...
Rider, without the hint of hesitation, approached the Adonis, scorched earth crackling under his metal boots. The two men, the two demigods who approached true divinity, stood nearly at eye level with one another, the awakened Heracles just a hair taller. Light gleamed from each of their eyes, Berserker's with the sharpness of an unstoppable spear, and Rider's with the incorruptible radiance of the sun.
"Rider," His voice echoed like thunder, deep, strong, with all the majesty of nature but none of her madness, "Are you not the one who killed my Master?"
His booming voice touched all the onlookers and, from their airborne perches, they began to whisper among themselves with awe, shock, fear and hope: 'His Master is dead? How much longer can he be manifested? Did we win? Is it over?' Aaron alone knew what had happened, but, in the face of his new foe, his excitement had simmered out, and was replaced by fear for his Servant, who faced the monster alone.
Athena shared his trepidation. She was unable to shake the feeling that the battle, far from ending, had only entered a 'phase two'.
"Aye. May I ask how thee came to know such a thing?"
"Who else would that man have listened to if not you? I doubt he would have listened to his own Master had he ordered such a thing."
"Thou knowest who I art?"
"You are Lugh, Champion of Light." His eyes glazed over the Servants overhead, "I know some of them, too, though not all of them. My... current state has allowed me memories otherwise locked away."
"From previous wars, I gather? I do wonder how I fared 'gainst thee thither."
"I can't recall, but I remember I held some admiration for you- for your character. Your underhanded tactics in this war... surprise me."
"Assassins hath their place on the battlefield. All is fair in war, no?"
"It is, but I suspect you would've rather done differently."
"Aye, but I saw little other choice. We did what we must have."
"Allow me to offer you a choice, then."
Heracles ripped his blade from the ground and brought it down towards Rider, hovering just off his shoulder. Rider didn't flinch even while his ribbon-like hair was blown away.
"I challenge you to a duel. With what is left of my manifestation, I will avenge my Master by defeating you on my own terms. Should you refuse," His glare sharpened further, "Then you should expect the same courtesy as you gave my Master."
"Ha- haha!" Lugh contained his laughter to a chuckle, then managed to compose himself again, "Of course! Thou art truly a man worthy to be called a hero! I wouldst be glad to duel thee."
Despite the situation, the smallest semblance of a smile cracked the Adonis's stoic façade.
"Good." He returned his sword to his side, "My True Name is Heracles! Son of Zeus by Alcmene, hero of Lera, Nemea, and innumerable others. I've been summoned as a Berserker in the vessel of a Divine rather than Heroic Spirit. This-" He raised his blade, "Is Atlas, the Sky-Cutter, the sword who cleaved the heavens, a conceptual weapon which represents all that I accomplished in my Twelve Labors."
He dashed his sword back, a roaring gust of air filling the vacuum it left behind, "Rider, I challenge you."
Rider took two steps back and, with each, his armor began to disappear. His face revealed, fair yet handsome, beautiful yet strong, soft yet firm, and underneath his armor was a tight black cloth that covered all but his arms. Over the chest it was like a vest, with silver buttons near the collar and a splash of blue along his sides while silver buckles ran along his legs before reaching his black boots. His ponytail unfurled into its full splendor and, in his outstretched hand, his spear of purple lightning manifested.
"I am Lugh! Son of the Sea, Champion of Light, King of the Tuatha de Danann, Conqueror of Erin and Feller of Balor, summoned in the vessel of a Rider," He spun his spear and swung it to his side, "And this is mine spear, the Gae Assail! Who did pierce nine veils and smite the evil eye! 'Twould be mine honor to accept thine challenge."
Heracles gave a satisfied smile, then turned his back to Lugh and began to walk away. Rider did the same. Once each was about thirty feet away, they stopped.
Aaron's cold sweat returned as he watched the scene unfold.
Each warrior turned on their heel and, in a moment, became a blur as Lugh gave a defiant shout, "Have at thee!"
As they met in the middle, Berserker swung his sword and giant cleave of air shot across the ground, leaving a rut in the ground easily a meter deep or more, and coming dangerously close to the ships past their battle.
Athena couldn't help but let out a yelp, "What the Hell!? Is he stronger now!?"
