Exodus

Purgatory. His own personal hell. Nothingness, the sheer absence of all. He'd call it darkness but for darkness to exist there must be light. There was nothing, just ... nothing. No boundaries, no. No matter, none at all. Time had lost meaning centuries ago... No, days? Years? Months? Hours? He had tried to track time, tried to sleep and maintain something of schedule but he had lost the will so many years ago. Nothingness, that's all there was.

Pursuit ... he remembered running, running as far as his legs could take. To kill Death, to defeat Death, they had worked so hard. But one cannot kill a fundamental force, still, they had taken him down. To nothing. He had felt fear for the first time, fear and anguish and bitterness. Anger. Human emotions that had come with his tangible form, human emotions that he loved and loathed. They could not kill death, but they could cage it. Lock it away. Broken, weakened, afraid. They had taken his shell and tossed it into ... somewhere? Here. Still, death could not be defeated, not truly. They had made a mistake, forgotten that to lock him away, cut off from the world he had ruled, they had created something else. Death persisted in the world, and somehow they had allowed just enough of that strength, that energy, to flow into his prison. He grew stronger, wounds healed and memories faded. Bitterness remained, bitterness and anger and no longer fear but a thirst for revenge. Human emotions. Not human, he's not ... not human. Death seeps through the cracks. Wounds have healed, he's stronger. Weaker? He cannot know, does not know.

Something ... something has shifted outside. The world is changing, something is coming. Was coming? Has coming? No matter, it does not affect him. No matter, he is trapped. Locked away. Alone.

Every few years? Decades? Months? Periodically. Every so often he tried, he pushed against the bonds, pushed against the walls he cannot find, cannot feel. Pushing out out out, energy and mana and breath. Out. This time it gives ... gave. Cracks he cannot see, shards blown back, biting his skin, digging into him. Pain. But something has given. The bonds are weakened, or he is stronger.

Days later, hours, minutes, again? He pushed again, pushed outwards ... out out out. Cracks, splinters, shatters. The stinging pain felt weaker, the cracks bigger.

Again, another push. He lurched forward, finally feeling again. His body, he existed, he is there, was there, he's alive. Alive. He felt it, can feel it, the wall. There was a wall before him, he balled his hands into fists, lurched forward and slammed his fasts against the wall. Again. He hit it again, pounding frantically. Out out out. It gave. Each hit the wall weakened, pushed outward. Each hit the wall shattered.



Air. Freedom. Air. He pulled in a breath, sucking in air, gulping it like a drowned man surfacing. Chest heaving as he tumbled forward, barely catching himself in time as knees hit marble and raw hands met a cold floor. Ebon splinters fell to the ground around him, drip drip drip blood seeped from raw hands. Drip drip drip, tears. Crying? He was crying. Emotions. Freedom. Brown hair cascading down pale and gaunt shoulders, covering a bare chest that heaved with each breath of freedom. Cloth lay loose around his waist, giving the illusion of modesty. Cloth so old, so coarse, yet still so white. Bare feet, bare everything. Cold. It was so cold. He rocked back, heels meeting floor as he crouched, wide violet eyes soaking in the light, the sights, his senses were alive. Where? Where was he? He saw nothing but smooth marble walls, a door in the distance. Light shone from above, harsh and blinding to his eyes. It was no sunlight, nor flame. So bright, so harsh, so cold was this light that shown from the ceiling. He reached up, pushing hair back from his shoulders, hair cascading down past his waist as he stood. Cold, the floor was so cold. He wanted to scream, to shout, to sob. But he was free, and locked in this room. Someone would know, alarms raised, he had to expect that. One last gulp of free air, he relaxed and closed his eyes.



Unseen wind whipped up around him, causing his unkempt hair to flutter briefly as indigo shadows coalesced around his hands. Shoulders shaking with the effort, he called out silently, straining to pull into a connection that was as inherent as he was. Flickering, shuddering, shaking and there.. A scythe, indigo shadows seeping from the edges, blurring the sights, the weight of the blade causing him to stagger.

((Continue music from above.))

