remember is that he wanted to cleanse the world of all the 'useless' people, leaving only the ones who were worthy of being ruled by him. I'm pretty sure that's not what you mean, so what reason do you think he had, and where can I see it in canon?
Good. I like the way you do Waver. We see the young boy in him, longing to be somebody, and seeds of the future greatness he can achieve. The writing gives me the impression he is at the point of his life where he wants to be more and tries so hard to get to it, always going for the advanced work that he is disregarding the basics. Rider's point is valid, it's better to get good results with less work and less flashy methods than with more work intensive ones. Something Emiya Kiritsugu knows well.
The entire thing was based on Shirou's perception of them. This is why, for instance, he has "Matou Shinji" listed as Rider's Master in Fate and Unlimited Blade Works, when her true Master was actually Matou Sakura.
Yup, that's exactly his goal. He wants to make the world a better, more heroic place. This is not a selfish desire, but a desire for a better world. That he plans on doing so by massacring the vast majority of humanity and destroying modern society is irrelevant; the desire itself is not selfish, and thus he shows up as "Good" to Shirou at a glance.
Yup, that's exactly his goal. He wants to make the world a better, more heroic place. This is not a selfish desire, but a desire for a better world. That he plans on doing so by massacring the vast majority of humanity and destroying modern society is irrelevant; the desire itself is not selfish, and thus he shows up as "Good" to Shirou at a glance.
He doesn't have power of crews, that we know of. Just over ships. When he get's on a ship, he knows it's exact coordinators, the coordinators of any place he's trying to get to, the exact path there, all the details of the ship in question, and, most of all, can control all parts of the ship telekinetic-ally. This includes small one person ships, large pirate ships, and, apparently, any ship he can get on. If he was on a Naval Ship, he couldn't summon a crew out of no where, but he wouldn't need to, since he could control the entire ship himself.
We don't know if he can raise ships, but he took a several hundred year old, rusted, worn down tiny ship that hadn't been tended to since it was made, and though it literally collapsed and sank the moment he stepped off, it was fine until then and he's piloted it several hundred miles.
Though, granted, part of that was due to strapping a Killer Whale to it and having it pull it.
We don't know if he can raise ships, but he took a several hundred year old, rusted, worn down tiny ship that hadn't been tended to since it was made, and though it literally collapsed and sank the moment he stepped off, it was fine until then and he's piloted it several hundred miles.
Though, granted, part of that was due to strapping a Killer Whale to it and having it pull it.
XxXXxX
Berserkerùor rather, Mrs. OÆLearyùhad tracked CasterÆs scent back to the River. At that point, Berserker was kind of marveling at his luckyùthere must be something in the water that kept drawing his opponents to it, or something.
As soon as he reached the river, he decided to leave Mrs. OÆLeary behind. If he needed her aid, it would be simply to call for her, and bringing her in would only endanger her needlessly. While having her on his side was always a huge advantage, given her size, strength, and experience, but her ability to shadow travel was probably her most dangerous feature, and Berserker didnÆt want to risk it.
Well, that, and the simple fact that he didnÆt want her to get hurt. It may have been silly, looking after a dog that was the size of a truck, but while strong, she wasnÆt invulnerable.
He was.
So if anyone was going to be walking into enemy territory with no idea what was wait for him there, it would be him. HeÆd be fine, this close to the water and he could always call her again if he needed too.
The first thing he noticed upon diving into the water was that it feltàwrong. Almost as if it was polluted, but not quite. He knew what pollution felt like, but this was something elseàsomething magical in nature.
He frowned at a sudden thought. Magical pollution, maybe?
Well, heÆd seen weirder thingsà
It was definitely moving past him, so the source came a bit further upstream. He stayed underwater, even as the water pushed him forward like the current didnÆt exist. He could tell where things were located underwater, and even though it wasnÆt solid, he knew where the source of the æpollutionÆ was coming from.
An entrance to some kind of sewer system.
He paused at the entrance in disgust, which was the only reason he noticed them.
Half buried at the bottom of the river, being nibbled at by fish, were disfigured bodies that might have looked exactly like the ones in the morgue, if not for being mostly eaten. Rather than float, theyÆd had so many wounds that they had simply sunk.
And the number of themà
BerserkerÆs hands clinched into fists as he forced himself to turn away from the ruined bodies. Burying his disgust beneath his rage, he entered the sewer.
