"You know what the first car I'll snag once I finally get my driving license?" I toss the question into the car's buzzing silence. As expected, John and Kiritsugu don't bother replying—whether it's because they're wrapped up in their own minds, uninterested, or just plain oblivious about vehicles, who's to say? It's only fair, I suppose. Barely three hours ago, we were tearing each other apart like rabid animals, and now?
We're cruising along; playing nice.
It's very awkward. "A KIA Morning."
"A KIA what?" Kiritsugu echoes, his face scrunched up in confusion.
I get it. It's an obscure little Korean brand—not flashy, definitely cheap, and hardly remarkable.
They've teamed up with Hyundai on Prime Earth if I'm not mistaken.
"That… Doesn't sound familiar to me."
That's because it doesn't exist. Not yet, anyway.
Kia as a company will come into the scene in the early 2000s, and the Morning model?
Still a figment of some future design board. "Not surprising."
"Aren't you usually more flashy than this?"
I nonchalantly shrug. "I said 'first car.' There will be others in due time."
"Is it a good car?"
"Hardly."
I chuckle as silence envelops us once again until something that's been bugging me since finding out we're being tailed by the Einzbern comes to my attention in the form of a passing thought. "John, mind telling us how Justacheit knew we were coming?"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
Whirling to face him, I fix him with a sharp, gaze while he nonchalantly rips open a bag of chips. "These are the shit…!"
"What do you mean?"
Surely the homunculus had to have been briefed, had some intel downloaded into his mind at least.
How could he not know? "About the chips?"
He replies, meticulously sucking his fingers clean of neon-orange Cheetos dust before smacking his lips like a five-year-old discovering the addictive charms of junk food for the first time. If he keeps this up, I foresee a future riddled with significant weight gains. "I wasn't made to ask questions; I was designed to eliminate threats to House Einzbern's interests and protect the ancestral castle. I execute my tasks, and that's the extent of it."
"C'mon, you've got to know something," I persist, eyeing him sharply as a fleeting flash of irritation crosses his face.
He tries to hide it, but he's woefully lacking at masking his emotions.
Even though he can revert to his default 'stick-up-his-ass' resting-bitch face that simply screams superiority and utter disdain for everyone, pulling it off on command seems to be a challenge for him. It's not surprising, but he's definitely going to need to work on that in the future.
"What happened to trusting me?"
"I do trust you, but try to remember if there's any snippet of conversation you might've overlooked." I urge.
The homunculus shakes his head, tossing another chip into his mouth. "Impossible, I was not designed with such… Human flaws. I was simply briefed on your capabilities, and that's it."
'Damn…'
I curse inwardly, but I maintain a composed exterior, revealing nothing of my frustration. "How did you find us?"
"Scent and prediction," He begins, arms crossed and nose slightly upturned as he basks in his own pride—a flaw that will surely be his downfall one day. "I have five distinct bio-brain implants dedicated to investigation, and three more for storing and sorting relevant information. My algorithms can process data with astonishing speed and efficiency. To top it off, these implants act like separate brains that constantly bounce data between themselves to predict the future."
"Hmmm… How exactly does that work?" I ask, curiosity piqued.
The homunculus taps his eyelids, a hint of smugness creeping back.
"All sensory inputs I receive get filtered through the implants," He explains, "Which display in an overlay."
I bob in understanding and then question, "Wait, scent?" My eyebrows arching.
"Scent. Yours specifically. His," The homunculus points at the Magus Killer, "Smells foul, like a rotting, moldy pile of manure on the sidewalk—it is memorable but it doesn't last. Yours is delicious."
'John Arston' turns to me, eyes wide and dilated, his hand pausing mid-reach for another chip. "You mind if I take a bi—"
"Touch me and I'll make a necklace out of your fangs."
Gilgamesh is one thing, but this motherfucker? No way. Not a chance in Hell.
"How come you're an Apostle anyway?"
I blurt out, incredulous at the prospect.
Has Jubstacheit lost his damn mind?
