DAY 6 – THAT NIGHT – PART 3

Sten!

I shout both vocally and mentally. Of course, shouting out loud from where I am is meaningless. This mobile boundary field he prepared for me cancels out my voice. Besides, I am too far for him to hear my voice. But he hears my mental message.

What?

Sten! He is gathering magical energy. I think he is about to use his Noble Phantasm.

What? From over there?

Yes. He hasn’t moved yet.

Damn. Right when this trap activated. All right, here goes.

Trap? What trap?

No worries, master. I got this. I need to cut the connection for a while though.

Cut the connection? Sten-

I feel our mental link weaken. I am still supplying him with magical energy, but my mental messages no longer reach him.

Come on. At least give me some explanation for once.

I look up once more. The amount of magical energy he collected is enormous. Whatever he has planned must be big.

I realize I’m biting my lip. I stop before I draw blood.

I can’t really fault Sten. I don’t know what that trap he mentioned was, but I get it. He can’t afford giving lengthy explanations in the middle of combat. I’ll have to ask him when this is over. Although, by that time, it will be over, and won’t matter anymore. He must have cut our mental connection so that I don’t distract him.

Or...

Along with communicating from afar mentally, a master and servant can also share their senses. Normally, whenever I want, I can see what he sees, hear what he hears, and so on. Now I can’t do that. Could it be that he is in a bind now? That sense sharing also includes senses other than the main five, such as pain or fear. That is the reason the servants can feel it when their masters are in danger, and the masters can feel their servants’ pain when they get wounded.

Could it be that Sten is in a bind right now, and has cut our connection to spare me the pain?

I roll up my sleeve. My command spells shine as my will focuses on them.

I taste blood. Before I realized it, I’ve bitten my lip again.

No, Rin. Trust your servant. He said he got this.

I look up again, my sleeve still rolled up.

The classes of servants. There is obviously something wrong in this war, and I can’t think of anyone other than him that may be responsible. He is Changer, an irregular servant. There is also the story he told about his identity. It was simply an unbelievable story. He is definitely suspicious. And now, could he have cut the connection to do something that he doesn’t want me to know? Can I really trust him?

Yes. Even when I gave him the unreasonable order of joining in a fight between five servants, he obeyed. And when I asked him, he even promised not to return home before taking out a servant. If what he said is true, if he really aspired to be a knight, he can’t go back on his promise.

Yes. I can trust him. Whether I should or not doesn’t matter. I can, and I will. He said he got this. I will trust him, and I will not use a command spell.

Right in front of my eyes, the enormous collection of energy moves. I feel it go, as I see something red fly, right toward Sten and the others. I don’t lose any time. My command spells shine brighter than before.

“Sten, come to me!”

[INTERLUDE]

Lancer lands with a muffled thud.

“Wow, you really threw it all the way there, and with such precision.”

Bazett looks genuinely impressed. Lancer beams with pride.

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“Heh. Of course I did. Now, master, I’ll be leaving.”

“Yes. Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Lancer jumps. Although he just threw it, his trusted spear is again, in his hands. He lands on a lamppost and makes his way to the other side of the bridge by jumping from one lamppost to another. This allows him to keep watch on the park while crossing the bridge.

What was he thinking? ‘Heh. Of course I did.’ What was that? He was supposed to be angry at his master for making him use a sneak attack like that. But with one compliment, he had forgotten all about it and let pride take control of his mouth.

He is so fast that, by the time he reaches the park, the smokescreen is barely clearing. He has come ahead of his master to ensure his kills, and to finish of anyone still alive. He prefers attacking his enemies head-on, but… one shot, six servant kills. Just to be able to say that would feel great. Perhaps that is why he cannot stay angry at his master.

One shot, six servant kills. That is his hope, but not his expectation. It sounds too good to be true. At least one or two of them should still be alive.

Finishing of wounded enemies. It is not a heroic job, fit for a servant, but Lancer has been to many battles. He knows it is necessary, albeit distasteful.

A great crater, some uprooted trees, other signs of a fight between beings exceeding human limits… Bazett said the field should keep any outsiders away, but can’t they really see it? Anyway, it is none of his business.

Lancer scans the park. He both uses his eyes to search for any figures among the still-clearing smoke, and tries to feel any presences. It doesn’t take him long to locate one.

“What?”

