I am disgusting.
I'm still the same weakling.
I'm the same person, I didn't grow, I didn't come out of this experience stronger.
I ran away.
I ran away, again and again.
I'm weak both mentally and physically.
I didn't power through the villain with overwhelming strength.
I didn't power through the overwhelming trauma.
I ran away.
I stored it all away and acted like I did.
I'm disgusting.
Olethros was right.
I just did shit to do shit.
Maybe I was trying to act cool.
Maybe I was trying to just make stuff more interesting.
I'm disgusting.
I told Jalter off and projected onto her. I yelled at her because I was angry at myself.
Takahashi Juro is no one.
He's just another face in the crowd that got lucky.
Nothing else.
Just riding along with real heroes.
No one asked him to come.
No one needed him.
_________________________________________________
Juro hoisted onto the horse with a hup behind Jalter, who firmly held the reins. The horses shifted slightly as their breath misted in the cold morning air.
The sun was still teetering on the horizon, slowly making an appearance as it cast a bright orange glow along the sky.
"Well, Edison and the rest have departed. We should head out as well." Scáthach said as she hoisted on her own horse.
"Scáthach, thanks for everything, you've been a real help." Juro nodded.
She was a huge help against Olethros, one of Juro's winning cards.
Of course, she had no idea.
For some reason.
For some odd reason, no one recalled the creature known as 'Olethros'.
When Juro awoke, it was the next day, and they were heading to their separate destinations.
Everyone had forgotten.
Everything he went through was forgotten, just like that.
Not that it bothered him though.
Right now, fixing the singularity was top priority.
For a reminder, the plan was this:
Two armies were moving forward to secure the resistance and challenge the Celts:
The Northern Army would hold back the invading Celtic forces and maintain the resistance's grip on their territories.The Southern Army would march on the capital to take out Medb.
The Northern Army consisted of:
EdisonHelena BlavatskyElizabethRobin HoodLi Shuwen (Independentent operative)
Emiya
The Southern Army, which Juro joined, included:
KarnaRamaJalterTeslaScáthach (independent operative)Nightingale
Scáthach and Li Shuwen had opted to act independently after completing their initial duties.
"As I said yesterday, I and Tesla will subdue Cu Chulainn himself," Scáthach said as she adjusted the reins. "We'll leave command of the rest of the army to Karna and Rama."
"Please stay safe, Scáthach-san." Emiya said to the woman.
Nightingale, however, did not say anything.
Her gaze hardened as she looked at Scatach, her voice cutting through the chill morning air.
"...Patient care should not be an act of self-sacrifice. Be careful."
Scatach went silent for a moment, before offering a small nod.
What was that about?
With a flick of the reins, she rode off.
"Well then, see you."
Juro turned to Nightingale.
"What's with the cryptic warning?"
Nightingale walked over to her own horse.
"It is not 'cryptic', rather it is just a warning." She said flatly as she hopped on.
Emiya walked over to Juro's horse as Juro looked down at him. He glanced up at his master, his arms crossed in a manner that suggested both frustration and concern.
Earlier, they had established that Emiya would be heading with the north army.
Despite being a valuable asset to the South, being an archer, Emiya was to be sent to the North.
"Master.. Are you sure? I can come along with you, you'll be-"
Takahashi Juro smiled.
"It's fine, I think we'll be fine on this side."
Emiya's face turned slightly pensive, something Juro took notice of.
"Master- just-"
Takhashi Juro's command seal glowed a bright red.
"By this command seal, I command you… Protect those who can't protect themselves."
Emiya's eyes widened. A command spell. It was not a decision to take lightly, yet Juro wielded it without hesitation.
The use of a command seal was a bit much, but Juro needed him to go out there.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of Juro's words filling the air.
Juro gave him a faint, reassuring smile.
"Thank you for being worried about me, Emiya. But there's nothing to worry about anymore. I promise I'll be safe."
Heroic spirit Emiya sighed as he rubbed the back of his head.
"You're a real stubborn master, but I can't ignore those words."
Turning on his heel, Emiya raised a hand in a half-wave, the back of it facing Juro.
