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Steel Eyed Faker Chapter 22: Save the Base Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 21:00:11 +0000 UTCBeta read by Paragon of Awesomeness
Had to help out my family with some local event these past few days which is why I'm late. Now time to accelerate the engines for the next update to be out soon!
Next update is Hound.
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-Night Raid Base-
Emiya’s mind was far from at ease. Taking down Seryu and Hekatonkheires who had been fighting Tatsumi hadn’t brought the battle anywhere close to a close. Too many enemies still lingered deeper in the forest, likely lying in wait, looking for a gap to exploit. As Emiya moved through the woods, his steps slowed, his senses attuned sharply to the shifting shadows.
Then, without warning, a body crashed through the air, smashing into a tree a few paces ahead. Splinters flew in every direction along with blood and what remained of the man’s insides. Emiya stopped short, stepping back just enough to keep his face from getting splattered by the spraying blood and guts.
“Did you have to do it like that?” he asked dryly, eyes narrowing as he looked toward the direction the body had been thrown from.
A familiar buxom figure emerged from the dense brush, panting with sweat dripping down her forehead. Leone stepped into view. Her body had been transformed by Lionel to give her feline ears atop her head, with her hair having become a long and wild yet majestic mane, and her hands had sprouted fur with powerful claws at their tips, that dripped with blood, and her skin was streaked with the same.
“You look like you really went wild against the enemy,” Emiya remarked, one brow lifting slightly.
Leone’s eye twitched. “You’ve got some nerve making that kind of pun to me after what just happened. Mark my words, I’m still going to make you pay for that little stunt,” she snapped, voice edged with a growl. Her irritation only deepened when the man in front of her allowed himself the faintest smirk.
“And here I thought you would have appreciated and even benefited from a deep tissue massage.” he replied innocently, shaking his head and acting completely oblivious to her anger.
Thankfully, she did not pursue the matter any further, instead swiping off some of the blood on her hands and rolling both shoulders. “Anyways, looks like both you and Mine went ballistic on those grunts in fetishwear earlier. I’m pretty sure you left enough bodies behind to build a wall out of them around the base.”
He folded his arms, noting that the woman even had a tail which was flicking slightly.
“Grim way to put it, but you’re not wrong. Rather I'm surprised at how many of them there were in the first place. Makes you wonder what they were actually after. They didn’t show up just to die here.”
“Maybe,” she said, scanning the trees. “But we’ll find out soon enough. Right now, the priority is thinning them out before they regroup, Like, what’s the point in figuring it out now? What matters is teaching these bastards what happens when they storm our base while I was in the middle of something important!”
She shouted loudly, this meant for the rest of the attackers to hear. Then she shot Emiya a pointed look. “And you. Shouldn’t you be back there firing arrows instead of wandering out here?”
“Mine’s got the ranged defense handled,” he replied calmly. “I helped Tatsumi earlier. He and Sheele are covering the base’s entrances. Lubbock is securing the perimeter and is planting traps for anyone who tries to leave, and the girl who let us know about the attack is… somewhere. As for Najenda—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence before a series of blinding white beams lit the sky above. Both of them looked up as white energy blasts cut through the air, striking with merciless accuracy. From the rooftop of their headquarters, projectile beams rained down, killing anyone who ventured too close.
“As you can see,” Emiya said, watching the relentless fire, “she’s keeping Mine company. With those two there, we shouldn't have anything to worry about when it comes to people getting inside the base.”
“Good,” the blonde muttered, wiping more blood from her face. But then she got annoyed with some of the bloodstains soaking into the fur on her hands. Her Teigu had changed her in more ways than just granting a physical boost for sure. This being the second time he'd seen her in this form this closely and got to see the details to her transformation, as even when fighting Liver and Daidara with her and Spear, he’d split up and focused his attention on the former general.
“What about Akame?” he asked.
The girl opened her mouth to answer, but an answer came before she could speak. Another corpse crashed to the ground beside them, its upper torso streaked with dark, spreading marks. Within seconds the man stopped moving, breath gone before he could even scream.
“So that’s how fast the cursed poison works,” Emiya said quietly, studying the body. “No time to resist it, no chance to fight back… definitely earns its name as the one-cut killer. An impressive weapon.” He didn’t need to look far to know who had struck the killing blow. Though unlike the brawler next to him, she did not seem to be in a bad shape at all or tired.
Akame emerged from the trees, in a much better condition than Leone, her sword still faintly glistening under the moonlight as it was sheathed within its scabbard. All the same, she’d clearly had a hard fight as well, as evidenced by the bruises along her arms, the thin cuts across her side, and the tear in her shirt that had nearly split the fabric down the front.
“Damn, girl,” Leone said with a short laugh, eyeing the damage. “Did you fight through a thousand monsters out there?”
“You're one to talk,” came Akame’s reply, followed by a cool glance at her slain foe. “He had a weird ability… similar to a Razortail… Had to be careful. It was still weird. There is something wrong with them.”
Seeing her gaze and even Leone's turning towards him almost simultaneously, he came to the realization that they were waiting for him to explain things. Their actions made him sigh a bit exasperatedly. “Not sure why you two would like me like that as if I had all the knowledge in the world.”
“Well duh. It's easier to just have you explain the complex stuff and not waste energy in trying to figure it out ourselves. Super efficient!”
“…”
These girls… he almost felt a sense of betrayal seeing how easily Akame agreed with Leone, as if the beastly brawler had said something philosophical. But alas, denying her words would not work since it did not apply in the current situation. "Hah… whatever. From the look of things their skin and muscle density have been reinforced. Danger Beasts essence was somehow used to create these patchwork hybrids, by the hands of Doctor Stylish most definitely. He's the only one crazy enough and capable of doing so.”
A faint look of disgust mixing with concern crossing Akame’s face. “…Were any one of them Jaegers?”
He shook his head, “Aside from Seryu. No, it does not seem like it.” Surgically grafting Danger Beasts traits onto people was already dangerous and experimental enough on its own without attempting such on a Teigu wielder. The creatures were the closest thing this world had to a Phantasmal Beast, relentless, and difficult enough to put down as they were. Now to imagine humans fused with them, gaining their attributes and certain perks, and seeing the procedure actually work… neither Leone nor Emiya needed to guess too hard. They could already tell what this meant. It was like seeing a lesser version of a new kind of Shingu in action, dangerous in a different way but far from harmless to even one with a famed Teigu.
