"Cu Chulainn's teacher?" Juro repeated, astonishment clear in his voice.
Romani's voice buzzed through the comms, equally taken aback. "The Queen of the Land of Shadows… summoned here?!"
Scáthach let out a short sigh, her crimson spear twirling effortlessly in her hand.
"Fu… enough introductions. Come with me. We've been sheltering some of your allies."
Juro's eyes widened.
Scáthach, a queen who originated in the Celtic Ulster cycle. She was a guardian of a realm known as the land of the shadow, a master of the spear and rune magecraft.
Runes were symbols, that when inscribed unto something, could realize mysteries accordingly with the meaning they represent.
It was a rare magecraft that was utilized by few.
Scáthach was one of these rare users.
She had also become the mentor of Young Cu Chulainn and instructed him in battle. Training him to such a point that she bestowed her beloved spear, Gae Bolg.
◈◆◈
EAST COAST, NEAR THE BORDER:
"Yo," Robin said, giving a casual wave.
Elizabeth simply nodded with a small smile.
"You guys are still here!" Juro exclaimed.
His smile, however, was quickly overshadowed by Nightingale's intense expression as she practically teleported to Robin and Elizabeth, her eyes scanning them with laser-like focus.
"She's practically teleporting over here!" Robin yelped.
Without hesitation, Nightingale began lifting their arms, turning their necks, and meticulously examining them from head to toe.
While she examined them, Juro noted on how the two of them seemed to have prosthetic arms in place of their severed ones.
Who had managed to make those?
"There's no visible damage… but there could be internal injuries."
She paused, her face completely serious.
"..."
"Please take off your clothes."
"Don't say that so casually!!" Both Robin and Juro yelled.
"Ah, I didn't know you were a fellow Manzai, Robin."
"The same goes for you."
Romani's hologram flickered to life beside Juro with a sharp bbzt sound. "I'm glad you're all safe, but weren't you being pursued by opponents?" he asked, his tone cautious.
"We had a little help," Robin replied with a shrug.
"Help?" Romani echoed, his eyebrows raised.
Suddenly, the door behind Juro flew open with a loud slam, making him jump.
"Kyaah!" Juro yelped.
"He's here! The boy from Chaldea!!" boomed an unfamiliar voice from the doorway.
Juro whirled around to see two men standing there. One had a mature face, as well as long, flowing black hair, wore a cloak, and sported a strange gauntlet on his right arm. The other wore a traditional Chinese Yi-Fu, his hands calmly resting behind his back, his spiky hair tied back into a ponytail.
"Huh?! Tesla?!" Romani exclaimed over the comm, his voice an octave higher in shock.
"Why is everyone screaming so much?!" Juro groaned, rubbing his ears.
"But wait—aren't you… Tesla?"
Romani squinted at his console, then looked over at Da Vinci, who shared his bewildered expression. After a brief, silent exchange, Romani cleared his throat.
"Well, this is… strange."
Juro tilted his head, puzzled. "What's the issue, Doc?"
Romani sighed. "Right now, Fujimaru and Mash have encountered another version of Nikola Tesla in the current London Singularity."
"What the…"
"Yeah, pretty bizarre."
Tesla smiled, a knowing look in his eyes.
"Allow me to explain. Heroic Spirits summoned from the Throne aren't technically the original—they're copies, echoes of the real one. And while the same Heroic Spirits cannot usually exist in the same world or timeframe, having you and that 'Fujimaru' active in two separate Singularities has essentially 'split' me. So, here I am, and there I am."
He chuckled. "Science finds a way, doesn't it?"
"That's anything BUT science, what the hell?!"
"Yeah. But one thing," Romani's face tightened.
"Mr. Tesla, I wholeheartedly respect you no matter what, but your London counterpart is threatening to destroy the world with lightning! Please, are there any weaknesses? Is there anything they can do?!"
"No matter! I—"
"Why am I threatening to destroy the world? I love humanity!"
"It's the result of a strange kind of Madness Enhancement!"
"I see. Well, just overwhelm him with lightning of your own."
'Can you get any more vague!?'
"Thank you."
Romani quickly leaned over his console, then straightened back up. "They've got it now."
"Yo doc, that came out of nowhere," Juro sighed.
"It's actually kind of concerning you haven't told me about that since I came here. There's world-ending stuff going on in that Singularity?"
"Well, I haven't told you because right now, Da Vinci is on the comms for Fujimaru there."
"And I'm pretty confident she's got it."
"I hope."
"Well, back to the matter at hand – Nikola Tesla is the best person to summon here, given that he's an ally right now."
A pause.
"He was Edison's number one rival after all."
Nikola Tesla was responsible for the modern use of Alternating Current, a system used almost everywhere in technology today.
Edison, on the other hand, promoted 'Direct Current' technology.
A fierce competition, known as the War of Currents, had ensued between them to determine which electrical system would be widely adopted. In the end, Tesla's AC system had proven victorious.
"Woah, so this guy actually beat Edison out."
"Did not know that."
Tesla sighed. "Well, it's mainly because, for some odd reason, Edison is talked about more often. But I guess it's a bit understandable that battle isn't really well-known in your time."
"What about you?" Juro asked as he turned to the other man. He felt a bit rude for asking so directly.
"Lancer: Li Shuwen," the man replied. "Due to the circumstances, I'm working with Scáthach."
"WHAT?! Li Shuwen?! The legendary Chinese Bajiquan user?!" Juro yelled.
Romani sighed. "Guess I'm not doing the introductions this time."
"The hell is that?" Jalter asked.
"Originally, Bajiquan was an obscure martial art, but thanks to his fame, it became pretty well-known. I mean, right now in the 21st century it became obscure again, but it's a pretty crazy style," Juro explained.
Thanks to his training in Chaldea, Juro had studied Bajiquan by himself, or at least read about it during his training.
"Wait, but why's he summoned as a Lancer?" Juro asked.
"..."
"C'mon doc, answer."
"I thought you were going to explain everything!"
"I only know about the kung fu thing! You're like the Servant-dex!"
"Ouch. Well, Li Shuwen was a skilled enough spearman that he gained the name 'God Spear Li. That's probably the reason he's been summoned as a lancer."
Li Shuwen nodded.
"Much obliged for the introduction."
Emiya's eyes narrowed as he looked at Li Shuwen.
"This guy seems familiar… But never mind that. He looks like he's got a hunger for battle."
Emiya made a mental note to keep an eye on Li Shuwen.
Robin extended his hand towards the two. "These guys are the ones who saved us. Guess it also helps to say that the Archer who chased us down didn't really have his heart in it."
Juro walked over and bowed.
"Nikola Tesla and Li Shuwen, thank you for saving them."
