....
Pigsy huffed in the chapel yard, though not from exhaustion. It was not his body but his mind which raced to control his anger, to find an escape and to deal with his anxiety all at once. At this point, he was hardly more than a pent up ball of emotions looking for an outlet.
From the chapel wall he'd torn apart, two lazy comets flew up and out, forming into shapes vaguely humanoid, but with the lower halves of snakes.
"Ragh!"
He cast a wide, horizontal swing with his rake, the chain extending long and longer to sideline both of the flame golems with a single, spinning strike. Like string along a loom the fire spun and gathered around the tornado as Pigsy brought it up and around. Gripping the shaft with both hands, he slammed down the spinning flames some forty yards behind him, sending a plume of rock and earth into the sky with the sound of thunder; the golem cores reduced to pitiful splinters in the crater left behind.
As the head clacked back into position, he reared up and bared his chest at the sky, "FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"
His high-pitched, nasally voice puttered out into the flat plains around him with nothing to echo off of.
"Fine, -oink-. I'll just have to break down those walls until ya got nowhere left to hide!"
He held his rake in one hand, balancing it on the other, aiming the brass head towards the front doors as if it were a pool cue. It spun dangerously, creating a vacuum that dust and dead grass rushed to fill, and humming resonantly as if heavy rain were falling against a gong.
"Who's hiding?"
"Geh!"
His heart leaped, his focus broke, and the Nine-Tooth Rake of Heaven flew off at an odd angle, smashing through the top of the remaining wall as a shadow emerged from behind the barricade, and another flew straight for Pigsy himself.
Even off-guard, he was no less a warrior, especially with his signature weapon in hand. He lashed the chain like a whip, a great hill rising in the slack and intercepting the arrow in a blaze of fire and smoke. From the cloud, the rake returned to its shaft, and Lancer stood at the ready as his small heart thumped erratically in his chest.
When the smoke cleared, there was Archer: a blot of ink on the canvas of the world, with a ponytail like burning feathers, wearing a loincloth and bracers on his forearms and shins which glowed like dying embers. The black was so black, and the orange so burning, that no matter what light touched him, he always looked the same, as if his body were always in one time and place, and never among his surroundings.
Under Lancer's snout, a mean and toothy smile came from the depths of his animal nature.
"You laugh, Lancer?"
He spun his Noble Phantasm with a flourish, "Why the Hell not?"
"Do you want to die?"
"'Course not -oink-. I'm scared as shit, but that's A-okay. Everythin's under control."
His falcon eyes narrowed, "Really?"
"Yea. 'Cause my Master's free."
His eyes narrowed, "...And what makes you think that?"
"-If she weren't, you'd be usin' her as a hostage, but you ain't. That means we're winning."
"Your definition of 'winning' is a bit too broad, Lancer. " He held his bow defiantly in the air, "Allow me and my bow to show you the tru-"
He strafed to the side, a rush of cutting cold beaming into where he stood and leaving a blanket of frost across the stone. Jumping off the air itself to land, he pulled his bowstring as he ran- biting his lip all the while.
It hurts a man's pride to have his monologue cut off.
As Archer circled Lancer like a buzzard, letting loose arrow after arrow, Pigsy cast his rake to intercept these arrows from the side, gathering the exploding fire around the head and continuing his spin until he was a living dreidel of hellfire and destruction, reducing the gravestones to rubble and sending scraps of the metal fence flying. Archer moved opposite the chapel, never ending his onslaught, and continued to back himself into the empty, open plains. Each arrow had some ability to correct its own flight, and each one tried in vain to slip through those defenses, but each one, no matter how high or low, or from what angle, became one with that torrent of flame.
Archer's falcon eyes twitched with anger. This creature himself was weak, hardly worth the arrows he'd already used, but that rake- that damned Nine-Tooth Rake- kept him alive. It could cut off his long-range attacks, and made it impossible to get close enough to use his swords. In either case, he, Archer, would win, but as it was, this battle could only be decided by two ways: endurance of body- bearing attacks until the other couldn't- or endurance of mind- waiting for the proper moment and striking while the iron was hot.
In his thought, he hesitated before firing his next shot, and Lancer, thoughtlessly driven by animal instinct, extended wide the arc of his attack, firing out past Archer and reaching to sideswipe with its chain.
Archer's clairvoyance flashed in his Mind's Eye, warning him just in time of the incoming attack, and as the flames flew over him, he bent backwards, flipping under the chain and landing on his feet. He pulled his bow back- and felt another flash. The head of the rake flew up and around, and as it went into the sky, it spun on its chain and flew into the shaft, Lancer planting his feet and throwing his shoulder. As it leveled towards Archer, it shot out like a cannon, barely missing Archer as he jumped to the side, feeling the air stolen into the vacuum left behind by the speed-of-sound shot.
-But this was his opening.
As the seemingly infinite chain slacked to retreat back into place, he grabbed tight and fast to it, letting it pull him directly to Lancer.
Pigsy's beady eyes widened enough that you could see the whites, and a piercing squeal flew into the night air. By the time he collected his wits enough to prepare a blast of holy energy, it was already too late-
"Blackout!"
The endless blackness of Archer's body unfolded around him into a perfect sphere that encompassed himself and his target. All the active magic in the area immediately deactivated, the chain went slack, and Archer leaped forward, summoning his swords to strike- he was the only one whose senses still worked, after all. But Pigsy was a small target, and Archer had to backstep as the creature leaped into the air and brought his rake down in a blind attack- or what he assumed was an attack. Once the head was perpendicular to the earth, it spun with a burst of energy, creating a plume of frigid air that blasted him into the air and out of the darkness.
