Finis Chaldea

Apparently, neither of them had an eye on the one called Avenger. Archer, however, had an idea as to that one's location, though she warned against looking. Fair enough. She had her arrow at the ready, and he could sense incoming projectiles if they were a danger. Their best bet was to remain where they were, avoiding too much conflict. Soon enough, Caster's territory was complete. A dense mana-induced fog covered the area immediately around the castle. None who entered would see, and all would ideally be led astray by shifting mana signatures within. With this, multiple enemies could approach the castle, and all would be led on a roundabout trip into others who did the same. The competition could potentially pick themselves apart while victors were picked off by Archer and Caster. "Alright, we're good to go here. I can set some traps as well, I think─" he said, not entirely sure of the functionality he could manage with those particular runes.

Foreigner made one hell of a proclamation. She'd kill them both? Fat chance, thought Rider. Even as she mounted an assault on Berserker, Rider watched her form. How would she be dealing with what he knew to be Berserker's ultimate attack? Well, she'd use a mighty force of her own, even with a pilfered weapon. No, that wasn't even the truth of it. Foreigner's defense was in place long before she even began her attack; she seemed even more unbothered by Berserker's abilities than Rider himself did. From the looks of things, she was going to be a very interesting opponent indeed. A beam the likes of which Rider expected of a mage erupted from the tip of a stolen blade with enough power to shatter the weapon itself. How strange. Rider knew that sword; it belonged to one of his men, and was made of Magisteel. How she managed to put forth enough power to destroy it was a mystery, though the potency of her attack couldn't be argued with. The hill Berserker descended from was gone. The war elephant Berserker rode was gone. The undead army following Berserker, or at least the few who remained from the elephant's collapse, were floundering about with little energy to support them. Berserker himself was nowhere to be seen, though it could be surmised that some small amount of life remained in him yet. Seeing all this, Rider could do naught but whistle. "Your bite matches the bark then, does it? I was having fun trampling that guy's army again!"

It seemed that they were going to take Archer's advice today. Good. She didn't want to deal with Avenger either, considering she had never even heard of his particular classing before. This was a strange Holy Grail War but if this is what these instances were like, she imagined her husband would have had a much easier time of the whole situation. "Traps, would be nice. I am pretty comfortable within this space but I am very worried. If we could take out a person or two without putting ourselves in direct risk that would be the best possible outcome," she murmured seeming to be rather carefully. That shot was still charged. She was just waiting for a bit too much movement above them to release that arrow up into the air. If she had to risk it, she could then run afterwards, that would be fine for keeping them relatively safe.

Berserker had been maimed at the very least, shot to the far side of this barrier. Foreigner now simply had Rider and potentially his men to deal with. She was currently unarmed again, but he'd already seen how she was, it was obvious to all after even just a few moments, that she didn't need a weapon in her hand to harm anyone else. "You were taking too long." There was a simplicity to Foreigner that couldn't really be grasped by the average person. She was here to fight so she would fight. She turned unarmed and launched herself at Rider, even with nothing in her hands she aimed an empowered kick at his chariot. Launching it by spinning her body in a circle before lifting her left foot in the faces of the beasts who pulled his rig. There was enough force in such a kick to blow a hole in the body of a lesser being, but here and now it was a greeting. A simple manner of testing his defense and mettle before she figured out if this was to be a proper mercy killing or not. That as an aside, she didn't need him having the ability to flee her once he realized how powerful she was, a simple tactic but potentially very effective.

"Gotcha. Traps... hopefully," Caster stated. With a simple nod offered to the Archer-Class woman, he began to move. Those runes of his had to be planted directly; he wasn't very good at utilizing most of them yet. He could at least plant a few magical mines with use of runes, scattering them along paths that would be taken by any who sought entry or exit to/from the castle. "So when do we talk about a win condition here? What made you decide to work as a team at all?"

Of all the things Rider had ever heard about himself, the idea that he took "too long" with anything was ridiculous. He was the great conqueror who never stayed in a single place for very long at all, always moving on to the next land that would become his. Now, he sought the Holy Grail and ascension to the mythical place in the sky. If he could conquer those lands, his legend would never die! "Too long for fun? That's just─" What did he intend to say? Apparently, it didn't matter. This woman may as well have been marked Berserker, quick as she was to kick his chariot with surprisingly monstrous strength. With wide eyes, Rider leapt from the flying chariot, holding his weaponless hand out beneath him. "Bucephalus!" he called out. While Foreigner was busy apparently murdering his bulls for no good reason, Rider was descending on a newly-summoned charger. His sword charged with mana of the lightning attribute while mounted, and with that, he swung down. If Foreigner was not struck over the head with his blade, he would not be surprised given her earlier movements. However, he took that into account. Lightning would arc from his blade during the swing, striking the area immediately around himself and the horse, each bolt spreading outward. "Oi! Got something against cows, do ya'?"

