The Grail Games IC

The Demon King
 
Those eyes... she could feel her life being ripped out of her. All of the mana in the air was useless... she had the regular amount, the low amount, in her body. For such a direct counter, what was her luck? This must be how Servants felt when their identities were used against them. Thankfully was as much as bragger as ever, and she realized this was a Basilisk. ... But really, she was a moment away from the floor now. All she could do was use her sword to stand. She didn't even remember starting to fall. Was she that much better than that worthless trash? ... Of course she was. She'd show everyone that she was a threat. Not just as a Master. The words she muttered as the life seeped out were inaudible under the roar of Rider's Noble Phantasm.
 
 
 
 
The result was near instant. It was not a command of the area, but the world itself. The two finished Devils Castles reacted. Mana rushed at the Demon King in the blink of an eye, a Tidal wave that inturupted all spells being cast. It covered and soothed her, and she accepted it. She let it enter her body and empower her with the World's touch. She could not defeat a Servant... but she feel she could put up a small fight. There had simply not been enough time. ... She was fighting on the edge. So be it. She would be desparate then. She would fight for her life, and then she would fight for the World.
 
The Demon King said no words. She simply burst into action, faster than any expected. Her fury was as decisive as the room was dreary. The light and wind that had leapt up from Rider's Noble Phantasm was quickly dying out. Mana was spared for nothing except for the one at the center of the maelstrom. There was not even darkness. There was only gray nothingness as one beast shot to the other. She would spare the eyes. Perhaps she could find a way to use them. Everything else...
 
A bloody shower followed the mana storm. Where her previous attack couldn't breach its armor, now her her mana-empowered strikes were cleaving through it. Sword, Gauntlet, and even her bare hand was cutting the creature down and ripping it apart. It was such a fury of motion and violence that perhaps the only one able to recognize the technique in it was the one  Rider that had shown barehanded combat skill. There was no reason to where she attacked, but she attacked with such precision and purpose. There was no wasted movement as the victimized monster was pulled apart piece by piece in a flash. With enough wounds to be fatal, the true monster leapt back then dash forward once more, smashing a knee into the hole-riddled thing. It barely lifted off the ground... and then she did it again. Faster. Stronger. And then again. Flourish, perhaps one of her more deadly abilities. An action repeated twice as strong and fast as before, with little mana consumed.
 
And then she smashed her knee into the airborne beast one more time, and it was sent hurtling into the far wall. The Demon King turned her savage glance upon Jamie. A moment ago she was defeated, relying on her sword for support. Now she was standing strong, her clothing frayed and missing pieces from her rapid attack. "Did I not say? Even a god will be cut down if it stands in my way." Once more she leapt into action, her claw and sword reaching out to rip or cut off Jamie's hands and take either the ring or his command seals.
 
 
She had almost died. Her heart was racing, and her demeanor was no longer calm. She would not die. She could not let that happen.

Gedo - Warehouse

Death. Certain death.

The fantastic rampage of Servant Rider should have ended in nothing less.

Nonetheless, there stood Berserker - battered, bruised, and crushed, but very much alive.

Even with Battle Continuation, he should not have survived such an attack. However, the rapid drain of Devil's Castle had worn enough on the bond between Jamie and Rider so that the Noble Phantasm was not as powerful as it should have been.

"Impressive," Berserker murmured, tossing aside the useless broken pieces of his borrowed weapon. "Having seen your greatest Noble Phantasm, I have no choice but to show you mine."

Raising his empty hand to the sky, Berserker's red eyes seemed to glow as a void tore open in the air above him. And from the smoldering red abyss above, an object like a red bolt of lightning struck through the air, crashing into the cement floor and embedding itself up to the hilt. With an expression of the greatest reverence, Berserker extended his hand and grasped the hilt, wrenching the blade from its resting place.

This great sword had claimed many a lesser man who had tried to tame it. But Berserker's strength of will was paramount. The chains of madness of his class could not subdue him. Even the insanity of the blade struggled hard to claim his mind when he wielded it.

But now, he would not use it as a mere weapon. Even as he raised the great sword, mana swirling in a torrent about it, he could feel the scalding, angry fingers of the curse grasp at his mind, blinding his rational thoughts. The last words he could remember thinking were...

"Perhaps you and I were not so different, Master."

--------------------

Castor and Pollux panted, feeling the strain of the weakening bond and the considerable drain of mana from the use of their Noble Phantasm. But despite the use of their trump card, Berserker was still standing.

And now it was his turn, the demonic blade gathering a frightening amount of mana with which to strike them down, alighting its length in wicked flames.

But perhaps more frightening than the power he wielded was the transformation that it caused. His normally pale skin had become an ashy grey, the whites of his eyes darkening to a demonic black as the red irises shone with terrifying intensity.


