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

[ITA] Capitolo 26 : Elettra

Lo sguardo di Vergil nuotava nel panorama di Adocentyn. I suoi erano occhi innamorati, follemente innamorati, e l’uomo che stava a pochi passi dal trono non riusciva ad afferrare il motivo di tale sentimento; per lui, quella era solo una vecchia città. Ma Vergil guardava quel panorama urbano millenario con gli occhi di una madre davanti al figlio appena partorito, le pupille e i sottili sorrisi accarezzavano gli edifici, coccolavano Adocentyn con un forte affetto materno.
L’uomo vicino a Vergil non era fisicamente lì; era solo un ologramma creato con la magia. Si trattava di Amadeus Veliki, un rappresentante del Nuovo Ordine di Nidhogg nonché il cofondatore dell’organizzazione. Era un uomo alto, robusto, con un volto dai lineamenti duri e l’espressione di un militare appena uscito dal campo di battaglia. Vestiva in maniera elegante, ma si capiva che detestava la giacca e la cravatta e che avrebbe preferito una tenuta militare ed un fucile.
«Sta procedendo come avevi pianificato, Vergil?» domandò Veliki incuriosito.
«Alcuni altari hanno assaggiato il sangue dei Master, ma non tutti... tuttavia le cose cambieranno. Ben presto Nidhogg tornerà su questo mondo e realizzerà il mio desiderio. Bisogna solo avere pazienza, Amadeus... Pazienza...»
«Sono d’accordo, ma...»
«Ma?»
«Il ragazzo... Alessandro Serpi...»
«Non ti convince?»
«Non ci aiuterà mai volontariamente, lo sai. Solo lui può parlare con Nidhogg, ma se lui rifiuta... tutto ciò che hai pianificato sarà vanificato—»
«Qui è dove ti sbagli, Amadeus. Alessandro non accetterà mai di sua spontanea volontà, ma lo farà quando scoprirò le mie carte.»
Veliki allargò gli occhi. «Stai dicendo che il tuo esperimento ha funzionato?!»
«Non te l’ho detto?» Sul volto di Vergil apparve un ghigno derisorio. «Su, su, non rimanerci male. Alla mia età è normale dimenticarsi certi dettagli. Comunque l’esperimento ha funzionato, amico mio, ha funzionato e sta combattendo nella mia guerra. Posso già vedere l’espressione di Alessandro quando verrà a sapere cosa ho preparato per lui.»
«Quindi la vittoria è assicurata...»
«Sì, Amadeus, la vittoria è assicurata. Per tutto questo tempo ho alterato gli eventi di questo mondo, ho messo le mani nella storia stessa e deviato il suo corso... Tutto solo per arrivare a questa guerra, l’ultima che questo piccolo mondo dovrà sopportare. Quando tutto questo sarà finito, un nuovo mondo si mostrerà a noi e l’umanità abbandonerà le sue spoglie ed ascenderà! E finalmente ci sarà una vera Utopia—!»
«E Yukiko?»
La gioia nello sguardo di Vergil si spense in un attimo. «Qualcosa non va, Amadeus?»
«Non ti preoccupa la sua fuga?»
«Dovrebbe?»
«Lei è sempre stata instabile, lo sai perfettamente. Per questo avevo suggerito di eliminarla invece di lasciarla nelle mani della Congrega—»
«Avevi ragione, Amadeus, la sua morte avrebbe giovato la nostra causa, ma non credo che lei possa interferire con il nostro progetto.»
«Ci proverà e lo sai benissimo» esclamò freddamente. «Quella matta egoista farà di tutto pur di realizzare il suo folle sogno. Quando scoprirà le tue intenzioni, si metterà contro di te... contro di noi... e allora sarà difficile sbarazzarci di lei.»
«Me ne rendo conto, amico mio, ma non sono preoccupato quanto te. Una creatura come lei, che desidera solo la distruzione, non è mai stata abbastanza intelligente da comprendere quando era manipolata e quando no. Credi che adesso sia cambiato qualcosa? Credi che mesi di reclusione l’abbiano resa più acuta? No. Cercherà di fermarci, sì, ma una persona come lei manca di intelletto, di immaginazione e alla fine farà un errore che le costerà la vita.»
«Come fai ad esserne sicuro?»
«Alessandro lo ha dimostrato al posto mio. Per questo scelsi lei per la guerra a Londra. Voialtri siete Imitazioni con uno scopo razionale, ma lei è pura irrazionalità autodistruttiva. Lei non ha creatività e non è in grado di combattere per qualcosa di migliore, no, lei combatte solo per il Niente Assoluto. Chi combatte per distruggere manca di volontà, manca di immaginazione e manca di forza. Questa è la verità, amico mio.»
«Quindi non hai intenzione di fermarla?»
«Non ancora. Aspetterò che sia lei a venire da me e sarà allora che la ucciderò.»
Vergil si alzò dal trono e si chinò su un ginocchio come se stesse cercando di cogliere meglio un dettaglio di Adocentyn. Amadeus, confuso, domandò:
«Sta succedendo qualcosa?»
«Sì...» Fece una lunga pausa e poi si alzò. «A quanto pare il giovane Benjamin sarà messo alla prova, stanotte.»
«Intendi il ragazzo che hai raccolto per le strade degli Stati Uniti? Non è esattamente un Master ideale, sarò sincero. Non credo che riuscirà a sopravvivere...»
«Dici? No, io nutro grandi speranze. Certo, è debole, ma è proprio da quella debolezza che può nascere una grande forza.»
«Parli per esperienza personale?»
«Ho servito grandi uomini come Djoser e Amenhotep il Grande, ho visto con i miei stessi occhi fino a dove può condurre la forza di volontà di una persona. Benjamin appare come debole, sì, ma dentro di lui c’è un leone pronto a ruggire.»

«Siamo arrivati?» domandò Benjamin a ω Saber.
Il bagliore della luna tingeva di bianco le strade di Adocentyn. Saber conduceva con un passo costante e sempre scrutando attorno a sé con una ferrea attenzione. Benjamin stava sentendo male alle gambe e la stanchezza stava appesantendo le sue palpebre; gli venne quasi voglia di dormire in piedi.
«Saber, dove stiamo andando? Io non vedo nessun Servant...»
«Sei un magus, dovresti essere in grado di percepire l’energia magica.»
«Non percepisco niente—»
«Questo è un male. Sono sicura che ci sia un Servant da queste parti, non possiamo perdere di vista il nostro nemico.»
I due giunsero ai piedi dell’immensa arena. Benjamin, colpito da una forte preoccupazione, pensò di fare retromarcia e riflettere su una strategia; Saber entrò senza dire una parola.
«Ehi!» esclamò lui. «Cosa fai? Non puoi essere così incauta in una situazione come questa!»
«Master, abbiamo una guerra da combattere ed io sono stanca di aspettare.»
La testardaggine di ω Saber era davvero problematica. Benjamin tirò un sospiro infastidito e seguì la donna senza protestare ad oltranza, ma sapeva che stavano sbagliando.
Non appena i due entrarono nell’arena, una barriera magica sbarrò la strada alle loro spalle. Il ragazzo si accorse subito di non avere alcuna via di fuga e allora si sentì come una lucertola chiusa in una scatola. Voleva fuggire, voleva scappare, ma era chiaro che non c’era niente che potesse fare. Ormai Adocentyn aveva deciso che egli doveva combattere; esitare ad oltranza non avrebbe portato a nulla, ma Benjamin sperava ancora di poter evitare la battaglia.
Saber era contenta. Poteva percepire sulla pelle l’ansia dell’attesa e le piaceva; adorava quel lungo momento di silenzio che anticipava la battaglia, era pane per i denti di quel cuore battagliero. Brandendo la spada, la donna cercò l’avversario con lo sguardo e alla fine vide arrivare Raphael Maillard assieme al suo Servant: ω Lancer. L’uomo, con due occhi tinti di noia, si avvicinò al centro dell’arena assieme al Servant e disse:
«Il Master di un Servant di classe Saber, eh? Un avversario decente, deduco. Si dice che i Servant di quella classe siano i migliori per via della loro naturale versatilità, non saprei dirti quanto sia vero e quanto sia frutto di favole, ma posso assicurarti che non ci andrò piano.»
L’accento francese di quell’uomo, mescolato con quel tono appena arrogante, rese quell’affermazione fastidiosa alle orecchie di Benjamin. Il ragazzo aveva l’impressione di essere davanti ad un borioso aristocratico.
«Allora, Master di Saber, inizi tu o inizio io?»
In quel momento si sentì un tonfo. I due Master si girarono e videro una ragazza assieme alla sua Servant: erano Hetna e α Berserker.
«Tu non dovresti essere qui» disse lei rivolgendosi a Benjamin. «A quanto pare il piano di Vergil sta già mostrando delle falle. Beh, non importa, questo non mi impedirà di fare il mio lavoro.»
«Il tuo lavoro, eh?» L’uomo passò in rassegna sia il giovane Master di Saber che la nuova partecipante. «Non posso crederci che mi toccherà affrontare un’Imitazione.»
«Sei stato piuttosto veloce a notarlo—»
«Pensavi davvero di riuscire a nascondere la tua natura? Mostro. Abominio. Sei solo un errore e sarò lieto di cancellarti dalla faccia di questo pianeta. Chien de Mercure.»
Un cane fatto di mercurio tentò di azzannare Hetna, ma venne tagliato a metà dalla lama di α Berserker.
«Oh» fece Raphael con leggera sorpresa. «Mossa sbagliata. Avrei dovuto immaginare un intervento da parte della tua Servant.»
«Sei uno sciocco. Pensavi davvero che mi sarei lasciata uccidere da un verme schifoso come te? Berserker, attacca.»
Quella Servant non aveva l’aria di una cattiva persona, in realtà non aveva neanche l’aspetto di una “Berserker”. Le sue fattezze e il suo portamento facevano pensare ad una specie di santa, anche se il vestito rivelante tradiva quella congettura.
Quando la Servant di Hetna iniziò ad avvicinarsi a Raphael, brandendo saldamente spada e scudo, ω Lancer intervenne immediatamente e, con un attacco deciso, colpì la donna. Berserker, che era riuscita a parare il colpo velocemente, venne spinta all’indietro dall’impatto.
I due Servant non si scambiarono neanche una parola. Dopo un lungo minuto di silenzio, la battaglia scoppiò.
I colpi di Lancer, rapidi e determinati, venivano costantemente parati dallo scudo o fermati dalla lama di Berserker. Un colpo dell’uomo prese alla sprovvista l’avversaria, l’attacco venne subito seguito da un fendente rapidissimo; la ragazza si difese con successo e contrattaccò.
Mentre i due Servant erano impegnati in uno scontro all’ultimo sangue, Raphael dedicò la sua attenzione ad Hetna dimenticandosi completamente di Benjamin; lo aveva fatto volontariamente. Di fatto l’uomo non considerava il Master di Saber un degno avversario, quindi per lui non ne valeva la pena dedicare troppe attenzioni ad un dilettante.
«Chien de Mercure.»
Il mastino di mercurio tentò di azzannare Hetna, ma venne prima evitato e poi tagliato in due da una lama mistica.
«Mm...? Quelle sono spade arabe o sbaglio? Scimitarre, giusto? Sono lieto di vedere che sei una magus con un minimo di gusti. Gli evocatori dilettanti tendono sempre ad avere poca fantasia. Tu non sai quanto sia noioso vedere la stessa spada medievale con l’elsa a forma di croce.»
Hetna non rispose e sparò l’arma mistica verso l’avversario.
«Mi sottovaluti, mostro.» Uno scudo di mercurio si sollevò davanti a Raphael e la lama venne bloccata. «Pensavi davvero di riuscire a sconfiggermi con così tanta facilità? Sei davvero una stupida.»

