All the World's Evil: Dark Deeds in Dark Shadows (ch. 3)

"Oh, this is quite a turnout! Who would have thought that all the remaining Servants would show their faces?" Rider questioned, sounding delighted at the turn of events as he stood on his chariot. He stood at the center of it all, flanked by both Lancer and Saber. At his back was Archer, and even further back was Assassin, while I stood at the front of his chariot, flanked between Saber and Lancer.

Irisviel rushed to Saber's side, but she was in a bad spot. The battle that was about to come would have no mercy for humans.

"You claim you desire everyone to be happy. Does that include him?" Lancer questioned, gesturing to Berserker. I eyed the misty black Servant, who gazed up upon Archer.

The curse of madness. It made whatever Servant that was summoned as Berserker insane with rage, but it gave them increased stats. It also tended to make Servant unrecognizable because they could give no hints on who they were beyond their incarnation as a rabid dog. It was probably the worst class to be summoned as, and that was including Avenger. Berseker made a low hissing sound that almost sounded like a strangled growl, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he were imagining wrapping them around someone’s throat and squeezing.

I hummed, “Yeah, but he seems like a pretty unhappy guy. Never said it was feasible,” I remarked as I considered my position. I was flanked by two of the knight classes -- Saber and Lancer -- which were considered the most powerful when it came to immediate combat ability. Which was my greatest weakness. This body didn’t mean much, and I had a few others flying around, but it was a trick that had a limited amount of uses. When others realized that I could restore my body from even a scrap left behind, they would wisen up and not leave any scrapes.

I wouldn’t die until they destroyed my Spirt Core or until I ran out of mana, but that was little comfort considering that heroic spirits tended to be rather determined fellows.

My gaze slid to Saber, who eyed me like I was just another enemy. I’m guessing that was my answer on if I could hide behind her. Not good. Not good at all. Thankfully, before she could bat me away like the annoying gnat that I was, Archer stole the show once again. I was thankful for it. It took the attention off of me.

“Who gave you permission to gaze upon me, you rabid dog?” Archer demanded, his tone scornful. “Be thankful that your wretched existence will soon come to an end. But first, there is another mongrel that must suffer the consequences for failing to die when I killed him.” he said, looking right at me as the space behind him began to ripple. I could feel his malicious intent rising as the tension swelled. Yet, my smile didn’t waver.

Violence was an act of evil, as was the desire to harm. Malice itself was my flesh. I had no combat abilities for I had not been a combatant when I lived. My Skill list was rather barren on account of being a talentless fellow. Yet, that didn’t mean I was completely helpless in a fight. Archer’s malice gave me his intentions, giving me an idea of where he would attack and when. Within the bounded field, it was even clearer.

Combining the two granted me a mimicry of Instinct, a powerful skill that allowed Servants to predict incoming attacks to a high degree of accuracy.

I darted forward just as Archer began his onslaught. He cared nothing of firing upon the others as he aimed at me, dozens of noble phantasms racing towards me at incredible speeds. My stats were garbage -- if I was a half-decent Servant, maybe I could have dodged them, but that was well beyond my abilities. But, unlike other Servants, I didn’t need to dodge them. A sword passed through my head, the two halves of it splitting apart to let the sword pass by harmlessly. A halberd cleaved away at my arm, the appendage flying off and being burnt up -- with the same action, I regrew my arm and allowed the scrapes left behind to dematerialize.

I reached Rider in a split second, my body contorting to grant me a form that gave me higher speeds than my stats conveyed -- my shins became coiled springs, my foot a lever to maximize the speed of each step. Rider could have stopped me if he wanted to, but he was more concerned with his Master dying in the crossfire. My foot found purchase on his chariot and I used it to fling myself into the air. A spinning double-sided axe cut me in half at the waist, but as soon as the blade passed by, my spine lashed out to reconnect my legs to me.

More weapons came by in a blur, some I avoided better than others, but I survived until I reached the apex of my jump, several dozen feet in the air. I saw Archer’s face twist as I flew above him and that put a smile on my face. My arm twisted, the human shape fading away to become a monstrous limb -- my hand became three twisted claws while my forearm shifted into a whip-like blade; the black sinew holding the arm together radiated a dark miasma.

