Anomaly Ch. 72 (Patreon)

Shirou didn’t answer. There was very little he could say that would accomplish anything, and Zouken was clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice enough without being given another excuse to continue. Instead, he watched the scepter, following the gathering lightning until Rory’s halberd struck its haft from below. The blast tore through the upper floor of the palace rather than the fountain, showering the garden with roof tiles and giving him a few seconds in which the giant’s attention was elsewhere.

The axe in his hand vanished, replaced by a broadsword that he drove through the nearest black figure before kicking it back into the others. More blades followed, projected and launched in quick succession, forcing the advancing line to halt beneath a barrage that would have shredded ordinary soldiers. These things were considerably harder to put down, unfortunately, and every moment he spent fighting them was another moment Zouken had to finish his ritual.

Going back through the Gate had never been an option. By the time they reached Alnus, the old worm would have everything he needed, and whatever came afterwards would be inflicted on everyone they had left behind. Shirou had seen enough bodies in the streets to know what that meant. He was going to kill Zouken here, permanently, even if he had to tear apart the palace to find whatever miserable scrap of him was keeping the rest alive.

“Tyuule, where does that passage lead?” He pointed his broadsword towards the narrow archway along the palace’s eastern side, keeping his greatsword ready as another masked figure stepped over its fallen companion. The Warrior Bunny followed his gesture, then glanced towards the Servant standing between them and the main doors.

“The kitchens, then the inner corridors. There are stairs to the royal chambers.” Her eyes returned to Lelei and Tuka, still slumped against the fountain, “You intend to go through there?”

“It gets us closer to him.” Shirou caught the next attacker across the shoulder and forced it backwards, making room to launch another sword through its chest. He could not leave the unconscious pair here, but neither could he afford to hold this position until his Circuits gave out, “Keep them ready to move. I’ll clear the way along the wall.”

He raised his voice to reach Rory, calling her attention towards the eastern archway. She looked once, then shifted her next attack towards the Servant’s opposite side, forcing it to turn as her halberd struck the wrist she had already wounded. Shirou moved before it could recover, filling the space ahead of him with projected steel. This time, he followed the barrage towards the palace, watching which of the black figures broke formation to intercept him. If Zouken wanted to keep talking, he could do it while Shirou worked out how to reach him.

…

Three of the black-clad figures moved to cut him off, while the rest continued towards the fountain. Shirou angled his next projections across their path, driving the blades into the paving rather than their bodies, and caught the first figure as it stepped between them. His broadsword went through its neck; the greatsword followed across the second’s middle. The third caught him across the ribs before he could turn, forcing a grunt through his teeth, but he drove it back against the wall and kept going.

These familiars of the Servant were strong, though still not on the level of a full Servant. If he had to categorize them, they were just under the weakest Servant he could imagine, but significantly more powerful than his usual Sealing Designate targets.

By the time he reached the archway, Tyuule had Lelei over one shoulder and was struggling to lift Tuka with her free arm. Shirou started back towards them, only to see the mage stir, her hand closing weakly around Tyuule’s sleeve. Whatever she said was lost beneath the next crash of thunder, but a moment later Tuka’s body lifted clear of the ground. It was hardly the controlled flight Lelei had managed earlier. The elf drifted sideways, nearly striking the fountain, before Tyuule caught her wrist and pulled her towards him.

“Rory, we’re through!” Shirou shouted once they reached the doorway, planting himself beside it as Tyuule carried the mage past him. Across the garden, Rory ducked beneath the scepter and broke away, dragging the edge of her halberd through the legs of a masked figure that tried to intercept her. Shirou launched another volley over her shoulder, buying her the few steps she needed before they were both inside.

Noble Phantasms were a no-go right now. The ones that would actually give him the firepower to take down the Servant would take too long to use. Not to mention that using more than his usual Kanshou and Bakuya had the downside that they would probably exhaust him so much that Zouken could just kill them after the fact.

The kitchens were deserted, though that did little to make them less unpleasant. Pots had overturned across the floor, and a trail of purple slurry ran beneath the preparation tables, disappearing through an open doorway at the far end. Shirou pushed a heavy table across the entrance behind Rory, then drove projected swords through its frame and into the stone. It would not hold for long, especially against the Servant, but Shirou was banking on the size of said Servant being the main issue - that it couldn’t even fit inside. 

“Stiars, on your left.” Tyuule adjusted Lelei’s weight as Tuka settled unevenly onto the floor beside her. Shirou looked towards the passage she indicated, then down at the slurry. It was moving against the slight slope of the kitchen floor, gathering in thin streams that slipped between the flagstones near the other doorway. The smell of Zouken’s magecraft was stronger there, sufficiently concentrated that he could distinguish it even through the lingering sting of lightning.

“What’s below us?” He asked, already moving towards it. Tyuule frowned, “Storerooms and the wine cellars. Why?” Shirou pressed his palm against the floor, following the joints through the stone until he found the hollow space beneath them. Something down there was carrying enough magical energy to make his fingertips ache. Behind him, the table split under another blow, but he projected the widest blades he could to hold them in place.

“Hold on!”

With a breath, he Reinforced his leg and stomped.

The flagstones gave way beneath his heel, breaking along the joints he had already examined. Shirou caught the edge of the opening long enough to judge the drop, then lowered himself into the cellar as loose stone crashed between the wine racks below. He landed beside a shattered cask, the smell of spilled wine briefly cutting through the rot, and looked up to find Rory already lowering Tuka through the hole. He caught the elf carefully, setting her against the wall before turning to help with Lelei.

