1,664147: We, Like Falling Stars
Natsuki Subaru
Abruptly, Hercules's screaming ceases, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Beryl did it, then," I mutter. "Director, what's his status?"
"I have no idea what to make of his vital readings, but it seems like he's alive for now - looks like he's committed to fighting the clone down there, though, so you shouldn't expect further reinforcements," Olga Marie says.
"Wasn't the plan for him to run away at the first chance he got?" I mutter. That guy really is a loose cannon, huh?
As I'm thinking that, a flying rifle arcs over the Argo and Nobunaga hops down, dropping a golden sword about as tall as she is unceremoniously onto the deck. "Hey guy, I'm back - woah, what's with Elizabeth's costume change?"
That's what she focuses on?
"Right!? I can't believe this! I sing one song, and then the swimsuit that Fishie and Medea worked so hard on disappears and leaves me in my normal dress again!" Elizabeth complains.
"No, to start with, there was clearly something irregular going on with that Noble Phantasm…" I mumble. "Elizabeth, slight change of plans, there's no way I'm going to be able to carry this sword down to Benkei on my own. Lend me a hand?"
"Fishie, that's stagehand work!" She complains, and I roll my eyes. Just which part of this girl was a model of repentance, Georgios?
"Hassan, then?" I ask after scanning the others on the top deck - Jason is busy steering, and Mash and Nobunaga might be able to do something to help on our approach. The skeletal assassin gives a small nod, and hefts Marmyadose with his usable arm, and we descend into the Argo's hold.
And, as we do so, a sort of supernatural wind ruffles my clothing, as dozens of servants in spiritual form pour forth to take their places on the deck.
"I won't sugarcoat it," Stede Bonnet said. "Fighting Hercules in his current state is suicidal. It's the type of crazy that no sane person would sign up for, all the more so because you guys don't really stand to gain anything from it. The modern era that you'd be saving has nothing to do with any of you; every last person living there is totally alien to you. Heck, for some of you it might be that there's something or other about modern humanity that you find so objectionable that you'd want to destroy them yourselves.
But… in spite of all of that, I think…!" He paused, gazing around the still empty room, as though surveying an audience, and took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I think it would be super cool if you fought him anyway!"
His shout rang out, echoing dully in the Space Argo's mess hall. Finally, Jason, standing behind him, spoke, "Seriously, dude? That's the best you've got? I couldn't convince the Argonauts to show up, do you really think you could do it with something flimsy like 'it'd be cool'?"
"I mean, coolness is pretty important, Captain. Maybe you've forgotten the feeling but… for me, it's really at the heart of everything. The reason I became a Pirate - there were other factors, but the most important one is that nautical adventurers are super cool!" Stede said.
Jason sighed, and got ready to say something cynical until-
"Ah, what the hell," A gruff female voice called out, a bronze-skinned warrior in white armor appearing. "I've heard of worse reasons."
"Caenis!?" Jason shouted, pointing at her, betrayal written all over his face.
"'Coolness' aside, I suppose we have a duty to help stop our wayward crewmate," A blond man with a deep voice muttered, materializing as well.
"Castor!?"
"Goodness, if Onii-sama is joining, I might as well-" A similar looking girl said as she appeared.
"Pollux!?"
"Don't shout at Pollux, you fool!" Castor roared.
Jason glanced frantically around as more and more servants began to appear, face totally devoid of happiness, indignation the only feeling filling his heart. "What the hell is this!? How did that convince you guys!? You're running towards near-certain death for the sake of someone you don't even know, with only the promise of glory to urge you on!"
"I mean…" Another man said, idly tuning his lyre strings. "Doing all of that for a stranger is totally in character for all of us. That's how we became Argonauts in the first place, after all."
"Then why didn't you show up when I called you, Orpheus!?"
"Well, we'd definitely do all of that for a stranger, but…" The musician said.
"No,don't tell me…" Jason said.
Nearly fifty voices concluded the thought in unison.
"We know you."
"I can't believe you guuuuuys!"
WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM
As the Space Argo draws closer and closer, tearing across the ocean's surface, Hercules pays it no mind.
WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM
The beating of fists against dirt, and then against stone, drowns out the sound of its thrusters. Idly, the Beast of Heroes notes that Ahriman has departed - doubtless slinking away to find a position from which to sneer safely at the Chaldeans' efforts.
WHAM WHAM WHAM
With a final series of blows, a stone slab breaks away from the mountain peak. A barbaric thing, somewhere halfway between an axe and a sword - and, after testing its weight with a few experimental swings, Hercules lodges it into the soil with a single swing, alongside seven others just like it.
Finally, he turns, eyes trained upon the oncoming spaceship as he tears a thin strip of leather from his clothing and begins to tie a knot. "...A well devised opening move, as expected of Jason. But they're near enough, now - and I've not run out of arrows just yet."
-The throwing of a weapon is something of dubious value. Unless the weapon is precisely designed to be aerodynamic, there is every chance of it simply failing to hit the target blade-first. The throwing dagger, for example, is a very different sort of weapon from an ordinary dagger. But among those weapons that could be thrown with ease, the spear is perhaps the first invented by humans - and what is an arrow, if not a shorter spear? Especially for Hercules, whose arrows are as the javelins of lesser men.
The loss in range, when compared to a bow, will be great. But, to some degree, this can be mitigated. Even in prehistoric times, the Atlatl, a wooden spear-throwing tool, was used by humans. That tool, although powerful in its effect, fell out of favor in the old world as Eurasian Javelins grew thicker than the Atlatl darts still used by the Native peoples of America up until the columbian exchange.
But, that was not to say that Europe had no spear-throwing tools of its own.
Hercules slips the knot over the rear of his arrow, rolling the shaft in his hand to wind the leather string around it with practiced ease - and then, hooking his middle finger through the other end of the amentum, he launches the first of his arrows.
The bolt, already more a fletched spear than an arrow, tears through the air - granted not only increased leverage, but also the same spinning motion that extends the range of a bullet in a rifled gun.
Modern tests have shown an increase in javelin range of about 60% by using this method; the experiments of the French General Reffye in the 1800s suggested a fourfold increase.
In the practiced hands of Hercules, for whom the amentum's presence in the Olympic games was a matter of course - the thrown spear breaks the sound barrier as it tears through the sky towards the heroes mustering on the Argo.
And, of course, in addition to its capacity to throw heavier weapons - a mixed benefit when considering the decreased range compared to the atlatl - the amentum has one important benefit compared to the atlatl. A benefit utterly vital to the horse-mounted warriors of Eurasia.
Every step of the process of preparing to throw - attaching the string, looping it around the spear, and throwing - can, with enough practice, be performed with only a single hand.
Not a second after the first arrow is thrown - a second follows, and then a third-!
A lightly plucked harp string resounds as the first of Hercules's missiles tears towards the Argo.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…" David begins to sing, shimmering light swirling around the Space Argo - and it grows in intensity, as another joins his tune - Orpheus, the father of songs, effortlessly harmonizes with a song previously wholly unknown to him.
"[Lord…" Mash Kyrielight intones, raising her shield, eyes locked upon the oncoming arrow.
"...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me…"
"-Chaldeas]!" She finishes, slamming the shield back down.
"...and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever! [Psalter]!" David concludes.
"[Aoidan Patēr]!" Orpheus mutters at the close of his harmony.
A marble wall, wreathed in glimmering golden light, meets the first javelin/arrow, and the Space Argo shudders - but the barrier holds. Even as five more projectiles smash into its surface, the combined efforts of Mash Kyrielight and the two ancient musicians is enough to deflect them.
And so, a moment later, the rapid onslaught pauses.
"Ekebolon, the distance throw, is no good, huh?" Hercules mutters. "In that case… stochastikon. The accuracy throw."
The next weapon to materialize in his hand is no arrow. If the previous projectiles were 'like' spears, then surely this weapon 'is' a spear. A bronze and gold armament nearly ten feet long, with a shaft as thick as a normal man's wrist, the nameless spear native to Hercules's Lancer class summon.
