Chapter 30: Episode 28

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 4996

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read up to 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

---

Two days passed quietly... Well, as quietly as they could with all the sparring and training we did. I had gotten the chance to see many of the weaknesses and holes in my Style, while the other three were able to bond more deeply. Hell, even my relationship with Bakugou had improved considerably. Now, I wouldn't say we were the best of friends, but there was a shadow of mutual respect between us, something often shown in Anime rivals. The initial beef was nearly gone, giving place to a competitiveness that brought us both to a higher level.

On the aspect of Martial Art, I was able to learn a lot. [Sword God Style], despite being a form of top-notch Martial Art in its own rights, was similar to free-running or parkour in the sense that its moves and techniques were far less rigid than you would expect. I had been taking long, distance steps, subconsciously influenced by Ghislaine's display of Swordsmanship in the Anime, but that was the wrong method to go about my training. She was taller than me in first place, her stature completely different, this coupled with her overwhelming Stats...

I didn't understand before, but now I did. I couldn't just blindly follow her example and expect good results.

Thus, I began taking shorter steps in battles, putting more weight into the balls of my feet instead of the soles and heels, and it fucking worked. I had less trouble positioning in fights, I could control and direct my forwards momentum much easier and short, springing steps allowed me to accelerate faster compared my former movements. In fact, thanks to changes I made, [Swordsmanship] had been pushed to Lv: 9/10. [Sword God Style] was even raised to Lv: 12/25. My growth had exploded within just two days of sparring with these three...

Now, comparing their growth, [Sword God Style] might seem like it was lagging behind a lot, but in comparison to the top-notch, publicly acknowledged strongest Mushoku Style, [Swordsmanship] was extremely basic. It was simply the foundation, something that showed how efficient my downwards, horizontal, upwards slashes were, nothing more... Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but you got the idea. Despite being one Rank higher than [Sword God Style], it was insanely easy to grind.

After seeing my 'Skillz', Bakugou became a lot more respectful, yet also more... Relentless. We could finish a sparring session just one hour ago, then he would burst into my room to challenge me, which to be fair, was sorta my fault since I didn't exactly discourage his behavior. Why should I? Sparring with him alone, while nowhere near as effective as doing so against the whole group, was still effective. Besides, it was fun in a twisted, 'children-trying-to-loop-each-other's-heads-off' kind of way. Thus, that was how I devolved into a dumb, battle-crazed meathead... I blamed it all on [Sword God Style].

It was something I noticed on the very first day. I was far more aggressive than I had been before, more willing to take risks four spars in. I didn't know if this was part of the Skill itself, or if it was a form of self-hypnotization due to the mindset I forced onto myself to wield [Sword God Style] better, but I'd definitely have to be careful to keep whatever this was in order. I knew who I was, what I was, the near-death experience during that Regul fiasco had taught me that I might have plot-armor, but it was paper-thin and wouldn't be nearly enough to save my skin should a powerful foe came and I rushed in like an over-confident idiot.

Or... Well, like a self-sacrificing idiot that charged in the middle of a battle between two of the most powerful Servants– Saber and Berserker. Although, in all fairness, I'd have likely done the same, if only because I couldn't bear to watch Baeber be hurt. Yup, yours truly was an unapologetic simpleton for Artoria. Didn't know why either, but my attraction to her had been there since fifth grade when I was just a child pirating videogames off the Internet, and I wasn't ashamed of it, not one bit. On that topic, I wondered how I'd fare against her in Skill.

Obviously, she would trump me through sheer Stats alone, for the time being at least, but what if we only took Skills into consideration? Though, I doubted I could defeat the battle-hardened King Of Knights, surely I could hold on for a few bouts with [Sword God Style]? Those were some famous last words right there…

Anyways, today hadn't differed much from the other two. Sasaki hadn't contacted us, I assumed he was busy rallying the troops. It didn't matter to me, I was fine with taking refugee in Shibuya for a while until Rin had cooled off. The City itself, excluding the Martial War currently taking place, was quite peaceful. Not to mention all the benefits I had received, this place was like a fucking paradise. I was in a World of my own, staring disinterestedly at Shibata and Bakugou as they went at each other. Yeah, they had dialed down on the aggression, but they were definitely not friendly. 'Not even close.'

