Beta read by Paragon of Awesomeness.
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-Underworld-
"What we have gathered so far is that the disturbance came from this area. The territory is under the control of the Astaroth clan, but the location itself is at the very edge of it, away from most towns and even any remote villages. It is mostly an empty area filled with forest extending for many thousands of acres, with it being a spot where people in the past used to go to capture familiars and hunting. Now because of how often they would do that all of those creatures ended up fleeing the place leaving it mostly empty and inhabitants only by small critters."
Inside the office, Archer stood with arms crossed, his posture composed as he listened intently. Beside him were his Master, her peerage, and the two Satans, Sirzechs and Ajuka. At the center of the room, a detailed map was spread across the table, the red-haired Satan calmly outlined the region's specifics to the gathered group.
Ajuka came forth and added his own two cents. "There has been a small stronghold there in the past, used to belong to the old Satan faction before it was destroyed during the war, we sent a few scouts over to gather any Intel's… unfortunately none of them came back. Though from what we observed through our familiar's eyes from afar, someone has taken the effort to rebuild it since the passageway has also been rebuilt."
"How could such a thing not be noticed by you? It's in your territory for goodness sake!" Rias exclaimed, having somewhat recovered from her anger over the matter of another Servant likely being summoned but still being more than slightly irritated by the other news that was coming to light.
"Even as the former heir to the Astaroth clan, I had to detach myself from all family-related matters as soon as I took on the name Beelzebub, just as Sirzechs. Such affairs are then relegated to my other relatives and members of the clan," he answered patiently, though even Archer did not blame him as one person could not always be informed about every little thing that was going on in such a large territory. The Gremory territory alone was at least the size of Japan's main island Honshu if not bigger, with there being far more land mass in the underworld than the human realm due to a lack of genuine oceans. Having so much more land to look after which would make such tasks difficult.
Ajusa continued. "Another worrisome fact is that we have noted several signs of a battle that can be seen outside the stronghold. Shattered trees, destroyed boulders, and a few craters spread across the area. No creature over there is capable of causing such damage."
"So you suspect it's a Servant," Archer muttered, to which both men nodded. "Well, it sounds like our only option is to go over there and scout the area ourselves. We won't know anything by just staying here."
"Yes, that is why you will be leaving for your mission after a certain someone who will be accompanying you joins us."
"And who might this be?" Akeno asked with curiosity in her tone, a question to which Sirzechs let out a small chuckle.
"He is an old friend of ours and the Queen of an ancient and powerful Devil who's long been a reliable ally to us. The journey to Diodora's last known location would take a long time even if you were to fly over there, there are no trains that go that far out, and the place might be riddled with traps for all we know. So his assistance will make the journey much easier and faster."
The Servant of the bow raised his eyebrow at that statement, since the Devils were capable of summoning, he wondered couldn't they just do that in the first place. Perhaps the old stronghold had a bounded field preventing such an approach?
"While I understand this matter is of the most importance and how dangerous it is to leave an uncontrolled Berserker out there—is it wise for us to be away from Kuoh for so long after what just happened with Kokabiel?" Archer asked, "Even with Sona taking care of matters in Kuoh, we had two Servants attack at once along with a Cadre. As much as I trust Rider to keep things safe, it's still risky if more warmongering fools show up with another Servant."
"We understand that," Ajuka mentioned, "but I can assure you that for now we will not have to worry about any rogue Fallen Angels or Rogue Priests starting trouble in Kuoh. Azazel has informed us on how he is putting a tighter leash around such individuals from his own faction with Michael doing the same. The former has even extended the offer to send his own most trusted individuals to safeguard the area temporarily."
Not a bad offer, but that still required for them to trust the Governor to not go back on his words and not to try anything in secret. Though the decision rested on Rias' shoulders, he looked at her waiting for her own opinion.
"I don't want the city to get cluttered because of this, I'll trust Sona to keep things stable without our presence. She must know the responsibility given to her and will not take it lightly. Having more Fallen Angels arrive just like that would not be fair to her, so there will be no need for that. Even if it is unlikely for the Grigori Governor to start trouble."
"Especially after what happened with Kokabiel," Akeno added from the back, a bit of scorn coming out of her voice. With that decision made, they glanced at Sirzechs, who nodded without any objections.
"We shall send him a message then. Though just a reminder, the Fallen Angels are in a more fragile state than us, the numbers of pure Fallen Angels dwindle by the decade with their only ways of increasing those numbers only being with Angels falling from grace. But that is unlikely to happen with Heaven closed off. The last thing on Azazel's mind should be any sort of conflict."
Fair enough, Archer thought. He supposed the crimson-haired Devil had a point. Azazel had more to lose than gain by disrupting the fragile stability between factions. Still, Archer resolved to reserve his own judgment until he had met this individual himself. Trusting others' instincts was wise, but never final.
"Can't you two join us as well?" Rias asked then, her eyes flicking up from the map, hopeful.
"I'm afraid we won't be here for a couple of days," Sirzechs answered before Ajuka added, "There are matters elsewhere demanding our immediate attention."
That response drew a flicker of surprise from the group. What could possibly be more urgent than this rising chaos?
Ajuka leaned slightly forward, fingertips brushing against the table's surface. "Since we're on the topic of Servants, there's something else you should know. Another Servant has been summoned, by the vampires."
"You've probably already heard from Grayfia about Lancer," Sirzechs added, voice cool and steady.
Archer's interest piqued immediately. It had been a long while since he'd heard the name Lancer in any meaningful context. Given the silence surrounding that particular Servant, he had assumed Lancer wasn't nearly as volatile as Berserker. Still, appearances could be deceiving.
"What about him? Is he causing trouble?" he asked warily, already preparing for the worst.
To his relief, and everyone else's, Sirzechs shook his head.
"Nothing of the sort. Surprisingly, Lancer has remained busy within the Tepes territory and hasn't stirred up conflict or jeopardised any diplomatic ties. In fact," he said, eyes narrowing slightly as if reliving the memory, "he even visited us once. During the party following your Rating Game."
Archer raised a brow. "He showed up to a party?"
"Caught everyone's attention in the room the second he arrived, quite a domineering presence I must add." Sirzechs confirmed with a dry chuckle. "Yet we had a surprisingly pleasant conversation. And after what happened with Kokabiel along with the presence of both Assassin and Saber, it's clear we have a great deal more to discuss with the vampires. This Servant may play a large role in shaping those future negotiations."
"It seems this Servant holds considerable influence politically," Archer noted thoughtfully. "Was he summoned by the leader of the vampires?"
"Something like that," Ajuka answered cryptically. "It's… complicated—both of us are not truly sure who is exactly the main leader anymore. The Carmilla faction mentioned one thing while Lancer himself said something else. I'll explain it in full when we return with more clarification hopefully. For now, let's stay focused on the matters immediately in front of us."
