Nine's Own Goal vs Berserker - 2
"▅▅▇▇▅▃▇!" With a ferocious roar, Berserker charged ahead, aiming for Momonga, who was en route to regroup with the rest.
"I'll handle this!" Reinforcement surged through Shirou's body, empowering him with the strength and agility he needed to take on the monstrous Berserker. With a fierce cry, he struck out with a well-aimed kick at Berserker's face, but the blow was like hitting a solid wall. Still, it distracted the enemy long enough for the magic caster to escape.
"Go Momonga-san!"
The Servant's vitriolic gaze refocused on Shirou, a shiver running down his spine at the look of madness Berserker held within his burning eyes.
Kicking off its face, Shirou backflipped as Berserker lashed out with his butcher weapon in an attempt to bisect him.
Kanshou and Bakuya danced in his hands as Shirou attacked against Berserker's rage. However, the magus severely underestimated just how much more powerful the Servant became. Each one of his strikes attacked with terrifying force, enough to make his bones rattle. Unable to take the punishment, Kanshou and Bakuya cracked and broke under the assault.
"Damn!" He was ready to trace another copy until something appeared, stopping the Servant from going any further.
"[Thousand Tomb Prison]!" Tabula cast a barrier spell around the Servant, preventing any escape and trapping the Boss in place. The spell continuously drains the Player's MP, with the rate increasing based on the duration and effectiveness of the spell.
"Hurry, Emiya-san! I can't hold it down forever!" Tabula forewarned, struggling to hold his hand in place.
Regrouping with what remained of the party, a rather startling question came to him. "Was this Berserker's true strength?"
In the Holy Grail War, Servants relied on their Masters to provide the needed prana and essence in order to keep them chained to the world. This was a rather daunting task, as two factors sought to impede this. The first was the Masters themselves and how much prana they could provide, limiting them. Secondly, Gaia, the physical manifestation of Earth's will, constantly aimed to eliminate them from the world. Hence, it wasn't uncommon for magus and others to seek out methods of collecting more prana to boost their Servant's strength.
The Servants summoned from the Throne of Heroes were not whole per se. It was more accurate to say that the summoning ritual pulled a copy of the Servant into the physical world. As such, there were sometimes inconsistencies when forcing the copy into the different Servant Classes, causing Servants to be weakened or lacking in some areas compared to their original selves.
Shirou could feel his heart pounding with adrenaline as he looked upon the monstrous Berserker. He knew that this Servant of Madness was not like any other he had faced before. It wasn't pulled from the Throne of Heroes, nor was Gaia exerting her influence on it to remove the anomaly. This Servant was operating at peak condition and performance, powered by the world's system as a boss, with no restrictions or limitations. Despite the challenge, Shirou was determined to handle the situation and protect those around him.
Berserker's once noble face was twisted into a terrifying visage, resembling a mindless beast more than a man. The warrior-like persona and instinct he showed previously were gone, replaced with full-on madness. Shirou wagered that, unlike his sister's black giant from the war, this Berserker was no different from a beast loose from its cage.
"To think the boss's second form would be this powerful..." Momonga muttered.
"It is an End Boss. Even with all of our abilities combined, it doesn't surprise me that we're failing. We would've needed a legion at best to defeat this one." Tabula said, sounding awfully resigned.
"Stow your fears, my friends! We're not out of it just yet. Emiya-san, your plan, will it still work?" Asked the Touch Me.
"Honestly? I would say we have a 50/50 chance." Shirou answered.
"That's better than nothing." Bukubukchagama coolly replied.
"We've made it this far. No point in calling it quits now!" Yamaiko spoke up, knocking her gauntlet together.
"Emiya-san, we have followed your lead, and it has yet to lead us astray. It's clear now that the boss in front of us is wholly different from the one earlier. What shall we do?" Said Touch Me.
The rest of the party turned as one towards Shirou. A hurried glance showed the barrier holding back Berserker was already cracking and wasn't going to last much longer. They were depending on him, and he needed to make a decision.
"With the exception of Touch Me-san, Berserker would destroy anyone that comes close. Bukubukuchagama-san, guard Yamaiko-san. If she dies, then our chances drop exponentially. It's important for everyone to keep their distance and avoid attracting the boss's notice."
"Surely there has to be something more the rest of us can do?" Momonga stated. To leave everything up to them while the rest sat in the back left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't alone in that thought, as the others voiced a few objections.
"What can you do?" Shirou returned, there was no accusation in his voice. "I understand your concern, Momonga, but Berserker's secondary phase is stronger, faster, and, above all else, unpredictable. Even Bukubukchagama-san, with a full tank build, can fall to the boss's onslaught if we're not careful. That's not to mention your still recovering MP reserve and its high magical resistance." He argued.
"That is true, Emiya-san. However, we cannot in good conscience, let you go at this alone. The only chance we have at defeating his foe is you. Should you fall, we'll have no hope of winning. We can at least serve as a distraction if necessary, but we must stand together in this fight." Touch Me countered.
And though he didn't say anything, he knew they was right.
"…Very well, but do take great care. One slip-up can easily lead to your death as well. Intervene if it looks like I won't make it. Other than that, leave it to me." Shirou compromised.
The rest nodded in agreement.
"Trace on!"
In his grasp, a lengthy sword materialized. The sword's design was unadorned, with only a subdued golden hilt and crossguard that connected to a balanced and proportionate double-edged blade. Despite its lack of embellishments, it emitted a comforting and holy energy.
[Ascalon: The Blessed Sword by Which Force is Slain – Divine Tier Sword]
The mythical Ascalon holds a significant place in history as a legendary holy blade. It was celebrated for its reputation as a dragon slayer sword, having been wielded by Saint George, a revered hero and saint of the Catholic Church, who used it to safeguard his people. Ascalon was an unparalleled force in defense, as it could easily repel all sorts of harmful or demonic forces. The sword was said to rival Durandal in terms of invincibility. However, what makes it truly captivating was its ability to transform its protective power into an offensive one, rendering it a formidable weapon in battle. Its rich history stands as a magnificent testament to its enduring legacy and incredible power, making it an object of awe and wonder.
Holding the sword in his hands, his mind traveled back to a simpler time. When he would go to the dojo and practice with his shinai.
Over the years, Shirou expanded his repertoire, expanding upon his skill sets to not solely rely on Kanshou and Bakuya. While he was no master of the sword compared to the likes of Saber, he'd like to think he has gotten better from his time as a complete novice.
After delivering a final attack, Berserker managed to break free from the barrier. As anticipated, the Mad Servant charged towards Shirou to enact his revenge. The rest of the group scattered as per the plan, with Touch Me, Bukubukuchagama, and Yamaiko keeping their distance but standing by to provide aid if needed.
"[Reinforcement]!" Prana filled his magic circuits, activating the artificial nerves. Streaks of light neon green lines appeared on his body, concentrated heavily on his arms and legs, with interconnecting streaks flowing from his body.
