We slammed into the asphalt of what seemed like a commercial district like two asteroids colliding, the impact instantly vaporizing the surrounding storefronts.
Dust hadn't even settled before the giant–Berserker–was on me.
His massive stone axe-sword swung in a horizontal arc. It tore through the air with enough force to liquefy organs just from the wind pressure.
My four eyes tracked the blade perfectly. I had seen his speed on the bridge; I knew exactly what was coming. In terms of raw speed, he was relative to me. But the strength behind it? That was in a different weight class entirely.
I didn't dodge. I wanted to feel the weight of this world's heroes. Of beings who had carved themselves into the world's legends.
I brought Hiten up to guard with my right hand. The Trishul hummed, my Cursed Energy flooding its frame. I didn't just block; I twisted the weapon, manipulating the air around the prongs to form a dense, high-pressure bubble at the point of impact.
BOOM.
The axe met the Trishul. The compressed air bubble burst violently, acting as a kinetic dampener, but the force still traveled through the weapon and into my arm.
CRACK.
My radius and ulna snapped like dry twigs. The shockwave rattled my teeth, vibrating through my entire skeletal structure.
I grinned, the pain barely registering as a blip on the radar.
Thank you Sukuna for being such a chad to the point that pain barely even affects me.
Positive energy flooded the limb. Bone knit together, marrow regenerated, and muscle reattached in the fraction of a second it took Berserker to follow through on his swing. To him, it must have looked like I simply tanked the force of his strike.
"Is that all, big guy?"
I twirled Hiten, sending a razor-thin stream of pressurized air at his eyes. Berserker roared as he tilted his head, he ignored the wind blade that carved a shallow gash across his face, and brought the axe down for an overhead smash.
I sidestepped, the blade cleaving the street in two, and unleashed a flurry of Dismantle slashes at near point-blank range.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
The invisible cutting attacks bit into his skin. I targeted the functionality–biceps, hamstrings, tendons. The cuts were shallow, barely penetrating through the surface of his stone-like skin.
His durability is off the charts. Just like I expected from the son of Zeus.
I switched tactics. Ducking under a punch. My free hand struck his side. Cleave.
A spider-web of Cursed Energy that adjusted to his toughness upon contact. It bit deep, carving a trench through his ribs.
Just as he was pushed back, his body wound started leaking. But instead of blood, something else spilled out.
Thick, hateful black mud oozed from the wound. It didn't drip; it lunged. Like a sentient parasite, the mud lashed out, trying to coat my arm.
I paused, momentarily surprised.
The mud touched my skin, trying to drown me in the concept of "All the World's Evil." It whispered madness, despair, and corruption.
I blinked. Then, a feral grin tore across my face. A low chuckle escaped me, quickly rising into a manic cackle.
"You're trying to corrupt me?"
It was hilarious. Trying to curse Ryomen Sukuna? It was like trying to drown the ocean with a water pistol.
I didn't pull away. I let my Cursed Energy flare, jagged and malevolent, and watched as my energy simply ate it. My aura devoured the mud, breaking down the foreign curse and digesting it. The sentient sludge recoiled, realizing too late that it wasn't the predator here.
I inhaled sharply as my reserves swelled–maybe a five percent boost, roughly a finger's worth.
"Thanks for the snack," I muttered, wiping a speck of mud from my cheek.
Berserker, enraged, roared and charged.
Time to ramp up the tempo.
I dropped my stance low. As he swung that massive axe, I swept Hiten upwards, not to strike, but to unleash a compressed updraft of wind right under his feet.
The sudden change in air pressure knocked his leading foot off the ground. He stumbled, his balance broken.
Gotcha.
I let Hiten drop as it sank into my shadow, freeing my hands. I clasped them together.
"Orochi."
The shadow beneath Berserker exploded. The Great Serpent rose, its massive form eclipsing the burning buildings. Its jaws clamped onto Berserker's torso with a bite force that crumpled steel, its fangs injecting gallons of Cursed Venom.
Berserker roared, his muscles seizing as the paralysis took hold. Orochi coiled, thrashing its massive head, and flung the grey giant hundreds of feet into the air.
I didn't need to hold the sign. I pulled Kamutoke from the shadow with my right hand and raised the vajra high.
Green lightning crackled, screaming as it arced towards the clouds before slamming into the airborne giant. His flesh charred, the heat locking his muscles further.
I tossed Kamutoke into the air, letting it drop to my shadow, and slapped my hands together.
"Nue."
From the thunderheads above, a massive purple thunderbolt descended—the Greatbird having formed hundreds of meters above me, diving straight for the servant.
KRACK-BOOM!