As for the one Akame killed, Leone approached the body to check out some of the other physical changes.
"What the hell?" Leone muttered, eyes widening slightly. Her usual smirk faltered for a second before snapping back into place. "Look at this. These idiots are even trying to copy my style."
"They were all given attributes of an Earth Dragon to a certain degree for armor, and others for offense. That explains why they’re so hard to kill," explained Akame.
The older woman snorted at that. "Hard to kill is an understatement. Do you even know how hard I had to hit these bastards just to make them stay down? Felt like I almost snapped my own wrist throwing some of those punches. And that was before I tore a few apart with my claws, barely."
She wasn’t exaggerating either. He had seen her strength firsthand. Watching the way she punched through one of those enhanced soldiers made him second-guess whether he had underestimated her raw power or overestimated the durability of these altered humans. Whichever the case, the conclusion remained the same.
This fight needed to end, and fast.
"These people are definitely not part of Esdeath’s group," he said, expression tightening as he considered the situation aloud. "Nor is she aware of this attack in the first place. That makes it twice now she’s been left uninformed of missions the Empire’s taken against me."
Both women turned toward him with puzzled looks.
"So what if she doesn’t know?" The blonde asked, brow raised. "It’s not like Honest tells her every little plan he cooks up — he's the Prime Minister after all. She might be terrifying, but she’s still just a general. Not the damn empress."
"That’s not what I meant." His tone shifted slightly, recalling and questioning Seryu's presence. "Esdeath wouldn’t care if Honest sent people against me. Even an entire army wouldn’t bother her. But for Stylish to intervene and that Seryu girl to be here… Honest sent two members of her own forces without telling her? Even if we consider that Stylish himself is not present, it does not change these are his people. She wouldn’t tolerate that for a second, it undermines her control."
Leone blinked, then slowly pieced it together. "So you’re saying Honest is stealing control from her? Pulling people away behind her back?"
Absurd as it sounded, suicidal even, the thought lingered. That old man proved himself countless times to be a cunning and corrupt individual, willing to stoop to any level in order to achieve his goals. But Emiya knew even he wasn’t reckless enough to provoke Esdeath outright without having some sort of insurance plan he was confident would be able to handle her, or even kill the woman. He wouldn’t go about things like this. Unless something deeper was at play.
"There’s a possibility things aren’t going well at the Imperial Palace. We might see something drastic happen at the Capital soon without needing to lift a finger."
"Best case scenario, Esdeath might just skewer that fat fuck for us," Leone replied, cracking her knuckles. Then her grin returned in full force, teeth bared, eyes bright with anticipation as she slammed her fists together, producing a dull boom. "But we can figure that out later. For now, let’s bust some more skulls."
He gave a nod. They could sort out the details later. For now, he shot a look toward the girl with the cursed sword.
"Let's take them out as quickly as we can. If possible, leave at least one alive for questioning. The rest, handle them however you see fit."
Akame adjusted her grip on the katana, the faint traces of blood from earlier kills still clinging stubbornly to the blade.
The faintest clink of metal sounded as she shifted her stance. Then she was gone, already moving toward the enemy lines. The clang of steel against steel erupted soon after, followed by rough screams of pain and the hoarse roars of dying men. Akame moved like the wind, slicing through the mob in a ruthless manner. Even the enhanced skin many of them had meant nothing to her cursed blade; a single cut, no matter how small, spelled certain death. If she couldn’t strike the head, chest, or limbs cleanly, she went for the softer targets — the eyes, the inside of the mouth — any weak point that offered her the slightest cut.
Her style shifted the longer she fought. Where her usual form emphasized speed and economy of motion, now she began to strike harder, putting more weight behind every swing, letting her mobility suffer in exchange for pure power.
"Get her! Don’t let the swordswoman—argh!" one of the enemy soldiers shouted, his words breaking into a scream as her blade found him mid-sentence.
Nearby, Leone fought in her own way. It always took her longer to finish an opponent. She had the strength, no one doubted that, but her fighting relied on brute force rather than Akame method which relied on the smallest cut. She tore into a half-beast hybrid with mantis-like arms, catching one of his bladed forelimbs and ripping it off in a slow, savage motion. The tearing of flesh and snapping of bone echoed through the trees, mingling with the horrified cries of the altered man as her muscles bulged and strained under the effort.
The moment she tore the limb free, the blonde woman turned them on another opponent without hesitation. The serrated forearms cut deeper than her fists ever could, plunging through armor and flesh alike. The man shrieked as the improvised weapon drove through his chest, blood spraying as Leone wrenched it free again.
“Shit.”
But unfortunately, it was damaged, forcing her to throw them away and grab the last remaining one with both hands.
"How good are you with swords?" came a voice behind her.
Emiya had asked it casually enough as he sidestepped an axe meant to split him in two. With one smooth motion, Bakuya carved upward, cutting through the attacker’s forearm and leaving the limb useless. A second strike came fast, slicing low across the man’s abdomen.
The man cried out, clutching at the wound as blood soaked the ground beneath his boots. Even enhanced, his body gave him little defense against effects of these Noble Phantasm in particular. The perfect weapon to be used on half-monsters like them. His expression shifted from pain to a feral red-eyed rage in moments, but Emiya moved first.
He hurled his second blade, the weapon spinning before driving clean through the man’s face, pinning the corpse against a nearby tree.
"So the enhancement twists the body and the mind," Emiya muttered, watching the lifeless form slump.
Even with Lionel's enhancement, Leone had just cut down her third half–.Danger Beast opponent when she quickly stepped back, sweat glistening across her brow. Her grip on the remaining mantis claws was still tight, though it had snapped halfway through the fight just like the first one. Akame, by contrast, had already slain her sixth target with minimal effort, moving like a shadow across the battlefield. Watching the black-haired assassin dispatch enemies so effortlessly, she realized she was losing momentum.
"Hah… hah… fu~… I'm not really the best at using these kinds of weapons, but I can manage," the blonde muttered, steadying her breathing.
She tossed the shattered claws aside, fingers curling around Bakuya as it materialized in the air. “Thanks, handsome!” Her stance lacked the grace of a trained swordswoman, but there was still something resembling technique as she lunged forward. The blade shot toward an approaching enemy’s chest, and the man froze, disbelief flickering across his face when it sank deep into his heart. He stumbled backward, falling to his knees yet somehow clinging to life for a moment longer before collapsing altogether.
