Fate: Kill

Chapter 22

Leone had always been assigned as Night Raid's informant and information gatherer purely because she was the most sociable. Someone like Akame, Bulat, and the others already on wanted posters were of course unable to participate for obvious reasons. Sheele and Mine had certain personality issues that may compromise them, and Najenda was too busy managing the organization to actively participate in missions. This only left her and Lubbock, which was a simple choice considering how unmotivated Lubbock could be when ordered for a month's stake out away from Najenda to monitor a target.
S

o, yes, Leone was always the one sent out for reconnaissance, but in hindsight, it didn't mean that she was weak.
Faster than a guard could react, she straddled her thighs over his shoulders, pressed her hands to the man's temples, and twisted before even a single scream could be let out to alert others nearby. The deafening crack of bone was muted by a carefully timed creaking of the floor boards courtesy of her partner. The towering figure of a man unceremoniously crumpled to the ground with a muted thud as she helped cushion the man's fall to reduce the clanging of his armour. She then dragged the man out of the hallway and into the room where two others already lay dead, but she blamed their deaths on her partner for forcing her hand.
"Clear," she said almost cheerily while Akame stepped out grumbling from within the shadow of a barrel of rum on the other side of the room.
"I could have taken him," she argued flatly.
The guard had come to investigate after the noise Leone made while trying to silence the two guards she'd alerted in her momentary lapse in composure. Needless to say, this was a stain on her personal record as an assassin, especially with how flustered she was that she nearly died because she couldn't hold in her laughter. She'd killed the guards before Akame could catch up and witness her folly. No one must ever know, and if that meant distracting Akame by flashing her the Heiwa Hunter Set in her pack, then so be it. She did just that, until the new guard arrived and took away their attention.
Dropping the third guard into the room, Leone poked her head out by the door, and scanned the hallway to make sure it was empty before directing her attention back to her stubborn partner. Akame was still grouchy that she hadn't done anything useful at all over the mission, while Leone got all the action.
Seriously, since when did she become like this? Were they in a competition or a mission?
"He was wearing plate-armour under chainmail," Leone said flatly. She rose a brow at Akame, watching the tiniest manifestation of pigment over her cheeks that signaled a pout from her lackluster killing face. "You're fighting style favours nicking the opponent with your sword rather than neutralizing he or she quickly."
Akame made to argue, but before Akame could even get a single word out, Leone tapped her boot against the sturdy steel armour of the guard she'd just killed. "Again. Armoured. You'd need a precise strike, and not that I'm doubting you, but you know my method is more efficient."
Akame begged to differ, yet Leone knew the response was an automatic one rather than an earnest one. "If this has anything to do with Selka, I'm going to have to schedule a private talk with you later."
By the time Leone noticed the subtle tensing of Akame's features and the sudden dilation of her pupils, she was already certain that her statement was correct. Akame was a difficult partner to read due to how closed off she was compared to others, and to be fair, it was expected considering her upbringing; however just because it seemed like she could hardly care about anything didn't mean that she did. What she couldn't show openly in emotion, she showed in her actions. She cared for others close to her more than she'd ever admit, going as far as to strip fellow team members naked at the very notion of them hiding an injury from her. There was a story there, but it would be for another time. What mattered was the emotional attachments that Akame latched onto friends she'd bonded and spent enough time with. Some were stronger than others, as was human nature, and Akame, despite her indifferent attitude, was still human: A girl. A woman in her own right.
In which case, Leone thought it quite prudent to assume that Akame wasn't immune to the draw of the hunt, of affection and desire. More than likely, Akame herself didn't understand what she was feeling, and she could certainly be forgiven for that. There was no way Akame could understand the nature of the vicious yet intricate game of women despite her age. If she thought that political corruption was vile and brutal, then she was going to be in for a surprise if she didn't prepare herself. Even the demurest of women will flash their fangs in the presence of competition not to mention Selka who Akame instinctually knew she was competing against; hence the desire to outperform Selka be it this mission or at anything else.
"I could have taken him," Akame remained adamant, not admitting to anything, yet admitting to everything in that single statement alone.
