The Holy Man of The Church Creek

57

With swords, bare arms, and with shields, hold fast. The strength of man may not always be decided by the power of one's tenacity or endurance, but through the equipment on their backs.
O

n the hills of an unknown world made from the manifestation of two realities, an army of brothers and sisters in arms stood strong. Spears were raised, armours donned, and the mettle of booming war drums resounded from the clanging of shields. The aulos sung, the war-shouts echoing unrestrained.
The pride of the Conquering King.
Not alone. Never alone.
To unite those that shared in the dream of conquest under a banner of loyalty not simply as a King and subject, but as trusted aides and friends. Billowing in the wind was the war standard of Macedon, symbol of Iskander, the famed Alexander the Great.
"Glory lies beyond the horizon," Iskander stood at the front, his broad back forever in sight, xiphos drawn as he mounted his horse. "Seize it, and make it true! Friends, today marks a day of legend!"
Swords, spears, axes, knives, daggers, all manner of weapon began manifesting in the air, ready to be drawn. Many radiated such power and aura that it blinded those that they appeared in front of with certainty.
Some promised violence; others promised salvation; but above all, was the meaning.
The Unlimited Armoury was at the ready.
"In the name of our grand conquest, we will meet and overcome all! Our foes stand before us, enemies of the Gods! Ares gives us strength; our bond keeps us strong, and a friend has lent us his aid!" The xiphos was lowered. "Take arms and charge!"
The horns blared, long and deep.
The weapons that hung in the air were grabbed by their hilts, chosen based on the user's preference and granted full access to their abilities.
The monster slaying sword, Hrunting.
The rod of healing, Asclepius.
Meanwhile, EMIYA stood upon a barren hill overlooking the vast expanse where the three bodies of the Trihexa were being targeted by Iskander's charging army. His red mantle billowed in the wind, veins popping over his forehead as he raised an arm up.
He'd never had a single Noble Phantasm to call his own.
His legend was not great enough to accomplish such a feat, but it didn't matter. In his days as a Nameless hero, there was only a single magic that he'd ever needed.
'Trace. On.'
The weapons remaining in the air gained direction and focus, spinning to point their blades at the enemy with the reverberating sound of cutting wind. He who had thousands of Noble Phantasms but was not the owner of even one could not claim any pride but this.
-A one trick pony.
"Continuous fire."
Even still, this strength, this power, equaled that of the greatest Heroic Spirit in existence. The King of Heroes.
Weapons fell like rain, unrelenting, and only growing in magnitude within a sky of steel encompassed by slowly creaking monolithic gears illuminated by the bronze glow of sunset. It was the onset of twilight, the symbol of the ending of all dreams, ambitions, and forgotten ideals.
And yet, a blue sky once more existed where others could not see. Minuscule and out-shadowed by lingering doubts and pessimism, it was gradually gaining presence even still.
As a reflection of EMIYA's inner world, it was unmistakable.
Right here, right now, there was no way EMIYA could deny it. The cause he was fighting for was no longer at the behest of Alaya or his own personal vendetta. This was a battle to save. It was as simple as that, and that was all that mattered.
Right here. Right now.
He was an Ally of Justice.
Forgotten dreams emerged once more, ideals festering within the pits of his psyche unleashed if only for this single iteration of his manifestation as a Heroic Spirit.
It was enough.
EMIYA was gone, and in his place stood a figure of a Nameless Hero.
Parameters set. Composition of make resolved.
Standing by.
The bronze horizon gave way to a sky of verdant blue, the weapons both in the air and in the hands of Iskandar's army shining brightly as they flooded with magical energy. They broke, shattered into pieces, and yet they unleashed the full capacity of what it truly meant to be within an unlimited blade works.
Everything was expendable, and able to be used constantly in an overcharged state.
Releasing all limits.
The Nameless hero's mantle billowed, magical energy funneling around him in a torrent that touched upon the very foundation of his world. There was now meaning in his actions, a causethat fell in line with the very reason he'd once chosen to give up everything in the first place. With that same reasoning, he knew that without doubt, he was presently at his strongest.
All swords…At the ready.
