Thanks to BikoWolf for Everything

As you may have noticed, I haven't written in a while. The reason is simple: I can no longer continue this blog novel. But this isn't the end of this blog, I'll probably post more novels but not F/Y. Unfortunately I've lost the will to pursue this particular story.
However, I feel guilty and even ungrateful, especially towards the artist who dedicated his time to my blognovel. For this reason I would like to thank him by sharing with you the artworks of the never published chapters.

Thank you, BikoWolf. 😌

Remember to follow him on: Pixiv.

 

 

 

This isn't the end. My passion for writing hasn't been stifled. New stories will come, but this is goodbye for F/Y. 

It was a good time. 😉

Dreamwalkers

It's been a while since I last wrote, but I have my reasons. Together with BikoWolf I was able to work on our first comic. 😋 It's something we're very proud of and you can read it for free on Pixiv if you want.

 

 

Raphael Maillard

Born in Toulon into a wealthy family. His appearance can be deceiving, in fact he's a man who has received a typical bourgeois upbringing. His arrogant attitude is crowned by an almost total disregard for the 'others' (i.e. all those whom he considers inferior). He is an intelligent man, but with little empathy. He teaches in the AMPM (Association des Mages et Philosophes de la Magie) and is a magus capable of manipulating mercury up to a certain point.

Servant: ω Lancer

Artwork by BikoWolf

Marcus Aurelius - Marco Aurelio

Other names: Stoic Emperor, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Philosopher Emperor, Fifth Good Emperor, The Philosopher

Master: Raphael Maillard

One of the greatest emperors of Rome. After the death of Antoninus Pius, he rose to power and decided to reign together with his adoptive brother Lucius Verus. The young Marcus Aurelius was not an experienced military man, having spent most of his life studying philosophy and literature, so many doubted his ability to lead the mighty Empire. However, despite the doubts of most, Marcus Aurelius proved to be a man of great courage and strong determination.
The emperor was faced with a severe plague that struck the Empire after the Parthian campaigns. The weakening of the borders allowed several Germanic peoples to make inroads into Roman territory... Marcomanni, Quadi, Iazyges, Chatti, Suebi, Roxolani, Bastarnae, Costoboci, and other Germanic tribes began to plunder the Roman colonies and invade the imperial territory.
The emperor undertook to direct military operations against these populations to put an end to their attacks. Upon the death of Lucius Verus, Marcus Aurelius decided to rely on Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus (a Roman commander of Syrian origins) and Publius Elvius Pertinax. The two commanders were employed in the offensive against the invaders. When the Marcomanni and Quadi entered the Empire, they sacked and destroyed Oderzo leaving behind thousands of civilian casualties. Their new objective was then the city of Aquileia and so they decided to besiege it, but luckily Pompeianus and Pertinax successfully repulsed them and saved the city. 

Other Germanic tribes penetrated into Roman territory and began to attack Roman and Greek colonies and sanctuaries (the sanctuary of Eleusis was set on fire by the Costoboci). Marcus Aurelius, therefore, decided to change his strategy: instead of defending the borders, he chose to march into the territories of the enemies and to massacre anyone who dared to resist. The emperor's goal became conquest. Marcomanni, Quadi and Iazyges were decimated and forced to surrender. Later the emperor planned the conquest of the Sarmatian lands to end the threat from the Sarmatians. The campaigns were a success, but did not lead to the desired results.
The emperor's last campaign was made against the Marcomanni and the Quadi, who had decided to attack the borders of the Empire again. Again the emperor had in mind to conquer them, but he died during the campaigns.
In times of war he wrote the Meditations, an example of his stoic philosophy and of the depth of his soul. Today he is considered one of the best emperors of Rome.

Artwork by BikoWolf

Chapter 27 : Rebellious heart

"Where will all this take you?"
That question came out of the mouth of a wounded man, a magus who could barely stand. In his head he was thinking of a way to be able to escape from the residence safe and sound, but in his heart he still hoped to be able to convince that demon he was facing not to pursue her evil plans. He wasn't doing it out of pity, but to fulfill his duty as a member of the Order of Tot to the end. If he couldn't face that demon with violence, he could at least hope to persuade her to desist.
"To death… I tell you…" He leaned against a wall of his immense dining room. "Everything you're doing… it's not going to do any good…"
Yukiko Kumahira sat at the table, in front of the large window overlooking the urban panorama of Cairo, and she ate, comfortably, some delicious and soft rare meat seasoned with excellent quality spices. At the foot of the chair were the corpses of the bodyguards who were supposed to defend that magus who was now, with difficulty, trying to survive.
"Do you really think you can win… this war…?" he coughed.
"Mm-mm." She swallowed the succulent morsel of meat. "Hesham Sharaf. You've always been a particularly intelligent man, am I right? How can you doubt my abilities after all I've done? I have destroyed the Clock Tower and the Coven, this means that the two most important magi organizations in Europe have been completely wiped out. This means that you, my dear Sharaf, should have some faith in my ability to win the war."
"So you're really going to pursue this crazy plan of yours…?"
"You people always use such emotional and dramatic words, yet you don't even realize what they really mean. What's 'crazy' about my plan? Is it by any chance 'crazy' to desire the Void? No, I don't think so. I believe that true madness is the one exhibited by people like you. Have you seen yourself in the mirror, Sharaf? You are on your deathbed and yet you are determined not to tell me how to access Adocentyn. Why waste your breath giving me some sort of sermon? Wouldn't it be much more convenient to make your last moments of life useful for something?"
"I will never give you what you seek…! Crazy little girl, you'll never be able to—!"
"Yahya, Bassem, Ahmed, Youssef… They are all dead, Sharaf. You know why, don't you? You know it's their stupidity to blame. They could have surrendered and given me what I ask for, however they preferred to resist to the end and I sent them to the Creator. You will be next. So instead of wasting your time calling me crazy, you better tell me what you know."
"You'll never go to Adocentyn… that's all I know…" he panted.
Yukiko turned to better see that poor man while he persistently tried to cling to life. He gritted his teeth, breathed slowly, closed his eyes for a few seconds and reopened them to turn them upwards; she enjoyed the sight of that fragile life that, little by little, slipped into the darkness of death.
"If you value your life that much, tell me what you know. I want to have access to Adocentyn and you will help me or you will die like the others. I know perfectly well that you are looking for a way to reach Adocentyn and I bet you what you want that you have found the solution."
"No, it's just a prototype…" he murmured softly.
"There we are! Finally some sincerity! Go ahead then! Tell me everything!" she exclaimed joyfully.
"Like I said…it's just a prototype…I don't think it's going to work…"
"Have you ever tried it?"
"No, but… but…" he was losing his lucidity, he felt tired and heavy.
"Do you want to live, Sharaf? Then fight to the last."
"I can only tell you that… the calculations are correct on a purely theoretical level, but none of us have ever worked that magecraft… it is something that is very risky."
"What is it exactly?"
"A teleporter… it uses some principles of alchemy, then magic crystals, arcane geometry, mathematics..… but it's only a prototype. It could kill you…"
"It might as well not, right?"
"Do you really want to risk that much just to reach Adocentyn…?"
"You have no idea how much I'm willing to sacrifice to achieve my goal. You know where the teleporter is located, don't you?"
He nodded.
"Good. Take me there and remember this: no one but me shall use it. Do as I tell you and you will live, but if I find out you have sent more magi to Adocentyn I will come after you and choke you with your own intestines. Have I been clear?"
He nodded a second time.
"Excellent. Then I'd say it's time to put this prototype to the test."

 

The moon was illuminating a body on the cross.
The body of Raphael's Heroic Spirit hung from an iron cross—the fearsome Noble Phantasm of α Berserker—yet there was, in the air, the feeling that the battle was not yet over.
Benjamin Palmer was still wounded in the arm and, even though it had stopped bleeding, it still hurt badly; he felt as though he still had a mastiff's teeth implanted in his flesh. Saber had just recovered, she wasn't tired and she had already made up her mind to face Berserker. When the young Master noticed that the Servant was approaching the woman armed with sword and shield, he stopped her and said in a low voice:
"No need, let's just focus on that asshole's Servant."
"Are you talking about Lancer? You don't have to worry about him, Master, he's finished now. He is no longer a threat. Now the only enemy left is the Berserker."
The boy was slightly disappointed by Saber's attitude. He would've expected, at the very least, a thank you. He had tried to protect her and yet it almost seemed as if she didn't care.
On the other side was Hetna, who took some satisfaction in having defeated her opponent's Servant... though she couldn't understand why that Lancer hadn't disappeared yet. That little doubt was crushed constantly by the certainty that no one could escape from Galba's cross.
Raphael was calm. His Servant, his faithful ω Lancer, had just been crucified yet, for some reason, he gave the impression of having the situation under control.
"This is a waste of time."
Raphael's presumptuous words struck Hetna and left her dumbfounded. It was clear that ω Lancer was about to die, but that arrogant French Master was not worried and, on the contrary, continued to behave as if he had victory in his hand. The same astonishment also struck Benjamin, who was already thinking of ordering his Servant to finish off Lancer.
"Today I saw them all: a beast, a brat helping said beast, the worst Saber ever, and also the most banal Berserker ever summoned. Is this supposed to be the Holy Grail War? No, this is a circus and you are all clowns."
The man's arrogance was really annoying to both Benjamin and Hetna. His bored look, his conceited way of speaking, his attitude of a bourgeois intellectual, even his face, were irritating to say the least. Raphael had no respect for his enemies, he had no respect for the Heroic Spirits who faced him, and above all, he had no respect for the entire duel.
"And this situation is an exemplification of the stupidity of this whole battle. I don't understand how an Augusti filius can fall so low as to allow himself to be crucified by a little emperor. React, Lancer. Use your Noble Phantasm and show your true strength to that cheap emperor."
Hetna, shocked, exclaimed, "Are you serious?! Do you really believe your Servant can fight in a situation like that? He's done! You lost!"
"Here's where you're wrong, woman. Although Galba Caesar Augustus may seem like a fearsome Servant, she's still an emperor who reigned just six months. What is six months of reign compared to the nineteen years of the man who has just been crucified? At your service you have a miserable Roman emperor who was famous only for her cruelty and her bad governance! Even nonentities like Caligula or Elagabalus have proved superior to your Heroic Spirit! Remember this lesson: next time you decide to summon a Roman emperor, make sure he's at least one of the powerful ones!"
Hetna was baffled by her opponent's words, yet, looking at Lancer, it was clear that this Heroic Spirit had no chance of escape.
"Do you really believe that the man who is now on the cross is a Servant at the maximum of his energies? Well no. Up until now, all you've done is deal with a Heroic Spirit who's been holding back. But now it's time to show you who you're dealing with! Now is the time to leave the arena to the Stoic Emperor!"
Then Hetna understood.
"I'd say it's time to end the game. You know what to do, ω Lancer: kill them all. Kill those who are threatening you and your homeland! Eliminate your enemies without any mercy!"
Lancer opened his eyes. His pain slowly faded from his face, as if something was washing it away. The air around him was enveloped in a blanket of golden energy; even Lancer's weapon began to glow.
"I do my duty," said the Servant in a cold voice, "without letting anything else distract me." He raised his head. "In that life where your body does not surrender, it is shameful that the soul surrenders first."