Benjamin, rimasto da parte assieme a ω Saber, vedeva quegli scontri e capì subito di non essere all’altezza. Non poteva combattere in quel modo e non poteva aiutare la propria Servant a vincere contro dei nemici di quel calibro. Realizzò di essere impreparato, di essere troppo debole per quella guerra. Ma Saber non aveva perso quella determinazione nello sguardo. Si capiva che voleva combattere. Cosa poteva fare Benjamin? Impedirle di gettarsi a capofitto in quella danza mortale? E come? Lui non era forte come lei e non poteva di certo opporsi ad una creatura potente e anche armata di spada.
In quell’attimo gli tornarono alla memoria le parole che il nonno gli disse durante il suo diciottesimo compleanno; gli venne quasi da ridere. Voleva ridere dalla tristezza. Per un solo istante si era illuso di essere ‘speciale’ o di essere persino sulla strada giusta per realizzare il proprio destino, ma non era neanche minimamente vicino alla bravura di quei Master che stavano duellando. No. Lui era debole e loro erano forti. Lui era troppo inesperto, mentre loro erano avanti anni luce rispetto a lui. Pensò di essere stato raggirato, di essere stato illuso da sé stesso... ma non si biasimò, perché sapeva che sarebbe stato inutile ammonirsi per aver creduto, anche per poco, di essere destinato a qualcosa di meglio.
«Il dubbio è pericoloso, Master» disse ω Saber.
«Eh?» fece lui con due occhi amareggiati.
«Più ascolti le parole del dubbio, più incateni te stesso. Devi sempre avere il coraggio di fare il salto e di tentare la sorte, altrimenti l’inazione ti ucciderà.»
«Non posso farlo, Saber, non capisci? Sono troppo debole per—»
«Tu non sei ‘debole’, Master, semplicemente non hai ancora scoperto la tua forza. Quando i Romani invasero la mia terra natale e minacciarono il mio popolo, io non mi lasciai fermare dal dubbio. Sapevo di avere poche probabilità di vincere, ma ho comunque tentato e sono riuscita dove molti avevano fallito. Sai perché?»
Lui scosse la testa.
«Perché io non mi sono mai fermata a riflettere su chi era ‘forte’ e chi era ‘debole’, io ho agito e ho dato tutta me stessa per trionfare. Tu, adesso, vedi loro e pensi di non essere abbastanza potente per riuscire a sconfiggerli. E se ti sbagliassi? Non puoi saperlo se non tenti. L’azione è sempre migliore dell’inazione. Segui il mio esempio!»
Saber, dette queste parole, corse verso la battaglia.
Lancer e Berserker stavano ancora duellando fra loro quando vennero fermati dall’improvviso intervento di ω Saber.
«Mi dispiace interrompervi, piccioncini, ma ci sono anche io.»
«Hai coraggio, te lo riconosco» esclamò ω Lancer.
«Morirai in lacrime, Saber» disse α Berserker con una calma sconcertante.
La donna schivò prima l’attacco di Berserker e poi, dopo aver eseguito un salto, tentò di ferire Lancer. L’uomo, con una incredibile velocità, evitò l’attacco di ω Saber e, facendo roteare la lancia, sferrò una serie di colpi che costrinsero l’avversaria a cambiare approccio.
Berserker, senza onore, tentò di colpire l’uomo alle spalle, ma questo si girò subito e parò il colpo; schivò il fendente di Saber e colpì entrambe le guerriere con la lama della lancia.
«Non morirò in questa battaglia» disse lui. «Ho affrontato Marcomanni, Quadi, Iazigi, Catti, e tanti altri nemici. Nessuno di loro riuscì mai ad uccidermi e così, come loro, anche voi due fallirete. Così è e così deve andare. Sarò io a trionfare.»
Le due guerriere, con un breve lavoro di squadra, attaccarono l’avversario allo stesso momento, ma lui fu in grado di schivare entrambi i colpi e rispose con celerità. Solo α Berserker cadde a terra, ω Saber resistette all’attacco avversario e tentò un contrattacco. Lancer fermò la lama e, muovendo la lancia con maestria, fece perdere l’equilibrio all’avversaria.
«Figlio di—!» Saber si rialzò subito. «Muori, bastardo!»
L’uomo riuscì a schivare la spada ben tre volte di seguito prima di sferrare un attacco che spedì Saber al tappeto.
«Manchi di tecnica. Pompeiano avrebbe detto: ‘Sei fatta di legno come gli alberi, e come un albero cadrai’.»
«Ti piace tanto il suono della tua voce, eh?»
«L’unico suono che preferisco è quello che segue la fine di una battaglia vittoriosa.»
C’era un qualcosa di familiare nel modo in cui quell’uomo si comportava. La nemesi di Saber era simile a lui, in un certo senso. La grande nemesi di Vercingetorige amava parlare, parlare e parlare. Era una persona arrogante, superba, troppo immersa nella propria grandezza per prestare attenzione alla realtà delle sue azioni. Quell’uomo, quel Lancer, era simile a Gaio Giulio Cesare.
«Da dove vieni, ω Lancer?»
«Mm? Credi davvero che rivelerò la mia identità con così tanta facilità?»
«No, non importa. Non credo di aver bisogno di conferme. Ho già intuito che sei un romano.»
«E come sei arrivata a questa conclusione—?»
«I Romani sono tutti uguali: arroganti, egoisti, superbi, egocentrici... Vi sentite al centro di ogni cosa, non avete rispetto per gli altri e credete di essere padroni del mondo. Parli come se fossi un saggio, ma si capisce che hai un’anima romana.»
«Parli come se fossi una nemica di Roma...»
«Lo sono. Io sono sempre stata nemica dei Romani e continuerò ad esserla finché avrò vita!»
«Capisco... Quindi tu sei l’ennesimo barbaro che vuole la testa di un imperatore.» Lancer fece uno scatto in avanti e, con un calcio, fece volare l’avversaria al tappeto. «Ancora una volta, la mia vita è in pericolo a causa di voi bestie. Le vostre anime non hanno conosciuto la civilizzazione e per questo bramate la distruzione e la guerra, ma io porterò l’ordine e la pace. Con questa lama, con il mio spirito, e con il mio cuore io soffocherò le vostre fiamme.»
Lancer si avvicinò all’avversaria, ma non si era accorto che Berserker stava correndo verso di lui. Quando l’uomo si girò, la ragazza lo aveva già disarmato e si stava già preparando a fare un affondo. Lancer, senza perdere la calma, evitò la lama, colpì la nemica con un pugno e, afferrata la lancia, attaccò con forza. Berserker alzò lo scudo velocemente e bloccò la lama solo per fortuna.
«La tua opposizione è inutile. Hai già perso, α Berserker.»
Un calcio fece volare Berserker contro Saber.
«Sia tu che ω Saber morirete in questo campo di battaglia.»

