Anomaly Ch. 73 (Patreon)

Shirou had seen enough of Zouken’s handiwork to know that pulling Zorzal out of the chair would probably kill him. The Worms visible beneath his skin were only a fraction of what had to be inside him, and considering how little of the prince remained, there was a good chance that they were the only reason he was still breathing.

Which, unfortunately, meant that Zouken wanted him alive.

That was something worth knowing. The old magus had already reduced most of the people outside to little more than fuel, so keeping one man alive while everything around him was being consumed had to serve a purpose. Shirou doubted that it was out of any lingering fondness for his Imperial accomplice.

“Tyuule, help Lelei sit down.” He dismissed the pick, approaching the chair with a knife in its place, “Don’t touch the Worms. I need to see what they’re connected to first.”

The Warrior Bunny didn’t answer immediately. She was staring at Zorzal, her expression difficult to read, though Shirou could hardly blame her for that. Of all the people they could have found down here, the man responsible for what had happened to her people was probably the last she wanted to help. Still, she lowered Lelei beside Tuka without protest, keeping her sword in hand as she straightened.

“How touching.” Zouken chuckled, his voice coming from somewhere beneath the chair, “Though I do wonder what your companion thinks of all this. You are being rather inconsiderate, Emiya boy. Surely she deserves a moment to appreciate his circumstances?”

“Keep talking.” Shirou slipped the knife beneath Zorzal’s sleeve, “It makes finding you easier.”

An empty threat, mostly. Killing whatever Worm the voice came from would accomplish very little, and Zouken knew it. Shirou was more interested in the way the prince’s arm twitched when the cloth parted. Something beneath it had moved away from the blade, dragging the loose skin along with it.

He frowned.

There was red underneath. Not blood, though there was certainly enough of that crusted around the places where the Worms had burrowed into him. These were markings, their edges obscured by the pale bodies clinging to his forearm.

Command Spells?

For a moment, Shirou simply stared. Then he looked down at the channels feeding into the chair, following the flow of magical energy as it passed through the prince. He had assumed Zouken was the Master. A reasonable assumption, considering that he had arranged the summoning and was clearly directing the Servant, but those weren’t necessarily the same thing.

Fucking hell. The Worms could have been forcing Zorzal to give the orders all along.

“Emiya!” Rory’s shout came from the passage, accompanied by another impact that shook dust from the damaged wall, “We are running out of room here!”

“Tyuule, get Tuka inside.” He moved around the chair, trying to see how deeply the Worms had worked themselves into Zorzal’s arm. If the contract was his, then there might be a way to turn the Servant against Zouken without having to defeat it first. Assuming, of course, that the prince could still do anything of his own accord.

Zorzal’s fingers caught weakly at his sleeve.

“Don’t…” His eyes had widened, fixed on the knife, “He’ll know.”

The chuckling beneath the chair stopped. Shirou tightened his grip on the blade.

Apparently, there was still enough of Zorzal left to be useful.

“He already knows.” Shirou caught the prince’s wrist before the movement could pull anything loose, “Listen to me. The Servant outside, can you order it to stop?”

Zorzal shook his head, or tried to. His neck barely moved before his face tightened in pain. Shirou watched the Worms gather beneath his jaw, pressing against the skin until the prince’s attempt at an answer became a strangled wheeze.

That answered one question, at least. Zouken was quite capable of stopping him from speaking. Whether that was enough to prevent a Command Spell was another matter. A trained magus wouldn’t need to say the order aloud, but Zorzal was hardly that. He probably didn’t even understand what had been put on his arm.

“You are making a rather unfortunate assumption.” Zouken’s voice had lost some of its amusement, “That boy barely has the strength to keep his eyes open. Do you really intend to have him contend with a Heroic Spirit?”

Shirou ignored him, placing two fingers against the exposed markings. His Analysis wasn’t particularly suited to this, but he didn’t need a complete understanding of the prince’s body. Just enough to distinguish the Command Spells from the things wrapped around them.

