Emiya Shirou made his way up the hill. Although he'd been there a few times before, it felt as if the road under his feet was lengthening, making his journey longer than ever. He pushed down the fear in his chest once more and trudged forward, moving towards what he knew would be the climax of his battle.

It wasn't that he was nervous, he realized. It was that there was something very off about the whole situation. What was it? He was in perfect shape. His body had no wounds, and his circuits were operating at full capacity. If he needed to, he'd be able to project Kanshou and Byakuya, even that nameless blade he'd picked up off Ryudou temple's steps. So what was wrong?

He was alone.

Yes, that had to be it. No Saber by his side. No Tohsaka to rely on. There would be no powerful warrior or wise magus helping him today. This was his battle, and no one else's. An impossible hurdle that he would have to overcome on his own.

Well, not quite on his own.

"Hey. You're early." The spearman in blue waved as Shirou crested a bump in the road. Leaning against a tree with Gae Bolg nowhere in sight, Lancer seemed as relaxed as ever, even as Shirou stiffened upon seeing him. The boy involuntarily clutched his chest, feeling phantom pain throb in it as he recalled the red spear that had pierced it.

"I could say the same about you." Shirou finally said.

"It's not like I had anything better to do, so I decided to wait here." Lancer said, shrugging. "Besides, this ain't really the kind of thing you can be late to. I wouldn't have blamed you if you decided to run away at the last second, kid."

"Maybe, but you certainly would've thought less of me for it." Shirou replied, still too nervous to relax in front of Lancer. Yet another strange occurrence. He'd had no problem speaking to the Servant the previous day, but all of a sudden it felt as if he was looking at yet another enemy. Even his so called ally felt like someone waiting to stab him in the back.

"Heh. You're finally getting it." Lancer chuckled. He stood up to his full height and ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the bright church on the hill. "So, you ready?"

"Yeah." Shirou said. "Have you figured out a way to beat her Noble Phantasm? I've been wracking my brains all night, but I haven't been able to think of a thing."

"I've got a few ideas." Lancer said. "Don't worry about it and leave the fighting to me. Just stand back and watch me do all the tough stuff."

"Hey, my part is difficult too!" Shirou protested. "I'm the one who has to actually end it!"

"It won't be difficult." Lancer said with a grin. "That Shadowy Servant of hers is incredibly weak. Even someone like you would be able to take it down as long as you copy Assassin's blade."

"I'm not worried about me." Shirou replied. "Sure, it'll be hard, but I'm more worried about you. Fragarach is-."

"Fragarach is just a weapon." Lancer cut the boy off. "Don't let things like power or flashiness confuse you. In a battle, it rarely ever comes down to who's got the better arsenal. That's why humanity invented the idea of skill and training in the first place. That lady may be good, but she's not as good as me. Chances are I'll be able to take her down without her even getting to use it."

Shirou nodded. He wanted to say something, but the almost imperceptible throbbing in his chest held back his words. Yeah, there was definitely something going on that he couldn't understand.

"So you noticed it too?" Lancer said, finally seeming to actually look Shirou in the eye. "I didn't think you would, but perhaps you're the real thing after all." The spearman's smiled again, but even Shirou could tell this one was forced. "Sorry, but you'll have to put up with that feeling."

"It's just a premonition." Shirou replied as he and Lancer walked up the seemingly endless hill. "It'll pass soon enough."

"If only the world were that kind." Was all Lancer said before they crested the top and reached the church's front yard.

The building was gone. Instead of the entrance to a false house of God, there was merely a void in reality, opening up to pure darkness that seemed to leak into the world, a blot of ink spreading through the canvas of reality. Though they had seen it moments before, the church on the hill was no more.

Shirou shuddered, and Gae Bolg leapt unbidden to Lancer's hand. He looked at the weapon, not expecting it to be whole and in his hand. But what else would it be like? His weapon had never broken, after all. No, not once.

Standing before the rift were two figures, one unmistakeably human, and the other insubstantial and wispy, as if it was a shadow that had risen from the ground.

The human looked up, and her eyes hardened as she caught sight of Lancer and Shirou. She straightened and tightened the plated gloves on her hands. She took a step forward, raising her fists.

"No further." Bazett Fraga McRemitz declared. "Turn back, dreamers. This isn't where you should be."

"No, it is!" Shirou took a step forward, anger surging through his veins. This was her. The magus who had killed Tohsaka and Archer. The woman who had slain Saber, his Servant. The Master that had singlehandedly taken down every Servant the Grail War had to offer. The unbeatable rune master of the Fraga clan, and his opponent. "No more." He said. "I don't know who you are or why you're fighting, but someone like you can't be allowed to win the Heaven's Feel!"

"If you know nothing, boy," Bazett said, brushing a strand of crimson hair from her eyes. "Then leave. You are only a former Master with no Servant. You know you are no threat to me, so cherish what you have left, even if it's only a falsehood. There is nothing for you here."

"You're here, and so is that Servant of yours." Shirou declared, not backing off despite Bazett's muted response. "The Grail isn't something that should grant a person like you a wish, so I'm not going to risk the destruction of the world for it."

"The Grail?" Bazett chuckled. "That piece of junk can't do anything right. If that's what you're worried about, then don't. I wouldn't be able to use that thing even if I wanted to. And besides, my wish was already granted, if only for a short time." Her eyes flickered momentarily towards Lancer before she looked away. "I won't say it again. Leave or I will use force. You should already know you can't win."

"Why so soft, Master?" The shadow cackled behind her. "Why not just kill them and get it over with? If they leave, they'll only delay the inevitable by a few minutes at best. Come midnight, this sham of a War will be over and the Grail will begin preparing the next one. So why not have a blast and go out with a bang? Isn't that what people like these days?"

"Shut up." Bazett's cool façade slipped as she snapped at the Shadow, but then she sighed and put on her poker face once more. "I'd rather not make it painful. Better to fall asleep and wake up than to be killed and shoved back into a life you don't need."

