Fate/Grand Order - Monkey King

[3rd POV]

Jeanne Alter raised her flag with a fluid motion, the banner unfurling in the wind as she gripped the pole tightly, swinging it against the stone staff.

In the next instant, the flag smashed down with all its weight onto the stone staff, producing a muffled thud that shattered the air between the saint and the Monkey King.

Even with her petite frame, the Black Saint's strength was astonishing—enough to rival Altair himself.

Red pupils clashed against golden eyes. Altair grinned, stepping back while spinning the staff in his hands before swinging it in a sharp arc toward Jeanne Alter's temple.

She leaned her body back, deflecting the staff to the side with her banner, pinning it into the ground next to her.

"Hahahaha! Is that all you've got?" Jeanne Alter laughed, charging forward with a crazed grin.

She truly believed she couldn't lose to him. Ironically, the thought of losing never once crossed Altair's mind either. In that regard, they were exactly the same.

"I'm just getting started."

Driving the staff into the ground, he used the momentum to propel himself upward, spinning in midair. His foot slammed into Jeanne Alter's stomach, forcing her to slide backward as her heels scraped against the ground.

"Vermin!" Pressing a hand to her stomach, she raised her head with a twisted grin full of hatred. "You're mocking me, aren't you, you little shit?"

"No." Altair yanked the staff from the ground. "I respect you... Aside from the whole deranged sociopath part. Though..." He tilted his head, as if pondering seriously. "My best friend was also a pyromaniac sociopath who burned her own house down... Maybe I have a thing for that type? Either way, I respect you."

"Hahahaha! I'll burn you to ashes until nothing's left!" She lunged forward, swinging the banner as she drew her saber from its sheath.

•••

A silver blade sliced through the air, followed by the sharp whistle of a rapier. The two weapons clashed, sparks bursting from the impact.

"It's a pleasure crossing blades with you. I'd prefer it under a normal summoning, but the circumstances..."

Okita ignored her opponent's words, raising her katana and delivering a horizontal slash.

The blade passed barely inches from the face of the androgynous Servant, who twisted their torso back with fluid grace, sliding their feet along the ground as if dancing.

"Wow, you're intense!" Their voice sounded casual, but their eyes never left the sword-wielding Servant. "As I was saying, pleased to meet you. I am Chevalier d'Eon." With a courteous smile, the Chevalier raised their rapier in a formal salute, the tip pointed skyward.

No matter how one looked at them, it was impossible to discern their gender. The long golden hair cascading down their back did nothing to help.

But Chevalier's androgyny wasn't the most peculiar thing about them. In life, this person was a diplomat, spy, and soldier for France—born as a man and died as a woman. This duality reflected in their existence as a Servant; no one but themselves truly knew what their gender was.

"And who might the lady before me be?" Chevalier raised their sword, ready for the next move.

"Only an idiot would reveal their name on the battlefield..."

Before Okita could finish, a shrill voice echoed:

"I am the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven—Oda Nobunaga!" A manic laugh followed the sharp crack of gunfire.

Okita kept her face impassive, ignoring her Master's idiotic Servant, blinking slowly before raising her scarf to cover her mouth.

With a deep sigh, she seized the moment as Chevalier's attention briefly flicked toward Nobunaga. Moving her legs, she activated [Reduced Earth].

The world compressed around her as her feet scraped the ground, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Her body became a blur, her katana extended toward the androgynous Servant's neck.

It was a perfect strike. Perfect timing. But...

In the final instant, Chevalier's muscles tensed, driven by [Mind's Eye (True)], which allowed them to dissect the flow of battle and calculate the optimal response. With a precise twist, d'Eon managed to bend their body sideways, causing the blade that should have pierced their throat to instead narrowly graze by, slicing only the flawless fabric of their uniform and leaving a shallow cut on their shoulder. A thin trail of crimson trickled against their pristine attire.

Without showing the slightest hint of pain, their slender fingers wrapped around the katana biting into their shoulder. With their free hand, d'Eon countered, slashing a thin line across Okita's cheek with the tip of the rapier.

A thin line of blood trailed down Okita's pale skin, but her eyes didn't even blink. Instead of retreating, she lunged forward, driving the sole of her boot into Chevalier's stomach with brutal force, sending them skidding backward.

Chevalier stumbled back a few steps from the impact but immediately dashed forward again, not even giving Okita a moment to breathe. Their rapier gleamed as it thrust toward the swordswoman's chest, but Okita spun to evade—however...

A sharp pang pierced her chest before her feet even touched the ground. Her fingers clutched at her kimono as a sudden fit of coughing burned her throat. Her feet hit the ground, and as she dropped to one knee, she pulled her hand away from her mouth. The vivid red of blood stood out violently against her pale skin.

Staring at the blood, she clenched her fist tightly. This... was the worst possible time for her personal skill to activate.

That cursed ability was called [Fragile Constitution].

The same curse that plagued her in life—tuberculosis—now manifested as a skill in her existence as a Servant, triggering at the worst possible moment.

When this ability was activated, her stats dropped drastically... just like now.

Coupled with the wound on her shoulder that limited her movements, the activation of [Fragile Constitution] made her situation significantly worse.

Even so, Okita gritted her teeth, raised her katana, and stared down Chevalier with fierce determination.

The two clashed once more. Okita, slowed by her curse, was forced onto the defensive as Chevalier unleashed a precise flurry of strikes.

The rapier of the Berserker Saber sliced the air with elegance, each thrust faster than the last. Drops of blood scattered from the shallow cuts that opened on Okita's arms and face, staining the ground scarlet.

Okita narrowed her eyes, searching for an opening until Chevalier raised their sword for a descending strike—one that would split her from collarbone to hip.

Realizing she wouldn't be able to fully dodge, Okita prepared to sacrifice her arm in exchange for creating an opening.

Her left arm rose, muscles tensed to absorb the impact. Her sword hand drew back, ready to thrust her katana into Chevalier's neck.

But suddenly, gunshots echoed across the battlefield.

Along with the shrill sound of bullets tearing through the air, Chevalier swung their rapier to deflect the projectiles. The shots collided with the blade, pushing them back.

Okita remained still, her arm still raised in a blocking posture, as the smoke from the gunfire slowly dissipated.

"Hey! Swordswoman! No need to thank me." Nobunaga appeared beside Okita with a grin as the Berserker Rider she had been fighting collapsed beside the Berserker Saber.

Berserker Rider was a stunning woman with long violet hair flowing down past her waist. A short white veil with golden frills framed her head, contrasting with her hair and her piercing blue eyes. In her right hand, she held a staff—a golden shaft wrapped with pink ribbons and topped with a silver and purple cross.

The beautiful Berserker Rider raised her hand to brush the blood from her cheek, her icy gaze locking onto Nobunaga's blade.

Okita stood, adjusting the scarf over her wounded shoulder.

"You were just in the way... idiot."

"Mwhaaaa! You were about to lose an arm, fool. I wouldn't care, but I think our Master might prefer seeing his Servant with both arms." Nobunaga shrugged.

Okita glanced at her, then at her katana. She didn't care about her injuries. Losing an arm meant nothing if it meant victory... but Okita didn't want to hurt her Master.

With a sigh, she raised her blade, aligning it with her face.

"I understand." Her half-lidded eyes narrowed toward the two enemy Servants now standing side by side.

"This is going to be fun." Nobunaga grinned, resting her katana on her shoulder as matchlocks materialized around her.

••• ••• •••

Don't forget to throw power stones and leave a review to motivate me.

(Chevalier d'Eon - Character image)