Chapter 94: Sorry, We're Cutting In on This Fight
The first to notice the anomaly was one member of Clan Calatin, John Wingard.
John Wingard, or simply John—his companions always called him that. He and twenty-four others had followed their Chief and Flat to the hospital. The objective: rescue a comatose girl who had become a Master and find a way to deal with her rampaging Servant.
Before the operation, they had applied wide-range magecraft to impose a cognitive interference on the hospital, making the intruders invisible to the staff. They were only one step away from extracting the girl.
While John hadn't witnessed the conversation between Flat and the Chief, the Chief had quickly briefed them on the details. At the Chief's suggestion, and with no objections from the rest, those serving as the Caster camp decided in the afternoon to begin the covert op at night.
However, John couldn't fathom why such a top-secret mission would suddenly be confronted by that kind of existence.
John had faced Dead Apostles head-on and even launched ambushes against them, but the moment he realized that being was looking at him, he felt he was going to die. It was the illusion that with a mere flick of his arm, John would be sent flying. No, considering the massive bow in his hand—it was more likely that with a single arrow, John's heart would be pierced through.
Yet, what truly inspired despair wasn't just that being. With only the elephant-sized Cerberus closing in, the Police Department was helpless. At least two-thirds of them would die. Even before the man himself had lifted a finger, Clan Calatin were breaking into cold sweats as if their lives were already being harvested.
The Heroic Spirit standing on high had simply ordered Cerberus to dispose of them because he felt Clan Calatin were a nuisance, constantly trying to stop him from finding the comatose Master. At that moment, Flat's Berserker-class Servant had stepped in front of the police force. He not only prevented casualties among the twenty-eight but even strode forward to meet the threat.
"—[From Hell (The Evil Mist and London's Dawn – Disappearing into the Past Together)]"
From the moment he chanted that True Name, a thick, unidentifiable mist blanketed the main road in an instant. The mist did not engulf John and the others. On the contrary, Jack and that Heroic Spirit both vanished into the fog.
They could see nothing through the mist; they could only perceive massive magical energies colliding, accompanied by eerie, ominous sounds from within.
"Can we do nothing?"
John froze in place, trembling. Beyond the fear he fought to suppress, this shaking was mostly anger at his own powerlessness. John wanted to charge into the thick fog to assist Flat's Servant, but given the severe visual obstruction and the already vast disparity in strength, rushing in blindly would only be a hindrance.
Clan Calatin could only watch as he and that black-and-red Heroic Spirit clashed in the mist, unable to do a thing.
"We can't just sit here and wait for death."
The shield-bearing giant next to John spoke only one sentence before looking at the Chief's female secretary.
The secretary, Bella, thought for a few seconds and said: "Divide into two teams. One team goes to rescue the girl in the hospital; the other stays here on standby. Once the mist clears, we help." Even in this environment, she maintained clear commanding abilities.
John asked with a dry throat, "The mist has cut off the route to the hospital. It likely spans at least one or two blocks. If we want to enter the hospital now, we have to circle around other blocks and come back from the other side... what if the situation here changes while we're doing that?"
Everyone fell into silence.
While praying in his heart for the victory of the Flat pair, John stared blankly at the sky above the great mist. The high points of the buildings were not covered by the abnormal fog. The night above remained murky, without a sliver of moonlight.
Except... John blinked.
"Wait, since when has someone been standing up there?"
A person was standing atop a building.
The scenery swayed slowly. The dizzying sounds of fighting gradually receded. John's world focused on a single, fluttering coat.
A man with messy red hair, his expression unreadable. Holding a slender bow in one hand, the man observed the atmosphere of the dense fog—completely different from any archer in John's squad. He stood there, radiating an unapproachable aura like lapis lazuli placed on a high pedestal. The iron mass of the building was gradually eroded by his cold, hard presence; it was as if John and the others occupied a different world from that zone.
Was he truly the same person John knew, the one who had joked around with Clan Calatin?
—The individual named Emiya Shirou, who had allied with the Police Department, had appeared near the hospital of his own accord.
Beside him stood a petite girl. Seeing her in person, her features were so clear and beautiful they forced John's heart to race. Yet her cold expression was as still as moonlight, carrying
only a chill intended for enemies. Her temperament was enough to make one bow their head, not daring to look.
Her appearance in armor was so beautiful it made one doubt she truly existed in reality. She wasn't looking toward the police at all. Without even turning their heads, the two stood silently at the heights of the building by the road, their gazes collectively cast into the mist below.