«Corbeau de Mercure!» Raphael Maillard evocò uno stormo di corvi fatti di mercurio.
Le sei spade mistiche, tinte di un colore violaceo, che circondavano Hetna, iniziarono a girare ad alta velocità. Quei volatili vennero fatti a pezzi e, quando l’intero stormo risultò sterminato, quelle lame vennero sparate in avanti. Uno scudo di mercurio protesse Raphael.
«Mi chiedo quante lame tu possa evocare... Però ho come l’impressione che non ci sia un vero e limite a quella tua capacità evocativa» commentò lui.
«Sei perspicace. Sono lieta di sapere che l’AMPM ha dei membri così acuti, l’intera Francia dovrebbe esserne orgogliosa.»
«Risparmiami il sarcasmo, donna, so perfettamente chi sei: un mostro. Voi Imitazioni siete solo mostri, bestie, anomalie, cadaveri parlanti se non fantocci. Appartieni alla stessa razza di quel mostro chiamato Yukiko Kumahira! Guardo te e ciò che vedo è solo l’ennesima bestialità del genere umano!»
Hetna non disse una sola parola, ma evocò diverse scimitarre e le lanciò in avanti. Raphael, davanti a quella pioggia di lame, non fece altro che evocare un triplo scudo di mercurio. Rotto uno, ne rimasero due; rotto il secondo, rimase il terzo, ma le lame smisero di arrivare. Quando l’uomo abbassò lo scudo esibì un ghigno vincente ed esclamò:
«Duecento. Ecco il tuo limite. Ci è voluto poco a costringerti a mostrare le tue carte. Chi l’avrebbe detto, anche voi Imitazioni avete dei nervi sensibili! Ma dimmi, ragazza, pensavi davvero di essere più astuta di me?»
Hetna non rispose, ma non poteva nascondere l’imbarazzo di quella sconfitta, la sua stessa faccia venne attraversata da tinture di sconforto, delusione, e, infine, rabbia. Tanta rabbia.
«Avanti, ragazza, fai la tua prossima mossa. Mostrami quello che sai fare.»
«Esaudirò il tuo desiderio!» Hetna corse verso l’uomo ed evocò due spade. «Bastardo!»
La prima lama venne sparata e Raphael la bloccò con lo scudo di mercurio. Hetna usò la seconda come punto d’appoggio per fare un salto, evocò una serie di lame sulle quali iniziò a correre e poi fece un ultimo balzo per finire davanti all’avversario.
«Dunque...?» fece lui confuso.
«Guardati attorno, saputello.»
Le spade, ancora sospese per aria, avevano praticamente circondato l’uomo. La ragazza schioccò le dita e tutte e trenta le lame vennero sparate all’unisono. Raphael creò uno spesso scudo di mercurio a forma di bolla e si nascose al suo interno per salvarsi la vita. Nessuna delle lame lo ferì.
«Ti nascondi come un verme?»
«Voialtri non avete idea di che cosa sia la strategia, vero? Chien de Mercure!»
Dalla bolla di mercurio fuoriuscì un mastino. Hetna indietreggiò subito per non farsi mordere e, dopo aver recuperato abbastanza terreno, evocò delle scimitarre per uccidere la bestia. Quando alzò lo sguardo, si rese conto, però, che Raphael non c’era e, dove prima era presente la bolla, c’era solo una pozzanghera di mercurio. La ragazza fece l’errore di avvicinarsi e in un attimo le sue caviglie vennero bloccate da delle catene di mercurio che fuoriuscirono da quella pozza.
«Maledizione...!»
Raphael apparve dietro la ragazza e la spinse sopra la pozza. Le catene legarono anche i polsi e la gola.
«Ora sei completamente immobilizzata, mostro. Negli anni ’50 l’AMPM era solito punire i traditori tenendoli imprigionati in questo modo per intere settimane, senza mangiare e bevendo dalla ciotola dei cani. Dopotutto cos’è un traditore se non un animale? E cos’è un’Imitazione se non una bestia? Devo essere sincero, vederti a quattro zampe mi fa venire voglia di portarti una ciotola con su scritto il tuo nome—»
«Bastardo! Lasciami andare! Lasciami andare!» urlò lei.
«Perché dovrei farlo? Ormai ti ho in pugno...»
Hetna evocò delle spade magiche che vennero subito sparate, ma nessuna di queste riuscì a colpire l’uomo.
«Non è facile prendere la mira in quella posizione, eh? Povera te, ma chère. Mi rendo conto che probabilmente non hai scelto tu di diventare un mostro, ma ha ben poca importanza se questa seconda vita ti sia stata imposta o meno. Un animal est un animal... Un animale rimane pur sempre un animale, anche se non ha scelto di essere tale.»
Raphael colpì Hetna con un calcio facendo attenzione di prendere bene di mira il torace. Il verso di sofferenza della ragazza scatenò una reazione disgustata nell’uomo.
«Tutta finzione. Sei solo una pessima bugia!» La colpì un’altra volta. «Non c’è niente di vero in voi, niente. Siete solo bestie con aspetti umani, non siete altro. Una volta fui imbrogliato da voialtri, ma da allora ho sviluppato il più totale ribrezzo per la vostra razza. Questo è il momento di morire, mostro.»
In quell’istante Raphael venne colpito in faccia da un pugno. Era Benjamin Palmer. Il magus francese perse il controllo del mercurio ed Hetna poté liberarsi.
«Idiota!» tuonò Raphael. «Sei un idiota! Chien de Mercure!»
Benjamin venne morso al braccio sinistro dal mastino. Il ragazzo prese a pugni quella creatura, ma era troppo robusta per essere distrutta da delle mani umane.
«Cazzo! Mollami, figlio di— Aaaaah!» Benjamin sentiva che le zanne delle bestia gli stavano dilaniando il braccio. «Figlio di puttana!»
La lama di Hetna tagliò la bestia in due. Benjamin, ferito, si allontanò e ringraziò la donna.
«Non ringraziarmi, non l’ho fatto per te» brontolò lei.
«Quindi è così stanno le cose?» fece Raphael innervosito. «Questo è assurdo... davvero inconcepibile. Un moccioso che aiuta un mostro, ma che storia è mai questa?! Sono diventato il protagonista di qualche barzelletta oppure—? Dimmi, Master di Saber, perché diavolo hai aiutato quella bestia.»
«Non mi piacciono le teste di cazzo come te, ecco tutto» replicò Benjamin alzando il medio.
«Quindi vuoi essere il primo ad essere eliminato dalla competizione? Bene.» Raphael usò un Sigillo del Comando. «Lancer, ti ordino di uccidere Saber.»
Lancer, che era impegnato in una battaglia contro α Berserker, sentì l’ordine del Master e, senza protestare, rivolse la sua attenzione ad ω Saber.
La lancia di Lancer riuscì a fare breccia nella difesa di Saber e inferse tre profonde ferite che fecero crollare la donna in ginocchio.
Hetna notò immediatamente che gli occhi di Benjamin Palmer si stavano stringendo dalla tristezza, il ragazzo era palesemente sul punto di gettarsi nel campo di battaglia per fermare ω Lancer. Hetna si mise davanti a lui e, scuotendo la testa, gli disse:
«Te lo sconsiglio.»
Lui non le diede ascolto. La spinse e corse verso la sua Servant. «Saber, resisti!» urlò.
Benjamin era ferito, non sapeva quanto sangue stava perdendo, ma non aveva intenzione di lasciare morire quella valorosa guerriera che aveva creduto in lui e che lo aveva spronato a combattere. Il ragazzo si mise davanti  ad ω Lancer e fece da scudo ad ω Saber.
«Morirai, ragazzo» disse il Servant di Raphael.
«Lo so, ma non lascerò che Saber muoia in ginocchio.»
«Quindi desideri mettere a rischio la tua stessa vita per difendere l’onore di quella donna con il sangue barbarico? Non ti rendi conto che questo danneggerà la tua reputazione in quanto Master? Un bravo Master, in quanto magus, dovrebbe stare lontano da queste battaglie e non dovrebbe mai rinunciare alla propria vita per difendere un’arma—»
«Non mi interessa!» urlò lui. «Che lei sia un’arma oppure no a me non importa. Lei ha creduto in me ed io non la lascerò morire in questo modo. Preferisco morire io come un cane. Io, dopotutto, non sono nessuno di importante... ma lei è un re! Il minimo che posso fare è preservare il suo onore con la mia vita!»
Lancer non disse nulla.
Raphael Maillard notò che l’uomo stava abbassando l’arma e allora, con un tono di rimprovero, esclamò:
«Cosa credi di fare, ω Lancer? Lascia perdere i sentimentalismi e finisci il lavoro. Dobbiamo vincere questa guerra e la vinceremo. Uccidi il ragazzo e finiamo questa messinscena da quattro soldi.»
«Master, io non credo che—»
«Devo usare un altro Sigillo del Comando, ω Lancer?»
L’uomo abbassò la testa in segno di sottomissione. «No, mi scuso.»
Lancer alzò l’arma e si preparò a colpire Benjamin.
Hetna vide quel fragile ragazzo essere sul punto di morire e qualcosa, dentro di lei, si mosse: era un inspiegabile desiderio di proteggerlo. Non le era mai capitato prima. Non le era mai capitato di voler proteggere un umano e sapeva che era irrazionale provare quei sentimenti per quello sconosciuto, eppure li stava provando e non poteva frenarli in nessun modo. Hetna usò un Sigillo del Comando per ordinare ad α Berserker di usare il proprio Noble Phantasm.
«Così sia!» esclamò Berserker, la quale iniziò a correre verso Lancer.
L’uomo notò subito qualcosa di strano e, vedendo l’avversaria avvicinarsi, si girò per attaccarla. La lancia dello Spirito Eroico venne bloccata dallo scudo e poco dopo la spada della donna si avvicinò così tanto alla gola di lui da quasi decapitarlo. Lancer fece un veloce balzo all’indietro.
«Hai intenzione di proteggere costoro, α Berserker?»
Lei sorrise.
«Capisco. Allora ti ucciderò—»
In quel momento accadde qualcosa di strano a Berserker: una nebbia nera come il carbone si sollevò e circondò il corpo della ragazza.
«Sei sfortunato, ω Lancer, a quanto pare sarai la mia prima vittima.»
Quella nebbia nera si fece sempre più densa.
«Stai per essere vittima della pena che noi, dominatori del mondo, infliggiamo ai deboli che osano opporsi al nostro potere!»
Lancer sentì il proprio corpo irrigidirsi e, quando provò a muoversi, si accorse di essere paralizzato. Il Noble Phantasm dell’avversaria era già in atto. Berserker aprì le palpebre e rivelò due occhi sanguigni, simili a quelli di un demone.
«Tutti gli eversivi devono essere uccisi! Io, Servio Sulpicio Galba Cesare Augusto, ho deciso che la pena per il traditore sovversivo sarà la crocifissione! Infelix Lignum (La Croce della Mia Giustizia)!»
Una croce di ferro sorse alle spalle di ω Lancer. L’uomo fu catturato da catene e legato al ferro dal quale fuoriuscirono lunghi aculei che trafissero le mani, le braccia, le gambe e anche i fianchi.
Le urla strazianti dell’uomo inquietarono tutti i presenti eccetto α Berserker. La ragazza, la cui vera identità era quella dell’imperatore Galba Cesare Augusto, sogghignò e poi lasciò scappare dalla bocca una risata incontrollata. Non era più la ragazza contenuta di prima, sembrava che fosse stata posseduta.
Nessuno aveva capito quello che stava accadendo alla Servant, nessuno tranne Hetna. La follia, tipica di un Servant di classe Berserker, non poteva neanche toccare la mente di Galba in una situazione normale. Tuttavia, a causa dell’Odio per il Traditore — l’abilità della Servant — non appena lei usava il suo Noble Phantasm quella follia infettava la sua mente. Davanti a chi veniva giudicato ‘traditore’ o ‘ribelle’, Galba perdeva il controllo. La calma di Berserker era solo una maschera, un inganno. La vera α Berserker aveva appena mostrato il suo volto malefico a tutti i presenti.

