Anomaly Ch. 71 (Patreon)

Shirou threw himself sideways before the lightning fell, catching Rory by the sleeve as he went. She was heavier than she looked, though thankfully she took the hint and jumped with him. The blast struck where they had been standing, throwing up enough shattered stone to obscure the Servant entirely. He pulled his Shroud over his face as the fragments hit, then felt the ground slam into his shoulder. For a moment, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.

He pushed himself up, searching through the dust for the others. Tyuule had dragged Lelei and Tuka behind the remains of a fountain, her body bent over theirs as debris rained down around them. Neither the mage or the elf was moving, but he could see their chests rising. That would have to be enough for now. Across the garden, the giant lowered its scepter, seemingly in no particular hurry to follow up on its attack.

“You could have just asked.” Rory pulled her sleeve free, though her attention stayed on the Servant. A cut ran across her cheek, closing even as she wiped away the blood. She glanced at the crater, then towards Tyuule and the unconscious pair behind her, “I assume you have something that can actually hurt it?”

“Possibly.” Shirou Traced another pair of the married blades, having lost the previous ones somewhere in the blast. The problem was getting close enough to use them. That, and finding out whether anything he did would leave him enough magical energy to deal with Zouken afterwards. He doubted the old worm would give him time to catch his breath, “For now, we need to get it looking away from those three.”

Rory nodded towards the opposite side of the garden, then broke into a run. Shirou moved with her, spreading out enough that another lightning strike would have difficulty catching both of them. The giant’s head followed the Apostle. As she vaulted over a shattered hedge, Shirou threw Kanshou towards its knee, keeping Bakuya ready in his other hand.

The black blade struck armor and broke. No, now that he looked at it, it wasn’t armor at all. It was the Servant’s actual skin, thick and metal-like. Similarly, it was not the helmet where the tusks were protruding from. As he looked up, where the head should have been was nothing more than an empty void. The bottom part of what should have been nothing more than the helmet had small movements that indicated that this was instead the Servant’s mouth. 

Who, and more importantly what, was this Servant?

He didn’t have time to think for long, as the tusks of the giant lit up with lightning. Expecting a blast, Shirou kicked off the ground to gain some distance, Reinforced legs cracking the ground he was on. What he wasn’t expecting was for the tusks to suddenly elongate, forcing him to contort his body sideways in order to avoid getting speared through. 

The tusk caught the edge of his Shroud anyway. Shirou felt the fabric pull tight across his chest before he cut himself free with Bakuya, sacrificing a strip of red cloth rather than finding out what happened when the lightning reached him. He landed on his side, rolled, and scrambled upright just as the tusk swept through the space his head had occupied. Behind him, a stone pillar broke apart. Apparently, keeping his distance was going to be more difficult than he had hoped.

Rory took advantage of its attention being elsewhere. Her halberd struck the giant’s wrist with a crack that Shirou felt through his boots, driving its scepter slightly off course. Slightly, unfortunately, was all she managed. The weapon still struck the ground, and the burst of lightning threw her backwards into the ruined hedge. She came out of it almost immediately, though one hand had gone slack around the haft of her halberd.

“That should have taken its hand off.” Her smile had thinned considerably. She flexed her fingers, testing them as she circled away from the giant’s reach, “Even a dragon would have felt that.” Shirou could see the mark her weapon had left, a shallow cut across the thick hide. There was blood, at least. Very little of it, but enough to prove that hurting the thing was possible. Doing enough damage to put it down was another matter entirely.

However, the observation was worrying. Rory’s unnamed halberd was as close to a Noble Phantasm as it could be. Nine hundred years of history, more than quite a few Heroic Spirits recorded in the Throne would ever have. The halberd, while having been made by mortal hands, had eventually taken, ever so slightly, the aspects of Divinity that Rory herself had.

And it had only drawn blood. It had to be some sort of skill, but without the Master’s Perspective that he had during the Grail War, he couldn’t see what their parameters were. Unfortunately, that meant that they had to do this the manual way.

“Then stop aiming for the thickest parts.” He moved towards her, Tracing Kanshou again as the extended tusks slowly withdrew. That was something he could use. The Servant had attacked with them twice in quick succession, but now it was bringing its scepter around instead of attempting a third strike. Whether that was a limitation or simply a choice, Shirou couldn’t tell. He was going to have to risk finding out.

