Fate/Apocrypha Volume 1 Chapter 4.6

The last part of book 1.

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"…!"

The Rider of the Red shook – not from shame, but from joy. He was truly thankful that in this Great Holy Grail War, he found someone capable of harming him. The Archer of the Black possessed such immense skill with the bow; it was embarrassing to have thought that no one could surpass the Archer on his side.

The enemy Archer fired again. Judging from the ripples in the air and slight whisper of wind, it was five arrows released in quick succession. It would be simple enough to avoid it by leaping backwards – but the last two times he tried that, his actions had been seen through and he had been pierced by more arrows.

Could the Archer of the Red read his mind? Did he or his Noble Phantasm possess some form of prediction skill? Either way, Rider could not even move a single step, much less pursue the Berserker of the Black.

But most importantly, Archer's arrows were piercing Rider's protection – meaning that Archer was the same kind of existence as him. Rider was convinced that the Archer of the Black – armed with both pedigree and skill – would be his greatest enemy in this war.

Against this third attack, Rider fearlessly stepped forward – but his intents were correctly gauged again. Before he realized it, another arrow was sticking out of his knee. The vivid pain that it brought him – something he had not felt in a very long time – made it impossible for Rider to contain his swelling passion.

"Haha… hahahahaha! Yes, this! This is splendid, Archer! So you can harm me! You can kill me! Then it must be fated that we face one another! O Gods of Olympus, may you bring glory and honor to this battle!"

However, it would be too regrettable for them to vie for supremacy here when Rider was not even properly mounted. It would be such a shame to settle their duel in this lonely forest, with no allies to witness their splendor.

With their team's Berserker having already been defeated, and Archer in retreat, there was little reason for him to remain and carry on by himself. Rider put his fingers in his mouth and whistled; a chariot drawn by three splendid horses promptly appeared from the sky and came to a rest besides him.

Leaping onto the driver's position, Rider exclaimed.

"We will settle this at another time, Archer of the Black! Next time – I will see who you really are!"

With a crack of the whip, the horses raised their head and neighed, dashing off majestically into the sky with great force. It was clear that Rider was not escaping; he was postponing the war for another time.

* * *

The recipient on the other end, Archer, also smiled. However, his was somewhat bitter.

"I see… I suppose this is not impossible in the Holy Grail War, but… it seems fate sometimes turns its fangs against even those already dead."

The Archer of the Black knew him; he knew the identity of the Rider of the Red.

That Servant is known as one of the greatest heroes in history, with numerous legends befitting his fame. Most likely, he is the sole true exemplar among the participants of this Great War.

Blessed and exalted by the Olympian Gods, the man can nullify and deflect any and all attacks. In essence, he cannot be defeated by physical damage or even the 'normal' attacks of Servants.

Only those who possess Divinity – those like him, in whose veins flow the blood of a god – are permitted to harm him. Among the seven Servants of the Black, only Chiron possessed this trait. In other words, there can be no victory in this Great War without him personally defeating Rider of the Red.

However, it did not seem as though Rider realized Archer's identity. Truly, his boundless pride was his fatal defect as a warrior. Of course, no one had ever once made use of that defect; such a minor shortcoming meant little when one was being crushed by his overwhelming strength.

This time though, that pride would become the poison that took his life. Not only could Archer harm him – but he knew his true name, and his critical weak point.

"Regardless of the pains you take to mask your identities… there is one facet of common sense you can never overcome. Your true name is undisguisable to the ones who knew you in life."

Rider is a powerful and exceptional hero. That is precisely why this Great War will destroy him.

* * *

The homunculus was practising his walking when an out-of-breath Rider, appearing slightly injured, suddenly flung open the door. He smiled and held out his hand to the homunculus.

"Now's a good time. Let's make a break for it!"

The homunculus immediately grasped the situation; he took Rider's hand and they ran out together. It felt far easier than moving normally – probably because Rider was pulling him on. Sadly, as he was still rather frail, their escape was slow.

They crossed paths with a number of homunculi as they ran down the halls, but none of them challenged Rider or the escapee. Instead, the homunculi watched them leave with cold eyes embued with some hints of emotions – pity, and faint hope.