"It was no issue whatsoever," Tesla said with a smile.
"Well, it's great that our force has increased. At any rate, I'm grateful," Romani began as he began thinking about their various advantages.
"Maybe if we-"
"...Sorry, but we won't be working alongside you," Scáthach said as she walked into the room.
"Very soon, we would like for you to head out on your own."
"Huh?"
With elegant precision, Scáthach traced her fingers through the air, leaving trails of mysterious purple runes that seemed to pulse with mana. She pointed upward, and the runes coalesced into a detailed map of the American region that hung in the air like a supernatural projection.
"Is this a—"
"An image projected with runes," Scáthach finished.
On the map, there was a large area of light and a smaller portion that was darker. A line went down the middle of the two, distinguishing them from each other.
"Various things have happened since the assassination failed. This is a chart of each army's strength."
Her slender finger indicated the dark region, the movement causing ripples in the runic projection.
"What surprises me is that Edison is making a comeback, Perhaps due to the attempt."
"It would be good news if that were all, but that's not the case."
"As retribution for the assassination attempt, that damned Medb has begun to crack down on the resistance."
Juro's face tightened.
"Originally, the resistance started as groups of people scattered throughout the east who Geronimo began protecting because they couldn't run away to the west. Children, seniors, pregnant women... Many stood up."
"They supported Geronimo and made bases concealed by magecraft at different places throughout the east."
"I'll never forget them," Rama interjected. His hand unconsciously moved to where his wounds had been.
"They're the ones who risked their lives to protect me after I lost to Cú Chulainn."
"Medb has started looking for those hidden bases, and there is only so much magecraft can conceal. In fact, one base has already been wiped out by those two Lancers."
Juro clenched his fist. The image of those two Lancers with Fergus popped up in his head.
"Those dolts really like fighting, huh...?"
He hated that they had likely fought against innocents. Just justifying hurting others as a 'love' for fighting wasn't right.
If you wanted to fight, fight someone on your own level.
"We've got to stop them, don't we?" He asked.
"Of course. That's why we will be acting separately."
"?"
"This is also because there is another issue at hand... a Dead Apostle."
"Dead Apostle?"
"Yes, a 'vampire' of sorts, if you can understand. Right now I cannot explain to you what that creature exactly is, but all you need to be aware of is that there is a Dead Apostle on the loose, taking out bases and resistance members."
The runic map shifted again, showing a pattern of destruction.
"I believe that it is trying to create a territory for itself by taking advantage of the unstable nature of this region. Like a predator sensing weakness in its prey."
Juro nodded.
"Shuwen, Tesla, and I will go our separate ways. Shuwen will head out to deal with the Dead Apostle, and me and Tesla will infiltrate the east to protect those bases."
◈◆◈
The scorching desert sun beat down on Juro as he crouched at the cliff's edge, his eyes fixed on the bizarre spectacle below.
The palace rose from the sand like some fever dream – a grotesque fusion of European castle architecture and American patriotic colors. Stars and stripes banners hung from every tower and battlement, their red, white, and blue colors severely contrasting the color of the weathered stone.
The assembled Servants spread out along the ridgeline, each taking their own position to survey the stronghold.
Emiya stood with his arms crossed, his red mantle catching the desert wind as his sharp eyes analyzed potential entry points.
Beside him, Jalter clicked her tongue in irritation at the gaudy display of patriotism, the black edges of her battle dress rippling
Elizabeth perched on a boulder, her tail swishing back and forth as she hummed quietly to herself.
Rama kept a warrior's stance, his hand never far from his sword.
Robin Hood was checking the amount of arrows he had at the ready.
Nightingale stood ramrod, her medical kit at the ready, her expression severe as she likely contemplated the medical conditions of those within the castle walls.
Tesla's voice resonated in Juro's mind
"I have something I want all of you to do during this time."
"Something to do?"
"We'd like you to unravel the mystery of Edison."
"?"
"For one thing, he's taken a strange form, even for a servant."
"Yeah, I noticed that."
"But more suspicious than anything is what he's up to. In order to have large amounts of soldiers, he's brainwashing and drugging them. I know what he was like in life, but this is too far, even for him."
" Hah..I can't stand this. If I met him, you couldn't stop me from killing him."
"Exactly, that's what I thought. The guy seems way too crazy for what I remembered him as."
"Mm. He's not who he was, so there must be a reason why. And I want you to uncover that reason: The truth of the President King."
The familiar electronic buzz of Romani's projection emanated from Juro's watch, his holographic form flickering against the desert air.
"It's almost time to head in. Kick the mechanized infantry out of the way, break into the palace, and head straight to Edison—"
"A TRUE HERO KILLS WITH HIS EYES!"
The thunderous declaration split the air like a divine pronouncement.
The faces of the group all tensed at the same time.
A brilliant light erupted above, somehow making the already bright desert sky even more brilliant.
For a split second, the light stopped shining.
Then…
The attack moved faster than human perception, obliterating the entire mountain where they stood. Rock and earth exploded outward as the foundation crumbled beneath them.
"Juro! Are you alright?!" Romani's panicked voice crackled through the comms.
"We've detected a Servant at the palace wall!" A Chaldea operator's voice cut through the chaos.
"It's Karna!" Another confirmed with dread.
Romani's mind raced—how had they been spotted? They were 920 miles out, well beyond any normal detection range.
Unless...
In Chaldea's control room, the monitoring screens suddenly erupted with static and interference.
"What's going on?! I can't monitor Fujimaru anymore!" Da Vinci yelled.
Romani watched in horror as a familiar Leonine face materialized on their screens—
Thomas Edison.
The impossible had happened; somehow he had breached Chaldea's communications across time itself.
"This technology..." Romani muttered in disbelief.
Edison's lion-headed form spoke with 'kingly' authority.
"I heard the news about the failed assassination on Medb. At this point, I'd hoped you all would finally become our allies... But it seems there is no point."
Romani swallowed.
"Stars!" Helena Blavatsky's voice rang out.
Countless grimoires materialized around her, ancient tomes detailing various kinds of magecraft, spinning in complex patterns as they opened to unleash concentrated beams of magical energy.
The attacks linked on the spot where Karna had struck, creating a devastating lightshow.
Blast after blast, the attacks were unrelenting.
Colors flashed as the beams traveled through the air, warping, but still keeping their main trajectory.
For a moment, only smoke and silence remained.
Then—a flash of steel cut through the haze.
Two blades.
Two figures emerged at incredible speed:
Karna and Emiya, their forms blurring as they engaged in combat, slashing at various Mechanized Infantry while dodging Helena's continued assault.
Fire and smoke trailed in their wake as they raced across the battlefield.
Within 30 seconds, they had reached the wall.