They spent the next hour combing through every detail of the mission area, exchanging observations, maps, and bits of intelligence like fragments of a jigsaw puzzle. When the meeting finally drew to a close, the group dispersed to their respective quarters, intent on preparing for the upcoming journey.
But as Archer turned to leave with the others, Sirzechs called after him. "Archer. Would you mind staying for a moment? I'd like to speak with you privately."
The words landed softly, but Rias's reaction was immediate. She stepped forward instinctively, brows knitting together.
"If it's important, I should hear it too."
The girl's brother smiled and raised a hand gently. "It's nothing to do with you, Rias. Just something I prefer to share with him personally, it's nothing bad, I promise you that." She hesitated, eyes narrowing, but before she could object further, Akeno moved in with practiced grace and gently touched her shoulder.
"Come, Rias. Let them speak."
After a long pause, Rias relented with a reluctant sigh, allowing Akeno to guide her away. The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
Now, with only Sirzechs and Archer remaining, the room seemed to shift. Not into tension exactly, but something else… Perhaps awkwardness would be a more accurate description. After all, this was the first time they had ever been left alone together.
The Devil inhaled deeply.
"Sorry to drag you into this," he began, voice quieter now, more personal. "But I felt it was time we had a proper conversation. Just you and me. To clear the air… and to finally deliver a message I've been holding onto for quite a while. I never got the opportunity to share it since circumstances would not allow me to do so early on."
"If this is about that arrow I shot at you last time," Archer said dryly, "then you had it coming."
The words, blunt and unapologetic, caught Sirzechs off guard. But after a heartbeat of silence, the crimson-haired Satan let out a rich, genuine laugh—a sound that dispelled the strange tension lingering in the air.
"Alright, that," Sirzechs said with a wave of his hand, eyes glinting with amusement, "it's been so long, and so much has happened, I'd completely forgotten. Though, you can't entirely blame me. We just happened to be in the area, killing time, and the next thing we knew, a Servant had been summoned. And it involved my sister and Serafall's. Curiosity got the better of us. We wanted to see what a true Heroic Spirit could do."
"Somehow," the white haired Servant replied, voice like tempered steel, "I doubt you were there just by chance."
He narrowed his gaze, studying the man before him. There was something unshakably ironic about it, Lucifer, the so-called Prince of Lies, standing before him with that same polished smile that could convince even the most skeptical soul of his innocence. And yet, Archer knew better. From what he had gleaned through whispers, rumors, and the accounts of others, Sirzechs was cunning in a way that didn't always leave fingerprints.
And more importantly, he remembered: nearly every member of Rias's little peerage had somehow been wrapped into their fates through the subtle meddling of this very man—whether through direct interference or gentle nudging from behind the scenes.
"So," he said coolly, "what is this really about?"
Sirzechs' smile faded. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his chair and stepped forward. His boots made no sound on the marble floor. When he stopped in front of Archer, he gave a shallow bow—a gesture of rare sincerity that took the former Heroic Spirit by surprise.
"First of all," Sirzechs said quietly, "I'd like to apologise."
Archer's brows knit.
"None of this would've happened had I been more cautious. Ajuka would insist the blame lies with him, but I was the one who allowed him to retain the information in his quarters. I gave the green light, and it led us here. But it's not just asking for forgiveness about that case, but also for not trusting you in the beginning and sending Grayfia. Looking at this situation closer, all of this could have been avoided."
Avoided? Perhaps, but definitely not for long. The existence of Servants and his summoning would have spread sooner or later. Curious people would have tried to acquire that information someway, Sirzechs only sped up the inevitable in Archer's mind.
"You were trying to summon another Servant with that information, weren't you?"
"Not at first," the man admitted without hesitation. "Originally, I was just suspicious. A Heroic Spirit, a hero from an era long passed, recorded eternally in a realm outside our own called the Throne of Heroes. The idea that such a being could be summoned to walk among us again, under a temporary vessel, serving a Master in a 'Holy War' with the promise of a granted wish… it sounded too perfect. Too convenient. Especially given when you arrived at a time when Rias needed help most."
"Help," Archer interrupted, voice low, "that you could have offered."
Sirzechs didn't flinch. The words were sharp, and deservedly so. "As the one bearing the name Lucifer, surely you could've intervened. So tell me—what were you truly planning to do if I hadn't been summoned?"
Archer wasn't buying the neutral façade. He knew better. Despite his master's faith in the man, Archer had long suspected Sirzechs wasn't above moving pieces from behind the curtain. Akeno had even joked once—though in hindsight perhaps it hadn't been such a joke after all—that the two Satans were hopeless siscons, capable of anything if it was in the name of their sisters' safety.
Sirzechs exhaled slowly.
"I've long severed myself from the Gremory name. As Lucifer, I have to remain a neutral party. Just like Ajuka, Serafall and Falbium, we're the ones meant to ensure peace continues between noble clans, without tipping the scales."
"That doesn't answer my question."
A pause.
Then, Sirzechs shrugged, and that Devil-may-care grin returned—soft, unreadable.
"Who knows?" he mused. "Maybe I did have a plan. But we'll never know now… will we?"
A devious man, Archer thought dryly. As devious as they came.
"As to what I was saying before," Sirzechs resumed calmly, hands loosely clasped behind his back, "at first, it truly was just to see if you were who you claimed to be and not some sly entity that had managed to fool Rias into believing you were her ally."
He didn't bother to mask the regret in his voice, nor the subtle flicker of shame in his eyes.
"I'll admit, I could have chosen a better method. One that didn't cause such chaos or earn my sister's wrath in quite the… memorable fashion that it did. But had the summoning ritual turned out to be authentic, if this phenomenon was the real deal, then I won't lie to you. At some point, we would have attempted our own summoning… in a controlled environment, of course."
Archer stared at him, unsure whether to feel alarmed or disappointed. There was something jarring about Sirzechs' blunt honesty, but he appreciated it rather than hearing another excuse or a straight up lie.
"Even in this time of peace," the Satan continued, "with both the Great War and Civil War behind us, the idea of summoning a Servant, someone on your level, isn't something one can simply ignore. Ideally, we would summon a hero who shared our ideals and wants to help maintain peace. Someone willing to work alongside us freely. Forcing obedience through Command Seals isn't the path we desire, for it makes us no different to the Old Satan Faction we overthrew."
"And if the Servant you summoned turned out to be uncontrollable?" Archer asked sharply. "Then what?"
Sirzechs' expression sobered in an instant.
"Then I would kill them."
He didn't say it with pride. Nor with threat. It was simply a fact—a promise etched in stone, delivered with the quiet conviction of someone who could and would carry it out.
And Archer believed him.
The power this man held wasn't just rumor or title. He and Ajuka had long surpassed the limits of Ultimate-class beings according to what Akeno mentioned. Super Devils, they were called creatures so powerful that they needed their own classification. If such a being decided a rogue Servant needed to be destroyed, Archer had little doubt the outcome would be swift.