Sotto quella stessa luna che aveva appena assistito alla crocifissione di ω Lancer, Friedrich Wolff stava cantando a bassa voce. Specter, appena entrata nell’abitazione nella quale avevano deciso di accamparsi, sentì la melodia che proveniva dal tetto e, incuriosita, si mise in un angolo per ascoltare attentamente le parole del Master.
«𝅘𝅥𝅮 All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong? 𝅘𝅥𝅮»
Non alzava mai la voce, era come se stesse parlando a sé stesso; ma il suo sguardo era rivolto alla luna. C’era qualcosa in quelle parole che metteva a disagio la donna. C’era tristezza in quelle parole, ma anche una sensazione di assoluta solitudine e lei non capiva perché. Erano solo parole, nulla di che. Erano ritmate, sì, ma questo non le rendeva più o meno diverse. Erano i soliti versi dell’umanità, eppure, in quel preciso momento, la donna si sentì quasi sopraffatta da quella canzone, forse persino schiacciata; sia fisicamente che mentalmente. Non aveva mai provato quelle sensazioni.
Specter non si accorse quando Friedrich smise di cantare e, quando lui capì di essere osservato, le domandò:
«Ti piace?»
«Eh...?» fece lei come se fosse stordita.
«La canzone.»
«L’hai scritta tu?»
«No. È dei The Beatles e la canzone si chiama Eleanor Rigby.»
«Mi piace, sì...» mormorò.
«Mio padre li adorava. Avevo sei anni quando me la fece sentire la prima volta, piansi e mia madre si arrabbiò con lui. Ahah... Che donna era mia madre!»
«Perché la stavi cantando?»
«Oggi è il 20 settembre, il giorno in cui mio padre morì. Volevo onorare la sua memoria con la sua canzone preferita, tutto qui.»
«Quando è accaduto?»
«Sette anni fa.»
«Ti manca?»
«A volte, ma non ci si può far niente, giusto? Possiamo andare avanti quanto vogliamo, ma non possiamo dimenticare le persone che perdiamo. Quelle resteranno sempre nei nostri cuori. Mio padre, mia madre, mio fratello... vivono nel mio cuore e continuerò a cantare per loro.»
«Hai una risposta?»
«A che cosa?»
«A quelle parole che hai cantato. Da dove vengono le persone sole?»
«Tu che cosa pensi?» domandò incuriosito.
«Io sono un demone, non posso dirtelo—»
«Provaci.»
«Beh... Io ho visto dei miei simili vivere senza mai conoscere la felicità. I demoni, dopotutto, sono tutti così, lo sai? Siamo così ossessionati dal bisogno di soddisfare i nostri istinti che non ci soffermiamo sulla nostra esistenza. Preferiamo mettere in atto costantemente la nostra natura piuttosto che scegliere liberamente e seguire un percorso differente. I demoni sono sempre soli, questa è la verità. Potrei dirti che tutta questa solitudine nasce da una mancanza di alternative...»
«Forse hai ragione, ma io credo che le alternative debbano essere create non aspettate. Chi aspetta non va da nessuna parte. Bisogna imparare a saltare, a cadere, e a rialzarsi. Non si può vivere se non si impara a correre dei rischi. Il problema è che molte persone preferiscono non farlo.» Fece una breve pausa. «Credo che le persone sole vengano da quelle scelte libere. Più liberi si è, più soli si diventa. È una verità.»
«Ma anche nell’assenza di libertà c’è solitudine» commentò lei.
«Anche questo può essere vero.»
«Dunque, alla fine dei conti, possiamo concludere che non c’è risposta alla mia domanda.»
«Ed è questa la stessa conclusione a cui arriva la canzone: non c’è alcuna risposta. Dobbiamo accettarlo e basta.»
«E a te va bene così? È strano. Non sarebbe molto meglio conoscere la verità e cercare di rendere la vita di ogni essere umano migliore?»
«Sarebbe bello, ma impossibile.»
«E a te va bene così...» ripeté a bassa voce.
«Non si vive per avere delle risposte, ma per continuare a domandare.»

'La vera natura di Galba' di Bikowolf

Vercingetorix - Vercingetorige

Other names: Great King of Warriors, Prince of Gauls, King of Rebels

Master: Benjamin Palmer

Probably one of the most famous rivals of Gaius Julius Caesar. During the Conquest of Gaul, the Roman troops succeeded in subduing the different Gallic tribes, massacring the rioters and buying the support of the aristocracies. No one was sure they would be able to challenge Caesar. Since that military commander had set foot in Gaul, she had done nothing but win; the aura of invincibility that surrounded the Romans was frightening those Gauls who were still free. Many thought of surrendering and accepting the dominion of Rome.

Vercingetorix made her appearance just then. This mighty king reminded the aristocracy of its role and put them back in line. She eliminated the traitors and prepared for war. This powerful figure was able to unite all the tribes of Gaul and set them against the Romans. Caesar, for the first time, found herself surrounded by enemies who had no intention of surrendering.

Vercingetorix demonstrated her military talent by giving Caesar a hard time. The scorched earth tactic slowed down the Roman advance and allowed the Gauls to obtain some victories against the Romans. Vercingetorix has the merit of having managed to put the most powerful leader of the time in difficulty.
Vercingetorix became more and more famous and more and more people agreed to unite against Rome. The Gauls managed to isolate Caesar, who now, in fact, no longer had any friends. It was then that Vercingetorix let herself be taken by naivety and agreed to face the Romans in Alesia.
Vercingetorix had allies everywhere, Caesar was outnumbered and could only count on her military genius. The Battle of Alesia tested both leaders and in the end only one was the winner...

Vercingetorix was forced to surrender. Caesar managed to win yet another battle and put an end to the Gallic rebellion. However, when Caesar came face to face with her nemesis, she was disappointed. She hoped she had defeated the most powerful man in Gaul, not the most powerful woman. Knowing that this triumph would have less prestige in the Senate, she decided to kill Vercingetorix in the camp and to bring any rebel to Rome to be able to hang him during the triumph. That rebel took the name of Caesar's nemesis while the real Vercingetorix was forgotten.