"Gods of horsemanship!" he bellowed, his mouth splitting into a terrible, toothy grin. "Allow me to show you the might of a true god!"

With a frenzied scream, Berserker stepped forward, his sword slamming into the ground as it unleashed a torrent of mana in a raging tempest of hellish flames. There was no avoiding it. There was no escaping. Castor knew that they had lost.

But at the last moment, his eyes glimpsed the image of his brother moving in front of him as his vision was suddenly blotted out.

--------------------

Pain. Pain. Pain.

Castor groaned, though he welcomed the sensation. It meant that he was still alive. With effort, he pulled open his eyelids, surveying the scene.

The warehouse had been blown away by Berserker's attack, leaving only a tottering shambles over where their Masters had been battling. The ground all around was scorched, some places still dancing with flickering embers. Berserker was on his knees, chugging air like a wounded beast as he clutched his sword to brace himself. He himself was scorched, torn, and bloody, unable to move from the floor.

And Pollux... Pollux was nowhere to be seen.

Not again. Not again. His brother couldn't sacrifice himself again to save him.

But no, it was that first sacrifice that would save him. They could not be parted, not by any force. As long as he remained tethered to this world, Pollux would return. He need only clutch onto life for as long as that took.

Even now, he could dimly sense Pollux, struggling to return to him. Castor smiled, turning to glance at the floor where he was sure his brother would appear any moment.

Hold on. Hold on. Just hold on.

Suddenly, like the shadow of death, a cloaked figure dropped down on Castor suddenly, slamming his body into the hard pavement. Gasping in pain and surprise, Castor stared up into the white mask, which seemed to leer down at him with malevolent glee.

"Hello, Servant Rider. If you wish to reunite with your brother, I would be most happy to assist you. But first, you have something I want."

With a giddy laugh, Assassin plunged his hand into Rider's chest. Castor could not contain the cry of agony as the fiendish specter tore into more than just flesh. Power seemed to drain from his body, stolen by his assailant. What could this monster be doing?

Assassin seemed to finish his task in a few moments, removing his hand and standing to gloat down at the fallen Servant.

"Thank you, Rider. You can die now," he laughed, retrieving the enemy's fallen spear before vanishing into the night.

Spoiler:

The veil of death fell over Castor's eyes as his head lulled to the side. He could faintly make out the ghostly image of a hand reaching out for his own.

The memory of that dark, quiet orchard beneath the stars swam into his memory. The sensation as life slipped from his body, cradled in his brother's arms. Tears shed for him. A precious gift willingly divided for him. A love so pure as to put all other's to shame.

"Brother..." he murmured, his fingers reaching out to grasp the reflection of his own.

I wanted to be the one to protect you. I wanted to be the one to save you. Instead, I...

Castor's fingers grasped the ghostly image of Pollux's hands as his body began to vanish in a torrent of light. As he did, warmth spread through his body. He could almost see Pollux's smile and hear his voice.

"Silly brother. It doesn't matter. As long as nothing separates us."

The last sparks of light vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind of Servant Rider.

It was over. But even now, they would ride the heavens together.

--------------------

Impossible. It couldn't be happening. It was a nightmare.

Jamie shook as he watched Berserker unleash his Noble Phantasm in a hellish blaze, utterly crushing his Servant. Even as Rider faded, Jamie could not wrap his mind around it.

It was impossible. He was the heir of the Lannister legacy. He was the greatest Master in the games. It couldn't be happening. This must be a nightmare.

He had to get away. He had to escape. His basilisk could not hold back a Servant.

No, even worse, it could not hold back that demon.

The self-proclaimed seemed to achieve the impossible, gathering mana from nowhere to shrug off the effects of his familiar. With ferocious barbarism, she tore into the basilisk, carving it into mince meat in a matter of moments.

Demon. Demon. Demon.

"No, stay away!" Jamie screamed, backing away from the carnage. When her devil eyes turned on him, he staggered away, aiming a spell at the foundation of the remaining part of the warehouse to bring it crumbling down on the monster as he ran into the night, moving on the wings of hatred and fear.

She could reach him. No doubt with such power, the crumbling building wouldn't be enough to stop her. But at that moment, Berserker's sword vanished, and he collapsed to the ground, weakened and vulnerable. Although the Demon Lord's display of power would be enough to intimidate most, a brash Master might attempt to attack the weakened Servant. Could the Demon Lord afford that kind of risk?

--------------------

Jamie ran into the night, his luxurious cape and hat discarded in the ruins, his jacket fluttering in tatters about him as he ran for all he was worth.

How could this happen? How could this be?