To mass-produce Apostles is to defy the Tower itself, not to mention provoking the wrath of Lorelei Barthomeloi, the self-proclaimed Queen of the Clock Tower.
"I'm not an Apostle by technicality,"
He replies coolly. "I possess the heart of one, refined into a Mystic Code that activates whenever I'm in critical condition. However, my bones are engraved with Prayers that cleanse my system once my injuries are healed."
I can't help but gawk. "That… Shouldn't be possible."
While it's known that holy objects can slow down, if not halt, possession—as seen with Heaven's Feel Shirou and Archer's severed arm—and Vampirism, John definitely shouldn't be alive.
"Yet here I am," He declares, a hint of defiance in his voice. "It is very much possible."
"Here you are…"
A marriage between blasphemy and holiness that defies comprehension.
It's a mere observation, but John seems to take it as a compliment instead.
Good for him, I guess.
"What are your algorithms saying about our odds of victory?"
The homunculus hums thoughtfully to himself.
"Based on what the two of you have shown? Your chances of success are 12.19%."
I grimace, hearing the tightening of the Magus Killer's knuckles around the steering wheel.
He could be trying to demoralize us, but I have a feeling Mr. Arston isn't lying.
"If we account for the trump cards you haven't taken out yet," He says, tilting his head slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, "You do have trump cards, right?"
"Obviously."
With a nonchalant twist of his lips, the homunculus casually reveals, "Then your odds improve slightly—21.6% chance of successfully rescuing his half-breed spawn. However, one of you will, in all likelihoods, die in the process."
My pinkie twitches in irritation.
I would be lying if I said I'm not at least a little afraid. It's one thing to break into a Magus' temporary Workshop; it's an entirely different beast to launch a raid on the main Workshop of a House as prestigious as the Einzbern.
"But with me on board," Adding, his tone dripping with unwarranted self-satisfaction, "Those odds increase by 20.9%, and you'll only sustain near-fatal injury!"
He claps his hands together, next spreading his arms wide as though anticipating a round of applause from us both.
"Kiritsugu will be outside to provide covering fire—"
I have barely a chance to discuss the plan, when the homunculus cuts in.
I'd have been terribly upset if not for the frown etched across his face—a sign of genuine concern. So even crazy magical clones feel fear, who'd have guessed?
"That will lower our odds by a whopping 7%... Huh, whopping… Never thought to use that word in such a context. Humanity—what a fun thing."
"John?" Pinching the bridge of my nose, I call out.
"Yes?" The homunculus answers airily.
"Focus."
"I was banking on the fact that his Lordship would send all his forces to greet the Magus Killer, giving you a chance to breathe easier. Is there a reason he won't participate?"
Kiritsugu's jaw clenches at the homunculus' accusatory tone.
That's when John decides to scrutinize the Magus Killer more closely.
Then he gasps. "Shortness of breath; brittle hair; pale complexion… You're constantly using [Reinforcement], yet you do not seem stronger. Even your Od is—"
"Enough…" Our rather murderous driver growls.
"You are not well, Kiritsugu Emiya. It seems I will have to reevaluate our odds."
I instantly catch the reluctance on his face.
If I don't intervene, he might start second-guessing himself.
"Maybe our chances are so low because of you. Have you ever considered that?" Mechanically, I turn to Kiritsugu who looks like he just chews on a lemon whole, a stiff smile plastered on my lips.
"You still call Jubstacheit 'his Lordship'; you have yet to describe your role in all this. For all we know, this could be a ploy by the Golem to demoralize us."
I'll admit, I admire how effortlessly the Magus Killer puts on his poker face.
Even I can't switch up that quickly, and I'm an actor…
Well, a child actor and C-lister by technicality, perhaps, but one nevertheless.
"You still holding a grudge? I was the one who got shot and run over thrice."
To my surprise, the homunculus jokes about it, displaying no sign of aggression.
I can't say the same for Kiritsugu, though; as he turns around with a baleful aura clinging to him, his stare unblinking—'Eyes…'
As idiotic as it is, I cannot help but glance at his blinded eye, a gesture the Magus Killer catches without fail.