Still… even that level of strength could be tested. The Throne of Heroes contained all manner of legends, some barely stronger than a regular mage, others capable of tearing continents from the earth.
"A summoning like that," Archer muttered, "if you wanted it to succeed, you'd need a catalyst, something that could tilt the odds in your favor and get someone reasonable."
"Indeed," Sirzechs nodded. "Though the catalyst was the least of my concerns. I already had someone in mind. Are you aware," he asked with an amused glint, "that one of my Knights is Okita Souji?"
That name stopped Archer cold.
His eyes widened, not in fear, but in startled recognition. A memory flickered to life, drawing up an image of a girl with platinum blonde hair, katana ever at her hip and a level of strength and skill capable of even giving the King of Knights a hard time.
"…I suppose that name rings a bell from your world?" Sirzechs added lightly.
"It does," Archer said slowly, still processing. What little he remembered of her personality suggested she wouldn't have been thrilled at the idea of working alongside Aevils.
…At least, not at first. But she wouldn't have gone berserk at the notion, either. She was powerful, terrifyingly so, but grounded. A solid choice.
"Judging by your reaction," Sirzechs said, smirking slightly, "I take it that wasn't such a bad pick."
"Something like that," Archer murmured. Then, with a sly grin of his own, added, "That is, if you truly got her."
"Eh? Her?" Sirzechs blinked in confusion. It took a second for the words to click. Then his jaw slackened just a bit.
"Believe it or not," Archer said, shaking his head, "the Okita Souji I know from my world… was a woman."
For once, the crimson-haired Satan seemed genuinely at a loss. His mouth opened as though to respond—then promptly shut again. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckled under his breath, and shook his head.
"I can't wait to tell my Okita that. His reaction will be priceless."
Archer gave a quiet snort.
"So. Was that all you came to say? An apology for how things played out?"
"Not quite." Sirzechs' voice turned more serious now. "There are two more things. First… are you familiar with the name Vlad Tepes III?"
"Vlad?" Archer repeated. He didn't need to ask why Sirzechs was bringing it up. The pieces clicked into place with unsettling ease.
The conversations. The temporary disappearance. The mention of Lancer. Sirzechs and Angelica had gone off to speak with him.
And there was only one Lancer that came to Archer's mind when that name surfaced.
"You're asking me if he's trustworthy," Archer said, already knowing the answer.
Sirzechs offered a small nod. "You read my mind."
Well, the version of Vlad Tepes that lived in the minds of the majority of the modern populace bore little resemblance to the man of history. The general public, steeped in Hollywood myths and pulp horror stories inspired by one Bram Stoker, imagined a pale, fanged vampire flitting through Gothic castles under moonlight—a far cry from the real Impaler Prince.
To Archer's knowledge, the actual Vlad had never been summoned during the Holy Grail Wars of Fuyuki—none that he'd participated in, at least. Whatever knowledge he had of the man came secondhand through old files, vague tales, and fragments of legacy.
"I can't say for certain," Archer admitted, arms crossed loosely as his eyes wandered to the darkened window. "I've never met him personally. But judging by his legend, his reputation, and the way his feats are described… he strikes me as someone with pride. A man of honor, even as circumstances required him to be utterly ruthless. A servant of God who would sooner die than break his word. He's not the type to lie without reason. So yes, as long as you don't present yourself as an enemy, you can probably trust him."
Sirzechs let out a small laugh, low and amused, as he returned to his chair. The crisp shuffle of papers echoed through the quiet office as he neatly re-ordered them, dusted off a stray speck of ashwood parchment, and tidied the tabletop with absentminded grace.
"Of course," he said, still smiling, "that's my intent. We definitely don't need any more enemies than we already have."
He glanced up at Archer then, with the sort of finality that signaled the conversation was nearing its end.
"That's all I needed. You may go now, before my dear sister storms in here like a hurricane and tears the door off its hinges."
Archer inclined his head with a simple nod. The exchange had been short, brisk even, but it had granted him a clearer sense of the man behind the title. Satan. Brother. Strategist. Devil. Lucifer
He turned, hand resting on the doorknob, when Sirzechs' voice called out once more.
"I look forward to seeing you again at the parent-teacher conference. Take care of my sister, not just as her Servant, but as her teacher as well." The Servant paused, glancing over his shoulder. The redhead's smirk held a glimmer of playful challenge.
He blinked.
That was supposed to be a secret.
Rias had explicitly told him not to breathe a word about the school arrangement to anyone in her family, especially him. But it seemed the Satan already knew. Somehow, Archer wasn't surprised.
He sighed softly. "Just don't cause a scene when you get there," he replied dryly before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
Outside, the hallway was far from empty.
There stood Rias, pacing with barely restrained energy, arms folded tight and brow furrowed like a tempest in waiting. Several members of her peerage were loitering nearby, some waving casually as they peeled off toward their rooms, others shooting curious glances his way.
"Archer!" Rias rushed over, her crimson hair fluttering behind her. "Did something happen? Did he try to coerce you into joining him?!"
She looked genuinely distressed, and for a moment Archer could only marvel at the speed with which her imagination leapt to conclusions. He shook his head, answering her in that cool, level tone of his.
"Nothing like that," he assured. "Just a few minor matters. Nothing you need to worry about, Master." Honestly, He wanted to see the kind of reaction the girl would have upon seeing the very people she was trying to avoid at the parent teacher conference to be present inside the classroom seeing her study.
In any case, until whoever this guest was supposed to lead them to the stronghold arrived, they had some free time to prepare.
{Break}
(A few minutes later)
With a rare stretch of free time given to him, Archer had planned to simply accompany his Master back to her room. The latter looked like she had several matters she wanted to discuss from the conversation they had with Sirzechs. Most likely worried about the aspect of facing another Servant by himself given what happened against Rider last time. Something he could not blade the young girl from fearing, but the white haired Servant had no plan for things to head down that path.
But before she could say a word, her mother appeared with but a few words. "Rias," Venelana said, her tone sweet yet utterly uncompromising. "We need to speak. Now."
Her daughter tried to resist. The protest was written all over her face, brows furrowed, mouth halfway open. But Venelana simply raised a brow, and any hope of refusal vanished. The girl cast one last glance toward him, her azure eyes pleading for intervention, for a miracle.
He gave her nothing of the sort.
Not because he didn't want to, but because Venelana had clearly anticipated her daughter's attempt to ask for his aid. She had, in fact, turned to him moments earlier with a gracious smile that felt more like a velvet-wrapped threat.
"Please give us some privacy," she'd said. "I am just bringing her along to see if she has not forgotten everything I taught her about being a lady of high birth. She is no longer a child and etiquette is something that can't be ignored. So I will be borrowing her for a bit."