By that alone, they radiated an existence equal to the hell below. All of Clan Calatin witnessed this stunning sight.
.
.
.
Alcides' hand, which had gripped Jack's demonic fang, paused in place.
Whether it was Jack's desperate struggle or the confusion he felt at Alcides' sudden pause—using the opportunity to fire a second laser net—Alcides took it all without reservation. He maintained the current balance of the situation at the cost of adding a few more wounds.
Then—he completely swallowed back the True Name liberation he had been halfway through chanting.
Two presences were aiming at him, yet they did not attack. They couldn't guarantee that attacking the magical signatures within the mist wouldn't catch Jack in the crossfire. (Though if it had caught Jack, it would have been better for the current situation, but they didn't know that.)
Thus, this wasn't a forced interruption of a move, but a judgment made by Alcides' "Mind's Eye."
'Stop. Do not do that.'
The insight honed as a human. The combat theory to find a way out. The danger-avoidance ability to predict the opponent's moves. Every instinct was screaming urgently.
Do not make a mistake.
With [Reincarnation of the Pandemonium - Pandora], he could turn the tables. But if the mechanics of Pandora were exposed, it would truly be the end. Once the principle of this Noble Phantasm was understood, countermeasures would follow. Even if they were just as ignorant of his skills as he was of theirs, Alcides believed this with a sense of admiration.
"...The only good thing is that the 'Poison' is not present."
"Who are you talking about?" Jack asked, as the target didn't seem to be him.
Alcides shook his head and said, "A fool who, even now, believes that the glory of the gods still resides in this body."
Immediately, he added: "Nameless murderer, let us conclude our battle first."
"!?"
It wasn't a suggestion, but a statement of fact. By the time Jack realized it, it was too late. The bronze monstrous birds flew out.
Alcides took the new set of lasers Jack fired in desperation, letting blood splatter, and turned to tell them: "If arrows from others come, defend against them."
The monstrous birds scattered in four directions, prepared to rush in and detonate as soon as a high-mana entity appeared.
Fortunately, since Alcides hadn't stolen the Noble Phantasm just now, in their eyes, it still looked like Jack was suppressing Alcides. He had to cut off the possibility of them helping in close quarters before they realized something was wrong.
To harm Alcides from a distance, those two had two methods. Alcides had already made temporary preparations against Broken Phantasm. That left the Star-Holy Sword.
However, because its range was too large and it could easily kill Jack along with him, Alcides calculated she wouldn't use it. But... if she truly was reckless enough to unleash it on Alcides now, he would welcome it.
Alcides' prana spiked sharply. In less than a second, he dropped the words:
"[Nine Lives (Shooting the Hundred Heads)]."
The hand that had gripped the demonic fang released at some point. Of course, "released" meant a distance of only a few centimeters from the fang. Though the hand let go, the fingers clenched into a fist.
A direct hit from nearly zero distance.
The result—the demon Jack, who had been conversing with Alcides just moments ago, exploded into a mist of blood from the neck up, skull fragments scattering everywhere.
While Alcides had initially wanted to use Pandora... that was only because Jack the Ripper's Noble Phantasm was "useful."
Aside from the single punch that killed the Jack he was tangled with, he threw eight more. To the eyes of the countless Jacks, these were ultra-high-speed consecutive strikes that they couldn't even evade, only watch with wide eyes.
The sounds of shattering bone and flesh rang out in succession. The demon individuals in the immediate circle around the Heroic Spirit fell to the ground as corpses. The individuals slightly
further away weren't killed instantly, but they were hit by the shockwaves of the punches and forced to retreat to offset the pressure.
This was the wrong choice.
If all the demons had chosen to immediately close the distance again to tangle with Alcides, there might have been a sliver of hope.
Almost the instant the surrounding demons retreated, the longbow was back in the monster Heroic Spirit's hand. Alcides urgently uttered the second chant. But this time, the mode was worlds apart.
"[Nine Lives (Shooting the Hundred Heads)]."
Countless meteors erupted from the ground toward the sky. Jet-black magic bullets, radiating a burning, malevolent air, began to surge ruthlessly into the mist.
Realizing the arrows contained enough prana to destroy life and were tracking like missiles, the demon individual closest to the first round concentrated his reaction on the arrow coming for him. He dived down when it was close enough, hoping to shake it off with his reaction speed.
