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Chapter 29, 30 — "I DIDN'T DO THIS!" (Edited) (Public)
🕑 Added 2024-06-16 12:16:55 +0000 UTCMy foot collides with the severed head of a homunculus. This one wielded its hair as a weapon, not unlike of that certain butler’s style, rather than the on-the-go Familiar Creation favored by Illya and Irisviel. I was right—they’re scared, as much as poor imitations of human beings can be.
And they have every reason to be.
I’ve grossly misjudged my own strength.
While Kotomine Kirei isn’t the strongest out there, he’s still quite the heavyweight in the supernatural arena, and his combat prowess hasn’t diminished with my presence to sharpen his.
Using him as a benchmark was a mistake. I’m a lot more powerful than I credited myself for. “Congrats on getting off-screened.” I sneer at the heap of corpses and the dismantled suits of armor.
Those animated armors used a magnetic field to reassemble every time they were smashed apart.
My strategy? Lead them to the water fountain—because, naturally, the Einzbern mansion has one in the main hall—then electrify the water-drenched floor with a few well-placed bullets.
The resulting electric trap interfered with their magnetic abilities, taking out most of the automated armors in the process. Efficient and effective, though likely a one-time trick.
Not that I doubted my victory, but the environmental attack saved me a good chunk of Od.
‘68% left…’
That should be more than sufficient for the boss fight.
Positioning myself before a fractured mirror, I scrutinize my reflection, meticulously adjusting my attire and taming my hair to appear halfway presentable.
With a sigh, I start to scour the labyrinth that is Castle Einzbern in an effort to uncover the entry to their Workshop.
After what feels like an eternity of searching, I finally uncover the hidden entrance behind the grand throne in the main hall.
Stepping into the Workshop, I’m greeted by the sight of a platform seemingly suspended midair, connected by a labyrinth of stairways leading to various sections—many of which don’t even make sense in placement, the stairs upside-down.
The architectural marvel is simply mind-boggling to think about.
“Enough of this charade, Jubstacheit! Show yourself! I just want to talk!” Preferably with my guns or Arias, I’m not picky. As expected, the only response I get are the echoes of my own voice reflected back at me.
The echo of my voice lingers in the air, met with nothing but silence.
My eyes scan the labyrinth of staircases and doorways, each one a potential trap, each one leading who knows where. A sigh escapes my lips as I brush a hand through the strands that rest on my sweat-soaked forehead.
I start walking, my footsteps resonating eerily in the vast, empty space.
“I don’t have time for this.”
I’ve got a stockpile of about a thousand rounds of Equality ready for ‘distribution’.
No matter how big the place is, there must be a limits.
The Einzbern specializes in Alchemy, not Spatial and Temporal Magecraft.
Knocking on one door, I press my ear against it and knock, before putting the shotgun against the thin, wooden barrier seperating whatever’s inside and I.
Sure enough, the animated armor lets out an ear-piercing screech, its arms crumbling to pieces around me. “Not this again…” I mutter, moving from door to door, only to be greeted by a gallery of horrors—homunculi, grotesque flesh amalgamations, and abominations that even the darkest imaginations couldn't dream up.
The twist?
They’re far more powerful than any homunculi I’ve encountered so far, John Arston included.
My guess is their grotesque appearance is the reason for their confinement.
Just a glimpse of these horrors would have every cryptid enthusiast in the world swarming the Einzbern backyard, and they absolutely cannot afford that kind of scrutiny.
An animated suit of armor is bizarre, but can be written off as some guy or gal goofing around,
A giant spider made from limbs stitched to an emaciated Xeonomorph torso?
Now that’s a whole other level of inexplicable. “That’s the 67th door…” I mutter, growing increasingly weary of the seemingly endless parade of nightmares.
As I prepare to burst through the next door, I catch the faint sound of shoes scraping against the dry floor behind me.
Spinning around with my shotgun at the ready, I confront the homunculus.
John’s lucky… Had I entered without [Reinforcement] to steady my nerves and been just a bit more trigger-happy, his brain would be decorating the floor.
“At ease, soldier!” He calls out, his tone somewhere between a joke and a plea. “I’m friendly!”
“Why the Hell did you think it was a good idea sneaking up on me?”
Should he even be seen with me?
“What about the kill-switch?” I hiss.
“Don’t worry, the Space in the labyrinth is distorted. There’s no way for Jubstacheit to monitor this place.”
“No additional defenses at all?” That sounds… Rather uncharacteristic of him.
“Well,” John shrugs with a casual smirk, “We figured if someone can survive everything we’ve thrown at them, there’s really no point in adding more obstacles. It’d only be a waste of resources.”
“Then why does this place exist?” I ask with narrowed eyes.
“Mostly to buy time. The real door to the Workshop changes location every hour or so,” The homunculus explains, motioning for me to follow. “Relax, I’m not going to lead you into a trap. It is a bit late for second thoughts now, don’t you think?”
Fair enough…
It’s hard to trust these days, but if he also has stakes in seeing me come out on top, it makes the threat of betrayal a little less concerning.
But as with everything, the odds are never 0.
Being improbable and impossible are two completely different things.
“Your trust issues seem rather deep-rooted, Lord Magnus. I highly recommend seeking professional help.”
I let out a grunt of acknowledgement, but his insistence only makes me distrust him more.
Even the way he addresses me has had a noticeable shift, which does very little to ease my concerns. People don’t change on the fly, do they?
“Hmm, my sensors indicate a slight decline in your trust levels… Interesting. You strike me as the type who might let their guard down if their ego is sufficiently stroked,” He muses, a hint of mischief in his tone.