Ruin and shame. That's all he could expect now. The Lannisters would never accept this humiliation. The entire magi world had witnessed his fall. His life was in ruins. It was hopeless.

No... no, there was still something. There had to be. He couldn't fail here!

"Calisa...!" he whispered in a mad frenzy. "Yes, she has a Servant! There's still a chance!"

Kaiserpfalz. He must get to Kaiserpfalz....

The Demon King
 
The large rocks falling were more like pebbles to her. She dealt with them easily enough, and then looked around. The remains were scattered. The Master had ran off, but she had no more to take from him except his life. Perhaps he'd find another Servant. It didn't matter. She'd have to end up killing them all anyways. A surprise from Assassin changed nothing. It was likely they would still go after Berserker and herself. Not unless something was done. She walked over to her exhausted Servant. Despite her tattered clothing, she was not wounded.
 
And so she cut her palm open and slammed it into Berserker's mouth, covering it and his nose. She bled into him, the liquid filled with the mass amounts of mana encircling her. But to the servant, to the ghost, it was not simple mana. As they were mana, to him it was pure life. His exhaustion would fade. His powers would be regained. It was faster than any link, the effects would clearly be visible. And it was harshly forced into his body as if he were a baby. A punishment for nearly dying.
 
She walked away after a bit, out into the whol he blasted. Her figure was still stained with the blood of a monster. She extended the gauntles, covered in crimson. "Is there anyone else who would fight us now? While Assassin skulks around ready to finish off any Servants, and likely steal their power in the process? Make no mistake, he stole Rider's Spear. The Servant dissapeared, but not his weapon. These are not the 'Grail Games.' It is a war, as it always has been. If the church has offered you a reward, I suggest you kill the man who did and take it yourself."
 
Here she drops the gauntlet, but extends her other hand. "And is there anyone who would join me now? We need not be allies, only share temporary goals and information along with it. You may even spy on and try to assassinate me. I will stay my sword against any who do not stand in my way." She knew it was futile, but whatever happened would be fine. Right now Berserker was recovering. The leftover mana surrounding her was dispersed, flowing back into the earth and air, regaining light and wind. She was stalling for the precious few moments it would take for Berserker to be battle-ready. Then they'd be prepared for another attack. Or to rest. And if someone decided to join her... Well, that may be beneficial. She already slept with one eye open, ready at every moment to deal with anyone who attacked her. Trust was not an issue.

Everyone

Logan nodded his agreement to Lancer's statements, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the battle below them. Both Berserker and his Master were both true Monsters, in every sense of the word... He could actually feel the mana being sucked out of the air around him as they launched their respective attacks, and as the dust began to settle, it was clear who the victor would be.

His eyes darted back and forth, looking for confirmation of his suspicions. Then, just on the fringe of his sight, he caught a glimpse of Jamie running. No one with any fight left in him would run like that. The confrontation was over. Rider must have fallen.

That wasn't the end though. There was still something left that he had to do. "Lancer, cover me." Logan spoke sharply, even as he stepped off of the side of the building. Beneath him, the self proclaimed Demon King spouted her madness into the air, but he paid it no mind. She would meet her end in time, when someone better prepared came for her.

Right now, his focus was on a single target though...

"Enter now, the belly of the beast,
Upon the flames, it makes a feast,"

Logan chanted as he seemed to tread on air, propelling himself forward with his Spark Steps.

"Engorged on embers, hear it roar,
Spread it's wings, on which to soar,
endless prowling of the skies,
tonight, again, the dragon flies."

Flames swirled around Logan's body, starting at his feet and licking up his legs to swirl about his torso. They spread quickly down his arms, extending into flickering claws, and as the fire covered his head, completely engulfing him, flaming wings spread between his shoulders. One last pop echoed as Logan propelled himself forward just a few more meters, and then, he fell from the sky, like a comet coming down on his victim, a different kind of monster than Berserker or his Master, but a monster none the less...

Illya, Payne, Noin



Jamie ran clueless of the danger rapidly approaching towards him, but many didn't, many watched as a single Master, Logan, moved for the kill, countless familiars along with the bounded field showed masters and magus alike all what was going to happen, Jamie was going to die.

But in an instant, all of that changed, screams of pain were heard as the countless familiars died, their heads popping, the bounded field stopped working and suddenly both Jamie and Logan were unknown to many.

"I can't let that happen..."

A voice whispers as a massive barrier erects to stop Logan's attack, despite his powerful magecraft, he would find that the barrier did not budge, not even a little. Particles begin to appear as the form of a woman materializes, long black hair, black cloth form times long lost and sharp reptile like golden eyes that could cut like knives.

"That is as far as you go Master of Lancer."

