FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 101: Cath Maige Tuired

A Few Moments Earlier...

In a single motion, Chrysaor swept his Master off her feet and, carrying her in his arms, rushed forward , leaped onto the bow and took another jump into the open air, leaving Aaron alone.

He performed a quick inventory. His rifle was loaded and ready to go. He had a black metal box which had held his rifle, ammo, and several grenades for both flashing and fragging. But... that wasn't enough. A quick snipe on Archer's Master might earn a small victory, but that was far from guaranteed and even further from a win. Servants needed their Masters, true, but the Berserker below him showed with all certainty that these heroes weren't some kind of lightbulb that went dim the second it was separated from its power source. Berserker wasn't the only proof either...

His own ship. The fleet that Rider left behind. They were still aloft. Rider had explained already that they responded to Divinity on board, but if Aaron's was still flying high, then there must have been some energy left within them, some little bit of Rider's own will and power that lingered on after he himself had disappeared.

-And he was Rider's Master.

It was only a hunch, but his mage's mind went aflutter with theories and conjectures valid enough, believable enough, that he chose to spend what little, valuable time he had on his experiment.

He crouched low and thrust his palm against the deck. He, paradoxically, rushed to calm his mind, to reach out to whatever core lay at the center of the Phantasm, the link that connected it to Rider, the fuel that created the liminal space below deck where all sorts of supplies and items seemed to be stored. Through the hard grip of his focus, static slipped through his fingers, seeming to reach like winter branches into the structure of the ship, running the length of that metallic wood like power through copper wire until-

A connection.

A wicked grin cracked into his face. He stabbed his will into that core, piercing it, inhabiting it, like a parasite upon its host. It was only a moment later that he felt the deck rise and turn underneath him. As that core became his own, his probing found new crevices to inhabit, and those familiar cannons released from the ship's side, rising and falling, moving to the motions of his own mind. Magical feedback surged into him, before falling back into the ship and then rising again like the rolling of the tide. He and this ship- this small gift his Servant left behind- were becoming a single entity, and the mystic pathways inscribed into the wood flowed so seamlessly with the mana from his body that they were becoming nothing more than extensions of his own magical circuits.

...

Archer looked up from the battle to see the ship that Saber had formerly ridden rise above him and deploy its cannons.

"Caster," He manifested his bow in his hands and began to pull back on the string, "We have a small problem."

A smirk made its way through his illusory appearance, though he never took his eyes off Saber and Berserker's brawl.

"No, my friend. I believe you have a small problem."

The future flashed in Archer's Mind's Eye, and he made a swift heel-turn towards the cannons, pulling his bowstring fully back and manifesting a black arrow as bolts of golden energy let loose from the barrel, two at once. Archer matched its speed in releasing his own bolt, which split into two avian shadows that burst into black fire against the bursts of light, splashing out into sparks of white, gold, orange and black. Neither side gave way, Archer's hands moving in a blur of flame and darkness, the speed of his fingers rivaling even Rider at his peak, each movement bringing another flurry to block the onslaught from above; his Mind's Eye working overtime to ensure he hit every incoming bolt with pinpoint accuracy. His eyes narrowed, and thoughts managed to skirt their way around his sharp focus.