Disclaimer: The following chapter is more or less an intermission between the action. It was easily the hardest chapter to write (so far) for reasons that will become blatantly apparent once you see its content. I think it more than justifies changing this story's rating to that of "Mature".

Being lost in the fog was … unnerving to say the least. Even with her refined Servant senses, Nero was incapable of seeing anything past what the fog itself wished for her to see. This meant that most of her vision was permanently blocked by the white wisps of condensed prana. The scene before her would open sporadically to give her a glimpse at some manner of unusual sight.

She'd already seen a rabbit with a pocket watch, a caterpillar smoking a hookah pipe, and a rotund feline grinning at her maniacally from its position in a tree.

Her attempts at calling to such strange creatures were futile. Just as her attempts at approaching them. Any indication of her moving towards them would result in the fog quickly overtaking her once more. Then, it would almost seem as if it reshuffled the world around her as landmarks she'd previously encountered either shifted their position or disappeared entirely.

During all of this, she was tasked with the rather frustrating job of cleaning house. A full house, that is. She was periodically swarmed with mobs of … soldiers? They were just as strange as everything else in this world, having torsos that were made of playing cards. At first, they were nothing but a minor nuisance. They came at her without any sort of defensive strategy to them, charging wildly and meeting their end when her swordsmanship easily surpassed their own.

But with each wave, they seemed to progressively evolve to combat her expertise. Plated armor covered their once bare bodies. Helmets began to conceal their previously visible faces. In the first wave they had nothing but short swords and as such, they were easily defeated the second they got within range to use them. Now, they came at her all matter of weapon. Spears, axes, maces, tridents, and on and on. Archers shot at her from beyond the fog. Her sword found itself impacting steel (either a shield or another blade) more often than their papery 'flesh'.

The only blood that was spilled in this endless duel was her own. Exactly one drop. It had fallen when she'd been hit with the first volley of arrows. None of the arrows themselves had hit her, but in the resulting scurry to block the attack she'd been sideswiped by a rather ambitious soldier. The card warrior had managed to scratch the side of her left cheek. He was shredded soon after this. As were all his comrades.

Jeopardizing the Emperor's beauty was a no-no.

The scratch is what truly made Nero start to worry. Not the wound itself, but the fact that it didn't heal. This wasn't the product of some trump card of the enemy. No, there was a far simpler explanation. Her Praetor was supplying her with the bare minimum of prana necessary to keep her alive. Nothing more.

The link between Master and Servant felt incredibly weak and she found herself unable to contact him telepathically. Attempts at looking through his vision were just as unsuccessful. Their bond had never been more strained. It felt as if he were standing on the precipice of life and death.

This was worrying, to say the least. Nero struggled to push through the forest, moving forward despite not entirely knowing where she was going. She had no means of finding him, but that didn't stop her from trying.

It was in vain. Her perception was limited exponentially from the fog and the odd manner in which the forest itself would shift. Nero was betting everything on sheer chance. There was simply no alternative. She had no means of pinpointing her Praetor's location and even if she did it would be unlikely she'd be capable of navigating to him with the forest's interference taken into account.

However, she knew he was in danger. If there was even a one percent chance of her managing to find him she'd have to take it. Regardless of whether or not it seemed hopeless, an Emperor does not abandon their subjects and she would certainly not abandon her Praetor.

At least … that's what she first thought. But as time passed, she found herself unable to remember who the 'Emperor' she was previously thinking about was. It would seem that a rank of C in Magic Resistance can only get you so far when you're trapped in the belly of the beast.

Eventually, Nero found herself in a clearing. She did not recall how she'd gotten there nor could she remember how long it'd taken her to stumble across it. Her mind blanked as she gazed upon the surrealness of the sight before her. It surpassed any of the sights she'd previously encountered.

Yes, even the smoking caterpillar.

A massive dining table that seemed to stretch several hundred feet, covered in nothing but tea kettles, cups, and saucers. And at its head sat a small girl. She couldn't have been any older than twelve.

Her skin was so pale it could have passed for porcelain. In fact, several of the less colorful sets of crockery appeared to be only a shade or two whiter than her. Only a few things could explain this. Either this young girl had never been outside in her life, she was deathly ill, an albino, or … she was a ginger.

The last potential explanation was debunked when one considered the color of her hair. It was somewhere between silver and ivory. Her eye color, lavender pink, suggested that the albino theory had the most support.

Combining all of this with her peculiar choice of attire, a dress straight out of the Victorian era, and one could easily admit that the child made a bold impression.

However, in Nero's foggy, addled mind the girl wasn't the most important part of this scene. No, that honor went to the newly animated chinaware that danced around the table while pouring tea for guests that had not yet arrived.

She was so fixated upon the blatantly magical act that she almost didn't catch the enthusiastic proclamation the snow-white girl made. "You finally made it!" The girl then proceeded to cutely pout, hiding her growing smile behind a look of frustration. "Why did you take so long? The tea's going to be cold by now!"

At that moment, Nero fully understood that she was in for a unique experience.

