Shirou pondered. That speech by Fulgrim made him rethink his worldview. The ideals he carried, in memory of his father, were indeed unattainable, and the youth was well aware of it. But if the point of a dream isn't to achieve it, but to make it a guiding star, then why had the primarch reacted that way on the day of their first training? Literally a few hours ago, he had spoken as if approving the path chosen by Emiya. So it must be the ideals the Phoenix saw in Shirou's soul that didn't sit well with him. He had said simply wanting to save people was foolishness. Said he would die, and the world would remain the same. Said not to relieve pain, but teach to overcome it oneself.
And yet, according to Fulgrim, saving others was a moral duty for everyone. He convinced that abandoning a person to fate meant abandoning what grants the right to be called human. As the youth understood, that something was the ability to value life. Both one's own and others'. "And really, would I even think of myself if I saw someone who needed help?" Shirou wasn't sure. That fire ten years ago had left wide scars on his soul. For a long time, he blamed himself for not even thinking of helping the fire's victims. For a long time, blamed himself for being the only survivor. Kiritsugu had said it was called survivor syndrome, when a person can't stop thinking they didn't deserve to survive an event where others died.
But if saving others can't be an ideal, then which one to choose? It was Kiritsugu's dream—how could he so easily discard it? Simply ignore the promise given to him, the one that brought long-awaited peace right before death. Shirou clearly remembered his father's smile. It was so bright, so warm. Shirou, for the umpteenth time, thought he wanted to smile the same way too. He could ponder this forever but wouldn't reach any conclusions. Now he knew only one thing. Saving another's life can't be wrong. And what path he must take, time would show.
By the way, about him, the clock already shows seven in the evening, which means the school is empty. Time to head out for reconnaissance. The Masters and Servants were passing the time on the roof. Archer was exchanging data with someone unknown via some device. Someone named Tacitus. From the conversation, it was clear that no strange incidents had occurred in the city, except for a couple of sudden outbreaks of mass comas. Also, Fulgrim praised, apparently, his guardsman for successfully manufacturing some kind of melta charge. Shirou didn't know what it was, only suspected it was a weapon.
The Masters decided to inspect the school again, since the barrier that had suddenly vanished might be masked and just biding its time. Following them, carrying out the order, was Vergil. And Saber and Fulgrim began combing the surroundings. The Primarch hadn't found anything suspicious the night before last, but that could have changed in the meantime. Right now, he was in the forest near the academy. It was a perfect spot for hiding, and even during the day, a fight could be staged here without fear of detection. Artoria was searching another district; right now, she had enough strength to clash with anyone and survive. By her account, even Heracles wouldn't be able to defeat her as easily as last time.
Tall trees loomed over the Primarch's figure. He walked unhurriedly along the wide paths, awaiting the encounter. Something told him that the clash with a Servant would happen right here. Off to the side came a barely noticeable rustle. The Primarch sharply turned his gaze toward the sound. However, nothing was visible. The forest remained just as silent, with only a faint wind stirring the treetops.
In the next instant, the rustle came from above. And it was followed by the whistle of air being sliced. Wasting no time on a visual inspection of the gift, Fulgrim shifted, feeling a sharp gust of wind brush his skin. Unusual daggers with a nail-like shape were embedded in the ground. And even so, this weapon was beautiful. In the next moment, chains materialized on their hilts, ringing as they returned the weapon to its owner.
The Primarch turned his gaze to the enemy. She preferred to keep her distance, remaining on the branch of a large tree. Or rather, it was a she. A girl of incredible beauty. Unusual hair, a soft purple shade, cascaded over her mature body. Any man would want to linger his gaze on such a figure. But only... "What the fuck?" Fulgrim was stunned by how revealing the Servant's clothing was, her class still unknown. Even Slaanesh looked more decent. The dress clung very tightly to her skin, revealing everything without remainder, and its hem ended right at the top of her thigh. And the neckline revealed far more than it concealed. Was such an appearance worthy of a hero from antiquity?
"You could at least cover yourself, woman. I assure you, seduction won't work on me." The Primarch's words elicited no response. Her head merely tilted slightly in mild bewilderment. "Fine, forget it. The barrier around the academy was your doing, wasn't it? Why did you remove it?"
And again, the questions were ignored. This Servant clearly wasn't talkative like Setanta. Instead, she bounded lightning-fast through the trees. She must have realized that even catching the Primarch off guard wouldn't let her land a hit. So she changed tactics, deciding to confuse him. Fulgrim's thoughts were confirmed as her nails flew from different directions. But against someone who could pinpoint the exact direction of an attack by sound alone, it was useless. Every strike was deflected. Like an insurmountable wall between the woman's body and her weapon. She realized this after thirty seconds and closed in. The moment Fulgrim was occupied deflecting another throw, the Servant appeared behind his back and yanked her weapon back.