My lips twitch with annoyance, before deciding to steer the conversation in another direction. “So, about that HUD you mentioned, how does it work exactly?”
He offers a small smile as he spins an insignia in his hand, the Mystic Code emanating a constant, thrumming pulse of Mana.
“My overlay? It intercepts all sensory information I receive and modifies it before transferring it to my brain—fascinating process really—”
For five minutes, we press on until we find a door that seems far more humble than the imposing portals I was opening earlier. “Well, this is it. Regrettably, I won’t be able to assist you in the battle, but take care, Lord Magnus.” The homunculus mouths, the title sending a shiver up my back. ‘What’s with this fucking guy?’
He was not this respectful on our ride here.
“Your trust levels decreased again.”
I glare at the homunculus. “Stop doing that.”
“Does it bother you to be seen through?”
“Yes.” I nod, seeing little use in lying. “You’ll come to realize 99% of Mankind dislike such a feeling. Makes us feel naked.”
And nobody feels comfortable being naked in front of strangers, except for those with a certain type of fetish.
“Is it impolite?”
I bob my head, hand reaching for the doorknob. “Kinda, yes.”
While I often engage in playful jabs at others’ expense, I generally steer clear of hitting sensitive spots or try to overanalyze them. That is, unless I’m in business-mode, because, as the Chinese aptly put it, ‘The market is war.’
“Then forgive me. I shouldn’t have pried.”
Pausing, I search his face carefully, then come to the conclusion, “You’re no longer affected by [Eris’ Discordance], are you?”
The fake smile stiffening, he scratches the back of his head. “It hurts, Lord Magnus. I doubt you’ll understand, but to get your hands on paradise and have it ripped away from you; to be something then nothing… It hurts.”
“So you want your next fix…”
If John’s a druggie, and I his dealer, then [Eris’ Discordance] is the substance he’s addicted to.
It’s quite hilarious, isn’t it?
While humans—I myself included—constantly seek ways to rid themselves of pesky emotions; to separate oneself from one’s ego, our artificial counterparts are busy figuring out how to acquire them. One man’s trash is another one’s treasure indeed. ‘Never been a drug dealer before.’
Never tried or wanted to, even when I was addicted.
My problem’s my problem alone, nobody should suffer through it with me. “Your trust levels just increase… Is it because—?”
“John…” I warn, my voice dropping in a low growl.
“Jubstacheit is just beyond that door. Even I am unaware of the specifics of the Workshop’s defenses, but I would tread carefully if I were you. He will have all the Mana from the local Leylines at his disposal, along with some reserves.”
“I know,” I reply, putting my thumbs up. “I’ll be careful. Wait here. When I bring Illya out, if things start to go south, I want you to grab her and make a run for Kiritsugu, understood?”
“Understood, Milord.”
With that, I fling open the door and step into a hallway that seems never-ending.
Though it’s clearly meant to exude grandeur, it ends up looking more like a set from a low-budget television series.
The first room I catch sight of is a dimly lit laboratory cluttered with ancient manuscripts and bubbling concoctions inside flasks, the air tinged with a musty scent of chemicals.
Opposite to it is a chamber bathed in an eerie green glow housing colossal glass tubes, each containing humanoid forms suspended in a grotesque stasis, their faces frozen in silent screams. Further along, there’s a library where shelves groan under the weight of countless books and scrolls, the scent of aged parchment mingling with the subtle whiff of candle wax, while arcane symbols and diagrams are etched into the very walls,
A quick glance into another room reveals a garden of impossibly vibrant flora, each plant exuding a faint luminescence and an intoxicating fragrance.
If not for the fact there’s rustling; whispers and several decaying corpses that the roots cling to, I’d have thought it Eden.
Then, there’s a forge, its crimson furnace casting long shadows while a minimalistic golem hammers away at a molten artifact, seemingly unaware of my presence.
Finally, I come across a room that stands in stark contrast to the others—a small, plain space with a solitary operating table at its center.
Atop it rests a little girl with hair so white it blends into her surrounding, while an unassuming vial of pulsating red surrounded by protective wards and barriers stands next to her. “If you value her life, you will stand back and let me finish this operation. You are here for her, correct?”
I grimace as the surgery scalpel digs into Illyasviel’s arm. “What are you doing to her?”
“Making her better.”
The golem answers curtly.
“She doesn’t look better.”
Who does, cut up like that?
“She will be, after I’m done… She’ll be a better Magus.” Circling the operating area, I find a comfortable spot and settle in, legs crossed, back against the wall, spear resting on my shoulder while the surgery takes place. “How long will this take?”
“A few more hours… It’s a dangerous procedure—Artificial Circuit Implants—but once they’re done…”
“You’re replacing her actual nerves with artificial Circuits?”
Artificial Circuits aren’t new; they’re classified as a type of Mystic Code, but they are not natural.
Much like real nerves, the pseudo-spiritual nerves that enable us to control, channel, and store the excess Mana our souls produce grow with age; artificial Circuits do not. “This will stunt her growth permanently."
“The number will make up for the slight decrease in quality.”
“But at what cost? It will affect her lifespan. What if she’s close to achieving Heaven’s Feel and then dies in the middle of the process? You're not thinking this through, golem.”
“I’ve precisely calculated the timing. She will be alive to participate in the next Grail War and have ample opportunity to return. The current average human lifespan is 75.8 years. There’s no guarantee she’ll surpass that anyway.”
My brows knit together in confusion.
Then how comes every source I consulted insist that Illya could only live for a few more years after the Fifth War concluded? ‘Time.’ I realize.
These procedures, much like Crest Transference, are ideally conducted at various stages in a Magus’s life to minimize bodily stress.
