Tristan played at Failnaught's numerous strings, producing a melancholic symphony that would have moved the hearts of many if not for the sheer destruction each single movement of his fingers wrought.
Instead of an entranced audience, the air itself twisted and danced at his command, forming a field of invisible distortions that surrounded him and his men.
"Am I correct to presume you servants of Richard the Lionheart, my countrymen?" It was sad that he would have to raise his blade against his own people, "Will you not surrender, so that no blood is spilled?" Unlikely, they outnumbered him.
The glaring Sun overhead left no shadow, nothing hidden. Tristan knew they were surrounded on all sides by servant class combatants, he knew that the men he'd been given would be slaughtered if he misstepped even slightly.
He could only hope that the rider he'd send out would reach Gawain and Aston soon enough. It hadn't been too long since they'd split up, had it? The ever-present Sun and unchanging sky distorted one's sense of time.
Inhaling deeply, the knight put his fingers on Failnaught's strings and turned to face the leader of the enemy contingent, "Am I correct to presume you are Richard the Lionheart himself?"
The man was by no means all that impressive when it came to appearances, dirty blonde hair with a tuft of crimson, a shallow countenance and hollow eyes. He couldn't possibly be the figure of legend they'd be warned against.
His armour, that Tristan believed would have been resplendent was damaged and marred by blood, the red cape that hung from his back was haggard and torn.
Just what had happened?
Tristan received no answers.
'Richard' took a step forward, expression dull and unassuming, and then another.
Relaxedly, he walked forward, sword already drawn.
"Not in the mood for discussions, very well." Tristan's form changed as his eyes gained focus honed over a life spent on the battlefield, "Allow me to apologise for thinking wrongly of you."
Richard the Lionheart looked like no King but he held the power of one. His sheer presence would make lesser men buckle and kneel, his eyes held no fear, the calm with which he moved told the knight of the King's experience.
The sheer magical power and presence he exuded by merely standing in place would outclass most if not all the Knights of the Round Table. There was no way Tristan could win against him, not to mention the massive contingent of crusaders following him.
Tristan's assumptions were proven correct when Richard just walked through one of the many traps he'd set up earlier, setting off a chain reaction that released torrents of wind sharp and fast enough to tear men to shreds, kicking up the sand underneath them, completely unbothered.
'Richard' simply waved his empty hand, pushing aside the sandstorm as if it were a fly, sending gusts of wind that knocked back the defensive lines Tristan's men had formed, clearing a path.
The Crusader King stared at Tristan for a moment before leaning forward. The next moment, before Tristan could even process what had happened, Richard was upon him, sword already swinging down to split the red-haired Archer in two halves.
"Ho-...?!"
Tristan was saved by one of his men pushing him aside just at the last second, "Our King needs you yet." Those were the last words he heard before the knight was sliced in two from shoulder to guts, the sword passing through armour without any resistance.
Clenching his teeth in frustration, Tristan drew the sword that hung at his waist and swung upwards at his enemy only for Richard to grab the blade with his bare hand and smash the butt of his sword into his face, tossing the Knight of the Round Table through the air like some no name grunt.
Richard sent one last contemptuous gaze towards Tristan before gesturing with his head and uttered a single world, "Kill."
The crusaders that had stood silent and still until then moved instantly, rushing at what remained of Tristan's defensive line. Quality over quantity couldn't be brought into the equation when a sea of crusaders swarmed the ordinary British soldiers and knights.
Tristan could only watch as his men struggled in futility, the thought of surrender or retreat never even crossing their minds as they fought. A single knight tore into one of the Crusaders, only to die to another impaling him through the back. Another lost his head, one had dozens of spears jammed into his chest.
Frustratingly enough, all he could really do was watch. The moment Tristan tried to move, Richard would knock him down, almost as if he was deriving some sick joy from watching him despair at his lack of ability to help.
It wasn't as if he hadn't lost men before but, these people were giving their lives for him when Tristan hadn't even been able to learn their names, "...Why?" He never noticed his own clenched fists and gritted teeth, attempting to push away his compassion for his fellow man.
He would have to if he wanted to aid the Lion King in his ambition.
His question was answered with silence again.
He should have been more on guard, he should have noticed.
Truthfully, there really was nothing he could have done. The Crusaders had appeared out of thin air, Richard moved faster than even he could follow and unlike the Egyptian Pharaoh, who had established a Kingdom and declared his presence, the Crusaders were a faction that couldn't be pinned down to one location, they had no camp to speak of, no allegiance to any, and no apparent reason to be other than slaughter and war.
"What do you seek out of this? ...Why must you do this?"
Richard raised his blade again, intent on lopping off Tristan's head and being done with it then and there.