Lashing out, three whip blades slashed at Archer’s position. They sliced through the shipping containers and the lamp post that Archer stood on, making him fall to the ground. The sheer unrestrained fury on his face told me the very thoughts in his head. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to destroy me. Completely and utterly. If he had the Holy Grail in his hands, then he would use the omnipotent wish-granting device to annihilate me. The wrath and hate he felt for me for making him stand on the ground as I flew above him… you’d think I flayed his children in front of him.

The whip blades broke off, becoming an independent monstrosity -- the blades split and became needle-thin legs that were covered with eyes and teeth. They conjoined into a large eyeball that had a mouth filled with more sharp teeth as the pupil. On the whole, my body shifted, sharp black spikes protruding from my shoulder as my arm condensed and became a canon of sorts. I fired the black spikes of my body at Archer, his hate making every action he made clearer than the last.

Dozens of noble phantasms fired at me, they punched through my body at incredible speeds, only to find themselves trapped in sticky webbing. They were going too fast for me to kill their momentum, but using the webbing to send the noble phantasms flying back at Archer was within the realm of possibility. By the second, I felt his hatred grow as I sailed to him. With each noble phantasm I touched and redirected to him, forcing him to counter them as well as the spikes I sent his hatred grew exponentially.

The spikes shattered upon contact with his noble phantasms, none managing to reach Archer, but the closer I got, the more he turned his focus to me. They raced towards me at blitzing speed, until even with the increase in ability to read him, my body began to break apart, each one chipping away at me until there was nothing left of me as I approached -- almost close enough to reach Archer.

Then the broken spikes reformed my body, though I took no human shape. I was a writhing mass of malice and hatred that lunged for Archer, hoping to catch him off guard. I saw his eyes widen a fraction, his face twisting into an absolutely grotesque snarl. Then I felt something pierce my side, slamming me into the storage container to Archer’s left. It pinned me to its door, and my body reshaped itself so I was human-looking once again, with a sword that seemed to be made of magma burning in my chest.

So, naturally, I screamed. Loudly. I had a lot of experience screaming in the throes of agony, so it was a pretty good one if I did say so myself. It was enough to convince Archer as he began laughing at my suffering, taking a savage pleasure in it. It was pretty fucked up, honestly. Back in my village, when I was being flayed to the bone or being set on fire or having my guts filled with bullet ants, there was a purpose behind it. A fucking stupid purpose, but it wasn’t sadism for the sake of sadism.

“Hahaha!” Archer laughed, “Good! You-” He began, cutting himself off when I abruptly stopped screaming.

“Gotchya!” I exclaimed, delighted laughter pouring from my lips as my body was being turned to carbon. “I had you going, didn’t I? You nearly killed me that time. Want me to praise you?” I asked him to receive an axe to the head that completely obliterated my body. In response, the spider creature I created earlier became my new body as I stood on the shipping containers, overlooking Archer as he destroyed my other body. He was trembling with rage, his shoulders shaking, and there was pure murder in his eyes as he looked up at me. “Just kidding, you didn’t come close. You’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want me to praise you.”

“You… damn you. Damn you, damn you, damn you!” Archer snarled, the golden ripples in space behind him expanding as he held out a hand and a key dropped into his palm. “Gates of Babylon!” he shouted, the key vanishing as the rippling gates took a structure to them for the briefest of seconds. I blinked at the name as a slow, satisfied smile tugged at my cheeks.

“I’m starting to feel self-conscious now,” I spoke up as I was being surrounded by rippling portals. “King Arthur, Iskandar, and now you… Gilgamesh, King of Heroes. How am I supposed to compete?” Winding Archer up wasn’t just to make myself better in combat against him, but to tip his hand into revealing his noble phantasm. Now all the other Servants would know it and be able to plan around it. In theory.

