Era breathed heavily, casting around the courtyard to make sure that there weren't any Templar Knights left alive. "Everyone okay?!"
"It'll take more than whatever that was supposed to be to slow me down," Mordred assured her with a grin.
"Those knights were strange," Bedivere pointed out, joining them. "They weren't mass-produced summons, they had differences in skin colour, in height and build. I think I even noticed a few women among them. But they were all stuffed into the same armour, regardless of how well it fit them,"
"Okay, so what does that mean?" Era questioned.
"Um," A mix of worry and guilt crossed Z's face as she came up with a theory. "Have we been fighting cursed armour that enslaved innocent people?"
The Knights cast her skeptical looks, while Era tilted her head. "Huh . . how does that work with the rules? If the people didn't want to try to kill me, but they still did it . . eh, it's probably not worth worrying about,"
"Especially because the corpses have been dissolving into Spiritrons, like summons would. If that had been the case, this courtyard would be full of armour-less corpses," Bedivere reminded her, shaking his head. "No, to me this seems more like a case of summoning an army of ghosts inside these suits of armour, somehow,"
"Does this help at all?" Mordred impatiently questioned.
"Knowledge is never a bad thing," Alexander sagely advised her. "If we understand the nature of our enemies, we understand their weaknesses,"
". . yeah, can't argue with that,"
"What's next? Was that the last of the Knights?" Gawain questioned, her head on a swivel.
"Might have been, but we can't be certain. Guess it's time to start exploring the castle," Era decided, gesturing towards the far end of the courtyard. "Let's start with those big doors!"
Sure enough, directly opposite the palisade was a set of reinforced doors large enough to drive a bus through, with the sigil of the Knights Templar on them.
"Those are boss room doors. Should we really start with the boss? There might be loot in the castle, better weapons and stuff. This whole Singularity has felt kinda RPG-like," Z worried.
"Nah, we're already on top of the dogs. Let's cut through the chase!" Mordred endorsed, already making for the double doors.
Era eagerly accompanied her, and Gawain flanked them. "She isn't wrong. I'm confident that, whatever's behind there, we can handle it,"
"You're tempting fate, you know that?" Z complained as the rest of the group formed up. "Era, do you not have a single genre savvy person on your team? How do you get by?"
"Mostly by stabbing people," she replied entirely seriously.
Before they could close the distance, though, the doors erupted outwards, forced open by a wave of gale-force wind. Era was lifted bodily off her feet by the gust, and Bedivere caught her before she could fall.
Looking back at the door, they found a man in white armour, with a red cape and pale hair, waiting for them. He leant on his sword, and gazed in their direction with his eyes closed.
"Is that him? Richard the Lionheart?" Alexander asked, moving forward to make sure they were in earshot.
". . You killed my knights," There was a furious note in the king's voice as he spoke, his mantle billowing in an unseen breeze. "But perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. They weren't worth much, after all . . I probably should have expected that only the weak-willed and stupid ones would come when I called them,"
"That's a very odd thing for a king to say about his subjects," Bedivere challenged, preemptively drawing his sword.
"Well, yes, I suppose it would be . . but then, that hardly matters to me," Richard shrugged.
"Who cares what this punk has to say? He's got the Grail, right? We'll just kill him and be done!" Mordred declared, launching herself forwards like a cannonball, with Clarent flashing upwards and coming down like the blade of a guillotine.
With both hands wrapped around the hilt of his own sword, Richard brought it up in a guard to block the blow.
The steel connected with such force that it drove the king's feet inches into the ground, the reverberations shaking the whole castle. Richard staggered, and barely managed to drive Clarent to the side, his arms shaking from the strain.
Mordred squinted suspiciously. For a Saber, he seemed to be a surprisingly bad swordsman. Her hesitation didn't stop her from adjusting her grip and swinging again - only for a defensive barrier of solidified air to wrap around the king and block the blow. He retreated a few steps, and with a flick of his wrist forced Mordred further away from him even as she struggled against thin air.
"Clearly, this assumed form and identity is doing me more harm than good at this point," Richard shook his head. "Oh well. I suppose, if I'm no longer reaping any benefits from the Rounds of Lionheart, then I might as well dispense with the disguise and let you all see my true, glorious majesty! Mwohohohoh!"
Era co*cked her head, frowning. "Wait, what are you talking about?"
"I see no reason to explain myself to a corpse," 'Richard' declared, moments before a solid wall of air fell down from the sky and blocked him from view, a hurricane of air that glowed red forming around him.
But then the hurricane grew eyes.
Tiny tears in space disgorged gold-framed rubies with a strange gelatinousness to them, and red dots floating in the centre. They appeared in twisting and coiling patterns, forming spirals around the body of the tornado. The angles of the colloidal shapes shifted in ways that defied physical matter, focusing downwards, on the Servants arrayed before them.
"Behold, for I am Aamon, the mightiest Demon God Pillar of the Gazing Star! Fall to your knees or be swept from your feet!" The air itself seemed to shake with every word the living cyclone spat out, and its rows of eyes split apart, becoming a quartet of crystalline strings that swirled amidst the baleful winds.
"Oh, great," Alexander groaned. "I had fighting a sentient natural disaster on my apocalypse bingo card,"
"That's good though! How close are you to a bingo?" The sarcasm flew completely over Z's head.
"Focus! This is going to be dangerous!" Bedivere commanded the unruly group, moments before the storm front hit them.
The very air came around them, beating and shredding them. The Knights were unmoved and Z slammed her helmet on, but Alexander staggered and Era and Fou were clearly the worst off. Their small bodies lacked the bulk needed to stand up to the gale force winds, and Era screamed as she was lifted from the ground and sucked in towards the crystalline eyes that were Aamon's core, which span like a blender of geometric crystals. Fou had the presence of mind to dig his claws into the spandex of her outfit, and she clutched him tight - until Gawain jumped and grabbed her leg, anchoring her in place and pulling her in close to her bulky body.
"Th-thanks, Gawain . . that was scary," Era breathed, wrapping her arms around the Saber' shoulder and clinging on tight.
Nearby, Bedivere shielded his face with his arms and Mordred's helmet appeared around her head. "These conditions aren't safe for Era!" Gawain shouted, casting around and spotting a row of windows. "Keep it busy! I'll get her somewhere safe!"
"Huh? No, I can help!" Era protested, but Gawain was undeterred, forcing a set of doors open with her shoulder and emerging into what was, by comparison, a quiet corridor. While the tumultuous winds outside were still audible, the air within was still and safe.
"Era. You need to understand that there are some opponents against whom you are a good match, and some opponents who are a good match against you. This is one of the latter. You simply aren't equipped to fight this enemy. It's not a slight against you, it's just how things are. So leave it to us. Please,"
Era pouted, but couldn't help remember Scathach warning her about similar things in the more theory-focused of their tutorials. ". . Fine, but you'd better not take too long, okay?"
"Of course not. And, in the meantime, here," Gawain tugged her towards a window. "You're still our Master. Your responsibility is to coordinate the battle, and you have that Mystic Code too that can support us, don't you? So you're not useless. Just remember what you can do, and don't try to do what you can't,"
"Alright . . alright. I got it," Era still didn't look happy, but nodded in reluctant acceptance. Fou jumped onto her shoulder and nuzzled her sympathetically. "Oi. Stop it, Fou, that tickles,"
"Good. Stay safe," Gawain instructed, leaping back out into the windy battlefield and closing the door behind her.
Out in the courtyard, Mordred and Bedivere were guarding each other's backs. "How in the hell do we fight a tornado?" Mordred barked.
