Fate/Apocrypha - Volume 1

by Yuichiro Higashide

  Berserker shook violently as he felt his body collapse to the ground. The solid earth which he stood firmly on disappeared, causing him to momentarily forget the sword he was supposed to swing down. Still, the smile remained on his face. He felt no shock at all. But no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible for him to overturn this preposterous condition.

  The Trap of Argalia!, the carelessly named Noble Phantasm of Rider, was a spear that could only do what its name suggested. According to legend, this beloved lance of the Cathay prince Argalia causes anyone it touched to fall - and to heavily armored knights on the field of battle, a fall inevitably leads to death. Aside from that, it is not difficult to imagine how much glory the use of this lance brought its users in those pompous jousting tournaments.

  Used on a Servant, this Noble Phantasm realizes its legend by forcibly returning its target to Spirit Form from below the knee. Regardless of where the lance hits - even if it is on armor woven by mana - the prana supply to that part of the body will be physically cut, rendering it temporarily impossible to take form as flesh and blood.

  That being said, such a weapon would not be enough to stop Berserker. He still had his body from the knees upwards; he would still drag himself on to defeat his opponent.

  "Depriving me of my legs will not stop me."

  "Oh, I'm sure of that... which is why we are going to stop you now. Get him!"

  At Rider's words, the golems standing by assaulted Berserker as one. The golems, weighing over a ton each, tried to press down and contain his arms. However, Berserker beat them back with ease, swinging his arms wildly. The upper bodies of the golems were shattered by his fists - but the strength of these constructs was that, even without a head, they did not completely lose their function.

  Working like an army of ants overcoming their prey, they quietly overwhelmed Berserker. But their prey was not some powerless animal, and their endless bites could not stop the giant.

  Berserker did not stop. Even after losing his feet, he still advanced headlong towards the castle.

  "Hahaha! Yes! Wonderful! The enemy ranks are as a mist, covering me with wounds from head to toe! Yes, this... this is worthy of song when victory comes!"

  Golems covered every single part of his body, their combined mass double his own. Enveloped by a suit of stone and bronze, he continued to advance.

  Further, further, ever further. The Berserker of the Red might be a fool, but he was not delusional. By his skin, his ears, his eyes, his tongue - he knew that the oppressors were waiting for him.

  "An admirable effort. You need not feel shame, Caster... your golems are great works. It is that Berserker that is abnormal."

  "......!"

  Berserker accelerated. Ripping away the golems covering his face, he saw for himself what stood before him.

  "You..."

  "Yes, Berserker of the Red camp. If you seek the oppressors - then I am the one who stands atop them."

  "Ahh... ahhhh... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

  Berserker stretched out his hand in joy. Just a bit more, and he would be able to reach the heads of the oppressors. Joy and glory had always came after the clouds cleared and the suffering ended. There were no flaws in the mad warrior's logic. It was absolutely perfect.

  However, he had forgotten one very important fact. What had awaited him at the end of his suffering was a cruel and tragic death.

  Lancer - Vlad III - watched with an icy gaze as Berserker rampaged on. He was the hero who ruled Romania with an iron fist and grimly massacred all those who opposed him. And his enemies, with fear in their hearts, called him...

  "Lord of Execution ."Kaziklu Bey

  Lancer declared, and the ground nearby bulged.

  "I shall... crush you, oppressor!"

  Berserker did not falter at all despite the weight of the golems. He raised his sword arm - but it was pierced by a sharp stake. Regardless of whether he could feel pain, the stake still stopped his movement against his will.

  "I have spent my entire life fighting against insurrectionists such as yourself. I destroyed them, leaving their meat to rot on my stakes..."

  Stakes several meters in length pierced Berserker, along with the golems. Lancer did not refine his strikes beyond not aiming for Berserker's spiritual core. Although he actively avoided killing Berserker, he saw no need to trouble himself with further restraints.

  Chapter 4-4

  ---

  Saber flew backwards, head over heels, and crashed into several trees.

  "Uu...?!"

  Berserker could not make a sound. However, she immediately understood what had happened; the attack just now came from a Servant emplaced far behind Rider. Her thoughts were dispassionate and swift. An attack from long range, containing not thaumaturgy but pure physical energy... in other words, the work of an Archer!

  It was likely that the hidden Servant had been watching the fight between them and Rider carefully, realized that a regular shot would not hurt Saber, and drew their bow to its limit to perform a physical attack of an even higher rank. The shot just now clearly exceeded A-rank, and thus penetrated Saber's defensive ability.

  The problem, however, was that the attack came from so far away that neither Servants detected it. And they were hardly standing in the middle of a clear, open field; night had fallen and the trees surrounding them were dense and thick. From such a distance - even if said watcher could see in the dark - Saber must have been nothing more than a moving dot.