"See, that right there is just dumb, lady." Lancer spoke up for the first time since arriving. "If it were me choosing, I'd pick dying every time. What's the use in croaking peacefully and being forgotten when you can be remembered as a hero who died in action?"

"Because no one will remember you." Bazett growled. "You're not a hero, stranger. You're just someone who thinks he can be a legend. Legends are legends for a reason. They simply don't exist anymore. If you die, that's the end, so you might as well make it a happy one."

"Bullshit." Lancer said. "Legends exist. They're the guys who saw destiny coming and decided to spit in its face. They're the people who decided to die for something other than themselves. That's what a hero is."

Bazett finally allowed herself to look straight at Lancer. She took in his cocky posture, his demonic spear, and his battle ready outfit.

Then she frowned. "But you're not a hero." She said softly. Lancer stiffened, and she kept going. "Not anymore, at least. Cu Chulainn the hero died a long time ago, and no one can change that. But Cu Chulainn the human was never given a chance to live, so he has no idea what it means to live for himself. And most likely, he never will."

"It's unnecessary." Lancer brandished Gae Bolg and its familiar power. "Don't go sticking your theories where they aren't needed. I was happy living the way I did, and I was perfectly content with the way I died. As far as I'm concerned, being a Servant is just icing on the cake."

His words seemed to strike a chord within Bazett, and she raised her fists, sinking into a classic boxing stance. "Fine, then." She growled as her resolve grew. "If you're that set on dying again, I'll do you a favour and kill you now!"

She charged, and Lancer responded equally, dashing forward with the speed of the fastest Servant, instantly accelerating faster than Shirou could see. The boy only had a moment to stumble backwards before the sound on metal on metal screeched through the air.

Had he been a moment too late, his body would've been ripped to shreds in an instant.

Both combatants abruptly halted, a solitary meter separating them. But even as their forward motion ceased, the battle intensified. They both attacked simultaneously, Bazett with a lightning quick jab and Lancer with a flickering thrust. The attacks collided mid air, and the weapons retracted, preparing to fire once more.

A dozen. No, more than that. In the space of a single second, Lancer's spear and Bazett's fist struck each other several times, each one a death blow barely averted. Thrusts that could pierce even a God's armour and punches that could take off a man's head battled for supremacy and found themselves evenly matched.

Then Lancer disappeared.

Bazett spun in place, grabbing blindly on instinct.

Lancer's thrust, the unstoppable cannon that could blow through a wall without even slowing down, had been parried. He froze comically in mid air, his spear extended towards Bazett, just grazing her hair. But the tip lay clutched in her glove, sparking as the magus effortlessly held up both its weight and Lancer's with one hand.

Lancer spun, using Gae Bolg as an axis and kicking at Bazett's head with an armoured foot. She raised her free hand and caught the limb, but his second kick hit her stomach, forcing her to let go and jump backwards. She shook her head, not in the least winded from the Demigod's strike, and cracked her neck sharply. "Is that it?" She asked. "You're a Servant, aren't you? Should you really be allowing a human to block your attacks like this?"

Lancer simply grinned, and disappeared once more.

Bazett spun in place, raising her hand to slap aside another thrust from behind, then twisted her wrist in mid air, pulling both Gae Bolg and a surprised Lancer towards her. Her free fist found his face before he could block, and the sudden uppercut sent the spearman flying into the air, finally forcing him to let go of his weapon.

"You're good." He whispered, and then twisted in mid air, Gae Bolg disappearing from Bazett's grip and reappearing in his hands. He descended, this time swinging the red thorn like a sword, aiming to slice rather than pierce. Bazett raised an arm to catch the shaft on her reinforced suit and winced as she felt it impact against bone.

Using the sudden block as leverage, Lancer pushed off with Gae Bolg. The red spear sliced through Bazett's sleeve, and Lancer landed several meters away, crouched like an animal, with his spear ready to stab and slice even more.

He spat out a mouthful of blood. "Not bad at all." He said. "I'm impressed, girlie. Someone's been practicing."

Bazett simply raised her fists once more, still unperturbed by the prospect of battling the man who was once her Servant.

This time she inched forward, unwilling to play on the defensive. But even so, she didn't drop her stance, taking small steps forward without lowering her fists even slightly. Bazett kept her eyes fixed on the tip of Gae Bolg, so it didn't come as a surprise to her when Lancer chose to abandon thrusts entirely, grasping the shaft of the spear with both hands and swinging the weapon like a heavy axe.

As it sliced through the air towards her head, Bazett allowed her knees to bend slightly, and she ducked nimbly under the strike, weaving forward and pushing her way into close range before Lancer could recover.

A single jab blew past the Servant's hastily raised hand and smacked him in the face, sending his head whipping backwards. With a muffled curse, he looked forward, only to catch another on his left cheek, unable to stop Bazett now that she'd reached infighting range.

A flurry of punches left their mark on Lancer's body before he could retract his spear, but he caught Bazett's right straight on Gae Bolg's body, finally managing to bring the spear between him and her fists. The spear creaked, protesting being manhandled, and Lancer spun it in place like a quarterstaff, holding on to each end.

Bazett threw a left, but Lancer knocked it aside with the smallest of movements and smashed the other end of Gae Bolg into the woman's stomach. She stumbled, her hands falling from her guard, and he took the opportunity to push forward, seeking to take her off balance.

But it wasn't her stumbling. No, the hand that had previously been limp suddenly sprung upwards, curving around Gae Bolg's interfering shape to smash Lancer in the face with a ferocious hook.

The spearman was now the one to lose his footing, as his feet suddenly stopped obeying his commands. His ears rang, and he dully felt Bazett rearing up to unleash another straight.