Hopefully, they would have traps. Archer couldn't even really be upset with this potential not outcome, considering they were working together solely because their differences made it impossible for the pair to commit to proper combat. As for real questions presented by the lad she was currently partnered with, Archer had a very simple set of answers to present. "I figured the win condition would come up if we got closer to the goal of actually winning. Until then, it's a matter of strategy and survival," she said seeming to understand the basics. "I agreed for the sake of strategy. It is difficult to work alone without being amazing at base. In a straightforward combat situation I am in danger of being overpowered, unless there is fire. So... it is easy to pair up and try and whittle down the competition before committing to anything too strenuous," she mentioned simply. "Besides I am more used to working with someone than going against a slew of monster people," she finished. True enough before they got separation she and her husband were having a pretty good time of this adventure filled lifestyle.

Foreigner was acting like a Berserker in the mind of Rider? He was misinterpreting things, but he'd learn that lesson soon enough and take it with him into the afterlife. He had been aiming for fun in his fight against Berserker, meanwhile she was aiming to win. Whatever the case, her destruction of his bulls and chariots seemed to go according to plan, though much to her general discontent he summoned another steed just in the nick of time. She gave a casual eye roll as her hand rose above her head and she held onto that blade even with the lightning coming from it. Her own body was reinforced in this moment that arms tattoos glowing a bit brighter than the norm. "Dominion." A different skill use which she'd aim to enact while she had him pinned in place hanging on to his weapon above her head. What did it do? Well, any of the men across this battlefield still capable of fighting that she'd personally subdued were now slated to be under her control. They would aim to fight against Rider, injure and help take him down while Foreigner aimed to claim victory in this way. It couldn't even be said who all would swarm, she'd personally gone through quite a few men on her way to this spot, and even Berserker had technically been beaten back by her use of her other skill. Would she be able to capture him with it too? Well it didn't really matter, she could always kill that one outright by her own approximation. This veritable battle would range on...

While two participants discussed their approach to victory, two others locked themselves in glorious combat. Much to Rider's surprise, the unarmed woman had a hand upon his sword to halt its momentum. More to his surprise, the electric current in his blade did nothing to her either. Oh. This was fine; he'd just encountered some sort of freak. It wasn't as if her passive approach to a magnificent battle was weird enough already, but alas, things would only become stranger yet from there. One word turned a collection of his own men against him. Many soldiers charged inward, though a single wave fell to no additional effort of Rider's, all within the arcs of lightning. Still, his gaze shifted about briefly to witness the dissent and fall of his own men, and he retracted his sword.

A jerk to the reigns of Rider's charger had him riding in a growing circle around Foreigner. More of his own units continued to hunt after him, while more still were forming a phalanx around Foreigner. "I'm no stranger to traitors, but this is extreme," he mused. If his army would turn against him, he would banish them all in an instant, bar the steed he rode. Even that, though, would soon be dismounted. The type of victory sought by this woman was more absolute than even his own, and perhaps unconnected to the glory of it all. In keeping with what he presumed was both of their preferences, Rider decided to face this woman directly. "I am Iskandar, the great conqueror. Who are you to be capable of taking my men?"

The discussion of tactics between one group, would become a one on one battle in another. It would seem that Rider wasn't quite prepared for his group to turn against him. He made the clever decision of getting rid of the liabilities which decreased the number of combatants down to two. This was in keeping with what Foreigner wanted. Rider even went through the trouble of introducing himself seeming to want to know exactly who she was that she had such power over his men. It was the wrong question, it wasn't simply his men she had power over, it was very individual she fought and beat. No matter, she didn't know if tales of her had spread so far, but if they had he deserved to know who he was up against. She reached forward taking into her hands a short sword which she twirled about a couple of times. "My name is Altera. If you have heard of me, you've probably heard my name pronounced wrong... you'd know me as Attila," she said. Her name in this world was Altera but everyone called her 'Attila the Hun'. She was a person who was sweeping across the continents leaving nothing but devastation in her wake. Strangely though she was in charge of the Huns she was not herself one of them. She was their leader in much the same way as she was currently leading his army.

Now she was armed, he was armed... and there was nothing left but for the fight itself. She moved forward, approaching rapidly. Her sword arm strengthened by her crest, as she aimed multiple slashes at his chest and torso. They totaled in number five and went diagonally across the large canvas. It was as if she fully intended to cut him to ribbons in a singular moment. Even if these hits were blocked they'd do bone shattering damage to most individuals. Still, so long as she avoided the use of magic, she could keep the weapon in her hand long enough to potentially slay someone, which was all she wanted.

Rider, or rather Iskandar, had no reason to withhold his name. Did this woman in front of him have reason to hide hers? Apparently, she did not. Foreigner's true name was Altera, or as it was commonly mispronounced... Attila. There was a single question in Iskandar's mind. She couldn't have meant Attila the Hun, could she? A few seconds of thought, and suddenly, the word scourge as she spoke earlier made perfect sense. Frankly, Iskandar was a little awestricken. "No..." he muttered. Attila the Hun was an absolute legend, known to all who were... likely his descendants─ or her descendants, in this case. "Really?! Wahahahaha! What a great opportunity! Which one of us is better? We'll have to find out!"