Chapter 17- Fallen Angel

This … is most certainly not where I expected to find myself. I'm not in my mansion. Nor am I in the forest directly outside it. No, I find myself in an unfamiliar room. One almost cloaked completely in darkness. There are like three candles scattered about the place haphazardly.

My hand goes for where I'd concealed the Pico on my person … only to come up with nothing. A frantic pat down of my body led was just as unfruitful. I was unarmed and in a strange place I hadn't recalled being in before I'd blacked out.

This sets off more than a few alarm bells.

Hey, at least Magecraft worked. Though my signature style was all but useless without the proper materials and the little compartmentalization scheme I'd whipped up with some of the larger weapons I'd need was just as pointless because, again, they were no longer on me. Hell, even my phone and wallet were missing.

So what's a man to do in this kind of situation? Remain prone on the ground and hope that things will eventually start to make sense? I won't lie, it's an appealing idea but … something tells me that nothing's going to change unless I make it. No one's going to come and explain this to me so I'll have to figure it out for myself.

I can only hope whatever unknown I'm walking into is at least a bit friendly.

"How can such a magnificent artist disappear from this world?"

Sweet John Moses Browning, that scared the shit out of me! Fuck off with that jump scare bullshit!

How in the hell did I not notice her? Sure, the environment I'm in isn't exactly well illuminated but I still should have been able of at least feeling her presence. Did she just spontaneously generate in the corner over there? Does this mean Louis Pasteur was wrong all along?

"Fucking hell, woman. Don't just spook a guy like that. You could have given me a heart attack."

She doesn't even acknowledge that I've spoken. How rude.

I can't discern much about her appearance, on account of the somewhat dim lighting, but I can tell she's kneeling in a seiza position. She's also practically naked. No joke. She looks to be wearing an uncomfortably loose tunic. The thing has to be at least two sizes too big.

I can't see her face because she's got her back to me but even if it wasn't, I probably wouldn't be able to make out much in the way of details. Hell, you could point a spotlight right at her and I still wouldn't be able to tell you what she looked like. Her hair, which is a light blonde color, goes past her butt. It's so long that, in the position she's sitting in, the ends of it touch the soles of her feet (which is kinda gross). It's so long that, even though I can't see the front of her, I can assume that it's doing the same to her face, chest, etc. The woman's draped in her own hair.

While I'm processing all of this information and trying to figure out what the hell's going on, she starts moving. One of her hands, a dainty looking thing that'd would fit a porcelain doll better than a grown woman, lifts up something that appears to be a piece of metal. Either that or it's something like glass. I'm only guessing what it is based on the fact that it's glistening in the … moonlight?

Well shit. This place has a skylight. That's kind of neat. I guess.

Wait a second. That wasn't there before. This place wouldn't have been so dark if it were. When did they add it? How did they add it so fast?

None of this makes any goddamn sense and it's starting to annoy me. "Lady, what the hell are you doing over there? Where the hell am I and who the fuck are you?" I start cursing profusely at the woman out of frustration. Probably not the best idea because she ignores me. Though, since this is the second time that she's done that I can't even accurately conclude it's a result of my impoliteness.

"How can such a magnificent artist disappear from this world?"

"What are you on about? Are you talking about Pesci?" She can't be. The man's death may have been recent by some's standards but it wasn't like it happened yesterday. Most of the world's already forgotten him. It's a crying shame but I suppose I can't expect others to espouse my level of dedication to the guy. Even the people who recognize his name only know him as 'that short guy in the gangster movies Martin Scorsese made'.

Ah … I'm getting sidetracked here. The woman doesn't answer me. Big surprise there.

Now that I think about it her voice does sound kind of similar. Not similar enough that I'm able of putting a name to it but it's distinguishable enough to stand out. Strange … I've been acquainted with a great many people in my lifetime but only a handful or so are worth recalling.

Would I really be able to remember someone's voice while having forgotten who they were?

Wait ….

How am I able of hearing her to begin with?!

My eardrums were blown out! Sure, I've been getting by based off of context clues, amateur lipreading, and Nero's assistance but–

Sonofabitch! That's the voice! That's who it sounds like!

Why does this deaf cunt's voice sound like Nero's?! And why can I fucking hear her when I'm supposed to be just as much of a deaf cunt?!

I start striding towards her. I'm not really angry (ok maybe I'm a little angry) just … utterly flabbergasted. She's the only other person here so she's my only potential lead for getting answers. I don't know how I got here and I don't know who she is. But I do know I really want to know why her voice sounds like a throatier version of Nero's.

I don't know when it happened but the room's lit up considerably more. Maybe it's a product of the hole in the ceiling (their miserable excuse for a skylight) but it's almost like a spotlight has shined down upon the kneeling blonde. The sudden brightness takes some getting adjusted too but at least it gives me a better view of both her and the rest of my environment.