Slamming his foot onto the pavement, like a gun cocked and ready, Shirou shot forward. The Servant and magus met, and an explosion of force detonated from their weapons making contact.
Their dance of death resumed.
As their weapons clashed once again, an odd sense of calm washed over him. When was the last time Shirou felt such a rush?
Adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
The vibration of his arms after each swing and block.
His muscles tensed and contracted, bracing for every hit thrown.
The distant beating of his heart echoed clearly in his ear.
Every fiber of his being was coursed with intent. Where one simple mistake was all it would take to lead him to death.
All of his senses were heightened, fine-tuned, sharpened, and polished to a sword's edge. His only objective was to emerge victorious against the dread foe before him.
Slowly, Shirou lost himself in the rhythm, and his friends' presence was pushed back into the back of his head. Only one thing mattered, and that was defeating Berserker!
'clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.'
The sound of ringing steel echoed across the battlefield.
Steel met steel. Sparks flew with every clash. Each swing strikes with impossible force.
To the onlookers, Shirou's form blurred, and for one certain skeletal necromancer, it reminded him of the memory of when he first met the weapon-spamming Player. Each of them was stunned by the display in front of them. The sight of a man keeping up with a monster.
None were more stunned than Touch Me. The insectoid paladin watched everything with a critical eye, his years of experience catching every little detail within the fight.
Touch Me would have described the scene in front of him as a storm of steel. Every move Shirou made was a blur, yet it all seemed like an elaborate dance. Ascalon struck with incredible speed, precision, and power that could rival even that of the berserk boss. The way Shirou fought flowed like practiced steps on a stage, making it all the more captivating to watch.
Shirou's fighting style was truly impressive. He moved with such grace and nimbleness, attacking without any hesitation whatsoever. He was light on his toes, and his movements were so fluid that it almost looked like he was performing an elaborate dance. Occasionally, he even pulled off acrobatic feats like jumping to avoid an attack or leaping over the boss itself to reposition himself. It was truly captivating to watch.
Warrior-type Players rely heavily on muscle movement and memory. Any movement or action that the physical body can perform can be recreated and enhanced through YGGDRASIL's system. It was why Players can leap or jump beyond what would be realistically possible or perform incredible feats of strength. As a veteran, Touch Me was capable of some impressive feats himself, and it was these skillsets and physicality that earned him the distinguished title of World Champion.
However, what he saw Shirou perform blew everything out of the water for him. Even taking into account suspension of disbelief regarding the rules of the game, it should be near impossible to react and move as he did. The reaction time needed to analyze the incoming attack, the mind processing said information, and the time needed to execute said action had to be done in a mere fraction of a second. Every movement, every turn, and every shift in posture were carefully measured and calculated, and then executed. It was clear to everyone that Shirou was a master of his craft, moving with incredible speed and precision and analyzing incoming attacks with lightning-fast reflexes.
Not even he could manage to perform even a third of what Shirou was showing. What made it all the more frightening was that Shirou never once used a class skill.
That meant Shirou was doing this all without any assistance from the YGGDRASIL's mainframe system.
Touch Me gripped his weapons all the tighter. Were it possible, Touch Me's face would form a wry but excited grin as a thought passed through his mind, "Just how powerful are you, Emiya-san?"
As the duel between Shirou and the boss unfolded, those on the sidelines watched intently, waiting for the right moment to intervene.
Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama circled the fight, waiting for an opening.
They knew they had to be cautious and not disrupt the rhythm of the fight, so they held back for the time being and allowed Shirou to do what he needed to do.
Shirou tilted his head, narrowly avoiding being beheaded by Berserker's axe-sword. Using the momentum, he slashed upwards and diagonally with Ascalon. However, unlike before, Berserker showed no signs of discomfort or recognition as the holy blade sliced deeply into the Servant's rough skin.
'I wonder…'
As Shirou and the boss continued their duel, Shirou noticed some interesting things about his opponent. It appeared that the boss had been weakened in some way, it was still incredibly tough, but it became more vulnerable to attacks than before. Shirou's light slashes and jabs seemed to be doing more damage than they had previously, and the boss was no longer blocking or dodging as much as it had been. Berserker's sense of self-preservation seemed to have dropped, having focused all its energy on attacking. Despite this, Shirou remained focused on winning the fight.
Their little song and dance continued, with Shirou narrowly avoiding death by a hair's breadth at every turn. Just a few more hits in…
Berserker went for an overhead strike, his weapon descending quickly. Caught out in a difficult position, Shirou was forced to block instead of dodging. He brought Ascalon to bear to defend, bracing himself. The Servant's weapon struck hard, forcing Shirou to a knee. Were it not for the Noble Phantasm's legend, Berserker's attack would've shattered the holy blade a dozen times over. Gritting his teeth, Shirou held the attack at bay, but before he could respond, Berserker acted.
Berserker let go of his weapon completely. Bringing both hands together, Shirou was unable to defend what happened next.
A thunderclap.
His hands slapped one another with the force of a thunderstorm, generating a powerful sound and shockwave at point-blank range of Shirou.
"Aggghhh!" Shirou screamed. The concussive force all but deafened him and disrupted his equilibrium. He experienced ringing in his ears, as if the piercing sound of nails on a chalkboard had penetrated his brain. As a result, he stumbled and was vulnerable to Berserker's attack, which landed a punch in Shirou's face and sent him sliding across the floor.
"Emiya-san!" The group shouted. Touch Me and Bukubukchagama immediately charged in to take some of the aggro away from their teammate.
With enemies moving in between him and his prey, Berserker forgoes his weapon in favor of making a mad dash to finish off the downed Player.
"[Steady Breath], [Ebony Skin], [Towering Force]!" Bukubukchagama buffed herself in preparation. However, Berserker ignored her entirely, opting to jump over the pink slime rather than engage her. "What the…!"
Touch Me appeared directly in the path of the boss's charge, forcing an engagement. Berserker swung a fist at Touch Me as he held up his silver shield.
The knockback was strong, but Touch Me held through.
"[Holy Erase]!" Brilliant white light erupted from the blade as Touch Me swung his sword.
Yet again, Berserker surprised all of them. At the last possible second, Berserker arched his body backward, dodging the attack with ease. Then, in a display of sheer athleticism, he twisted his entire body and landed in a vertical inverse. In a one-handed handstand, he lashed out with his mighty legs. His mighty legs struck his opponent with surprising maneuverability, force, and speed.
"Uugggghhhaaa!" Unprepared, Touch Me took the brunt of the attack and smashed into a crystal pillar.
With no more distractions in its path, Berserker could resume its hunt. Turning, the boss came face-to-face with an enraged Shirou. During the small interval when Berserker dealt with Touch Me, Shirou had recovered enough to stand and close the distance when it was distracted.
"Rarr!" Shirou attacked, Ascalon blurring as he swung and cleaved into the Mad Servant with the longsword. His rush staggered the boss back, and Shirou sought to finish the fight once and for all. Ascalon glowed, and a myriad of colors flowed from the weapon.
"Activate! [Abyssus Draconis]!"