The bottom of the tunnel was wetùand not just with water. But he ignored everything else, both the blood and the strange fluids he didnÆt recognize, and continued deeper in. As long as there was water, it didnÆt matterùheÆd find Caster and then he would kill him.
Or at least, that was what heÆd expected to find, but instead he found a nest of monsters. Squirming inhuman creatures that possessed countless tentacles, they were crowded together within the tunnel. In the same way he understood the behavior of all aquatic creatures, he immediately knew what they were doingùthey were lying in wait for any trespassers to devour.
And the moment he realized thatùbecause he realized thatùhe understood.
These alien monstersàwithout a doubt, they were aquatic creatures. Not from any sea heÆd ever known, but they were. ThatÆs what left behind those traces on the corpses in the morgue.
And as all creatures that fell under his dominion did, they too recognized him for who and what he was.
The reaction was instantaneous. It was not a show of respect. It was not a submission. As one, with cries of words and emotions that were impossible to understand, they reached out for his with twisting, grasping tentacles.
They were fastùby the standards of a human. But Berserker could easily have dodged. Should have easily dodged.
And yet, he didnÆt. For nothing was right in that tunnel.
The words, actions, voices, and expressions of those monstersàthey were not something a human could understand.
But facts and possibilities were nothing compared to the power of æDeception of Divinity.Æ It wrote over the ætruthÆ with a ælieÆ and that ælieÆ became the new ætruth.Æ
And the truth was, Berserker was the God of the Ocean. Not any specific Ocean, for his legend had taken him across the world, to places beyond even his fatherÆs dominionùjust the æOcean.Æ Not as a place, but as a concept. It was not even limited to salt water, stretching the definition to cover the concept of æWaterÆ as well. It did not matter where that water was, for BerserkerÆs power had worked in the land beyond the gods, just as it had worked in the Underworld.
No matter the location, if it was a æSeaÆ or even just made of æWater,Æ he was definitely its æGodÆ and definitely understood his æsubjects.Æ He could communicate with anything that lived beneath the surface.
Even if that Ocean was beyond the veil of this Reality.
Even if the things that lurked beneath its depths were horrible beyond words.
Yes, he was definitely their God, even if they already had another.
And of their horrible, impossible languageàof course, he understood every word.
XxXXxX
Berserkerùor rather, Mrs. OÆLearyùhad tracked CasterÆs scent back to the River. At that point, Berserker was kind of marveling at his luckyùthere must be something in the water that kept drawing his opponents to it, or something.
As soon as he reached the river, he decided to leave Mrs. OÆLeary behind. If he needed her aid, it would be simply to call for her, and bringing her in would only endanger her needlessly. While having her on his side was always a huge advantage, given her size, strength, and experience, but her ability to shadow travel was probably her most dangerous feature, and Berserker didnÆt want to risk it.
Well, that, and the simple fact that he didnÆt want her to get hurt. It may have been silly, looking after a dog that was the size of a truck, but while strong, she wasnÆt invulnerable.
He was.
So if anyone was going to be walking into enemy territory with no idea what was wait for him there, it would be him. HeÆd be fine, this close to the water and he could always call her again if he needed too.
The first thing he noticed upon diving into the water was that it feltàwrong. Almost as if it was polluted, but not quite. He knew what pollution felt like, but this was something elseàsomething magical in nature.
He frowned at a sudden thought. Magical pollution, maybe?
Well, heÆd seen weirder thingsà
It was definitely moving past him, so the source came a bit further upstream. He stayed underwater, even as the water pushed him forward like the current didnÆt exist. He could tell where things were located underwater, and even though it wasnÆt solid, he knew where the source of the æpollutionÆ was coming from.
An entrance to some kind of sewer system.
He paused at the entrance in disgust, which was the only reason he noticed them.
Half buried at the bottom of the river, being nibbled at by fish, were disfigured bodies that might have looked exactly like the ones in the morgue, if not for being mostly eaten. Rather than float, theyÆd had so many wounds that they had simply sunk.
And the number of themà
BerserkerÆs hands clinched into fists as he forced himself to turn away from the ruined bodies. Burying his disgust beneath his rage, he entered the sewer.
The bottom of the tunnel was wetùand not just with water. But he ignored everything else, both the blood and the strange fluids he didnÆt recognize, and continued deeper in. As long as there was water, it didnÆt matterùheÆd find Caster and then he would kill him.