The second strike hit. Berserker hung in the air, a suspended statue of pain caught between green and purple lightning.
But he was strong. Absurdly so. With a roar that shattered windows a mile away, he flexed, physically breaking the lightning lock through sheer brute force. He spun in the air, raising his axe in an attempt to strake the now diving Nue.
The giant owl screeched, diving like a missile–and then dissolved into shadow just as the axe swung through empty air.
Perfect.
From the residual shadow Nue left behind, right in front of Berserker's face, I emerged. I carried all of the Shikigami's diving momentum.
I channeled Cursed Energy to the soles of my feet, condensing the air into a solid platform.
I didn't just kick off it; I detonated a burst of raw cursed energy behind me, turning my legs into thrusters. The explosion propelled me downward, tripling my velocity in a heartbeat. I became a living missile, dropping straight for his throat.
Berserker looked surprised, yet his instincts screamed as he adjusted. He swung his axe upward, a strike meant to bisect me.
I didn't use a weapon. I didn't use a technique.
I pulled my fist back.
Everything else faded away. The burning city, the smoke, the noise–it all went silent. There was only the target, the speed, and the overwhelming, ecstatic rush of the fight. My focus narrowed to a singularity.
There was no thought. No plan. Just the pure, unadulterated joy of violence.
My fist met the blade of his axe head-on.
The impact wasn't immediate. There was a distortion. A lag in reality where space warped around the point of contact.
BLACK FLASH.
The world turned negative. Red and black electricity jagged across the sky, tearing the atmosphere apart.
The stone axe didn't just break; it shattered into two massive chunks of rock. My fist continued through the debris and connected with his face as the bottom half of his axe smashed into my torso.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The sound was deafening, a sonic boom that scrubbed the city clean. The smoke, the ash, the dust–it was all blown away in an instant, leaving a vacuum of pure force.
We were both launched like cannonballs in opposite directions. I crashed through three skyscrapers, feeling the concrete turn to powder against my skin, before skidding to a halt in a trench of my own making.
I stood up, shaking the dust off my tattered kimono. My hand was mangled and my chest had caved in, fingers twisted in unnatural directions while my ribcage shattered into pieces from the force of the impact.
Steam rose from my body as reverse cursed technique worked overtime, my body snapping back into perfection.
I looked up. The sky, previously choked with smoke and fire, was now clear. The sheer kinetic force of our clash had punched a hole in the atmosphere, altering the air pressure so violently that the weather itself had bowed to us.
It began to rain.
Water droplets sizzled against the cursed fires that still burned in the ruins, but the air was clearer. Crisper.
I looked across the city, miles away, where Berserker had landed. I could still feel his signature. Faint, but burning with rage.
I cracked my neck, a genuine, bloodthirsty smile stretching across my face.
So this was the level of Ryomen Sukuna aye. Not bad, Not bad at all.
"Now this," I whispered to no one in particular. "This I can work with."
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
MASH POV
The first thing I felt was pain. The giant's blow had sent me flying with the force of a freight train.
From across the bridge, I could only watch as the Director was backhanded into the river, and the monster turned its attention to the twins. My Master and her brother, Ritsuka Senpai.
I wanted to avert my eyes, to not see what was about to happen. In that frozen moment, I pictured it: the creature, with a roar, bringing that monstrous blade down upon them.
Yet, that didn't happen.
One second, its arm was raised, ready to strike. The next, a sharp smack of colliding flesh and bone echoed across the bridge. Something–no, someone had smashed into the giant, a blur of motion that sent both of them hurtling into the city proper, away from my Master.
"Master! Senpai!" I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the stinging vibration in my bones, and rushed to where they were sprawled on the pavement.
Master and Ritsuka-senpai were pushing themselves up, trembling but alive.
"Are you... are you both hurt?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"I... I think I'm okay," Master stammered, checking her limbs. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the same terror churning in my gut.
I had failed. I was a Servant. My entire purpose was to protect, and I had been defeated in a single blow. The Director was gone, and only an unknown being had prevented my Master's death.
"The Director!" Ritsuka-senpai shouted, scrambling toward the broken railing. "She fell into the—
SPLASH.
His words were cut off by the sound of churning water below. My head snapped down. From the muddy, cursed river, a silhouette was moving. It was carrying something—someone.
An enemy? A scavenger?
I moved without thinking. The instinct of the Heroic Spirit merged with my own, planting my feet and raising the heavy shield between my Master, Senpai, and the newcomer.
The figure looked up, crimson eyes locking onto mine through the gloom.
Then, he leaped.
It was a fluid, powerful jump that carried him from the riverbank directly onto the bridge.