Because I was coming up with a whole lot of nothing when it came to ideas on how to defeat the King of Heroes. Gates of Babylon contained all the world’s treasures - past, present, and future. And he was throwing them around like it was filled with worthless trash. Did he not know how to pick things out specifically? Or did he just not care to? Because I’m certain that there were more than a few things in his treasury that could kill me without needing to strike my Spirit Core. With my E rank Luck, I’m surprised he didn’t get me with one on accident.

I didn’t expect to be saved, but shockingly, it was Berserker that came to my rescue. Berserker threw back his head and screamed, a ferocious howl of madness escaping him as he sprinted forward, scooping up one of the fallen noble phantasms as he rushed to Archer. The golden-clad man snarled, and I could practically see him snapping as he took aim at Berserker.

The fight, I struggled to follow with my eyes, but Berserker was filled with hate. Driven mad by it. While it was more general, it was directed at me just as much as it was Archer, letting me predict the fight that followed. Berserker proved that he was surprisingly adept at fighting with whatever weapon was in his hands, using the ones that were fired at him to great use to block and press the attack to close the distance to Archer.

Archer didn’t move and simply ramped up his firing rate, completely demolishing the ground where Berserker was, but Berserker simply pressed forward with an insane determination to kill Archer.

The sound of clashing blades caught my attention, making me divert my attention to Saber and Lancer, who had resumed their bout. Rider had retreated up, flying in the air just above the shipping containers. He watched the battles with a frown on his face -- he didn’t strike me as the kind of person that would flee. My guess is he was torn on which fight to join in.

“Caster!” Irisviel shouted, catching my attention, looking up at me with red eyes. “We accept your offer!”

That brought a smile to my face.

And with that, I activated my bounded field.

…

Saber felt the change in the air as a chill ran down her spine. Like her blood had suddenly turned to ice in her veins, and if it wasn’t for the same thing happening to Lancer, that brief moment of hesitation would have cost her her life. Excalibur was heavy in her hand, the pain in her forearm hadn’t lessened -- a curse had been placed on the wound, which had unfortunately severed a tendon, leaving her thumb useless. She heard the maddened howl from Berserker and felt the vibrations under her feet from the explosions coming from Archer’s barrage of noble phantasms.

However, that wasn’t what stilled her so. Saber looked above to see the sky vanishing, replaced with a pitch-black void that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Black mist began to seep over the ground, masking her feet. It felt vile. She could feel it washing over her, filling every pore with its filth, and each breath almost felt visceral.

But, the worst part was the whispers. Saber could almost make out what they were saying as they seemed to come from all around her. The odd word here and there. Curses. The words were just as vile as the feeling this place gave her. Worse was the fact that Saber recognized some of the whispers -- Lancelot. Her wife, Guinevere. Gwaine. The Knights of the Round Table. Her sister, Morgan Le Fay. Mordred, her… son. All of them cursing her. Hating her. Wishing unimaginable suffering upon her.

Lancer spun his spears, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and rolling by that damnable mole, “Perhaps I was mistaken about you, Saber. Does a noble spirit truly dwell within you if you would ally with that thing? How it entered the Throne of Heroes is beyond me.” Lancer said, making Saber’s lips thin at the accusation. In truth, she disliked it. Irisviel was the one who made the decision, as was her right -- she saw her injury and concluded that she needed help.

“I got in on a technicality,” Angra Mainyu stepped out of the shadows that seemed to writhe in the corners of her eyes, appearing behind Lancer. She could feel the gazes within the shadows like a pressure on her skin. Angra Mainyu shed his modern attire, adopting the clothing of his time -- a blood-red rag of cloth that covered his legs like a skirt, with foot bindings to act as footwear. His torso was bare, revealing that the patchwork of scars carved into his skin covered every inch of him.

Only now, they weren’t in ancient Persian script. It was in Old English to her eyes. The words carved into his body… they defied description. Saber thought she understood the depravity of humanity, but there were words written on him that she never would have imagined in her wildest nightmares. In his Legend, Angra Mainyu was the source of those evils and he had suffered them. Suffering was not something that could be compared, not in a quantifiable way.

Angra Mainyu, however, had undoubtedly suffered the most out of anyone in human history.