Berserker saw Lancer move and, without hesitation, attacked him with her sword. The man stopped his opponent's arm and with the other hand held his spear, which emitted a sound reminiscent of the neighing of a steed.
"How do you persist?!" The woman was shocked. "No one is so tenacious! No traitor is so tenacious!"
"You call me a 'traitor', but you have no idea who I am. You dared to crucify a Roman citizen, you did it before, Galba. I know it. For this inhumane act of yours, you do not deserve my sympathy, not even an iota of my pity."
"Traitor! Subversive! Rebel! Die!" Berserker tried to free herself, but without any success.
"You can't escape me. Your destiny has been sanctioned by the gods of Rome. I, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus, will bring their final judgment upon you."
Lancer's body was enveloped in a kind of golden energy that broke the chains that kept him imprisoned. The iron cross was pulverized, and as soon as ω Lancer's feet hit the ground, he struck Berserker with such force that she flew at least four meters.
"You cannot face my Noble Phantasm: Tà Eis Heautón (The Emperor's Words to Himself)."
Hetna, seeing the true power of ω Lancer, was incredulous. "You're kidding…" she murmured. "That Noble Phantasm clearly has the same characteristics as an Anti-Treasure… yet there is something anomalous about it."
"You still can't figure it out, can you? I can't be surprised," Raphael commented with a touch of satisfaction. "Only a wise and powerful man like Marcus Aurelius could possess such a Noble Phantasm. People think of him as just a philosopher, but they forget that he spent nineteen years of his life fighting against invaders of all kinds, and more: plagues, economic crisis, high mortality, political instability… He faced all this and is managed to protect the Empire. His philosophical soul, combined with his inhuman willpower, conceived the Noble Phantasm that you are now seeing! It nullifies any other enemy Noble Phantasm and, on top of that, it raises all the Servant's stats to their maximum possible!"
"What?! No!" she exclaimed in fright. "This means that…"
"Exactly! You finally figured out what's going on! Right now, Lancer has stats no Heroic Spirit can match!"
Marcus Aurelius and Galba. The two emperors were face to face.
The woman attacked her opponent with ferocity, it was clear that she had no intention of letting herself be defeated easily. Her attacks lacked technique, they were savage, furious like those of an irrational beast. The man was able to parry them one after the other without the slightest effort. He was calm… he was devoid, really, of any emotion. His mind had reached a state of absolute purity and there was nothing that could destabilize it. Berserker certainly didn't have the tools to be able to corner such an opponent, yet she constantly tried. She hit, hit, hit harder, but she never managed to hurt Lancer. It was as if that Servant had become invincible like the legendary Achilles.
"Your Heroic Spirit is too weak," Raphael commented to Hetna. "Look at my Lancer's perfect movements, his steely calm and his impeccable technique. His mind has at this moment reached a higher state. Marcus Aurelius is in fact the only Roman emperor to have a Noble Phantasm which makes him wise and enlightened like a bodhisattva. How can Galba deal with such a man? She can't, that's the answer."
Raphael looked up and saw Berserker fly to the ground for what might have been the sixth time. The man was sure he had victory in hand. Nothing could stop his Lancer.
Benjamin Palmer and Saber were both speechless. He had no intention of sending her Servant against the Stoic Emperor and she, on the other hand, was starting to fear that she had chosen an opponent beyond her reach. She had never seen a Roman fight like that, not even her nemesis was so powerful.

Lancer parried yet another attack by Berserker and, with inhuman speed, wounded her in the arm and then kicked her in the stomach; however the woman didn't give up, she was as tenacious as a hungry wolf.
Something inside Berserker's shield moved and the sound of a mechanism was heard. The woman smiled and, raising the shield, sprayed a resinous substance that stuck to the opponent's body. The man, smelling the strong perfume, realized that it was galbanum. She lowered her shield and the gem in the center of it glowed red, so it blew a blast of fire at ω Lancer.
"Burn, you bastard," she exclaimed. "Burn in the flames of supreme justice!"
Galbanum, in contact with fire, burned.
Even Hetna was surprised by her Servant's excellent strategy, but ω Lancer's Noble Phantasm managed to counter even those flames. His body was not stained even by a wound. When Hetna realized the gravity of the situation she understood that there was only one way to eliminate Marcus Aurelius: kill the Master.
Raphael was still contemplating his Servant's battle when, without any warning, a mystical blade pierced his leg. The man let out a cry of suffering and, when he realized that Hetna was approaching, he decided to run to hide and summoned a flock of crows to slow down the enemy.
Lancer, meanwhile, continued to dominate the battlefield. Berserker was getting tired, her blows getting slower and less forceful; this meant that by now she could no longer fight. The strong Stoic Emperor knew his opponent was resigned.
Benjamin did not know Hetna. He was aware of being, in fact, an enemy of her, yet he could not accept letting her Servant die. Galba, even though she was completely insane at the time, had still saved his life and he felt an obligation to return the favor. He looked at ω Saber and she immediately knew what to do. She smiled at him, proud that he had made that decision, and went on the attack.
Lancer did not have time to kill Galba. Saber's blade blocked the spear.
"You Romans are really fools! You always underestimate your enemies, you see them as weak incapable of reacting! And that's why people like me can defeat you!"
Saber wasn't as fast as her opponent, but she was more tenacious than Berserker and managed to keep a fair amount of control in the battle. His blows managed, however, to put her on the corner when he, of course, understood her strategy. Lancer, therefore, gaining a slight advantage, launched an attack powerful enough to flip Saber and send her flying into a wall of the arena. However, she got up.
"It takes much more to defeat me, ω Lancer! I have battle in my blood!"
"More skilled in the fight, but no more inclined to the common good, nor more disciplined towards events. That's the truth, Saber," he said with inhuman detachment.
"Don't think you can talk to me as if you know me!"

"I know you. I know who you are. Vercingetorix, your name entered history only thanks to the Founder. Her actions made you immortal. This is the truth. You, without her, are nothing. Your hatred of the Romans is misplaced because we, arrogant or otherwise, made you who you are. Who would you have been without us? Just another Gallic aristocrat forgotten by history."
She didn't answer, but it was clear that now the battle had just become personal. Saber restarted with her offensive, without parting from her tactics, however this choice turned out to be bad. Lancer, in fact, had memorized the opponent's moves and was able to parry every single attack with perfect timing. When the man began to attack, the opponent could not help but back away as much as possible. Lancer was getting faster, getting more accurate, and getting stronger. He no longer even looked like an ordinary Heroic Spirit but something higher, something divine. Saber was eventually knocked down a second time and got up a second time, ready to resume the offensive. Lancer did nothing. He waited for his opponent's attack, and when he saw her running towards him, he immediately dodged her blade and counterattacked like lightning.
Benjamin saw Saber fall to the ground for the third time, however this time it was different… she was wounded in the belly this time.
"Saber!" he exclaimed approaching her. "You're hurt! I have to…!"
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help that proud rebel warrior. He didn't want to let her die, he didn't want to abandon her to her fate, and so he acted on instinct and tried to plug her wound. In that instant, just as his hands touched her wound, something inexplicable happened: the Magic Circuits appeared on Benjamin's body. They gave off a golden light, a light that spread around him, a light that embraced her too and that raised a kind of barrier; a real magical shield. Saber's wound healed in an instant, and so did Benjamin's.
"What is this...?" he asked confused. "What is this heat...? Is this… my magecraft?"
"Yes, Master. You did it," she said with a smile. "You blossomed."
Lancer struck that shield, but a shock wave knocked it back. Nothing could penetrate that light, no blade could break that magical barrier. Benjamin could not believe his eyes. What was happening was thanks to him, it was his magic… it was his power. He wished so much, at that moment, that his grandfather was there to see him.
Saber got up with the help of his Master.
"Are you sure?" he asked, still worried about her.
"Trust me, Master, I will be able to defeat him. No matter how strong he is, I will be able to win. I promise you."
He smiled. "I believe in you, Saber—no, Vercingetorix."
She smiled and advanced on her enemy.
When Lancer saw the light disappear, he immediately attacked. The two weapons collided several times before either could touch skin and it was Saber's that hurt Lancer. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps luck, or a demonstration of skill, the fact is that ω Lancer did not bend and continued to attack. Saber hadn't gained a strong advantage over her opponent, but she was fighting tenaciously, with wild energy that raged like an out-of-control fire. She was fury incarnate. By now it seemed that nothing could stop ω Saber from continuing to fight.
Lancer continued to remain calm, cold, completely detached from this battle. His eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion, and he continued to fight. However his persistence was accompanied by a strong ignorance of what was happening away from that duel; Lancer had no idea that his Master was fighting to survive. It was an almost paradoxical situation: Raphael had ordered his Heroic Spirit to use a Noble Phantasm that had made the aforementioned a kind of killing machine focused only on victory. But poor Raphael was about to fall victim to the same strategy and only fate would decide what would happen to him.
Lancer did not fall. Despite Saber's best efforts, Lancer didn't fall. He was still standing. He wasn't fatigued, he wasn't willing to give up, he didn't feel the pressure of battle… he was empty. Completely empty.