 

Artwork by BikoWolf

Benjamin Palmer

Born in Minneapolis. A young boy with many broken dreams and a desire to live in a better, fairer and just world. He's a friend of Friedrich Wolff and it's no coincidence: they both have the soul of the wolf. They are people who surround themselves with many friends, who protect their family at all costs and who are ready to violate the law if it's to do good. Benjamin Palmer is a real American Wolf.
What slows him down is the belief that he's not special, that he cannot change things. However he does not realize that he has great potential and that he's destined to become a great man.

 

Servant: ω Saber

Artwork by BikoWolf

Chapter 25 : Seek justice

My father has always hated his father, I never fully understood why, but it has always been like that. When I was little I was forbidden to talk to my grandfather alone, they were afraid he would make me like him: crazy.
I didn't know my grandfather was interested in magic, I had no idea, and so I accepted my father's strict rules without ever questioning them. When I was in the company of my mother or grandmother, my grandfather never talked about magic but he let slip some thoughts on politics, philosophy and sometimes he happened to make speeches about religion and the lack of faith on the part of people. Sometimes he let out some vulgarity and it came naturally to me to laugh, perhaps because I found genuinely funny how he got angry. He wasn't an angry man, he never raised his hands on people and especially not on his wife. His anger was always mixed with a theatricality that showed itself in the gestures and the way of speaking; maybe he did it on purpose, maybe he liked playing the part of the angry man.
His gruff appearance could deceive anyone, but in fact he was a kind man, always ready to help others. The African American community in our neighborhood loved him because it was natural for him to listen to those in difficulty, make loans without expecting anything in return, and offer food aid to those who had nothing.
"Whoever causes pain, consequently kills himself," he always said.
Once I happened to see a scar on his shoulder, the imprint of a bullet left by a racist policeman. My grandfather, unlike a good portion of my family—including me—couldn't stand the police. He always called them 'fascists' or 'pro-Nazis', my grandmother told him to keep these things for himself... Probably that was one of the few compromises he agreed to make.
My grandfather was a stubborn man, but a lover of far left philosophy. He had a small library in which he took refuge to read books on books by great thinkers of history. He despised right-wing philosophy and even the 'neutral' one, he considered both of them as 'typical Western thoughts'.
When I was little, and I heard my father say that my grandfather was crazy, I thought he was referring to that priceless kindness, the way he opposed the police, the way he got angry and his passion for philosophy. As I said: Grandpa had never talked about magic. However, as a teenager, I learned about that dark side of my grandfather and realized the reason behind my father's concern. In that small library there were either philosophy books or entire books dedicated to alchemy, dark magic, demonology, the evocation of spirits, and so on. Grandpa always had amulets  which, according to him, could protect him from evil forces. In addition, I had heard some stories of my father that had  grandpa as a protagonist who was doing magical rituals or talking to 'invisible creatures'. Little by little, but inevitably, my opinion of him changed. My grandfather turned, in my eyes, into a crazy old man.
Three years ago, on my eighteenth birthday, my grandfather, after the family party, took me to the library to give me a present and surprised me with a question:
"What is justice for you?"
"Does it have anything to do with the gift? You don't want to keep me here doing philosophy, I hope..."
"You're becoming a man, Benjamin, it's time for you to ask yourself certain questions. So, what is justice for you?"

"I don't know... I've never thought about it—"
"At your age, I was afraid to ask that question too," he said, smiling. "When dealing with such delicate discussions, it's instinctive to hide and avoid the subject... especially if you belong to an oppressed community."
"Sure, sure... But does all this have to do with my gift or...?"
"Answer my question, Benjamin: what is justice?"
I gave up. "Well... I think... that's what allows everyone to be happy."
"And who makes sure that justice works?"
"I don't know. The state. Grandpa, are you questioning me? Is this your gift?!"
"Are you... happy?" he asked me out of the blue.
I didn't answer.
"Are you happy, Benjamin? Answer sincerely."
"Yes, I am."
"You lie. I can see it in your eyes that you're lying."
"Look, Grandpa, I really have to go and I don't have time for these things. I know you want to talk to me and if you want we will do it another time, okay? But now I've other commitments, I promise you that one day we'll start talking about everything you want."
"Show me that you're happy," he told me.
"What do you want me to do? Do you want a smile?"
"No, tell me what makes you happy. Show me that there's justice and that you're happy thanks to this justice."
"Grandpa, what the fu—what are you saying? I don't understand. This is my birthday, do you understand? You can't act like this on my birthday! If you like, we can talk about it another day... but not today!" I exclaimed irritably.
"I just asked you to tell me what makes you happy."
"I don't know... I... um... well, I have a home, a family and friends. I have more than what I could ask for in life, I don't need anything else—"
"What about your future? Your dreams?"
"Yes, I also have all those things—"
"Are you pursuing your dreams, Benjamin?"
"I'm doing what I want—"
"So it's a 'no'?"
"I didn't say it's a 'no', it's just that—"
"So tell me what dreams you're chasing, Benjamin. It doesn't have to be difficult. You can't tell me that all your happiness is based on things you already have and that can only disappear."
"Stop interrupting me!"
"I just want to understand, Benjamin."
I'll be honest, in those days I had nothing but broken dreams. I know, it may sound melodramatic, but it's the truth. My dream of becoming a doctor had gone to hell because of the cost of studying and my dream of becoming a musician had crashed into a wall because of my mother. Put simply, my life at that time was particularly bitter, but, perhaps out of hope or perhaps out of optimism, I wasn't yet willing to give up and compromise.
My grandfather knew nothing of these things, it was I who had decided not to involve him, yet, at that moment, it seemed that he understood everything about me, as if he could see inside me. It was strange, difficult to bear and irritating.
"I know the truth, Benjamin," he told me. "You're contenting yourself with the moderate well-being that has been granted to you by those in power. You've been told that what you have now is happiness, but you know perfectly well that this is just a breeze that will doze off before you can die of old age. None of this is happiness."
"So what should I do? Envy the rich whites who can afford three or four houses? Should I dedicate my entire life to wanting what others have? No, forget it, I don't want to spend my life as a grudge! I don't want to surround myself with enemies, but with friends!"
"I'm not asking you to envy the powerful, but to dedicate your life to obtaining true justice. The world needs young people who are ready to fight for what is right. I don't want to teach you that it's better to survive, I want to reveal to you that you can live. You can live a life without having to bear the weight of the chains—"

"Do you want to make me the new Malcolm X? No... No, I refuse. Forget it."
"So you want to spend the rest of your days hoping that someone else will do something to improve the situation for some people? I know, Benjamin, what you're thinking, but you have to believe me when I tell you that things can change. Nothing is destined to remain identical to itself. You can grasp destiny and improve the world. You're young, you're full of energy, you belong to a generation that will shape the future of this nation! Why hold back?"
"Because you look at me as if I were a special person!" I exclaimed forcefully. "Grandpa, I'm not special. I'm a person like many others, okay? I'm just a guy who does what he can to keep going. I'm not a revolutionary, I'm not the hero of the United States and I'm not the magician who can change things with the snap of his fingers. What you see is what I am, there's nothing else. Don't try to make me something I'm not."
Those words came out to me with regret and I remember that my grandfather's eyes were painted with sadness... he seemed almost on the verge of tears. I turned away so as not to look him in the eye. My grandfather came up and, putting a hand on my shoulder, said to me:
"You're right, but you're wrong."
I didn't even say a word. The bitterness I had in my mouth prevented the words from leaving my throat.
"I left the Clock Tower precisely because I didn't tolerate the existence of people capable of saving the world who preferred to do nothing. Whoever has the power should use it to change things, to change the world. Those who can control the flow of the river should make the land fertile, not keeping all the water for themselves."
"The... Clock Tower...?"
"You have a gift, Benjamin. You don't realize it, but you have a great gift... The strength you have within you will show itself, one day... and that day you will change the world."

My grandfather died two months later.
Things haven't changed, I haven't changed. My doubts and my prejudices still breathe ... Friedrich told me that I'm a magus, but surely he's wrong. No one in my family has ever done Magecraft and no one has ever fought a war like this. My family has never been particularly special and consequently neither have I ever been.
But if Saber is right... If that Grail can grant every wish... maybe things can change. I'm nobody of importance, but the Holy Grail is a treasure of immense importance. I could use it to change the world... to make my grandfather's dream come true.
I don't know if I can trust Saber, she seems like a woman with different problems, but she is my only chance to do something really good and useful. She's the key to everything. Thanks to her, thanks to the Holy Grail, I, Benjamin Palmer, will make the world a better place.