Emiya dropped into a crouch without breaking stride. Rama seized the opportunity, using the Archer as a springboard to launch himself skyward with explosive force. The sonic boom of his leap shattered the air.
"Yahh!!" Rama's battle cry accompanied his downward strike at Karna.
"Tch."
The Hero of Charity barely managed to block the blade, only to find Emiya appearing from his blind spot, twin swords descending.
Karna glided backward, evading the coordinated assault.
"I figured Rama would come, but I was not expecting you, Archer of Chaldea!"
Meanwhile, Elizabeth had engaged Helena, her spear thrust meeting an invisible barrier with the sound of cracking glass.
"Quit annoying my friends!"
Frustration suddenly crossed the Servant's features.
"A barrier?!"
Helena's voice carried a note of knowing sympathy as she took note of the Lancer's face.
It seemed much more aggressive than usual.
"You may have healed on the outside, but the inside is a different story."
"Don't give me life lessons!"
Gunfire erupted from below as Edison's mechanized infantry opened fire on Elizabeth.
One bullet grazed her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Protect Miss Helena!" The soldiers cried in unison.
Elizabeth spun her lance in a defensive pattern, deflecting bullets while snarling.
"These pigs...!"
"Don't kill them!" Robin Hood's voice cut through the chaos from his perch atop a fallen soldier.
"There's people inside the suits!"
80% human, 20% machine, all of them drugged and brainwashed into serving their "country."
"I know!" Elizabeth snapped back, adjusting her attacks to incapacitate rather than kill.
Robin's arrows flew with surgical precision, targeting joints and mechanical components while sparing the human operators.
Helena took note of this.
"How does he know?!"
It was simple really. The mechanized infantry were much more agile than an average human, but still, they were just that, Mechanized. Their movements would never match the same as a human.
So by differentiating between those two key factors, Robin managed to figure out which ones were mechanized infantry, and which ones were 'Mechanized' infantry.
Back at the mountain's debris, Juro coughed and waved away the smoke.
He looked up at Jalter with genuine gratitude.
"Thanks, Jeanne."
Her wall of black flames had somehow withstood Karna's divine attack, something he found absolutely mindboggling, but hey, it worked.
She merely responded with silence, her golden eyes fixed on the battle unfolding before them.
"We'd better go now," Nightingale said.
While fighting against Emiya and Rama, Karna managed to catch a glimpse of the three entering the palace.
"Even now that you've declared them enemies, you still wish to talk with them."
He shook his head.
"How arrogant and Naive, Edison."
_______________________________
The doors to the palace chamber swung open, and Juro's group entered, taking in the vast space bathed in chandelier light.
The room bore a strange resemblance to the Oval Office, yet obviously laced with various elements of Medival influence.
At the far end, Thomas Edison stood, his lion-like form against a large window. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he took them in.
"I don't understand. You are all defeated. The resistance has fallen. So why do you persist as enemies?"
"We are not your enemies," Nightingale replied, her voice steady. "I am here to examine you."
A look of confusion flickered across Edison's face. "Examine...? What is this Berserker talking about? My body and mind are perfectly healthy!"
Suddenly, the doors burst open, and a regiment of mechanized infantry marched in, metal boots pounding in unison.
The ground beneath Edison rumbled as the soldiers snapped into formation, their cold, metallic eyes fixed on the intruders.
"Behold the proof!" Edison declared. He raised his hand high, and his soldiers responded in one voice:
"INDUSTRY AND DOMINATION!"
"INDUSTRY AND DOMINATION!"
"WE DEDICATE OUR LIVES TO THE PROTECTION OF THE PRESIDENT-KING!"
"AS THE HEROIC SPIRITS WHO PROTECT THIS NATION, WE ARE CALLED TO THE GREAT THRONE!"
Juro's teeth clenched, anger simmering at the robotic echoes of the mechanized soldiers.
Edison seemed unbothered by the tension, gesturing at the crowd of soldiers filling the room. "Do you see this approval rate? There is no greater proof. I am correct! I am a heroic spirit without flaw!"
"What a joke!" Juro shouted.
Through the comms, Romani's voice crackled in agreement. "A heroic spirit using the very people he was meant to protect!"
Juro pointed at the President King. "You're unfit to lead America! There's something seriously wrong with you!"
Edison clutched his face, his expression twisting.
"You keep saying that… I am— Gah!" A strange look of pain flashed across his face, his clawed fingers tightening against his head.
The air itself went quiet as the realization of what he had just done set in.
And who was in his presence when he did it.
"Oh no…"
"A R E Y O U I N P A I N?"
Edison faltered. "I'm perfectly normal!"
"You claim to be perfectly normal," Nightingale continued, a hint of menace in her tone, "but stubborn types like you always say so."
Her gaze sharpened as she turned to Juro and Jeanne Alter. "Jeanne Alter, Takahashi—assist me. We must anesthetize him."
Juro nodded. Jeanne Alter gave no response, though she drew her sword with a fiery glare.
With a fierce look, Nightingale pointed at Edison. "As a means of healing this land, and as a step toward ending this war… we will heal you, Edison!"
The mechanized infantry clanked their way into formation around Edison, forming a wall between him and the others, their arm guns raised.
"You will not pass!" they chanted, as the soldiers around the room sealed off all visible exits.
Forcible conscription. Ideological reeducation. Drugging.
These were the methods President-King Edison had chosen to compel citizens into battle, the brutal conclusion he'd reached to protect his country—a warped vision of patriotism.
The ideals of invention, twisted into domination.
This was his vision for America's salvation.
Yet, a question had long echoed in Edison's mind, haunting him in the moments of silence, bouncing off the walls of his conscience.
"King of Invention, Edison. For the heroic spirit you claim to be, were you really…"
Edison looked over his mechanized army, filling the room to its very edges. The white floor was hidden beneath a sea of metal and synthetic armor.
Not a single part of the ground was visible beneath the vast crowd of soldiers, their metallic limbs shifting, rattling, waiting for his command. He swallowed, briefly caught in the spectacle of it all.
"…this brutal?"
In the middle of that metal tide, surrounded on all sides, stood Juro, Nightingale, and Jeanne Alter.
The battle had already begun in a racket of clanging metal, booming gunfire, and the cries of soldiers caught in close combat.
The little space allowed little room for his troops to work, causing many to stand motionless, helplessly watching as the Heroic Spirits tore through the lines.
Nightingale moved with immense speed, grabbing one soldier's gun arm and delivering a swift strike to the head, sending the mechanized unit collapsing to the floor, its human operator within knocked out.
She turned to the next, weaving through the soldiers in close, unrelenting combat.
To her, these were patients needing liberation, even if through force.
Jalter was ready to summon her flames, her fingers twitching as dark flames danced in her hands.