The pain that ran up his fingers was immediate. Shirou grit his teeth, keeping the contact as his Circuits worked through what they were being shown. There were Worms beneath the markings as well, their bodies buried along the length of Zorzal’s arm. Some carried magical energy towards the seals. Others carried it away.

A makeshift set of Magic Circuits. Zouken had effectively turned the prince into a magus, though Shirou doubted Zorzal had enjoyed the process.

“Hero.” Tyuule had returned to his side, having settled Tuka against the wall. Her gaze dropped to the hand holding his sleeve, “What do you need him to do?”

“Give an order. The markings should do the rest.” He looked towards the breach, where the edge of Rory’s halberd briefly appeared before disappearing into something with a heavy crunch, “Assuming I can keep Zouken from interfering.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

He didn’t have a particularly good answer. Cutting out the Worms would take time they didn’t have, and might destroy the very thing he was trying to use. He could try overwhelming them with his own magical energy, but forcing that much through Zorzal’s ruined body was likely to kill him.

Tyuule crouched in front of the chair before he could say any of that.

“Look at me.”

The prince’s eyes shifted towards her. Shirou felt the grip on his sleeve weaken.

“You wanted that thing to obey you, didn’t you?” Her voice was steady, though her fingers had tightened around her sword, “Then tell it to stop killing the people trying to get you out of here.”

Something moved beneath Zorzal’s forearm. Shirou drove the knife through it before it could reach the markings, pinning the Worm against the wooden armrest. The prince jerked, and Tyuule caught his chin, keeping his attention on her.

“You don’t have to say it. Just do it!”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then one of the markings flared red beneath Shirou’s fingers. From the passage came the scrape of Rory’s boots, followed by an abrupt silence where there should have been another blow.

“Emiya?” The Apostle sounded confused, “They’ve stopped.”

The Worms beneath the chair began climbing towards Zorzal’s chest.

Shirou caught Tyuule by the shoulder and pulled her back before the first of them reached her hand. She rose with her sword ready, but the Worms paid neither of them any attention. They continued up the prince’s tunic, disappearing beneath the loose collar as Zorzal began to shake.

Zouken laughed.

It was hardly the reaction Shirou had been hoping for. The old magus sounded genuinely entertained, his laughter carrying through the room while the prince struggled to draw another breath. Shirou kept his hand on Zorzal’s wrist, feeling the pulse grow faster beneath his fingers.

“Well done. I confess, I had not expected him to manage even that.” The amusement in Zouken’s voice made Shirou’s grip tighten, “Though you might have chosen your words more carefully. Ordering my Servant to leave you alone is hardly the same as ordering it to oppose me.”

He knew that. Getting the Servant to stop had been the immediate concern, especially with Rory about to be overwhelmed in the passage. Another Command Spell might have been enough to deal with Zouken, but that would require Zorzal to use one while the old worm was actively trying to stop him.

Something pale pushed between the prince’s lips.

Shirou leaned him forwards as he gagged, keeping his head from striking the armrest. The Crest Worm dropped onto his lap, wriggling through a thin coating of saliva before slipping over the edge of the chair. Another followed almost immediately, thick enough that Zorzal’s jaw strained around it.

They were coming out.

Not just through his mouth, either. Beneath the torn sleeve, one of the swellings along his forearm pressed against an existing wound and slowly forced itself through. Shirou watched it draw free, leaving the skin slack behind it. Further up the arm, the same thing was happening again.

The artificial Circuits. Zouken was taking them back.

“Stop that!” Shirou snapped, pressing his palm against the opening before it could begin bleeding freely. The Worm slid over his boot, apparently content to ignore him as it joined the others beneath the chair.

“Did you expect me to continue supplying him?” Zouken sounded almost indulgent, “You have persuaded the boy to be uncooperative. Surely you understand why I would be reluctant to leave him with the means to do so again?”

Shirou understood perfectly.

The Worms weren’t merely providing magical energy. Some had been supporting what remained of Zorzal’s organs, and the prince was already struggling as they withdrew. Killing them wouldn’t help. Forcing them to stay would accomplish even less if Zouken simply ordered them to tear apart whatever they were attached to.