"Okay… Maybe we should all take a deep breath—"
"You need me."
The homunculus interjects, the grin plastered on his face stiffening as annoyance seeps from his every pore.
"Do we? Because from where I stand, you seem quite useless…" The Magus Killer spits his retort, venom dripping from each syllable.
"You're one to talk."
Giggling, John stares at the Magus Killer's reflection with a mocking grin—the marred skin, the milky eye, the sickly complexion that betrays him.
When it comes to usefulness, Kiritsugu in his current state, won't be able to hold a candle to the homunculus.
Feeling the tension that can be cut by Senza Esitazione, I finally decide it's time to step in. "Guys, I think—"
"Care to say that to my face, Magus Killer?" John challenges, leaning forward as if gearing up for a fight.
Before I can get another word out, the car suddenly skids to a halt, tires screeching against the pavement.
"Get off." Kiritsugu commands, his voice a lethal, venomous whisper.
"Swapping one collar for another…" The homunculus chuckles, crossing his legs casually. "It's too bad you are not holding my leash, then."
"He's not to be trusted…"
'Loud…'
"'Magus Killer?' What a joke!"
'They're being so fucking loud. I can't think…'
"You're just an object!"
'I can't fucking hear my thoughts!'
"I'd rather be an instrument than an useless human! What are you even doing here, you waste of oxygen?"
"An instrument that can't even obey orders is a—!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"
My hand crushes the car door beside me, bending plastic and steel as I seethe. The Magus Killer and the homunculus gape in disbelief, a flicker of guilt fleeting across their faces, but I'm too enraged to acknowledge it. "Kiritsugu, riddle me this: Who's going in to get your daughter?"
"Leo—"
"It's a simple question!" I snap, fixing my gaze on the man who retreats to his steering wheel.
The homunculus looks smug watching his opponent humbled…
Unaware his moment is coming up next. "And you."
I spit. "Nobody will think you're mute if you stop being a prick."
"But—"
"Silence!"
I gesture as if to physically close his mouth, my anger subsiding as I compose myself with a firm frown.
Once valued as both protectors and hunters, now merely companions for humans. "So, what can you bring to the table?"
The homunculus locks eyes with me, his gaze intense. "I wanted it to be a surprise, but I can eliminate 60% of the Einzbern forces."
"How?" I ask, intrigued.
"I'm unable to fight alongside you due to a kill-switch installed—"
"Of course…" Kiritsugu responds, slight annoyance in his voice.
"But creating and maintaining homunculi is resource-intensive… And we deteriorate over time once released from our pods. Only 40% are out as we speak, and they're designed to be helpers more than combatants."
My eyes widen as the pieces fall into place. "You plan to destroy the facility."
A sly smirk spreads across the homunculus's face.
"But I will need to access the Workshop to carry out the plan… I am keyed to Castle Einzbern and the homunculi won't question my presence. The real question is: Do you trust me not to betray you?"
"We're here." The Magus Killer echoes as we enter an underpass.
"There are fates that'd make even death feel like an act of mercy. Cross us, John, cross me, and the Devil himself would bar me from Hell for what I would do to you." Emerging from the shadowed underpass, I feel a chilling smile creep across my face, my own private mask snapping into place.
The image in the shop window across the street reflects a carefree, almost goofy grin, perfectly normal for someone 'my' age.
There are a lot of things I can forgive a person for, but not treachery… Never treachery.
"Rheinhaven… Cool name."
Throughout history, many towns have grown around Magi Workshops.
In a time long past, when monsters prowled in the darkness and the Godly walked among mortals, this arrangement was… Let's say mutually beneficial.
Non-mages gained powerful protectors, while Magi enjoyed the fruits of free labor and a steady form of income by taxing those who lived near or in their lands.
Today, few recall those days, but many of these once-tiny villages—having changed hands many times—have blossomed into thriving small towns and, in some cases, bustling cities. Rheinhaven is one such places. It is a small town with a population of 13,000 according to the welcoming sign, resting near the foot of a mountain range that's clearly been left in the Ice Age by the look of it…
We drive to a store that rents snowmobiles.