The monolithic gears began to spin, whirring faster and faster and generating a tempest of wind which brought all gears together. Circuit-like patterns flashed over their surface, altering the structure of their make and fusing them all into a gigantic overhanging sword upon the world.
A sword of Damocles.
The Nameless hero himself was a sword, and when that sword came down and itself grew broken, the greatest power of the Nameless Hero's sole Noble Phantasm would be revealed. Just as other Heroic Spirits had the option of overcharging and breaking their Noble Phantasms to unleash their maximum power, so too did the Nameless Hero.
The sword shall fall and activate the grand forge.
It was a single prompt. A single initiative that changed everything.
The sword of gears pierced the ground and acted as a key that unraveled the world.
"Unlimited Blade Works."
A ring of energy gave way to lush hills and a tranquil open sky of possibilities reflecting the dream that lived once more.
Under the staring eyes of all was a land of swords that armed an army that could forever withstand the test of time. Charging at the front of his army, Iskandar let out a broad grin.
A grand conquest the battle shall be.
This was the truest combination of two realities.
It was inconceivable. Something beyond mortal comprehension and bordering on the likes of True Magic which existed in the domain of Gods: A Reality Marble. To be the creator of one's own world was to become the lord of all within it. Universal laws and common sense meant nothing.
And yet, in this case, two worlds existed at once and Rin was the tying factor.
Ordinarily, two worlds could not exist at once due to the fundamental differences in the laws between them, but Rin had access to one of the greatest sources of a Servant's power.
Command Seals.
They could allow the Servant to overturn the common rules of magecraft and make it possible to reach the unprecedented level of True Magic.
"By my name as Rin Tohsaka, I hereby order you both to maintain this space with all of your ability!" Rin yelled from the distance, the Command Seals on her person flaring and evaporating as she stared at Archer in awe. He'd done it. He'd overcome the hurdle of his own pessimism and once again took up the mantle of a Hero. His UBW reflected the change.
If the deployment of two Reality Marbles destabilized each other like repelling magnets, then an even greater force should keep the two worlds together if only temporarily. This was the purpose of Rin's presence.
Power flooded both EMIYA and Iskandar's reserves, the both of them now charging forward within full view of Crom Cruach, Ophis, Xenovia, Serafall, and the others.
"Shirou?" Xenovia called out carefully, Irina standing beside her.
Serafall, Adelina, Rias, Sona, and everyone else watching kept shifting their gaze from Angra Mainyu then back to EMIYA.
Emiya did not respond to the name, he merely grunted and nodded once towards Angra Mainyu who inclined his head back. Suddenly, Angra Mainyu unleashed the full extent of his power and stared directly at Crom. He was no longer constrained by the boundaries of the human world.
Play time was over.
Angra Mainyu like EMIYA, Iskandar, and everyone else had a purpose.
Their job was to hold off the bodies of the Trihexa or kill them while simultaneously safeguarding the people of the Human World.
It was a group effort.
The more bodies defeated, the weaker the Trihexa should become.
On Angra Mainyu's end, he was confident that they had the situation handled. What concerned him was how the rest of the world was doing, but one thing was clear.
The words of the One God came to the forefront of Angra Mainyu's mind.
'Don't underestimate the strength of man.'
The Heroes of Humanity were no pushovers.
In the eternal forest of Ireland shrouded in the scent of rot and decay, dark spirits and spectres roamed throughout the wood, the shadows beginning to dance once more. The Celtic pantheon was one that was largely obscured in the present day. Many no longer knew the names of the ancient Gods, and now the strongest of them, Lugh was tasked with defending the homeland from an overwhelming invader.
Of the three remaining bodies of the Trihexa not caught in the Reality Marbles of the Nameless Hero and the King of Conquerors, one existed wreaking havoc upon Irelands rolling plains.
The reeds began to sway, beckoning the return of an era of tenacity and perseverance.
The age of warriors.
The body of the Trihexa lumbered on, spawning hordes of malformed abominations across the land and wilting all life into dark cesspools. The people mourned and despaired, the sentiments carrying in the wind and causing Lugh's mighty grip on his spear to tighten even further.
Lugh was Ireland's God of Light. With his hands, he would banish forth the dark and commanded the respect of his entire pantheon. Yet what was a pantheon without its believers?
