Hey everyone, let me tell you about something that happened to me yesterday.
As it turns out, I was supposed to have this chapter written by yesterday, but just as I was thinking about starting, I remembered I had a presentation due tomorrow—and I had absolutely nothing done, zero progress. So, I had to spend the entire afternoon and evening working on that instead, meaning I couldn't write the chapter.
But then, when I actually arrived, classes were cancelled due to the holiday festivities—since this week marks my country's national holidays—and classes were called off at my classmates' request.
So, not only did I fail to write the chapter due yesterday, but I also prepared a presentation and studied for it all for nothing.
All that's left to say is we live in a society.
Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you; to make up for it, I'll upload the next chapter tomorrow. With that said, let's get on with the chapter.
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Night had already fallen when Achilles brought back some fish to cook.
The green-haired man, Alice, Nightingale, and Gaheris were gathered around a campfire.
The Greek hero's gaze fell upon the sleeping little girl, then shifted in astonishment to the knight, whose severed arm was back in place.
"Is it a miracle?" Achilles asked, sitting across from the fire and looking at the pair.
"No. I retrieved Gaheris's arm after he lost it; since we are Heroic Spirits, it only took mana to reattach it. Had we been human, it would have required a transplant of flesh and blood to reconnect it," Nightingale explained.
At that moment, she instinctively glanced at Achilles's heel, which was mangled—likely from a projectile.
"I could heal that wound of yours, too," the nurse stated, but Achilles merely smiled and shook his head.
"What for? It's not a wound born of sacrifice like the knight's here—nothing worth anyone's concern, especially not for someone like me, who has no goals or intention of participating in this place," the green-haired man said, dismissing the matter and causing Nightingale to frown.
When the four of them gathered, the others explained everything that had happened, hiding no details.
"Do you want to die?" Gaheris asked, causing silence to descend upon the group.
Achilles simply grimaced and began moving the fish around.
"Maybe," he said simply, neither denying nor confirming it.
The truth was that the Greek hero was now without purpose or mission; he was simply existing, living in a void.
Gaheris stared at him for a moment. "Sir Lancelot was the same way," she said, catching Achilles' attention, "but he didn't want to die for nothing; he wanted to atone for his sins—for having left his king at his lowest moment and letting him die at Mordred's hands. I still remember when we met; it was a bit awkward, especially considering he was the one who killed me. I never blamed or hated him—and I made that clear to him—but that didn't erase his need for redemption. I saw that need. But unlike him—who wanted to die for the sake of others—you just want to die for nothing. I don't find anything glorious in that, nor anything worthy of respect in a Heroic Spirit."
A few seconds passed, filled only by the sound of insects buzzing nearby.
"Ha," Achilles began to laugh. "Hahahaha." After laughing for a moment and wiping away tears, he looked at the knight. "You might be right. But unlike you lot... you didn't live through what I did."
"Are you referring to how you got that wound on your heel?" Nightingale asked.
"No, that was later; I'm referring to when the master of those four arrived and practically destroyed every Servant who had been summoned at the time. Very few of us survived, and then Caenis, Dante, Odysseus, and Chiron came to mop up the stragglers—of whom I am the only one left," the Greek hero explained.
"I see," Gaheris stated. "Is that the only reason you gave up?" he asked, prompting Achilles to look at him in silence. "Isn't it better to fight for a mission and out of heroic pride—even knowing you might die—than to fight in solitude and without purpose?"
Achilles kept his gaze fixed on the nearly finished fish.
"Perhaps so, but..."
"But you don't think it's really worth it, do you?" a voice called out from nearby.
The three of them looked up into the trees to see a man with red eyes and blond hair gazing down at them with a bored expression.
Achilles sprang to his feet and summoned his sword.
Nightingale drew her pistol but didn't aim it; she simply kept a close watch on the enemy. Meanwhile, Gaheris instinctively stood up, shielding Alice from the intruder's view while gripping his sword with both hands.
"Dante," the green-haired man practically roared upon seeing the man looking down at them.
Gaheris noted the name in his mind as he slowly roused Alice.
"If you don't think you can beat us, then why not join us?" Dante asked, looking at the man considered the fastest hero in Greek mythology.
Achilles simply stared back, gripping his spear tightly.
"Such an indecisive man. My offer extends to the rest of you, too," Dante said, looking at the other three.
"I decline," Nightingale said.
"I wasn't summoned to hole up with the enemy; I'd rather die fighting than join your side," Gaheris declared, and Alice nodded in agreement.
Dante could only sigh and let his arms drop to his sides. "Do I have so little charisma?" he asked generally, without anyone answering. "Never mind; I've come to talk to you."
With that said, he jumped down from the tree, landing in front of the campfire.
"Didn't you come here to fight?" Achilles asked, smiling; he wasn't taking the blond man's words seriously.
"That too, but first I want to know something," Dante explained, sitting down on one of the logs facing the campfire.
No one said a word; the three of them watched as Dante picked up one of the fish and took a bite.
"Gross," he declared, prompting an irritated grimace from Achilles.
"Why would you think we'd give you anything?" the green-haired man asked, still holding his spear at the ready.
"Why not?" Dante countered, looking at the four Servants before him. "The current situation is... different from what I expected."
"What do you mean?" Gaheris couldn't help but ask.
"There are far more Servants here than I expected the World to bring to this place," Dante stated. "In other Lostbelts, the number rarely exceeds six or so, but here, the sheer volume of Heroic Spirits is staggering; so far, there are about eighty and counting. I don't know where the Throne of Heroes is pulling them all from—maybe bringing some from other universes or even gender-swapped versions of everyone."