Oh-well, Rome wasn't built in a day. They would get there, eventually… Probably. "Pssst, Okamoto-tan!" I called to the airhead, who was happily munching on a piece of toasted bread. "Hmmm, wat ish it, Leo-san?"

I rolled my eyes, poking at her puffed-up cheeks teasingly. "Don't talk when you are chewing–" The girl blushed at the physical contact before hastily swallowing the mouthful of bread. "What is it, Leo-san?" I glanced at the pair fighting just feet away from us, ducking to avoid the small debris flying my way, indifferent to the 'friendly fire' that would have been lethal to the majority of Mankind. Okamoto did pretty much the same, having mastered the ability to unconsciously dodge even earlier than me. Not surprising, given how long she must have known these two.

"I was wondering, how are things on Sasaki's end? Are there any news yet?" It's rather concerning. From what little I had seen of him, Sasaki seemed the type to be very meticulous and precise with his business. By all means, whether he had finished with the preparations or not, he should have contacted us already, yet we hadn't heard of him for nearly three days now. "I don't know…" Okamoto pressed a finger to her lips, brows furrowed. "Usually it's Eri-chan's job to communicate with Sasaki-sama and relay the information back to us.

Since she hasn't said anything, I assume Sasaki-sama hasn't contacted her either." That's… Not good. Don't get me wrong, Sasaki looked like he could take care of himself, but he was just one man. He was in the lights, while his enemies hid in the dark. Although it probably wouldn't be easy for them to catch him lacking, it wouldn't be too hard either. "… I have a bad feeling about this." Okamoto responded with a dazzling smile. "Don't worry Leo-san, Sasaki-sama is super strong! He's very re– Uhmm… Re–" She stuttered, brows knitted in concentration as she struggle to find the right word.

Haaaaaa… Might as well help her. "Resourceful?" I offered, only to receive a pout and puffed cheeks in return. "Hey! I could have figured it out on my own!"

I nodded, a faux serious expression plastered on my face as I patted her head patronizingly. "I'm sure you could have, Okamoto-tan. I'm sure you could have." We continued to trade pleasantries, taking turns teasing and joking as we waited for Shibata and Bakugou to finish, which should be any time now, seeing as they had been going at it for an hour and a half, almost two already. Once we had nothing else to say to each other, we went right back to watching the two duke it out. It was quite entertaining if you could keep up with them. In fact, it was something straight out of an Anime.

Shibata, blade held tightly in her hands, was pushed back several feet and on her back as Bakugou's explosion went off. Bakugou didn't let up, opting to press his advantage instead. By some miracles, Shibata managed to hold her own, even regaining her footing against the explosive blonde, but a blind person could see she was at her rope's end at this point. Indeed, Shibata was not Bakugou's opponent when it came to head-on fights. Understandable, since she mostly excelled at assassinations, stealth and working behind the enemies' lines.

Real life wasn't like a videogame, there was simply no way for a Rogue to contend with a Monk, even though I was certain if this was, Shibata would out-level Bakugou for sure. Her experience was far more enriched than Bakugou's, she was also the better, more cautious fighter between the two. Shame her Martial Arts were focused on one-shooting the enemies, meaning it was completely unsuitable for prolonged fights, something Bakugou was extremely good at with his, to quote Shibata herself, absurdly colossal Ki pool.

"Shibata has already lost…" I sighed, unwilling to watch anymore. Compared to the shirtless Bakugou who was jumping around using a makeshift version of Mana Burst, Shibata's clothes were soaked with sweats, clinging to her shapely form, her breathing labored and harsh like the screeching of a tornado to my ears. "Eri-chan can't hold on anymore–" Okamoto bit her lips, whispering. "She would have won if…" She didn't finish, perhaps realizing how pointless 'what ifs' would be in a real fight. Shibata's usage of Demonic Weaves, Okamoto's signature technique at the start had nearly overwhelmed the blonde.