The enemy's speed was great, so even the Primarch couldn't immediately change position. He paid for it with a pierced stomach. But that's exactly what he wanted. It was clear from the start he couldn't keep up with her, so he just had to pretend he had nothing to counter with. And now, this creature was within arm's reach. Firebrand materialized in his hand instantly, and with a sharp swing, it left a deep wound in the woman's chest. If not for her speed, her two halves would already be on the ground. She leaped back as far as she could and crouched to the earth, struggling to quell the pain from the scorching blade. For the first time, something appeared on her emotionless face.
And a daring smirk appeared on the Primarch's face. With it, he charged into battle. Tearing the air before him, he overtook the enemy in an instant, who still hadn't recovered. The woman barely dodged the blade promising death, but that was just the first swing. It was followed by a multitude of others. Each one precise and deadly. It was as if he could feel what she intended to do and cut off her attempts immediately. In one moment, she noticed the smile had vanished from the man's face, leaving only boredom. Her helplessness was tiring him. Finally, with a powerful punch to the chest, the Primarch sent the woman crashing into the tree trunk behind her. Blood stained his knuckles and began to slowly drip under gravity's pull. But a couple of drops didn't fall to the ground. They ended up on Fulgrim's tongue.
At first, his face froze, but then strange sounds emanated from him. He lowered his head, so it was impossible to tell what was happening. In one instant, he covered his mouth with his free hand, while the other held his stomach, ignoring the sword he still hadn't released. But no matter how strong the Phoenix's composure, everything has its limits. And finally, the barely contained laughter burst out. The Primarch laughed like never before. Tears even welled up in his eyes. And the one who caused the fit of mirth looked at the man in bewilderment through the bandage covering her eyes. In one moment, it began... to annoy her.
"What's so funny?" The calm voice of this being finally brought the Primarch back to equilibrium. He uncovered his face and looked at the one dubbed the Gorgon with amusement.
"Don't take it personally... It's just... In the past, I gave my brother the nickname Gorgon because beauty was alien to him. But... now it takes on a whole new meaning, ha-ha-ha!" Ferrus would probably appreciate the irony too. "I didn't expect Gorgon Medusa to be so lovely; you should just change into something more decent."
"How did you know who I am?" Her voice held nothing but indifference, as always.
"The blood of living beings contains the memories of its bearers."
And only after answering the question did the Phoenix charge again. This time, Medusa didn't counterattack. No, she headed in the opposite direction. The sword in her enemy's hand had given her a false idea of his class. She paid for the misjudgment. A blob of azure fire streaked past her head at high speed, mere centimeters away. If not for her instincts, the shot would have hit dead center. And now, the chase for the Gorgon began. Archer's speed was inferior to hers, but he effortlessly prevented her from reaching full speed. Plasma charges scorched even without touching her body. That alone showed how dangerous the enemy's weapon was.
From branches to ground. From ground to trees. The two Servants raced through the forest thicket. The platinum-haired one rapidly closed in on the Gorgon, but she didn't yield. In one moment, timing it perfectly, she yanked invisible chains toward herself, and the Primarch felt ghostly hooks appear in his chest. The ring of unseen chains reached his ears, and his body hurtled forward. At high speed, Fulgrim flew straight onto the dagger tips. He hadn't expected that; after all, he wasn't used to fighting the inhabitants of this world. Still, it would be the last time she caught him with such a trick, for the Emperor's son's learning ability was incredibly high.
The Primarch, without panicking, prepared Firebrand in his hand. The blazing blade was ready to taste the enemy's blood, but she wasn't about to give him the chance to counter. Medusa dared not underestimate the strange Servant, so she played one of her trump cards. The bandage over her eyes fell away, revealing unusual, rectangular pupils to the world. They immediately glowed, betraying the magic hidden within. Fulgrim instantly understood what the Gorgon intended and shielded his eyes with his blade. But then he felt his body grow heavy. It seemed the legend wasn't entirely accurate.
Medusa, with a sharp motion, altered the enemy's flight path, slamming him into the ground. The impact's force made his body unresponsive for a moment. Under normal circumstances, recovery wouldn't take a second, but the petrification gaze effect played its role. Though the Servant's speed didn't drop critically, against such a fast opponent, it was woefully insufficient. The woman, with a barely perceptible movement, slipped behind Fulgrim and did something unexpected.
That he didn't turn to stone indicated high Magic Resistance. So she had to change plans and use another suppression method. Sharp fangs sank into the Primarch's neck, eliciting a half-surprised, half-angry cry from him. The Emperor's son's blood flowed past Medusa's lips, and its taste seemed better than anything she'd tried. Such prana saturation was a rarity even for Servants. For several long seconds, the woman loomed over the man, draining his energy.
"What do you think you're doing, insolent woman?!" With a thunderous shout, the Primarch swung the blade gripped tightly in his hand. And though no one noticed, a few tongues of flame turned silvery.
