The echo of Mordred's strike against Mash's shield resonated through the stone corridor like a funeral bell. The rebel Servant, the Mordred who served the Lion King, had not lost an ounce of the ferocity that characterized all versions of the Knight of Treachery. Her sword, Clarent, shone with a crimson light that seemed to absorb the fortress's dim illumination, and her eyes, yellow like those of a wild feline, scanned the group with a mixture of contempt and bloodthirsty curiosity.
"So this is the famous Master of Chaldea?" she said, her voice a hoarse growl. "I'm not impressed. He looks more like a frightened little rabbit than a warrior."
Leonel ignored the insult. His mind was already working at full speed, connected to Tezcatlipoca in a constant flow of data and analysis. The Persona, in his warrior form, had materialized beside him, his harmonic plates gleaming with a golden hue that contrasted with the gloom.
"Analysis in progress," Tezcatlipoca reported, his voice resonating in Leonel's consciousness. "The enemy Servant presents atypical parameters. Her Saint Graph has been modified. The Lion King's blessing grants her a significant advantage."
"What kind of advantage?" Leonel asked mentally, as Mordred attacked again and Mash barely managed to block the blow.
"Apparently, her ability to charge her Noble Phantasm has been... accelerated. She doesn't seem to need energy accumulation. She can release it at will, at any moment."
Leonel felt his stomach clench. A Noble Phantasm that could be activated instantly, without preparation, was a tactical nightmare. Normally, Servants needed time to charge their ultimate attacks, time that could be used to interrupt or evade them. But if Mordred could unleash Clarent Blood Arthur whenever she wanted, without warning...
"That's not all," Tezcatlipoca continued, and his voice had a note of concern that Leonel rarely heard. "Her damage resistance is atypical. She presents no significant weaknesses to any class. Your Servants' attacks are causing damage, yes, but it's all neutral damage. There are no multipliers. No weak points."
Leonel observed the battle unfolding before him. Tamamo launched projectiles of magical energy that impacted against Mordred's armor. The enemy Servant didn't even flinch. Jeanne Alter's black fire, which normally would have wreaked havoc on an opponent of certain classes, seemed to simply slide off her armor like water over stone. Mordred, with a fierce smile, counterattacked with her sword, and only the combination of Mash's defense and Artoria Lancer Alter's speed prevented someone from being gravely wounded.
"You can't do anything to me!" Mordred shouted, laughing as her sword clashed against Artoria's lance. "The Lion King has blessed me! I am perfect! I have no weaknesses!"
Leonel clenched his fists. It was true. Mordred was, at this moment, the most dangerous enemy they had faced since London. Not because of her brute power, though that was impressive too, but because of her unpredictability and her resistance. They could strike her again and again, but as long as she could activate her Noble Phantasm at any moment, the battle hung by a thread.
"What do we do?" Leonel asked Tezcatlipoca. "We can't win this."
"No, we cannot," the Persona confirmed. "Not in a direct fight. The only viable option is retreat."
"But if we try to flee, she'll use her Noble Phantasm. She'll annihilate us all."
"Correct. Therefore, we need a distraction. Something that keeps her occupied long enough for us to put some distance between us."
Leonel looked around. He saw Hassan of the Hundred Faces, in one of her personalities, the young woman who had guided them, fighting against the soldiers trying to flank them. He saw Serenity, weak and chained, leaning against the cell wall, her eyes full of frustration and fear. He saw his own Servants, giving their best, but clearly at a disadvantage.
And then, Tezcatlipoca showed him the plan.
The images appeared in his mind: a tactical simulation, executed at the speed of thought. It showed Hassan of the Hundred Faces deploying multiple personalities, creating a swarm of assassins that would harass Mordred from all angles. Not to harm her—because they couldn't—but to confuse her, to distract her, to make her lose track of time and space. Meanwhile, Serenity would throw smoke and poison bombs, clouds that would further disorient the Knight and provide cover for the escape. The rest of the group would use those precious seconds to escape through the secret passage that Hundred Faces had used to enter.
The problem was the cost.