Before the blond man spoke, no one quite understood where he was going with this.
"But to get back to the point: previously, summoned Servants were scattered all over the place. Sometimes they'd form small groups, but now everyone is gathering in one specific location. I imagine you know which place I mean, seeing as you're among the most recent ones brought here by the World."
"You want to know if there's been a change in the behavior of the new Servants summoned by the World," Achilles concluded.
"Something like that," Dante said, gesturing with his finger and offering a faint smile. "For the shift to be so obvious, it has to be a change in mission—as if the goal is no longer to eliminate the Fantasy Tree, but something else entirely."
At those words, the place fell completely silent. "I don't know—you all know Libra was hailed as the great archer, right?" he asked; no one said a word. "No one denied it, so it must be true; you know it even though you don't know her."
Gaheris clicked his tongue at Dante's quick deduction; he had to assume the man was merely speculating and throwing out random hypotheses.
The truth was that Dante was quite concerned about his daughter's condition—especially considering her previous summoning as a Caster and how that had ended. He had no desire to fight her, which was why he had initiated this line of thought; to his dismay, he had likely hit the mark.
"The mission must be linked to her, and she is hell-bent on building a fortress. Libra was summoned alongside Servants who didn't yet exhibit that kind of behavior, so..." He lowered his voice as he gazed into the fire, seemingly ignoring the four Servants—though they could hear him clearly enough.
"This isn't good," Gaheris said.
"I agree," Nightingale remarked. She aimed her pistol and fired a shot at Dante's forehead, but to her surprise, he caught the bullet between two fingers without even looking at her.
A moment later, he glanced at the bullet and sighed.
"Well, I suppose the conversation is over," the Assassin declared.
At that instant, Achilles lunged forward at full speed, but the blond man simply deflected the spear and hurled him away with a powerful shove.
Dante couldn't launch a counterattack, as several fireballs were being hurled his way; he was forced to dart back and forth to avoid the blasts.
The green-haired warrior, now back on his feet, watched as Gaheris and Nightingale attacked simultaneously—only for their enemy to dodge and weave, manipulating their movements against one another.
He realized the problem: it was likely the first time the two of them had fought together. Without clear coordination beyond a general desire to help, they were getting in each other's way—and Dante was exploiting exactly that.
He maneuvered them so they would hinder one another, causing their attacks to strike empty air or even interfere with each other.
"He's toying with us," Achilles said, his mood turning sour. "Move!"
At the Greek hero's roar, the two Servants stepped aside, only to see a beam of colored light slam into Dante, knocking him down instantly. A metallic blade, forged from the mechanized parts of Ares, the God of War, brought Achilles' spear to an abrupt halt.
"You aren't as fast as you used to be," the blond man sneered, shoving the green-haired warrior back.
Undeterred, the latter unleashed a flurry of thrusts in search of an opening but found none; every single strike was parried.
He could only click his tongue in frustration.
"Future sight," he muttered through gritted teeth. Unlike Gaheris, Nightingale, or Alice, Achilles was familiar with the legend of Dante—even from before his own death—and thus knew of the assassin's abilities; chief among the most talked-about was the power to foresee the future in the heat of battle.
In less than a second, Dante shifted from defense to offense, launching himself forward with everything he had.
The Greek hero barely managed to pivot his spear to block the strike before the knife buried itself in his shoulder.
He used all his strength and his spear to keep his opponent from slicing him in two. Achilles' feet were practically driven into the ground by the force he exerted while gripping his weapon, the veins in his arms bulging as if about to burst; the assassin, on the other hand, appeared to be exerting little effort in his murderous attempt.
But unfortunately for him, he had to break off his attack; he needed to parry a blow from Nightingale, leap away from Gaheris, and use *Soru* to dodge Alice's magical attacks.
"Are you alright?" Nightingale asked, concerned about the green-haired man's condition.
"He didn't have this kind of strength before; it makes no sense," Achilles declared, settling back into his combat stance. "His speed, strength, and agility spiked all of a sudden. It makes no sense—it's as if he were a completely different Servant."
His words did little to boost the group's morale.
From a distance, Dante drew a submachine gun from his back, where it had been concealed beneath his coat.
"Admire my new weapon. Since the previous ones got wrecked, I had to bring this beauty along this time," Dante explained before dropping to one knee and opening fire.
Everyone scrambled; notably, Gaheris hoisted Alice up like a sack of potatoes and moved to take cover.
The submachine gun's fire tracked Nightingale, who ducked behind a tree—though it didn't last long.
Bullets tore the tree apart, exposing the nurse in the red uniform—who had taken two hits—but fortunately for them, the weapon ran dry, giving the four of them a chance to run.
"Hmm..." Dante mused, watching the four of them flee while looking down at his weapon. "I'm going to have to modify you to avoid having to remove the magazine and put it back in."
With those words, Dante removed the empty magazine and magically refilled it with bullets using projection.
Generally, using projection wasn't a great idea for creating objects, but for thrown weapons like daggers or arrows, it worked quite well—even if the constructs were somewhat hollow, a flaw that could be compensated for with magic. Plus, Dante had the advantage of being able to apply Haki—specifically, Emission—to his projections.
This meant the projected bullets didn't fall far short of real ones; the difference was negligible. Yet, from a cost-efficiency standpoint, using projection this time was slightly—just a little bit—better. After all, this effectively realized every gunslinger's dream of having infinite ammunition.