The blades strike so quickly that the air screams in their wake.
Futile.
They bounce off his invulnerable skin like a thousand times thousand blades have done before.
He is invincible on the field of battle and his opponent - too late and to his sorrow - learns that some fights just can not be won.
The look in the white-haired freak's eyes as he realizes that he cannot win this fight is almost priceless.
The burning determination to hold him off a bit longer, however, is priceless.
The Archer-class servant fights him despite knowing that there can be no victory. He fights one of the deadliest swordsmen with a blade that knows few equals.
And he does not give a milimeter of ground.
Admirable. Glorious. In the red-on-black clad, white-haired man with the curiously slanted eyes, Saber finds for the first time in this wretched war an opponent not only worth fighting, but also worth honoring.
While Saber knows no fear - hubris born from invulnerability and boundless innate skill and power - he acknowledges that others, not sharing his talents, experience it.
Not this man. Determination, focus, power.
So much power for a servant without a legend to his name.
It gathers around him as he chants - and Saber can see in the eyes of his foe a small bit of curiosity.
Why are you not attacking me, he wonders. Why do you just stand there, arms resting on the crossguard of your blade?
"I won't. Not until you are finished doing whatever you are doing. I am invincible, after all... and you know it. This is your last fight in this War, man without a name, and still you fight me, knowing that you will die again. I pay honor unto honor. Finish whatever you are doing, and then battle shall be joined."
A flash of ... something. Saber isn't sure.
Annoyance? Few take a shine to the casual arrogance Saber exudes with every movement... though, Saber thinks, it's not arrogance because he really is that good.
Desperation? Archer knows beyond any shadow of doubt he cannot win this battle. But no, desperation is for people who are afraid to die, and that man doesn't look like the type to do so.
Ah. That's it. That white-haired oddball is actually enjoying this, in his own twisted way.
And then the world changes.
Gears grind.
One man prays for victory.
Another man roars his joy into the world.
Blades clash.
Impossible things are made real.
Ten thousand swords meet the invincible skin of a legend and fail.
Saber can not be denied.
Saber will not be denied.
"You would draw my own sword against me, Servant Archer?"
His opponent nods, grins and hurls three more copies of his blade at him.
Annoying, but nothing more. Not even his own sword can harm him.
Saber's counterstrike is so fast and so terrifyingly powerful the air turns to fire in the wake of his sword.
Arche takes the wound like someone who has been hurt over and over and over for all his life. Barely a grunt for a deathblow. No sign of discomfort on that face of his as he drops to one knee, no longer able to remain standing.
"I'll give you that, you fought damn well. A few times I actually thought you'd nick me! That was fun, aye... but all things must come to an end. And now, Archer, tell me, do you know who I am?"
Archer speaks a single name.
"Good guess. But you copied my sword.... probably learned what name it carries... and from there, it's not too hard to guess who I am."
Again, Archer nods.
"But you only got one of my swords, Archer. You have fought hard, you have fought honorably, and your Master and the two with her escaped. You fulfilled your mission against all odds. Commendable. So I will show you, craftsman of ten thousand blades, what these blades you copy can do in the hands of their rightful owner..."
Saber calls forth his weapons. Many names, many legends, but ultimately, they are one sword.
Not even one who owns the sword whence these legends sprang would come close to the brutal efficiency with which Saber wields them.
"Sword of my Father!
Sword of the Gods!
Sword of our Destiny!
Sword of a Hero!
I call upon you!
Sword of Betrayal!
Sword of Atrocities!
Sword of Vengeance!
Sword of Grief!
I call upon you!
By your names you shall be known to this world, and by your names you will appear!
I name you Gram, Sword of Grief and Vengeance!
I name you Nothung, Sword of Betrayal and Atrocities!
I name you Balmung, Sword of the Dragonslayer!"
Archer spends his last moments tracing these swords, committing to memory everything that can be known about them even as the blades unmake him.
"Fare thee well, Craftsman. You were a worthy foe."
And with that, Siegfried the Invulnerable, Servant Saber, goes forth to fight and win once more.
---
AU: Someone (Ilya?) summons Saber, getting Siegfried the Dragonslayer out of the deal. Invulnerable to damn near anything (and nobody with Excaliblasts around here), with a sword whose name is still known today, Siegfried is a legend the likes of which Europe has rarely seen.
But Garcher fights, because in the end, that's what he does.