The personalities of Hundred Faces that participated in the distraction... would not return. Mordred would annihilate them. Each of those personalities was a life, a consciousness, a part of the assassin's fragmented identity. Losing them wouldn't kill her, but it would weaken her. It would make her less. And Leonel knew that Hundred Faces had already lost many of her personalities in the years of fighting against Camelot.
"I can't ask her to do that," Leonel murmured, almost unwillingly.
"You have no other choice," Tezcatlipoca responded, with a coldness that Leonel recognized as that of a strategist who sees the board without being swayed by emotions. "If you don't, everyone will die here. Her included. And Serenity will become a prisoner again. And next time, perhaps the Knights will find a way to use her poison against us."
Leonel closed his eyes for an instant. The weight of the decision was overwhelming. But Tezcatlipoca was right. There was no other way out.
He opened his eyes and sought out Hundred Faces. He found her fighting near the entrance of the corridor, her short sword gleaming in the gloom.
"Hundred Faces," he called, his voice low but firm. "I need to talk to you."
The assassin turned, her eyes behind the mask finding Leonel's. She saw something in them, something that made her nod without asking questions. She dispatched the soldier she was fighting with a quick movement and approached him.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice tense.
Leonel explained the plan. Quick, without embellishment, without apologies. He showed her Tezcatlipoca's simulation, projected into her mind and shared through the bond they had as temporary allies. Hundred Faces watched in silence, her changing expressions—because although she was a single personality, she carried the echoes of all the others—reflecting a whirlwind of emotions.
When he finished, there was a silence.
"I know," Hundred Faces finally said. "I had already thought of it. It was the only way."
"I don't want you to sacrifice your personalities," Leonel said, sincerely. "If there's another way..."
"There isn't," she interrupted him. "And you know it." Her eyes softened, just a little. "I have lost many of my faces in this war. Each one hurts. But if we don't fight, if we don't risk, what are we? Cowards who hide while others die?" She shook her head. "No. That's not who I am. And neither are you."
Leonel wanted to say something more, but Hundred Faces had already turned around. Her hands moved in a gesture that Leonel recognized as the activation of her Noble Phantasm, or at least, a part of it.
"Hundred Faces of Obedience," she murmured, and the world filled with shadows.
Suddenly, the corridor was crowded with figures. Dozens of Hassan of the Hundred Faces, each slightly different, each with their own posture, their own weapon, their own personality. Men, women, young, old, tall, short, thin, robust. An army of assassins born from a single soul.
"What?!" Mordred exclaimed, surprised by the sudden avalanche of enemies. "Where did all these come from?"
She had no time to process it. The personalities of Hundred Faces lunged at her like a human tide. They weren't trying to kill her—they couldn't. But they harassed her, distracted her, forced her to turn in all directions, to block blows coming from impossible angles. It was a dance of death, choreographed by desperation.
"Now!" Leonel shouted. "Serenity, the bombs!"
Serenity, though weak, nodded. With visible effort, she pulled some small dark spheres from her clothes and threw them toward Mordred. The spheres burst into clouds of thick, poisonous smoke, enveloping the Knight in an unbreathable fog.
Mordred coughed, cursing. "Damn you! Cowards! You can't beat me, so you flee like rats!"
"Rats or not, alive!" shouted Mordred (Leonel's) as she helped Serenity to her feet. "Now move!"
The group ran. Leonel, with Mash protecting his back, Tamamo at his side casting support spells, Artoria Lancer Alter covering the rear, Jeanne Alter creating a wall of fire behind them to delay the soldiers. Xuanzang, who had been in a corner all this time—partly out of confusion, partly because she didn't want to get in the way—joined the flight with surprising agility.
"Go, go, go!" she shouted as she ran. "The path to enlightenment is swift, but not this swift!"
Behind them, Mordred's screams mixed with the sounds of battle. The personalities of Hundred Faces fell one after another, but each fall bought a precious second.
They reached the secret passage. It was narrow, barely enough for one person to pass at a time. Leonel sent the others through first: Serenity, who needed help, then Xuanzang, then Tamamo, then Jeanne Alter. Mordred (his) insisted on going behind him, to protect him. Artoria Lancer Alter stayed at the entrance, her lance gleaming, ready to face anyone who tried to follow them.
"Come on, Father!" Mordred shouted. "Don't just stand there!"