“Rory, get in here!” He pulled at the remaining cloth around Zorzal’s chest, trying to find where the bleeding was worst, “Tyuule, I need something to bind these.”

Tyuule didn’t move.

Shirou glanced towards her, expecting to find another Worm at her feet, but her attention was fixed on Zorzal. Her sword hung at her side, its point resting against the stone. For a moment, he thought she hadn’t heard him over the prince’s labored breathing.

“Tyuule?”

“I heard you.”

There was enough in her voice to make him stop. She looked down at his hands, then at the blood escaping between his fingers. Zorzal was trying to look at her again, though his head kept slipping forwards whenever Shirou loosened his hold.

Of course. He had been giving her instructions as though this was anyone else, as though helping the prince use a Command Spell meant she would be willing to keep him alive afterwards. That first part had helped all of them. This was rather different.

Shirou knew what Zorzal had done. He knew enough, at least, that he had no business being surprised by the expression on her face.

“He was supposed to die.” Tyuule spoke quietly, her gaze remaining on the chair, “I spent so long trying to make that happen. And now you want me to put my hands on him and stop it.”

The laughter beneath the chair resumed, softer this time.

“Well, Emiya boy? Surely you have something to say to that.”

He did, though none of it was directed at Zouken.

“Then give me the cloth.” Shirou pulled the torn edge of Zorzal’s tunic within reach, keeping pressure against the wound with his other hand, “I’ll do it.”

Tyuule’s jaw tightened. She looked at the fabric without reaching for it, and Shirou found himself wishing he had said that differently. It had come out like another order. Worse, it sounded as though he was simply waiting for her to get over something that she had every reason to feel.

He let go of the tunic and caught it between his teeth instead, pulling until the seam gave way.

Rory stepped through the breach as he worked, her halberd lowered to fit beneath the broken masonry. She took one look at the chair before driving the butt of her weapon into a Worm that had started towards Lelei.

“I take it we’re keeping him?”

“For now.” Shirou folded the strip and pressed it against the opening beneath Zorzal’s ribs. It was already soaking through. Bandages weren’t going to fix what was happening inside him, but they might buy enough time to work out something that would.

Tyuule finally moved. She bent towards the chair, and Zorzal’s hand lifted weakly in her direction.

“Don’t.”

His fingers stopped. Shirou couldn’t tell whether the prince understood her expression or simply no longer had the strength to reach any further.

She cut through the remaining length of the tunic and laid the strips beside Shirou’s knee, keeping her eyes away from Zorzal’s face.

“I still want him dead, Hero.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

Before he could answer, she turned towards Lelei and Tuka, putting herself between them and the spreading Worms. Her sword came down on the first one that approached.

Shirou reached for another strip. Beneath his palm, Zorzal’s chest gave a sudden, uneven movement, and the last visible Command Spell began to dim. He pressed two fingers against the prince’s throat. The pulse stumbled beneath them, returned once, then stopped.

“No. Come on.”

He lowered Zorzal from the chair, clearing the Worms away with his boot before laying him flat. There was still a chance, provided enough of the heart remained to work with. His Circuits flared as he pressed a hand against the prince’s chest.

His Analysis found the damage before he could begin.

For a few seconds, Shirou didn’t move.

“Such a pity.” Zouken sounded entirely satisfied, “And after all that effort.”

The red markings disappeared. From the passage came a faint rustling, and Rory glanced through the breach.

“The soldiers are gone.”

Shirou looked up. Losing the Master would eventually deprive the Servant of its anchor, but eventually was hardly the same as immediately. More importantly, there would be no one left to issue another Command Spell.

The ceiling shook.

“WORM.”

Dust fell across Zorzal’s unmoving face. Shirou rose, Tracing Kanshou and Bakuya as the voice rolled through the foundations.

“His Master is dead.” He looked down at the Worms, “I think he wants to discuss that.”

…