Fate/Eva Frankenstein

"There is no more bitter punishment than to be persecuted for the work of your own hands... and to discover, at the end of the road, that there is nothing left for you."

---??? ???????

__________________________________________

Chapter 8: Where the End Begins

Pov. Third person.

Time seemed to drag on as Victor watched, unable to react. Before his eyes, the mace descended slowly and relentlessly. Each moment stretched into an eternity of fear and resignation.

"This morning everything was fine..." he thought, feeling the cold cut deeper than the steel that threatened him.

"I felt at peace, I thought I could restart my life here... forget the past..."

But now, in a matter of hours, that hope had vanished.

"How did I get to this? How did everything break so quickly?"

The mace was now inches from his face, and tears were beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes.

"Is this my punishment? My penance for trying to reverse Genesis?"

"To die at the hands of my own creation?"

A scream interrupted his thoughts.

—"Victor!"

Victor barely had time to react.

An unexpected tug on his arm pulled him out of the impending doom just as the mace was about to fall on him.

His eyes shifted to the ground and he saw the mace slam into the ground, the wood splintered, just inches from his face.

Cold sweat ran down his body, and his breathing was labored. He looked up and saw Jean, who had at some point moved in front of his wife and pulled Victor out of the way of his annihilation at the last moment.

His face showed palpable fear, his eyes wide and trembling, as if still struggling to believe what was before him.

Jean stared at Eva with a mixture of horror and improvised courage. He couldn't deny the terror this monstrous figure inspired in him.

Victor, still reeling, felt a pang of gratitude and guilt.

He wasn't alone, but the threat was as close as ever.

Eva didn't move. She just tilted her head, observing the scene with a mixture of irritation and unnatural calm.

A flash of frustration crossed her eyes, though it was barely a flicker, a momentary shadow on her cold, determined countenance.

Did I miss...? She thought briefly. Her face took on a fierce look for a moment.

Without moving her head, she fixed her eyes on Jean, who had intervened, and that presence only tensed his muscles even more.

She had stepped into an obstacle, she recognized with cold precision.

But this was no time for prolonged hesitation.

Her prey remained only a few steps away, vulnerable and trembling.

A missed blow meant nothing, as long as the next one landed.

With that renewed certainty, she tightened her grip on her mace, ready to continue her attack on her target.

Jean, his breath labored and his gaze filled with terror, turned to Victor and urged in a trembling voice:

"I don't understand what's happening, but you must go, Victor!"

Victor hesitated for a moment, paralyzed by fear, but Jean didn't give him time to react.

He stood firmly between him and Eva, blocking his path with the courage only a desperate friend can muster. He believed he could at least hold off...this monster for a few seconds.

Eva, however, didn't attack immediately.

Her eyes slowly scanned Jean, and for a moment, a shadow of memory crossed her mind.

She remembered the last time he acted frantically, with Emma. That uncontrolled violence that caused only pain and destruction.

She didn't want to repeat that mistake.

She didn't know Jean, but there was something deep in her mind that didn't want to hurt this person... at least, not yet.

He was innocent.

With a calculating gesture, Eva began to search for a way around the obstacle, without rushing into a direct attack.

Jean gritted his teeth, knowing that every second counted, while Victor felt the urge to escape grow within him.

"Jean..." Victor murmured, taking a step toward him, his voice cracking with guilt and fear.

But Jean, his face twisted and his eyes burning with urgency, didn't allow him to hesitate any longer.

"Victor, GO AWAY!" he shouted, with a force that shook the walls.

That scream pierced his chest. Victor closed his eyes for a moment, gritted his teeth… and finally found the strength to move.

Still staggering, he turned reluctantly and began running toward the back door, panting like a wounded animal.

Eva saw him.

Escape…

The doubt that had momentarily held her hand vanished.

Emma…she was an important person. That's why it hurt to hurt her. This…

UGH!

…was nothing.

With a sharp crack, the sledgehammer slammed brutally into Jean's chest.

His body was thrown like a broken doll, crashing against the wall with a dull thud, leaving a trail of blood behind it. His chest deformed as if it had been compressed.

