...
Heping looked back and forth between her brother and the statue. Thoughts stumbled over thoughts as she tried desperately to make sense of the senseless situation.
'Was that part of the plan?'
No, it couldn't have been. Heping knew little of magecraft, and less of Saber, and nothing of his Master, but she knew what she saw, and what she saw was fear; as much from him as from her. Fear as real as her hand in front of her face.
But, at the same time, there was a calmness, a resolve, at least from the Master. It wasn't something that she wanted to do, and it was clear that things had not gone to plan, but that didn't mean that it was over.
There was a hole in the ceiling- Heping could escape if she wanted to, but that hardly occurred to her. These people, these strangers, had risked their lives on her behalf. Did they have ulterior motives? They almost certainly did; she wasn't so naïve as to think otherwise, but she knew all too well how rare kindness could be, and she wasn't going to allow this rescue to become nothing but an exchange of prisoners. Not while she still drew breath.
Even if she died in the process.
A grim laugh broke from the other side of the room, a laugh she'd never heard before.
Her brother never laughed.
"There we are! Your rescuers preferred to kill themselves than to continue this failed endeavor! Your Servant has been defeated, your rescuers have failed, and there is nothing left for you to do- you've lost!
"Now... I think it's about time you go back to mother- tail between your legs like the dog you are."
Such passion was alien to the man she'd lived with for so many years now. She couldn't even imagine the face that lay behind the helmet: she couldn't imagine her brother having such contorted features.
She breathed the cooling air, gathering herself, "Do... Do Mother's whims really mean that much to you?"
Each of his four blades flexed outwards, "Yes! Not that I'd expect you to understand. All women have to do is exist, but a man- a man is measured by his word! By his strength! By his ability to get things done! You- you didn't have to do a damned thing!
"And yet- and yet-! You bite the hand that feeds you! You scratch the arms that raised to welcome you!"
He slashed a blade of solid plasma across a locker adjacent to him, sparks flying as the metal melted in its wake.
"This is a battle, is it not!? Did you think I would just lie down and let you walk over me!?"
"Of course not! I expected you to admit defeat when you were defeated; not to throw yourself onto every sword that was offered to you! You say I'm taking this too far, too seriously, but what about you!? You fight tooth and nail and for what!? For what, sister!?"
It was a fair question. She had to admit that, between them, she was the one who escalated matters so severely. He had fought fair, and she had effectively lost, but she insisted on fighting regardless. When was it? When had she decided that her brother, the one who had been her sole ally for so long, was her enemy?
She didn't care about being the heir. At first, yes, it was a matter of pride. It was a matter of losing with dignity; putting up a fight before you went down. But she didn't care. She didn't want to be a mage. She didn't want to be the kind of person her brother and parents were. She would much rather be married to a stranger for the sake of politics- at least then there was a chance at finding humanity; finding someone who treated her like she was human.
She looked back to the crying statue. She thought of her friend fighting outside.
There was kindness in this world. There was freedom in this world. There was a whole wide world where you could find love, friendship, thrill and victory. And there, on the other side, was a place without any of those things. A place where decisions were made on your behalf, where friends were discarded, and where you were expected to surrender before fighting as an underdog.
And a man who threatened to drag her back.
"I do not fight for anything, brother."
"What-"
"I fight against you."
...
As the smoke and rubble cleared, a small shape could be made out- still standing, to the surprise of himself as much as anyone else.
He had used every defensive skill in his possession: Monstrous Endurance, Tough Hide, Natural Body, Miracle, among others. He had only just kept himself above the point where he'd have to use his Battle Continuation. Still, he swayed back and forth; the blood from his abdomen staining his robes and skin- still wet. Similarly, the hole itself was there, scorched skin around the edges, though, as he steadied himself, it began to close: the sigil on his belly-button restoring itself with an oddly pink glow.
When he opened his eyes, Archer was there in front of him- at a safe distance of course- sneering with his nose in the air.
"What a pest."
Lancer chose to take it as praise, but when he tried to make some retort, blood forced itself up his throat and out onto the ground at his feet.
"I'm surprised you survived that, but I think that should've made my point very clear."
Once again, Lancer tried to speak, but the air just wasn't there, and he only fell onto one knee.
Archer cast out his hand, manifesting three more arrows, "If you don't want to die, then surrender. Come with me, and we will arrange for the safety of your former Master. Without that, I can't guarantee anything but pain.
"This is your last chance. Give up, or suffer the consequences."
-
"No!"
Heping yelled with everything she had, as if raising her voice could change reality.
"I will never surrender to you! I would rather die!"
Shenghuo straightened his back, "Of course you would: you're just an animal. A savage beast who mocks the idea of polite society."
-
"...Yeah?" Pigsy found his breath, "If I'm such an animal, then what does that make you, eh?"
"A Hunter."
-
Shenghuo strode forward with purpose in mind, "Tell me, sister, there's an expression in the West, have you heard it yet?"
She raised her hands, readying to deflect his plasmatic swords.
"If your right hand should cause you to sin-"
He swung down towards her right wrist, and she flung her arm out of the way.
"Cut it off! And if your right eye should cause you to sin-"
His right hand stabbed out towards her right eye, and she moved her head out of the way.
"Gouge it out!"
She hesitated to think what would've happened if he hadn't declared his attacks beforehand. Although he was inexperienced, his lack of a proper form made him hard to predict, not to mention the fact that she had never been trained to fight a creature with four arms, and a blade in each one.