Bedovere cast around, searching for any sign of a core, or true body. The false form of Richard Lionheart had disappeared, and all that they could see was streaks of red in the wind and twisting strings of ruby-shaped eyes. "The eyes! He must have dispersed his essence into those eyes! Target them!"
"Can do!" Z piped up, unholstering her blasters, and a rain of laser blasts peppered the nearest string of colloidal rubies. Holes were blown into a couple of them, going dark, but then Aamon wised up and hardened barriers of air protected him from the rest of the barrage. "Damnit! He blocked me!"
"That's good! That means we're on the right track! Mana Burst!" Mordred roared, and Clarent erupted into a pillar of light that she sent sweeping across another string of eyes. That part of Aamon bobbed and weaved and deflected, suffering only minor damage despite Mordred's best efforts.
"Where's that Smoke guy? Surely he'd be able to deal with this!" Alexander protested.
X
Team Quiet could hear the raging winds outside as they made their way through the corridors of the castle towards the distant sounds of battle. As they went, Tyler had been doing his best to explain to an incredulous Ozymandias exactly how they knew Akhenaten.
"So you decided he was trustworthy because he gave you a shiny trinket and a baseless promise?" the Pharaoh spluttered, struggling against the ropes binding him to his chair.
On instinct, Tyler's hand wrapped protectively around the golden artefact on his wrist. "What's wrong with my bangle?" he snapped with more heat than he'd intended.
"Besides the fact that it has been tainted by his touch?" Ozymandias snorted.
"Now, now. How about we hear Ozymandias' side of the story, and just what Akhenaten did to infuriate him so much?" Jeanne suggested.
"Yeah, I've waited long enough on that. What happened between you two?"
Before Ozymandias could respond, though, a wave of heat washed over them. Joan, Serenity and Intoxicated Smoke, at the front of the group, all took up battle positions against a golden pyre that had erupted from the centre of the hallway.
The fire died down, revealing a wiry man with a cloak of quilted quite fabric over his armour, with thick and prominent black metal coating his right arm and a sword gripped in his hand, while a large pentagonal shield was held ready in his left. A prominent black cross was stitched into his armour, and the glasses over his eyes hid his irises with a menacing glint. "I won't allow you to go any further," he warned them.
"I suppose you would be Jacques de Molay?" Intoxicated Smoke challenged, staying in his gaseous form but shedding knives from within his body.
"That's correct -" Jacques started, but was interrupted.
"Why are you wearing bifocals?" Tyler posed an incredulous question.
". . pardon?"
"Is this really the time for a historical fashion review?" Joan tersely intervened.
"Come on! Those weren't invented until the fifteenth century! And there's no evidence of Jacques du Molay needing glasses!"
"Well, you're right, I never needed glasses, and still don't," Jacques casually admitted.
"Then why are you wearing them?!" Tyler protested.
Jacques shrugged. "They make me look intelligent,"
The Master couldn't stifle an incredulous splutter. ". . Sure, fine, whatever. If that's the case, then I'm sure you have a good reason for helping the King of Mages propagate this Singularity and destroy all humanity?"
"Hm? Please, humanity's not in danger. The Counter Force will sort all that out. I'm simply taking advantage of an opportunity to correct a grievous injustice,"
Jeanne's gaze softened and she advanced, setting the bound Ozymandias down, who was watching and looking quite entertained. "I know that you're a good man, Jacques, a servant of the Lord, like I am. I refuse to believe that our perspectives are irreconcilable. So talk to us, please. What are you trying to do?"
"This city, Jerusalem, is the centre of the world. The place where God resides. The holy land. By claiming it here and now, establishing it as a stronghold of the one true Catholic God, I shall save the souls of everyone who lives in this city, and those of everyone who will live in this city for centuries to come. It is my duty, and it is my opportunity to correct the failures of myself and my order. The world will heal, and this shall become the new, better reality,"
"You're wrong!" Tyler challenged, shaking his head. "History tells that the crusades failed. The Knights Templar never retook the holy land!"
"Then history is wrong!" Jacques retorted.
Tyler's fists tightened. "That's not your decision to make,"
"Why can't you see that my way is better?"
"Do you want the historiographical rebuttal or the theological one?"
"Do we really have time for this?" Joan demanded.
"Yes, as much as I want to tell him all about why he's wrong, I think Era needs our help," Jeanne agreed, casting a worried glance out through the windows.
She didn't pay any heed to the fact that Jacques' gaze was fixed on her, a look of betrayal on his face that hardened into grim resolve. ". . Nonetheless. I'm not going to simply let you pass," he repeated, levelling his sword at them.
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and Sinuhe appeared out of Presence Concealment. "We weren't asking," he hissed. And then he suplexed the Knight and sent him flying out through the window in a burst of broken glass. The winds outside filled the corridor, buffeting the Chaldeans.
"Alright, go, that won't slow him down for long -" Sinuhe was cut off as Jacques came bursting back in, his sword alight with golden flame.
"Cheap tricks didn't help you before and shan't save you now!" the Saber roared, thrusting with full intent to impale.
A burnt-black flagpole swept through his guard, and Jacques stumbled aside as Joan interposed herself between him and Sinuhe. "You're an arrogant idiot," she tersely informed him. "Shut up and die,"
"If she's Jeanne d'Arc, who exactly are you?" Jacques frowned as he engaged her.
Joan's eye twitched. "I'm me!" With a burst of fire, she forced him into the wall and pinned him there despite his struggles. "You all go! Help Era and the others! I'll handle this guy!"
"Pèlerinage du Temple!" Jacques barked, and a corona of golden flames engulfed him and his sword.
Joan scoffed, and struck a pose, an aura of hellish flames erupting to match him. "Oh look, I can do that too, and I don't even need a True Name Rele- eep!" She abruptly found herself on the defensive as Jacques pressed the assault, his golden flames overpowering her black.
"Instant Enhancement!" Tyler cast on her, and an aura of red power gave her the energy she needed to rebuff him and press him into a corner, their blades locked.
"Thanks! Now get going! I'll handle him!"
"Good luck!" Jeanne encouraged her.
She just scoffed in response. "Don't need it!"
They charged onwards, eventually coming to a door, with a familiar face peering out through the window at the flashes of light and howling winds outside.
"Oh, uh, hi Era, what're you doing here?" Tyler blinked, surprised to see his stab-happy fellow sitting out of the fight. Fou was perched on her shoulder, and both of them looked like they begrudged the situation.
"The winds out there are too strong. I can't go out there without being blown off my feet and trapped in the air currents. It's not fair, I wanna fight a tornado," she sulked. "Gawain said I should stay here and shout orders or something. What orders? They're all fighting. What do I say, 'fight more harder'?"
"Ah. Well, how about I take over coordinating the battle and you go help Joan fight this crazy knight we found?"
Era immediately perked up. "You mean it? Thanks! You're a great friend!" she beamed and took off in the direction where they'd left Joan and Jacques clashing.
"I guess that's the chain of command established?" Tyler watched her go, then turned back to his Servants and moved to the window next to the door. "Alright, sounds like this is a safe spot for me to stay that's still close to the battle. Everyone, go kick ass! And keep your communicators on, that wind is way too loud for me to shout orders!"
"Understood. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer for me to remain and protect you?" Jeanne checked.
"Nah, they'll need it more. I'm safe enough here," Tyler assured her as he fiddled with his communicator and patched everyone into a group chat. "Get going! Hey, Mordred, how's the fight going?"
"Oh hey, history kid! Glad you made it!" she grinned at him via hologram.
"It's attrition, mostly!" Alexander shouted. "We're barely landing any hits, and he's wearing us down!"