Tyuule came down last, landing beside him as the first masked face appeared above the broken floor. Shirou sent a sword through the opening, forcing it back, while Rory took up position beneath it with her halberd raised. The narrow gap would make them come through one at a time, at least until something decided to bring the rest of the ceiling down. Considering what was still outside, he doubted they had very long.

Purple slurry ran down the cellar walls, gathering in channels that had been cut through the stone floor. The marks were fresh, their edges pale beneath the filth, and they passed straight through the spaces where several racks had been torn away. Shirou followed the nearest channel towards a low archway, only to stop when the liquid bulged upwards around his boot. Something pale moved beneath its surface, thick enough that he could see the individual segments pressing against one another.

Crest Worms. Of course there were Crest Worms. He drew his foot back and severed the first as it rose, but the movement brought half a dozen more out of the channel. They were not lunging for him. Instead, they pressed their bodies into the gap he had made, piling over the dead one until the slurry was flowing uninterrupted again. Shirou narrowed his eyes, watching the same thing happen further along the wall where the falling masonry had damaged another channel.

“Maintenance.” Lelei’s voice was weak, but coherent. Tyuule had helped her sit upright, and the mage was watching the floor with an expression of disgust that looked strangely out of place on her normally impassive face, “Self-repairing defense.”

Shirou nodded, then looked towards the archway. Following the channels might lead him deeper into Zouken’s preparations, but breaking them would force the old worm to respond. He Traced a long blade and drove it into the stone across three of the channels, levering upwards until the floor split beneath them. Purple liquid spilled into the exposed earth, and the Worms immediately surged towards it. This time, Shirou kept cutting, widening the breach faster than they could close it. Above them, the steady rumble of thunder faltered.

Replacing it was a torrent of wind that sounded more like a tornado. Lady Barthomeloi must have started to bring down even more power to bear. 

“Emiya, any time now!” Rory yelled at him as she continued to hack away at the incoming enemies. She was able to deal with them no problem, but the rest of them above had started to carve the hole out with their weapons. Soon, the entire mass of them would overwhelm her.

“What do you think I’m working on?!” Shirou drove the blade through the largest knot of Worms, pinning them beneath a slab of broken flooring before turning towards the archway. It would have to do. The channels were still leaking, and the renewed violence overhead suggested that even a temporary interruption was enough to give Lady Barthomeloi something to work with. He crossed back to Tuka and lifted her onto his back, ignoring the pain that flared through his shoulder as her weight settled against it.

Tyuule already had Lelei upright, the mage’s arm draped across her shoulders. They moved ahead of him through the archway while he watched Rory fend off another pair of attackers, her halberd catching one beneath the ribs and throwing it into the other. She followed without waiting to see them fall. A moment later, the edge of the hole collapsed, filling the cellar behind them with enough dust that Shirou could no longer see the fountain of purple liquid spilling into his makeshift trench.

The passage beyond was too narrow for them to walk abreast, which at least meant Rory would not have to fight half a dozen opponents at once. Shirou kept close behind Tyuule, following the channels along the base of the wall until they turned beneath a wooden door. Unlike the others they had passed, this one was intact, its hinges clean and its threshold free of dust. He caught Tyuule’s shoulder before she could reach for the handle.

“Wait.” He lowered Tuka carefully against the opposite wall, then placed two fingers against the door. The timber itself was ordinary, but something had been worked into the frame, thin strands running through holes that should not have been there. His Analysis followed them down towards the channels, and he withdrew his hand before feeding any more magical energy into it, “He’s prepared this entrance.”

“Then use another!” Rory’s reply came between blows, followed by the heavy sound of a body striking stone. She had planted herself at the bend in the passage, leaving him barely enough room to turn a sword. Shirou looked from the door to the adjoining wall, checking its thickness and the weight resting upon it. For once, the Apostle’s impatience offered perfectly reasonable advice.

He Traced a heavy pick and drove it into the mortar. The first strike loosened a block, the second sent it falling into the room beyond, followed by a thin spill of purple light. Something inside immediately withdrew from the opening, scraping across the floor with a sound that made his skin crawl.

“Doors exist for a reason, boy.” Zouken’s voice came from directly beyond the damaged wall this time. Shirou tightened his grip on the pick, watching the movement through the gap. He still could not tell how much of the old magus was in there, but it was the first time Zouken had sounded truly annoyed.

Shirou answered with another blow, widening the opening until he could see past the fallen masonry. The room beyond had once been another storeroom, judging by the empty shelves lining the walls, but its center had been cleared around a heavy wooden chair. The channels converged beneath it, disappearing into a mass of pale, shifting bodies that covered its legs. Someone was sitting in it. For a moment, Shirou thought he was looking at another corpse.

Then the man took a breath. It was shallow enough that Shirou might have missed it without his Reinforced eyesight, barely lifting the loose fabric hanging from his shoulders. An expensive tunic, or what remained of one, draped over a chest so wasted that the ribs showed through it. His cheeks had collapsed beneath prominent bones, and his wrists looked thin enough to slip through the restraints if he had possessed the strength to try.

“Zorzal.”

Tyuule had stopped beside the breach, Lelei still leaning heavily against her. Shirou looked from her to the man in the chair, struggling to reconcile what he saw with the Imperial prince. There was almost nothing left of the bulk he remembered. Even his neck seemed too frail to support his head, which rested at an awkward angle until Tyuule’s voice made him stir.

His eyes found her first. Recognition came slowly, followed by an effort to speak that produced little more than air. Shirou lowered the pick and stepped through the broken wall, watching the Worms move beneath the prince’s clothes. Behind him, Tyuule said nothing, but Zorzal kept looking at her.

“Pl…ease.” The word scraped out of his throat. His gaze dropped towards his own chest, and something shifted beneath the skin, “Hel…p me.”

…