Typemoon [456-458] (Patreon)

Chapter 456: Incoming

"Napoleon?" At the name, Fujimaru Ritsuka sized up the man hefting a cannon that defied common sense. He looked Western, wore white trousers and a fitted short jacket that left his well-built chest bare.

Beyond the outfit, what struck Ritsuka most about the self-proclaimed Napoleon was his sheer largeness of spirit.

"Napoleon!"

Mash, well-read as ever, blurted, "Napoleon of the First French Empire? Or one of his descendants?!"

"Napoleon?"

Like Ritsuka, Alaric also sensed the man's undisguised aura—bold and unrestrained, a blazing self that seemed to ignite all around him.

It didn't quite match the Napoleon Bonaparte in Alaric's memory, yet it undeniably carried his shadow—perhaps even traces of other Napoleons.

In the end, though the man called himself Napoleon, he never said he was Napoleon Bonaparte, the French emperor. He could be something else.

Thoughts flashed through Alaric's mind in an instant, and he settled on a conclusion: the man before them was "Napoleon," not as a single person, but as the embodiment of the "Napoleon" concept.

More importantly, judging from the fluctuation of his Saint Graph, he was almost certainly a Servant from Proper Human History—a Heroic Spirit like Brynhildr.

Once that was confirmed, Alaric didn't much care about his identity. Only one point mattered.

"Are you looking for us?"

Watching the approaching man, Alaric noted Napoleon's earlier words made it clear he'd been searching for them. As for why—

"Looks like you haven't run into it yet."

Seeing how naturally they accepted his identity, Napoleon laughed heartily. "I know about you. The little girl from Village Twenty-Three told me, so I came looking.

As for why—these last day or two, Envoys have started appearing around the villages, like they're searching for something."

Napoleon grinned. "I figure they're looking for you, yeah?"

Envoys—Valkyries—different from the trio of Thrúd, Hildr, and Ortlinde.

For such a number of Valkyries to mobilize en masse—

"Looking for us, and behind Skadi's back?"

Alaric raised a brow, curious. "If that's the case—"

Finding them shouldn't be hard. Skadi had complete intelligence over all of Scandinavia; if she willed it, no one could escape her sight.

But the Valkyries were sweeping for Ritsuka and the others in force. That suggested Skadi hadn't authorized it—or at least wasn't assisting.

Also, the massive deployment seemed to have begun only after Brynhildr was awakened.

If so, would the three true Valkyries appear?

By Brynhildr's testimony, she'd been suppressed by the Crypter, Ophelia, together with the three Valkyries. It wouldn't be strange if it happened again.

But this time, Sigurd would surely be at Ophelia's side. If they met again, the matter would have to be settled.

Realizing this, Alaric's eyes narrowed. "On your way here, how many Valkyries tailed you?"

"Don't worry, I didn't leave a tail."

Napoleon's eyebrows danced. "Mere Valkyries I can shake, but if we keep going forward, running into them is unavoidable."

He wasn't an Assassin adept at stealth, but shaking pursuit? He was confident in that.

"Then we need to move fast. Cú Chulainn, Miss Brynhildr."

Understanding the severity, and after a moment's thought, Ritsuka asked, "Can your Runes stabilize Sir Alaric's Saint Graph?"

Ritsuka's thinking matched Alaric's: the Valkyries' actions were likely being taken behind Skadi's back. If Skadi wanted someone found, she wouldn't need Valkyries.

She could give coordinates and let Sigurd and the rest make a pinpoint strike.

Moreover, with Skadi not here, she couldn't step in to halt a fight.

With that premise, barring other factors, if they ran into Sigurd again there could be casualties—a fight to the death.

Ritsuka vividly remembered Sigurd's killing intent and had no illusions.

Since battle was likely, even a bit of recovery for Alaric would be an advantage.

Her current problem was the number of Servants. If Napoleon joined, that would make three deployed at once—the upper limit of Ritsuka's load.

That meant she couldn't even summon Saint Graph shadows to fight. As strong as her deployed Servants were, getting Alaric a bit of recovery would still help.

Alaric's recovery wouldn't just increase combat power; he could even shave matters to gain mana, easing their shortage.

"I can handle it."

Brynhildr pressed her lips together. "The Primordial Runes are the All-Father's wisdom. Repairing a Saint Graph is within reach."