Ascalon's ability was known as [Abyssus Draconis: Thou Shalt a Serpent Become]. It was an interesting Noble Phantasm ability, all things considered. The Noble Phantasm's ability was that of a skill once used by Saint George himself and later granted to Ascalon as well. The ability became part of the weapon's legend over time. The ability works by seeking out a target and determining if they are good or evil. If deemed evil, Ascalon would transfigure the target, granting them the attributes of a draconian being. This status effect made them susceptible to weaknesses associated with dragon slayer swords like Ascalon or more powerful ones, such as a weapon in his arsenal, Balmung.
A rather unorthodox method of gaining an advantage, but just the one they needed for a situation like this.
Stabbing the sword into Berserker, a circular crimson dragon motif appeared. It spun and glowed bright; a crimson pattern soon spread across Berserker's ashen, dark skin, signaling that the Noble Phantasm worked.
God Hand was indeed terrifying with its ability of individual invulnerability, but certain status-aligning abilities and non-damaging effects could easily bypass it if Berserker's magic resistance didn't stop them. Hence, what had just happened.
The first condition was fulfilled. Now, he needed to...
Berserker put a stop to any further thoughts when the Servant brought his arms together and pulled Shirou into a bone-crushing bear hug! The magus struggled to free himself but felt as if his entire torso and arms were being compressed. The Servant of rage held him in a vice grip, leaving no way for him to escape.
Were his body still flesh and bone, he was sure Berserker would have shattered his entire vertebrae and destroyed his arms.
It didn't help that his HP was slowly ticking down as Berserker crushed him.
"Emiya-san!" Touch Me and Bukubukchagama rushed to aid him, but found the task of freeing him more difficult than imagined. Berserker would not let go, no matter what the two threw at the Servant. It recognized Shirou as a greater threat than either of them and wasn't going to let go any time soon.
Shirou didn't think even a few dozen projected weapons boosted to be Broken Phantasm would be enough to make Berserker let go. That, and he would most likely die first by being caught in the splash zone of the explosions.
However, a different solution presented itself.
"[Boost Magic: Spacial Roundrobin]!"
Feeling a sense of vertigo taking over, Shirou blinked. One second, he was pinned, the very next, he was standing a fair distance away, freed from the suffocating pressure. Where Berserker once held him, Tabula had taken his place.
"Go! I'll hold him down!" Shouted Tabula. "[Cosmic Chain Prison]!" Ethereal chains shot from the ground, binding Berserker and, by extension, Tabula as well. Recognizing Tabula's sacrifice, Shirou steeled himself for what was to come.
"Trace on!"
He willed the sword of Ascalon away, recycling their MP to call forth a new Noble Phantasm. Motes of light poured forth as a new sword replaced it. A masterfully crafted two-handed greatsword appeared in his hands. The sword bore a stylish cross-themed black and silver crossguard with a pure silver double-sided blade. Embedded within the hilt of the weapon was an equally beautiful azure jewel.
[Balmung: Phantasmal Greatsword, Felling of the Sky Demon – Divine Tier Sword]
A cursed holy sword, a paradox if there ever was one, one that belonged to the famed knight of myth and legend - Siegfried. This Noble Phantasm, in addition to possessing power rivaling that of even Gram and Durandal, was famed for being a powerful dragon-slaying sword. According to the myth of Siegfried, Balmung was the weapon used to kill the mighty dragon, Fafnir, bathing it in the blood that attributed it its dragon-slaying properties. An Anti-Army Noble Phantasm and perhaps one of Shirou's strongest Noble Phantasms within his Unlimited Blade Works.
With Berserker now possessing the attributes of a dragon, weapons like Balmung recognize it as such and increase its rank and potency against such opponents.
"O sword, let thee be filled." He chanted, holding the sword upright in his face. Twisting the hilt of Balmung, Shirou poured a massive amount of prana into the legendary sword. From there, the jewel glowed, and an explosive release of light and energy flowed from the blade. A twilight aura emanated from the sword, surrounding Shirou in a luminous glow. Raising it above his head, a beam of pure and uncontrolled energy shot forth from the weapon, bathing the entire cavern in light. At the center of it all was Shirou, who held it aloft.
"Everyone move!" Tabula shouted to the World Champion and Elder Slime. Leaving his fate to his friend, Tabula strengthened the bindings as Berserker's struggles increased with the activation of Balmung. "Go Emiya-san!"
"Rarrrhg! Bal-MUNG!" With a mighty roar, Shirou wielded his greatsword and brought it down on the immobile Berserker. The beam of pure mana descended slowly but with immense power, enveloping both Tabula and Berserker in a brilliant white light. The sheer intensity of the attack caused their figures to fade into a faint silhouette amidst the blinding radiance.
The resulting explosion shook the entire area, altering the landscape once again. The ground beneath them cracked and broke under the weight of the Noble Phantasm, leaving behind a scar-like gorge that nearly cleaved the entire underground in half.
Tabula was nowhere to be seen, but the party knew he wouldn't have made it out of such an attack. The same couldn't be said about Berserker, as its body survived the ordeal. Thanks to the Brain Eater's quick thinking and sacrifice, they were still able to take down its seventh life.
Status – God Hand: [5]
'Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum'
They won, but at a devastating cost. Their already small party diminished even further, leaving only himself, Touch Me, Bukubukchagama, and Yamaiko as their only support, and their only mage, Momonga. The odds weren't in their favor at all.
Shirou felt his body jerk, his sight losing focus for a second as he fell to his knees. Shortness of breath left him as he grasped for air. Fatigue was slowly but surely encroaching. This was the first time since he was displaced in this new virtual world that he truly felt consumed with exhaustion.
The reverberating sound of heartbeats didn't escape Shirou's notice. At first, he assumed they were from himself, adrenaline pumping through him, only to realize that they were beating aloud, coming from another source. It came from Berserker, and it had the same sound and beat as before. Before the Servant entered its [Madness Enchantment] state.
Was there any meaning behind it?
Too bad Shirou couldn't ponder on it any further as Berserker got his second wind. Shirou struggled to stand back up and get back into the fight, but his shaking legs were slow on the uptake.
"Touch Me-san, Bukubukuchagama-san, switch with Emiya-san. Yamaiko-san, fall back with him to the second defense line." Momonga called out, taking command momentarily.
"Understood!"
"Roger!"
Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama rushed forward, engaging Berserker as Yamaiko pulled back, coming to stand right beside him.
Seeing this, Shirou rushed to stand up and jump back into the fight, only for a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Easy there, Emiya-san." Yamaiko spoke in a soft tone. "You don't need to rush. Take a moment to rest and catch your breath."
"I can still fight." Shirou replied between labored gasps.
"I know." Yamaiko responded patiently. "But you're not alone. If you want to help them, take care of yourself first. Make sure you're not risking your life in the middle of the fight."