Chrysaor gave a comforting squeeze to her shoulder, but he and the rest of the onlookers understood what was happening: Berserker was no stronger than he was before: he was more skilled. It was not an increase in power, but an increase in precision. The same brute strength, the raw power of god and nature, had not diminished, but was instead being channeled into a fine point, increasing the force and pressure without any extra effort on his own part. Berserker was no longer a monster, but a creature that came closer than any other on the planet to being a true god.
He could think of only one thing to say that could raise any hope in her heart, "The good news is that the attack he tried to make earlier isn't on the table. If he tried to consume that much magical power without his Master, he'd destroy himself. We just have to wait him out."
"You mean Rider has to wait him out, right? What happens if he goes down?"
"That's what we're here for, isn't it? This was never supposed to be a one-on-one."
Back on the ground, with agility that easily surpassed what he was capable of in his armor, Rider turned his body so that Berserker's 'Atlas' cleaved past his torso while he thrust his lightning spear forward towards Heracles's shoulder. In a similar way, Berserker also shifted his torso to dodge the blow, forcing him to hold his sword with only one hand- not that it stopped him. Rolling into the motion, he turned the blade in his hand and made a reckless swing towards Rider's chest. As Lugh tumbled into a somersault, it was as if his body were made of rubber, bending under the blade and its outward slice, going fully airborne, landing on all fours and making another thrust from low to the ground, stabbing into and actually piercing Berserker's side with a splash of sparks and ichor blood.
Rider's smile gleamed, "Touch."
Gritting his teeth, Heracles managed to get his left hand back on his blade, swinging back towards the crouched Rider who rolled sideways before popping up to his feet and playfully spinning his spear between his fingers.
"Is there no respite before round two?"
Contrarily, Berserker's eyes narrowed with rage while his lips cracked into a smile, "This isn't a game, Lugh. This duel only ends with one of us dead."
"What is life for those who cannot laugh in the face of death?"
"I've never met a fae who wasn't a show-off."
"Why not, cos? There's much to show."
Heracles lashed out again with a horizontal strike, aiming to bisect the man in two, and hoping that the angled strike, too precise and fast to be ducked or leaped over, would fatally injure his opponent if it didn't kill him outright. Rider's agility, further improved by losing his armor, continued to surprise the warrior even with his clear mind. He leaped over the blade, a burst of light and the alteration of his own density giving him the speed and verticality to jump the hurdle, flipping over Berserker's no-longer-colossal body and launching a cascade of light jabs into his bare back, seeming as if to release a waterfall of violet sparks, and landing on his other side. Berserker turned on his heel with an overhead strike that Rider strafed with relative ease. Another strike and another strafe. Another strike and he was back where he had started. The dance of sword and spear couldn't have asked for a better partner. He made another strike- and completely whiffed, missing Rider entirely as if aiming for someone who wasn't there at all. Taking advantage of the fatal error, he made another thrust with his Gae Assail, piercing Berserker through the shoulder and out the other side.
Almost on reflex, Berserker swung his blade once more, and Rider jumped back, happily abandoning his spear for the sake of dodging the blow. Unfortunately for him, Heracles's attack was far from thoughtless. With a spin of the wrist, the slashes that emerged went in all directions like an explosion of steel wind, a wide attack that encompassed the whole area, as if unsure of where his target was, and a dozen shallow cuts dug into Rider's flesh. Ribbons of red blood tore across his torso, a slash to the face took out his right eye, and an especially deep cut to the thigh ended his movement where he was, nearly bringing him to knee.
Aaron's knuckles went white on the rail of the ship, "Rider!"
Without wasting a single fragment of a second, Berserker seized on his opponent and rushed forward, raising Atlas above his head for a final strike that would cleave Lugh directly down the middle. The Champion of Light, King of the Tuatha de Danann, could only wearily raise his eyes, low on strength, low on mana, low on morale; even the most skilled dodge he could manage would lose him a limb and serve only to postpone his demise.
"Athibar!"
There was a gleam of purple light.
Where lightning had been flashing, and sight had failed to discern the truth of their battle, the scene was now perfectly still. Crouched underneath Berserker's True Form, spear in hand, Lugh pierced his Gae Assail directly into the heart of Heracles. With a face as still as stone, Berserker allowed Atlas to disappear from his hands and return to ether.