The golems, however, did not treat them the same way. Roche's surveillance golems, improved under the guidance of Caster, dashed along the flagstones in careful pursuit. Naturally, they did not dare to impede Rider. Caster also did not seem inclined to follow them himself; after all, this was not his part of his duties.

Gasping for breath, the two finally managed to escape the castle. As they passed through the back gate at the eastern walls, they saw a swift-flowing river. The pouring of muddy water, like a relentless flood, was clearly set by thaumaturgical means. On the other side was a precipitous mountain that looked to be a very arduous climb. However, that was where his freedom laid. A freedom of faint joy and cruel truths – but that was enough to be worth living for.

"Hm… make sure you don't let go of my hand, okay?"

The homunculus shook his head. The surrounding area was obviously criss-crossed with thaumaturgical traps and boundaries. They would be little trouble for a Servant, but that was not the case with the homunculus; it would take less than ten minutes for them to do away with this defective product, for whom any use of thaumaturgy would bring it to death's door. However, Astolfo was filled with confidence as he chuckled.

"That's why I have this. Tadaaaaa!"

He took out a thick, leather-bound book. The words and shapes on its cover were subdued and rather unremarkable, but even the homunculus could tell that it was related to thaumaturgy.

"A long time ago, I was saved by the lady Logistilla. She gave me this then. Just possessing it lets me break through any sort of thaumaturgy!"

That's amazing, said the homunculus in wonder. It would seem this was another one of his Noble Phantasms. The paladin Astolfo had gone on adventures whenever the mood struck him, with many exploits to his name, and even reached the moon in the end. Naturally, he possessed rare Noble Phantasms.

"There's just… one slight problem… I, hehe, don't remember what this Noble Phantasm is called…"

Rider grinned shyly as he quietly revealed the ridiculous truth.

"But it's all right! Mostly, I only need to hold the book for it to take effect. At the very least, no modern magus should be able to harm me… though it might be different for one not from the modern era, like Caster."

…or perhaps something that is infinitely close to magic such as a Reality Marble. However, bounded fields of that type cannot be laid about like this. Besides, why would they use such a great thaumaturgy in the pursuit of a single homunculus?

"Umm… what was it again…?

Luna

Universal

…

Break

Magic

…

Manual

G-Guide

… was it? That sounds a bit like it, but…"

You… should probably try to remember it before the fighting starts, the homunculus advised him. It would be beyond ridiculous if he were to lose the war without ever remembering his one of his own Noble Phantasms' names,

"I suppose… anyway, let's go."

Rider gripped the homunculus' hand firmly and leapt forward. The water in the river tried to intercept them by wrapping around them, but was repulsed by the book with little fanfare.

"How do you feel? Can you walk?"

A little, the homunculus replied, refusing Rider's motion to carry him. The homunculus wanted to walk on his own two feet, at least until he could walk no longer.

"Hmph… Archer taught you that, didn't he?"

Rider muttered, sounding somewhat disgruntled. He seemed rather displeased that the mere minutes Archer had spent with the homunculus was enough to convince him to follow his teachings.

"All right, I'll stay by your side until you let me know otherwise."

The homunculus began to walk. Although his feet did not strain much, his stamina was a different issue. Naturally, the more tired he became, the slower his pace. His heels and thighs began to creak and screech. "Are you okay?" Rider asked again and again, and though the homunculus persisted, there was only so much he could do with one night's practice. After an hour, the homunculus could no longer take another step without leaning on Rider's shoulder.

"I think you did well."

Rider comforted him as he steadily navigated the mountain trail through the dark. When the homunculus looked up, he could not see a single star in the sky. Perhaps there was some sort of thaumaturgical glamor in place that caused those affected to lose their sense of direction. Most likely, compasses and maps would not work here either. However, Rider continued to walk in a straight line, as though sure of his way.

"Aren't you glad that I'm here with you?"

Rider wore a proud smile. I won't be able to see this smile again by tomorrow, the homunculus thought with some regret. Rider will return to the Great War – and he will have to think about how to live his life. It was highly likely that he would die; it was also quite possible that this Holy Grail War would end him. In all likelihood, this would be the last time they saw one another in life.

Rider is a hero, an adventurer and most importantly – a Servant, summoned to this era to fight. He is an entirely different existence from the homunculus who was made to be spent.

"Something on your mind?"

The homunculus was evasive in his response. Nobody needed to hear about his feelings of worthlessness and inferiority.