"Honey!" Marie screamed from the stairs, her voice torn by horror.

Eva didn't even look back at her.

Unhindered, her figure shot forward, striding across the room. Her prey was fleeing, and she wasn't about to lose her.

Behind her was Jean's body, slumped against the floor, motionless. The hollow sound of his fall was like a shot to Marie's heart. The blow still echoed off the walls.

"Jean!" she shouted, running down the last few steps, her hands trembling, her gaze fixed on her husband's body.

Her legs buckled as she reached him.

"No... no God, please..." she whispered, kneeling down. Her hands trembled as she touched his face, still warm, his eyes half-open, his expression frozen in a mixture of fear and determination.

He shouldn't have been in the middle of this.

He didn't know anything.

He had only wanted to protect them.

Marie hugged him, sobbing silently, her body hunched over him, while in the background, Eva's footsteps could be heard speeding away through the back door.

Jean... Jean became another victim. Not by fate, not by war. But by compassion. By friendship. By being on the road.

And now, that road was stained with blood.

__________________________________________

Victor burst into the alley behind the house, his heart beating furiously, as if he too wanted to escape before him.

The shadows of the city were already lengthening under the night sky, and the stars barely managed to illuminate the damp bricks and the slippery stone floor.

The air was thick. Cold. As if the night itself were holding its breath.

His footsteps echoed between the narrow walls.

He ran with no clear direction, only with a blind desire: to flee. To flee from her. To flee from everything.

I abandoned my friend…

The thought returned like a whiplash, brutal and stinging. Guilt tore at him from within.

"Forgive me…" he whispered, unsure if he meant Jean, himself, or both.

Then a crash broke the night like a dry crack of thunder.

He turned his head instinctively.

The back door of the house exploded outward in a shower of splinters and dust. Planks flew like missiles, and among the still-floating shreds… she appeared.

Eva.

She stood at the mouth of the alley, motionless, tense, her muscles charged like a spring.

An unnatural figure silhouetted against the darkness like a monster born from a nightmare.

Her eyes found him instantly.

They glowed with a savage intensity, a mixture of fury, obsession… and something deeper.

Victor truly saw her.

The fresh blood staining her arms. The splinters embedded in her flesh. Her face twisted, her chest heaving. Every inch of her body screamed violence.

No words were needed.

Jean...

A shudder ran down his spine. His legs hesitated, faltered for a moment.

But instinct was stronger.

He kept running.

"GRAAHHHG!" Eva's roar shook the alley like a shock wave. With a single stomp—so powerful it cracked the stone floor—she launched herself forward like a dark bolt of lightning.

The distance between them was rapidly disappearing.

Victor turned a narrow corner, barely avoiding a rusty trash can that blocked part of the path.

His lungs were burning.

His legs were on the verge of collapse. He didn't want to do it... but there was no other choice.

He gritted his teeth and muttered a short, almost inaudible incantation.

The air around him stirred.

Faint lines of light—like fine silver threads—began to glow faintly beneath the fabric of his trousers.

From his thighs to his calves, his magical circuits activated with a barely visible flash: incandescent veins pulsing with suppressed power.

And then, he propelled himself.

The speed he gained in a single step was inhuman. The world became a blur of alleyways, shadows, and wind.

The air in front of him began to shift, as if the atmosphere itself were folding under his feet. Each stride catapulted him forward, breaking through invisible layers of resistance.

The gap between him and Eva stopped closing.

Eva, already preparing to catch him with a leap, paused for just a second.

Her eyes widened, a spark of surprise flashing.

"Did he use... the same thing as Lea?"

But the moment was short-lived.

Her jaw tightened. Rage flared again.

It doesn't matter.

YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE!

He stamped his feet, and a shower of stones and dust erupted at his feet. His run picked up speed, even more furious than before.

The earth shook beneath his feet as if an approaching storm were approaching, brutal and unstoppable.

Victor didn't look back. He didn't dare.

He just ran.

__________________________________________

The chase continued throughout the city.

The streets, once quiet under the night sky, were now the scene of a frantic race between creator and creation.

Victor couldn't remember how many corners he'd turned, how many alleys he'd crossed, or how many times he'd tripped over stones, lampposts, or badly placed steps.