Weakened as Fulgrim was, the strike wasn't as fast. Medusa dodged effortlessly. And the Phoenix himself rose to his feet, piercing the enemy with his gaze. He was tired of these dances. Pulling out a small matte black box, he held it to his ear.
"Vergil, tell Rin to prepare the stones." From the other end came, "As you command, my lord." And finally, nothing stood in the way of fighting in earnest.
At that moment, Medusa felt strong apprehension. Her instincts screamed that something dangerous was about to happen. And it did. Platinum fire enveloped the Primarch's entire body, akin to his shining locks. A moment later, the true Primarch emerged from it. The towering figure, twice the height of his opponent, fixed his gaze on the Gorgon. Amethyst armor spoke of its indestructibility at a glance, and the familiar blade now matched its owner's length. The giant took a step toward the enemy. The raised blade cleaved the air, unleashing a raging storm that scattered leaves. Tree trunks swayed, as if in awe of the Phoenix's might.
Medusa barely managed to lunge aside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what would have happened if the enemy had hit. A wave of flame erupted from the blade, reducing everything in its path to ash. A wide, fifteen-meter clearing formed between the trees. And those farther away were charred. The Gorgon immediately realized the opponent was stronger than he seemed. His true form, as the woman thought, was overwhelming in power. And he hadn't even unleashed his phantasm yet. So the best course was flight.
Her eyes glowed again, and the deadly magic washed over the Primarch's body once more, but this time it was powerless. The soul that had revealed its full power wouldn't allow external influence. Fulgrim merely smirked at it. It seemed the famous petrifying gaze yielded to the genius of Mankind's Emperor, the creator of his body. As the Primarch was about to attack again, he sensed the approach of a new Servant. "Seems the dog came back for seconds," Fulgrim thought as he watched Cú Chulainn materialize on a branch.
"...Damn, you're huge..." Lancer's eyes bulged at the Primarch. The colossal figure left no doubt of its power. "What did they feed you?"
"Come closer, and Firebrand will whisper it in your ear." Fulgrim remembered well what the blue-haired one had dared, and now it was time to settle the score. If Setanta's cowardly Master didn't recall him like last time, chasing him would be tricky with Medusa at his back.
"Heh, some jokes you got." Here, Lancer, whose eyes held not a gram of fear, bared his teeth. "By the way, your gaze has changed. Did you finally remember what it means to be a true warrior? Don't answer, I can see it." And his grin only widened. Lancer's entire demeanor said he was already anticipating a glorious battle.
While Archer and Lancer talked, Medusa saw a perfect chance to leave the battlefield. She wasn't sure she could defeat the Primarch. And her Master had ordered her return; the Servant had done enough. With a sharp lunge, the woman began to move. But Fulgrim noticed and rushed to intercept. In this form, he matched her speed.
"Hey, no way. She's had hers; now it's my turn to play!" The words were accompanied by a spear embedded in the ground in her path. "Come on, since you brought back the reason to fight, show it to me!" The Bloodspear was back in Lancer's hands.
"Fine, the Gorgon can wait."
Lancer's grin threatened to split his cheeks, though he wouldn't have noticed. At full speed, he lunged at the enemy like a hound scenting blood. The furious assault was met with a wide swing that forced an urgent dodge. The flaming sword caused a haze in the air; Lancer didn't even want to know how hot it was. But the danger only made him more cheerful.
Artoria hurried to where Vergil had directed her. She had just returned to the Masters, finding nothing, and immediately learned that Fulgrim was currently clashing with an enemy. From Rin's expression, it was clear Archer was going all out. Though in reality, it wasn't that bad; it was just that her body's conductivity didn't allow effortless absorption and transmission of such energy volumes. Now that creating the accumulators was several times simpler, all Tohsaka would need after the battle was a couple hours' rest.
Right now, the King was racing through the forest thicket. If the Primarch decided it was worth using full power, the enemy was strong. Possibly Heracles, though in that case, no help would be needed. Only trees flashed by on the path; nothing that could be traces of battle or the battle itself. But in one moment, Saber's senses picked up the presence of an enemy Servant. He was moving in spirit form, but that didn't hinder Artoria. To prevent the unknown Servant from escaping, she unleashed a wave of air enveloping her sword. Of her ranged attacks, she had only the King of Wind's hammer and her Noble Phantasm. So the choice was obvious.
A powerful stream of compressed air engulfed the invisible figure, forcing it to dodge hastily. The tall woman who materialized on the ground where the strike had knocked her crouched warily. She looked at Artoria, and Artoria looked at her.
"Servant Saber."
"...Rider."
Before the warrior began the fight, she noted the multiple wounds on the opponent's body. The chest gash stood out most. The smooth skin was charred black, though bruises still marred it. As if the burn had been struck so hard that blood was squeezed out. "There's who Fulgrim clashed with." Only the Primarch's flaming sword could leave such distinctive marks.