It was Caster, floating in the air she simply stood there, she bore a smile almost angelic, but she couldn't fool even herself, nothing was angelic of her, a dark dominant aura surrounded her being, one thing was certain she wasn't going to back down.

Payne, Illya, jorg - Street

Lancer, fully equipped, appeared instantly by Logan's side when he was stopped. She eyed the barrier Caster created feeling how powerful it is, her spear ready in hand. Standing half a step in front of Logan, she made no move to attack.

Is his death worth provoking her? Lancer asks Logan. Do you want this quarrel now? Her bright eyes never left Caster watching for any sudden movement, knowing how dangerous she is just from this little display of power.

"What is Rider's Master to you that you want to protect him?" Lancer asks curiously, guessing that Caster's connection with Calisa could be a possible reason.

Everyone - Street

Flames washed over the barrier as Logan crashed into it, coating the sky over Jamie and Caster in an inferno before they coiled back around Logan's person. There was a loud crack as Logan pushed back off of the barrier with his Spark Steps and flipped backwards to land on the ground, knees bent and arms crossed in front of him.

There was a hiss as the stones beneath his feet rejected the sudden surge of heat that had come into contact with them, and several of them cracked violently, even as a black coating seeped out from him, scorching the surface of the street.

Why? Why had she stopped him? More than anyone else, Caster must have understood why he was planning to take Jamie's life now. So, why would she prevent him from doing it?

The flaming wings enfolded Logan's body as he slowly rose to his full stature, looking just like the monstrosity this spell was named after. To his credit, he hadn't inhaled though, hadn't ended the spell before its time was up. He still might need it to get away...

No. His mind called out to Lancer. Lannister isn't worth picking a fight with Caster, particularly since her Master is the one to benefit from the situation in either case. It's better to cut our losses and see what she does with him... And his eyes did just that. Even under the coat of flames, the crimson orbs glowed intently, watching, waiting to see what Caster would do with Jamie.

Warehouse

Dowth paid Jamie and Logan little heed as they both departed. The Lannister legacy was shattered, and their Master was no longer his concern.

No, his eyes remained trained on Berserker and his Master, who had surpassed his expectations. Berserker's skill was undeniable, and his Noble Phantasm truly powerful.

But it was his Master that Dowth truly feared. She was not the brash usurper that he had expected. Demon Lord... it seemed an appropriate title.

"Master, we have an opening," Saber said, materializing beside him. Dowth could sense his Servant's mounting impatience as the window of opportunity began to close. But Dowth did not respond, attempting to force down the air that had lodged in his throat.

"We're leaving," he said hoarsely at last, to Saber's utter outrage. The Servant cast him an intimidating scowl, but it was nothing to the memory of Berserker's Master. Even now, her voice echoed around the area, her challenge unmet.

"Master-" Saber began, in the tone of one who was not used to being questioned.

"We're leaving!" Dowth snapped angrily, turning from the roof. Saber's gaze was painful on his back before the Servant finally took to spirit form, his presence heavy and oppressive beside him as he hurried back to the safety of his domain.

--------------------

Jorg, Payne - Street

It was with mounting terror that Jamie looked back, seeing a fiery mass descend toward him. Was it that fiend Berserker, come to strike him down like it had his Servant?

"No, no! Stay away!" he screamed. But suddenly, the assailant was halted by a barrier. In grand fashion, Servant Caster appeared, preventing his attacker from pursuing. Jamie noted that it was not Berserker - merely some enemy Master - but that hardly matter. Caster had saved him. And there was Calisa, standing only a few yards away, watching him.

"Calisa!" he whispered hoarsely, staggering to her and clutching at her shoulders. "You have a Servant! We can still win! The Lannister legacy will live on!"

Did she not understand? She only stared at him with blank, unreadable eyes. Frustratedly, Jamie shook her as his own eyes gleamed with a frenzied light.

"Give me your Servant, Calisa. I'll win this war yet. And then we'll go back together. We'll be legends. The Lannisters will forgive all. Better, they'll exalt us above all others! It's you want, isn't it?"

Calisa threw off his hands, stepping away with a cold, scornful look.

"I don't need forgiveness," she said quietly. "And I don't need their meaningless praise."

Calisa stared at him, this sniveling wreck to which her once proud brother had been reduced. This was his true essence. And it disgusted her.

"And I don't need you," she added, stepping forward as he shrank back. "Did you think after what I'd suffered that I would rush to your aide? That I would sacrifice my wishes for your sake again? You're a fool, Jamie. I'm different than I was before."

Jamie cowered, breath come out in short gasps like a cornered animal. It seemed to empower Calisa as she stepped forward, towering over her taller brother.