He ran like a man fleeing the Last Judgment itself. And maybe, in a way... that was it.

Behind him, Eva's footsteps echoed with an inhuman rhythm. He didn't need to see her.

The sound of her heavy footsteps, the air torn by her advance, was enough to know she was still there.

She'll catch me before I reach the bridge...

That thought stabbed into his mind like an ice knife.

The bridge.

His only objective: the eastern exit of the city, beyond the river. If he managed to cross it, he would buy himself the time he needed to escape to the outskirts.

But it wouldn't be enough.

Not like this.

Victor shook his head desperately, searching his thoughts for a countermeasure. Anything.

Then he took a risk.

He craned his neck for a moment... and saw her.

Eva was coming up behind him, less than fifteen meters away. Her face twisted with fury, her eyes fixed on him, her body enveloped in an aura of raw violence.

He calculated.

I have time...

Just one chance.

And then, up ahead, he saw her: a sharp turn between two narrow buildings. A corner where the view was completely lost.

Now.

Victor turned sharply.

In the same movement, he bent down and placed his right hand against the ground.

Kollaps: Bruch der Basis.

A circuit pattern flashed beneath his palm. Lines of energy expanded in a precise circle across the cobblestones.

He didn't stop to look. He bolted upright and kept running, his heart pounding.

Eva rounded the bend behind him without missing a beat.

She didn't see the spell. She didn't have time.

Her right foot landed right in the center of the magic circle.

CRACK.

The ground shattered like glass.

Eva let out a muffled, surprised gasp as she sank knee-deep into a hidden trap. For the first time since the chase began, she lost her balance. Stone fragments and a cloud of dust enveloped her.

Victor, without looking back, heard the impact.

It worked.

But he knew he wouldn't have much time.

__________________________________________

Pov. Eva.

The trap took her by surprise.

One of her feet landed, and her body, as firm and imposing as an iron statue, abruptly lost its balance.

The floor collapsed with a hollow crunch, and Eva sank up to her hips in a makeshift hole a little over five feet deep.

She landed on one knee against the inner edge. Dust, debris, and stone fragments flew into the air, blurring her vision for an instant. An unforgivable instant for someone like her.

"...tch."

She braced her palms against the broken edge of the hole, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and suppressed fury.

She wasn't hurt, but the interruption ate away at her nerves.

She slammed a furious fist against the stone as she stood up, cracking it even further, and leaped out of the trap.

Her gaze scanned the street.

Empty.

No sign of Victor.

Her jaw tightened. The air around her grew heavy. Green sparks flickered briefly over her left shoulder, as if pent-up energy was beginning to escape her body in bursts of frustration.

"Damn it..." she whispered under her breath, her voice hoarse.

Without wasting a second, he pulled out his compass.

The gem still shone, but its color had become erratic, flickering in irregular pulses between shades of orange and red, sometimes yellow.

The needle spun rapidly, then stopped, hesitated.

"No... you're not going to escape me again," she murmured.

She held the gem to her chest and closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.

The direction became clear again.

She opened his eyes.

And started running again.

The crash of the collapse echoed through the narrow streets, reverberating against the stone walls and waking some of the distracted residents of their homes.

Doors swung open, windows peered sleepily, as whispers and murmurs began to grow in the air.

But she paid no attention.

Her breathing was labored, panting with a mixture of exhaustion and suppressed rage.

The constant effort and strain of the chase were beginning to take their toll, though she refused to show any weakness.

The compass, steady in her right hand, marked the rhythm of her steps.

Her fingers tightened on the chain around her neck, the gem flickering erratically.

It changed from a vivid orange to a flickering yellow, oscillating between the two colors with disturbing frequency.

Finally, at the eastern exit of the city, Eva stopped on the bridge that crossed the river.

She stared at the gem.

"Damn it..." she muttered irritably.

The compass needle twirled indecisively, wavering between fiery orange and a weary yellow, as if hesitating or exhausted.

The cold wind crossed the bridge, causing her cloak to billow behind her.

He was right in front of her, within arm's reach.