As he placed the Director on the pavement, I took in his appearance. He was tall, dressed in a blue and white robe with golden accents, over a black undershirt. A wooden staff covered in what seemed to be runes appeared in his hand in a shimmer of light. His long hair was blue, his eyes a piercing crimson.
A Servant.
I braced my legs, forcing my shield to stay steady. "Who are you?" I shouted.
The man stood up, shaking the river water off his robes like a wet dog. He looked at me—at the massive shield pointed at his throat–and let out a low whistle.
"Whoa there, Missy. Put the wall down," he said, his voice casual, completely unconcerned by my defensive posture. He offered a lazy, sharp-toothed grin. "Not looking for a fight here. Besides, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered fishing this damsel in distress out of the river."
Damsel in distress?
He gestured with the butt of his staff to where the Director lay. He didn't radiate hostility, but the magical energy rolling off him was sharp. Refined.
"You're... a Servant," I stated, not lowering my guard.
"Got it in one," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Servant Caster. And let me tell you, I'm the only straggler left from this messed up Grail War."
He looked past me, his crimson eyes scanning the burning horizon of Fuyuki. "Place is a mess, ain't it? That damn Saber went off the deep end and turned the whole city into a bonfire. I've been keeping my head down since everything went to hell."
BOOM!
Another explosion tore through the silence, vibrating through the soles of my boots.
Caster winced, looking toward the noise. "Sheesh. They're really going at it, huh?" He turned his attention back to us, finally focusing on the unconscious Director. "Anyway, mind if I take a look? Your friend here took a hell of a hit."
I hesitated, glancing at my master. She nodded slowly.
Caster knelt beside the director. "Let's see here..." He scrutinized her limbs. "Well, Berserker really did a number on her. Arm's snapped, leg's twisted..."
He poked her broken arm, and I flinched.
"She's lucky, though," Caster muttered, his voice dropping a tone. "Usually, when that Big Guy hits something, it turns into red paste. Getting away with just a few broken bones? That's a love tap coming from Berserker."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he hovered a hand over her chest.
I leaned in closer. Director's vibrant white hair looked... dull. Lifeless grey. Her skin had the pallor of a corpse. But it wasn't just the color. It was the feeling. It radiated a cold, damp wrongness. It felt exactly like the animated skeletons down in the city.
"You feel that, don't you?" Caster asked, his voice losing its playful edge. "That ain't just river water."
"It feels... cursed," I whispered.
"Bullseye," Caster grimaced. "She fell into the mud. The water in this city is thick with whatever gunk Saber's spewing out. It's even gotten straight to her soul."
He began to trace shapes in the air with a glowing finger–magic, Runes. But the moment the blue light touched the director's chest, it hissed and fizzled out, rejected by black sparks leaping from her body.
Caster clicked his tongue. "Tch. Thought so."
"Can... Can you save her?" Ritsuka-senpai asked, stepping forward.
"Me? No," Caster said bluntly. "I can fix bones, sure. But that mud? It's clinging to her spirit. It's eating my mana. If I try to force a heal, her own body will fight the purge and tear itself apart."
He stood up, weaving a complex pattern of light that settled over Olga like a cage.
"I'm putting her in stasis. Freezing her state so the curse doesn't spread further. You'd need a specialist to fix this–maybe one of those people from the Church, though I doubt any of those stiff-necks are alive at the moment."
He looked up at us, that sharp grin returning, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You lot are lucky I was nearby. And honestly? You're even luckier that whoever that lunatic in the white bathrobe decided to cut in."
BOOOOOOOM!
The bridge lurched violently beneath us, nearly knocking Ritsuka-senpai off his feet.
"Speaking of the lunatic," Caster muttered, looking toward the city center. "Look at that."
We followed his gaze.
In the distance, towering over the burning buildings, a colossal snake made of shadow erupted from the ground. It was impossibly large, and in its jaws, it held the tiny grey figure of the monster–no, Berserker. With a violent thrash, the snake flung the giant hundreds of feet into the air.
Caster let out a low whistle. "Look at that."
Before the giant could fall, two bolts of lightning–one green, one purple–crashed into him mid-air.
Then, from the clouds, a massive orange bird–aboute the size of a building–dove down, only to dissolve into what seemed like shadows. From the dissolving shadow, a tiny white figure appeared.
It was him. The man from the bridge. He was falling toward the ascending Berserker.
"He-He's going to hit him head on?" Ritsuka-senpai gasped.
I squinted. The white figure pulled his arm back. The Berserker swung his massive axe upward. Fist against stone.
"The absolute madman," Caster breathed, his eyes wide.