But before she could unleash her flames, Juro grabbed her arm.
"Relax! There are humans in there, remember?!"
She groaned, her frustration clear as she jerked her arm away, glaring daggers at Juro.
She gripped her sword tighter and switched to the back of her blade with visible irritation.
Even in her little compliance, soldiers went flying as she cut through the crowd, the sheer force of her strikes sending metal limbs and shattered weapons scattering.
Metal clashed, sparks flew, and the dense ranks of mechanized soldiers advanced on them, cutting off any path forward.
Edison watched with a manic look on his face.
"The speed with which you're pushing forward amazes me!" he shouted, his voice resonating through the chamber.
"But with the sheer number of my mechanized infantry, you won't be able to keep this up for long!"
He thrust his hand forward, and in response, another wave of mechanized soldiers poured from the ceiling, dropping into the room.
The floor shook under the weight of new reinforcements, each soldier stepping into the crowd, replacing those who had been defeated.
Romani, observing the scene from Chaldea, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed.
"These soldiers aren't as powerful as Heroic Spirits, but their sheer numbers compensate for that. Could this level of production be Edison's unique Noble Phantasm?"
He studied the stream of soldiers crowding the room, appearing as quickly as they fell in battle. "But…" Romani murmured to himself, "this kind of production power… This goes beyond what a Heroic Spirit can manage alone. Could this be the mystery Tesla hinted at?"
Turning to his side, Romani called out, "Leonardo."
Da Vinci, seated at another console monitoring Fujimaru's battle, glanced up at the urgency in his voice.
"Let's switch. I need you here," he said.
She nodded, quickly making her way to Romani's station. She took her place at the control panel and swiftly pulled up Edison's data.
"Juro," she called out through the comms, her voice filled with a reassuring calm. "We've started analyzing Edison's abilities. Just hold out a little longer!"
"Got it!"
Meanwhile, outside the palace, a different battle raged.
Karna and Rama clashed on a nearby hillside, their forms blurring as they zipped across the battlefield. The two warriors met at various points, their strikes creating shockwaves that tore through the ground and sent debris flying.
"As expected," Karna remarked with a calm look on his face. "Fighting Rama, the hero of the Ramayana, is the pinnacle of experiences."
Rama's blade swung through the air, attempting to strike the target
"To wield such strength while separated from your master, who is your main source of mana, is nothing short of incredible." Karna continued.
"Yes, without a doubt, you are one of the strongest on this continent."
"To be praised by you of all people right now!" Rama yelled.
"Karna!" Rama's voice strained as he clashed swords with Karna again, "why would a so-called hero of charity ally himself with Edison?"
Karna pushed Rama back with a grunt, his face impassive. "When Edison asked for my help, I couldn't refuse. To me, brutality is an unfortunate, yet inevitable part of war."
In a powerful motion, Karna thrust his spear into the ground, forcing Rama off-balance. With a sweeping arc, he sliced the earth, sending chunks of ground flying upward in a massive radius. The impact shattered the land, forcing Rama back as he struggled to find his footing.
But just as Karna raised his spear to continue his assault, a shadow lunged at him from behind. Emiya moved in, his twin blades flashing as they met Karna's spear with a loud clash.
Karna met Emiya's intense gaze, his respect evident. "Archer of Chaldea. Though you are an Archer, your skill in close combat is admirable. A true hero."
"Don't call me that," Emiya retorted sharply.
Karna tilted his head, surprised. "But that is what you are, is it not? A hero—"
Emiya's answer came in the form of a swift kick to Karna's side, sending him sliding back.
"I told you already," Emiya said, his voice cold as he raised his blades again, the light reflecting off their edges.
Karna smiled, his interest piqued. "How interesting."
Helena Blavatsky watched from behind the palace walls, her gaze fixed on the battle outside as debris flew and spells flashed. The sight of heroes clashing stirred something both awed and indifferent in her.
"They're really making a scene out there, huh? Guess that's heroes of legend for you," she sighed.
"You seem pretty calm, Caster," Robin Hood's voice echoed from behind her, his crossbow aimed steadily at her back.
Elizabeth raised her lance with a smirk. "You even withdrew your troops. Planning to surrender, maybe?"
Helena turned to face them with a faint, mysterious smile. "To me, it looks more like you're the ones who should surrender."
She tilted her head, her tone calm and unsettlingly casual. "How was it, seeing him in person? Cú Chulainn—the demon who even defeated Geronimo."
Robin's expression hardened, but Helena continued before he could answer.
"Do you really think that boy can win? Can you place your lives in the hands of a young kind-hearted man who even now disagrees with Edison's ways? A boy who can barely wield his own magecraft?"
Elizabeth raised her head. "I trusted him with my life in France and Rome!" she declared.
Robin gave a resigned sigh, scratching his head. "Honestly… I don't know if he'll win."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried."
He looked at Blavatsky, his gaze steady. "But you've got the wrong idea from the start."
"My old ally was killed. My kind friend left this world. And he passed our mission to that kid."
Robin's tone was solemn, but behind it was a quiet resolve. "And that's enough for me."
"Plus, he's a fellow manzai."
He raised his crossbow, his determination firm. "We'll struggle right to the end while we carry that kid!"
Helena's lips curled into a smile.
"Good!"
She swept her hand forward, summoning her tomes to float around her once more.
Inside the palace, the clash was reaching its peak.
Nightingale swung a fierce right hook, sending the final soldier crumpling to the floor with a satisfying thud.
"I think that was the last of 'em," Juro panted, scanning the room filled with unconscious soldiers.
"That took wayyy too long."
Nightingale looked around, her eyes narrowing. "It seems Edison escaped."
Juro opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze froze as a faint orange light gleamed in the distance.
It was growing larger.
His heart dropped.
"JEANNE! USE THE FLAME WALL!"
A sudden beam of concentrated magical energy shot from a distant tower, slamming into the building with explosive force, reducing part of it to rubble.
Juro's group emerged from the smoke and debris, shaken but unharmed.
Jeanne Alter, however, was visibly drained from summoning the flame wall.
"...Hm, I'm quite surprised a flame wall could block that," Edison's voice boomed from a speaker atop the distant tower.
"But my magical energy projection cannon, my PRESIDENTIAL CANNON, rivals the output of a mythological Noble Phantasm!"
The cannon was a fusion of magecraft and technology, merging Edison's inventive genius with supernatural power to exert unprecedented mana projections.
For many, the sight of such a creation would be jaw-dropping.
But Da Vinci merely stifled a laugh.
"Pffft… Haha! This is just so stupid!"
Romani glanced at her from his console, alarmed. "What are you laughing about? They're in a bad situation!"