And … I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

It looks like I've stepped into a scene from the 1959 version of Julius Caesar. No joke. I feel like I'm on a Hollywood set. There are marble pillars, covered in what appears to be grape vines, working to keep the ceiling up. The décor furnishing the place screams 'expensive', with various random portraits and art pieces cluttering up the area surrounding me. I can only assume there are even more in the distant corners of the room that have yet to be fully illuminated.

But, above all else, the feature of the house (manor, villa, mansion?) that stands out the most are the statues of Nero. All of them are angled in such a way that I'll always remain in their line of sight. Regardless of where I move to in the room. There are so many of them that I can't help but feel unnerved. What exactly have I gotten myself into?

Yet another question added to the pile. And, just like the others, I don't think I'll be able to ever ask it.

Because right when I turned my gaze away from the eerie statues and realigned it upon that woman, I realized exactly what the object she had been holding was. The one that had glittered when the roof had initially gained a skylight.

It is indeed a piece of metal. In fact, I'd hazard a guess and say it's probably a piece of iron.

A piece of iron that happens to have been crafted into a dagger.

A dagger that she's currently pressing against her neck.

"Hark, now strikes on my ear the trampling of swift-footed coursers!"

I-i-is she … is she quoting the Iliad? Oh no. That cannot be a good sign. Someone quoting classical literature is never a good sign.

That assumption is verified when she starts brutally slashing her own throat open.

I can't see it. She's facing away from me so I can't actually see the act being committed. But, from the back-and-forth motion her hand's making and the sound of flesh tearing I can safely conclude that she is indeed slitting her throat. And she's doing it with a blade that's not particularly sharp.

Despite not being privy to the entirety of the sight before me, I can only conclude that it's one of the most barbaric acts I've ever witnessed. Not the most barbaric but it's definitely in the top five.

Whoever said 'suicide is painless' clearly never saw this. This was probably one of the worst ways to go.

What could have possibly happened to her to the point that this sort of grisly demise was a better alternative to living? How desperate do you have to be to slit your own throat?

Just more questions I can add to the pile. They'll never be answered because they never can be answered. The only person who knows is bleeding out in front of me. At best she's got a few minutes before she bites the probably couldn't even respond if she wanted to. The hacking noises coming from her tells me that she's messed up so royally that she's choking on her own blood.

What a way to go.

There's one more question I have though. And it's one that I probably could answer.

"Should I do something?" I repeat it once more to myself. "Should I do something?"

Regardless of whether I answer it in the affirmative or negative, the outcome remains the same.

Truth be told, the game was rigged from the start.

The only difference between doing something and nothing is that explicitly doing nothing will be bad for my image. Then again, it's not like anyone will ever know. Nobody's watching me. I'm the only one here for Pesci's sake!

I could ignore her state and just … do what? I still don't know where I am or why I'm here. Maybe I could walk away or maybe I'm trapped here forever. Spending an eternity with a corpse isn't my ideal sort of vacation.

Alternatively, I could do 'something' and effectively do just as little in the process. At best I'm a novice when it comes to healing Magecraft. At best. Honestly, the 'healing' I'd attempt would be nothing more than a substandard means of halting the bleeding. I can't fix the wound outright and I certainly can't resuscitate the dying. If anything, I'd probably fuck this situation up even more and make her death even more uncomfortable.

But … can I really just watch this and do nothing?

… On the other hand, can I even say I have the right to try and help?

Mending flesh is one thing. Mending the mind is another thing entirely. Even if I miraculously managed to stop her from dying who's to say I'd be able of 'saving' her? Who's to say she even wants to be saved?

Like I said, it takes a lot to bring someone to this state. You have to be pretty desperate if you're willing to kill yourself using the equivalent of a slightly sharpened butter knife. Someone in that sort of shape may well be past the point of return. If I was a shrink or hell if I just knew her maybe this would be able to work. Maybe I'd be able to bring her back from the brink physically and emotionally. Maybe I could stay by her and fix whatever it is that needs fixing.

But … I'm a stranger. I don't even know the context of this. I don't even think I want to know the context behind this.

What if this is some weird religious act? Maybe she's sacrificing herself to the god of the Red Cross? Maybe it's some sort of voodoo ritual? Maybe I stumbled into a … cult ….

Another one, separate from Kiara's old or current one.

… If that's the case, this situation is even worse than I thought.

I am not the person that should be here.

I have no right to be here.

W-what am I supposed to do?

I couldn't fix the situation with Kiara. How am I supposed to fix this?!

Even if it isn't some homicidal cult. Even if it has nothing to do with that sort of lunacy. How am I supposed to fix someone who's broken?!

How am I supposed to help someone when I can't even help myself?

And while I'm having this moral dilemma there's someone dying right in front of me.

Isn't … isn't this what I wanted to do differently? Isn't this why I got in the War, to begin with?

I spent most of my life trying to be a bystander. Trying to take the role of some sort of impartial savior.

Not once did I actually save someone.

I gave them all the tools they needed but never showed them how to actually use them.

Here I stand on a precipice in my life, and even though the choices won't change her fate I have a feeling it will alter mine.

So … why can't I move?

Why can't I take that first step?

