Chapter 9
The church felt different after the revelations. The tension had morphed from a standoff into a strange, unsteady truce. The shattered pews were a testament to the raw power in the room, but the real damage was more subtle—the complete unmasking of Shirou Kotomine's ambitions.
"Oh ho~! So the enemy of yesterday is the comrade of today?" William Shakespeare, Caster of Red, placed a hand over his heart, his voice dripping with theatrical appreciation. "What a sublime twist of fate!"
"And what, precisely, brings you here, Caster?" Shirou asked, his voice laced with a long-suffering patience. The benevolent priest act was thinner now, worn down by the morning's events.
"Ah, well. In simple terms? Our dear Berserker has… gone on a rampage," Caster said, giving another cheerful thumbs-up.
"What?!" Semiramis hissed, her earlier venom redirected. "Explain."
"More poetically, he has embarked upon a fated, glorious journey toward his destined foe! I, for one, salute his heroic spirit!" Caster closed his eyes, a look of profound admiration on his gaunt face.
"Which means…" Shirou said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You told him where to find this 'destined foe.' Caster, your appetite for a compelling narrative truly knows no bounds."
"Please! Do not speak so callously! For a creator, the story is life itself!" Caster declared, utterly unapologetic. He seemed to have no concern about revealing his identity through his speech.
"Would either of you be willing to… intervene with Berserker?" Shirou asked, turning his polite, expectant smile toward Karna and Achilles.
The mask was back, but it was transparent now. His control over the other Masters was exposed, but the Ruler had declared it a permissible tactic. The game had changed. He no longer needed to hide his consolidation of power, only manage its consequences.
Karna's expression was stony. He could see the calculation. This wasn't a request; it was the first test of his compliance under the new paradigm. Refusal would likely lead to a 'discussion' about the safety of his sleeping Master.
"I could go beat him to a pulp," Achilles offered with a sharp grin. He was itching for action, any action.
"I would prefer you didn't. He is, nominally, still our ally," Shirou said, shaking his head with faux regret.
"He's heading for the Black Faction's stronghold, I assume," Cyd said, rising from the pew. He swung [Pandora, Reforged] onto his back with practiced ease. "I'll go take a look."
"You would… help me restrain Berserker?" Shirou asked, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his composure. "That seems… unlikely."
"Obviously not," Cyd said, giving him a flat look. "I'm going to assess whether he's going to cause a public spectacle. If he starts smashing up the town square at high noon, I'll be the one to make him stop."
"I'll come with you," Atalanta said, standing as well. Her movements were fluid, predatory. "I have some experience with calming enraged beasts."
"Me too!" Achilles chimed in, raising his hand like an eager student. He seemed completely oblivious to the complex, charged history simmering between the hunter and her prey.
"Then… Rider, Archer. I leave this to you," Shirou said with a nod. It was a neat solution. It got the three most volatile Greek personalities out of his church and potentially dealt with the Berserker problem.
"We're leaving too," Kairi Sisigou announced, getting to his feet. The revelation that Shirou had neutralized the other Masters made the church feel less like a sanctuary and more like a trap. Knowing Cyd wouldn't intervene in internal Red Faction politics removed the last shred of perceived safety. "Appreciate the hospitality."
"Farewell," Shirou said, giving a small wave. "Though I do hope you will consider contributing to our collective effort when the time comes."
"Yeah, sure," Kairi muttered, not looking back as he strode past the gleeful Caster and out the damaged door.
"Oh, the stories that man carries…" Shakespeare murmured, watching him go. "I can sense them, bubbling beneath the surface!"
"One more thing," Cyd said, pausing at the threshold. He looked back at Shirou, his gaze direct. "This is overstepping my role, but I'm asking anyway. Once the War is concluded, regardless of the outcome, I want you to release the other Masters. Unharmed."
Shirou met his eyes. The request hung in the air. It was not a command; Cyd had no Command Spells to enforce it. It was a appeal to something else—a remnant of the 'Pure White Hero's' nature.
After a moment, Shirou smiled, and it held a trace of something almost genuine. "Very well. I agree."
"Tch." Semiramis made a sound of pure disgust, shooting Cyd one last, withering glare before dissolving into darkness.
"Thank you," Karna said, his voice low. He inclined his head toward Cyd in a gesture of deep respect. It was the first sign of genuine gratitude he'd shown anyone since his summoning.
"Let's move," Cyd said, clapping a hand on Atalanta's shoulder. Then, in a shimmer of light, he was gone, shifting into spiritual form.
Atalanta followed suit, becoming a barely-perceptible ripple in the air. Achilles, with a final, excited grin at the prospect of chaos, vanished as well.