In desperation, he swiped low with Gae Bolg. The spear moved ever so slowly through the suddenly muddy air, but it still struck Bazett in the back of the knee, knocking away her support. The punch she'd thrown blew past Lancer's shoulder, hitting nothing but air.

Both combatants immediately jumped back to recover, Lancer nursing his bruised face and Bazett favouring her right leg.

"Ow." The Servant remarked. "This isn't gonna do wonders for my good looks." He complained weakly, even as he spat out more blood.

"Come closer and I'll do the same for your other cheek." Bazett growled, suddenly angry for a reason Lancer couldn't fathom. She straightened, the only sign of a wounded leg being the slight shuddering of her knee. "Go on. Bring out your Noble Phantasm. Or do you think I'm not worth it?"

"I could kill you without it." Lancer retorted. "But then again, I could humour you. It's not gonna make a difference anyway. There's no way you can beat me."

"You? A small child you beat you, given the right vocabulary." Bazett replied, the fury on her face clearly visible.

"Do you have something against me?" Lancer finally asked. "I mean, I've fought plenty of angry blokes before, but you're acting like I killed your family or something even worse."

"It's nothing that bad. I just had the pleasure of finding out how much of an idiot you really are." The woman said. "And believe me, you've been found wanting. I can't believe I died for you of all people. To think I once idolized you…"

"This is one hell of a way to ask for an autograph, then." Lancer grinned. "How 'bout a kiss instead? I don't really like fighting women, so I'll let you off with five or six." He idly wiped away the blood dripping from his bruised face as he spoke, looking at the liquid with a casual interest, as if he'd never seen it before.

"You… insufferable idiot!" The last of Bazett's patience snapped, and she charged, completely dropping her stance in favour of launching one attack with all her power. She roared, seeking only to pummel the person before her.

So when Lancer casually ducked her blow, she didn't even have time to react. The spearman released Gae Bolg and lightly chopped the back of Bazett's neck. The magus went limp, and fell into her former Servant's arms.

"Well." He said. "That takes care of that. Kinda anticlimactic, but at least she didn't get to use that Noble Phantasm of hers." He turned to Shirou. "So, kid, how goes it on your… end…?"

"Pretty good." Shirou said, his skin darkening and his clothes reduced to tatters. The boy pushed back his suddenly pitch black hair and grinned. "Been a while since I've had the pleasure of a working body, even if it doesn't really exist."

"Ah, crap." Lancer grimaced. "Am I gonna have to kill you? I don't really want to, but if you're gonna fight me in that kid's body, you're not leaving me much of a choice."

"No need for that." Shirou replied. "I'll disappear soon anyway. Just borrowing this idiot's shell will let me survive a bit longer even after the 'death' of my Master. Long enough to talk to you, at least."

"Well speak up then." Lancer said. "I'll give you some time since I just got done with a satisfying fight, but that's it. Don't expect my patience to last forever."

"I've been wondering about this." Shirou said, giggling like a lunatic between words. "What exactly is your idea of hell?"

"Hell? Such a thing doesn't really exist, does it?" Lancer replied. "I can't really think of any situation that I'd consider worthy of the title. Why do you ask?"

"Because I've been trying to find one, and it's been slow going." Shirou admitted. "You may not remember it, but I do. I've tried physical torture, mental evisceration, memory tampering, and even forcing you to relive your worst experiences, but your soul is remarkably resilient, even for a Servant. Most would've been instantly broken down upon death, but you've managed to retain your identity somehow. Is there truly nothing that will break you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but it's annoying." Lancer growled. He summoned Gae Bolg once more and set the unconscious Bazett onto the ground. "Let me put it to you this way, punk. My idea of hell is having to listen to you talk. So either shut up, or eat my spear. Your choice."

Shirou tilted his head sideways. "I'm impressed." He said. "If you really think you can fight me in that condition, then you're either much stronger or much more deluded than I thought you were. Do you really believe you'll be able to defeat me with your body like that?"

"A few bruises never killed anybody." Lancer said. He felt blood dripping from the corner of his mouth again, and raised his left hand to wipe it off.

Or at least, tried to. A moment later, Lancer realized that the limb wasn't moving at all. He tried again, but no arm rose to his command, and the blood from his mouth only thickened.

He looked down, and realized exactly why he couldn't do such a simple thing.

He didn't have a left arm anymore. In fact, a giant chunk of his body was simply gone, as if gouged out by an enormous spoon. His heart was gone as well, along with most everything left of his spine. Blood rained from his mangled body, and breathing suddenly became twice as difficult with only a single working lung left.

Lancer coughed, expelling even more blood from his obliterated stomach. "What?" He choked on the guts and ruined flesh in his throat, falling to his knees as his body stopped being able to physically support itself.

The Servant's vision flickered as he looked at the unconscious Bazett. Only she wasn't unconscious. The eviscerated corpse of a dead woman lay before his eyes, her arm sliced off at the elbow and a gaping hole through her heart. Her wound didn't seem nearly as bad as his, but Lancer knew better. Anyone struck directly with Gae Bolg was doomed to death, no matter what. Just as doomed as himself.

"You really are a beast in battle." Shirou said. "You didn't hold back at all even though she was your former Master. How cold of you, Servant of the Spear."

"I… I didn't!" Lancer said, his once proud voice suddenly weak. "That's not what happened!"

"Oh, but it is. I saw it myself." Shirou said. "You wasted no time, jumping straight to Noble Phantasms. In an instant, both of you were slain. A mutual kill. Fitting, isn't it?"

"I didn't want to kill her." Lancer said. "I didn't mean to." All the strength left his body. He tried to summon up Gae Bolg, but all that appeared in his hand was a broken piece of wood. He stared at it blankly, perplexed.

