Chapter 35: Divide and conquer
Morning haze clung to the ruined city like a second skin.
Inside their makeshift base, a quiet tension hung in the air.
Rin sat on the edge of a cracked desk, arms folded.
Riya leaned against the wall beside her, while Richard traced symbols into the dust on the floor with the tip of his sword.
Cu Chulainn stood near the window, watching the horizon with sharp eyes.
"We've all seen it," Richard began. "This floor's crawling with Masters. If we want to conquer it, we need to break them down — fast."
"But not kill them," Rin added. "Otherwise the capsule'll will drag us and send us to the next level."
"Exactly," Riya nodded. "We knock out their Servants. And force them to surrender."
Cu's lips curled into a smirk. "My kind of plan."
Richard stood. "We split into three. I go west. Cu takes the east. Riya, you stay with Rin — central quadrant. If any of us wins a fight, we'll ping the others with a telepathic call."
"Short and brutal," Rin said. "I like it."
Riya cracked his knuckles. "Let's go hunting."
They left without ceremony.
Boots hit the cracked streets in three directions — one east, one west, one staying behind.
The plan was simple. The execution would be anything but.
Cu moved through the eastern ruins like a wraith, his steps silent over broken concrete and bent rebar.
The world around him was dead quiet — until he heard it.
A whistle.
Low.
Familiar.
He turned.
Fergus mac Róich stood atop a car, sword slung over one shoulder, grinning with the force of a hundred battle songs.
"Well, well! Look who the war dragged in!"
Cu chuckled. "Fergus."
"You've got guts showing your face here, boy."
"I was about to say the same."
The other Master, a lanky mage with a nervous twitch, barked a quick order:
"Fergus! Strike him down!"
But Fergus just kept grinning. "You sure you want that? I don't really like cutting down good company."
"Now's not the time for drinks, old man,"
Cu said, spinning his spear.
They clashed.
The air exploded with the sound of metal on metal — Fergus's massive sword crashing down against Cu's spear in brutal, beautiful arcs.
They danced through rubble, blades singing through dust.
Cu leapt back, grinning. "Still slow."
Fergus laughed. "Still cocky!"
Then Cu moved.
Lightning-fast, he darted behind Fergus, jabbing low — a feint.
Fergus blocked — and that's when Cu went high, slamming the butt of his spear into Fergus's jaw, knocking him off his feet.
Fergus skidded across the concrete, his blade slipping from his grip as he slammed into a crumbling wall.
Blood dripped from a gash on his shoulder, and one of his gauntlets sparked from a crack.
Cu didn't give him time to breathe.
He moved like a blur, reappearing with his spear leveled just above Fergus's heart.
The point pressed into his armor, drawing a thin line of blood.
Fergus grimaced. "Tch… damn good hit."
"Don't flatter yourself," Cu said, his tone cold. "If I was serious, you wouldn't be talking."
He snapped his gaze to the trembling Master nearby, who was now fumbling with his command spell, panic in his eyes.
"Oi," Cu barked. "Try it, and I'll put him down before your lips finish the order."
The Master froze.
Cu's eyes narrowed. "Your call."
The silence hung heavy, then the Master's resolve cracked.
He dropped to his knees, raising his hands in surrender.
Cu gave a satisfied smirk and sent the telepathic call: "Rin. One Servant, bagged and ready. Bring the leash."
A moment later, Rin materialized through the dust and rubble, boots crunching glass as she approached.
She eyed Fergus briefly, then turned her sharp gaze on the Master.
"So this is the idiot who thought he could win with that brute?" she said, unimpressed.
She raised one foot and planted it squarely on the Master's chest, pushing him onto his back.
"I'll take those command seals now," she said flatly. "Unless you'd rather try your odds with me."
The Master, pale and sweating, muttered a plea and extended his arm.
Rin tapped her own seals, overriding his.
Magic flared briefly, and just like that—Fergus was hers.
She glanced at Cu. "Well done."
He rolled his shoulder. "Wasn't even a warm-up."
West of the ruins, Richard stalked through an abandoned factory.
His armor shimmered faintly as he crept between rusted machines.
A booming voice echoed from above: "You reek of strategy."
Richard looked up.
Leonidas I stood atop a catwalk, shield raised, spear at the ready.
His Master, cloaked and quiet, stood behind him like a shadow.
Richard stepped forward. "You going to monologue, or fight?"
Leonidas leapt down like a meteor, landing with a quake.
"I admire boldness. Let's test your mettle, knight."
They clashed.
A storm of steel.
Leonidas was a wall of iron — shield absorbing blow after blow, countering with a relentless spear that sang of Sparta's harsh legacy.
But Richard didn't falter.
He weaved in and out, blade dancing, reading every pattern, every movement.
"You're precise," Leonidas growled, deflecting a strike. "A tactician."
"I'm worse," Richard said, parrying. "I'm patient."
Leonidas charged again, shield raised and low like a battering ram, his spear thrusting forward in brutal, calculated jabs.
Richard ducked left, parried the strike, and kicked off a broken pillar to flip over Leonidas' shoulder.
His blade scraped sparks across the Spartan's bronze armor.
Leonidas grunted and turned sharply, slamming his shield into Richard's ribs with bone-rattling force.
Richard hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up spitting blood.
"Tough bastard," Richard muttered, shifting into a defensive stance.
Leonidas grinned, sweat streaking his battle-worn face. "You fight well... for a man who isn't born of war."