Shirou took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm himself. He knew she was right, even if he wanted to argue otherwise. It had been a long time since he last had someone there to reign in his more reckless behaviors. He expanded himself too much in the previous clash and required some time to recover. He concentrated all his energy on recovering as much as feasible, monitoring the coordinated efforts of Touch Me and Bukubukuchagama, who were attempting to subdue the Berserker. Even though their attempts appeared to be struggling, they were able to provide him with some respite.
As soon as he regained his breath, he was already up and running.
"Yamaiko-san! Momonga-san! Boost me with however many enchantments and buffs you can!" Shirou instructed, receiving affirmatives from them.
"[Greater Boost Regeneration], [Greater Boost Stamina], [Stone Skin], [Heavy Ordinance], [Lightweight], [Field Force], [Increase Speed], [Boost Sharpness]."
"Trace on!" His magic circuits flared to life, this time, however, they burned. He felt as if a fire was lit underneath his skin and in his veins. Shirou winced when he felt his circuits burn and strain themselves. This was an old feeling, one that he'd honestly forgotten in his old age. For perhaps the first time since living in YGGDRASIL, he's now feeling the strain of his circuits to the absolute limit.
"Just hold out for a bit longer…" Powering through the pain, he traced two weapons in his hands.
The first was a magnificent golden sword adorned with a circular cross-like design for its crossguard. Its stunning appearance resembled that of legendary swords, such as Caliburn or Excalibur, with its combination of blue, silver, and gold colors.
[Crocea Mors: Yellow Death – Divine Tier Sword]
The renowned sword was famously associated with the great Gaius Julius Caesar, a highly regarded Roman general and esteemed emperor of Rome. Similar to the legendary Excalibur, Caesar himself proclaimed that drawing the sword would guarantee victory. This Noble Phantasm held immense power, with a single invocation of its name unleashing the Yellow Death and ensuring a successful strike from the sword, allowing the wielder to effortlessly chain consecutive attacks. Despite its impressive abilities, the sword has little recorded history of use, due to the fact that its original wielder was not a skilled swordsman.
Appearing in his second hand was a different sword in its entirety. It was an ornate silver sword that dazzled as he gripped it. Upon closer inspection, it resembled the design of Caliburn, featuring a curved guard and a wide, flat blade. Unlike the Sword in the Stone, this Noble Phantasm had more saturated colors, with shades of silver, gray, and a striking red hue.
[Clarent: Radiant and Brilliant Royal Sword – Divine Tier Sword]
Clarent, or as it was also known, 'The Sword of the Successor.' The weapon was once a treasured sword in the times of Arthurian legend. It was said Clarent was equal to the famed Caliburn, amplifying the authority of the king. The sword acted not only as a powerful weapon but also as a symbol denoting the true right of succession to the kingship of Britannia. However, the blade was stolen by Mordred when the Betrayer sought the throne himself without King Arthur's blessing, resulting in the sword's full power never being realized.
The Noble Phantasm glowed in recognition within Shirou's hands. Even after all these years, it remains a mystery as to why Clarent seems to recognize and perhaps acknowledge the faker whenever he traces it. Perhaps it was his relationship and affinity with Arturia or another mysterious reason. Whatever the case, the weapon acknowledged him enough to remove some of the limitations it held for Mordred.
"Bukubukuchagma-san, fall back with Yamaiko-san. Touch Me-san, with me!" He called out, joining the fray and launching an attack. This allowed their slime tank to disengage.
"Nice to have you here, Emiya-san. Had a nice break?" Touch Me said conversely, almost as if he were speaking about the weather.
Despite himself, Shirou found himself chortling under his breath. Some fresh levity helped to lighten the dour mood that this long boss raid brought on.
"As much as I could, Touch Me-san." He said, clashing blades once more with Berserker.
"I'll be needing your help."
"And you'll have it, my sword and shield are at the ready!"
"I'll be needing that shield more than anything else. Forgive me, but I need you to draw Berserker's attack as much as possible, even if it means taking a few hits. I need to get in as many hits as I can."
"I must say, out of all the things I expected, being used as bait was certainly not on that list, Emiya-san." Touch Me remarked, finding the moment to jest despite the fierce battle currently underway.
"I prefer the term, distraction." Shirou cracked a small smile, earning a rousing chuckle from him.
"Using a World Champion like myself as a distraction!? My, oh my, you never cease the surprise, do you, my friend?" Touch Me boisterously laughed.
The fight raged on against the mountain of a boss.
"▅▂▃▄▄▅▅▅▇▇▇!" Berserker roared in defiance, combating the two of them with little difficulty.
And so, their dance began anew.
Their weapons clashed, the combined force shaking the ground they stood on as the environment around them was torn asunder.
"[Reinforcement]!" Again, Shirou winced as every circuit within his body activated, pumping burning hot prana through them to reinforce his body and allow him to keep up with Berserker's frenzy pace. During moments when he couldn't, he ceded the attack to Touch Me, even using him as a brief shield to avoid a dangerous attack.
Shirou wielded the two swords with amazing fluidity, considering both were two-handed swords, using both to attack and defend whenever needed. The magus favored Crocea Mors, swinging the golden sword more freely and frequently due to its lighter weight in comparison to Clarent. However, it wasn't simply for that reason that Shirou preferred it.
With each successful strike that the Yellow Death landed on Berserker, a small counter appeared on his HUD.
[x19]
"Mana burst!" Prana took the form of crimson lightning as it climbed Clarent's blade. Swinging the sword, the wave of burning lightning struck the Servant with a less-than-desirable result. Only a slight burn mark blemished the boss's iron skin.
Shirou grimaced. The attack barely bothered him, as reflected by his HP going down only a smidgen. Switching tempo, the fight continued as the faker got as many hits in as he could with the golden sword as Touch Me provided support and covered his flank.
[x30]
[x45]
[x62]
[x77]
[x89]
Slowly, the counter increased.
'Just a little bit more...' Shirou gritted his teeth.
Berserker swung his axe-sword, putting Touch Me on the defensive as he blocked the attack. This time, however, he felt something off. Pulling all its monstrous weight behind it, the End Boss swung with all its strength, knocking the armored paladin a fair distance away.
"Touch Me-san!" Shirou heard Bukubukuchagama exclaim.
Seeing an opening, he swung Clarent, only for Berserker to twist its body and block the attack with its stone weapon at the last second. At the same time, Shirou lashed out with Crocea Mors at the unprotected flank that opened up. An attempt that was stopped by the Servant grabbing ahold of the golden blade mid-swing. The two were locked in a stalemate as Shirou struggled against Berserker's vice grip.
Berserker quickly reared his head back.
Shirou was confused but was hit by a realization of its intention.
"[Reinforcement]!" He poured as much prana as he could into the head region at the last possible second.
Berserker headbutted the Player with an audible crack. It was a miracle on its own that his skull didn't crack open like an egg. His teeth clattered, his vision blurred, and his head was spinning. Reinforcement or not, a headbutt from Berserker of all Servants felt as if hundreds of jackhammers were drilling into his head. His HP dropping into the mid-yellow reflected the severity of that headbutt.
Dazed, his posture wavered, allowing Berserker to push the offensive.