"You're stubborn, huh?" said ω Saber. "You are probably the strongest Roman I have ever met. I highly doubt there are others like you."
"You keep comparing me to someone I consider a slave to politics, war, and ambition. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar and Gnaeus Pompeius what are they in front of Diogenes and Heraclitus and Socrates? The latter saw the reality of things, they were never slaves of the world. Philosophy is stronger than ambition. A poetic mind is stronger than a political mind. This is the truth and if you fail to understand it, and continue to judge me as their equal, it is because you see only the stench and the tainted blood in the sack that is my body. If you have sharp eyesight, you should know how to use it and go beyond material reality. I am Roman, but I am not the other Romans."
"Do you really think you're that different from them? I don't know if you are naïve or crazy, ω Lancer. You can't get away from your roots, you can't escape your culture. You're a Roman, you think like a Roman and you will die like a Roman. Stop pretending to be different from your compatriots, you risk being pathetic."
"Everything is transformation, Saber. You yourself are subject to a continuous process of alteration and even destruction. This is the law of the cosmos… and also of Rome. Not all Romans are meant to be the same as other Romans, but your inability to understand that is nothing strange. In fact, now that I think about it, it's almost logical that you wouldn't be able to distinguish me from any Roman, after all, not even you can draw a line between you and Julius Caesar; in many ways you are like her."
"You insult my honour!" Saber's sword was enveloped in a blue light. "You will pay for this offense, ω Lancer! Caturix (The King of Endless Battle)!"
The Noble Phantasm hit ω Lancer squarely. The impact of the attack was devastating and left a hole in the center of the arena.
But Lancer was still alive.
Emperor Marcus Aurelius was still standing and didn't have a single scratch. That golden energy that enveloped his body had made him invulnerable. Vercingetorix was amazed and, at least in part, disappointed. She hoped to be able to kill that man, but he was stubborn and did not fall. No matter how strong the woman's will, nothing could stop that Heroic Spirit.
By now Benjamin was hoping for an intervention from Berserker, but she was gone; he thought that perhaps she had decided to hide. He turned his attention back to the enemy and noticed that, after walking a few meters, Lancer, for some reason, had stopped. Benjamin immediately thought of ordering ω Saber to attack, but she, having received her order, looked at him and shook her head.
"No, he's done," she said with disappointed eyes.
"In what sense…?" he asked confused.
Then he saw that the man's feet had become transparent. Lancer was wrapped in a kind of golden dust and was slowly disappearing. Even in the face of death, that Servant showed no sign of emotion. He remained calm, detached, and spoke these words:
"I cannot despise death, but I welcome it, as this is one of the things nature willed. As one waits for the moment when a child will come out of one's wife's womb, so one waits for the moment when our soul will slip out of this wrapping. These are in cycles of the cosmos: up and down, from everlasting to everlasting. We cannot change them, we cannot dictate law to the universe. And why does a foolish man worry? In a certain sense, in fact, there are either atoms or destiny. If there is god, all is well; if chance dominates, do not act at random too. Therefore, to despise what is mortal is an illogical attitude."
"You're right…" Saber murmured in a moment of pity. "You are right, ω Lancer. We cannot despise mortality, it is a part of life."

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand… I'm glad…" Something gleamed in his eyes.
"My greatest suffering is not being able to defeat you, but maybe that will be for another time. I will remember this moment, Stoic Emperor, and prepare my weapons for our next meeting. Wait for my arrival, because I will look for you."
"And I will wait for you… Yes, I will wait… I will wait for your arrival, brave warrior… After all, what is the point of resisting the currents of destiny? You, Masters who fight this war, remember that there is little time left to live. So don't argue about how to be virtuous, but be virtuous. This is a farewell, may you all fulfill your destiny as it was arranged from eternity…"
Marcus Aurelius disappeared leaving behind the echo of that last word.
The barrier lowered.
The battle had come to an end.
Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief and wanted to hug the Servant, but the battle wasn't over yet. Hetna returned to the center of the arena carrying the severed head of Raphael Maillard with her; she threw it on the ground. Benjamin felt the need to vomit. Sure, he hated that man, but sure as hell he didn't want him dead. Hetna didn't even have a trace of remorse on her face. She looked at Benjamin and said:
"You'll be next."
Saber stood in front of the Master and prepared to fight, then the image of Vergil appeared. That creepy being petrified the young magus with that demonic look of his.
"But not tonight, right?"
"Right," Hetna confirmed submissively.
"You did a great job, my dear. Come back to me, we have more Masters to kill. As for Benjamin…" he turned to the boy. "I knew you'd make it, I've always known that. I would like to offer you my most sincere congratulations and wish you to reach the top. A beautiful creature like you deserves to see an end to the conflict."
"What the hell are you?!" Benjamin asked fearfully.
"I'm your fan."
Vergil disappeared and Hetna with him.

'The Stoic Emperor versus the King of Rebels' by Bikowolf

[ITA] Capitolo 27 : Cuore ribelle

«Dove ti porterà tutto ciò?»
Quella domanda uscì fuori dalla bocca di un uomo ferito, un magus che a malapena riusciva a reggersi in piedi. In testa stava pensando ad un modo per riuscire a scappare dalla sua residenza sano e salvo, ma nel cuore sperava ancora di poter convincere quel demone che aveva di fronte a non perseguire i suoi malefici piani. Non lo stava facendo per pietà, ma per adempiere fino alla fine al suo dovere di membro dell’Ordine di Tot. Se non poteva affrontare quel demone con la violenza, poteva almeno sperare di persuaderla a desistere.
«Alla morte... te lo dico io...» Si appoggiò ad un muro della sua immensa sala da pranzo. «Tutto quello che stai facendo... non porterà bene...»
Yukiko Kumahira se ne stava seduta a tavola, davanti alla larga finestra che dava sul panorama urbano del Cairo, e mangiava, comodamente, della deliziosa e morbida carne al sangue condita con delle spezie di ottima qualità. Ai piedi della sedia c’erano i cadaveri delle guardie del corpo che avrebbero dovuto difendere quel magus che ora, con difficoltà, cercava di sopravvivere.
«Pensi davvero che riuscirai a vincere... questa guerra...?» disse tossendo.
«Mm-mm.» Mandò giù il succulento boccone di carne. «Hesham Sharaf. Sei sempre stato un uomo particolarmente intelligente, ho ragione? Come puoi dubitare delle mie capacità, dopo tutto quello che ho fatto? Ho distrutto la Torre dell’Orologio e la Congrega, questo significa che le due organizzazioni magi più importanti d’Europa sono state completamente spazzate via. Questo significa che tu, mio caro Sharaf, dovresti avere una certa fiducia nella mia capacità di poter vincere la guerra.»
«Quindi hai davvero intenzione di perseguire questo tuo folle piano...?»
«Voialtri usate sempre parole così cariche di emozione e di dramma, però non vi rendete neanche conto del loro reale significato. Cosa c’è di 'folle' nel mio piano? È per caso 'folle' desiderare il Vuoto? No, io non credo proprio. Io credo che la vera follia sia quella esibita da persone come te. Ti sei visto allo specchio, Sharaf? Sei in punto di morte eppure sei determinato a non volermi dire come avere accesso ad Adocentyn. Perché sprecare fiato per farmi una sottospecie di predica? Non sarebbe molto più conveniente rendere i tuoi ultimi attimi di vita utili a qualcosa?»
«Non ti darò mai ciò che cerchi...! Folle ragazzina, non riuscirai mai a—!»
«Yahya, Bassem, Ahmed, Youssef... Sono tutti morti, Sharaf. Tu sai perché, non è così? Sai che è colpa della loro stupidità. Avrebbero potuto arrendersi e darmi ciò che chiedo, tuttavia hanno preferito resistere fino alla fine e io li ho mandati al creatore. Tu sarai il prossimo. Quindi, invece di sprecare il tuo tempo a darmi della 'folle', faresti meglio a dirmi ciò che sai.»
«Non riuscirai mai a raggiungere Adocentyn... questo è ciò che so...» disse ansimando.
Yukiko si voltò per vedere meglio quel povero uomo mentre cercava, insistentemente, di aggrapparsi alla vita. Stringeva i denti, respirava lentamente, chiudeva gli occhi per qualche secondo e li riapriva per volgerli verso l’alto; la ragazza godeva alla vista di quella fragile vita che, poco alla volta, scivolava nell’oscurità della morte.
«Se ci tieni così tanto alla tua vita, dimmi quello che sai. Io voglio avere accesso ad Adocentyn e tu mi aiuterai, altrimenti morirai come gli altri. So perfettamente che voi state cercando un modo per raggiungere Adocentyn e scommetto quello che vuoi che avete trovato la soluzione.»
«No, è solo un prototipo...» mormorò debolmente.
«Ecco! Finalmente un po’ di sincerità! Avanti, dunque! Dimmi tutto!» esclamò con gioia.
«Come ho detto... è solo un prototipo... non credo che possa funzionare...»
«Lo avete mai provato?»
«No, ma... ma...» Stava perdendo la lucidità, si sentiva stanco e pesante.
«Vuoi vivere, Sharaf? Allora combatti fino all’ultimo.»
«Io posso solo dirti che... i calcoli sono giusti ad un livello puramente teorico, ma nessuno di noi ha mai messo in pratica quella magia... si tratta di un qualcosa che è molto rischioso.»
«Che cos’è esattamente?»
«Un teletrasporto... sfrutta alcuni principi dell’alchimia, poi i cristalli magici, la geometria arcana, la matematica... ma è solo un prototipo. Potrebbe ucciderti...»
«Potrebbe anche non farlo, giusto?»
«Vuoi davvero rischiare così tanto solo per raggiungere Adocentyn...?»
«Tu non hai idea di quanto sia disposta a sacrificare pur di raggiungere il mio obbiettivo. Tu sai dove è situato il teletrasporto, vero?»
Lui annuì.
«Bene. Portami là e ricorda questo: nessuno, oltre me, dovrà usarlo. Fai quello che ti ho detto e vivrai, ma se io dovessi scoprire che hai mandato altri magi su Adocentyn ti verrò a cercare e ti strozzerò con il tuo stesso intestino. Sono stata chiara?»
Lui annuì una seconda volta.
«Eccellente. Allora direi che è arrivato il momento di mettere alla prova questo prototipo.»