Leone stared at the white blade in her hand, eyes widening. "What the hell… it cut through like nothing. I barely felt any resistance at all. Didn't I see you struggling earlier when you used arrows on them? Did these idiots really send the ones with the highest defense first just to die?"
Questions spilled out of her in rapid succession, but the man supplying her weapons only gave a calm smile. With a casual motion, he Traced another pair of swords. The twin blades spun through the air, glinting under the light, before slicing through three more opponents in a single elegant arc, severing heads before returning neatly to his hands.
"You’ll find that these swords work extremely well against monsters," he explained evenly. "To conserve energy, I usually rely on Reinforced arrows that can be shot quickly or in volleys. Good as they are, my typical arrows don’t have the same anti-monster properties that these swords do. But with the attraction effect between them and a good throw, I can simply use them at medium range without much trouble."
Leone blinked at him, trying to follow the explanation. "I understood maybe half of that, and I’d probably be convinced you created some kind of Teigu were it not for the fact I can hold this thing while transformed without dying. Whatever, if it works, it works."
Her confidence rekindled, she charged forward again, slashing through the enemy ranks with renewed vigor. The weapon cut through flesh and armor alike as she unleashed her full strength, muscles coiling with each strike. Enhanced speed and power turned her into a blur of golden hair and flashing steel, carving a path through the remaining opponents.
Seeing the two women dismantle the enemy force, Emiya decided not to interfere directly. Charging into melee alongside them would only slow things down. Instead, he hung back, materializing his bow once more. His focus shifted to the ranged hybrids lurking on high elevated areas, those spitting acid, firing bolts, or hurling poison-tipped weapons.
One by one, his arrows sang through the air. Several enemies fell instantly with accurate shots to the head. Others watched in shock as their own projectiles were intercepted mid-flight, deflected or shattered before reaching him or the women. He never moved from his position. Attention shifted rapidly toward him, but it was already too late. Each time his fingers released the bowstring, another life was extinguished before the target even realized they had been marked.
"Whoever sent these people should have gone all out from the start," Emiya said under his breath.
It was pure luck that Tatsumi wasn’t facing this group. The boy was talented, but long-range battles weren’t his strength. Even with his Imperial Arm, he lacked the mastery to counter barrages like these effectively. Emiya intended to test Tatsumi’s awareness later, to see how quickly the youth could read a battlefield before making any judgment on his growth.
"Strange," he murmured quietly. "Feels like they’re just trying to stall us."
Any competent commander, whether this ambush came from Stylish himself or another, should have called the retreat by now after witnessing how little their Danger Beast-enhanced soldiers did against Noble Phantasms or even Akame’s cursed blade, Murasame.
Woosh!
From the edge of his vision, Emiya caught a sudden glint slicing upward from the earth itself. A high-pitched scraping ring like metal against stine filled his ears as his reflexes snapped into motion. The upper limb of his bow slammed outward with precise force, knocking aside a dagger that had been hurled straight toward his ribs.
‘From the ground?’
His eyes flicked toward the patch of dirt where the weapon had originated, yet nothing stirred there. No human silhouette, no trace of a presence at all. Whoever or whatever had attacked was concealed entirely, perhaps by invisibility or something even stranger. Still, his instincts screamed at him to stay on alert.
Another hiss of metal came at him. His body moved before thought could catch up, bow whipping around to meet the incoming threat. The black weapon deflecting it in a clean arc. Then another dagger followed, then another, each one emerging as though the earth itself spat them out.
Clang!
Clang!
He sidestepped and turned sharply, his arms in constant motion as he batted each blade aside. Though there were several of them, none so far had managed to so much as graze him. His focus locked on the shifting dirt around his boots, predicting where the next strike would come before it even formed.
‘No holes on the ground after the weapons were thrown, but it's tangible given I could intercept them. Can't be something like Projection, they are not constructs woven from the earth itself… So, that’s it. A phasing ability? Whoever this is can move their weapons through the ground itself, sending them wherever they please without meeting resistance. The terrain itself becomes both their shield and their firing platform. Clever.’
His expression hardened as he deflected another dagger that came from his left. Such an ability would keep the user hidden while allowing constant attacks from safety. It wasn’t the powers of any Danger Beast he had faced before, nor any Teigu he knew of. Whoever it was likely intended to delay him, keep his attention fixed, wear him before moving in to finish him outright
Emiya’s gaze swept the battlefield even as his arms kept moving. A mental order surged outward. Above him, dozens of weapons blinked into existence with motes of blue light coalescing together and taking shape. Greatswords, spears, the air was filled with a mass of steel drawn from his Reality Marble as they answered his call. The sheer size of some of the blades dwarfed a man’s height twice over, yet none were meant for his own hands.
With a sharp gesture downward, every weapon fell at once.
The ground shook with brutal force as each blade was slammed deep into the dirt, cleaving through the trees and shattering any rocks in its path. Again and again, steel plunged through earth until the entire clearing became a forest of weapons jutting upward, a grim monument erected in seconds. Each square foot of soil around him lay pierced, leaving no patch of ground untouched, no hole left for his opponent to hide in.
Then he saw it.
One sword near his feet trembled faintly. “There you are.” Emiya stepped toward it and yanked the weapon free, his eyes narrowing at the smear of fresh blood along its edge. “So that’s where you were hiding.”
He drove his hand into the loosened soil, fingers clamping onto something solid. With a heave, he dragged the figure out from underground. A man in a long coat and trousers emerged, his front exposed as though armor had never been considered necessary. A wide-brimmed hat tumbled from his head as he hit the surface.
A gaping wound opened across his chest, so deep that he could glimpse the heart beneath, beating weakly as blood poured from the cavity in uneven spurts.
“I suppose Stylish didn’t give you the same upgrades as the others. Or maybe it would have been impossible to truly use it alongside your phasing ability. Doesn't matter.” Emiya muttered. “Tell me… where is Stylish? He seems the type who’d want to see how his experiments turned out with his own eyes.”
He had only personally encountered the man once shortly before Syura transported him and Esdeath to that island, yet Najenda knew his history far better and every source she had agreed on the doctor’s nature: a genius of rare caliber, arrogant beyond measure, convinced his intellect placed him far above common humanity. A man with ambition enough to scheme in the shadows even when working directly under someone like Esdeath — someone he would never truly submit to, for he did not acknowledge her as his superior. A calculative man. The sort who never exposed himself to risk without reason.