"I know, I know!" Da Vinci chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. "But his taste is atrocious!" She regained her composure and turned serious.
"All right, sorry, sorry. But with that last attack, I've completed his analysis."
She addressed Juro through the communicator. "His abnormal production capacity? It's due to something like a Mystic Code, Takahashi."
Obviously, a mystic code could not be a mental thought container. Rather, the term mystic code best fit for what Edison's thought processes were. A mystic code could strengthen the use of magecraft when used. Edison's thought processes were allowing him to produce much more than usual. So the term mystic code was the best in this situation.
"Normally, Mystic Codes strengthen a mage's spells. But here, Edison's thought processes themselves form a sort of 'Mystic Code', amplifying his industrial strength and output!"
Edison's voice rang out, almost as if he could hear their conversation. "Brilliant deduction! But let me tell you the rest myself."
The lion-headed figure raised his voice, his tone swelling with pride.
"The ones in power in this nation… They became Servants, yet they knew they could never stand against the Celts. So they entrusted their powers to me. They consolidated their strength in me to protect America!"
A mad glint flickered in his eyes. "Who are they, you ask?" He bellowed with intensity. "They are the PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!"
Da Vinci, back at Chaldea, muttered, "So he's possessed by the thoughts—the wrath of all the presidents…"
Edison roared in response, hearing her unspoken question. "No! These are not just their anger. These are their dreams!" His eyes blazed as he readied the cannon for another shot.
Da Vinci tensed, noticing the power buildup. "He's charging up another shot! Takahashi! Nightingale! Get behind-"
But before she could finish, Nightingale lunged, grabbing Juro and propelling him forward in a wild dash.
"...I mean, you two have a chance of getting shot down... But I like the craziness."
Watching the chaotic scene, Jeanne Alter readied her sword with a scowl. "Crazy nurse is pissed off. Guess he is, too."
Edison had fired at the very building filled with his own unconscious soldiers, showing no regard for their lives. That disregard, that callous carelessness—that was what drove both Nightingale and Juro to anger.
But as Da Vinci watched, she gasped, noticing the cannon now locked directly on them. "Wait! He's aiming right at you! Get out of the way!"
But the group did not move. Instead, Juro's face shifted into determination.
The memory of a conversation flashed through Juro's mind.
"Takahashi, Fujimaru, let me teach you a new way to fight," Da Vinci had said, pushing up her glasses.
Juro was 200% sure she simply got new glasses to look cooler.
"A new way?" Fujimaru asked.
Juro yawned as he scratched his head.
"...It won't be something dumb, right?"
"Oh, ye of little faith!"
"Anyways, since the first singularity, you and Fujimaru have gotten a good amount of servants summoned into Chaldea, right? So why not take advantage of that?"
"It would be a waste not to use the excess fighting strength."
Juro took a deep breath, leaping off Nightingale's back as she launched him forward. His hand extended, and his Command Seal began to glow a fierce red.
"So, just call them when you need their help in a singularity."
"The powers, the shadows of the heroic spirits you both have contracted with!"
A fiery circle pulsed around his outstretched hand.
"You should have told us this, like, 3 singularities ago!!"
"Ah, uhh… bleh."
"Don't play it off!!"
"Come forth, Kiyohime!"
A spectral image of Kiyohime manifested from his hand, rising as a shadow form with her unmistakable aura.
She roared her Noble Phantasm in a fury.
"TENSHIN KASH ZANMAI!"
In a flash, a brilliant green dragon of smoke materialized, coiling around itself as it rose into the sky.
It curled upward before locking onto its target: the cannon's battery source. With a blinding rush, the dragon dove, leaving a trail of emerald smoke before exploding in a wave of flame, shattering the cannon's power source.
Juro leaped off the spectral dragon's back as it vanished, watching as the massive cannon exploded in a blast that sent both Edison and his mechanized soldiers flying.
Edison tumbled across the ground, shocked.
He quickly processed what had happened. "Instantaneous Servant Summoning…" Edison muttered, realization dawning.
Juro had used his bond with Chaldea's Servants, calling upon them like shadows to strike in rapid succession.
"So this… this is how Masters of Chaldea fight…" Edison growled, a grudging respect in his voice.
Somewhere in Chaldea, a certain Kiyohime let out an excited squeal, like a girl that had been proposed to.
Edison looked up from the ground, his lion-like face battered, and his gaze met the stern expression of Florence Nightingale. Her figure loomed over him, a steady resolve in her eyes.
"You wish to heal me…" Edison chuckled, though his voice was strained.
"Are you trying to separate me from the presidents' thoughts?"
He laughed, almost mockingly. "Is that even possible?! We are one body, one min—"
CRACK!
His words were cut off as his head snapped back, struck by fierce punch from Nightingale.
"Gah!" he gasped, clutching his jaw in surprise.
Nightingale pulled back her fist, undeterred.
"You are not one body and mind, Edison. If you were, you wouldn't be suffering these self-reported symptoms you keep ignoring."
"What are you talking about?" he muttered, shifting his jaw back into place. "I told you, I'm perfectly hea—"
CRACK!
His head snapped back once again, her punch landing with unerring precision.
Nightingale's eyes bore into him.
"You are a genius, Edison. You took existing inventions like the telephone and the light bulb and refined them, made them affordable, mass-produced. You understand progress, efficiency, the need for improvement. You must know, then," she continued, "that what you've been doing here is wrong."
"That's why I must expend all resources!" Edison shouted, his voice desperate.
"I have to protect America!"
"Even if those resources are human lives?" Nightingale asked quietly, her voice a mixture of pity and judgment.
Edison fell silent.
"The presidents you speak of may have decided it was acceptable. But you, Thomas Alva Edison… you did not." She looked at him with an unyielding stare. "You were many things—an inventor, a workaholic, even a controversial figure in your time. But a man who would approve of mass sacrifice? No."
Romani's voice crackled through the comms, almost hesitant. "Head Nurse…"
CRACK!
But the silence didn't last long—Nightingale's fist connected once again with Edison's jaw, knocking him back before he could protest.
"But even so!"
Romani sputtered, while Juro simply nodded, his arms crossed.
'Your lack of conviction led you to this. You turned a blind eye to the murder, out of cowardice. And that's inexcusable."
Nightingale raised her fist once more, her eyes fierce with conviction. "And that is the reason…"
Her fist crashed into Edison's face with the force of a hammer.
"THAT IS WHY YOU WERE DEFEATED BY NIKOLA TESLA!"
Somewhere in America, a loud GAHOOOOOO! rang out, as if Tesla himself had felt the declaration.
