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In any case — back to Maverick.
The Columbus figures had finished looting everything on the immediate street. There was nothing left to grab from the storefronts. So three of them turned.
Locked onto Maverick and A-bro.
The classic laughter — "Uh hahahahahaha!" — preceded the charge.
Maverick grabbed A-bro's sleeve and snapped him back to the present, opening fire with the Glock simultaneously. But this was different from the café. In a confined space, a single Columbus couldn't maneuver and went down fast. Out here, in the open, three of them could spread wide and absorb fire from different angles while the swords blocked the direct shots. The bullets found gaps, drew sparks, but didn't stop the advance.
They were ten meters away. Then eight.
Command Seals existed. Grenades existed. Maverick had forgotten about both.
Then the hooves hit.
The chariot came around the corner from the far end of the street and cleared the three Columbus figures between Maverick and imminent injury with the same unhurried efficiency as the first pass — not a battle so much as a scheduled removal. Three figures, three golden particle trails. The warhorses didn't even slow down.
[Chat]: I thought Artoria was unstoppable. who IS this?
[Identifying]: long green hair, silver armor, black bodysuit, long spear. Rider class.
[Watching]: every pass leaves another green trail. she's erasing them by the dozen.
[Abs_Check]: that black bodysuit is doing something to me specifically
[Focus_Attempt]: we are watching exceptional—
[Not_Focusing]: no
[Also_Not_Focusing]: absolutely not
The chariot's acceleration had reached the point where tracking it with the naked eye was an exercise in estimation rather than actual observation. Green light, golden particles, green light, golden particles — a rhythm, systematic and gorgeous and completely one-sided. The Columbus army was large enough that "one-sided" still meant it went on for a while, but the direction was clear.
The Rider decelerated from "impossible" to "very fast" long enough to land beside them, chariot still rolling, a second player jumping down from the passenger side. She pointed her spear toward the four of them and spoke without preamble:
"No need to be so wary. For now, we're on the same side."
Both Artorias had weapons up. Both of them held.
"These things cannot keep multiplying," the Rider said. "If they do, this Holy Grail War is lost — not eventually, immediately. The current city situation would also deteriorate past the point of recovery."
"Agreed," Artoria said, without lowering the sword. "Do you know what's causing it?"
"Caster. Only Caster can summon summoned creatures at this scale. I can find him — my speed makes breaking through the perimeter possible." She paused. "But finding him won't solve it. I've observed the reproduction pattern. These things propagate asexually."
Maverick processed this. "Asexually."
"Asexually," the Rider confirmed.
A-bro looked at Maverick.
Maverick looked at A-bro.
"...What does that mean?" Maverick said.
[Chat]: MAVERICK
[Chat]: IT MEANS THEY REPRODUCE WITHOUT A SOURCE
[Explaining]: killing Caster might stop NEW ones from being created, but the ones already deployed can keep making MORE on their own
[Horror]: so even if they find and kill Caster...
[More_Horror]: the army is already self-sustaining
[Maverick_Fan]: Maverick's face right now is sending me
The Rider waited with the patience of someone who had already worked through this and arrived at conclusions.
"If we cannot destroy the source of the reproduction," she said, "eliminating Caster is only a partial solution. We would still be fighting the existing army indefinitely." She looked between the four of them. "So. We find Caster, we destroy the source, and we do it together. Unless one of you has a better idea."
No one had a better idea.
The Columbus laughter continued from every direction, overlapping and harmonizing into something that the brain registered as an environmental condition rather than a sound. Over a thousand of them out there, somewhere, still counting.
"..."
Maverick looked at his Glock.
Nine rounds.
"So we're all working together now," he said.
"For now," both Artorias said simultaneously.
They looked at each other.
"..."
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