The Einzbern family has permitted another company to use the slopes near their estate as a skiing resort, which explains the flourishing local businesses.
While not all 13,000 residents hit the slopes, many young locals do, along with a steady stream of tourists seeking winter thrills.
"But that's not all," The homunculus continues with a proud smile. "We have an entire division of homunculi dedicated to predicting trends and investing in newer ventures… We're also sitting on a gold mine."
"Literally?"
He bobs. "Literally."
"Nice."
"I'll stay in the car." Kiritsugu mumbles moodily.
"Probably for the best. This store does belong to us, after all."
He clicks his tongue, stepping into the store and moments later emerging on a sleek white snowmobile, perfectly camouflaged to blend into the frozen landscape.
The drive up the mountain takes around twenty minutes, our trajectory aimed straight at what appears to be just another ordinary barren rock face—only it's anything but ordinary or barren.
Have you ever encountered a place that looks subtly wrong?
This odd dissonance has even inspired an entire genre of horror known as 'subliminal space.' While I'm unsure if it's for the same reason on Prime Earth, here it's often the handiwork of Magi crafting illusions to keep unsuspecting teenagers from blundering into their sanctuaries.
For Non-Mages, this unsettling sensation manifests as a vague, nagging anxiety that nudges them in the opposite direction.
"The mountain is hollow inside with an open top," He explains, "That's where we live."
"This is a whole villain lair…"
I comment as the vehicle slams into the rocky surface, before emerging on the other side completely unharmed. "Won't this alert them to our presences?"
"Not with me around."
I hum quietly as we pass row after row of walnut trees lining the road, when suddenly the air is pierced by the howls of wolves and eerie whispers of wraiths. "There are Wraiths here?" I ask, rubbing my temples, just wishing I had stolen a few Black Keys with me before the trip.
"Not Wraiths," Kiritsugu corrects with a shake of his head. "Apparitions—leftover thoughts of the dead. The concentration of Leylines allow them to manifest where they usually can't."
"Is there a difference?" I question, having never encountered one before.
"One is a sentient being, capable of interacting with the physical world in multiple ways," Kiritsugu explains. "The other is merely a collection of primal thoughts or obsessions that seek to possess humans to fulfill their specific desires. Apparitions are generally harmless to Magu unless your mind's been compromised."
"Should I be worried?"
"Is your mind compromised?"
"No?"
"Then there's nothing to be worried about."
Touché.
Getting off the vehicle alongside the two, I look around at, for a lack of a better term, surprisingly modern garage.
"We're continuing on foot." In a forest with Apparitions; hallucinegic gas; Golems and wild wolves running around?
Right up my alley then.
Grabbing white cloaks to conceal myself like Kiritsugu, I jump as my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Rin?"
"—Leo?!"
Her panicking voice hammers at my eardrum. "Rin, what's happening over there?"
"—We're being—"
The line abruptly cuts off with an explosion, while I try to call back to no avail.
"Leo, what's the matter?"
I grimace, teeth carving lines in my lip.
"Something's happening at home."
Gripping his rifle tighter, Kiritsugu takes a deep breath, likely to suppress the 'I told you so' that's practically itching to escape his lips and slide the emotionless mask on. "Mind on the mission, Leo."
But he fails to hide the trembling of his hands, which betrays his inner conflicts.
"We'll check on them later."
Nodding along, I put on my best game-face and march out with him.
Worrying won't make the problem go away, but it will affect my performance.
It's not like the main cast can die before the Fifth War, right?
C28: Einzbern (2)
Awoken by the sound of shattering glass from the windows downstairs, the tsundere's senses snap to attention despite the fog that clouds her mind.
Swiftly, she dons her meticulously prepared attire; after all, as the Tohsaka heiress—no, Lady Tohsaka—anything less than perfection would be a stain on her honor and a complete disgrace her House. With practiced hands, she smooths her hair before skipping out of her bedroom.