Unfortunately, while she might have been a prodigy, having learnt the basics of Demonic Weaves through sight and sheer stubbornness, Bakugou was no slouch himself. Yes, her trick did catch him off guard for a millisecond, but Bakugou's ability to adapt to the circumstances left me speechless. The way he twisted and turned, dodging the attack in mid-air with his explosive Ki-balls reminded me of Artoria and her Mana Burst, though his movements were noticeably less refined, less efficient… Hell, dare I say it? Far less graceful and more animalistic.

Didn't change the fact that he was simply better than Shibata at adapting though. Basically, he was street-smart, unlike her who was book-smart and often too rigid, resulting in a lack of fluidity and improvisation to her movements. Although, she did make up for it with her dedication. Believe me when I said there was no stopping her once she truly put that brilliant mind of her to something. "Guess Shibata is gonna spend another night training then…" The airhead next to me just let out a tired sigh that, oddly enough, reminded me of a single mom complaining about her rebellious teenage daughter.

"I keep telling Eri-chan to take it easy, but she won't listen." I was ready to give my response when I felt someone trip my Bounded Field. Nothing excessive, just a regular one that notified me whenever a stranger decided to snoop around our safehouse. It hadn't been activated once ever since I first set it up two days ago, yet from the look of it, more than one person were slowly encroaching our place. Noticing the tight frown on my face, Okamoto asked worriedly. "Leo-san, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." I replied with knitted brows. "Just, do we have visitors that I'm not aware of today?"

Her expression, resembling a deer caught in headlights, was more than enough to tell me the answer. "Shit…" I threw an impatient look at the two still immersed in their little sparring contest. "Shibata, Bakugou–" They barely managed to send me angry glares, mouths opening to voice their grievances before shutting up at what I assumed must have been quite the scary look I was putting on. "Stop fighting, we have companies!" At that, they simultaneously froze. Bakugou's fist clenching around Shibata's blade, while the girl herself stared at me unblinkingly.

I had to admit, she was beautiful. Her hair, usually pulled into a tight, neat ponytail, now swung around disheveled, long black locks cascaded down her back with few strands falling next to and between her bust. Her skin rosy, tinged with tiredness and adrenaline as droplets of sweats dotted her face. Her gaze, sharp and ever unyielding, trained onto me like a hawk. "What do you mean?" She questioned, gasping for breaths as she did. I didn't answer, deciding to ask [Future Calculation] for more information instead, and sure enough… 'What are the odds of those approaching being hostile?'

97.3%

"We are completely surrounded on all sides. They number around three to four dozens and are all hostile. In fact, a group of five are currently approaching our location as we speak… What do we do?" Shibata went to speak just as the five I was talking about burst down the door. That door was made of cold-steel with its inside covered by a layer of soundproof foam. I hadn't comprehended how the other day, now I knew the shit was fucking expensive and it physically hurt to see it wrecked. Sure, it's not my money, but still. "Okay, someone has got to pay for that shit and it's not us."

"Lady Shibata, Lady Okamoto and Lord Bakugou, we are under order of Lord Sasaki to escort you, along with the Magus–" He spat angrily, as if repulsed by the word itself. "– To him, a vehicle has already been prepared for you. Please, follow us." He gestured at the three, but the façade of professionalism couldn't hide the minute twitches of his hands ready to reach for weapons at a moment's notice, nor could it hide the tension that made his movements freeze every now and then. "As if we are going to buy that shit."

Unexpectedly, the one to speak up wasn't me. Bakugou growled through gritted teeth, the redness of his eyes gleamed and pulsed with the rage. Shibata intervened. "We understand, lead the way." The group of masked men shared an odd looks tinged with disbelief, then nodded. "We have reasons to suspect you three have been compromised. I'm afraid we must take you in forcefully." So they wanted to tear all faces with us? Idiots. We stood, mouths shut as we, as well as the men took a moment to prepare for the inevitable.

The five jumped at us, Shibata swung her blade at the first, Okamoto's metal-wires shot forwards to slow down the other four with little success while Bakugou decided to target the one farthest, who was reaching for the handgun strapped to his belt. Of the five, the three that were kept busy by Okamoto swiftly broke free of her control, some circulating their Ki to cover their bodies and snap the strings, others dodging and cutting her signature wires apart with their own weapons. Two of them soon reached me, but after getting a good grip on my combative strength, none of our group panicked, focusing on their foe instead.