"No, you meant to. Otherwise she wouldn't be dead. I don't know what kind of dream you saw, but what happened is the only thing that could've. See, I've been thinking, and I realized the perfect way to get to you." Shirou said. "Instead of torturing you, I'd have you torture yourself. This is the last one. Every single vow you made, I've had you break. Every promise, every geas, gone. You've done everything you told the world you'd never do. And you did it all without my help. This is the final one? You swore to bring back this woman's life, but you couldn't even manage to preserve it."

The boy raised his hands, creating a pair of swords. But these weren't Archer's blades, or Assassin's sword. No, the blades in his hands were more like red and black claws less suited for battle and more for some kind of sick ritual. "Now then, I think I promised you something. Earlier you said you could beat me with one hand tied behind your back. I think this is close enough to that, don't you?" Dark tattoos began to crawl up the boy's skin, and his amber eyes darkened to a dark, muddy brown.

As his once powerful body began to fail, Lancer's senses grew dull. But he could still hear the Shadow's words, and they stirred up a familiar feeling of anger within him. He couldn't express it, as much as he wished to, so it surged up futilely, overtaking all remaining rational thought. Memories returned, unbidden, as the border between life and death passed underneath. This wound was surely fatal. If the wound he'd received against Assassin had brought him near death, then this was definitely unrecoverable. A pierced spiritual core that wouldn't be able to keep his ethereal body in place, let alone his corporeal one. Despite it being in a completely different time and place, the experience was almost familiar…

"Then again, what use would someone like you have for a wish?"

And also: unacceptable.

He felt it. As Shirou walked up to his struggling consciousness and viciously plunged one of the ritualistic blades into his chest, Lancer felt the pain slice through his muddled anger. He let out a small grunt, all he could spare.

The boy laughed, and brought the other sword down to finish the job.

But it stopped just short of Lancer's head. The man's right arm, still whole, came up and caught Shirou's wrist, locking it in place.

"-!"

Had he been able to hear the boy's words of denial, Lancer would've laughed and said he'd been through worse, but he couldn't, so all he did was tighten his grip, crushing Shirou's wrist along with his hands.

His feet were still there. Lancer rose, straightening to his full height. His eyes weren't functioning, but that was fine. He could feel the mass of prana, the life and the sickly warmth in front of him.

He felt the sword leave his body and fly at his neck.

Lancer jerked his head to the side and caught the blade in between his teeth. He growled around the steel, neck muscles bulging as they worked to stop the attack of a supernaturally powerful being.

Lancer's leg came up, and Shirou crumpled with a hiss as he felt a knee strike his abdomen, rupturing several internal organs that would almost guarantee death for a normal person.

"Ugh, is this Battle Continuation?" The corrupted body spat out. "No, mere skills like that can't exist here!" Before he could speak any further, he found himself being pushed back. He frantically let go of his right blade as it shattered between Lancer's jaw, and created another as he felt his legs go limp. Lancer roared blindly, and ran forward, carrying Shirou with him. Even as his strength faded, the Servant threw what he had into his legs, propelling him and his enemy to a destination he couldn't see. With a scream of his own, Shirou shoved the sword into Lancer's chest, but the Servant ignored it as if it wasn't there.

"You idiot, this will accomplish nothing!"

Even if it didn't matter in the end.

"You can't beat me! You can't do anything here!"

Even if he couldn't win.

"You've already failed! Get it through that thick skull of yours and accept your punishment!"

Even if he was stuck in his fate, unable to change his destiny alone.

"Why are you still struggling!?"

If he gave up here, it would be a betrayal of everything Cu Chulainn believed in.

"You aren't a hero! You're not going to be remembered! This is just a fake reality that never existed in the first place! You're just an inferior copy summoned from the throne! You've already broken every promise you ever made!"

He wasn't Cu Chulainn. He couldn't even keep his promises or win a pointless fight. But nevertheless, he would stick by his beliefs to the end, even if he ended up killing everyone he cared for. And if this meant the end of a dying woman's last dream, then he'd take responsibility for that as well.

The edge of existence approached. The gash in the fabric of reality, replacing the church on the hill, was at Shirou's back. Too late, the Shadow realized where it was being taken, and for the first time in a long, long time, it knew fear.

"Wait, wai-!"

They fell through, and reality ceased to exist.

-

The river of prana had once been peaceful.

Once.

The previously placid stream of ethereal energy had quickened, becoming a raging torrent. Millions of units of prana were pumped through one of hundreds of channels, each one leading straight into the center of the Holy Grail. As the creation sensed the arrival of its awakening, it prepared to do the impossible and grant a single wish to whoever claimed it.

In the midst of the familiar yet different river, Lancer floated. The current buffeted him, rolling his body around wildly. Yet his body didn't even exist. In a corner of his mind, the Servant realized the truth. He had died, and all he was seeing was his own mind's representation of the Grail's inner system. A system that was slowly but surely dissolving his spiritual self into fuel for a wish.

But he didn't really care about such things. Rather, he was more focused on the figure in front of him, floating similarly in the current.

"You idiot." Bazett said as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "You fool."

"Sorry." Lancer said automatically. "Don't really know why I'm apologizing, but I know making a beautiful lady like you cry isn't something I should be proud of."

"That's not going to cut it!" Bazett yelled, before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to calm down. "I was wrong about you." She finally said.

"In what way?" Lancer asked. "I mean, I ain't a perfect guy, but I like to think I'm not seriously fucked up in any way."

"You're not, and that's what makes it so aggravating." Bazett replied. "You still don't see what's so wrong!"

"Of course not, 'cus there's nothing wrong with me." Lancer said. "Really, even I can't understand what women think without a proper explanation."

Bazett opened her mouth to yell, stretching out a hand towards Lancer, when suddenly it disappeared. Both Servant and Master stared for a moment at the spot where Bazett's limb used to be.

"Oh." Lancer said. "Right, that. Listen, I'm sorry for not bringing you back to life, but it turns out Goldie was a bit too much for me to handle, so you'll have to bear with it."