Fic title is basically: "I Fight, Therefore I Am"
Futile.
They bounce off his invulnerable skin like a thousand times thousand blades have done before.
He is invincible on the field of battle and his opponent - too late and to his sorrow - learns that some fights just can not be won.
The look in the white-haired freak's eyes as he realizes that he cannot win this fight is almost priceless.
The burning determination to hold him off a bit longer, however, is priceless.
The Archer-class servant fights him despite knowing that there can be no victory. He fights one of the deadliest swordsmen with a blade that knows few equals.
And he does not give a milimeter of ground.
Admirable. Glorious. In the red-on-black clad, white-haired man with the curiously slanted eyes, Saber finds for the first time in this wretched war an opponent not only worth fighting, but also worth honoring.
While Saber knows no fear - hubris born from invulnerability and boundless innate skill and power - he acknowledges that others, not sharing his talents, experience it.
Not this man. Determination, focus, power.
So much power for a servant without a legend to his name.
It gathers around him as he chants - and Saber can see in the eyes of his foe a small bit of curiosity.
Why are you not attacking me, he wonders. Why do you just stand there, arms resting on the crossguard of your blade?
"I won't. Not until you are finished doing whatever you are doing. I am invincible, after all... and you know it. This is your last fight in this War, man without a name, and still you fight me, knowing that you will die again. I pay honor unto honor. Finish whatever you are doing, and then battle shall be joined."
A flash of ... something. Saber isn't sure.
Annoyance? Few take a shine to the casual arrogance Saber exudes with every movement... though, Saber thinks, it's not arrogance because he really is that good.
Desperation? Archer knows beyond any shadow of doubt he cannot win this battle. But no, desperation is for people who are afraid to die, and that man doesn't look like the type to do so.
Ah. That's it. That white-haired oddball is actually enjoying this, in his own twisted way.
And then the world changes.
Gears grind.
One man prays for victory.
Another man roars his joy into the world.
Blades clash.
Impossible things are made real.
Ten thousand swords meet the invincible skin of a legend and fail.
Saber can not be denied.
Saber will not be denied.
"You would draw my own sword against me, Servant Archer?"
His opponent nods, grins and hurls three more copies of his blade at him.
Annoying, but nothing more. Not even his own sword can harm him.
Saber's counterstrike is so fast and so terrifyingly powerful the air turns to fire in the wake of his sword.
Arche takes the wound like someone who has been hurt over and over and over for all his life. Barely a grunt for a deathblow. No sign of discomfort on that face of his as he drops to one knee, no longer able to remain standing.
"I'll give you that, you fought damn well. A few times I actually thought you'd nick me! That was fun, aye... but all things must come to an end. And now, Archer, tell me, do you know who I am?"
Archer speaks a single name.
"Good guess. But you copied my sword.... probably learned what name it carries... and from there, it's not too hard to guess who I am."
Again, Archer nods.
"But you only got one of my swords, Archer. You have fought hard, you have fought honorably, and your Master and the two with her escaped. You fulfilled your mission against all odds. Commendable. So I will show you, craftsman of ten thousand blades, what these blades you copy can do in the hands of their rightful owner..."
Saber calls forth his weapons. Many names, many legends, but ultimately, they are one sword.
Not even one who owns the sword whence these legends sprang would come close to the brutal efficiency with which Saber wields them.
"Sword of my Father!
Sword of the Gods!
Sword of our Destiny!
Sword of a Hero!
I call upon you!
Sword of Betrayal!
Sword of Atrocities!
Sword of Vengeance!
Sword of Grief!
I call upon you!
By your names you shall be known to this world, and by your names you will appear!
I name you Gram, Sword of Grief and Vengeance!
I name you Nothung, Sword of Betrayal and Atrocities!
I name you Balmung, Sword of the Dragonslayer!"
Archer spends his last moments tracing these swords, committing to memory everything that can be known about them even as the blades unmake him.
"Fare thee well, Craftsman. You were a worthy foe."
And with that, Siegfried the Invulnerable, Servant Saber, goes forth to fight and win once more.
---
AU: Someone (Ilya?) summons Saber, getting Siegfried the Dragonslayer out of the deal. Invulnerable to damn near anything (and nobody with Excaliblasts around here), with a sword whose name is still known today, Siegfried is a legend the likes of which Europe has rarely seen.
But Garcher fights, because in the end, that's what he does.
Fic title is basically: "I Fight, Therefore I Am"