However, with the Grail War taking place over 40 years earlier than scheduled, the golem had no choice but to compress all of them into an extremely short timeframe.
It wasn’t the procedures themselves that shortened her lifespan so drastically; it was the frantic haste with which they were performed.
For the next few hours, I sit in anticipation, eyes closed but senses keen, while the frail wheezes of the girl breathing through a tube echo against the walls like the wheezes of Darth Vader.
“It’s done.” The golem overseeing House Einzbern finally speaks, summoning two homunculi to carry the unconscious girl away. “She’ll be placed in her cell. I assume you don’t want our fight to disturb her?”
“Is there a chance we can avoid fighting altogether?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The golem replies, discarding his surgical gloves and tossing them into the trash along with the scalpel.
‘Wasteful,’ I think to myself.
“Worth a try.”
I shrug and make a mad dash towards Illya, only to violently slam into an invisible barrier that sends me sprawling sideways.
“Patience, Leonis. Patience.”
“Lord Magnus, I must commend your bravery, it is why I tried to offer you an olive branch,” Jubstacheit intones, his voice dripping with condescension. “But I’m afraid this is where your journey ends."
“I’ve heard that a few times before.” I retort, trying to keep my voice steady.
With a flick of his wrist, the air warps and suddenly, jagged spears of shadow shoot toward me like missiles. I manage to dodge and deflect some with [Kinetic Shield], but the golem doesn’t seem too concerned with the miss. ‘Right, near infinite Mana…’
This is why you don’t attack Magus in their Workshop.
“You’ll need to do better than that, Jubstacheit.”
Retrieving several pebbles from my rings, already flooded with Mana prior, I throw then
With a casual wave, Jubstacheit erects a shimmering shield that deflects my attack as if it were nothing more than a light drizzle. He smiles, a cold, calculating expression.
“What a barbaric and rudimentary way to use Magecraft,” He lectures, before summoning a torrent of corrosive energy that sweeps across the floor like a tidal wave.
‘Instant ‘Matter Transmutation’?’
He just collected the moistures in the air and turned it into acid… The process of which involves rearranging atoms—the protons to be precise.
It’s not something one just does on a whim. Back during the Age of Gods and the subsequent Age of Heroes, it may be a common occurrence since all it took were a few Chants and rudimentary knowledge, but rearranging protons with Magecraft is the kind of process that requires far more computing power than the human brain—no matter how much implants are put in—can realistically handle. ‘Right, golem, not homunculus.’
I leap to the side, narrowly avoiding the acidic waves, and retaliate by casting the pebbles at him again. They collide harmlessly against the shield that shines around him. ‘Urgh…’
“Yield, Leonis. Your efforts are valiant but ultimately meaningless. Here, I am a God.”
“You do remember what happened to them, right? That’s not a flex.”
The golem has near infinite Mana, but the Tohsaka chose ‘Energy Conversion and Storage’ for a reason. There must be a limit to his efficiency, input and output. ‘Sometimes, you just gotta brute-force it.’
Feeding 20% of my Mana into [Kinetic Blast], I hurl the spear with everything I’ve got at the golem. It’s quite the sight, watching that smug look slide off his face when the Mystic Code penetrates the shield, stopping just before it can pierce his skull. “As expected, you are—” Bullets slam into the butt of Senza Esitazione, driving it further to graze his cheek.
‘Give me something good!’
I beseech the Heavens, beseeching the [Sky-Father’s Wrath] before the name sears itself into my consciousness.
Suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness, engulfed by roaring, ominous black clouds materializing out of nowhere. A blinding white bolt of lightning shatters the gloom, striking the suspended golem.
The protective shield encasing it flickers weakly before disintegrating into fragments.
Desperately, the Spell channels all available Mana from the Leylines to rejuvenate the shield.
Yet, just as it reforms, another thunderous strike rips it apart once more.
Had it possessed flesh and bones like ordinary homunculi, I have no doubt Jubstacheit would have perished.
Remarkably, it rises, though its garments were reduced to tattered rags.
“How infuriating… Do you think this is enough?”
[Sky-Father’s Wrath] rumbles twice.
Once, twelve Olympians ruled with divine authority,
Now, twelve thunderstrikes herald their legacies,
Each one symbolic of the Machine Gods, culminating with Zeus’s mightiest blow. “It broke your shield, didn’t it?”
I taunt, dematerializing Senza Esitazione before materializing it once more. My spear may lack the coolness of Marvel’s Mjolnir’s ‘Return’ Enchantment, but it’s straightforward, efficient, and swift—it's everything a weapon needs to be really.
From above, several golems descend in a synchronized leap, their forms far less human-like than Jubstacheit’s.
Integrating seamlessly, they merge into a colossal construct like a Power Rangers group. “So, this is phase two, I’m guessing?” I snort, a hint of amusement in my tone.
“Do take care, upstart.”
Jubstacheit intones, his voice mechanical, yet simmering with a frigid fury.
He leaps forward, an electrified fist rippling through the air just as I leap aside, narrowly missing the attack.
The third thunderbolt descends, obliterating half of his mechanical armor, but more golems leap down, fusing with him seamlessly.
‘They are impervious to electricity.’ But not to the heat.
Jubstacheit lunges at me with surprising speed for his colossal form, his fist connecting with a bone-crushing force that sends me hurtling across the room.
I crash into the opposite wall, the impact forcing the air out of my lungs. Gasping, I collapse to my knees and palms, feeling the sting of a hit not felt in a long time. The fourth lands on Jubstacheit, ripping his armor to smoking pieces, yet the golem does not look at all fazed, slowly advancing towards me like a towering mountain.