"I learn quick."
Their swords clashed again.
Sparks flew.
Blow after blow, the rhythm built.
Leonidas was a fortress, immovable and relentless, but Richard was agile, a ghost slipping through gaps and punishing every missed strike with precision cuts.
Then—an opening.
Richard feinted right, drew Leonidas forward with a wide parry, then rolled low and slashed at the back of the Spartan's knee.
Leonidas roared as his leg buckled.
Richard surged forward, hooked Leonidas' spear with his sword, and twisted, wrenching it free.
A punch followed—straight to the side of the head—then a brutal kick to the gut that dropped the warrior.
Breathing hard, Richard swept Leonidas' legs again and pinned him to the ground, blade at his throat.
"Yield," he said, eyes locked on the warrior's.
"You're strong, Leonidas. But not strong enough."
Richard made the telepathic call:"Riya. I got one."
But the Spartan's Master wasn't done.
Eyes wild with desperation, the young man raised his hand — the red glow of a Command Seal burning bright.
"I'm not done ye—!"
Before he could speak the command, a cold wind passed behind him.
He froze.
Riya stood there, shadowed under the eerie glow of cracked street lamps.
His eyes gleamed a deep red — Jack's bloodlust pulsing through him like a second heartbeat.
One dagger pressed to the Master's chest.
The other — just under his chin.
"Don't," Riya said softly.
The Master trembled, lips trembling, the words caught in his throat like riya's knife.
"Give up the Servant," Riya continued, voice barely above a whisper, "or I give you hell."
"Inch...by...inch."
Leonidas groaned, still pinned under Richard's sword.
The Master Command Seals glowing uselessly as he lowered his hand in surrender.
Riya exhaled. "That's more like it."
The red light on the Master's hand faded as the binding shifted.
Leonidas was now riya's servant.
Richard dusted himself off. "You always come in at the right time."
Riya didn't answer.
His eyes slowly faded back to normal as Jack's influence receded.
He exhaled, sharp and slow, the tension bleeding from his shoulders.
Richard gave a brief nod, stepping away from Leonidas.
"I'll keep hunting," he said, turning toward the alley shadows.
Leonidas rose slowly, brushing dust from his cloak.
He glanced at Riya, then bowed his head.
"I recognize your strength," the Spartan said.
"From this point on, I acknowledge you as my Master."
Riya gave a small nod. "Good."
Leonidas turned and followed Richard into the ruins, their footsteps fading into the wind.
Riya stayed behind for a moment, watching the shadows of Richard and Leonidas vanishing.
Then, with practiced calm, he moved.
Later
Riya and Rin crouched atop a crumbling building, watching the streets below like hawks.
They had the perfect vantage point — high ground, clear lines of sight — ready to move the moment one of their Servants called them in to seal a victory.
Dust blew across the roof, the wind carrying the faint scent of blood and ash.
Rin adjusted her gloves with a sigh. "This is taking forever. We only got two new servants."
Riya just smirked. "Patience."
But neither of them noticed the shadow slipping up behind them.
A man, pale and twitchy, eyes ringed with sleepless fatigue, stepped onto the roof.
His eyes gleamed black, his voice a rasp. "There you are."
Behind him, the hulking figure of Darius III emerged — massive, armored, monstrous.
The Servant snarled, axe gripped tight, thirsting for blood.
"They're just Masters," the man sneered. "I will kill you here, and then I will move on."
"Easy."
He raised his hand. "Darius — kill them."
Rin's heart jumped.
Instinct took over — she reached for her Command Seals, ready to call Cu in—
But she didn't need to.
A flash of red.
Riya stepped forward.
A crimson sword shimmered into existence in his hand — Nero's blade — beautiful, ornate, deadly.
And then he moved.
In one clean motion, Riya darted forward, sword piercing deep into Darius's gut — not enough to kill, but enough to drop the beast to his knees.
Rin gasped. "What the—?!"
The enemy Master stumbled back in shock, face pale. He turned to run—
But Riya grabbed him by the collar like he weighed nothing, and with a twist of his arm, hurled him toward Rin.
The man hit the ground hard, groaning.
When he looked back — bruised and stunned — Riya was just standing there… MENACINGLY.
"Surrender your command seals, And your Servant. Now." Riya said, voice flat.
The Master looked up in panic — and found Rin's boot planted on his face.
Her smile was sharp, wicked. "You heard him. Or do you want to find out how good I am at incineration magic?"
"Okay! Okay!" the man squealed,
squirming. He surrendered.
Rin peeled the command seals from his hand, binding Darius III to herself.
The man lay still, groaning in shame.
Rin watched him for a second longer before stepping off and turning to Riya.
She folded her arms and tried to act nonchalant, but the flicker of awe in her eyes was obvious.
"…Who the hell are you?" she muttered.
Riya didn't answer.
Just smiled.
Back at the building, one by one, the Servants began arriving — now marked with new contracts, standing beneath the banner of one united team.
Darius III and Fergus stood behind Rin — bruised, quiet, obedient.
Leonidas stood behind Riya like a fortress, arms crossed, gaze steady.
Rin looked over their growing force, a flicker of disbelief passing through her eyes.
"This is starting to look less like a team," she said, voice low. "And more like an army."
Riya grinned, sharp and calm.
"Good. That's what we'll need to take on the whole tower."
Rin didn't respond.
But for once, she didn't roll her eyes either.