Why am I just standing here? Why am I just watching her bleed out?

….

Is it because I tried this once before and it just made things worse? Is that why I'm hesitating?

Is it because even though I know I have to do something I still don't actually care enough to move?

Is it because I doubt myself or is it because I'm apathetic to her plight?

….

Which answer is worse?

….

If … if I can't make up my mind … I guess I'll just stand here. That's the least I can do. I can make sure she doesn't die all alone.

That's … not a bad thing is it? I'm still doing something good, aren't I?

So many questions. Not enough answers.

Hopefully, it'll be over soon. This is bad enough as it–

The blonde woman slumps over completely. Unceremoniously falling to her side like a marionette that lost their marionettist. I hadn't expected the sudden movement and, as a result, it causes me to jump.

Just like that I'm finally able to see her face. She's somehow managed to pivot her waist in a manner that'd allow her gaze to be aimed in my direction and the sight is shocking, to say the least.

"What in the goddamn …?" My mind goes completely blank. The image before me is so unbelievably incomprehensibly that my brain can't even begin to process it. "How …?" Time itself seems to pause as I lay witness to the final fate of Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus.

Then … everything just … happens.

I've sprinted across the room without even noticing it. The ten or so seconds it must have taken me to make it to her side are a blur. The only thing I can think of is saving her. The only thing I can say is–

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." No witticisms. No pop culture references. Only one word of profanity repeated ad infinitum in a dull, monotone voice. It acts as a means of keeping me from fully cracking. A metronome to keep my beat as steady as possible.

The hesitation I once had is completely gone. This is no stranger anymore. This is Nero.

This is my Partner.

Doing nothing would be a stain upon my very soul. A sin so unimaginable that thinking about it would probably cause me to shut down. Even if I can't help her, I'll be damned if I don't do everything in my power to try. And if it's impossible … I'll make it possible.

I mean, maybe that Imperial Privilege skill of hers is contagious?

"Mutata in manibus meis." Chanting that line bolsters my resolve. It also signals the beginning of what will likely be one of the worst moments of my life.

I'm no healer. This has already been established. I can't just force prana into the wound and mend it like a normal mage would. At best, I can force the cells to clot by manipulating the iron in her blood. Then I could stitch up the wound using wire made on the spot and finish it all up by performing a half-assed tracheotomy. Right now, stopping the bleeding and giving her some way to breathe should be what I focus on. For no other reason than I can't do anything more for her.

Dammit! Watching a medic at work is completely different than attempting the job yourself. If only Kiara were here. She could probably patch this up without much issue. I doubt she could do much about the blood loss but she could probably at least fix the cut far better than the shoddy attempt I'm going to make.

… Wait. Maybe this isn't that bad! Kiara couldn't do anything about the blood loss but I can. What's the difference between empty casings and blood? If I can shift it around to get it to clot why can't I make it flow back into her neck?

That isn't unsanitary, is it?

… Can Heroic Spirits get infections?

Is … is she even a Heroic Spirit now? If she were still my Servant couldn't I just force prana into her through our connection? I wouldn't even need any expertise in healing to pull that off.

But for some reason that options not available to me. There's no connection between us. I'm just now noticing that. It's the reason I didn't even realize that this was Nero. Maybe my mental state's reducing my effectiveness? Maybe the stress is finally getting to me?

The entire situation is insane. The strange room. Nero being here and looking older and far more mature than she has any right to. The successful suic–

No. The attempt. It can't succeed. It's crazy to say this but I cannot let her win on this. Despite me not knowing what led to this. Despite me being utterly confused as to what's happening. Despite her being an Emperor and me being just … a guy. Despite this being utterly pointless and my chances of succeeding being less than–

No!

I refuse to accept that. I refuse to allow her to face such a fate!

All I have to do is force a clot and ….

I can't even prop her head up.

I'm at her side, kneeling beside her like a man at the altar and … I can't even touch her.

Trying to pick up her head, to alleviate some of her discomfort, utterly fails.

My hand phases right through her head. It's like I'm Casper the Not-So-Friendly Ghost.

How …?

Why?!

Why won't you let me do something?!

Anything!

All I can do is futilely swipe at her face, trying desperately to grab onto her. Why won't you let me pull her closer?! Why won't you let me at least cradle her head?! Give her some closure in all of this!

Give me some closure!

Let me try!

Don't make me watch this without letting me try to help!

Even if I fail, let me live with the knowledge that I tried!

It all starts coming together. Her sudden increase in age. The degradation of her appearance. Her inability to hear me and my inability to sense her as my Servant.

The severance of our bond.

My intangibility.

I'm not really here, am I?

….

Why would you show me this?

Is this some kind of joke?

Is this a message? A premonition? Am I seeing the past or the future?

And why won't you let me save her?

I can do it. I know I can.

Even if it's not real. Even if I'm not equipped for this. Even if my hands are shaking. Even if there are tears spilling down my cheeks.

I can do it.

Just let me try.