“You should’ve backed off when you had the chance. It is not in my directives to kill you, I’d have spared you.”
The fifth and sixth strike simultaneously, hurling him backward; yet the golem, its fingers clawing into the earth, inexorably pushes forward. Overhead, numerous groups of homunculi touch down, forming an ominous circle around us. Things are looking pretty bleak—or does it?
The realization dawns upon me as I remember a Perk I’ve yet to test. Unleashing a primal scream, I summon a dark, malevolent force that blankets the room, sending ripples through the cavern and eliciting a symphony of groans from all corners. “Wha— What is this?! What did you do?!”
“Now you know what it’s like to be hungry!”
One homunculus abruptly snaps at his kin, maw agape, sinking in for a grotesque, squelching bite, yet his hunger remains insatiable.
Agonized screams reverberate through the chamber as I trigger [Hyper-Metabolism], soaring past the golem to chase after the homunculi who took Illya earlier. ‘Sit back and enjoy the show, sucker.’
With all Stats doubled, I skip down the hallway, finally stumbling on a homunculus who’s not affected by [They know not hunger].
“Halt–”
No sooner than the word escapes my lips, my spear pierces through the artificial lifeform.
It’s only then that I catch sight of the room behind, enclosed in glass, with a girl clad in purple, huddled in a tight embrace. “Illya von Einzbern?”
In an instant, her posture straightens.
“I am here on behalf of your father, Kiritsugu Emiya.”
“I knew it!” She jumps up excitedly. “I knew Kiritsugu won’t abandon me!”
“Right. You know how to open this?”
Her face goes slack with guilt as she shakes her head. “Nuh-uh!”
Pivoting on my heel, I engage [Structural Grasp] at full capacity, my expression contorting in a grimace. There’s no way to release her from this predicament, and the glass has been engineered to be exceptionally pressure-resistant, its surface slick as ice.
But If I can just find a way to get a firm grip… “Illya, I need you to hide in the closet, wrap yourself with a blanket while you’re at it, close your eyes; cover your ears. This is gonna be loud.”
She does as instructed, poking her head out to give me a thumb-ups.
“Here goes nothing…”
I murmur, slowly imbuing the glass with a surge of Mana until it begins to glow. Carefully aiming, I unleash a precisely targeted [Kinetic Blast], the concentrated force weakening the structure’s integrity.
With a deafening screech, the barrier shatters into a million glittering shards, while Illyasviel screams in terror. Luckily, she’s uninjured, if a bit scared. Thank Gods, Kiritsugu would have had my hide if the girl’s hurt. “C’mon, let’s get you outta here. Are you hurt?”
She nods weakly, holding her stomach—the spot Jubstacheit was operating on earlier.
“My tummy hurts…”
“You’re a strong girl, aren’t you? You think you can handle it?”
The half-homunculus bobs her head, steeling herself in an instant.
“Uhm!”
Her arms cling tightly around my neck, her legs latched onto my waist like a koala bear, Illya yells—“Onwards!”
With a swift move, I step outside, shielding her eyes from the chaotic scene of homunculi and automaton-like golems tearing into each other, unaccustomed to hunger.
“LEONIS!” Jubstacheit’s enraged cry echoes behind us, but he’s powerless to catch me with [Hyper-Metabolism] accelerating my escape.
Darting into the labyrinth, I spot John idling near the entrance. “Where’s the exit?”
The three of us sprint with everything we’ve got, until we finally burst into the main hall.
The ground shudders beneath us, giving way under the force of the rampaging golems.
I miscalculate a step and slip, but before plummeting, managing to hurl Kiritsugu’s daughter to John. “Take her!”
If I’m to install John as the next Einzbern Lord, I must eliminate Jubstacheit no matter the cost, and now that Illya’s secured, I no longer have anyone to worry about… Landing in a crouch, I twirl my Mystic Code, pointing it at the golem.
“Final showdown…”
Jubstacheit roars, saliva foaming and dripping from the corners of his mouth as he gnashes on the head of a hapless homunculus, his hands crushing another futilely gnawing at his armor.
“What did you do? What is this feeling?!”
He bellows, voice soaked with fury and confusion.
I smirk, watching as the sky above darkens.
The last bolt’s formed, tinged with an eerie blue glow.
“It’s called [Gluttony]!”
C30: “Not Me!”
Finally catching sight of his daughter, Kiritsugu breathes a deep sigh of relief, raising his gun to mow down the few homunculi giving chase.
A barrage of bullets turns them into riddled heaps, mercifully hidden from his daughter's view by the homunculus. ”Kiritsugu!” She cries out, prompting a weary smile to bloom on the Magus Killer’s haggard face.
He wraps his daughter in a tight embrace, the strength that had sustained him for so long suddenly drained from him.
“Illya! Illya, it’s really you!” He exclaims, voice thick with sorrow and regret. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles her, falling to his knees. Illya, knowing little else to do, pats his back gently, holding strong for just a few tender moments before breaking down into tears herself. “Grandpa Jubstacheit kept saying mean things about you… He said you didn’t need Illya anymore!”
The father and daughter weep together, their shared anguish pouring out in each other’s arms while the homunculus fidgets awkwardly on the sideline.
“You humans are peculiar creatures.”
He muses while observing the heartfelt display.
Above, thunderous dark clouds converge ominously, each rumble sending shivers down spines as the blizzard intensifies. “What’s going on over there? Where’s Leo?”
Kiritsugu asks, concern etched on his features.
“I believe Lord Magnus is engaging Jubstacheit in battle. He did promise me the Einzbern seat.”
The homunculus replies calmly, hands in his pockets.
