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"Has the war started already?"
Streams of light were erupting through the temple gate — the kind of light that meant Noble Phantasms or something close to them, the kind that meant the situation had developed considerably in the last few minutes.
Maverick and A-bro exchanged a look and cleared the remaining ground in a few jumps, landing at the temple entrance.
Through Maverick's perspective, the viewers got their first look at what was happening inside.
Rider and Lancer had arrived before him. Both of them were already deep in it — and deep in it, against Ashiya Doman on his home ground, looked like a specific kind of nightmare.
The temple was his established workshop. The magical formation was already running, the local spiritual pulse feeding into it, everything oriented to maximize Caster's advantages on friendly territory. Rider's chariot — the thing that had been erasing Columbus figures like a lawnmower in the open street — was dragging through paper sheets that had peeled off Ashiya Doman's destroyed forms and adhered to the wheels, gumming the mechanism, cutting his speed by half. And Lancer was holding the line against the remaining mass-produced Columbus while also covering both Masters, which meant she couldn't use her Noble Phantasm without risking everyone in the building.
Ashiya Doman, for his part, died repeatedly and cheerfully and came back each time as paper sheets that reassembled into the next form.
Individually he wasn't a match for either of them. Collectively, with the formation and the Columbus army and the territorial bonuses, he was a very comfortable stalemate.
[Chat]: what is this. is this a one-hit 999 mobile game. why does he keep turning into paper
[Observing]: he dies and turns into paper sheets. the paper sheets stick to Rider's chariot. the chariot slows down. he comes back. it's genuinely elegant crowd control design.
[Distracted]: okay but the design of this Caster. the robes. the accessories. the whole— he's a bit unusually alluring.
[Phone_Battery]: I only have 30 seconds before my phone dies. going to charge. someone summarize.
[Summary_For_Them]: monk-taoist-clown hybrid is beating two powerful Servants through paperwork
[Nightmare_Report]: I thought the Columbus smiles would be my nightmare tonight. I now believe this Caster and the smiles will combine in my dreams into something I cannot prepare for.
[Rider_Update]: is the green-haired Servant struggling? the turnip-head Caster seems to be holding even
[Maverick_Direction]: Maverick stop watching and MOVE. use the sniper rifle. find the enemy Master.
[Counter_Maverick_Direction]: Maverick stay exactly where you are. you're perfect as a war correspondent. don't touch anything.
[Also_Distracted]: bottom right corner. that's all I'm saying. bottom right corner.
[Answering]: Lancer Artoria in armor, yes
[Responding]: the armor does not stop the—
[Moving_On]: moving on
Maverick was, objectively speaking, staring somewhat blankly at the battle below. The gift notifications were pinging — ding-dong, ding-dong — in sufficient volume to eventually cut through, and he thanked his viewers on reflex while his brain caught up with the rest of the situation.
The experience from last time was applicable here. Find the enemy Master. Remove the enemy Master. The Servant becomes someone else's problem.
Last time he'd done it with a submachine gun and a bus driver's terrible timing. This time he had a sniper rifle, two allied Masters in the field, and an enemy Master who was standing in the temple courtyard looking increasingly alarmed about the light show happening in the building behind him.
Maverick was pulling out the Walther WA2000 when the situation changed.
Rider had made a decision.
Facing the paper-clogged chariot wheels, he abandoned the chariot entirely. Both feet hit the ground. And then he ran — not at chariot speed, but at the speed of a Heroic Spirit running on foot without mechanical limitation, which was fast enough that "running" barely covered it. He became a current of movement rather than a shape, long spear driving repeatedly into Ashiya Doman's forms and punching through the paper barrier every time.
Ashiya Doman got skewered. Became paper sheets. Started to reform.
And then stopped.
Instead of rematerializing behind Rider for the expected counter — the pattern he'd been running for the last several minutes — Ashiya Doman appeared beside his Master.
Immediately beside him. Hand on the player's shoulder. The theatrical warmth completely gone from his voice, replaced with something that managed to sound like genuine regret and genuine certainty in the same breath.
"Oh, my dear Master. I seem to be failing."
"What—"
"If this continues, I will certainly lose. My own death I don't mind — temporary, reversible. But if I fail to fulfill your wish, Master — then this humble monk would truly die ten thousand deaths without regret." A pause. The weight of something already decided settling into the words. "So. At this point, there is only one way left."
"What way?!"
The player didn't know there was a wanted bounty on his head. He didn't know three Masters were converging. He knew his Servant was in trouble and that trouble had a solution, and hope had briefly lit in his chest—
Ashiya Doman's right hand drove into the player's chest like a sharpened claw.
Before any response was possible, he flung the player skyward — into the open air above the courtyard, a clean arc, the battlefield's ceiling — and called after him:
"To fulfill our shared wish — let me make you, Master, into my strongest weapon!"
"WHAT?! You SCOUNDREL — you actually DARED—"
[Chat]: HE BETRAYED HIS MASTER
[Ashiya_Doman]: the favorability was 50% from the START. it was ALWAYS 50%.
[Noting]: all those pledges of loyalty. "I, Ashiya Doman, will never betray you." spoken with 50% favorability.
[Devastated]: he looked the player in the eyes and said "I will never betray you" and betrayed them
[Rider]: okay even Rider stopped attacking for a second
[Chat]: everyone stopped. even the Columbus stopped.
Ashiya Doman continued, his voice projecting upward to his airborne Master with the composed explanation of someone delivering logistical details, not a betrayal.
"With you as the core, the remaining mass-produced Columbus will be absorbed into your body, transforming into an ultimate weapon. As for the final form—" A thoughtful pause. "A giant is aesthetically appealing, but a beast that prioritizes speed would be more suitable for the current battlefield conditions—"
"YOU ABSOLUTE TRAITOR!" The player's voice from above, receding and then not receding, starting to fall back down with the specific quality of someone who has had four seconds to process what just happened to them and arrived at maximum fury. "I trusted you! I TRUSTED you! And now you— I CURSE you!"
Everyone in the courtyard had stopped. Both Artorias, Rider, the mass-produced Columbus, Maverick — all of them watching.
"I curse you so that every hard-boiled egg you eat from now on will have the shell stuck to it! Every single one! For the rest of your existence! PERMANENTLY UNPEELABLE EGGSHELLS—"
Ashiya Doman went silent.
The player continued falling.
Ashiya Doman's face, previously composed and certain, had gone pale. Sweat appeared. A lot of it.
He stood very still.
Rider broke the silence.
"You're thinking about eggs right now, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "You want to turn your Master into an egg."
"No." Ashiya Doman said this with the careful precision of someone who had just been accused of something they were definitely thinking about. "No. I would not."
A beat.
"...Absolutely not."
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