Chereads / FATE\Deus Decipit / Chapter 111 - North Star, Morning Star

Chapter 111 - North Star, Morning Star

...

Pigsy, as Saber and Athena hung in the sky for a single moment, before gravity could seize them, leaped out into the open air between them, "Wahooo!"

-BENG-

Athena felt herself tugged and surrounded on all sides by what could've been confused with a warm pillow, or a balloon filled with fat. Immediately following the feeling was a smell that reminded her of bacon grease run rancid. She would've plugged her nose in a moment, except that she was currently free-falling from a height of over ten stories and would soon platter against the ground below. 

-Correction: she was not falling towards the ground. 

She and Saber had been flung over an alleyway and were plummeting towards the roof of the next building over. This small digression, as one can understand, did little to quell her fears. Somewhere in her frightened mind she found her arms again and, as soon as she did, locked her hands over her eyes and let loose a shrill squeal, assaulted by the suddenness of her current predicament and its swift-coming end all at once.

Saber, understandably, found similar issue with their situation.

"Lancer! What the Hell are you doing!?"

-But the only response that came was a loud THWOMP, followed by the cracking of stone and the rising of a plume of dust that would've left his Master reeling had she not been holding her breath. Instead, her body lurched forward, but was held continually aloft by the fatty pillow, and she found that she was now moving, not downwards, but forwards, and was not falling but rather gliding, albeit in a jostling motion, across a horizontal plane.

She chanced a glance through her fingers. She once more saw a harrowing fall underneath her, but, before she could panic again, the alleyway disappeared and large, stumpy feet landed in stride across another rooftop. Below, she could make out the shrieking and howling of undead, like wolves on the hunt, many of whom were now flying towards them in a frenzied mob. She watched as a car careened off the streets, taking out several zombies before plunging into a building with a burst of rock and flame. Others stood vacantly, many even had weapons. Yet, here she was, safe far above them and flying in the arms of- who? Lancer? She couldn't get a good look from where she was, but she could see around her the familiar blue and white of Pigsy's robe, a large, protruding pink belly and could feel, around her waist, holding her aloft, a massive and thick five-fingered hand not unlike a slab of steak.

Ending her search of her surroundings, she saw, ahead of them, in the near-distance, the familiar Acropolis. Atop it was that very same pillar of light, but she could clearly spot, surrounding the mountain's peak, a thick, dark cloud, vaguely violet and crackling with lightning from within. It encased the Acropolis like a garden's hedge, not allowing any view within.

Not so entranced as she, Chrysaor, barely visible across the pink belly between them, slapped the barrel-gut with a sound like a banging drum.

"Lancer! What were you thinking!? You could've killed us!"

A thick, gruff sound like the grinding of gravel let loose above them. It reminded her of a revving engine or a growling tiger, but she soon realized it was a laugh.

"Reeheehee! -grunk- You were the one who said we didn't have time to lose!"

Ahead was a building which towered above them, but the man who carried them, apparently Lancer, easily leaped over twenty feet to land atop it and continued without slowing down even a bit.

They were making progress, that was for sure. They would arrive in less than a minute. The zombies below couldn't reach them right now, and once they got in the Acropolis, there would at least be a physical barrier to slow them down: the high fence that surrounded the facility on all sides. Still, both of the Servants were right: they didn't have time to lose. She had lived in and around the city for a while, so although it was slightly harder with the cloud obscuring the Parthenon, she could see that they were approaching the South-East side of the monument, whereas the path to the summit, as she recalled, was on the West side. Before she could rack her mind and scrutinize her surroundings enough to give precise directions, the rooftops were falling away underneath them. They were getting lower and lower to the ground, and just as she worried that they may have to go too far on foot, she saw the outer fence rise above in front of it, and this too was hopped with ease.

He let out a grunt, "Do ya think that cloud'll stand in our way -grunk-?"

Chrysaor let out a sound that revealed his uncertainty, "Uh, it's possible. But it's still a cloud. You should be able to go through it!"

'Oh,' she thought to herself, 'They're going to try and jump up there.'

It seemed like at least decently possible given what she had already seen Lancer do. Still, she moved her eyes down the Acropolis's cliff face, doing her mental measurements, and saw there an old stone theater, open air of course, built into the mountain's side.

'Hold on, that theater had a name. What was it?'

Before she could finish her thought, before she could remember her distant visit to this very place, a shadow, like an ink blot on the canvas of the world, appeared over the stone archway. Lancer skid to a stop, digging ruts into the garden they had been trampling.

"I was wondering if you would come," cawed the raven voice, "I had half a mind to say that you'd hide like a whipped dog."

Lancer snorted, and a sour moisture wormed into her nose, "I'm a pig."

"You're a boor. You always have been. At least now you look the part: as much a beast on the outside as on the inside."