He threw Bakuya high, sending the white blade spinning towards the empty space above the creature’s mouth. Its free hand rose to intercept it. Shirou was already running, Kanshou held close against his side as he ducked beneath the returning scepter. He could hear Rory moving behind him, could feel the sudden rush of air as she swung at the same wrist again.

This time, the hand shifted. Only a little, but the scepter struck paving instead of Shirou, leaving him close enough to see the folds beneath the Servant’s raised arm. He drove Kanshou into the narrow seam between them. The blade sank in further than before, and for the first time, the giant made a sound that had nothing to do with thunder. Then its arm began to come down, trapping the sword while Shirou was still holding it.

Shirou dismissed the paired blades instantly, ducking to avoid the arm. He almost cleared it. The edge of the giant’s forearm clipped his shoulder, sending him skidding across the gravel before he managed to catch himself. Pain spread down his arm, sharp enough that he had to check whether anything had broken. Nothing had, thankfully, though the numbness in his fingers was less reassuring. Rory landed beside him a moment later, having abandoned her follow-up strike when the Servant turned its scepter towards her.

The wound beneath its arm was already closing. Shirou watched the torn flesh draw together, swallowing the little blood his sword had managed to draw. That, by itself, was hardly unusual for a Servant with sufficient magical energy. What bothered him was the smell. For a moment, beneath the overwhelming presence of the Heroic Spirit, he had caught the same rot that permeated the streets outside. The slurry beneath the giant’s feet had thinned, leaving a small patch of exposed paving.

Zouken was feeding it directly. Of course he was. All those people, reduced to fuel, and now being used to undo what little damage they could inflict. Shirou tightened his empty hand, forcing sensation back into his fingers. Trading blows was going to accomplish very little if every wound could be paid for with another portion of the capital’s dead. They needed something decisive, or at least a way of interrupting that supply.

“Shirou!” Tyuule’s shout pulled his attention towards the fountain. She had Lelei propped against its broken rim, while Tuka lay beside them. The Warrior Bunny was looking past him, towards the colonnade they had entered through. He followed her gaze, expecting another wave of worms, but instead found something else.

Black clad figures stood beneath the colonnade, their long coats hanging almost to the ground. Dark headgear and masks concealed their faces, the latter jutting forwards in a way that reminded Shirou unpleasantly of a muzzle. There was something uniform about them beyond their clothes. Each stood with the same straight-backed posture, each turned towards the fountain at precisely the same moment. None spared a glance for the bodies scattered around their feet.

They were not Imperial soldiers. That much was obvious even before he caught the scent of their magical energy. It lacked the rotting quality of Zouken’s familiars, carrying instead a faint trace of the pressure still bearing down on him from behind. Shirou glanced towards the giant, then back to the advancing figures. Familiars, perhaps? Summoned by the Servant? He had no way of knowing what connection they shared, but he doubted their appearance was a coincidence.

“GO!” Rory shouted at him as she charged forward, not even waiting for Shirou to respond. The Enforcer grit his teeth. No, he had to trust that the demigoddess could at least tank the hits, even if she couldn’t truly hurt their opponent.

“Tyuule, stay behind the fountain!” He Traced and launched a longword at the nearest figure and ran after it, leaving Rory to occupy the Servant. The blade struck its shoulder, turning what should have been a clean hit through the chest into a glancing wound as the thing twisted aside. It staggered, one arm hanging loosely, but remained upright. Worse, the two behind it had already separated, moving around opposite sides of their injured companion.

Shirou reached the fountain just ahead of them. He caught the first attacker with a Traced axe across its middle, feeling considerably more resistance than he had expected beneath the black coat. Its gloved hand closed around his wrist before he could pull away. The grip tightened hard enough to hurt through his Reinforcement, forcing him to Trace a massive, modified greatsword and cut through the arm. Only then did it release him, stumbling back as dark particles spilled from the severed limb.

No blood. No scream, either. It simply reached for him with its remaining hand while the second figure moved past his shoulder. Shirou turned, driving his elbow into its masked face, but the impact barely slowed it. Tyuule met it with her sword, bracing herself between the attacker and Lelei. The force of their collision drove her back against the fountain, and Shirou had to abandon his own opponent to stop it reaching her.