The words left little room for interpretation. So, like a knight banished from the court, Archer took his leave. It was amusing to see his Master get dragged by the ear like a child and several members of the Peerage pretending they had not seen anything.
He could have wandered the halls, roamed aimlessly while observing the many gilded portraits found across the halls of the family, but instead, he returned to the room allotted to him. Courtesy of none other than Venelana, of course. Every guest had been assigned their own quarters, though he doubted Rias had approved of that decision. She had likely wanted him to sleep together with her as usual but her mother's insistence had overruled it. Or perhaps the heiress kept her silence on the matter knowing there was no point trying to change the woman's mind.
Not that it mattered to Archer. He had no real need for sleep, though he appreciated the gesture. He placed his hand on the door, pushed it open.
"—?"
And paused.
Someone was already there.
Lying across his bed as if it were her own, flipping lazily through the pages of a paperback romance novel, was Akeno. She didn't even react at his arrival. Instead, she rolled lazily onto her stomach, legs swinging in the air as she read. He recognized the book instantly, Aika's favorite brand of shameless literature she kept sharing with several students, often reading it during class with zero shame. Using the excuse that it was in English and that she was just practicing her reading comprehension.
But that wasn't the most surprising part.
"What are you doing on my bed?" he asked flatly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
"You didn't sleep here last night," Akeno replied without glancing up, her voice light and unconcerned.
His brow twitched, questioning how she came to know that but part of him already suspected the answer.
"And how would you know that?" still, he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
She hummed. "Because I checked."
Of course she did.
"Servants don't require sleep," he said coolly, going forward and taking a seat on the soft bed. "While I do appreciate the hospitality, the room is largely unnecessary. I spent the night in my Master's chambers, she needed some company after what happened during dinner."
"Buchou and her relationship with Lord and Lady Gremory has been pretty rocky for a while after they kept pushing the engagement with Riser. It was not like this in the past, but I believe with time things will go back to the way they were. Despite the flaws of their actions, they genuinely love their daughter and were doing so for her own good… at least in their eyes." Akeno explained, her foot playfully tapping his back. "But I suppose she's in a much better mood now when our dear hero went ahead and cooked her a Michelin class meal—no wonder it looked like Grayfia was planning on strangling you earlier. You invaded her domain."
He gave her a side eye, "You make it sound more dramatic than it was. I just borrowed the kitchen for a bit. Also how did you know about this?"
She rolled her eyes, "Lady Venelana told me. Also, it's not just that, but you also practically slapped her to the face by winning that little contest. Indirectly telling her that she's worse than you when it comes to her craft, that would piss off anyone. I can vouch for the woman, we both got handled roughly by the same man."
Akeno's lips tugged downward into a playful pout, her violet eyes now peeking over the edge of the book like twin spotlights.
"It's not fair," she said softly. "You get to sleep with her every night, while I go through all these ridiculous obstacles and still don't succeed."
He blinked.
She wasn't finished.
"Knowing her, she most likely slept without anything on. Do you as well?" Her eyes gleamed with curiosity and something else. Jealousy, perhaps? "She gets to hold you… feel every part of you every night. I won't lie. I'm a little envious."
Archer gave a slow sigh.
"You're mistaken," he replied. "I usually wear clothes. At most, I'm shirtless. And yes… she does get grabby in her sleep. I've simply grown used to it."
Akeno chuckled softly at that, the sound warm and tinged with nostalgia.
"She's always been like that," she mused. "Back when we were little girls and used to share a bed, she'd cling to me like I was a stuffed animal. Trying to pull away was a nightmare."
"Fortunately, I can always shift into a spiritual form," he said.
That earned a louder laugh from her, one that filled the quiet room like a bubbling brook.
But it didn't last long.
Her expression softened. The playfulness faded.
"In any case… do you feel nervous about the mission?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away.
"No, not really," he answered honestly. "I can see why all of you may be worried, but understand that this should have been the purpose behind my summoning from the beginning: to fight other Servants. It would be more preferable if I alone went over, but something tells me none of you would have liked that."
"…" No words were shared after he said that, Akeno's face shifting with some frustration while looking at him before she just ended up shaking her head. "I've seen the others, they are in a similar boat as both Rias and I."
She sat up, legs folded beneath her now, fingers idly toying with the book's dog-eared page.
"Koneko especially… She's been lost in thought a lot lately. But I doubt it's because of today's discussion. I'm worried about her, she was already very traumatized by Rider's presence and then Saber. Even if the second time she tried not to show it, I can tell that she blames herself for not being of much help… just like Yuuto, Asia, Gasper, Kiyome, myself, Buchou, and even Issei."
He remained silent for a moment, letting her words settle. The room was quiet again, save for the faint rustle of silk sheets and the hum of distant wind through the window panes.
"That is something you all need to get used to I'm afraid. None of you are suited to be present in the middle of a fight between Servants, it's pure suicide ," Archer said quietly, his tone low and thoughtful. "I'll be talking with the others and especially Koneko after. If there is something else that is bothering her then it's better for it to be addressed as soon as possible rather than letting it become a problem later on."
The concern was subtle, but there. Koneko had indeed been acting out of character these past few days… withdrawn, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. More than once he had seen her staring out the window with a far-off look, as though searching the horizon for something that never came. There was no guarantee that it was purely because of their mission or something else, but regardless it was best to address it as soon as possible.
He made a mental note to speak with her before they left.
Then, with a sharp clap, the book in Akeno's hands snapped shut. She bounced off the bed in a single, fluid motion, her raven hair trailing behind her like a silken banner caught in the wind.
"I have an idea!" she declared, eyes gleaming with excitement. "We still have quite a bit of time before this mysterious 'Queen' arrives. So let's explore the Gremory estate together. I'll be your guide and I'll show you all sorts of things I'm sure you'll find lovely."
She beamed as she spoke, practically glowing with enthusiasm. It was rare to see her so unabashedly cheerful without some teasing motive behind it. For once, the smile seemed genuine. And because of that, he found himself unable to say no.
Besides, until Rias was done facing the wrath of her mother, he truly had no obligations pressing down on him.
"Fine. We can do that."
"Great!" she chirped, clapping her hands together. "But first let me take a quick shower!"
He opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance.
With a flick of her fingers, her clothes vanished in a shimmer of magic, leaving her entirely nude without the faintest hint of embarrassment. Her hand casually slipped beneath her chest to lift and adjust, the motion so natural it was almost absurd. Then she turned on her heel, walking with a deliberate sway toward the bathroom attached to his room.
At the door, she paused and peered back, eyes half-lidded with mischief.
"Unless, of course, you'd like to join me for a bath? Don't be shy, I promise I won't bit—"
The door closed before she could finish, his hand having shut it firmly with a flat expression on his face.
"Enough of your nonsense. Surely you wouldn't want to waste time with such distractions. Not now."