At the same time, the fired arrow changed its trajectory in mid-air as if it possessed a will of its own, piercing straight through the demon's chest. The demon vanished silently as if it had never existed.
Only a beat later, the mist began to ring with the sounds of direct hits—a symphony rising from the depths of hell. Even hell itself could not suppress the expansion of what emerged within.
Each arrow tore the mist, constantly reclaiming the space that should have been saturated with fog. Not a trace of mist remained near Alcides; even the fog of hell could not approach him. The hell began to silently crack, bit by bit.
Though it appeared as though nearly a hundred malevolent bullets exploded simultaneously in just a few seconds—it was merely Alcides drawing and firing his bow at invisible speeds. One Noble Phantasm repeated, then a second, then a third, gradually eroding the interior of the stage constructed by Jack.
The result: the mist symbolizing the stage completely fell apart under the violence.
Countless Jacks lay fallen across the field. Every individual bore varying degrees of major injury. After a while, the other individuals vanished, leaving only the last Jack, who had long since reverted from his demon form to his human appearance.
Although his injuries had vanished as if refreshed when exiting the demon state, and he seemed largely unharmed, his expression was ethereal.
"As expected, if I destroy them faster than you can split and wound all individuals, your Spirit Foundation will temporarily weaken due to the burden. However, my consumption is also great; thus, I have no right to mock you, murderer."
If he could have used Pandora, he wouldn't have had to waste so many Noble Phantasms. But because there were observers, Alcides could only squander prana violently and wastefully. Coincidentally, like Jack, his prana for this Holy Grail War was perfectly sufficient. Even after the duel ended, Alcides' prana signature showed no signs of weakening.
"Farewell. This was a fine contest."
Alcides pulled the bowstring and fired the final arrow.
The arrow sped through the air. A lethal attack aimed straight for the murderer's vitals, it looked certain to shatter the Servant's Spirit Core.
In the next moment, an object also carrying a brilliant light suddenly descended from the heavens. A metallic arrow-spike with intricate decorations slammed the horizontal trajectory into the ground.
The flames at the arrow's tail dissipated. After blocking Alcides' strike, it pinned itself into the ground not far away.
"..."
As expected, Alcides said nothing, slowly straightening his ruffled hide.
The next object, blocked by the patrolling monstrous birds, erupted into intense, high-heat azure flames, engulfing him at the edges.
"Mr. Jack!"
"I'm not dead yet, Master."
In a hidden spot protected by a concealment Bounded Field, the blonde Flat was going Waaah, Ooooh, hurriedly grabbing the hand of the Jack who appeared beside him.
In contrast, Jack offered a faint, weary retort. Then, he noticed that the sun pattern on the back of Flat's hand was missing a ring.
"So you used it. I remember you saying you liked it and didn't want to use it at the start."
Jack maintained his exhausted tone, but with Flat's cooperation, his body transformed into a wristwatch and attached itself to him again.
"What are you saying, Mr. Jack! Look at the time!"
Flat spoke righteously, observing the scene outside through the concealment field.
"Though it seems like a waste... is it? Anyway, I had to pull Mr. Jack out of the battlefield. What I mean is, while I was pulling you out, it looks like someone blocked the arrow for us!"
Flat smiled and said, "We definitely have to thank him later!"
"Whatever you say."
Jack hummed in agreement, exhausted from the dull pain radiating from his Spirit Foundation. Then he noticed that his Master's gaze, like that of a certain Heroic Spirit, was looking upward, trying to see the people above.
After a few seconds, he suddenly let out a weird "Wah!" cry.
In just that short moment, it was as if rays of moved emotion were firing from his Master's eyes. He abruptly faced outward and waved his hand frantically over his head, only to realize he couldn't be seen from the outside and slumped his hand back down dejectedly.
Next, he directly snapped his fingers, and his other hand traced a complex pattern on the transparent Bounded Field.
"What is this?"
"Amplification Magecraft!"
Following the same process, Flat drew another pattern.
"And what is this?"
"Projector Magecraft!"
Jack fell into confusion. "Why are you doing this?"
"Eh, Mr. Jack, don't you know? We're hiding right now to give you a breather. If I want to shout, of course I can't expose our position! I have to shout without letting anyone find out where I really am!"
'No, I just wanted to ask why you're shouting at all!?'
Your Mr. Jack does not understand.
Flat took a deep breath. It was already impossible to stop him. Flat, full of joy, shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice reaching the clouds:
"It's been a long time, Butler-kun~~!!!"
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