"Yeah, it's super annoying!" Z agreed. "He's hijacked all of the mana in the air, turned it against us!"
Tyler paused, the mention of ambient mana reminding him of something. Da Vinci's face flashed in his mind, and he grinned. "If that's the case, then let's try this!" He pressed the door open, and the wind caught it, swinging it wide and dragging him with it. Only a tight grip on the handle saved him from behind blown away, but unlike Era, he weighed enough to anchor himself with one hand and conjure a ring of cyan light around his hand, targeting the nearest Servant; Gawain. "Mana Conversion!"
All at once, the air around him died.
Or at least, that was how it felt. The animating energy of the wind surrounding them was sucked up into the ring of light, and the air, the ground, even the door, all suddenly seemed strangely muted. Like the beam of light that suddenly emanated from his hand was the only real thing in the world.
It splashed over Gawain's waist, seeping through her armour and into her pores. All at once, an aura of black flames, aesthetically similar and yet fundamentally different to Joan's, erupted from every inch of her form, which spontaneously swelled, and a half-strangled scream escaped her throat as her whole body more than doubled in size. In a nightmarish voice unlike anything he'd ever heard from her before, she roared, "WARN ME BEFORE YOU DO THAT!"
"Ah - crap, sorry! Da Vinci didn't say it'd hurt . ."
Gawain wasn't listening, though, instead throwing herself like a howling comet towards the nearest spiral of eyes, still growing as her sword turned a deep, unearthly black and roiled with those calamitous flames. She brought it down on the spiral of eyes like a hammer, slamming them into the ground and releasing a flaming shockwave that crisped the entire string.
Tyler had only a second to cheer before the shockwave hit him. The fire washed over his scales with minimal damage, but the concussive force threw him back into the corridor, and thankfully smelled the door shut with him. The back of his head hit the rear wall, and dark spots consumed his vision.
X
When Tyler came to, it was to the sight of Egypt. ". . Really? Akhenaten, don't take this the wrong way, but I just got knocked unconscious mid-fight! I kinda need to be up and going!"
"Don't worry, boy. The dream will only take a moment in the real world. And you will appreciate this," Akhenaten's voice rumbled in his ears.
". . Alright, fine, what have you got?"
"This is skipping ahead, there were a few other times I had wanted you to bear witness to, but at this moment you need to know how me and my god fell. For the only thing that could contest a Living God was another,"
Tyler's eyebrows shot up. "You fought a different god?"
"We did. It turned out that a member of the old guard lived yet," Akhenaten snarled, his voice filling with raw, visceral hatred. "The youngest of the previous generation of Egyptian gods, who lasted this long by hiding, conserving his strength and ignoring the needs of the people. A god by the name of Amon,"
". . Oh," As Tyler immediately made the connection, he saw it. There was an army camped around Amarna, arrayed around a mighty figure. The Living God Amon stood twelve feet tall, in leather armour suited to fit him, and his head was crowned with ram-like horns and a mane of greying hair that made his profile look like he had no neck, merely a swollen lump between his shoulders. His flesh was like sculpted bronze, and he was draped in golden armour with blue trim that left parts of his muscles bare. In his hands he held a crook and flail of such brilliant gold that the sheer divinity of their presence sent his draconic instincts into overdrive, and he couldn't help but instinctually reach out towards them. It was only the knowledge that this was a memory, that the Divine Regalia wasn't really within reach, that let him quash the greed.
The rational part of his mind couldn't help but note that this . . not man, this Living God, didn't look at all like a Demon God Pillar.
Furthermore, in the rear, there was a palanquin, a throne carried by muscled men, on which a child, younger even than Era, sat and stared with eyes that did not belong in the face of a child. "And as if this was not enough, they turned my own son against me, moulded him into a weapon," Distraught, heartbroken fury leaked into Akhenaten's voice as it echoed in Tyler's ears.
". . Tutankhamen?" he guessed.
"Yes. I saw in your memory that he is remembered, which pleases me. But you and the people of your time believe that he was simply born sickly and died young by happenstance. That is untrue. He was turned into a living weapon, a sacrificial lamb, and compelled to end me and everything I hoped for, even at the cost of his own vitality," All at once, the scene changed. Soldiers clashed outside the city, the superior numbers of Tutankhamen's army slowly but steadily overwhelming the defenders of Amarna. Meanwhile, two divine giants grappled overhead, the many flaming arms of Aten beating against the resolute body and rushing winds of Amon.
And Akhenaten, all at once seeming to have aged ten years from sheer heartbreak, stared down at Tutankhamen, who couldn't have been more than seven years old, and yet was clutching a crook and flail and seemed ready to do battle with his father.
". . By who?" Tyler whispered, horrified.
"By Alaya," Akhenaten whispered the name like a curse. "The so-called will of all humanity, who acts on behalf of all humankind. Despite her armies of Counter Guardians, she could not spare an actual hero to come and defeat me, to end the 'threat' of Aten. Not when she could enslave my own son to do it. No, of course not. Why would she? She knew that, had it been anyone else, any other human to have ever walked this earth, I would have fought tooth and nail . . but I could not bear to raise a hand against my own son . . no matter," The overwhelming pain in his voice was replaced by steel. "This is not what I brought you here to see,"
Once again, Tyler's perspective was forcefully shunted, refocusing on the two divine giants clashing in the sky.
A hundred arms of fire spread out from Aten's burning core, each launching their own attacks; some grappling, some punching, some conjuring fireballs and tossing them. They crashed against what seemed like armour of billowing winds, wrapped around the
"The last member of the old guard. The cowardly god who hid himself away, content to watch Egypt slowly die, who didn't lift a finger to save us from the threats of other nations . . but who, for some inscrutable reason, decided that using up the last of his power was a worthy price to defeat me,"
There was a strange sort of dissonance as Akhenaten spoke, but Tyler paid it no mind, too enthralled by the divine titans' battle. Aten burned, the flames encrusting his body flaring and seeming to suck in and consume the air around him, stripping away Amon's wind-forged defences. In response, Amon flexed his arms and the wind transformed into spinning blades that hacked at his flaming flesh even as he consumed them.
"You are not the sun!" Amon howled, and the air around him turned blue as he forged the atmosphere into a massive pair of arms that looked to be forged from sapphire, and he brought two massive crystal fists down towards Aten's face.
More grasping tentacles erupted from Aten's brow, half a dozen each catching one of Amon's hands and grappling with them. "I will be," the baleful star promised him, and tentacles of burning sand, tipped with grasping claws, erupted from the ground beneath them, wrapping around Amon's ankles and wresting him towards the desert below. "Already I have revitalised your ancestors' Bounded Field. Already I have laid claim to the souls of the people of this land. Your time has ended. Disappear,"
Amon growled, struggling against the burning arms as Aten descended towards him, readying another storm of solar fireballs. "Nnnnot . . before . . you do!" Blue cracks spread through his ankles, until they suddenly shattered like glass, exploding outwards and releasing hurricanes from the broken, footless stumps of his legs. He erupted back upwards, propelled by twin tornadoes that swept up Aten's flames and stained them green, the same radiant sapphire-like energy becoming a spear that ripped through a hundred hands that Aten mustered to block it.
Each defence pierced slowed the spear and released a surge of golden light, but ultimately the blow was slowed enough for Aten to bob out of the way like an untethered balloon.