She could feel the closeness of his breath, his quickening pulse, the fragility of her human body in the face of his relentless presence.

Each stride brought her closer, and victory seemed assured.

But then, suddenly, Victor did something unexpected.

With a swift, desperate movement, she managed to slip through his fingers like a fleeting shadow.

The void between them opened again.

A chill ran through Eva, prickling her skin like a piercing cold piercing her spine.

Her eyes, which had been burning with an unstoppable fire just a moment before, began to flicker, reflecting her growing frustration and fury.

Her breathing became labored, growing faster, like the frantic beat of a drum.

Then, with a voice that broke the stillness of the night and echoed between the walls of the city, she shouted with unyielding fury:

"It's useless, Victor!"

"Whether by sea, sky, or land...!!

"THERE'S NO PLACE YOU CAN HIDE FROM ME!!!"

The echo of her words continued to vibrate as she launched herself with renewed ferocity after her prey, determined to allow it no other escape.

__________________________________________

Pov. Victor.

He ran with all the momentum his body and magic allowed.

Thanks to his tactics, he had managed to create some distance, although he didn't think he could stop her in the long run.

The magical circuits beneath the fabric of his pants glowed faintly, propelling his muscles and accelerating his steps.

The air in front of him shifted slightly, giving him extra speed.

Then, a piercing scream broke the stillness of the night.

A pure, rage-filled sound that seemed to pierce the skin and reverberate through the soul.

Victor stopped dead in his tracks, his breath ragged.

Eyes wide, he quickly raised his arms and covered his ears, as if that could block out that voice.

A desperate, almost childlike gesture.

"No... no..." he murmured, trying to stifle the sound that cut deep. "Please... stop."

But he knew he couldn't run away from it.

The scream was the terrible promise that the chase wouldn't end until his last breath.

His last breath.

With a shaky sigh, he clenched his fists, straightened his back, and ran again.

__________________________________________

Pov. Third person.

The moon set, and the sun rose again in the sky.

The chase continued unabated.

First, they crossed the vast fields and meadows surrounding Geneva, where Victor attempted to slow his pursuer with improvised traps and elemental sorcery.

Further ahead, the landscape began to change.

The fields gave way to a stretch of thick, shadowy forest, with tall trees forming a natural roof, filtering the light in thin golden rays.

In his mind, the former alchemist had only one priority: stalling for time.

As quickly as his labored breathing allowed, Victor used what little energy he had left to alter the terrain with rudiments of alchemy.

With a swift gesture, he touched the ground, and a faint vibration spread beneath his feet.

Small cracks opened, shifting the earth and distorting the path's balance.

Where the ground was firm, he made it sandy and slippery.

Where stones jutted out, he loosened them, creating treacherous obstacles.

Sometimes, he left simple traps: branches that fell unnoticed, disturbed earth that gave way under the weight.

It wasn't powerful or elaborate sorcery, but every small change was an attempt to slow Eve down.

Because he couldn't afford another mistake.

There was no time to stop or check if his tactics were working.

He could only keep going, run, and pray that these tiny alterations would offer him one more chance.

In the middle of the forest, amid the morning mist, Victor reached a small village hidden among the trees.

He didn't stop completely. He didn't enter an inn or ask for help.

But for a moment, he allowed herself to breathe.

He leaned against the wall of an old stone building. His chest rose and fell violently, as if each inhalation were a battle.

He closed his eyes.

Just for a moment.

He felt the fresh air fill his lungs, the scent of dampness, wood, and dawn.

And then he opened them… and directed them north.

Where the mountains rose.

He knew it was madness. Maybe even a death sentence.

But he had no choice.

If he wanted to survive and escape Eva, he must venture into the mountains that rose to the north.

The rugged terrain, the treacherous slopes, and the brutal climate would be a challenge even for her.

And in that difficulty—that natural brutality that no spell could assuage—lay he last chance.

However, the downside to this plan, if it even deserved that name, was cruelly obvious:

It could kill him too.

Victor gritted his teeth.

He had considered different routes, imagined multiple scenarios, but lacked the resources, the time, and the energy to execute anything more elaborate.

This was all he had left.