He went higher and higher, the upside-down tornado of icy wind becoming wider and more powerful. As the point of impact expanded, the sphere of black like a hole in reality dissolved into fog and then into nothing at all, revealing a blanket of frost- a field of frozen grass sticking up like a bed of nails- and the form of Archer, frantically skipping backwards across the air itself as if it were hot coals. Little bits of frost were already clinging to his legs.
He leaped back as he reached the end of the frosty onslaught, pulling his bowstring, manifesting three arrows and letting them fly, though two were faster than the one that remained, and Pigsy, as expected, released the frigid air and intercepted the first two avian arrows with another burst of fire and smoke.
Archer fired another three, aiming downwards and letting the arrows arc up towards their target, and then turned his attention to the final shot of the first volley, itself about to be blocked like those before it.
"Blackout!"
The shadow became somehow darker, and burst outwards into another perfect sphere, just smaller than the original, catching the airborne Lancer with ease. As his small form fell face-first out of the obscured space, the second volley reached him, flying at such an angle that they caught his back, catapulting him into the center of that frosted epicenter with the force of three explosions at once.
Smoke, dust and frost created a gradient cloud from the crater; Pigsy pushed himself up slowly, painfully, as Archer approached the edge of the frost bed.
"Maybe now you understand, Lancer? This is not a battle you can win."
"Heh-" Pigsy reached his feet, readying his rake once more, "-Cocky bastard -oink-. You get in one lucky shot and what? Ya think yer hot stuff?"
"Spare me the false confidence . You'd already be pork if not for that rake."
"Then it's a good thing I got it."
Golden light coursed up the shaft as he planted both feet and fired the head once more and with the chain alight in holy energy. Archer put one foot back, preparing to jump, to evade, but the shot went wide, not even coming near its supposed target. Chastising words touched his tongue, but were interrupted by a twang from behind. He turned- and saw the holy chains bent crooked in the air, as if bent around an invisible pole, and still extending.
Another twang. He turned just in time to see the rake's head whiz by his face, and there was another twang, and another, and another. An image flashed in his Mind's Eye, but it was already too late: he was surrounded by a web of divine chains and with no room for escape.
He considered his options. Would Blackout help? No, it would cancel the magic within, but the chains outside would anchor it, and maintain the tautness. It would give him some room, yes, some time, certainly, but it wouldn't solve the problem. In fact, it would only make his prison tighter and more certain.
The rattling of chains filled every corner of his mind- there was nothing he could do to dodge this next attack.
"This bravado ain't nothin' but show; you're right about that. Thing is- only a cocksure bastard like you can be a hero, but it takes a coward like me to make it home alive. And ya know what?"
The web completed, an angular spiral of holy death, the head of the rake looked downward from above like a viper poised to strike- nothing between itself and its target.
"I'd rather be a loser than an arrogant piece-a-shit like you!"
-
Heroes die young. Cowards come home alive. Just as Achilles was killed, so did the wicked Agamemnon survive. Only an arrogant fool can lay down his life for something other than himself; only an arrogant fool can be sure enough in himself to fight, kill, and die for what he believes in. The ones who survive are the mercenaries, the cowards, the schemers: those who lack conviction, and those who would rather fight another day.
Those with conviction, those who believe, they are the best of us. Yet they are doomed to leave us before their time, and only miracles can make exceptions...
-
The head of the rake found its target without error: the precision of a straight line, and the force of a falling meteor. Dust, rock, and scattered embers clouded the air, and as the presence of Archer disappeared, the golden light which cut through the fog began to recede as the chain returned to its rightful owner.
His tiny heart raced, and his tiny head couldn't make heads or tails of what had happened. Did he actually win? Was that even possible?
It occurred to him that maybe- just maybe- comparing himself constantly to the Great Sage of Heaven had held him back. Maybe he was more capable than he thought? Sanzang had always told him to believe in himself more... maybe if he had taken her word, maybe if he had held her teachings more dearly... maybe he would have achieved enlightenment in the end... and maybe-just maybe- it wasn't too late for him? Maybe- just maybe- there was still a chance at true redemption?
"Arrogant? No..."
Pigsy whipped around-
Archer was there, but he was different. His hair flew out like a mane of fire touched with blue and violet. Where his loincloth was were now tight pants of the same vibrant indigo, and over his back was a flowing cloak of orange flame, its sleeves wrapping down his arms but leaving his chest exposed, all the while small tongues of fire drifted lazily out like the grasping hands of a newborn.
" 'Arrogant' implies that you could actually defeat me."
Only then did Pigsy notice that Archer's right side was missing, but was being rapidly regenerated by those same grasping flames. The moment his body was whole he cast out his left hand-
"Witness the power of my Solar Mantle- feel the rage of ten suns!"
Five shapes burned into being- obsidian arrows tied with orange ribbons, and whose feathers were replaced by tridents.
"-Die!"
They flew with blinding speed, whistling through the air to the sound of shrill flutes. Desperately, Pigsy threw out his rake with the same holy energy, spinning the shaft just beyond his palm, and each arrow fell against it, each one exploding with many times more force than those before it- the defense just barely held against the onslaught-
Another whistle.
An arrow flew around and past his defenses, turning sharply in the air and careening straight for his exposed back.
He gripped his rake and turned, smacking it out of the air with another burst of flame-
A sharp pain went through his chest.
Looking down with cold realization, he found the head of an arrow poking out of his belly, but it wasn't long before that grim, numbing ice was replaced with a burning heat.
"Oh... That's how it is."
...
The resulting blast was seen and heard by Assassin and her Master, alone on the beach, but no one else. All the rest were either asleep, or so preoccupied that the sound of the explosion couldn't be heard past the thumping of their own hearts, nor the vibrations of the earth past the shaking of their own resolve.
....