"Stay safe, master," he said over his shoulder, his voice tinged with reluctant acceptance.
A hero. That was the ideal Emiya had once pursued—a naive, unattainable dream built on the fragile hope of saving others. He had abandoned that ideal long ago, deeming it foolish.
But just this once…
Just this one time…
He would return to it. For his master. For those who couldn't protect themselves.
_______________________________________
"Perhaps I want to be killed by you."
These were the words of the mentor of Cu Chulainn. His teacher who had taught him almost everything he had known.
Scathach.
"If only you had been born earlier. No, you're too young. So young."
"Sorry."
Words spoken from a place of want, of pleading. Yet the plead could never be answered.
Some fates could never be answered.
____________________________________________
A few days later, Eastern america, White house.
With a splatter of blood, two chimeras fell to the ground, their leonine forms collapsing along the ground as the long purple hair flowed behind the figure.
A chimera was a phantasmal creature that originated from ancient Greece. An amalgamation of many creatures, with the main form being a lion.
On their own, they were quite formidable creatures, often needing small armies to take them down, but to the Queen of the land of the shadows, they were nothing, just obstacles that she needed to cut down.
She continued walking down the hallway, her crimson spear Gáe Bolg Alternative glinting in the flickering light of the hallway torches.
A witch.
A witch who lived in the land of ancient Irish legends, the land of shadows. A guardian who straddled the boundary between the living and the dead.
And as such, a guardian was to protect.
And protect what she had to do.
So that was what she did.
This woman, well versed in Magecraft and martiall arts, fought spirits from dawn to dusk every single day.
This was her life. To kill endlessly, to perform this act of killing again anda gain, with no light in the horizon, forever covered in shadows.
A dozen or so Celtic soldiers ran towards her, their spears raised. They were extremely confident in their ability to take her down.
She simply walked past them.
Within a few seconds, they were sliced into hundreds of pieces, falling to the ground as blood splashed along the walls.
In the end, the woman no longer just slayed humans and ghosts, but gods and monsters.
By this non-discriminate way of killing and killing, she ascended to the realm of the gods, staying on their level.
And by doing this…
Scáthach stood in front of the throne of her pupil.
The woman lost the ability to die.
The mad king rested his head on his knuckle. His face was laced with a taunt, his bright sharp teeth curling up in a cruel smile.
"Breaking into the enemy's stronghold just to stop me from leaving? That's real crazy, my mentor."
She brandished her spear.
"Well, I cannot allow your monstrous form to be witnessed by the public, now can I? Keep your Master company, won't you?"
Cu chulainn had quite the annoyed look on his face, not expecting such a sarcastic response.
Scatach presumed she had won the mental part of this battle.
"Thanks to my conspirator, we have successfully locked you in here with me. So rest easy." She continued.
Outside, the armies of Medb were gathered behind her as she looked at the giant electric arcs that quickly zoomed across the door, barricading it from the outside.
Nikola Tesla raised his arm as he stopped them.
"Apologies, Your Majesty! This area is off-limits. The electric fence should be enough to drive the point home!"
Medb had a look of unbelief on her face.
Back inside, Scatach pointed her spear at the alter servant.
"Anyways, we will be fighting to the death. Do not act as if I am here to merely buy time."
She did not appreciate being labeled as a mere distraction. She was here to fight. And fight was what she was to do.
The mad king stood up as he brandished his own spear.
"Allow your old mentor to relieve you of your head. Let us dance, Setanta." She smiled.
With a deep laugh, Cu Chulainn dragged his hand along the wall, leaving deep gouges as he moved toward her.
If this was a fear tactic, it would not work. In actuality, Scatach found this quite humorous. Like a young boy attempting to make himself seem more bigger, more malevolent.
Scáthach would not falter.
This was no longer her student.
This was no longer her student.
As long as she solidified that fact into her brain, she would fare well.
Quickly, with a powerful boost to her leg, she went in for a thrust, which was swiftly parried by Cu Chulainn.
Their spears clanged against each other as they blitzed each other, their forms zooming across the room.