Edison let out a defeated sigh as he crumpled to the ground, hand covering his bruised face. "Gafu… Gafu…" His breath came in slow, labored gasps. "I've lost…"
He lowered his head, his hand covering his eyes. "I admit it. My weak will led me to sacrifice those I was meant to protect. I don't say this to excuse myself. I am genuine."
Nightingale regarded him with the composed expression of a doctor witnessing a breakthrough. "To heal, one must first accept that they are unwell."
"Never heard that one before!!" Juro thought.
Edison's shoulders slumped as he took in her words.
"You have now at last returned to the starting point." Nightingale said.
The lion-headed man nodded.
"After this many sacrifices, I've finally... Oh, dear... What shall I do from here…?"
Juro stepped forward, squatting beside him.
"I told you before, Edison—you weren't fit to lead America as you were. You were turning a country founded on freedom into a dictatorship. But that doesn't mean you're unfit to lead entirely."
Edison looked up, uncertainty mingling with curiosity.
Juro continued, his voice growing warmer. "I got mad because I knew the Thomas Edison I learned about in school, the Edison I read about, was a great person and inventor. Someone who kept going, who believed in the United States' ideals to the end."
Juro smiled.
"There are kids out there who look up to you. And I'm one of them. I knew you wouldn't really do those things, deep down."
Edison's hand came to his face, emotion finally breaking through his prideful façade. A child, from his own country's future, had believed in him from the start. That was the point where he needed to change.
Nightingale's voice was soft yet steady as she recited, "E pluribus unum. Out of many, one. You, as a nation made up of many people, represent the children of all nations. And the things you have created, Edison, will be carried on by those children."
Edison looked up, her words settling within him.
"We cannot save only America," she continued. "We have a greater duty, an 'Order' to heal this world and its history. So if you have been healed, Edison… it's your turn to heal in return. Please, join us."
Edison remained silent for a moment, considering. Finally, he stood, raising his fist, his eyes alive with purpose.
"Truthfully, I don't yet know how to heal the world or defeat the Celts," he said. "But now that I've committed to it, I will find a way. I'll invent something to save the world! This time… I won't make any mistakes!"
Juro grinned, extending his hand. "Glad to be working with you, Mr. Edison."
The lion-headed man took his hand in his large, powerful grip.
"And I with you, Takahashi." His eyes gleamed with a sudden recollection. "Ah, but I forgot—a president always has a vice president at their side. Sometimes, they're even more capable than the president themselves."
"Does that mean-"
He turned, eyes blazing with determination. "Caster, Thomas Alva Edison. I will use this knowledge to heal the world! Chaldea… No, my Master!"
◈◆◈
Outside the palace, Scáthach and Nikola Tesla waited as Li Shuwen arrived with a small caravan of survivors trailing behind him.
"You're back," Scáthach greeted him with a nod. "Any update on the Dead Apostle?"
"Unfortunately, no. I couldn't find it. But attacks seem to be decreasing, so perhaps one of the Celtic Servants dealt with it," Li replied, frowning slightly.
"Or perhaps it's biding its time." Scáthach's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
As they walked down the palace's grand hallway, Li turned to her. "So, we're finally beginning the assault?"
Scáthach gave a faint smirk. "You make it sound as though we're about to wade through a sea of blood."
They reached a large meeting room with a massive table in the center, where Juro and his Servants were already seated. At the head of the room stood Edison, visibly tensed and trying to maintain his composure. The moment he spotted Tesla, however, his composure shattered.
"You! What the hell are you doing here, you lunatic?!" Edison bellowed, his voice echoing through the room.
Juro groaned, bracing himself. "Oh no…"
Tesla, his eyes glinting with an infuriatingly smug smile, inclined his head with a mockingly respectful nod.
"Ah, my apologies, young Takahashi. But it seems this mediocre fool loses his mind at the sight of a true genius. This... is exactly what makes you so mediocre, Edison."
"You're dead!!" Edison shouted, charging toward him.
Before he could close the distance, Blavatsky intervened, grabbing both of their ears and pulling them down to her level. "SHUT. UP."
Juro sighed, staring into the distance. "Here we are… lion-headed Edison and steampunk Tesla, squabbling like school kids. And somehow, this isn't even the weirdest thing I've seen."
Emiya leaned over. "Who you betting on?"
"Edison," Juro replied immediately.
Romani's voice crackled over the comms. "All right, let's move on and get back on track, everyone." With a sigh, he refocused the room's attention on the strategy. "Right now, we have a total of twelve Servants under our command. That gives us a fighting chance, but we'll need to plan carefully."
"Speaking of which…" Romani looked around, realizing something. "Where's Jeanne Alter?"
Juro sighed, getting up from his chair. "I'll go look for her."
He had a feeling he knew where she was.
He set his watch on the table so Romani's hologram could continue to relay information, then left the room, closing the door behind him.
Romani continued speaking to the group.
"Now, about the singularity's overall state—based on the data we've gathered, we've observed an unsettling correlation." Romani pulled up a series of maps, each one depicting the expanding territories of the Celtic and American forces across America.
"The Celtic army's territory seems directly linked to the 'size' of the singularity itself. The more territory they gain, the harder it becomes to observe this timeline clearly. It's not just that our visibility is decreasing—the singularity is physically expanding."
Emiya leaned forward, his brows knitted in concern. "So it's not just one small point of instability?"
"Exactly. The singularity is expanding into a sort of 'belt.' If this trend continues, the singularity could consume a vast portion of human history, making it impossible to repair," Romani continued.
"So if we lose too much land then America—and possibly human history itself—becomes unsalvageable," He finished.
"So effectively Edison's actions…" Karna began.
"Saved this country." Nightingale finished.
"But that doesn't mean my actions were forgivable. I'll take it from here." Edison said.
His eye, still slightly swollen from his earlier scuffle with Tesla, hardened as he nodded solemnly. "My actions may have been questionable… but I'll accept responsibility for them."
He glanced at Blavatsky, who gave a small approving nod.
"With this information in mind," Edison went on, "there's really only one way to stop Cú Chulainn and Queen Medb. And that is—"
"To storm in and beat the crap out of them!" Elizabeth Bathory interrupted with a delighted grin.
"Precisely!!" Edison yelled as he pointed at her.
Robin Hood stood up from his chair.
"I thought you were going to announce some master plan, not 'Let's charge in and start swinging!!'"
"I can understand why you'd be surprised, but that is the truth. Our strategy is as follows: Based on our predictions of the Celt's movements, we will split into two armies: North and south. One army will continue to fight to protect our territory. Meanwhile, the other will advance to the capital to take out Cu Chulainn and Medb."
"If you already have that much figured out, why gather everyone together?" Li Shuwen asked. "Is this really a strategy meeting?