The Primordial Runes are the rune magecraft of the Norse system.

Brynhildr, who could teach rune magecraft to Sigurd, was herself a first-rate magus.

The skill symbolizes the All-Father Odin's tutelage—"Primordial Rune." She normally suppresses its power.

If she forces it at full strength without possessing Divinity at A rank or higher, not only would her Noble Phantasm be restricted, it would inflict deep damage to her Spirit Core—leading to her destruction.

She can seal her wide-area Noble Phantasm to use it, reaching demi-god strength; but even first-rate magi can't afford the mana cost. Without sealing her NP, she can still use ordinary runes.

Within certain limits, Brynhildr was confident she could repair the damage to Alaric's Saint Graph.

A Servant's Saint Graph can be seen as two parts: the Spirit Core bearing the Heroic Spirit's soul—the foundation of all—and the flesh of mana that wraps it.

Alaric's case was damage to the Spirit Core from excessive Mana Burst, but with his Independent Manifestation he'd held onto the last shred of integrity, avoiding erasure.

If the Saint Graph were stronger, repair would be harder. But his current Saint Graph strength was middling to Brynhildr.

"That impressive, Lady Brynhildr."

Seeing she had a way to mend his Saint Graph, Alaric smiled. "If it costs too much mana, forget it. Our mana needs to support you in the fight first."

His own mana was nearly spent, so he couldn't feed it back through Ritsuka. The mana to sustain the battle would fall to her.

At this distance, even comms were out; how much mana the submersible could supply was doubtful. Most of the time, it would be her life force on the line.

Excessive mana output would put a huge burden on her.

Then there was the cost of Primordial Runes. Magecraft always consumes something, and repairing a Servant's Saint Graph is far beyond ordinary magecraft.

The cost would impact Ritsuka.

And even if they paid that cost, could they fully repair Alaric's Saint Graph? If not, it'd be wasted effort.

At that, Brynhildr fell silent, weighing the mana cost of Primordial Runes.

Before meeting Ritsuka, as a Masterless Servant she had some mana. After contracting with Ritsuka, most consumption was shouldered by Ritsuka. For Brynhildr, it was like going from power-saver mode to normal, but that didn't change the cost of invoking the Runes.

"Senpai! The sky!"

While Brynhildr pondered, Mash cried out a warning. Cú Chulainn and Napoleon, noticing the anomaly, likewise looked up.

Silhouettes as fine as needles stood against that abnormally enormous blazing sun, radiating holy presence.

"There are this many mass-produced Valkyries in the air?!"

Mash's face tightened. Their appearance was abrupt; in under dozens of seconds they'd swept overhead, locking onto the group on the ice field.

Ritsuka, too, looked up, grave.

There were too many—more than they'd ever seen. Even mass-produced, they were not to be taken lightly.

And—

If the mass-produced units were here, when would the true Valkyries—Thrud, Hildr, and Ortlinde—and Ophelia arrive?

As for Alaric, he only pulled his clothes tighter, glancing around to plan where he could hide once things kicked off.

"This is trouble—"

Cú Chulainn bared his teeth, staring up. "They're not coming down. Waiting for someone?"

The Valkyries held their positions without attacking, as if only to intimidate.

Brynhildr answered.

"Mass-produced—"

Her thoughts cut short, Brynhildr lifted her head. A trace of helplessness glinted in her eyes as she murmured, "I've heard about them from you all. I knew they existed.

I thought I understood. Seeing them with my own eyes still makes my heart roil."

Not Valkyries forged by the All-Father Odin himself, but mass-produced by Skadi using the same techniques. Even so, Brynhildr couldn't hide her unrest.

"Bodies made by prioritizing automaton function, without souls—my sisters."

Even if not Odin's handiwork, she acknowledged the mass-produced Valkyries as sister units, which made it all the more bittersweet.

"I know—they only have the function to execute orders."

Softly, Brynhildr said, "They lack the uncertainty that comes with the emotions forced upon us, though it is so practical—

So efficient a thought—

But to me, they're just a pitiful rabble."

Click.

Brynhildr lifted her divine spear and became legend. The Valkyrie from myth seemed to step into the world before them, resplendent.

Majestic.

"Can you hear me, sisters—pitiful beings without souls."