"Hmph! You're no fun," her voice called from behind the door, followed by a breathy giggle and the unmistakable hiss of water flowing from the showerhead.
She didn't take long. Less than half an hour passed before the door opened again. And for a fleeting moment, he didn't recognize her.
Her hair, usually tied into a practical ponytail, now flowed freely—an obsidian cascade that shimmered in the light and fell past her waist like liquid ink. She wasn't wearing her uniform, nor her shrine maiden attire. Instead, she wore a soft red dress that hugged her figure with casual elegance, the white shoulder sleeves giving it a playful contrast. Around her neck, a delicate heart-shaped pendant sparkled faintly, catching the room's light.
"I'm ready!" she announced with a smile. "Let's go before it's too late. We should enjoy this moment, before Buchou returns and monopolizes you again."
He raised a brow, not disapproving, but genuinely surprised.
"We're only taking a walk through the manor," he said. "There was no need for something quite this… elaborate. Especially considering that you wear your uniform for nearly every other occasion."
She twirled slightly, the hem of her dress catching the air, and winked.
"Maybe so. But I felt like dressing up for my favorite partner today."
He didn't respond.
But he didn't argue either.
The girl puffed her cheeks in an exaggerated pout, clearly not thrilled by his remark. "I'm a woman, you know? My wardrobe consists of more than just uniforms and shrine clothes. I do have other outfits."
Archer raised a brow, his voice calm, edged with mild amusement. "You hardly wear any of them. The only time I remember you dressing differently was when I visited your apartment and went shopping with you, Asia, and the others."
It was true. Back then, she'd worn something similar, a white dress with frills at the hem, playful and just a bit flirty. He remembered it only because of how out of place it had felt to see her like that, like a bird willingly shedding its feathers to prance among mortals.
Rolling her eyes, Akeno clearly wasn't fazed by his commentary. She grabbed his arm with both hands and began dragging him along the corridor. "That's rich, coming from you. Other than your teacher get-up and that ominous cloak of yours, I haven't seen you wear anything else. And that's despite Buchou giving you a full wardrobe."
He blinked. Right. The clothes.
He had almost forgotten about them, gifts neatly folded and untouched, stored away in a drawer back at the house in Kuoh. Formalwear, casual attire, even summer yukatas. All pristine. All unused. Why bother? In combat, non-Projected outfits were a liability, begging to be burned, shredded, or blasted apart, and unlike his gear, not something he could repair instantly like his Projections.
Still, her tone shifted, and her violet eyes shimmered with something gentler.
"You're not on a battlefield today," she said softly. "So, just for my sake, could you wear something more… casual? Please?"
Her hands came together in a hopeful clasp, and her lips curved into a pleading smile. Damn it. That look was getting harder to ignore.
With a resigned sigh, the familiar shimmer of mana surrounded him. The black armor and crimson shroud dissolved, replaced with a crisp, button-up shirt—charcoal grey—and dark jeans tailored to fit. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting to the lighter attire.
"There. Happy?"
Akeno tilted her head and scrutinized him like an art curator examining a newly unveiled painting. She even circled around him once, twice, with theatrical deliberation.
"You really do like dark colours, don't you?" she mused. "Ever tried a white shirt? But still, this works. You look… handsome."
She cooed the word as she whipped out her phone and snapped several pictures before he could even protest.
"Oi, did I say you could do that?"
He reached out, but she danced backward with a laugh, holding the phone high like a prized trophy. Her tongue stuck out playfully. "Too slow! You'll have to catch me if you want me to delete them."
Then she spun on her heel. "Come on! There's a courtyard garden you need to see."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but followed.
They moved through a side corridor Archer hadn't yet explored. As they passed, a few maids paused mid-step, whispered something among themselves, and then hurried away with nervous glances being tossed in his direction.
He frowned. Was it intimidation? Or something else? Brushing the odd reaction aside, he stepped out into the open just behind Akeno and stopped.
"…Just how big is this place?"
The sight that greeted him was something out of a fairytale. Vast gardens stretched into the horizon, each one perfectly manicured. Tall hedges formed intricate mazes. Flowerbeds bloomed in precise patterns, some spirals, some stars, all breathtaking. In the distance, a grand glass greenhouse shimmered like a jewel.
It once again reminded him of the Palace of Versailles, only this was… livelier. Surprising for something found in the Underworld. He wouldn't be surprised if someone without the ability to fly would be able to wander in and not be seen again until sundown.
Akeno turned, her expression softening as she saw his awe. And this time, her smile wasn't playful or teasing. It was simply beautiful.
"I'll take it as an achievement to make you this surprised. But I can't blame you, Lord and Lady Gremory take pride in their estate and have done their best to make it as beautiful as possible, including the garden. I think there are about a hundred gardeners that tend to this place every day."
Talk about extravagance. Once again, he was struck by just how absurdly wealthy the Devils were. Then again, considering their status, it made sense. This family was effectively royalty, after all, and grandiose opulence came with the territory. As he followed Akeno toward the sprawling hedge maze, the air was rich with the scent of flowers, the serenity of the surroundings wrapping around him like a gentle cloak. It was almost surreal. Who would've thought the Underworld could offer such tranquility? Even the breeze that brushed against his skin felt indistinguishable from that of the human world… Soft, natural, almost inviting.
"When we were little, Rias and I would spend hours in here playing hide and seek," Akeno said, her tone soft with nostalgia. "It was our favorite place to escape to whenever Lady Venelana forced us into another one of her hours-long etiquette lessons. Not that we ever stayed hidden for long, Grayfia always managed to find us, no matter where we were. Eventually, we memorized the entire maze like the backs of our hands."
She smiled faintly at the memory, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes.
"We even had Koneko join in at one point. Thanks to her, we could avoid Grayfia more often, she had a knack for sensing when the maid was close by."
She continued telling more stories about her past, from her first meeting with Yuuto to Gasper and so on. Though as she walked in front of him It didn't take long for Archer to notice something rather odd about the clothes worn by Akeno. His sharp vision meant he couldn't help but see how closely the fabric was hugging her behind and highlighting the heart-shaped contours.
'Don't tell me… she's not wearing anything underneath…' his eyes twitched, yet for some reason he did not find himself to be that surprised. With this girl, he really should have expected such a thing long before at this rate.
"Did something catch your eye?" she asked, stopping at her tracks and looking over her shoulder with a sly grin on her face.
"You are taking a big risk, doing such a thing when we are still in the Gremory manor. Are you not afraid someone might discover you?" A gust of wind hit them, slightly raising the skirt which only confirmed his suspicion and gave the man an urge to slap his own forehead.
"Oh my, I may have been a little too excited to go on this little date of ours that I may have forgotten to put on a few things."
"Sure you did." He trusted her words as much as he trusted Rider whenever she came to his classroom insisting it was just because she was bored, and not to garner a reaction out of him with her teasing.