From thin air a young man with shaggy orange hair appeared. He was dressed in flowing black robes and had a sword nearly the size of his entire body draped over his shoulder. A crackle in the air followed his appearance, and everyone with an inkling of mana detection was immediately alerted to his presence. A sole guard made the mistake of turning to face him with a weapon drawn. The look in his eyes made it clear that he had mistaken this new Servant for the escapee.

He was going to just knock the man out. That was his plan. But then this poor guard made the mistake of insulting his master. “WITCH! This is your doing!” Levi tensed up as he drew out his strength from the depths of its slumber.



In an instant, that man laid in two pieces on the ground. Leviathan’s blade was drenched in his blood. It had all happened fast enough that human eyes could barely track it.



Levi was not human. He was Leviathan, the Dragonic God of the Sea. The embodiment of pride. The embodiment of greed. His master was just that. His. He would not permit any man to threaten her, and he cared not that his actions horrified her. She belonged to him, and his blade would allow no harm to come to her as long as he drew breath. He turned to face his master. A glimmer of remorse, then nothing.



Without giving his master any time to process what had happened, he bolted off down the hallway in the direction all the guards had run a few moments earlier. He caught up to them just as they reached their destination.

An important thing to note about Levi. He has absolutely no ability to detect mana. He is no mage. He is a Dragon. He fights on instinct, not facts. And boy oh boy his instincts have never been more wrong than they were in that moment. Dozens upon dozens of faceless guards stood in a ring around a single man armed with nothing but a scythe. Several robed figures, priests perhaps, already lay collapsed on the ground. The one correct thing his instinct told him was that those men on the ground were some sort of culty-ass ritual jailer… things. He wasn’t really sure what to call them, but he could tell they had been responsible for the containment that was clearly breached.

Where Levi’s instinct could not have been more wrong was in his judgment of this situation. He saw the situation here, and what his gut told him was that he should help this prisoner. He sensed injustice in this imprisonment. He sensed a soul as old as he was. No. Older. That was all it took for him to pick a side. For him to side with Death.

He leapt over the guards and took a defensive stance to cover the back of this man. Enough water to fill up a large SUV coalesced in the air above the two Servants. This was the work of his Noble Phantasm’s first property, Dehydrate. In that moment he had gathered enough power to contend with D-Rank magecraft directly, but he held back his blade.


Maybe, just maybe, this could end without any more bloodshed.

"Who?"

He was so weak. Not in power, but in spirit. It was as if he had survived on the razor’s edge of death. Barely alive. Barely in one piece. Rage boiled within the dragon at such a pathetic sound. Whoever had done this was clearly the bad guy here. He answered that initial question reflexively with the traditional half-answer. ”I am the servant, Saber.”

But then the man continued to speak.That was what Levi thought right up until he heard this man speak at length. He spoke of fear. He spoke like a villain. Had Levi made a mistake? And that was when it caught him. His breath caught in his chest, his limbs grew leaden. A bead of sweat dripped down his neck. A second drop fell from fear. Who… what had he helped unleash?

Fear continued to fill him when he realized that the supposed captors had no hope to contain this man. One by one the weakest amongst them dropped to the ground. One after another they succumbed to the power of this man.

Levi had already committed though. He’d already slain a man carelessly, and he had already obviously painted himself as an ally of this man. No doubt there was some sort of surveillance that would record that for all time. This was a prison cell after all.

The Dragon steeled his nerves. He had definitely read this situation wrong, but he was stubborn enough that he would at least survive this encounter. The focus at that point was just that much. Just survival. Nothing more.

And some focus it would take. The weaker guardians had fallen, but the heartier among them stood strong. This spell… no. It was no spell. Levi naturally resisted Magecraft through his dragonskin, but this effect had an impact on him. It was a Noble Phantasm. It had to be. Still, it must be a relatively weak one, or perhaps just a partial release of its power. He still stood, as did some humans, particularly those in the outer ring of their defense.

He only saw one way forward. He attacked.

His sphere of water swole, doubling in size, before it burst into ten smaller spheres. Each orb blasted off at the outer ring of guards. A few managed to jump to the ground fast enough, but most were hit cleanly and knocked out.