The air parted before Saber, yielding to her body. The wide swing at high speed was barely blocked by Rider. The force drove the woman's legs into the ground. And she herself barely turned the hard block into a parry before racing aside. Artoria wanted to cut her off, but...
"AAAAH!" A blue figure flashed past her vision and crashed into a tree with a thud. The familiar Lancer sank so deep into the bark that he didn't fall even from a height of a couple meters. "Pah... Where do you get all that crazy strength?!" He spat blood.
"Morning exercises."
A powerful voice echoed through the forest. And then, from behind the trees emerged the giant's figure. His amethyst armor hadn't lost its shine despite the battle. With a surprisingly light step, he unhurriedly approached the beaten dog—that is, Lancer. When Fulgrim's gaze brushed Artoria, it came with a light nod. The Primarch had long heard she was near. And Cú Chulainn's shouts hadn't hindered him.
"Fine, first round's yours." Lancer leaped to the ground and finally noticed the swordswoman's presence. "Oh, you're here too. Wait a bit; I'll thrash this lanky bastard and give you some attention... You're kidding me!" Not a question, but a statement from the spearman. "Again? When will you let me have some fun?!"
"What, your Master calls and the pup dares not disobey?" The biting comment made a vein bulge on Cú Chulainn's forehead.
"Go screw yourself, you overgrown troll!" And taking spirit form, he vanished into the distance. No one pursued him. Artoria knew she couldn't catch the sprinter, and Fulgrim decided not to waste accumulator reserves on this mutt.
"...Do I look like a troll?"
"A little... Ow-ow-ow." Artoria yelped as the Primarch dropped to one knee and gave her a light flick. Though still sensitive, since his fists were clad in adamantium.
"That was a rhetorical question... Ow!" And now the girl punched him on the forehead. Quite sensitively too.
"Oh yeah?" With a righteous exclamation, the Primarch lifted the girl by her slender waist with one hand and set her on his shoulder. "You'll be my parrot... And stop tugging my hair."
"Up close, you're even bigger. Are all Primarchs like this?"
"No, my size is one of the more modest ones."
"You saying the rest are fat?" Fulgrim didn't immediately grasp what Artoria said, and when he did, he burst into loud laughter, the second time that day. He was amused that the people of this world felt no reverence toward demigods.
"In the Imperium, they'd burn you at the stake for words like that." The "skinny" Primarch still smiled as he spoke. And the poor girl plugged her ears with a displeased pout. The Emperor's son's voice was too loud.
"And in Camelot, they'd hang you for disrespect to the King..."
"Really? I hope His Majesty will be merciful to a humble Primarch."
"...Fine, I'll pardon you. You know how to thank me."
"Ha-ha-ha, as you wish, Your Majesty."
"Where the hell is he?" Rin was already tired of maintaining a stable prana flow. Though a couple minutes ago, consumption had dropped sharply—probably the fight ended. So why hadn't Archer switched to energy-saving mode?
"My Primarch will arrive when he deems fit; your task is to supply him with energy, girl."
"Don't screech at me. The fight's over, so why hasn't he returned to his original state?!"
"Come on, no need to fight." Shirou tried to reconcile the conflicting parties.
"No one asked you!"
"Quiet, boy."
"Well... at least they're united on this." Emiya swore off calming Rin or Vergil. Especially when they argued—it was a lost cause. Right now, the three stood in the middle of the forest, not far from its edge, waiting for the Servants. A couple minutes later, they finally appeared. In his true form, the giant in purple armor towered to the lower branches of fairly tall trees. And on his shoulder sat Saber, looking like a child her daddy decided to give a ride.
"What, you decided to become a riding pony? Stop wasting the stone reserves; they're not infinite!"
"Girl, did you forget what I told you a minute ago?!"
"Leave it, Vergil. She's right."
"As you command, my lord." The guardsman knelt at the sight of his Primarch's true splendor. Seeing him in true form again was even more joyful than he'd hoped.
Fulgrim carefully lifted the "parrot" from his shoulder and finally reverted to his previous appearance. This relieved Rin—the costs of sustaining that bulk were no small thing. And Vergil felt disappointment at not being able to gaze longer at his Primarch.
"Well, the number of Servants hasn't decreased, but now we know who Rider is. Gorgon Medusa." At this revelation, the guardsman twitched slightly. One of the summoned shared a name with the Lord of the Iron Hands. "Too bad you didn't see this charming creature, Vergil; you'd appreciate the irony."
"Charming... creature? Could it be..." Yes, Anusoran wanted to see this Servant himself. If she was truly beautiful, it would be quite ironic. "Wouldn't that make Ferrus Manus the handsome one?" The Tenth's legionaries would be shocked.
***
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