"It's not that." Bazett said, looking forlornly at the stump of her arm. "Yes, it hurt, dying like that, but I was fine with it as long as you got to live. Except you didn't want to. You rejected my wish without even thinking."

"…it was impossible." Lancer said. He looked at his hand, knowing that it didn't even exist. "Cu Chulainn died hundreds of years ago. I'm just an inferior copy, like that Shadow said. Besides, I died content with my life. Why try to extend what ended properly?"

"Beacause!" Bazett cried, but said no more. She realized it, and so did Lancer. There was no reason. She had idolized Cu Chulainn from a young age, and he was her hero. She'd read his stories, and decided that his fated end wasn't what he deserved. And thus, her wish had been simple. To change his fate, so that he could live the life he never had. Even if he had chosen such a fate for himself, she had wanted to give him the chance to choose another.

"It's fine." Lancer said, smiling. "Thanks. I know it might not mean much here, but thank you. Even if it was only for a short time, being your Servant was a nice experience."

"I… wanted you to be happy. I thought I knew you, but-."

"You knew enough." The Servant pulled his dead Master into a hug, embracing her nonexistent form in the midst of the river of prana. "I should be the one apologizing. As your Servant, I failed you. If I have one regret in this war, it's letting you die."

"I can't believe you wanted to bring me back." Bazett said as tears ran freely from her eyes. "You're the worst. A hypocrite to the core."

"Yeah, you're right." Lancer admitted freely. "I guess I'm not Cu Chulainn after all. He would've never fought for a wish like that. He would've accepted his failure and never looked back, just like all the other times." He chuckled weakly. "Sorry, looks like you really did summon a shoddy copy of the real thing. The Grail should be giving you your money back for such a crappy imitation."

"Idiot. You're the real thing." Bazett let herself float away as she wiped her tears. "If you're going to keep trudging forward without thinking, then at least take pride in the knowledge that you're definitely a Legendary Soul, regardless of the container."

"I can't be proud of this." Lancer shook his head. "Kotomine was right. All I've done is repeat my mistakes. This war was nothing but me fucking up again and again."

"Don't say that!" Bazett yelled. Her anger was forced, but Lancer perked up at her words, if only slightly. "Don't just end it like that! You're still a hero, aren't you!? What happened to fighting against your destiny? What happened to struggling even though it's impossible to win!?"

"Master… it's impossible." Lancer said softly. "You know it, too. I tried, and I died. This is all that remains. You'd need a miracle to do anything here."

"So what?!" Bazett yelled. She seized Lancer by his armour and yanked him closer. "So what if you're already dead? So what if it's over? Look at me! I died days ago but I'm still struggling even now! Even if I'm wrong, even if I'm weak and even if I can't do anything, I'm still here!"

She abruptly seemed to deflate, losing all of her energy. "If I can do this much… can't you try, too? Didn't you say a hero is one who makes the impossible possible? Aren't you someone who fights to create a miracle himself!?"

"I…"

He couldn't respond. Not when he himself didn't know how to respond to his once Master's words. Could he say yes? Was he even worthy of agreeing with her?

Did he even want to?

His thoughts were in turmoil, so Lancer said nothing. Bazett met his confused gaze, not letting him look away. He knew if he didn't answer something even worse than death would follow. He had to say something. A denial or affirmation. Either would do, but refusing to answer the most honest question in the world was something he couldn't allow himself to do.

So Lancer said nothing, and silence fell upon the two souls floating freely in the shining river.

"Yeah, you're right."

He couldn't say that. She was wrong, he knew that. A hero wasn't one who did the impossible, but someone who accepted their destiny whilst simultaneously fighting against it, serving as a lesson in futility for future generations. So he couldn't fight. He'd already arrived at the end of his tale, with nothing left to show for it but a trail of bodies and a broken soul.

"No, you're wrong."

He couldn't say the either. Not when Bazett's words rang with such clear determination. He couldn't deny them in all their simplicity. Hadn't he always fought? He'd never run from his fate, no matter how horrible, but he had never stopped fighting, either. Wouldn't a denial be the most cowardly answer? Wouldn't it go against everything he believed in?

"You won't, will you?" Bazett whispered. She nodded sadly. "I understand. So that's how it is."

"No, it's not." Lancer said. "Listen. I know better than you what's going on here, so I can tell you that we're both doomed. There's nothing left here for us but death."

"So you won't fight, then?"

"No, I won't." The hero admitted. "But I do owe you, so I'll give you something else. A promise." His eyes softened. "Just name your wish." He said. "And I'll make it come true, even if it's only a dying dream. Even if it can't be done, I'll turn the miracle you asked for into a reality."

"Heh, some consolation prize." The redheaded woman said bitterly. She looked up at the man before her, for the first time seeing him not as an object of worship or affection, or a target of her hate, but as the person he had always been.

"Live." She said. "I don't care how, or why, or how long, but promise me that you'll live. Cling to life even if it's beyond you. Throw away everything just to survive. Even if you're already dead, don't go gently into the night. Fight for every breath, with everything you have. I don't care if you fail. I don't care if it isn't what you want. If you'll let me be selfish, then…"

"Yeah. It's a promise."

There was no need to finish her sentence. He'd already carved yet another vow into his soul.

"How many promises have you broken by now?" Bazett asked, still unconvinced. "I heard what Avenger said, there. Was it… hard?"

"Nah." Lancer said. "It was as easy as brushing aside a spider's web. That idiot never understood, even when he thought he had it."

He looked at his hands, imagining once more all the blood that they bore. "It was never about vows or promises or all those geasa I swore. It was always just me, trying to guide myself onto the path I wanted, and others who sought to guide me onto paths they chose. But I accepted that. Those chains were never to imprison me at all."

"But you broke your promises." Bazett said, puzzled. "Doesn't that mean…?"