Their speed was the exact same, not one could outstep the other, nor could the other.
It was like a training session between teacher and student.
A teacher who had given her best to relay information.
And the student who had tried his best to learn.
And both trying their best to defeat each other.
Even after she had gained her immortality, she was still cursed to fight again and again.
Until, one day, a boy who had wanted to be her student came to her.
He was not like the hundreds of other students that had come to her.
There was something different about him.
This boy had introduced himself as Cu Chulainn, the son of Lugh, the sun god.
His potential for growth was amazing, and his strength and prowess were absolutely stupendous.
She chose to train him.
Scatach quickly blocked away a hit.
She retaliated with her own.
The boy was nothing but trouble. Sometimes he would skip training and run away. Sometimes he would pretend he was injured to avoid training.
She had her hands full those days.
Scathach was positively thrilled to have a student who would not back down from a challenge. A student who charged headfirst into danger.
A strange boy.
He would endure training that would leave others vomiting on the ground, with a big smile on his face.
A smile that could light up the world itself.
A 'Child of light'.
He was her greatest student. The light of her endless shadow.
Perhaps those days where her monotony of killing endlessly were…
Perhaps…
The throne room lay in ruins, rubble scattered across the floor.
The two combatants stood off against each other, each attempting to read the other.
Scathach's breaths were shallow, but steady, the only sound cutting through the stillness.
"Out of breath already, my mentor?" Cu Chulainn Alter sneered.
"How kind, Setanta. I am amazed to be hearing that from such a wicked king."
Scáthach looked a the form of her opponent.
He was fast, extremely fast. And one thing was clear, he was stronger than her. In a way, she would have been proud, but given the circumstances, the only thing she could do was acknowledge it.
"....Does it not make you miserable, acting out this role of a 'wicked king'. That just a simple wish from Medb turned you into this?"
The mad king's face soured slightly.
"What makes you think I never wanted to be king? What prompted you to say that?"
"You had never mentioned that wish in life."
"That is true. But isn't it true for servants to harbor new wishes that they didn't in their lives? People change, My mentor."
Scáthach's eyes widened for a moment, before squinting.
"So it really is the reverse."
It was a stupid way to think.
As a result of 'becoming king', he wanted to 'become king'.
Scatach found this contradiction ludicrous.
"What a foolish contradiction. Even though you 0held no wish of ever becoming king nor held any ideals, you still became a king. As a result of that, you must destroy everything."
He could not understand what it meant or what entailed being king. So he acted in the only way he knew.
By destroying everything around him.
It would be his way of solidifying his authority over the land. Surely, It was like if a man stood in a desert, surrounded by no other living life form, then he could be argued to be the king of that land.
"It's fine by me." He said with a toothy smile. "A hero's life is full of contradictions, after all."
"This isn't for Medb, for no one. I wield this spear alone, and no one's gonna stop me."
Scathach stood still as she observed her opponent.
There was a time.
There was a time where she did not want her student to fight. Yes, the very student she taught to fight, she did not want him to fight. A contradiction.
There was a reason, however.
Cu chulainn would fight, yes, but not for glorious reasons, or for honor.
The wars he fought were almost always orchestrated by greedy rulers, who held him in their hands like a pawn. He would have no choice, but to slaughter endlessly, killing even those who were dear to him.
He killed his dear friend, Ferdiad.
She recalled how he would not smile for weeks, not even sparing her a glance her way during their routine training checkups.
The petty desires of greedy kings were his drivers, forcing him to fight. He could not do anything against it. Cu Chulainn was the attack dog that belonged to these corrupted rulers.
One day, he fought an unfamiliar boy who was quite skilled in battle, his fervor matching his own.
Without knowing, Cu Chulainn murdered his son, Connla.
Scathach recalled how he would never smile for the rest of his life. From then on, he killed with not a single display of emotion on his face. Even during times of celebration, he never filled the room with laughter like he had once.
The child of light had sunken into darkness.
Shortly after, Queen Medb took revenge on him, and his life ended.
This was what she hated.
To see her beloved student morphing into the disgusting creatures that drove him to his death. It would not be.