These were nothing like the husks they had fought in the streets. They covered one another, pressed every opening, and showed no hesitation at injuries that should have disabled a human. He finally cut the wounded one down, only to see another pair stepping through the colonnade. Behind him, thunder drowned out Rory’s voice. Shirou backed towards Tyuule, keeping both blades raised, and realised that the newcomers had already cut off their way out.

Then the figures stopped. The one nearest Tyuule stood with its hand still extended towards her, fingers inches from the edge of her sword. Its outline shimmered. Shirou could see the broken pillars through its coat, then the entire body blurred, shedding dark particles that hung motionless in the air. The same thing was happening to the others. He kept his weapons raised, unwilling to trust what looked rather conveniently like an opening.

The burst of magical energy came from behind him. It struck hard enough to drive him against the fountain, forcing the breath from his lungs. Lightning tore away from the paving in jagged sheets. Across the garden, Rory dug her halberd into the ground and braced herself against it, her boots leaving deep furrows in the gravel. The Servant had straightened to its full height, lightning pouring from the gaps in its hide as its head turned towards the palace.

“YOU DARE?” The voice carried over the thunder, each word clear enough that Shirou heard it despite the ringing in his ears. The giant took a step towards the palace, crushing a fallen statue beneath its foot, “You lay your commands upon Us? You bind Our will, and presume to call yourself Our Master?!”

Shirou stared. There was nothing confused or mindless about that fury, so Berserker was definitely out. The Servant knew exactly who it was addressing, and whatever restraint had kept it fighting them had evidently begun to fail. He glanced towards the colonnade. The black figures were barely more than silhouettes now. Tyuule noticed it too, shifting her grip on Lelei and Tuka, but the pressure still bearing down on them made even that movement visibly difficult.

“Come forth, wretch! Stand before your sovereign and answer for this indignity!” The scepter rose, its head pointing towards the palace doors. Magical energy gathered around it in quantities that made Shirou’s Circuits ache, “We shall have you dragged before Our throne. We shall strip you of every stolen year, and when you beg for Our mercy-!”

Three enormous bands of red light snapped into existence around the Servant. One caught its raised arm against its chest, another closed about its middle, and the third tightened around its neck. The unfinished threat became a grinding roar. For a moment, the scepter continued to rise, trembling against the restraint. Then the bands flared together, and the giant fell silent.

The pressure receded so abruptly that Shirou nearly lost his footing. He had scarcely drawn a full breath before the dark particles in front of him began pulling together again, rebuilding coats, masks, and outstretched hands. The Servant’s head lowered towards the garden. Shirou stepped in front of Tyuule, watching the nearest figure become solid. 

He already knew what it was. He had accidentally cast one on Saber, years ago.

A Command Spell.

Three of them, in quick succession. One was usually enough to force a Servant to obey. Three was insane, considering that the Servant had been clearly struggling against it. Fucking Zouken. Shirou should have known that he likely had access to more than the standard three Command Spells that Masters were granted.

“Hmph. What an unruly familiar I have summoned.” A solitary voice echoed over them all.

“To think it would take three merely to remind him of his obligations.” The irritation in Zouken’s voice faded into a dry chuckle, “Though I suppose I should be grateful. He has given me a moment to speak with you, Emiya boy.”

Shirou searched the palace windows without lowering his weapons. Nothing. The old worm was content to let his voice carry while others did the fighting for him. Beside the fountain, Tyuule shifted closer to the unconscious pair, keeping her sword pointed towards the black figures.

“I really did overestimate your intelligence.” Zouken sounded almost disappointed, “Anyone with a little sense would have gone back through the Gate. You had ample opportunity. A whole world to retreat to, and every reason to do so. Yet here you are, bleeding for people who would have happily put you in chains. Was my magnanimity in speaking to you before not warning enough?”

“You’re the one still hiding behind innocent people.”

The answer came without hesitation, “They are useful, if in the loosest sense. Particularly their value in entertainment. Your insistence on saving them is quite entertaining, I’ll have you know. Even now, you cannot bring yourself to leave those girls behind.” The Servant raised its scepter again, “Tell me, boy. How much more will you amuse me?”

…