He is standing there. As smoke clears, Lancer starts seeing his condition. Nothing. No trace.

Heracles is standing there, the little girl on his shoulders, both looking as healthy as they ever were. There is not a wound on them. Lancer tries to understand.

“Why? Why are you standing there like nothing happened?”

“This is your doing, Lancer?

Heracles’s voice is as cold as ice. This time, it promises death. Lancer doesn’t answer. They stare into each other’s eyes; it is enough.

Heracles pulls out a great bow. It is as tall as a grown man, and is made from bones, rather than wood. It is a bow he made for himself after his famous struggle against the hundred-headed hydra. It normally requires three grown man to just pull the bowstring, and can fire arrows faster and farther than any other bow of its time.

“That stunt you pulled endangered my master, Lancer. It was foolish of you.”

“What can I say? When I saw you guys all together like that, I couldn’t help using something large-scale. Besides, look around you. You are the only one left standing. Five out of six, or two out of three if you don’t count those latecomers. You can’t say it wasn’t a success.”

“Others did not come close to hurting Illya. You did. They do not matter. But you? You will die.”

Heracles bends his knees, and jumps, shaking the earth. In mid-air, he nocks an arrow and pulls the bow’s string. His words themselves are charged with magical energy.

“Hydra Bow…”

Magical energy twirl around his arrow as its tip starts shining and giving out a green smoke.

“…Nine Lives, Shooting Hundred Heads!”

[Interlude End]

[?????]

“Alright, another job well done! Now, we can relax.”

“Yeah, just another afternoon. You know, chilling, some epic fighting, more chilling, saving the world… Nothing special.”

“Exactly.”

The two men laughed. But their attempt at humour was short-lived. They had succeeded, but not without casualties. Seven had entered the door, only three exited alive. One of them was unconscious, though her wounds weren’t serious. They had brought two bodies with them. The other two were left behind to be devoured, or worse.

The taller man, the more muscular one with less to wear, asked the armoured one:

“What do we do with the bodies?”

“You heard what they said. They said to bury them here.”

“Near the door, right?”

The muscular man nodded. It would be a befitting resting place.

“But what about the funeral? Who’ll speak the parting words? Will we do it with just the two of us? Or three, if she wakes up?”

“I’m not really a religious one. To me, they are just lifeless bodies. Flesh and bones, nothing more. I’ll help you bury them, as they wished themselves, but leave me out of any funeral business.”

He turned towards the unconscious woman.

“And she won’t be waking up anytime soon. Not before the healermen in the city take a look at her, anyway. You’ll have to say them.”

“Me? What do I know about funerals?”

“We had two people who knew. One of them is asleep over there and will stay like that for some time. The other one is in pieces. You’ll have to say them.”

“Very well then, I’ll try.”

There was a brief silence. Armoured one sighed, and looked at his troubled faced friend.

“Don’t worry. They are just words. After what we did today, how hard could it be?”

“No. I’m not worried about it. I was just thinking about their weapons, and what we should do about them.”

“Burying warriors with their weapons is the custom, isn’t it? What’s there to think about?”

The muscular man shook his head to the sides.

“It is, but the location of the door is well-known. With the danger gone, how long do you think it would take the first group of grave robbing treasure hunters to arrive? If we buried their weapons with them, they would end up in the black market in less than a month. You gave her that bracelet, right?”

“Which one?” He smiled, she had multiple bracelets on both arms.

“You know, the blade-bracelet. The one she pulled out all those blades from. You gave it to her, right? Won’t you take it back?”

“Yes, I gave it to her. Gave it, not lent it. I never planned on taking it back.”

“I think you should. Yes, you should take the bracelet, and his spear. They should go with you.”

“That spear is their family-heirloom.”

“I know. But they had no family other than each other. They had no apprentices, close friends, or anyone else that can inherit their weapons. They should go with you.”

“I’ll be leaving; returning. I won’t even be coming with you to the city. There is no reason to-”

“That’s the reason I’m saying this. It would befit their weapons to leave this world with their masters. Since the weapons will not be safe in their graves, they should leave in a different way. What better way than to leave with one of their comrades, am I wrong? You’re leaving anyway. Take them with you.”

“All right then. Then I guess I’ll be giving them to my little brother back home.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Back home, you said. Where do you live, anyway?”

“Nowhere you’d know. Enough of this. Let’s get digging.”