Or at least, that was what heÆd expected to find, but instead he found a nest of monsters. Squirming inhuman creatures that possessed countless tentacles, they were crowded together within the tunnel. In the same way he understood the behavior of all aquatic creatures, he immediately knew what they were doingùthey were lying in wait for any trespassers to devour.
And the moment he realized thatùbecause he realized thatùhe understood.
These alien monstersàwithout a doubt, they were aquatic creatures. Not from any sea heÆd ever known, but they were. ThatÆs what left behind those traces on the corpses in the morgue.
And as all creatures that fell under his dominion did, they too recognized him for who and what he was.
The reaction was instantaneous. It was not a show of respect. It was not a submission. As one, with cries of words and emotions that were impossible to understand, they reached out for his with twisting, grasping tentacles.
They were fastùby the standards of a human. But Berserker could easily have dodged. Should have easily dodged.
And yet, he didnÆt. For nothing was right in that tunnel.
The words, actions, voices, and expressions of those monstersàthey were not something a human could understand.
But facts and possibilities were nothing compared to the power of æDeception of Divinity.Æ It wrote over the ætruthÆ with a ælieÆ and that ælieÆ became the new ætruth.Æ
And the truth was, Berserker was the God of the Ocean. Not any specific Ocean, for his legend had taken him across the world, to places beyond even his fatherÆs dominionùjust the æOcean.Æ Not as a place, but as a concept. It was not even limited to salt water, stretching the definition to cover the concept of æWaterÆ as well. It did not matter where that water was, for BerserkerÆs power had worked in the land beyond the gods, just as it had worked in the Underworld.
No matter the location, if it was a æSeaÆ or even just made of æWater,Æ he was definitely its æGodÆ and definitely understood his æsubjects.Æ He could communicate with anything that lived beneath the surface.
Even if that Ocean was beyond the veil of this Reality.
Even if the things that lurked beneath its depths were horrible beyond words.
Yes, he was definitely their God, even if they already had another.
And of their horrible, impossible languageàof course, he understood every word.
XxXXxX
h43r: Well, that's bloody terrifying.It wasnÆt something could be translated. Unlike most creatures, whose thoughts he heard in æEnglish,Æ he wasnÆt able to make any words out of the MonsterÆs strange language. What they said came to him in the form of horrified understanding, maddening images, and a sound akin to distant waves.
He knew they had their own God, not because they told him so, but because he saw a shadowy figure move beneath his hastily closed eyelids. It was a strange figure, hard to make out, as if it were both in the dark and warped by the presence of water. It reminded him strangely of a cross between a Dragon, an octopus, and a humanoid creature. Somehow, he couldnÆt help but feel it knew he was looking at it, but try as he might, he couldnÆt look away, for he was not ælookingÆ at anything; these images had been carved directly into his mind.
The image faded in a moment, as the monsterÆs continued their æspeech.Æ They were insulting him, calling him a pretender and a false god. They told him of their own, ætrueÆ God, even as Percy distantly felt them lash out at him. As he felt disgustingly slimy tentacles wrap tightly around his throat even as their spins failed to penetrate either armor or flesh, a string of words finally came to him before the tide of images rose and swallowed him whole.
æPh'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.Æ
It should have been in English. Words always came to him in English.
But these hadnÆt.
This wasnÆt his languageùit was theirs.
Noùmaybe it was his. Because even if he had never heard the language before, the meaning came to him instantly, as Greek and Latin had before. The words meant:
ôIn his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.ö He said out loud, realizing he had done so only after the words escaped his mouth.
Almost immediately, a chorus of voices rose, chanting, praying, in the strange, blasphemous tongue that BerserkerÆs pained mind was starting to form broken sentences in, the knowledge coming to him without a source, putting fragments together into sentences and sentences into paragraphs.
Somehow, by listening, he was learning thingsùeven things they had not said. His vision swam as if he was suddenly beneath the waves, back in the strange city that had haunted his dreams. In that moment, he was not in the sewer, not in Japan, not even on Earth, but far beneath an alien sky and an alien sea in an alien city that was better off forgotten. He walked the streets of that place, monsters crowding around him and passing him by, trying, somehow, to get to a place he had never been to or heard of.
In the middle of the city, there was a tower or a house or a tomb, and in it there was a God who would lay there, dead and dreaming, until death itself died.
But as he went further into that corpselike city, something itched at the back of his mindùlike he was forgetting something.