"▃▂▃▅▅!" Performing what amounted to a spartan kick, Berserker kicked him back, nearly caving in his chest.
Shaking away the stars from his vision, Shirou clumsily brought up both swords in an X-fashion in time to block an attack that would have bisected him. Berserker's jagged sword sank its sharp teeth into his shoulder. He managed to stop most of it, but he still took a great deal of damage, dropping his HP into the lower red.
"[Mega Impact]!" Bukubukuchagama came in from the side, slamming into Berserker and forcing the boss to let up his attack.
"I got him, Emiya-san! [Shield Attack]!"
The pink Elder Slime used her shield and skill to allow Shirou to break away. The magus jumped back, putting some distance between him and Berserker.
"Emiya-san! This is all I have left! [Greater Cure]!" Using the remainder of her MP, the Nephilim Spiritualist healed Shirou for one final time.
"Then it's time to put an end to this! Bukubukuchagama!"
"On it! [Shield Stun]!"
Pumping prana into his arms and legs, Shirou ignited Clarent and propelled himself forward like a speeding bullet. Thanks to Bukubukuchagama skill, Berserker staggered, presenting an opening for the magus. She retreated out of the way as Shirou thrust Clarent into Berserker with all his might, succeeding in piercing the hardened skin over its stomach.
"Transfer!" Crocea Mors glowed with a brilliant golden glow that then transferred from it to Clarent. Similarly to Gáe Buidhe, Crocea Mor received an alteration in addition to its usual ability. It was known as the [Golden Combo]. For each successful strike, it grants a small damage multiplier that can stack almost infinitly, increasing the striking power of the next attack. By allowing the multipliers to stack, he can consume them all to supercharge his next attack. What made this altered Noble Phantasm ability truly fearsome was its ability to transfer said multiplier to any available weapon. In this case, right into Clarent's ultimate attack to grant it additional power.
"Mana Burst!" With a roar, Shirou unleashed the power of Clarent. The hilt of the weapon burst open, revealing a surge of red lightning mixed with a golden glow. The energy exploded outward, piercing through Berserker and shooting out of his back like a crimson beam of pure destruction. Shirou firmly grasped Clarent with both hands and pulled the weapon upward, determined to cleave out another life.
Berserker bellowed in agony, discarding his weapon, and grasped Clarent's blade in an attempt to keep the weapon in place. The two struggled for supremacy, both trying to overpower one another. Despite Berserker's superior strength, it was Shirou who won out due to his superior position. The continued crackling of Clarent's crimson lighting crisped Berserker's hands and roasted his insides, cleaving through with the smell of burnt flesh permeating the room. It was a gruesome finisher as Shirou mustered all his strength and pulled the sword upwards, from the stomach to the head, bisecting the boss.
Berserker's fifth life was taken. The Servant's face was twisted and split, with the mouth opened mid-scream.
Status – God Hand: [4]
'Ba-dum... Ba-dum... Ba-dum...'
There it was again, the sound of Berserker's audible heartbeats. This time, they had fewer beats and were more spaced out than before. As if it were on its last breath.
His fingers let go of Clarent, the Noble Phantasm breaking into motes of light the moment it hit the ground. Exhaustion permeated his body as he fought to even continue standing. Shirou could feel the numbness and pain spreading from his muscles and nerves. That last stunt took a lot more out of him than expected.
Shirou didn't know how much more he could withstand. Dealing with all of Berserker's lives in succession was a ridiculous undertaking, even in the Holy Grail War, the encounter against the Servant of Madness was spaced out. The fact that they've made it as far as they have was a testament to their perseverance.
As Shirou pulled away, Berserker's hand shot forward and grabbed his arm in a vice grip.
"W-what?!" He exclaimed, facing the previously killed boss, only to be faced with a rather haunting sight. With Berserker's face cleaved in half, the separate faces stared right at him. There was nothing sane or rational left in those crimson orbs of his, only madness and hatred.
Berserker was sentient mid-regeneration. Something that it hadn't shown was possible before. Shirou came to a frightening conclusion, with every life taken, the Servant was getting stronger, and it wasn't stopping. Despite practically being split into two pieces, Berserker still retained its motor function. With one side of his body holding Shirou in place with a crushing grip, the other half grasped his axe-sword while the devasting wound stitched itself back together, moving in conjecture with one another.
Time slowed down as he watched Berserker raise its weapon, ready to bring it down, and end his life. The cries of his companions echoed distantly, unable to make it in time.
His Mind's Eye took over, taking in and processing all the information and attempting to predict the possible scenarios. With Berserker's positioning and strength advantage over Shirou, along with his exhausted state, there was no possible way for him to defend or escape unscathed. A solution was produced, and the magus was forced to take drastic action.
Clenching his jaw shut with an audible snap and gritting his teeth for what was to come, Shirou traced Kanshou with his free arm. With his remaining strength, he severed his left arm.
An extreme measure for sure, but a necessary one as it allowed Shirou enough time and space to roll away from Berserker's attack.
"Aaaahhhh!" Shirou screamed as white-hot pain coursed through his body. He was no stranger to pain and endured some brutal injuries over his lifetime, but the sensation of cutting off his arm was completely foreign. Despite severing his left limb at the elbow, Shirou found some degree of control over his removed hand and could even feel it, however faintly.
Or maybe that was just the agonizing pain making him delusional.
"E-Emiya-san!?"
"W-what the hell?!"
"Since when was there a dismemberment feature?!"
His friends all cried out after seeing him lop off his arm. Their concern was warranted, seeing as such a feature shouldn't even be in the game.
By this point, Berserker was fully revitalized. Throwing away his left arm like a useless rag, Berserker charged unimpeded at the still-recovering Shirou.
At the same time, however, Shirou found himself at an impasse. He was momentarily struck by the disorienting feeling of a missing limb. The black spots and hazy edges in his vision threatened to blind him, and every fiber of his virtual being screamed in agony. In any other moment, he would have drifted into sweet unconsciousness. Unfortunately, his current situation didn't lend itself to a good night's sleep. Thankfully, the pure adrenaline coursing through his system gifted him with a moment of clarity. That would more than suffice.
"Trace on!"
The burning sensation of his magic circuits no longer mattered. Motes of light gathered to form the largest weapon he'd summoned to date in the fight.
[Nine Lives – Divine Tier Axe-Sword]
Wielding an identical copy of the weapon Berserker wielded, the two stone weapons smashed against one another, their razor edges grinding against each other. A horrible sound of grinding stones reverberated. Every bone in his body shook, and every muscle fiber ripped asunder as he desperately struggled to hold Berserker back.
"▅▂▃▄▄█▅▃▇▇▆!"
"Rrrraggghhh!"
The two roared, neither side giving up until the other was dead at their feet.
[Reinforcement]!
[Alteration]!
[Reinforcement]!
[Alteration]!
[Reinforcement]!
[Alteration]!
[Reinforcement]!