"You're dead to me, Jamie," she whispered, her eyes narrowing with icy condemnation. Shuddering, as though given a death blow, Jamie fell to his knees. It was not her utter distaste, but the realization that he had truly, utterly lost that finally broke Jamie Lannister to pieces.

Illya, Payne, Noin - Street

Caster ignored Logan and Lancer, her presence never changing, she turns towards Jamie and slowly moves towards him. Jamie fell to his knees, his reality broken and his last delusion broken to pieces. Even Caster's approach could not snap him out of that state, the cold chilling air seemed to have no effect on the corpse once known as Jamie, Caster was a tool, as far as Jamie was concerned, Caster would do only what Calisa told her too.



"You're dead to me, Jamie,"

And yet Jamie turned back to meet the eyes of Caster, he knew full well what those words meant. In front of him stood a monster that could make Berserker's Master seem like a child, there was no chaos, no confusion, no hesitation or even thought, only golden eyes to foretold death.

A hand reaches down and grabs hold of Jamie's head, a firm and powerful grip, was this the grip of a woman even? The skull was cracking under the pressure as Jamie's entire body is lifted, his feet not even reaching the ground. It was a strange scene, Jamie wasn't a heavy person but should still weight around 80 kg, yet Caster who clearly was lighter was holding him up in air with a single hand.

"It really is a pity, I actually wanted Rider on our side, but I guess that their fate was sealed the moment you summoned them."

What was Caster even spouting, Jamie couldn't tell, ever seen he looked at her, everything changed, everything was getting darker, sound was getting silent, smell disappearing and feeling numbing. Yet amongst this decaying world, one single being stood there unaffected, Caster.

"I'll be taking this."

A quick movement from Caster's free hand, and Jamie's arm was removed, the arm in which his magic crest was, was now in Caster's possession. Still Jamie could not feel anything, his gaze dead only looking into Caster's.

It was at this moment that Jamie realized who Caster really was, Jamie despite all his pride prepared himself for this war, memorizing every possible Heroic Spirit he could encounter. Yet a single one always escaped his knowledge, until now. His eyes finally snapped out, his body shakes violently as he struggles to be released.

"NO! It's not possible! Only human should be summoned by the Grail! Beings like you shouldn't be possible! Sam-!"

"Bite."

*snap*

Jamie's tongue feel down from his mouth as he bitten straight through it without hesitation. A squeal that could only be compared to that of an animal about to die.

"Don't go revealing a woman's secrets like that, it might just come to bite you...hehe..."

Caster blows towards Jamie, a cold chilling air, but it was different, Caster releases Jamie, who in contact with that air, begin to scratch his skin. It was irritating him, and so he scratched and scratched, so much that it began to bleed.

His throat was swelling, his eyes were bleeding, he was twitching on the ground, scratching his skin as he felt strange irritation all over the body, he screamed uncontrollably as an unstoppable pain would not subside, and while all this happened other would see the horror of the scene, at this moment an indescribable lump of flesh that rapidly decayed.

It only lasted another minute before the screams stopped and the flesh stopped shaking. Jamie or whatever that was now, was dead.

Yet the most terrifying thing was not the victim of such atrocity, it was it's causer who had yet to abandon her angelic smile during the whole time.

Everyone - Street

Logan watched the exchange between the Lannisters from behind his cloak of fire, but it did nothing to hinder his view of what took place. Calisa's words were like the final nail in Jamie's coffin. Did she realize as much when she spoke them?

His lungs screamed for air, and as Jamie writhed on the ground, Logan inhaled sharply. The flames encircling his entire body swirled upwards, twisting into his mouth. As he swallowed the last of them, Logan turned his head towards the sky and spewed forth a pillar of flames that reached above all the nearby buildings. A feral screech accompanied the stream of fire as it climbed skyward and then finally died back out.

Still standing at the center of a charred circle in the street, Logan turned his gaze once more towards Calisa and Caster. Were they simply opposite sides of the same coin, or were they much more similar than he had originally anticipated? This time, he would know for sure. Caster might have been able to hinder his view of Calisa's reaction the first time, but that was because he had been the instigator. Now, it was Caster who would draw out the emotion in her, who would determine the woman's fate, maybe in more ways than one...

Gedo - Warehouse

Berserker coughed violently, spattering blood as his body arched off the ground. His eyes flew open, the violent crimson orbs having regained their sanity. He found his Master, loudly proclaiming her willingness for allies.

But none would come. They both knew that. To side with them was to also declare war on the magi world. No Master would risk that. It didn't matter anyway. They didn't need another's help.

Berserker stood, moving slowly and silently to his Master's side. The warehouse was ruined, and they would need to relocate before dawn. Whatever the Demon Lord decided to do, he knew they would be fine. She'd proved that enough tonight. The message was clear.