With his two hands on her right, his left was exposed- or it would've been except for the two arms that came down from above to close the gap, forcing her to strafe backwards. Not much longer and she'd have her back literally against the wall.
She needed a strategy.
"Killing you would be too easy- it would be a reward for you! No, I'll cut off the hands that rise against me, the tongue that speaks against me, the legs that run from me- all the parts of you that rebel against me- all except your mind."
His flurry of strikes forced her further back. Her inhuman speed allowed her to block his strikes with a network of her own black fists, but there wasn't enough of a difference for her to gain any advantage.
"I'll replace every part of your body with golems that do nothing but my own bidding! You will know what it means to be obedient! You will know what it means to be human! And every waking moment you'll remember the time before this hell, before your rebellion, and know just how wrong you were!"
There was no time for words, nor any need for them. Besides, she knew what to do.
While his two arms were inexperienced, the two above were run by an artificial intelligence, programmed to cover the otherwise obvious blindspots left by his attacks. In other words, they were predictable, and the moment she knew what he was doing, she knew what they would do also. And so, as burns began to etch past her defenses into her skin, she steeled her resolve and watched the pattern unfold- waiting for the right moment.
The swords came in as an "X", his height meaning that the four arms closed in on her breast, and she raised her forearms with as much mana as she could muster, blocking the assault. But he kept the pressure on, the burns rising in temperature and degree, cutting into her wrists and forearms.
"How much longer can you hold, sister? How much longer before your body falls apart?"
She grit her teeth as her thoughts drifted around her. She was far too close to the petrified girl: if she didn't push him back, that statue could end up as collateral, and God-only-knew what would happen then. More than that, her own Servant, her friend, was waiting for her outside.
There was no time to waste.
"You talk too much."
She threw her arms outward, letting the mana trail the blades as they skidded up her arms, building up the pressure until it burst, sending each of the four arms back and exposing her brother's unguarded chest.
She put one foot in front of the other, and thought about the kindness she'd been shown. She moved her torso sideways, and remembered her taste of freedom. She pulled back her right hand as a palm, and filled her mind and heart with all the love she had given and received. With a movement like the winds of a monsoon Heping flung her palm forward and into his chest with just the subtlest flash of golden light from within.
He curled back, and the two plasmatic swords, the two white arms, faltered, flickered, and extinguished, as did the lights from within the armor itself- the circuits within purged by the benevolence of her amateurish Buddha Palm.
She planted her feet firmly, and remembered her harsh and unfeeling instructors. She tensed her whole body, and remembered the cold and unloving stares of the people who called her 'family'. She brought her left hand into a fist and remembered the pain and the suffering this man and his Archer had inflicted upon her.
With an uppercut carrying the force, impact, and suddenness of an avalanche she planted her fist under his chin, watching as the purplish embers of her infantile Asura Fist flickered out alongside the shattered remains of his helmet, teeth, and the drops of blood that joined them.
She felt something tear inside her- just a small rift- but it was enough to cause her to hesitate, to worry about what would happen if she threw another cannonball punch...
-So she grabbed him by the face instead.
"Yehuo!"
Red flames burst from her arms and hand, and she made out his muffled scream under her palm.
"Yehuo!
"Yehuo!
"Yehuo!"
He grabbed at her wrist, trying to pull her from his face. She felt herself weakening under the weight of the mana exertion and the pain of the burns, but she refused to relent.
"Yehuo!"
He finally removed himself, not by his strength, but by the weakness of his skin as it melted off into her hand, cleaving claw marks through his cheeks that revealed the inside of his mouth, including the burns that now lined his gums
He was disoriented, staring at his bloodstained hands in shock and horror, the scarred remnants of his face locked in permanent surprise.
She wouldn't let it go to waste.
She couldn't.
She braced herself, filling her fist with as much tension and mana as she had left, and letting the floodgates of her heart let loose all the hatred she had for him into one killing blow-
-rip-
Her fist stopped halfway between them, and she found she couldn't move anymore. The tear she felt before opened up into a grand chasm that split all her mind, body and soul in two: straight down the middle. Her legs began to shake, though she was barely aware of it.
In the same way, she was as shocked as anyone when a fountain of blood cascaded from her mouth, bringing her definitively to her knees.
The unrecognizable Shenghuo seemed to come to his senses, rising up to observe his sister with eyes no longer capable of blinking.
She hardly noticed him; she was staring deeply into the wet crimson staining her clothes; refusing to believe it was her own.
-
'No one? No one has ever learned both?'
'Not without tearing their body and soul in two...'
-
"Ha- haha! So I guess you die after all. Congratulations, sister, really. You won. You got what you wanted. I envy you- in a way."
She raised her tired eyes to meet him, and there were embers of determination still glowing in her soul.
"Hmph. I'll at least forbid you the satisfaction of dying on your own terms."
The white fire raised once more from his armor, solidifying into arms and swords, just as before.
"It's over."
He raised his right arm, bringing his sword down onto her chest, cleaving towards the center-
It stuck there.
A black matrix of light peeked through the glistening blood, tightening around the plasma blade and holding fast to it.
What remained of his lips curled into a snarl, "Still!? You said so boldly that you would rather die, but you still cling so desperately to life!?"
A grim, red-stained smile rose up from what remained of her spirit, "You said it yourself: it is over."
It was only then that he felt what she did. Through the shattered gaps in her soul, she could sense the welling of mana in the air- the will that rose up and outwards, demanding to be known.
-
A torrent of white light emerged from behind her.
....