'Hidden potential' by BikoWolf

[ITA] Capitolo 25 : Cercare la giustizia

Mio padre ha sempre odiato suo padre, non ho mai capito perché, ma è sempre stato così. Quand’ero piccolo mi era proibito parlare con il nonno da solo, avevano paura che mi facesse diventare come lui: un matto.
Non sapevo che mio nonno fosse interessato alla magia, non ne avevo idea, e così accettai le ferree regole di mio padre senza mai metterle in discussione. Quando ero in compagnia della mamma o della nonna, il nonno non parlava mai di magia però si lasciava sfuggire qualche pensiero sulla politica, sulla filosofia e qualche volta gli capitava di fare dei discorsi sulla religione e sulla mancanza di fede da parte delle persone. Certe volte si lasciava sfuggire qualche volgarità e mi veniva naturale ridere, forse perché trovavo genuinamente comico il suo modo di arrabbiarsi. Non era un uomo iracondo, non alzava mai le mani sulle persone e soprattutto non su sua moglie. La sua rabbia si mescolava sempre con una teatralità che si mostrava nei gesti e nel modo di parlare; forse lo faceva apposta, forse gli piaceva recitare la parte dell’uomo arrabbiato.
Il suo aspetto burbero poteva trarre in inganno chiunque, ma di fatto era un uomo gentile, sempre pronto ad aiutare al prossimo. La comunità afroamericana del nostro quartiere lo adorava perché a lui veniva naturale ascoltare chi aveva delle difficoltà, fare dei prestiti senza aspettarsi nulla in cambio e offrire aiuti alimentari a chi non aveva niente.
«Chi provoca dolore, uccide di conseguenza sé stesso» diceva sempre.
Una volta mi capitò di vedere una cicatrice sulla sua spalla, l’impronta di un proiettile lasciata da un  poliziotto razzista. Mio nonno, al contrario di una buona fetta della mia famiglia — incluso me — non sopportava la polizia. Li chiamava sempre ‘fascisti’ o ‘filonazisti’, mia nonna lo intimava di tenersi queste cose per lui... Probabilmente quello fu uno dei pochi compromessi che egli accettò di fare.
Mio nonno era un uomo testardo, ma amante della filosofia di estrema sinistra. Aveva una piccola biblioteca nella quale si rifugiava per leggere libri su libri di grandi pensatori della storia. Disprezzava la filosofia di destra e anche quella neutrale, le considerava entrambe come ‘tipici pensieri occidentali’.
Quand’ero piccolo, e sentivo mio padre dire che il nonno era matto, pensavo facesse riferimento a quella gentilezza senza prezzo, al modo in cui si opponeva alla polizia, al modo in cui si arrabbiava e alla sua passione per la filosofia. Come ho già detto: il nonno non aveva mai parlato della magia. Tuttavia, da adolescente, venni a conoscenza di quel lato oscuro di mio nonno e realizzai la ragione dietro la preoccupazione di mio padre. In quella piccola biblioteca c’erano o libri di filosofia o libri interi dedicati all’alchimia, alla magia oscura, alla demonologia, all’evocazione di spiriti, e via così. Il nonno si portava sempre dietro degli amuleti che, secondo lui, potevano proteggerlo dalle forze maligne. In più avevo sentito alcune storie di mio padre che avevano come protagonista il nonno mentre faceva dei rituali magici o parlava con ‘creature invisibili’. Poco alla volta, ma inevitabilmente, la mia opinione su di lui cambiò. Mio nonno si trasformò, ai miei occhi, in un vecchio pazzo.
Tre anni fa, il giorno del mio diciottesimo compleanno, mio nonno, dopo la festa in famiglia, mi portò in biblioteca per farmi un regalo e mi spiazzò con una domanda:
«Cos’è per te la giustizia?»
«Ha a che fare con il regalo? Non vorrai mica tenermi qui a fare filosofia, spero...»
«Stai diventando un uomo, Benjamin, è il momento che tu ti ponga certe domande. Quindi, cos’è per te la giustizia?»
«Non lo so... Non ci ho mai pensato—»
«Alla tua età, anche io avevo paura di pormi quella domanda» disse sorridendo. «Quando si affrontano discussioni così delicate, è istintivo nascondersi ed evitare l’argomento... soprattutto se si appartiene ad una comunità oppressa.»
«Certo, certo... Ma tutto questo ha a che fare con il mio regalo o...?»
«Rispondi alla mia domanda, Benjamin: cos’è la giustizia?»
Mi arresi. «Beh... credo... che sia ciò che permette a tutti di essere felici.»
«E chi si assicura che la giustizia funzioni?»
«Boh. Lo Stato. Nonno, mi stai interrogando? Questo è il tuo regalo?!»
«Tu sei felice?» mi domandò di punto in bianco.
Io non risposi.
«Sei felice, Benjamin? Rispondi sinceramente.»
«Sì.»
«Menti. Te lo leggo negli occhi che stai mentendo.»
«Senti, nonno, io devo proprio andare e non ho tempo per queste cose. Lo so che ti va di parlarmi e se vuoi lo faremo un’altra volta, va bene? Ma adesso ho altri impegni, ti prometto che un giorno ci metteremo a parlare di tutto ciò che vorrai.»
«Dimostrami che sei felice» mi disse lui.
«Cosa vuoi che faccia? Vuoi un sorriso?»
«No, dimmi cosa ti rende felice. Dimostrami che c’è giustizia e che tu sei felice proprio grazie a questa giustizia.»
«Nonno, ma che ca—cosa stai dicendo? Io non capisco. Questo è il mio compleanno, lo capisci? Non puoi comportarti così proprio il giorno del mio compleanno! Se ti va, possiamo parlarne un altro giorno... ma non oggi!» esclamai irritato.
«Ti ho semplicemente chiesto di dirmi cosa ti rende felice.»
«Non lo so... io... beh, ho una casa, una famiglia e degli amici. Ho più di quello che potrei chiedere dalla vita, non ho bisogno di altro—»
«E il tuo futuro? I tuoi sogni?»
«Sì, ho anche tutte quelle cose—»
«Stai perseguendo i tuoi sogni, Benjamin?»
«Sto facendo quello che voglio—»
«Quindi è ‘no’?»
«Non ho detto che è un ‘no’, è solo che—»
«Allora dimmi quali sogni stai inseguendo, Benjamin. Non deve essere difficile. Non puoi dirmi che tutta la tua felicità si basa su cose che hai già e che possono solo scomparire.»
«Smetti interrompermi!»
«Voglio solo capire, Benjamin.»
Sarò sincero, a quei tempi non avevo altro che sogni spezzati. Lo so, può sembrare melodrammatico, ma è la verità. Il mio sogno di diventare un medico si era andato a farsi fottere a causa del costo degli studi e il mio sogno di diventare un musicista si era schiantato contro un muro a causa di mia madre. In parole povere, in quel periodo la mia vita era particolarmente amara, ma, forse il per la speranza o forse per ottimismo, non ero ancora disposto a gettare la spugna e a fare dei compromessi.
Mio nonno non sapeva niente di queste cose, ero io che avevo deciso di non coinvolgerlo, eppure, in quel momento, sembrava che egli avesse capito ogni cosa su di me, come se egli potesse vedere dentro di me. Era strano, difficile da sopportare e irritante.
«Io conosco la verità, Benjamin» mi disse lui. «Tu ti stai accontentando del moderato benessere che ti è stato concesso da chi ha il potere. Ti è stato detto che quella che hai adesso è felicità, ma tu sai perfettamente che questa è solo una brezza che si assopirà prima che tu possa morire di vecchiaia. Niente di tutto questo è felicità.»
«Quindi cosa dovrei fare? Invidiare i ricchi bianchi che possono permettersi tre o quattro case? Dovrei dedicare la mia intera vita a desiderare ciò che gli altri hanno? No, scordatelo, non voglio passare la mia vita come un rancoroso! Non voglio circondarmi di nemici, ma di amici!»
«Non ti sto chiedendo di invidiare i potenti, bensì di  dedicare la tua vita ad ottenere la vera giustizia. Il mondo ha bisogno di giovani pronti a combattere per ciò che è giusto. Io non voglio insegnarti che è meglio sopravvivere, io voglio rivelarti che puoi vivere. Puoi vivere una vita senza dover sopportare il peso delle catene—»
«Vuoi fare di me il nuovo Malcolm X? No... No, mi rifiuto. Scordatelo.»
«Quindi vuoi passare il resto dei tuoi giorni a sperare che qualcuno faccia qualcosa per migliorare la situazione ad alcune persone? Io so, Benjamin, quello che tu stai pensando, ma devi credermi quando ti dico che le cose possono cambiare. Niente è destinato a rimanere identico a sé stesso. Tu puoi afferrare il destino e migliorare il mondo. Sei giovane, sei pieno di energie, appartieni ad una generazione che plasmerà il futuro di questa nazione! Perché tirarti indietro?»
«Perché tu mi guardi come se io fossi una persona speciale!» esclamai con forza. «Nonno, io non sono speciale. Sono una persona come tante altre, va bene? Sono solo un ragazzo che fa quello che può per andare avanti. Non sono un rivoluzionario, non sono l’eroe degli Stati Uniti e non sono il mago che può cambiare le cose con uno schiocco di dita. Ciò che vedi è ciò che sono, non c’è altro. Non cercare di rendermi qualcosa che non sono.»
Quelle parole mi uscirono fuori con rammarico e ricordo che gli occhi di mio nonno si dipinsero di tristezza... sembrava quasi sul punto di piangere. Mi voltai dall’altra parte per non guardarlo negli occhi. Mio nonno si avvicinò e, mettendo una mano sulla mia spalla, mi disse:
«Hai ragione, ma ti sbagli.»
Non dissi neanche una parola. L’amarezza che avevo in bocca impedì alle parole di lasciare la gola.
«Io abbandonai la Torre dell’Orologio proprio perché non tolleravo che ci fossero persone in grado di salvare il mondo che però preferivano non fare niente. Chi ha il potere dovrebbe usarlo per cambiare le cose, per cambiare il mondo. Chi può controllare il corso del fiume, dovrebbe rendere fertili le terre non tenere tutta l’acqua per sé stesso.»
«La Torre dell’Orologio...?»
«Tu hai un dono, Benjamin. Non te ne rendi conto, ma hai un grande dono... La forza che hai dentro di te si mostrerà, un giorno e quel giorno cambierai il mondo.»