"'Tis the third touch, cos. Victory is mine."
Despite the pain, despite the trickle of blood that bubbled like a spring from his forehead and ran down his body like a river towards the sea, Lugh smiled. He relaxed his weary limbs, and felt the exhaustion which he had held at bay begin to overtake him. He knew not where the night would go next, but he couldn't help the manly pride that flew through his heart. The feeling that his life could end right now, and he would accept it as fate, having earned the simple and singular pleasure of accomplishing all he had aimed within his short life without ever compromising his values; living and dying by what he believed, just as a man ought.
"Very good, Lugh. You fought well." His arms fell to his sides.
"Many thanks. 'Tis... " He struggled to catch his breath, "'Tis truly an honor to be praised by one such as thyself."
"-But I believe I already said this wasn't a game."
Lugh went to respond, but found, in his chest, Berserker's five claw-like fingers digging into flesh and bone. In a single motion he was raised into the air and slammed into the ground in an arc, the ground cracking and bending underneath him, forcing the claws deeper into his chest as an eruption of blood burst from his mouth.
"This was always a battle of endurance, Lugh. I'm afraid I can't be killed by the same weapon twice."
"Wha-"
Berserker's other claw clamped around his throat. Lugh pulled uselessly as his hands, but Berserker's fingers were locked like a metal trap.
"Blame it on me. Blame it on the gods. Blame it on the Throne, or on my Master for summoning me in this vessel. Curse whosoever you wish with your final breath, but our battle has ended."
"Lugh!"
Aaron's voice strained so hard that it cracked, causing him to sound like the frightened child he felt like inside.
Chrysaor stood erect and began towards the bow of his ship, stopping to address the panicked Master, "Aaron! Use a Command Seal to return Rider to you! It's time to tag out!"
"No!" Caster yelled back with regal authority, "You'd kill us! Archer, you provide covering fire!"
Archer nodded, climbed aboard the bow of his ship and pulled back on the fiery red string. Arrows began to apparate and harden, as if being continually reinforced and somehow managing to become ever darker than darkness.
Aaron looked back and forth in indecision, and then, steeling himself, "Lugh! I know you can escape! Don't worry about me! Just do it!"
From the ground, impossibly far away, Lugh's eyes locked on his Master, and words echoed through his mind, 'Master, no. Do not waste your energy. There are more important-'
"No! Don't talk like that!"
Aaron raised his arm again.
Chrysaor ran forward, intending to enter the battle as Aaron forced Rider to exit, but, sitting nearest the bow, Lancer swatted him away with a smack to the face from his rake, leaving a red welt on his cheek.
"Hey! What was that!?"
Lancer wordlessly gestured at Archer with his rake. Mana was gathering in the point of his arrows as they appeared one-by-one,
"Yi, Er, San,
"-Si, Wu, Liu,
"-Qi, Ba, Jiu,
"-Yi, Er, San."
Nine arrows lined his bow.
"Rider, by the power of my Command Seal!" He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next, "Escape!"
With a burst of light, Rider evaporated into golden energy, shooting like a bullet several yards away where he reconstituted himself, staggered, weak, his golden hair losing its luster, turning gray and falling over his face; falling victim to the pull of gravity for the first time since his summoning.
Aaron, too, was taken by gravity, collapsing onto the floor of his ship in a state between consciousness and nothingness; totally drained of all his soul could offer.
"Damn!"
Chrysaor started again, now towards Aaron, but once more Lancer cut him off.
Archer continued his chant, "Nine fall and one remains,
"-The specters of an exploding star...
"Bring an end to light, and enter the age of ice and fire,
"-Fan Tianshi..."
He let loose all nine arrows, each shaped like a three-clawed crow. They flew through the air like a murder with the same intent, then collided into the air and melted together into a single, broad-winged avian shadow tinged with orange luminescence.
"...Taiyang Niao."
The shadow landed at the foot of Heracles, and what came next was not the sound of an explosion, but the absence of it. Pressure removed itself from the space around, popping ears, sending Masters into vertigo as all sound seemed to disappear into the abyss of a black sun.
...