"Tell me Archer, do you think this counts as our first date? I wanted to bring you along with me and visit Lucifaad together. While I may not visit this place often, I know there are several spots that we could have visited and had tons of fun. It is much more lively than Kuoh."
A date, huh. Well if she wanted to see it in that way he supposed there was nothing wrong with that. Then again, their surroundings certainly gave the impression of it being one, along with their respective attire.
"Then it is going to be a very short date, I'm afraid."
"I don't mind. As long as I get to spend some time with you, then that's all that matters." Her voice was dry, almost too composed, as she looked him dead in the eyes. There was no playfulness in her tone, only quiet frustration. "We barely get to have any time together lately, especially after what happened at the beach."
The bluntness of her words struck harder than he expected. Archer winced internally at the reminder, scratching the back of his head in awkward guilt. She was still holding a grudge, clearly. And really, he couldn't blame her, not after what had happened with Rider. Even he had been caught off guard by how that mess unfolded.
"Let's just… put that behind us," he said, trying to wave off the tension in his voice. "It already happened, and thinking about it over and over won't help."
Akeno tapped her chin thoughtfully, her expression unreadable for a moment… before she shook her head, lips pressed in disapproval.
"Unfortunately I cannot do that. We're so far from each other, as much as I want to deny it, I can't help but enjoy myself whenever I think about what happened back then. Like getting a taste of a forbidden fruit." The way her voice became, sent a chill down his spine especially when her eyes turned slightly hazy and looked at him with a mischievous smile. "What do you think Buchou's reaction would be if she saws doing that instead in her room? On her bed or the office? Wouldn't it be exciting?" she said excitedly, sounding genuinely curious in seeing those outcomes happen.
At this point the Servant no longer felt safe and felt a bit of pity towards his Master only for his thoughts to come to a halt when he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. This went on for a few seconds before she pulled back and looked at him with a smile on her face. "Just kidding~ I won't lie, a part of me definitely does feel excited at those ideas, but the last thing I would want to do is to hurt her in any way, or make you uncomfortable. But if you're on board with it, we can work something out~"
Work something out… he did not even want to think about what she had planned. "You are getting more comfortable making such jokes, aren't you?"
"I learned that it's the only way to gain a reaction out of you, Mr silver tongue. You are not so different yourself., she said, tapping her finger against his chest before grabbing his arms and pressing it against her bust, the thin layer of clothing doing little to hide the feeling of her nipples pressing against his palm. Along with her heart beating like a drum. "How does it feel? While I do admit Rider has a certain charm that I don't possess… I am more than confident with my breasts, which are bigger than hers."
Grabbing his other hand, the girl placed it on her behind, his fingers easily sinking within her flesh. "Or maybe you are someone who appreciates a woman's butt? If so, I am also very confident in that area… you can knead it as much as you want. It'll… hng~! It'll feel much softer without any clothing."
More bold than usual, she did not seem to mind their location at all. Perhaps she found the open space more exciting, with the only way someone could spot them was if they stared down from the upper area of the manor. "You don't have to keep comparing yourself to her."
"I still hold a grudge against Rider even though I learned a lot back then. It was supposed to be my moment, and she snatched it away from me. Now… now, I want to continue where we left off."
Their lips reconnected, this time with more fervor and passion behind both of them, her tongue invaded his mouth where his was ready to wrestle it into submission as her breathing turned more heavy. Her hand sneaks beneath his shirt, feeling his stomach as she started to pull down her dress about to reveal everything underneath. Taking a moment to separate and catch her breath, Akeno pulled back, a string of saliva connecting their lips.
Rather than continue, Archer's eyes widened the next instant. Without hesitation, he shoved Akeno to the ground beneath him.
"Kya~! So rough, I don't mi—mmph!"
Her teasing comment was abruptly muffled as Archer clamped a hand over her mouth, shooting her a sharp look. His other hand gesture for silence, eyes scanning the surroundings with laser focus.
The girl misinterpreting his actions closed her eyes with an eager heart, expecting Archer to lunge at her like a wild beast, uncontrolled just like last time with Rider. She had wanted to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention for days now, with multiple dreams driving her to the brink of desire each night but falling far short of the real thing.
But nothing came.
Instead, the man tilted his head upward.
Not at her.
At the sky.
There was a moment of stillness—curious, quiet.
Then—
Whoosh!
A colossal gust of wind ripped across the landscape, lifting petals from the flowerbeds and spirals of dust from the earth. They whirled together, forming a swirling vortex of colour and grit, dancing like spirits summoned from the soil… and then the shadow arrived.
A massive shape blotted out the artificial light of the sky, casting them both into momentary darkness. Wings, vast, ancient, stretched across a large area, their span so wide they obscured entire fields under their shadow in a single beat. The air turned heavy, saturated with the sheer presence of the thing above.
The dragon descended.
Its scales shimmered a deep, near-black violet, more shadow than colour, gleaming with an oily sheen. Jagged teeth as long as a grown man's arm jutted from its monstrous jaws, and two massive golden horns curled from its head like a twisted crown of power. The demonic energy it radiated sent a visible shiver through the young woman's being.
"A dragon?" Archer murmured, a note of awe—not disbelief—tinging his voice.
He'd seen myths, legends, things mortals dreamed of and nightmares dared not shape. But never had he seen one of these alive. Dragons—true dragons—were living manifestations of power, and it seemed this world held that truth intact.
The great beast did not pass by.
It landed.
Right at the Gremory Manor's main entrance.
When it spoke, the ground seemed to vibrate, the air trembled with weight.
"Sirzechs. Ajuka. I have answered your call and stand ready to aid you with this mission and meet this powerful new ally. Mephisto sends his regards, by the way."
Archer's ears perked at the declaration, and without hesitation, he rose to his feet. He extended a hand to Akeno, helping her up and straightening out her dress with practiced ease.
"Looks like our time's up," he said calmly, silver grey eyes narrowing as he gauged the distance. "I've a feeling that's the ally we were told to wait for… So even dragons can be reincarnated into Devils?"
And without waiting for a reply, he vanished, dissolving into blue motes of light, slipping into spirit form and soaring away toward Rias most likely.
Akeno stood there for a long second, disheveled, breath catching in her chest as the dust continued to settle around her. The absence of Archer left her feeling slightly colder, slightly more alone.
But her gaze was on the dragon.
Not with awe.
With resentment.
Her lips parted, and in a voice low enough to be stolen by the wind, she muttered bitterly beneath her breath.
"Couldn't he have waited just one more hour?"
{Break}
-???-
They had stood on the edge of something monumental, something that could reshape the balance of power in every known corner of the supernatural world. A new force, alien in origin yet ripe with potential, born from another realm entirely. A kind of magic untamed by the likes of Sacred Gears or Devil reincarnation, a power that, once bound, would follow orders with blind precision, unclouded by emotion or rebellion.