"Heh… no wonder he has his eyes on you. Cough… cough… That kind of ability would be pretty damn nasty in his hands. Useful too." The man spoke between hacking fits, blood bubbling up at the corners of his lips. He was already too far gone. Emiya could see it in the dullness behind the man’s eyes, in the way his shoulders sagged with each breath. He had accepted death long before Emiya raised his blade, and there was no point dragging out a meaningless conversation.
One clean swing was all it took. The edge of the Kanshou cut through flesh and bone with practiced precision, ending the man’s suffering before his body collapsed into the dirt. It rolled back into the same crater he had crawled from, his lifeless hand twitching once before going still.
"If he’s that interested in my magecraft," he thought aloud as he flicked the blood from his blade, "then killing me wouldn’t have been his first priority. Capturing me alive would have been the plan, but he would still have to know that would be unlikely without help from Esdeath.”
His mind kept running through possibilities, yet none fit neatly together. Especially when it came to someone like Doctor Stylish.
"Akame!"
Leone’s voice snapped his focus back to the battlefield. The former Counter Guardian turned his head quickly, having not expected that the pair of women would be in much danger initially, arriving just in time to see the black-haired assassin crash into the dirt, her slender frame skidding across the ground. Her already damaged clothes were now scorched and torn at the midsection where the attack had landed… nearly revealing her bare chest and other intimate regions. A deep bruise marred her abdomen, her skin singed badly enough that even Leone winced.
Akame staggered back to her feet, breath caught between clenched teeth, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. She jammed the tip of her katana into the ground, forcing herself upright with quiet defiance.
"How…?" Her voice came as barely a whisper.
Both Leone and Emiya turned sharply toward the sound of slow, deliberate clapping.
The man approaching was strolling through the field of corpses as though he were on a casual evening walk. Around him, bodies of his allies lay broken and twisted in grotesque positions or torn apart from the earlier confrontation, but not once did his eyes flicker with grief or even mild irritation. He wore a polite smile, the kind one might see on a man serving tea rather than stepping over the fallen.
"Magnificent," he said with a smooth, almost mocking cadence. "Excellent, even. As one would expect from Night Raid… and of course the son of the late General Nagumo. Emiya, wasn’t it?"
The two assassins and the former Servant of the Bow locked their attention on him. Emiya especially tightened his grip on his bow, ready to draw the moment the man so much as twitched wrong.
Yet there was something off. His eyes narrowed, scanning him closely.
The stranger bore several deep cuts along his torso and arms, marks that could only have come from Akame’s blade. But there he stood, calm as if the curse had never touched him. The very poison said to kill anything with a single cut.
‘He's the one leading this operation…?’ Emiya’s mind turned over the details. ‘So Stylish really didn’t come. Odd… very odd. No Teigu on him either, and yet he walks like this. Skin shows no traces of those modified patterns. What could make him immune? No Danger Beast in existence could resist Murasame’s curse… not since those creatures from whom the material used for the blade were hunted down to extinction centuries ago.’
Speculation circled in his mind, but he pushed it aside for the moment. The immediate threat came first.
"Stylish isn’t with you," he said flatly.
"It’s Doctor Stylish," the man corrected smoothly, putting a touch of irritation at him not using the title, but keeping that courteous smile plastered on and then proceeded to bow. "You can all call me Toby, it is a pleasure to meet you all like this. Now that the introductions are out of the way, do you have any idea how long it took him to craft those soldiers you slaughtered? Hours of work. A lot of hard-to-obtain resources. All wasted in a single evening."
He toed one of the fallen corpses aside in open contempt. Leone’s eyes hardened at the display, her lip curling in disgust.
"I know we’re supposed to be enemies," she said, voice tight, "and I’m the one who tore through half of them, so, I shouldn’t be the one to say this. But still, you could at least show some respect for the dead. Or you know, at least ignore them?”
"Respect?" The man actually chuckled, shaking his head. "These failures were tools. Tools that served one purpose and failed. When tools break, you discard them. Nothing more."
The woman stiffened, her cat-like golden eyes narrowing. “You sure talk big for someone about to join them, tool!” She sprang forward, muscles tightening beneath her skin as she lunged with the clear intent of smashing him into the ground before he could draw his next smug breath.
“Watch out!” Akame’s sharp warning cut through the air.
It was warranted.
Because in the next heartbeat, Leone froze mid-motion, shock rippling through her as a gun barrel snapped forward, extending straight from the man’s mouth, aimed directly at her face. The metal glinted coldly, its tip glowing with the ominous heat of a shot about to fire.
“Fucking damn it!” she cursed under her breath, her instincts screaming to dodge, yet the trigger was already half-pulled. It would have been too late… until a whistling arrow streaked across the field, striking the barrel with enough force to wrench its aim skyward. The bullet tore harmlessly into the clouds instead of Leone’s skull.
She wasted no time. Instead of pressing her attack, she darted back in a blur of motion, boots tearing into the dirt as she landed several paces away. “Phew… nearly got my head blown off there, thanks for the save!”
Toby grinned faintly before both his hands snapped upward. From his forearms, twin blades unfolded in a smooth, mechanical blur, edges slicing cleanly through the air where Leone had stood moments ago.
“Shame. I missed,” he said flatly, as though commenting on spilled wine rather than a failed execution. “Next time I won’t.”
Leone scowled, wiping the sweat from her brow, her tail bristling behind her. “What the hell are you?” she demanded. “You don't seem like you got the same kind of upgrade the others got, and they sure as hell wouldn't have survived getting cut by Akame’s sword.”
The gun barrel slid back into his mouth with a click, his features reverting to a nearly human shape again. His voice came next, dry and certain, his tone too calm for someone surrounded by all three of them. “Do not confuse me with the pathetic fodder you’ve cut down before. I am a far more advanced creation of the—urgh!”
His words choked off abruptly as a second arrow punched through his chest, armor-piercing and merciless.
Emiya did not even wait for the man to finish his sentence. He had already drawn, aimed, and fired again, his expression cold as the shaft tore straight through the figure’s heart and buried itself in the dirt behind him.
“You talk too much,” he muttered, nocking another arrow without pause.