"The stage is set, then," Shirou said to the now mostly-empty church. "I leave it in your capable hands."
---
Outside, the morning sun was strengthening, burning off the last of the river valley's mist. Kairi Sisigou walked with quick, purposeful strides away from the church, his phone in one hand.
"Get the picture?" he grunted, not looking at the empty space beside him where he knew his Servant was.
A moment later, Mordred materialized, having shed her armor for the leather jacket and shorts. She hopped up to sit on a low, weathered stone wall bordering the cemetery path, swinging her legs. "Loud and clear. Everyone's an enemy. Even after we deal with the seven in the castle, we'll probably have to fight the leftovers from our own side."
"Worse," Kairi said, thumbing a message to his sparse Clock Tower contacts. He attached the photo he'd taken of Cyd. "Based on how Rider and Archer acted around him, I've got their True Names pinned. Archer is Atalanta. No doubt. Rider… his mother had a connection to Cyd. Cyd mentioned wanting to repay her. That narrows it down to one hero in all of Greece whose mother was a major figure: Achilles."
He hit send.
"And the Lancer…" Mordred plucked a small, loose piece of mortar from the wall and flicked it, hitting Kairi squarely on the back of his head.
"Hey!"
"He's strong," she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "Really strong. I could feel it just standing in the same room. He wasn't even trying."
"According to myth, Achilles was invulnerable except for his heel. And he was the fastest hero in all of Greece," Kairi sighed, rubbing the spot on his head. "In this whole war, the only one who's a sure bet to handle him is Cyd himself."
"What's with that?!" Mordred hopped down, planting herself in front of him, hands on her hips. "You keep going on about how strong everyone else is! I'm strong too!"
"I know you are, Saber," Kairi said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. He meant it. Her raw power was terrifying. "I trust you. That's why we're still in this."
"Hmph. I haven't forgotten you used a second-hand summoning circle for me," Mordred grumbled, crossing her arms and looking away, though her anger seemed more performative than real.
"What was I supposed to do? The contract forced me to try for Cyd first with that damn rock," Kairi said, shrugging helplessly.
"You seemed to be having plenty of fun pretending to be his Master earlier," she shot back, a smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. She remembered the look on the priest's face.
"Yeah, well…" Kairi cleared his throat, a faint, grim smile on his own face. "Had to keep that smug bastard off-balance. It was the only card we had to play."
"Tch. Fine. I'll let it slide this time. Don't do it again," Mordred declared, turning her nose up with an exaggerated sniff.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Kairi said, his tone softening. He looked at her—this fierce, proud, temperamental king of rebellion, currently pouting like a teenager. An odd thought struck him. "You're my Servant. I'm your Master. For better or worse, that's the partnership. No regrets on my end."
He almost reached out to ruffle her short hair, a strangely paternal impulse.
"Hah?" Mordred's head snapped around. Her mouth opened, revealing those sharp canines in a clear, unambiguous threat. Touch me and die.
"Right! So!" Kairi dropped his hand and quickly pulled a folded map from his inner coat pocket, spreading it on a flat tombstone. "Given the catastrophically bad strategic position we're in, we need a new plan. Thanks to our 'allies' being a nest of snakes, the Black Faction's castle is a fortress. Walking in the front door is a one-way ticket to a 7v1 gang beating."
"So we sit here and twiddle our thumbs?" Mordred leaned over the map, her annoyance replaced by tactical interest.
"Opposite," Kairi said, a predatory grin spreading across his scarred face. He tapped a location on the map just outside the dense forest surrounding the Yggdmillennia castle. "We go here. Tonight. And we have the perfect distraction."
"Berserker!" Mordred's eyes lit up.
"Exactly. A rampaging Berserker is a huge, noisy target. The Blacks will have to respond. To capture or subdue something that powerful, they'll need to commit multiple Servants—three, maybe four. That significantly lowers the odds of us running into one inside the castle grounds."
"Oh…" Mordred's enthusiasm deflated slightly. "I thought you meant we were going to ambush some of their Servants on the way."
"Saber, we are deep behind enemy lines with zero backup," Kairi said, fixing her with a look. "A true king knows when to let her enemies bleed each other dry. That's how we create an opening."
"You called me that again," Mordred said, her voice quieter.
"King? You were going on about becoming one last night," Kairi said, shrugging as he folded the map and tucked it away. "Might as well start now."
"King… Yeah." A fierce, determined light ignited in Mordred's green eyes. She clenched a fist. "I will become king!"
"Then, Your Majesty," Kairi said, hefting a pre-packed duffel bag onto his shoulder. It was stuffed with extra ammunition, basic supplies, and a few nasty surprises. "Time to go to war."