"Because the only way for him to get the attention mother and father dear never gave him is to attack unprovoked, forgive him. T'is all he knows."
There was no way for Tristan to not recognise the voice that answered his question. His head shot up to stare at the tall back of the Knight of Atrocity, "How goes your day, Sir Tristan? I suppose it was the right decision to rush here as fast as I could."
The Archer looked around him, and saw a desolate battlefield.
The Crusaders that had been slaughtering wantonly had been torn apart, fresh warm blood spilled onto thirsty, cruel sands that quickly soaked it all up. Some corpses were still standing, perhaps unaware of the fact that life had long left them.
In the moment that Tristan had lowered his head in despair, the tides of battle had changed. The Knight of Atrocity had arrived and made light of his adversaries, slaughtering them as if it was his god given right.
Fortunately, Richard was just as shocked, something Tristan was surprised to see happen. He quickly forced back the disgust and regret welling up in his heart and stood up, hands gripping Failnaught, "Could you not have arrived a moment sooner?" He asked plainly, observing the corpses of his few men.
"Ah... Why must I be put through this?"
It had been a small contingent, a few hundreds at best but still, it weighed heavy on his heart.
Aston ignored him, and stared at the blade piercing his own shoulder instead, then at the masses of Crusaders appearing out of thin air.
He proceeded to completely ignore an injury that should have immobilised one of his arms entirely and nodded his head in understanding, "I see, your noble phantasm is one that allows you to gang up on your opponents, how strong." He spoke sarcastically.
"Fortunately, trash only begets trash."
"Let us remove this 'trash' from the face of this beautiful world then."
-
See, I'm back.
Anywho, go further at your own behest.
Aston Alter is about to appear and he's from a timeline where he doesn't have the speedforce, but still managed to do much more than Pan human history Aston did, also. They're different enough to be at each other's throats moments after meeting.
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You can find up to 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/Bleap
(It's full, this is what I've been doing after giving you three chapters
"I dedicate this to my fallen comrades. Few times have I felt sorrow so deep, few times have I seen bravery and sacrifice so admirable."
Richard raised his hands, guarding against burst after burst of sharp wind that would have reduced even servants to a gory mess as an ode to the dead rang throughout the increasingly desolate and despairing battlefield.
"Boohoohoo, woe is me. This is worse than that time we were discussing how you got drugged and ra-" Aston was forced to shut up and grab his spear with both hands, blocking Richard's sword before it could cut into his flesh.
Every time the English King tried to assault the Archer, Aston would interfere. The Lancer couldn't overwhelm him in terms of parameters other than speed but he was enough of a nuisance that Richard was forced away. Now this in itself was impressive, and one would think Richard an indomitable foe that was in a stalemate with not one but two Heroic Spirits that could be considered the cream of the crop, but it was not so.
Aston's Agility parameter outranked King Richard's by such a wide margin that the former was slaughtering an unending army of Crusaders while at the same time protecting Tristan.
Each passing moment brought with it fresh corpses that piled onto those that already covered the ground. Being parts of a noble phantasm, the Crusaders eventually started dissipating into thin air but the freshly slaughtered ones replaced them before long.
Richard the Lionhearted grit his teeth in frustration and pulled his blade to the side. In a burst of magical energy, the sword kicked up sand and dust forming a wall of smoke before Richard swung it in an arc, releasing a wave of crimson destructive energy that outright removed everything it came into contact with, vaporising all in it's path.
Aston lodged his spear into the sand and clasped it with both hands, "How original, this seems like Excalibur but walmart... What is walmart?" He tilted his head in confusion as lightning ran from his figure to his lance, coating it in blue.
"You are using magical energy, a primitive method of attack. Brute strength can overwhelm it."
Retrieving the weapon, Aston aimed it at the crux of the incoming wave of destruction before throwing it with enough strength that it broke the sound barrier, splitting apart the ground under it as lightning trailed behind it.
The spear parted the wave, blowing through it unimpeded before lodging itself through the arm of a Richard that failed to see it coming, "And here I believed you were a veteran of war, why would you assume... Wait, you couldn't see it." Aston glanced at Tristan, "Wasn't he meant to be the visually impaired one?"
The English King grunted and stared at Aston with hollow eyes, "..."
"I apologise if it's rude but, you aren't the real King Richard, are y-..."
"Hold on, Sir Aston and Tristan! I have come to your aid!!"
Aston was cut off by a loud, almost obnoxiously reassuring voice that both he and Tristan couldn't fail to recognise if they tried. The speaker's identity was confirmed when a searing pillar of flames descended from the empty sky above, melting sand and vaporising the field of corpses Aston had built up over the course of their engagement with the crusaders.