There was not a sound in the dark forest. He could barely hear anything, not even the cry of a bird, except for the rustle of swaying branches and grass. Was it some form of counter-measure against familiars? The forest was utterly covered with boundary fields.

"Ahh… this sure brings me back! Did you know I was once turned into a tree?"

Rider looked up and laughed as he talked about his past failures.

Although many are the glorious tales of Astolfo, it is said that he has made just as many mistakes. He was continually defeated in riding tournaments, fell victim to many thaumaturgical traps and even lost – in a matter of hours – the reason that he had picked up at the moon. However, Astolfo never faltered; he did not seem to consider failure or defeat as blunders in the first place.

"It's not bad being a tree, you know. Everything is calm and peaceful. Birds will sit on my arms without a care in the world. And the deer and wolves and such don't mind coming close to me."

How many in the world would be able to think like him? A normal person would feel only despair at such a fate. However – perhaps due to the light-hearted disposition he had been born with – Rider always lived positively.

"So how do you want to live from now on?"

Unexpectedly, Rider aimed a difficult question at him. Archer had asked the homunculus the same thing. However, at the moment, life itself was his goal; he did not yet have the luxury of considering how to live it. That was the only answer he could give.

The forest they were in was much like his own life – sunken in darkness and shadows. He wandered without aims or purposes, simply struggling to stay upright on the path.

"I see… well, I hope you find a way out soon."

Rider's voice was filled with sympathy from the bottom of his heart. His words shook the homunculus' small soul.

Yes, I truly hope so… I hope that afterwards, we can talk to our hearts' content.

Rider stopped. His grip on the homunculus' hand tightened, causing him some pain.

Saber was blocking their path together with his Master, Gordes. They must have gone ahead to wait for them. Saber was expressionless as always, while Gordes glared at the two of them with clear displeasure. Rider sighed and said.

"Are you sure you're not keeping a secret or two from me? You're not a Servant or something, are you?"

I don't think so, the homunculus thought. However, that was difficult even for Rider to believe. After all, why else would they go so far for a single homunculus?

Gordes did not hide his annoyance as he said.

"We cannot allow that homunculus to escape. Remove yourself, Rider."

However, it was obvious that Rider would not willingly accept that.

"Nope."

Rider rejected Gordes' words out of hand, so quickly that he did not even seem to have considered them. Gordes became even more vexed, gnashing his teeth to control his emotions.

"Saber, restrain Rider. You can do that much, can't you?"

As commanded, Saber stepped forward.

"Huh? What? Has your Master lost his mind?"

Silent as ever, Saber stepped up to Rider in a single stride and grabbed his arm and neck, pulling him away from the homunculus and forcing him to the earth. Having lost his support, the homunculus collapsed like a marionette with its strings severed.

"Wha…?!"

The difference in power was too great between the two Servants. Rider kicked and thrashed with his legs even as Saber pressed down on him.

"W-Wait, stop! Let me go, Saber! Let me go!"

"How dare Darnic send me on such a menial task…"

The homunculus laid on the ground as he looked up at Gordes. His eyes did not express hatred or seek pity. Instead, those inorganic, reflective lenses peered directly into the human being called Gordes.

"…!"

Gordes clicked his tongue and grabbed one of the thin wrists of the homunculus. The act contained traces of both compulsive frustration and fear.

Why must I fear a simple homunculus…? It is unforgivable, as a magus…

"You have troubled me enough… Caster is going to grind you down and use you for a golem. You should thank him. He will turn this frail body into one made of stone."

There was only silence. The homunculus waded through the sludge of his exhausted mind and thought. His wrist was being restricted, so tightly so that it felt about to snap apart; the man before him had captured him. It must have been under the directive of Caster. He did not understand why they were so obstinate about him. Nevertheless, if – as Gordes had suggested – it was his fate to be crushed, then he must make a choice if he wanted to escape this situation.

However, it was a choice that the homunculus simply could not make – for it was a decision that only living beings, with their own clear paths to the future, could take. After all, how could a transient existence such as himself subsist by trampling on the lives on others? It would go against the natural order of things.

Just before he stopped resisting entirely, Rider's shout pierced his ears.

"You fool! What are your thinking?! Don't hesitate! Don't give up! You want to live, don't you? You said you don't want to die! So keep trying until your last breath! You have that right! No matter what anybody else says – I, Astolfo, will accept you!"