His vision began to swim again, sluggishly, as if fighting something. He began to absently wonder about thatùwas he asleep? Dreaming? He had clairvoyant dreams many timesùwas this another one? But if that was so, why did this place seem too real?
But, more than thatàhe really was forgetting something important, wasnÆt he?
Images flickered before his sightùa sickly looking man who seemed near death, a young, plum-haired girl, a gathering in a Churchùrising to the forefront for mere moments, as if begging him to stop and return the way he came, but the sea around him seemed to drown them away.
Time passed strangely and suddenly, he was at the entrance of the tomb or the house or whatever he was. He felt that if he took another step and walked in, he wouldnÆt be able to just walk back out, but he didnÆt know why and could tell if that was a bad thing or not.
But in that moment, a voice rose in the back of his mind that he couldnÆt ignore.
ôHold on, Seaweed Brain. YouÆre not getting away from me that easily.ö
Suddenly, he could see her again, and the sight of her was as wonderful as it was painful. She was standing above him, barefoot in the canoe. HeÆd fallen out and she was reaching out a hand to haul him back up, trying not to laugh all the while. She was dressed in her orange shirt and jeans, wearing her YankeeÆs capùwhich was odd, because that should have made her invisible.
ôYou are such an idiot, sometimes.ö She said, smiling. ôCome on. Take my hand.ö
Looking up at her, for a moment he could almost fool himself into believing he was young againùyoung and alive and with her.
But the moment passed.
He knew this wasnÆt real.
It wasnÆt even a memory.
This was the vision that heÆd had so long ago, in the waters of the River Styx.
But for a moment, it didnÆt matter. He just looked at her face and marveled at how beautiful she was, before smiling and closing his eyes.
æùIÆm a little too old to get lost in my dreams, arenÆt I?Æ He thought, reaching out to take her hand.
Suddenly, he was back in the sewer. The sunken city and the horrors within were gone, as was the love of his life. He was bound tightly in the coils of a number of monster, who tried to crush him when they realized their teeth and spines did nothing to him. Their strange chattering continued and he felt the sea try to rise up once again, but he crushed it easily with an effort of will.
ôAh?ö He wondered.
And with a suddenly flex, he twisted in the coils, one hand grasping a tentacle around his waist, the other squirming free to grasp one around his chest, and with a twist of his hips and mighty heaveàhe tore off the limbs of the creatures foolish enough to try and bind him.
Ripping the removed tentacles off him harshly, he spun towards the nearest monster. Driving a fist into its teeth, they shattered under the blow and he shoved the entire length of his arm deep into its mouth. Grasping something deep inside, he suddenly tore his arm out, dragging with it foot after foot of foul intestine.
Dropping them even as the creature quivered in its death throes, he glanced around the tunnel at the suddenly quiet creatures.
ôSorry,ö He said. ôIÆm always in a bad mood right after I wake up.ö
He knew they had their own God, not because they told him so, but because he saw a shadowy figure move beneath his hastily closed eyelids. It was a strange figure, hard to make out, as if it were both in the dark and warped by the presence of water. It reminded him strangely of a cross between a Dragon, an octopus, and a humanoid creature. Somehow, he couldnÆt help but feel it knew he was looking at it, but try as he might, he couldnÆt look away, for he was not ælookingÆ at anything; these images had been carved directly into his mind.
The image faded in a moment, as the monsterÆs continued their æspeech.Æ They were insulting him, calling him a pretender and a false god. They told him of their own, ætrueÆ God, even as Percy distantly felt them lash out at him. As he felt disgustingly slimy tentacles wrap tightly around his throat even as their spins failed to penetrate either armor or flesh, a string of words finally came to him before the tide of images rose and swallowed him whole.
æPh'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.Æ
It should have been in English. Words always came to him in English.
But these hadnÆt.
This wasnÆt his languageùit was theirs.
Noùmaybe it was his. Because even if he had never heard the language before, the meaning came to him instantly, as Greek and Latin had before. The words meant:
ôIn his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.ö He said out loud, realizing he had done so only after the words escaped his mouth.
Almost immediately, a chorus of voices rose, chanting, praying, in the strange, blasphemous tongue that BerserkerÆs pained mind was starting to form broken sentences in, the knowledge coming to him without a source, putting fragments together into sentences and sentences into paragraphs.