Mio nonno morì due mesi più tardi.
Le cose non sono cambiate, io non sono cambiato. I miei dubbi ed i miei pregiudizi respirano ancora... Friedrich mi ha detto che io sono un magus, ma sicuramente si sbaglia. Nessuno, nella mia famiglia, ha mai fatto magie e nessuno ha mai combattuto una guerra come questa. La mia famiglia non è mai stata particolarmente speciale e di conseguenza nemmeno io lo sono mai stato.
Ma se Saber ha ragione... Se quel Graal può esaudire ogni desiderio... forse le cose possono cambiare. Io non sono nessuno di importante, ma il Sacro Graal è un tesoro di immensa importanza. Potrei usarlo per cambiare il mondo... per realizzare il sogno di mio nonno.
Non so se posso fidarmi di Saber, mi sembra una donna con diversi problemi, ma lei è la mia unica possibilità per fare qualcosa di veramente buono e utile. Lei è la chiave di tutto. Grazie a lei, grazie al Sacro Graal, io, Benjamin Palmer, renderò il mondo un posto migliore.

 

'Potenziale nascosto' di BikoWolf

 

Yukiko Kumahira

Daughter of Hisashi Kumahira and Yumiko Hiyama. On the death of her father, her mother remarried to Alessandro Serpi's father: Marco Serpi. She was the victim of her adoptive father's experiments, who transplanted Magical Circuits into her body to make her the perfect sacrificial victim for the  Holy Grail of Yggdrasil's ritual. These tortures began when she was only twelve years old. Ten Magical Circuits were transplanted to her every month for the sole purpose of making her like Alessandro.
Yukiko was sacrificed at fifteen. The ritual failed and the man, struck by strong feelings of guilt, decided to put into practice an ancient ritual known as the Miracle of Eden to bring Yukiko back to life and make her a kind of doll: an Imitation.
Yukiko doesn't have a real soul, but rather a fake soul called the Mercurial Soul which can, therefore, contain an infinite number of Magical Circuits. The girl, immortal, eternally young and deprived of any form of empathy, decided to continue the transplant of Magical Circuits on herself.
The day she killed her father she had eight hundred and forty Magical Circuits.

With the false identity of Veronica Drakenberg, she started the Holy Grail War of Yggdrasil in London. She has committed several murders and caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. With the help of a Berserker-class Servant (Artoria Pendragon) and the Grail she managed to destroy the entire universe, effectively causing the extinction of life itself. However, due to the nature of the Grail, everything started all over again and so Yukiko went to work to destroy everything a second time. She was stopped by Alessandro Serpi and Friedrich Wolff and later imprisoned in the Coven.
Yukiko is a sadistic girl who considers every human being as an object. She has no respect for life and she only craves one thing: the Void. Her sole purpose is to destroy everything in order to achieve the state of absolute nothingness. In her eyes, people have no freedom and are little different from things that can be used, destroyed and then forgotten. She appears to be physically unable to feel love, but she feels a strong sense of disgust towards humanity.

Artwork by BikoWolf

Chapter 24 : Fall

It had been two hours now. Alessandro Serpi had not yet uttered a single word and Caesar had no idea what to do to help him. She looked at her Master, who was standing still, sitting in the street with his gaze fixed on the void, and she felt helpless, unable to do anything concrete for him.
Vergil had managed to make his move. Alessandro was now no longer sure he could survive and protect Ina from the Holy Grail War. The boy knew that his Servant was a person who loved to talk and, perhaps thinking that dialogue would be a palliative, he opened his mouth; he closed it immediately. He had no idea what to say. For two hours he had done nothing but tacitly accuse himself of letting his guard down and letting Vergil separate him from Ina. For two hours he had done nothing but mull over his mistakes. For two whole hours he had been gathering anger, grief, fear and pain, and he wanted to blow them up... make them go away, but he couldn't. He couldn't get them away. The harder he tried, the more he realized he was imprisoned. He felt like a bird unable to sing. A sad smile was drawn on his lips, his eyes bathed and turned to Caesar.
"I thought..." His dry voice was soon followed by a cough.
"You don't have to talk," she said sympathetically.

He shook his head. "What would you do...?" He coughed again. "What would you do... in my place?"
"Well..." She thought about it for a few seconds. "I believe that a person's willpower can only be tested in the most oppressive situations. When I closed myself in the palace of Alexandria with Cleopatra and my comrades, I had to face several difficulties. My will was put to the test and I was able to respond to both Achillas' cunning and Ganymedes' ingenious strategies. Was it difficult? Yes, very difficult."
Alessandro didn't comment.
"Now that I think about it, my whole life has been like this... Still, you can't complain, right? The road of the giants is never downhill!"
"I'm not a giant—"
"You are, Comrade. You always have been, but you never realized it. Think about it. Think of the previous war, think of what you did and tell me, looking into my eyes, that anyone, in your place, would have done the same thing. I don't think so. Nobody forced you to save the world, but you did it anyway. Can't you understand? This is exactly what makes you a giant!"
"You're just saying..."
"You believe? Think of Vergil. Think about what that man did just to have you here! In this place! He could've ignored you, right? He could've involved other people in this war... and instead he decided to look for you and drag you into this conflict. Why? The answer is simple, Comrade: you're a colossus. You're an important person, a Master who saved the world and who made Sheol's defeat possible! How can you be blind to your deeds?"
"That's not what I asked for!" he exclaimed forcefully. "That's not what I asked for... I never wanted it..."
"So...? You can't go back—"
"Do you think I don't know?" He got up from the ground. "Do you think I don't know, Caesar? I know perfectly well that I can't go back! But don't you realize how frustrating it's to be here? I am tired! You're right, I've fought a lot, but can I know when I can stop fighting? When will I be able to live my life? Since the previous war ended, I've done nothing but run away from people who wanted to kill me! Do you have any idea what that means? Do you have any idea what it means to live with the constant fear of dying by the hand or of this or that other murderer? I cannot take it anymore!"
"Yes, I know what that means. My political life began like this, Comrade. I was just twenty when the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla decided that I had to disappear. I spent nearly a whole year hiding, bribing people who wanted to kill me, and seeking the protection of friends and lovers. Want to know the funny thing? That madman only wanted me dead because I was his late rival's granddaughter. So, Comrade, I know what you felt and I'm sorry... but now is the time to react."
"And what should I do...?"
"Fight. If the world pushes you, you have to push harder. This is the time, Comrade, to prove to Vergil that you're not weak and that you'll win this ridiculous war of his. This is the time to brandish your weapons and assert yourself, Alessandro! Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Save those tears for when you win! You're a colossus and I know it! I've seen you face worse, Comrade... I've seen you face worse and I've seen you come out victorious. Don't belittle those successes, treat them with proper respect! Raise your head and react!"

Alessandro didn't say a word. He turned towards the arena that awaited him, a little further ahead, and advanced with his head down. He was changed. Caesar's words reminded him that he hadn't survived the London conflict to live a life in fear and unhappiness. He longed for freedom, he longed to be able to live a peaceful and happy life. His father, his mother, the Grand Master, Yukiko and now Vergil... All of them had tried or were still trying to nail him to a tragic existence and he could no longer tolerate this. He was tired of taking, being treated like a weakling and being pushed left and right. He was tired of being forced to fight wars and above all he was tired of seeing innocent people die.
Alessandro Serpi advanced towards the arena... towards his destiny.