Reinforcement and Alteration went hand in hand as Shirou poured all the prana he could into his only arm, correcting the broken muscle and mending the snapped muscle fibers.
His blood vessels and the very marrow of his bones imploded. The structure of his body caved in, and he found himself completely armless. Or, at least, that should have been the case. Instead, he used the alteration aspect of his magecraft to hastily reconstruct his only remaining limb into a serviceable condition moments before it met a similar fate to its previous incarnations. Only to repeat the process again and again with each swing.
Mutilation plagued every one of Shirou's prana overcharged swings. He continued to inflict grizzly damage with his poor attempts at Reinforcement, all for the sake of matching Berserker's insanity-fueled blows.
Blow after blow, they struck, each one more powerful than the last.
Every swing, every strike, threatened to destroy his arm, but Shirou kept on pushing forward, faster and faster. Despite the size of their weapons, both wielded them with amazing dexterity and strength that bordered on the inhuman.
To the onlookers, it was as if Shirou was swinging multiple copies of the weapon instead of just one. Both of them attacked with such speed and tenacity that it formed a four-meter-diameter circle of open space around them, filled with nothing but their slashes. Their slashes struck all around them, leaving cracks and gashes littering the ground beneath them. Only a few cuts made it past both their defenses, resulting in both Berserker and Shirou taking noticeable hits. But where Berserker ignored them, Shirou faltered further.
The rest of the party dared not come any closer or else they'd be chopped to bits, unable to find a gap to jump in but also fearful that any sudden intervention would only cause unneeded distraction and result in the projection user's death.
On the surface, it may appear that they were evenly matched, but the truth was far from comforting. Shirou was on the defensive from the very beginning and could barely keep up with Berserker. Gradually and noticeably, Shirou's attacks were faltering. His body staggered after each attack and counter-attack. His legs struggled to stand and trembled uncontrollably, looking like they were about to collapse at any second.
After what seemed like the hundredth instance of abuse, he lost feeling in his right extremity. Or whatever it was that had taken its place. The previously unmarred skin now looked as if the meat had been tenderized and molded into a macabre rendition of an arm.
Blotches of black spots began to cloud the magus's vision. Shirou was losing focus, he could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyelids grew wry and heavy. Every part of his body ached and burned. It felt as if a thousand hot needles were pricking his skin and his insides were being roasted.
'I'm not going to make it…' Shirou realized.
The two weapons clashed one final time, and it was Shirou's Nine Lives that cracked, unable to hold its form for any longer, and shattered into particles of light. The force of the attack staggered the faker back.
Time seemed to slow down as Shirou fell helplessly, his body had reached its limit and completely shut down. He was unable to muster any strength to move, let alone defend himself against the boss's attack. It was a helpless feeling, one that left him at the mercy of his enemy. In the distance, he could hear his teammates faintly crying out and running towards him, but he knew they wouldn't make it in time.
Berserker swung down his weapon like a guillotine in preparation for its execution.
What he needed was a miracle—
In his state of delirium, everything faded away into darkness. Everything disappeared: Berserker, the cavern, his friends, everything. An ocean of darkness enveloped Shirou, and for a moment, he feared the worst.
Suddenly, a small white light shimmered into existence.
A small glimmer of something lit the way.
A warm beacon within this space of darkness.
It felt warm and familiar, like an old friend.
It only grew brighter, its form slowly becoming recognizable.
Shirou recognized it, how could he not? It was what Kiritsugu Emiya used to save him all those years ago in that blazing hell. It was what saved him and healed him during the Holy Grail War, giving him the strength he needed to fight. It was what kept him alive for so long, even after the War.
It was her first and final gift to him.
"Avalon…" Shirou whispered breathlessly.
For the briefest of moments, Shirou was transported back to that hill. The once setting sun stood proudly up above, basking its golden warmth on everything under its ray.
There she stood, dressed as he imagined. In a simple white blouse and blue skirt, she stood facing the false hero. Bright light obscured her face, but even so, Shirou could recognize her beauty anywhere.
Her mouth opened, and she spoke one singular word.
"Go…"
—And so forth, a miracle arises.
Waking from a dazed-like slumber, Shirou shouted with renewed vigor. "Like hell, I'm going to lose here!" His heterochromatic eyes glowed, one a burning golden fire, the other an unwavering steel silver.
From within Shirou's soul, light exploded forth from his body, enveloping the Player in a pillar of golden white light. Berserker's attack continued but was unable to reach Shirou thanks to the barrier of light repelling the attack and flinging the Mad Servant far back into the upper wall of the cavern.
Within the heavenly and healing glow, his body repaired itself at an insane speed. His stump healed, and his hand regenerated in a matter of seconds.
Materializing from his body was none other than Avalon.
The equally legendary Sheath of Excalibur and named The Everdistant Utopia. It was a beautiful, golden sheath decorated with blue enamel. Engraved at the center was an inscription that was unreadable by mortal men, the language of the faeries. A Noble Phantasm that was truly one of a kind. Not even Gilgamesh's illustrious Gate of Babylon has been graced with its presence. The Sheath was forged with Fae magic and sorcery, shrouding it in mystery to this very day. It was more than just a weapon or sheath; it was a symbol of dignity and nobility, embodying the very essence of these values.
'So that's where it has been...' Shirou wondered. For the longest time, he wondered what happened to the Sheath of Excalibur. Ever since arriving in YGGDRASIL, that was the one question he sought out the most. It was no longer within Unlimited Blade Works, nor could he summon it like before or detect it whenever he would use Structural Analysis on himself.
Avalon had remained hidden, dormant, until the direst of times to be called upon once more.
Internally, he couldn't resist chuckling. It was always Avalon that pulled his ass out of the fire every single time. Then again, he certainly wasn't complaining. This also clarified some unexplained factors, such as his passive health regen or his faster than normal MP regeneration, which Momonga had previously observed.
[Avalon: The Everdistant Utopia – World Item]
[Passive ability: While equipped, the Player is granted a boost to all stats and resistances. Passively increase HP and MP regeneration by 25%
Active ability: Upon calling forth the World Item's name, Avalon's true strength is activated. HP and MP are immediately restored to their fullest. Removes any debuffs on the Player and quadruples all ability stats of the Player for thirty minutes.
HP: 75 (X4) = 300
MP: 85 (X4) = 340
PHY. ATK: 80 (X4) = 320
PHY. DEF: 70 (X4) = 280
Agility: 85 (X4) = 340
MAG. ATK: 35 (X4) = 140
MAG. DEF: 65 (X4) = 260
Resist: 85 (X4) = 340
Special: 100 (X4) = 400
Note: With the activation of Avalon, it cannot be used again for one full month upon the previous activation.]
The light died down, allowing the rest of the party who were running to assist Shirou to be taken aback to see him perfectly fine and well. The magus slowly raised his previously severed arm, bending and flexing his fingers to get a feel for it. It was back and better than before.
Berserker recovered as well, its face twisted into a monstrous snarl, snapping frantically. Its bulky body twitched uncontrollably, resembling an unchained mad beast. Snapping his head towards the lone magus, Berserker bulldozed his way forward.