This war was theirs. The Scourge and her Sword.

--------------------

Payne, Jorg - Street

Calisa stared, transfixed, at the sight of her brother's corpse. Her face was nearly expressionless, but the bloodless pallour indicated that she had not expected this turn of events.

Or had she? Could she really have been so naïve as to think that it wouldn't end this way? That after having her say with Jamie that Caster would just let him go? Or had she simply turned a blind eye to it, hoping to push back the hour when she would finally have to realize what the inevitable price of her freedom had been?

Subconsciously, her eyes found Logan, watching her with that cold, dead expression of his eyes. His warning came back to her, and she shuddered at what implication he might be drawing. Turning away, unable to look at him a moment longer, Calisa moved with trance-like footsteps down the road. Calisa knew Caster would attempt to follow, not understanding what she was doing or where she was going.

"No, I need to be alone," she projected as her feet carried her toward the church. It was the last place she should go, now that she had publicly declared herself part of the war, but it was something she needed to do.

The Demon King
"We're moving one over. It won't be done for another two days, so we'll have to be careful. There will likely be an investigation, so I'll set up a barrier." Nothing that indicated whether she was pleased or displeased with how tonight turned out. She simply accepted it all and moved forward. The only thing that leant her some form of life was the growl that emitted from her gut. Despite whatever she said, she needed food. But now wasn't the time to get it. She was not embarassed by her body, nor did her brisk steps pause in recognition of it. She moved on.

Street

Lancer watched as Caster brought the answer to her question down on Jamie. Her face didn't reveal any emotions, but deep down she was asking herself if Caster intentionally wanted to be so cruel, if that was her true persona of if she was influenced by the history between Calisa and Jamie.

At last it was over and both Caster and Calisa turned to leave. Berserker and his Master had also departed and even though they were in a weak position right now, Lancer could feel that Logan was neither in the mood nor prepared to attack them now.

This night would end at an impasse. Well almost. One Servant and Master had fallen victim to what was either a powerful trap or an unlucky coincidence for them.

"Ready to go?" she asked Logan and looked around to make sure there was no danger coming from the others who had witnessed the battle with Berserker and Caster's display of power.

Everyone - Street

Logan's gaze locked with Calisa's when she turned to him, but he didn't allow any emotion to show in it. She seemed... resigned, for lack of a better word. It was as if she'd anticipated this result, but hoped against it, and neither of those told him what he wanted to know. The answer he'd been seeking came with the sudden shudder that ran over her body as she turned away from him. Shame, guilt, fear. They rolled off of her in waves that covered up her resolve. Now he knew she was still a person, but how long would that last? Would she drown in the emotions that swirled around her like a violent storm, or would she use them to temper her resolve, to harden it and shape it to her will? Only time would tell...

"Yeah, I'm ready to go." Logan rasped, his throat clearly still affected by the fire that had recently run through his body. "But we should clean up first. If the authorities find Jamie's body like this, there's no telling what kind of madness will be afoot tomorrow."

A look of disgust crossed his face as Logan looked down at what had once been Jamie Lannister. He couldn't move the mass of flesh from where it lay on the ground without leaving behind a trail of it. So, there was only one option...

"This is going to smell terrible..." He muttered as flames flashed to life in his hands.

OOC: I'm going to leave the assumption that Logan and Lancer returned to the yacht here. I don't have the time to write out anything else during my break.

Illya - Street

Wind blew as everything sank in Calisa, Caster on the other hand had already moved on, examining Jamie's arm before she made it disappear, likely sending it back to their base.

"Let's go Calisa."

Caster said as she turned towards Calisa, but to no avail, Calisa was already moving, but not towards their hideout. Caster remained still for a second, simply looking at Calisa's walking, sloppy and broken, Calisa wasn't her usual.

"....Really, I'm surprised how much patience I have..."

Caster sighs, what could she say? Calisa's unpredictable emotions were getting on her nerves. Caster disliked this Calisa, the weak and lost one, at first she thought it cute because she thought it was only temporary, but she's had so many it's starting to become a liability.

Caster simply went into her spirit form and followed Calisa, not really interested where she was going, but still concerned for Calisa's well being.

*sigh*

"I want confident Calisa back..."

Spoiler:

The lights of the chapel shone like a beacon in the darkness. The night was still and thick all around the hallowed white walls.

Raphael exhaled quietly, feeling some moderation of comfort at the familiar feel of the confessional booth. It was fortunate that he was able to get the debris removed and new pews brought in to fill the chapel. Some of the more cosmetic repairs to the floors and walls would take more time, but at least the church was functional once more.

