FSF Chapter 13, part 1



Chapter 13: Day 2, night



At Last, a Second, and a Third…





Ten PM. Snowfield Central Church.



Snowfield Central Hospital was on the opposite side of Crystal Hill, the city's largest casino hotel, from the police station. The church stood a short distance from it. Despite the short history of the city, it had a majestic appearance. As a result, the church was usually thronged with devout believers and sightseeing visitors. At present, however, it had become a space that no ordinary person would think of approaching; a ward was set to keep the crowds away.

Inside, a priest who had remained in the church after dark, spoke with a wry smile.

"I don't suppose you've come to seek sanctuary. I have been wanting to needle that chief of yours, though."

A priest distinguished by his eye patch — Hansa Cervantes.

Four nuns were deployed around him. They were not dressed for combat, but they were wary of their visitors and ready to fight in their habits at any time. That was only natural — it was Vera and about twenty-five other members of Clan Calatin who had appeared in the church.

The chief remained with several members at the station, issuing orders, but he proposed to use the church as a part of their operation against the hospital.

"I understand the circumstances, but do you honestly believe I'll give my permission?"

"We are not requesting support," Vera answered the confused-looking Hansa. "As far as our operation is concerned, we would like you to shelter one person here."

"The unconscious Master whose Servant remains active? Naturally, I'm in favor of giving her sanctuary as overseer, as a priest, and as a person, but only if she intends to withdraw from the Grail War. In this case, that depends on whether or not you can negotiate with her Servant. Am I wrong?"

"No. Depending on the circumstances, I believe it may come to eliminating the Servant by force. In that case, we will not seek your assistance, as events will exceed your purview as overseer."

"I see. I've got a feeling I'm being tactfully used, but, well, I suppose that's what being overseer is all about."

Hansa shrugged. Then, he noticed a young man staring intently at him from beside the police officers.

"By the way, who's he? He doesn't look like a cop."

At that, the young man in question — Flat — stepped hurriedly forward.

"Oh, pleasure to meet you! My name's Flat. I'm Berserker's Master and I'm cooperating in this matter. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Overseer!"

"Oh, at last a Master who acknowledges me as overseer. Hansa Cervantes. The pleasure is mine," Hansa laughed self-mockingly.

Flat surveyed him from head to toe and asked:

"Umm… Excuse me if I'm wrong, or if this is rude, but… didn't you have a fight in the police station parking lot the day before yesterday, Mr. Cervantes? You body's about seventy-percent machine, right…?"

"…Oh, you can tell?"

"Yes. The flow of magical energy is geometrically altered here and there, and I don't understand it, so I figured it was probably mechanical! Wow, it's nothing like Rohngall's or Tōko's puppets… Amazing! I've never seen a cyborg before! Can you shoot a rocket punch? Maybe a drill…?"

Hansa shook his head at the young man who had seen through his body's peculiarities.

"My fists don't fly off, and the drill's a secret. One of my arms stretches up to three meters, though, and it can launch grenades too. …And, just between us, I've got a consecrated chainsaw in my leg."

"…I'm deeply impressed. I'd like to shake your hand, if you don't object to a Clock Tower mage!"

"Sure. You've got good taste. If you get tired of magecraft, convert to the Holy Church."

The mage of the Clock Tower and the executor of the Church, who ought to have been bitter enemies, smiled at each other in mutual approval and exchanged a firm handshake.



Ignoring the bewildered police officers, the nuns who stood ready in two man cells whispered to each other.

"Father Hansa is tipping his hand to a mage… Is that alright, do you think?"

"He's always like this, so there's no point worrying. Hansa's like a kid deep down."



X X



Somewhere dark.



Bazdilot, having abandoned his own workshop in the factory district, was standing by in a spare base prepared by the Scradio Family. Before his eyes, the "communicator" in the form of a Ouija board began to move, picking out letters of the alphabet to form sentences. Bazdilot confirmed the message's content, then addressed the darkness without a hint of an expression.

"Alkeides, can you move?"

In the darkness, Alkeides materialized and, rich magical energy coursing through every inch of his frame, spoke.

"Of course."

"…I've gotten word from a 'rat' in the police. We're going to the hospital."