Richard the Lionheart simply brushed off the attack, swinging his sword to meet the heat with an energy wave of his own that dissipated Gawain's attack.
"Hoh? Surprising. It is not often that I meet a foe that can brush off Excalibur Galatine with such ease." Gawain was almost uncharacteristically serious, tightly gripping his noble phantasm even as heat reminiscent of the Sun itself rolled off the bright blade. He was perhaps the best among his peers at assessing a threat, mostly because any that could shrug off his noble phantasm might as well have been shrugging off the heat of a star.
"Did you get bigger?" Aston asked with narrowed eyes, taking in the bulkier form of the Knight of the Sun Gawain, "Did you partake in illicit substances for quick gains?"
Gawain only pointed at the sky, "It is noon, the Sun is at it's highest."
That explained everything.
Excalibur Galatine was a sister sword to the Sword of Promised Victory wielded by their King, crafted by the Fairies, and the representation of the very Sun above their heads. The higher it was, the stronger Gawain would get.
It was insane then that Richard had deflected an attack from him with such ease.
Also because the sword had a pseudo Sun in it's hilt.
The three knights didn't get to converse further as Richard seemed to realise the threat posed by them. He rushed at them, momentarily escaping the sight of two and was only stopped from lopping off Tristan's head because Aston reacted in time and threw his spear at the man, stopping him in his tracks for but an instant. That instant however, was enough for Aston to grab onto his much smaller body, holding him in place.
Richard smashed his elbow into the Knight of Atrocity's guts, drawing a surprised grunt when the blow cracked the knight's armour, "Grr... Come on, attack him. Deploy your noble phantasms, your King permitted it." They were to destroy their enemy with all they had.
"But... what about you, Sir Aston?!" Gawain shouted at him, clenching his sword. He'd recognised that to beat Richard, they would need to sacrifice two, no, three of their own to annihilate the enemy servant. That was not a good outcome in any way.
Tristan seemed to understand something that he didn't and raised Failnaught, "Then this will be quick..." The air swirled around him as the ambient magical energy coalesced at a singular point. He dragged his fingers across the bow's numerous strings, rapidly firing invisible arrows that assaulted the struggling but immobile Richard, "Singing of pain, playing laments. Failnaught."
The Archer pulled back all the strings at once and for the first time in their conflict, his arrow became visible, coated with potent magical energy that increased it's size and the threat it posed for those unlucky enough to be hit by it.
The air around him swirled and danced at his bow.
Sensing the danger, Richard struggled further and Aston smirked under his helmet, "I doubt you can follow it's trajectory once it's released, however..." Just as Tristan released his hold on Failnaught and shot, Richard felt the hands holding him in place disappear,
"I can."
Aston vanished completely, appearing a ways off as Richard hurriedly threw together a reaction, and he somewhat managed it, tilting his body just enough that the arrow, originally aimed at his heart, met his gut, shredding flesh and blowing a massive hole through his abdomen.
"Gawain, how did you even live as long as you did?" Aston asked dubiously, they were all from warring times. He believed even a foot soldier would have been able to recognise his intentions considering he was famed for his agility. This current vessel of his couldn't handle his noble phantasm without instantly falling apart so all he was left with was speed several hundred times that of sound.
"I..."
The two knights were stopped by Tristan who held his hand up alarmed, his eyes wide open, "There is something else, something far more sinister than the foe we just faced."
Even with the blazing Sun overhead and complete lack of any body that could cast a shadow, they pooled up near Richard the Lionheart all the same, taking a far darker texture that rose to the height of a man before taking on a humanoid shape. It broiled and hardened, all before any of the knights near it could even process what was happening.
It appeared so inhuman and vile that even they who had warred all their life were left momentarily stumped.
"RejOIce, LancER..." What addressed them was a disembodied churning noise that was barely understandable, "WE, Andras, bear gOOd news..." It regarded the damaged but still alive Richard, "This one HAS become obsooolete."
"Our KING has in...stead, recogniSED your pOTential."
Was this one of those Demon Gods the Lion King was talking about?
The being materialised completely, and though it's eyes were masked by a crown of gold, even Aston felt the sheer disgust it brought, "Do not resist in futility. You shall... assist in our noble goal."
It subsumed Richard the Lionheart before he could even struggle and raised a hand to Aston as an ornate golden cup manifested near it.
Reality shifted and distorted at his command, freezing the Lancer.
-
Anyone connecting the dots from this chapter regarding Alter and how he's coming to be?
-
Check out Fate/Fisted.
Did anyone here do it? How's it look?
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You can find upto 7 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/bleap
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