The Magus Killer’s eyes dart between the homunculus, the menacing sky, and then his daughter.
Taking a steadying breath, he grips Illya’s shoulders firmly. “Illya, I need you to go with him, understood?” He instructs, his voice calm and steely,
Crossing his arms, he gently pushes a few stray strands of hair from her face, trying to reassure her.
Gesturing for the homunculus to approach, he commands, “You’re going to protect her.”
The homunculus nods, stepping closer as the chaotic storm above mirrors the turmoil within the Magus Killer.
He yearns to stay with his daughter, to see her safely tucked aboard an airplane destined far from this accursed place.
But he’s worn out, spent really.
His entire existence has been consumed by a singleminded mission—one that has demanded sacrifices too great to tally, lives lost, Souls shattered, hearts broken.
The identity of the Magus Killer has overshadowed him completely, leaving the remnants of Kiritsugu to gather the broken pieces. For once, he wishes to act for others, not for the grandiose ideals he once idolized and paid dearly for. He wants to save lives, not by killing for the greater good, but by simply saving.
“Wait for us at the base of the mountain,” Kiritsugu orders, his voice steady but strained. “If we don’t return in an hour—if you notice anything strange, I want you to head straight for the airport and fly to Fuyuki, Japan. Do you understand?”
“What about you, Kiri?”
“I’ll go get that disrespectful brat.”
The haggard man chuckles, pulling out his Thompson—a weapon he didn’t think he’d ever need again and march towards the ruins of Castle Einzbern. With a third of the structure completely caved in, he won’t be able to get a good shot from this position, he’ll need to get closer. “Kiri!”
He whirls around, a tired grin on his face to reassure his daughter. “I will be back soon, promise!”
“I know you will! Kiritsugu’s the strongest!”
Illya cheers, patting her non-existent biceps, then pointing at her father, who instantly feels a surge of energy coursing through him.
Flashing her a smile, Kiritsugu runs downhill, guns clutched to his side. “Hold on.”
— [Infinity] —
Pivoting sharply on my heels, I flee while a surge of power courses through the air. Fists and kicks asides, the lightning bolt being charged up will put Marvel's Thor to utter shame, and I want no part in it. “My gratitude, brother.”
I murmur, cupping my hands as I offer a silent plea to Olympian who’s lending me a hand, diving behind a slab of debris just in time as the thunderous blast reduces half of Castle Einzbern to a smoldering, cataclysmic ruin.
The atmosphere crackles with a m electricity, the currents caressing my skin and causing my hair to stand on end, while the thunderclaps rupture my eardrums.
Though the injury will heal in time, I find myself momentarily deprived of a vital sense, a handicap I’ll have to overcome.
The silver lining is: Jubstacheit seems to have fared much worse than I, his face a melted, bubbling horror; the flesh sliding off his skeletal frame while the mechanical armor pieced from other golems disintegrates into a puddle of molten steels around him.
Head poking over the cover, I taunt, loading up Equality in the process.
No wonder Bazett’s always broke in the original…
I have barely dabbled in this line of work and it’s already chipping away at my savings, must take a lot more to be an Enforcer.
“Lookin’ pretty rough over there, good buddy good pal!”
“Centuries of mystical knowledge you’ve destroyed. Centuries!” Jubstacheit hisses something incoherent, stumbling towards me with outstretched hands, feet dragging on the lava beneath his feet. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?! DO YOU?!!”
Pulling the trigger, I smile when one bullet strikes its mark, the other two caught by the dimming shield encasing Jubstacheit.
So much for ending my journey.
This is why you don’t talk too much shit before getting the W.
Took me over 500 games of League of Legends to learn that lesson.
The golem’s voice is a guttural, primal roar that reverberates through the remains of Castle Einzbern, his ‘Matter Transmutation’ turning the once-solid ground into a molten landscape of hazards by vibrating the atoms at an extremely fast frequency.
“What did you say?! I can’t hear you!”
I bellow once more, the bullet which hit Jubstacheit’s silicon-like flesh earlier sizzling and burrowing into his shifting form and causing the strange, viscous substance shaping his body to bubble and melt further, drawing enraged screams from the once-arrogant golem.
“House Einzbern has endured for millennia! We will not fall to you, not like thi—!”
Jubstacheit’s face snaps to the side mid-speech, a giant hole blown into it as he stumbles back, shot by several rounds in the chest. But the shots didn’t come from me. I follow the trajectory of the bullets, turning just in time to catch a glimpse of Kiritsugu in the distance.
It’s almost surreal, seeing him there.
‘Huh, he didn’t abandon me.’
Shouldn’t he be on a plane back to Fuyuki already? It’d make more sense for him to prioritize his daughter over me. Hell, I’d not have prioritized me in his shoes.
Kiritsugu’s expression is as inscrutable as ever, his smoking barrel pointing directly at the living relic of House Einzbern.
Jubstacheit, or what’s left of the golem, scrambles to his feet, each movement more desperate than the last, a puppet on strings that are rapidly fraying under our combined assault.
The holes punched through his silicon-like flesh are leaking a foul-scented fluid, and his roar sounds more of a gurgle now, a mockery of his formerly calm, composed tone.
I leap out of the cover, using Senza Esitazione as a vaulting pole to avoid the lava beneath and approach him. Never thought playing the floor’s-lava as a kid would be useful one day, but if it works…
“Why…? Why do you insist on defiling the sacred legacy of our House?!”
With a crazed howl, the golem’s arm cleaves the air, a blade of pure Mana slicing through the atmosphere and tearing into the mountain peak where Kiritsugu’s taking pot-shots from, while simultaneously propeling a fist toward me with his other arm, nails oozing a shinning blue liquid—a golem’s version of blood, if I had to guess.