Then, he issued an order to Alkeides in a voice that was, as usual, devoid of emotion.

"…The time has come; I need you to take care of a kid."

"I see."

There was no visible sign of hesitation. Bazdilot was satisfied with Alkeides attitude. For that very reason, however, he voiced a doubt that had occurred to him.

"It may seem a bit late to ask, but you withdrew awfully obediently, even if there was no downside to Caster's deal. I thought you'd kill that goddess at any cost."

Bazdilot, having used up all his Command Seals, had no way to stop Alkeides. He had been prepared to sacrifice the deal for that reason when, to his surprise, Alkeides had put away his bow.

"…That was no god I know."

"From a different place, you mean? Still, her essence must be about the same."

"No, I don't mean that. That was neither an original nor an avatar… It's probably something like a shout seared into another's personality. An irritating curse that has crossed the ages."

Alkeides began to walk toward the exit of the temporary workshop, coolly adjusting his equipment.

"I despise the gods, but the maledictions they leave behind are secondary. I will deal with them eventually, but not before that demigod who calls himself the King of Heroes. That's all."

Bazdilot fixed his piercing stare on Alkeides' back and presented the job's merits for his Servant.

"If things go well, there will be far fewer uncertain elements when you face the King of Heroes. You'll also be able to defame the gods who took everything from you all you want."

With his back still turned, the bowman expressed dispassionate agreement with his Master's words.



"That goes without saying. I exist only to drag their names through the mud."



X X



The church. Rooftop.



Part of the Central Church's roof was a level rooftop. It formed a space where one could view the stars, part of the night skyline, and the beautifully ornamented bell tower.

There, Flat, awaiting his orders, let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness… Things worked out somehow."

"We have your teacher to thank for that," Jack, in the form of a wristwatch, responded. "The conclusions he stated to the chief of police and his skill in the negotiations afterward can only be called magnificent."

Jack had only watched from the sidelines while Lord El-Melloi II had, like an armchair detective, made sense of the situation in the city without actually being there.

The girl was likely being possessed by her Servant, with which she had possibly formed a contract in her deep psyche or in a dream. From the fact that she was afflicted with bacteria created by the Kuruokas, El-Melloi II conjectured that the Heroic Spirit she had summoned was related to pathogens, or possibly a being that had been treated as symbolic of sickness itself in an era that lacked the concepts of bacteria or viruses — that the abnormalities breaking out in the city might be brought about by the highly unique action of bacterial magecraft capable of deliberately selecting targets to infect.

After that, he had conducted various negotiations with the chief. It could be said that he, while remaining in England, had penetrated behind the masterminds of the Snowfield Holy Grail War.

"No one in the Clock Tower can beat the professor at investigation and negotiation without using magecraft… although it seems tough when the other side mixes in threats…"

A lot must have happened in the past. Flat rested his elbows on the edge of the rooftop and began to talk nostalgically.

"The Clock Tower is such a pain with factions and things. That sort of thing looks inefficient to me, so I don't really understand it... but the professor handles himself well and makes his opponents look good, too, all while saying how ridiculous it is. Apparently he even had a lot to deal with when he took charge of me."

Having said that, Flat paused briefly before addressing Jack.

"I hope the girl in the hospital survives."

"So do I," Jack agreed, then suddenly asked a question.

"…Something's been worrying me."

"What is it?"

"Why are you trying to save that girl?"

"Why…?" Flat hesitated, unable to immediately answer to the fundamental question.

"You certainly have an un-mage-like, gentle nature. I can understand you hating to kill a girl for the sake of the Grail War. Still, when you go so far as to expose yourself to another Master — your natural enemy — I wonder if you might be a little detached from the feelings of an ordinary person as well."

"…If someone's in trouble, helping them is only—"

"Not natural. To some extent, maybe, but that certainly isn't natural, Master. People aren't that strong. If they become strong, they must have a reason for it."

At that, Flat nodded his understanding, then continued to ponder for a while, staring up at the night sky. Then, he gave one big nod, as if he had reached a conclusion, and opened his mouth.

"It's simple. It's because of the professor."

"Ah. So it is his influence."