This girl. Leone felt utterly helpless for once, and she was the 'big sister' that often-had brats always coming to her for advice once upon a time. In some ways Akame's drive was endearing, but she was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Did Akame honestly think she'd impress Shirou over Selka with a higher kill count? Like instead of roses or chocolates, she'd deliver packaged heads in his honour? Even Selka would know better.
From the way Akame eagerly peaked down the hall, the answer to Leone's mental inquiry was fairly obvious, forcing Leone to remember Akame's common sense was skewed due to her past.
"Akame, please. Just stop." Leone was passed the point of humour, her hands clasping over Akame's shoulders. "You and I really will need a 'talk' later."
"I see someone," Akame made to bolt out of the room.
"Oh, for the love of- stop no!" Leone grappled Akame to the ground, forcibly keeping her in place until they were glaring at each other. "What do you think you're doing?" She hissed while moving to press themselves by the wall in order to avoid attention. "We're supposed to be scouting in case the enemy has unexpected reinforcements, not jumping at every shadow we see."
"I know," Akame gritted her teeth and huffed. "What do you I think I was trying to do? There's not a lot of people around so if I eliminate just a few sentries, it will be safer to move undetected."
"And it would be safer if we don't potentially alert the guards of missing sentries," Leone felt a twitch form over her brow, the urge to rub her temples rising when she noticed Akame click her tongue. "Look, we're scouts sent to infiltrate the stronghold while Lubbock and Selka create a distraction. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer taking and interrogating the guy outside to find the location of the meeting room so that we're nearby to help Shirou if something goes wrong. Would you rather be near Shirou in order to help, or racking up a kill count?"
"…Keep talking," Akame sighed, letting the tension leave her body as Leone patted her on the back.
"Good, finally some sense in you, but I won't hold it against you. Love can get the best of us at the worst of times."
"But I don't-"
"Shush," Leone pressed a finger to Akame's lips. "Don't deny it. You haven't been acting like yourself ever since you saw Shirou give Selka his jacket. Jealousy is normal. You just have to know when and where to display it. I'll teach you all about boys and seduction later."
Akame's cheeks reddened as her mind momentarily blanked. "But I don't-"
"I said shush. Leave it to big sis, and you won't need some Heiwa Hunter Set, but this is still going to be an uphill battle. You may not have noticed, but your competition is fierce. Some will not hesitate to sabotage you at any point. This is a women's battlefield, and you Akame, are sorely lacking." Leone felt as if she'd never said anything wiser in her life. Akame was a friend and something of a wayward little sister that Leone doted on which was why she was willing to help to an extent. Once Akame could at least stand on her own in this new and savage battlefield, then from there, it was fair game.
Leone helped Akame to her feet just as the sound of footsteps neared the room that they were in. "Alright, go back to position."
"The rum barrel?"
"The rum barrel."
Akame grunted before bending her knees and hiding in her prior spot, a hand clamped over her nose due to the pungent scent of alcohol. Meanwhile, Leone hopped up into the overhead rafters and positioned herself by the room's door. By the time, the new guard entered the room, the same sickening snap of bone echoed out, followed by a muffled scream as Leone broke the man's arms and pinned him to the ground. "I want answers," she whispered huskily into the guard's ear, who flinched at the threat of death when petite hands soon rested over his neck. "You're going to give them to me."
One thing that was more of a certainty than not for most corrupt establishments, was the strength of loyalty. Leone knew this all to well, as this wasn't the first time she'd participated in an infiltration, the first was in a cartel smuggling weapons to corrupt officials in the Empire's slum districts.
When weighed on a scale, the value of one's life often weighed more than any feeble loyalty born from coercion or the promise of wealth.
Leone got her information the moment she ran out of patience and began slowly choking her victim.
"The meeting hall is the only room on the fourth floor!" The guard chocked out; his eyes bloodshot from anxiety. "There's an emergency set of stairs down the hall that gives access to the third floors where another set of stairs leads to the fourth. The rest of the guards have been drawn away by some sort of commotion outside. One of those freaks of Heiwa was sighted brawling at the front of the fort! I-I told you alright, so let me go!"