You are reading story Fate: Dead Man’s Lament at novel35.com

I dispersed in a mass of glowing, tortoise-green petals, appearing directly between them and their friend who was lagging behind. My blade came thrusting at his neck, form spinning to throw a kick that would have made the Straw Hats' chef proud. My kick connected, throwing one into his friend and with the momentum already built up, my arm tensed, severing two-thirds of the man's neck along with his spine. As I fell into a crouch, I saw Bakugou blow his opponent's head into a mess of blood and gores, I saw Shibata lacerate hers with a brutality even I would find it hard to imitate.

Lastly, I saw the two I had kicked down previously, one got his throats slit by Okamoto's wires, the other bound tightly, still struggling to free himself.

"Useless weaklings." Bakugou grunted, seeming more irritated by the performance of the men than being accused of whichever crimes they were planning to put on their heads. Shibata flicked her katana to get rid of the blood, expression filled with disgust as her cold, wrathful eyes fixed on the only living member of the five. Watching him shrink into his clothes, as if the flimsy fabrics could hide him from her murderous gaze, was quite entertaining to be honest. "You have three minutes to spill everything. Do not lie if you value your worthless life, I'll know if you do… Begin."

The man instantly ceased his struggle, realizing it was futile at this point, muttering weakly. "Three minutes are not enough to–" I slammed the pommel of my blade onto his arm, smiling wickedly as the limb broke and bent beneath the strain, sending the man into a frenzy of screaming, crying and begging that was cut short by another pommel to the mouth. "You heard the Lady. Start speaking, vermin." Vermin… That, that felt good. Gil had an exclusivity on 'mongrel', so maybe I could take 'vermin' for my own usage? Food for thoughts.

"I– *Sob– I was ordered by the higher-ups of Ragnarok to assist Danzo in usurping Kiyoshi. The plans are already in motion–" As he spoke, he seemed to gain more and more courage. "You are all fucked! You heard me?! Fucked! The bastard you serve is running around like a wet-rat with that cowardly brother of his! If you don't let me go, I'll–" I punched him in the face, knocking a few teeth out as blood began to pour before grabbing his hair, my face inches away from his. "What of the other Captains? What do they have to say about this?" He forced up a painful smile, one that I quickly stopped, hand tensing as though I wanted to tear his entire scalp off. "Speak, you lowly vermin."

"Th– They– As far they– *Gasp– know, Sasaki has higher ambitions and kidnaps their Liege Lord to steal the seat from him."

"Nonsense! Sasaki-sama loves his brother, he would never do anything to harm the Lord." True. Sasaki was a very capable man, one I could respect, but he didn't have ambitions and the Captains must have realized this too. Why would they help Danzo, whoever he was, frame Sasaki? Unless… "Shibata, does Sasaki-san have a poor relationship with the other Captains?" The nod she sent me explained everything I needed to know. The Captains were using this opportunity to get rid of Sasaki. Some had probably even known Danzo was backed by Ragnarok, but they did it anyways, believing they could deal with the aftermath.

"Foolish…" That was all I had to say. The organization was in peril, yet they were using it to benefit themselves and attack their political enemies. Damned idiots. "Shibata, you must have a way to contact Sasaki, correct?"

She didn't reply verbally, only giving a tacit agreement via her movements. "That's good, the Mages must have realized Sasaki was mobilizing his forces for an all-out assault, which is why they are so sloppy. They haven't roped in the bigger players yet, these guys are just cannon-fodders compared to us… We will fight through them, steal a car or something, then figure out the rest once you have gotten into contact with Sasaki." Perhaps understanding the severity of the situation, no one, not even Bakugou refuted. We stood up, readying ourselves for the coming battle.

I glanced at the tied up man, hand straightened and with a swing, his head wad looped off the shoulders. "Let's go then."

.

.

.

"Aniki, they are still behind us." Sasaki sighed, grips clenching on the steering wheel as they weaved through the street to shake off their pursuers. The wound on his stomach ached and burnt, and he found himself having to grit his teeth just to keep from making a sound. But, Gods did he want to make a sound… He wanted to scream, to moan and groan in pain. Already, he could feel the Curse forced upon him by one of the many Mystic Codes created by the filthy Mages taking an effect. His thoughts twisted, his anger once a cold, simmering pile now burnt with the wrath of a thousands Dragons.