"Yeah." Lancer nodded. "Life isn't that kind. Sometimes, no matter how much you struggle, destiny already has a plan for you. That's just how it is. I learned to accept that long ago. I'll struggle as much as I can, but in the end, I'll be content with where I end up no matter what. Well, that was the plan at least. I guess I can never keep from answering a pretty woman's request, even if it'll get me into trouble."

"Isn't that sad, though?" Bazett's voice was barely audible now. Lancer could feel the imagined world around them starting to fall apart as the river widened into the ocean that was the Grail.

Lancer laughed as the river began to fade along with his senses. "Sad?"

"Why would it be sad?"

-

It was dark, Lancer realized.

And cold.

He froze, the tiny movements of his soul ceasing as sheer lack of sensation or energy drained him of his vitality. His coffin was cramped, and he couldn't even muster enough strength to shiver. No, moving and speaking was something he was no longer capable of in his form. All that remained with darkness.

Simultaneously, he burned.

The heat was unbearable. The sun shaved off bits of his flesh, and he felt every unit of prana that made up his spirit slipping away, plucked by a hungry machine that wouldn't stop until he was gone. The Grail fed, and enjoyed its meal.

But most of all, he saw.

Through the darkness, through the light, through the wall that could not be breached, he saw.

A room built from dark matter, studded with stars and nebulas. A crystal design that curved in shapes too complex for humans to comprehend. A vortex in the center of the peaceful chaos, leading to the one place all magi sought.

He was in the core of the Holy Grail.

Lancer barely noticed the six other coffins surrounding the room. He was too occupied with trying to gather enough will to push away death.

His arms wouldn't move, he realized. Neither would the rest of his body. Chains surrounded him, pulling him to his doom, to that stone on the hill. He could not move. His bindings had risen, encroaching upon his body and soul so much that movement was impossible without breaking them in the process.

"Not… a problem."

So break them he did.

It really was quite easy. His bindings had never been particularly strong, and with the knowledge that none of it mattered, shattering his sense of self was simple.

Breaking through his prison, however, was not. Even as he grasped freedom, the container sealing his soul away wouldn't break so easily. Lancer pushed and pounded at the transparent lid of his coffin, but it didn't shift even slightly. His godlike strength couldn't budge it, and he had a feeling that neither would Berserker's. It was as if physical attacks were irrelevant from the beginning.

"It won't work." A familiar voice said. The Shadow appeared again, clawing its way out of a portal that disappeared as soon as Lancer tried to comprehend it. Avenger glanced his way.

"Sorry, but you're stuck there. I couldn't break you out even if I felt like it." The creature that had taken Shirou's form shrugged nonchalantly, walking around the circle and looking at the Servants trapped there.

"You… promised." Lancer said, weakly. He wasn't sure if his voice could penetrate the walls of his cage, or whether he was actually speaking or simply hallucinating, but Avenger reacted all the same.

"A lot of people make promises. Some even mean them." Avenger said, not bothering to look at Lancer. He passed a finger over what Lancer recognized as Rider's coffin, but there was no reaction from within. "Very rarely do they manage to keep them. You know that very well."

"Then why?" Lancer growled. He punched the glass wall with all the strength he could muster, but succeeded only in injuring his fist. "Are you still trying to torture me? I'm telling you now, it won't work!"

"It's not about torture." Avenger said. "I figured you'd die like everyone else, so I said something to make you feel a bit worse before you died. I really didn't expect you to actually pull it off, as impossible as it was. But even then, I can't do anything."

"You're the fucking Grail!" Lancer roared, boundless rage suddenly appearing from nowhere. He couldn't understand why he was so angry, and really couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was get out of his prison and tear something, someone apart. "You can do everything!"

Avenger paused and leaned against Berserker's coffin. Within, all that could be seen was the shell of what had once taken human form. All that remained of the might warrior was a memory. "Well, not really. I gotta confess, I haven't exactly been honest with you. Then again, I never said I was the Grail. You just made that assumption yourself, didn't you?"

"Then what the hell are you?" Lancer asked. The urge to destroy strengthened, and he felt his chest throb, as if an old wound was reopening. But when had he been stabbed in the heart?

"It doesn't really matter. Think of me as someone who was dragged along for the ride. I can kinda walk around, do some sightseeing, and maybe drag a soul or two in here with me if they're close to death. But changing the system? Freeing a Servant who was already defeated? The Grail is the miracle worker, not me. Changing its programming is beyond anyone at this point." The next coffin was Caster's. Her body floated numbly in the container, still whole but obviously fragmented. Avenger looked at her twisted, angry face and chuckled.

"So is that it?" Lancer asked. "Is it really impossible?"

"Yup." Avenger said. Strangely, the biting and sarcastic tone that Lancer had become used to was absent. The boy wasn't even smiling. "You'll have to suffer now. Don't worry, it isn't actually an eternity. It'll just seem that way, but not for long. The mind is first to go, then the body. After that, the Grail will break you down into prana to fuel a single wish. That's how it goes."

"No way," Lancer growled, his muscles clenching as he futilely tried to free himself. "Then what the hell did I do all that crap for? Why did I apologize to her? Why did I break these fucking chains if it's all going to be pointless in the end?" He should've accepted it as he always did, but once more, the burning rage drove all reason from his mind, accompanied by the feeling of a feminine hand curling around his heart.

"Like I said, that's how it goes. A sacrifice is needed. There's no escaping that fact." The last coffin before Lancer's belonged to Assassin. The Servant's body was still whole, and he twitched weakly when Avenger touched the surface of his cage. "This is what normal people experience, y'know. Every person you killed, every person who died to further your climb to fame experienced this one way or another. This is the end of every story, including yours. Sorry, but there ain't gonna be a Deus Ex Machina to bust you out of there this time around, so you might as well die peacefully."

"…no."

"Again?" Avenger asked. "I know you're a stubborn one, but this is ridiculous. Aren't you capable of accepting when you've lost? I thought you of all people would be able to let it go."