His words forcibly pulled the homunculus' collapsing mind back together. Yes… at the very least, had he not made the decision to 'live'? Regardless of the misfortunes that might mire his life, he wished to live – so that he could stand before the one who had saved him without any hint of shame.

Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Gordes turned and shouted down on Rider instead. The homunculus tried to grasp the suitable means; what he needed right now was any form of 'destruction'. He made his decision – to pour every bit of strength he had into his restrained wrist, and kill the magus before him.

His Magic Circuits accelerated to the point of nearly incinerating his flesh. It was much the same as when he had destroyed the reinforced glass. He perceived the composition of the human body, attuned himself to it and aimed to destroy it.

"What…?"

Gordes noticed the excitation of his Magic Circuits and stared at him in shock. The nameless homunculus gripped his arm and prepared himself as he wove the words of the beginning.

"

Straße gehen

Logic path open

…!"

The prana flowing through his entire body converted to a form most suitable for ripping flesh and crushing bone. His palm became the barrel of a gun – the sheath of a sword – and what it fired was a bullet or perhaps blade that would not only destroy Gordes' arm, but mercilessly devour his heart.

"Kuh…

Anamorphism eisen arm

Shapeshift iron arm

!"

Gordes' barked-out spell pierced through the fatal flaw of the homunculus' thaumaturgy, which brought destruction by appropriately converting the form of energy based on the target's composition. Gordes simply needed to change the composition itself, and the thaumaturgy would become little more than a small-scale explosion.

They were simply too ill matched. The homunculus – a failed product casted from appropriated Einzbern alchemy – was fatally incompatable with someone who had actually studied such thaumaturgy.

Gordes cowered in the face of the blast that had been meant to kill him. However, after the long escape, the homunculus had already reached the limits of his endurance.

"You… insolent…!"

Gorde shook with fury. He was not actually injured; the pain was lessening already and his wound would take mere seconds to heal with thaumaturgy. The issue, however, was that he was wounded by what was supposed to be nothing more than a prana battery – and with an attack that had unmistakably been meant to eliminate him.

It tried to kill me…!

Gordes was correct. In his own way, the homunculus had mustered as much killing intent as he could before unleashing his spell. It was an impossible mutiny. The prey which he ought to devour and expend suddenly turned around and bit him.

On top of all the stress that Gordes had already suffered – this was the worst, final blow.

"Enough! You would try to kill me?! A homunculus?! Kill me?! Never! Never, never, never…!"

Half-crazed, Gordes kicked at the homunculus with all his rage. Darnic's command had already completely left his mind. His voice was grating and shrill, with all the pride and elegance of magi thrown to the wayside.

Gordes went further. His iron fist punched again and again into the withered body of the homunculus.

The homunculus had already been close to death when he utilized thaumaturgy. He had no power left to resist and laid face-down on the cold dirt.

Ah… I'm going to die, the homunculus realized subconsciously. Even if by some miracle Gordes forgave him, he could no longer do a thing. After all, the punch just now had demolished his heart. Judging from the frenzied expression on Gordes' face, it also seemed unlikely he was in a forgiving mood.

Left with no choice, the homunculus gave in. In the end, it did not matter which card he played. The hand he had been dealt was simply too poor…

"Stop him, Saber! Stop your Master! Quickly…!"

Saber remained silent. Rider tried with all his might to throw off Saber's arm, but it did not budge in the slightest. Rider gazed directly into Saber's eyes and shouted.

"We took form in this world to have our wishes granted… but that doesn't mean we can just accept anything that happens! Have you forgotten how to be a hero?! I haven't! I am Servant Rider… but I was Charlemagne's paladin, Astolfo! And I won't abandon him! I won't!"

Saber's hand twitched.

* * *

The smell of dirt and grass and wood filled the homunculus' nostrils. It was not so bad to end up covered in mud, he thought. At the very least, he was going to die with the great sky overhead, and the vast earth underneath. This might be a more pleasant end than the one waiting for those homunculi left at the castle, he thought.

Although drained of emotions towards all other things, carved within him was a singular sense of guilt and regret towards Rider. He felt sorry that all of Rider's help had come to naught.