Although he had performed his duties mechanically, he had not actually expected anyone to stop by this evening to confess. To his surprise, he heard the door on the other side of the booth slide open as the person entered and sat. Raphael tensed, not easily forgetting the attack by Berserker's usurper only a short time ago. But the stranger did not seem to be an enemy, and after a short pause let out a shaky breath.

"I... have something I need to confess," said the voice, obviously female, sounding a bit unsure of how all this worked.

"Confess your sins, child," he said gruffly, not quite the most inviting voice of confidence. The priest could tell that the confessor was quite distressed, but she forced the words out anyway, sounding as though she were fighting back tears.

"My brother died today. I... I watched him die. And I did nothing to stop it."

Raphael's brow creased. This was a bit disturbing, but thus far was not enough to alarm him. He could assume that perhaps she had been afraid, and now the guilt of her inaction was consuming her.

"The Father is forgiving. There is no need for grief or guilt," Raphael began, but the girl made a choked noise that cut him off.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? Any sister should be horrified... grief-stricken... remorseful... But I-"

She stopped, as though clamping down firmly on the words - words she was too terrified to utter. Raphael waited quietly, surprised to find that he was tensed, waiting for her to finish her response. Then, as though divulging a dreaded secret, she finally whispered in a barely audible voice.

"I don't care. Does that make me... a monster?"

Raphael was at a loss for words. Not only was the revelation shocking, but perhaps more so was the uncanny instinct that told him who was on the other side of the divider.

The silence was thick and tense. She seemed to be awaiting a response, and yet her dread at his possible answer seemed to emanate in waves. But Raphael could only think of the vibrant young woman who had sat in his pew, the sun playing off of her hair like fire.

"Does that make me... a monster?" the words echoed back hauntingly.

Perhaps the silence was answer enough. He heard the door slide open shakily as she left the booth.

"Bye, Raphael..." came Calisa's whisper.

Do your duty. Stop her.

But he couldn't move.

She was an enemy of the church...

...She was a soul lost in darkness.

He could only stare blankly at the wall ahead as the sound of her footsteps retreated out the door and into the blackness beyond.

Spoiler:

Scourge. Tyrant. Devil.

He didn't shun his reputation. He embraced it. Let them fear him. Let them tremble at his name.

As a young man, he'd only wished to keep his people strong, to keep them unified and prosperous. Such a difficult task required extreme measures. But the ends justified the means. He was doing what was best for his people. Surely others could understand that.

But his enemies spat at him, hated him and feared him. They were determined to see his world crumble. It was too much. How could he possibly overcome such a vast opponent whose reach seemed endless?

On the field of battle, bathed red in the blood of friend and foe alike, he beseeched the heavens themselves.

For a weapon to destroy his enemies.

No, to be a weapon himself.

His prayers were answered. But such a gift would not be given so easily. He must prove himself worthy of this honor.

Prove himself? Who else but him should have a right to it?

As if to refute this claim, the blade itself assaulted his mind the moment he touched it. It sought to torment him, to break him, to destroy him.

Madness.

Madness.

Madness.

Like a crushing tide of red, it sought to utterly annihilate is mind. To prove him unworthy. Just like all those enemies that spat at him, hated him and feared him.

He smiled. What was such a thing to him? His shoulders could bear such a burden. His invincible arm could not be so easily swayed.

Try to break me. I'll never yield.

Curse me as a devil. I'll show you what a devil could do.

Meira: Berserker & The Demon King

A solemn acceptance. This was one of the memories that drove the ghost. The Demon King did not care much for it. But this stirred something else. Another dream. It was not a memory. It was a curse. A fragment from Meira's past. A memory that couldn't be removed because she had already forgotten it. A dream... A nightmare. The person who had suffered through it, that person was gone. Instead, the dream was a resident of the one who had been linked with her. Servant Berserker. It was the one scene that most identified her. And now, that Servant was re-living a memory that was not his. And he was sharing it with the Demon King.



The dream ended. Berserker would see that The Demon King was awake, but her eyes were still closed. As they slowly opened, he could see tears.

"Of all the memories I lost..."

But they were not tears that belonged to her.

"That is the one I most wanted to forget."

They were tears of a dead girl who had remembered how she had died. They were the tears of a woman who had desperately wanted to bury her memories, and so died for it.

Noin - Yacht

After the events of the previous night, it had become all the more apparent to Logan that most of the existences, both Servant and Master, in this contest were unworthy of claiming the prize. Not that he deemed himself worthy of one wish that would be granted either, but it was by far superior to any of the alternatives thus far. That left him in a bind though. Originally, he had intended to take out the competitors unworthy of the wish and then remove himself from the contest. Now, it seemed more like he would have to win it to keep that wish out of the wrong hands.

