The Count of Monte Cristo
Once upon a time, the City of Lyon was saved.
In the year 1643, the city was struck by the Black Death, and its people prayed for salvation. Soon enough, the plague passed, and to celebrate their salvation, the Municipal Authorities paid tribute to the virgin Mary. And every year thereafter, they would give offerings in remembrance.
I had actually heard of this story even before ascending to the Throne. It was quite famous, after all - but in this singularity, it is 1431, so such an event has not yet taken place. The Salvation of Lyon is still a long way away, and as I watch the town burn and crumble, I can't help but wonder if it will come at all.
"-Kuhaha!" Bitter laughter escapes my lips as I smile at the irony. "In the end, it all comes back to 'Wait and Hope' again, then! Just make it to 1643, and you'll all be saved, right?"
...In any case, I came here for a reason, so I might as well head over to take care of it. Cloak billowing, I stalk through the smoldering city streets, the black flames licking at my heels.
Eventually, I reach it. A small, unassuming house just like all the others. But I can already sense the Servant hiding in the cellar, so I can pick it out with ease. If I hadn't been sent here, he may have got away with it, but…
"...My so-called master can sense the status of all summoned servants, so it can't be helped. Curse your bad fortune, Dragonslayer. You were doomed from the start, even with that Saint's intervention." -Muttering such cruel words, I slip into the house.
***
The interior is a scene from hell. An old man is against the wall, a broken sword clutched in one hand, but his other hand and both legs are strewn across the room. His wife, meanwhile, has been painted across the kitchen table, where her blood has mixed with the liquid dripping from a young man pinned to the ceiling by one of Berserk Lancer's spears.
I burn the sights into my brain, searing the record of every atrocity into my heart. "...But the time isn't right. My so called master still has yet to reach maturity. And so, until the end of all this, I will carry your hate. For now… wait and hope."
The corpses smolder and burn. The tortured souls of the vengeful dead cry out, and the black flame billowing around me grows just a bit more. Idly, I slip the old man's broken sword into my belt, since I have a use for it. Letting out a small laugh, I kick open the cellar door and descend into the bowels of the Earth.
At the bottom of the stairs there is a cupboard. A little to the right, just slightly out of sight. The perfect place for an ambush - but I can sense Saber deeper within the cellar, so it would be natural to disregard it.
-a young girl bursts from the cupboard, and, with a cry of fury, drives Saber's blade into my back. I allow the attack to hit, out of respect for her spirit.-
[Oblivion Correction] - one of the innate skills of my class. A true Avenger never forgets when he is wronged. In a place like a Singularity, where time is not stable, and the past doubles back on itself, it can take the form of premonitions - visions of a future that once was. Or perhaps it's simply my own status as one who can slip beyond the shackles of time.
Regardless, I slip the broken blade across the handles of the cupboard door. An instant later, she slams against the doors, attempting to break free and strike me down, but to no avail. Screams and sobs issue forth in short order, but I pay little attention.
"Kuhaha! You would have succeeded, had fate not sided against you. Now, as for you, Dragonslayer - Sigurd, was it?" The Saber materializes in response to my demands - what's left of him anyway. His torso resembles a crushed juice box, and his entire body is spiderwebbed with black lines - curses, from his clash with my 'master'. But even still, the emblem on his exposed chest glows brightly, and he stands proud in response to my question.
"-that's correct. And you?"
"Berserk Avenger. The King of the Cavern." Of course, the Berserk part isn't actually accurate. Mad Enhancement doesn't really 'stick' to Avengers, because of [Oblivion Correction]. But lying to fit in with my 'allies' is fine. In any case-
In a burst of flame, slipping beyond time and space, I move to tear Sigurd's heart from his chest.
Only to bruise my fingers as my knife-shaped hand fails to penetrate his bare skin. Tch. So not Sigurd, but Siegfried - I guess I walked into that.
Before I can jump back, his left hand grabs my head, and smashes my face into his right knee, breaking my nose, teeth, and jaw - and then his left foot smashes into the side of my head, dashing me against the stone wall of the cellar - cheekbone, left shoulder, and three ribs, all shatter. My right eye is juiced like a ripe grape.