The time for action had come.
Lugh nodded, his body exuding light as a murder of ravens took to the air and soared throughout the battlefield, bringing forth pestilence and curses upon the enemy. If Lugh was the light shining upon the day, then the Morrigan of the triple Goddesses represented her aspect of death.
Yet it wasn't enough, the enemy's numbers were too numerous, and Lugh's influence, unable to protect all. The body of the Trihexa was exerting too much power. Irelands was dying, the faith along with it, and yet in the deepest pits of despair, the unforeseen occurred.
"Gather, Knights of Fianna! Take arms and fight!"
Fionn Mac Cumhaill and the Knights of the Red Branch arrived bringing with them the furor and mettle of Irish Warriors. Their mystic spears and weapon allowing them the power to banish forth the reach of the spawned abominations.
Lugh couldn't believe it, the other Gods of his Pantheon could not believe it either, but nothing could stop the rush of emotion Lugh felt when a certain warrior took to the plains once more. His spear forced back dozens in a single swing, his beast-like agility making him nothing more than a blur.
The Child of Light, Slayer of Beasts, and the Shield of Ireland.
"Father," a voice carried in the air in the form of a prayer. "Grant me your blessing."
Cu Chulainn, son of Lugh.
Lugh did not hesitate. The blood-coated spear in Cu's hands once more took on a whitish hue, carrying the blessing of Ireland's God of Light.
One man against a single army. The feat of Cu's legend was once more in the making, but Lugh could no longer reminisce. The battle was at hand, and as the God of the Celts, he was not one to lose focus in combat. His mind worked on overdrive.
If there was one person that could be of help, then there was one that could defeat this beast simply by nature.
If Cu and the other Irish Heroes had returned, then surely, she had too.
The God Slayer.
The enemy was demonic, and carried divinity as a Beast of Apocalypse. The conditions had long since been met for her emergence.
Suddenly, Lugh knew what had to be done, and instructed the other Gods of his Pantheon to carry out his will. At best, Lugh could only keep the beast in place for a few moments, but so what? If it was her, then surely it would grant enough time.
"Go!" Lugh ordered. Using his light, he created a prison that shackled the Trihexa's limbs in place while the shadow of ravens encircled around the beast's body. The beast thrashed and resisted, causing both Lugh and the Morrigan to buckle, their powers waning.
In the end, the Beast broke free in a matter of seconds, and yet, it froze, a shudder travelling down its body as its senses flared.
Look up and behold the gates of another dimension.
Phantom chains dangled, leading to a frozen entrance entombed in ice and held firm by ancient pillars.
The Gate of Skye, and with its emergence came the blurred figure of a woman in purple that moved directly towards the Beast unhindered.
Then and there, a spear soared through the horizon, imbued with spiraling crimson energy in the shape of a fang.
Stab and penetrate.
Intertwining barbs of energy locked the body of the Trihexa in place, the nature of the incoming attack rendering it unable to break free.
Thrust and drill!
Lugh, Fionn, Cu, and the Gods of the Celtic Pantheon watched on as the undying Witch of the Land of Shadows unleashed her judgement.
"Gae Bolg Alternative!"
Of the six bodies of the Trihexa, the one in Ireland was the first to die.
-China.
Right before Cao Cao's eyes, history was in the making at the hands of those he could only deduce as human figures of legend. In comparison, Cao Cao was feeling like many of those in the Hero Faction were undoubtably feeling: Inadequate.
In seeking to emulate and surpass those of the past, perhaps they'd all forgotten the one aspect that qualified anyone to be a Hero. It was heart.
Despite all their strength, all their prestige, the Heroes Cao Cao witnessed right before him never once abandoned or used the innocent in order to attack at the enemy. Cao Cao thought of his own methods, though brilliant, they lacked empathy.
Frustrated, Cao Cao gritted his teeth while stabbing his spear through the chest of an abomination.
The land of China was no longer under the attack of one of the bodies of the Trihexa, as the Great Leviathan had forced the body of the Trihexa away. All that was left to deal with were the vast number of lingering spawns in the area preying on civilians.
Despite China's dense population, casualties were being kept to a minimum, and Cao Cao knew why. Yet, his thoughts grew jumbled before he could verify.
