Chapter 14 – Night of Dreams and Blood
The dream world was misty, silent — like stepping into a painting of another life.
Riya found himself standing in a strange field under a colorless sky.
Waiting there, her head low and shoulders trembling, was a girl.
Lightning crackled faintly in her hair, and a heavy iron cap covered her head.
Her stitched body radiated sadness and uncertainty.
Frankenstein — Fran — stood there, refusing to meet his eyes.
Riya crossed his arms, exhaling in mild annoyance. "Yeah, I get it," he said. "You're the shy type. You don't know me. You're not sure about this whole 'connection' thing."
Fran shuddered and made a tiny, apologetic whimper.
He rubbed his temples. "Listen, I'm not thrilled either, alright? This isn't about liking each other. It's about making sure i'm strong enough to fix the timeline"
Fran hesitated. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her head bobbing slightly in a tiny nod.
"It is going to be a long night isn't it," he said,
Riya gritted his teeth. Gods above, this is exhausting.
"Look," he said more gently, kneeling to her eye level, "I'm not asking you to love me. I'm asking you to trust me — I will not hurt you I promise."
Fran stared at him with wide, mournful eyes.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she took a slow, shaky step forward.
Then another.
Until she stood directly in front of him, trembling like a leaf.
Riya didn't move. Didn't breathe. He knew if he pushed her even slightly, she'd bolt like a frightened deer.
Slowly — painfully slowly — she raised her hand, fingers outstretched to touch his.
Just before they touched—
—Riya's eyes snapped open.
Blank ceiling. Thin mattress. Smell of dust and old wood.
The real world.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, completely silent.
Then he sat up, grabbed his pillow, and screamed into it:
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—!!"
Muramasa, from the other room, grunted without even looking. "Bad dream?"
"You could say that," Riya growled, rubbing his face.
God damn it.
He spent all night in that dream trying to get through to her — and woke up right before the actual connection.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. With Merlin, it had been so easy. And so satisfying~
Now he felt tired, grumpy, and worst of all, completely unsatisfied.
"Frustrated little brat," Muramasa muttered under his breath. Riya pretended not to hear him.
Meanwhile, far from their little apartment...
The Black Faction's fortress was buzzing.
Word had arrived: a "Servant of Red" was attacking one of their controlled towns.
Darnic listened to the report with narrowed eyes.
It was too obvious.
Too clean.
A trap.
But they couldn't ignore it either.
After a quick meeting, they decided:
Chiron, Hassan of the Shining Star, and Beowulf
would be dispatched alongside their Masters.
A small force — but strong. Swift. Enough to handle any ambush.
Or so they thought.
When they reached the town...
The streets ran red.
The town's people — everyone had been slaughtered.
The Red Faction was already waiting for them in full force:
Tezcatlipoca, the Grand Servant summoned by Shirou Kotomine. Karna. Achilles. Arash and Shakespeare?
Five legendary Servants.
Against three.
It was a massacre.
Chiron fought to the bitter end, calculating a hundred possible futures and realizing none of them led to survival.
Hassan of the Shining Star tried to pierce through the battlefield with his Noble Phantasm — and was shot through the heart by Karna's blazing spear.
The Assassin Master died alongside him, caught in the crossfire.
Beowulf, with a howl of frustration, was ordered to retreat by his Master, Caules.
Carrying the injured Fiore — who was gasping for breath, blood dripping from her lips — they barely managed to flee.
Caules's left arm was left behind in that bloody town, severed cleanly at the elbow.
Hours later, back at the Black Faction fortress...
Chaos.
Shouts echoed through the stone halls.
Wounded were carried in by the dozens.
The air reeked of blood, sweat, and fear.
Vlad Tepes, standing atop the battlements, stared into the setting sun.
His face was carved from stone — but his eyes burned with a silent, furious promise.
"Their deaths will be painfull that I promise" he whispered.
Behind him, the banners of Black fluttered in the growing storm winds.
A war of attrition had just begun.
And the Black Faction was bleeding.