With a yawn, he pulled open the fridge and rummaged through its contents until he found a jug of milk. Logan popped open the cap and sniffed it to make sure it was still good before pouring some into a glass and putting the jug back. He took a sip of it and then opened up the cabinet, selecting a bagel to eat. What kind of backlash would today bring?

Logan shook his head as he bit into the bagel, clearing his thoughts. He still had a task to accomplish. The question was, where to start next?

Payne - Yacht

"Good morning," Lancer's voice pulled Logan from his thoughts when she suddenly appeared in the room. Wearing her more or less acceptable street clothes, she was sitting on the table, her legs dangling over the edge. "Finally you're awake."

Her elegant fingers were picking a bagel apart without really eating any of it. "So, I figured we've been doing what you want. And after last night, I realized there's things I want to do," she grinned at him, completely unintimidated by the dark mood that surrounded him and jumped off the table, landing lightly on the ground.

"Start up the engine," she said. "I want to see this." And with that she placed a flyer for the history museum in town on the table, tapping on it. Her bright eyes wandered up to Logan expectantly. "Unless you have something more important to do…"

The curtains swayed gently as Ro withdrew from the window, his lips set in a thin line. So far, there had been no indication that Meira was attempting to follow them. It wouldn't make much sense, given that she was the one who freed Shiyan in the first place, but he wouldn't put it past her to give them a hope for freedom and then cruelly tear it from their grasp.

Shiyan was sitting in a comfortable arm chair, having managed to heal her injuries once she got her strength back. She was still weak, but Ro was nursing her back to help with plenty of rest and warm meals.

"Don't push yourself too hard," he cautioned her, sitting beside her and reaching out to grab the papers in her hand. Shiyan jerked them out of reach, not looking up from her reading.

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "I need to read these, Ro. I need to understand."

Ro scowled at the box of memoirs from Meira Franz. What did it all matter? Let the Mediator deal with her. They were going home.

"I'll make you some tea," Ro said after a few moments when he could see she was determined. Giving him a murmur of thanks, Shiyan immersed herself in reading once more as Ro headed down into the kitchen.

Shiyan was a bit weak, but not in any danger. They should be able to leave in a day or two. Then this whole mess could be behind them at last.

--------------------

Gedo - New Warehouse

Berserker materialized beside the Demon Lord, his red eyes scrutinizing her for any signs of Meira Franz below the surface. But no... the tears were not hers, nor was the memory.

And yet... if this memory could be dredged up, was it not possible for Meira to still be reached?

No, Meira had made this choice, just as he did so long ago. It was a far greater sin to take away that resolve than to endure the consequences of that decision.

"What now, Master?" Berserker prompted. With Rider down, they were one step closer to victory. But Berserker had no illusions about the road ahead - there were many powerful Servants yet ahead, barring their way. They would need to be ready.

Noin - Yacht

Logan looked at Lancer with wide eyes for a moment, completely blindsided by her cheerful nature so early in the morning. He blinked a few times before his eyes focused on the flyer she'd laid on the table. A history museum? Was she planning to do research on the other Servants? No, the way she'd said it was wrong. Whatever her interest with the museum was must be personal.

He opened his mouth to say something about wasting time, but the closed it without letting the words out. He'd asked her several days ago why she didn't seem more interested in the world around her, and now she was. There was no reason to take that away from her. After all, she only had a short time on Earth...

"No, I doubt anyone will be making many movements today. So, we can go." He looked at the crumbling bagel on the table and pushed the plate in her direction. "But first, eat. It's a sin to waste good food."

Taking a bite of his own bagel, Logan turned for the engine room to go get the yacht moving.

Payne - Yacht

Lancer resisted rolling her eyes at Logan and simply put the rest of the bagel back on the plate. "I don't need to eat," she simply said.

Stepping off the boat when they reached the harbor, she headed to the direction of the city center, apparently full aware of where she needed to go. Finally she stopped in front of the imposing building. It was announcing a special exhibit on roman history.

Turning around once to see if Logan had kept up, Lancer started walking inside. Suddenly she stopped and cocked her head at the turnstile. "What is this?" she muttered. Her face showed clearly that she contemplated just jumping over the obstacle.

Noin - Museum

Logan glanced at the turnstile and then back to Lancer, fighting back the urge to chuckle. Of course she wouldn't know what it was. The things she knew about the current world were only what she needed to survive and fight, not enjoy herself.

"It spins as you walk through it." Logan said, dropping several coins into the turnstile before sliding through it to show her. The arm rotated and clicked as he stepped out of the other side. "It lets the people who own the museum know how many people are inside." Logan continued as he reached over the turnstile to drop in enough coins for Lancer to walk through as well.

"Just walk into it and use your hip to push it forward."