Leone nodded slowly, before simply squeezing harder until the guard passed out. A second later, Leone looked up to see Akame with her blade drawn.
Leone shook her head. "He's not worth it," she said evenly. "He's scum that would sell out his own leaders, but a deal is a deal. We may be assassins, but that doesn't mean we don't have our own sense of honour."
Akame slowly nodded before sheathing her sword and following after Leone as Leone made her way out of the room.
Leading from the front, Leone would signal Akame at every intersection to make sure the coast was clear before either of them proceeded onward. This repeated numerous times until the described stairway came within view.
Leone held up her hand, signalling for Akame to stop behind her. Shutting her eyes, Leone activated her Teigu, turning her into a half-beast with lion ears and fur sprouting over her body. In this state, her capabilities and senses were enhanced. Her ears twitched over her head, listening for any signs of movement, yet the guard proved truthful in his words. There was no one around.
She gave Akame the 'clear' signal before the two made their way forward, Akame taking the lead as Leone abruptly slowed as a particular scent wafted into her nose. She hadn't been able to smell it before, but with her beast-like senses now activated, there was no ignoring the odour in the air.
The thick scent of blood was permeating throughout the entire stronghold, only growing stronger the further up the stairs she and Akame went. A sense of foreboding began to well up from within her, tension building in her muscles. By the time the both of them reached the third floor and were making their way towards the stairs that led to the fourth, even Akame could smell the scent of iron in the air.
"What the hell's going on up there?" Akame whispered. She didn't know, but she'd be lying if she said that the urge to abandon caution and check up on Shirou didn't nearly get the best of her.
Leone was acting more cautious. She slowed her steps, her eyes darting back and forth until she noticed a peculiarity up above. "Is that…?"
Blood was dripping down from the ceiling of the third floor. The fact that blood was dripping through the ceiling in the first place was ominous. Just how much blood was being spilt that it seeped through the floor and down the roof of the third level? Regardless, one thing was clear.
"I take it negotiations didn't go well," she said dryly to empty air. She blinked incredulously, the sound of rapid footsteps running down the hall towards the stairs echoing in her ears.
"Aaaand she's gone. Great." Leone heaved a sigh as she began to chase after her partner. "That was probably my fault, wasn't it?"
She couldn't hide her own trepidations and concerns behind sarcasm and feigned joviality for much longer; her experience as an assassin was showing. They were deep in enemy territory. If something went wrong here, there would be no back up. On another note, she hoped things were going well for Lubbock, but fuck plans, right? Feeling and emotions will carry everyone to victory! Just look at Akame! Look at her go! She never thought Akame had it in her to act her age for once at the worst of times, but it was kind of romantic in a sense and wasn't she doing the same by not calling Akame out?
Leone smothered the professionalism within her threatening to groan at her own thoughts.
If Akame was anything to go by, restraining Selka with Lubbock's twig-like arms seemed utterly futile. So at least she wouldn't be the only one being dragged around. They could be drinking buddies later.
The feeling of magic energy freely coursing through his body was one that Shirou no longer felt much joy in. Beyond the thrill of familiarity, what lay passed it all was the damning reality of the nature of his craft.
A blade once drawn, is not lightly sheathed.
The path of his own making was one rife with hypocrisy and inconstancies, yet it was his path to take: His sins to bear. There can be no more running away or hoping for better.
'I am steel, unfeeling, and uncaring, a nihilistic blade.'
The single step he took forward was the catalyst that started the shifting of his demeanor. A torrent of magical energy erupted from him as his foot made contact with the ground. At first, it was a blast of tranquil blue; visible for all to see in stunned wonder that forced Raiko and the ninjas of Jinsoku to shield themselves, before the colour abruptly warped into a darker shade of red tinged with black that crawled up his body.
His complexion, all the way down to his pupils seemed to shift into a pallid colour, the rosiness leaving his cheeks to be replaced by a pasty white. The bronze intensity of his eyes became penetrating in the eerie glow they emitted amidst the growing dark.
"W-What is going on?"