I couldn't tell who he was talking about. The man punching an axe? Or the monster swinging it?
They connected.
Caster moved instantly. He didn't watch the impact. He threw his staff into the air. "Everyone, down!"
The staff spun, generating a barrier of glowing runes that enclosed us just as the horizon turned black.
There was no sound at first. Just a flash of distorted black and red light that seared my retinas. Then, the shockwave hit.
BA-DOOM!
The sonic boom slammed into Caster's barrier, rattling my teeth. The clouds above the city were literally blown away, leaving a gaping hole in the sky.
Silence followed.
Then, a distant CRASH.
And then, a sound I didn't expect.
Drip. Drip.
Rain.
It started as a sprinkle but turned into a deluge within seconds, hitting the pavement with a heavy hiss.
Caster caught his staff as it fell. He turned to us, his expression grim.
"That's our cue," he said, wiping rain from his face. "The fires are going out, but I can feel it from here. Berserker is still alive. And he is pissed."
He turned to Master and Senpai. "We need to move. Now. Before the big guy decides to come back for seconds."
Ritsuka-senpai gulped, but my Master nodded, her face pale but determined. "Okay."
Caster smirked. Without warning, he grabbed Ritsuka-senpai by the belt and hoisted him onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
"Hey! What the hell?!" Senpai shouted, flailing his legs.
"Stop squirming, kid," Caster scolded, ignoring the kicks. "Ain't no way you two are keeping up with me on foot. We gotta fly."
He bent down and scooped up the unconscious Olga with his other arm, holding her like a sack of potatoes. He looked at me. "Think you can handle your Master, Missy? I know you can't match my top speed, but try to keep up."
I blinked, flushed. "I... Yes!"
I turned towards my Master. "Master, I–Uh… excuse me."
I scooped her up into my arms. It was awkward at first–it was my first time doing something like this–ending up in a bridal carry.
Gudako squeaked, her face turning pink. "Oh. Um." She wrapped her arms around my neck to steady herself, trying to force a laugh. "Well... at least I feel safe in my reliable, cute koahi's hands."
She was joking to hide the terror shaking her hands. I knew it. But the warmth of her praise settled my nerves just a little.
"Hold on tight, Master," I whispered.
Caster was already moving, blurring down the broken highway with Ritsuka-senpai shouting protests over his shoulder.
"Let's go!" Caster yelled back.
We ran into the rain, leaving the battle of monsters behind us.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
3RD POV (MASH FOCUS)
Caster hadn't been boasting.
He moved with a speed that blurred the line between running and flying, his sandals barely touching the rain-slicked pavement. Mash had to push her reinforced body to just shy of its limits to keep up, the wet asphalt passing in a grey streak beneath her boots.
Yet, strange as it was, it never felt like she was struggling to survive the pace. Every time she felt her breath hitch or her footing slip, Caster seemed to infinitesimally adjust, slowing down just enough to keep her within the slipstream. He was setting a pace meant for her, not him.
She was quietly thankful for that.
A few blocks away from the accursed bridge, Caster finally began to decelerate. He banked sharply into a narrow, debris-strewn alleyway, signaling for them to stop. Before Mash could ask why, he located a set of rusted metal stairs descending beneath the city infrastructure.
"Down we go," he muttered, adjusting the unconscious Director on his shoulder. "Watch your step."
As they descended into the gloom, Mash felt a sensation wash over her skin. It started as a prickle at the base of her neck, then intensified into a heavy, static pressure that brushed against her heightened senses.
A Bounded Field.
It made sense. As a Caster-class Servant, territory creation was his specialty. But this... this didn't feel like the magecraft she had seen in Chaldea.
While she herself wasn't well versed in magecraft to know what the bounded fields' intentions were, she could tell they were quite powerful. Stronger than even the ones that Cas–No, Da Vinci (that's what she was told to call her)had placed in her own workshop.
Then again, she never intended her workshop to be fortified in case a servant attacked it, probably.
They reached the bottom of the staircase, facing a dead-end brick wall that looked completely unremarkable.
Caster set Ritsuka-senpai down on the damp concrete. Mash gently lowered her Master to stand beside her brother.
"Open sesame," Caster grunted.
He summoned his staff in a flash of blue particles and tapped the butt of the weapon against three specific bricks in a rapid, rhythmic sequence. A ripple of mana flared across the mortar, and the wall groaned, sliding inward to reveal a heavy steel door.
"Where is this place...?" Ritsuka-senpai asked, leaning against the damp wall for support.
"One of my bolt-holes, kid," Caster replied, pushing the door open with his foot. "Should be safe enough for now."
He led them inside.