Lancer shifted, ready to do battle with them both. Saber felt compelled to say something, “Caster, do not interfere. This is a duel between knights,” she told him, meeting his gaze, and Lancer appeared relieved. Not because the sanctity of their duel would not be besmirched, but because Saber had proved that he hadn’t been wrong about her.

“Hm, but I’m not a knight, so what do I care?” Angra Mainyu questioned, tilting his head. There was a beat of silence and Saber realized that she couldn’t hear the battle between Berserker and Archer. Had it already been settled? Saber didn’t dare look away from Angra Mainyu -- he was a snake that would strike at her the moment her attention faltered.

He was dangerous. More than that, he was undeniably powerful. Perhaps he did not possess extreme raw power that could equal her Excalibur, but whatever his noble phantasm was, it was extremely difficult to counter and he used it well. Should they clash as enemies, Saber was uncertain of her victory. Not because she would lose, but merely because she was uncertain if she could win.

"It matters not. Once I dispatch you, Saber and I can finish our duel," Lancer responded, his tone confident. However, he must understand the situation he was in. It was bluster, pure and simple. Her respect for Lancer increased -- he was a true noble soul. If time had permitted, she would have welcomed him at the Round Table as one of her knights. For, it was in the face of death that knights revealed their mettle.

Angra Mainyu smiled a sinister smile, not at all displeased. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a war cry that came from above. Saber looked up and was forced to jump back when Rider's chariot nearly landed on her. The smell of ozone was welcomed over the stench of rot that seemed to permeate the air.

"This cannot stand! Caster, if you are so eager to do battle, then I shall be your opponent. The bloom of battle shall not be tainted by the interference of others," Rider announced, his voice a thunderous boom. Despite the announcement technically being to her detriment, Saber found herself relieved.

Lancer wore a small smile, "My thanks, King of Conquerors."

Saber could not see him, but she heard Angra Mainyu's next words clearly. "Alright. S'fine with me," he said before the black mist around their feet began to shift. Saber's eyes widened as she realized what this must mean was a moment too late, just before it condensed. It lurched up, suddenly becoming deformed arms that latched onto Lancer and Rider, making the bulls of his chariot bellow in pain as mouths in the arms began to take bites of their flesh.

Lancer's face contorted in pain as he leaped up, easily able to break free of their grasps, but the black taint wasn't so easily dismissed. It spread across his clothes, digging into his flesh as she saw the black stains contort and change shape. Rider flew upward, but Angra wasn't so keen to let him go. The mist condensed further, the mutilated hands becoming claws with jagged spikes that pulled his chariot down. The arms thickened, melding together like rope as they encroached upward while pulling down.

"Who are you, Caster?!" Lancer demanded as Saber leaped up onto the shipping container, her sword at the ready. Lancer's face was pained and he was sweating bullets, "That filth… how many curses did you cast upon me?"

Angra Mainyu was still below, that same sinister smile on his face. "I have no name. It was stricken from the Avesta, so I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to." He answered dispassionately as the black mist began to rise. It flowed over the shipping container as a visceral ooze in the appearance of dozens of people crawling over each other to reach them. Saber found herself unnerved, clenching her sword in preparation- "Saber, you don't have anything to worry about. We're allies, remember?"

She knew that. She understood it. But as she witnessed what appeared to be dozens of mutilated children crawling towards her and Lancer, that fact did little to reassure her. Truly, Angra Mainyu had earned the title of All the World's Evil.

Her eyes met Lancers, who offered a curt nod in response. Still, it felt wrong. "I am sorry, Lancer," Saber said, meaning the words, but that was all that could be said. Distasteful or not, he would die by her hands.

With that, Saber darted in, her swordplay suffering from her inability to move her thumb, but she was still powerful. Despite the curses that plagued him, Lancer was still quick on his feet, his spears darting out as he fought defensively. He was forced to back up to the ledge when the black ooze lunged for him.

Sensing his peril, he darted forward and her blade clashed against his yellow spear. Sparks went up, but it was as if the heavy darkness that surrounded them seemed to absorb light. They traded a flurry of blows, the shipping container warping underneath the force of them, forcing them to take their battle elsewhere. All the while, Saber kept an eye on Rider, who had managed to free himself and now did battle with Angra Mainyu.