Yet the man did not die as he would have preferred or even in pain. Instead, a low chuckle slipped past his lips, swelling into wild, ragged laughter. “Hahaha… ruthless, aren’t you? I should have expected nothing less. Had it been before, that would have definitely hurt like hell!”
To everyone’s disbelief, he straightened with little effort, gripping the arrow jutting from his chest before ripping it free in one violent motion. Not a flinch, not a single sign of pain crossed his face, licking some of his blood much to their dismay and disgust.
“I wonder,” he said, voice brimming with delight. “If I kill you two here… and capture the one even General Esdeath could not subdue… wouldn’t that make me the ultimate creation of Doctor Stylish? A being even she could never surpass?”
Emiya’s eyes narrowed, but it was Leone who responded. “You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?”
“Cocky?” Toby repeated, tilting his head slightly. “No. This is certainty.”
And then his body began to change.
All the while the conversation continued, Emiya was deep in thought, he had seen transformations before in this life — Seryu’s arm turning into a living cannon had been disturbing enough — but this was worse. This… abomination was something beyond anything human he had witnessed in this world so far.
Metal split from flesh with a sickening sound as weapons unfolded across Toby’s body; the gun barrel jutting once more from his mouth, his arms warping into cannons, shoulders sprouting spinning gatling guns, chest plates sliding aside to reveal rows of missile ports. Even his legs bristled with hidden barrels. The man who had once looked almost human now stood as a walking arsenal, a nightmare of steel and gunpowder given form.
“I am a true walking armory and army at the same time. Now die,” he ordered, and the sky erupted in muzzle flashes.
Leone and Akame both leapt for cover, instincts screaming to retreat, only to stop short when he quickly stepped ahead of them, motioning for the women to stay behind him.
Without a word, he raised one arm.
A massive shield came into existence, so large it dwarfed a grown man, more akin to a wall with a tiny handle attached to it than any conventional shield. Yet he wielded it as though it weighed nothing, bracing it before him just as the first storm of bullets crashed against its surface.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The area bathed in sparks and smoke.
Dozens of bullets flattened uselessly against the gleaming barrier. Rockets slammed into it with deafening roars. Shards of stray metal even shredding through the surrounding fauna. Grenades burst in violent flashes and they just kept shooting, making him wonder just where the hell all of the ammunition was stored in a small body like that.
‘Tch, I still can't fully wrap my head around how this world can still be around the middle ages while also having such advanced weaponry.’
Regardless, through it all, Emiya held steady, feet digging into the dirt for stability, shoulders locked and using the overall weight of the Noble Phantasm to his advantage.
‘Advanced they may be, his weapons are ultimately still mundane,’ he noted coolly, glancing at the cracks of light across the sky. ‘The cybernetic enhancements might have given him superhuman strength and all the weapons one could ever dream of having… but the ammunition carries no mystery. No supernatural element to bring any danger against a Noble Phantasm.’
Behind him, Leone grit her teeth, squinting against the brightness. “My ears are gonna start bleeding at this rate. Is that guy even still human?” she muttered, tail lashing. Like seriously, how can someone survive being pierced through the heart… and slashed by Murasame’s blade?”
As he let her words settle in his mind, a memory stirred, an old one back during his days as a Counter Guardian. His eyes narrowed as the pieces began to align. Most of that man’s body had to be synthetic, he thought, not flesh and bone at all but metal and circuitry wrapped in skin that only looked human. The recollection came from one of his deployments long ago near the Atlas Academy, a place known for its genius in engineering and bio-mechanical research. He remembered seeing creations there, homunculus-like beings, androids fashioned so perfectly they could pass for humans.
Toby might have once been a flesh and blood man, but by this point the only part of his original body that still remained might be his brain.
That would explain why Murasame had failed. A machine could not possess the same attribute as a regular body nor was it considered living. Cutting through him would be like carving up armor, not flesh, thus the curse would not work.
“I see,” Akame said at last as he explained the basics. She did not need additional information. Her crimson eyes sharpened as she drew her blade, fixed on him. “Can you hold the shield for longer? He’s my target. I want to bring him down.”
“If you’re certain, then go for it,” he replied, giving her a brief nod. “I’ll step in if things go wrong. Besides, I can stand here all day if I need to.”
Akame gave a single nod in return. But then hesitated, looking at Leone’s hand and asking quietly. “Can I borrow that… for a bit? I will return it, I promise.”
He rolled his eyes hearing that, there was no reason to make it sound like the times she kept asking for more food and assured it was for the last time. “Just take this one.” He gave her Kanshou, the girl accepting the weapon with the closest thing to a smile on her face and shifted her stance, both hands tightening around the hilts of the swords as she sank low, her entire frame coiling like a drawn bowstring. She waited, breath steadying, shoulders stiff with focus.
The gunfire rattled on, a furious storm of lead chewing through the clearing and dense clouds of smoke filling the area. Yet he knew it could not last. That much firepower, carried by one man, meant limited ammunition no matter how advanced his body was. When the next grenade went off and a column of smoke presented itself, a grey curtain rolled between them and the enemy.
“Go,” Emiya shouted.
Akame’s eyes snapped wide. Then she was gone, her figure blurring as she burst forward with speed that went beyond the limits of what was possible by even a trained human. She hit the ground once, twice, then closed the gap before the man could so much as turn his weapons toward her.
A dark arc cleaved through the haze. The first swing from Kanshou cut the barrels of several guns clean through, the metal shrieking as it fell in ruined halves. Before the pieces even struck the ground, the second stroke from the same blade carved through the man’s neck in one merciless sweep.
For an instant, his headless body remained upright, arms twitching, as though refusing to acknowledge his own death. His severed head rolled across the dirt, eyes still open in stunned disbelief, watching his own corpse stumble and collapse. Then the black curse-mark began to spread. It crawled from the wound outward, staining both flesh and machine alike with crawling lines of death.
Akame landed lightly, blades held steady, though her pallor betrayed the toll that burst of speed had taken on her. Emiya moved in, eyes narrowing at the sight. He had known she was powerful, but this… this bordered on inhuman.
“You alright?” he asked.
She nodded once, chest rising and falling as she exhaled slowly. She turned to him and gave a faint, “Thanks.” and then handed him back the sword.
“Don’t mention it. He was your target,”
“He’s still alive,” Akame replied.
Emiya froze, gaze dropping to the twitching body. Sure enough, the man’s limbs still jerked, the mouth moving as a voice spilled out, flat, metallic, stripped of anything human.
