The Third Faction of Apocrypha

A Hero's Choice

Deep within the Yggdmillennia forest, a total of six Servants were having a stand off, no party making any sudden movements, cautious how the others would respond. Three Servants of Black, two of Red and one lone of Blue, that held the most confidence compared to everyone else.

Far from the clearing, EMIYA stood atop a tree branch, dumbstruck at two things. The first were the Rider and Archer of Red. While Atalanta was an opponent he could be victorious against if he used underhanded tactics, Achilles on the other hand was no joke.

From his immortality to his status as the fastest Servant on land, Achilles was an opponent that the bowman hoped never to have to cross blades with, he was just thankful that the Servants of Blue had at least a handful of Servants with divinity.

While contemplating the issue of the Invisible Hero of the Trojan War, the next and most recent matter came that to mind was one of the aforementioned Servants, the appearance of his own Lancer, Cú Chulainn.

EMIYA clicked his own touch, thinking on why he was here. While he had amazing vision as his inherit class suggested of bowmen, he lacked any means to listen in on the conversation from his distance but made an educated assumption that Cú followed the Servants of Red all the way from Sighisoara.

Meanwhile, in the clearing all the Servants stood in front of each other in silence still awaiting for movement while they did mental conversation with their respective teammates.

'This is bad, no matter how you look at this.' Conversed Atalanta, her bow pointed at Cú, who just ignored her and was facing at the Lancer of Black. 'I can't fight that guy, and there's no way I can do anything from this close either.'

'Then how about this Missy, you lead that weak looking Berserker away while I deal with the rest.' Replayed Achilles, ignoring his partner's low growl at her nickname. 'This Cú guy will have no other chose but to make a temporary alliance with me or else the Saber and Lancer of Black can easily push us back.'

'And what if he doesn't?' Asked the Archer of Red, highly sceptical of his ideal outcome.

'Then I go to plan B, kill everyone first; ask questions never.' Thought the Rider, smirking at his answer, making Atalanta deadpan mentally at her partner.

On the other side of the clearing, Fran, Siegfried and Vlad mirrored their enemies, the leader of the group already anticipated the possibility of a truce but would allowing it, for the sake of a worthy battle.

'Saber, Berserker move onto the Servants of Red, I'll deal with the Celtic Hero.' Ordered Vlad, petting the side of his armoured horse and jumping off as it ran back to the Citadel. His commands were meet with a nod and a grunt of acceptance.

Siegfried was the first to engage in combat, clashing his claymore with Achilles' lance in an effort to push him back but was countered by a swift kick to his side by the Lancer of Blue.

The Rider of Red was hopeful for a second that Cú had accepted the current situation but soon had to dodge a crimson spear aiming for his head, barely avoid the tip of the blade from gouging out his eyes.

Achilles jumped back, only getting a single arrow from his partner as a distraction that was particularly useless, the Lancer just blocking it with the staff of his spear.

"Why are you acting so surprised, Rider?" said Cú with a bored expression as he knocked another arrow off course. "I'm not your friend or your ally, drop your guard and you're dead."

Siegfried quickly recovered from being kicked across the clearing and prepared to strike again. Noticing this, Achilles turned to Cú again with a grave face. "You want to take all of us on, that's suicidal when you're out numbered!"