My instincts kick in, and I raise my spear in defense, but from my peripheral vision, I catch sight of Kiritsugu.
The Magus Killer looks frantic, limbs flailing wildly as he somehow finds himself beneath a cascade of debris far heavier than him.
In his current state, he’s doomed without my intervention.
‘This is why I work alone.’
Abandoning my defense, I fling my spear with precision, pinning Kiritsugu to the wall. His entire weight now dangles on the strength of his coat, which’s about all I can do for him at this point.
In the split second that follows, I brace myself—muscles tensing to absorb Jubstacheit’s incoming punch.
The impact obliterates my [Kinetic Shield], and the devastating force snaps my spine next. Definitely not a pleasant experience—0/10, would not recommend.
Crashing into my old cover, left arm and feet slightly cooked by the heat the lava emits, I turn Equality at the golem who’s still crawling forwards, despite how… Generous Kiritsugu and I both are at distrubuting the molten lead.
Draining my magazine, I summon the Automag V and empty that too. “W-Why?!” I hear Jubstacheit’s crazed mumbling—my eardrums having regenerated just enough to catch his screams. “It-It belongs to us! The Third is ours!”
He bellows, “Why’re you doing this?!”
“Bit of a cliché, but this really isn’t personal.”
I retort.
It isn’t for me, the same probably can’t be said for Kiritsugu though.
Jubstacheit twitches, a last act of rebellion against the fading hum of artificial life in his veins—Mana made physical.
His eyes, almost vacant marbles roll in his skull as a rattling cough seizes his frame.
Then, with a final shudder, he falls face-first into the cooling lava.
A wave of heat washes over me, thick and choking, yet despite my aching vessel screaming at the top of its lungs for respite, I dare not relax; dare not allow the adrenaline to fade. “Leo, are you okay?”
“Ye- Yeah, I’m fine. Just have to fix something real quick.”
My fingers dig into the flesh of my back, nails scraping against my spine.
I bite back a scream, teeth grinding as I channel [Reinforcement], weaving the Mana in my insular cortex. The pain quickly dulls, becoming a distant echo. Whoever said [Reinforcement] wasn’t versatile has clearly never tried to play around with it. The ability to mute agony, to strangle one’s own emotions... That's power beyond measure.
“What are you doing?” Kiritsugu’s voice comes in strained.
“Fixing myself,” Grunting, my fingers nudge the dislocated spine in place. “Can’t you see?”
“You’ll cause permanent damage to your—”
“They will heal.”
“Not wholly, Leo.” Voice thick with guilt, he asks. “Why did you do it?”
The ‘Why saved me?’ Remains unspoken, yet the question’s deafeningly loud still—too loud for me to ignore.
“Well, I need you alive and kicking. Diapers and drool aren’t exactly my forte, and Taiga barely knows which way is up half the time.”
“Shiro’s young, but she can survive fine without me, and Illya’s older than you.”
“Not in spirit.” I reply, a bit too serious for my own good.
Snorting, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips, the Magus Killer slumps next to me.
“You sound like a, what was it you like to call her, a ‘tsu—"
“Kiritsugu.” I cut him off, lips twitching. “See that bubbling cauldron of molten rock over there? Finish that sentence and I swear on my Soul, I will dropkick you in it myself.”
The bastard actually had the gall to laugh, doubling over and clutching his stomach. “Why act like you don’t care?”
Eyeing him, I weigh my options and decide that yes, I do trust Kiritsugu, enough to give him tidbits if he asks for it, and he’s asking for it, right? “If people know I care, they have power over me; they’ll grow to expect me to do things freely. I can’t trust people to not abuse it.”
Besides, this is Nasuverse—it’s either be paranoid like Zack Snyder Batman or get shafted by a Cosmic Horror that looks like an anime girl for whatever reason. There’s rarely an in-between.
I cannot afford trust, not without the other person also putting something important on the line.
“Who’re ‘they’?”
“Nobody.” Comes my reply, a little too curt perhaps.
“Does this mean you trust me?”
“I don’t know.”
I reply honestly, smearing the blood on my coat.
Gonna be a bitch and a half to get that shit dry-cleaned, isn’t it? “Can I?”
The Magus Killer thinks for a moment, then blurts. “Probably not.”
We chuckle, mainly because of how true it is.
Just ask Maiya, Natalia, Irisviel and the late Lord Emiya whose rotting brain is probably still stinking up the room where he died.
“A life for a life.” He sighs, relieved. “You’ll have my Crest… I can rest easy now that I know you can protect my children.”
Without the Emiya Crest, Kiritsugu will die.
His Circuits will decay completely, followed by his physical body.
“Hold onto it for me. Wouldn’t want your daughters hounding my ass for the Crest…”
Surprised, he turns to me with an imploring gaze.
“I still do need your Crest, I will have it as per our Contract,” I begin, my eyes meeting his. “After you die. It’s not like you have long to live anyway.”
“Just had to add that last part?” Kiritsugu chuckles, retrieving something from his pocket.
The crinkle of a pack next to me draws my eyes as I shrug. “It was getting too emotional for me.”
Turning right, I find Kiritsugu fishing for a cigarette and without even thinking, my hand shoots out, fingers already pinching the white cylinder before I can even properly register what I’m doing.
“Whoa there,” Kiritsugu chides, plucking the cigarette back with a disapproving quirk of his brow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool, but a wave of relief washes over me. Yeah, best not to fall back into that particular habit. “Wanted to nab a cig, what else?”
“Since when do you smoke?”
Since forever, and—“What are you, my mom?”