Somehow, by listening, he was learning thingsùeven things they had not said. His vision swam as if he was suddenly beneath the waves, back in the strange city that had haunted his dreams. In that moment, he was not in the sewer, not in Japan, not even on Earth, but far beneath an alien sky and an alien sea in an alien city that was better off forgotten. He walked the streets of that place, monsters crowding around him and passing him by, trying, somehow, to get to a place he had never been to or heard of.
In the middle of the city, there was a tower or a house or a tomb, and in it there was a God who would lay there, dead and dreaming, until death itself died.
But as he went further into that corpselike city, something itched at the back of his mindùlike he was forgetting something.
His vision began to swim again, sluggishly, as if fighting something. He began to absently wonder about thatùwas he asleep? Dreaming? He had clairvoyant dreams many timesùwas this another one? But if that was so, why did this place seem too real?
But, more than thatàhe really was forgetting something important, wasnÆt he?
Images flickered before his sightùa sickly looking man who seemed near death, a young, plum-haired girl, a gathering in a Churchùrising to the forefront for mere moments, as if begging him to stop and return the way he came, but the sea around him seemed to drown them away.
Time passed strangely and suddenly, he was at the entrance of the tomb or the house or whatever he was. He felt that if he took another step and walked in, he wouldnÆt be able to just walk back out, but he didnÆt know why and could tell if that was a bad thing or not.
But in that moment, a voice rose in the back of his mind that he couldnÆt ignore.
ôHold on, Seaweed Brain. YouÆre not getting away from me that easily.ö
Suddenly, he could see her again, and the sight of her was as wonderful as it was painful. She was standing above him, barefoot in the canoe. HeÆd fallen out and she was reaching out a hand to haul him back up, trying not to laugh all the while. She was dressed in her orange shirt and jeans, wearing her YankeeÆs capùwhich was odd, because that should have made her invisible.
ôYou are such an idiot, sometimes.ö She said, smiling. ôCome on. Take my hand.ö
Looking up at her, for a moment he could almost fool himself into believing he was young againùyoung and alive and with her.
But the moment passed.
He knew this wasnÆt real.
It wasnÆt even a memory.
This was the vision that heÆd had so long ago, in the waters of the River Styx.
But for a moment, it didnÆt matter. He just looked at her face and marveled at how beautiful she was, before smiling and closing his eyes.
æùIÆm a little too old to get lost in my dreams, arenÆt I?Æ He thought, reaching out to take her hand.
Suddenly, he was back in the sewer. The sunken city and the horrors within were gone, as was the love of his life. He was bound tightly in the coils of a number of monster, who tried to crush him when they realized their teeth and spines did nothing to him. Their strange chattering continued and he felt the sea try to rise up once again, but he crushed it easily with an effort of will.
ôAh?ö He wondered.
And with a suddenly flex, he twisted in the coils, one hand grasping a tentacle around his waist, the other squirming free to grasp one around his chest, and with a twist of his hips and mighty heaveàhe tore off the limbs of the creatures foolish enough to try and bind him.
Ripping the removed tentacles off him harshly, he spun towards the nearest monster. Driving a fist into its teeth, they shattered under the blow and he shoved the entire length of his arm deep into its mouth. Grasping something deep inside, he suddenly tore his arm out, dragging with it foot after foot of foul intestine.
Dropping them even as the creature quivered in its death throes, he glanced around the tunnel at the suddenly quiet creatures.
ôSorry,ö He said. ôIÆm always in a bad mood right after I wake up.ö
Holding Back the Sea
Hassan-i-Sabah
What Rider and Waver arrived to was a scene akin to a nightmare.
The bottom of the tunnel covered in a mix torn flesh and spelt fluids. Waver was suddenly glad to be in the chariotùif he were to stand outside of it, the disgusting mixture would be above his ankles. Some strange gas had filled the tunnel like a thick fog, to the point that he could barely see more than a few feet outside the chariot.
But that was still enough to see the walls of the tunnel. Arcs of muted color could be barely made out through the mist, spreading seemingly randomly, like a mad painterÆs strokes on a canvas. Occasionally, instead of the almost artistic arcs, splashes and smears decorated the walls.
Riding in the chariot as he was, able to see only the walls immediately adjacent to him, it was watching rolling picture detailing the deaths of whatever had been down here. Because no matter how much the fog muted their coloràthose splashes had definitely been blood.
