Lawrence
Rider felt the tug on his spiritual core, distracting him briefly enough to almost catch a face full of sword. The enemy Master would become quite a hassle if he didn't deal with him immediately.
"Piss off, weakling. I'll be able to carry you in a pouch after this!"
The air rippled once again, but this time, no whale nor no claw manifested. Instead, a 52 foot tall bull with skin of polished brass and a mane of raging fire charged forth, aiming for the Master in the car. This was the Hadhayosh, a Persian Divine Beast created by an incredibly angry god of the forge, a creature so mighty that only Dragons are said to be on the same level. The monster roared with a metallic, fear-inducing sound and rushed for the parked car, as if turning the man in it to ashes was the only thing it was ever made for.
"...Well shit." Law kicked the car into gear, speeding off as fast as he could. Something was suppressing his Boneyard, though he couldn't tell exactly what yet, he had a giant bull on his ass, and in his rearview mirror he saw a third combatant enter the fray - and then a giant motherfucking DOOR opened up and a... something popped out that also spelled horrifying death to whatever it happened to be pissed at. He was likely on that list.
Considering how the giant bull just plowed through a building, this wasn't good at all.
'Any idea what's fucking with my ghost powers?' No. Perhaps the other Master?
'Great, fucking wizards and shit.'Well, I don't think a wizard can take down that thing either.'...'
Yes I am saying exactly what you think I'm saying.Law took corners like a madman, trying his damned hardest to shake the bull on his ass, burning rubber and adrenaline as he started to home in on just who exactly was fucking with his mojo at the moment. The Boneyard had a set size after all, and if he was lucky, whoever was screwing with him was within it - and didn't know about the Flaming Doom Bull that happened to just have popped up.
ShakespeareShirou tried his hardest to surpress a chuckle, failing but contained the worst of it in his sleeve.
"You.. what?", a drop of cold sweat showing on Assassin's forehead mostly out of sheer confusion.
"I believe that must be part of one of his writings... which he is using in a rather courteous manner."
Her face turned angry.
"Master, can I hit him?"
"I'd rather you did not. Please, Assassin, you already know Caster is a bit... unique, don't let it get to you", he said in an apologetic manner. This was hardly a rare occurrence for Shirou; The temper of a queen was truly something difficult to control.
At the behest of Shirou, she tried her very best to calm down. Something about the sheer craziness in the head of Caster just rubbed her the wrong way, and she doubted they could ever entirely get along. Especially not when a creature like himself was sounding like he was courting her.
Changing the topic, Assassin spoke once more.
"To begin with, I predate the Hanging Gardens by centuries, Caster. I hear those who do not do research for their writing end up writing bad works", her tone now turning smug.
"The lady doth protest too much methinks." Ah, such a shy woman. "For lies when told long enough become a truth, and so then truth it is forever more. And if I write it is true, how is it not? But aye, that is but a mere sample of the brilliance of my works, which undoubtedly Master, you must have poured thy eyes over in detail."
I scratched my chin thoughtfully with a gloved hand, fabric and facial hair rubbing against one another in a most pleasing fashion conductive to thought. "And what research I have done? I talk, I listen, I read. A servant of the story serves the story itself! Facts may be wrong, dates mixed up, people misconstrued, but the heart, the soul of the work always rings clear and true and honest, the meaning of any story. For good or for ill, such is my craft."
EMIYASurprisingly, dying didn't hurt. Archer had experienced death once before, and he had to say that it wasn't painful. Uncomfortable, true, unwanted of course, earlier than he thought it'd come to him, but death in the end, had held no pain. It was what came after that was painful. An eternity of slaughter, by his own hands, on those who he wished to save. There might not be a hell, but for Archer, that was the closest thing to it. So, when he felt pain after killing berserker the sixth time, he knew he wasn't dead - though by all accounts and from his injuries (seemingly healed somehow), he should be. The thought was oddly comforting, considering he was planning to kill his past self for the last week or so, but had just never gotten around to it. And more was the pity. A paradox would have been the best way out of his situation.
In the end, what did finally hurt was his shifting through a variety of realities, and just happening to shift into the Nexus at just the right time and space coordinates to collide at high speeds with the bed of a certain Law Unto Herself.
Archer survived. The bed, sadly, and likely to the horror of it's owner who had just opened the door, did not.