"So, you are my descendant?"
Cao Cao flinched, feeling the presence of someone approaching his back. Gathering his courage, he soon turned around and stared into the face of the warlord of his namesake.
Donned in regal lamellar armour and hair held in a topknot stood Cao Cao of the Three Kingdoms. "Your wisdom is lacking."
Cao Cao could not respond, mind blanking in the face of his ancestor's criticism.
"You believe that causalities are only kept to a minimum because the Beast was carried away? Your naivety appals me."
Cao Cao could only stare at the ground, but this quickly changed when his ancestor grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to stare out at the entirety of China. "Look and see for yourself, the power of China's Heroes!"
To the north, the enemies were trapped, unable to step forth a single step, their defences lowered, and their bodies cursed. Pillars had dropped forth from the sky and created the form of a pentagram.
"Try and break it." A man stood strong, back straight and a folded fan held in one hand.
An Unreturning Formation. The Stone Sentinel Maze.
Cao Cao had only heard of one man capable of creating such a feat, and was renowned for his insight.
Zhuge Liang. The famed tactician of China's Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
To the east, a war god in human skin mounted upon a valiant steed carved a path through sheer force of will and brute strength coupled with technique. His spear displayed the myriad forms of God Force. The general, Lu Bu Fengxian.
Cao Cao held his breath, his grip on his spear waning as his attention soon fell onto the man wearing a peacock suit guarding the entire south and west areas of China alone.
In the interstice between heaven and earth.
Fabric-like bands of energy spiraled towards the heavens seemingly encompassing all. Only the road to domination lay ahead.
Beyond the three sovereigns.
The strength of one. A single man that stood at the head of an ancient Empire united.
Shi Huang Di, Emperor of the Qin Dynasty.
The First Emperor of China.
All hail Huang, Ultimate Lifeform.
(All hail, Lelouch!)
-France
Music blared through the street. In the despair, in the ruin, and in the grief, all was encaptured to reveal a single emotion shared by all. Rage at the lost. Rage at the oppressors. Rage at the helplessness.
Mozart and Salieri, famed composers, rivals, and enemies joined together to play a single symphony of the damned.
A day of wrath had come, and in the flowing music came power that fueled all, increasing the individual parameters of all Servants fighting within France.
Enemies lay everywhere, boundless, and seemingly limitless, but within helplessness, came hope. Of the three bodies of the Trihexa remaining in the world, one was in Ireland, the other Greece, and the last, India.
France need only deal with the surge of enemies left behind, and this was a matter that could soon be completed through the efforts of the French.
"Ready the grapeshot! Viva la France!"
The man of charisma and one of France's greatest generals. Napoleon Bonaparte stood upon the readily made barricade of cars and rubble, smoking canon in hand. "Fire!"
In the distance, scorching flame and mystic blue fire shimmered in the deepest depth of the shadows. They who were filled with vengeance and hate chose not to fight in the light, but in the dark.
As it should be.
Within the ruined allies and barren streets, a man pushed down the fedora over his head, green trench coat dragging over the ground as he began to laugh; he was the Count of Monte Cristo. Trailing behind him was a pale-skinned woman smoldering with flickering embers once condemned by all to be Witch.
The woman, the Alter, was silent, staring not towards the battlefield, but towards the sky and not caring to see what was in front of her.
The gates of the Heavens were open, and seated upon the clouds was a deity she could no longer deny existed.
'If there is a God, then surely I'll be punished…'
Alter bit down on her lips, the heat exuding from her body simmering to a crawl as she bumped into a person she felt intuitively connected to. It was an inherent understanding that she was staring at a descendant.
"Y-You are?" Jeanne from Cao Cao's team fumbled for words at the sheer intensity of Alter's glare. Jeanne had been overwhelmed by the presence of all the French heroes that gained power for fighting in their homelands.
Alter could not respond to Jeanne's inquiry.
Alter gnashed her teeth and sprinted away while the Count maintained his silence on the matter, emphasizing with what Alter was feeling.
The worlds were different. It was clear that the faith carried by the Maiden of Orleans in this world was more than enough to save her from burning in a pyre. Their God had surely intervened.