Brynhildr's face was pained. "My True Name is Brynhildr, eldest sister of the sisters who are your prototypes. Withdraw. Even if you are not of my birth, I… do not wish to turn this spear on you. So withdraw."

At her words, the Valkyries above finally reacted.

"Elder sister—"

"Elder sister, Brynhildr, elder sister.

A superior unit, a ruler of individuals—truly, in the North."

Thrud, Hildr, and Ortlinde were not only the prototypes of the mass-produced Valkyries, but also their superior command units.

Faced with the stronger Brynhildr, curiosity was only natural.

"Cannot comprehend. Cannot comprehend.

We are only executing the order to search for external humans—"

"Cannot comprehend. Cannot comprehend.

The three command units request an additional directive regarding the current situation—"

"Elder sister—Elder sister Brynhildr has…

Issued a declaration of hostility toward us!"

They could not comprehend the destruction declared by the apex unit, Brynhildr. Emotion crept into their hollow divine voices.

"Impossible. Unbelievable—

Unbelievable, unbelievable, unbelievable!"

Questions fell from the sky. In voices that should have been ethereal, a strange emotion quivered.

"There's nothing unbelievable about it, new sisters."

Brynhildr's tone didn't change. "So withdraw. If you cannot—

Click.

She tightened her grip and cried, "Then I can only destroy you!"

Unacceptable. Unacceptable.

Unacceptable, the elder sister's declaration—

The mass-produced Valkyries moved as one. Before their spears fell, a wilder gale struck first!

A deep violet spear crossed the sky and drove straight through a unit's chest!

She didn't even seem to know what had happened before she fell.

Thud.

With true command of the heavens, Brynhildr moved like a streak of light. Even ordinary thrusts claimed one, sometimes several Valkyries at a time, reducing them to wreckage.

"This is the gap between us—"

Brynhildr shouted, "Continuing this is pointless. You must understand the sorrow of an individual being destroyed. You will be mass-produced again, no doubt—but that is not resurrection.

It is only the birth of a new unit. As individuals, you are not eternal."

Chapter 457: A Twisted Ragnarok

Bodies fell from the sky like meteors, leaving thin trails across the blue in their flickering wakes.

It was as if the war of the gods had come. In mere minutes, over a dozen demi-god Valkyries had fallen—and the count was rising!

"Withdraw, sisters—"

Brynhildr pleaded, pained.

If this continued, the Valkyries' losses would only mount—something their eldest sister could not bear.

This time, however, no mass-produced Valkyrie answered her. Only their true sister units replied.

"No, we cannot withdraw, elder sister."

"—That voice. I know it."

Brynhildr's eyes narrowed. The voice was unmistakably her sisters'—Valkyries, like her, to whom the All-Father had given souls.

"You spoke of a gap in strength. True—each mass-produced unit is inferior to you. But we have the advantage of numbers! Against one hundred mass-produced Valkyries, you—"

"How long can you fight, Brynhildr, elder sister! And you—Chaldea's remnants!"

The voice from on high burned with anger, as if proclaiming the battle's end—and their fury at the Chaldean remnants who had stolen their elder sister.

"Found you—"

Still in the air, Brynhildr's gaze swept the field, past dozens of encircling Valkyries, and locked onto the three approaching from the rear.

"The three Valkyries—Thrud, Hildr, Ortlinde—"

She murmured, "My dear sisters. They've lived in this Lostbelt all along."

On this land bereft of gods, after Ragnarok, the sisters who survived.

Prototype sisters; command units.

Scathach-Skadi's lieutenants, the three who were the prototypes of the many copies—and who commanded them.

"You can hear me, can't you, sisters—Thrud, Hildr, Ortlinde!"

Brynhildr began to descend and called out, "Come down here, sisters."

Landing lightly, she declared, "I can throw this spear—but I want to cross weapons where we can see each other's faces.

Isn't that what you want too, Thrud, Hildr, Ortlinde?"

"Do you… not want to see my face?"

She sighed. If the three showed this attitude, there was nothing she could do.

"Why—"

The girl who descended from the sky asked, "Why do you side with humans, elder sister?"

Led by the blonde Thrud, the three Valkyries landed before Brynhildr, fully armed.