This was a question that no one but he could answer. In the process of Tracing Noble Phantasms, it wasn't simply just the sword he could recreate, but the means to wield said sword as well. Tracing the obsidian sword of Berserker for example granted him physical buffs that enabled him to swing the sword at God-Speed. This was to say, when Tracing a particular Noble Phantasm, a part of him could be affected by the blade itself, especially this one.
Wind buffeted the room, the pressure of his magic expanding outwards and enveloping him in a torch-like shroud of black.
The line between duty and obligation had always been blurred. A sword of the righteous is nothing more than a mirror reflection to a sword of tyranny wielded for the same cause.
"I am the Bone of my Sword."
Black mots of light began to hover in the hallway before converging to a point over his right hand and forming the outline of a sword bursting with baleful murderous energy. The Danger Beast bones he kept on his person rapidly began to fade to ash. It was true that the bones had their downside, but there were certain benefits. If he carried enough of them, he wouldn't have to worry about the cost of Tracing until his body suffered from fatigue. As he was now, he'd harvested more than enough Danger Beast bones for his current task.
'Cry out. It's time to have all crumble to the ground.'
A line of red crawled down the silhouette of the blade, forming engravings unknown to man yet known to nature. An unbearable pressure descended upon all; a rush of energy expelled out as a roar reverberated deep within everyone's chests, causing them all to stager.
Another step, and the dark energy converged over the blade began to dissipate into the air in smoke like trails that resembled the wingspan of a reptile which then morphed into the open maw of a mighty red-eyed beast.
Tyrant. Merciless. Uncaring.
This was the symbol of the slumbering black dragon, roused for the sake of delivering salvation through murder and oppression.
The sword formed, its black blade shining with the dull thrum of magical energy. Holy and Demonic were two sides of the same coin.
Annihilate all.
Excalibur Morgan.
He gripped his sword in hand, the mirror opposite of Excalibur flourishing to life as a gout of black flame seamed to enshroud the blade. The lines engraved in red were all that could be seen as he continued his path forward. There was no blade currently more suited for him and the task at hand. His ideals, radiant and pure had been so eroded that even the purest white was now stained with patches of black.
He wasn't proud of what was to come, but in the same manner as a tyrant King slaughtered for the sake of the better good, he knew what had to be done.
With one hand, he leveled Excalibur Morgan forward, the oppressive energy it exuded was something that no one had ever experienced before. Terror rooted them in place, the malevolence and bloodlust in the sword promising a fate worse than death in their eyes.
This wasn't the means of a mortal. This was magic, the meaning of which wasn't lost for the members of Jinsoku present who all took in a sharp inhalation of breath at the revelation. Raiko in comparison looked utterly pained that realization would only come to them now at death's door, something which Shirou noticed.
"A-A Blessed Son," the ninjas of Jinsoku faltered and couldn't muster the strength to resist in the face of the baleful aura Excalibur Morgan exuded.
With a careful thought, Shirou lowered his weapon, and instead willed for the immergence of numerous Black Keys, weapons of the church, which floated in the air beside him in a wall of steel pointed forward. Chocked breaths and laboured panting met the appearance of the Black Keys. The sheer indifference of his gaze scaring many into fear induced delirium as he willed the Black Keys forward.
Raiko panicked. "Wait don-!"
"I know." The voice that spoke was coldly neutral, uncaring, and resigned. "I'm not killing them." The Black Keys stabbed into the casted shadows of the ninjas of Jinsoku, immobilizing them all in place. "They're your people to deal with. Mine are in that room."
Raiko wet her lips, her mouth dried from the pressure of his present demeaner. This clearly wasn't the result she was going for, but regardless, she felt content that her people had been shown mercy on her behalf. "T-Thank you," she said breathlessly, beads of perspiration trickling down her face.
He merely nodded before resuming the path ahead, and walking past the frightened stares of the immobilized members of Jinsoku, Raiko tentatively following along while shaking her head at them; not knowing whether to feel disappointed at their lack of trust in her, or relieved that they would be around to receive their dues.