Faith would be rewarded, and Alter did not have to look far to understand the sentiment.
On the horizon overlooking a hill, a flag billowed and casted a healing light upon all fighting within France. A woman stood strong, valiantly waving her banner amidst the violence. Though her armour was smeared with dirt and grim, and her blond hair marred with soot, her eyes remained clear in her purpose.
The disposition of a Saint carrying a prayer of faith, of utmost devotion, and belief.
Protect the people.
"Luminosité Eternelle."
The One God was with her.
Alter grimaced, a pang of jealously causing her to ball her hands into fists, but she quickly faltered when a hand touched her shoulder.
"Don't think too much about it," the Count shook his head before firing a beam of power towards a group of abominations. "We are beings of hate and vengeance. Are you angry? Are you bitter? Then take it all out on the enemies before us."
Alter clicked her tongue and shrugged the Count's hand off of her. Fire quickly surrounded her, smouldering in its intensity.
They had a job to do.
-Egypt.
The Pharaohs would no longer sit still by the order of the Pharaoh at the head of them all.
One by one, they took up their stations throughout Egypt. One by the Great River Nile, others at the capital of Cairo, and the rest positioned through out the land. They knew the purpose of their summoning, the reason why they should fight, but the pride of one man had held the other Pharaohs back. Could a Pharaoh so easily heed the whims and favours of others? Impossible.
Even if the world would burn, then so be it.
They were the incarnations of the Sun.
Unless offended, they would not move so easily; however, to destroy the great legacies that the Pharaohs had left behind through history was a travesty unable to be left unpunished.
All Pharaoh's watched as a gigantic spawned abomination trampled upon the pyramids and the stone sphinxes. The Egyptian citizens fled and cried for salivation and mercy.
Ramesses II, Ozymandias, had seen enough. The destruction of the structures he'd left behind to stand the test of time stirred the King into action. In response, a single name was called out. "Nitocris."
No matter where one stood in Egypt, the voice was heard.
Ra and the Egyptian Gods fighting to maintain the safety of Egypt all abruptly halted.
Nitocris was the name of a certain Egyptian Pharaoh in possession of an artifact of divinity and power.
The Mirror of the Dead. The gateway to the afterlife.
Standing by the foot of the river Nile, Nitocris levitated from the ground, strands of her purple hair lifting up as a black portal formed behind her with the silhouette of Anubis.
"Mirror of corpses."
Her voice came out regal, solemn, a vortex forming over the silhouette behind her which revealed a black mirror framed by feathered wings.
"Mirror of darkness."
Spirits began leaking from the mirror's surface, cruel hands grabbing in search of leverage before ethereal serpent heads took form.
"Become a gate and release terror!"
The key words were given, the seal lifted to allow the spirits of the dead to collect the souls of the living.
"Anpu Neb Ta Djeser."
A torrent of black engulfed Egypt, surging through the open streets and houses, bypassing the people and clawing at the abominations spread throughout. Death was coming in the fog guided by the serpents of the afterlife. It was here when the jackal-faced God Anubis appeared by Nitocris's mirror and funneled divine power into it.
The mirror enlarged, spanning to the size of a two-story building.
All those that dared invade Egypt would be welcomed by the doors of the Egyptian underworld.
In the case of the monster that trampled upon the pyramids, Ozymandias himself intervened while Ra stared at the man who possessed the greatest amount of his blessings.
"Look upon my works, ye mighty! And kneel before me!" A thunderous shout resounded.
A pyramid hurtled through the air while another abruptly rose from the ground, trapping the large abomination between.
"Ramesseum Tentyris!"
Egypt was now under the protection of their Gods and Pharaohs.
-Greece.
What the father could not accomplish, would surely be accomplished by his kin.
In the skies of Greece overlooking the sight from Mt Olympus, Zeus would no admit that he was struggling. By his side were Odin and Thor, and before them was the Goat-like body of the Trihexa. They'd been at odds for hours, with no ground gained. Worse, with the increasing deaths of the people, their source of divinity continually dwindled.
If at the start Zeus had access to a hundred-percent of his energy, now it was barley half with the temples and monuments in his name toppled and crushed. His objects of faith were crippled, his reserves no longer filling. It was the same for many Olympians, and for Odin and Thor themselves.