"Thrud, Hildr, Ortlinde—"

Brynhildr's gaze moved over their faces. "To me, yours are long-missed visages. To you—what am I?

Before, you—just sealing me took all your strength. You had no leisure to speak with me."

"Correct."

Thrud's eyes slid aside. "You are not our elder sister. You are of Proper Human History, a happy soul who never knew the heat of a twisted Ragnarok."

"A twisted Ragnarok?"

Ritsuka and the others, who'd arrived by now, heard Thrud's words. Mash, well-versed in myth, blinked in surprise.

Alaric arched a brow higher.

He'd wondered who was dueling Skadi for supremacy.

The snow blanketing Scandinavia was Skadi's mana congealed; spread across the land for three thousand years. Only the mountain-covering blaze could oppose it.

If the Ragnarok here had twisted—and Thrud spoke of heat—then the realm of the fire giants, Muspelheim, must hold the anomaly.

After all, only the fire giants had been suppressed by Skadi; the mountain and frost giants were still at large.

In Proper Human History, the beings tied to heat in Ragnarok were the fire giants.

In Muspelheim, the fire giants surged into war against the gods with blazing flames. They spewed fire to burn all before them. Their leader, Surtr, bore a Sword of Light whose glare outshone the sun and lit the sky.

If the premise was a world of heat—

Alaric lifted his eyes. All he saw was endless white. Formless flame coiled over the mountains, like a mere decoration.

If snow existed to counter flame, it would make sense.

"From the trickery of the freed, chastised god Loki, gods and giants clashed—and all perished—

The earth then passed to mankind. That is the true Ragnarok."

Knowing Proper Human History, Thrud spoke. "But it did not happen that way."

Hildr lowered her eyes, as if speaking a tragedy. "Death did not follow the ordained order. Fate changed.

The prophecy of the end strayed to a different result. From that time, the world has been twisted."

"Thus, when we saw you manifest, we trembled with joy."

Ortlinde looked into Brynhildr's eyes. "Even if you are not our Lostbelt elder sister, you are the elder sister carved into Proper Human History—a world without heat.

We thought—we could be affectionate with you…"

"No. That is impossible, sisters beneath a different sky."

Brynhildr's voice was gentle but firm. "I am a Heroic Spirit of Human Order. I manifest to reclaim it.

We can converse. We can exchange feelings.

But to be affectionate—"

"To walk forward together is the one thing we cannot do."

She tightened her grip on the spear.

"So—"

Thrud drew a steady, taut breath. "So we made you sleep! If you sleep, you won't be our enemy!"

"Indeed. You cannot be our enemy."

Ortlinde echoed, "If only you sleep forever, forever—"

"We don't want to fight you. Because your face and voice—"

Hildr frowned. "Everything about you is identical to our elder sister! Isn't it the same for you? Are we, to you, just people with the same faces?

 Existences you can kill without a care?!"

Chapter 458: The Clash

It was a blade that aimed for the heart—a line that stabbed straight into Brynhildr's chest.

As the eldest Valkyrie, even to Lostbelt sisters, Brynhildr could never treat them as lives to be killed without consequence. But she had a goal she could not abandon.

She couldn't reply.

She had reasons to refute, to answer, but the words wouldn't come.

"Hold it. No need to keep going, Valkyries."

Napoleon's expression hardened. "No—don't say another word. Let me."

Any further would crush Brynhildr under pressure she didn't need to bear. This wasn't a burden for her now.

Though he'd known Ritsuka and the others for barely ten minutes, Napoleon had slipped into their rhythm naturally.

So when Brynhildr stumbled, he naturally stepped up to cover—for many reasons, not least that she was a beauty.

"You're in the way! Human Heroic Spirit!"

Thrud snapped, "How could you understand our sisters' dead-end longing over millennia! A dream we could never realize no matter how many years passed—yet now we see the elder sister who should be dead, our—!"

"Someone you can kill without a care—"

"Doesn't exist," Napoleon shot back.

"!"

Thrud's eyes flashed, her aura faltering for a beat. She couldn't retort at once.

"But sure—there's another side. If I meet demons and evildoers now, I'll cut them down without hesitation."

Napoleon shrugged. "Even so, you shoulder what must be shouldered. That's all there is—"

"Yes. That is how warriors who brandish blades live—

How the brave ought to exist."