La luna stava illuminando un corpo in croce.
Il corpo dello Spirito Eroico di Raphael era appeso ad una croce di ferro — il temibile Noble Phantasm di α Berserker — eppure c’era, nell’aria, la sensazione che la battaglia non fosse ancora giunta al termine.
Benjamin Palmer era ancora ferito al braccio e, anche se aveva smesso di sanguinare, gli faceva ancora molto male; aveva la sensazione di avere ancora i denti di un mastino impiantati nella carne. Saber si era appena ripresa, non era stanca e si era già messa in testa di affrontare Berserker. Quando il giovane Master notò che la Servant si stava avvicinando verso la donna armata di spada e scudo, la fermò e le disse a bassa voce:
«Non è necessario, cerchiamo di concentrarci sul Servant di quello stronzo.»
«Parli di Lancer? Non ti devi preoccupare di lui, Master, ormai è finito. Non è più una minaccia. Ora l’unico nemico rimasto è α Berserker.»
Il ragazzo rimase leggermente deluso dall’atteggiamento di Saber. Si sarebbe aspettato, come minimo, un ringraziamento. Egli aveva cercato di proteggerla eppure sembrava quasi che a lei non importasse niente.
Dall’altra parte c’era Hetna, la quale provava una certa soddisfazione nell’aver sconfitto il Servant del suo avversario... anche se non riusciva a comprendere come mai quel Lancer non fosse ancora scomparso. Quel piccolo dubbio era schiacciato costantemente dalla certezza che nessuno potesse scappare dalla croce di Galba.
Raphael era calmo. Il suo Servant, il suo fedele ω Lancer, era stato appena crocefisso eppure, per qualche ragione, dava l’impressione di avere la situazione sotto controllo.
«Questa è una perdita di tempo.»
Le parole presuntuose di Raphael colpirono Hetna e la lasciarono sbalordita. Era palese che ω Lancer fosse sul punto di morire, ma quell’arrogante Master francese non era preoccupato e, al contrario, continuava a comportarsi come se avesse la vittoria in pugno. Lo stesso stupore colpì anche Benjamin, il quale stava già pensando di ordinare alla sua Servant di dare il colpo di grazia a Lancer.
«Oggi le ho viste proprio tutte: una bestia, un moccioso che aiuta suddetta bestia, la peggiore Saber mai esistita, e anche la Berserker più banale che sia mai stata evocata. Questa dovrebbe la Guerra del Sacro Graal? No, questo è un circo e voi tutti siete dei pagliacci.»
L’arroganza di quell’uomo era davvero fastidiosa sia per Benjamin che per Hetna. Il suo sguardo annoiato, il suo modo di parlare presuntuoso, il suo atteggiamento da intellettuale borghese, persino la sua faccia, erano irritanti come minimo. Raphael non aveva alcun rispetto per i suoi nemici, non aveva alcun rispetto per gli Spiriti Eroici che lo affrontavano, e, soprattutto, non aveva un minimo di rispetto per l’intero duello.
«E questa situazione è un’esemplificazione della stupidità di questa intera battaglia. Non capisco come possa un Augusti filius cadere così in basso da lasciarsi mettere in croce da un piccolo imperatore. Reagisci, Lancer. Usa il tuo Noble Phantasm e mostra la tua vera forza a quell’imperatore da quattro soldi.»
Hetna, scioccata, esclamò: «Stai facendo sul serio?! Credi davvero che il tuo Servant possa combattere in una situazione come quella? Ormai è finita! Hai perso!»
«Qui è dove ti sbagli, donna. Nonostante Galba Cesare Augusto possa sembrare un Servant temibile, è comunque un imperatore che regnò appena sei mesi. Che cosa sono sei mesi di regno se paragonati ai diciannove anni dell’uomo che è appena stato crocefisso? Al tuo servizio hai un misero imperatore romano che fu famoso solo per la sua crudeltà e per il suo pessimo governo! Persino nullità come Caligola o Eliogabalo si sono dimostrati superiori al tuo Spirito Eroico! Ricorda questa lezione: la prossima volta che decidi di evocare un imperatore romano, assicurati che sia almeno uno di quelli potenti!»
Hetna rimase sconcertata dalle parole del suo avversario, eppure, guardando Lancer, era chiaro che quello Spirito Eroico non aveva alcuna possibilità di fuga.
«Credi davvero che l’uomo che adesso è in croce sia un Servant al massimo delle sue energie? Ebbene no. Fino ad adesso non avete fatto altro che affrontare uno Spirito Eroico che si stava trattenendo. Ma adesso è il momento di mostrarvi con chi avete a che fare! Ora è il momento di lasciare l’arena all’Imperatore Stoico!»
Allora Hetna capì.
«Direi che è il momento di porre fine ai giochi. Sai che cosa fare, ω Lancer: uccidili tutti. Uccidi coloro che stanno minacciando te e la tua patria! Elimina i tuoi nemici senza alcuna pietà!»
Lancer aprì gli occhi. La sofferenza scomparve poco alla volta dal suo volto, come se qualcosa la stesse lavando via. L’aria intorno a lui venne avvolta da un manto di energia dorata; persino l’arma di Lancer iniziò ad illuminarsi.
«Io faccio il mio dovere,» disse il Servant con una voce fredda, «senza lasciarmi distrarre da tutto il resto.» Egli alzò la testa. «In quella vita in cui il tuo corpo non si arrende è vergognoso che sia l’anima ad arrendersi per prima.»
Berserker vide Lancer muoversi e, senza esitare, lo attaccò con la spada. L’uomo fermò il braccio dell’avversaria e con l’altra mano impugnò la propria lancia, la quale emise un suono che ricordava il nitrito di un destriero.
«Come fai a persistere?!» La donna era scioccata. «Nessuno è così tenace! Nessun traditore è così tenace!»
«Tu chiami me 'traditore', ma non hai idea di chi sia io. Tu hai osato crocifiggere un cittadino romano, già lo facesti in passato, Galba. Io lo so. Per questo tuo atto disumano non meriti la mia compassione, neanche un briciolo della mia pietà.»
«Traditore! Eversivo! Ribelle! Muori!» Berserker cercò di liberarsi, ma senza alcun successo.
«Non puoi sfuggirmi. Il tuo destino è stato sancito dai divini di Roma. Io, Marco Aurelio Antonino Augusto, farò calare su di te il loro giudizio finale.»
Il corpo di Lancer venne avvolto da una specie di energia dorata che spezzò le catene che lo tenevano imprigionato. La croce di ferro venne polverizzata e, non appena ω Lancer toccò terra con i piedi, colpì α Berserker con una tale forza che lei fece un volo di almeno quattro metri.
«Non puoi affrontare il mio Noble Phantasm: Tà Eis Heautón (Le Parole dell’Imperatore Rivolte a Sé Stesso).»
Hetna, vedendo il vero potere di ω Lancer, era incredula. «Non scherziamo...» mormorò. «Quel Noble Phantasm ha palesemente le stesse caratteristiche di un Anti-Tesoro... eppure c’è qualcosa di anomalo in esso.»
«Ancora non riesci a comprenderlo, vero? Non posso sorprendermi» commentò Raphael con una punta di soddisfazione. «Solo un uomo saggio e potente come Marco Aurelio può possedere un Noble Phantasm di questo tipo. Le persone lo considerano solo un filosofo, ma si dimenticano che egli passò diciannove anni della sua vita a combattere contro invasori di ogni tipo, e non solo: pestilenze, crisi economica, alta mortalità, instabilità politica... Egli affrontò tutto questo ed è riuscito a proteggere l’Impero. Il suo animo filosofico, combinato alla sua disumana forza di volontà, ha concepito il Noble Phantasm che ora stai vedendo! Esso nullifica qualsiasi altro Noble Phantasm nemico e, come se non bastasse, aumenta tutti i parametri del Servant portandoli al loro massimo possibile!»
«Cosa?! No!» esclamò spaventata. «Questo significa che...»
«Esattamente! Finalmente hai capito cosa sta succedendo! In questo esatto momento, Lancer ha dei parametri che nessuno Spirito Eroico può pareggiare!»
Marco Aurelio e Galba. I due imperatori erano faccia a faccia.
La donna attaccò l’avversario con ferocia, era chiaro che non avesse intenzione di lasciarsi sconfiggere con facilità. I suoi attacchi non avevano un minimo di tecnica, erano selvaggi, furiosi come quelli di una bestia irrazionale. L’uomo era capace di pararli uno dopo l’altro senza il minimo sforzo. Era calmo... Era privo, in realtà, di qualsiasi emozione. La sua mente aveva raggiunto uno stato di purezza assoluta e non c’era niente che potesse destabilizzarla. Berserker, sicuramente, non aveva gli strumenti per riuscire a mettere all’angolo un avversario del genere, eppure ci provava costantemente. Colpiva, colpiva, colpiva con più violenza, ma non riusciva mai a ferire Lancer. Era come se quel Servant fosse diventato invincibile come il leggendario Achille.
«Il tuo Spirito Eroico è troppo debole» commentò Raphael rivolgendosi ad Hetna. «Osserva le movenze perfette del mio Lancer, la sua calma d’acciaio e la sua tecnica impeccabile. La sua mente, in questo momento, ha raggiunto uno stato superiore. Marco Aurelio è di fatto l’unico imperatore romano ad avere un Noble Phantasm che lo rende saggio e illuminato come un bodhisattva. Come può Galba affrontare un simile uomo? Non può, ecco la risposta.»
Raphael alzò lo sguardo e vide α Berserker volare a terra per quella che poteva essere la sesta volta. L’uomo era certo di avere la vittoria in pugno. Niente poteva fermare il suo Lancer.
Benjamin Palmer e Saber erano entrambi senza parole. Lui non aveva intenzione di mandare la sua Servant contro l’Imperatore Stoico e lei, dall’altra parte, stava iniziando ad avere paura di essersi scelta un avversario al di fuori della sua portata. Non aveva mai visto un romano combattere in quel modo lì, neppure la sua nemesi era così potente.
Lancer parò l’ennesimo attacco di Berserker e, con una velocità disumana, la ferì al braccio e poi la colpì allo stomaco con un calcio; tuttavia la donna non demordeva, era tenace come un lupo affamato.
Qualcosa, all’interno dello scudo di Berserker, si mosse e si sentì il rumore di un meccanismo. La donna sorrise e, alzando, lo scudo spruzzò una sostanza resinosa che si appiccicò al corpo dell’avversario. L’uomo, sentendo il forte profumo, realizzò che si trattava di galbano. Lei abbassò lo scudo e la gemma al centro di questo si illuminò di rosso, dunque soffiò una ventilata di fuoco contro ω Lancer.
«Brucia, bastardo» esclamò α Berserker. «Brucia nelle fiamme della giustizia suprema!»
Il galbano, a contatto con il fuoco, bruciò.
Persino Hetna rimase sorpresa dalla ottima strategia della sua Servant, ma il Noble Phantasm di ω Lancer riuscì a contrastare persino quelle fiamme. Il corpo non venne macchiato neanche da una ferita. Quando Hetna realizzò la gravità della situazione capì che c’era un solo modo per eliminare Marco Aurelio: uccidere il Master.
Raphael stava ancora contemplando la battaglia del suo Servant quando, senza nessun preavviso, una lama mistica gli trafisse la gamba. L’uomo emise un verso di sofferenza e, quando si accorse che Hetna si stava avvicinando, decise di scappare per nascondersi ed evocò uno stormo di corvi per rallentare la nemica.
Lancer, intanto, continuava a dominare il campo di battaglia. Berserker si stava stancando, i suoi colpi si facevano più lenti e meno forti; questo significava che ormai non poteva più combattere. Il forte Imperatore Stoico sapeva che la sua avversaria era rassegnata.
Benjamin non conosceva Hetna. Era conscio di essere, di fatto, un suo nemico, eppure non poteva accettare di lasciar morire la sua Servant. Galba, anche se in quel momento era completamente fuori di testa, aveva comunque salvato la sua vita e lui si sentiva in obbligo di ricambiare il favore. Guardò ω Saber e lei capì subito cosa fare. Gli sorrise, fiera che lui avesse preso quella decisione, e partì all’attacco.
Lancer non ebbe il tempo di uccidere Galba. La lama di Saber bloccò la lancia.
