Fate/Very Fake

Chapter 8 - Masters and Servants

The golden dust turned the stone bricks to burning ash, a blood-curling scream cried out from the cloud, a vast emptiness filling the void left by the dust that parted with the wind. Standing alone in the small crater left by Archers arrow stood Berseker, tearing out the arrow lodged in his chest and throwing it to the side as he charged forwards. Archer drew back another arrow, ripping away away a portion of his flesh, the ground beneath him turning to dust - but he did not.

Realising that his arrows were losing too much power from such a distance, Archer nimbly leapt across the building, until he appeared on top of nearby department store. The roads below it were quiet, with only the sound of Berserkers roars filling the night air as Archer fired volleys of arrows at him. They pierced through his body, now close enough that they were able to pierce through his body.

Archers arrows pierced through their Berserker wherever they hit, and although his torso and head were now hollow shells, his rampage did not stop as he climbed the building Archer was perched upon.

''I once knew of true immortals, and I have witnessed their ends. But you belong to no God - merely a monster they cast out. It is my failure as a king to give a fitting end, forgive me'' said Archer, lamenting as Berserker reached the top of the building, a monster.

His body was in shambles, more of a walking corpse than a man, his wounds however slowly healed.

Archer let off an arrow that pinned his hand to the building, but merely ripped it off from his hand, unable to feel even pain in this maddened state. Just as Berserker regained his balance, Archer was already his in the air, shooting an arrow downwards at him with a sonic boom. Berserker was too slow to respond, the roof of the building erupted into golden dust as Berserker was split in half.

''No servant shall disrupt you this night, my promise to you, will be fulfilled. Now, what will you do? My Master'' thought Archer.

He looked down at either at Berserker's body, as he reformed himself, readied the next arrow at his leisure to strike him down before he could escape. With ease and accuracy, escape was impossible, but Berserker would be to him, a true immortal.

In history there was a man called the 'Mad Monk', a person that known both as a saint and a devil. His name is Grigori Rasputin. He rose from a small town a queer peasant, to the man of God and then to the most trusted man to Russia's most powerful family. But his thirst for alcohol and woman were unquenchable, the power he gained from his new found authority corrupted his faith to madness.

Betrayed by Russian nobles, he was poisoned and shot, but did not die until they tied him up and threw him into a river out of desperation of his supposed immortality. He broke free from his binds, only to drown moments later, but proved his strength and durability to history. This act was manifested as a noble phantasm; he can be cut in half, burnt alive, bled dry, but he will not give in until they give 'everything'.

''Nothing Is Enough, not women or alcohol, poison or lead, only the final acts of the desperate can consume thy madness''

A few days prior, Meryn and Teodor of the Church began to patrol the streets of Las Vegas. Hoping to draw out potential servants with Berserker by there side to taunt them, but Berserker was poor bait, as he was effectively hidden from their eyes. They wandered the same patrols everyday until they sensed a burst of mana in the distance, so large and dense that it was easy to track - their prey was Saber.

Berserker was ordered to confront them, entering the store and killing one Rider with plans to ensnare them with runes. But then Archer appeared and plans changed, as now they hid only a kilometre away from where two servants battled.

Inguz runes were carefully placed on the floor in preparation of a ritual, each holding a large portion of mana that Meryn inscribed onto them. A simple chant was all that was needed to complete a large ritual, at her command, the weather would beckon to her first wish. Runes were not designed for large scale rituals, best suited on a smaller scale, but 56 of them were enough to accomplish a miracle beyond an individuals ability.

Meryn was alone in the alleyway preparing for the ritual, while Teodor watched over the battle between them with prejudice. A small crowd of onlookers had begun accumulating in the street, gawking at what they believed to be a filming in the streets as golden dust flooded from the top of the building.

''Why is your hand red, Miss?'' asked a childish voice from behind her. To her surprise, she turned around to see a young boy with olive-coloured skin stood in the alleyway, dressed typically for an American boy.

''What are you doing here?'' asked Meryn kindly, as she walked up to him, before crouching before him. ''Did you lose your parents?''

The wolf, looked up at her, crying crocodile tears and Meryn, the willing bystander held took his hand. ''Do you remember where you last saw them?'' she asked, and he pointed towards the far end of the alleyway, to the street where the battle had now calmed to an occasional bang.

''It's not safe to go there right now, it's very, very dangerous'' said Meryn, but as soon as she said that she fell. The feeling of the fall was unnoticeable, out of shock or something else, she did not feel a thing. Her body did not respond to her, not numb, but foreign, only sharing vision.

Jackson crouched stood before her, the crests on his body flashing red as the curse took place. A simple curse that needed only touch, isolating the body from the mind, only needing mana to be channelled through the crests to active.

The crests around his legs blazed red and he kicked Meryn's limp body like a bottle through the alleyway. But by now, Teodor had noticed the noise and dropped down from the rooftop, the 4 Black Key mana blades wielded in each hand, like a claw. It was obvious that he was both a Mage and an aggressor, from the glowing crests and the mage at his feet.

(''Black Keys are hilts where mana is channelled through to form a blade'')

Teodor swiftly and accurately threw the Black Keys, but just before he threw them his hand jerked and the knives had also disappeared from the keys. Hypnosis was impossible on those with magical circuits like Teodor, this was something beyond that, a thing that inspired a sense of danger in him.

He retreated into the distance, abandoning Meryn, as she felt like she was about to die when she noticed at the corner of eye - a golem. A small, pitiful golem disguised as a common rat, someone was watching from inside Las Vegas.

''Is the Mage Association already here? Or does that belong to another Master?'' she thought. Finding that it was harder to be concerned for herself detached from her body, instead she merely hoped for help to come rather than praying for some divine retribution.

A short distance away from the battle in a moderately-sized community center was hired out for a month by Adam because it was a distance away from urban areas and bars. In the darkened room, Adam sensed from one of his many golems that a battle was taking place between Mages. 

Cloaked by the night sky, a strange flying fortress was floating in the air above Las Vegas. The ship itself was a noble phantasm, Vimana, an otherworldly contraption from Indian lore. With green scaled wings like a dragonfly and a golden body, Gilgamesh sat upon a throne at the center of machine while Adam looked over the side of the ship to the city below. 

''This is the place'' yelled Adam, and Gilgamesh laughed out of joy that now his restlessness would be stated by a familiar foe. ''So you have been summoned to this time again as well. A coincidence or not, my patience has been rewards'' he thought, delighted. 

It continues...