Finding out the superior legend had become Iskandar's main objective. Her legend truly made sense of the monstrous strength she exhibited thus far. Alas, his did the same, and he would do his best to exemplify that. Each slash that came the Rider's way was met by his own natural, hulking strength and the lightning channeled through his blade. It was already obvious that he could not truly compete with the might she showcased earlier, but with a fair bit of magical output from the lightning at the start of each swing, he was managing to take enough of the brunt off. With that, their clashes occurred on equal terms, and blades clanged as they always should. Iskandar would continue swinging his blade even beyond those five parries, notably having each movement become stronger and stronger as lightning surged through the sword. The Divinity he possessed rose, and his body strengthened further still. It was his intention to break through the sword Altera was wielding, and gash her torso during this defense-turned-onslaught.

Altera introduced herself and received the strangest reaction she'd ever gotten to the information. The Scourge of God was not a being to be awed by, and definitely not worthy of jovial laughter and excitement surrounding her appearance. Her brows drew together in almost abject confusion at this particular happening, "I have never seen someone be happy to meet me," she said even as she aimed to blow him away with her physical strikes. Admittedly she'd lost just a bit of fervor, her power had dwindled the tiniest bit because he had gotten rid of the ones she had command over. Even so, her hits were well placed and though each one was blocked and the sword she used eventually broke, and Iskander pushed forward, gashing her stomach though the hit itself was more a graze than an open wound. A broken sword was practically useless and once again would be thrown this time directly into the face of the man before her so she could use her left foot to kick up another weapon, this time a spear, which seemed to change form ever so slightly before she used it to perform a series of quick stabbing motions. She aimed to push into his flesh around his guard and cause bleeding damage. These jabs were aimed at joints and tendons as if she intended to disable his physical form to capitalize upon these injuries before killing him. These jabs specifically were aimed about his shoulders, hips, knees and ankles, as if she simply wanted him incapable of defending himself.

It was strange that Altera could not fathom his excitement. He was a warrior, and she was a legend. The chance to fight and best her was not one worth missing, so of course he would leap at the opportunity right in front of him. Few things beat the feeling of a good clash. Sparks not simply of his own sword's creation were flying, and the grin on Iskandar's face was widening each time. Managing to break that sword she was wielding felt quite satisfying, but it wasn't enough just yet. He had to wound her, to defeat her, to stand over her fallen form in wonderous victory. He felt the sensation of his blade passing through flesh. Alas, it just barely did so. What would Altera have to offer now that she was without arms? He would soon regret the fact that her next weapon of choice was a spear kicked up into her hand. Lithe and nimble as Altera was, she would prove quite dangerous with a weapon like that in close quarters.

Lo and behold, he was right. Iskandar took one step back, then half a step more as he continued to parry. Deflecting spears without a shield would always prove annoying, but each attempt on his upper body was successfully reduced to a mere graze to the arms and armor at best. This remained the case until one particular thrust pierced his left ankle. An outcry of Iskandar stretched across the battlefield, though adrenaline fueled him still. While that spear tip was still between flesh and bone, the Rider's sword swept through the air aiming to cut through the spear. Its immediate return stroke was aimed higher, horizontally slashing across the area inhabited by Foreigner's midriff. He'd gut her for managing to land a blow like that; that was his decision.

It wasn't really that strange to Altera that people were not happy to meet her. Unlike this one, most did not fathom the idea of felling her in combat. Most did not assume such a thing was possible. Most laid eyes on her and saw the destruction of their entire countries, the turning of their men, every weapon being used and tossed away as trash until the one known as Altera was finished sweeping over the land. Yes, this one's excitement was strange, but maybe it was because he entertained what Altera saw as false ideations. She would not be stopped by anyone, she would claim the holy grail, this land and everything on this continent while she was here. This was her nature, her duty and her life, as she saw it.

And what was she seeing now? The movements of Iskander, as he tried furiously to dodge which he did impeccably for his upper body but his lower body did not have the same safety. Her spear was soon lodged within his ankle and the man himself aimed to sweep through it. She did not care, the thing about being able to hold any and every weapon at length was that she had no attachment to them. The break of a weapon did not influence her fighting at all. She mustered through keeping hold of what was now a jagged spear stick and being calm and lithe enough to hop up and over the arm aiming to gash out her midsection as he moved forward. She balanced atop the arm, striking out with that jagged stick she sent multiple slaps to his face before kicking outward with her right leg, reinforced as it was, her kick would aim to jar the man further. Whether this happened she would fall towards the ground and another weapon of Altera's choice. What would she pick up, a flail.