Aware that his body was already at its limit, he tried once more to activate his magical circuits, seeking that reinforcement that had sustained him until now.

He tried to channel every fiber of his being into movement, into resistance.

But the response was different.

The fire burning inside him immediately intensified.

His legs gave way without warning.

He fell to his knees on the cold, hard ground.

A trickle of blood escaped from his mouth.

The scorching heat coursing through his nerves was a clear sign: he had gone too far.

His magical circuits, the spiritual nervous system that allowed him to perform sorcery, were collapsing.

They no longer responded. Or worse: they were beginning to break down from within.

For an instant, in the stillness of dawn, a thought pierced him with a coldness crueler than the wind:

"If I survive… will I have anything left?"

Could he walk normally again? Use magecraft gain? Think without pain?

Maybe not.

But there was no turning back.

With a stifled groan, he braced a hand against the nearby wall and struggled to his feet.

In the distance, the mountains stared back at him, gigantic, eternal.

And toward them he went.

__________________________________________

In the distance, Eva advanced relentlessly, a black shadow slipping like a blur between the streets, paths, and roads.

Her threadbare cloak and body covered in dirt and bruises were evidence of the obstacles she had faced during the chase.

Some of Victor's spells had worked.

They slowed her down.

They tripped her up.

But they didn't stop her.

Suddenly, the compass in her hand vibrated with a different intensity.

The needle spun sharply, setting a new direction.

Eva stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes scanned the route she'd marked with precision.

And there they were.

Beyond the forest, rising brutally against the sky, the mountains stared back at her.

Cold. Rugged. Inaccessible.

Eva didn't react immediately. She just watched.

She recalled fragments of old books in the mansion, passages that spoke of those peaks.

Hostile terrain. Steep slopes. Relentless snow.

And more than that:

She remembered.

A past life, a distant memory where those same mountains existed.

Immovable. Challenging.

She knew what lay ahead.

She knew that terrain could break even bodies tougher than her own.

But it didn't matter.

She exhaled slowly.

Her breath became a white cloud in the frigid air.

"There's no turning back," she thought. Not as a promise, but as a sentence.

With narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, her began to move.

One step. Then another.

And finally, like an arrow shot from the depths of his will, she shot forward, deep into the forest that stretched like a dark veil at the foot of the mountain.

__________________________________________

Victor struggled forward, his body exhausted and covered only by a threadbare cloak he had stolen unguarded in the last village.

The icy wind whipped furiously, carrying particles of snow that stung his skin and penetrated every crevice of his clothing.

The blizzard raging in the mountain range made every step a battle against nature itself.

His breathing was labored, almost panting, and his skin turned pale under the titanic effort of staying warm.

His muscles burned, and exhaustion weighed like a millstone, while the cold bit into his limbs with cruel persistence.

He knew he was on the verge of hypothermia; the symptoms were already evident: uncontrollable shivering, increasing confusion, and extreme fatigue.

Despite everything, he stubbornly moved forward, dragging his feet in the crunching snow beneath him, moving deeper and deeper into the storm.

The cloak covering his body barely protected him from the wild wind whipping up the mountain. For a moment, a thought crossed his exhausted mind:

"What for…?"

The question hit him with the force of the storm itself. The will that had sustained him was beginning to falter.

He had already abandoned the mansion where he was born and raised; the little he had achieved in Geneva in his attempt to start a new life was abandoned in the midst of persecution.

His body was broken and ruined.

His magical circuits were on the verge of collapse, signaling the end of his life as a magus.

Why exactly did he keep running?

That question was his breaking point.

Finally, the cold and fatigue overcame him.

His body lost the strength to continue, and he fell to his knees in the icy snow, his cloak slipping from his shoulders.

The storm raged around him, enveloping him in a dark white blanket as his consciousness began to fade.

Before everything went black, he heard distant voices, shadows approaching through the relentless wind.

And then, the world went dark.

End of Chapter 8

__________________________________________

That's it for Chapter 8. I hope everyone who reads it enjoys it. Comments are always appreciated and welcomed. Bye.

Note: I finished this chapter very late and I'm exhausted. If you notice any missing editing, it means I'll do it after bed.