«Voi Romani siete davvero degli sciocchi! Voi sottovalutate sempre i vostri nemici, li vedete come dei deboli incapaci di reagire! Ed è per questa ragione che persone come me riescono a sconfiggervi!»
Saber non era veloce quanto il suo avversario, ma era più tenace di Berserker e riuscì a tenere un discreto controllo della battaglia. I colpi di lui riuscirono, tuttavia, a metterla in difficoltà quando egli, ovviamente, capì la strategia di lei. Lancer, dunque, ottenuto un lieve vantaggio, sferrò un attacco abbastanza potente da capovolgere Saber e farla volare contro una parete dell’arena. Lei, però, si rialzò.
«Ci vuole ben altro per sconfiggermi, ω Lancer! Io ho la battaglia nel sangue!»
«Più abile nella lotta, non però più incline al bene comune, né più disciplinata verso gli avvenimenti. Questa è la verità, Saber» commentò lui con un distacco disumano.
«Non credere di potermi parlare come se mi conoscessi!»
«Io ti conosco. So chi sei. Vercingetorige, il tuo nome è entrato nella storia solo grazie al Fondatore. Le sue azioni hanno reso te immortale. Questa è la verità. Tu, senza di lei, sei niente. Il tuo odio nei confronti dei Romani è malriposto perché siamo stati proprio noi, arroganti o meno, a fare di te ciò che sei. Chi saresti stata senza di noi? Solo l’ennesima aristocratica gallica dimenticata dalla storia.»
Lei non rispose, ma era chiaro che ora la battaglia era appena diventata una faccenda personale. Saber ricominciò con la sua offensiva, senza dividersi dalle sue tattiche, tuttavia questa scelta si rivelò pessima. Lancer, infatti, aveva imparato a memoria le mosse dell’avversaria e fu in grado di parare ogni singolo attacco con un tempismo perfetto. Quando l’uomo incominciò ad attaccare, l’avversaria non poté far altro che indietreggiare il più possibile. Lancer era sempre più veloce, sempre più preciso, e sempre più forte. Non sembrava neanche più un comune Spirito Eroico bensì qualcosa di superiore, qualcosa di divino. Saber, alla fine, venne messa al tappeto una seconda volta e si rialzò una seconda volta, pronta a riprendere l’offensiva. Lancer non fece niente. Attese l’attacco dell’avversaria e, quando la vide correre verso di lui, schivò subito la lama e contrattaccò come un fulmine.
Benjamin vide Saber cadere a terra per la terza volta, tuttavia questa volta era diverso... questa volta era stata ferita alla pancia.
«Saber!» esclamò lui avvicinandosi a lei. «Sei ferita! Devo...!»
Non sapeva cosa fare. Non sapeva come aiutare quell’orgogliosa guerriera ribelle. Non voleva lasciarla morire, non voleva abbandonarla al suo destino, e così agì di istinto e cercò di tamponare la ferita. In quell’istante, proprio quando le mani di lui toccarono la ferita di lei, accadde qualcosa di inspiegabile: i Circuiti Magici comparvero sul corpo di Benjamin. Emanavano una luce dorata, una luce che si diffuse attorno a lui, una luce che abbracciò anche lei e che sollevò una specie di barriera; un vero e proprio scudo magico. La ferita di Saber guarì in un istante e lo stesso accadde a quella di Benjamin.
«Che cos’è questo...?» domandò lui confuso. «Cos’è questo calore...? Questa è... la mia magia?»
«Sì, Master. Ce l’hai fatta» commentò lei sorridendo. «Sei sbocciato.»
Lancer colpì quello scudo, ma un’onda d’urto lo respinse. Niente poteva penetrare quella luce, nessuna lama poteva spezzare quella barriera magica. Benjamin non poteva credere ai suoi occhi. Quello che stava accadendo era merito suo, era la sua magia... era il suo potere. Avrebbe tanto voluto, in quel momento, che suo nonno fosse lì per vederlo.
Saber si rialzò con l’aiuto del proprio Master.
«Sei sicura?» domandò lui, ancora preoccupato per lei.
«Abbi fede in me, Master, riuscirò a sconfiggerlo. Non importa quanto sia forte, io riuscirò a vincere. Te lo prometto.»
Lui sorrise. «Credo in te, Saber — no, Vercingetorige.»
Lei sorrise e avanzò verso il suo nemico.
Quando Lancer vide la luce scomparire, partì subito all’attacco. Le due armi si scontrarono diverse volte prima che una delle due potesse toccare la pelle e fu quella di Saber a ferire Lancer. Forse fu un caso, forse una fortuna, oppure una dimostrazione di abilità, sta di fatto che ω Lancer non si piegò e continuò ad attaccare. Saber non aveva ottenuto un forte vantaggio sull’avversario, ma stava combattendo con tenacia, con un’energia selvaggia che divampava come un fuoco fuori controllo. Era furia incarnata. Ormai sembrava che niente potesse impedire ad ω Saber di continuare a lottare.
Lancer continuava a rimanere calmo, freddo, completamente distaccato da quella battaglia. I suoi occhi erano vuoti, privi di una qualsiasi emozione, e continuava a combattere. Tuttavia la persistenza era accompagnata da una forte ignoranza di ciò che stava accadendo lontano da quel duello; Lancer non aveva idea che il suo Master stesse combattendo per sopravvivere. Era una situazione quasi paradossale: Raphael aveva ordinato al suo Spirito Eroico di usare un Noble Phantasm che aveva reso il suddetto una specie di macchina assassina concentrata solo sulla vittoria. Ma il povero Raphael stava per cadere vittima della sua stessa strategia e solo il fato avrebbe deciso cosa gli sarebbe accaduto.
Lancer non cadde. Nonostante gli sforzi di Saber, Lancer non cadde. Era ancora in piedi. Non era affaticato, non era disposto ad arrendersi, non sentiva la pressione della battaglia... Era vuoto. Completamente vuoto.
«Sei ostinato, eh?» disse ω Saber. «Sei probabilmente il romano più forte che abbia mai incontrato. Dubito fortemente che ne esistano altri come te.»
«Tu continui a paragonarmi ad una persona che io considero schiava della politica, della guerra, e dell’ambizione. Alessandro il Grande, Giulio Cesare e Gneo Pompeo che cosa sono di fronte a Diogene ed Eraclito e Socrate? Questi ultimi videro la realtà delle cose, mai furono schiavi del mondo. La filosofia è più forte dell’ambizione. Una mente poetica è più forte di una mente politica. Questa è la verità e se tu fallisci nel comprenderla, e continui a giudicarmi come un loro pari, è perché vedi solo il fetore e il sangue corrotto nel sacco che è il mio corpo. Se hai la vista acuta, dovresti saperla usare e andare oltre la realtà materiale. Io sono romano, ma non sono gli altri Romani.»
«Credi davvero di essere così diverso da loro? Non so sei un ingenuo o un folle, ω Lancer. Non puoi allontanarti dalle tue radici, non puoi scappare dalla tua cultura. Tu sei un romano, pensi come un romano e morirai come un romano. Smettila di fingere di essere diverso dai tuoi compatrioti, rischi di risultare patetico.»
«Tutto è trasformazione, Saber. Tu stessa sei soggetta a un processo continuo di alterazione e anche di distruzione. Questa è la legge del cosmo... e anche di Roma. Non tutti i Romani sono destinati ad essere uguali ad altri Romani, ma la tua incapacità di comprenderlo non è per niente strana. Infatti, ora che ci penso, è quasi logico che tu non sia in grado di distinguere me da un romano qualsiasi, dopotutto neanche tu sei capace di tracciare una linea fra te e Giulio Cesare; in molti versi sei come lei.»
«Insulti il mio onore!» La spada di Saber venne avvolta da una luce azzurra. «Pagherai per questa offesa, ω Lancer! Caturix (Il Re della Battaglia Senza Fine)!»
Il Noble Phantasm colpì in pieno ω Lancer. L’impatto dell’attacco fu devastante e lasciò impressa una voragine al centro dell’arena.
Ma Lancer era ancora vivo.
L’imperatore Marco Aurelio era ancora in piedi e non aveva neanche un graffio. Quell’energia dorata che avvolgeva il suo corpo lo aveva reso invulnerabile. Vercingetorige era stupefatta e, almeno in parte, delusa. Sperava di riuscire ad uccidere quell’uomo, ma lui era ostinato e non cadeva. Non importa quanto fosse forte la volontà della donna, niente poteva fermare quello Spirito Eroico.
Benjamin ormai sperava in un intervento di α Berserker, ma lei se ne era andata; lui pensò che, forse, aveva deciso di nascondersi. Rivolse nuovamente l’attenzione al nemico e si accorse che, dopo aver percorso qualche metro, Lancer, per qualche ragione, si era fermato. Benjamin pensò subito di ordinare ad ω Saber di attaccare, ma lei, ricevuto l’ordine, lo guardò e scosse la testa.
«No, è finita» disse con due occhi delusi.
«In che senso...?» domandò confuso.
Poi vide che i piedi dell’uomo erano diventati trasparenti. Lancer venne avvolto da una specie di polvere dorata e stava, lentamente, scomparendo. Anche davanti alla morte, quel Servant non mostrò un segno di emozione. Rimase calmo, distaccato, e pronunciò queste parole:
«Non posso disprezzare la morte, ma l’accetto di buon grado, in quanto questa è una delle cose volute dalla natura. Come si attende il momento in cui dal ventre della propria moglie uscirà un bimbo, così si aspetta il momento in cui la nostra anima si sfilerà da questo involucro. Questi sono in cicli del cosmo: su e giù, di eterno in eterno. Non possiamo cambiarli, non possiamo dettar legge all’universo. E perché l’uomo stolto si affanna? In un certo senso, infatti, o vi sono gli atomi o il destino. Se c’è dio, va tutto bene; se domina il caso, non agire anche tu a caso. Quindi disprezzare ciò che è mortale è un atteggiamento poco razionale.»
«Hai ragione...» mormorò Saber in un attimo di pietà. «Hai ragione, ω Lancer. Non possiamo disprezzare la mortalità, fa parte della vita.»
«Esattamente. Sono contento che tu capisca... Sono contento...» Qualcosa brillò nei suoi occhi.
«La mia più grande sofferenza è non essere riuscita a sconfiggerti, ma forse sarà per un’altra volta. Ricorderò questo momento, Imperatore Stoico, e preparerò le armi per un nostro prossimo incontro. Attendi il mio arrivo, perché io ti cercherò.»
«Ed io ti aspetterò... Sì, aspetterò... Aspetterò il tuo arrivo, valorosa guerriera... Dopotutto, che senso ha opporsi alle correnti del destino?  Voi, Master che combattete questa guerra, ricordate che è poco il tempo che vi resta da vivere. Quindi non discutete su come essere virtuosi, ma siate virtuosi. Questo è un addio, che voi tutti possiate realizzare il vostro destino come era stato predisposto dall’eternità...»
Marco Aurelio scomparve lasciandosi alle spalle l’eco di quell’ultima parola.
La barriera si abbassò.
La battaglia era giunta al termine.
Benjamin tirò un sospiro di sollievo e volle abbracciare la Servant, ma la battaglia non era ancora finita. Hetna tornò al centro dell’arena portandosi dietro la testa mozzata di Raphael Maillard; la lanciò per terra. Benjamin sentì il bisogno di vomitare. Certo, odiava quell’uomo, ma di certo non lo voleva morto. Hetna non aveva neanche una traccia di rimorso sul volto. Guardò Benjamin e gli disse:
«Il prossimo sarai tu.»
Saber si mise davanti al Master e si preparò alla lotta, allora apparve l’immagine di Vergil. Quell’inquietante essere pietrificò la giovane magus con quel suo sguardo demoniaco.
«Ma non stanotte, giusto?»
«Giusto» confermò Hetna remissiva.
«Hai fatto un ottimo lavoro, mia cara. Torna da me, abbiamo altri Master da uccidere. Per quanto riguarda Benjamin...» Si girò verso il ragazzo. «Sapevo che ce l’avresti fatta, l’ho sempre saputo. Vorrei porgerti i miei più sinceri complimenti e augurarti di raggiungere la vetta. Una bella creatura come te merita di vedere la fine del conflitto.»
«Si può sapere cosa diavolo sei?!» domandò Benjamin intimorito.
«Sono un tuo fan.»
Vergil scomparve e con lui anche Hetna.