His hatred like that of a vengeful spirit. His greed, his arrogance amplified to almost all-consuming. Even as he drove, he could feel the Curse settling in the depth of his Soul.

Not for the first time in his life, Sasaki felt tired. More than usual, perhaps that too was amplified by the Curse. The Mages must have thought to use this chance and drive a wedge between him and Akio, but they would be disappointed. The Curse could only amplify, not create emotions and desires that did not already exist inside him. Sasaki never wanted powers, neither did he need authority. Everything he had done was for the good of Kiyoshi, for the good of his brothers and adopted parents, who had tragically lost their lives years ago.

If anything, all they had managed was make his desire to give up the position that much stronger. Maybe he could even settle down, get a wife and build a family. He sure had the money for it once this mess blew over. Whether he could survive until then, however, was a different story. "I know, Akio. I know." He sighed, circulating his Ki to keep the Curse at bay. It was really troublesome, especially since the pain was disrupting his breathing pattern. "I'll try to lose them at the next section, just hold on." I spun the steering wheel, throwing their car off the track.

At some point, even the S.P.D had gotten involved, their sirens screeching caused Sasaki's teeth to clench grimly. Maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was the adrenaline surging in him, but their sirens were deafeningly loud. Like the cries of vulture, mixed with the unholy howls of women. It was horrible to his addled mind, more so than the screams that his adopted parents had let out that night. Sasaki couldn't help wondering if this was his retribution for leaving them for death. Sure, it was at their urging, but he could have, should have done something.

It's no wonder the Captains hated him. They saw him as a failure, saw him as the one who refused to even save their Lord and Lady, they blamed him for the two's untimely demise, and they wouldn't be wrong. "Aniki, are you alright?" His vision blurred as Akio's face went into view. For a moment there, he thought he was seeing their mother again. Despite being a boy, Akio had always resembled their mother most. He had her silky, amethyst hair. Her button nose and lips, even his eyes were the same pale purple mixed with blue…

"I'm fine." Sasaki said for the thousandth time. It's a lie, he wasn't fine, not at all. He was tired, he had lost too much blood and the Curse was fucking relentless in its assault, constantly hammering against the edge of his psyche like a loan shark knocking at the doors of his debtor. "Fuck." He cursed, seeing the lines of cars ahead. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He punched the steering wheel furiously, then headed straight for the small alley next to the main street. It was a narrow alley, but their ride could probably fit in there snuggly once the rearview mirrors were off.

Thus, Sasaki didn't bother waiting, charging straight in as though possessed. The sounds of plastic, metals and mirrors being torn away was like the squeal of a slaughtered pig. Thankfully, the alley seemed to lead to another street, which was how him and his brother managed to escape Ragnarok's clutches. Their final stop was at an abandoned vehicle workshop. If his memory hadn't failed him like his will had, then thus used to belong to the Yakuza– The Touho Family to be exact. They had come here with weapons in their hands and conquest in their hearts, only to be beaten back and forced to scurry away like rats.

It had been a long time since, and Kiyoshi was no longer his father's to govern… The responsibility now fell on his and Akio's hands. Although, if he were to be honest, it was just him, Akio was useless. Sasaki flinched at the thought, growling as he was reminded of the Curse currently infesting his body, a parasite feasting on his darkest thoughts and emotions. Sasaki wanted to sob, to cry, yet when greeted with the concerned look of his brother, he steeled himself. He couldn't break, not now. His brother needed him, he wouldn't fail the boy like he did their parents.

"Well, well… Lookie here, seems like we are on a streak today, boys!" He shoved Akio behind him protectively upon hearing the unfamiliar voice. Then came the round of snickers, giggly and twisted like a pack of hyenas. "The Commander of Kiyoshi, and the Master? This is going to be good."

"Stay close to me, Akio. I'll protect you." Sasaki slowly walked backwards. There were too many of them, nearly a hundred if he didn't count wrong. Should they get surrounded, he would have no way to protect his brother. He needed a small area, one where he could use himself as a chokehold to keep them at bay. "Aniki, I can protect myself, you can't–" He cut the boy off with a hush, almost growling as irrational rage and anger threatened to overwhelm him. "You're the last of Nishiki linage, I won't allow any harm to befall you, I won't risk it!"