”Often it is better not to give them a choice. They need not die, but I feel they know they are outmatched now.”

Servant. Saber. These words meant something him, some shred of knowledge clawing it's way back into his mind. He turned his head slightly, listening, hearing. Pale and gaunt he tilted his face, like a dog hearing a new sound. An expression crossed his face, something that spoke of fear, something that was gone as soon as it had began. Bodies dropped around him .. them. The sound of lax flesh hitting solid marble, sounds that echoed throughout the empty room. Sounds the bore familiar fruit, as the weakest expired pitifully. One draw, two ... his scythe quivered in his hands, reveling in his freedom with him as held the scythe higher. Stronger, he grew so much stronger. Death was all around him, countering life and it felt so good. He felt those expired souls drain into his being as his scythe pulsated with fresh strength. Joy, oh unbridled joy, the air touched his bare skin, he felt tangible. He felt real. Closing his eyes for the briefest moments he inhaled. The death around him felt so fresh, so raw, so new all over again. He laughed, a strangled sound at first, not unlike a dying animal. But then it grew, frantic and fresh and loud and full of joy.

He watched as the man ... servant ... what? Behind him, the being at his back did something. Oh, he felt it, something strong, something old. Younger than him, but still so very old. Almost ... familiar. Water ... he fought with water, and Duo watched as the water struck those standing, he felt the raw power behind him expand and out out out.

These people here, those who still stood, they looked at him in confusion. They were not the humans who had trapped him, though they protected this place. He felt no joy in this revenge. This was death, this was necessary, but freedom. Oh, he just wanted his freedom. His laughter died down, falling short as he bowed his head and lifted his scythe once more, holding it much like a torch. "And so the horseman passes." Loud, oh his voice felt so loud. Everything felt so loud and fresh and bright and he just wanted to be free. He did not want to fight, no, not yet. Revenge would be had, it would oh it would, but now he just ... he hungered and he thirsted for tangible things. He wanted to see and breath and run. Snippets of knowledge poured into him, tempting him with new things. Metal carriages? No, something different. Oh, how humanity had advanced, how humanity had grown. Out of control, too many too much too bright, but so much more. There was so much he needed to see, needed to feel, oh please. Freedom. He was free. As he stood there allowing sensations and information assault his very core, the indigo mists began to retract, pulling back towards his scythe as if drawn by wind and air. The mist coalesced, and suddenly pop. It was gone. Absorbed back into him, into his scythe, gone.

A new person, a girl? Strength, she had power and ties and something also familiar to him, but also not. Scared, she looked so scared. Duo caught the briefest of acknowledgement from the Servant, oh .. oh that made sense. Servant, ah ... master yes oh he remembered, he remembered the tie the bond oh oh. No, not her not right now. He had to show gratitude, even if these beings had unknowingly aided him. Debt to be repaid, yes. A wry smile spread across his face as he looked about the room, eyes still alight with unbridled joy. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his scythe, the weight familiar once more and no longer the burden that it had begun as.

"... leave. I want to leave, go ... anywhere. Not here, anywhere but here!" Words came to him in bursts, as his own mind struggled with the onslaught of everything at once. Crazed, he probably seemed so ... no, that wouldn't do. He closed his eyes and shook his head, hair flying wild with the movement. "Thank you. my gratitude ... Where is this? Where are we? How do I ... exit? Where is the exit. Sorry, my mind is ... centuries, it must have been hundreds of years gone by. There's so much here, so much new, I want to see it all, oh, everything is so fresh and new and ..." Another shake of his head, and a genuine smile. Joy, nothing left but joy and happiness and everything was so beautiful, the light that had burned his eyes was magnificent, genius mechanics.

"Duo. My name is Duo!" He all but shouted the words, smiling wildly and widely. The exit was clear, it was before him but he knew not where the winding walls would take him. Quietly, softly, meekly he ducked his head, the smile dimming ever-so-slightly. "How do we get out?" The words were even, spoken normally, naturally, as he felt himself return to him.