'Probably just a cat…'
Rin muses to herself, this isn't the first time a stray finds its way into her manor, nor will it be the last in all likelihoods.
Reaching for the light switch out of habit, only to discover the power is down, Rin frowns. 'Power's out?'
Suppressing a yawn, Rin Tohsaka rubs her teary eyes and makes her way to the basement where the electrical box resides. Yet, halfway down the stairs, a premonition jolts her senses. It's not a cat, she realizes; the creaking floorboards give away a presence much larger and most probably humanoid.
Strange that the Bounded Field has not been used.
Silently, she commands a check on her Ancestral Field, but the result shows no signs of outside tampering or interference; no breach in its flawless system.
Brows knitted in concentration, she allows Mana to surge through her Circuits, steeling herself for the potential confrontation.
Senses sharpening, she takes careful step to minimize the chances of being detected while the cold brush of air grows… Denser… Almost suffocating.
Her pulse quickens, thudding loudly in her ears, she nears the living room, stiffening at the tinniest noise while the hallway—usually so warm and comforting in its familiarity—now seems like endless an abyss which draws her deeper into the depth of uncertainty. The once innocent shadows stretch into distorted figures, as if to mock her, lurking just in the corner of her vision.
Sweat beads her forehead as she edges forward, her fingers twitching with the need to release a [Gandr] at something–anything, if only to alleviate her mounting stress, the last Tohsaka comes to a stop at the doorway to the living room which yawns—a gaping maw of the dark and unholy.
Rin hesitates for a moment, the silence now heavy and oppressive and somehow even scarier than before. Her instincts scream at her to turn back, to flee as far as she can, but by some great miracles, she manages to gather the courage to push aside the terror eating away at her courage.
Pale moonlight streaming in through the fractured windows reveals the shape of the intruder—a shadowed figure, towering and silent, standing amidst the broken glass like something from the darkest of nightmares.
Rin's breath catches in her throat as her eyes lock with his.
Cold dread coils around her heart, squeezing tight as she channels more Od into her Circuits. "Identify yourself!"
Yelling, her shrill voice causes the figure to shift slightly, his movements unnatural, almost inhuman, yet a nagging familiarity calls for attention in the back of her mind—one the tsundere mistakes for Mana. "You're a Magus, aren't you? If you've come to notify me of your presence in Fuyuki, you may return later in the morning."
She doesn't accept uninvited guests, much less ones who break into her house in the middle of the night.
But the figure refuses to speak. 'Screw this!' She inwardly curses, feeling the familiar surge of Od bubbling to life at her fingertips.
Once the Curse is ready, dark energy coiling like a living; hissing serpent around her wrist, the tsundere unleashes her first attack, casting [Gandr] at the intruder at 50% capacity—just barely enough to incapacitate a normal person.
The room darkens as her Curse streaks through the air, but horror twists her gut as the figure effortlessly swats away her [Gandr] as if it's little more than a bothersome fly.
Breath coming in shallow gasps, the confidence Rin had mustered crumbles in an instant. "What… What do you want?"
The figure doesn't respond.
Instead, he starts to advance, the sound of his foot dragging over her shiny, polished floor barely more than a whisper against the shards-laden floor. Hands trembling, Mana thrumming through her Circuits as she prepares a stronger [Gandr], Rin silently contemplates.
If he can so easily deflect her Curse, even if it's only at fifty-percent capacity, what chance does she stand really?
The figure stops just a short few meters from her, and for a moment, the world seems to still, holding its breath like the Tohsaka herself.
Then, he raises a hand mockingly, imitating her earlier casting motion.
The gesture breaks whatever semblance of calm she'd been clinging to.
Spinning on her heel, she doesn't forget to throw a few more [Gandr]s behind to keep the intruder at length, before taking a leap out the windows, her body reinforced as the shards of glass drag against her skin.
Rin doesn't know where she should flee, only that she must, or there's no guarantee she will live past the night.
The Tohsaka heiress has faced the 4th Caster and his Master before, but there's just something about this figure that feels infinitely more menacing than the twisted pair.