'L'Imperatore Stoico contro il Re dei Ribelli' di Bikowolf

Chapter 26 : Electra

Vergil's gaze swam across the Adocentyn landscape. His eyes were in love, madly in love, and the man who was a few steps from the throne could not grasp the reason for this feeling; to him, that was just an old city. But Vergil looked at that millenary urban landscape with the eyes of a mother in front of her just born child, the pupils and the thin smiles caressed the buildings, pampered Adocentyn with a strong maternal affection.
The man next to Vergil was not physically there; it was just a hologram created with magic. He was Amadeus Veliki, a representative of the New Order of Nidhogg and the co-founder of the organization. He was a tall, robust man, with a hard-featured face and the expression of a soldier who had just left the battlefield. He dressed elegantly, but it was clear that he hated the jacket and tie and that he would've preferred a military outfit and a rifle.
"Is it proceeding as you planned, Vergil?" Veliki asked curiously.
"Some altars have tasted the blood of the Masters, but not all... but things will change. Soon Nidhogg will return to this world and fulfill my wish. You just need to be patient, Amadeus... Patient..."
"I agree, but..."
"But?"
"The boy... Alessandro Serpi..."
"Doesn't he convince you?"
"He will never help us voluntarily, you know. Only he can talk to Nidhogg, but if he refuses... everything you planned will be in vain—"
"This is where you're wrong, Amadeus. Alessandro will never accept of his own free will, but he will do it when I'll show him my cards."
Veliki widened his eyes. "Are you saying your experiment worked?!"
"Didn't I tell you?" A derisive grin appeared on Vergil's face. "Come on, don't be upset. At my age it's normal to forget certain details. However the experiment worked, my friend, it worked and is fighting in my war. I can already see Alessandro's expression when he learns what I have prepared for him."
"So victory is assured..."
"Yes, Amadeus, victory is assured. All this time I've altered the events of this world, I have put my hands in history itself and diverted its course... All just to get to this war, the last one that this small world will have to endure. When all this is over, a new world will show itself to us and humanity will abandon its remains and ascend! And finally there will be a real Utopia—!"
"What about Yukiko?"
The joy in Vergil's gaze died in an instant. "Something wrong, Amadeus?"
"Aren't you worried about her escape?"
"Should I?"
"She has always been unstable, you know that perfectly well. This is why I suggested eliminating her instead of leaving her in the hands of the Coven—"
"You were right, Amadeus, her death would've helped our cause, but I don't think she can interfere with our project."
"She will try and you know it very well," he said coldly. "That selfish nut will do anything to make her crazy dream come true. When she finds out your intentions, she will turn against you... against us... and then it will be difficult to get rid of her."
"I know that, my friend, but I'm not as worried as you are. A creature like her, who only desires destruction, was never smart enough to understand when she was being manipulated and when not. Do you think anything has changed now? Do you think months of imprisonment have made her more acute? No. She will try to stop us, yes, but a person like her lacks intellect, imagination and will eventually make a mistake that will cost her life."
"How can you be sure?"
"Alessandro proved it in my place. That is why I chose her for the war in London. You guys are Imitations with a rational purpose, but she is pure self-destructive irrationality. She has no creativity and is unable to fight for something better, no, she only fights for the Absolute Nothing. Those who fight to destroy lack willpower, lack of imagination and lack of strength. This is the truth, my friend."

"So you're not going to stop her?"
"Not yet. I'll wait for her to come to me and that's when I'll kill her."
Vergil rose from his throne and dropped to one knee as if he were trying to get a better feel for a detail of Adocentyn. Amadeus, confused, asked:
"Is something happening?"
"Yes..." He paused for a long time and then stood up. "It looks like young Benjamin will be tested tonight."
"You mean the boy you picked up on the streets of the United States? He's not exactly an ideal Master, I'll be honest. I don't think he will be able to survive..."
"You say? No, I have high hopes. Of course, he's weak, but it's precisely from that weakness that a great strength can arise."
"Are you speaking from personal experience?"
"I've served great men like Djoser and Amenhotep the Great, I've seen with my own eyes how far a person's willpower can lead. Benjamin appears weak, yes, but inside him there's a lion ready to roar."