She and Lancer leaped over to another row of containers, only for the black ooze to lash out beneath them, grabbing hold of his ankle and dragging him down. "Lancer!" Saber called out as she landed, and it appeared that Lancer had vanished into the darkness. Then a shipping container flipped up, sailing through the air -- Saber looked to the source to find that it was Berserker that had struck the container with such force that the container was sent flying.

Archer stood far off, a seemingly impossible distance away. He was almost a beacon of light as he kept the darkness at bay. Berserker recovered unnaturally fast, diving forward to clash with Archer once again, and to Saber's shock, she saw Angra Mainyu fighting with Berserker.

Angra Mainyu was fighting multiple Servants at the same time. What need did he have for an alliance with her?

Her thoughts were broken by Lancer emerging from the darkness, landing on the shipping container that they had jumped from. His back was turned to her, but it was clear that his freedom didn't come without cost. Wounds covered his body and they wept black blood. He spared her a glance over his shoulder, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, before Lancer sprinted forward, towards Angra Mainyu.

Saber bit her lip as she gave chase -- Angra Mainyu was not her choice in ally, but he was nonetheless. She crossed the distance once again, finding Lancer carving a path through the black muck with his red spear. She pursued, nearing in but a moment, but she was suddenly forced to abandon the path when the black muck rose up. At first, she suspected betrayal, but no attack came.

It was almost as if the muck was… protecting Lancer? The idea seemed absurd. But when she effortlessly leaped over it to do battle with Lancer, her eyes widened when she saw that the brief delay had cost her. Angra Mainyu stood in the middle of the containers, Lancer at his side and driving both spears into him as Rider came round, slashing his head from his body.

She landed nearby, her lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze met Rider's, who wore a grim mask of determination. She bared her teeth, the wind coating her sword spinning fiercely in a whirlwind. 'Mana Burst!' She utilized the technique, thrusting her blade at Rider and his chariot, the wind carrying her to increase her speed. Rider changed course, just barely fast enough to save his own life, but not that of one of his bulls. Excalibur skewered the bull through the chest, invisible wind tearing its flesh apart.

They passed by one another, the bull corpse falling to the side as Rider rounded, preparing for another pass.

"Aw, so you do care," Saber heard a moment before Lancer screamed. She looked over just in time to see the body that Lancer had pierced suddenly become a mess of barbed black spikes that punched through his torso and limbs. Yet, he didn't die. The mass of spikes lunged for the weapons that pierced Angra Mainyu's body, but Lancer was already moving. He darted back, uncaring of the damage done to his body as the barbed spikes were ripped free from his flesh. Angra Mainyu attempted to stop the action by latching onto one of Lancer's arms, but Lancer reacted instantly.

His yellow spear came down on his own arm which was engulfed in Angra Mainyu's body, severing the limb at the elbow. He finished jumping back, landing near Rider. Lancer breathed heavily as he spared a glance at the red-headed man, "Do me a favor?" he requested, offering the profusely bleeding stump. Rider obliged with action rather than words. His sword came down in a flash, cutting off Lancer's elbow, and the encroaching taint spreading from it. A second later, the wound stopped bleeding.

Severed limbs would take time to heal in full. Only a damaged spiritual core could not be recovered from. And none of the spikes had touched his core… Saber could only imagine that had been done deliberately. An act of mercy? Or some ignoble plot that she failed to grasp?

"It's a terrible thing," spoke Rider as he eyed a reformed Angra Mainyu that stood by her side, Lancer's spear in hand. Except it was different. The polished red surface was dyed black, leaving only the detail work red, and it seemed to glow ominously. "For a Servant to steal another's noble phantasm."

Angra Mainyu chuckled, "I'm merely taking what I want whenever I want and having the courage to see my actions through -- does the heart of a conqueror not beat in my chest, Rider?" he questioned, throwing Rider's words back at him with vindictive glee.

Rider's eyes narrowed but he said nothing; it was clear that he was unhappy with the situation. Lancer clenched his remaining spear in his remaining hand with white knuckles, his eyes suddenly widened.