Understanding him, Brynhildr spoke softly. "You've forgotten this, haven't you? In this age-worn Lostbelt where there are no warriors left on the earth.

War and strife—staking your life to shoulder the final means—that is a warrior. Forget that—

And you're unworthy of being called Valkyries who venerate brave souls."

"!"

"We are the Valkyries who protect humanity and this world in this Lostbelt!" Thrud cried.

"We are the last Valkyries!" Hildr shouted. "Even—"

"Even you, elder sister, cannot deny that."

Ortlinde said, "We have lived as ourselves."

On that point alone—even Brynhildr had no right to stain or deny them.

"!"

Flame rising in her chest, Thrud roared, "Then we'll prove it!

 —By the pseudo-Gungnir bestowed on us by the All-Father Odin!"

At her shout, the mass-produced Valkyries on standby above all moved. The surge of mana was enough to make Alaric look up.

Even after Brynhildr's earlier culling, those in the heavens still outnumbered them overwhelmingly. And thanks to their flight, few of the party could even reach them.

"Miss Brynhildr—the Valkyries in the sky are yours. Mash, coordinate with Mr. Napoleon!"

Ritsuka had their plan the instant Thrud declared war.

Bang!

As battle sparked, a blue bolt of lightning screamed in with a crimson spear. The Child of Light gave the Valkyries no time to react—Cú Chulainn, who'd crossed weapons with them once already, lunged with a strike like lightning itself!

At such godspeed, even Thrud and the others struggled to follow.

The sisters were their true bodies, survivors from Ragnarok to the present—but against the Child of Light who shone across Europe alongside King Arthur, they still fell short.

He was a first-rate Servant!

Clang!

Thrud barely turned and raised her round shield, meeting Cú Chulainn's sure-kill head-on. The clear ring of spear on shield seemed to shake the heavens and blew the snows aside.

The impact forced her back; the packed snow billowed like surf under her feet.

"I'll help you!"

Pink-haired Hildr cried, "This time, we won't lose!"

Hum!

A beam called the All-Father's Decree flashed with boundless radiance, lancing through the air toward Cú Chulainn—and Ortlinde struck in tandem!

Their defeat in the snowbound castle was etched in memory. Though their injuries then were from Alaric's sudden thunderstrike—

Thrud was sure that even without Alaric's interference, Cú Chulainn and Mash together were at least a match for their Noble Phantasm, perhaps stronger!

Facing Hildr and Ortlinde's combined attack, Cú Chulainn's crimson eyes slid their way. His body dipped—and he slipped past the spear of light at the thinnest margin!

Seizing the opening, Brynhildr shot a deep glance at the three and soared, cutting into the mass-produced Valkyries above!

Boom, boom, boom!

A rumbling barrage of cannon fire—the shells left trails of black smoke as they streaked skyward. They weren't as fast as Brynhildr, but there were far more of them!

Napoleon, cannon on shoulder, laughed. "Don't underestimate me!"

He couldn't fly—but reaching the sky? He could do that!

The unending cannonade became a symphony. As a living gun emplacement, Napoleon sank into his element, ceaselessly coordinating with Brynhildr to blast the Valkyries from the sky!

Even those who noticed and tried to dive on him were intercepted by the two.

Mash stayed by Ritsuka, guarding against the unknown.

Ritsuka was not as she once was; she couldn't summon Saint Graph shadows at will. Her Magic Circuits were at their limit; she would have to rely on other Servants' protection to survive the field.

As a Master, due to the quality of her Magic Circuits, she couldn't stray far from her Servants. Too much distance reduced mana supply effectiveness and thus Servant parameters.

That meant she had to remain amid the storm of battle, supplying mana to her Servants.

"This won't do—"

Watching the battle, Alaric frowned.

Valkyries alone were tying up all of Chaldea's strength. If Sigurd appeared, the balance would shatter.

The only answer was to clear the Valkyries fast. They couldn't let this drag on into Ophelia and Sigurd's arrival.

He'd hoped to pin Sigurd on Brynhildr, but she was now held by the aerial mass-produced units. Unless they were wiped out—or the three command units issued a new order—there was no freeing her.

Vmmm—

As Alaric weighed solutions, a spear of light suddenly surged in like a dragon breaching the sea. The pressure of the wind tore white waves from the snow on either side!