“Most of him was mechanical,” Akame observed coldly, eyes following the spreading curse-mark. “Even part of the head.”
He grabbed the severed head by the hair, lifting it so their eyes met. The man’s mouth twisted faintly, as though amused. “You still look confident,” Emiya said evenly. “But there’s no one left to help you.”
The man tried to speak again, though without lungs or vocal cords, only garbled static escaped.
Emiya read the lips instead: Our task is complete.
The light drained from the man’s eyes as the curse consumed him fully.
“What did he say?” Akame asked, to which he said nothing. He turned away, already heading into the deeper treeline.
“Clean up the mess. I’m checking something. I’ll be back soon.”
.
.
.
(Outskirts of the hideout)
“Hah… hah… hah…”
It was a massacre in every sense of the word, crimson staining the forest back there, uneven streaks where bodies had fallen. Kaku, Hana, Me… none survived with some even killed off by either those arrows that pierced whatever defense they had and those powerful lasers from Night Raid's leader. Mimi would be lying to herself if she claimed any real confidence about taking these people down with just Team Stylish backing her. While her own talents rarely leaned toward direct combat, there were others among them who could handle a fight, on paper, at least.
But they were never the same without the doctor leading them. His presence brought some form of order, and most importantly, a plan. Without him, the whole lot of them operated more like a beast with its head hacked off—staggering, biting at absolutely nothing, all instinct and no coordination whatsoever.
Useless, all of them!
The fools never listened to one another, no chain of command, no cohesion, just raw ego smashing into raw ego. Toby, especially, fought like the world revolved around him, never giving a damn about anyone else. The brunette with bat-like ears clicked her tongue when she thought of him.
“If that idiot dies, serves him right,” she muttered in her head, clutching her burden tighter. “Might even open a spot for me.”
Working under the doctor had its perks, after all. As his second-in-command, you practically lived above the law. Any crime in your past was wiped clean, any problem in your future erased with a flick of his wrist. New body parts, upgraded reflexes, whatever twisted thing he could graft into one's body. Helped that the guy was pretty convincing with his words, selling his upgrades like a merchant in a bargain sale. Creepy as hell, yes, but power made people overlook a lot. Mimi certainly had. A few modifications here and there felt like a fair price for safety and authority.
“Come on, come on… can’t stop now,” she whispered to herself, ears twitching as they picked up every faint scrape of movement in the dense forest. Those long, furred ears had saved her life more than once, catching the sound of footsteps or blades long before the person they were attached to reached her. But now, she wasn’t thinking about fighting. She had only one goal left; get the item back to the doctor.
Her arms wrapped protectively around the container, the cold metal nestled firmly in her grip. Inside sloshed some strange fluid, the thing barely big enough to hold what looked like a sword — one of the many weapons that had been fired or hurled by that terrifying man earlier. She hadn’t even looked at it too closely. The small screen built into the casing flickered with lines of text she couldn’t read, glowing symbols shifting faster than her eyes could follow. None of it mattered. Her job wasn’t to understand the damned thing, only to deliver.
“A-argh!”
Then pain exploded through her body without warning. A sharp, searing pain bit along her left leg that sent her tumbling forward with a cry, landing hard against the roots and dirt. For a heartbeat she couldn’t even breathe. Then she looked down.
Her foot was gone.
Not mangled. Not broken. Cleanly severed, sliced through like her flesh and bone had been nothing but warm butter.
Panic flooded her chest, breath coming in ragged gasps as her eyes darted around. She hadn’t heard anything, no blade, no gunshot, nothing. Then she caught sight of it. A single glistening line stretched across the forest floor behind her, thin as a strand of hair, shining red in the moonlight with her own dripping blood.
Footsteps approached from behind the trees until a faint shadow grew closer.
A man stepped into view, green-haired with some sort of goggles on her head, gauntlet on his arm gleaming as it spread dozens—no… hundreds of razor-sharp threads through the trees like some monstrous spider webbing the entire forest. The strands caught the moonlight at certain angles, thousands of near-invisible blades waiting for the smallest touch to cut something apart.
“Careful where you run,” the man said lightly, almost sounding bored even… as if he was just talking to a random passerby on the streets. “These woods can be… unfriendly. I set a few traps for Danger Beasts to eat later on. Keeps Akame happy when she’s hungry, you know? Girl gets cranky if I peep at the wrong time so gotta find a way to make it up to her and Leone.” He shrugged casually. “Didn’t expect to catch a person tonight, but I suppose you people count as beasts in your own way.”
Lubbock barely glanced at her, eyes instead following the container as it rolled from her grip into the dirt.
“I should’ve guessed something was off,” he continued, tone almost bored. “Your lot came charging in, but no leaders, no Jaegers, none of the real muscle. Just a bunch of subordinate freaks. Insulting, honestly. Thought the Empire had forgotten a few nobodies couldn’t hope to handle us. But no… they were just a distraction, weren’t they?”
He smiled faintly, eyes glinting toward the container. “So then, pretty face… what’s this you’re carrying? Tell me, and maybe I’ll let you crawl out of here alive.”
Mimi froze. Pride meant nothing now; her life balanced on the edge of one of those wires. Forcing her face into a mask of fear, she stammered in a timid voice, “Please, sir… don’t do this. I didn’t have a choice. M-My family… he’s holding them hostage. He’s done horrible things to me already. I just needed to bring this back. Please, I’m begging you.”
A lie, but sprinkled with just enough truth to make it stick to any single individual with a bleeding heart. Many in Team Stylish had been forced into service. He didn’t need to know she wasn’t one of them.
Lubbock tilted his head, expression shifting slightly. “Really? Huh. Funny. Always figured that flamboyant bastard preferred men, the way he struts around and well… his overall atmosphere.”
She nodded hastily.
"He's a real creep! He likes everyone and everything! You have no idea the kind of degenerate things he does to us at night when he gets bored! I-I… I had to use my body just to stay alive…" she said, voice shaking as tears actually streamed down her face, making her look every bit the frightened victim. It sold the image perfectly, even if the act was masking her real intent. Inwardly, she steadied herself. Just a few more steps closer, that was all she needed. When he was close enough, when his guard was fully down, she would end him.