If not for the protective field heÆd set around the chariot, he probably wouldnÆt even be able to breath in this strange fog. Whatever it was, Waver was able to detect that it was almost certainly lethal to humans. But even as he increased the protection to further guard his lungs, he also had to block the scent from entering the chariot, or else he might faint from the stench of the blood and scattered organs.
ôùIt seems like we arenÆt the first ones here, after all.ö Rider said, sounding oddly disappointed. Even after being shown such a disgusting scene, the majestic King was unflinching.
Waver, however, was both worried and confused. Given the earlier confrontation at the Church, the natural assumption was that either Archer or Berserker had arrived before them, perhaps even killing Caster.
But on the other handàcould either of them have really been this through? This place was CasterÆs Magic Workshop, so he had expected theyÆd be welcomed by intricate defenses. And yet, it seemed it was protected only be an enormous number of familiars; the magecraft disguises and traps he had anticipated were completely absentùthere wasnÆt even a slight trace of them on his senses.
Caster could have been such a skilled magus that Waver couldnÆt even detect his traps, butàif Archer and Berserker and really rampaged through here, as they seemingly had, then at least a few of them should have been tripped, leaving behind traces.
In all likelihood, it was because there were no such defenses. By the standards of the magi, this could not be considered a Workshop or anything else. It was just an ordinary fortress used to position an army. A gathering of small fry like thisàto the powerful Servants now on the hunt for Caster, entering this place would have been nothing to be concerned with.
Rider seemed to notice that as well.
ôHey, boy, you said we should be careful about attacking a magusÆ Workshop, butàitÆs just something like this?ö
ôàNo, this is weird. I thinkàthe Caster summoned this time is probably not a proper magus.ö Waver said.
ôHm? What do you mean by that?ö
ôFor exampleàif in the heroÆs legend, there were anecdotes of summoning demons or monsters and possessing forbidden knowledge and things like that, but the person wasnÆt actually a magus or anythingàeven if that legend solidified into an ability or skill or even a Noble Phantasm and was enough to get him summoned as a Caster, it would make sense that it would be limited, right? Even if someone was believed to be a mighty warrior, if they were actually someone weak with no talents or skills of their own, being thought of as a God of War wouldnÆt make a hero unstoppable if there was nothing to back it up, though it would probably do something.ö
Rider opened his mouth to say something, before his eyes suddenly became sharp as he glanced through the mist. Seeing something Waver could not, he drew his sword and swept it through the air, just in time to intercept some darkly colored object. His blow smashed it away with a distinct squishing sound, and his chariot pulled to an almost immediate stop.
ôùYou should pay attention when youÆre driving,ö Berserker said, walking closer. ôI almost got hit again.ö
Waver froze at the sight of him. He was completely drenched with a myriad of sickening fluids, which dripped slowly of both him and his sword. Most of it was around his arms, which were drenched up to the shoulder in the stuff, while the rest of his body was simply covered in random splattered and clinging bits of rent flesh. The blood of the creatures heÆd killed was smeared on his face, as if heÆd tried to wipe it off but simply made things worse in the process. Trapped beneath a single metal boot was a squirming creature that seemed as horrified of him as Waver was. It was missing several limbs, which gave Waver some horrifying images as to what might have been thrown at them.
Noticing WaverÆs gaze somehow, BerserkerÆs own dropped to the creature. He stared at it dispassionately for a moment, before reaching down slowly. Apparently unworried by its enormous, shark-like, he slid his fingers into its mouth and grasped the outside with his thumb.
Waver didnÆt even have time to wonder what he was doing before his foot suddenly pressed down with enough force to rip flesh and shatter bone, even as his hand pulled up was tremendous strengthù
Waver looked away quickly as the creature was torn to pieces.
Suddenly breathing quickly, he tried to form words.
ôW-Whatùô
He didnÆt even know what he was trying to ask, but Berserker apparently did. Gazing absently at the creatureÆs still spasming corpse, he even answered.
ôWe had a religious debate.ö He said. ôI won.ö
Hassan-i-Sabah
What Rider and Waver arrived to was a scene akin to a nightmare.
The bottom of the tunnel covered in a mix torn flesh and spelt fluids. Waver was suddenly glad to be in the chariotùif he were to stand outside of it, the disgusting mixture would be above his ankles. Some strange gas had filled the tunnel like a thick fog, to the point that he could barely see more than a few feet outside the chariot.