Nero's expression is not a good one. It's not the expression you'd see a movie show you. People don't always die with a peaceful look on their face. In my experience, most of them die with looks of regret. Looks of anger. Looks of surprise. I can only recall witnessing one individual die with a peaceful look on his face. Another person I'd failed.

Can I add Nero to that list? The anguish in her rapidly dulling eyes tells me I should. The pained grimace her mouth is set in tells me that I cannot not add her to it.

She may have been died by her own hand but she was killed by my inability to act.

Maybe this is a reward for my initial hesitation? Maybe the world is telling me that I should have rushed in without caring who it was I was saving? Maybe it's telling me it's pointless to have even tried.

I try once more to touch her. At the very least let me close her eyes. Don't make me stare into them.

The tips of my fingers go straight through her skull.

….

There's no point in this.

….

Maybe … I can't touch her but maybe I can still help her!

Maybe Magecraft still works. Maybe I can interact with the blood! I might not be able to mend the wound but so long as I keep pushing the blood back in she won't die!

But her breathing … how can I do anything about that if I can't touch her?

….

I'm so stupid! Ha! I gave up hope so quickly without even really trying! I asked the world to give me a chance without even first taking one!

I may not be able to touch her but what's to say I can't still force something else to? All I have to do is force something to puncture her neck. Either that or I can create an incision to give her airway access to oxygen.

Hell, I can probably even use the dagger she … cut herself with.

I'll turn it into something different. It's iron, right? I can transform it into a scalpel.

I can probably still stitch the wound up. All I have to do is force the wire to thread itself. That shouldn't be too hard. Sure, it's way more complicated maneuver than what I'd normally perform but it shouldn't be impossible. I just need to exert a little finesse in the matter.

Ha. Ha. Ha. It's ok. I'm still in control of this situation. I still have a chance.

I can still fix this.

All I have to do is pick up that dagger and … my hand slips through it too.

Ok ok ok ok. It's ok. I can still use alteration in the blood and give it an attribute that'll make it move. Nothing too difficult. Yeah, I'm not used to working with liquids but ….

Pushing my prana into the pool does nothing. It doesn't move. It remains coalesced around us.

I should have noticed this to begin with. I'm kneeling in a pool of blood and yet my clothes are spotless.

….

The wire! All I need is a little bit of metal and I can make it. Fuck the dagger. It's just a set piece anyway. I'll use one of my jacket's buttons. … My jacket's buttons?

When did I get my jacket back?

I-i-it doesn't matter! It's a blessing in disguise! I'll just take off one of the buttons and … my hand goes through my chest.

… I'll just morph the button while it's still on me! Yes, that'll work. That has to work!

Again, my prana seems to be unable of interfering with, well, anything. Not Nero. Not the dagger. Not the blood. Not even the clothes on my back are able of being changed.

How the fuck can this happen?! My mantra is 'change in my hands' for Christ's sake! I can't even interact with anything here?! I really can't do anything?!

Why did you get my hopes up you worthless shitty brain? Why did you tell me there was a chance of fixing this?! Why?

Why am I here? Is it just so I can suffer?

Was there any point in showing me this?

Was there any point in not letting me change things?

I look down at the woman before me. Her breath is shallow. Her chest is barely rising. Her eyes have lost all the radiance they once held.

She's not dead but she's most certainly not living.

Her hair's a mess. There are stress wrinkles on her forehead. She looks far older than me and yet I know that can't be true.

Nero died when he was thirty.

Well, the Nero from my world did. The one who was a man. Maybe she's the same as him. Maybe the history books got it all wrong. Or maybe she's from a parallel dimension. I wanted to ask her about it but never really found the chance.

Now I suppose it doesn't really matter.

Nero, the Nero I knew and not the one I heard about, is dying and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. I can't even screw things up worse. I'm not even being given the opportunity to fail.

Is that supposed to be a good thing? Is that supposed to ease the pain?

… It doesn't. If anything, it makes it worse.

What am I even supposed to do here? Just watch? I want to close my eyes but I can't. It feels like if I do, I'll be disrespecting her in some way.

So I guess I'm meant to sit here.

….

For how long?

Please. Please tell me it won't be for that long. I beg of you. Don't make me sit here for three days.

Yes, three days. That's how long it took her to die. I can only assume it was because she somehow botched the execution. Seeing the manner in which she went about it makes that seem to be the most likely case.

On the third day, she was found by a soldier. It was never discovered if he'd come to save her or arrest her.

That's what I remember at least. Maybe her version of events is completely different. Maybe she died instantly and as painlessly as possible.

Though the choking noises she's making lead me to believe that wasn't true.

… I'm going to have to wait here for three days, aren't I?

More importantly … she's going to have to wait here for three days, isn't she?

The sound of more choking answers that question for me.

What a way to go. What a terrible way to go.

At this point killing her would be merciful.

"But I can't even do that. Can I?"

Maybe it's better this way. My mind's barely holding together as is, I don't know what would happen if I'd been forced to end her.

And I would have had to do it. I couldn't have just stood here without doing anything. Even if doing 'something' meant doing the worst possible thing.