Everything seemed to move stiltedly as Tyler watched, and he realised that the fight was happening too quickly for his limited human mind to perceive, so Akhenaten had slowed down his recollection. His guess was proven correct as Akhenaten's voice, perhaps picking up on his thoughts, commanded, "Watch closely. Amon defeated us once. I will not permit him to do so again,"
"Yeah, so, I get that the name's the same, but the thing we're fighting is a Demon God Pillar, not that," Tyler pointed out as Amon dodged around another volley of fireballs, propelled by the wind emanating from his broken legs. He flew upwards and backflipped, the massive crystal arms spread wide and his legs kicking at the sky. The air turned solid and cyan, a rapidly-forming tornado swirling to life above Aten's core and bearing down on him like a drill.
"And where do you think Solomon's Demon Gods came from?" Aten wound up a defence, hundreds of arms spinning like a windmill, but Amon suddenly accelerated, revealing that he'd only been launching the attack at half speed so as to catch his foe off-guard, and the sun entity was launched downwards, hitting the desert with a burning shockwave. "I would recognise that essentia anywhere. I know not how he came under Solomon's purview or what Solomon did to reforge his flesh, nor the provenance of the other seventy, but believe me when I say that the god Amon and Aamon of the Gazing Star are one and the same,"
Amon pressed the assault, streaks of a rich gold shining through the blue as his fury mounted. "I am Amon-Ra! Inheritor of the Authorities of Ra! The last and mightiest of the Egyptian gods! I will never cede my home to one such as you!"
"And he's a liar, too, and stealing the name of his forebear to make himself sound more impressive," Akhenaten sounded more than a little petulant. ". . And his odour offends the nose, as well,"
Tyler stifled a chuckle at the sheer pettiness of that last insult, looking back at the fight to find that the roaring winds had ripped a crater into the desert near Amarna, and Aten was pressed into the bottom, buried under a shield of burning arms. Amon stood impassively over it as now four fists sculpted from the wind beat at the shield, crushing it further into the dirt and making it buckle under the strain.
There was an unearthly howl and a flare of yellow light, and a mile-wide chunk of the desert was flash-fried into solid glass as waves of heat spread from Aten's form. Amon's fists caught fire and collapsed into ash, and the many flaming arms of the sun wrapped around his body as the alien god lifted back into the air, launching himself using several arms like a jumping spider and flipping around, driving Amon into the crater and engulfing him in scorching flame, pressing him down with the weight of his own burning body.
Visible cracks spread across the Egyptian's flesh, and Amon's voice was cold and dispassionate. "You are defeated. Submit,"
"You are wrong," Amon insisted as hairline cracks spread across his face. "You may declare yourself the god of Egypt . . but this is not your home. It is mine. You do not know this land like I do,"
"Make your point,"
"You should have paid more attention to how close we were to the Nile," Amon grinned at him, and waved his arm as his hand exploded off of his wrist. A wave of crystallised wind was released, shredding the glassed dirt into dust and carving a furrow through the scant few metres of earth that separated the crater from the Nile.
He savoured the sudden fear on Aten's face as the released waters of the sacred river washed towards them. The sentient sun tried to take off, to lift back into the air, but with his remaining hand Amon grasped him and held him down, pressing him into the oncoming water. "Drown in the lifeblood of Egypt, defiler! The sacred waters will cleanse this land of your filth!"
And then both vanished beneath the surface of the water, and all that Tyler could see through the chaos was steam rising from the surface.
A long minute later, the scarred and crippled form of Amon clawed his way out of the water and held up a fist in triumph.
"And that was it. That was the end of my dream. My god was drowned, my aspirations were crushed and my legacy was undone," Akhenaten sighed and shook his head. "And now my great foe has appeared before me once more. And with it, a chance for revenge of the sort that I have only fantasised about,"
"So, will you help us, then?" Tyler asked, suddenly hopeful.
Akhenaten glanced at him. "Yes. I think I will. I shall be there soon. Hold it off until I arrive,"
And then everything went dark.
X - "Master, █aster! Lis██n to me! █ou need to g█t rid █f that t█ing! Now!" - X
A strange voice rang in his ears as he awakened, but Tyler had no time to consider the words. "Boy? Boy, wake up. You can't simply die like that after defeating me," Ozymandias barked, and he shot up.
"Ramesses! That - that's Amon out there, that we're fighting!"
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
But Tyler was already activating his communicator and broadcasting to everyone. "Akhenaten sent me a vision! This thing isn't just a Demon God Pillar! The King of Mages somehow transformed an Egyptian God into one of his Pillars!"
He heard a gasp from the bound Pharaoh. "What?!"
"Great. Does that help us?" Mordred demanded.
Tyler looked back at Ozymandias. "It might. Ramesses, what are the weaknesses of Egyptian gods?"
". . The corpse of Amon was Egypt's greatest secret in my time. My predecessors hid him away and charged the descendants of his cult with safeguarding him . . how did Solomon . ." Ozymandias muttered to himself as he processed Tyler's question.
"Ramesses, focus! We need to beat him! Can we make him remember who he is, maybe?"
X
"I can try," Mysterious Pharaoh Z resolved. She twisted the volume on her suit's speakers and yelled, "Great God Amon! Amon-Ra! I know your legend! I grew up hearing bedtime stories about -"
"Cease your drivel! The majesty of Aamon of the Gazing Star shall not be besmirched by petty human myths!"
A blast of tumultuous air rocked her, and tiny rocks accelerated into shrapnel bounced off her Sarcophageskar armour. Z gritted her teeth. "Petty?! You were one of the greatest gods in the Egyptian pantheon! The inheritor of the Authority of Ra! My ancestors worshipped you! Loved you! Never forgot you, not even millions of years later! You're better than just being one of seventy-two demon gods! Please, listen to me!"
The air went quiet, as two strings of eyes floating through the air focused on her, seemingly weighing her words.
". . There's no way that just worked, right?" Mordred questioned.
"Incineration Ritual: Aamon,"
A solid pillar of plasma crashed down from the sky, engulfing Z and smashing her into the ground. She screamed, spasming and desperately trying to claw her way out of the area of effect.
"Emergency Evade!" Tyler cast again from the window, and a purple aura sent her body flying wildly into the corner of the courtyard, where she collapsed and fell still. Ammit shrieked, scrabbling across the floor of the courtyard and pouncing on his mistress, whining and nosing at her, then crouching protectively over her as though daring Aamon to take another shot at Z.
"The Gazing Star will be triumphant! Die, pitiful humans!" Aamon bellowed, and the wind solidified into chunks of ruby, a storm of crystalline garrets that descended on the Chaldeans.
In the corridor, Ozymandias' eyes had fixed on Tyler. "That voice. That was Nitocris' voice,"
"Uh, not the Nitocris you know, she's still with Akhenaten. I've got a different version of her. Sort of. It's a long and silly story,"
"I am intrigued," Ozymandias' emotions wrestled each other across his face, then he closed his eyes and sighed. "The Egyptian Gods draw their power from the Sun," He paused, and spat a globule of saliva onto the ground. "That disgusting conceptual entanglement has no place on my tongue -"
"Keep talking!"
"Right, yes, where was I? Ahem. As such, abilities involving darkness are effective against them. Furthermore, they were worshipped as the guardians of the life-giving river. Abilities that play towards the desert will be more effective, such as fire, or dryness. Amon's original Authority was over the wind. He inherited the Authority of the Sun, but seems to have lost it in this transformation, so while I would have expected that to counteract his weakness to flames, it doesn't apply here. Call back the woman in black with the cursed fires. She has the best chance against this thing that our god has become,"
Tyler glanced down the corridor, where he could see Joan and Era still clashing with Jacques. "That just figures," he groaned, then paused. Gawain was also wielding quite a lot of fire . . and then there was the thing about darkness. Would it apply to . . "Smoke, Serenity. If you get the chance, have Serenity use her Noble Phantasm! Gawain, set everything you can on fire!"