Spinning around once more, she takes a glance at the mysterious intruder who has relocated to the end of the street when she wasn't looking, fingers splayed in a mocking gesture.
"What is—" The rest of the question dies on her lips as a single finger presses down, a deliberate movement that sends a chill down her spine. 'Counting…' The Tohsaka realizes.
A heiress doesn't scream, doesn't waste her breath nor should she entertain jesters. Spinning on her heel, Rim unleashes a torrent of [Gandr]s, their roars echoing her fury as they surge down the street. Unfortunately, her 'fury' seems to mean very little to him, as once again the intruder disperses her [Gandr]s midair.
In a heartbeat, she dissolves into the lively throng of people just a short few paces away. Whether this is the right decision is anyone's guess—but even if not one of these people can help with her current predicament, the simple fact they are around should deter the intruder from anything drastic.
Mind racing a million mile per hour, she accidentally collides with someone.
"Sakura—?!"
"Nee-san?"
Seizing her sister's wrist, Rin leans in to whisper—her voice choked-full of urgency, "Run!"
— [Infinity] —
The line continues to ring as I stare into the unending expanse of snow, my fingers stiffening from the cutting cold.
"—The number you're trying to reach is…" Comes the automated response.
Letting loose a sigh, I cut the call and immediately redial.
The odd thing is, it's not even Rin's number—not her landline either.
The phone clicks, easing my concern somewhat.
"Rin?"
"—This is a phone booth, pal. Quit calling! You're giving everyone a damn headache!" A voice bellows before abruptly ending the call.
Blood pressure rising through the roofs, I try her landline again, only to be greeted by the voicemail.
Pacing in the snow-blanketed clearing, I glance at the lit cigarette clenched tightly between Kiritsugu's fingers longingly… 'What wouldn't I do to have a hit—' Instantly, [Reinforcement] kicks in, the Spell beelining for my prefrontal cortex which stops the line of thoughts dead in its track.
I've even considered calling the school, but it should be the middle of the night in Fuyuki. Why would she be there at this time? "What the fuck is happening back there?"
"Don't bother worrying about things you can't change." A voice interjects, calm and detached.
Oh, great—thanks, Mr. Stoic A! Just stop worrying! Why hadn't I thought of that?
Seeing my glare, Kiritsugu shrugs. "I'm just saying, stressing yourself out won't change a thing, so why not focus on what you're doing?"
"She sounded panicked…"
I murmur.
Rin never panics—not like that, not with fear in her voice.
"I thought you didn't care." Kiritsugu remarks.
"I didn't," I retort. "Now I do."
I've known them for over a year now, and while not every moment was picture-perfect, it… Wasn't half bad.
I'd be upset if something terrible were to befall them.
"Guess you do have a heart after all."
"Don't be ridiculous, Kiritsugu. Everyone does." Everyone has something or someone they care about.
Even the vilest among us are still human.
Realizing I can't face battles with a mind clouded by worry, I extend [Reinforcement] to my amygdala, effortlessly muting my emotions.
The act is more addictive than any substance I've ever done.
Admittedly, the worst I've dabbled in are alcohol, cigarettes, and the Devil's lettuce, so my comparison pool isn't vast. Yet, being able to operate solely on pure rationality at the drop of a hat feels like a superpower in and of itself. 'Kiritsugu's right.'
My jaws relax; the muscles beneath my skin uncoiling as I move to gather pebbles.
"What are you doing?"
"Stay focused on the task at hand," I reply, just as the eastern wing of Castle Einzbern is engulfed in a hellish blaze. John has fulfilled his end of the bargain. "That's my signal."
Stashing the pebbles into my ring, I turn to the Magus Killer. "What, no well wishes?"
"Do you need it?" Kiritsugu responds, deadpan.
I snort with amusement and leap off the vantage point, completely shrouded in a white cloak.