"█▅▃▇▇!"
Shirou, on the other hand, simply stood there, waiting.
"Emiya-san?!" Momonga called out. The rest were already rushing forward to assist, but Shirou simply held his hand out, telling them to wait.
He would handle it.
One hundred meters between Berserker and Shirou, he stretched his arm horizontally.
"Trace on!" Prana flowed out, stronger and brighter than ever. In his hand was a new copy of Nine Lives.
Fifty meters.
Shirou took a stance, Nine Lives raised above his head, and his other hand was positioned where his biceps were as if to support the arm wielding the weapon.
Ten meters.
Shirou remained calm and collected, undaunted in the face of the mass of muscle and death charging straight at him.
At five meters, Berserker grasped his weapon with both hands and used the speed and momentum to carry the attack. Its swing practically formed a wild gale of wind that carried it forward.
Shirou remained until Berserker was in front of him, and then, he swung.
"[Trigger off. Set. Nines Lives Blade Work: Shooting The Hundred Heads]!"
Berserker swung only once, whereas Shirou unleashed all nine devastating swings in a single instant. Moving at only what would be described as light speed, a total of nine slashes struck the killing blow on Berserker.
The first: Upper arm. A downward slash, severing the limb as a whole and sending it and Berserker's weapon flying.
The second: Collarbone. A deep horizontal slash, ripping through his throat.
The third: Windpipe. A vertical slash, cutting through the hardened chest area.
The fourth: Temple. A diagonal slash, splitting its head into two.
The fifth: Diaphragm. A horizontal slash, slicing a massive gash in its place.
The sixth: Rib. A diagonal slash, cutting open its chest.
The seventh: Testicles. An upward slash, striking below and connecting upwards.
The eighth: Thighs. A diagonal slash, severing two additional limbs.
The ninth: Heart. Lastly, a piercing thrust with Nine Lives extending out its back with its still beating heart stabbed through.
Status – God Hand: [3]
For the audience, what had just happened seemed absurd. One second, Berserker looked ready to destroy Shirou while he simply posed there. The next, the reverse happened. Pieces of Berserker's discarded limbs and body parts flew everywhere, with only the magus left standing.
What truly made it all the more impressive was the fact that Shirou, throughout all of that, didn't move from his spot.
Learning his lesson from the last time, he jumped back from Berserker's mangled body. He wasn't going to fall for that a second time.
As soon as he joined his friend, they swarmed him with hugs and excitement. He didn't even have a chance to speak before they started gushing about the incredible sight that unfolded before their eyes. It was truly a remarkable experience, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that he was the one who helped turn things around.
"That was amazing! How did you do that, Emiya-san? You went from zero to a hundred percent in a second!" Exclaimed Yamaiko, one arm slung over his shoulder and jostling him around.
"Not only that, but your stats!" Momonga pointed out. "They've gained a multiplier bonus as well."
"You had us worried there, Emiya-san. Was this part of your plan all along?" Touch Me asked excitedly, patting the magus's shoulder.
"Honestly? It was a fluke." Shirou admitted. "I—
Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger.
Shirou felt a shudder like no other run down his spine, his instinct blaring to life. The same kind of shiver the magus would always experience when things were about to go, as one of his previous occupational comrades would say, "Shit's about to the hit the fan and we've got front row seats!"
'Ba-dum…'
"Everyone! We need to get to the edge now!" The sheer urgency in his voice kept anyone from arguing. The party of five ran, putting as much distance between them and the boss as possible. Shirou kept a watchful eye on Berserker's corpse as they ran. What immediately triggered his confusion and paranoia was that it wasn't regenerating like it had before. Berserker's body just remained there, motionless and empty, and that was what worried him the most.
The sound of heartbeats began, but it was much slower than before. As if it was on its dying breath and about to flatline.
'Ba-dum…'
There was the sound again. Another weakened heartbeat, but there was no change in Berserker. The heartbeats came from Berserker, just like how it happened before when the boss gained its Madness Enchantment. It stands to reason that it would be a catalyst again.
The thing that concerned him was that nothing was happening. No regeneration, no hissing steam. No ominous black smoke. Not even so much as a single twitch. They still had three more lives to contend with.
It didn't help that when looking at Berserker's corpse, its name and status were still visible in his HUD.
'Ba…. dum…'
With one final beat, all was silent within the cavern. None dared to move or make a sound, their eyes peering and watching, waiting for something to happen. The tension soared as Shirou and the party prepared themselves, but as the minute mark passed, nothing happened. However, moments before anyone voiced their thoughts about a possible glitch, it happened.
The party gasped and clawed at their necks. An invisible force they could not describe laid siege to their bodies, suffocating them in the process. They felt as if it surrounded them and permeated their insides. Every breath was shallow and labored, every movement threatened to snap their bones, and an unstoppable cold crawled beneath their skin.
What was happening? Their collective minds raced for an answer to this vile and overwhelming feeling that had overtaken them. As most of them scrambled, an individual among them did the opposite. Shirou knew. He had once experienced something similar. This was the presence of a Monster, one with a capital M. During the Great War, he felt such a presence from the likes of Primate Murder and other great Phantasm Beasts.
With a force of will born from a mind of steel, he forced his body to face Herakle's regenerating corpse. He was not ready for what he saw.
The carcass was no more. In its place was a pile of sludge. It was the color of the deepest tar and seemed to shift in a manner, not unlike oobleck. It twisted in place as if trying to break apart. In fact, it did break apart.
Sprouting out of the puddle was a grotesque sight. The heart of the once-proud hero was held crucified on a pillar of the eldritch substance. Burrowed into the flesh of the still-beating heart were clusters of tendrils. They squirmed and shuddered, seemingly festering within the organ, as purple veins bloomed across its crimson surface.
If that wasn't unnerving enough, what followed caused bile to rise in his throat. As the fluid finished spreading in a manner similar to a virus, its host stilled. No more pulse. It motionlessly remained suspended in the air. Moments later, however, it moved. It contracted upon itself, shrinking till it was but half its previous size with a sickening crunch. In the next instance, the sack of meat bulged and squirmed with manic energy. As it continued its frantic dance, cancerous growths grew from its surface. In a manner akin to the bubbles frothing from a drink, the growths multiplied. What flowed from its depths was the vilest of concoctions. A deluge of metamorphosed tar ran out with the speed of highly pressurized water. Instead of splashing its surroundings, the discharge moved backward, following an invisible path. Shortly afterward, the withering mass coiled upon itself and formed a familiar figure.
It was wrong...