Gawain caught that through her borrowed communicator, and sneered. "Of course, we actually need my fire when I can't . . fine, I'll do my best!" she bellowed, swinging her sword and launching waves of flame at every wood-framed window she could see.
"You are going to release me now, boy? Boy!" Ozymandias shouted, but Tyler was already halfway down the corridor and no longer paying attention to anything other than Era and hisJoan.
Meanwhile, Joan and Era were doing a better job than anyone had expected of fending off Jacques. While they'd only occasionally trained together, Joan's spearwork was only marginally dissimilar from Scathach's or Karna's, and Era was happily falling back on habits that had been drilled into her over the past four months. There was also the fact that they were fighting in a corridor made of bricks, at the centre of a major city - one of the best possible battlefields for Era's powers.
Even so, Jacques' reserves of energy seemed to be limitless. "Pèlerinage du Temple!" he yelled for the umpteenth time, and waves of holy fire crashed against the cursed black flames of Joan's aura. Era, with half a dozen bricks ripped from the walls around them and hanging from her fingers on the ends of glowing orange ley line strings, slammed her impromptu armaments together into a barricade and flattened herself against it as the fires washed past on either side, setting the corridor's floor temporarily ablaze.
"God damn it, how do you keep spamming that?!" Joan demanded.
"I do not fight alone!" Jacques roared, and sword met flagpole once again, waves of power radiating from the clash. "And how dare you take the name of the Lord in vain? What sort of warped holy maiden are you, anyway?!"
"Clearly, a really goddamned crappy one!" Joan spat, gritting her teeth. When she'd volunteered to take on this fight, she hadn't factored in how offended Jacques seemed to be by her mere existence.
Era kicked off a floating block, bounced off the wall, and wrapped her fingers around the tip of Jacques' shield, latching on to it and keeping herself above the flames he was leaving behind with every step. "My sekhem, I will not impend! Break!" she yelled, and orange fractures spread down the face of the shield and across Jacques' arm.
The knight yelped in pain, shoving Joan away and dancing backwards to shield bash Era into the wall as a wave of holy fire washed over her, only to be absorbed by another golden shield as the second-last of her sister's talismans took the blow for her. Her grip slackened and the cracks receded as she fell to the ground, catching herself and rolling out of the way, heedless of the golden flames that washed over her fireproof Mystic Code and singed her hair.
"Oi, focus on me! I'm the blasphemous demon or whatever!" Joan demanded, her spear sweeping down over Era's head and, even though Jacques casually intercepted it with his shield, it still bought her an opening to put herself between him and the other Chaldean.
It also let her see Tyler rushing towards them behind him.
Jacques, noticing her eyes widening, followed her gaze and quirked an eyebrow. "And what brings you back here, boy? Realised your counterfeit Ghost Liner can't hold up against the genuine article?"
"Actually, I was rather hoping that we could put away the weapons and talk out our differences like civilised people," Tyler tried, holding his hands up.
All three combatants stared at him for a moment. "You cannot honestly expect me to believe that," Jacques finally replied.
". . Yeah, okay, I came here to tell Joan that she's needed outside to set a demon on fire and that Era should use her Order Change to switch Joan for Mordred or Bedivere, but if you're actually up to calmly discuss our differences I can do that. I told you I had historiographical and theological counter arguments to your position. Do you actually want to hear them, or are you the kind of zealot who kills everyone who disagrees with him?"
Jacques tilted his head, and, fortunately, Era got the hint and rushed over to the broken window that had been left behind when Sinuhe suplexed Jacques.
"I'm certainly no barbarian . . so, very well. Elaborate,"
"Erm, right," Tyler actually hadn't expected to be put on the spot like that. "Firstly, your plan is based on the idea of altering history to improve it, but historically speaking, this region was dominated by Jewish and Muslim peoples. The world's already in bad shape, and we have no evidence at all that alterations to history like you're proposing are viable even under the best of circ*mstances. Even if we accept your hypothesis that converting this region to Christianity will be a net improvement, we can't afford to take the risk that it won't be the straw that breaks the camel's back and pushes human history beyond the brink,"
"No, it's precisely because the world is in such bad shape that this will work! We're already restoring human history from the ground up, why shouldn't we take this chance to excise the rot and the infidels while we're at it? You claim to be a historian, so surely you know how much war and suffering has been brought about because of religious disputes! It's still happening in your time, eight hundred years later! Can't you see that the world will be better if we get rid of it here and now? Unite humanity in one glorious ideology?"
"And just what makes your religion so much better than everyone else's? Who are you to say that you are right and this land's people are wrong?" Tyler demanded. "This isn't about fixing things, it's about you and yours winning and everyone else losing!"
Jacques narrowed his eyes. ". . Are you . . not Christian? Do you not believe in the almighty Lord? I had assumed, since such a pious Saint as Jeanne d'Arc thought you a worthy Master, that you must be, but . ." he trailed off as Tyler chuckled.
It was an incredulous noise, and he shook his head in disbelief. "There is an Egyptian god on the other side of that wall. Back in Chaldea, I can sit down for dinner with an Indian demigod, a Chinese god's avatar, and the flipping Greek god of medicine. Jeanne tells me that she has personally heard your own God speaking to her, and after everything I've seen in the past year I have no grounds to think she's wrong. You want to know what I believe in? I was an atheist before coming to Chaldea, but after all this, what else could I be but an omnitheist?"
Era raised a finger. "What does that mean?"
Jacques snarled. "It means you're an infidel twice over! Here and now, I shall clear away my regrets of turning to dust without achieving anything! "Pèlerinage du-"
"Gandr!" Era shrieked, and a bolt of blue light washed over the Saber, locking his muscles up. He froze, an effect that lasted only a couple of seconds but was long enough to interrupt the building wave of golden fire that had been about to fry Tyler.
And then Bedivere was standing in front of him and forcing Jacques back, artfully driving him into a position where the silver-armed Knight was between the him and both Masters. "You have strayed far from how Christ would have wanted those in his service to act," he coldly informed the last Grandmaster of the Knights Templar. "And you are the only one here in need of repentance,"
"Great entrance!" Era cheered.
Bedivere hid a smile. "Go back to the other battle, Master Tyler. My Master and I shall finish this up and join you in a few minutes,"
"Right!" Tyler waved a half-salute, turning on his heel and rushing back the way he came.
"So what's the plan?" Era questioned as Bedivere looked the foe up and down.
"Well, clearly he's shown us his plenty of times . . so how about I show him mine?" His arm started to shine with silver light.
X
"Release me this instant!" Ozymandias demanded as soon as Tyler had returned to the door.
"Akhenaten's going to be here soon," Tyler reminded him, barely even looking at him. "By your own admission, you're not going to be much help in this fight, and if I'm going to have to mediate a dispute between two pharaohs, it'll be nice to make sure one of them won't start throwing punches,"
"Mediate a dispute?!" Ozymandias incredulously parroted. "You still have no idea -" But Tyler wasn't paying attention anymore, already forging out into the rushing wind of the open courtyard, where the Servants were still fending off the lasers, lighting and wind blades of Aamon while trying to get hits in on his floating eyes.
He looked around for something wooden, some part of the castle that could be turned into a bonfire. Unfortunately, the castle was mostly stone . . but not completely. His gaze fixed on the palisade, and the massive wooden structure holding both the iron gate and the wooden drawbridge.