Thankfully, our conversation is cut short by a loud and frankly obnoxious buzz in his pocket.
“This is not over.”
Rolling my eyes, I de-summon Senza Esitazione with a wave while the Magus Killer answers the phone.
“Leonis? Yeah, he’s here.”
Hearing my name, I snap to attention as Kiritsugu puts the phone in my palm. “It’s Tokiomi’s girl.”
The phone hits my palm and I let out a breath I haven’t realized I’ve been holding, a strangled sound that comes out more like a gasp.
Relief floods through me as I allow [Reinforcement] to recede, the sudden absence of its taut, artificial focus leaving me feeling strangely exposed.
“—Leo? It’s Kirei! He’s gone mad! He broke into my house and tried to kill me!”
The name hit my ears like a physical blow. “Kirei…” I spit, the name laced with such venom I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t fall off then and there, while every fiber of my being vibrates with a cold, all-consuming rage.
I should have let Kiritsugu kill him back then.
What the actual fuck had I been thinking?
“I’m at my sister’s, it’s a long story I’ll explain later, but Lord Matou has graciously allowed us to—"
Her words finally punch through the haze of my fury.
The phone creaks in my grip, fingers tightening reflexively—an unspoken, yet very real promise of violence.
“Rin, listen to me—”
“—We were protected by Lord Matou, but he said he’ll come for the redhead next. He was talking about Shiro, Leo, and Sakura’s grandfather has refused to aid us.”
The words slam into me like a physical blow. “KIREI!”
I roar, the phone turning to powder in my grip.
Fury, raw and blinding, surges through me.
While I did want to reintroduce the sisters and mend their bond, but not like this—not with Matou Zouken of all people fucking present.
I can’t even warn her, not with the Worm possibly eavesdropping on our conversation. “What’s wrong?”
“I will beat his face in.”
I growl, the word ripping raw from my throat as I push myself upright, vision a dizzying and confusing swirl. There’s no red, just blur while the my vision morphs. “Kiritsugu, we have to go back. Now!”
“What did that priest do?”
“Rin…”
I choke on the name, wiping away the sweat that clings to my brow like a shroud. “He attacked her. And Shiro… He’s going after Shiro next. We have to stop him.”
The words die in my throat, strangled. “We need to get her out of there too.”
Kiritsugu’s face darkens.
He probably has a lot to say about the situation, but decides to instead stay his lips.
I’m not afraid to admit he’s more clearheaded than I am.
“That treacherous fucking twat!”
I roar, pulling out patches of my hair. “Why am I such a fucking retard! To think I could reason with him! I should have gutted him when I had the chance!”
The things I’ll do to Kotomine Kirei when I get my hands on his fucking throat…
“We can use [Broom Flight]… It’s not as effective for men, but it’ll get us there much quicker.”
“How long will it take?”
“It’s a three hours flight to reach Fuyuki,” The Magus Killer states, “But going to Touko’s Broom Flight Agency will add another hour to our journey.”
“Four hours in total then…”
Four hours is not a long time, but it sounds like an eternity given the circumstances.
Even with the advantage she has over her male counterpart, without the Unlimited Blade Works to help her, she’s basically dead meat.
“I gotta make a phone call.”
Luckily, my phone hadn’t suffered much damages during the fight.
Nokia really does make the most durable device on the planet.
Now that I know for certain Gods exist, Gods bless them and their ‘bricks’.
— [Infinity] —
[Broom Flight] is anything but enjoyable. It’s a nauseating ordeal lasting over two hours, which consists of getting doused with rancid herbal concoctions in the first thirty minutes that smell like it’ll corrode my skin on contact.
The ride itself is equally dreadful, perched atop the Mystic Code’s near unbearably uncomfortable seat. Gotta give it to the Witches, they deserve the street rep for being able to balance on these ‘sticks’.
About halfway through, a twist of nausea tightens in my belly, suddenly reminding me of the [Hyper-Metabolism] side effects.
By the time we finally touch down, I’m naught but a skeletal wreck, collapsing to the ground and ravenously stuffing anything edible into my mouth, which is about everything I can get my hands on thanks to [All-Eater].
Stopping myself due to a bloated stomach, I bite into my forearm, drawing a mouthful of disgusting, metallic fluid that clings stubbornly to my teeth.
“You go put Illya somewhere safe.” I spit, saliva dyed pink. “I’ll head to the Church first.”
He looks like he wants to protest seeing the state I’m in, but between us two, I’m the most equipped to handle Kirei, and he knows it.
“Try to draw him out in the open and stall.”
“I know.”
The world swims in a dizzying waltz of blinding light and gut-wrenching nausea, a symphony of discomfort that somehow propels me forward like whirlwind.
“Ah, your Highness,”
A voice purrs from the shadows as I burst into the Fuyuki Church. “You’re quicker than I expected.”
“Shiro…”
I breathe, my gaze falling upon the struggling form bound and gagged at the end of the room.
A low hum rumbles in my chest as I stalk closer,
“I recall asking once…”
The priest begins, his voice devoid of warmth, “How you would feel should I choose to… dispose of Sensei’s heir. ‘Mildly annoyed’ was your answer, if memory serves. Shall we put that theory to the test?”
“She’s not Rin, she has nothing to do with this. Neither of them do. This is between us, Kirei, so let’s settle it man-to-man.”
“That’s it? That’s your bargain? You’re supposed to be a capitalist, for God’s sake!” Kirei roars with laughter, a bizarre cocktail of anger, amusement, and thrill contorting his features.