Not even the homunculus himself knew the exact placement of the golems. How they buried so many beneath the snow-covered mountain is a mystery, but there should be a total of 308 of golems spread across the whole territory, functioning under a pseudo-hivemind of sort. Right on cue, one emerges in front of me.
Senza Esitazione may be classified as a spear, but its cumbersome tang would throw off its balance without a counterweight.
Likely in an effort to remedy this, the blacksmith turned the lower half into a cudgel of sort. Using it like a sledgehammer, I swing with enough force to shatter solid cobblestone against the head of the jagged, humanoid 'rock' that has emerged from the snow.
Contrary to my expectations, the impact doesn't obliterate the golem. Instead, it generates fissures that spread to the back of its head, weakening its structure. Another kick to the face does the job, crushing its head.
Yet, even headless, the golem does not seem very bothered, its fingers stretched to grab me still.
It is a massive beast, but what it lacks in speed and precision, it more than makes up for with strength and sheer durability.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that punching it would be a bad idea—not to mention painful—and dulling the edge of Senza Esitazione isn't something I'm too eager to test.
Footsteps crunch in the snow as I turn to see a homunculus leaping over me, halberd poised to strike.
A bullet pierces its skull, the momentum sending the body hurtling downwards to get pulverized under the golem's crushing weight while I roll out of the way in true Souls fan fashion.
Od consumed by [Kinetic Shield] to block the bone fragments which splatter against my Spell, I climb on top of the golem, vaulting over the automaton.
My mission's to get Illya von Einzbern, not to get the best KDA ratio.
Od coursing through my veins, I leap off the golem, landing with a soft thud in the thick snow, its pristine blanket disrupted by the thunderous crash of the crystalized puppet stumbling behind me.
"Kinetic Shield," I mutter, allocating more of my Mana to the magical barrier as I sprint forward.
The first golem swings a massive arm at me;
I duck, feeling the gust of air as it narrowly misses.
My counterattack is swift—a round of gunfire that melts right through its torso, where the bullets proceed to rupture its Reactor, sending shards of stone and metal flying in every direction.
But there are more.
Dozens more.
The system itself is fully-automatic.
Whenever a golem falls, its demise sends an alert that stirs more from their slumber until every last one is activated.
A second golem lunges, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent.
I slide under its grasp, coming up behind it and pressing a reinforced pebble against its back.
[Kinetic Blast] works on a simply principal—it transforms Od into transferrable potential energy which gets activated when the object in question is affected. In simpler term, I can make a pebble hit with the same force as an eighteen-wheeler free-falling off a cliff with little more than a mere nudge.
The pebble imbeds itself in the golem's back, the force spread evenly across its back, utterly annihilating the Reactor powering it.
The ground shakes as more golems close in, coordinated, relentless—a hivemind that sole flaw happens to be the cumbersome vessels it controls.
Channeling more Od into my legs, each step a burst of speed that leaves a trail in the snow.
Diving to the left, I narrowly avoid a golem's crushing fist, the ground where I once stood exploding into a crater. I roll, coming up with a reinforced pebble that shatters another one's arm.
Each golem downed is a minor victory, yet the swarm seems endless.
If there's any solace, it's the fact Castle Einzbern is less than a mile away.
With a roar, I launch myself into the air, shield shimmering, cracking under the strain but holding firm enough to send golems toppling like dominos as a portion of the force of their attacks get redirected back at them. I land in a crouch, snow billowing around me as I observe the group of homunculi converging towards the towering gates.
Closing the distance in less than a second, I thrust, [Flurry Jab] manifests a holographic replica of my Mystic Code, mirroring my every motion. Only, it's anything but holographic.
The spear tears through three homunculi soldiers, its replica dispatching two more, rendering them bloody mush.
Yet, the remaining homunculi show no signs of disturbance, charging forth like the mindless drones that they are.
Yanking the spear free, I let crimson stain the pure white ground beneath us before plunging back into the fray.
[Kinetic Shield] flares and shimmers as I deflect incoming strikes.
Another homunculus lunges at me, receiving the butt of my spear for its troubles.
There's a sickening crunch, before it crumples to the ground.