Scathach snarled.
"This fool..!"
"...I refuse to be killed by this 'King' version of yourself!!"
She raised her hand before lifting it into the air.
"I will show you the true Land of Shadows.
Open the curtains to the strange land.
Even your soul is mine!!"
Cu alter's mouth was left agape as a large gate lifted itself from the ground, seemingly sprouting out of the air itself.
The room shuddered as the cursed portal opened.
"Gate of Skye!!"
He and Scatchach yelled.
A noble phantasm that sucked the life force of any lifeform nearby. If a heroic spirit could not resist it, it would be sucked in and die immediately.
As one needed to be in a state of 'death' while entering the gate of shadows, this state of 'death' would be applied to all.
Visible shock spread across the alter servant's face. He knew exactly what this noble phantasm was.
A dark wind tore through the space, pulling everything toward its yawning void. The doors opened up fully, revealing a dark land, where the ground was destroyed and the sky was cracked.
"I banish you to the underworld!" Scathach yelled.
Cu Alter's face twisted with fury as he stabbed his spear into the ground, trying to anchor himself. But alas, the strength of the gust was far too strong.
"You…! Nghh!! I wont..! This won't stop me!" He roared, fighting the pull.
"You will find your place in the underworld," Scathach declared.
With a final scream, Cu Alter lost his grip and was sucked into the gate. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, and silence returned.
Scathach practically held her breath as the banging on the door subsided.
She stood motionless, her spear trembling in her hand.
Was it over?
Obviously, he was far too strong to die instantly, but after a set amount of time, he would most probably lose his life.
She did not want things to end this way.
She truly did not.
But this was the course of action she must have taken, there was no other choice.
After all-
SCHLK!!
Her eyes widened as sharp spines erupted through the gate, impaling her chest. Blood dripped down her armor as she staggered back, her strength fading.
How had he-?
"Sorry, I don't have time to take the long road."
The gate shattered with a deafening crack, and Cu Alter stepped through the wreckage. His form was grotesque, his body bristling with spines and his face obscured by a dragon-like helmet.
"All curses, be unleashed."
"I'll show you no mercy."
This truly was no longer Cu Chulainn.
Scathach barely managed to block the first strike, but the force sent her sprawling. Spines erupted from his body, impaling her side as she tried to recover.
She could barely even keep her breath in her own mouth. The sensation on her body was rivaled by burning metal itself.
She fought back, landing precise strikes, but his monstrous form overpowered her.
The spines impaled around her body continuously, throwing her off every single time.
'This strength! This was never taught to him by me! This is a result of him casting aside everything to become 'king!''
A final, large spine made its way toward her chest, hitting its target as a final goodbye.
Scathach felt her body slowly lose its strength as she fell backward.
However, she had been caught by the monster.
It held her in its spine-like arms.
No, this was not an act of mercy or affection.
It was merely….
"Curruid Coinchenn."
An act of cold-blooded murder.
Spines erupted from all over his body, dealing the final blow.
The air itself stood still, save for the sounds of blood dripping.
"...Cu Chulainn. I do not understand."
"Fighting and living—they were your greatest joys. They were what made you beautiful."
"Why... why do you insist on living so ugly?
Yes, despite the teacher telling herself that this was never her student. She still clung onto that hope, tainting her fighting ability. That somewhere there, he was within. But alas, this was the nature of a teacher who loved her students.
She could not understand.
____________________________________________________
"Cu chan! Cu chan! Are you alright?!" Medb's high-pitched voice called as she ran into the ruins.
The rubble scattered across the ground, as tattered cloth swayed in the small gust of wind that blew through the area. The gust of wind also carried small traces of smoke and dust.
She looked around, finally finding her 'beloved' standing over a pool of blood. His entire body was covered in dripping blood, slowly trailing down to the ground.
It was as if he just committed a massacre.
"That form…"
"You killed her?"
Ignoring her, Cu Chulainn walked past her as his strange 'armor' began to slowly remove itself from his body, falling to the ground like mud.
"I'll head to the front lines."