  But the shot found its mark. That was the most terrifying truth. An extreme range attack with A-rank destructive power; the eyesight required to take aim in near zero visibility; and the supreme precision to thread such a needle of an attack... certainly, there existed bowmen who could accomplish every single one of these. But just how many would be capable of all of the above simultaneously...?

  Rider suddenly made a sour face as he looked past Berserker into the woods behind her, and clicked his tongue.

  "Looks like it's over for our Berserker. But you're still here, pretty girl... and it's only fair for us to go an eye for an eye. Don't you think?"

  The Rider of the Red, with a cheery yet cruel smile, tightened his grip on the spear. Even the fearless girl felt something primal and base in his expression.

  She fully understood from their fight earlier that her attacks were not 'enough'. She could not harm him in any way.

  "How long do you think it'll take the Melas over there to recover? Ten seconds? Twenty? Well... it can't be faster than my spear."

  Escape, oppose, surrender... all her options were being denied.

  Berserker gritted her teeth, having no choice but to submit to her current predicament. Or... if she had to die here regardless, perhaps she could release her Noble Phantasm completely.

  Having been forced to a decision, Berserker growled as she steeled herself. She will use every last ounce of strength to bring down Rider...

  But, as soon as the thought entered her mind, the situation was reversed entirely. She sensed a great surge of prana coming from behind her and turned around reflexively. It was Saber, brandishing his greatsword in anguish.

  * * *

  Gordes was losing his patience. Saber not only ignored his suggestions, but even let his guard down and was sent flying. It seemed that the Rider of the Red was incredibly resilient. As far as he could perceive through the senses of familiars, his parameters were quite excellent as well. With the enemy Berserker now in the fold, victory was most assured for the Yggdmillennia if they could defeat this Rider.

  "Saber! Saber! Use your Noble Phantasm! Use it!"

  There was no Servant there lending their ear to the shouting Gordes. He was alone, sealed within his room as he continued to give his directives.

  A normal Master would not presume to give precise instructions in battle. That is because they have absolute faith in their Servants in the matters of combat. At the very least, a Servant possesses far greater actual experience and capability than a magus. A normal Master on
ly speaks on matters of strategy.

  Aside from Saber and Gordes, the other Masters and Servants of the Black had been building on their relationships. Archer and Fiore had completely opened up to one another, acting more like a teacher and a familiar student. Lancer took no issue with Darnic as long as he served him faithfully. Celenike was at a loss with Rider's lack of inhibitions, but also had her heart stolen by his purity and innocence, and they were unlikely to break their pact outside of some grave circumstances. Caules' Berserker was loyal and, after some frank discussions between Master and Servant, she became a willing comrade in arms. And, of course, Roche admired Caster from the bottom of his heart.

  Yet Gordes had abandoned all attempts at communicating with his Servant soon after his summoning. He did not try to understand him, only fearing the exposure of his true name.

  His heart was in the right place. However, his act proved to be the direst of mistakes... because Gordes hadn't the faintest idea what Saber was thinking.

  How did he feel right now? Discontent? Rebellious? Murderous? Humiliated? Or was he not feeling anything at all?

  They should have talked - about their views, goals and beliefs. Hearing each other talk was the least they should have done. But Gordes refused. He tried to treat his Servant as an accessory, a piece of armament.

  Was it pride that led him to do this? Could he simply not rid himself of the notion that a Servant was nothing more than another familiar?

  Whatever it was, it was what led to the foolish restlessness that took over him during the battle with Lancer, and now with Rider; they failed, and continue to fail, to grasp victory even as the situation turned unfavorable.

  If he had simply chosen to observe at his Servant's back... or perhaps, if this had been a regular Holy Grail War, where every Master and every Servant were constantly watched by six others...

  ...he would never have attempted something as foolhardy as he was about to now.

  However, Gordes was watching over the battle in a safe location. Even if Saber were to be destroyed, and his honor be sullied, he would not be in physical danger. These absurd thoughts, one after another, piled atop one another and pushed Gordes towards a single conclusion...

  "...Saber! I order you with a Command Spell...! Use your Noble Phantasm to defeat Rider!"

  Gordes' words reached his Servant clearly. Even if Saber were on the opposite side of the world, words delivered by the power of the Command Spell would carve themselves directly onto his soul.

  "...?!"

  Naturally, Saber was shocked. He whipped around and stared at the castle - but, of course, he could not see Gordes. He brandished his greatsword, releasing the power it contained. The green jewel set in the hilt shone, as the blade began to give off an orange brilliance that split apart the night.

  "Ugh...!"

  No... he must not use his Noble Phantasm here. The instant he shouted its true name, his identity would almost certainly become known; after all, only one Heroic Spirit in the world wields the phantasmal greatsword Balmung. His identity perceived, his fatal weak point would also become known. He would instantly lose every advantage he held.