"Have we arrived?" Benjamin asked ω Saber.
The glow of the moon painted the streets of Adocentyn white. Saber led with a steady pace and always peering around her with an iron attention. Benjamin was feeling pain in his legs and the tiredness was weighing down his eyelids; he almost wanted to sleep standing up.
"Saber, where are we going? I don't see any Servant..."
"You're a magus, you should be able to perceive magical energy."
"I don't perceive anything—"
"This is bad. I'm sure there's a Servant around here, we can't lose sight of our enemy."
The two reached the foot of the immense arena. Benjamin, struck by a great deal of concern, thought about backing up and reflecting on a strategy; Saber entered without saying a word.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing? You can't be so careless in a situation like this!"
"Master, we have a war to fight and I'm tired of waiting."
ω Saber's stubbornness was really problematic. Benjamin heaved an annoyed sigh and followed the woman without protesting to the bitter end, but he knew they were wrong.
As soon as the two entered the arena, a magical barrier blocked the way behind them. The boy immediately realized that he had no way out and then he felt like a lizard locked in a box. He wanted to escape, he wanted to run away, but it was clear that there was nothing he could do. By now Adocentyn had decided that he had to fight; hesitating to the bitter end would lead to nothing, but Benjamin still hoped he could avoid the battle.
Saber was pleased. She could feel the anxiety of waiting on her skin and she liked it; she adored that long moment of silence that anticipated the battle, it was bread for the teeth of that beating heart. Brandishing the sword, the woman looked for the opponent with her eyes and in the end she saw Raphael Maillard arrive together with his Servant: ω Lancer. The man, with two eyes tinged with boredom, approached the center of the arena together with the Servant and said:
"The Master of a Saber-class Servant, huh? A decent opponent, I deduce. It is said that the Servants of that class are the best because of their natural versatility, I can't tell you how true that is and how much fairy tale it is, but I can assure you that I will not take it easy."
The man's French accent, mixed with that barely arrogant tone, made that statement annoying in Benjamin's ears. The boy had the impression of being in front of a haughty aristocrat.
"So, Saber Master, do you start or do I start?"
At that moment they heard a thud. The two Masters turned and saw a girl with her Servant: they were Hetna and α Berserker.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, turning to Benjamin. "Apparently Vergil's plan is already showing flaws. Well, it doesn't matter, that won't stop me from doing my job."
"Your job, huh?" The man reviewed both Saber's young Master and the new participant. "I can't believe I'll have to face an Imitation."
"You were pretty quick to notice it—"
"Did you really think you could hide your nature? Monster. Abomination. You're just a mistake and I will gladly wipe you off the face of this planet. Chien de Mercure."
A dog made of mercury attempted to bite Hetna, but was cut in half by α Berserker's blade. 

"Oh," Raphael said with slight surprise. "Wrong move. I should have imagined an intervention from your Servant."
"You're a fool. Did you really think I'd let myself be killed by a lousy worm like you? Berserker, attack."
That Servant didn't look like a bad person, in reality she didn't even look like a 'Berserker'. Her features and her bearing made one think of some kind of saint, even though her revealing dress betrayed this conjecture.
When the Servant of Hetna began to approach Raphael, firmly brandishing sword and shield, ω Lancer immediately intervened and, with a decisive attack, struck the woman. Berserker, who had managed to parry the blow quickly, was pushed back by the impact.
The two Servants didn't even exchange a word. After a long minute of silence, the battle broke out.
Lancer's swift and determined blows were constantly parried by the shield or stopped by Berserker's blade. A blow from the man caught the opponent off guard, the attack was immediately followed by a very quick hit; the girl successfully defended herself and counterattacked.
While the two Servants were engaged in a fight to the death, Raphael devoted his attention to Hetna completely forgetting about Benjamin; he had done it voluntarily. In fact, the man didn't consider Saber's Master a worthy opponent, so for him it was not worth it to pay too much attention to an amateur.
"Chien de Mercure."
The mercury hound attempted to bite Hetna, but was first avoided and then cut in half by a mystical blade.
"Mm...? Those are Arabic swords or am I wrong? Scimitars, right? I'm pleased to see that you're a magus with a minimum of tastes. Amateur summoners always tend to have little imagination. You don't know how boring it is to see the same medieval sword with a cross-shaped hilt."
Hetna didn't answer and fired the mystical weapon at the opponent.
"You underestimate me, monster." A mercury shield rose in front of Raphael and the blade was blocked. "Did you really think you could defeat me so easily? You really are stupid, monster"

Benjamin, who remained aside along with ω Saber, saw those clashes and immediately realized he was not up to par. He couldn't fight like that and he couldn't help his Servant win against enemies of that caliber. He realized he was unprepared, too weak for this war. But Saber hadn't lost that determination in her gaze. He understood that she wanted to fight. What could Benjamin do? Stop her from throwing herself headlong into that deadly dance? And how? He was not as strong as her and he certainly could not oppose a powerful creature armed with a sword.
In that moment, the words that his grandfather said to him during his eighteenth birthday came back to his memory; he almost laughed. He wanted to laugh out of sadness. For a single moment he had deluded himself that he was 'special' or that he was even on the right path to fulfill his destiny, but he was nowhere near the skill of those Masters who were dueling. No. He was weak and they were strong. He was too inexperienced, while they were light years ahead of him. He thought he had been duped, that he had been deluded by himself... but he didn't blame himself, because he knew that it would be useless to warn himself for having believed, even for a short time, that he was destined for something better.
"Doubt is dangerous, Master," said ω Saber.
"Huh?" He had two embittered eyes.
"The more you listen to the words of doubt, the more you chain yourself. You must always have the courage to take the leap and try your luck, otherwise inaction will kill you."
"I can't do this, Saber, don't you understand? I'm too weak to—"
"You're not 'weak', Master, you simply haven't discovered your strength yet. When the Romans invaded my homeland and threatened my people, I did not allow myself to be stopped by doubt. I knew I had little chance of winning, but I still tried and succeeded where many had failed. Do you know why?"
He shook his head.
"Because I never stopped to reflect on who was 'strong' and who was 'weak', I acted and gave my all to triumph. You, now, see them and think you are not powerful enough to be able to defeat them. What if you're wrong? You can't know if you don't try. Action is always better than inaction. Follow my example!"
Saber, having said these words, ran towards the battle.
Lancer and Berserker were still fighting each other when they were stopped by the sudden intervention of ω Saber.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but I'm here too."
"You have courage, I recognize it," ω Lancer exclaimed.
"You will die in tears, Saber," Berserker said with disconcerting calm.
The woman first dodged Berserker's attack and then, after making a jump, she attempted to injure Lancer. The man, with incredible speed, avoided the attack of ω Saber and, swinging his spear, unleashed a series of blows that forced the opponent to change approach.
Berserker, without honor, tried to hit the man from behind, but he immediately turned and parried the blow; he dodged Saber's slash and struck both warriors with the blade of his spear.
"I won't die in this battle," he said. "I have faced Marcomanni, Quadi, Iazyges, Chatti, and many other enemies. None of them ever managed to kill me and so, like them, you two will fail too. So it is and so it must be. I'll be the one to triumph."
The two warriors, with a short team effort, attacked the opponent at the same time, but he was able to dodge both blows and responded quickly. Only α Berserker fell to the ground, ω Saber resisted the opponent's attack and attempted a counterattack. Lancer stopped the blade and, moving the spear with skill, caused the opponent to lose her balance.
"Son of—!" Saber got up immediately. "Die, bastard!"
The man managed to dodge the sword three times in a row before launching an attack that sent Saber to the ground.
"You lack technique. Pompeianus would've said: 'You are made of wood like trees, and like a tree you will fall'."
"You like the sound of your voice so much, huh?"
"The only sound I prefer is the one that follows the end of a victorious battle."
There was something familiar in the way that man behaved. Saber's nemesis was similar to him in some ways. Vercingetorix's great nemesis loved to talk, talk and talk. She was an arrogant, haughty person, too immersed in her own greatness to pay attention to the reality of her actions. That man, that Lancer, was similar to Gaius Julius Caesar.
"Where are you from, ω Lancer?"
"Mm? Do you really think I'll reveal my identity so easily?"
"No, it doesn't matter. I don't think I need confirmation. I have already guessed that you are a Roman."
"And how did you come to this conclusion—?"
"The Romans are all the same: arrogant, selfish, proud, self-centered... You feel at the center of everything, you have no respect for others and you believe you are masters of the world. You speak as if you were a sage, but it is clear that you have a Roman soul."
"You speak as if you were an enemy of Rome..."
"I am. I have always been the enemy of the Romans and I will continue to be as long as I have life!"

"I understand... So you are yet another barbarian who wants the head of an emperor." Lancer jumped forward and, with a kick, sent the opponent flying to the mat. "Once again, my life is in danger because of you beasts. Your souls have not known civilization and for this you yearn for destruction and war, but I will bring order and peace. With this blade, with my spirit, and with my heart I will smother your flames."
Lancer approached the opponent, but didn't notice that Berserker was running towards him. When the man turned around, the girl had already disarmed him and she was already preparing to do a lunge. Lancer, without losing his temper, avoided the blade, struck the enemy with a fist and, grabbing the spear, attacked with force. Berserker raised her shield quickly and blocked the blade only by luck.
"Your opposition is useless. You have already lost, α Berserker."
A kick sent Berserker flying against Saber.
"Both you and ω Saber will die on this battlefield."

"Corbeau de Mercure!" Raphael Maillard summoned a flock of crows made of mercury.
The six mystical swords, tinged with a purple color, surrounding Hetna, began to spin at high speed. Those birds were cut to pieces and, when the entire flock was exterminated, those blades were fired forward. A mercury shield protected Raphael.
"I wonder how many blades you can summon... But I have the impression that there's no real limit to your summoning ability," he commented.
"You are insightful. I'm pleased to know that the AMPM has such keen members, the whole of France should be proud of it."
"Spare me the sarcasm, woman, I know perfectly well who you are: a monster. You Imitations are only monsters, beasts, anomalies, talking corpses if not puppets. You belong to the same race as that monster called Yukiko Kumahira! I look at you and what I see is just the umpteenth bestiality of the human race!"
Hetna didn't say a single word, but she summoned several scimitars and threw them forward. Raphael, in front of that shower of blades, did nothing but evoke a triple shield of mercury. One broken, two remained; broken the second, the third remained, but the blades stopped coming. When the man lowered his shield he exhibited a winning grin and exclaimed:
"Two-hundred. Here is your limit. It took a little while to force you to show your cards. Who would have thought, even you Imitations have sensitive nerves! But tell me, girl, did you really think you were smarter than me?"
Hetna didn't answer, but she couldn't hide the embarrassment of that defeat, her very face was crossed by tinctures of despair, disappointment, and, finally, anger. So much anger.
"Come on, girl, make your next move. Show me what you can do."
"I will grant your wish!" Hetna ran towards the man and summoned two swords. "Bastard!"
The first blade was fired and Raphael blocked it with the mercury shield. Hetna used the second as a point of support to make a jump, evoked a series of blades on which she began to run and then made a last leap to finish in front of the opponent.
"So...?" he said confused.
"Look around you, know-it-all."
The swords, still suspended in the air, had practically surrounded the man. The girl snapped her fingers and all thirty of her blades were fired in unison. Raphael created a thick bubble-shaped mercury shield and hid inside it to save his life. None of the blades hurt him.
"Are you hiding like a worm?"