Weak. She was so weak. But that was okay. That was why she had summoned her Servant. He could endure this much with ease. As long as his resolve was unshaken, and his head clear, then she too could overcome. Sera rose to her feet and looked at the man before her. He seemed… normal? Weird. Even though she was somehow able to put her fear beside her, she still felt weak.

Father. Serafina had never met him, but his blood ran through her veins. Though Sera knew it not, that man was a healer of renowned quality. She had inherited some of his talent for those arts. Something deep within her made her realize what was wrong. Mana surged within her as she prepared a spell.



Cure Minor Wounds. It was a simple spell, but it was enough. She felt her strength return to her, only to realize her Servant had the same ailment. Her incantation repeated, and the spell washed over Saber. With that, the toxin that had inflicted them was purged.

Her gaze fell upon Duo once more. She stepped out past her Servant and spoke to the man directly. She could not match his enthusiasm for this situation, but the least she could do was reply to him. “I am…” and then she thought better of speaking her name, on record, while inside the Holy Church, in the midst of breaking a prisoner out. “here to guide you. She turned and began to proceed out of the room.

The Magus had drawn the same conclusion that her Servant had. “Saber, Rider, with me.”

Dear God she was putting on so many airs right now. Sera was definitely the least confident among all of them, but she forced herself to try to show her normal, confident, feisty self. It didn’t work very well. Her walk was incredibly stiff and forced, as if she were made of metal. Nevertheless, both she and her Servant made their way back to the main hallway they had entered into, and that was when her heart sank in her chest.



A small squadron of knights stood before them in a half circle around one unarmed, robed figure. Each was fully armored and held a halberd. Though they looked no different than the others that had fallen so easily before, that single word she had heard didn’t bode well. A prayer might be just that, but in the Vatican, a prayer was likely the invocation of a miracle. She focused her senses around her and felt the mana in the air. Her skills weren’t great enough to determine the exact nature of the spell, but she felt a mana she didn’t like on their weapons. Thankfully she didn’t have to guess for long.



She only had one thing to say in response to that.

“Saber!”

Levi heard his Master’s call and immediately assumed a defensive position in front of her. His sword was raised, and the water formed a wall behind him but in front of his master. Nothing could get to her without going through him first. Yet he held back from offense. He listened carefully as Duo spoke. Once more he questioned who was in the right in this situation. Rider was clearly all sorts of evil based on the aura he gave off, but if his claims were true then he was a necessary evil. Surprise suprise, it looked like the Church had tried to play God, and it had backfired. If Duo could be believed that was. Levi still wasn’t sure he could actually trust this man. No. He was no man. Levi still couldn’t place the feeling, but he felt this soul was akin to him. A being from the Age of Gods? Older? Perhaps an actual God? He was lost in that thought for a moment before a name finally came to him. Hades. He knew not if he was right, but that was the energy he felt from one who called themself Duo Maxwell.

It was only when he was attacked that his focus snapped back to the matter at hand. On pure instinct he had raised the Chaos Dragon’s Blade to block the incoming swing. Their weapon held. Their weapon held? His blade which held the power of a Dragon, the power of the Lord of the Sea and Prince of Dragons, had failed to cut through a mere human’s lump of iron?



His skull crashed into the helm of the man foolish enough to attack him. He slammed into the ground hard enough to crack the marble beneath him. Blood seeped out of the holes in what was left of that man’s shattered helm. His gaze fell upon the remainder of the enemies. Their Magus had already fallen to Rider, as had some of their front line. Rage burned in his eyes as more of them charged towards his master. With a roar audible to all within that hall, nay all in that building, Levi proclaimed their fate.

“KNOW THAT YOU STAND BEFORE LEVIATHAN. ELDEST PRINCE OF THE DRAGONS. LORD OF THE SEA. THOSE WHO DARE CLAIM RIGHTEOUS VENGEANCE AGAINST MY MASTER SHALL FEEL MY FURY.”

Azure mana swirled and blasted out from Leviathan, his fury on full display for the world to see. His threat by itself was enough to stop the attackers in their tracks, but he wasn’t about to stop there. The dragon was not in a forgiving mood.