I guess that means all I can really do is sit here. Sit here and pray that it won't take three days.

Make it quick. Make it easy. Don't make her suffer.

Because I don't think I'll be able to take three days of this.

The past five or so minutes have already shaken me to my very core. 72 hours of this will break me.

….

It takes three days.

The choking stopped after the first hour, leading me to believe that maybe this horrible situation would be behind us.

It started back up again in the second hour.

I had been wondering as to why nothing had happened, questioning why I'd still been trapped in this strange place, when the noises came back.

Upon noticing this, I retook my seat next to her head. Still unable of comforting her in any way, and ultimately realizing that my presence itself was meaningless. And yet I found myself unable to walk away. Unable to look away. Unable to shut it all out.

I had to stay here. Even if doing so drove me mad. I could not abandon her.

The rest of the day ticked by at a snail's pace. More choking. More bleeding. More suffering. And even more waiting.

On the beginning of the second day, she tried to scream. It came out in a pained gurgle.

From that point onwards she began thrashing. This increased her blood loss. She bled far more than I thought humanly possible. A normal person would have succumbed to their wounds far faster and with far less resistance.

Perhaps she had come to regret taking her own life. Maybe she was fighting for her life. Or maybe she was moving around in the hope that it'd bring the end upon her faster. I'll never know. Truthfully, I never want to know.

At this point, I'd long since had to distance myself from the situation. I no longer could think of the person before me as Nero. I had to separate myself from it all. It was a terrible, cowardly thing to do but the first day had brought me to my limit.

I'd begun pacing the length of the room, making sure to always end my path at her side. It didn't help in the slightest. Even in the farthest corners, I could still hear her struggles. They followed me, remaining always present. No matter how far away I distanced myself from her, I still could hear the pained gasps for air as if she were vocalizing them directly next to my ear. An ear that was supposed to have been rendered deaf.

Halfway through the third day I finally managed to regain my senses. Over the course of the second day, I'd become too desensitized. I'd begun trying to find a way out.

I'd abandoned her.

The realization that I'd done this caused me to feel a sense of shame I hadn't experienced since Kiara told me she'd begun recruiting again.

Upon coming to this conclusion, I'd decided I needed to do my best to find a sort of compromise between ignoring and empathizing with the terrible sight before me.

This person suffering could not be my Nero. But she had to be Nero.

If it wasn't Nero, I'd do something moronic and try to leave.

But if it was my Nero, I'd do something even more moronic.

This had to be a dream. It could not be real.

And even if it was, I could not allow myself to recognize this.

Denial was the name of the game and self-delusion would be my means of surviving until the end.

And so, I sat beside her once more, still trying to hold her hand and still failing. Still trying to mend her and still finding myself coming up short.

It didn't hurt as much though. If there was another Nero there meant there was another chance at saving her. Outside parties wouldn't meddle in that one, or so I told myself. I would be capable of touching her. My Magecraft would work. She would not die.

She would not suffer like this. Not for three days. Not even for three minutes.

Never again. This would never happen again.

I wouldn't allow it to. The world couldn't be so cruel as to force me to allow it a second time.

One was enough. It was a wakeup call. An epiphany.

This was just a trial run. Something meant to show the worst possible outcome.

This was one situation in which I couldn't allow myself to be tempted by cynicism. No matter how ridiculous I found optimism to be. Because if I allowed myself to think the worst, I'd snap.

It's that simple.

That's why, when the soldier arrived, I wasn't overly concerned.

It didn't matter that he had likely been sent by the Senate to capture her. It didn't matter that the only person who'd be by her side during her final moments (that she was capable of interacting with) was undoubtedly an enemy.

All that mattered is that this was the end.

He came dressed in the attire one would expect to see a typical Roman foot soldier wear. The chainmail, scaled armor, and the galea that reminds me a bit of the headgear you'd see a rugby player use. It lacks the crest, so I'm assuming he's not a centurion.

He pauses for a moment, halting in his tracks when he recognizes Nero's form. Then: "My Emperor!" He wails this at the top of his lungs, rushing to her side and kneeling so he's as close to her eye level as possible.

His sword is sheathed. His shield is absent.

Were they removed to sell the deception easier? Or was he genuine in his loyalty? Maybe it's my cynicism talking, but I assume it's the former and not the latter.

Nero stirs at the sound of his voice. Such a simple reaction causes my heart rate to increase. Perhaps it's not too late for her? She can't hear me but she can hear this man. Maybe he can save her. Maybe he can do what I could not? Maybe it's not hopele–

No. I have to accept this. Her appearance tells me that the opportunity of turning this around has long since come to pass. That healthy luster that's always tinged her complexion is gone. Now she's a ghastly, pale color. Emaciated from both blood loss and dehydration. Her hair, face, and neck are caked in dried blood. Her eyes are still as dull as ever. There may be a flash of comprehension left in them but it's gone as quickly as it came.

She looks very much like a corpse that's been resuscitated. A zombie brought back from the dead.