  If there was a chance that he could defeat Rider, then perhaps he would not reject the use of his Noble Phantasm. However, Rider was effectively immortal, and Saber could not imagine that his Noble Phantasm would work against him.

  Rider's protection is not something that can be pierced by raw power. Something more is needed. It could be that one needed to use fire or lightning against him. It could be based on certain conditions; perhaps Rider was nigh invulnerable within a forest, or at night.

  There are innumerable Heroic Spirits with such legends. For example - though this is not an anecdote about a Heroic Spirit - the God of War Indra once swore to the dragon Vritra not to hurt it with any weapon made of wood, stone or metal, dry or wet, nor attack it during the day or at night. Indra proceeded to defeat Vritra at twilight using, not wood or stone or metal, dry or wet, but a column of the ocean's foam.

  Complete deathlessness does not exist.

  They may be Heroic Spirits, but they can never go beyond the bounds of a human being. One who is capable of such things - an existence outside of common sense - cannot be summoned as a Servant in a Holy Grail War to begin with. It is the same for Saber; aside from attacks that exceed B-rank, there is also the weak point at his back where the dragon's blood did not touch him. Even the weakest of Servants can kill him by aiming there.

  What kind of immortality did Rider possess? Master or no... relying on brute strength to force the issue without first solving this riddle was the act of an imbecile.

  Saber resisted with all his might. However, an order given with a Command Spell is absolute. Prana filled his sword and he began to raise it slowly.

  "What...? Saber...?!"

  Rider noticed him. Even he appeared somewhat surprised as Saber held his sword high and began to release his Noble Phantasm. However, a smile appeared on his face, as though in mockery.

  Saber no longer had a say in the issue of whether he ought to unleash his weapon. Judging from Rider's smirk, it would seem his worst fear was realized and his bitterness deepened. However, he could not stop his own arms. He must decide - and Saber, through gritted teeth, poured all his strength into this one attack.

  "Bal...Felling... "

  "Come on, then... Saber...!"

  The surge of prana converged. For one brief moment, the night that swallowed the forest became dusk, lit by the light of the Nibelungs - the holy sword that felled the dragon.

  However, Rider grinned confidently, contemptuously. Hateful as it was to admit, Saber knew this one strike would have no effect on him.

  "......mun......of the Sky"

  He could only pray that this attack would at least provide some hints as to Rider's mystery...

  'I order you with a Command Spell! Do not use your Noble Phantasm!'

  Just as the last syllable was about to leave his mouth, his Master expended another Command Spell. There is only one way to stop an order given with a Command Spell, and that is to use another Command Spell to overwrite it.

  Saber dropped on one knee, unable to remain standing. Perhaps it was due to the intensity of the Command Spell acting on him. Rider shrugged in exasperation.

  "What's this, then? Not going to use it? Well, I suppose you saved some prana this way, but it cost you regardless. You were ordered with a Command Spell, weren't you?"

  Rider glared spitefully in the direction of the Master behind Saber.

  "Ha! What a moron! So he ordered you to activate your Noble Phantasm with a Command Spell, then used another one to stop it? Does he not understand that expending Command Spells is the most dangerous act in a Holy Grail War?"

  Saber had no retort. Rider was totally in the right. Even so, as long as the bond between Master and Servant remained strong, the situation could be salvaged - but Saber had yet to feel such a connection between his Master and himself.

  "Well, I can't criticize, not when my own Master is skulking around in some hole somewhere. Sigh... you could have at least said the entire name..."

  Rider broke off as both he and Saber stared at each other at a loss for words. Blood flowed - but it was not from Saber.

  The man had ignored every slash and blow, his body stopping even Noble Phantasms. However, Rider's shoulder was clearly bleeding.

  "Guh...!"

  In an instant, as though in sync with the arrow, Berserker ran forth - not towards Rider, but the unseen Archer of the Red.

  On the other hand, Rider pulled out the arrow that had embedded itself in him. Holding his punctured shoulder as though to maintain his hold on reality, Rider asked in a low voice.

  "Who's there...?"

  He no longer had eyes for Saber or Berserker.

  ---

  Chapter 4-5

  ---

  Berserker ejected prana violently behind her as she closed the gap between herself and Archer. She was not so much running as
hovering, her feet barely touching the ground as she kicked off trees and branches, accelerating further.

  The main cause of her increase in speed was her Noble Phantasm - the Maiden's Chastity.Bridal Chest

  It is not simply a weapon for bludgeoning the enemy; if anything, that is a secondary use. The true ability of her Noble Phantasm is to absorb prana. In any Holy Grail War - ruthless struggles between Servants and magi - converted prana will end up dispersed all over the place, eventually dissipating into the atmosphere.