As I fall to the ground, his armored boot plunges towards my neck - but I barely roll out of the way, and before he can try again- "[Enfer Château d'If]!" I slip beyond the shackles of time and space, stumbling out the front door of the house.
My flames sputter, my form starts to break down- "Not yet, not yet-! [Attendre, Espérer]."
My body melts into golden mist, reforming itself anew - all my injuries heal, and my Spirit Origin pulses as my Parameters receive a rank-up from the Noble Phantasm's activation. "Kuhaha! Once more, then - I follow a path beyond love and hate! [Enfer Château d'If]!"
I pass into the house - now almost entirely up in flames - and intercept Siegfried as he exits the cellar in pursuit of me. He's retrieved his blade from the cupboard, but it won't save him from my strongest Noble Phantasm.
From his point of view, it must be as though I've multiplied - but all of my copies are but afterimages, and even as they release gouts of black flame at him, even as he cuts the curses out of the air -
My true body pops into existence behind him, and my right hand, coated in claws of black flame, punctures the weak spot on his back, and clutching his beating heart-!
There's a flicker of motion, and suddenly he's facing me, and only detonating my right arm in a storm of black flame saves me from his counterattack.
He jumps back as well, the cursed fire coating him already extinguished.
"...So this is the [Disengage] skill. I'll need to prepare something to counter it next time." I mutter.
"-Next time, you say." The remainder of my right arm is severed as I dodge his strike. "I'm sorry, but I won't allow that to happen."
"No, I'm already free - [Enfer Château d'If]!" - and with that, I land in the castle of Orleans, breathing heavily.
***
My so-called master growls at my return. "He's still alive."
"Obviously. You overestimated how much his injuries would slow him down." I reply, eyes narrowing. "Or was the 'he' you were talking about just now not the Dragonslayer, but rather myself?"
"Oh, give it a rest." Jeanne d'Arc sighs. "I've got enough stuff to deal with without your damn persecution complex."
"Yes! How dare you! How dare you besmirch the name of our great Dragon Witch, you filthy familiar-!" Berserk Caster shrieks. I ignore him, since he's worthless.
"-He was Siegfried, not Sigurd. You had to have seen that when you fought him, so why did you tell me the opposite?" I hiss. "I don't tolerate betrayal, my so-called master-!"
"Why would I remember one or the other? They don't matter. They're just obstacles. Obstacles to be burned-" She starts.
"No. No, you're doing it wrong, my so-called master. Slothfulness is unbecoming of a would-be Avenger. You must be meticulous. If you do not know everything about your target, your revenge will fail. If you don't prepare as much as possible, your revenge will fail." I rant, sparks spilling from my eyes.
"-Shut up, Count." She snarls, finally biting back. "It doesn't matter. France will be destroyed. I will destroy France, because that is why I exist. This mistake of a country, will burn and sink into the ocean."
Gilles gives his usual simpering encouragement, but I ignore him. How dull. This 'master', and the man puppeteering her, are far too dull. These subhuman existences aren't even worth casting into despair.
"-In any case, you have good timing, Count. A new servant has shown up, and I want to see her." Jeanne Alter says. "Lend me your Noble Phantasm, won't you?"
"...What did you just say?" I ask, eyes wide.
"Lend me your Noble Phantasm. I'll use a command spell if-" She snarls.
"Before that!" I start to smile.
"A new Servant appeared. I want to see her. What the hell is-?"
"Ha! Kuhahaha! -So you are capable of wanting something for yourself, my so-called master!" I laugh. "Thank goodness - I was worried you would remain stuck as a mere fallen saint forever."
"Shut up, or I'll kill you." She gives her usual empty snarl. "Let's go, then - they're moving towards La Charité. We'll intercept them there. Gilles, stay here, since you're useless without that tome."
He starts to say something, but I ignore him, scooping my 'master' up into my arms. Desperately, the flames of vengeance churn for release - but not yet. Not just yet. She'll be ready soon. Soon, my so-called master will grow beyond a mere humanoid wish. Soon, she'll have a human will.
And then, when she can finally understand the suffering inflicted upon her - only then, will I cast her into the fires of hell.
Until then, I will wait, and hope.
"[Enfer Château d'If]!"