The soldier rushes to her side, kneeling done just as I had done. In fact, he's almost exactly in the same position I am in. His body overlaps my own quite heavily.

Again, that flash of comprehension lights up Nero's eyes. Seeing his face reignites something within her. A last burst of energy that both of us had long since thought forsaken.

"Shhh …." It's been three days since I've heard her speak. Three days of me talking to myself. And now, the arrival of this stranger has brought her back from the brink enough so that she's able to share a few final words. I should probably be happy but I can't help but feel a pang of envy within my heart. No matter how illogical that may be.

Nero strokes his face with the tips of her fingers. Barely enough contact occurs for it to be considered a touch but the soldier flinches backward involuntarily from the unexpected move. Then, she speaks bids her farewell. Instead of the confident eloquence her pattern of speech usually follows it comes out in a muttered stutter, with a drawn-out pause in between almost every word. "T-t-t-ooo … late. T-t-t-this is … fidelity."

She keeps caressing his cheek until her hand cannot move anymore. Then, it drops. Only being stopped in its descent to the floor when the soldier catches it and cradles it within his own.

With most of his body enveloped within my own, all I can see is that his shoulders are shaking. And that's only because his are slightly broader than my own. His face, and the emotion likely conveyed upon it, is currently situated somewhere underneath my chin (because of our height difference). Perhaps the man's laughing to himself triumphantly. Perhaps he's sobbing in his mourning.

Really, I don't think it matters.

What does matter is that the light's drained completely from Nero's eyes. She didn't die with them closed. She died looking, but probably not really seeing, the face of this lonely foot soldier who'd stumbled across her.

Again, I wish I could close her eyes but I still can't. Such a luxury is lost to me. The legionary does the honors.

I can't think of anything to say. Three days. Three days of waiting and now it feels like I waited too little. Her suffering is over but it's come at the cost of her life.

That's not your Nero. It isn't. It can't be. Don't think about it. Don't even consider it.

This is a dream. That's why you failed. This isn't real.

She'll be waiting for you.

Just wait.

I have to tell myself these things. I can't allow myself to think that I'd just witnessed Nero die. Or rather, I have to tell myself that I did watch her die but that this was her first death. Her last death.

This was the death of Emperor Nero. This was not the death of Saber.

At least, I hope it wasn't. It's easier to shake off a bad dream than it is to resist reality.

AN: Kept you waiting, huh? This chapter was way overdue. Considering we're almost six months since the last real upload (that April Fools' joke doesn't count). I was almost considering holding this back until the anniversary of Nero's death, just for that added touch of poetic irony, but ultimately decided against it because it seemed too cruel. The April Fools' joke was one thing (apologies to everyone whose hopes I crushed with that stunt) but unnecessarily holding back a complete chapter for no good reason? That's too much even for me XD. Anyway, this chapter is on the shorter side compared to what I've uploaded before and I think that warrants an explanation. Quite frankly, this chapter almost didn't happen. Without the help of one King Keith (check out his work) the story would have been on hiatus for a far longer period of time until I figured some things out. And that's mainly because I've been adding and subtracting to this for the past several months without really getting anywhere. Thousands of words were deleted in the blink of an eye more times than I can count. I'm still not 100% happy with how it turned out (still feels a bit too melodramatic for my tastes) but, after taking note of the lack of progress I'd made in the past month, I decided that this was likely the best I could come up with. Serious moments are the bane of my existence but the direction this story's taking requires their inclusion. Hopefully, I didn't miss the mark too much with the tone I was going for. I tried to be as considerate as possible with the subject material involved.

With that being said, I'm going to move onto responding to your reviews. I'll only be commenting on the non-April Fools' related ones though!

GrindingV2: Yo! Can't believe someone got the Sabaton reference! They're easily my favorite band right now so I had to toss in something from their's into the mix. In case you didn't know, they've got a new album coming out next month. Based off of the single they released I'm guessing it'll be just as good (if not better) as some of their better ones.

SMV Aria2: You know what? I can't believe it's already been two years (well, like two and a half by now). And we're only around a quarter through the plot! Yikes. Though I guess it's not too bad. 'Chaos Theory' took eight years to finish and 'From Fake Dreams' has been going strong for over seven (almost eight) years. I ... hope that it doesn't take me that long to finish this lol. But enough of that, I'm glad to hear that I've improved (however slightly) over the past sixteen (now seventeen) chapters. Now let's pray that I won't get worse as time goes on XD.

TheTrueOverlordBear: Ehhh, I'm going to just zip my mouth shut before I start accidentally spoiling things lol. I believe I answered you through PM though ... it was certainly a while ago.

Gundam-Knight-Chris: On the matter of the Servant who created the fog ... my lips are sealed. As for future fluff and fan service? That'll most certainly be coming further down the line. It might take some time considering the low point we're at but it will arrive!