To most, it sounded like a fantasy.
To Katerea, it sounded like madness.
At first, she'd scoffed at the notion. How could a mere human, even one whose name had somehow survived the erosion of time and slipped into the annals of legend, come anywhere near her level of power? They would have no Sacred Gear, no demonic lineage. They were ants beneath the boot of true Devils.
Even Shalba had begun to waver, grumbling that it might well be a fool's errand. But everything changed the moment they watched that cursed Rating Game, when the Gremory girl revealed that she had summoned one of these Heroic Spirits.
What Katerea had once dismissed as baseless fantasy suddenly became the one thread of ambition she couldn't let go of. If that crimson-haired upstart could summon one… what was stopping the three of them from summoning hundreds?
No… thousands even. An army of Heroic Spirits, bound to them. Loyal. Unbreakable.
Not even the New Satans, Qliphoth, or any Angel, Fallen Angel, or pantheon, however ancient, would be able to stand in their way. And so, with ambition burning anew and failure no longer an option, they launched into action. Katerea herself corrected the summoning ritual, an abomination of a draft given to them by that pretentious fool Diodora. Her corrections, drawn from the combined knowledge of several mages bound to their faction, made the spell flawless. It should have worked perfectly.
So where had it all gone so catastrophically wrong?
Now, within the suffocating gloom of a cursed forest, Katerea clutched her torn abdomen, blood gushing from both mouth and stomach. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she slumped against the cold bark of a twisted tree. A winding trail of crimson marked her crawl from the stronghold to this miserable perch.
Above, the artificial moon flickered, casting a sickly light.
"Ugh—!"
She gagged on the taste of iron and bile, barely suppressing another pained cry. Her mind raced, trying desperately to make sense of it all.
They'd gathered everything. The reagents, the vessels, the incantations. Every sigil was drawn with perfect precision. Every chant spoken with exact cadence.
And yet…
She wasn't even chosen to be the first Master.
The honour had gone to Creuserey Asmodeus, the smug bastard. A disgrace. Despite her protests, her expertise, her bloodline, he'd been the one to take the first claim. And Shalba had listened to him—not her.
Katerea seethed, even now. When her own summoning came, when her Heroic Spirit stepped through that gate, she'd planned to bring him low. To strip him of title, power, and dignity. And she would've, too.
But even now, in this agonising haze, she remembered the summoning.
The floor had ignited in a circle of blood-red light. The smell of burnt ozone. The trembling air. Creuserey had stood within the centre, grinning like a man already crowned, letting droplets of his blood fall with arrogant flourish.
The chant rang out across the room.
She had held her tongue. Fate was on her side. She knew it. Her Leviathan heritage would not fail her when the time came to summon forth a Heroic Spirit fit for dominating all.
More magic gathered, spiralling into a storm of blinding force. The vortex consumed the room, its pressure immense, enough to flatten even a high-ranking Devil if they weren't prepared.
But Creuserey, Shalba, and of course herself… the three of them had withstood it.
And then, the summoning was completed.
She remembered the instant of silence. The moment before everything shattered.
And the horror that came after.
Motes of shimmering light began to coalesce in the center of the summoning circle, swirling like glowing embers in a violent storm. Magic crackled in the air, thick and volatile, as the vortex surged upward and birthed a towering silhouette… immense, utterly foreign and surrounded by an immense amount of energy. Every eye in the chamber widened in silent awe, their breath caught in their throats.
They had done it.
The impossible, the forbidden, they had succeeded. That moment of triumph, fleeting as it was, shattered in an instant. Katerea couldn't remember it clearly. The scene fragmented like broken glass. One second, Creuserey was shouting, his voice laced with glee, as the Command Seals lit up upon his arm, brilliant and pulsing with power. The next moment, that very arm was gone, torn from his body so fast that none of them had even seen the figure move.
A pause. Then screaming.
The summoned entity—no hero, but a monster—immediately erupted into violence.
A blur of death.
Katerea remembered screaming her strongest incantations, hurling spells with lethal precision. Creuserey beside her, unleashing torrents of destruction despite the pain of losing an arm, and Shalba trying to reassert control. None of it mattered. The creature danced through their efforts as though time and space itself bent to its will.
It struck without pattern or mercy. In seconds, their subordinates were reduced to mangled heaps. Blood and scattered bits of flesh smearing the walls. Limbs hanging like torn paper dolls.
And then… Creuserey.
The black-haired Devil lord with violet eyes much like her own had barely raised his guard when the thing reached him, looking to finish the job. Katerea could only watch, paralyzed, as her fellow trueborn Satan heir's skull was crushed with a sickening crunch. Eyeballs popped from their sockets, flying like pearls across the chamber. His final expression was burned into her memory, total shock making way for utter terror, lips parted in a soundless scream.
Panic swallowed the stronghold.
Everything became chaos: spells flying, bodies screaming, the scent of fire and blood thick in the air. When Katerea felt something sharp tear into her stomach, her thoughts fractured—no longer caring about retaliation, only escape. Survive. Run. In desperation, she seized the bleeding husk of Shalba, hurling him into the monster's path like a sandbag as she made her escape. His shriek echoed for only a heartbeat before the noise made way for a wet, pulping sound.
She didn't wait.
Injured, magic depleted, lungs on fire, Katerea threw herself through shattered corridors and burning halls, flinging her own dying underlings behind her as obstacles. Let them die useful, if they'd failed to live that way. The shrieks behind her, the tearing of flesh, the roaring inferno… she didn't dare look back, even when she'd long since made it out of the forest and was deep in the wilderness.
She didn't even take the time to think or care about what direction she was heading in, so long as it was away from there.
Branches tore at her cloak, roots snagged her ankles, and blood poured from the wound in her gut as she staggered into the cursed forest. Her vision blurred, her breaths shallow and uneven, until she collapsed at the foot of a gnarled, ancient tree. Dirt and ash clung to her fingers. Her body trembled.
"It shouldn't have followed me… I should be safe," she whispered, each word clawing its way past cracked lips. Even the act of breathing now felt monumental. Her demonic reserves were nearly gone, her magic leaking like sand from a shattered hourglass.
"I can't stay here… it won't find me here… If it finds me… I'll die…"
She leaned against the tree's bark, cold and coarse against her back. Yet somewhere deep within her, the flame of survival refused to gutter out. Desperation bred strength, and she latched onto it. With a pained groan, Katerea forced herself to rise. One hand clutched her gaping wound, the other gripped the tree for balance. Then she moved—one step, then another, staggering deeper into the woods.
No prints. No blood. No trace.
She wiped her path clean, dragging herself into the forest's belly like a wounded serpent.
Where she would go, she did not know. But she would live. She would heal. And when she did…
"Rizevim… he will not turn me away. Not if I bring him the ritual. Even he wouldn't refuse that."
Her voice was barely audible. Her lips twitched in bitter irony.