His voice had chilled. The burning rage of a moment ago was replaced with a calm air of finality. It was the voice of a man who knew he had already killed these men. His blade raised into the sky as he proclaimed their deaths to the world.



One moment they were all there. Alive. Scared. But Alive. In an instant they were gone. A vicious cyclone of water engulfed them all. The tempest raged loud enough to drown out their mortal screams. It was done. They were gone. With only the slightest glimmer of regret he turned to face his master. His head held low, he whispered to her. “We must away.” It was so faint that, before the roar of his attack, none save his master could possibly have heard that moment of weakness, of remorse. He had fallen to his basest nature again. Good Dragon or not, he was still Leviathan, the Prince of Dragons.

Strength. Just raw power and strength, old. So old. Duo rocked back on his heels, pushing back hair that had been splattered with blood and vainly attempting to wipe it off. Sticky, disgusting, his scythe dripped gore like a well-feed predator. Sorry. He was sorry, sorry for this sorry for the slaughter sorry for the gore. No, not sorry. Vindicated? No. So lost in his head, so shaken and new and no. Head. Think. Duo, be Duo be free be human. Violet eyes closed briefly, pulling in a heavy breath and exhaling. Words reached him, loud loud loud. Wincing, he pulled back further, starting to clutch his scythe to his chest. His face scrunched up, nose curling and as he shut his eyes against the onslaught of words.

"..dodge this." Words, normal speech normal words. Ah. Blessed sound. Dodge, right, he needed to dodge. Something? Yes, it was coming. Eyes opened in time to see ... water? More water. He dropped to the ground, not having time to make it graceful, he let his body go limp, falling against the marble with an undignified grunt. He could feel it, the raw power, the strength of something old, not as old as him but old. The rush of waves, the oceans breath, the sheer energy of the entire element of water rushed past, above and beyond and past and then was .. gone? Duo looked up, pushing aside tangled bangs to see nothing ... just bodies, just death, just his birthright strewn across once white marble. He watched blood and water mix on the smooth floor, mixing with rent flesh and flesh. Oh, he wanted to laugh, laugh and cry. Death, it was all around him, the echoes of souls escaping their mortal coil spinning and swirling and mingling. Their voices wrapped around him, unseen and unheard to all but him, but the sheer giddiness was almost overwhelming. Home, he was home. Death embraced him, he clutched his arms to his chest and just ... smiled, grinned, beamed? Oh, no matter. Death was here, Death has returned and scales to judge all had been upset. Duo, two, he was both sides, the joy and sorrow, the good and the bad, the duality of life and death was who he was and he would set the world right again. Balances upset to be righted, beauty to be found among the dead.

Tears of joy bubbled up, but Duo shook his head, shaking his distressingly messy hair about. Not the time, not right now. The walls felt constricting, and while he wanted to revel in the death, to scoop up every lost soul and funnel it back home, this was not the place. Death had gone on without him for so long, his gentle hand could be held at bay a little longer. He could not reap, he could not sow or cultivate anything until he knew this world, until he was once against united with the core of humanity. He was raw, exhausted and still maybe a little afraid. No, there would be time later. If he had anything in excess, it was time. A soft smile graced his lips as he used his scythe to pull himself up, leaning heavily on the bone and wood that formed the pole and handle of his Noble Phantasm.

Lost in his head again, he had missed the exchange between Saber and Magus, and lifted his head in time to see the girl whisper, words seeping sorrow. Young, she was so young. He could not shake the feeling that something had shifted in this world, something had shifted before his escape and further shifted with his freedom. He would puzzle it out later, not now.

"Yes, let's leave." He said softly, words falling back within normal range and speech. Mimicking her, yes, her humanity shown so brightly so fresh so young, she knew of this world in ways he did not, could not, not yet. He stood taller, no longer leaning upon his weapon heavily but carrying it as if it weighed nothing. As he followed, he watched from the periphery as the blood drip drip dripped from the blade. Something in him knew that the time for this blade was .. not now. As they walked he let himself drift and focus and snap. With a measured flick of his wrist the scythe vanished, a puff of indigo smoke wafting in it's wake. No, the world could not see should not see not yet no.