All that mattered was the gratitude she felt for Shirou despite how his current appearance literally had her standing on edge, ready to bolt if he so much as stared too long at her.
Unaware of Raiko's thoughts, Shirou was too focused on what was ahead of him: The doors to the meeting room housing the present leaders of Wakoku.
He'd experienced enough of their ambitious types to know their motivations. He knew what worked effectively against them, and what didn't. Any agreement concluded would only be a pretense to nurture a silent tumour; a latent poison that would lay in hiding in a bid to destabilize the system as a whole should the opportunity arrive. Yet there was one abhorrent method that would work without fail at least for the current generation of Wakoku's leaders to focus their defense solely against the Empire.
You must crush their dreams and ambitions until fear of action is ingrained into their psyche so that any thoughts of instigation never fester. It's called trauma, and if one thing about war and battle holds true, it's that trauma never really goes away. The wisdom imparted to him from the memories of Saber Alter garnered from Excalibur Morgan were damning.
He walked towards the meeting room fully knowing that peace was never an option; that morals had to be abandoned for the betterment of all if he was to succeed. Reality had always been cruel; the veils of idealism shattered until only fragments remained of simple dreams where conflict and violence could be negated through compassion and understanding.
A 'Hero' was a judge and an arbitrator
Pick a side, stick to it, and fight for the sake of peace and those that you care for.
For many heroes, this mentality was enough.
For him, he couldn't excuse himself for all the lives he'd taken, but it didn't mean that he didn't have the resole to follow things through.
'That's hell you're walking into.'
He knew. O God every fiber of his being knew exactly where his steps were taking him and his own personal consequences, yet not once did he break his stride. Not with the weight of the people depending on him over his shoulders.
He'd thought that he'd put his past behind him, yet in hoping for a peaceful resolution without violence, he saw only misery, corruption, and oppression from those in power in the world. People were suffering, dying, and he knew perfectly well why he didn't ever bother faulting Akame for her prior recklessness. He would have once done the same had he not been reluctant to drown himself once more in a sea of red.
'Isn't this what you've always wanted?'
With a single precise kick, he blew the meeting room's metal-reinforced doors off their hinges.
'To be a Hero.'
Warmth and understanding left his eyes, his expression and bearings morphing into that of his past as a flurry of steel welcomed his entrance. The room was packed with elite guards and mercenaries attending to a group of men and women seated prominently upon an elevated pedestal at the center of the room.
Hammer of the vile King…
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, both hands clasped firmly as a black haze blotted out all vision with the thrum of magic, and the imposing aura of destruction. It swelled, forcing all back before converging upon a center point that shone with the beginning of crimson light in the dark.
Overturn the aurora and swallow their light!
A single sword swung down with impunity.
"Excalibur Morgan."
The words were nothing but a whisper, and yet carried the invocation of a promise of certainty. The King's judgment has been passed, and none who stand opposed prove worthy.
Whatever feelings of regret or guilt Raiko felt for her betrayal were suddenly snuffed out by the sheer wave of black that massacred all. Her ears were ringing, the scent of charred flesh and bone permeating in a sick depiction of ruin before her. A moment later, the ringing she'd thought to be hearing turned out to be deafening screams.
Death was everywhere, a tangle of limbs and bodies strewn from the shockwave of an attack that blew apart even the roof of the entire stronghold so that only parts of the enclosing walls remained. It was as if the attack had been purposely aimed up in order to just avoid killing everyone.
Standing alone at the remnant of a door frame, one man held a sword that once more emitted a gout of black flame-like energy prepped to be swung again in the ensuing dust and debris.
Again. Fucking again.
Raiko felt her teeth chattering, her knees wobbling before she lost her balance and fell onto her butt, her legs splayed outward unable to garner strength and she wasn't even on the opposing side. Once more, she recalled the legends of her home. The warnings of the power Blessed Sons wielded granted to them by the Gods of the world.
Shadows seemed to answer Shirou's beck and call. A blessing of the night. Perhaps he had the favour of the Lord God of Dark? His gaze was icy, so uncaring about the strength of magic he wielded. This was far from the truth.