"Huh? Didn't you hear what I said-"
"I'm going into battle." He declared, his face not facing hers.
"I will massacre every servant that I lay my eyes on."
He turned around.
"Sound the horns. It's time for this Nation's creation."
______________________________________________
"Hey, what in the hell's goin' on?" a resistance soldier called out, his voice shaking as he peered through binoculars.
"What?" replied the man next to him, gripping his rifle tightly. "We're going for a charge on the front lines."
"A charge?" The binocular-wielding soldier's voice rose with panic. "A charge, you say?"
He handed the binoculars over to his comrade, pointing at the vast scene before them.
What they saw wasn't just an army—it was a sea. An ocean of Celtic warriors stretched across the horizon, their armored forms marching in perfect unison, weapons glinting under the dim, heavy sky.
A dark cloud loomed overhead, casting an oppressive shadow over the battlefield.
The sheer magnitude of the force was enough to make the strongest among them falter.
"Can we even do that?!" the soldier yelled, barely holding onto his composure.
______________________________________________________________________
Juro kept his eyes fixed on the advancing army, his jaw tight. He was riding on the back of a horse led by Jalter, her silver hair whipping in the wind as she urged the steed forward.
"What're you getting so tense for?" She questioned as Juro felt his hand slightly twitch.
"Do not be afraid," Karna began. " Rama and I will cut through the front lines. Their ranks will break soon after." He assured.
Of course, sending the strongest servants through the front lines would be the optimal strategy. Their presence was certainly comforting, but the sheer size of the enemy force gnawed at his resolve. What Juro feared was the fact that how long they would last would not be exact. He did not want to lose at this pivotal moment.
Well, maybe-
With a snap of the reins, the horse began to break into a gallop.
"Woah!!" Juro yelled, clutching tightly on the saddle.
"You're getting way too prudent about this crap! We don't have time for second-guessing!!" Jalter called out.
"Guha! You're way too upfront, Jalter! Let's stop and think for a second—"
"Shut up and quit being a bitch!!"
"Yes ma'am!"
___________________________________________________
Medb sat in the small carriage, her eyes closed as she began to laugh.
"Kukukuku…"
"KUKUKUKU!!"
"KUHAHAHAHAA!!"
"Neither Aife nor Emer are here. And Cu-chan killed Scathach with his own hands."
She could barely hold in laughing further.
Who could stop her? Who genuinely could stop her? She had killed all in her path! A few heroic spirits could do nothing against her! She was unstoppable!
"Ah, my king! Show me the havoc you will wreak upon this wretched world!! How you'll kill everyone, enemy and ally alike with that Gae Bolg of yours!!"
Her face was in a state of absolute bliss.
A complete contrast to the faces of the victims she had inflicted so much pain on. Their faces were full of tears, in suffering. Men, women, and children alike. They were forced out of their homes, killed and violated by savage warriors, forced to fight and die.
They had already fought their utmost to gain independence from an oppressive country ruling over them, yet they immediately had to fight a new threat. They could not rest, they had to run out of their homes with broken appendages, praying they could once again fight.
But they never returned home.
And here was the ruler of the opposing side, laughing with pure glee as she clutched her face.
"Hurry up, o you who believe in justice and miracles!! Come and welcome your hideous deaths!!"
_________________________________________________________________
"ATTACK!!" Rama yelled as he pointed his sword towards the opposing side, his chariot following his command as the army behind let out a collective yell filled with pain, but most importantly anger.
Nightingale was crouched next to him on the chariot waiting for the perfect moment to leap out and strike.
The battle erupted as Edison's mechanized soldiers unleashed a torrent of gunfire upon the advancing Celtic warriors. Rows of enemies fell under the relentless hail of bullets, but their sheer speed and tenacity pushed them closer to the frontlines. Blades met metal as the soldiers leapt onto the mechs, cutting them down.
Cannons fired from the rear, their explosive payloads creating massive craters in the battlefield. Smoke and debris filled the air, obscuring visibility and adding to the confusion. The cries of wounded soldiers and the clash of weapons were deafening.