He gritted his teeth and coated his whole body in the Armour of Fafnir, then broke cover, charging out into the maelstrom. Cautious of the powerful wind, he hogged the edge of the courtyard, working his way around while his Servants fended off the angry tornado. "Hey! Everyone! We need to lure him out of the castle! Kite him towards the gate!"
"Huh? Why?" Mordred shouted at her communicator, only barely hearing the instruction over the gale-force winds. A wave of lasers washed over her and she furiously deflected with her sword.
"We can't allow this thing into the city! The casualties would be huge!" Alexander agreed.
"Let me worry about that," Tyler assured them.
It took him a few minutes, but he managed to reach the winch for the drawbridge - which, by some small miracle, was designed for only a single person of average strength to operate it. He braced himself, gripping the handle of the winch with both hands, and the drawbridge started to slowly creep upwards and close.
Meanwhile, Joan had entered the fray and was making an immediate difference. "Hold him down!" she barked at the Assassins. The four surviving bodies of Hundred Faces were swept up in Intoxicated Smoke's zone of distortion and leapt upwards, skilfully navigating the chaotic winds and carrying his passengers until they wrapped around another of Aamon's strings of spiralling eyes.
The crystalline organs erupted with lasers that burnt one of the bodies to cinders, but then Gozul the Strong bound it into a circle and threw himself to the ground, dragging Aamon's core with him.
Joan grimaced, but nodded. "All evil is here," she growled. "The time for revenge has come! This is the roar of my soul," Flames erupted from the ground around the point where Gozul was going to land, and the Assassin threw himself clear a moment before five pillars of fire became a cage around the flailing core. "La Grondement Du Haine!"
The released flames roared, becoming a bonfire that consumed the wind around it, hijacking the power of the Demon God Pillars and feeding on it. Meanwhile, one after the other, stakes erupted from the ground, each impaling one of the eyes. The wind howled in pain as it was blinded and consumed, the flames rushing upwards and scattering cinders in every direction, and one by one, the lights went out, leaving Aamon with only two intact cores.
"I'm ready! Over here!" Tyler shouted as the drawbridge slid closed.
"Your pitiful attempts at deception mean nothing to the ruler of the Gazing Star! Thought and theory are mine to command, we are they who consume humanity and replace it with rationality!"
Tyler had only a couple of seconds to think about the ramifications of this statement before the winds changed. Aamon had been slowly, tantalisingly letting the Chaldeans lead the main bulk of his body towards the pyre-in-the-making that was the drawbridge, but he was clearly no longer willing to comply with their plans, as the air started sucking everything towards the far end of the courtyard and its massive doors. And then the Demon God spoke again.
"Incineration Ritual: Aamon! Ha! Ha! Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha!"
Stilted, discordant laughter that somehow rang hollow filled the air as a pillar of perfectly smooth and stable plasma, like fire but so refined it was no longer anything of the sort, erupted at the centre of the tornado, and the suction pulled every member of Chaldea in the courtyard towards it. No longer able to resist the pull, Tyler was yanked from his feet and his hands fell from the handle of the winch. In the corner of his eye, he saw Z's fallen form be lifted into the air and fly parallel to him for a few horrifying seconds - then massive arms wrapped around them both and Gawain landed, grounding herself and holding Master and Assassin to her chest. "Ohhhh thank you so much, I think I really hate aerokinesis," Tyler breathed, stifling the urge to hyperventilate.
"Hang tight, everyone! He can't keep this up forever!" Alexander shouted, his sword halfway buried into the ground and his whole body braced against it.
"He doesn't have to! Just longer than we can!" Sinuhe retorted, having used a similar tactic with his daggers. Behind him, Mordred had buried Clarent in the wall of the courtyard, and Serenity was braced against her armour, surveying the battlefield.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Intoxicated Smoke had been able to weather the storm, his unmatched mastery of the air allowing him to navigate the chaotic currents better than any other combatant. But his gaseous form was unable to resist the simple, powerful, mono-directional suction. With panic in his eyes, he reverted to being solid, but it was too late, he was already in the air and had been caught up in the maelstrom.
He struggled, throwing knives and ropes and bolas out, but everything he tried got caught in the current and pulled in towards the pillar of annihilation with him. His foot touched the pillar of plasma, and he screamed as the smoke itself spontaneously combusted from the sheer heat being given off by the vortex of plasma. The wind snatched his voice away, relentlessly pulling him in.
The other Chaldeans could only watch as Intoxicated Smoke was consumed.
"He's gone . ." Hundred Faces whispered in dismay.
Serenity's breath came short and sharp. "No . . not Intoxicated Smoke . . how are we supposed to win, if even he couldn't?"
"Don't give up, girlie," Mordred growled. "You're a Hassan too, right? You're just as capable of killing stuff as him,"
"No! No, I'm not! None of us are. Lord Intoxicated Smoke was the best of us, the best assassin the Hashashins ever produced. Without him . ."
"Get a grip!" the Knight of Treachery barked. "It doesn't matter what you've lost, and it doesn't matter what people think of you! Take it from me. Sometimes, you just can't afford to care. So shut up and hang on tight, because as soon as this suction effect ends -"
A wave of lasers swept over them, and Mordred yelped, but weathered the blow, shielding Serenity with her body.
"Your incessant prattling is noise that the Gazing Star finds to be unnecessary!" Aamon broadcast.
"Like your stupid radio static voice is any better!" Mordred hollered back.
The pillar of plasma winked out, and the winds turned chaotic once again, the inward suction inverting and knocking all of the Chaldean Servants away. Blades of wind and laser beams buffeted them all, seeking out exposed flesh. The Assassins were worst off, and Tyler spotted Sinuhe, with several cuts and scorch marks in his clothes, taking shelter in a doorway opposite the one he'd been using earlier. "Sinuhe! Can you try that charm thing?"
"No! I can't even hurt that thing! I'm not strong enough! I'm lucky not to have died yet!"
"He really isn't much of a hero, is he?" Gawain muttered.
"I can't say I don't know how he feels. Do you have any ideas?" Tyler pressed.
Gawain looked back up at their adversary, who was dividing his attention between Joan, Mordred and Alexander and fending off all three of them with seemingly no trouble. "Well . . there is something I've been keeping in reserve, but I only get to use it once and I'm not sure this is the best time . . but I can't see any other way to deal the decisive blow we need,"
"I'd rather use a trump card than lose someone else!"
". . Fair enough. Let's get you and the kid out of harm's way, then," Gawain nodded, a firm resolve settling across her features, and she made for the door into the corridor where Bedivere and Era were still clashing with Jacques.
But she hadn't gotten further than halfway when, all at once, the the sky split open, bathing the courtyard in daylight.
Despite the fact that it was still early in the morning, the Sun was high overhead, as though it were noon. The clouds had been pushed back into a perfect circle, and there was a man, seemingly standing on thin air, silhouetted against the light of the Sun.
As everyone looked up and tried to focus on the figure wreathed in blinding yellow light, Tyler couldn't help but grin. "He came!"
"Amon! The time of your judgement has arrived!" Akhenaten roared with a voice like thunder.
The remaining eyes turned upwards, and Aamon went very still. The relentless winds died down, and the remaining eyes all turned upwards. "It's . . you . . you should not be here . ." he murmured in what sounded like a strange mix of horror and fascination, his voice quieter than it had been at any point before.
"For the sin of betraying the people of Egypt! For abandoning your homeland and joining with King Solomon's grotesque lackeys! And for turning my heir against me! I shall stand in for the forty-two judges of Aaru and declare you to be guilty of all these wrongdoings and more!"
"That is not your place . . You have no right, heretic!" Aamon roared back, visibly gathering his energy, though whether to attack or defend was anyone's guess.