‘Come closer,’ she kept repeating inside her mind, hiding the venom on her face and continued to use a trembling tone as she saw the green-haired assassin strolling toward her. Each step brought him nearer, ready for what he thought would be another simple kill, unaware that she was readying her claws to rip out his throat in one strike. Her thoughts boiled over with anger, not just at him but at the memory of the foot he had sliced off earlier. It burned like fucking hell with every movement and she highly doubted it could be reattached… maybe, if Stylish was in the mood at least. She was certain infection would set in by the time she made it back to the capital, if she made it back at all.
‘I’ll cut off your own damn leg and use it as a replacement,’ she hissed inwardly, jaw clenched, feeling the dull throb pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. ‘It won’t be as beautiful as my original one, but I’ll manage.’
The assassin kept coming closer, until only a few meters separated them. She breathed through the pain, focusing on timing. When the distance was perfect, she struck with everything she had left. “Ha!” Her claws shot forward and aimed straight for his throat.
Fast enough that even a trained mercenary wouldn’t have time to react, not at this range.
But the sensation she expected, the tearing of flesh, the hot spray of blood, never came. Instead… her entire body seized as if lightning had struck her. “Hn-nnngh!” More pain surged through every nerve at once, far worse than before, as the same threads she had seen earlier lashed around her limbs and torso. In an instant, they encircled her completely, biting deep into her flesh with cruel precision.
She froze, unable to move, her breath catching in her throat. Even the smallest twitch made the threads tighten, carving shallow lines into her skin. The pain was so sharp she felt her vision swim.
"A-ah!" She tried to scream, but opening her mouth made the strings around her neck constrict further, slicing into the tender flesh there. Warm blood slid down her throat and over her collarbone. A single strand hung so close to her eye she swore she could feel its cold metal against her eyeball.
Lubbock smiled faintly, the picture of calm, as her claws hung less than an inch from his throat. His other hand remained raised, the nearly invisible threads glinting faintly in the sunlight.
"I won’t lie," he said evenly, "you almost had me there. And I’ll admit, it does feel nice having a cute woman like you look at me like that every now and then. I’m an assassin, sure, but I’m also a man with a soft spot for beautiful faces. Can you really blame me for that?"
He turned his back on her, ignoring the muffled, desperate noises coming from her bleeding throat. Even breathing made the threads tighten cruelly.
"Thing is," he continued, voice cooling, "the only ones I trust to show me real emotion are my friends. Your smile, your story, all of it stank of lies. You remind me of those nobles who bowed and said beautiful things to my father and I during parties, then would curse his very existence behind closed doors. I really hated them." His fist clenched, and the threads tightened until her choked cries turned into nothing but wet gurgles. "If you’d been genuine, maybe I’d have given you a chance. But this forest is mine. And I have a job."
With a sharp tug, every thread snapped tight. Blood arced through the air in thin lines as her body fell apart in silence, the stench of iron filling the clearing. Lubbock didn’t even glance at the remains. His eyes were on Emiya now, who was gripping the container as the blade inside dissolved into motes of fading light. Having arrived at some point, he did not notice his presence.
"Got any ideas?" he asked flatly.
“He was trying to steal my creations,” the younger man muttered, crouching near the battered container. He tapped one of the strange devices attached to it, his finger tracing over the wires and odd crystal-like components fitted along the edges.
“Yeah, I figured out that much, but have you got any idea what this container thing actually does? It’s kind of weird how it has all these gadgets and doodads stuck all around it.” He gave the container a shove with his boot, frowning. “This thing doesn’t look like it was made for simple transport. Way too high-tech for that.”
Lubbock remained silent, arms crossed, watching the boss’ younger brother prod at the now-ruined mechanisms.
“He’s pretty interested in your weapons, you know,” he went on, tilting his head toward the scattered shards of metal. “Sacrificed that many people just for one blade? I don’t even know what to say about that. Can he even recreate them?”
“Impossible,” Archer answered at once, his voice flat, leaving no room for argument. He wasn’t about to belittle the doctor’s ingenuity, far from it, but even with all the man’s scientific talent, recreating a Noble Phantasm based on a sample of a fake was far beyond his reach. The kind of power stored inside these artefacts didn’t come from skill alone. Not even a miracle would be enough to reproduce it.
Not to mention, he was pretty sure most in this world even knew how to use magecraft despite the existence of the supernatural. But most of it was focused around Danger Beasts rather than people.
“Oh, is that so?” Lubbock shrugged and kicked a loose pebble aside. “Well, if that’s the case, nothing to worry about then. Let’s get moving. I’m betting Miss Najenda is already wondering where we are.”
Emiya gave the container one last glance, then dropped it at his feet. His heel came down hard, shattering the main chamber and the surrounding devices in a single blow. Sparks jumped briefly before the fragments fell still. Satisfied nothing of use could be salvaged, he followed the assassin away from the scene.
“Oh, by the way, I heard that the crazy woman with the dog was here today, right?” Lubbock asked, as they made their way back.
“Seryu and Hekatonkheires.” He said their names, earning a nod from the boy.
“I did some research, that thing is impossible to kill without destroying the core which is also hard to find. Heard from Sheele earlier that you took care of it.”
“Your point being?” Emiya asked, wondering where this was going.
Lubbock shrugged, “Just curious if you used another weapon against it. That thing tore through my threads around the forest. Seriously, I never thought it was possible for a dog like that to accomplish such a thing. So it got me curious what kind of weapon is powerful enough to kill it when I saw no big explosions earlier.”
An uncomfortable expression rose on the white haired man's face, but he gave his answer a few seconds later.
“I… didn't really fight it.”
{Break}
-The Capital-
Inside the laboratory, rows of monitors cast pale light over the room, each one flashing with data feeds and shifting graphs. Stylish barely looked at them, his eyes glancing across the screens only long enough to note another face fading to gray. It had been happening for nearly thirty minutes now, yet he showed no reaction beyond sipping calmly at his tea. Dorothea sat across from him, chewing on a slice of cake as the silence stretched on.
“That makes nearly a hundred,” she finally said, frowning. “At this rate, the number’s going to double. You’ll lose your whole army. Shouldn’t you be doing something about it?”
“They are merely pawns,” Stylish replied smoothly. “Replacements can be built in a month at most. While I lose manpower, the data gained will be worth far more than the bodies. Their next replacement will be better, the recent improvement was done hastily, so next time it will be better without the side effects.”