The power of the Trihexa was as overwhelming as the One God had described it.
A moment's carelessness was all that it took. Zeus fired off a bolt of lightning, but didn't expect for the attack to fizzle out before making impact. He was forced to block and expend even more of his divinity.
The stalemate was breaking, and soon enough, Greece would fall to ruin.
It was then that the impossible occurred. On the fringes of Zeus's divine sense, several sparks emerged in the dusk. All were clear to him as day, for they carried the properties and vitality of his own flesh and blood.
Battling up in the skies, Zeus had not yet noticed what the other Gods of his Pantheon had noticed.
His sons and daughters had returned.
A boulder raced across the horizon, no; not a boulder, a person. A grey giant pulsating divinity that stood leagues above the rest as one of the greatest heroes of Greek legend.
Mighty Herakles. He wore nothing more than a battle kilt and was bare chested, a stone slab in his hands poised upward and ready to strike.
Nine Lives.
The power of Godspeed took effect. The slab of stone wielded by Herakles's hand hammered down at the body of the Trihexa and forced it back enough that Zeus took notice of a gathered group of Greek Heroes charging in.
The numerous sons and daughters of the Olympians convened, one leaping from a chariot and invoking the miniature world enclosed by the azure sky.
"Akhilleus Kosmos!"
A world unraveled, capturing all within its vicinity.
One beast trapped in a realm against the might of Greece's strongest demigods. Yet, the question now was who could have coerced them all together?
There was only one.
A boat sailed through the air, hurled by Herakles and captured within the confines of Akhilleus Kosmos. A man pointed forward at the helm.
"Argonauts, Attack!" Jason, Gatherer of Heroes.
The final quest was at hand.
-Russia
Winter winds blew carrying with them the chill of a Siberian cold, bitter, and biting. The country was in turmoil, the streets and houses flattened by winged abominations and vicious wyverns. Blood smeared the streets, the scent of ash and smoke wafting up into the air.
No more.
Duchess Anastasia N. Romanov would not allow it. She hated her country. She hated her people, but for the sake of her family who loved them, she would fulfill her duties nonetheless.
"Viy, viy, viy!"
Freeze and kill them. Gallop, Viy!
A shroud of ice enveloped the land, encasing all enemies in an eternal prison, shattered by the marching black-clothed ground troop given wide berth by the populace.
How detestable. Anastasia narrowed her eyes that she would work with an enemy.
'He who slumbers continuous to dream.'
And in dreams, the Noble Phantasm awakens.
"For the Tsar!"
The Oprichniki walk once more, the enforcers and protectors of Russia.
The forces of the world were standing firm. Each carried out their individual roles in order to allow for the possibility of victory. All that was left, was a single outcome that would decide everything.
Shirou and Goetia stood facing against the main body of the Trihexa within the confines of Shirou's inner world. Everything had led to this single point.
Defeat was not an option that could be allowed to happen. To that end, he would fight with all that he was and would be.
Shirou's arms stretched forth, his finger grasping at hilts as the main body of the Trihexa roared.
"Trace. On."
Sword vs. Beast.
Thanks for reading!
P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious
It's been around a month now since my first book, Fated Legacy Dark has been published and I'd just like to thank those who've tried it. It's my first book and the support really means a lot to me. The feedback I've gotten has been fairly positive amidst the pandemic, and to make it easier to leave a review or find a link to the book, I've made a website which can be found here: Fatedlegacydark. ca
Many people have said from PM's and reviews that the start of the book is slow, but picks up pretty well on the following chapters, so it gives me something to work on for the next book in order to do better.
Thank you all again and all the best!
Next update: Huntsman of Red V2
Book description:
Death. Grief. Ruin. Nothing was left unchanged after an unexplained tragedy led to the loss of millions across the world in key locations. Cities were reduced to wastelands of steel and concrete, and many were forced into migration. When events leading to the prior tragedy occur once more, Kevin Black was going to have to learn that sometimes mysteries were better left unsolved. Trapped with his friends in the world of a ruined city filled with monsters, the journey out would be far more perilous than the journey in.