And it didn't matter.
"May the gods forsake you, as they forsook me. May your sins be stripped bare under the one true light. May you find salvation in the next life . . for there is none to be had here," Akhenaten chanted, visceral hatred tinting every word as he raised his hands. "Only The Light of Ma'at,"
Burning hands shot down from the sky, each tipped with claws made of a solar flame that hurt to look at. The ground underneath Aamon buckled and a golden pillar lifted him into the air binding him in place and uncaring for his amorphous shape. As he was lifted into the air, high above the castle, hundreds of hands clawed at him, seeming to leave wounds on his very essence, until the ragged and shredded remains of him were brought face to face with Akhenaten.
Despite the size difference, Aamon suddenly seemed - and felt - very small, so much so that no one was truly surprised when Akhenaten scooped him up in his cupped hands. A dark void filled the space between his fingers, and as Aamon sank into it, he instructed, "It is futile to pray to your gods. Instead, pray to mine . . for mercy,"
And then he was gone, and there was only the Pharaoh floating in the sky.
". . Well then," Gawain murmured.
As Akhenaten slowly descended to the ground, the Chaldeans gathered around him in a loose semicircle. "It's good to see you. Thanks for coming," Tyler told him with a wide, relieved smile.
"This was a personal matter for me. Think nothing of it," Akhenaten coolly replied. "Although . ." he paused, cupping one hand and once again creating a pool of inky blackness between his fingers and palm, then reaching into it with two fingers - and in a distortion of space that left everyone rubbing their eyes, pulled out a familiar golden cup through a hole that was far too small for it to pass through. "I believe you had some interest in this?"
Tyler's eyes locked on to the Holy Grail, the glistening golden light entrancing his instincts as he unconsciously reached out to it. "Yeah . . I -"
"Hey! Guys!" Everyone turned to see Era charging towards them from the doors, followed by Bedivere, who was carrying both a bound Ozymandias and an unconscious Jacques. "Did we win?"
Akhenaten's eyebrows raised as he took in the other Pharaoh, who was still tied to a chair. His voice was tinted with amusem*nt born of schadenfreude. "So this is where you got off to, then, Ozymandias? Your new throne suits you,"
If looks could kill, Akhenaten would have been blasted all the way back to Aaru.
As Bedivere sat down the captives, Era took in the new arrival. "Oh! Hi! It's nice to meet you!" She offered a polite little curtesy. "I'm -"
"Era Sutsuki. The third daughter of Zachariah Sutsuki,"
Era blinked. "Hang on, what?"
"A lineage with roots in Japan, but owing allegiance to the Atlas Institute of . . Egypt," Akhenaten cracked a smile. "Well then. Welcome home, my child,"
"Wait, wait, what was that about me being the third daughter? Dad only has two - oh, wait, are you counting Donner?"
"No, you are your father's fourth child. He had three daughters and one son. Though," Akhenaten tilted his head. "Hm, looking closer . . no, no, I'm getting distracted. Do forgive me, child, you're very interesting,"
"Wait! No, keep talking!" Era begged. "I know that there's something inside me, something my dad put there, and it's broken. I really want to figure out what, but every lead I get is a dead end. If you can tell me, then . . please?"
Akhenaten frowned. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, he tilted his head, as though listening to something. ". . Is that so?" he muttered. "Very well then," Refocusing on the Chaldeans, he continued, "My apologies, child, but I have been advised that if you were to awaken to your true nature, you would likely become a threat to me. Regardless of whether or not you desired to. As such, I have only the following to say; you are better off living in ignorance,"
Era's face fell. "What? But . ."
Akhenaten was already turning away, but Mordred made a noise in her throat that wasn't quite a cough but fell short of being a snarl. "Oi, what do you mean, 'a threat to you'? Why would that matter if we're all on the same side?"
"Do not presume. I aided you because my greatest foe was your enemy. As to whether we shall join forces . ." Akhenaten focused squarely on Tyler. "It's still too soon. Circ*mstances forced us to skip to the end of my story. You didn't see how things got to that point,"
Collecting himself, Tyler shrugged a bit. "I can guess. The people were afraid of your new god. They'd gotten used to the gods being distant, intangible observers. The idea of one that was right in front of them and taking an active role in their lives was too much for them. Wasn't it?"
"It was something like that, yes," Akhenaten sighed. "In that case, what is your answer? Do you believe this world and its people, as they currently exist, are worth saving?"
As he posed the question, Tyler felt another pair of eyes on him. Even bound and humiliated, Ozymandias' gaze was like a pair of hot coals on his skin. Akhenaten's was no less intense, and as both men scrutinised him, Tyler had the impression of being caught between a pair of crocodiles, a morsel for whom the only question remaining was which of the two would eat him.
But he hadn't come this far to shy away from a simple question. Not when the answer was more obvious than it had ever been. "Yeah. I do. I always have and I always will. Thousands of years of people's accomplishments have all added up into a massive tapestry of humanity's past, present and future. There were bumps along the way, and not everyone got their due. And for what it's worth, I think you deserved better. But . . I'm a historian. The history of humanity is something valuable, precious, and much more fragile than I ever realised before the Grand Orders. So I'll fight for it. I'll save this world. We all will, together. And I want you to help us," He outstretched his hand, ready for Akhenaten to take it.
For a moment, the Pharaoh just stared at him.
And he wasn't the only one, Tyler realised. Everyone; his Servants, Era's Servants, the Hashashins, Sinuhe, Era and Fou, they were all gazing at him with a myriad of expressions.
Akhenaten's brows furrowed, and he mumbled something.
". . I, uh, didn't catch that?"
"That's the wrong answer," he repeated almost involuntarily, stern lines crossing his face.
Tyler was bewildered. How could that possibly have been 'the wrong answer'? ". . Um . . what?"
"I'm disappointed," he closed his eyes and shook his head, and the Holy Grail bounced in his hands as he took a few strides away. "I had hoped you would realise your folly. That you would see that the common rabble are worthless. Untrustworthy. In need of the guiding hand of Ma'at if they are to ever amount to anything - because you should be able to see what they do if left to their own devices! And yet you still somehow think the chaos that results is some grand work of art? . . I had really hoped you would understand,"
"If that's really how you feel, then I'll show you that you're wrong. Come with us. Help us save the world," Tyler pleaded. "I know you're hurting, and I -"
"Enough!" Akhenaten bellowed, a grievous fury crossing his face. "If you won't listen . . then you will Kneel to the Pharaoh," He slammed his crook on the ground, and it began emitting a puddle of light on the ground before him.
"Agh! That's it! That's the power he used to defeat me and steal my Noble Phantasm! Get clear! Now!" Ozymandias shrieked.
"What is it?" Era frowned. There was something entrancing about the light . . She took an involuntary step forwards, but Bedivere grabbed her shoulder at the same time as Fou bit her cheek. "Ow!
"He's the usurper of the Egyptian throne," Ozymandias sounded . . not afraid, but shaken. "He has the ability to corrupt all that is Egyptian and bend it to his will!"
"What?!"
There was a thump, and all present saw that Sinuhe had all but tripped into the puddle of yellow light. "Lord Pharaoh," he spoke in a reverent tone, which was practically unrecognisable for lacking the spite that typically laced his every word. "I live to serve,"
"It's how he defeated me. He tore my own Noble Phantasm out of my very Saint Graph and twisted it to his own purposes! And he used it to compel Nitocris' obedience, too . ."
"This - this is wrong!" Tyler shouted, panic tinting his voice. He looked around. Zeetocris was Egyptian. So was Ammit. And Era. Would it work on Era? He noticed the way she was moving as though in a trance and realised; it already was!