As for Seryu, he did not fear Esdeath's wrath, for he did not order the girl to make such a decision. She did so all on her own and walked to her death, he was an innocent bystander who even advised her to stay behind and let his minions handle things.
She did not listen.
Dorothea’s eyes narrowed. “Still chasing after those magic weapons?”
He smiled faintly but didn’t answer, the glow of the monitors painting his features in cold light.
“You’re overrating them,” she said at last. “So he made a few swords with abilities similar to Teigus or even the Shingus. Big deal. They’re strong, sure, but they didn’t even manage to kill Esdeath. Your own creations can be just as dangerous.”
"Then you are blind. I am not pursuing them because they are flawless weapons — they are not even close to being perfect. I am pursuing them because I know they can be made better, reshaped through my intellect. That boy stumbled upon something remarkable, yet he lacks the capacity to refine it any further. His breakthrough was the product of chance, nothing more. Luck favors him as though the world itself bends in his favor, while I am cursed to be handed the shorter end of every deal life throws at me, yet I persist and rise higher still through my sheer intellect."
She exhaled softly, unwilling to start yet another argument with him. Accepting he had his own strange fixations, she simply turned back to the monitor as the room filled with the glow of cascading lines of code. One sequence after another scrolled by until they shifted to a live feed, catching Stylish’s immediate attention.
"Aaaaand there goes your last one. Honestly surprised she lasted that long. My money was on her being one of the first to go down. Oh wait, seems that dumb one is still alive, though I doubt that’ll last for long since she can’t fight back any more,” she remarked dryly, eyes wandering elsewhere while the scene played out.
The man gave no reply. His gaze was locked on the footage where a massive tank filled with pale green fluid came into view, a single sword resting upright within its depths.
"That’s not the one he’s been using this whole time," Dorothea commented, leaning forward slightly. She had seen records of his weapons from other members of Jaegers, two married blades marked with the yin-yang motif, one dark as midnight, the other pale as ivory. Those blades had been his signature. What floated in the tank, however, looked painfully ordinary. A standard gladius, no distinctive design or remarkable craftsmanship visible at all. Something any low-ranking gate guard might carry on patrol.
"No," Stylish replied sharply, eyes glittering, "that is indeed one of his creations. Look closer."
As if on cue, the weapon began to break down before their eyes. Lines of light spread along its length until its entire form dissolved, scattering into countless fragments like shards of a broken illusion. Dorothea blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the process, her brow furrowed.
"Surprising, isn’t it?" Stylish chuckled, a touch too pleased with himself. "You should have seen my reaction the first time I witnessed this. I nearly went and tracked down Night Raid’s base just to storm it alone in a fit of rage, completely ignoring General Esdeath’s orders. Fortunately, I am a rational man, one of calm mind and unshakable reason."
Dorothea rolled her eyes at his self-congratulation. If he kept patting himself on the back this hard, he’d dislocate a shoulder.
"Strange," she murmured. "Weapons dissolving like that and leaving nothing behind? No dust, no residue… either he is teleporting them into some sealed-off space, or… no, I honestly have no explanation. Honestly, it looks like magic.”
"Wrong again, my dear Dorothea!" Stylish declared, spinning dramatically on one heel and pointing at the screen with theatrical flair. "What is magic but just advanced science that humans have yet to comprehend? These weapons are not magic, for if I had them in my hand, I would have understood the process of their creation easily. All I need is a clue, that's all. Also, there is something left behind."
"I don’t see anything."
"Because it cannot be seen with the naked eye," he replied. "When dismissed, the weapons convert into an unknown form of matter—no, energy would be more accurate to say."
"So he isn’t storing them in some private dimension after all? Rather disappointing. Pocket dimensional theory would be far more interesting to study than shaping energy into swords," she commented, still a bit unimpressed by the whole thing. “Even if you know it’s some form of energy, that won't exactly help you recreate the same thing.”
Stylish just continued to look at the screen, scratching his chin with a smirk on his face. “No traces of orichalcum… the energy is just taking shape and mimicking different sorts of material while keeping its overall structure. He can also manipulate the energy to take different forms of the same blade somehow. Would explain how he can manage to make them so sharp and create so many copies… Weapons show the exact same signs of being used in battle but so did the others… the similarities must have come from an original blade that was carried over to the replicas.”
But there was still one thing that bugged him overall.
“How does he draw upon this energy? Let alone turn it into something tangible…”
The more he thought about it, the more similar the process looked to Esdeath's own Teigu: Demon’s Extract.
The power to create constructs, weapons, even semi-autonomous soldiers and clones out of ice she formed from thin air. That ice wasn’t even formed through water particles, surprisingly enough. It definitely followed a similar principle, he was sure of it!
“In the end, the answer still lies in the mysteries behind Super-class Danger Beasts after all, huh…” he muttered, relieved that his path was correct, and also excited. For that same path was now more clear to him than ever.
“To celebrate this occasion, I still have one last appropriately stylish gift for the fine assassins of Night Raid.”
At that, Dorothea looked over with curiosity, seeing him finally turn his attention to the screen showing those that had died.
“Who doesn’t enjoy a bit of fireworks to cap off a lovely night? And it just so happens I left plenty inside my favorite test subjects!”
With one press of a button, almost every name shown on screen turned red with a ‘Bomb activated’ message shown clearly for her to see with an expression of disbelief.
Somehow, for a tiny bit, she truly pitied those who worked as subordinates for this man.
Comments
TokuGeek
I can’t believe Stylish in a way is correct about the whole magic is just very advanced science 😂. I mean in a way isn’t that technically how it work in Type Moon? With alien, super technology worshipped as Deity n all
KuraiSomnium
W chapter really curious on if stylish will be able to make a noble phantasm cause even if he finds a way to use mana he still really shouldn’t be able to make one since each weapon contains the history of its users
SsanghwaSilver
With the right choice of words and promises Emiya probably could get the ice queen to eliminate the monster minister and psycho scientist.
2theMoon_4766
good shit as always
Hadrian v.E.
Assassinating Stylish must become a top priority for Emiya and co.
Neopolitano
Yeiii
AngraMayu777
Uuuufff la converdscion entre cientificos locos jahaha todo god pero hubiera sigo mas god si hubiera invocado a "ro aiyas" si se escribe asi? Hubiera sigo la cereza del pastel 8 de 10 el capitulo
Thomas Brantley
Thanks for the chapter