"I thought that, if the professor was in my place, he'd help that girl, even if he didn't get anything in return. …You're right, Jack. I don't know why, but the professor is a really strong person, to make up for his low skill with magecraft. It's not just me; everyone in the school, and even some people who hate the professor, recognize that."

Flat gave a wry smile, as if a ashamed of himself, and then began to speak to the Heroic Spirit watch wrapped around his left wrist.

"A long time ago… I made a big mistake and caused the professor a lot of trouble."

"You're constantly causing him trouble, from what I hear…"

"Yes, but that time was on a different level… My friend Le Chien and I got caught by a mage called Atrum. I was pretty sure we were going to die."

Flat, who casually discussed his own death, continued with a self-mocking grin.

"But the professor took a big risk and saved us. He even put an important tool for seeing his precious friend — someone he wants to see even if it takes him his whole life — on the betting table."

At tool for meeting someone. An idea struck Jack at that odd phrase.

A catalyst for summoning…?

The friend this professor wanted to see was probably the same as Jack himself now was — a Heroic Spirit he had encountered in a Holy Grail War. In which case, that catalyst had a value that no one else could hope to measure. If he had put that on the betting table for the sake of his students, then he really must have enough of a screw loose to be Flat's professor.

While Jack thought, Flat, who had come to a conclusion after his own fashion, went on while flashing the occasional lonely smile.

"If this ended up just my problem, I'd abandon the girl for my goal. I might even take the initiative and kill her like an ordinary mage."

"…"

"But before I'm a mage of the Escardos family, I'm Flat Escardos of the El-Melloi School."

The El-Melloi School.

The instant Flat spoke that name, the tinge of loneliness vanished from his face and he blurted out in a voice bursting with confidence:

"Since I've been in that school, my life has stopped being just my problem. Abandoning that girl now would mean betraying the professor and everyone at school. To me, that's… as scary as losing my goal as a mage."

"I see. If you say it's because you're afraid, I've got no choice but to accept it."

Next, Flat asked Jack a question of his own.

"Why don't you object, Jack?"

"Hmm…"

"As far as winning the Grail War goes, there's no need to go out of our way to save a girl, is there? If you'd been dead set against it, I'd have had to use a Command Seal, but you seemed to agree pretty quickly."

In response to Flat's words, Jack shook his watch hands in a manner that seemed to say, "Oh, that's all."

"It's simple. I've simply been influenced by your teacher, Lord El-Melloi II, myself."



When Flat had phoned El-Melloi II and received a two-hour lecture, Jack had had an opportunity for a brief conversation with the lord. When Jack had explained his own nature as a Heroic Spirit and that his wish for the Grail was to learn the true identity of Jack the Ripper, El-Melloi II had easily slipped into Jack's mind in a flowing voice — almost like he was giving a lecture on magecraft.

"I believe that a person's essence is formed through their encounters with others.

"Who or what actually committed those murders in 1800s London is a black box. Even within the Clock Tower, opinions are greatly divided.

"Still, I am frankly grateful that it was a level-headed being like yourself who appeared to Flat. If that foolish apprentice of mine has had any influence on you, for better or for worse, then I believe it would be right to say that a new facet of Jack the Ripper has undoubtedly been born.

"I promise to remember 'you,' not an urban legend or a Heroic Spirit, regardless of what you were in life. I promise to remember the you I am speaking with now as Flat's Servant, the being who showed him the way, if only for a short time.

"So, please… take care of my foolish apprentice — of Flat. I don't have Command Seals or anything like that; this is just my selfish request. But please… keep him safe for me."



"Honestly, I know I told you this before, but if we'd spoken any longer… he really would have had me wrapped around his finger. He might be some kind of incubus in human form."

Jack, still in watch form, gave a wry smile at the memory.

"His words touched my heartstrings. I had my life slightly touched by him as well. That's all."

At that, Flat flashed an innocent grin.

"That means you're a student of the El-Melloi School, too, Jack."

"…I'm sure having a serial killer would be just cause trouble."

Flat shook his head at Jack's obvious statement of fact.

"We've got an alumnus who's kind of similar, so I don't think it will be a problem."

"…I have a feeling that it definitely will…"

At that point, the watch, still shaking its hands in a wry smile, suddenly began to speak seriously.

"You're still missing something big… No, not missing… You probably haven't realized it yourself, but there's a big gap between you and the world. It's actually frightened me at times."