"Now we're getting to the heart of the matter." Blavatsky begun. "The Celtic army is actually only made up of a few great heroes from legend. But they receive backup from the grail holder, and the Celtic warriors and magic beasts can multiply endlessly. We also need to consider our own capabilities when it comes to deciding who will defend our territory and who will destroy our enemies."
She took a deep breath, her voice softening. "And we don't make that decision lightly."
Scáthach nodded. "In the end, there is little left to discuss." She looked to the door where Juro had exited. "The final decision must be his."
Edison slammed his hand on the table, his eyes blazing.
"We can't force that responsibility on a mere boy!"
"He's not a mere boy," Scáthach countered, her gaze unyielding. "He is the only human here, and this decision—one of life, of history—is his burden to carry. This fight mustn't be decided by spirits alone, but by the will of humanity."
She looked around the room at the Heroic Spirits gathered there. "For all our power, we are ghosts, relics of the past. The path forward must be shaped by the living, by a human willing to take on that weight, painful as it may be."
Blavatsky nodded, her expression solemn. "Only Takahashi can make this choice."
______________________
Juro wandered the palace corridors, his hands tucked in his pockets, a faint smirk on his face.
"Maybe I should just go, 'Yoo-hooo, Jeanne-san! Yoo-hoo…!' out loud," he muttered, amused at the thought.
The halls were quieter than usual, save for the occasional hushed conversation between passing infantry soldiers. Approaching a pair of guards, he put on a casual tone.
"Hey, you guys seen a edgy, white-haired girl around here? Looks perpetually pissed, probably scowling right now."
The taller soldier shrugged, but his partner nudged him.
"Actually, yeah, we did."
"We did?"
"The one who punched Carl in the face when he tried talking to her."
"Ohhh, that one,"
"Pretty sure she was heading toward the garden."
"A-thank-a you, gentlemen," Juro said, giving them a mock salute as he walked off.
As he left, he could still hear their conversation.
"Man, I kinda like those tough, bitter types, you know? The kind that'll call you names but secretly likes you…"
"You seriously need to get checked."
"Am I wrong, though?"
"…"
"I'll shut up now."
Juro chuckled, shaking his head.
Jalter would roast your tongue for calling her anything even close to "bitter." And honestly, she had been even worse when she was first summoned to Chaldea.
The memory of her attempt to stab him—he could still feel the chill in her glare and the burn in her words.
Finally stepping outside, he shivered slightly in the cool night air. He didn't need a jacket, but the chill made him acutely aware of how empty and quiet the garden was under the moonlight.
There, sitting atop a stone wall, was Jalter. She held a flickering flame between her fingers, tossing it from hand to hand as if it were a mere toy.
The glow highlighted her focused, stormy expression.
He took a few steps toward her, watching the light dance in her hands, trying to decide how to start.
But before he could call out, she hopped down from the wall, striding past him without a glance.
She brushed his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble, her eyes fixed ahead, her expression unreadable.
Juro froze, momentarily thrown off balance. He wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that seemed to grow wider every time they crossed paths.
To check in with her, maybe even to ask why she was always keeping everyone, even him, at arm's length.
But as he opened his mouth, the words refused to come out, gripped by some primal hesitation. A feeling he couldn't name held him back.
By the time he'd gathered the resolve, Jeanne was already gone, her footsteps swallowed by the night.
He clenched his fist, frustration mounting as he stared down at the gravel path. Again. He had let the chance slip by again.
Why couldn't he just talk to her? What was stopping him from breaking through?
He looked at his open hand and clenched it.
___________________________________________
Juro sighed as he gazed out at the vast, silent night sky. Stars sparkled faintly, distant but unchanging, while he wrestled with the reality that weighed on his mind.
Ah, a full moon.
He'd heard about the decision awaiting him—the role that Scáthach, Blavatsky, and the others believed should fall on his shoulders.
A human's choice, they called it.
But the thought of sending people to confront Medb again stirred something heavy in him. He'd seen too much, and he didn't want to repeat past mistakes.
And yet, they all looked to him.
The decision was his to make: who would lead the offensive and who would defend.
Helena Blavatsky, when asked, had told him it was his call. She added, though, that Karna should be free to choose his own path.
Karna's wish was to fight Arjuna, the rival who had slain him in life.
Blatvatsky then gave Juro a small, knowing smile, thanking him for giving them all a second chance.
Juro had managed a chuckle and a nod, but inside, a knot of unease only grew tighter.
Scáthach had been more direct, telling him that she wouldn't let things slide if the formations were weak, though she didn't much care which unit she'd be in. Her only focus was fighting Cú Chulainn.
Li Shuwen, too, wanted to be on the offensive, having seen an enemy Berserker during his search for the Dead Apostle—a Berserker he'd felt a strong urge to challenge.
They're all choosing for themselves, Juro realized, as he recalled his earlier conversation with Scáthach.
"Why do you need to fight him alone?" he'd asked, his throat dry as he tried to mask his concern.
Scáthach's answer had been calm, resolute. She'd already faced Cú Chulainn and planned to hold him off herself, giving the others a chance to press forward.
When Tesla spoke up next, he'd insisted on going southward, aiming to keep Medb out of the way.
And Elizabeth… her answer had been so simple. "I trust you, puppy. Do as you like!" she'd chirped.
Robin Hood, as usual, was more nonchalant, telling Juro with a shrug, "I don't see why you need to make this decision if you don't want to."
Not exactly helpful.
He glanced down at a folded piece of paper in his pocket, the list that Rama had given him. It held two columns, dividing the forces by strength.
North Army: Edison, Helena Blavatsky, Elizabeth, and Li Shuwen.
South Army: Juro, Jeanne Alter, Rama, Emiya, Scáthach, Tesla, and Karna.
Rama had marked it with a small note explaining that the offense-heavy South should be their priority, so most of their strength had been allocated there. The North was set to hold out, though Rama admitted it would likely take heavy losses. But, strategically, it made sense.
"Is this… finalized?" Juro had asked hesitantly.
"No, it is merely a suggestion," Rama had replied. "As your Servants, we don't want you to bear all this responsibility alone. Please accept our proposal. We would not wish to burden you further."
Emiya had stepped forward then, his expression firm.
"Master, we know this isn't easy for you. But all we're asking is that you be prepared to face our enemies. There's no need to shoulder every single weight. If it were possible, we wouldn't let you bear any obligation at all. But... we can't."
Juro now looked out over the dark, quiet horizon, clenching the paper in his hands. It was strange, this role he'd been given—not as a fighter or strategist but as the one who had to bring them all together.
They had their own reasons for fighting, their own ghosts, rivalries, and oaths that even a singularity couldn't erase.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced down at the list.
Juro sighed heavily, his gaze wandering back to the night sky, searching the stars as if they held the answers he so desperately needed. "What do I do, man?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper in the stillness.
