Prisma LxL

Set-up

Chapter 13

Set-up

"Are you sure Michael actually sanctioned this, Azazel?" Archer grumbled towards the fallen as both looked at the center of the Catholic Christian faith, the Vatican.

Azazel tried to wave away Archer's concerns. "Yes yes," he reassured. "Besides, why else would he entrust you to me?" he quipped.

"To build relations..." Illya mumbled a bit, adding her own thoughts.

Azazel raised an eyebrow at the response of the snow-haired magical girl. "Aren't you a bit too young and sweet for politics?"

In response to the inquiry, Illya pouted and said, "I am in middle school and nearly highschool."

Archer sighed as he turned towards Azazel. "You gonna go or are you going to be back up?"

"I have places to go and things to do," Azazel replied with a shrug.

Archer sent a long stare at Azazel before turning to Illya. "Okay... Illya, could you stay here as back up and recon?"

"Sure... Though could you use my cool nickname during this mission?" Illya said with her head pointed downwards but eyes up to Archer's.

Root, why do I have to deal with this. Archer thought with a groan. "Very well, Kaleido Ruby," he said with a flourished bow.

Illya's cheeks heated a bit before a pleased smile worked onto her face. "Then, good luck, Master of the Great Power of Man, Infinite Blades Master!"

If there was any music playing in the background, it surely had gone silent at that moment.

"Bwahaha!" Azazel howled as he clutched his stomach in pain. In response, Illya sent him a death glare and added more pain to the fallen's stomach by hitting his stomach.

Meanwhile, Archer sent the fallen an annoyed glance before sighing. "Let's just get started," he grumbled.

-

One would think that the Vatican, the supernatural and public center of Christianity, would be guarded to counter every single threat in the world. They would be right.

From non-supernatural tuned humans to dragons, the area was nigh impenetrable to outside incursions.

Yet, they never encountered a being that could transfer themselves to another dimension on a whim without expending any energy. Thus, Archer was practically just staying light on his feet and making no sound as he walked through the hallways, taking in the sights the place offered.

I do wonder what type of security they field here. He thought aimlessly as he looked, dodging around people without any thought. Okay, I need to get back on track, where is the item located?

As he maneuvered around the place, his journey not really rushed in his walking.

Finally finding himself in front of the vault, he materialized himself into the normal plane of existence. "3, 2-" Sirens then started to sound around him, making as much noise as it could without deafening people. "Huh, not even 3 seconds, impressive," he commented as he pulled a blueprint of a sword to his hand.

Rulebreaker. His mind supplied to him automatically. He then wordlessly stabbed the door in front of him.

What surely was dozens of protective spells and mechanisms shined brilliantly before shattering out of existence, leaving an ordinary steel door in its wake.

Dismissing Rulebreaker, he summoned a nameless fire sword and pumped minuscule amounts of prana into it, causing it to ignite in unruly flames. By this point, he heard the lovely sounds of rushing footsteps. Seeing that he was a bit behind schedule, he just quickly sliced the hinges off and kicked open the door.

There it was, a fragment of this world's version of what he knew as the last noble phantasm. And all he did was scowl before striding towards it and unbuckling the chains.

A mere fragment, it was a meager recreation of Excalibur and thus was a spit to the face to the sword forged by the Fae. A bastard and unwanted child forged by human hands as a desperate means to protect themselves.

If it was up to him, he would destroy it and slap the face of the person who engineered the sword even if he had to go to hell.

But alas, it was required for their plan.

Excalibur of Destruction.

"He's taking Excalibur!" someone shouted from behind.

Archer grasped the bastard sword and removed it from it's sheathed. No problems came out of holding it for he himself had a bastardized way of taking ownership.

He had copied the composition of the bastard into his soul. The newly analyzed sword seemingly small in the face of the true final phantasm of his world.

As it should.

"Take this, you thief!" an exorcist roared as he charged at him.

Archer used the newly acquired Excalibur Destruction to bat away the man as if he were a fly and the holy sword a swatter. There was a sickening crack when the exorcist impacted the wall but a small groan notified Archer of his survival.

Turning to the remaining exorcists, he charged them as they tried to hastily funnel themselves in. Ignoring the ones that have already entered and clung to the walls, he pushed the people still entering and made his way out of the Vatican.

"Ah!"

"What in God's holy-!"

"Get him!"

Ignoring the cries of the exorcists, he reinforced his legs more and propelled himself out of the nearest exit.

Once outside he was outside -- which startled the nuns and the priests milling about -- he stabbed the Excalibur into the ground, causing an indent in the courtyard, and traced a bow and arrow. Quickly firing the arrow in the air, he prepared to propel himself.

The arrow he had fired pierced the bounded field that surrounded the Vatican, creating a hole in the field.

By now, the priests and nuns around him got the memo and had all hastily tried to use spells to bind him.

It was naught, however, as a beam of pure energy surrounded him from the sky which also had the extra benefit of keeping the bounded field to repair the hole.

"He's getting away!"

"Durandal!"

Of course, it wasn't so easy. Great.

The shield that encased him and the sky above him broke as a beam of energy pierced it, destroying the fragile integrity.

"Please hand over Excalibur and stop this nonsense," a gruff voice asked.

Archer turned around, his red mantle and brown cloak fluttering lightly. His hood came off as well, allowing all to see his face and stark white hair. "I do have to apologize, but I do really like swords, mind giving me yours as well?"

Durandal, the sword of miracles. A true holy sword birthed not out of desperation nor by human hands but by the prayers received by God, given form. Unlike the bastard sword stabbed unceremoniously on the ground next to him.

"Very well, come then."

"Very well."

Chapter 13 End

Hahaha, you doubted my ability to update this story quickly! How right you are...