"…"

"However," Jack continued to an uneasy-looking Flat, "I've been reassured. Not because a mage like that is your teacher; because you feel respect for the way your teacher lives. As long as you have that feeling, you should be able to overcome your gap."

"…I guess you're right. I don't really get it. I do sort of understand that parts of me are out of sync with mages… and with regular people."

"Don't worry. All people live with the feeling that something about them is out of sync with the world. I don't know if I ought to say so in this form, but there's no such thing as a clock that keeps perfect time without ever being off for an instant. There are only people trying to make their clocks match."

Flat giggled when he heard that.

"Your true identity might turn out to be a poet, Jack."

"…Did I say something that flippant?"

"You did. I mean, you're supposed to have signed a letter to the police 'from Hell.'"

"…You had to bring that up."

They did not burst out laughing out of consideration for the victims, but Jack and Flat did grin at each other before turning their attention toward the hospital.

"…It should start any time now."

"Yes. We can't clear out the hospitalized patients, after all. They'll use wide-area magecraft to put the patients to sleep and block the doctors' perceptions so that they can't see the police unit storm in… Wait. Something's wrong."

"?"

Jack's voice drew Flat's eyes to the street in front of the hospital. He could see police officers in the street pointing at something and panicking. Flat turned his gaze in the direction they were pointing while using magecraft to enhance his sight… and saw "it."



A three-headed dog the size of full-grown elephant, pale breath roiling in its mouths, and, standing calmly on its back, a man wearing a strange cloth and readying a bow.



X X



Central Hospital rooftop. On top of a water tank.



"…Kerberos now? Who is that bowman?"

Surveying the enormous beast from above was Jester Karture, back in the form of the young vampire man. It appeared that the wounds he had received from Hansa had yet to recover — the holy water burns were still fresh on the skin that peeked out through his clothes.

"Interesting. What other heroes and monsters are there in this Grail War? Who should I make that beautiful Assassin dance with? I must focus and take my time choosing."



X X



In front of the hospital. Main Street.



Due to wide-area wards set to keep out people, Main Street seemed strangely deserted to the police officers on their beats. Farther down the street, however, something appeared to shatter the lonely atmosphere.

It was a gigantic dog exhaling poisonous breaths through the razor-sharp fangs of its three heads. It took the officers a short while to recognize it as Cerberus, a creature they had seen in myths and movies often enough to lose interest in it. That was the extent to which the awe and fear it inspired surpassed the Cerberus of their imaginations.

The air was thick with magical energy. The bowman standing on the creature's back, however, showed no sign that it fazed him. If he had held a great scythe instead of a bow, anyone would have screamed, taking him for Death.



The gargantuan guard dog of Hades walked up to the police officers and then stopped. It lowered its heads and glared at all around. Then, the bowman on its back put a question to the speechless officers in a solemn voice.

"…Where is the child who harbors a Heroic Spirit?"

The bowman was already turning to face the hospital as he spoke. He must have been asking in what part of which floor the girl was to be found.

"If we tell you," one of the police officers screwed up their courage and asked the bowman, "what are you… going to do to her?"

"Naturally, I shall slay her in a frontal assault, in accordance with the rules of the Holy Grail War."

The police officers murmured. This being, whose appearance made them feel a strength unlike that of an ordinary Heroic Spirit, this being cloaked in such an air of intimidation that it made the Assassin they had fought the other day seem sweet, was declaring his intention to murder an unconscious little girl "fairly, in a frontal assault."

"…Bullshi—"

One of the officers shouted, realizing what the words meant. His angry voice was drowned out by the roar of an explosion.

The shaft the bowman had loosed by way of a threat pierced the asphalt, blasting a circumference of ten meters to smithereens and creating a small crater. A number nearby officers were caught in the blast. Several lost consciousness on the spot.

"You need not answer; just don't interfere."

Then, the bowman pulled his bow taut.

The police officers soon realized what he was planning to do. This bowman intended to completely destroy the large, ten-story hospital with nothing but his bow. After seeing the crater he had left in the asphalt with a warning shot, no one found the idea absurd.

Then, before the police could move to stop him, he unleashed a strike from his fully drawn bow.