Perhaps she would never reclaim the influence she once had. Not after that old maniac tore it all from her. But aligning with Rizevim—even under his madness—was still better than being stuck beneath an unworthy fool's thumb.
At least with him… she might still command respect, even as a subordinate.
"A cave?"
The thought flickered through Katerea's weary mind as she stared at the shadowed opening carved into the mountainside. That hadn't been there before—she was certain of it. The terrain was familiar. She would have remembered a cave.
But she was too drained to question it.
Putting one trembling foot in front of the other, she approached, hand clenched tightly against the wound in her side. Her fingers were slick with blood, her robes shredded and clinging to her form. Every breath rattled in her lungs like broken glass. She dared to glance down and nearly vomited. The gash had grown ugly, blackened edges, swelling flesh, bone peeking out just beneath. She swallowed bile. Without a Phoenix tear, she doubted she could heal this. Not completely.
Still, forward.
Crack!
Her forehead slammed into something solid.
"Agh!" she yelped, stumbling back. She nearly collapsed again, catching herself just in time as her knees buckled. Dazed and blinking, she looked up—eyes glassy, barely able to focus.
A figure stood before her.
He hadn't been there a moment ago.
She focused on the image slowly, as though her brain had to stitch each individual piece together. Sandals. Gold-plated greaves. Leather straps bound around his waist like a Roman centurion's skirt. A brilliant chestplate of divine gold shimmered under the moonlight, and then—those eyes.
Crimson. Still. Calm.
They stared down at her with an unnerving indifference.
A chill swept over her like icy floodwater. Her body froze.
Her lips parted in a silent scream.
And then she heard it, sobbing.
Her eyes darted to the cave behind him. Shadows flickered, and blood—so much blood stained the ground like a ritual gone wrong. And within that gloom, she saw the crumpled shape of a boy. Arrogant once. Proud. Diodora Astaroth.
Both arms were gone. The legs had been twisted at impossible angles. His chest barely rose with each shallow breath. His eyes—those golden eyes once so full of entitlement—were now empty. Dead inside. Or wishing for it.
"No… No!" Katerea shrieked, turning on her heel, bolting like a deer spooked by the scent of a predator. Pain lanced through her body at the sudden movement, but she didn't slow, not even when the wounds reopened and blood poured anew. Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred. But she kept going.
"Hah… hah… hah…!"
Her magic reserves were gone. Utterly drained. All she had left was grit—raw, mortal endurance. She stumbled once, twice, scraping her hands and knees, but each time she forced herself back up, staggering into the night.
"—!?"
Her instincts screamed.
A massive shadow loomed above. She dove sideways just in time as a colossal tree was hurled at her like a spear. It shattered against the earth with a deafening crash, erupting into a rain of wooden shrapnel. A single breath later, and she would have been impaled.
He was chasing her.
"Leave me alone! I have nothing to do with this! It was Shalba and Creuserey's plan!" she screamed, voice cracking with desperation. "This is all their doing!"
But she knew he wouldn't listen. It was him—the monster. The same kind of beast Creuserey had summoned. This same type of entity had obliterated Diodora's fortress. The thing behind the disappearances. The one behind all the blood.
He was no Servant. He was wrath incarnate.
And now she had escaped the jaws of one predator only to stumble into another.
"A-AH!"
She looked back to keep an eye out for her assailant, and in doing so didn't see the drop ahead.
Her foot found only air.
Down she went, tumbling down the incline. Rocks and roots scraped against her skin. Her body slammed against the ground in a mess of limbs and torn cloth. When she finally reached the bottom, she lay still, gasping, barely conscious.
Pain blanketed her.
And… he was there.
No sound. No scent. No ripple of magic.
He was simply there, as though he had always been standing right beside her.
The golden-armored figure loomed over her like a divine executioner. Crimson eyes met hers again. He crouched, silently, his hand moving with eerie precision to trace the curve of her jaw, almost curious.
His hand closed around her throat.
"Ugh!" she choked as her feet left the ground. He lifted her with no more effort than picking up a scroll.
She kicked, thrashed, claws scraping uselessly against his arm. It was like trying to cut stone with her bare fingers. The strength was incomprehensible. Her vision dimmed at the edges, stars dancing across her sight. The monster, if such a term was even sufficient, growled. A deep, resonant sound, low and bestial, nothing human behind it.
No reason.
No mercy.
And Katerea Leviathan, suspended in the grip of that godlike strength, knew then—this thing should never have been summoned."UGH!"
Her strangled cry tore from her throat as she was hoisted into the air like a ragdoll. The creature's grip was vice-like, fingers curled around her neck with effortless malice. Katerea kicked, clawed, her legs flailing and fingernails scrabbling at the golden gauntlet that held her fast. But her resistance was laughable—akin to a child trying to crack open a vault with their bare hands.
Then came the sound.
A slow, guttural growl, low and thunderous, like something ancient waking in the depths of the earth. The creature's lips curled into something resembling a grin—wrong in shape, wrong in emotion. It was the smile of a beast mimicking a man, and it made her blood run cold.
There was nothing behind his eyes.
No spark. No logic. No cruelty, even.
Only purpose.
"No… no no no!" Katerea gasped, voice barely more than a breath now, each word rasping out between strangled gulps of air.
He was going to take her back.
Back to that cave.
Back to the horrors that Diodora had been subjected to.
She could feel it in his movements, in the direction of his steps as he turned, her dangling form bobbing in his grasp like a caught animal. And in that moment—dangling, helpless, suffocating—regret came crashing down upon her.
Why had she left her hiding spot? Why hadn't she waited longer? Stayed still? Stayed hidden?
Spots swam in her vision. Her lungs screamed. Her head pounded. The world grew dimmer by the second.
Her thoughts slurred together as oxygen thinned.
This was it.
This was—
Woosh!
A sharp whisper sliced the air.
The creature's hand jolted open.
She was dropped.
Hard.
Katerea collapsed onto the ground in a heap, coughing violently, clutching her throat. Stars exploded across her vision. Her body trembled, unable to rise.
But she heard it.
Another arrow.
This one struck with a metallic ring, a direct hit against armor.
Then with a loud crack, a violent thud as the golden figure was flung backward, crashing into the rock wall behind him with force enough to shake the very earth.
Her eyes fluttered open. Just barely.
And through the blurring haze, she saw it.
An arrow, gleaming and silver, jutted from the monster's vambraces, as the limb was held across his face as if having stopped the projectile from striking there at first. The second around aimed for his side, a wound that the Servant barely felt as it was removed and tossed to the side.
She couldn't see who had fired.
Couldn't even think.
All she could do now was hope, hope with the last shred of awareness she had left, that when her eyes opened again, it would not be to a blood-stained cave with the body of the barely alive Diodora next to her nor the eternal slumber of death.
And then, darkness claimed her.
----------------
The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.