"You folks have no idea what strategy is, do you? Chien de Mercure!"
A mastiff emerged from the mercury bubble. Hetna quickly backed away from being bitten and, after gaining enough ground, summoned scimitars to kill the beast. When she looked up, she realized, however, that Raphael wasn't there and, where the bubble used to be, there was only a puddle of mercury. The girl made the mistake of approaching and in a moment her ankles were blocked by mercury chains that came out of that pool.
"Curse...!"
Raphael appeared behind her and pushed her over the pool. The chains also bound her wrists and throat.
"Now you are completely immobilized, monster. In the 1950s, the AMPM used to punish traitors by keeping them imprisoned in this way for entire weeks, without eating, and let them drinking from the dog bowl. After all, what is a traitor if not an animal? And what is an Imitation if not a beast? I have to be honest, seeing you on all fours makes me want to bring you a bowl with your name on it—"
"Bastard! Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed.
"Why should I do that? By now I have you in my hand..."
Hetna summoned magical swords that were immediately fired, but none of these managed to hit the man.
"Not easy to aim in that position, huh? Poor you, ma chère. I realize you probably didn't choose to become a monster, but it doesn't matter if this second life was forced upon you or not. Un animal est un animal... An animal still remains an animal, even if it has not chosen to be one."
Raphael kicked Hetna, being careful to target her chest well. The girl's cry of suffering triggered a disgusted reaction in the man.
"All fiction. You're just a bad lie!" He hit her again. "There is nothing true in you, nothing. You're only beasts with human aspects, you're nothing else. I was once fooled by you, but have since developed utter disgust for your race. This is the time to die, monster."
In that instant Raphael was hit in the face by a fist. It was Benjamin Palmer. The French magus lost control of the mercury and Hetna was able to free herself.
"Idiot!" Raphael thundered. "You're an idiot! Chien de Mercure!"
Benjamin was bitten in the left arm by the mastiff. The boy punched the creature, but it was too strong to be destroyed by human hands.
"Fuck! Release me, son of—Aaaaah! " Benjamin felt that the beast's fangs were tearing apart his arm. "Son of a bitch!"
Hetna's blade cut the beast in two. Benjamin, injured, walked away and thanked the woman.
"Don't thank me, I didn't do it for you," she grumbled.
"So that's the way it is?" Raphael said nervously. "This is absurd... truly inconceivable. A brat helping a monster, but what's this all about?! Did I become the protagonist of some joke or—? Tell me, Saber Master, why the hell did you help that beast."
"I don't like dickheads like you, that's all," Benjamin replied, raising his middle finger.
"So you want to be the first to be eliminated from the competition? Good." Raphael used a Command Seal. "Lancer, I order you to kill Saber."

Lancer, who was engaged in a battle against α Berserker, heard the Master's order and, without protest, turned his attention to ω Saber.
Lancer's spear managed to breach Saber's defense and inflicted three deep wounds that brought the woman to her knees.
Hetna immediately noticed that Benjamin Palmer's eyes were narrowing with sadness, the boy was clearly about to throw himself into the battlefield to stop ω Lancer. Hetna stood in front of him and, shaking her head, said:
"I advise against it."
He didn't listen to her. He pushed her and ran to his Servant. "Saber, hold on!" he screamed.
Benjamin was wounded, he didn't know how much blood he was losing, but he wasn't going to let that brave warrior, who had believed in him and who had urged him to fight, to die. The boy stood in front of ω Lancer and shielded ω Saber.
"You will die, boy," Raphael's Servant said.
"I know, but I'm not going to let Saber die on her knees."
"So you want to risk your own life to defend the honor of that woman with barbaric blood? Don't you realize this will damage your reputation as a Master? A good Master, as a magus, should stay away from these battles and should never give up their life to defend a weapon—"
"I do not care!" he yelled. "Whether she's a weapon or not, it doesn't matter to me. She believed in me and I won't let her die like this. I prefer to die like a dog. I, after all, am nobody of importance... but she's a king! The least I can do is preserve her honor with my life!"
Lancer said nothing.
Raphael Maillard noticed that the man was lowering his weapon and then, with a tone of reproach, he exclaimed:
"What do you think you're doing, ω Lancer? Forget the sentimentality and get the job done. We must win this war and we will win it. Kill the boy and let's finish this cheap show."
"Master, I don't think—"
"Shall I use another Command Seal, ω Lancer?"
The man lowered his head in submission. "No, I apologize."
Lancer raised his weapon and prepared to hit Benjamin.
Hetna saw that fragile boy being on the verge of death and something, inside her, moved: it was an inexplicable desire to protect him. This had never happened before. She had never wanted to protect a human and she knew it was irrational to have those feelings for that stranger, yet she was feeling them and could not restrain them in any way. Hetna used a Command Seal to order α Berserker to use her Noble Phantasm.
"So be it!" exclaimed Berserker, who started running towards Lancer.
The man immediately noticed something strange and, seeing the opponent approaching, he turned to attack her. The spear of the Heroic Spirit was blocked by the shield and shortly thereafter the woman's sword came so close to his throat that it nearly decapitated him. Lancer made a quick leap back.
"Are you going to protect them, Berserker?"
She smiled.
"I understand. Then I'll kill you—"

At that moment something strange happened to Berserker: a coal-black mist rose and surrounded the girl's body.
"You're unlucky, ω Lancer, apparently you will be my first victim."
That black fog grew thicker and thicker.
"You're about to be the victim of the punishment that we, rulers of the world, inflict on the weak who dare to oppose our power!"
Lancer felt his body stiffen and when he tried to move he found he was paralyzed. The opponent's Noble Phantasm was already underway. Berserker opened her lids and revealed two blood eyes, similar to those of a demon.
"All subversives must be killed! I, Servius Sulpicius Galba Caesar Augustus, have decided that the penalty for the subversive traitor will be crucifixion! Infelix Lignum (The Cross of My Justice)!"
An iron cross rose behind ω Lancer. The man was captured by chains and tied to the iron from which long spikes emerged. The spikes pierced his hands, arms, legs and even hips.
The man's heartbreaking screams unsettled all present except α Berserker. The girl, whose true identity was that of Emperor Galba Caesar Augustus, grinned and then let out an uncontrolled laugh from her mouth. She was no longer the restrained girl she used to be, it seemed she had been possessed.
No one understood what was happening at the Servant, no one except Hetna. The madness, typical of a Berserker-class Servant, couldn't even touch Galba's mind in a normal situation. However, due to the  Hatred for the Traitor — the Heroic Spirit's skill — as soon as she used her Noble Phantasm, that madness infected her mind. In the face of those who were judged 'traitor' or 'rebel', Galba lost control. Berserker's calm was just a mask, a deception. The real α Berserker had just shown her evil face to everyone present.

Under that same moon that had just witnessed the crucifixion of ω Lancer, Friedrich Wolff was singing in a low voice. Specter, as soon as she entered the house in which they had decided to camp, heard the melody coming from the roof and, intrigued, she sat in a corner to listen carefully to the words of the Master.
"𝅘𝅥𝅮 All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong? 𝅘𝅥𝅮"

He never raised his voice, it was as if he were talking to himself; but his gaze was on the moon. There was something in those words that made the woman uncomfortable. There was sadness in those words, but also a feeling of absolute loneliness and she did not understand why. They were just words, nothing special. They were rhythmic, yes, but that didn't make them more or less different. They were the usual verses of humanity, yet, at that precise moment, the woman felt almost overwhelmed by that song, perhaps even crushed; both physically and mentally. She had never experienced those sensations.
Specter didn't notice when Friedrich stopped singing and, when he realized he was being watched, he asked her:
"Do you like it?"
"Eh...?" she said as if she were stunned.
"The song."
"Did you write it?"
"No. It's from The Beatles and the song is called Eleanor Rigby."
"I like it, yes..." she murmured.
"My father loved them. I was six when he made me hear this for the first time, I cried and my mother got mad at him. Haha... What a woman my mother was!"
"Why were you singing it?"
"Today is September 20, the day my father died. I wanted to honor his memory with his favorite song, that's all."
"When did it happen?"
"Seven years ago."
"Do you miss him?"
"Sometimes, but there's nothing you can do about it, right? We can go on as long as we want, but we cannot forget the people we lose. Those will always remain in our hearts. My father, my mother, my brother... they live in my heart and I will continue to sing for them."
"Do you have an answer?"
"To what?"
"To those words you sang. Where do lonely people come from?"
"What do you think?" he asked curiously.
"I'm a demon, I can't tell you—"
"Give it a go."
"Well... I have seen some of my fellow demons live without ever knowing happiness. Demons, after all, are all like that, you know? We are so obsessed with the need to satisfy our instincts that we don't dwell on our existence. We prefer to constantly implement our nature rather than choose freely and follow a different path. The demons are always alone, this is the truth. I could tell you that all this loneliness comes from a lack of alternatives..."
"You may be right, but I believe alternatives must be created not expected. Those who wait are not going anywhere. You have to learn to jump, fall, and get up. You can't live without learning to take risks. The problem is that many people prefer not to." He paused briefly. "I think lonely people come from those free choices. The freer you are, the more alone you become. It's a truth."
"But even in the absence of freedom there is loneliness," she commented.
"That may also be true."
"So, at the end of the day, we can conclude that there is no answer to my question."
"And this is the same conclusion that the song reaches: there is no answer. We just have to accept it."
"And that's okay with you? It's strange. Wouldn't it be much better to know the truth and try to make the life of every human being better?"
"It would be nice, but impossible."
"And that's okay with you..." she repeated in a low voice.
"You don't live to get answers, but to keep asking."

'Galba's true nature' by BikoWolf