Back in Chaldea, some staff members were reporting on the situation to Romani.
"Battles have broken out in the north and south! The south is tearing through the enemy's central left faction!" A staff member reported.
"The North Army is doing good as well. The traps Robin Hood's team placed in the north are devastating the enemy forces. Their movements have been significantly hindered!"
Romani stood before his console, eyes locked on the data streams and video feeds coming from the field. The images were transmitted through Juro's watch, giving him a ground-level view of the carnage.
'We're on a good start…'
His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to another screen.
His brow furrowed.
'Wait, One team is lagging behind…'
"The south army has split into three factions. Rama and Nightangale are leading the charge in the central, Karna alone in the left, and the right…"
______________________________________________
A Celtic soldier burst into flames, screaming as he collapsed, writhing in agony.
Jalter led the horse, its body trotting as both Juro and her held on.
"Oi! You sure you've got this?!" Juro yelled, his hand on the revolver on his hip.
"Who do you think I am?! This is nothing!" Jalter yelled back as she swung her sword, cutting off the head of another Celtic soldier.
Romani's face was tense as he watched through the feed.
'With the absence of Emiya, things are going to be twice as hard. We're going to be a little lacking on offense.'
If even one faction were to be delayed from the rest of the other forces, the advance would be stalled. And if they were to take any longer, the enemy would block off the main route.
Romani tensed.
Juro looked at the smoke rising to the sky as the horse ran through the battlefield
There was a strange sort of beauty to it. It was chaotic, yes, but still there was-
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crack that split the air.
He barely turned his head before two shimmering arcs of water, as sharp as blades, hurtled toward him at incredible speed.
His eyes widened in alarm.
"Swish!"
The water was swiftly cut by Jalter's sword in half, splashing on Juro's face.
"Just what I expected of you, fair maiden!" A familiar voice called out. "To cut through our attack so effortlessly—truly impressive!"
The two servants were attempting to attack Juro, an optimal strategy. To attack the head of the force, to remove any possible further altercation.
Who were these servants? Fionn Mac Cummhail and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.
Instantly, the two launched into battle, targeting Juro. The duo of master and servant leaped from their horse just in time.
A torrent of water surged toward Jalter, forcing her to slice through it with her blade. But the real threat came immediately after—Diarmuid, using the water as a veil, thrust his spear toward her heart.
She however managed, to block it.
Juro, standing back, observed the fight closely.
"Fionn's countering Jalter's flames directly with his water," he muttered, his mind racing. "And Diarmuid's using the cover of water to sneak in close-range attacks. They're working together too well."
His grip on the revolver tightened as he continued to supply Jalter with mana.
Jalter flipped backward, landing beside Juro in a crouch.
"Hmm.. You're fighting with quite the fervor now, what happened?" Fionn asked.
Juro looked at Jeanne's tense face.
Now that he thought about it…
"Oh did you hear already? Is that it?" Fionn asked.
Juro turned to jalter.
"Hear what? Wait, is it-"
"When our king and Scathach first met, we also happened to be present. So I asked her to deliver a message for me." He stretched out his hand. "If I fight Jeanne Alter, I would like to make her.."
He smiled.
"My bride. I would like to marry her!"
"Your tastes in women are abysmal!!" Juro immediately yelled.
He was firmly shut up as a small flame flickered as feet.
Jalter turned to Fionn as she held her nose.
"Yuck."
Before she could say more, another wave of water surged toward her, forcing her to parry it with her sword.
"Hahaha!" Fionn laughed, his confidence undeterred. "A fiery temperament! A perfect match for me, don't you think?"
"Was 'yuck' not enough of an indicator for you?!"
Jalter snarled, unleashing a ferocious torrent of flames toward Fionn, her irritation boiling over.
But the fire was quickly extinguished by a deluge of water from Fionn's outstretched hands.
"Magnificent! I like it when they put up a fight! Tough woman for a tough warrior!"
"Or, you know, she might just be trying to kill you," Diarmuid, the enchanter of women said.