"Caster- you!" Saber realized the reason why when she felt a similar tug in her gut. Looking at the source, she saw her Master, Kiritsugu rise from the darkness, bound in black sinew that was covered in eyes and mouths that whispered terrible things. His expression remained flat, though his eyes did drift to her for but a moment. Next to him was a woman with short hair -- Saber did not recognize her. Nor did she the man with swept back blonde hair, dressed in a royal blue overcoat that looked worthy of a king.

"Don't go swinging at me with that sword, Saber. You really might kill me with it," Angra Mainyu said as she rounded on him. "I was gonna ask if you knew 'em, but I guess that answers that," he said, and the ties binding her master were released. Now only the blonde man was bound, much to Lancer's displeasure.

"Have you no shame, Caster?! To target my Master?" he snarled, fury etched into his face. But he didn't dare move as Angra Mainyu casually put an arm around the man's shoulder, completely ignoring Kiritsugu, who retreated towards her.

Angra Mainyu chuckled, "Completely devoid of it. Or pride. Honor too," he replied, making Saber grit her teeth. "This vessel is filled with nothing but hatred. There’s no room for anything else."

"I see," Rider spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm. Did he have an inkling of who Angra Mainyu was? If he did, then he didn't voice it.

Lancer stepped forward, "Release my master, Caster." he demanded, and Saber's sword trembled in her hand. This was… deplorable. Disgusting. She wished no part of this. To target a rival's Master was a matter of tactics, but holding them hostage? It sat ill with her.

"Sure," Angra Mainyu agreed easily. Too easily. Her surprise lasted but a moment before it turned to open horror as Lancer's Master began to scream, the sound muffled by the make-shift gag he wore. His flesh bubbled as if it were boiling water, rippling up his neck and across his face, his skin shifting color to an angry red as horns pierced through his flesh at his forehead while his eyes seemed to melt. Saber took a step back, her lips parting in disgust as the human was turned into something monstrous.

Bat-like wings emerged from his back, the gloves he wore breaking open as his fingers became phallus-like, his arms bulging and tearing his overcoat. In but a few moments, a creature from hell stood in the human's place. The gag fell away, and he screamed, "What did you do to me?!" he wailed and dropped to his knees, looking down at his hands in horror, his aristocratic face now bestial in nature.

"I just made your outside reflect your insides a little bit better -- Pride. Malice. Lust. Greed… you really are something. Dick fingers? Really?" Angra Mainyu asked with a cheerful laugh, as innocent as a boy receiving sweets. The only thing that stopped Lancer from attacking was Rider putting a hand on his shoulder, knowing that death awaited him should he attack.

"Change me back! Change me back! She'll… she won't love me like this!" he begged, tears dripping down his face from his empty eye sockets. It was a wretched sight and her stomach churned at the idea that Angra Mainyu was her ally. He was more depraved than Morgan had been at her worst. Worse than she had ever been capable of.

Angra seemed faintly surprised, "Change you back? Sorry, no can do," he said, killing any hope he might have held without a care. "It's completely out of my hands. But… it's not out of yours," Angra said, wearing an expression that could be mistaken for kind. "All you have to do is get rid of the parts of yourself that cause your appearance. What you look like is your nature. Want it to change? Then change who you are."

"Caster, cease with your games! They are pointlessly cruel," Saber demanded, grinding her teeth.

"I would say it's a kindness," he refuted without care. "Oh, are you worried about your lady love not wanting you?" he questioned the monster he created, before he snapped his fingers as if he had had an idea. Saber wished he didn't voice it. She couldn't stomach much more. "I know, I'll just do the same thing to her! Then she can't hold it against you, now can she? It'll be like a love story -- you find redemption in each other, leading you to become better people. Shit, I need a pen and some paper-"

"Lancer! Lancer! Save me!" the creature begged, the command seal flashing on his hand. And then Lancer moved. He was fast. Faster than he had been before. All she felt was a brush of wind on her face as Lancer passed her by, his speed augmented by the command seal. He scooped his Master up, and with a single leap, he was gone, sailing through the air. Angra Mainyu made no move to stop them.