Artoria did not respond. Her eyes were fixed on the corridor, where the last of Hundred Faces' personalities fell under the sword of Mordred (the other). The assassin, wounded, vanished into specks of light.
"Artoria!" Leonel shouted. "Now!"
Finally, she turned. She ran toward the passage, her figure full of grace even in flight. Mordred (his) entered behind her, and Leonel was last, sealing the entrance with a rock that Tamamo had prepared with a reinforcement spell.
They ran. They ran through the dark passage, stumbling over stones, crashing against the walls, but without stopping. Behind them, they heard the roar of Mordred's (the other) fury, and then, a sound that froze their blood.
"CLARENT... BLOOD ARTHUR!"
The explosion shook the ground. The passage trembled, the stones groaned. For a moment, Leonel feared it would collapse on top of them. But it held. Tamamo's reinforcement spells, added to the rock's solidity, had done their work.
They kept running.
They emerged outside when the moon was already high in the sky. The fresh mountain air was a balm after the rarefied atmosphere of the fortress. Leonel, gasping, leaned against a rock, feeling his legs tremble from the effort.
"Are we... safe?" Xuanzang asked, looking back.
"For now," Artoria Lancer Alter responded, her eyes scanning the darkness. "But let's not stop. They might send patrols."
"Wait," Leonel said, catching his breath. "We need... a moment. Serenity is hurt."
The assassin, who had been helped by Tamamo during the escape, was pale and trembling. The marks of torture were visible on her wrists, and her eyes had a glassy shine that indicated extreme exhaustion.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm a burden."
"You're not a burden," Leonel said firmly. "You're an ally. And we've rescued you. Now, we have to get you to safety."
Tamamo approached Serenity, examining her wounds with a critical eye. "Nothing serious, superficial. But she needs rest and food. And her gloves... she lost her gloves in the fortress."
Serenity looked at her bare hands, and Leonel saw her fingers tremble. Without the special gloves that contained her poison, every touch was potentially lethal. She couldn't touch anyone without killing them.
"We'll get Serenity to safety," Leonel said. "Hassan... Hassan of the Hundred Faces? Are you alright?"
There was a moment of silence. Then, a figure emerged from among the rocks. It was one of Hundred Faces' personalities, the young woman who had guided them. But she seemed... diminished. Paler. More fragile.
"I'm... fine," she said, though her voice trembled. "I've lost many of my faces. But the ones that remain... are still here."
Leonel felt a knot in his throat. "I'm sorry. I asked something terrible of you."
"You didn't ask me," Hundred Faces responded, with a tired smile. "The war asked me. And I accepted. Don't blame yourself." She paused. "Now, we must move. The other Mordred is furious. She won't rest until she finds us."
They nodded and resumed their march. The path back to the village of Hassan of the Cursed Arm was long, but they traveled it in silence, conserving energy. Leonel walked at the front, with Mash at his side, while the others followed in formation.
That was when it happened.
Serenity, weak and disoriented, tripped over a root protruding from the ground. She let out a small cry and fell forward. Leonel, who was nearby, acted on instinct. He turned, extended his arms to catch her...
And fell with her.
The impact was soft, cushioned by the grass, but the position was... compromising. Leonel was on his back, and Serenity had fallen directly on top of him, her face barely inches from his. Her bare hands had landed on his shoulders.
And her lips... their lips had met in the process.
It was an accidental kiss, brief, barely a brush. But it was a kiss. And Serenity, realizing what had happened, started as if electrocuted.
"No!" she screamed, pushing herself away from him as if he burned. She scrambled back several steps, her eyes wide open, full of horror. "I touched you! I kissed you! My poison...!"
She brought her hands to her mouth, trembling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I've killed you!"
The other Servants had stopped, watching the scene with varied expressions. Tamamo took a step forward, her face pale. "Leonel-sama? Are you alright?"
Leonel blinked. He felt... normal. There was no pain, no burning, no numbness. He slowly sat up, touching his lips with his fingers.
"I don't feel anything," he said, his voice full of wonder.
"What?" Serenity asked, through tears. "What do you mean you don't feel anything? My poison is lethal. A single touch... a single kiss... and most Servants would die. Humans... humans die instantly."