“You’re supposed to make deals, convince me! And that’s your best attempt? C’mon! You’ve been screaming to high heavens about the kind of salesman you are, Leonis Magnus! Spice things up—offer up your life or a limb at least; make this fun!"
“Even if I give in, you’ll only kill us still. Better she than us both.”
Summoning Senza Esitazione, I stride forth with a confidence I don’t entirely feel, while Shiro, though clearly hurt by my words, closes her eyes in resignation.
My steps falter as the Black Keys flash, carving thin, crimson lines across her white skin.
“You—!”
The word explodes from me, my grip on the spear tightening to the point my hand feels numb.
“Called your bluff~!” Kirei sings, his voice dripping with a perverse satisfaction.
He circles Shiro like a predator toying with its prey, the glint of the Black Key almost icy in the dim light.
Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he presses the weapon to her face, dragging it from her jawline to the curve of her ear.
A stifled whimper escapes Shiro’s lips, and though the wound won’t be fatal, chances are it will scar. I can only hope Avalon can fix it, or she’s gonna have one Hell of a time explaining it to her teacher and classmates this Monday. “What do you want?”
“Go on then, Leonis. Shove that spear through your leg. I’m betting you will, but I’m hoping.”
The shittiest part is: He doesn’t even crack a smile—emotionless statue, yet a sliver of sadistic pleasure flickers beneath the surface.
I see it—after all this time, I have become fluent in the silent language of his facial changes.
He can try to mask it, but the darkness always bleeds through.
“You’re fucking insane.”
My defiance dies in my throat as the Black Key finds its mark, pressing coldly against Shiro’s cheek.
“Okay, okay! You win!” This whole charade would go much smoother if I could just shut off my emotions again.
But I can’t risk that with Shiro.
Emotions are the ties that bind, and without them, I dread what I might allow to happen in the name of victory…
I grunt, dragging the spearhead across my thigh.
It sings, a hot whisper of pain.
[Skymother’s Retribution]—if Zeus’ Miracles are explosive and thunderous, then Hera’s is far more insidious, reflecting 25% of damages of the Cursed to themselves, which in this case is me.
Meeting his gaze, I glare.
“What was that? I told you to cripple yourself, not give yourself a mosquito bite.”
Bracing myself, jaws tense with anger, I stab into my thigh, spearing through the appendage in a single motion, purposefully missing the bone beneath. “Happy?!”
Movement flickers in my periphery—a pair of twin-tails flashing past a shadows. Rin…
She presses a finger to her lips, eyes darting to the shallow cut on my thigh before shaking her head silently.
I hold my breath, stifling the urge to acknowledge her.
One flicker of recognition, one tell, and Kirei would see it.
He always does.
And yet, even in the sliver of a second it took for my gaze to find hers and dart away, Kirei caught it still.
Fortunately, “That’s not gonna work, Leonis. Do you think I am stu—”
That’s when a super-charged [Gandr] flies at his back.
Taking advantage of the situation, I lunge on top of him, screaming at the Tohsaka whose presence I’m rather thankful of, “Get her out of here quick!”
A punch from Kirei causes my head to spin, and in response the elbow I have against this neck increases in pressure.
“What’re you doing, Rin?! Move!”
Only when the shadows swallow them whole—Tohsaka with Shiro bundled in her arms, chair and all—do I dare turn my attention back to the priest. “You—”
The growl tears from my throat as we crash to the ground, a tangle of limbs, my fists finding their rhythm repeatedly against his head.
He gives as good as he gets, blood spattering between us, painting the ground red. “You fucking—!”
But his best is not enough…
It hasn’t been for a while.
As if reading each other’s mind, our foreheads clash, resulting in a sickening crunch.
“You think I don’t know what you were doing?! TAMING ME LIKE AN ANIMAL!” The priest shouts, his fist finding its target on my jaw, the hit nearly snapping my neck in half.
Vision swimming red, I leap towards him, slamming the priest against the wall.
Our exit from the main hall wouldn’t be through the usual door, not this time, instead we wrestle our way through an human-shaped entrance.
A pebble blinks into existence in my hand; a pebble I force my Od in until its physical structure starts to lose stability.
Then, it rips from my hand, tearing a chunk out of Kirei’s stomach at the exact moment his fist slams into my temple.
Finally, we tumble into a heap.
One knee pushing down on his lungs, the other pinning his hand, my fists—driven by neither rational nor logic—hammer on his defenseless form.
‘Where did I go wrong?’
The first punch knocks out his teeth;
‘How did it come to this?’
The second causes his jaw to dangle like a loose mouthguard.
‘I didn’t want this…!’
Kirei laughs—a wet, broken sound, while blood erupts from his nose and mouth,
‘I didn’t!’
“Yo- You failed… You failed…”
Yet, like a broken record, he keeps repeating.
‘Why?’
My fingers coil around his neck—tiny, yet strong like a scarf of steel wrapped around his neck; nails drawing blood.
‘WHY?!!’
Slowly, the priest’s struggle begins to weaken, and weaken, until even his feeble attempt at fighting back is lost within my barrage.
I cock my fist, chest heaving—a hair’s breadth from delivering that final, fatal blow to the man who’s been a mentor of sort to me. “Damn you, Kirei!”
The words rip from my raw throat as I punch, the force behind my attack dampened by the deep exhaustion I feel. “This was you. I DIDN’T DO THIS!”
Black spots clouding my sight, I croak, just hoping I’ll wake up tomorrow somewhat whole.
“T- This was you!”
Then, adrenaline dumped, I collapse into the puddle of blood pooling around us.
Comments
Ano Nymous
Been building up to this moment for ages, lol. Hope it was satisfactory.
Hoang Nguyen Bui
Good chapter, sir :)