Kiritsugu looked to him, "You're letting him get away?" he asked, his voice cold. Completely devoid of human emotion.

Angra Mainyu shared a cheeky smirk, "What good is redemption if you are denied a chance to find it?" he questioned, his tone flippant. As if what he did meant nothing to him.

Saber's shoulders trembled -- the indifferent mask she wore as a King had a fatal crack in it. "Caster… I cannot accept you as my ally. What you've done-!" she snapped, raising her sword to bear it at him. He didn't look surprised.

"I'd be rather disappointed in you if you did, Saber," he responded, sounding unusually solemn. "Well, Rider? Shall we continue?" he asked Rider, who watched them all stoically.

Rider seemed to consider it for a moment before he shook his head. "No, we shall not. At least, not yet." He decided as his chariot began to rise. "We will face each other again, Caster. Saber, you are a brilliant star… be wary of the darkness that surrounds you. Else it will swallow your light up," he advised, and again, Angra Mainyu made no move to stop him.

He was out of mana, Saber realized. How much had this consumed? Against so many foes? He had seemed so uniquely powerful that she hadn't considered that such power came at a cost and that he would run out of mana so quickly.

The darkness was being pushed back by a bright shining light off in the distance. Angra looked on at Archer, whose marvelous glow put a split in the infinite darkness around them. Then, like glass, it shattered. The pieces rained down, but they faded long before they reached the ground, leaving them with a normal night sky above their heads once again. The mist faded into nothing and the horrid stench vanished, replaced by the smell of metal and the sea.

Archer stood at the other end of the docks. His arms crossed, appearing no worse for wear than he had been when the fight started. Berserker laid on the ground, his armor punctured by weapons of all kinds. However, he seemed to still live based on the furious, haunting moans and growls he let out.

"Caster," Archer began, his voice serious. Gone was the rage and the arrogance. "Do not believe I do not see through your pathetic actions." Saber shifted, looking to Angra Mainyu, who seemed unsurprised. He had an ulterior motive? For that act of evil? For what reason? "I shall spare you for now. At least until I can think of something suitable to make you suffer what you deserve."

Angra Mainyu let out a small amused laugh, "I suppose there's no fooling you, King of Heroes. Guess I missed my shot. You're stupidly overpowered, you know that? I guess that's what's it's like to be loved by the gods and to be so blessed you're incapable of failure."

Archer smiled a deadly smile, "We shall meet again soon, Caster." he said before he dematerialized in a shower of golden light. In a moment, he was gone. Leaving only she and Angra Mainyu at the demolished docks that couldn't be compared to how they had looked at the start of the battle.

Saber looked to Angra Mainyu, whose body shifted until he once again wore modern clothing -- a black jacket with fur around the collar, black pants, and white and black sneakers. He looked to her, a slight grin on his face for but a moment before he looked to Kiritsugu, her Master. "So, how'd I do? Am I on the team, or is this where you betray me? Because, I'll have you know, I have options -- me and Berserker are buddies now. We really see eye to eye on a lot of issues-” he began, looking over to see Berserker dematerialize once the weapons that pierced his body faded.

There was a beat of silence. Angra Mainyu looked back at her and her Master, "We're still buddies." he decided without an ounce of hesitation. It might sound like idle chatter, but the idea of Angra Mainyu teaming up with Berserker was an unsettling one. Almost as unsettling as the thought of fighting by his side.

Kiritsugu took a moment to consider, but Saber already knew his decision. "The alliance will hold. For now."

Saber met Angra Mainyu's gaze, and she felt the malicious intent within.

"Look forward to workin' with you, Saber."

...

Angra Mainyu's blackening works a bit differently as a Caster. For humans that are blackened, instead of becoming Alters of themselves, they become daemons. Which Angra Mainyu is the king of, so in a way, they're proto familiars to him since he's incapable of creating normal familiars. And Kayneth's existence being suffering is a timeline staple. It's a cornerstone of a healthy timeline, like Bruce Wayne's parents getting murdered.