"Fou!" The squirrel panicked, leaping down from Era's shoulder as Bedivere dragged her away, covering her eyes with his silver hand. But Era wasn't Fou's priority, instead he was going for his chimera friend.
But it was too late.
Ammit crooned in submissive pleasure as the corrupting light washed over her a few seconds before Fou could reach her. She swung to the side and kicked him, before continuing to waddle towards Akhenaten without a care in the world.
Her superior bulk sent Fou skidding backwards across the stone floor. "Fou," His ears drooped as he let out a soft whine, which morphed into a furious snarl as his gaze turned towards Akhenaten. "Kyuuuuuuuuuuu,"
But Akhenaten paid the angry rodent no mind, instead scanning the Chaldean crowd for other targets - and his gaze fell on Mysterious Pharaoh Z, still unconscious from taking Aamon's blast and held in Gawain's arms. He started to swing his crook - only for Tyler to throw himself in the way of the light and protect Z with his shadow. "She's MINE!" he growled, tiny wisps of flame erupting from his nostrils. "And I'm Australian, you can't touch me,"
Akhenaten quirked an eyebrow. "Can't I?"
His wrist suddenly felt like it was on fire, and Tyler screamed. His eyes darted to the golden bangle that Akhenaten had gifted him, that had provided that connection. It had erupted with potency, and he could feel it like spikes digging into him, burrowing into his magic circuits, infecting him with a taint that he could feel like thorns digging into his flesh, spreading throughout his body like bolts of lightning. He tried to flare the Armour of Fafnir, but it flickered and vanished as soon as it appeared, tinted with unstable light.
A voice that wasn't his own forced its way into his thoughts.
Give in.
Submit.
Your life belongs to the Pharaoh.
All glory to the Pharaoh.
"No . . no! Argh!" he screamed, his legs giving out as he clutched at his head, his nails leaving scratches on his face as he instinctually tried to claw the invasive thoughts out of his mind.
Akhenaten frowned in confusion. "How are you resisting? Even if the process was incomplete, it should have progressed far enough that -"
A katana sliced through the air, seemed to ghost straight through Tyler's wrist, but struck the golden wristband and cut it in half, sending the two pieces flying away amidst a flurry of glowing white cherry blossoms.
Tyler could barely muster the strength to lift his head, as the thoughts vanished even though the sensation of thorns ripping through his body didn't abate, but he managed to watch as the katana extended into a swirling nexus of white petals that exploded outwards, leaving a Japanese teenager in a red dress standing over him, katana in one hand and scabbard in the other. A fluffy tail hung out of the back of her skirt, and vulpine ears were laid flat against her head as she leveled her katana at Akhenaten and snarled, "I am, like, so done with your bullsh*t,"
All parties present stared at the new arrival.
"Who exactly are you?" Joan demanded, her hackles instinctively raised.
"Hey hey, bestie, I'll tell ya the deets later, but first!" The foxgirl waved her sword, and Akhenaten abruptly had to parry a glowing golden slash with his crook, which caused the light of his Noble Phantasm to wink out and face. "I've got a bone to pick with you! You have been trying to dump your whole identity into our Master through those little flashbacks of yours and overwrite his personality! It's bad enough that I've gotta beat back those delinquent dragon instincts every few hours, but I've been so busy taking out your trash that I've fallen behind on my beauty regimen!"
Tyler started as he struggled to pick himself up. "Wait, what?!"
"Ah, yes, do elaborate," Akhenaten sounded puzzled.
"Yeah, look at this. I am totes getting split ends!" She gestured at her hair. "It's so lame and I have had it!"
"No - go back to the thing about him trying to overwrite my mind?!"
"Oh. Yeah. Totes tragic. You're lucky that shouty Avenger called me up and got me this gig a few months back, otherwise you'd be, like, so screwed,"
Tyler grunted, gritting his teeth to swallow the pain. "That's what it was all about? You weren't trying to understand me? You weren't giving me a chance to prove my resolve - you just wanted to brainwash me?!"
"No, I - ah, what?" Akhenaten looked away from them, seeming to be focused on something only he could see. "No, that's - I am - but - argh, fine!" He slammed his crook down, and a wave of golden light knocked everyone back. "Clearly, this . . wasn't meant to be," A frustrated sigh escaped his throat. "Fine. Begone with all of you," Lifting Sinuhe and Ammit with him, an unreadable expression on his face, he flashed back into the air and raised his crook.
Ozymandias paled and struggled against his binding. "Release me! Release me now! We must run! He's -"
The sky above them filled with yellow fire, the surface of the Sun seeming to press down on them. The forces of Chaldea - the entire castle of the Knights Templar - the entire city of Jerusalem was bathed in an unquenchable heat.
"Whoa," Era breathed, mesmerised by the sheer destructive force Akhenaten was conjuring.
"That's a nuke. That is a nuke. That is a nuke!" Tyler panicked.
"Master, get, um, under me!" Mordred demanded, throwing herself over the little orangette.
Joan just stared in horror at the ocean of fire that had appeared above them, like the distance between them and the Sun had shrunk to a mere few hundred metres. "That's not gonna help,"
"Inconceivable," Ozymandias whispered.
The Sun sank towards them, an assault so massive and so destructive that there was no hope of escape, nowhere to run.
Akhenaten shook his head and sighed. "In your next lives, may you be blessed by The Light of Ma'at,"
OMAKE:
Amon knew nothing. It had been years since he'd had the strength to move even a finger, or even to open his eyelids. He was trapped in his own flesh, and had been for enough long years to lose count. Defeating Aten had taken every last drop of his strength. But it had been worth it. The knowledge that Egypt was safe from that abomination of the stars, that he had succeeded in protecting his descendants, let him rest peacefully until the day oblivion finally came for him.
He only wished it wouldn't take so long.
His only reprieve was the stories. The descendants of his priests and worshippers, the families of this tiny, nameless village that he had retired to, those who had watched over him for their entire lives. Sometimes they came in and told him stories. About what had happened to Egypt in recent years, from events as important as the passing of the Pharaoh, to those as minor as interesting rocks the children found. If he were pressed, he preferred the latter more. It had been a long time since he'd had the strength to respond in any way, but they kept coming, kept keeping him company, and that meant the world to him.
He was so grateful to have such lovely people taking care of him in his old age.
Until the day all that changed.
"He's in here . . do you really think you can help him?" a familiar voice touched his ears, along with a mix of familiar and strange footsteps. He'd gotten quite good at distinguishing footsteps over the years, and these were new to him.
"I'll do everything I can. But I might have to take him away with me. Is that alright?"
". . They call you the Wise King, Beloved of the Lord. If anyone can do anything for our god, surely you can. So, yes, go ahead. You have my blessing to do anything and everything you can to let our god live again,"
Though he couldn't so much as twitch, Amon quailed. No! No, he didn't want to live again. His time had passed, he was content. That foolish girl, had his people forgotten that he wanted nothing more from this world except a peaceful death?
"Incredible . . you spoke truly. A Living God. Or, at least, the remains of one. The last of the Egyptian pantheon, no less. Yes . . I could not ask for a greater honour . . could not ask for better material . ."
And then Amon felt many hands underneath his body, lifting him from his comfortable clay dais for the first time in centuries. No. No! He didn't want this. He didn't want any part of whatever scheme this was. Just let him die! Why couldn't they simply let him die?!
As he felt the sunlight on his flesh for the first time in generations, a living corpse carried away by unknown hands, the last words he heard from the woman who was supposed to protect him were the name he would curse for the rest of his existence. "Thank you, King Solomon,"