Gordes stood before him. The homunculus did not make a decision so much as let the flow take him where it would. He opened his mouth and panted as though having just completed a sprint.

The scene clouded over – perhaps from fear, or despair – and he was glad that he could no longer see the fist closing in on him.

And so the nameless homunculus, born into the world with no meaning, would now die in the same fashion. That was how it should have ended.

"Stop, Master."

Saber placed his hand firmly on Gordes' shoulder. Gordes turned around in disbelief. Saber had ignored his command to restrain Rider and was facing him instead. Rider rushed over to the side of the homunculus in panic.

"What did you say, Saber?"

"I said, stop. If possible, I would like you to heal him and let him go."

"What are you saying?"

Gordes' voice quivered. Such was his anger that he no longer had any expressions on his face. However, he took a deep breath and spoke in the strict tone of a Master.

"Do not utter such nonsense, Saber… why must we heal and release it?"

"I appeal to your good nature, Master. It would not disadvantage us greatly to grant him salvation."

"Enough. Just be quiet."

"Master…"

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! You're my Servant, aren't you? So follow my orders! A mere familiar is not entitled to give me any opinions! Just shut up and do what I tell you to do!"

Having come to this stage, Gordes glared at Saber with clear enmity.

This treasonous worm would defy its own Master!

He truly regretted using that second Command Spell.

What 'hero'? What 'Servant'? It could not even accomplish the simpliest of orders…!

"Will you not save him?"

"I told you to shut…!"

In an instant, Gordes' consciousness was blown away by the fist Saber sunk into his abdomen. Completely ignoring the collapsing Gordes, Saber turned his back on him and looked straight at Rider, holding the hand of the homunculus.

"Saber…?"

Without answering Rider's call, Saber approached the two of them while dispelling his woven plates, sword and even armor, baring his chest.

Saber knelt before the dying homunculus. Rider glared at him angrily.

"It's too late… it's too late, damn it! Why did it take you so long?! We could have stopped that idiot of a Master before he did anything!"

It was only natural that Rider lamented. Saber should have stopped his Master as soon as he could. Even he would not be foolish enough to use a Command Spell here. If Saber had done everything he could, he would have prevented the death of the homunculus. He nodded sadly.

"Yes… you are right. Yet again, I have strayed onto the wrong path. In my doubt and bewilderment, I have elected for the worst option."

It was no different from then… he had thought that his acts would be able to end the conflict.

He had always made the wrong decisions at the most critical of moments. Bound to his own desires, he tried to overlook the weak who cowered before him. He did not seek salvation for himself – so he ignored the silent cries of those who had. Such meanness and wickedness were certainly not things he had striven for.

Would he repeat the same mistakes even in a second life? Saber's heart tightened in remorse and self-hatred.

"However… there is still a chance. It is not over yet."

"You think I believe you…?!"

Rider's temper flared again at his ridiculous words. Right away, he made a fist and tried to punch him – but then froze.

"Wha…?!"

The noise was deeply unpleasant, like the ripping of long, thick grass. And spraying in all directions, was blood, blood, blood…

It all came from Saber's chest.

Saber tore open a hole with his own two hands. All thoughts of violence forgotten, a dazed Rider could only watch the alien scene unfold as Saber gouged at his own innards.

"What, are you…?"

"Perhaps this is not enough to atone for my sins. In fact, I may simply be burdening him with the same ignoble fate and untimely end as I. But… this life is something I ought to offer him."

The heart that Saber had scooped out was unbelievably crimson. Raising the homunculus with one hand, he made him swallow the heart.

His act was unreal… grotesque… but it was not irrational. The swallowed heart eventually reached where the heart ought to be and began to beat strongly. He was alive. The homunculus had undoubtedly been resurrected.

However, it was all an equivalent exchange. The price of saving the nameless homunculus must be paid by Saber. He must give up the Holy Grail, give up his second life – and give up all of his desires.

"Why… why did you…?"

Rider asked, dumbstruck. Saber smiled softly at him.

"Thank you, Rider. I have almost lost sight of the thing I was seeking."

Saber's feet began to turn into golden particles. He was not turning to Spirit Form, but into oblivion. As he had lost the pathway to remain in the current world, he must now separate from it and disappear. A Servant's spiritual core exists in the heart and head; having ripped it out himself, he could only fade away.