There was a sound somewhat like a huff, partially like a growl, but surprisingly close to a bark, and she was lowered to her feet where she fought for a moment to find her landlegs, leaning on Lancer in the meantime. Now with freedom of movement, she looked over his new form. He was wearing the same outfit he had been before, now magnified to fit his easily seven-foot, if not greater, stature. His blue robes had white patterns like waves, opened in the middle to reveal his gut, and a straw hat sat like an umbrella over his head. His body was, if it were described in a single word, obese. His build was most easily compared to a pyramid or a mountain, widest at its base and moving up to a neck that was sunken into the shoulders to create a triangular shape. It reminded her of a sumo wrestler: the fat did not cascade down his body like water, but was instead more like a snowdrift, thick and packed with muscle. His head was that of a boar, more so than in his other form, with a long snout whose lips were turned outward to make room for tusks that forced their way out of his warty mouth. Large, flopping ears fell like a veil on either side of his head, and their darkness, combined with the shade of his hat under the cover of a starless night, made it hard to spot his eyes. She would eventually find them, but almost immediately wished that she hadn't. As always, they were small and beady, but before they had been small enough that they had appeared almost black, resembling an animal's, but they were now large enough to make out the whites, marking them as wholly human, but were so deeply buried in his skull, layer upon layer of skin, bone, muscle and fat, that it more resembled a human peeking through a mask than a genuine, living creature. Had she seen it in a movie, she would have credited Jim Henson on the skill of his craft, but seeing it in front of her, breathing, sweating, and looking ahead with a fullness of will and purpose, she was reminded of the saying "lipstick on a pig." The sheer uncanny oddity of what was set before her, so near human and yet so far, filled her heart with fear, disgust and repulsion, and she soon realized that she had staggered back from him on instinct alone.

His small eyes flicked over to her and she felt a pang of guilt, though she couldn't explain why. 

He turned back to Archer, "When I became a Servant, I decided I didn't wanna look like this. People get so afraid of me -grunk- . But I don't care if I'm a monster right now-" 

He manifested his rake, which was still taller than he, perhaps three meters long, and spun it in his hand with the sound of a helicopter readying to fly, placing one foot forward.

"'Cause it takes one to beat one!"

On his other side, Saber seemed to leap out of his shadow, manifesting both his shortswords- how long had it been since she'd seen those?- and readying to fight alongside his ally. She herself began to look for a place to hide; she knew Archer had a habit of targeting Masters and they couldn't waste their energy manifesting Geryon at this point, but Archer's voice called out before she could.

"Not so fast, Saber."

She paused, and though it was perhaps only because he was standing above them, she got the sense that he was sticking his nose up.

"The pig is my prey. I've been forced to wait too long already, and I will not allow you to interrupt our battle a second time." His stare flared with a dangerous intensity, "I will allow you to proceed on to the tabernacle, but if you insist on interfering with our battle, then I will be happy to liberate your Master of her mortal coil."

There was no doubt in her mind: once he set his sights on her, he would gladly wipe out the entire city, and everyone in it, if it meant killing her. A chill touch raced down her spine.

Chrysaor exchanged a glance with his Master, but Lancer intervened before they could come to an agreement themselves.

"Go on ahead. I've got this."

Athena was anxious to leave Archer behind, to get the weight of his hatred off her shoulders, and so began to run ahead of her Servant.

"C'mon!"

Saber nodded towards Lancer, "Thank you. Good luck."

He then ran to his Master, catching up with her easily, and took her by the hand as they went deeper into the garden around the Acropolis's base.

...

Pigsy snorted, "I didn't realize I meant so much to ya, Archer. -grunk- Don't tell me there's a ring in yer pocket; you haven't even taken me to dinner yet."

"Don't get so full of yourself, pig. I don't do this for you. It's a matter of pride."

"What else is new?"

"Shut up. Never in my life have I set my sights to kill something and been forced to let it flee. On my pride as an archer I will not allow you to be the first."

"Your pride, eh? -grunk- Is that why yer bein' Caster's guard dog?"

"He serves my interests. There's nothing else to say."

"Ya don't think he'll betray you? Or do you plan to be the one sticking the dagger in his back?"

Archer seemed tired with the conversation.

"There's no need for that. Neither of us have anything to gain. I've already given willingly the only thing he would find value in."

Lancer let out a low growl that betrayed the turning gears in his skull, eventually, he came to his conclusion and lowered his snout with disdain.

"Do you really expect to defeat me without your Divinity?"

He called his bow to his hand, his stare sharpening with arrows of fatal malice.

"I've defeated greater threats than you as a mere man. As a Servant, it will be no issue." His rising power caused trees to whisper and grass to bow, "I declare, as the Lord Archer of heaven, I will have your hide, Zhu Bajie!"