"You'll freeze out here."
"GYAGH!?" Juro jumped, startled as a calm, familiar voice spoke up from behind him. He spun around to find Florence Nightingale, standing there quietly, her presence almost blending in with the night.
"It's been a while since we talked like this in the middle of the night," she said, ignoring his reaction, her tone as clinical and straightforward as always.
"Completely ignoring that you just gave me a heart attack!" Juro clutched his chest dramatically, though a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Nightingale, as usual, didn't acknowledge his comment. Instead, she lifted her gaze to the stars. "Now that we've healed Edison, only one illness remains." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We've come so far."
Juro's smirk faded as he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, leaning his weight against the railing. The gentle, endless expanse before him was in stark contrast to the turmoil brewing in his mind. "I don't know… it just feels… like I'm stuck. Like whatever decision I make, there's a chance it'll be the wrong one."
She stepped up beside him, her voice steady and calm as she spoke. "Whether you choose to bear the burden of deciding for yourself or leave that choice to another, the outcome remains uncertain." She looked out into the distance. "Many lives rest on this decision. It's perfectly normal to feel conflicted."
Juro sighed, slumping further against the railing. "Geronimo was right... I'm just not cut out for this kind of decision."
Nightingale's voice softened, catching him off guard. "But you aren't a hero, Takahashi."
She turned to look at him, her piercing gaze unflinching but filled with understanding. "The weight of stopping humanity's incineration, of deciding the fates of others… those are burdens no single person should have to carry. To bear them, you would have to be mad."
She shifted slightly, folding her hands in front of her. "I know there is another Master—Fujimaru, yes? You are both ordinary people who have somehow made it this far." She tilted her head, a faint glimmer of admiration in her gaze.
"And it's precisely because you struggle with your decisions that you're still here, still willing to do what needs to be done."
Her words settled over him like a calming wave. Despite everything, he'd always approached each mission with good intentions. He'd taken each step forward not because he was certain, but because he wanted to make a difference, no matter how daunting the path.
Juro chuckled weakly. "An iron will… doesn't suit me anyway, does it?"
"No," she agreed softly, her tone almost amused. "It does not. And there's no need to try and force it."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the quiet night wrapping around them. Nightingale's gaze grew distant. "Life is unpredictable. Even if you make a rock-solid foundation, it can crumble from the slightest touch. Death and injury will still happen, no matter how careful you are." She met his gaze. "Do not torment yourself with guilt."
She reached out, her hand resting gently on his, grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. "Takahashi, it's all right to make this decision with a light heart."
Juro felt his cheeks flush, a warmth rising to his face that he quickly hid behind his scarf, looking away from her in embarrassment.
But there was something else beneath his discomfort. She didn't know, did she?
She couldn't know about the part of him he tried to keep hidden—the part of him that wanted to escape the weight of his choices.
That box.
It was a place, deep in his mind, that he could retreat to, locking away his regrets and disappointments. The part of him that, if he made a bad call, could simply… shut it away. Ignore it, numb it, forget it.
The only reason he was struggling now was because he wanted to make this decision himself, not hide behind someone else's choice. For once, he wanted to trust his own judgment, to make a choice he wouldn't have to run from.
"...I just want to make a good decision," he murmured finally, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to keep running away… but…" He trailed off, unsure of how to continue, his hand trembling slightly beneath her calm, steady touch.
Nightingale squeezed his hand suddenly, as if grounding him back in reality.
Just as he was about to say more, a strange, wet squelching sound broke the silence.
"Night…ingale?"
For some reason, he did not want to turn around.
He dreaded the simple thought of turning around.
To turn around would be to face whatever hell was there.
Was there hell?
Takahashi Juro turned his head to the right.
Another squelching sound.
As his head turned further, he saw something red. Something pink and red.
She.
WAS.
Takahashi Juro's eyes stopped on the mark.
dead
The top half of her face was gone, her face and forehead torn apart, leaving only her exposed teeth and the dark cavity where her skull had been. Brain matter glistened grotesquely in the moonlight, still fresh, as if it had only just happened.
She stood frozen for a moment before her body crumpled to the ground, dissolving into golden particles as she began to dematerialize.
Juro's body quaked, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his mind struggled to catch up to the horror in front of him.
"Kah—Kuh—Kha—"
he choked on his own saliva, paralyzed.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to call her name.
But fear gripped his throat, squeezing the life out of his voice, rendering him mute.
"Have you ever heard of a twist?"
Juro turned, his wide eyes locking onto the figure emerging from the shadows.
The man stood there, wrapped in a sickly calm.
A single yellow eye peered out from beneath a cloth that masked the rest of his face.
His wild, red hair spiked out like flames, and he wore only a black cowl with red accents and baggy, ripped trousers, his bare feet making no sound on the cold ground.
"The story's been going so well for you, hasn't it? All these vibrant companions, each with their own quirks… the hero cutting down minor villains, braving one challenge after another, getting closer and closer to the big boss." The figure spread his arms theatrically, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. "And then… boom! A twist! A favorite character dies out of nowhere."
Juro barely registered the man's words, his gaze locked on the remains of Nightingale dematerializing beside him, the last glimmer of golden light fading like a dying ember.
The man tilted his head, his single eye narrowed in mockery.
"Oh, are you even paying attention?"
The world spun as Juro's mind raced between the dissolving form of Nightingale and this deranged stranger.
The man sighed, feigning disappointment. "Oh, you're in shock.," he said, shrugging.
And before Juro could fully process it, a searing pain tore through his right arm.
His arm slid off, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
"UWAHH!!! GAHHHHAHH!!" Juro fell to his knees, clutching at the raw, bleeding stump.
His scream filled the empty night as he tried, desperately, to stop the blood flow.
His vision blurred with the pain.
"Don't think I didn't see what you were trying to do there," the man sneered over the screaming voice of Juro, waving a finger, mocking him. "Calling for your Servants? How sneaky."
He stretched his arms lazily, as though the whole scene bored him. "Not that it matters," he added with a smirk. "They're dealt with already."
Juro's mind reeled, every nerve blazing with agony as he rocked back and forth, clutching at his stump.
"Why…? Who… who are you…?"
The last words had barely left his lips when a brutal kick connected with his face.
Bone shattered, flesh tore, and he felt his skull split as he was flung backward. Pain, unlike anything he'd ever felt, exploded through him as his consciousness began to fade.
The man leaned over Juro's crumpled form, his single yellow eye glinting with vicious satisfaction.
"Remember my name, if your mangled cerebral cortex even lets you think." His voice was low, dripping with malice.
"Olethros. Dead Apostle Ancestor, 28th rank of the Sons of Erebos."