Saber was suffering a second death. There was no other way to put it. There must be so many things he had not yet accomplished. However, Saber seemed entirely at peace.

"No, Saber… you can't! Saber! Don't leave!"

Rider yelled at him with a mix of disbelief, grief and anger on his face. As he trembled and held back tears, Rider looked for all the world like a lovely maiden. The ones who had fought beside him must have done all they could to impress him…

To consider such trifling things even in such a state… I must be hardier a fool than I had realized.

A bitter smile appeared on Saber's face.

"Why did you do it…?"

Despite the pain in Rider's voice, Saber did not intend to explain his motives. How could someone as pure as Rider understand his agony? If anything, he would feel only shame if he were to ramble on at his moment of death.

However, there was one thing that Siegfried was certain of.

Yes… this is a good end…

As he murmured to himself, Saber was extinguished. For a moment, Rider sat on the ground in a trance, until the homunculus began to cough. He hurriedly checked his pulse and pressed an ear against his chest. He could feel a real, powerful pulse of life.

"You're alive… yes… thank you… thank you, thank you…!"

Rider pressed the homunculus' hand into his cheek, ignoring the blood and filth. He did not care about what would come. He only wanted to express his relief at this fortunate turn of events. After all, the Rider of the Black did not possess any reason. He did not care at all what would happen in the coming days of the war. More specifically… he forgot entirely about the fact that their camp had just lost its Saber and was now in a highly disadvantageous position.

The innocent Astolfo simply celebrated and cried. He did not think about the attacks to come; even if he had, he would only have come to the conclusion that he should celebrate the homunculus' survival first.

"Ahh…"

Rider was overjoyed at the small sound that escaped – not from him, but the unconscious homunculus.

"Are you all right?! You are, aren't you?! Can you stand? All right, good! Now you can…"

Rider could not speak another word. Having closed his eyes earlier, he had missed the transformation that the homunculus' body had undergone.

"What… happened to me?"

The homunculus managed to raised his upper body off the ground, his eyes filled with wonder.

It could hardly be helped. The nameless homunculus had became an existence that never once existed in the great annals of alchemy.

And so, the Great Holy War was thrown into chaos at its onset by the quick loss of the Saber of the Black. Things would only continue to spiral out of control from here on.

* * *

"This was my garden in ages past… the

Hanging Gardens of Babylon

Aerial Gardens of Vanity

. It has been too long… Well, what do you make of it, Master?"

Shirou breathed out in amazement at Semiramis' words. An unimaginably enormous construction stood before him, built from systematically ordered floating masses, floors of marble and many pillars. Every kind of plant life were entangled and intertwined all over in a unification of unsightly disorder and luxurious beauty.

This was less of a garden and more of a fortress… and less of a fortress and more of a floating weapon. There was no mistaking it; this aerial garden was a flying castle.

"Wonderful… and I trust my requests were properly met?"

"But of course, my Master… let us activate the Garden as soon as Rider and Archer return. Those dismal Servants of Black will certainly lose their wits when they witness this!"

Assassin cackled in glee.

"Thank you. This is a golden opportunity for us, now that the Saber of the Black has vanished due to some unforeseen trouble. No doubt the Saber on our side will move in as well."

"It will be the decisive battle, then… yes, a conflict never before seen, sprung from the very myths of yore!"

Although the Black camp had quickly lost their Saber, they still possessed six Servants. The Red camp had lost Berserker as well. Of course, losing a Saber was far more of a handicap. However, the tables could be turned at any moment.

"In any case, the next battle will decide whether we can obtain the Greater Grail."

Shirou's voice proved his determination – and by contrast, his indescribable calm; it was the pitilessness with which he would eliminate all who opposed him by any means necessary.

In order to take his wish into his own hands, he would not hesitate to loot and pillage until he acquired everything he needed. It was not cruelty in the slightest – but merely the act of an unshakable will of steel.

A long time ago, the boy had asked: why, why were we not permitted…? There had been no salvation – only the sweep of despair and regret.

This time, he would obtain the Holy Grail and devote his entire being into questioning Him.

Is my desire worthy of your blessing?

"Let us go, Assassin. I won't let that tragedy happen again… the Greater Grail is ours."

Shirou looked up at the tall, clear sky with eyes filled with resolve.

Even now, the boy carried the dream within his heart.