"Don't call me that!"

"What? Surprised I gleaned your True Name? It wasn't hard. There aren't many so-called 'heroes' as ugly as you. Or would you rather I call you 'Dāizi'? It's a more fitting name if you ask me."

"No!" 

He slipped his arms out of his sleeves, the two halves of his robe falling away to form a skirt at his waist, revealing his whole chest.

"True Name or not, -grunk- that's name's not fit to leave your ugly mug! It was given to me by my best friend; I won't let you stain it with your stinking mouth!" He tossed his hat onto the passing breeze, letting it blow like a leaf before dissolving into ether, "You will refer to me only as Tiānpéng Yuánshuài! The Great Marshal of Heaven!"

Blue-white light gathered around him, his chest and arms, forming a light not unlike a halo over his head.

"I am the arbiter of Heaven's will! Slayer of Demons! Commander of Countless Legions! -grunk- By my Jiǔchǐdīngpá, my Nine Tooth Rake, entrusted to me by High Heaven, you will die here!"

The light around Lancer gleamed, clothing him in their luminescence first figuratively and then literally as, when the flash dimmed, he was adorned with a softly glowing blue armor that glittered with starlight. It covered his arms with totality, the chinks covered over by a white fur that shone like the Milky Way. Over his chest, the armor hung from its straps, covering his belly with a shape like a cauldron while allowing some of his chest to peek through. On his head was a round hat like the one he had worn before, but around the brim of his hat the steel was pure white, thicker on one side to create a crescent moon, and a plume of white smoke rose from its center. He resumed his combat stance: one step ahead and rake borne forward, focus and determination managing to glow even from the deep caverns of flesh they were buried in.

"Listen here, 'Tumbleweed'! Do you know who you're speaking to!?" Indignation burned in his voice, and the temperature noticeably rose around him, churning the cool air, "I am Shen Yi! The sword of the Jade Emperor! Do you think you intimidate me, commander!? I outrank you!"

"Then it's a good thing we ain't in Heaven. -grunk- Last I checked you were exiled the same as me."

His anger burned ever-brighter, "I was betrayed! I did everything I was commanded! I was as loyal as they came! My Lord stabbed me in the back, but you-! You got what you deserved! You were always a pig! A coward! A glutton! A slave to your vices! You failed to achieve enlightenment even under the direct tutelage of Golden Cicada! You're a lost cause! A pathetic creature unfit for the title of 'human', much less 'celestial'. Do NOT pretend that we're at all the same! Don't act like you understand me!"

Pigsy let out a chuff, a short bark, "Hou Yi-"

"Don't say that name!" His orange hair flashed, seeming like genuine flame, "Hou Yi was a human- a weak human who couldn't even save the only person who meant anything to him! You will not use that name in my presence!"

Lancer sighed, "Enjoy your hatred. Go ahead. Let it consume you. Feed it. Relish it. Let it rage. Turn your heart into your own personal hell 'til it turns you to ash; it'll get ya ready for the real thing. But I ain't gonna let ya drag everyone else down with ya. See me? -grunk- I ain't time for self-pity." 

He stuck one finger into the sky, "My friends up there are waitin' for me, and I'll be damned if I keep 'em too long! Unfortunately for you, the way I see it-" His finger dropped to accuse the Lord Archer, "I can't continue on that road 'til I put you and that Caster six feet underground."

"Obviously! Did you forget what this war was about? Did you forget what we were fighting for! A cup that will pave the road to Heaven! Saber's as much an obstacle as I am! All the Servants and Masters are! They were from the start!"

Pigsy shook his head, "You say I'm stupid, but you didn't understand a word I said, did ya? Did ya forget that gods and demons share the same origin? Did ya forget what happened last time you tried to take a shortcut to Heaven? Eh, Hou Yi?"

There was a moment of silence. Archer's anger seemed to simmer, and he closed his eyes in quiet concentration.

"Red Feather Cloak- Solar Mantle."

Flames wrapped his body, parting to reveal his new form. His ponytail untied, his hair flowed like down feathers of blue, orange and violet. Over his legs were pants of the same hue and around his body was a cloak of orange flame, which seemed constantly to struggle against its shape, burning away into embers before returning to its origin like solar flare.

He crossed his arms and opened his eyes, shining orange pupils that burned with the fires of Earth's deepest depths, the rising magna of his pain, regret, sorrow and rage bursting out from the firmament of his heart in an eruption of undisguised hostility.

"Die."

Embers formed in the air, taking the shape of six obsidian arrows tied with orange ribbons, and whose feathers were replaced by tridents. Lancer placed his other hand on the shaft of his rake. As he had planned, Archer's pride was against him, and Pigsy's arguments and banter had bought Chrysaor and Athena enough time to get to safety.

No more holding back.

....