Hunter of Entities: Scratch off another weird reference I didn't think anyone would get lol. I ... think that it's not a spoiler to tell you this? If I did a good job of describing her, most should already know who Berserker is. You're correct, she's Elizabeth Bathory. The younger version of Carmilla.

blazerforce: Don't worry, Dante certainly won't be copying Kiritsugu. I have a plan for how things'll go down and it was primarily inspired by the Shinjuku Singularity in Grand Order. As for Atalanta's wish being corrupted ... I don't think that would be the result. Everyone would probably just die. Maybe the grail would create a world with just children. Whatever the case, it won't be an issue. The grail in Apocrypha isn't corrupted like it is in Zero/Stay Night so there's actually a possibility that Atalanta could have her wish granted. How it would be granted and what this would do to the world is up in the air.

Darebear the bear: No comment! My editor pointed out that I tend to spoil too much in these AN's so I'll be keeping my lips sealed here on out. Sorry! On the topic of Amari though ... my main problem with the Drama CD is that I'm 99% certain it hasn't been released outside of Japan or in English. Which is sort of the same problem I have with Fate Extra CCC. No need to apologize on your end. You certainly didn't hurt my feelings. I think a story featuring Amari would be an interesting idea. I probably wouldn't be the best person to write it (my opinion on Last Encore has soured over the past few months) but it's definitely an idea someone should look into. Oh and those sequences featuring Simon and Claudia will be coming! Have to have something more cheerful in comparison to what we had this chapter.

T51b Moridin: "Birdy" is perhaps one of the nicer ways to describe this story lol. Kiara's definitely one of my favorite characters. If only because how perplexing she is as a character. I will say though that I still like Kirei more. He's one of my favorite characters in the Fate franchise.

Jajo Camello: So. I did it again XD. Sorry! Diarmuid would most definitely be Dante's straight man. I believe their relationship would sort of be like a mirror of Waver and Iskander's. I don't think Diarmuid would be as upset about the partnership as Arturia was with Kiritsugu. If anything, I think Dante and Diarmuid would slowly influence one another's way of thinking. The main thing that killed Diarmuid in canon was having a Master that didn't trust him. With someone like Dante, who would be loyal to a fault, that issue's resolved. I'll have to take a look at that Kirei fic. My knowledge of RWBY is nonexistent but it shouldn't be too hard to get into if I'm using a wiki for reference. My main problem is that we didn't get any sort of real insight into Assassin before it happened. She/they got the least screen time when compared to everyone else. There's also the questionable logic involved with an Assassin attacking three enemy Servants in a head-on assault. It felt like they killed her/them off just to show off Iskander's Noble Phantasm. Which in turn was meant to show how OP Gil is when he destroys the thing easily. It's my only real gripe with Zero's story. Honestly, if Emiya had summoned any of the Hassans he likely would have won easily. And the story would have ended probably exactly the same since the grail was corrupted lol. The moments where Nero's being a ham are probably my favorite parts to write. Sometimes I wish I hadn't tried to write a 'journey' and instead just made the entire story one big slice of life comedy XD. Got to say, the more recent "Archer Reveals His Secret to Shirou" is probably my favorite of all Daitomodachi's Fate videos. Oh and Dante will definitely be bringing up Mordred's daddy issues. At least, he will once he realizes who she is.

Scriptura: You flatter me with your praise! Personally, I'm both surprised and ecstatic to see that story made it over a hundred favorites. It's an OC-centric fic with a wildly inconsistent update schedule. I'm fortunate people even read it lol! Hopefully, things didn't decline in your opinion after chapter six. I know some of the chapters are not as good as others.

And that is the end of that! Now, if you were patient enough to stay with me through all this time I have one question to ask! How do you feel about Francis Drake getting removed from the story? I ask this specifically because I know there were a few of you looking forward to her inclusion and also because I previously promised that she would be featured. My main reason for removing her is simple and I'll be as brutally honest with you as I can. I added way too many characters to the cast without thinking of the repercussions. Right now it feels like it's going to get a bit bloated in the future and I'm afraid I won't be able to do all the characters a proper service as far as character development and screentime allotment goes. I have a plan regardless of whether or not Drake's included but I feel like she (along with a few other characters) won't be given the same respect as others. If it's not too much to ask, please give me your thoughts. Either in your reviews or by PM. And as always, if anyone has any questions or concerns that they'd like addressed you can always send me a PM. Especially when it comes to the spoilers that I'm trying to avoid bringing up lol. I've been thinking of creating a Discord server but I'm doubtful as to whether or not such a thing would garner any interest so for now PM works best :).

PS: I dun goof'd. Turns out I may have unintentionally prevented some of you from reviewing. Specifically, those of you who reviewed the April Fool's update. This site probably isn't going to let you review "chapter seventeen" because it still considers the April Fool's update to have been the seventeenth chapter of this story and it doesn't allow registered accounts to post two reviews on the same chapter (to my knowledge, at least). Why this is the case, I do not know. Sorry everyone who was affected! I'll leave the joke chapter up next April Fool's Day instead of deleting it. Er... that is IF there's an April Fool's update. Can't become too predictable with that sort of thing or else everyone'll expect it lol.