"Urgh... to think we would lose Saber and Berserker in the blink of an eye..."
Within the fortress of the Black Faction, Yggdmillenia, the current leader and Master of Lancer, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia, swallowed a groan of frustration.
They had lost Saber and Berserker—the literal trump cards of this Holy Grail War—with such pathetic ease.
The loss was catastrophic... one-third of their entire combat potential had evaporated.
If there was any saving grace, it was that this land was Romania—the home ground of the Servant Darnic had summoned. The 'Fame Modifier' and 'Land Modifier' applied to his Lancer were at the absolute peak... Within the borders of Romania, his Lancer’s power had surged to a level where even the most storied Great Heroes would have to tread with extreme caution.
A Fame and Land Modifier so potent that he could clash on equal terms with even a divine demi-god of the highest caliber... Knowing he had such a Lancer was a source of relief, but even that failed to provide much comfort in the face of their recent losses.
"What is the matter, Darnic? We have lost two of our strength to some insolent wretch who dared trespass upon My domain... Did you not speak for yourself? Did you not boast with such confidence that victory was assured!"
Biting his thumb as he endured the thunderous rebuke of the Lancer of Black, Darnic turned toward the Caster of Black standing behind him and shouted.
"Caster! When will the Golem be complete?!"
"........Once the Core is prepared, it can be activated."
"Hurry! I will take all responsibility, so do not concern yourself with the source of the Core!"
"As you wish..."
The Caster of Black nodded and returned to his workshop. Darnic let out a long sigh, feeling as though he wanted to drown his sorrows in wine.
"Truly, you provide nothing but disappointment, Darnic..."
"I have no excuses..."
"Must I personally take the field to drive out those ignorant fools who have violated My territory?!"
"I am deeply sorry..."
"See to it that you do not disappoint Me further..."
"Yes..."
Clicking his tongue, the Lancer of Black entered a state of spiritization and vanished. Darnic glared toward the direction where the enemy faction was likely situated, his voice a low, resentful growl.
"I... must... win, no matter what it takes... regardless of the methods or the means..."
Darnic was now seriously contemplating whether he should utilize Lancer's forbidden Noble Phantasm—Legend of Dracula: The Fresh Blood Succession.
.
.
.
"Urgh!"
"Goodness... is this all you've got?"
While the Black Faction was entering a state of emergency, a lovers' spat between the Masters of the Red Faction was reaching its violent conclusion.
Shirou hurled his Black Keys and swung them in the same motion, but such petty weaponry was no match for Zod.05. The blades shattered miserably the moment they touched Zod's skin. Mocking Shirou, Zod precisely throttled the output of his Heat Vision and Cold Breath, weaving a tactical illusion that made it seem as though Shirou were actually capable of fighting him on even ground.
The strategy worked perfectly. Witnessing the weakened output of the Heat Vision and Cold Breath, Shirou pushed forward, convinced that no matter how powerful an esper he might be, he was still just a human.
He was oblivious to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap.
"You certainly are a nimble little thing."
Shirou dodged Zod’s (intentionally) sluggish punches and thrust a Black Key forward with everything he had...
CLANG!!
The Black Key snapped with a sharp, resonant sound. Zod stared down at Shirou with a sneer of pure derision.
"Why can't you understand that it's useless?"
"Then try this on for size!"
Suddenly, Shirou’s body began to emanate a brilliant, holy radiance.
"I announce.
I kill, I let live.
I harm, I heal.
None shall escape my hand.
None shall escape my sight.
Be crushed.
I call the defeated and the old.
Trust in me. Learn from me. Follow me.
Do not forget rest, song, prayer, or me.
I am light and make all weight forgotten.
Do not pretend.
Retribution for forgiveness, betrayal for trust, despair for hope, darkness for light, dark death for the living.
Rest is in my hand, I shall leave a seal by pouring oil on your sins.
Eternal life is only granted through death.
─────Forgiveness is here, I, the incarnated, so swear..."
Baptismal Sacrament.
A simplified ritual designed to purify wandering souls. A spiritual body struck by the Baptismal Sacrament is immediately 'sublimated' according to the Lord's teachings and returned to where it belongs. In a word: Exorcism.
It possesses zero physical destructive power, like that which might shatter a boulder, but it exerts absolute authority over spiritual entities.
The ritual consumes almost none of the user’s personal magical energy; rather, its potency scales with the depth of the user's faith.
Initially, Zod watched this new form of Mystery with triumphant curiosity. However, he was suddenly seized by an excruciating, burning pain that felt as if his very being were being incinerated. Brilliant light began to leak from the cracks forming in his skin, and for a fleeting second, a primal fear gripped him. Just before the final verse of the chant could be completed, Zod retaliated by obliterating one of Shirou's arms with a burst of Heat Vision.
Drenched in cold sweat at the realization that he had nearly been 'sublimated,' Zod's irritation gave way to a white-hot fury born from the first taste of mortal terror he had ever experienced.
The fact that a mere human—an inferior species—had dared to make him feel the fear of death sparked a violent rage. He initially intended to melt a hole through Shirou’s head with Heat Vision, but instead, he settled for crushing his remaining limbs and pummeling him within an inch of his life.
"Cough... urgh..."
"Phew... A mere ape having the audacity to try and kill Me, a God..."
Glaring at Zod as the homunculus declared himself a god, Shirou spit out the word "blasphemy" and attempted to speak the sacrament once more. Before he could utter a syllable, Zod dislocated Shirou's jaw with a swift strike, silencing him.
"Berserker! Throw this piece of trash into the dungeon of Semiramis's Hanging Gardens! Semiramis, if this bastard tries anything funny, torture him to your heart's content and throw him in a corner."
"Wouldn't it be far more efficient to simply kill him?"
"I won't let him escape through death... I'm going to make him suffer even more... Right, Mother?"
"Fufu, you always know the right things to say, My son."
As Shirou watched Semiramis embrace Zod and bury his face into her cleavage, he was finally consumed by a sense of utter despair and lost consciousness.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register