Juro recalled the conversation she had with Scathach earlier
_________________________________________________________________________
The boy sighed as he rested his arm on the table, cradling a steaming cup of tea in his hands. The warm scent wafted between them, mingling with the quiet rustle of the morning breeze. The sun was still climbing its way up the horizon, casting a pale orange glow over the room..
Across him sat Scathach her expression as composed as the pot of tea itself.
"So you're telling me.."
"That he is intending to propose to Jeanne Alter, yes. The young fool has quite the nerve to have me playing matchmaker."
Juro sighed once again.
"I'm telling ya, these Celts got their own, like, set of morals. How do you propose to an enemy in a war?"
"Still, I don't understand them." He said, his head down.
"In France and Septem, the heroic spirits we faced—they wanted to destroy everything, but that was because of madness enhancement." He paused, looking down at his tea as his thoughts spiraled. "But the Celts…"
"They're fighting of their own will."
Juro recalled the battle back in New Mexico.
Juro's mind wandered back to New Mexico, to the wreckage, the hollowed-out homes, the displaced people.
His grip tightened on the tablecloth.
"It's bad. Really bad. They know what they're doing, and they're still doing it. Refugee camps, innocents—how can they-?" His teeth clenched as his voice rose, only to catch himself mid-tangent.
"Oh, sorry!" Juro said as he waved his hands. "No offense, or anything"
Scathach shook her head. "No, it is alright."
She looked down.
"There is no offense to take. For Celtic warriors, battle is life. Honor matters, but good and evil do not. I would not put it past them to destroy the world if it meant ensuring they could fight until the very end."
Juro stared at her, baffled. "But where's the honor in that? Killing innocents—what kind of honor is that?"
Scáthach was silent.
______________________________
Jalter blocked another strike from Diarmuid.
What does 'honor' even mean to these people?
To Juro, honor was rooted in doing the right thing—taking losses and wins with grace, preserving one's integrity, not for show but because it was what you should do. The Celts, however…
"Every single one of you lies to yourselves about what you are"
'Stop, don't listen to what he's said. That guy was a monster.'
But the strikes were relentless, and the skill of these two warriors left no room for error. Jalter was holding her ground, but barely.
They were strong, extremely strong!
Juro wanted to respect them, he could always recognize when someone put effort to gain something they wanted. Their abilities were honed to near perfection.
But still!
They've killed innocents. They've razed homes. They've torn families apart. All for what? For the sake of battle?
Geronimo.
Nero.
Billy.
"Damn it!"
Does it not hurt to have someone close to you die? Does it not hurt? How do you enjoy something like that? Juro only allowed himself to get hurt for others out of the sake of necessity, not for 'honor' or enjoyment!
So why?!
Why do they smile!?
A powerful strike shot toward Jalter and Juro, the air crackling with the sheer force of the blow.
Two figures leaped into the fray, deflecting the attack just in time—Nightingale and Rama.
The two enemy servants fell back, assessing the newcomers.
"The nurse in red and the indian hero!" Fionn called out with a grin, his voice as calm as if this were all a friendly sparring match.
"Now this is getting interesting," Diarmuid added, twirling his spear.
Juro turned to Rama.
"Why are you guys here?! We-"
"We can't afford to hold back if the enemy are servants!" Rama called.
"We've left Karna in charge of our duties! He's more than capable to handle both the left and central faction's duties!"
Nightganle flexed her wrist.
"So now, we will be issuing treatment to these men."
"You're a strange women. Still, taking on strong opponents like you is an honor to us!"
The word—honor—struck a nerve in Juro.
Rama placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It is understandable that you are confused and angry, master. Fighting should be avoided and not be looked at in a positive light. But there is honor in the act of fighting itself."
"But if your eyes are clouded with anger and hate, you will not see it."
Juro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Slowly, he nodded.
"Alright, I can't understand it still, But… thanks for helping me understand there's something there."
He began bouncing on his heels.
"I think that'll help me a lot." He said as he smiled.
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Swinging his Kanshou, Emiya beheaded another Celtic soldier.
The horse had a sense of urgency burned into its nerves as it ran across the battlefield. Smoke choked the sky, and the screams of men and the clash of steel filled the air.