The boy cowed beneath his rage, obediently retreating from the frontline.

Sasaki had eyed the small opening between the two stacks of crushed cars. It should be defensible, even in his weakened state. Thankfully, the group that had gathered wasn't too skilled, at least not according to his observations. Their movements were uselessly wasteful when a Martial Artist should strive to conserve as much Internal Energy as possible. It could be an intimidation tactic, but he doubted it. Trembling limbs, rapid blinking and discoloration at the nails. These guys weren't professional, no.

They were likely Ragnarok's cannon-fodders, given the most worthless concoctions that would cost less by the Mages, hence the obvious physical signs. Frankly, they looked less like powerful Martial Artists and more junkies searching for their next fixes. They would be less than an annoyance if he was at his peak form, but even now, wounded and on the verge of Ki-deviation thanks to the malicious Curse, they would not be his opponents. Still, defeating them was one matter, successfully holding the line for his brother was another.

Sasaki put on a pair of leather gloves adorned with sharpened, metallic points on their knuckles. Unassuming in appearance, these gloves were actually his favorite weapons– Made from specially-processed silks, Caerostris Darwini's to be exact, the outer-layers were coated in kangaroo's leather that had been heat-treated, then immersed in a cauldron of boiling herbs, some of which values equaled the amount that would feed an entire crime Family for a month. Even the metals, however small, would cost a small fortune and likely bankrupt a mildly wealthy household. "Come."

It wasn't awe-inspiring, nor was it very intimidating, yet a single word from him sent the horde of thugs crazy as they charged forwards. Sasaki didn't mind this either, the angrier they were, the more likely it would be for them to make mistakes. One mistake might be acceptable for anyone else, two or three even, but for Martial Artists? One mistake could mean their life and one mistake was all he needed. Sasaki revolved his Ki, forcing it to circulate despite feeling his Dantian strain in complain.

"Ghostly Mirage Steps!" The famed technique of the Nishiki Family, the same technique that had been imparted to him and Akio, a technique that would forever carve the Nishiki name into the long history of Murim. In one step, a practitioner could seemingly float like a ghost, their movements precise and predictable, yet would remain illusive still. In a quick succession, Sasaki was able to dispatch three of the assailants easily, his Infernal Passage Fist while dealing little damage on the surface, was able to completely wreck their internal organs. 'Three killed, ninety-six to go.'

He grimaced, the wound on his stomach flaring as Ki passed through it, but he didn't care, he couldn't afford to. The next five had their hearts crushed, brains liquefied and lungs smashed to bits under their ribcages. Another three came, having learned nothing from their predecessors' gruesome deaths and they, too, died miserably. More and more went and before long, their corpses had piled up in a hill in front of him. Still, he was vigilant, the little hesitation and grievances left forgotten in a cloud of smoke. Sasaki could no longer even be considered sentient at this point.

He was a killing machine, a monster operating on pure instincts with the sole mission to utterly destroy all who would come. His once grey suit was colored red with blood, his brown hair matted and stuck to his forehead. He kept going and going, his enemies were very much the same, an endless horde that possessed no fear, only knowing to blindly throw themselves at the monster that stood like an impenetrable shield between them and their real target, Nishiki Akio. Finally, he couldn't go on anymore, falling to his knees as blood spilt from his mouth.

"He's down!" Sasaki vaguely caught the voice of another Ragnarok's grunts. He struggled to stand, fought to stay awake, but he was tired… So, so tired. Like that, Toujou Sasaki fell unconscious. The last thing he remembered was being held up by his brother's arms, the boy's face usually immature and kind, now seemed filled with a determination he had . "It's fine, Aniki… I will deal with the rest."

You can find story with these keywords: Fate: Dead Man’s Lament, Read Fate: Dead Man’s Lament, Fate: Dead Man’s Lament novel, Fate: Dead Man’s Lament book, Fate: Dead Man’s Lament story, Fate: Dead Man’s Lament full, Fate: Dead Man’s Lament Latest Chapter