"Yeah, you're right." Lancer said. The pain in his chest was overwhelming. The feeling of a very familiar prana burning up his insides was almost unbearable, but he ignored it as if it was nothing. "I know when to give up. Like now. Like before. Like when I fought Goldie. There's nothing I can do here but die. It's not even about pride anymore. If it's just me, then I have no problem with dying."

"Then why? Why fight?" Avenger asked. Face to face with Lancer, the boy glared, demanding the answer to a question he'd been asking himself for thousands of years.

He couldn't breathe. The rage and anger and pain escalated, building up to a crescendo. He could feel the end coming, but at the same time, Lancer's limbs refused to stop moving. "I've fought for many things," he said. "For glory, for women, and for power. But right now, I'm fighting because I promised someone that I'd live."

His next punch was weak. Barely moving, the small fist touched the lid of the coffin with all the force Lancer could muster. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

The lid dissolved in a burst of stardust, and Lancer fell forward, collapsing face first onto a spiral galaxy. He pulled himself up, moving limbs that felt awkward and weak, as if they hadn't been used in years.

"What the… that shouldn't be possible." Avenger said, looking genuinely surprised. "If I can't do that, then there's no way you should be able to."

"Hehe, guess you're not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve." Lancer said, grinning. He managed to straighten his back, but almost immediately doubled over, clutching his chest. "Aaah…" He groaned. "Right, there's still this thing."

Avenger frowned. "Let me see that." He said. Without waiting for confirmation, he brushed aside the weak Servant's arms and took a good look at the man's chest.

There, right over his heart, was a spot of inky darkness no bigger than the tip of a finger. Avenger would've mistaken it for something else had he not sensed its magical signature. This was something he was very familiar with. Something he'd spent eternities occupying.

"The Grail." He whispered in disbelief. "The Grail's prana. So that's how."

"Huh?" Lancer pushed aside the boy and leaned against the side of his now unoccupied coffin. "Mind explaining, punk? I don't know what you're doing to me, but it's not gonna take me down that easily."

"The only thing that can release a Servant who has already been captured is the Grail itself." Avenger said. "In other words, you need to match its magical signature. Somehow, there's a shard of the Lesser Grail embedded in your soul. It's supposed to act like the controller for the Greater Grail, so it would make sense for it to let you out. I don't know how or why it got there, but it's how you managed to break through your container. Even if it's just a tiny piece, that's enough to let you wake up."

"Whatever." Lancer said, dismissing Avenger's words. "I don't really understand, but I don't care either so it evens out." He forced himself up, not even wincing as the pain doubled in intensity. He focused and his blue armour appeared around him in tatters, along with the broken shaft of Gae Bolg. "Tch, what a mess. That guy really did a number on me."

"The Lesser Grail's shards… but where could it have come from?" Avenger mused.

"Doesn't really matter. Anyway, I'm out of here." Lancer spun the broken off spear in one hand, getting used to its new weight. "C'mon, it's time to hold up your end of the bargain. Let me out already."

"It's not that simple." Avenger snapped. "I already told you, I'm not that good. I can't just open the doors and let you waltz out of here. It doesn't work that way. The Grail requires a Servant's soul, and once it's registered the 6th death, there's no leaving until that spot is filled."

"So fill it." Lancer said, bored. "You're a Servant, so it should be fine if you get in there and spend a few years being tortured. It's the least you could do after what you did to me."

"Hell no." Avenger growled. "I've seen enough suffering to last several life times. I'm sure has hell not going to suffer even more for an ungrateful prick like you."

"Do I have to force you in there!?" Lancer brandished Gae Bolg.

"Go ahead and try, you half dead dog!" Avenger summoned the twisted twin blades once more.

"Oh shut up you two." A new voice interrupted the standoff. "I'll do it if you can't."

"Huh?" Both Servants turned as one to see a familiar face climbing into the open coffin. Bazett leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Wait, don't!" Lancer reached for the woman, but his fingers met an invisible wall before he could grab her arm and pull her out. The same barrier that had prevented his escape now stopped him from removing the coffin's new occupant.

"This is the only way, isn't it?" Bazett said, unnaturally calm for someone condemning herself to soul crushing torture. "The only way for you to return is for someone to take your place, so I should do just fine."

"That's not the point!" Lancer said. "Get out of there. You have no idea what you're signing up for!"

"I didn't save your soul so you could sacrifice it on this idiot!" Avenger agreed. "Besides, you're not a Servant. An ordinary human soul isn't enough to power the Grail. You'll last only a short time before you're broken down for good!"

"A short time is all Lancer needs, right?" Bazett folded her arms, or at least tried to before realizing one of them was still missing. "I'll temporarily take his place. It won't fool the Grail for long, but it'll be enough to let him return to the physical plane. It's not like there's anything else to do. I'm dead as it is, so I might as well do something useful with what's left of me."

"Hell no!" Lancer protested. He smashed his fist against the glass lid, but just like before it failed to make a dent. He tried to call up the strength that had let him open the door, but it was gone. "Dammit, I'm not going to rely on you to get me out of this mess!"

"Oh shut up and just go already." Bazett sighed. "Don't try to act all righteous now. You've already been relying on others just to get this far, so you might as well continue that way until the end. You've had plenty of allies killed, so this shouldn't be any different. Just fulfill that promise of yours already."

The spearman's eyes narrowed, and the broken spear in his hands cracked audibly as his hand tightened around it. He glared at Bazett, who returned his gaze with a weak smile.

"Do it." Lancer turned abruptly and looked away from Bazett. "Open the door, Shadow. Before I change my mind."

Avenger looked towards the coffin, his expression unreadable. "I didn't save you for this." He said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I saved you because I wanted to grant someone's wish."

"Sorry." Bazzet said. "But this is my wish. Thank you for helping me, but my physical body is dead. Outside of True Magic, there's no way to bring me back. At least this way I'll be able to do something before I move on for good."