Illya's room is hidden in the most distant corner of the south wing, high up on the third floor. Rather than trudging up the stairs like the average normie, I aim skyward and hurl my spear with [Kinetic Blast] to form a hole in the ceiling.
Stairs are so overrated nowadays.
Credit where credit's due, in another life the Einzbern would have excelled as a top-tier construction company.
The throw carried about a solid 60% of my full strength behind it.
Though not amplified by [Kinetic Blast], it could probably still punch through a solid 10 inches thick steel door.
Honestly, I don't care much for their Magecraft, but if there's a technique to reinforce structures inexpensively and permanently in their library, I need it in my collection.
'Guess that's another thing I'll have to 'borrow' from John later…'
Summoning Equality, I turn my attention to the homunculi on my tail. With precise aim, I reduce them to bloody chunks, clutching my spear tightly as I launch myself up to the second floor. I repeat for the third floor, all while pursued by a near endless horde of magically-animated armor sets and flesh dolls.
Channeling Od into the surface, I cause the floor to collapse in a cacophony of exploding shrapnel.
The razor-sharp fragments slice into my pursuers, burying them under the debris and taking out half their forces, but the maneuver also sends waves of pain surging through my body—a pain which bypasses even the stringent mental barriers I've erected.
Narrowing my eyes, I hum contemplatively as steam rises from my arm.
Magi are hot… Literally.
Overclocking one's Circuits…
I've never had this problem before, but then again I have also never attempted anything this flashy either.
"Toodle-loo, motherfuckers!" I taunt, grinning as I make my dramatic escape.
Room after room after room blur past me until I finally spot the weathered purple door.
Throwing it open, I'm greeted by a cloud of fine dust blanketing the entire room.
It's so thick that even a former seasoned smoker like me can't help but cough. Covering my nose, I quickly conclude, 'She hasn't lived here for a while.'
Considering Illya's status as the experimental Lesser Grail and a future participant in the War—practically the most valuable 'asset' currently in House Einzbern's possession—the only logical place they would hide her is the underground Workshop.
"So much for an easy exit." I mumble with a sigh, twirling my spear while my pursuers clamor behind me.
"Leonis Magnus…"
One of the homunculus walks forth, looking quite a bit sharper than John himself—more… Distinguishable.
"We've been notified of your arrival. Surrender now, and we'll spare your life. You are quite the specimen, after all. Don't make this harder than it has to be, Leonis… Surrender the Magus Killer, and we'll allow you safe passage back to the airport where you'll be on your merry way."
She says with a predatory smile, her eyes gliding over me like a cat eyeing a trapped prey.
"Allow me to pass you his message as a sign of goodwill: Fuyuki's not safe."
Then, in a flash, it all becomes so very clear.
"It's him, isn't it?"
It has to be him.
He sold us out.
He was probably plotting this for a while, just waiting for the right moment.
When he saw Kiritsugu and me together, he must've decided to kill two birds with one stone,
'With a borrowed knife as well.' I nearly snort.
"You seem aware of the danger waiting for you in Fuyuki?"
I refuse to answer, my lips pressed tight as I bolster my emotional defenses, despite feeling like something's close to snapping. "That piece of shit… He sold me out."
I try not to take things as personally as I once did, but Kirei's betrayal has hit a nerve.
"Think about it, is the Magus Killer someone worth wasting your life for?"
I sigh, drawing my Mystic Code with a flourish, whipping up a gust that sends dust swirling into the air. "Whether that grumpy old bastard is worth the effort or not, that's my call to make. I am curious though, why're you negotiating?"
Why would the police negotiate with a terrorist they've cornered? Unless…
"Are you afraid? Is Jubstacheit? Where's that golem by the way—hiding in his basement?"
Leaning forward, I allow a deranged, practiced grin to spread across my face.
"Oh, wait, don't tell me."
After the bombshell they just dropped, I can certainly use a bit of stress relief, and unfortunately for the homunculi, the priest's not here to take the beating.
"It'll be more fun cutting it out of you lot."