Shirou felt something pieces of himself breaking within him. In response to a slaughter, there was no way he could be as indifferent to it as Saber Alter, and as such, he'd adopted the only method he knew to harden himself to his task and closed himself off.
After the initial shock of his actions, those trained to feel no fear acting as the body guards of the Lords of Wakoku leapt into action.
He retaliated in kind.
His left hand grasped onto an enemy's sword, the metal grating over his reinforced skin and sending out a shower of sparks before he reared his right arm back and hacked the man in half.
He didn't dodge. He never even bothered.
Six pairs of daggers, and swords struck against him at the same time, yet none were Teigu that could impede him.
With unblinking eyes, he just stared, attention never leaving the panicking Lords of Wakoku intent to escape. The moment they tried, he swung Excalibur Morgan down and shot off a burst of black sword light that cut apart the ground in front of the Lords.
His meaning was clear. None of them would escape unless they dared risk their lives.
Metal clanged as the bodyguards of the Lords attacked again. This time, he reacted towards the closest one and swung. The man blocked by instinct, the strike Shirou had sent far too telegraphed not to be intercepted, yet he remained unperturbed.
It mattered not what weapon you have if the quality couldn't withstand the blow of a superior blade. He hacked down, the edge of his Noble Phantasm cutting through the enemy's weapon and armour, and tearing through the sinew of flesh and bone. It was with horrifying realization that the enemy consciously watched his top half-half slide down diagonally from the bottom and hit the ground with a sickening squelch.
Warm blood splattered across Shirou's monotone features, marking the start of a horrifying silence at the number of bodies that lay around him and his sheer indifference. The deep bronze glow of his eyes was pronounced in the sudden darkness as a wind snuffed out the lit candles remaining on the floor of the room.
The moon hung ominously above, acting as a back drop as he begun his march forward towards the Lords of Wakoku. The regality of the Tyrant King bled into his demeanor, demanding respect.
Hired mercenaries and loyal guards conquered their fear and rushed at him in hope of wearing him down. Blessed Son or not, surely his stamina would eventually deplete? He would shatter those expectations. None were worthy to impede him, and the hired Teigu users in the room that were, didn't dare to risk their lives.
Have you ever seen a person break?
The Lords of Wakoku scrambled back as he mercilessly dispatched all adversaries seeking to impede him. Showers of gore and blood smeared over the wooden floor and soaking straight through.
It's not pretty.
He'd seen it enough times that he was sick of it all.
A few of the Lords broke down into delirium, mumbling incoherently in despair. Through it all, the aura surrounding him did not recede, but grew stronger the closer he approached, chipping at the frailty of their minds.
He felt tired. So very tired, not only physically, but mentally. He was moments away from passing out from magical exertion, but he held up a façade of strength, the monotone of his features more a boon than a demerit.
A sword was directed at the Lords, unearthly black energy suffusing its blade.
"Yield," he intoned.
The regality of his persona demanded obedience, and he'd take nothing less for an answer. Before his eyes, the Lords complied one by one under the intensity of his gaze. With this, conflict with Wakoku could be put on hold, a peace brought by violence that inwardly had him frowning.
His actions of today would later hail him a hero in the history books. Yet right here, right now, as people wept for mercy and trembled at the mere sight of him, he didn't feel like a hero. He felt empty, the harrowing sensation of bitterness nearly overwhelming him as the ideals he upheld became further tainted.
Villain, vigilante, hero… at the end of the path he'd once walked, he came to an undeniable truth for a man who simply wished to not see anyone else cry.
That not all heroes go rewarded.
He heard a stuttered gasp from the direction Raiko had entered the meeting room with him. He felt something clench tightly in his chest. Was it shame or simple discomfort? He didn't know.
Slowly, he turned his head and stared silently at the tears that were trickling down Akame's face when she looked at him. His present image stood in stark contrast to the easy-going Lord of Calla she'd always known, and it hurt her far more than she could describe. She'd always felt that there was something off about him in recent days, but what she was seeing all but proved it.
He didn't know it, but when Akame looked at him, only a single question constantly replayed in her mind.
Was this her fault?
Her eyes stung.