The god of heroes licks a finger, measuring the wind, more out of habit than necessity. Bronze, sweat-shined muscles glisten under the setting sun as he readies his throw.
"[Nine Lives]." A perfect spear, killing the light in its path, arcs through the sky.
On the Argo, the attack is seen coming - it's obviously different. Another 'perfect' attack, of the same sort as the Heavenly Sword, impossible to directly block without a defense that reaches the same level.
Mash Kyrielight grits her teeth, nervousness building up inside her. This hadn't quite been accounted for. The expectation was that his improvised thrown attacks wouldn't be able to reach this level - Grimr's analysis of the records he retrieved from Cu Chulainn suggested that the type of clumsiness native to spear throwing would forbid it.
But, even so, she stands her ground. She can't back down here - excluding cards that have to stay hidden until they have the opportunity to take a life from Hercules, [Lord Chaldeas] is the only hope of stopping this spear from destroying the Argo.
Nobunaga unloads several rounds of ammo at the projectile, hoping to knock it off course, but to no avail - and then the weapon finds its mark.
A dissonant, ear-splitting noise resounds through the air, as an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and for just a moment, seems to halt. And then, in adrenaline-fueled slow motion Mash sees the spear begin to bore its way through the spectral white wall, blinding light and heat spraying forth from the point of impact.
It won't be enough. That much is obvious. The 'perfect' shield of Mash Kyrielight will not deflect this attack. In another's hands, or with another's eyes behind her, perhaps, but at this moment-
A spectral red thread winds through the air, past her head.
"...Thanks. You slowed it down just enough."
-just as the spear breaks through, a young man with chin-length blond hair darts past her, his fingers closing around the spear's shaft-
"[Dyskolia…" His legend is known. The most famed king of the city to rival Heracles's Sparta. His mighty administration of justice is without dispute. Let the villains meet their deserved ends. Crush the club wielder with his own club. Feed the dragon-keeper to his own monster. "...Speira]!"
-Theseus, the hero of Athens, spins in place and hurls the spear back from whence it came.
Hercules smiles as he sees the weapon sailing back towards him. "Goodness, it seems we've made a proper competition of it," he murmurs, hurling a slab of stone to knock the returned spear off target. "There's the discus throw, so next would be-"
"I've completed the sprint just now, so why don't we go straight to the wrestling?" A bemused voice calls out from behind him.
Hercules turns, similar amusement written on his face as he looks at a slightly winded youth with blond, curly hair. "Aethalides. I didn't think that you even made it into the throne."
The herald of the Argonauts gives a light chuckle. "I got in by technicality. I've got a perfect memory as the son of Hermes, so the typical memory erasure from going swimming in Lethe didn't stick," He explains, tapping the side of his head. "A couple of my later reincarnations made it in."
"Hm? The next generation after ours would have been-" Hercules thinks aloud.
"I was reborn as Euphorbus of Troy," the athlete says with a smirk.
"Ah, I heard something related to Euphorbus and reincarnation. The one who wounded Patroclus… I suppose I'll take your challenge a bit seriously, then," The Beast of Heroes says - and an instant later he lunges, grappling the smaller man, only-
"[Musica…" Aethalides catches him with ease, rotating with his motion, and casting the Beast to the ground. "...Universalis]!"
A hastily drawn sword follows a moment later, but Hercules bats it aside, flipping backwards to stand once more. "So that's where I remembered it from… the reincarnation of note isn't your second life, but your last recorded one - Pythagoras of Samos."
"A Noble Phantasm pertaining to the motion of celestial bodies… in summary, he can probably control gravity. The ability to manipulate distance is likely as well," Hercules considers. "It's probably smart to assume he gained something from Euphorbus as well - a 'debilitating wound against a mighty hero', or something along those lines. [God Hand] can probably take care of that… but I assumed that against the Assassin earlier, and look where that got me.