But that was still enough to see the walls of the tunnel. Arcs of muted color could be barely made out through the mist, spreading seemingly randomly, like a mad painterÆs strokes on a canvas. Occasionally, instead of the almost artistic arcs, splashes and smears decorated the walls.
Riding in the chariot as he was, able to see only the walls immediately adjacent to him, it was watching rolling picture detailing the deaths of whatever had been down here. Because no matter how much the fog muted their coloràthose splashes had definitely been blood.
If not for the protective field heÆd set around the chariot, he probably wouldnÆt even be able to breath in this strange fog. Whatever it was, Waver was able to detect that it was almost certainly lethal to humans. But even as he increased the protection to further guard his lungs, he also had to block the scent from entering the chariot, or else he might faint from the stench of the blood and scattered organs.
ôùIt seems like we arenÆt the first ones here, after all.ö Rider said, sounding oddly disappointed. Even after being shown such a disgusting scene, the majestic King was unflinching.
Waver, however, was both worried and confused. Given the earlier confrontation at the Church, the natural assumption was that either Archer or Berserker had arrived before them, perhaps even killing Caster.
But on the other handàcould either of them have really been this through? This place was CasterÆs Magic Workshop, so he had expected theyÆd be welcomed by intricate defenses. And yet, it seemed it was protected only be an enormous number of familiars; the magecraft disguises and traps he had anticipated were completely absentùthere wasnÆt even a slight trace of them on his senses.
Caster could have been such a skilled magus that Waver couldnÆt even detect his traps, butàif Archer and Berserker and really rampaged through here, as they seemingly had, then at least a few of them should have been tripped, leaving behind traces.
In all likelihood, it was because there were no such defenses. By the standards of the magi, this could not be considered a Workshop or anything else. It was just an ordinary fortress used to position an army. A gathering of small fry like thisàto the powerful Servants now on the hunt for Caster, entering this place would have been nothing to be concerned with.
Rider seemed to notice that as well.
ôHey, boy, you said we should be careful about attacking a magusÆ Workshop, butàitÆs just something like this?ö
ôàNo, this is weird. I thinkàthe Caster summoned this time is probably not a proper magus.ö Waver said.
ôHm? What do you mean by that?ö
ôFor exampleàif in the heroÆs legend, there were anecdotes of summoning demons or monsters and possessing forbidden knowledge and things like that, but the person wasnÆt actually a magus or anythingàeven if that legend solidified into an ability or skill or even a Noble Phantasm and was enough to get him summoned as a Caster, it would make sense that it would be limited, right? Even if someone was believed to be a mighty warrior, if they were actually someone weak with no talents or skills of their own, being thought of as a God of War wouldnÆt make a hero unstoppable if there was nothing to back it up, though it would probably do something.ö
Rider opened his mouth to say something, before his eyes suddenly became sharp as he glanced through the mist. Seeing something Waver could not, he drew his sword and swept it through the air, just in time to intercept some darkly colored object. His blow smashed it away with a distinct squishing sound, and his chariot pulled to an almost immediate stop.
ôùYou should pay attention when youÆre driving,ö Berserker said, walking closer. ôI almost got hit again.ö
Waver froze at the sight of him. He was completely drenched with a myriad of sickening fluids, which dripped slowly of both him and his sword. Most of it was around his arms, which were drenched up to the shoulder in the stuff, while the rest of his body was simply covered in random splattered and clinging bits of rent flesh. The blood of the creatures heÆd killed was smeared on his face, as if heÆd tried to wipe it off but simply made things worse in the process. Trapped beneath a single metal boot was a squirming creature that seemed as horrified of him as Waver was. It was missing several limbs, which gave Waver some horrifying images as to what might have been thrown at them.
Noticing WaverÆs gaze somehow, BerserkerÆs own dropped to the creature. He stared at it dispassionately for a moment, before reaching down slowly. Apparently unworried by its enormous, shark-like, he slid his fingers into its mouth and grasped the outside with his thumb.
Waver didnÆt even have time to wonder what he was doing before his foot suddenly pressed down with enough force to rip flesh and shatter bone, even as his hand pulled up was tremendous strengthù
Waver looked away quickly as the creature was torn to pieces.
Suddenly breathing quickly, he tried to form words.
ôW-Whatùô
He didnÆt even know what he was trying to ask, but Berserker apparently did. Gazing absently at the creatureÆs still spasming corpse, he even answered.
ôWe had a religious debate.ö He said. ôI won.ö