It was a basement–damp, smelling of concrete and old dust–but clearly converted into a crude living space. It reminded Mash of the descriptions in the old mystery novels that the doctor used to lend her. A 'Safe House.'
A single naked bulb flickered to life as Caster hit a switch. The room was sparse: a few mismatched chairs scavenged from somewhere, a rough wooden table cluttered with empty beer cans and bottles of cheap alcohol, and a large box of what looked like dry rations in the corner. A small, humming mini-fridge sat beside a solitary, stained mattress on the floor.
Caster walked over to the mattress and lowered the Director onto it with surprising gentleness. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders with a crack.
"All right," he said, gesturing vaguely at the room. "I've put her in the most comfortable spot we got. You lot should sit down and rest. There's water in the fridge, maybe some stale crackers in the box. Not exactly something premium, but it's all I got."
Mash moved before she even realized she was doing it. She gravitated toward the mattress, kneeling beside the Director.
She wanted to look away. She wanted to look anywhere else. But her eyes were glued to Olga Marie's face. The Director was usually so vibrant, so full of loud, angry energy. Now, she was grey. Still. The unnatural pallor of her skin reminded Mash terrifyingly of the skeletons marching through the fire above.
I failed her.
The thought spiraled in her chest, tight and cold. I'm a shield, and I let this happen.
As a tear slipped down her cheek, she felt a soft tap on her pauldron.
"Mash."
She turned. Ritsuka-senpai was standing there, holding out a condensation-slicked water bottle. His face was smeared with soot and he looked exhausted, but his eyes were steady.
"Drink," he said softly. "You need it."
"Senpai..."
She wanted to deny it. As a Demi-Servant, her caloric and hydration needs were different now; she could function for days without intake. But looking at his concern, she couldn't refuse.
"Thank you," she whispered, taking the bottle with shaking hands.
Ritsuka gave her a small, tired smile before turning to his sister. Gudako was slumped in one of the wooden chairs, staring blankly at her hands. Ritsuka crouched in front of her, whispering something low and indistinct. He brushed a smudge of ash from her cheek, his hand lingering on her shoulder.
Gudako looked relieved. She leaned into her brother's touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment as the adrenaline finally crashed.
It was a quiet moment of humanity in the middle of a nightmare. Mash felt a warm swell of gratitude that they were both safe.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was sharp, rhythmic, and utterly mundane against the steel door.
Mash paused, the water bottle halfway to her lips. She turned to the door, confusion warring with her wariness.
Who could it be?
A thought occurred to her–Servants usually had Masters. Was this Caster's Master? Or perhaps an ally he had coordinated with?
She glanced at Caster. The blue-haired mage didn't look surprised. He didn't reach for his staff. He was leaning against the mini-fridge, popping the tab on a can of beer with a sharp hiss.
He took a sip, looked at the door, and smirked.
"Took you long enough," he muttered.
He walked over to the heavy steel door and undid the latch.
Mash silently moved a step closer to Gudako and Ritsuka, placing herself between them and the entrance. She summoned her massive shield, gripping it tightly, ready to defend them if her assumption was wrong, but the tension in her shoulders lessened slightly. If Caster was expecting them, it couldn't be an enemy.
Caster pulled the door open.
Mash's eyes widened. Standing in the doorway frame, shaking rain off a their clothes, was the last person she expected to see.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Authors Note:
How have you guys been? Well? Love to see it.
On a serious note: How was the chapter? I need honest feedback. It's still a little rough, so please point out anything that felt clunky, confusing, or just generally iffy.
Specifically:
Did the pace of the Berserker fight feel right, or was it too drawn out or too fast?
The only POV characters in this version are the SI and Mash. Did Mash's section (the aftermath and Caster introduction) work well, or did it feel like a sudden stop after the action?
Did the SI's confidence and power come across clearly enough during the fight?
Any confusing errors, typos, or bits of description that didn't land?
Now on a different note, the update schedule for my fics is (1 Chapter A Cursed King's Adventure every Saturday) and (1 chapter FCO Every Sunday).
On Pat - reon I am trying to keep it from 14000 to 20000 words a week which is divided between both, now the division happens on my mood.
Currently I am 3 chapters Ahead on Pat - reon (Chapter three of FCO and Inter 4 and Inter 5 for A Cursed King's Adventure, about 15000 words) while I have a draft of INTER 6 (Last inter before Orleans) and FCO Chapter 4 and the basics of Chapter 5 FCO, which I will upload on Pat - reon in the coming week while writing more.
Subscribe on Pat - reon . com / st_scarface for earlier updates (maybe some Omake's as well).
As always, thanks for the support. See you in the next one.
Ciao