The Leaper's talent will be unreliable in a gravitational field like that, and he's standing between me and those swords I produced earlier, so the Heavenly Sword is no use. In that case…"
"[Anatrépo…" Hercules intones, and Aethalides takes a step back, only to be caught firmly in the larger man's arms. "...Antaíos]!"
The next moment, Aethalides is lifted, effortlessly, over Hercules's head - his last conscious feeling is the impact of his skull being driven into the ground as the Beast suplexes him.
"-So it's the worst case," Jason mutters. "He's got Noble Phantasms I don't recognize."
It's not entirely unexpected. Jason's knowledge of Hercules's abilities comes from the unconscious expectations of the Greek people - 'Jason would know his friend's techniques'. But, Hercules was one of the most well-traveled heroes of his day - there are other possible versions of him, even in the seven standard classes, that might be summoned depending on the location.
In this case, a Noble Phantasm focusing on the slaying of the giant Antaeus - the type of ability Hercules would be expected to have if summoned in Northern Africa or the Middle East, where that legend had more relevance.
"A grapple that bypasses defenses, I'd guess," Jason continues to mumble to himself. "But the real issue is, if location-dependent Noble Phantasms are fair game, and we're fighting him at his freaking Pillars…" He sighs, and raises his voice, calling out to the rest of the crew. "Alright, who's on sky catching duty?"
Hercules has little time to rest. Aethalides may have been the fastest of the Argonauts, but many were the athletes among their number. The rest cannot have been far behind. The first of his prepared stone axe-swords is torn free from the ground, just in time to deflect a spear swing downwards at his head, signifying the arrival of Caenis.
Wasting no movement, he directs her motion over his head, and delivers a palm strike to her abdomen that sends her flying, and follows that with a sudden pivot to his rear to parry an onslaught from Castor and Pollux who arrive in a swirling tornado of sword and shield strikes.
His first sword breaks, and Pollux's sword glances off his skin - [God Hand] will suffice. He steps forward into their attacks, catches the twins by their necks and slams their heads together, dropping them and tumbling backwards under the next attack - only for five more like it to simultaneously impact and glance off his skin.
Hercules allows his eyes to widen slightly at the presence of Hylas - and then, snatching one of his backup blades from the earth, demonstrates once more the proper form for [Nine Lives] - but a strong arm intercepts the blow that makes it past Hylas's guard, and Polyphemus holds his brother-in-law's blade fast - only for Hercules to release his grip on the sword and break his jaw with a steady blow.
The mountaintop is covered with fire, but Hercules pays it no mind, sparing only a hurled stone to knock Meleager away. An oversized arrow aims to pin some of his garments to the ground, but the Beast catches it, hurling it back to Laertes to dispatch him - but a seven-layered spectral pink shield intercepts it, announcing the arrival of Telamon.
Ignoring the fathers of Odysseus and Ajax for the moment, Hercules turns once more, sweeping up his second sword to cleave a freshly-returned Caenis in half, only for a massive form to impact him from behind - Periclymenus, in the form of a rhinoceros ramming him and knocking him over for just a moment, where the arrows of Laertes find their mark and nail his clothing to the ground. The next moment, a 'world' appears overhead, as Peleus, father of Achilles, unleashes his shield, a weapon of the same nature as Hercules's own.
The shockwave of the shield's impact carries for miles - but the Rock of Gibraltar is undamaged.
How could it be harmed, after all, when Hercules has already stood, and caught the falling planetoid?
Twenty more Argonauts - faceless phantoms who could not quite make it into the throne - spring from their positions lower on the mountainside, intending to stop the god of heroes.
He who had once carried the sky casts the artificial world upwards, and snatches a third blade from the ground, sweeping it around him in a circular motion, and delivering a strike into the air at the same time-
"[Nine Lives]."
A sea of red soaks the mountain's peak, as a planet is split asunder.
But there is still no time to rest. The sound of engines takes his attention, and Hercules turns, attention focused on the onrushing Space Argo-
As a bolt of energy lances forth from the palm of one of the figures on the deck, piercing his brain and claiming his fourth life.