Avenger bit back a curse. Instead of swearing or punching something in a fit of rage, he tapped the coffin's transparent lid with a finger. Darkness spread from the tip, engulfing the container. The last thing he saw of Bazett was a peaceful smile.

"It's begun." Avenger said.

The center of the room rumbled. A single star's light grew brighter, expanding as energy began to flow through it. Lancer took a step back as the galaxy under his feet zoomed towards the center along with everything else. A black, no, a white hole had formed, and the contents of the room were being sucked into it.

"In there." Avenger continued, emotionless once more. "With the defeat of the sixth Servant, the Grail has attained a limited wish granting capacity. Materialization of damaged souls is now possible. That hole will lead you to where you died."

"Thanks." Lancer said. He looked at his exit and back at where he knew his former Master's soul lay. He opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered and shook his head. It was better this way. There was nothing he could say to make the situation any better, so all he could do was hold his head up and keep walking.

As Lancer took his first step towards freedom, however, he paused. Perhaps it was a premonition, perhaps simply luck. Or maybe it was a warrior's intuition. Either way, the result was the same. A piercing sensation in his foot as something stabbed through his ankle.

Most people wouldn't be able to move after getting a stake through the leg, but Lancer was no ordinary man. He whirled, swiping behind with Gae Bolg. The second metal stake bounced off his broken weapon, returning immediately to the hand of its wielder.

The woman had long, dark pink hair. Her blind fold was full of cracks, and seemed ready to fall off at any second. Her clothes were shredded, and the hole in her heart couldn't be more obvious. Yet before Lancer's eyes, Rider's wounds closed as dark tendrils of magic crawled across the dead Servant's skin.

"Haaaaaaaaah." She breathed, a raspy noise that could only be made with a cut throat. "You killed her… oath breaker."

"What the-!?" Lancer's reply was cut short as he instinctively dived to the side. A trio of daggers buried themselves into the floor where he'd been, just a tiny bit too slow to tag even a crippled speedster.

"Sandworm… sandworm…" Assassin growled. His skull mask sported a spider web of cracks, and his dark wrappings were tinged with red, both from his blood drenched arms and from the bloody gap where his heart should've been. The Servant jumped from his open coffin, landing next to Rider.

Lancer had no time to say anything. He raised his arm and was instantly blown backwards as a gigantic axe sword smashed into his hasty block. Gae Bolg's remains splintered, leaving the spearman with little more than a few sticks in his grasp. Lancer struck his closed coffin and felt his nonexistent organs rupture from the force of the strike he'd halted.

"_!"

Berserker's roar had been corrupted, much like the rest of his body. His grey skin was now a mess of roiling prana, God Hand dissolved from incompatibility with divine flesh. His eyes were gone completely, but he had still struck accurately even with no vision.

"Oh… shit." Lancer pushed himself up. "What the fuck is this?" He choked out, not expecting an answer, but getting one regardless.

"I didn't think it could happen, but it did." Avenger said, peeking out from behind Lancer's coffin. "In response to you opening your prison, the Grail must've automatically released all the others temporarily to rein you in. They've been corrupted, transformed into the Grail's guardians."

"That… doesn't sound good." Lancer said, breathing heavily and trying to get his bearings. As he watched, a woman in blood splattered robes clambered out of her coffin, followed by a man in red, curiously unchanged compared to the rest of the tainted Servants. All of them stood between Lancer and the light, preventing his escape from the Grail's heart.

"It isn't." Avenger said, a tinge of fear and awe permeating his voice. "I've never seen anything like this before… it's as if it doesn't want you to leave."

"So this place still had a trump card, huh?" Lancer spat out a mouthful of blood as he sized up his familiar yet different opponents. "Well, got any tricks left, kid?"

"I'm not a kid!" Avenger snapped. "And no, I've got nothing. They won't attack me because I'm part of the Grail, but it's different for you. They'll show no mercy. And what's more, since those Servants are supposed to be fueling your revival, as long as they're out here the Grail won't be able to let you out at all."

"Huh. Well, that's certainly not the best situation." Lancer said.

"Not the best? Not the best!? It's fucking hopeless, you idiot!" Avenger yelled. The corrupted Servants lined up, daring Lancer to approach and promising certain death. "Even with me and Bazett on your side, even with that shard of the Lesser Grail showing up out of nowhere, even with your Master sacrificing herself to give your sorry ass a chance, it's still all for nothing!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Lancer agreed. "But that's how it works, boy. Even if you think you've won, life's always got something left to throw at you. Kinda nostalgic, really."

"Yeah, if you count getting violently murdered as something nostalgic." Avenger cursed. For the first time, the spirit seemed to be genuinely angry. "Dammit, this is what I get for trying to bring my hopes up. I should never have tried to save that woman."

"Can she see me?" Lancer asked.

"Huh?"

"Can she see me?" Lancer repeated, not turning around. "Right now, can Bazett see me?"

"…yeah, she can." Avenger said numbly. "Even though you're dead, your souls are still bound by the Grail War. She's observing you until your soul is destroyed. So yeah, she can see you failing and getting torn apart."

Lancer grinned. "Then that's enough." He traced runes in the air, his hands a blur. "That's all I needed to hear."

"What are you gonna do?" Avenger asked. "You can't win against 5 Servants at once, much less in your condition."

"Hm, let's see. Body, pretty beat up but alive. Heart feels like someone's trying to rip it out… again. Gae Bolg's sawdust at this point, and I think I'm pretty much out of prana." Lancer noted, spinning his broken spear in the air. Bit by bit, shards of wood and steel gathered together, temporarily piecing together the broken weapon.

Avenger looked at the scene before him, all hope gone from his eyes. "What are you going to do, Lancer?" He asked again.

The other man just grinned.

"I suppose," Lancer said. "I'll have to get serious."