Ǐ̸͎̥̄͗̕t̵̰̰̜̠̓̏ͅ ̷̩̱͚̯̎̐͛̓ẅ̵͇́̿̔ͅã̶̲̼ṣ̷̰͎͍͂͂̈́̄̕ ̸̢̛̬̲̮̻̋͂̿̎ẉ̴̼̯̗̈́̄̀̌̓ṙ̶͖̲̗̼͇o̸̤̩̥̎̌̓̾n̶̡͉͐g̴͓̫͙̻̑̔̎̚͝.̵̙̯̱̀ͅ.̵̫̖̬͍̈́̎̐̚
İ̴̖̘̱̤̬͌́̀͐̚̚ͅt̷̟̙̬͙̜̬̤͑̈́̍̅͘͠ ̵̛̝̜̰̤̲̖̞̹̮̑̓̀̑̀͑͒̇w̶̧̡͔̱̩̹̦͔̏̉͊̑̎͘͜͝a̵͕̫̝͔̥͓͙͐̈́̄̔̐͆͒̕s̵̛̲͍̬̖̪̩͑̇̓͌̀͋͋̚ ̵̛̥͖̻̀ͅw̷͚͙͔͐̇͘r̵̦͎̦̬̿̓͑͗͆̕͜͠ȏ̵̻̘n̵̦̹̊̿͊̔͝g̶̡̛̭̪̼̻͙͈̭͛̇́͐͑.̴̮̬͈̥̹̞̩͚̺̄̌̀͠.̵̢͕̺͎͕̱̹͌
I̴̙͗T̴̮̤̗̯͌͠ ̸̛̬̦̘̽W̷̻͙̤̋̈́́̏͘A̴͖̤̣̔̃͐S̷̢̛͖̮̯̿̑͆̓̔ ̸͙͚̲͍̘̂̄͐̒̋̉Ẁ̶̨̪̪̓͑̒͌͝R̵͓̠̦̞̤͇͆̋̂͋Ơ̸̢̟̗͖̰̍̍͛͘N̴̩̆̅͘͘͝G̵̠͙͈͎̼̀̐̑͐̂
A splitting headache broke the party from their stupor. Their minds revolted against the abomination they had witnessed, refusing to accept what they had observed as truth. But denial would only carry them so far, as any misgivings they held were brutally murdered.
A roar that transcended the inhumane rang out. They could not hear it, but they felt it. The world shook, and their ears bled at the obscure sound they could not understand. This maddening presence and the shaking of their hands, what was going on? It wasn't until the roaring end that they understood. Berserker was back.
"Everyone! L-look!" Momonga stammered. His shaking finger pointed not to Berserker but above him.
Blackened Berserker: Lvl – 500
Status – God Hand: [3]
As one, they felt their hearts drop.
"Oh god… Another damn transformation...!" Bukubukchagama lamented, her voice hoarse and shrill, unable to convey the horror of what she had just witnessed.
"Forget the third transformation, check out the level! The damned boss jumped all the way to level 500! It's practically a World Enemy at this point!" Yamaiko screamed, her nerves frayed from the previous experience.
"Panicking won't do us any good, Yamaiko-san." Touch Me reasoned, though all could tell that his usual confidence was shaken.
"Touch Me-san, positive thinking will only go so far! Unless you've got a World Item in your back pocket, which I'll remind you, we don't, we can't win!" Yamiko rebutted.
The Elder Slime and Overlord only nodded their heads in agreement.
The group looked moments away from losing it. This didn't surprise the faker, braver men and women broke under similar pressure and forces. Perhaps the reason they weren't affected as much was because this Berserker was completely virtual, or it was by proxy.
A thought for another time. Right now, they needed reassurance.
"If it's a World Item, then I'll just have to trace one!" Shirou suddenly announced, blurting out the words even before they settled in on him, to the shock of his companions.
"Hold on! You can summon a World Item?!" Momonga blurted out. He was learning more and more about his friend, and he wasn't sure when the surprises would end.
"Focus!" Touch Me countered, snapping his fingers to attention. "Questions can come later. Emiya-san, are you saying what I think you're saying? That you can finish its remaining lives with this trump card of yours?"
It was too late to take back his words. He looked at them before looking back at the still-forming Berserker.
"I'm not too sure." Shirou fully admitted, causing them to pale white at the admission. "But it's the best chance we've got. However, it'll take some time to completely produce it. And unfortunately, Berserker will revive before I can complete the tracing."
"How long?" Touch Me asked, his gaze turning back to the boss, who looked to be roughly 40% healed.
"A little over a minute." And judging by the progress of the boss, they had a little less than that.
"Then the plan remains unchanged. Emiya-san is the key to victory, all we need to do is buy him enough time."
"But can you?" Shirou asked, his voice laced with lingering doubt. With the boss reaching its third phase and its increased level, it seemed impossible for them to survive even a few seconds against it. Although Shirou's stats were temporarily elevated, thanks to the incredible buffs provided by Avalon, winning didn't appear to be in the cards for them.
At this, Touch Me's shoulder silently hunched.
"In truth. I don't really know…" Touch Me admitted honestly, his voice lacking his usual confidence, replaced with an almost resigned tone.
His admission didn't go so well, as the others felt their spirits drop even further.
"…However…" Touch Me paused for dramatic effect. The rest looked at him, waiting. Raising a trembling hand, he clenched it, curbing his feelings of doubt and trepidation.
"We have come this far, have we not?" Touch Me began in a whisper, but all could hear the weight and determination behind it.
"After defeating the Hydra boss, we were faced with a new challenge in the form of an End Boss while unprepared. And yet, we managed, even when it transformed into its second form. We've gone farther than what's expected of us, and here we are, at the home stretch." Progressing, Touch Me's voice slowly grew from its meek tone, returning to his boisterous voice.
"Our friends, our allies, sacrificed themselves so that we might bring victory in their place. If we give up now, would we not be spitting in their memory?" No longer was his voice plagued with doubt, his once passionate spirit was rekindled.
"It isn't a matter of 'if' or 'can' we hold the line. We will hold the line, just like Tabula-san, Peroroncino-san, Ulbert-san, and Amanomahitotsu-san beforehand. We, too, shall do whatever it takes to give you the perfect opportunity. If you believe you can win this, then I shall put my trust in you, Emiya-san!" Touch Me finished, putting all his passion into his speech.
The others looked to the silver paladin, despite the doubt and uncertainty, he still had his spirit high. Unwavering, no matter what came.
As they heard the rallying cry of Touch Me, something inside them was reignited, like a blazing fire in the dark. Shirou took a moment to look at each of them, and even with their limited facial expressions, he could sense the sheer determination emanating from their avatars. Even Momonga, who was usually doubtful, was now filled with a newfound determination. It was as if no one could resist the fiery passion that had taken hold of them.
"Then I'll leave the rest to you then! Buy me as much time as you can!"
"Then you have your orders! Do whatever it takes to prevent the boss from reaching Emiya-san! Even if it means dying, buy him every second you can!" Touch Me proclaimed, turning to his fellow Heteromorphs.
"Roger!" The rest rallied. The ragged-tagged group went to position themselves for the coming fight. They had roughly thirty seconds before Berserker's complete revival, and time was of the essence.
Repositioning himself as far back as he could, Shirou took a deep breath. His heartbeat steadied, and his mind cleared of all doubt, leaving only the vision of victory.
They were relying on him, and he would not fail them!