Far from Adocentyn, in Italy, the Coven's headquarters was in turmoil. Young disciples and senior members learned of a terrible fact. The Grand Master, who was still in the dark about everything, had no idea that those riots were caused by information leaked from an insubordinate.
The Grand Master had ordered one of his men to find out what was going on. After a few minutes, his office door burst open.
"Grand Master!" a man yelled.
Giovanni Monteverdi X turned and saw this disciple running after him with his forehead dripping with sweat.
"What's happening?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.
"I... I don't know... I have no idea... something happened..." he stammered. "I've heard rumors... rumors about..."
"What are you talking about?"
"The prisoner is—"
Giovanni pushed the disciple and immediately went to the prison where Yukiko Kumahira was being held. His heart was beating like a madman. His head was clouded by terrible thoughts and the man accelerated his pace. He made his way among the various members of the Coven and tried to calm some of them with harsh words, sometimes even threats. He continued to walk, hastily, and, along the road, he met Marco Lombardo, who had the same goal as him and also two frightened eyes.
"Who leaked the information?" Giovanni asked nervously.
"I have no idea, Grand Master—"
"Why the fuck wasn't I the first to know ?!" he screamed furiously. "What the hell is going on?"
"I have no idea! I was called by Ponti, it was he who told me to join him."
Giovanni and Marco went down to the prison and met Davide Ponti. The man stayed away from the iron door that separated him from the prisoner; his gaze was as terrified as that of an infant and not even the presence of his two colleagues could calm him down.
"You have arrived..." he said in a weak voice. "There are problems, something is wrong with the prisoner..."
"Move away," Giovanni said, standing in front of the cage door. "Let me take a look."
Giovanni Monteverdi opened the iron door and, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he turned pale on learning that Yukiko Kumahira was standing. The girl's gaze was absent, she still had that symbol on her forehead, so it meant that she, in fact, was still trapped in that illusion that had been prepared by the Coven to torture her.
"Why is she standing?" Marco asked in shock. "She should be in a coma..."
"I have no idea..." David answered with a trembling tone. "I was here for the usual checks and I saw her standing. I don't know how she did it, I don't know how it's possible... I swear I didn't do anything."
"Does anyone else have access to the cage?"
"No, just me."
"So what happened? Grand Master, what do you think? Maybe it's necessary—"
Giovanni interrupted both of them. The man slowly approached Yukiko and observed her with the same attention as a doctor; he wanted to make sure she was still under the influence of the Magecraft. Yukiko hadn't moved a single step, she swayed a bit, but she didn't walk. She had the same expression as a lobotomized patient.
Yet she was standing.
Giovanni Monteverdi walked away a little and looked around for possible clues. It was then that he noticed the presence of scratches on the wall; they were barely visible, but they were there. It looked like the work of a beast.
"What is this stuff?" he investigated agitatedly. "Do you have any idea? What did you do? What have you done, Ponti?"
"Me?! Nothing! I swear!" he exclaimed in terror.
"What's this stuff, then? What are these scratches on the wall? Who did it?"
"I don't know! I swear! I didn't see anything—!"
"Who made those scratches on the wall?" His voice rose. "Who the fuck went in here?"
"No o—"
"Bullshit!" he yelled. "Someone has entered! I'm sure! Who scratched the wall? What happened? What have you done?" Giovanni was becoming more and more aggressive. "Do you realize that this girl is the most dangerous person on the planet?! If she wakes up, we're dead!"

At that moment Marco Lombardo intervened with a faint voice: "Grand Master... behind you..."
Giovanni saw the deepest fear tint his colleague's gaze.
The man turned slowly and saw above, in a dark corner of the room, these long legs of bare skin that, with sharp claws, remained clinging to the wall. They were six legs of a creature that made not even the slightest sound. It was like it wasn't even real.
The men slowly moved away and, frightened, tried to understand what it was. Giovanni Monteverdi used a spell to illuminate that corner of the wall and then that face bare of eyes, nose, ears and mouth was unmasked. The beast had a long head with a sort of transparent trunk that moved like a snake hanging from a hook. The slender body of this creature was crossed by purple veins. The monster, sensing the presence of the light, quickly moved about the ceiling like a spider; the three men immediately moved to stay away from that hideous pale creature.
"What the fuck is that thing...?" Giovanni Monteverdi asked in shock. "It's not a demon..."
"No, sir, it doesn't give off magical energy..."
"I bet it's that bitch who brought that creature here!"
"What do you want to do, Grand Master?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'll put an end to the problem."
Giovanni Monteverdi approached Yukiko Kumahira and prepared to use a Magecraft to kill her.
The girl blinked.
"What...? Have you seen it too?" he asked shaken.
The girl's eyes began to move madly.
"To Hell with that! I won't risk!"
As soon as Giovanni Monteverdi channeled the mana to cast the spell, something hit his arm.
It was that monster's trunk.
Like a giant and organic needle, that protuberance pierced the man's arm and began to suck blood. Giovanni lost the sensitivity of his arm within a few seconds and, in a few moments, the man's limb took on a corpse-like appearance.
"Help me!" he yelled.
As soon as he turned he realized that both Marco Lombardo and Davide Ponti had their eyes sewn up and their bodies were pulverizing little by little.
"No! No!" Giovanni yelled as he witnessed the death of the two colleagues. "NO!" The man turned to that horrible monster and exclaimed, snapping his fingers: "Acies Gladii!"
Three magical swords pierced the body of the beast, which escaped into the shadows. Giovanni managed to escape from that cage. He closed the door and walked away screaming for help. He ran down the corridor of the prison, sure to be chased by that foul creature, and continued to scream for reinforcements.
No one answered.
No one came to help the Grand Master.
Nobody.
"Help me, please! Somebody help me! Yukiko Kumahira is—!"
Then the man realized that his right arm, the one that had been hit by the monster's trunk, was back as before. It no longer looked dry, withered; it was healthy and of the same complexion as ever. It couldn't be possible. He was sure he had lost that limb, he was sure he had been hit and hadn't used any magic to heal himself. He scanned his arm with a clinical eye for the spot where the trunk had pierced him, but he didn't find a tiny wound.
"Are you all right, Grand Master?" asked one of the disciples.
The man raised his head and realized he was out of prison, but he didn't remember having gone through the door. He looked around and realized that the earlier unrest had dissipated, it was as if everyone had decided, in unison, to stop not only fidgeting, but also to make the slightest noise; it was surreal.
"Everything is fine—?"
"Don't touch me!" The man pushed the disciple and, without thinking, returned to the prison. "What's going on? What the fuck is going on?! It doesn't make sense! It makes no sense, shit! It doesn't make fucking sense!" Then he stopped. He thought about what had happened and began to sweat. "Unless..."
He approached Yukiko's cell and saw, near the iron door, Davide Ponti and Marco Lombardo who were talking. Both were in excellent health.
"Ah, Grand Master, what a pleasure to see you!" Marco exclaimed happily. "Do you need something?"
"You... I...Yukiko!"
"What happens...?"
"The prisoner! Let me open the door!"
When the three men entered the cell, Yukiko wasn't there. There wasn't a trace of the monster. The scratches on the wall were gone.
Then Giovanni Monteverdi understood and found himself alone, in the cage, with Yukiko Kumahira, who was lying on the ground, in that state of coma in which she should've been from the beginning. The girl got up slowly. He tried to use spells to kill her, but he couldn't channel mana. Realizing his helplessness, the man tried to get out.... but the door was blocked. Desperate, Giovanni kicked and punched Yukiko, but his arms were tired and his legs were heavy. He walked away and kept repeating:
"Stay down, stay down, stay down, stay down, stay down..."
He cried. The girl easily freed herself from the straitjacket.
"This isn't real," he said softly.
A malicious smile appeared on the girl's face. "Finally you understood." The symbol on her forehead disappeared. "It took you longer than expected, but now you understand."
"When...? How...?"

"The moment all three of you entered the room. That was the moment I used your own Magecraft against you. As for the 'how', well... let's say your tricks are like kindergarten children's games for me. It wasn't difficult to understand how your Magecraft works, it was enough for me to play your game without ever losing sight of my conscience. It took me longer than expected, but in the end it was worth it."
"You'll never be able to escape from the Coven... my men will stop you..."
"You mean the ones who died?"
His eyes widened in terror.
"My dearest Grand Master, did you really think those little magi would be able to stop me? The sheep cannot tear the wolf to pieces. I've already said that..."
"No, we never talked—" He saw the smile on her face. "How long have I been here...?"
"Finally the right question. You're slow, but in the end you make it. Do you want a number? I think... four days. I ran away four days ago, dear Grand Master. This is the second and last time I visit you—"
"Where is my body...? Where is everyone? Why does no one save me...? " He then understood. His eyes bathed in dismay and despair. "No... Don't tell me... Don't tell me, please..."
"Exactly, my dear Grand Master, nobody can save you... because you're alone. I buried you alive under the rubble of your own Coven together with the corpses of your disciples and your 'friends'. This is your new life: an eternal nightmare. Nobody will save you, nobody will come looking for you, nobody will worry about you."
"NO!" he screamed in tears. "I want to go out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!"
"Come on, don't do that, it was your fault. You shouldn't have played dice with God. See you, last Grand Master: Giovanni Monteverdi X."
"No! Stop! I don't want to...!"
Yukiko disappeared.
Giovanni found himself in his office, it was as if he had just woken up from a terrible dream. He looked around, agitated, and touched the walls of the room, the desk and even the glass. He was afraid, he wanted to be sure he was in reality.
"I had a dream...? It was just a dream?" He looked at himself in the mirror. "Is this real? Is all this true or is it just in my head...? " His body was wet with sweat. "Tell me it's real, please... Tell me it was just a dream..." His eyes got wet. "Please, God..."
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
Nothing had changed.
He breathed a sigh of relief and, smiling, said to himself:
"It was just a dream. A terrible dream. I imagined everything... Thank you, God. Thank you for taking pity on me."
The man sat down in front of the desk and began to order some paperwork, thinking back to what he had dreamed of. Terror still wandered in his heart, but it was dozing off a little at a time. He felt the need to walk, he needed to breathe fresh air.

He got up from his desk and walked through the door.
"Grand Master!" a man yelled.
The Grand Master Giovanni Monteverdi X turned and saw this disciple running after him with his forehead dripping with sweat.
"What's happening?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.
"I... I don't know... I have no idea... something happened..." he said stammering.
"What are you talking about?"
"The prisoner is—"

Yukiko stood with her hands behind her back, admiring the rubble of what, just four days ago, was the headquarters of the Coven. The girl turned and left the Grand Master in his grave. A tomb made of bricks, corpses and nightmares.
The female-looking demon had a clear goal, a goal that tickled that blood-hungry palate. She silently advanced towards a fate that awaited her on the summit of Adocentyn.

'Yukiko's return' by BikoWolf