"Well, I haven't," Leonel said, standing up. He examined his hands, his arms, his chest. Everything worked. There were no signs of poisoning. "I'm perfectly fine."
Serenity stared at him with a mix of disbelief and hope. "Are you... immune? Can someone be immune to my poison?"
"It seems so," Leonel said, and then he remembered. In the game's original story, Fujimaru Ritsuka was immune to Serenity's poison thanks to their bond with Mash. The Shielder's shield, Lord Camelot, purified any toxin, any curse, any harm that could affect their Master. If he, as Ritsuka's replacement in this timeline, had the same bond with Mash...
"It's because of you, Mash," he said, turning to her. "Your shield. Your protection. You've made me immune to poisons."
Mash blinked, surprised. "Me? But how...?"
"The bond between a Master and their Servant," Tezcatlipoca explained, materializing beside him. "It is deeper than most believe. Mash's protection doesn't only manifest on the battlefield. It also permeates Leonel, purifies him, fortifies him. Serenity's poison, however deadly, cannot penetrate that defense."
Serenity fell to her knees, crying. Not from sadness, but from relief. "Then... I didn't kill anyone. I didn't kill him."
Leonel approached her carefully, aware that she was still dangerous to others. "I'm fine, Serenity. Really. And now we know that I can touch you without danger. That means I can help you."
She looked up, her eyes clouded with tears. "Why? Why are you so kind to me? I'm a monster. Everything I touch dies."
"You're not a monster," Leonel said firmly. "You're a person with a curse. And curses can be broken. Or at least, they can be endured." He extended his hand. "Come. We'll take you home."
Serenity hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly, she extended her hand and placed it on Leonel's. Her fingers trembled, expecting the worst. But nothing happened. Just the warmth of human contact, something she hadn't experienced in... how long?
"Thank you," she whispered, as he helped her to her feet.
Around them, the other Servants watched the scene with mixed emotions. Tamamo, though jealous, couldn't help but feel compassion for the assassin. Jeanne Alter frowned but said nothing. Mash smiled, proud of her Senpai. Mordred snorted, but there was a light of approval in her eyes. Artoria Lancer Alter watched in silence, her expression unreadable.
Xuanzang, who had been in the background, stepped forward. "How beautiful!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "The power of love and compassion overcoming even the deadliest poison! This is worthy of a sutra!"
"Please don't make a sutra out of this," Mordred said, grimacing.
"Too late! I'm already taking mental notes!"
Leonel sighed, but there was a smile on his lips. They had escaped. They had rescued Serenity. And they had discovered something important: he was immune to her poison. That would change the rules of the game in the future.
But that was for another day. Now, they needed to get back to the village, rest, and plan the next steps.
"Let's go," he said, and the group resumed their march.
The return to the village of Hassan of the Cursed Arm took the rest of the night. When they finally arrived, the sun was beginning to dye the horizon with shades of orange and pink. The refugees, who had been worried about the absence of Leonel and his companions, came out to greet them with joy.
Serenity was taken to a separate hut, where Tamamo and Mash took care of healing her wounds. Leonel, exhausted, sat down in the central square with a cup of hot tea someone had offered him.
Hassan of the Cursed Arm sat beside him. "You did it. You rescued her."
"With help," Leonel said. "And at a cost. Hundred Faces lost many of her personalities."
Hassan nodded, with regret. "I know. She has already told me. But she is proud of what she did. She said it was an honor to fight at your side."
Leonel lowered his gaze. "I didn't want her to sacrifice her own."
"That is war," Hassan said. "No one wants to sacrifice anyone. But sometimes, it is necessary. What matters is that the sacrifices are not in vain. And yours... were not."
Leonel remained silent, drinking his tea. The image of Hundred Faces' personalities falling one after another remained in his mind. But there was also the image of Serenity, alive and free, thanks to them.
"Tomorrow," he finally said, "we will talk about the next steps. We have to ally with Ozymandias. And we have to find a way to defeat the Knights."
Hassan nodded. "Tomorrow. But now, rest. You have earned it."
Leonel nodded, and stayed there, sitting, watching the sun rise over the mountains. The war continued. But today, at least, they had won a battle.
And sometimes, that was enough.