At the back of his head, he still felt some kind of worriedness for Juro, after all, he-
No, it wasn't good to remain on something that was already decided.
As another soldier charged him, Emiya swung Kanshou in a clean arc, separating the man's head from his body.
blood sprayed in the air, painting the ground beneath like a gruesome canvas.
At this point, Emiya had taken about 60 percent of them, yet they continued coming.
"Hey, that's some serious damage you dealt, said a sudden voice in front of Emiya.
Moments after uttering those words, the ground began to crack, causing fissures to open.
Emiya pulled back the rein on his horse to avoid falling into said fissures.
The figure that came out of the smoke was none other than the former king of Ulster, Fergus Mach Roich.
In various legends, tales of what he did shortly after giving up the throne spread across like wildfire. Whether the lover of queen medb, and enemy of ulster, or cu chulainns foster father. He had quite the eventful life.
Yet, he did not regret any of it. If so, what did honor mean for him in this life?
Edison and Blatvatsky joined Emiya as the archer got off his horse.
With a smirk, Fergus placed his enormous sword on his shoulders.
"I don't have a single regret about my life. But I am quite a greedy man. Especially right now."
He pointed his sword at the group.
"I want to surpass myself as a warrior."
As the servant spoke, Emiya assessed the best way to take care of him swiftly. Right now, he was about 45 meters away from him. Judging by previous skirmishes with Fergus, he would not have enough time to pull his bow out and fire.
"Honestly, stuff just pops up in my head as I walk around! And I wanna see what happens once I fulfill all those desires."
Emiya sighed.
"I didn't ask, but you've got a lot to say."
"That's a pretty selfish reason to destroy the world."
"What can I say? I've got a lot on my mind."
"A hero's got to have flair! Aren't we all a bit selfish by nature?" Fergus asked.
Emiya's eyes darkened.
"You can think of it that way, but that's not what I perceive as a hero."
"It doesn't matter what you think."
A hero of justice. To save the many for the few, to put oneself in danger for the majority. To fight for not oneself, nor others, but to save as many people as possible.
This was the idealogy he had believed in for so long.
Yet, it only brought him anguish.
Sacrificing himself over and over again for a dream that had brought him nothing but pain.
He could only barely remember what the entire thing was about, but he dedicated his life to being a hero of justice.
So why..?
Why had he reverted to his ways?
Juro had ordered him to protect the many over the few. Despite him hating that way of thinking.
Yet he had to.
Emiya's eyebrows furrowed.
Fergus raised his fist as he clenched it.
"Ill fight, Fight some more, and fight. And when I'm done. I'll show this whole world on how the hero fergus fights!! AND MY LEGEND WILL OUTSHINE BOTH THE QUEEN AND THE MAD KING!!"
"You're first, Archer of chaldea." Fergus said as he pointed his weapon at Emiya, the edge of the blade a few metres away from his face.
Emiya's face looked up, his features scrunched up.
"Woah, thats quite the face."
Quickly subsiding, Emiya sighed.
"Edison, Blatvatsky, you two head on."
"Huh, are you sure?"
Kanshou and Byakuya materialized in both of Emiya's hands.
"I'll deal with him to avoid him attacking the rest of our soldiers, so move ahead, I won't let him get away."
With that, the two quickly headed away.
The two combatants stared down at each other for a couple of moments, the air dead silent, with nothing in sight, save for the immense amounts of sand blowing behind them.
'Because he's like me. I don't want him to end up like me.'
Ah, that's why.
Fergus slammed his sword onto the ground, erupting a circular area off the ground, destroying the rest.
"Let's go Archer! I have nothing but respect for Archer who gets up close and personal! Tell me your true name!"
Heroic spirit EMIYA leaped into the air, His blades ready.
"Archer, EMIYA! Counter guardian EMIYA!"
"Alright!! Lancer, Fergus!! Fergus Mac Roich of the Red Branch Knights!! Here to knock your lights out!!"
________________________________________
A clash of ideals ensues! One chasing glory and another burdened by regret! Who will be the victor?!